#but yeah then the place that i was waitlisted at accepted me and i think i do want to go there

[quatregats]

Yes I'm doing normally (<- has been freaking out about accepting an offer for a PhD program for the last month and a half)

[magicalyaku]

Ok ok, let's get back on track. Work was draining these past weeks, but I'm on vacation now, so time to catch up! June was the month of the library books. I put a bunch on hold in April and May and they all came in at the same time. And after up to 10 weeks of waiting I was not about to push a single one back further, so I had to work a bit there. 8D Also, according to my list I've read 51 books in the first 6 months of the year. I seem to remember wanting to read less this year? Yeah. Not going well.

Gwen & Art are Not in Love (Lex Croucher): I read it in the very first days of June, which was basically an eternity ago, so my memory is a bit wonky. I do remember I had lots of fun! It was funny and sweet with a solid story and serious times when needed, nice characters, good adventure. The female lead did not get on my nerves! There was a cat! And a girl with a (legendary) sword! I think, though, it's a bit unfair that both boys ended up with permanent bodily harm while the girls got away scratchfree … Go read it!!

Thief in the Night (KJ Charles): I didn't know anything about this other than the summary when I put it on my waitlist in the library. After 10 weeks it finally came in and my first thought was "Is it broken?!" because it's only about 100 pages! It is a full story, mind you, I was just so suprised by it (and because I waited for so long!). It's a companion story to The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting, featuring the brother of the protagonists of that one. It's pretty cute. Super short, but just the right length for a simple story. We can have a simple story once in a while. I had a good time reading this.

The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting (KJ Charles): I borrowed this right after Thief in the Night. This is a full-length novel, so it has a lot more time to dive into characters and intricacies. It's nice. Like not groundbreaking, but very enjoyable. There's this thing about (pseudo-historic) British aristocracy that just calls for mocking them. I liked a lot how the climax and ending played out!

Flowerheart (Catherine Bakewell): Now this was another difficult book for me. I thought with time I'd get a little more chill with YA fantasy heroines. Seems I'm not there yet. The heroine here has these whiny self-pitying phases that really annoyed me. She's like "Oh maybe he never liked me in the first place" just because the guy didn't want her help at one thing. But: 1) He was her very close childhood friend, that was not a lie. 2) She has like one day of training in and can't control her magic, so her help would be … probably no help at all. And 3) when he told her before that he needs her on the weekends she said no, she can't … So why is she getting upset?! I hate characters like this. /D But thankfully, this is only half of the time, the other half she's pretty ok (the guy as well) and I actually found myself liking the book. The romance is acceptable and it does have some nice imagery going on with all the flower magic and stuff.

Sounds Fake But Okay (Sarah Costello & Kayla Kaszyca): My one non-fiction book of the year. :D It's about seeing the world from the perspectives of a_spec people. Like taking apart all that amatonormativity and all these ideas about romance and family and stuff that most of our world sees as right and normal. So it's not just a "let me tell you what aromanticism and asexuality are"-book but dives a bit deeper. I found it insightful. I think, both a_spec and allo people can take something away from reading this. Challenging our social constructs in thought at least can't hurt after all. Regarding the ebook library edition I read I didn't quite like the layout as the incorporated community quotes where not well marked and I stumbled over them a few times before realising it's another quote. That's probably no issue in the paper version though. I also struggled to tell the authors Sarah and Kayla apart. They introduce themselves and their stories in the beginning but I immediately jumbled them up ...

Captive Prince Trilogy (C.S. Pacat): I borrowed the English edition from the library … and didn't want to return it! Which is stupid because I own the German version in paper. But that kinda sums up how I feel about these books. Captive Prince was not the very first gay fantasy book I read almost two years ago but the first one I liked. (The actual first was Rowan & Ash by Christian Händel which had a terribly selfish love interest and shied away from all the important conflict. (And yeah, long before that I did read The Raven Cycle but I picked that one up for the Ley lines and the no-kiss-promise. The gay was just a pleasant surprise, so I don't count it.)) Which is funny, because especially the beginning is so filthy! I remember being quite put off by this the first time around, but apparently it was intriguing enough to continue reading. I like the incredible slow-burn of Damen's and Laurent's relationship. The slow building of trust in a surrounding where trust is so rare. How shit happens between them and they have to sort it out on page before progressing. How you only catch glimpes of Laurent's true self for a long time. I like it when authors feel smart through their writing and writing Laurent's and the Regent's intrigues and all the different settings with war strategies etc. sure does feel smart to me. I like the slow-burn in stories as well when things start at some point and only get important much later and all weaves together beautifully. It's so rewarding. Look, where we started - look, how far we've come! Hah. u3u

Riley Weaver Needs a Date for the Gaybutante Society (Jason June): For the end of the month I went for something light and funny. Of all the authors I read last year F.T. Lukens and Jason June stuck with me the most. Lukens for the cozy charming fantasy and June for the slightly silly noisy onea. Riley Weaver is no exception to that. It does have a serious undertone and message, though, but due to the framework of the story it manages to never feel dull or preachy.

I also tried to read Dragonfall by L.R. Lam, but gave up after just 50 pages. I can't even say if it's good or bad, because I don't know. I couldn't stand the viewpoints. Like, there's three people. The first one is a 1st person narrator, who refers to the second person as You, but in the narration, not dialogue! That put me off so much. It was so … icky! The second person narrates 1st person as well. If there's another "you" I don't know because I didn't make it to the point where they meet for real. And then the third person comes along and … it's 3rd person?! And I screamed! God, I hate that. I mean, it can work and I have read books that I like with inconsistent viewpoints but there was nothing here for which I was willing to endure. To be fair, I don't like dragons in the first place, so maybe we never were a good match from the start. :'D

That's it for June!

[lovebillyhargrove]

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 22/? Half in hate

Billy is listening to Scorpions "No-one like you" (1982) and Ratt "I'm insane" (1984)

***

Ugh, fuck this cow-turd town, fuck

Every! fucking! thing!

FUCK !!

..

So yeah .. the news. Billy gets rejected in all three California universities he applied to - Los Angeles, Berkley and

San Diego.

The fucking irony. It's like the state he was born in, doesn't want him anymore, the city he's lived all his life in, takes revenge in him for leaving.

Like it was Billy's fault.

Goddammit.

God-fucking-dammit!

There goes the dream. Grease monkey, that's all you're gonna be, Billy.

And, that's fine. He likes grease. It just sucks to hear a no. Three of them, in a row.

Of course, the places he was striving for are all super-top-notch-level. Like he said, the high GPA, impressive SAT results that he got in his junior year - Billy had it all, but he lacked fucking recommendations and the stuff he couldn't really scrape here, in a new town, new school, as early as autumn.

Thanks dad, for making me change schools in my fucking senior year, really like .. I appreciate the hell out of it.

Fuck this shit. Billy is sitting in the camaro, waiting for Maxine, smoking and listening to nothing. He got the news from Berkley on Monday morning, right after the party, and from San Diego - in today's mail, bright and early, and all day he's been suppressing fucking tears. Feels unfair, somehow, his state turning him down like that.

Jesus, what kind of kindergarten snot is that, Billy?

Everything is the way it is, in life.

To each its own.

For him it'll be a job in San Diego when he gets there. Maybe he'll reapply next year, maybe he'll aim not at such prestigious places, he'll need to think of a plan, get his full focus on it. Everything now has kinda lost its clarity

Since he's been uprooted and torn away from his ground.

He needs to get back to himself. Needs to stand steady on his feet again.

Billy sees Harrington walking towards the beamer, his girl's already waiting for him near the car. He's putting his peachy ass on its wing, takes out a Parliament, lights it.

He looks so hot taking a drag, hollowing his cheeks, cupping his hands to shield the flame of the lighter from the wind. Steve's wearing a dark gray light jacket, and the colour becomes him.

The nose looks a bit bashed in huh, well .. doesn't make him less pretty. He's still

The prettiest.

Fuck, stop it, dumbass, avert

Avert the stupid unruly eyes. Don't let them run wild.

But I haven't taken even a peek at him all day .. three days.

Is Harrington going to bring Tammy to her house, and they are going to kiss in the beamer, and then say bye for the rest of the day? Or are they driving some place else? To the king's castle?

The rich boy does fuck all. No need to have a job, studying isn't his forte .. the hell he does with all the time on his hands?

Fucks around, that's what he does.

For Steve, life must be so easy. To each their own. For Harrington it means daddy's money, probably a cushy job in his big important business. Very possibly, a trust fund. His life is taken care of. Billy's never liked rich kids. Fucking entitled, believing they are better than everyone else. Too clean, too uninteresting.

University of Chicago accepted him and - guess what, the fucking Purdue - Billy doesn't even like the sound of the name - waitlisted him. Yeah, fuck you and your waitlist which nobody cares for. He's not gonna go to either of these places. Billy needs to get to the coast, away from here, this Mid-fuck-western state.

He craves warmth, he craves air, it's an absolute SOS situation for salty water to wash his wounds.

Max waves good bye to her friends, but comes to the car with the bunker girl.

"Billy, Jane is coming home with me. She's staying for the rest of the day. We're having a sleepover, actually. You're bringing us both to school tomorrow morning."

Bossy much?

Like fuck I care.

"Hi, Billy."

That Jane girl always looks at him like he owes her a thousand bucks. She's an odd bird.

Don't talk to the driver. Get in and let's go already.

Billy grips the steering wheel, and the knuckles on the hand he'd smashed a car window at the junkyard with, hurt.

The girls jump in the backseat and start chirping excitedly.

Billy gets going, but doesn't even turn the music on to wipe out the cheerful noise. He's lost in thoughts.

He's still thinking about Harrington. He's trying not to, but he can't control it. You can't throw someone out of your head completely in a matter of days. The only thing that he succeeds in is

At school, Billy doesn't let himself look at Steve. Okay, today in the parking lot he slipped a little, but in classrooms, in the hallways he doesn't. This week there aren't any basketball practices, which is very convenient, coach Nelson is on a sick leave or something.

Billy looks at everything and everyone BUT Harrington.

The

I'm not a cocksucker

Still burns.

Sometimes he can feel something hot scraping all over his back

And he knows

That's the asshole's stare.

Fuck him.

Billy needs to get the fuck away from here, this place is like quicksand

Sucking him in.

It's trying to tie him down, make him stay. Why did he even send the fucking applications to the nearby universities here if he was never planning on going there? Hargrove doesn't know. He doesn't always make the best and most rational decisions.

Quicksand. Step back, get away, a-fucking-sap.

School still has to be graduated from.

***

Alright, one thing here has become bearable. April in Indiana truly marks the irreversible arrival of spring. The bitter cold that lasted through the winter and still showed its frosty face in March is now mostly a cursed memory.

Hargrove's outside. It's close to midnight, and he's slowly walking down Cherry Lane, a cigarette between the fingers. April is starting to feel really fucking nice. Cool still, but nice. Soon everything's gonna bloom and hustle. The sun shines every day now. Rains pour. The sky, with or without clouds, is marvelous and gives hope.

Billy's taking advantage of warm nights. He sometimes leaves the house when everyone is already sleeping - either walks out of the door when he is sure he won't disturb anyone, or climbs out of his window - ground floor, easy as pie.

It's dark, windless and serene, and Hargrove just needs to clear his mind. Street lights are flickering slightly, and it's misty, the night air is damp and thick, especially after the recent evening rain, with a promise of fragrance of blossoming flowers soon.

Billy's watching his boots step heavy on the wet gray asphalt. Right, left, right, left. He's not gonna let Harrington do it to him. He's not gonna fall for this rich fucking asshole.

Like,

F

A

L

L

for real.

They've fooled around, Billy got knocked down a notch from his wuthering high, enough. Did he seriously think that Steve's on the same wavelength as him?

It's ridiculous.

Hargrove's following the movements of his knees. Right, left, right, left. He likes the way his solid thighs sway. Billy needs to get his shit together. Feed the anger. Stay in the right lane. Double bag his dick, it's always been a rule with girls. In the case in question, extra precautions seem necessary. Triple bag his heart. He just needs to hold out for three fucking months, and then he's on the road, driving west. Southwest.

Billy's nurturing his fury, replaying in his mind over and over again

Steve's voice, Steve's raised eyebrows. The word, the phrase, the meaning of it

I'm better than you

The fury grows, bursts in acrid flames,

Lets him think for a moment that he can be in charge.

Billy tightens his fist, and the knuckles hurt again. Good.

He turns around and slowly walks back to his car. He didn't park it in the driveway, he usually leaves it at a distance from their house now.

Hargrove gets in, turns the music on, makes the volume down. Lights up a cigarette and savours a long looong drag. Watches the smoke drift around and up in the dark sky, listening to Scorpions' "Rock you like a hurricane." Shit, isn't that the song that was on when he first set his foot in the Hawkins High parking lot?

It is.

Billy remembers the moment, how jittery he felt, how miserable, the whole move still making FUCK sense to him. That was the first time he ever laid eyes on King Steve.

It was in September. Now the school year is almost finished.

Girl, it’s been a long time that we’ve been apart

Much too long for a man who needs love

What in fucking hell ..?

Billy wants to turn the song off but then changes his mind.

There’s no one like you

I can’t wait for the nights with you

I imagine the things we’ll do

I just want to be loved by you

No one like you

Other thoughts come to mind. Billy puts his head on the headrest, shuts the eyes and remembers their kisses, all of them. Remembers how they held each other's bodies, the absolute, utter frenzy. Why has he never felt anything like that before, what is the secret, what is the fucking sorcery.

The fury, well-fed and groomed, is still present but it steps away a little, letting sadness and .. something like yearning? .. seep through the tiniest cracks.

Girl, there are really no words strong enough

To describe all my longing for love

I can't wait for the nights with you

I imagine the things we'll do

There's no one like you

No-one like you

Remembers the first and only blowjob, and how strange and amazing it felt. He would do it again. He wants to. Kiss and touch Steve again. All of him. Starting from the pinkie toe and going up to the guy's mane of hair.

It's not gonna happen.

When Billy's finally done with his midnight brooding, and gets home, slips under the coolness of bedsheets and drifts off to sleep, he sees a very vivid dream.

He's amidst the ocean, clear warm dark waters all around, light waves rocking him softly,

Lovingly.

It's dark because it's night time.

He sees a beautiful light purple jellyfish, swimming in the near

It looks otherworldly, gently propelling its umbrella-shaped body through the water. The jellyfish glows in the dark, and, naturally, Billy wants to touch it. He is aware that these creatures can be dangerous, the tentacles are covered in millions of stinging cells, holding venom that can be very painful, even deadly.

Billy is extending his left hand, and the jellyfish touches him gently. It is the prettiest one in the whole wide ocean.

Hargrove keeps playing with it and notices that the tentacles start growing longer, the body is stretching itself, and the colour changes from purple to transparent and then light blue.

It is still glowing, and it's by far the most beautiful thing Billy has ever encountered.

Suddenly the tentacles are grasping his hand tighter, and they claw their way up Billy's arm,

Despite the intensity - or because of it - it's still such a pleasant sensation, he lets the jellyfish twine itself all over his limb,

When immediate piercing pain shoots through his body and the skin on his arm starts burning

The pain stings viciously, Billy is trying to set himself free from the tentacles

In mad realisation that he might actually die right now. It's like something is drilling holes through his veins, going for

The heart.

The jellyfish loosens its hold, caressing the boy, soothing the burn.

Billy understands that he must swim ashore, get some kind of medical help

However, he doesn't distance himself from the stunning ocean creature, against all reason, against the sense of self-preservation.

He doesn't swim away but stays close, gazing, admiring the beauty

Mesmerized.

Blood bringing venom to his core.

***

On ao3

[overheaven]

hhnnnnn

MFA program interview tomorrow (it's almost 4am now so technically today but shh)

honestly. i think i’m more nervous about what will happen if i'm accepted this time than the interview itself. the interview... i've been through it once, & my interviewing skills are good if i say so myself. but idk until last wednesday i had more or less accepted the idea that an mfa wasn't meant for me in this lifetime. i still WANTED it but i accepted that i might not get it— who do i get rec letters from 2, 5, 10 years down the line, when i’ve likely been just in the workforce and not a community that could speak to my art & study skills? what do i put in my portfolio if i’m too disabled to get out & find studios & make the art i’d want to create a graduate thesis out of?

but now i've got this opportunity and like. yeah you can be cynical about it & say they're filling a quota or maybe this is their M/O every year to bait more applicants & inflate numbers… but idk i’m trying to stop those suspicious, paranoid thoughts because they’re based in insecurity & hurt.

when a dept. head emails me the day before the deadline and says 'we were looking at past applicants and invite you to apply again; just reuse your previous application' and they offer me an interview the day after i send that and a few new materials, i need to think ‘yeah there's something in my art that they want. that the world wants.’ i do make good art, art that does what i need it to do. and i have worked SO hard. i know what i’m doing and what i want.

plus i got waitlisted last time so i was this close 🤏 i’m not going to be cocky but it sounds like a have a good chance this time. i think about how i got into RISD for undergrad i just couldn’t afford it. i got into RISD! one of THE most illustrious art schools in the damn country! only about 17-19% acceptance rate!!! my portfolio was good enough for that!!!!!

so if given this opportunity i will seize it because i have to. i will be grinding myself to dust while i’m there, i’m sure. i’m still spent from the last 4 years, but i am a fighter and i will claw my way through with torn nails and broken teeth if i need to. i’d rather do that right now while the iron is not exactly hot but still workable rather than wait for a nebulous “someday” or never get it at all. if i get it done now, school can be completely totally DONE for me. there’s nothing above a masters for fine art.

and i feel really good about giving this second chance at this MFA program everything i’ve got, without over analyzing or second guessing because my gf has given me a really stable life and we have a whole plan of where we wanna be for the next few years at least. i have a job too! a pretty ideal one for someone like me!! there is a LIFE waiting for me if i get rejected. i’m not hinging on this for student loans to live on and a reprieve from work that was making me suicidal.

but like. yeah i’ve been having a cart before the horse thing. i'm really scared of the idea of 2 more years of study while being away from a more permanent home precisely because we are so ready & prepared for stability and being somewhere that’s not temporary. i don’t wanna be in transition anymore! i want a home and a place to rest!! i want to stay in therapy! i want to go to doctors and fix my body!

but if i need to, i will.

opportunities have always been stolen from me, by circumstance & finances, having no support. i’ve never been in control of my life. i want to capture this one if it lays down in front of me. i really do deserve it.

and tbh i think it will be somewhat easier because it is just art and some TA stuf. undergrad was agonizing because i was trying to put together senior projects and manage portfolios while also having to fucking write busywork 1-2 page essays every week in each of my other classes and writing manuscripts and being the one to manage group project email chains and scheduling because the 18-20 year old students don’t like to just get shit done. i don’t want to say i’m better than students who went to art colleges but i am built different LOL

[missduplicities]

OTASD | Chapter 5: Waitlist

For the following week, Nabi managed to disappear from the public eye at school. She avoided the cafeteria and library, staying in her classroom during lunchtime. Her friends didn’t suspect any of it, since it was usual for her to sneak away to less crowded rooms. She didn’t even tell Dani what had happened, being too embarrassed to acknowledge it with anyone.

When her parents got back to the city, Seokjin’s dad picked them up from the airport and invited them over to their place for dinner. Nani actually lied, telling her mother she was on her period and had terrible cramps. When she least expected, two full weeks went by without her seeing Kim Seokjin.

Finals were approaching, so she had other things in mind. She had done great in her CSAT but had only applied to one Korean university. She was still waiting for the approval letter from the universities to which she had applied abroad, and every day that passed she became more anxious. There was no Plan B for her; she had to leave the country as soon as she graduated.

During the last months of class, she saw her friends get accepted to their dream colleges, while she had to sit and wait.

The first letter appeared one day:

Dear Ms. Ahn,

The Yale Admission Committee has completed its evaluation of this year’s candidates, and we are genuinely sorry that we are not able to offer you a place in the Class of 2011.

It’s okay, Nabi thought. I didn’t even want to go to Yale anyway.

“When are you moving to Norway?” Yuna asked Eun-Chae one day in class.

“Right after graduation,” Eun-Chae proudly said. “Dad wants to take us on a trip to Europe first, then they’ll help me install in the dorms,”

“Isn’t it exciting?” Yuna said. “It’s just like the movies!”

“No news from NYU yet?” Eun-Chae asked Nabi; a sad smile appearing on her face.

“Uhm, I got waitlisted,” Nabi said, hiding the disappointment in her voice.

“You still have Boston, right?” Eun-Chae said with hopeful eyes. “You know how Americans are, leaving everything until the last minute,”

“Yeah,” Nabi said, trying to convince herself. “What are your plans for the summer?”

“I’m just hoping to see Nick all summer,” Yuna said with a smirk on her face.

“Nick?” Nabi asked. “Weren’t you seeing that Woo Hak guy?”

“Yeah, we broke up,” Yuna sighed. “But Nick texted me, he’s going to summer camp as well,”

“Is Nick the Australian?” Eun-Chae asked.

“The one and only,” Yuna proudly said.

“So, you’re leaving all summer again?” Nabi asked.

“That’s the plan,” Yuna said. “I think this will be the last year I’ll go unless they want me to become Cabin Tutor,”

“I miss camp,” Eun-Chae sighed. “Why don’t you go, Nabi?”

“No, thanks,” Nabi chuckled. “Spending a month in a hot cabin is not to my taste. You have fun, Yuna-ssi,”

“This is our last summer of high school!”

“So?”

“So, you need to start living and having fun, babe,” Yuna said, sitting on Nabi’s desk. “You don’t want to be unexperienced when you go to college, especially if you’re planning on going abroad,”

“I still have time to get some internships,” Nabi innocently said, making both her friends laugh. “What?”

“I’m talking about guys,” Yuna said.

“You stick to guys, I’ll stick to graduating with honors and getting to an Ivy League uni,” Nabi’s ego was getting a bit hurt. If she wanted, she would go out with guys. She just didn’t want to waste her time on that at the moment. Feeling annoyed with her friends’ comments, Nabi decided to leave, excusing herself saying she had to take the bus.

Nabi: Are you picking me up or am I riding the bus?

Dad: I’m running late

Dad: sorry honey

Nabi: It’s ok

Her streak of not seeing Seokjin was broken at that moment when she saw the guy sitting at the bus stop. He was too busy playing with a Nintendo DS to see her, which gave her enough time to turn on her heels and walk to school again. She planned to wait for the next bus so she didn’t have to talk to him. The bus approached the street, so he had to put his Nintendo aside to look for his bus card. He was so afraid of missing it that he left without realizing he had left his console behind. Nabi wished she hadn’t seen it. He surely can buy another, she thought, but she didn’t have the heart to leave the forgotten Nintendo behind. With a sigh, she walked over to the place where he had been and secured the console inside her backpack, waiting now for the next bus where Seokjin had been waiting.

About ten minutes had gone by when she heard someone’s hurried footsteps approach. Scared that she might get robbed or something, she turned around only to see the guy she had been avoiding, soaking wet in sweat and out of breath.

“Hi,” he struggled to say, taking deep breaths with his hands on his knees. “Did you… see… my….?”

“Did you run all the way here from the next stop?” She was honestly impressed; the next stop was pretty far. He only nodded, still too tired to say anything. Nabi took the Nintendo out of her bag and handed it to him. He looked so thankful, as a mother reuniting with the child she thought she lost at the supermarket.

“Thanks,” he said, sitting on the bench next to where she was. “I thought I lost it,”

“No problem,” she awkwardly said, not knowing what else to do.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, still short of breath. She looked at him confused, not knowing what he was talking about. “Your mom said you felt sick the other day,”

“Oh,” she said. “Yeah, it was just a headache,”

“I get those all the time,” he said conversationally. “Are you good now, though?”

“Yeah,” she hated how nosy he was sometimes. Checking the time, she realized there were about 15 minutes left for the next bus to arrive, so she finally sat back on the bench next to him. Seokjin put out his Nintendo and handed it to her, making her very confused.

“I just won a battle with the Gym leader,” he proudly explained, even though she had no idea what he was talking about. “I just caught this Houndour a week ago, but he’s been great in battles. I think I’ll be able to evolve him into a Houndoom in no time,”

“Congrats, I guess,” she wasn’t trying to be mean, she just really didn’t know what to say. He saved his game and put it back in his pocket.

“Did you get your college acceptance letter yet?” why did he have to ask that?

“No,” she said. “You?”

“I got a lot of rejection letters,” he chuckled. “Dad is not happy about that,”

“Why do you look so calm about it?”

“Well, I just got back to school. I knew it was a long shot getting into a good university on my first try, but Dad still wanted me to apply. I’m preparing for next semester,”

“You’re not graduating?” She asked, confused as to why he didn’t look upset.

“I am graduating, but I’m taking a sabbatical semester to actually prepare,”

“Aren’t you afraid of wasting more time?” she regretted including the word more, knowing she sounded rude.

“It’s not a waste if I get something good off it,” he sighed. “I’m getting a job and getting tutors to prepare for the spring semester. Maybe you could do it too, I mean, if you don’t get your letter,”

“I’m getting the letter,” she said, trying to convince herself.

“I’m sure you are. You’re top of the class, aren’t you?” she figured her dad had told him that. “Where did you apply?”

“Where didn’t I,” she scoffed, smiling for the first time. “I sent too many applications for schools way out of my league, I don’t know why. All I wanted was to get away from here. Start my life from scratch in a different country, and all that,”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m still waiting for MIT to answer,”

“MIT?” he asked; his eyebrows higher than she’d ever seen. “Wow! Which field?”

“Science. Neuroscience, to be precise,”

The bus finally arrived, so they instinctively got to their feet and prepared to ride it. The conversation ended as they went on the bus, sitting on opposite sides. She thanked God that he didn’t text her every bus stop, hoping that they kept pretending her slip-up never happened. When she thought she recognized the bus stop, she turned to the back of the bus, where he was. He understood her question, nodding with a smile to let her know this was their stop.

“When will you know if you got in?” Seokjin asked as soon as they both got off the bus. “When is the deadline?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, wondering the same. “I think they have to let me know by the end of next week,”

“I’m sure you will get in,” he said, grabbing the straps of his backpack and standing awkwardly in front of her.

“Thanks,” she said, not knowing what to do.

“Thanks for saving my Nintendo,”

“Don’t go around leaving important stuff behind,” she pretended to scold him.

“I’ll learn from this lesson,” he smiled and they went back to silence.

“Well, see you around,” she said, desperate to get out of there.

“Sure,” he said. “See you!”

(Previous) (Next)

[vrmxlho]

hi zaina, im taking you up on your prev post ab anons getting things off their chest. first off, i adore your blog and your writing (esp speak easy speak love), and thank you for doing this ^^

i got waitlisted by a college i really wanted to go to. dream school and whatnot, it had a 20% acceptance rate and i got waitlisted. this is after i had a really shitty application cycle and overall a bad year in 2022 and i was liek: YEAH 2023 is going to be my year. for a while, it was. i got called for a scholarship interview, selected to possibly go to a t5 uni but that fell through. this entire admissions cycle I’ve just gotten “almosts” but never “yes”. and i know it’s not all black and white, but a rejection is a rejection, yk??? it reallly crushes me because i know how hard i worked for this. i really wanted to go to these places and getting those almost rejections makes me feel so horrible. i genuinely want to give up and stop trying because then i know i won’t be disappointed again. and i know adult life has literally just stated for me but why should i put myself through that struggle to eventually end up disappointed anyways?

sorry for the rant. i think ill get over it soon.sorry if this is overwhelming. have a great day :)

hi anon, first of all ty for the compliments i almost forgot about that smau but yk what i might just post it now 😭😭

anyway to what you were saying. i completely understand what you mean, last year i was in the same position as you, i had gotten acceptances in the uk but i had gotten rejected from all my uni applications in the us, the biggest hit was columbia because that’s where my brother went and he had always told me he’d know i’d get in. and i got an interview and everything and then i open my portal and there’s just a that stupid letter saying “unfortunately”. and it really hurt. because i’d always wanted to go there. it’s in new york it’s in the middle of everything and it’s a fucking ivy league. but no.

and i completely get you on the 2022 being a shit year. in my case it was the year before 2021, i failed my y12 mocks and i had a predicted of 35/45 which isn’t bad but for the unis i wanted to apply to it was very low. i had to beg my uni counsellor to even let me apply to some of my choices. but i got into a great uni here in the uk and i worked my ass off to get top grades and several scholarships to get almost a full ride.

i feel like telling you to work hard just isn’t going to help so let me say this. hard work doesn’t always pay off, especially with unis and i know it’s sad and horrible but that’s just the case. but just know that work ethic is going to help you so so much, i was always a lazy person but after working so hard for the ib now uni is so much simpler because i’m able to work focused and dedicated and finish everything i need to do on time. and ik you’ve probably heard this before but waitlisted is not a rejection, it’s not an almost rejection either. and let’s not forget that getting into a uni with 20% acceptance rate is insanely difficult and just so yk i’m so so proud of you for all the work you’ve put into your application and i wish you luck in this endeavour.

last thing cuz this is getting so long, my friend did this a while back to get out of a waitlist, but write letters to your uni about how excited you are for this opportunity, ask for updates on your application and be super super annoying about this. ask them every other day and tell them just how grateful you are for the opportunity. worst case you stay on the waitlist. but best case you get a place, it’s worked before so. feed into their ego!!

i hope you know that you’re not alone and there are thousands of people who feel the way you do and you all deserve a place at your top school.

[carlyraejcpsen]

alright, i’ve tried to keep quiet because i truly believe in karma and wanted this rp to close through the admin’s own actions and not give them any opportunities to blame it on me instead. it also felt like beating a dead horse, because i was sure they’d close the rp after losing a huge proportion of their active members and the majority of their diversity. however, after seeing multiple people sharing their experiences today, they are still posting promo posts and starting their event. so yeah, here’s my experience with @thevillagerp​​

NOTE: i no longer have screenshots from my conversations with the admins, as i blocked them when i left the rp for the sake of my own mental health, but i did save the text in my drafts, so the messages below are copy pasted. i have not edited them in any way. They also deleted my original anonymous messages off of their blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: racism, very vague allusions to homophobia and transphobia

so i was a member of this roleplay for around two months. during my time there, it was startlingly obvious that white fcs were preferred and prioritised, both from the fact that they got more plots and interactions in general and from the fact that admins never promoted diversity on the main. even now, they repeatedly say they “would still love to receive some more male and non-binary apps” while ignoring that they currently have a ratio of 8 fcs of colour to 24 white fcs. their diversity rules at the time were that 1/3 of a mun’s characters had to be played by an fcoc. so people could easily just play one or two white characters.

a while ago, i sent an anonymous message to the main asking if they had considered perhaps changing this rule to be 2/3 characters instead of 1/3, since there were so few muses of colour in the roleplay (as i said before, they’ve since deleted this from their blog so i cannot provide a screenshot). they responded that they had been thinking of upping the character limit to four instead of three, with a rule that 2/4 must be played by an fcoc. i gave them the benefit of the doubt and the time to enact this change, but nothing happened.

so a few weeks later, i sent them this message on anonymous:

I was wondering if you had thought any more about the diversity rules here? I know you said before that you were considering increasing the character limit, but I noticed that hasn’t happened and I wanted to know if that was a change we’re going to see or if you would consider changing the rules in another way? I’m really disheartened by the lack of diversity in the roleplay

at the time there were 18 characters of colour out of a total of over 60. they responded (again, i’m sorry i don’t have the actual wording since they’ve deleted the messages) that they had thought about it and decided against upping the character limit, but instead would be having a weekly “poc acceptance day,” where they would only be accepting apps with fcs of colour. they also said they were doing this “now that the waitlist was mostly cleared,” which meant that the rp was mostly at capacity anyway, so they needed to look more at how to encourage their existing members to promote diversity, since there weren’t spaces open for new people to bring them in.

i responded with another anon expressing my disappointment and pointing out that they had done more to prevent having too many celebrity characters than too few muses of colour, as at the time they had a ban on celebrity muses. i wouldn’t usually suggest a ban on certain fcs, but as it was something they had done for celebrity characters, then i supposed it was a reasonable option.

they didn’t even respond to this message and instead posted on the main asking me to come off anon to discuss it. so i did, and i sent them the following dm:

i didn’t want to come off anon because i honestly feel really ostracised in this group and didn’t want to make it worse, but i don’t want to drop this issue and you aren’t comfortable addressing it publicly so here we are i guess. like i said in my previous message, i really don’t see how a “poc acceptance day” is going to make anywhere near enough of a difference. people will just wait for the opportunity to play their white characters. there are only 18 characters of colour in a roleplay with over 60 characters. that’s less than a third, which is obviously concerning. what’s even more concerning for me is that these characters are more often than not overlooked. i am often ghosted when plotting, or people don’t even reach out at all when i like plotting calls or intro posts. and then i have to watch characters like leo almost exclusively interact with white women (i’m sure that’s not the only example, but it is the first that comes to mind as he is one of the more active characters).

so this issue goes so much deeper than there just not being adequate representation in the rp. i really tried to help, i suggested making it a rule that 2/3 characters need to be poc in my original ask and you mentioned upping the character limit in response. i was worried that my concerns were being brushed aside, but i waited a while to give you the benefit of the doubt and the space to discuss the issue. so you can understand why it was really upsetting today to learn that the one thing you suggested was dropped and instead replaced with something that is barely scratching the surface of the problem. and i don’t know if it was your intention, but by saying that you were waiting for the waitlist to clear, it comes across as not wanting to receive any backlash from people who would want to join with only white characters. and even if people did want to join with faceclaims of colour, they can’t because the waitlist is cleared. like i suggested, you could change the rules so that 2 out of 3 characters must be people of colour. or, as was your proposed idea, up the character limit to four. you could also put a temporary ban on white faceclaims until the ratio evens out. as i mentioned, it’s really distressing that this was something you were willing to do for celebrity characters, but not to aid diversity.

i also just want to make it clear that these have been the only anons i’ve sent, i know you’ve been getting other ones, but those weren’t from me!!

( for context, they were receiving anons from someone else claiming that they felt left out in the rp ).

i had hoped that coming off anon would show them that this was a very real issue which was affecting their members, as well as giving them a space to discuss it privately instead of on the main. they responded with:

Hi Em, thank you for coming forward. We really, really appreciate it and we understand it’s not an easy thing to do. We also appreciate you flying the flag for diversity so strongly. We can always strive to be better, we are on the same page with you here.

Let us just explain our decision making. Firstly, just to address the waitlist, that was certainly not at all our intention when we brought it up. It was a logistical decision with 5+ applicants having already waited a week for acceptance and aware of their position on a waitlist.

When we decided against upping the character limit (and therefore the 2/4 POC character rule), we thought a POC acceptance day could be a good alternative course of action. In our eyes, this was something that would probably bring more POC characters to the group than the 2/4 rule because we knew there weren’t going to be many muns taking up an additional fourth character. This was a rule we’ve seen other groups enjoy success from so we wanted to try it out here. Plus, we think a day that explicitly highlights diversity every week would bring the message to the forefront of everyone’s minds. As we said, we’re going to monitor this over the next couple of weeks to see if it brings any improvement because we’d really like to have it as an ongoing rule.

The non-POC ban is actually a measure we’ve spoken about too and we are considering putting one in place should this fail. Thank you for raising your concerns, know that we’ve taken them very seriously and we hope that you’ll trust our judgement in trying this rule out first to see where it leads.

first of all, i don’t think i even have to mention the wording of “flying the flag for diversity.” but the real crux of the issue here is that they supposedly wanted me to come off anon to discuss the issue, but instead just explained their idea further and didn’t take anything i said on board. they didn’t even say a single word about how i told them i felt ostracised and regularly got ignored. i knew from speaking to other muns in the rp who played muses of colour (and just from looking at the dash) that they felt the same way too, but of course was only speaking from my own experience.

i thought long and hard about how to respond to this, as i was so disheartened by their unwillingness to listen to their members and the fact that they didn’t care that i felt left out. it felt like they had asked me to come off anon just so they knew who was messaging them and therefore put a target on my back, so honestly the thought of being on the dash or talking to the admins made me incredibly anxious. before i had a chance, however, they responded again with:

Hi hun, we’ve continued discussing this issue over the last couple of days and we wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to put in place a non-POC ban instead. Thank you again for holding a mirror up to the group. We do hope that this will recorrect the balance.

so i waited to see how things would play out. they posted about this new ban here and pinned the post to the top of the main:

[ IMAGE ID: a screenshot from thevillagehq of an admin update, which reads: in the interest of keeping the village a diverse space, we are currently only accepting applications for POCs. please note that any apps or reserves submitted to us for faceclaims that are not POCs will be deleted. we will lift this rule once we see fit.

thank you for your understanding and your efforts in making this group a brighter, more inclusive and diverse place for all. /END ID ]

this rule remained in place for around two weeks, during which time they made almost no effort to promote it. the above post was pinned to the main page, but that was the only mention of the ban anywhere on their page, they didn’t update the rules page or even put a note on the application page about it. during this two week period, the admins posted 10 promo posts, none of which suggested fcs or even mentioned the ban or diversity at all. the ban was then lifted suddenly when the pinned post was removed and the admins just went back to accepting apps with white fcs. the ratio had only evened out in those two weeks (from 18 out of 65 to 24/50) because of people going inactive or leaving, and there was nothing put into place to continue to promote diversity after the lift of the ban. in the three days after the ban was lifted, the admins posted over 10 promo posts, the same amount they had posted during the entirety of the ban. it was clear that they had no intention of actually making changes in their rp and had only done so because i refused to drop the issue.

again, i thought a lot about what i wanted to message them. i knew at this point that they didn’t want to make any real changes, but i still felt like i had to make it clear to them how disappointing their actions were. once again, i was messaged before i even had a chance, this time for bubbling.

as you can see in the above correspondence, i had told the admins point blank that i felt left out and ignored in the rp because of the characters i played (aubrey plaza, mj rodriguez and keiynan lonsdale fcs. all of my characters were queer and used either she/they or they/them pronouns). as a general rule, the only people who wanted to write with me and have interesting plots with me were people who played other muses of colour. the rp had a rule that you must reply to 3+ muns on every character, which i had been doing. i had only been back from my hiatus for a few days at this point and had responded to 6 different open starters the day prior. their message to me read:

Hi hun. There’s something we wanted to address to you directly. It’s been expressed to us by multiple members during these last few weeks that they have felt excluded by your character within the group, especially when it comes to the friend bubble that has formed between Mars, Bowie, Luvena, Asher and others. 

While we encourage the development of friendships and trust that this isn’t intentional, we have a zero tolerance for bubble roleplaying at The Village. We are aware that our three mun activity rules have been met by all parties involved, however, bubbling is usually a little more nuanced than that and it seems it has unfortunately begun to create a bit of a divide within the group. 

We have already issued individual warnings to a few people within the bubble, however with multiple members still expressing their concerns to us, we decided it would be better to address the group as a whole. We hope that by pointing this out to you, you will try and branch out to your fellow members a little more from now on - and try and be a little more inclusive when it comes to everyone else in the group. 

We take such matters very seriously as admins, and while we hope it won’t have to come to this, there will be consequential steps taken should we not see any changes in your interactions in the weeks to come.

as you can imagine, i was incredibly upset to receive this message after already telling them i didn’t get plots from many of their members and they had done nothing. even people who i had previously messaged continued to only write with the same few white characters. i don’t deny that we definitely had a friendship group between our characters, but there were multiple people in that roleplay, including the admins, who only cared about ship plots or plots with the same few muns. me and other people who received the same message had all previously told the admins that people aren’t plotting with us and gotten ignored, so receiving this message made it clear that they neither cared about us nor wanted us in their rp. and so i responded as below:

yeah i literally told you i felt left out because there are multiple people only writing with white characters and you never addressed it, so this message is honestly insulting. i have reached out to almost every new member, responded to multiple open starters and have tried to plot with as many people as possible. like i told you, i am often left on read or people don’t even message me at all. if people do message me, i am usually expected to put in all of the effort and if people aren’t interested in actually developing plots with me then i am obviously not going to force my characters on them. all of my characters are queer, non binary people of colour and the harsh truth of this roleplay is that people don’t care about them. i even wrote out a whole list of 20 detailed suggested connections in an attempt to get more plots and nothing came from that either. i’ve even gotten anonymous hate saying that offering to explain my characters’ pronouns was “patronising,” which i didn’t feel like i could approach you about because, when i told you about how i’m feeling excluded, you didn’t care.

so if i only have actual plots with the people who actually care about my characters, i make no apologies. i also don’t even have threads with half of the characters you named, asher being the only one, and have literally only just come off hiatus. so please explain how i am bubbling, because this really just feels targeted at this point.

you’ve made it endlessly clear that this rp isn’t a safe space for people who want to play diverse characters. the main was practically silent while you had a ban on white faceclaims, which you never actively promoted, and then you dropped that suddenly without putting anything else in place. you also deleted my initial anonymous messages asking about diversity as if you were trying to hide that there was ever an issue. you turned anonymous messages off, so that no one can safely criticise you. because i did that off anon and ever since it has felt like there is a massive target on my back. my characters have been “accidentally” on the activity checks multiple times despite me being on hiatus (people get a notification that they were tagged even if you remove their name from the list btw). plus when i asked for an extension on my hiatus, you said that you would allow it “just this once” which now makes me feel like i can’t come to you if i’m busy. right now, for example, i am in the middle of moving house, but i’m also stressed about trying to stay active because you have made yourselves completely unapproachable.

the ratio only evened out slightly because members left. then suddenly after the ban you’re posting multiple promo posts a day??? you couldn’t get more obvious. i came to you about diversity in good faith, hoping that it was something you were unaware of, but you have made it abundantly clear that you actively do not want to promote diversity in your roleplay, we are just here to be witnesses to your ship. there are multiple members who are actually bubbling who have been brought to your attention, but nothing has been done. leo continues to only write with the same three white and white passing characters. charlotte pretty much only appears to write with leo and post a vague “message me for plots” post that wasn’t even tagged. both of you only put effort into your ship threads with each other and the occasional text threads. even with something like group events: while i’ve been here, there’s been a pride event that neither of your characters were even in new york for (an event where i was the only one reaching out and posting multiple starters, by the way); there was no event last month, and this month all you’re talking about is this housewarming party.

i’m really disheartened that it’s come to this, but i can’t be here anymore. please post unfollows for all my characters. you’ve said multiple times that we should trust you as admins, but this message shows again that i simply can’t do that. from the disregard of trigger warnings, to the way you treated being held accountable for the lack of diversity, to how you respond to people asking for hiatuses, this isn’t a safe space. even if i stayed, the target you have placed on me is making it insufferable to just write my characters in peace.

the other muns who received the same bubbling message (copy pasted btw, we all got the same one word for word) all responded with their own concerns and criticisms in responses of a similar length to mine. none of us received a reply, our unfollows were just posted the next day without any further responses from the admins. a few of the other members who had written and plotted with us chose to leave as well, which the admins wrote off as us just dragging them with us as opposed to them being able to make their own decisions and being aware of the situation (which was incredibly obvious. no promotion of a white fc ban, suddenly being active on the main once they try to stealthily drop the ban, then the majority of their muses of colour leaving???)

i haven’t paid the rp much attention since i left, as i mentioned above i blocked the main and the majority of the members just for my own mental health. but from a quick scroll through today i can see that the only change in diversity rules is that now instead of your third character having to be a poc, it is now your second. however, you still only have to have 1 character out of 3 have a fc of colour. so very little has been done, but of course i’m not surprised in the slightist.

these admins don’t want diversity in their roleplay. if you play any character who isn’t a rich, white, cishet neurotypical, please avoid it at all costs. it’s not in any way a safe environment.

[moldisgoodforyou]

syracuse

we back (with a cute rafe/drew photo for tax)

wordcount: 2.4k

_______

“I can’t open it.”

“Open it.”

“I can’t.” Sophie stared at the screen, anxiously tapping her nails against her desk. Her friend had texted her that Syracuse acceptance emails had gone out - the first of the three schools she’d applied to - and she’d just opened her email then froze in fear of rejection. Rafe had been patient with her, for a good ten minutes, but he was dying to know if she got in.

(In all honesty - he didn’t want her to choose Syracuse. If she got in, and if she did choose it, he would follow her with no hesitation. But from what he had heard, he’d be bored out of his mind, and he was excited at the prospect of getting out of a college town post-grad, even just for a little bit until Ward made him come back home again. Sophie was set on Rafe never working for his dad ever again, but Rafe knew better. It wasn’t that easy. It was never easy with his dad.)

“You can. All you have to do is press the button and login. Don’t you want to know?” He coaxed, nudging her hand on the trackpad until she jerked it away.

“Stop. I’ll do it when I’m ready.” She told him firmly, not lifting her gaze from the screen. A million thoughts were racing through her head, most of them focusing on what would happen if she didn’t get in. Syracuse was hard, but not unattainable. In her mind, if she didn’t get into Syracuse, there’s no way she was getting into Columbia. Her fucking dream. So it wasn’t really about Syracuse, not quite, it was just the first benchmark of possibility.

He sighed, but sat back patiently on the bed anyways. “You’re scared.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. And that’s fine, but quit avoiding it. If you got in, that’s amazing. If you didn’t, that’s perfectly fine. You have two other options, at two amazing schools. Three, actually, if you’re counting here.” He looked over her tense posture, her shoulders nearly to her ears and her jaw tight, and wished he could take her anxious feeling away. “Do you want me to look first?”

“Would you?” She turned to him with hopeful eyes, biting her lip.

He rose with a nod and swiped his thumb over her lips to make her let go, then took her laptop from her. Rafe clicked a few buttons, waited for the page to load, then -

“Huh.”

Fuck. That was not the delivery he’d prepared in his head.

Her shoulders sagged and she bit her lip again, drawing her knees to her chest. “I didn’t get in.”

“I - no, you didn’t. I’m sorry, baby.” He frowned at how quickly her mood changed, like she had anticipated the failure.

“Not even waitlisted?” She asked tentatively, reaching out for the laptop.

He handed it back, reading over the screen again over her shoulder to make sure there wasn’t something he’d missed. “Um...I don’t think so.” He carefully wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry, Soph.”

She dropped her chin to rest on top of her knees, letting out a big sigh. “Now I’m not going to Columbia. There’s no fucking way.”

He stepped around, easily scooping her up from her desk chair and brought her to the bed so he could properly hold her. Rafe curled his arms around her, holding her tight. “You don’t know that.”

“If I can’t get into Syracuse then there’s no way Columbia is taking me. And now I’m not even sure about UT Austin.” She told him with a frown, resting her head on his chest. “This fucking sucks.”

He just hummed in agreement, rubbing small circles on her back. After a while, when he was sure she wasn’t crying, he spoke again. “Soph?”

“Yeah.”

“You really want Columbia, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. She’d talked about Columbia more than any other school, he caught her looking up ‘average cost of rent in NYC’ the other day, and their information pamphlet about the school resided in the same place on her desk as the others, but the Columbia one was worn and scribbled in. The others remained pristine.

She sighed, quietly. “I really do. It would be incredible. The faculty, the alumni - the city - it’s perfect. And now it’s not happening.”

“Hey. You don’t know that.” He told her firmly, tipping her chin up so she had to look him in the eye. “Just because you didn’t get into one school, doesn’t mean you won’t get into Columbia. Syracuse is better for undergrad anyways, so you’re more suited toward Columbia, their urban planning program is better too -”

“How did you know that?” She interrupted, raising her eyebrows.

“I’ve done my research.” He replied with a small smile. “When are you supposed to hear back? And from Texas too?”

“In a few weeks, I think.” She bit the inside of her cheek, considering the boy in front of her and his unwavering support, how he was prepared to uproot his entire life just to make her happy. “Does that - does that disappoint you? Did you want to go to Syracuse?”

“No, Sophie, no. I’m not disappointed at all.” He amended quickly, reaching out and taking her hand. As expected, she started playing with his rings, a subconscious habit she’d developed. “If it’s New York City, or Austin, or we stay in Columbus, I’m ready for whatever. You just say the word.”

She nearly teared up at that. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Hm?”

“To have you.” Sophie laced her fingers together with his, leaning in to kiss him once. “Seriously. I’d be a nervous wreck if I was doing this all alone.”

“You kinda still were a nervous wreck.” He teased, chasing her lips for another kiss. “But it’s okay. I got you.”

“You’re the best.” She declared, climbing into his lap and circling her arms around his neck. “Seriously. I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Love you, angel.” He replied, smiling as his hands automatically went to her waist. “It’s probably a good thing you didn’t get into Syracuse, anyways.”

“Why’s that?”

“You always tell me I look terrible in orange.”

“I’ve never said terrible.”

He scoffed. “You said, and I quote, that shade of orange makes you look sick. Go change and burn the shirt.”

She blushed, remembering the exact situation she told him. It was from the one time he’d convinced her to go golfing in Columbus - she agreed only because she knew she could twist it into convincing him to leave early and then going to bed to...exercise a different way.) “UT Austin’s orange too.”

“Guess you have to get into Columbia then.” He smirked, sliding his hands down to cup her ass and tip her closer. When her chain swung forward, nearly hitting him in the face, he pulled back and set her aside. “Oh, I forgot to give this to you.”

“Wait -” She whined, reaching for him.

He grinned, pulling a small box out of his nightstand. “Hold on, we can make out in a second.”

“Oh my god.” She rolled her eyes, swatting his arm. “What, did you get yourself another ring? Lemme see.”

“It’s for you, actually.” He handed her the box, sitting back expectantly. “You keep wearing that chain I got you for the ring in Barcelona, but you actually wear the ring here, so I figured I’d get you a pendant for the chain.”

She paused before accepting the gift, narrowing her eyes. “You need to stop getting me unsolicited presents.”

“You bought me dinner the other day, consider us even.”

“Rafe, that was McDonald’s to hold you over because you ran before we had that late dinner -”

“I don’t care, Sophie, open the box.” He nudged his knee against hers, beaming as he waited.

She sighed, but opened it anyway - her breath caught in her throat as she did. Inside was a rectangular ruby pendant with a gold setting to match the chain, subtle but classic all the same. “Tell me this isn’t real.”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “Um...do you recognize the stone? It’s my -”

“Your birthstone, I know.” She peered at it closer, slipping it out of the box.

“Is it okay? Do you like it?” He asked tentatively, a little nervous with her reaction. He knew she wasn’t the biggest fan of getting expensive presents from him, so he chose his moments carefully. Very carefully.

“I love it, Rafe, it’s beautiful. Thank you.” She smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek - he turned his head to catch her lips with his. Sophie undid the clasp of her chain to slide the pendant on, then offered the necklace to him, pulling her hair to the side. “Help me put it on?”

He took the necklace, tongue poking out a little in concentration as he clipped the delicate clasp together. “Welcome,” he said, leaning forward to press a few tender kisses along her neck. “I love you.”

She hummed, content, and leaned back into his embrace. “Love you too. If, um, I was to get into Columbia, and you still wanted to live with me. Would we go into student housing, or…?”

Rafe scoffed, nudging his nose against her neck and pulled her back as he lied down, so she laid on his chest. “We’re not living in student housing. And yes, I still want to live with you.”

“I’m not sure if I can afford -” She stopped abruptly when Rafe placed his hand against her mouth, effectively cutting her off.

“Stop. We will figure it out.”

“But I -”

“No.” He told her firmly. “You’re not going to stress yourself out about something so far in advance. When you get into Columbia - and you will - then we’ll talk about it.”

She turned so she was facing him, still on top of him, so he could see the concern written all over her face. “You know our budgets aren’t the same.”

“I know. I also know that we don’t have to split it entirely 50-50. Or we can, and we can live in a shoebox. I don’t care, Sophie, but I don’t want you living alone in New York City, of all places.”

“You sound like my dad.” She scowled, reaching up to stroke her thumb over his jawline.

He shuddered but leaned into her touch anyways. “I love your dad, but don’t ever say that again. Look, when we’re both salaried, we’ll have that double income no kids lifestyle. Living the dream.”

“I’m pretty sure that only applies if you’re married, Rafe.” She raised her eyebrows.

“We can get married, that’s not an issue.” He grinned, tilting his head to kiss her thumb. “Right after we graduate? That sound good? Grad party one week, wedding the next?”

She just blushed, shaking her head. “My mom might kill me.”

“I thought she liked me…?” He asked tentatively. He was always anxious whenever the topic of her parents came up, in any manner, as he felt the need to impress them constantly. (If he was willing to be a little more self-aware, he might recognize where that stemmed from.)

“She does! But if I didn’t give her time to plan a proper wedding, she’d be upset, I think.” Sophie shrugged, glancing away. “Plus I kind of think I might want to put a little time into it too. Going dress shopping, picking out rings together, all that.”

“This is different from the girl trying to convince me to elope in Italy.” He teased, loving when she blushed harder.

“In my defense, I was mildly intoxicated.”

“You went down on me in public.”

“The hostel showers were not in public.”

“Anyone could have walked in.” He pointed out, tugging on the ends of her hair with a grin. “You would have loved it, too.”

“Okay, okay, shut up.” She shoved at his chest, using him as leverage to climb off him. “I have to go to the studio, are you staying or …?”

She didn’t even finish asking the question before he was standing up, shoving his laptop in his backpack. “Sure. Let’s go. You gonna go down on me in there too?”

“Rafe!”

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” He exclaimed, putting his hands up in defense as she flipped him off. “You know I’m kidding. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it though.”

Sophie turned bright red, striding out of the room. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, hold on, what?” He followed quickly down the stairs, grinning ear to ear. “Are you dreaming about me or something? I want to hear this.”

“You’re embarrassing.” She replied over her shoulder, not giving him a second glance until he grabbed her around the waist at the base of the stairs and spun her around. “Hey! You can’t just - put me down!”

“Tell me! I wanna hear about your dreams.” He insisted, but set her down carefully.

She stuck her tongue out at him in response. “No. Are you gonna behave yourself at the studio?”

“No promises.” He grinned, but quickly dropped the grin as she rolled her eyes and grabbed the keys away from him. “Hey, hey, no, I’ll be good,” he protested, taking the keys back.

“Whipped.” Sophie giggled at his affronted look, following him out to the car.

“Sue me, I’m in love.”

“Oh my god, you’re annoying.” She flicked his ear once she got in - after he opened the door for her, like usual - and grinned when he grabbed at her hand and kissed her ring.

“Hey. You like it? The necklace, it’s okay? Not too much?” Rafe asked, scanning over her face to gauge her reaction. “I don’t want you to think I’m like, overly possessive or something -”

She nodded, leaning over to kiss him - short and sweet but firm and reassuring all at once. “You’re okay. I love it, I promise. You know I can’t hide my feelings from you.”

“Yeah, I just -” He gestured at the air, his words falling flat. “You know.”

“I know.” She reached up to hold the pendant, then paused as she rubbed her thumb over the back of it. “Is this…”

“Engraved? Might be.” He couldn’t hold back his grin as he kept his eyes on the road, but stole glances at her at every stop sign. “Maybe you should check and look.”

Sophie craned her neck to look down and read the small engraving of RC on the back of the pendant, then grinned at him. “And you said you weren’t possessive.”

He visibly relaxed at her grin, worried the engraving might have been too much. “I never said that.”

She beamed and reached out to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, shaking her head. “Sweet, sentimental boy. You’re my favorite.”

He beamed back, cheeks tinting red. “Love you too.”

Taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46

[andyinmiddleearth]

Not to be cisphobic but like... you know what screw it, I hate cis people. And by that I don’t mean that I hate every single individual cis person that exists, I actually have several cis friends and family members that I am close to and love. I mean that I hate cis people as my oppressors, that I hate cis people as a class that oppresses gender-non-conforming, intersex, trans, and non-binary people. Here’s some examples of the systems of oppression cis people as a class have placed that still hurt us to this day:

I hate gender-reveals parties. I hate the fact that a baby’s interests, decorations, hell even their entire personality, is determined just by simply looking at the fetus’ outward genitalia. Not to mention how inaccurate it can be cause sex is a spectrum (meaning it’s much more than just genitalia, it includes hormones, chromosomes, etc, and these can be super diverse and I myself, an AFAB person, don’t naturally produce estrogen) which is why some intersex people don’t even know they’re intersex until they get checked out by a specialist in their late teens or twenties.

I hate cis people assuming pronouns, ESPECIALLY when it comes to people like me that are visibly queer. I hate going to a doctor’s office and having to listen to nurses and even doctors call me sis, girl, ma’am, lady, she, her, when over here I’m standing with a ‘men’s’ haircut and wearing entirely ‘men’s’ clothes. But as a whole, I just hate assuming people’s pronouns in general because gender is so much more than gender expression. Men can be feminine, women can be masculine, non-binary people can be as femme or masc as they want. Our bodies and our clothes don’t determine our gender. We do.

I also hate cis people not respecting pronouns on purpose, like that time at Einstein Bagels where I was wearing my he/him pin and the cashier kept repeatedly calling me ‘ma’am’ despite me wearing this 2.25 inch long button WITH MY PRONOUNS ON IT. I hate how I have family members that purposefully misgender me every single fucking day despite me being out as trans to them for YEARS because they just think ‘being transgender is a choice, like being vegan.’ I hate how one of these said family members does everything they fucking can to trigger my dysphoria and constant remind me that they see me as a woman.

I hate cissexism. I hate words like ‘lady parts’ and ‘boy parts’ and ‘girl parts.’ Boys and girls (and all genders) can have whatever private parts they have and still be their gender AND IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, and frankly very creepy to want to know what’s in someone’s pants. I hate how instead of using terms like afab or amab it’s just ‘male parts’ and ‘female parts,’ ‘male body,’ ‘female body,’ which also blatantly erases intersex people that may have both, or something else entirely different.

I hate how cis people have made this concept about the ‘the perfect trans person’ that people in the trans community (yes, I’m talking about transmeds) will shit on our non-binary and non-dysphoric trans siblings because ‘they make us look like a joke.’ Spoiler alert, cis people as a class hate trans people because they’re transphobic, period, not because some random non-binary sixteen year old uses ze/hir pronouns and is non-dysphoric. I hate how I was harassed on this platform FOR YEARS and sent hate on and off anon by transmeds simply because I, a dysphoric trans guy, think you don’t need dysphoria to be trans. Because I think being trans is so much more about being uncomfortable in your body, because I think you can have gender euphoria and not gender dysphoria. And I hate how the transmeds that bullied me also called me all kinds of slurs (both referring to my ethnicity as a Latino and also just homophobic ones like the f-slur) and perpetuated exactly the behavior they see white cishet men perform because they think that way maybe they will accept them. Spoiler alert; they won’t.

I hate how intersex babies are mutilated every day around the world simply because of how they are born while trans children and young adults are still being denied access to LIFE-SAVING resources like hormone blockers, HRT, surgery, etc. I hate how long the waitlists are for trans people in places like the UK and Canada are to transition, and I hate how monetarily expensive it can be even with insurance in the USA, since this is the main reason why I can’t start T right now (that and the fact that I live with family members that wouldn’t support me transitioning).

I hate how anything can be a ‘girl’ or ‘boy’ thing. Things as simple as drinks for fuck’s sake. Why is a beer a ‘man’s drink’ and a fruity cocktail a ‘lady’s drink?’ Same goes for everything... clothing, movies, certain games, even basic chores like cooking and cleaning. Hell, even interests can be a ‘girl or boy’ thing. One time I was reading a thick book and this cis man (he knew I’m AFAB cause my parents misgendered me to him obviously) went ‘oh yeah us guys don’t read that much.’ EXCUSE ME SIR BUT I AM A GUY, AND I DO NOT WANT TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH YOU!

I hate how when a trans person comes out as a child they are ‘too young to know,’ and when a trans person comes out as a teen they are ‘just going through a phase/copying trends,’ and when a trans person comes out as an adult then ‘they can’t really be trans because they never shoWeD thE siGns.’ There’s no age to realize you’re trans, everyone accepts their identity at different rates and that’s valid. And there’s no age to transition either.

I hate how when you come out as trans cis people magically expect you to suddenly not look trans anymore. How they expect trans men after coming out to have perfectly flat chests and no curves, how they expect trans women to suddenly grow boobs and look feminine af, and how they expect non-binary people to look as androgynous as possible. All kinds of bodies are trans, and you don’t need to medically transition to be trans. Some trans folks don’t have surgery or HRT or anything at all for whatever reason, and they’re still valid.

I hate how some cis people will misgender us trans people no matter how well we pass the minute they find out we’re trans. A trans man can have a flat chest, a full grown beard and a deep voice and the minute someone finds out he’s trans he’s suddenly ‘really a woman.’ I hate how this misgendering of trans people is one of the reasons why so many of us (41%) have attempted suicide, myself included. And I hate how badly cis people deteriorate our mental health just by refusing to use our pronouns and real name instead of our deadnames.

I hate all of these things, and there are so many more... but yeah, that’s what I mean when I say I hate cis people. I don’t hate cis people individually, I hate cis people because as a class they are complicit in my oppression and the way they keep upholding society contributes to our extremely high rates of mental illness, depression, and suicide. I’ve tried to kill myself too many times to count exactly because of all of these things. So yeah, call me a cisphobe if you want. I’m just a trans person that’s fed up with the transphobia, cisnormativity and cissexism that is shoved down my throat every day.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 20

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: sorry for the delay on this one, hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

There are several times when you fall in love with someone, that is, you don’t fall at of the sudden, it’s gradually. Sebastian would argue with everyone else that he was attracted to the type of women that most men in his inner circle, he wanted to be just like his father and his father would have never fallen for the type of woman that Y/N was. However, Sebastian couldn’t help but want to make her smile whenever she apologised to inanimate objects just because she stepped on them, how she would stop mid street to look at the Christmas decorations and how she would put everyone else in front of her, even that rat Mr. Williams. Yet, there was no feature that made him want to shield her from the evil of the world more than when she smiled at him, free of judgements for his life style, for what people said and today she seemed to be showering him with that smile. 

Y/N hadn’t stop smiling for the whole entirety they had been outside, waving and talking to everyone like some version of a Disney Princess. Yet, as the night grew closer and closer, Sebastian decided it was safer for them to return to the penthouse. Once they returned, he was rather excited to strip off the winter clothes and be allowed to wear lighter clothes in his very warm and mostly desolate house safe for the bodyguards inside the lift at most times. Likewise, Y/N removed her winter coat and hat, rushing over to the kitchen to grab a cookie making Sebastian wonder if she ever got tired. 

      - I don’t know if it’s just because you really like Christmas or if it’s a sugar rush, but you’re rather energetic today angel. - he watched her break off a piece of her cookie, feeding it to herself. - You know you can bite on the cookie instead of breaking it, right?

     - No fun. - she handed him a cookie. - We’ve been doing what I do for Christmas all day. What do you do for Christmas?

     - I don’t. - he shrugged, leaning against one of the walls. - It’s alright, angel. This is for you, you get to chose. 

     - Well, I chose to do something you do or used to do for Christmas. C’mon, just because you’re the mob boss doesn’t mean you were born one. - she held his hand in hers, a soft smile on her lips. - There must be something.

    - I’m afraid the Stans don’t celebrate Christmas like the Forrests, angel. 

    - Mr. Stan, I am not taking no for an answer. There has to be something. 

    - You’re awfully pushy today. - he chuckled, hand coming to caress her cheek. - Well ... when I was younger me and my mum would cuddle on the couch and watch that weird Natalie Wood movie it hit midnight. We would then wish for something at 12:01 Christmas Eve. 

     - That is definitely something. - Y/N couldn’t help but melt a bit at the exposition. Sebastian certainly wasn’t one to show much emotion, that was asked of the job, but the fact that he had just told her a childhood memory which judging by the look of his eyes seemed rather special was something she would treasure. - I’m pretty sure we can rent Miracle on 34th Street somewhere.

    - You don’t have to do that, angel. We can do something you enjoy.

    - I happen to like Miracle on 34th Street very much. Wait here ... - she ran up the stairs and into her bedroom, opening the wide doors of her wardrobe where she had seen some staff store blankets and pillows. Carrying as many as her arms could, she went down the stairs, throwing all the bedding onto the couch much to Sebastian’s confusion. - You cannot watch a Christmas film without coziness. 

    - You really are something else, angel. Aren’t you?

    - I’ve been called odd several times, so I’d guess you’re right. - she spoke mindlessly, too busy arranging the blankets and pillows into something her heart considered perfect. Once she had obtained as much fluffiness as she could, she jumped onto the couch, patting the spot next to her. - Come on, let’s do your tradition.

    - It’s hardly a tradition, angel. - how could he deny sitting next to her. He just couldn’t. With slow yet certain movements, he sat next to her, the only thing separating them being his hand in the middle. - Haven’t done it in years. 

    - It’s always a good time to restart. 

She had managed to find the movie for rental on Youtube, however, unlike her, Sebastian was much more interested in watching her rather than the movie. The way the fake fireplace light her face with shades of warm orange and yellow, the soft sounds caused by her breathing and the way her eyes shined with the hope of someone who didn’t know how bad the world outside was. She just seemed like an actual angel in the middle of all of this, endearingly innocent and sweet to a point that made Sebastian wonder if it could be to her detriment. After all, her sweetness was what enabled Gwen to pull her around like a doll and while she was in her employment and her friend, she did things that he wouldn’t dream of doing ... maybe if it was for her, but never for Gwen.

Too lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice her fingers had laced with his and her head was now laying on the soft fabric of the jumper she had offered him. He only noticed this once her finger started to draw invisible circles on his hand. Some part of him wished he hadn’t noticed the closeness as once he did, suddenly he was aware of every single movement. What if he disturbed her? He didn’t want to disturb her, she looked so peaceful and she was so close. Was he sweating? He was definitely sweating. Maybe also shivering from the pure amount of nerves. Why was he nervous? He had killed people before, had been with other women before so why was he nervous at a very innocent touch.

   - I love a happy ending, don’t you? - she spoke up making him realise he had just spent the entire film staring at her. She probably thought he was crazy or maybe stalk-ish. - Seb?

   - Yeah? Yes, love happy endings. 

   - Look, it’s a minute past midnight. - she noticed the red light of the microwave’s hour display. - Make a wish.

   - I don’t need a wish, I have everything I could have right here.

   - Oh ... - she felt a heat creep up her skin up to her cheeks. Why was the room suddenly very hot. - Merry Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas Eve. Really Y/N? Couldn’t have come up with a better sentence? She knew that Gwen leaving the two of them alone was a mistake. If they couldn’t control themselves when she was in the same house how were they gonna control themselves when she is a good half hour away from them during a snow storm? 

   - What are you wishing for, angel? 

   - I wish for everyone to get what they wish for. 

   - Y/N, angel, you cannot share your wish with the world. - he chuckled. - If you could have anything in the whole wide world, what would you want?

   - I’m a handmaid, I don’t think about those things. - she sighed. - My life is pretty good. 

   - Even millionaires wish on a wishing star, angel. It doesn’t make you a bad person if you want something. 

   - I never stopped to think about that. People normally don’t ask me about what I want. - she shrugged.

    - Wait here. - he kissed the top of her head, leaving her momentaneously which gave her more time to panic about her situation. Gwen would certainly have her head on a platter for being that enamoured with her fiancée. Ever since they were kids what was Y/N’s belonged to the both of them but what was Gwen’s was Gwen’s only. Why was she so enamoured with him? Was it because he was handsome? She had certainly meet other handsome boys and men before she saw him. Was it because he was rich? She knew various rich people which flaunted it more than him. All she knew was that she liked him. Not just like. When she looked at him she could envision a future that just didn’t exist but god could she feel it as if it could. - I was gonna give you this for Christmas but I guess now it’s as good time as it could be. 

   - You didn’t need to get me something. - she said as he placed a red and white box on top of her lap. - I don’t have anything for you.

   - Nonsense, you gave me this jumper. - he pointed at the dark jumper. - I hope you like it, I wasn’t entirely sure which one you’d like. 

   - I’m sure it’s lovely either way. - she took the lid off the red and white box which led to a very familiar orange box. Hermes. She would know that box anywhere. Gwen always had a particular knack for buying their scarfs and handbags. However, it was probably just repacking. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened. As she opened the box however, she realised it was no repacking. She picked up the bag she had dreamed on having since she was a little kid looking at old Grace Kelly pictures. - It’s a Kelly bag. 

   - Isn’t that what you wanted? I can get you another one if you want so, maybe a different colour?

   - You can buy a small house with one of these. 

   - I can also get you a small house if that’s what you want.

   - How did you even get one? There’s a waitlist. - Y/N was dumbfounded, wondering if the cold had knocked her off and all of this was a fantasy. 

   - There is no waitlist for me, angel. - Sebastian smirked, proud of his statement but Y/N was much lost in her haze, looking at one of the most unobtainable bags in the world. Even celebrities had to wait for a Birkin or a Kelly and here she was, a mere nobody holding on. - Are you alright?

   - I can’t take it. - she put the bag back on the box. - You need to give this to Gwen. 

   - No, angel, that one is for you.

   - But this is an expensive bag. 

   - It’s hardly that expensive, angel. Besides, you gave me a Christmas present so I had to repay the favour. 

   - You could buy a whole truck full of jumpers with one of these bags. I ... I don’t know what to say. 

   - We can get something else if you don’t like it, angel. Anything you want. Jewellery, car, clothing ... just name it. However, I won’t return the bag just because you won’t accept it. It’s an order. 

   - Sebastian, it’s beautiful. Thank you. - she jumped forward, wrapping her arms around him before kissing his cheek. - Thank you.

   - Don’t mention it, angel. Anything for you. 

   - Seb ... - she couldn’t help but blurt out what came next. - I love you.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld @captainchrisstan @lookiamtrying @sarge-barnes-sir​​​ @stuffforreferences​ @thebadassbitchqueen

[echonidae]

let’s talk commission stuff!

hey folks !!  so i’ve been reorganizing myself to get commissions back on track, and i’ve got some things i’d like to get your input on, if it isn't too much trouble !! ;v;

it’s a long one, so under the cut it goes sdfghghj

a slightly too long tl;dr because apparently this is a 10min read (i'm so sorry): commission revamp on the works! no date for it yet. gonna be easing myself back with just icons for a while at first (no date for that either thoug, not yet), then the revamp will be in full swing with all the other commission options, and the pricetable for them will be changed in the future as well. 

some questions: 

1) i’m rethinking commission types, is there anything you’d like to see as a new option?  2) considering i tend to open only a handful slots every batch, i'm thinking about implementing a waitlist (with a bit of a twist: it's split between Current Batch and Next Batch; a little more complicated than a regular ol' waitlist, allows me to get through some of the waitlist queue as work gets done). would that interest you or is it too much of a headache? 100% open to suggestions! 3) i’m organizing a board on trello for commission stuffs !! any suggestions or specific things you’d like to see there?

so! it’s already been over a year since i last opened commissions and i’d very much like to get back to them ;o; it’s been way too long! i miss working with you folks aaa

i don’t have a reopening date yet, but i’m planning on opening only icons for a while to ease back into the process. later on, i'll open the other commission options too. you see, i’m working on a full revamp of the whole thing, including the terms of service and that info image with the examples (because looking back, i think it no longer really represents my current style and how i really do commissions in terms of just... plain old rendering and polishing), so i’ll be working on new drawings and a new layout too, and all that good jazz :D

for full disclosure, along with this overhaul of the terms and such, i will be updating prices too c: i’m still working on the new values though, since i need to figure out what commission types/options the overhaul will have. which brings me to the first question here: what would you like to see as a commission option? for reference, here’s the og options:

(hoo i need to redo those examples *sweats*)

also, one more thing i’d like to note about this revamp situation: there isn’t a whole lot that’s changing really haha it’s just been a long, long time since i last did commissions, so i’m reviewing terms and i might change stuff that’s become outdated, or that needs clarification. if you’ve commissioned me before, the process itself is still the same so no worries! once the revamp is out, i’ll point out anything that has changed too c:

in regards to price changes, those first icon-only batches will be in their original price, and the new prices will only take effect once the revamp with the other options is out. it will be quite a while before until that, but if you have any concerns, feel free to message me any time ! either way, i’ll keep you folks posted !! i guess i also could post the new prices before implementing them, if that helps!

so, moving on! now to the waitlist situation <:3c as in, i’ve never had one, a while back someone asked if i did, and now that i’m reorganizing things, i’m wondering if it would be good to implement one :3c feel free to send any questions !! or suggestions!! i'm all ears!!!

usually i only open a handful of slots for each batch, right, and once they're all claimed, the commissions are closed until all the slots are finished. folks who missed the slots have to wait until the next batch, and sometimes those batches take a while to come back, and i usually just message those who missed the opening once the new batch is announced.

what i'm thinking for the waitlist is, i'll open it along with the batch of commissions, and limit it to a specific number of spots or close it by a specific date, whichever comes first. to apply for it, people would just need to send the form and i can tell them immediately whether or not i can draw their request, and then they'll be placed on the waitlist in the order they’ve been accepted c: pretty standard stuff.

here’s the important bit: that list is basically split in two. the first handful of people on the list, corresponding to the amount of slots for the current batch, will be reached out to as i finish working on the claimed slots, and then anyone else on the waitlist will be contacted shortly before the next batch. if, by the time the list closes, not all the opened slots have been claimed, folks on the list will simply be moved up the queue accordingly c: all of it would be discussed individually, of course, and very well disclosed in the commission info!

there are other points to it as well: anyone would be able to request a spot on the next batch's waitlist instead of the current one, and anyone can leave either list at any point. folks who had already claimed a slot when it first opened would only be able to apply for the next batch's waitlist (to give everyone a chance of getting one), and people on the list, either for the current or the next round of commissions, can be skipped up to a limit if they're unable to continue the order once i get to them.

oh and, before i forget, with the waitlist in place, i think i’d no longer be able to put slots on hold as i used to (as in, before paying the first invoice), as it’d be unfair to folks on the list. in that case, the person would be placed on the list as well if they want to, and contacted as soon as possible : )

also the "up to 2 slots per person" thing would be on thin ice too haha

anyway, this is kind of what i intended to do back then, with reopening slots as work gets finished, but never got around to. i want to make sure i don’t swamp myself with work, but also have it so that folks who want slots have a good chance of getting them, whether for the current batch or the next, as there's only so many slots i can open and work on at once, and time zones and irl things are to be considered too for anyone interested c:

it also makes it easier for me to keep track of messaging folks about new slots and such, and the list would be made public and easily available for consulting too : D more on this later!

so how's this looking? i've never done waitlists before and barely knew how they're supposed to work before starting to reorganize things, so please do feel free to voice your thoughts !! i’m 100% open to suggestions !!! do you think this system would work out for you? any concerns? if anything is unclear feel free to point it out, i'll do my best to explain the process or change stuff that doesn't quite work!!

so!!! now to the very last thing i wanted to talk about ! trello! 

i’m making a little trello board for updates on commission stuff! my commission info page here on tumblr and on deviantart both have this little section for updates on each slot’s progress, but i admittedly didn't do a good job keeping them updated (and constantly updating two things in different places just. kinda sucks.), so i’ve been diving into trello to unify that update section in one place and keep things nice and organized and transparent : ) it would be super useful for keeping track of the waitlist too, if that becomes a thing, or for updates on commission status and such!

so far i’m only testing things out, so it’s looking like this right now (sorry for the tiny image!):

(the board is lying btw, commissions are very much closed haha) (also if it’s basically unreadable, here’s the upload on sta.sh)

with all those little lists, the “available slots” and “sketch” and “lineart” and whatnot, i would be moving the card along the process : D and adding the appropriate labels, of course

this way i can have those halfsteps labelled too (working on/halfway through/finishing), since there’s only so many colors i can use without making it confusing (and tbh i’m already not too thrilled about color labels as it is, but it beats typing each individual status, and i’d imagine it’s more readable for folks consulting the list as well)

i really like how this looks so far in terms of organization but i’m unsure if the horizontal scrolling is anything but annoying, specially to folks on mobile (with the way i divide my screen on desktop, it certainly isn’t ideal either), so if you have any experience with that, feel free to let me know your thoughts!! there are a thousand different ways to organize this, and this is all a work in progress too c:

so! anything specific you folks would like to see on trello? i know this is a fairly common tool for commission queues and info and such but i’m super new to this platform, so please feel free to send suggestions! ♥

anyway yeah! that’s it! ;0; !

i’m sorry for the super long post, i’ve just been thinking about a lotta stuff haha i feel like i don’t interact a whole lot as it is, and since commissions are very much a team effort, i do want to get input from you folks on it c: it’s good to get a fresh perspective as well!

thank you so much for reading this far !! let me know your thoughts !!! :D ♥

[secretpeachtea]

Onigiri Miya Tidbits Ch 5

Title: the graduation celebration

Genre: gen fic, reader insert

Word Count: 5.9k

Summary: Onigiri Miya is now hiring and you just happen to be the right person for the job. The business has been gaining popularity since its grand opening, and many customers travel from different cities just to have a bite of Miya Osamu’s delicious recipes. You did expect some craziness from working in food services, but what you didn’t expect was to be bombarded with frequent tomfoolery from a bunch of attractive volleyball players during your shifts.

disclaimer: manga spoilers

A/N: IM BACK. this literally took me a whole month to write and i hope there aren’t too many mistakes. if there are mistakes, feel free to point them out to me! other than that, hope you enjoy!

Previous///Next

Your back was aching from standing at the register for such a long time, so you decided to take a seat on one of the two chairs set up behind the counter for times like this. There was only a little over an hour left before closing, and there weren’t any customers at the moment, so taking a quick break wouldn’t hurt. It seems like Osamu was thinking the same thing as he plopped himself next to you languidly.

Your boss rests an arm on the back of your chair. “You tired?” 

“A little bit, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you reply back with a sigh. “How about you?”

Osamu takes off his cap and runs a hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. “Nah, I’m good. Just feeling a bit dazed. It’s been a pretty slow week, so I guess I’m just lacking some energy boost.”

“Yeah, I guess. We haven’t had any interesting customers come in for a while, huh.” You think back to the time when you had to babysit a certain volleyball team and when you interacted with a specific gamer during work. “Although, I can’t really tell whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Your conversation was interrupted when you both heard the entrance slide open indicating the arrival of a customer. Or, rather, customers. A group of young men walked into the shop while also engaged in their own chatter. 

“We meet up after such a long time and you decide to come here?” A man with light brown, uneven bangs shoved his hands into his coat while sporting a blank expression. “Although, I can’t really say I’m surprised, Goshiki.”

The one addressed as Goshiki scowled in slight frustration. “I don’t trust any of the other options you all pitched in! I didn’t want to eat spicy ramen from the convenience store when we haven’t met up all together like this in so long! I won rock paper scissors too so it’s my choice, Shirabu-san!”

Another man with a crimson-tinted buzzcut chipped in with a lighthearted tone, “Are you sure you didn’t want to just come here ‘cause you heard about the cute register girl?”

“N-no! That’s not true, Tendou-san!” (yes)

“You’re so easy to read, Tsutomu! Isn’t that right, Wakatoshi-kun?”

Broad shoulders on a tall figure turned towards the redhead. “I suppose it is easy to understand Goshiki as if I were reading the gardening section of the newspaper.”

The fourth person of the group had a guitar strapped to his back with an...interesting outfit that you would not normally see someone wear voluntarily. “You guys sure haven’t changed at all. I can’t really say I expected to come here either.”

The last two people to enter the shop chuckled as they listened to their peers. One had a spiky undercut and slanted eyebrows, while the other had large, defined lips and tan skin. The latter spoke up, “Well, it’s not too bad, Semi. Plus, we’re here to celebrate Shirabu’s graduation and acceptance into medical school.”

You and Osamu are now standing behind the counter but the group of seven had yet to notice you both. You do a double take when you glance at the one who just spoke. Covering your mouth with one hand, you whisper to your boss, “Okay. I see what you meant by Benkei.”

Osamu just quietly chuckles.

It didn’t take long for one specific person to direct his attention at you as he walked to the counter. “Ah, (Surname)-san. How have you been?” 

At the sudden greeting, the rest of the group ceased their conversation.

You just gave the familiar face a small smile. “I’ve been doing well, Shirabu-san.”

“SHIRABU-SAN KNOWS THE PRETTY REGISTER GIRL?!”

You’re a bit taken aback by the loud exclamation by Goshiki, so you just stare at him with wide eyes. A couple people burst out laughing, mainly Tendou, Yamagata, and Semi. The poor boy’s entire body flushes red as he tries to get the guys to stop laughing. Shirabu just lets out a sigh and turns his attention back to you. It seems like the other two who weren’t part of the boisterous bunch also turned their focus to where you were.

“Sorry about that. I told you I would visit soon, but I didn’t expect to come with my former teammates,” Shirabu apologized.

“No, that’s okay. If that’s the case, then these guys must be the Shiratorizawa alumni you mentioned before.” You shook your head in understanding. You turned towards the others. “Nice to meet you guys. I’m (Surname) (Name), Shirabu’s college classmate.”

“Hellooo~ (Name)-chan!” Tendou joyfully greeted after listening in on the conversation. Goshiki was now hidden behind Ushijima’s large stature to avoid any awkward encounters. Yamagata and Semi rejoined since they were also curious as to how you knew their former setter. After some brief introductions, you had learned all of their names before going into detail of your relationship with Shirabu.

“(Surname)-san and I went to the same university and had a couple classes together since our majors were similar. We were both fairly diligent in our studies, so we often grouped up to do assignments.”

“Oh? What did you major in, (Surname)-san?” Ohira asks.

“I majored in Anatomy and Physiology. I plan on going to grad school for Sports medicine.”

You hear a small gasp behind Ushijima and a quiet, subtle statement of “She’s pretty and smart!”, but you pretend like you didn’t hear anything in hopes to spare Goshiki from any more embarrassment. Osamu seems a bit intrigued since he’s never really heard you speak about school but stays silent off to the side.

“Have you decided on where you want to go? I know you once told me you applied to a special Sports medicine program.” Shirabu asks.

You feel a wave of negative emotions at the question but try your best to control your facial expression. “I...um...was waitlisted from the program and was rejected from all the grad schools that I applied to…”

Your former classmate’s eyes widened a bit in surprise and lifted his hand to his chin in thought. “I see.”

You try to brush off any unnecessary thoughts by waving your hands in front of you. “There must have been a reason for that. My resume wasn’t all that great and they probably thought I was lacking in a lot of ways.”

“Nonsense. From the couple of times we’ve worked together, I know that you’re a very well versed and competent person.” Shirabu crosses his arms and looks straight into your eyes.  “I’m sure you’ll be able to come across a good opportunity with your capabilities.”

You were quite touched by Shirabu’s firm words and he’s managed to slightly lift up the corners of your lips despite the heavy weight in your heart. He’s fairly blunt and doesn’t like to sugarcoat words, so you know his words are genuine.

“Oh? How romantic~” Tendou commented. Shirabu just glares at the tall redhead and remains silent.

A sudden low rumble echoes into the air from Semi’s stomach. “Oh, sorry guys. I’ve been composing all day, so I haven’t gotten around to eating yet.”

“We should order now,” Ushijima advises. The rest nod their heads in agreement. As the Shiratorizawa crew puts in their orders, Osamu sets up his workstation to accommodate. The entire order came out to be quite a lot since most of the guys were heavy eaters and some ordered additional side dishes.

“Will this be all in one order or is everyone paying separately?” You ask.

Shirabu opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by Tendou. “Since we’re here for a celebration, we can’t let the man of the hour pay for anything!”

“Are you suggesting that we split the cost of Shirabu’s meal or have one person pay for it?” Yamagata looked up thoughtfully. 

Tendou raised a finger into the air and wiggled it in denial. “Just one person will pay for all of the food!”

“It’s fine, Tendou-san. Onigiris do not cost that mu-”

“Nuh uh~ That’s not an option!”

“Alright. Then, how would we determine who pays?” Semi looked a bit weary at the suggestion.

Tendou clapped his hands together. “We’ll play some games to determine who the ultimate loser is! The winners from each round will be exempt from the next one! There will be three games in total. Whoever loses every single game and remains as the last person will be the one to pay for all of us!”

“Seems simple enough,” Yamagata comments. The other guys nod their heads in agreement. 

“This is a great idea!” Goshiki in particular seems fired up. “I will defeat you, Ushijima-san!”

“I look forward to your efforts, Goshiki.”

As if there was some kind of telepathic signal between the guys, everyone but Ushijima, Shirabu, and Goshiki look at one another. Sly smiles and pitiful expressions begin to form as they take a quick glance at where Goshiki and Ushijima were standing before turning back to each other in mutual understanding. It seems like the majority has come to the conclusion that one specific person will be walking home with a lighter wallet.

Shirabu, who’s already used to his former team’s antics, doesn’t even try to stop them. Once they start, it’s difficult to halt their chaos unless he wants to hear them complain about it for the next couple weeks. Although, he does make the effort to face you and Osamu. “I know they’re getting ahead of themselves, but is all this okay? I know you haven’t closed yet, so I wouldn’t want to disturb your business.”

Your boss just waves his hand to brush off the concern. “Nah, you’re good. It’s been a slow day and I was planning on closing a bit early anyways. Feel free to hang out and have fun as long as you clean up after yourselves. I’ll be preparing the food in the meantime.”

“Yeah, as long as I’m not mopping up someone’s vomit off the floor, I don’t have any problems with it either,” You reply.

With the final yes from the owner of Onigiri Miya, Tendou sports a wide grin and faces his peers. “I already have some game ideas, so all we need to do is set up everything like I ask!”

You’re just about to return to your previous seat behind the counter before the Shiratorizawa boys entered, but Tendou waved at you to get your attention. “(Name)-chan! Would you mind being the referee for the games?”

Bewilderment is evident on your face as you try to decipher the redhead’s intentions. You’re a bit cautious since the group is so unpredictable. “Oh, um, wouldn’t it be better if Shirabu-san watched over you guys? I think I prefer watching you all have fun from afar.”

“Aw~ That’s a shame.” Tendou pulls out a small box wrapped in a bright blue ribbon from the bag slung over his shoulders. “I was planning on sharing these gourmet chocolates with the person who volunteered to be a referee.”

“Huh?” There was a small glint in your eyes.

The lanky man gently pulled off the ribbon and opened the lid. Inside the box were 5 pieces of chocolate all laid out on top of a plastic mold. Each of the chocolates had intricate designs that hinted at the work of delicate hands and showed the amount of care that went into making them. The surfaces of each piece shined under the fluorescent lights and the delectable, mouthwatering aroma permeated the air. “I gifted some chocolates for our lovely graduating friend but had a couple chocolates leftover, so I made an extra box. It’s too bad that it’ll go to waste since no one will claim them.”

“...”

You stay frozen for a moment as you eye the exquisite sweets in front of you. “...What do you need me to do?”

Tendou lets out a small shout of happiness at your response, and you took one of the chocolates out of the box. You plopped it into your mouth and immediately tasted a burst of flavor. A soft, content sigh leaves your lips as you savor the dessert. There was a soft chuckle next to you and you assumed it was Osamu but decided that you were just going to savor the moment.  After gushing over two more pieces, you decide to save the rest for later and make your way around the counter to where the rest were waiting. 

Tendou briefs you on some of the games and you can’t help but sweatdrop at what he has planned. As you look to the side, you see Shirabu sitting on his own since he’s the only one exempt from participating in the competition. The other guys just seem to be waiting for Tendou to fill them in as well.

Goshiki notices your presence and starts to make his way over to you. “(Surname)-san! W-what are you doing over here?”

“Tendou-san asked me to be a referee for your games, so I’ll be watching over all of you from here,” you reply nonchalantly.

“What?!”

Tendou snickers beside you and places his hands on the younger boy’s shoulder. “Now, now! Let’s get ready for the game, Tsutomu!”

Since all you really had to do was monitor and keep track of the losers of each game, you take a seat next to Shirabu who just has a bored expression on his face and acknowledges you with a short nod. Tendou has now gathered everyone else into one big group and begins to gesture his arms wildly. “The first game is called ‘Pass the Napkin’! There will be two teams of three people, and it’ll be a competition to see which team passes more napkins in one minute.”

The guys just looked at one another with contemplative faces. This game seemed simple enough...or so they thought.

“There’s one special rule!” Tendou’s eyes glinted under the lights. “You can only pass the napkin with your mouths! No hands! No other body parts!”

Many faces grew pale at the “special” rule. Yamagata brings a hand up to his forehead regretfully. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy.”

Ignoring his former teammate’s exasperation, Tendou continues his explanation. “Each team will have two baskets: one full of napkins and one that is empty so that you can place the ones you’ve successfully passed. Team A is gonna be Wakatoshi-kun, Tsutomu, and Reon! The other two including me will be on Team B! Perfect even teams with 6 people!”

Ohira takes a brief moment to think. “Now that you mention it, Kawanishi isn't here.”

“He said he had a date, so he couldn’t make it today,” Semi answers. Although, Kawanishi’s absence seems to be in his favor at the moment.

“Let’s get started!” Tendou passes you his phone with the timer app opened as all of the teams make their way towards their respective napkin baskets. “Please count us off, (Name)-chan!”

All of the guys are staring at you as they wait for your signal, and you let out an inaudible sigh. “3...2...1...Start!”

Ohira and Tendou, who are the first people in their respective teams, begin inhaling a napkin with their mouths. The game has begun.

In Team B, Semi looks mildly uncomfortable, but Tendou spares no time and immediately passes the napkin to the former’s mouth. The redhead doesn’t even give Semi any time to comprehend anything as he goes for another napkin swiftly. As Semi turns to the last person in the group, Yamagata just shrugs his shoulders and takes the napkin quickly before blowing it away into the other basket. The three seem to realize that passing the napkins in rapid succession shortens the time of contact between each other and increase their pace with each napkin.

Team A doesn’t seem to be going as smoothly. Goshiki is the middleman and hesitantly receives each napkin from Ohira with flushed cheeks that only seem to be getting darker as time passes. There is an evident pause every time the youngest team member needs to pass the napkin to Ushijima. For some reason, Goshiki also seems to make frequent eye contact with you as he’s passing the napkin to the older pro athlete before quickly averting his eyes with an even deeper blush. As a result, Goshiki drops the napkins several times.

“S-s-sorry, Ushijima-san! I’ll get the next one!”

Both teams continue transferring napkins from one basket to another for a couple more seconds. Glancing at the timer, you see that there are about 10 seconds left. You open your mouth to start counting down the remaining seconds but a sharp, horrified gasp stops you. As you direct your attention towards the source of the noise, Goshiki’s posture is tense and he’s making a strange face at the opposing team. Shifting your gaze to his line of sight, you understand what had caused the poor boy to be in such a state of shock.

A lone napkin flutters onto the floor as silence creeps through the air. Yamagata is leaning forward in Semi’s direction while the latter has his hands anchored onto his teammate’s shoulders. Their lips are connected with nothing to separate the physical contact, but both males are too shocked to make any motion. Mortified expressions from Yamagata and Semi tell you that this predicament was not intentional.

“Oya?~”

Tendou’s sudden disturbance seems to break everyone out of the trance. The timer goes off at this moment as well and a cacophony of noises fill the room. Semi and Yamagata jump away from each other aggressively. The grey-haired male sprints to the bathroom to scrub down his mouth as Yamagata vigorously rubs a handful of napkins onto his lips. Tendou begins to cackle rather loudly while Ohira just lets out an amused chuckle. Goshiki becomes a sputtering mess, red spreading across his whole body. Ushijima blinks absentmindedly.

You watch the chaos unfold and notice Shirabu closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in disappointment. It takes a minute for everyone to get their bearings and Semi returns from the bathroom bashfully. He glances at Yamagata briefly. “That never happened?”

“That never happened,” Yamagata firmly agrees.

Tendou seems to have calmed down a bit because, before you know it, he already has both napkin baskets in his arms, one obviously more full than the other. “Team B is the winner!”

Ushijima is the only one to start clapping while everyone else just sweatdrops at the redhead. Tendou puts away the baskets and turns towards the group once again. “All of Team A will be moving onto the next game since they lost! Team B is exempt from paying!”

You watch as the lanky man saunters over to the counter and Osamu hands him a tray with three small rice balls. You make eye contact with your boss and he just gives you a smirk.

Tendou proceeds to explain the next game. “For the next round, there is one rice ball filled with delicious seasoned meat while the other two are filled with wasabi! The three participants must pick one of the rice balls to eat. Whoever chooses the tasty rice ball will be exempt from paying and the other two people will move on to the final game! (Name)-chan will pick a random name from this conveniently premade bag of names to see who will choose a rice ball first! Everyone will eat the rice balls at the same time though for fun!”

Yamagata gestures you to put your hand inside of a small black bag filled with what you assumed were the three names from the losing team written down on pieces of paper. You reach in and grab one of the papers and take it out of the bag before reading out the name. “Ohira Reon.”

Ohira makes his way over to where the tray was and picks up the rice ball in the middle without hesitation. He seemed pretty confident in his decision, but you didn’t really get the chance to question it as Tendou grabs your attention once again. “Please pick the next name!”

You turn back to Yamagata and reach out to grab another name out of the bag. Your hand stops right as your fingers graze the hem. You blink once and realize that the bag looked a bit different from before; it now seemed to be a more navy blue color. Wasn’t the bag black before?

Noticing your reluctance, Yamagata shoves the rest of your hand into the bag and gives you a suspicious yet pleading look. You inwardly sigh and proceed to pick out a name. “Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

The tall volleyball player chooses the rice ball to the far left leaving Goshiki to take the last one left without a choice. Tendou placed the tray down with a satisfied smile. “Now that everyone has a rice ball, it’s time to eat!”

Ushijima, Goshiki, and Ohira all consumed their rice balls in one bite. There were only chewing noises as everyone waited for any reactions. All of a sudden, Goshiki doubled over and threw a hand over his mouth.

You panicked. “Woah! I wasn’t joking about the vomit! You better not throw up on this floor!”

Terrified by your warning, Goshiki immediately ran towards the nearest trash can and practically stuck half of his head into it. Although he was able to control himself enough to avoid regurgitating everything in his stomach, he desperately spit out the entire rice ball with wasabi and tried his best to get rid of as much residue as he could.

You turned your attention back to the other two people who had eaten a rice ball, curious to see the other victim. Ohira wiped his hands on his pants with a content smile as he continued to savor his delicious snack. Ushijima, on the other hand, stood in his usual stoic stance.

“That was quite spicy.”

It truly is a wonder how someone could remain so composed in situations like this.

“The losers are Wakatoshi-kun and Tsutomu! Get ready for the last game to see who will pay for all of the food!” Tendou exclaims excitedly, completely ignoring the younger boy that’s now leaning over the counter in despair. “The final round is called ‘Find the Volleyball’! The two players will both be blindfolded and they will need to search for the volleyball that we will hide in this room. Whoever finds the volleyball first wins the game and the ultimate loser will be the one to pay for everything!”

Tendou takes out two sports towels and a volleyball from Ushijima’s duffel bag. He passes the towels to Ushijima and Goshiki so that they could begin blindfolding themselves. The others are just lounging around and waiting for the next game to begin. You notice that Ushijima is having some trouble keeping the towel over his eyes as he tries to tie it behind his head. Without thinking too much, you walk over to where he’s standing. “Ushijima-san, do you want some help?”

“Ah, yes. I’m having some trouble keeping this in place. Do you mind holding the towel over my eyes?”

“Yeah, sure!” For a moment, you take in his tall stature and smile sheepishly. “But, you might have to bend down a bit for me. You’re quite tall.”

Ushijima complies to your request and slightly bends his back as he places the towel over his eyes once again. You bring up your hands to his face and your fingers gently brush against his as you replace his hands with your own over the towel. The blindfold starts to fall a bit so your hold on the male’s face reflexively tightens a bit, your hands practically cupping Ushijima’s face. You start to lean forward to get a good look at the blindfold to make sure there are no gaps, not realizing how close you truly were to the volleyball player.

On the other side of the room, Goshiki’s eyes widen at the suggestive position you and Ushijima are standing in. He was just about to wear his own blindfold, but was struck by a great idea. “(Surname)-san, can you-”

“Tsutomu! You look like you need some help!” Tendou swiped the towel from Goshiki’s hands and immediately covered his eyes forcefully. “I can help you!”

Goshiki gasped in discomfort. “Ah! Tendou-san, you almost poked my eyes!”

Ushijima was finally able to successfully tie the towel around his head and you took this as your cue to pull away. He straightened his back and nodded his head in your direction. “Thank you, (Surname)-san.”

“No problem,” you reply with a grin.

Since both males were properly blindfolded, the game was ready to commence. However, instead of hiding the volleyball, Semi held onto it. You were a bit confused since you remember that the rule was to find the hidden volleyball, but at this point, you don’t even want to question these guys anymore. Tendou stood off to the side and projected his voice loud and clear, “The game starts…Now!”

Semi immediately passed the ball to Ohira and some of the guys who weren’t participating began to pass the ball amongst each other silently. Ushijima and Goshiki both reach out their arms in front of them cautiously to protect themselves from running into things. Although, their efforts were in vain as Goshiki stubs his foot on one of the chairs with a yelp and crouches to the ground in distress. Ushijima manages to knock over a bottle of soy sauce from the counter, but he doesn’t seem to realize what happened as he turns around and continues his search. Fortunately, the bottle didn’t shatter, but there is now a puddle of soy sauce coating the floor. You sigh as you grab a handful of napkins and make your way towards the mess. 

Goshiki seems to have changed strategies and is now crawling along the floor with one arm in front of him. He bumps into another chair and lifts his arm higher to steady himself. Suddenly, his hand came in contact with a round object that felt firm like a volleyball. “Yes! I found it!”

At his exclamation, everyone in the room shot their gaze to where Goshiki was and paled. Ushijima raised the towel obscuring his vision to see what was going on. Even Shirabu’s jaw dropped substantially. At this moment, Yamagata was in possession of the volleyball that was definitely not anywhere near the younger boy. 

In broad daylight, Goshiki’s right hand was placed on your butt. You felt every one of your nerves kicking into overdrive as soon as your body overcame the initial shock. Spinning around abruptly, you deliver somewhat of a roundhouse kick to the poor, blindfolded boy’s body and he ends up tumbling backwards dramatically. His pained groans snap you out of your exasperation and immediately kneel down to check on him. “Oh, sh-! Are you okay, Goshiki-san?”

With your help, Goshiki is able to take off his blindfold and sit upright. “W-what happened? Where’s the volleyball? Did I beat Ushijima-san?!”

“N-not exactly…” You play with strands of your hair unconsciously out of embarrassment. “Sorry about kicking you so hard.”

“But, I thought I felt the ball just now? Why does Yamagata-san have it? What else could I have been touching? And, why did you kick me? Unless…” Goshiki’s expression suddenly shifts from confusion to absolute horror as he starts to connect all the dots. He begins to shriek at the realization and he almost slams his head onto the floor in order to bow in apology. “I’M SO SORRY, (SURNAME)-SAN! IT WAS A COMPLETE ACCIDENT!”

You try to reassure Goshiki that you’re not angry at him. “I-it’s okay. I know it wasn’t on purpose!”

“Nice kick, (Surname)-san.”

“10/10.”

“Would pay to see that again.”

As voices fill the air, that’s when you realize that you were still in a room full of other people and your cheeks flush pink once again. The rest of the guys were observing the whole interaction between the two of you in amusement. 

Tendou gave you an apologetic smile but still seemed satisfied with how this ‘competition’ went. He cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Alright! Congratulations to Tsutomu for winning the game!”

“Huh? I thought neither of them found the volleyball in the end,” Semi commented.

“Well, Wakatoshi-kun took off his blindfold first before anyone found the volleyball, so he automatically forfeited.” Tendou faced his best friend. “It’s for the best. You make the most money out of all of us, Wakatoshi-kun!”

Ushijima nodded his head in acceptance and proceeded to take out his wallet. “I cannot deny that.”

“WAIT A MINUTE!” Suddenly, Goshiki jumped up from his position and pointed at his peers. “WERE YOU TRYING TO MAKE USHIJIMA-SAN PAY THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

“Yup.” Four males voices all answered at once.

“THEN, WHY DID WE PLAY THE GAMES?!”

“‘Cause it’s fun.”

The four males continue to tease their youngest friend and you sigh for the umpteenth time today. Ushijima walks over to stand next to you and hands you the total payment for the food. “I believe this is enough to cover everyone.”

You spend a couple seconds counting the money before looking back up to the broad shouldered man beside you. “Yup, looks right to me. Thanks.”

Before you could make your way to the register, you feel a light tap on your shoulder. Turning your head, you see Ushijima’s hand inches away from where you felt the sensation and you’re surprised by what he says next. “Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?” You blink in confusion.

“You looked very uncomfortable before.”

It doesn’t take you long to realize that he’s talking about what had conspired during the last game. “Oh, yeah. I’m okay. Thank you for asking, Ushijima-san. You don’t have to worry about it too much. I wouldn’t mind if you or your other friends came by again after today either. I had a good time overall.”

“Ah. Then, I will take your word for it.” Ushijima gives you a small smile and then turns to walk back to his group of friends. The volleyball player doesn’t seem like the type of person to show much concern for other people due to his naturally stoic and aloof demeanor, but you were pleasantly surprised by his caring nature.

“Order’s ready, guys!” Osamu places multiple bags of food onto the counter. “I don’t mean to mess with your outing, but we are about to close, so you won’t be able to stay for too long.”

“No worries. I think we’ve extended our stay here long enough.” Shirabu assured your boss after being quiet for quite some time. “We’ll probably head over to Goshiki’s apartment anyways.”

“What?!”

Everyone ignored the boy’s outburst and started to grab all their food. As the Shiratorizawa alumni started walking out of the door the night air was filled with shouts of byes and thank yous. Shirabu turned to you one last time before following his friends. “We should keep in contact, (Surname)-san. You still have my number, right? I can also let you know if I hear about any other programs for graduate schools during my internships.”

“I do! I really appreciate it. I’ll see you again sometime, Shirabu-san!” You give him a final wave and he leaves through the exit lifting up a hand behind his shoulder in acknowledgement.

Today was definitely not what you expected from what started out as a slow, normal week.

“Still tired?” Your boss questioned you once again.

You smile as you remember him asking the same question a few hours back. “Exhausted, but strangely refreshed. Is that weird?”

“Definitely a contradiction.” He laughed at your answer. “You got yourself roped into an interesting group of people today. Didn’t know you had a sweet tooth though.”

A mild blush spread across your face as you start to stutter. “I-I normally don’t, but…”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Your boss gives you a thoughtful look and subtly smirks at your reaction. 

Recovering from your flushed appearance, you gesture a hand towards a certain box on top of the counter. “Did you want to try one of the chocolates? You’ll understand once you get a taste of it.”

“Why not?”

After quickly washing your hands in the sink, you slide over the box Tendou had given you and open it on the counter space next to Osamu. Your fingers snatch up a star-shaped chocolate and casually bring it up to his mouth. The taller male doesn’t think much of your actions and allows you to feed him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. After everything that happened today, your mind can only briefly sense that your fingers made contact with your boss’ lips. Although, your heart does linger on the fact that Osamu’s lips are much softer than what you expected.

Once the chocolate is fully consumed, Osamu lets out a satisfied hum. “Those Shiratorizawa folks sure know what they’re doing despite the craziness that follows them. Actually, there’s something else I want to ask you. You said you went to the same university as Shirabu-san, right?”

“Yup!”

“When did you graduate?”

You look up to the ceiling as you think. “Um...Maybe around a week ago?”

There’s a slight pause as Osamu takes in what you had just told him. “What?! I had no idea! Did you celebrate with your friends too?”

You shook your head. “Nah, I never really had a lot of friends since I was working so much in college and the ones that I’m close with are all overseas already.”

Osamu nodded his head in understanding. “Well, I got nothing against spending some relaxing alone time, but did you at least treat yourself with a cake or something?”

“I’m not really used to buying things for myself. It’s fine, though. I’m pretty used to pushing aside stuff like this.” You shrug your shoulders to emphasize your carefree attitude. Although, your eyes held a hint of sadness that Osamu would’ve missed if he didn’t have his full attention on you. “Plus, I didn’t even get accepted into grad school, so there’s not much to celebrate there.”

“How come it never came up in any of our conversations?”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t think anyone else cared.”

“...” Osamu stays silent and a slight somber atmosphere permeates the air. He contemplates about something for a moment before suddenly snapping his fingers. You look at him curiously and he just gives you his signature grin without telling you what he just thought of. Instead, he places a hand on your head and begins to pat it gently. “I don’t know how much it means coming from me, but you did well. I’m sure you’ve worked hard, (Name)-san.”

You felt a slight sting in your eyes and lowered your head so that your boss couldn’t see how much of an effect he had on you. “Thanks, Osamu-san.”

A/N: make way for ushiwaka everyone. and yes, osamu loves to just sit back and watch all the chaos unfold

taglist: @dinablossom​

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 22

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21

Hope everyone is keeping themselves mentally/physically well... here’s the next update in your adventure. Please safely read from home ;) 

The sun moved slowly up my window, illuminating the dancing dust in the air. Even though I knew dust didn’t have feelings, it all still looked very peaceful, suspended there in space. 

 I wanted to be suspended, floating, with no obligations or pressures. 

 Instead, I watched time slip by, slowly, as the shadows stretched along my floor and I lay still, wrapped in a giant Winnie-the-Pooh sheets burrito. 

I called in sick the past three days to work and to all my classes, my lack of attendance probably dropping me a letter grade in a few classes. Instead of checking on my academic scholarship, I begged Renny to drop off Dr. Rhinecuff’s papers for me. She did, lamenting about how his office smelled like roast beef and how she probably needed a nose job from it shrivelling up from the stench. Tired, I sent her three hearts, ignoring all of her calls and voicemails. 

 In a random bout of restless energy, I looked up the University of Oxford in England. No one would know me there. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing when you didn’t even know yourself. I stayed on their site for an hour, avoiding my take-home assignments, and speculating which classes I could take in the spring semester. My eyes grew tired though, and even if I were accepted as a transfer student, it wasn’t like I could ever afford it without scholarships. 

 I closed the computer. 

 It’d been cloudy, rainy. The random storm that’d come in from Mexico lasted longer than the usual morning fog that’d roll in and out by the time it was 9 AM. This storm lingered, heavy, full clouds looking to burst and unleash a steady rain for three to four hours before the clouds rested, storing up all they could until the next downpour. 

 My parents didn’t question me when I came in, used to my random visits. But when I went straight to my room without saying hello, rain-plastered hair covering puffy eyes, my mom basically collapsed at the sight. 

 She followed me to the bed, trying to see my face, but I buried it in the pillow, ignoring the way the purple fringe tickled my nose. 

 “What’s wrong sweetheart?” 

 I just groaned. Her voice was too gentle, too well-intending for the dark thoughts sitting in my mind. She’d be heartbroken if she heard them. 

 She huffed, not out of annoyance, but distress. “What’s bothering you?? Is it Renny? Did you breakup with Harry?” All those reasons were too simple. She ran her hands lightly along my legs, but I cringed away from her touch. It was something I rarely did. She paused. “You can tell me anything...” 

 I shook my head against the pillow, my last attempt to tell her to leave without speaking. She waited a moment longer. 

 “Okay,” she said. And that was it. 

 Father didn’t ask questions, not even when I was here for the third consecutive day. Mom had probably come to her own conclusions, and shared them with him. 

 “Mom said you aren’t feeling too well,” he said over cereal one morning, confirming my suspicions. It was the first time he’d broken our three-day spree of comfortable silence. 

 “What else did she tell you?” 

 He shrugged his shoulders, his usual buoyant self replaced with a quiet voice. He looked at me, and all I saw was pity. If I were him, I’d probably look at me the same way. I hadn’t showered in a while. “Well don’t let anything get you down. You’re too smart for that.”

 He’d tried. He’d put in an effort. I just nodded, scooping up another spoonful of cereal. He followed suit. 

 And that was that.  

 A week passed like this. 

 But overnight, the clouds had blown away, and the sun came back full-force this morning just in time for the weekend, renewing my guilt. That traitor. 

 I’d cried all of Monday and Tuesday, but when the last tear was shed in the middle of a New Girl episode, I was empty. My tears didn’t leave anything to replace them with. 

 On Wednesday, a phone alarm reminded me I had a therapy appointment. I hit snooze multiple times. It was only when I got up to pee, and I hated what I saw in the mirror that I threw on an oversized sweater to go over my pajamas and headed out the door. 

 “Is it good?” I asked. 

 Her hands reviewed my wants list.  

 “That’s just a coffee stain on the corner..just...ignore that bit,” I added. 

 She surveyed it briefly, not really focusing on it. “Were you honest?”

 I nodded.

 “Then there isn’t good or bad. It’s just your truth.”

 “But I still feel… I don’t know. I don’t think I know what that is. I don’t feel like I’m… progressing. Doing anything towards that,” I said. 

 She looked at me with a level gaze. “Then that’s your truth. And that’s okay for right now.”

 I shot her a glance.

 “I see a common struggle with people your age. They feel this….” -She adjusted, quirking her head- “immense pressure to be perfect, to figure it all out, to achieve success so early.” 

 “Everyone’s doing it,” I began. “They’re getting internships, keeping up their grades, involved in ten clubs, doing community service…” I could’ve droned on, but didn’t. 

 “You have an internship, your grades are good, you’ve joined a sorority, and up until recently you’ve been involved in tutoring. Those are extracurriculars.” 

 I couldn’t argue with her. 

 “Is it too much?” she asked.

 Too much. It was everything I’d been feeling until I’d felt nothing. But hearing her list off what was waiting for me just beyond her doors made me feel the weight of it all over again. 

 “I’ve just been overwhelmed.” 

 “Who have you been thinking about?” 

 She noticed I started picking my hangnail. 

 She started gently, knowingly. “Has it been Harry?” 

 “Ow,” I cursed. A bit of blood prickled up where the hangnail used to be. 

 “He seems to be a major stressor in your life. Would you agree?” The clock ticked behind her, filling the silence. Her hands rested in her lap, while mine swiped away the bit of blood. I could never remember my therapist’s name, but somehow it wasn’t important. 

 “Yeah, but … I mean …. there’s a lot of stressors.”

 “Like his friends?”

 His friends, in the abbreviated story I’d told her, stood in place for the gang. I’d used terms like … intimidating, mean, basically painting them as bullies who didn’t like us together. I wasn’t expecting to get much therapy from a lie. “Out of curiosity, if I were to tell you something… would you be obligated to report it to the police?” 

 “Not necessarily.” Her legs crossed, creased brows zeroing in with a laser focus. “Has something happened to you, Y/N?”

 I swallowed hard, the truth lodged in my throat. But I had gotten too used to the weight of the secret. “I was just curious…” My mind raced to change the subject, and I blurted about Zayn’s art show. 

 “Do you think this panic attack was induced by this heightened sense of scrutiny from Harry’s friends?” 

 “Probably.” 

 “You said there were others. What are your main stressors?’ 

 I settled in, more comfortable with this question. “There’s financial stressors, for one. And it’s exasperated here.” 

 “You’ve been dealing with financial difficulties for a while, now. Have you been feeling this anxious the entire time, or has it been recent?” 

 My foot tapped impatiently. We both knew the answer.

 “Your panic attack was a first,” she explained, gently. “Some new factor in your life pushed you there.” 

 I picked at the hangnail, wincing. It was gone. My skin was raw. 

 “Maybe it all links back to Harry.” She waited a moment to see if I’d speak. When I didn’t, she leant back, and pulled out a new sheet of paper, scribbling something down. “I want you to write a pros and cons list about your relationship with him, for next time. When your feelings are overwhelming, it helps to get everything on paper. In a list. Puts things in perspective.” 

 I drove home, her words had pushed themselves into my empty shell and now they clinked around, jostling up my insides like a pinball machine and giving me a headache. 

 Just because I hadn’t left the house all week didn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty for ditching work. God, I did. It killed me. I knew I was lucky to get that internship. Harry had mentioned how people killed just to get on the waitlist, and I didn’t doubt it. An OC internship with, if not the top, at least the most publicized private practice? I mean, I was typing in appointments next to a Southern Stanford grad if that speaks to the competition here. 

 And here I was, retreating back to my house, too drained to face the world. 

 As for Harry, after what I’d said to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to talk to me ever again. 

 I’d been so cruel. 

 I was weak.  

 I felt guilty for feeling this way at all. 

 And then I would watch the dust again.

 It was a cycle. 

 About three blocks from my house on my way back from the therapist session, a familiar car passed me. It happened suddenly, unexpectedly, like most things do. We made eye contact before he passed, and my foot instantly lifted off the gas when my eyes connected with my brain. I whipped my head around but the matte black maserati sped up, disappearing from sight. 

 What was Harry doing this far from campus? 

 My heart beat erratically as I pulled into the driveway, and it was only seconds before I made it into the house. Father held up a hand in Grandpa’s old room. Phone call. Trudging silently to my own, I wrapped myself in a blanket burrito. 

 I’d been avoiding my phone, but I caved this time, checking J’s social media to see if he’d posted anything about being in the area to prove I WASN’T crazy and DIDN’T just hallucinate. Nothing. I tossed my phone on the other side of the room before I spiralled.  

 It didn’t matter. I was in my room. Alone. Safe. I focused on the dust. 

 Two little knocks disrupted my exciting mind game - which dust particle would fall further than the other. 

 “You’re turning ripe,” Father noted. His briefcase was still in his hand and he was coming startlingly close to my depression burrito. 

 “What are you doing-!?” I protested. But it was too late. He ripped the sheets off, exposing me in the t-shirt I’d been in since Monday. “Your mood won’t change if you don’t make an effort.

Come on.”

 “Where are we going?”

 “You’re coming to the water with me.” He hesitated at the door. “Shower first.” 

 In the car, a sense of comfort washed over me. He’d been right. Clean wet hair smelled nice and felt good slicked around my head. Even if Mom would complain I’d “catch cold,” it felt good to feel something. Dad’s speakers switched between classic rock and reggaeton as I sipped on the chocolate shake we picked up from the Shake Shack. It was a short drive away to the harbor, and once parked, a shorter walk to the public docks. 

 Our feet dangled above the water. It was too cold to go swimming this time of year, but my body buzzed with yearning despite the goosebumps on my skin. I wanted to feel encompassed by salty water. I wanted to be submerged, where everything was muted, a barrier between me and the world. Between my wet hair and the icy shake, I could pretend my body was as cool as the water below me. I could just…. dissolve. 

 “So what’s going on?” he opened up the conversation. “You having a hard time at school?” 

 “I don’t like the sorority.” 

 His brows raised, not expecting me to be so honest so soon. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, don’t you hate that shit?” 

 I looked at him, almost shocked he’d agreed with me. 

 The boats squeaked as they rocked with the rolling tides coming in from the ocean. I watched as a duffy boat wandered to the end of the jetty - where the harbor opened to the ocean. I took another big gulp of my shake, feeling the cold run down, freezing my esophagus. 

 “I liked frats, but sororities are different,” he mumbled, spooning his shake into his mouth. He’d gotten his usual Neapolitan, and it’d somehow stayed solid on the drive over. We hadn’t been to the Shake Shack in years, but I guess seeing his daughter waste away beneath her comforter was enough to break the dry spell. 

 “Why? Because its girls?” My lips were breaking into a smile without my consent. He didn’t make sense. 

 “They’re more catty.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

 “Dad! That’s verging on sexist.” 

 “Eh, I don’t know. I’m just saying things. Did you tell Mom you want to quit?” 

 I shook my head. 

 “Yeah…” he looked out at the boats, a quiet understanding passing between us. “She was really excited for you to join.” 

 “It’s not all bad…” 

 “Well if it’s not making you happy, don’t do it. Your mom doesn’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do. I was in a frat to shoot the shit with friends and it was something fun to do instead of study. If it’s not something fun for you, drop it.” 

 I could hear the words he was telling me, but it was like they were rolling off my shoulders, not really penetrating. He made it sound so easy, but it seemed like it was a million times harder than that. Everything was entangled, just as Harry had said. Not to mention Renny. If I quit, I felt like I’d lose her forever, too. I knew I could use a better friend, but that couldn’t erase the years of memories we had together. Losing Renny would feel like losing a part of myself. Not that I knew who that was anymore. 

 “Dad?” I asked. The question that'd weighed on my mind ever since I got home rested on the tip of my tongue. 

 “Yeah?” 

 “This is going to sound weird, but did you see Harry today?” 

 “Yeah. He stopped by,” he said, casually, spooning another mouthful. 

 I practically choked. “What? Why?! Weren’t you going to tell me?” 

 “Y/N, I’m working. I have a thousand things bouncing around in my head all the time.”

 “And?!!?”

 Harry couldn’t reach out to me beforehand? He drove by but- what? Didn’t even want to see me? 

 He sighed, not understanding the urgency. “He just stopped by, said hi. That’s all.” 

 My brows stitched. “Why would he say hi to you? What’d he say, exactly?” 

 “Oh, come on, I don’t know. I can’t remember-”

 “Dad!” 

 “All right, all right. Hi, how are you…” -his brain tried to remember- “he asked if you were doing okay. Then he left. He was nearby for a family brunch or something.” 

 “He asked about me?” 

 “Yeah. I mean, he didn’t go on and on, he just asked a question. He was in a rush.” 

 The shake froze me from the inside, and the breeze froze me from the out. But while I shriveled into myself, my guilt grew. “Dad?” 

 He hummed. 

 “Why are people so fake?” 

 He looked out at the harbor, peaceful for a winter’s morning. Only one small fishing boat headed towards the harbor’s edge, the sole fisherman at the helm facing the wind with the grace of a husband dealing with a temperamental spouse. 

 Father looked to our shoes as a random swell came, the water rising perilously close to our soles. Then, with all the untapped wisdom I seldom remembered parents had, “People are fake because they don’t know who they are,” he said.

 He got a call from the restaurant and drove us home. 

 In bed the next day, I ignored the pros/cons assignment, watching New Girl and making collages of Oxford in a word document until my eyes were burning from blue light exposure. I knew I was pushing it staying this long away from school, away from my problems. I was pushing myself, seeing how far my apathy could go. I woke up Thursday night at 2 AM from the rain pouring against my shutter and anger pricking my insides. 

 Harry was the reason I was in this position. As well as Viv, who fucked Harry. And Kiki, who gave me a DG Pretty Please, that just so happened to involve Harry. 

 I wanted him, but I wanted him to fuck off. Nothing was changing. Nothing was getting better. 

 It was all Harry, Harry, Harry, and no matter what, I ended up feeling insane.  

 At one point, I was going to have to choose myself. 

 I rolled over, blindly reaching for a pen, and scribbled in the dark. 

 If my therapist wanted a list, she’d get one helluva list. 

 -----------

“I’m glad you’re going, honey.” Mom released me from the lung-crushing hug. 

 I’d created enough Oxford collages and daydreamed about a new life until I couldn’t think of any other imaginary scenarios (or postpone collegiate life any longer). 

 The Friday sun had set. The game had already started. I thought about the crowd, all the people I’d see… 

 “Can I just stay the weekend?” 

 “Oh.” Her arms dropped from my sides. “Didn’t you promise your friends that you’d go?” 

 Renny. I’d promised Renny. Singular friend. My hand was in a fist, thumb rubbing anxiously over my fingers. I didn’t listen to her voicemails, there were seven of them. But she’d texted me fifty times in the past twenty minutes, declaring that she’d Venmo me gas money if I’d come to the game. 

 I’d been in my hole long enough. 

 “Yeah, I did.”

 “Well, you COULD stay-”

 I broke away, shaking my head. If I let her coddle me another minute, I think I’d crumble all over again. 

 “I love you,” she reminded me. “You’re my precious angel.” 

 From the living room, the muffled applause from the game show Father had fallen asleep to faded further as I left. 

 Momma’s robe-bundled frame waved on the driveway, her sad smile burning in my mind long after she disappeared from view.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

 Come on, come on, come ON. 

 The path to the stadium took forever. No shame, I was full-on running, braless, fresh pit-stains on display as I booked it to the gate. 

 It was completely dark now, and the usual fleet of cop cars seemed to have all but disappeared the week I’d been gone. Only one passed me by, and the rest of the student body probably all congregated around the stadium. 

 When I saw the art studio, I slowed. It was completely dark, except for one entry light. The paintings would still be displayed... My pounding heart told me to keep running, and I hesitated, listening to it for a moment before walking to the door. I tugged on its metal handles, parts of me seizing up as it opened, giving way to my touch. 

 I crept into the space, feeling like an intruder as I walked through the exhibit. 

 For some reason, I expected it to look differently, to see it blurred together as I’d seen it before in a panic. 

 I was still hanging amidst the vines, but this time the paintings looked less threatening. Maybe it was the fact that I was alone, maybe it was because I’d already felt the worst of it. 

 Each piece was sold. 

 I looked over my shoulder a couple times before letting out a small shout. A tester. 

 It echoed in the space. 

 I did it again, louder, at my full about-to-be-murdered capacity.

 I must’ve looked absolutely mental, but as I heard my shout reverberate around me, at least I felt something.  

 Five charcoal sketches in particular ran horizontally together. 

 Lust / Longing / Love / Lost / Loss

 Had he seen all of this in me? He’d certainly seen other bits I hadn’t shown him. 

 My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. Renny. Without thought, I started her stream of voicemails.

 Y/N where the FUCK are you!? Zayn’s concerned and I’m concerned and you’re not in the room-

 Next. 

 Are you really sick? Or is this just some BS excuse. Or is this real and Harry gave you tonsilitis or something. I want to hear your voice. Ilyyyyy. 

 Next. 

 It’s meeeeee. Niall’s busy and you’re sick and I don’t know what to dooooo. Housewives isn’t as fun without-

 Next.

 BABE WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME CALLS DO YOU HATE ME, AND YES I MEANT TO SAY ME INSTEAD OF MY I HOPE YOU’RE LAUGHING-

 Next.

 DUDE. You will not believe what just happened- Harry just stopped by. 

 My thumb paused, letting it stay. 

 I was avoiding his texts because I think he’s a dick. Well, he IS a dick, even if Niall said he was going through a lot. It’s still not an excuse. But Harry LEGIT found me on campus, like not even when I was with Niall at the house, but at our APARTMENT...I-hold on. Ew, pastrami professor just passed me. What are the odds? OKAY BUT SERIOUSLY, I almost punched him when I opened the door because remember last time he basically told me off. But… I don’t know. It was different this time. He seemed… so concerned. Frazzled. I don’t even know the word to describe it. Ugh, if you were here you would be able to TELL ME what the word is. I miss you. Come back. 

 The voicemail rolled into the next. 

 I’m just pretending to talk on the phone right now because the boy I hooked up with last year is staring me THE FUCK down right now-

 A creak in the pipes startled me, and the voicemail was all but forgotten. 

 My heart beat fast. 

 It was very, very quiet. 

 With one noise in the dark, the art pieces turned menacing. An oil painting in the corner of the room morphed into the Styles’ portrait. It wasn’t here. It couldn’t be here. I squinted, blinking through the dark. The portrait I thought I’d seen was just a painting of two silhouetted men facing each other. My heart still beat like I’d just ran a marathon though. I wasn’t about to be a part of the next horror movie “art comes alive.” 

 I booked it out faster than I came, answering Renny’s call on the way. 

 ---------

“Thank fucking finally,” Renny huffed, leaning over Lynn to draw me in a hug.

 “You didn’t miss much,” Lynn said, looking past me towards the game. I sat on Renny’s other side so she was in the middle, but when I looked at the scoreboard - Home, zero. Guest, two - I knew it was a done deal. Some people had already left, but half the stadium was still here, either hoping for a miraculous recovery or refusing to put their tails between their legs for pride’s sake. I noticed a group of parents in Chapman gear huddled together, waving their flags. No Mary or Lionel Styles in sight. 

 “How’s he been?” I asked. It’s like my head already knew where to turn, because as soon as I looked to the field, I found him. On the bench, elbows on his knees, head bent over.  

 “How’ve YOU been?” Renny asked. “I was seriously about to drive over to your house and check on you.” 

 Someone beat you to it. The thought was sour. For as much as Renny could claim her undying love for me, I was struggling to see the actions to support it. Everyone was disappointing. 

 “He’s been playing like shit,” Lynn answered.  

 “Brought back some...” His sentence died. Of all people, Zayn stood there, stopped, popcorn in hand. “Hey, Y/N.” 

 Felix stood behind Zayn, giving me a small wave. Zayn was clearly waiting for me to make the first move, but I turned away to the field. I didn’t know what to say. 

 From my peripheral, I saw them sit down by Lynn. 

 As soon as he did, it hit me like a flashfood. I knew what I was feeling. Anger. Discomfort. Shame. That he could expose me so easily, that he’d looked through my clothes in a way I never permitted. That he could sit down so comfortably without apologizing, as if nothing had happened. 

 Renny leaned in. “Are you okay?” 

 “No.”

 She flinched at the abrupt answer. “Do you want to leave?” 

 I stopped myself from saying yes. I didn’t want to have to climb over Zayn to get out of here. That would be more than uncomfortable. 

 “No, I’ll tell you later.” 

 I didn’t speak the rest of the game, pretending not to hear him cheer or laugh or make a snide remark to Felix every other second. Like the annoying click of a fan when you’re trying to fall asleep, Zayn’s every move made anger shake my bones. Lynn gave me sympathy looks every once in a while. It wasn’t like me to be this quiet, and even with our friendship being as new as it was, she knew that much. 

 The crowd didn’t roar this time. They were silent as the clock hit zero, staring blatantly at its twin beneath Home. The Guest team’s few Minnesota supporters jumped like little beans on the other side of the field, but their cries were faint. 

 We’d lost. 

 Everyone stood, and Renny linked her arm with mine. A familiar habit. “We’re going to Viv’s for some post-game depression drinks now.” 

 But I stopped her. 

 “I think I want to go back to the room,” I winced. 

 “Come on, PLEASE? It’ll be fun, you were barely here for the game.” 

 “I don’t know, depression and Viv in the same sentence… You really know how to sell a party.” 

 “Aren’t you coming, Y/N?” Lynn made moves to follow the rest of the crowd that was funneling out of the stands.  

 I shook my head at the same time Renny nodded hers. 

 She huffed. “Why not? It’s going to be chill. We lost. It’s not going to be like the usual ragers.” She popped her hip, completely deadpanned. “You haven’t seen another college-aged person in a week.” 

 “Yeah and there’s a reason for that.” 

 Concern washed over her, voice lowering. “Tell me.” 

 As if on cue, Zayn and Felix stopped their descent down the bleachers and looked up at the girls, waiting for them to join. It was all I could do to not scream at them. 

 “Later,” I said. “You’re leaving now.” 

 “I don’t have to leave right now, it’s not starting yet...” Renny began, but Lynn gave her a look that said yes, they were leaving now. 

 “She wants us to help set-up,” Lynn explained. 

 “But it’s a small thing, right?” I teased Renny. 

 My bestie rolled her eyes, lips pinching. “Are you SURE?” 

 I nodded, sitting down on the cool metal bleacher again. Renny took a step towards me, a sad look on her face, but I held up my hand. 

 “I’m fine,” I said, when I felt anything but. “I just want to wait until the crowd leaves.” I picked up the popcorn bag she’d left behind and threw a handful in my mouth with a cheesy, hopefully convincing grin.

 She grimaced, briefly looking back to Lynn who was anxiously waiting. “Fine. But we’re still talking about this later. I friggin miss you.”

 She left with the others, funneling out towards a party she’d probably stay at until the early morning. 

 I didn’t want to go back to the room. I didn’t want to go anywhere. 

 The lights were so bright on soccer fields. Bugs flew in and around, racing each other faster than the dust in my room. It wasn’t until the janitors walked past me that I realized I’d been sitting there for too long. I reached in the popcorn bag, but my hand came up empty. They’d gone overboard on the salty butter, but somehow, I’d still managed to eat all of it. 

 Even with everyone off the field though, I didn’t feel alone. An older Hispanic woman taking out the trash saw me walking down and opened up the bag. 

 “Thank you,” I said, smiling. 

 She just smiled in return, nodding her head as she continued down the aisle.

 Leaving the field’s gates, I was prepping for another mini run-for-my-life-and-back-to-the-dorm anxiety episode, when I heard someone shuffling. There were faint groaning noises, and I sped up my pace. 

 For a flash second, I thought someone was winning the “sleep in the locker room” bet, but when I tossed my head-back mid-run, I stopped so quickly, I almost tripped. 

 “Harry?” 

 There, in the dark, barely concealed by the shadows, he stumbled out. His abdomen looked… glossy? But then the light reflected crimson. 

 I ran to him as he fell, his white jersey stained with blood. “Oh my God, oh my God…” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What happened?! Are you okay!?” 

 He pushed me back. “M’fine.” But his voice was strained. He stumbled again, and I reached out before he fell. 

 I thought the blood from his shirt had fallen from a bloody nose, but his hand moved to my arm in a vice-like grip, revealing a gash in his jersey, I saw more liquid pool out from his gut and I almost gagged. 

 “You are BEYOND fine. You aren’t fucking fine!!” 

 “We have to leave. Have to… get out of here.” He grimaced. His face, his beautifully chiselled face was swollen on one side, his lip cut from impact. 

 “Okay. OKAY. I need to call the cops. The cops. I’m going to call them.” Shaky hands took out the cellphone, but he threw it down. “HARRY!” 

 “Take me to the physical therapy room?” 

 I looked at his chest. “You’re bleeding. A LOT.” My free arm reached for the tossed phone, but he tugged me back. 

 “No. They’ll write a report. I can’t have a-” he winced, sucking in a breath, and I reached for the phone again. “DON’T. Fucking hell. Don’t call anyone.”

 My eyes racked his frame again, and I immediately applied pressure to his ab area, right where the gash was. He sucked in a breath, unleashing a string of curses I couldn’t hear right now. “Oh my God,” I breathed. 

 “Answer me,” he growled. 

 My mind scrambled for his question… he wanted me to take him to the physical therapy room.  “YES! Yes. I have the- fuck, yes, I know where the keys are.” I looked at him again. What the FUCK.

 “Stop freaking out,” he grunted, but he weakened the next second, his eyes fluttering before coming back to me. 

 “Okay, hold on. Hold onto me. Keep applying pressure.” 

 The physical therapy room wasn’t too far, bits of blood that’d fallen to his shoes marking our path.

 “Why aren’t all the cops here?” 

 “They’re on rotation. The parties... they’llbestationedthere-JESUS.” We paused, letting him catch his breath. But it was shallow. Too shallow. 

 “Can you wait here for a second?” I asked.

 He nodded, resting against a lamp post. 

 I hurried to the lockbox located behind the planter, punching in the code and unlocking it at lightning’s speed. 

 I didn’t know if there were cameras. I didn’t know if this was illegal. 

 I didn’t care.

 We made it through the doors, and he was just about to sit on the table when- 

 “WAIT!” I ran to grab several rags and laid it beneath him before heaving him up. The soft cry he made when sitting down was like a knife through my own chest. 

 I grabbed scissors, cutting his t-shirt. I didn’t have time to linger, I didn’t have time to notice the way his tattoos were completely concealed by a red current. There were two wounds. One, deeper, the other, more shallow. Both in the lower left abdomen, just above a prominent v-line.  

 I wiped around the area, pausing above the gashes. “This is going to sting,” I warned. 

 There wasn’t fear in his eyes. He watched me, and I, him, as I pressed it against the open skin. He trembled, wincing, mouth opening in silent exclamation.  

 “You’re doing good,” I whispered. 

 “So are you,” he gritted out. 

 I swallowed, reaching for the butterfly bandages. But as soon as I did, more blood rushed out. I held a rag to him. “Save your breath. You need it.”

 The thin white bandages seemed too little in the wake of his wound, and just as one bandage was placed, he cringed away, regretting his decision to move almost immediately.

 “Fucking hurts,” he groaned. 

 “Stop moving! I need to close the wound up. You’re bleeding too much.” 

 “Y/N, just take me home. Call Lionel,” he panted. 

 “I’m calling 911 if you don’t let me at least attempt to close this wound because if we leave now you’ll bleed out.” 

 “You’ve done enough, please-”

 “STOP. TALKING. I’ll call him after.” He saw a flame behind my eyes, and quieted, too weak to protest much more anyway. I came closer, and this time he didn’t flinch. The butterfly bandages at least minimally shrunk the open gouges. 

 With no other choice, I left him there alone, running across campus to my car and driving back in less than five minutes. It was illegal to drive through student walkways, let alone drive 60 mph, but there wasn’t a choice. I kept picturing Harry passing out, his limp God-like body, turned mortal, weak, bleeding out all over the training room floor. My foot hit the gas pedal harder. I could’ve been a damn marathon winner/race car driver. Let the cops add “speeding” to the file they already had on me. 

 Once we were both in the car, I looked over at him every two seconds. An entire roll of tight gauze around his abdomen kept the wound from bleeding out, but it was still turning pink. It was the second time blood would have been on my car. 

 Of all the revenge daydreams I’d had, I would’ve settled for Harry seeing me make out with Andre on the dancefloor over THIS. Would he die in my car? Would I be responsible?? I looked at the cheesy Angel pin my mom had given me for my car mirror. Never Fly Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly. Where was my angel now?? 

 “Where are we going?” He asked, between fading in and out.

 “To your house.” 

 His hand grabbed mine on the wheel and I practically swerved into the center divider from shock. 

 “HARRY!” 

 “We need to go to my house,” he said suddenly, panicked, as if I’d told him the opposite. 

 I placed our interlocked hands above the console. A safe distance away from the wheel in case he lurched again. 

 “Don’t worry, we’re going there. We’re going to your house. You’re just in shock, it’s okay,” I cooed, but it was desperate. And it was definitely not okay. 

 “They’ll ask… less..less questions...” 

 His grip was unbearably tight for three long seconds before it relaxed. 

 “Stay with me. Stay awake,” I urged. Harry’s lids kept drooping and I was desperate, blasting the Air Conditioning to an uncomfortable temperature. 

 Lionel picked up on the second ring. 

 “It’s Y/N. I think Harry’s been stabbed-” 

 “What?!” 

 “- I told him we should call the cops, but he was adamant we call you instead.” 

 “Seal the wound with whatever you can-”

 “I did that. Not well, we didn’t have wound sealant- Okay, I’m rambling. I don’t know what to do, but he needs to see a doctor. Immediately.” 

 There was a long pause. 

 “Hello?” my voice wavered. 

 “Bring him to the practice.” The voice over the other line was that of a doctor, matter-of-fact, somber. 

 Hoag Hospital passed me, a nagging thought telling me that’s where we should be going - where there was paperwork, evidence, some legitimate accountability. But I wasn’t his father. I wasn’t responsible. 

 “On my way. I’m getting off the freeway now.” 

 The call ended, and as I looked at Harry, fading dangerously out of consciousness, my hands trembled more from fear than cold. Out of all the reactions, I hadn’t expected this one. The voice on the other line hadn’t seemed surprised at all. 

come talk to me about the chappie or just about how you’re doing! now’s the time to stay connected :) 

[outerbankspreferences]

Goodbye Town - Pope Heyward

Warnings: Underage drinking, drugs

Word Count: 2355

A/N: This is based off my favorite song. I thought about writing with JJ but I think it works better this way.

Right there's the high school where we met

We'd sneak out back for a couple kisses and a cigarette

And that parking lot was our first date

And her momma slammed the door when I dropped her off too late

At one point in time, if you asked Pope Heyward who he loved his answer would be Kiara Carrera. He thought the sun set and rose just for her everyday. That was until he met Y/N Y/L/N. He never expected to like anyone beside Kie. Maybe Kiara was out of his league and had a thing for his other friends, but he didn’t care until that day. It was raining outside, he was in class, geometry to specific. His AP class to give him extra credits towards college. When the teacher introduced her, she said her name wrong, but the girl was to polite to say anything. She sat three seats behind him, her yellow backpack hanging off the back of her chair. He knew from that moment on he was in for it. He saw her around school, and talking to other people and finally he saw her talking to his friend John B. His heart dropped knowing he could never compete with someone like him. He thought he lost all chances until he introduced the two of them.

“Hey guys, this is Y/N, she just started in my art class.” John B introduced the blonde girl to everyone. She smiled, with a small blush.

“Are we still skipping last period to go surfing?” Kiara asked the brunette. They had been talking about it all day in the group chat. Something about the waves being supreme for surfing. Pope wanted to go but knew he would get in trouble for ditching again, plus last period was with Y/N and he wasn’t missing that.

Everyone was having their own conversation, while Pope was trying to finish geometry homework from the night before. He had finished JJ’s English assignment knowing he wouldn’t do it. He was lost in his math problems when she spoke to him. “Is that the homework from last night? Man, that was hard, what did you get for question 12?” Pope had to double take. Is she talking to him? “Yeah it-t is. Uh, I got the angle being 43.” “Oh, really how’d you get that I got the angle being 36.” He didn’t know where he got the confidence from but out of no where he spoke up. “I can show you after school if you want, these losers are going to be surfing for a while, and I’m going to need something to do.” She smiled at him. “Of course, that would be great why not by the bench outside, after class?” The rest was history.  

They met there all the time, and Pope fell harder and harder for the blonde hair girl. She would smoke a joint, and he would help her with the math. Sometimes she would draw. She was an amazing artist. Always talked about leaving and going west to LA. A pipe dreamed she called it. One day when the sun was setting and they were running late, Pope took a chance and kissed her. It was quick just a few seconds, but she smiled, and kissed him back. He walked her home that night. It was the first time he had ever seen were she lived. He mom was at the door waiting. “I’m sorry for what’s about to happened”, and before he could respond her mom was hollering about how she was running late. Slamming the door in Pope’s face when he tried to take the blame for what happened.

She's gone

Chasing that highway wind

She's gone

She ain't coming back again

This ain't nothing

Nothing but a goodbye town

These streets are only bringing me down

Gotta find a way to finally get out

Out of this goodbye town

As Pope was packing up his things for college, he found her sweater. It was just a little over two months ago when she left. He missed her so much. The way she always smelled like lavender and a hint of weed. They way she was so carefree, something he need to be more of. He was proud of himself for getting into UNC, he didn’t think it would actually happen. He applied for a ton of scholarships and with finical aid it wouldn’t be so bad. He got a job at a restaurant on the mainland. A friend of his dads. He put your sweater in the box of things he still had of yours. Scrunchies, a few bracelets, one of your old sketch books. These things that made his heart hurt, like a hurt he’s never felt. He wonder if you made it out west in the beat up car JJ helped fix for you. When he looked through the sketch book you left at his house and found pictures of buildings around town. Nothing but a goodbye town, he thought.

We sat down on those courthouse steps

Fourth of July those fireworks over our heads

And they'd ring the bells of that little church

No there ain't nowhere I can look that doesn't hurt

She's gone

But I still feel her on my skin

She's gone

But she ain't coming back again

This ain't nothing

Nothing but a goodbye town

These streets are only bringing me down

Gotta find a way to finally get out

Out of this goodbye town

 Looking through your sketch book he found one of the courthouse. It was your second fourth of July on the island, the first one you spent not knowing anyone. He smiled thinking back to that day, it was perfect. You guys had spent the night at John B’s place. You lied to your mom saying you were sleeping at Kiara so she wouldn’t get mad. There was a party at the boneyard the night before, and he wanted you to go. When you guys woke up in the morning you were wrapped up in his arms asleep on the couch. He was always the early riser, while you loved to sleep in. He treasured these moments. The way you eyelids flutter from the dream you were having to the small sounds escaping your lips from breathing. Once everyone got around for the day, John B and JJ suggested you go into town and watch the fireworks. It was cold and you forgot you sweater so Pope gave you his.

Watching the fireworks was memorizing to you. You loved all the colours that came from them. Sometimes they would be to loud and you would cover your ears. You split a smoke with JJ before leaving, he claimed it would enhance the experience. It just made them way too loud. Sometimes Pope still feels your breath on his skin. It wasn’t been long since you left but he was regretting everything about this goodbye town.

I can't erase the memories And I can't burn the whole place down No this ain't nothing Nothing but a goodbye town To hell if I'm sticking around Gotta find a way to finally get out Out of this goodbye town Oh yeah Out of this goodbye town I'm out of this town So out of this town Oh oh oh oh oh...

Pope didn’t know if he wanted to remember all the good times you guys had together. He didn’t want to feel the pain anymore. He kept looking back on the day he left you crying in your driveway. The day you guys called it quits. He couldn’t believe he just walked away

~Flashback~

It was the end of the school year, and you guys were getting ready for graduation. Some how you all made it through. JJ finishing with barely enough credits, but with Y/N and Pope’s help they got him through. It was the night after prom, you begged Pope to go with you. Claiming you guys only got one prom and you wanted to spend it with him. He could never say no your pout, it was like magic. So he got all dressed up in tux he borrowed from your brother and you wore a beautiful green dress that Kiara let you borrow. It was magic. You both were going to UNC, of course you were little disappointed, it wasn’t your first choice. You applied for an art school out west but got waitlisted. Of course you were happy to go to them same college as you boyfriend. You guys looked at apartments together, and you even got a job at a local bar. It was a dream come true.  

That was until the morning of gradation, your mom stopped to pick the mail up on her way home from your hair appointment. You were causally looking through the bills when you saw it. Your heart stopped, this was the letter you had been waiting for. You ripped it open and started reading, “we would like to congratulate you on your acceptance to the Otis College of Art and Design. You’ve been accepted into this years fall term.” You were freaking out. The first person you wanted to tell was Pope, but that’s when you remembered all the plans you guys made. He couldn’t be mad, could he? He knew this was your dream. When you got to your house he was there waiting for you. His smile made your heart drop. “How can I tell him mom? We made plans, I love him, but this is my dream.” You asked your mom. She looked at you sympathetically. “I know you love him Y/N, but never let a boy stop you from chasing your dreams. Just because you made plans with him, does not mean you have to give up your dreams for his.” She was right, you loved Pope and he will always be your first love but you couldn’t live your life wondering what would have happened if you never left.

Pope opening the door startled you. “Hey I’ve got our gowns and caps. Kie wants us to do pictures at her house, something about it looking nice in her garden. Everyone is meeting there, so go get your dress on.” He looked up at you. He could tell something was off. He knew you like the back of his hand. “What’s wrong Y/N/N?” that’s when he saw the letter. He recognized the LOGO from one of your art books. “Is that a letter from the art school out west? Y/N did you get in?” You could hear the fear in his voice and couldn’t blame him. He knew what was coming. You both did, but nether of you wanted to admit it. “Uh,-yeah-yeah it is. I got accepted. Someone must have dropped out. Crazy right? The school year wasn’t even started yet.” You looked at him and the look in his eyes killed you. “So what, are you going to go? I mean what about us? We made plans Y/N.” “I know that Pope, you don’t think I know that. This is a big deal for me! You know how bad I wanted this. We can make this work, we can do the long distance. No it would be easy, but I don’t want to lose you.” You pleaded with him as he turned away from you. He was so angry with you, changing the plans the two of you made. “No, I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone I don’t get to see. I want you to stay Y/N. It’ selfish of me but I need you here with me.” You couldn’t believe what he was saying to you. “Do you really want me to chose between you and my dream college. Don’t make me do that Pope. Please.” You had tears running down your face at this point. Not caring about your makeup. “Yes, I want you to choose—“Then I choose college.” You said it so fast you didn’t have time to take the words back. He looked at you with anger in his eyes. You’d never seen him mad like this before, of course you guys had disagreements but nothing like this. “Fine then.” And with that the love of your life walked away. Even with you screaming for him to comeback. He didn’t. It broke him, but he knew if he turned around that you would stay with him. And he couldn’t be the one to keep you from chasing your dreams.

~Flashback over~

Pope didn’t like to regret things. He stopped by your house a couple days later, but your mom said that you already moved. Deciding on spend the summer in LA with your aunt to get to know the place better. He knew that was a lie. He knew you left because you could stand to see him. He walked around the town all summer seeing all the places you guys would hang out. The Pouges tried their best to keep his mind off things, as well as his parents. His dad offered to move him to the mainland early, but Pope wasn’t ready yet. JJ agreed to move to the mainland with him, getting a job and going to the community college near the university. It was the small gesture Pope appreciate from his friend. Pope was putting the last of his boxes in the truck, JJ had already moved over a week before starting work. He was finally ready to leave. Leave all the memories the two of you had behind. It was done and, in the past, but he couldn’t help but think about you smoking by the school doing homework. He was ready to leave this goodbye town.

You'll be just a memory in the back of my mind You'll be just a memory yeah Oh, somewhere in the back of my mind In the back of my mind, yeah One day you're gonna look back at what we had You're gonna think of me You're gonna think of me When I'm long gone I'll be long gone

[skywillsometimeswrite]

I lost the old, guess I need something new

Read it on AO3

Grian has lost his last contact, and has no glasses. Luckily, Cleo and Doc are willing to help him out.

“No. No no no. This can’t be happening. I did not just do that-” Grian gripped the sides of his sink, squinting into the dark brown of the bottom of it to try and see where the evil little circle of sight went. “I did not just drop my contact down there.”

He felt around the stained wood a couple times for good measure but groaned as he accepted the fact that he had indeed lost one of his last pair of contacts. Which means he would have to order some new ones from out of world and who knows how long those would take to get made. If he was going to do that he may as well get his eyes checked again, they had been getting blurry anyways since before the beginning of the season and if he waited much longer it wouldn’t matter whether he wore contacts or not. But that meant he would have to set up an appointment which most likely meant a waitlist that would no doubt span over a few weeks, if not months. That didn’t include the wait time for the contacts to be made.

Great. This was just great. He glanced over at the unopened side of his contact case and pondered if it was worth it to only put one contact in. With a hum he went through the motions, careful to cover the sink drain this time as he stuck the contact to his left eye and blinked to settle it into place. He stared into the mirror and his eyes shifted in confusion as they tried to decide how to perceive the world. Sometimes it was clear, other times it was blurry, but most of the time it was an awful mixture of both that Grian was certain would give him a headache in due time.

Even so, it was better than being totally blind so he would manage. He couldn’t stop working just because he couldn’t see the world in fine detail. Sure, maybe he should hold off on any delicate work until he could see, but there was plenty of stuff he could do like this. Like restock the barge! He could get all those annoying chores done and out of the way so he could focus solely on his building when he got new contacts. It was a flawless plan.

-------

It was not a flawless plan.

That headache came way sooner than he had anticipated, making his head pound as he tried to shovel sand into his shulker boxes while the blazing sun was beating down on him. Not to mention that everything got covered in the sand, and Grian began having a hard time discerning his shulker boxes from piles of the stuff. More than once he went to go sit down on what he hoped was a sturdy, solid box only to plop down on a grainy hill and sink uncomfortably into it.

He got through it though, even if it did take twice the time it usually would. Despite the throbbing behind his eyes he lugged his stock over to the shopping district, getting there just as the sun had set and leaving only the gently lit atmosphere of the mooshroom island to guide him. He would just drop this off at the barge and then go home and sleep. Then maybe he could rethink his plan regarding his eyesight. Maybe he could find a world with an ophthalmologist that would accept walkins. Or maybe he would just have to deal with only seeing blurry shapes for a while.

His thoughts were cut off by screeching from above and he whirled around, squinting up at the sky and grabbing his temples as his head screamed at him. He tried to look into the dark sky for the distinguishable features of the phantoms that were haunting him from his sand endeavor but couldn’t see anything against the solid navy blue that warned him of where they were coming from. Sharp teeth grazed at his scalp and pulled a few strands of his hair from it as the monster flew back into the air, leaving Grian to yelp and stumble forward, massaging the small injury. He remembered to pull his sword out, but failed to land a hit on a flying blur that scratched at his arm. After another hit by a camouflage attacker he decided to rush to his barge, taking shelter in the light underneath the ceiling. He sighed, resting his pain-filled, dizzy head on one of the chests.

“Oh hey, Grian. What are you doing out so late?” Grian slowly lifted his head at the voice, squinting at the blurry blob of muddled blues and greens. Alarm bells immediately rang in his head as he recognized the colors and outline of a zombie, and he pulled out his sword once more holding it in front of him. “Y’know, if you didn’t want to talk you could have just said that.”

He blinked a couple more times, squinting at the blob a little harder and taking notice of the bright orange hair that blended into the lighting so well. He lowered his sword, groaning at himself as he rubbed at his eyes. “Sorry, Cleo. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

“I feel like I should be insulted. Is this how you talk to all your customers?”

“Sometimes, depends on my mood and who it is. You were literally after everyone’s heads, I think it’s only fair to be a little bit cautious around you.”

“I had everyone else gather the heads for a reason, Grian. But I’ll still take yours if you don’t want it.”

Grian chuckled, combing through his hair and wincing at the fresh scratch underneath it. “A tempting offer, not gonna lie.”

“Why’s that?”

He opened the chest, watching a piece of paper flutter down onto the ground. He picked it up and stared at it, waiting for his eyes to adjust to reading the scribbled black ink. And wait he did. He held the paper further away from him then closer trying to guide his failing eyesight. He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the chest again.

“Everything alright, Grian?”

“I may have lost one of my last contacts a few days ago. And using only one has given me the biggest headache and I’m pretty sure my eyes are rebelling against me at this point.”

“You don’t have glasses?”

He looked over at her again, not bothering to even try to make out the details of her blob of an expression. “I well, uh, I left my glasses in my old world.”

“Like before you joined?” Her voice lifted in what Grian assumed was surprise. He nodded. “You’re telling me you’ve been using the same contacts for over two years?”

“Well, not the same ones, I had a couple pairs that I’ve gone through to get to this point.” Cleo sighed and he shrugged it off. “It’s fine, I’ll set up an appointment with the doctor I usually go to out of world. I can deal with not being able to see for a couple of weeks until then.”

“A couple of weeks? Why not just talk to Doc? He makes Joe’s glasses.”

“He does?” Grian had never considered that there may be someone on the server that could help him. “What about contacts?”

“I don’t know about that but I’m sure he can hook you up with a pair of glasses to hold you over until you can see your doctor about it.”

He nodded, smiling at her. “That sounds like it’d be great. I’ll try to talk to him soon.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m sure he’s busy and I have stuff I need to do and I don’t necessarily need to see-”

“Oh my god, you’re as bad as Joe. I didn’t realize people who wore glasses shared the same amount of brain cells. You’re going to see him tomorrow.” She walked over, looking down at him as she closed the chest and took the piece of paper from his hand. “And right now, you’re going to bed. I saw you getting completely owned by those phantoms out there.”

Grian glanced between her slightly clearer face and the now-closed chest. Even the slight movement sent a bolt of pain through his head and he relented, rubbing his temples. “Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll go see him in the morning.”

-------

Grian didn’t bother putting in his contact in the morning, heck, he barely got up at all. But a few threats of bodily harm from Cleo convinced him to get up and over to Doc’s place. She had already contacted him for Grian, stating how she didn’t trust him to go through with it on his own. He resented that remark, he would have texted Doc on his own. Probably.

He yawned, sitting in the grass outside the mansion he built that had been unceremoniously split in half, waiting for the creeper hybrid. Within minutes, a blob of green crossed his vision against the otherwise blue background of the sky and ocean and he rubbed away the remaining sleep from his eyes as he got up to greet Doc. 

“Hello Grian. Cleo.” He took a second to unequip his elytra, hanging it on the wall of his half-mansion. “I’m fine with helping out, but you see the equipment isn’t cheap and we never discussed payment.” 

Grian could practically hear the smirk in Doc’s voice and he looked over at Cleo who seemed unperturbed. She hadn’t told him anything about payment! Was he supposed to bring diamonds? Oh goodness, he didn’t want to have to give Doc of all people an IOU. He couldn’t imagine that ending well for him, glasses be damned.

“I don’t think we really need to.” Cleo sounded smug as she took a step forward and held out a piece of paper to Doc. “Considering you owe Grian.”

“He does?” Grian squinted at the paper, even though he wouldn’t have been able to read it anyways.

“That’s the paper that you failed to comprehend last night. Someone cleared you out and couldn’t pay for it, it seems.”

“Alright, fine. It’s only fair. But we’re even after this, okay?” Doc rushed through his words, moving past them to dig through a chest.

Cleo hummed in agreement with Doc, taking a seat on a wooden chair and leaning back. Grian glanced between her and Doc, blinking a couple of times. He sighed, dropping his shoulders and relenting to accept this as it was. “Yeah, sure. I don’t think I have much of a choice on the matter.”

He could only assume Cleo was beaming at him so he pointedly ignored her. Instead turning to Doc. “So what do you need me to do?”

“Do you know your prescription?” Doc didn’t look at him, examining a tool and whispering to himself before dropping it back into the chest.

“Uh, not off the top of my head, it’s been a few years. I have my last contact if that helps.” He thought about how his vision had been getting blurry and added, “I think it might be outdated by now though.”

“How outdated?”

“The last time I had my eyes checked was probably three years ago.”

Doc let out a heavy sigh, setting a few tools aside. “This is going to take a lot longer than I thought it would.”

“Sorry.” 

“No need to apologize, Grian.” Cleo butted in, now standing and walking over to Doc. She leaned against his hunched back. “I’m sure Doc is more than willing to help you for as long as it takes. Aren’t you, Doc?”

“...Of course.” Doc hesitated, his voice low and clearly annoyed. He didn’t shove Cleo off of him.

Grian watched the scene with a squint and an eyebrow raised. What was going on here? He knew Cleo was persuasive in her own threatening way (Grian had noticed this with all the girls on the server, actually) but he never expected it to affect Doc. Doc was usually the one doing the intimidating, but Grian had to admit it was fascinating, and rather amusing, to see it the other way round.

Eventually Cleo left, saying she had stuff she had to get done but she would be back to check on them as if they were children being left at a daycare. For a while, Grian and Doc fell into an uneasy silence as Doc was still sifting through tools.

“So,” Grian started, trying to sound as casual as possible, “what was that all about?”

Doc sighed, “I’ve been handing out a lot of IOUs this season.”

“Oh.” Not the answer he’s been expecting. “Why?”

“I’ve sworn not to mine any diamonds.” Doc stood up, stretching out his back, and closed the chest. He grabbed a few sheets of paper and started writing something on them. “It’s the G.O.A.T. way.”

Grian opened his mouth to ask what that even meant when Doc walked over to him and used his flesh hand to open his right eye wide. He recoiled at the sudden touch and unnatural feeling of creeper skin, but his head hit a wall before he could back up anymore. Then Doc was shining a light in his eye.

“What the heck-”

“Would you stop squirming around? I’m trying to help you.”

“By blinding me?” He asked, rubbing at his eye as Doc backed away slightly, only to repeat the annoying process on Grian’s left eye.

“Have you never had an eye exam before?”

“I have. The doctor is usually a little gentler and gives me some forewarning.” He glared at Doc as he turned to walk towards his tools

“Well, you’re stuck with me.” He marked something on a piece of paper, then took the other sheets he had. He stood against the other wall, facing Grian, and held up a piece of paper. “Close your left eye. What can you read off this?”

Grian did so, and squinted at the paper, turning his head this way and that. Despite this, he couldn’t distinguish any other color than white. “It’s a sheet of paper. I don’t see anything.”

“Alright.” He set that sheet down and held up a different one. “What about this one?”

This repeated for a few sheets, Grian noticing some color changes in what he assumed was black ink. He was able to guess a few letters, but it took about six pages in before he was able to guess anything right. The same happened for the right eye.

“Wow, you’re blinder than I thought.” Was Doc’s only comment.

The next hour was filled with Doc giving Grian bits of plastic to hold in front of his eyes, then trying to read once again from the paper. At least Grian knew that there was something written on that first piece. 

Doc marked one last mark on his note sheets and looked at Grian, nodding. “Alright, I think I have an idea of your prescription. I can’t make you contacts, not safe ones at least, but I can make you some temporary glasses until you can follow up with your usual eye doctor. Sound good?” Grian nodded and Doc grabbed his elytra off the wall. “Alright, you stay here. I’ll be back in a few hours with the glasses.” 

Without another word, the blob of green flew off and disappeared from Grian’s vision into the blue. And Grian was left there. Alone. He huffed. What was he supposed to do while he was waiting? 

-------

“How long has he been there?”

“No clue.”

“At least it’s getting used, I guess.”

Grian blinked at the light colors in front of him, snuggling into the soft material underneath him. He had been sleeping just fine and he didn’t feel like getting up yet. He let his eyes close again.

“He’s awake. I think.”

“We could just make sure he is up, you know.”

“You know, this is almost a cute picture. Grian all curled up in the GOAT’s pink bed. I think it’d make a good sidebar for the Hermiton Herald.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Fully disrupted from his sleep by the voices that weren’t even trying to keep their volume down, he opened his eyes once more. Looking down he noticed a vibrant pink that he knew was definitely not his bed sheets. He sat up, coming face to face with the indistinct greenish-colored blobs of Cleo and Doc standing over him.

“Morning, Grian.” Grian could hear the smirk in Cleo’s voice.

“More like evening. Glad you enjoyed your stay.” Doc grumbled. It hit Grian like a truck and he knew he must have turned a bright shade of red as he scrambled to get out of Doc’s bed, trying not to mess up the covers he had been sleeping on if Cleo’s laughter was any indication.

“I was still pretty tired and it looked really comfy.” He defended himself, practically feeling Doc roll his eye at him. 

His mechanical arm held out a small wooden box. “Here. Try them on, make sure they fit. I can make small adjustments.”

Grian blinked at the box as he realized what they were and he took it, opening it to reveal the black, rectangular frames. He carefully lifted them out of the box and fitted them onto his face, pushing them up when they slid down his nose. He physically leaned back at the sudden difference in his eyesight. Having adjusted to the natural blurriness of his world, having sight again felt like a blessing he had taken for granted.

One which Doc ripped away from him all too soon. “They’re slipping. Hold on.” He vanished downstairs.

Grian pouted, crossing his arms. Then he looked over at Cleo. “You weren’t serious about the Hermiton Herald, were you?”

-------

Grian was finishing dumping the last of his sand into the chest, closing it and adjusting the price on the paper on top. TNT was going to be more useful, he had to get ahead of the trend now. Satisfied with his work, he looked around the barge and took note of everything that was done. He had to say, he was pretty happy with how far his little shop had come.

“Hey Grian, glad to see you aren’t stumbling around blindly anymore.”

He looked over to see Cleo in front of the entrance to the shop, a shulker box tucked underneath her arm. He smiled, and offered a wave. “It’s good to be seeing again. I need to remember to properly thank Doc next time I see him.”

“Maybe you can give him a discount or something. I wouldn’t mind one either, you know. You wouldn’t have those fancy glasses if it weren’t for me.”

He rolled his eyes, packing away his own shulker boxes so he could leave for the night. “I’ll think about it.” 

“The glasses look suits you, you know.” Grian looked up at her, eyebrows raised. She gave him a teasing smile. “They make your face more interesting to look at.”

He gasped in mock offense, holding a hand to his chest. “I- Why- What does that mean?”

“You have a very plain face. Actually you have a pretty plain everything, besides personality, I suppose. I think the glasses spice your look up very nicely.” She began walking away. “It does make you look like a huge nerd though.”

Cleo walked away laughing, waving a goodbye. Grian stood there, mock offense teetering on being real. Maybe he should consider wearing glasses more often.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty-six: pink orange red

“he draws his horses; pretend your anger, and draws his horses, being chosen also.” -”pink orange red”, cocteau twins

On a cold morning in the middle of November, Sam rolled over onto her side and strove to fall back asleep. The memory of standing out in the rain and mourning over Cliff still hung fresh in her memory. This was the third morning this week that she had woken up early because she swore she still felt him next to her. She still felt his memory within her arm's reach, right there, nestled right next to her in the safety of her bed.

She opened her eyes and lay her hand on the spot of the mattress next to her, even though there was no way someone of his stature would lay there next to her. He was right there. He was right next to her. And yet he couldn't feel her again. She couldn't feel him again. She woke up alone for the umpteenth time and she had no idea as to how to rectify it.

Anthrax had already left for Europe with Metal Church, and she had to look over the schedule again to find that Metallica had gone off out west for a little bit before they were whisked across the Pacific. Even though he promised her that she could call him at any given time as she so wished, she had no idea how to get in touch with Joey. It was a cold, blustery day there in New York City, and albeit the weekend right before Thanksgiving: she could go back out West to visit her parents, but that would only mean a couple of days there in Reno before she had to fly on back that Sunday.

Even though it was only for another week and a half before they came back to North America and played there in Poughkeepsie and New York City with the Cherry Suicides, it could not feel more of like an eternity. Those next ten days stretched into the form of ten years without having her friends there.

She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the gray ceiling. She had everything and then with a flick of a wrist, she was back to square one. Back in bed in her own home. It would be four days alone for all she knew, unless Aurora and Marla weren't doing anything then. Four days alone and yet she wondered about the slight wish she had cast for herself. Some time alone to think about everything; some time to herself and no one else.

Indeed, as she thought more about it, she realized she hadn't had much time to herself until after she returned home from school or anywhere else, and even then it was only for a brief time. Four days alone and she could make it work for herself.

Sam sighed through her nose and lay her arms upon the top of the blanket. The question then was what to do in those four days.

All the art she had made up to that point was for someone else, be it Frank and Charlie or for a class. She very rarely cracked into her own private journal for herself. All buried under the weight of class and the very friendships she wished for and held dearly.

Four days alone and she could do it with that journal.

It felt as though she hadn't ridden in a car for a thousand years, even though she and Joey drove to Oswego together. If nothing, she could take the bus to the upstate area. But on the other hand, she wouldn't have her tour guide with her. She could wander about somewhere upstate, but then came the whole deal of taking a bus there in the first place. There was so much to do and yet so much she couldn't do.

Four days alone and there was so much to do between now and then.

She glanced down at her waist: she had lost a little weight in that she didn't seem so round with the blankets wrapped around her, but she also wished for Cliff's touch. She had cried all of her tears for him and yet she still wished for his presence. She wished for a presence. Someone to touch her, to understand her, to be the best friend that he never could be.

She knew the sun was about to come up within mere seconds: a brand new day and a brand new week, and one for herself no less. Nothing better to do than to make herself a cup of brew and go out walking before the snows came in.

Aurora had given her a string of dates to clock in and she knew that had to have been her last day before the Thanksgiving break. At least it was a mere part of the day rather than the whole thing. She would relish in every moment alone.

And yet she couldn't help but wonder about her parents. So far away from home and yet she knew she had to be there in New York. Her one true home. Her parents fought for her, every step of the way because she knew she would blossom on the East Coast. But every blossom wilted and withered and fell from the trees by the time the summer rolled around, and they were long gone come the winter time. She began to wonder about Christmas break with her parents: Chrismas break and without a man by her side.

Add to this, she also couldn't believe how easy it was for her to get into school, in that she barely made a waitlist of any sort. As far as she knew, even Marla and Belinda had been waitlisted before they were accepted in themselves. It almost felt too easy to get into that school. In fact, she closed her eyes again and thought back to those first few weeks when she submitted her things to her counselor Bill, and she started to wonder about him, and if he had a hand in other things, not just the admissions office. So many questions and yet so little time to ruminate over it all.

Sam opened her eyes and she gazed up at the ceiling once again, that time when the first glimmers of gray sunlighht appeared up above her. Today was a work day: she had to get up at some point. Get up, get dressed, and tuck her journal under her coat if in the off chance of her having a moment alone that day.

She took her cup of coffee with her on the subway ride down to the building itself, and all the while she wore that black hat Cliff had given her. She paired it with her long black winter coat and heavy black leather boots. If it snowed, she would stand out anywhere in New York: as black as the East River at night during a hefty rain.

She emerged from the cold subway station with the cup of coffee still in hand and her purse over her shoulder, and protected by the heavy and warm safety of her coat. The rain was upon her, if not the snow. With her free hand, she held onto the crown of her hat as she hurried up the sidewalk. Aurora's car was nowhere to be seen.

“Don't tell me I'm opening today,” she said aloud and out of breath.

A break in the clouds and she was met with a sliver of sunlight as she reached the front door. She pushed it open as if someone had already been there, and she recognized Eric's long fine black hair on the other side of the front room.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

“Hey,” he retorted; right next to him was Greg.

“Hey, girlie,” he followed up.

“Wow, I wasn't expecting to see you guys here,” she declared as she closed the door behind her. “It's Sunday.”

“Aurora wanted us to come in and do some paper work,” Greg explained as he took a seat in the chair against the wall. “Although to be fair we weren't expecting to see you here, either. Given it's Sunday and whatnot.”

“And we're gonna be here for a while, too,” Eric added. “It's just the nature of things at the moment.”

“It's a work day for me—it's only part time but still.” She then stopped right in her tracks. “Wait a minute, you guys are getting ready to record, aren't you?” Eric had a twinkle in his eye and Greg nodded his head. Sam then brought the cup of coffee to her mouth for a sip against the cold.

“Just about,” Eric replied as he took his seat there next Greg, “—I'm technically the one who founded the band so if nothing else, I have to be here myself. Greg is just here so he sees that he gets his money.”

“Dyin' to get our money,” Greg said as he tilted his head back and brought his hands to his chest.

“By the way, do you guys have a manager at all?” she asked Eric. “I was thinking about that a couple of weeks ago—given I'm the first member of fan club and everything.”

“A manager? No, not yet. The Zazulas are the ones overlooking us at the moment.”

A brief silence fell over that room.

“Kind of like the counselors at school,” she noted in a soft voice, and she took another sip of coffee.

“And if it's something important like that, you'd have to balance out that with school,” Greg pointed out.

“I've done it before,” Sam assured him with a raise of her finger.

“Well, if nothing, you gotta at least sit in with us, though,” Eric insisted. “I really wanna see you and I really want you to hear what we've got on deck. Louie and Chuck do, too. I think Alex does, too—given you're Cliff's girl and everything. He's back home right now so I don't know what to say about him.”

“I mean, she did do it with Stormtroopers,” Greg pointed out.

“I did it with Stormtroopers, yeah,” she recalled with a shrug of her shoulders, “and I'm part time with the label and assistant to Aurora, too. I could in fact sit in if you wish.”

“We go in New Year's Eve,” Eric added with a nibble of his lip. “New Year's Eve under the name 'Legacy.' I hope, anyways.”

“If I'm not there, what would happen?” she asked them.

“We'd be sad and be like 'where's our girl?' for the better part of a week,” he said with a straight face.

“Where are you guys gonna be?” she asked him.

“Pyramid Sound—out in Ithaca. We can take you out there right now if you'd like.”

“Nah, I have things to do,” she assured him, and then she snapped her fingers. “Wait a minute—I have Thanksgiving off. That's coming up here in this next week. You still gonna be here?”

Eric and Greg glanced at each other.

“We'll try,” the former vowed, “what’s your schedule like this week?”

“I have half a day Tuesday.”

“How ‘bout then?”

“Sounds good. As long as I don’t have anything important, of course.”

“We’ll get ya back home,” he vowed with a wink, and she extended her hand to him. His hand was warm and dry, but his fingers were rough from the incessant guitar playing. The door behind her swung open, and the three of them turned their attention to Aurora, who had a big grin on her face.

“What you all smiles for?” Greg asked her with a little shake of his head.

“Come on in, Marla!” she called back, and Marla stepped inside from the cold and the gray. The violet had gone and in its place was a bright neon orange at the crown of her head. But as her hair extended to her shoulders, the orange melded into a rich cherry red and bright hot pink. Every step about the floor it looked as though her hair changed colors from orange to red to pink, one right after the other as if her hair was comprised of watercolor. Sam, Eric, and Greg gaped at the sight of the hair and how it seemed to flow about.

“Wow!” Sam declared.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” said Aurora with a twinkle in her eye. “I helped out with it because it was tricky to get right, especially the red part of it.”

“I call it 'pink lemonade',” Marla added as she lifted her hair out from under her shirt collar: the pink and red near the bottom seemed to move about like waves. “I wanted to do it for the Cherry Suicides' show this upcoming week.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right! It's this week!”

“Providence and then upstate in Poughkeepsie.”

“We really gotta be here now, Greg,” Eric proclaimed right behind Sam and Aurora.

“For sure, Eric. Seeing a bunch of punk chicks with Metallica after a week of a great feast. And we owe li'l Sam here a ride out to Ithaca—”

Sam paid no attention to Greg's waxing lyrical given Marla's hair had given her some sort of awakening right before school started and then ended again for a bit. Some time alone but she knew it was going to be worth it, especially with hair like that.

She couldn't hardly focus on her work that day given she kept on thinking about her rendezvous with Eric and Greg in the next room, and also her seeing the Cherry Suicides with Metallica. How exciting it must have been for Zelda in particular. Sam was so distracted by the whole thing that she spent her entire lunch break with the journal in hand.

She thought back to Zelda and that day in her apartment when Aurora broke the news to her. They were coming home to Providence, and Sam couldn't help but laugh at it. She thought about that full bodied painting of Joey on canvas and how it was still in the back seat of his car. There was another thing she had to do: a better, more finessed rendition of Joey in the buff. But that thought led her back to Zelda.

Their name was the Cherry Suicides, and they were dark and fast but incredibly girlish at the same time, almost like black cherries. They owed so much to Wendy O. Williams and yet they moved in a whole other direction altogether.

She brought the pencil to the paper and she sketched out Zelda's head first. All the inexplicable struggle with graphite and correctly shading everything was about to pay off with her short bob of dark hair. A little oval shaped face and deep seductive eyes, and then she followed it up with her lanky drummer's body and a myriad of cherries around her. Given she only had the one pencil to work with, Sam shaded in the cherries with the side of the graphite, but it was somewhat difficult given she kept the journal close to her chest. She drew it for herself and no one else.

But she still signed her initials at the very bottom of the page.

She kept it all firmly in mind as she went off to school for the next two days, and by the middle of the day on Tuesday, she wondered if Eric and Greg knew where she lived courtesy of the label or Aurora, or if she had to walk on up there after her last class. Indeed, she stepped out of that front building and she was alone there on the sidewalk. Not a cloud in the sky but a walk nonetheless and with her hand upon the crown of her hat as well.

Sam strolled inside and there was Eric and Greg congregated around Aurora, who had the clipboard in hand once again.

“—so I'll get that squared away for you guys once you get out there to Ithaca,” she was saying, and she turned around at the sight of her best friend in the door. “There she is!”

“Little Sam I am!” Eric declared. “You ready to go?”

“Let's move on out, boys,” she said as she fixed the brim of her hat.

“And remember if you guys need anything, call me back at my place or down at Montana,” Aurora continued.

“Will do,” Eric told her with a shake of her hand, and the two of them doubled back to the door and put on their sunglasses in unison.

“We're the men in black,” Sam decreed as she led them back outside.

“Hell yeah,” said Greg. Eric led them back to his rental car, which was parked up at the corner, right in front of Aurora's car.

“Shotgun,” Sam declared.

“Damn it!” Greg scoffed, and Eric laughed out loud as he took out his keys and climbed in first.

“Her and Alex, man,” Greg added.

“Alex always calls shotgun?” Sam asked them as she followed suit into the front passenger seat.

“Oh, he's terrible with that,” Eric replied. “Whenever we played out at clubs back in the Golden State, he made it a nervous tic of sorts. Sometimes he'll slip it in mid conversation—like we'll be walking to our car and he'll be in the middle of saying something and he'll slip in the word 'shotgun' in.”

“I remember the first time he did that, Louie looked at him like he just slipped in a foreign word or something,” Greg recalled as he shut the back door. Sam slid her book bag down between her legs. She could only assume that it was for the rest of that day and that they would get her home soon enough.

Indeed, when they got on the road, she took out her journal from the inside and returned to that drawing of Zelda. It needed something: it was the start of a new chapter for her and thus she needed to add something more to it. She gazed out the window at the scraggly trees that lined the highway and she thought about Joey. She wondered how he was doing while on tour and if he was staying away from all the booze and brutal partying.

Next to the shaded cherries on the left side of the page, Sam doodled a glass soda bottle. She had hope that Joey would turn his attention to singing and staying sober with things like soda for the duration of that tour. Clean and sober, like a bottle of soda. The cherries only made the doodle more appropriate.

She hadn't drawn glass much before, but she had seen it in person many times: that little bit of shine on the curvature of the bottle as well as the neck.

Right in between the bottle and the cherries, she got to work on a little rose, in honor of Rosita. And once she had finished the basic sketching, she ran the pencil over it all again to make their shadows richer and darker.

She lifted her gaze again to the dark forest outside of the car. Even though she was in the car with Eric and Greg, she was still technically alone. She sat in a car with two men she didn't really know very well and she was drawing right next to them to boot. She was alone with her thoughts. A few leaves still clung to the dark branches of all the trees, and each one of them were as orange as Marla's hair to contrast with the cold gray in the sky.

Soon the signs for Ithaca emerged from the scraggly, damp shrubs and the memory of the Stormtroopers of Death tour returned to her.

“I came out here with Joey last summer,” she said. “Took me out this way just so I could take a shower.”

“Context?” Greg asked her with a clearing of his throat.

“Touring with Stormtroopers and none of us had showered in days, and I finally couldn't take it anymore and Joey and I drove to his parents' house just for that.”

“Ohhhh, shit,” Eric groaned.

“Damn, that's rough,” Greg joined in, “kinda metal, though. You went from one place to another just for a shower and hung out with the Stormtroopers.”

Sam moved over to the right side of the paper and Eric took a glimpse over at her.

“Amazed you can draw while you're in the car,” he admitted. “I try to do that and I get dizzy almost immediately.”

“I feel the drive to create, you know?” she said as she kept her eyes on the cherries to the right of Zelda. “I want to make something in Cliff's wake, too. He did the same thing after his brother died after all.”

“That he did,” he replied in a thoughtful tone.

They fell back into silence and that gave her more time to finish the drawing. That one drawing just for herself, and she had ran the pencil over her initials once again by the time they rolled into that first intersection in Ithaca. She opened the journal even more across her lap for Eric and Greg to see. The former gaped at it and for so long that he kept the car in place there for almost too long.

“Holy shit,” he said as he lunged forward to the fuel station on the corner. Sam lifted up the journal so Greg himself could see it from the back seat.

“That's fucking beautiful,” he remarked.

“You ought to show that to Alex when you see him again—he's bit of an art kid,” Eric told her as he returned to the street.

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” She thought about that leaf of rice paper back in her apartment, still there in the safe place of her drawer. “What is with these heavy metal guys and a love of the arts,” Sam chuckled. “Lars is an art guy, Charlie's an art guy, and now I find out Alex is one, too.”

“You're a lot like us,” Eric replied, nonplussed. “We're dark and pissed off—there's something about you that's dark and pissed off. Aurora told me where the studio is—I just forget—oh, wait, there it is.”

It was a small brick building tucked back in the trees, with a little narrow walkway up to the front door that resembled to the walkway at school, and it stood a bit away from the actual road, and Eric told her it would serve as the perfect spot for them to get as loud as they could.

“Just so long as there's no one else in there with us,” Greg pointed out. “Come in here around New Year's and totally raise some hell.”

Sam lingered near the car, and she peered up at the dark trees. The one next to her still had a pair of leave on the lowest branch: a single dark red leaf next to a yellow one. She thought of Cliff and the yellow tulips back home, still strong and stout against all odds.

Within time, Eric and Greg drove her back to the Bronx, and by that time, night had fallen and she wished to make more art in Cliff's honor. Art for herself as well as him. She had a whole day to herself with nothing to think about and no one to spend it with, and thus she sat down with the journal and her colored pencils.

She thought about those thirty one ink drawings she had made the year before in honor of Spreading the Disease, except these were to honor herself and Cliff. All the colors, and all the dark graphite. Herself with Cliff. Their arms around each other's love and their lips pressed upon each other: nothing too much and nothing too intense, and yet making them took a great deal out of her. And that night, she went off to bed and fell asleep by the time her head hit the pillow.

She had cried out all her tears for him but drawing herself with him was what buried the coffin under the earth. By Sunday and her realization that she was to witness Zelda in front of a real crowd of people, she closed the journal and lay it on her desk. Its final resting place.

The show itself in Providence took place the next day while Sam was at school, but Marla insisted on going because the next day was Thanksgiving.

“We've got to—it's home coming for the Cherries,” she had said, and thus the two of them plus Belinda climbed into Charlie's car and they made the two hour drive to Providence once school let out. Every time Marla flipped her hair back, all the colors shimmered and waved about as if her hair was made of titanium. There was no way Zelda could miss them out in that big crowd.

And a big crowd it was: the four of them congregated off to the side, right next to the stage, and they watched the four girls roar forth in front of two thousand people. A band that had been playing in clubs were finally able to stretch their wings and let their sound ring out.

“This is the type of show they needed to play,” Belinda declared in a voice barely loud enough for Sam and Marla to hear.

They closed out their set with “Day of the Dead” and Sam thought about that night three weeks before. She closed her eyes and let the music guide her way. Cliff's arms. Cliff's safety and the extent of his heart. But alas, she couldn't.

She finally put him to bed. Zelda slammed the cymbals one last time and the crowd before them erupted.

“Thank you, Providence!” Morgan shouted into the microphone. “We love our home!”

The four of them ducked off stage, and Marla clapped over her head once Zelda appeared with a wide euphoric grin on her face.

“Oh, my god, that was insane!” she shrieked as she picked up a full water bottle from a table next to the wall. She pushed her black hair back and she let Rosita pour the cold water over her hot forehead. “That's what I'm talking about!”

To think they were on the brink of disbanding and giving it all up, and they performed as though their lives depended on it. Even though she was hot and sweaty, Sam still threw her arms around her and held her close. And she stayed there with them as they watched Metallica, Sam's first time seeing them with Jason.

It seemed hard to believe, even implausible, to think that those three men had already experienced so much in such a short amount of time, much like how she did herself. But in that year alone, they had put out a brand new record and embarked on a huge tour, plus James shattered his arm, and then they lost their brother from another mother. And yet, here they were, in all their glory. Five years into the whole adventure and yet they had come such a long way.

At one point, Jason nodded over at her with a little smirk on his face. His curled bangs kissed his brow, and she could make out the little twinkle in his eye. She nodded at him as he played along: not even a few weeks into the fold, and he was already a good hard part of it.

“We're back, baby,” she whispered: the faintest of whispers such that the surrounding crowd couldn't hear her, but she knew Cliff could, even when she finally put him to bed.