#did you know that there are people that are happy that he tore his quad?

[smashthegiantkiller]

Moments before disaster.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Are You Lepre-Kidding Me || Morgan & Mina

Making friends is hard. #cursed

@drowningisinevitable

Morgan was relieved to have another shot at a normal work friend with a normal work lunch. The whole dishonesty about magic and beautiful weirdness thing wasn’t a fun time, but it was a bargain she was familiar with. Familiar could be comforting. And Mina seemed so nice. Morgan was happy to venture to the maths and engineering quad where a thai fusion truck liked to park and catch the hungry students coming out of their four hour labs. Morgan rocked on her heels as she stood in line, trying to figure out if Mina was already there. She fidgeted with a new pendant she’d crafted for herself, amethyst wrapped in gold, and checked her phone again, sending Mina a quick message: In line! Trying to will the sun back with floral prints.

Mina had been in the quad for about five minutes (five and a half, but who was counting?) and had already ordered a bowl of shrimp and fried rice when she got Morgan’s message. She sent back quickly that she’d snagged a table in the back right corner of the quad and settled in to wait for a few more minutes. She was excited; Mina’d always had a bit of trouble making friends. She and her dad never really settled anywhere for too long, and, if they did, never for longer than a year and a half. She’d thought she’d make more friends as she settled in to White Crest, but she was always feeling that niggling in the back of her head about her promise to her father, and, yeah, there was a small (very small, so small) piece of her that didn’t want to have to fulfill it anytime soon. It made her wary and awkward around people, never knowing what to expect from them. It was time for a change, though. It was time to connect with people.

Morgan stiffened with nervousness. Mina was already here. Morgan searched the tables as the line shifted up and ordered the noodle special. She paid for her food and wandered around until she saw her. Something about the way she almost vibrated in her seat reminded Morgan of her messages. She stopped, smiling hopefully. “Are you Mina…?” She asked. “It’s Morgan. Me. I’m Morgan, hi!” She gave another cursory look around the tables, just in case she had it wrong. There was a weird sound in the bushes, she thought, but perhaps it was her own anxiety manifesting its own soundtrack. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen to her lately.

Jiggling her foot, Mina’s head whipped up as the other woman walked up to her. She smiled brightly. “Hey! Hi! Hey, Morgan! Yes, I’m Mina. It’s really nice to meet you. In person. Nice to meet you in person.” Okay, stop talking, she told herself. Something rustling in the bushes caused her to pause, just for a second, before she turned her attention back to Morgan. Birds, probably, she thought, though she felt a bit… off. The off feeling wasn’t coming from Morgan, though, and Mina really couldn’t be more grateful. She’d have cried if Morgan had been Fae. She really would have. “Have you had food from the thai truck, yet? I know you’re probably usually on the other side of campus, but they’re actually really good!”

Morgan beamed with relief and took a seat across from Mina. “Oh, good! It would’ve been really awkward if I’d put all that energy out at a random person. Not that I haven’t done it a few times before, but, you know.” She smiled brightly and looked the girl over, trying to get a better sense of her. She seemed even more anxious than Morgan, even more eager. Morgan wondered what she had to be nervous about, if it was her brain working overtime or if something had happened to make her expect something to go wrong. She knew both impulses well, and it made her feel a little endeared to her. “I haven’t, actually. I’m usually at the soup place on the arts quad, but this looks so yummy! Highly recommended by my freshmen, but they eat just about anything, I think, so I’m not sure how much that’s worth.” She sniggered into her noodles and took a bite. “It’s a shame we haven’t run into each other before now. It’s so stuffy in the office space, and it’s just medievalist and modernist bros making themselves feel superior. Well, less so, now that some of them are uh, missing with this eternal night thing.” And less so since she’d threatened one with murder. Morgan hadn’t thought she’d been very convincing, but the novelty factor must have worked in her favor. This, however, didn’t seem like making-friends material. “But what about you! I don’t picture it being very different in the math department, but, you know, it’d be nice if it was.”

“I understand the feeling,” Mina said with a smile. She was constantly putting out too much energy and hoping it went out the right way, and she often ended up screwing up. One time, she’d brought her father someone that she thought was a vampire but clearly wasn’t a vampire, and he’d only barely managed to catch her mistake in time. After that, they’d stuck to having her identify Fae. Speaking off, she was feeling something strange, but… no. She was imagining things. “Oh, I know all about freshmen appetites.” She wrinkled up her nose a bit. “One of the frat boys I tutor said the other day that a friend dared him to eat spray cheese on a marshmallow, which he did, of course, and he liked it. However, the Thai truck is no joke really good! I almost always grab a bite from here unless I pack lunch.” She frowned as Morgan talked about some of her coworkers. “Yeah, the, uh, the math masters program is, I’m sure you can guess, quite small. Quite. Most of my colleagues are… very nice gentlemen at times.” Most of them really weren’t bad, but there were two or three that she really wouldn’t mind just taking home to Dark Score and not drowning them. Not completely, at least. Mina gave Morgan a big smile. “But it’s certainly nice to meet someone outside of the department and outside of tutoring! I’m all about differential equations, but… it’s nice to not think about numbers!” 

Morgan had no problem believing Mina had problems with awkward first impressions. But whatever the cause, there was something kind under it all. Morgan smirked about the frat boy, and her colleagues. It seemed pretty clear there was a whole other word besides ‘gentlemen’ that she wanted to use. She smiled warmly at her as she gathered another scoop of noodles. “That’s fair. Although I do know something about those too. And, much as I can and will talk about books all day, it’s good to just, you know, be normal sometimes.” Or normal-ish. Normal-ish for humans, anyway. “I don’t really have any gal-pals up here. And I’m not really sure the TA bros would even get some of of--” Morgan never finished her thought. With a strangled yelp, her head snapped back, and just before she hit the ground, she saw a strange, wormy-gray looking critter leap on top of her forehead and reach for her neck.

This was nice, Mina thought as she ate a bite of shrimp. Nice company, nice food, a nice day (well, night). She could do this. Really, she could. “Right, you also teach some chemistry classes, yes? That’s really cool! But, I agree, it’s very nice to be normal.” Mina felt something kindred with Morgan, especially when she mentioned not having any gal-pals around. Mina didn’t have any pals at all, really. She agreed, and she would have told Morgan as much as soon as the other woman stopped speaking, except for one (or, rather, several) small problem: leprechauns. Brave ones, too, as one immediately took to Morgan, leaping on her. “No, no, no!” Mina yelped. She looked around the courtyard and, wow, just them and the leprechauns. Lunch must be over for most. There were too far in the back for the food truck guy cleaning up to see them, not in the dark, and-- Leprechauns. Mina needed to focus on the leprechauns. “Hey! Back off!” They wouldn’t bother her, not with her Fae blood, but Morgan was another story. Mina attempted to grab the one that was on Morgan as she told the other woman, “Iron! Need iron!”

Many, many strange things were happening at once. For starters, Morgan was on the ground, staring at a new upside-down world peopled with more strange gray faces, like something out of a scary children’s movie. They were toddling towards her, making strange noises that set her teeth on edge. Then Mina was there, throwing one off her and calling for...iron? Wasn’t that just a supernatural know-how thing? But Morgan didn’t have time to think. She was too busy scrambling onto her knees and looking for something, anything, to transmute. Her catch-all bag was too far and now there was one pulling on her ankle. Morgan screamed and tore out her hair clip and slammed it on her cuff, making--one tiny rod with a pointy end, not even the full length of her hand. Morgan held onto it tight as she was dragged back by too many tiny hands. She hooked one arm around the leg of the picnic table and thrust the other out to Mina. She seemed to know what she was doing. The why part could come later. 

Mina’d already tore a section of the bottom of her sweater off and wrapped it around her hand as she watched the leprechauns bearing down on them Of course, of course, the one time she actually begins to enjoy lunch on campus, and leprechauns decided to come along and ruin it. The one that she threw off of Morgan was looking at her in complete confusion, unable to comprehend that she’d chosen the other woman over a fellow Fae. Mina snatched the rod of iron from Morgan, grateful that the other woman was a magic user as she watched the hair clip transmutate, and it felt hot even through the cloth around her hand, but it was a familiar burn, and she should be somewhat protected. And, then, she went for one of the leprechauns around Morgan’s feet, lashing out with the rod. Many of them panicked at the approaching metal but seemed resolute in hounding their quarry. In their focus, they weren’t quite as fast as normal, and Mina took her chance, grabbing one and shoving the iron rod under its jaw and through its skull. Then she went at another one. To Morgan, she said, “I don’t suppose you can find a way to do that again?”

Morgan scrambled up and onto the table as soon as she was free, pulling her bag up with her. She wasn’t sure what the plan was besides ‘don’t get maimed,’ But seeing the pointy end of her rod go through one of the little gray head made her yelp and spill everything from her catch-all bag. Less rummaging. More doing. “Uhh, sort of?” She found the rod she’d been gifted and held it up like a bat. Only-- right. They were all at her ankles, and the second Morgan jumped down from the table, they were at it again. She swung down hard, batting one away. The sound the iron made sent cringe down her arms. Cold iron really was no joke. “What are these things?” She asked, swatting away another. “What do they want?”

“They’re leprechauns,” Mina said. “And not the kind of the cereal box, unfortunately.” She grabbed one by its abnormally large head and twisted. If Morgan wasn’t around, she’d decapitate the thing with her claws. However, she just snapped its neck, knowing it probably wasn’t dead. “They like stealing things, rare things, expensive things. They’ll kill to get it, too. And they travel in packs. Iron and decapitation are the two ways to dispose of them.” She recited what she’d been taught years ago, and she’d actually put this knowledge into practice. Leprechauns were not what her father considered humanoid Fae, the kind that she should be targeting in White Crest, but they were definitely the kind that she’d gone after with him when she was younger. “They’re also quite heavy so-- oof!” Apparently, Mina was no longer Fae enough to protect as one of the leprechauns threw itself at her. She grunted under the weight and kicked it off. “So watch out!”

“Rare things?” Morgan asked, taking another swing. “But I don’t--” Shit. Morgan hopped back on the table and pulled on Mina to come with her. She took off her necklace (oh earth, and it was some of her best work, too) and dangled it on the end of her rod. “Is this what you want? Seriously?” She tossed it down to the ground and braced herself while the leprechauns inspected the newfound ‘treasure.’ Morgan waited, tense, and reached for Mina’s arm so they could make a break for together if they had to. “Will that make them go away?” She asked in a whisper.

Mina tensed as Morgan grabbed her arm, but she kept her gaze steadily on the leprechauns. Four. Eight. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fourteen of the foul creatures, all surrounding Morgan’s necklace. “I don’t know,” she said lowly. “They usually kill when they get caught.” The clicking sounds they made caused a shiver to run up Mina’s spine. Though they couldn’t speak any sort of human language, she knew that leprechauns weren’t to be underestimated. They were smart, quick, and nimble, and they had a nasty habit of making and using their own tools. Plus, there were so many of them, and though she was impressed with how Morgan had handled herself so far, Mina didn’t know how the other woman would be able to take on fourteen of the bloody creatures. 

The leprechaun critters were plotting, negotiating, maybe even laying claims on who got to eat which toe for their lunch break. Carefully, Morgan stuffed only her essentials into her bag and slipped it over her shoulder. “We should run?” She mouthed to Mina, clumsily pantomiming their great escape with one hand. She eased onto her knees and inched back, balancing the cold iron in her grip all the while. It might have even worked if it hadn’t scraped on the edge of the table. The leprechauns turned their heads her way, their grim, tiny faces unreadable. Well, so much for being sneaky about it. “Yep! We’re running!” She leapt off her perch and sprinted away, leg throbbing with each step.

Though she would have loved to stick around and tear into the rest of the leprechauns, Mina followed jerkily after Morgan. She turned around and bared sharp teeth at the wretched little creatures, hoping that would deter them. If they figured out that Morgan was under her, another Fae’s protection, they might leave her alone. Whatever the case, Mina planned to come back at a later date with one of her father’s swords and slaughter the remaining leprechauns to ensure they didn’t do this to anyone else. She followed after Morgan, and, when she felt they were far enough away, she stopped the other woman. “We’re-- I think we’re good. Are you alright? Did they hurt you at all?”

Morgan slowed, staggering, to a stop. “Uhh...not too badly, I think?” She patted herself down carefully. There were some tender spots on her back from where she’d fallen, and a nasty scrape where she’d been dragged along the ground, but given what else had happened to her lately, Morgan felt like she couldn’t really complain. “At least I don’t need another hospital visit. I can’t stand Nurse Denise judging me again. What about you? Are you--” For the first time since they’d been disrupted, Morgan actually took a good look at Mina. There was something else in her, something firm and stringently capable, something like the iron, which she held with a hand wrapped in fabric. Morgan stared, trying to make sense of the last few minutes. “Mina, are you okay after all that?”

Mina ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. “I’m glad you’re alright. They really tried to--” She stopped herself. What they tried to do was kill Morgan. All for a necklace. She really hated leprechauns. “I’m glad you’re alright.” She was concerned about the need for a hospital trip, though she didn’t say anything, it probably showed. Another implied that there had at least been one, in not multiple. “I’m fine,” she said. The leprechauns had barely touched her due to what she was, and the few scrapes and bruises she had would easily be taken care of when she got home. She looked at the iron rod, covered in bits of leprechaun and still in her wrapped hand. She wiped it off on her shirt. “I’m quite used to things like this. I grew up taking care of monsters like them.”

“T-tried to--?” Morgan prompted, eyes wide. She already had a decent idea from all the other times she’d almost-died recently, but there was something so strange about the prospect of getting her head dashed on the pavement over a bit of gold and amethyst. She’d heard by now of a few kinds of fae critters that subsisted on humans or thought nothing of hurting them, but it was different, feeling the ghosts of tiny leprechaun hands on her. Morgan shivered and tucked her rod back into her catch-all bag and took the one she’d transmuted from Mina. She touched it to her wrist to bring back her hair clip and distracted herself by fussing with her hair, wincing only a little in pain at the way it irritated the scrapes on her back. “Right. So, I don’t think there’s any point in pretending we’re normal by human standards,” she said, a little unsteadily. “Me, alchemist. You--? I mean how do you grow up uh…’taking care’ of leprechauns?”

“They don’t usually let people live when they get found out,” Mina said quietly. She felt uncomfortable saying the words out loud, making them real. As long as she had her way, though, those leprechauns wouldn’t be touching another person. She unwrapped her hand and flexed it. Thankfully, the iron handed touched her flesh at all, so while she’d felt a bit of discomfort, she was still fine and human, if in appearance only. She did laugh a bit as Morgan stated that they weren’t normal. “And here I thought all adjuncts had the chemical know-how to transmute a hair clip into an iron rod.” Mina played with the strip of cloth in her hand. “My father, he hunts creatures, creatures that hurt human beings. He raised me to do the same. I try to protect humans from the evils in this world, like those wretched things.” She jutted her chin in the direction that they came. “They would have killed you, Morgan. Without a thought and without a care.”

Morgan nodded. This was all kinds of not good. First leprechauns, and now--a Warden? Morgan lost her grip on her hair and had to start over. The last thing she needed was another complicated not-friendship with a kind of hunter. And yet here Mina was, young and nice and sweet in her own peculiar way. Everything had been fine until a short while ago. But who knew what she would do in front of a fae that was less critter, more person. “I um, I get that,” Morgan said at last. “And I’m grateful that we both made it out okay. Thank you, Mina,” she said. “Really.”

Mina ran a hand through her hair and sighed. From Morgan’s reaction, she had an awful feeling that she’d done or said something wrong. She couldn’t really understand it, couldn’t figure out what she’d said wrong. “Of course. There’s no need to thank me, really,” she murmured. “Just, ah, doing my job.” She gave a soft smile. “Lunch was nice, you know, before the leprechauns showed up. If you’d-- I mean, you don’t have to, obviously. But, if you’d like, we could do it again sometime?” Whether Morgan said no or not, Mina made a vow to herself that she’d watch out for the other woman, especially around campus. If she’d ended up in the hospital multiple times, she was either accident prone or a target for supernatural shenanigans, and Mina wanted to make sure she was okay. She was so kind, after all.

Morgan smiled back at Mina, if only because she didn’t know what to do. She had turned sheepish and anxious again. She knew something was wrong, maybe she knew that Morgan understood exactly what and who she was looking at. Maybe she was starting to guess Morgan knew fae, maybe other supernaturals who could end up on her menu. And she was being so earnest about it, so gentle. Morgan felt for her even as she felt the impulse to bolt cord through her body and she inched away. “Um, maybe sometime, yeah,” she said with a noncommittal shrug. She couldn’t find it in her to be harsh about leaving, no matter how rattled she was inside. “After I have a chance to uh, live all this down. A little. And somewhere probably inside. Maybe without shiny things.”

“Right, of course,” Mina said quietly. It wasn’t a no, but it was close enough. She was resigned to making sure Morgan stayed safe from afar. Whatever she’d done wrong, it was enough that the other woman likely wouldn’t want to see her again. Perhaps it was stabbing the leprechaun the way she had. She should have been less violent with it. Or maybe… Was it possible that Morgan figured out she was Fae from the way she’d had to hold the iron rod? Mina truly hoped not. She just wanted someone, anyone, to see her as human. “Do be safe, please? I think you’re right. Ah, stay inside, stay safe, avoid the maths and engineering quad. I would… it wouldn’t do, like you said, for you to end up in the hospital again.” She pretended to check her phone. “Goodness! I need-- I’ve got to-- Class! Tutoring! I should just-- It was very nice to meet you, Morgan, truly. I really do hope I see you around!” Before the other woman could say another word, Mina darted off. She could study a bit, or, she could go home and prep for the night. She was going hunting.

[xolotoofficial]

Recorded in Advance

> “Alright, babe,” Marvus’ manager starts, making sure the bandages around his chest are well visible under his jacket, but not as visible as the layers of gold chains sitting on top. He smirks and pats him on the shoulders, eying the golden diamond-shaped studs in his ears. “You’re looking pitiful enough. Go out there and make me and your clown buddies proud.”

Marvus feels way better now that he’s had a couple of days to heal. If he was, oh, Jade, let’s say, it would probably take much longer for him to heal, but he slowly swaggers into the interview, feeling like a million but walking like he’s still injured, but healing. The stab wounds on his body were closed up at this point, and the scarring was already looking pretty minimal, but he looked like he was being held together by cotton and stitches under all the wrappings.

The day he woke up, he let them photograph his chest, and it was emblazoned across every magazine - a clown, martyred at his own show, bloody and pitiful, tore the fuck up and still devastatingly hot. Gore was barely a kink on Alternia.

The cerulean woman in her pencil skirt and killer heels splattered with warm blood sits with a notepad in her lap and a winning smile. She was a familiar site. They had done interviews before, and she was very efficient. “Are you ready? Do you remember all the questions and answers we’re going through today, Mr. Xoloto?”

He smiles and nods, feeling the cameras on him again. It’s familiar, and he can honestly say he missed it. “Yes, I remember. It’s a steel trap up here, even if it’s been knocked around a lil’ bit.”

She feigns concern and they both cackle with each other. She was easy to win over, as easy as anyone else, but at least she had fun with it.

“You’re such a messy bitch.” She croons, recrossing her legs, one set of eyes looking at her notes and the other staring into him with glee. “Alright, everyone shut up and start rolling!...” She herself smiles into the camera. “Hello and welcome to all of you at hive watching, this is Krayvt Terrox, of course. Today I’m joined by one of the most masterful jesters this side of Alternia in an exclusive interview. Known for the size of his crowds, the size of the bloodshed, and the size of him… well. Marvus Xoloto, it’s so good to have you here, and so soon after this grizzly attempt on your life.”

He smiles and nods lazily, moving very little. “Only by motherfuckin’ grace, sister. It’s great to be here, Kravyt.”

“Let’s start with the obvious - your attacker isn’t a stranger to the disciplinary system, and according to multiple sources, he’s been on the cull list for some time for abandoning his duties and past violence on trolls of higher blood. It’s rather stupid of him to brazenly walk on stage when common knowledge among us who actually use our pans that you like to keep a certain amount of attention and cameras on you. I have to ask, did you know Lanque Bombyx personally?”

Marvus shakes his head. “No. We had some mutual acquaintances once upon a time, but I didn’t know him, or about him, or get any warnin’s on his violent ass nature. We’ve attended some same parties, but other than that? Nada.”

“Oh, interesting. Let’s start with those acquaintances. Did you have any altercations or issues with those mutual acquaintances?”

He shakes his head again. “Oh, no. It’s funny, the only people we both knew seemed to either not want much to do with him, or just didn’t have nice things to say. I take care of my friends, ya know? And that includes listenin’ to em, so I did my best.”

“Of course, Marvus the Great wouldn’t be associating with such base criminals. I’m sure the people who lost him to the cull list were very disappointed.”

Marvus laughs. Thinking of Daraya being disappointed in Lanque’s crimes tickled him. “Can’t say fer sure since he came up so rarely, but I’m sure they were pretty g-d bummed.”

Kravyt’s eyes narrow and she leans in. “Now, about the parties? What’s the secret there?”

“Oh, god, ain’t no secret. They was jus’ meetin’ ups I was havin’ with some of my siblin’s. He was there at the same time, in my ass and all that. The only secret I might think was there was that he was followin’ me. Ain’t uncommon, but ain’t impressive on me.”

His interrorgator simply laughed, flipped a page in her paper. “Gosh, this is a funnier story than I expected. Here we all were, thinking he was some sort of hired hand or a wronged quad, but he’s really a jealous nobody. So, what happened that night? Why does Marvus Xoloto lose to an overly desperate fan like that? It’s not every day that someone attempts on a clown’s life, let alone escapes from the scene, and a Jade blood on top of that. A well-trained subjugglator would be expected to win that match up, easy.”

“Well, I ain’t subjug trained, I’m laughsassin trained. We more like a clown utility knife, less of a club to the face, ya dig?” One hand plays with a chain around his neck, the other hand waving away the last statement. “Not disparagin’ of course, I love the heavy hitters in my family, but I ain’t made to maintain that kinda rage all long term and shit. After a bumpin’ ass night of performin’, ya could guess that I was tired a-f. Ain’t help that on top of tired I was all cocky and shit - I’ve always been the type for spectacle, and I ain’t thought that through much at the time. I was jus’ tryin’ ta stop him, wound him all for-life-like, put on a show, and I got blood in my eyes for just a second and, well, I got the beatin’ I well up and deserved for bein’ a show-off, durin’ the fight and durin’ that long-ass slam session.”

Marvus takes a pause. He stops his fidgeting and his eyes cut to the ground. Clowns don’t show shame, but he does it regularly on global television. Even Kravyt, who knew what the questions and answers were ahead of time leans in while the camera does the same on his face.

“But I wanted to make my fans all happy, you know? Shit, they show was gettin’ ruined, and I wanted to give em another to make up for it... That was my b. If I knew he was such a criminal I woulda been more on toppa dat shit, but I ain’t sure it mattered much. Like I said, I’d been performin’ for a long time at that point - like, i-d-k, almost 3 hours?” He pauses though, stage whispering to the woman across from him. “And don’t tell nobody, but I mighta been a lil’ slack on my training. Gotta get that fixed now, don’t I?”

Kravyt nods in understanding, swinging her foot. “Thank you for that, Marvus. I’m sure that was difficult to talk about. Let’s move onto something a little less clinical - how are you feeling?”

Marvus beams for the camera. “Aww, thanks sis. I’m doin’ pretty okay. I should be all healed up sooner than later. Then I can get back to all that good” - and sometimes illegal, you know how it is - “work I’m motherfuckin’ known for.”

He winks through Kravyt and she blushes, but it wasn’t really for her. That one was for the cameras - the rebels he had been helping for the past two sweeps. The clubs he bought out. The performers he had been recruiting. He wasn’t out of the game, and he wanted them to know that.

“And what about the church? How are they feeling about all of this? What about your friends?”

Marvus nods sagely at her question. “Well, my family ain’t to happy. Last I heard they were makin’ their own moves about this. Somethin’ about uppin’ security every-motherfuckin-where, and they hired some kickass to the case? Wild a-f. I ain’t all involved or nothin’ cuz, ya know, I’m a motherfuckin’ loud mouth and alla dat, but they’ve been supportive of me. And as for friends...”

He smiles a little, face as neutral as usual. “Well, they’re goin’ a lil’ SHITHIVE. I get it though. Somethin’ terrible happened to one of their friends, all because of Lanque. He’s gettin’ all sorts of people hurt with these weird motherfuckin’ antics. Who knows who’s gonna be all in the path next? Can’t imagine how hurted his cloister must be - they be their own sorta family, and I kinda feel some kinship about that. I know most trolls ain’t gettin’ what clowns got, but I know, if I up and imagine, it would suck if I fucked up and got a sister of mine hurt, you know?”

And that one was for Lanque.

“How kind of you to empathize with the associates and friends of a criminal. But that almost sounds just as juicy as this -”

“None of that, sis. This is just me havin’ my own fun. I mean, the church got him covered - I get somethin’ of my own, I think. I just wish his family the best.”

“You really have a gilded heart, don’t you?”

“Aww, I don’t know about that…”

“And so humble.” She giggles. “One last question, then.” Kravyt nods and finishes her scrawling. “It’s really good to see that you’re alive and well. Is there anything else you’d like to tell the good people at home?” Marvus turns to the camera to his left and gives another best winning smile. “I’ll be going on a whole new tour in three nights from now to celebrate my good health! Tickets are available now, and locations are listed up on my website. While you’re there, if you’re feelin’ up to it and know anything at all about the location of my attacker, there’s a text form you can submit, only available to people who’re signed up to my Fanclub.”

“It was lovely to have you on tonight,” the smiley four-eyed woman chirps pleasantly, offering her hand. He leans forward with an exaggerated wince, reciprocating the action. She looks at him with her own over-acted pity. “Thank you again, Marvus.

“...aaaand cut it! Start shutting this down. Good job, Marvus. We’ll get these all edited up and it should be going up as soon as it’s done. A day or so. You were wonderful as usual - only took three takes to get all the footage we need.”

Marvus stands and stretches, clapping his hands together once. “Glad we could do this, f-r. Hey, don’t be a stranger, sis - maybe we’ll get to talk without me actin’ like I ain’t ever been stabbed before, lmaooo.”

She shrugs. “I suppose it might be good for ratings - people really are obsessed with you. Who knew that a person could capitalize on their powers like this? Like, shit, I don’t get it, but clearly huffing your voodoo-vibes or whatever is better than coke.”

[tisfan]

A portrait of a young man in the park not eating his sandwich

Square: S5 - writing format: breaking the fourth wall Warning: unrepentant fluff, humor, breaking the fourth wall Pairing: WinterIron Summary: Jan takes it upon herself to arrange a date for Tony Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19940161 Word Count 1439 For @27dragons  @tonystarkbingo 

Note: Apparently I wrote this a LONG TIME AGO and forgot to post it. So, here’s this, and it’s my final posting for Card 1 in the Tony Stark Bingo, so that’s a blackout for me!

Tony was sitting on one of the benches in Avenger’s Park, eating his lunch. And by eating his lunch, I should probably inform you that Tony Stark never actually ate lunch at all. Usually he grabbed a fruit smoothie of some sort and drank it while talking a mile a minute and working on three projects at once. Saving some special quality him time every twenty seconds or so to reflect on whether or not he’d screwed up massively in the last thirty seconds.

So when I tell you that Tony was sitting on a bench, in the Park, eating his lunch, you will understand by that that things are very, very wrong.

Tony tore off a piece of his sandwich and threw it. One of the multiple squirrels that lived in the park came down to investigate, but squirrels, I’m sorry to say, don’t really care much for liverwurst, and while he did take the sandwich, he didn’t actually eat it. The penguin that came by later did, however, and liked it very much. 

You may ask why there are penguins in the park, but that’s a secret and I’m not going to tell you. You could ask Director Fury, but I promise he will only tell you it’s classified. Black Widow might know, but she doesn’t like to share secrets.

And all of this is beside the point anyway.

The point is, that Tony Stark was sitting on a bench, in the park, not eating his sandwich.

Jan noticed.

Loki noticed.

Even Scott Lang noticed. Which, if you know Scott at all, that’s pretty impressive. Scott didn’t say anything, though.

Loki and Jan, however, did.

(more below the cut)

Of course, being Jan and Loki, they had different ideas about what should be done. Loki wanted to play a prank -- such as disguising himself as a present and then turning into a snake which might make Tony jump and shriek. Jan was all right with the jumping and shrieking part, but vastly preferred Tony’s jumps to be of joy.

Jan is, you understand, an optimist.

That’s about two steps under being a fool.

Loki’s somewhat less optimistic, but he’s also not adverse to Jan’s particular manner of cheering someone up, which is, either: 

-- Getting them an entirely new wardrobe, which means lots of time at the mall, one of Loki’s favorite places, or

“Hey, Tony,” Jan said, plopping down on the bench next to him. “Are you busy on Friday?”

“Hullo, Jan,” Tony said, not looking up. “Unless one of the crystal cages cracks and we have to deal with a new round of villains trying to take over the world, and Madame Hydra doesn’t assign any more homework this week -- I swear, Life Lessons is the worst class ever -- then yeah, I’m free. What do you--”

“Great! You’re going on a date.”

“Uh… I am? With who?”

“It’s a blind date, I’m setting it up.”

Loki enjoyed blind dates; they were never much fun for the person doing the dating, and they were tons of fun for everyone watching.

***

When Jan said she had an idea, we’re given to understand that she didn’t, really. She had more like the seed of an idea and the optimistic thought that throwing it on the ground would make it grow into a grand plan.

“So, who are we setting Tony up on a date with?” Loki wondered. “Don’t say me, because we already tried that and it didn’t work out for either of us. And my father’s already blind in one eye, so the blind date thing just makes him nervous.”

“No, no, it wasn’t going to be you, you’re not right for Tony at all,” Jan replied. Which made Loki angry, because he didn’t want to date Tony Stark anyway, but he also wanted it to be his idea and not someone else’s, and certainly not because he was, in any way, wrong.

“I could be,” Loki said.

“No, you couldn’t, and don’t bother to get all trickster god about it, no one has time for that. No, I need the perfect person for Tony.”

Loki sighed and let himself look around the campus. The obvious answers were there; Bruce Banner, Jane Foster (if for no other reason than it would piss off Thor, and that would be very funny), Norman Osbourn. All the scientists and people that Tony had something in common with.

“What about Barnes?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why not--” Barnes was an athlete, not remotely science-y as far as Loki knew, and only spoke to Widow and Rogers. It would be a delightful disaster. Quite a bit of fun to watch. From a distance.

And maybe with some added trickery along the way.

Jan’s eyebrows went up. “I always worry when you’re right about something.”

Loki just gave her a bland smile. Defending his suggestion would just talk her out of it, and Loki wanted to see the fireworks.

He always did like fireworks. 

***

By the time Friday night rolled around, he was fine. Perfectly fine, thank you very much. Not the least bit worried about who he’d been set up with, or what they were doing, or any of it.

He still didn’t know who the date was, and that didn’t bother him, either.

And by fine, I mean, very close to, but not yet having a complete panic attack in Pym’s classroom. Which was not quite the exactly the polar opposite of fine.

“It would help if I even knew how to dress,” Tony told Jan.

“Is there talking going on in my class, because there should not be talking, only science!”

Tony slumped down in his desk, pulled out his phone and tapped angrily at the screen. WHO IS IT?

You look fine, Tony.

“Of course I look fine, you’re the one that picks my wardrobe, I’m just--” Tony shrieked as his phone shrank down to the size of a Barbie toy.

“No talking, Mr. Stark,” Pym said. “If you miscalculate while using Pym particles, you could not only kill yourself, but destroy the very fabric of the universe.”

“So, like, no pressure,” someone said from the back of the class. Tony craned to look at who the joker was as everyone else laughed.

Barnes flicked him a two metal fingered wave and grinned.

Oh, oh, oh. Crap.

“Is it Barnes?” Tony hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

How the heck had Jan convinced Bucky Barnes, hero of WW2, normally a cohort with Tony’s damn father and also best friends with Tony’s damn rival, to go on a blind date?

“Relax, Tony,” Jan said. “It’ll be fine, I know what I’m doing.”

Now, that should have been reassuring, when your best friend for most of your life tells you that she knows what she’s doing. But Tony had said the same thing on any number of occasions, and only half of those had blown up in his face, slammed him into a wall, or one time, put him through a plate glass window and a fourteen story fall.

Fifty percent was… not good odds.

***

Bucky knocked on the door exactly four minutes after he was supposed to be there. Jan had told him that Tony tended to be late for just about everything, but Bucky didn’t want to be too late and make Tony think Bucky didn’t actually want to go on the date.

“Wha-- oh, Barnes, it-- should I--” Tony blinked a few times and then, “You look… scruffy.”

Bucky was wearing his second favorite pair of identical black jeans with the knees torn around and the strategic tears in the upper thigh.

In answer to Tony’s comment, he held up his skateboard. “Jan said, you uh… had a hoverboard? An’ maybe you’d like to, you know, hit the ramps. An’ then maybe we could grab a slice and some soda at the quad?”

Tony stared for a few seconds, which was really only a few seconds, but to Bucky, it seemed like the entire universes could have formed, and stars died.

“Um. Skateboarding. Yes, yes, I can do that.”

“Great.”

“Great!” Tony continued to stand there for a moment, then -- “right, let me get my board, why don’t you-- come in?”

Bucky let the door slide shut behind him.

It was going to be a great date.

And I’m happy to say-- it was.

Even when Loki did convince Noir Thor to make it rain, the two of them cuddled together under the awning of the Club Galaxy with its music throbbing from inside, and enjoyed each other’s company.

Much to Jan’s satisfaction.

Because Jan… is always right.

Even when it just means she yells louder. 

[thepencilnerd]

- 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐦 - 4

➳ Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 ||  Part 4

➳ Pairing: Jaebum x Reader

➳ Summary: AU! After taking a gap year from college to pay for your tuition, you felt like your life was finally back on track- until you met him. What happens when life doesn’t go the way you intended it to? What happens when you find out that your anchor is just as broken as you are?

➳ Genre: AU! Fluff, angst, friends to lovers

➳ Word Count: 2k

➳ Warnings: Swearing, playful banter

♪ Game- Mating Ritual

a/n: Masterlist & links to other parts can be found @ my main URL

A crisp gust of wind swept across my face, making my hair blow into and prick my already dry eyes. Finals were over and winter break was just around the corner, but what normally would have been an already snowy day was instead a foggy and frigid one. 

I was walking up the stairs to the rooftop and couldn’t contain the excitement that came whenever I went to admire the sky from up above. I never noticed how happy gloomy weather made me until I actually counted the days I spent up there during overcast days. As soon as I opened the door, I saw a person admiring the view with their hands resting on the ledge and posture slightly hunched. 

“Oh,” I jolted slightly, surprised at Jaebum’s presence. “I didn’t think you’d be up here. I can just—I’ll go—” 

The edges of his lips curled upward into a slight grin and his head shook in response. “No, it’s fine. It’s not like it’s I own the building.” He gestured with his hand for me to stand next to him, sliding over to make some room. 

I responded with a tight-lipped smile, I distanced myself a foot away as I stood beside him, shifting uncomfortably as I tried to stay as far away as possible without making it seem too obvious. I noticed he was wearing white today; no wonder he looked less intimidating. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he spoke up. “How were your finals?” 

I bit the inside of my cheek, a habit I picked up in my childhood years, and retorted plainly. “They were okay.” Refusing to make eye contact with him to see what he was doing, I assumed he simply nodded his head.

His head turned to face me, making me immediately glance at the near-dead rose bushes behind us. Glancing around at the planter boxes, I realized that most of the plants had already begun to wither away. Had it been that long since the last time I was up here? 

“Do you think any of the professors curved your grade for you?” Jaebum asked, snapping you out your daze and clearly making a desperate effort to make do with any kind of conversation he could. 

I just shook my head, reluctant to give him anything that would encourage any kind of small talk. “Nope.” 

Jaebum bit his lip and sighed, noticing what my aim was. “I’m trying really hard to get on at least casual talking terms with you. Can you at least try to be on a ‘basic conversational’ level with me?” he said with a raised eyebrow. 

My face tensed as my gaze narrowed at him. “I still don’t get why you’re trying so hard. I’m not anyone special and you’re wasting your time, so don’t make me feel bad by trying that hard.” 

“When I asked you to give me a chance, I thought it implied that you’d be on a neutral standpoint, not consciously making an effort to discourage and dislike me.” His angular eyes bore into mine, making me see that he was genuinely hurt by my actions. 

I exhaled forcefully, feeling a pang of guilt for being rude to him when he was just like any other normal person who tried to befriend me. However, unlike the others, he hadn’t gone about it by using annoying tactics-yet. Closing my eyes tightly and biting down on my lip, I forced out a small apology. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not-” I struggled to find words for some reason, trying my hardest to avoid making eye contact with him. “I don’t-I don’t do the whole-”

“Friends thing?” he finished my sentence for me. My eyes abruptly snapped to look him in the eyes. 

“Are you seriously a psychic or something?” I asked with squinted eyes. Jaebum laughed deeply. 

He has a nice laugh.

Repressing the haphazard subconscious thought, I stood there and waited for his response. 

“I told you,” he grinned. “We’re a lot similar than you think.”

“But I’m not a psychic...” I mumbled. Pressing my lips together in a thin line, I scoffed. “Fine. Okay. Prove it.”

He raised his eyebrow again but this time, it was accompanied by a hint of a smirk. “What’s your favorite type of weather?” Leaning in closer to me, I could practically feel his body heat radiating off of him in waves as my cheeks started to heat up from the distance between us. 

“Rain,” we replied in unison, without a second of a delay. I gawked at him before immediately crinkling my face into a frown. “That was just good timing.” I crossed my arms and faced away from him, hell-bent on making sure that he couldn’t read any of my microexpressions or pre-cursors to words. 

“I’m not reading your lips if that’s what you’re wondering.” He chuckled, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smug grin as he sat down on the edge of the planter box. “How about you come up with  questions and then I answer first so I can prove I’m not cheating?” 

Half scoffing, I agreed and sat down next to him. Two could play at this game. “Ketchup or mustard?” I started off with a painfully dumb and stupid question to throw him off. There was no way he would say what I was thinking.

“I’m more of a barbeque sauce person,” he responded confidently. “And don’t tell me that doesn’t count because I know damn well you hate ketchup and mustard.”

“Okay, hold it there Mr. Wise Guy,” I halted, throwing my hand up in defense at his accusation. “I do not hate ketchup and mustard, I just don’t particularly like them. And how did you know about the barbeque sauce?” 

“We had a class picnic in freshman year and while everyone else was eating lunch in the quad, you grabbed your food to go sit by yourself and eat in the field.” His ability to recall memories in such detail was both terrifying and astounding. 

Chuckling at my tilted head and agape expression, he continued. “I was eating by myself underneath the bleachers and then I saw you coming to sit a few feet across and right above me. Your burger had ketchup and mustard on it so you took off the bun and actually scraped all of it away before you ate it. Then you tore open a packet of barbeque sauce and drowned your fries in it.” 

I couldn’t think of anything to say. “When—how did—do you just stalk and observe me in your spare time? Is that your hobby? How do you remember that of all things? And from freshman year?” Questions suddenly poured out of me like a tornado of word vomit.

“I told you,” he reminded me again. “You’ve always been the only one who’s constantly intrigued me.”

“Isn’t it a little unfair that you know a lot more about me than I know about you?” I questioned, tip-toeing around the subject of actually getting to know each other. 

“I never said you couldn’t ask me things about myself.” He pointed it out as if it weren’t so blatantly obvious. 

Trying to come up with a half-ass and somewhat decent question, I settled on one. “Why do you like the rain?” 

He glanced up towards the sky. Closing his eyes for a moment before answering, he sighed softly. “I like the way it makes me feel.”

Assuming that he would explain further, I waited patiently for him to continue.

“I like how cloudy it gets, but not the dark kind of cloudy-the kind where you can still see through the grey and it’s still bright out is the best. The cold air that swirls around right before it rains; the smell of petrichor once the water settles into the cement and dirt; even the sound of the rain when it hits your umbrella or trees. The whole atmosphere changes when it rains.” 

I sat quietly and listened to him, captivated entirely by his words and gaze. 

“I like cold weather too, not just rain,” he quickly added.

“Is that why you were on the field that night?” I pondered. 

He smiled and nodded. Thinking over that night on the field, I thought about how much time had already passed since the first day of school. 

“I like running in the rain too,” he resumed. “When it rains really hard on campus, I leave my umbrella in my room on purpose so I can run to class in my jacket. Something about dashing against the cold air and rain hitting your face is just—” 

“Invigorating,” the word rolling off of my tongue like second nature. This time, it was my turn to finish his sentence. 

“I know you like it too,” he grinned, tipping his head ever so slightly as if to study my facial expression. “I saw you walking out of the coffee shop that day before bio.” 

I widened my eyes at his comment. “You saw that?” 

“Yeah,” he smiled, a small laugh nearly slipping out in the process. His gaze deepened before he elaborated even more. “I was at the table the farthest from the door when I saw you through the window. Almost as soon as I saw you, you sprinted headfirst into the rain and looked—” he wavered, taking a small pause to laugh and replay the moment in his head. “Happy. Really happy.” 

Suddenly, I couldn’t tell whether I was beaming or on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “Out of all of the people that I’ve dealt with in this hell of a school,” I said, voice faltering slightly. “I think you’re the most bearable one I’ve met so far.” 

His face broke into a full-blown smile. With flawless teeth and crow’s feet that began to form at the edges of his eyes, it was one that made my heart almost double out of my chest. I quickly adjusted my sitting position to hide the sudden twinge discomfort I felt. 

What the hell was wrong with me today?

Letting out a small huff, I realized that we had unintentionally moved closer together so that we were now seated a mere two inches apart. 

Don’t move, I thought to myself. If you move, it'll show him that you’re affected by him. Don’t move. 

Jaebum must have sensed my discomfort, ducking his head down to analyze my expression. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Y/N?” 

I contemplated answering with a proper response or rebutting with a question, so I decided to go with the latter. “Honest answer or the one that’ll make you feel better?”

“Honest answer,” he replied, once again without a single ounce of hesitation. 

Why did he have to be so ballsy?

“You’re intimidating. You make me go into a full-blown panic mode.” Scanning his face before I continued, I saw a flash of worry cross his features. “You scare the shit out of me because you seem to understand me better than anyone I’ve known in my entire life, and we don’t even know each other yet.” My heart was beating frantically now.  

Jaebum blinked a few times before registering my genuine confession. “Yet?”

Shaking my head and giggling, I gently patted him on the shoulder. “You have about five and a half months left, champ. Make do with what you can.” He smiled again and stood up at the same time I did. 

“I’m still up for the challenge,” he asserted with determination in his voice. “How about we celebrate with some hot chocolate? My treat.” 

Unable to hold my laughter back, I let out a fit of stifled chuckles and agreed with slight skepticism. It was just two classmates going together to get hot chocolate. No big deal. “How’d you know I like hot chocolate?” 

“Everyone loves hot chocolate,” he stated matter-of-factly. “It doesn’t take a psychic to know that.” Mocking me for my remark earlier and picking my bag up, he swung it over his shoulder and jogged down the stairs without me.

“You coming or not?” he shouted from a flight of stairs below, sticking his tongue out and taunting me to hurry up. 

Just two classmates going together to get hot chocolate. No big deal. It didn’t mean anything. 

Right?

[until-theend-oftheline]

When They Had Nothing - Part 4: Us Against the World

Pairing: Stucky (Eventually)

Warnings: Steve’s health issues, War in Europe.  

Word Count: 2000ish

A/N: This is my new Stucky series. It starts with the boys as kids in Brooklyn and follows CAFA but from Bucky’s POV rather than Steve’s. I am sooo excited about this series which I have been working on for about 6 months as it’s written for @cabigbang

Art Inspired by WTHN by: @ischa-posts - thank you so much for taking the time to create art for my series! - Including the art in this chapter

Betaed by: @blacktithe7 @emilyevanston and @ifyougetkilled-walk-it-off - Thank you so much for all your help!

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

MASTERLIST - CABIGBANG MASTERLIST + AO3 LINK

July 4th, 1939

A few years passed, and Steve and Bucky grew from sharing Bucky’s room at his parent's apartment to sharing an apartment of their own. It only had one room. They basically lived on top of each other, but neither of them really cared. They argued, sure. Bucky was messy, according to Steve. In reality, in comparison to most 22-year-olds, Bucky wasn’t all that bad. Steve kept picking fights. Or that’s how Bucky saw it while Steve just saw it as standing up for what was right.

No matter the argument, the young men knew each better than they knew themselves and moved past it all quickly. They were making their own way. Bucky wasn’t sure what his dad thought about him living on his own with Steve, both working their own way through college night classes because that’s how they wanted it. Some days he thought his dad was proud of him for doing things his own way and not asking for anything. Other days he saw that some flicker of disappointment in his eyes he had seen entire childhood and Bucky doubted that anything he’d ever do would be good enough.

They were on their own though, aside from the occasional unscheduled visit from his sister, Rebecca, who appeared to miss the boys terribly. Bucky didn’t mind her coming by one bit though. Truth be told, he missed her too. Rebecca and Steve were the two most important people in the world to him, and as long as they and his mother looked at him with some resemblance of pride, that would have to be enough. Or so he told himself.

Being on his own made it much easier for Bucky to not give his relationship with his father much thought. He got to be who he was, and Steve never looked down at him for anything he did. He rolled his eyes when Bucky spoke of his different conquests, but not in a demeaning way. Bucky wasn’t sure why he kept telling Steve about the women he dated, maybe because part of him hoped for some sort of reaction.

He was older now, and all the feelings he had excused as normal in his adolescent he knew weren’t. Not all best friends practically cuddled on the couch reading and doing homework at night. Not all best friends’ eyes wandered when the other just got out of the shower and hadn’t had a chance to get dressed yet. Not everyone was in love with their best friend.

Bucky knew it was wrong. They were both men, and it wasn’t as if Bucky didn’t like women. He did. He enjoyed the times he spent with the different girls over the years. It wasn’t as if he had a habit of checking out guys. Truthfully, it never really crossed his mind with anyone other than Steve. He had no idea if Steve felt the same way, and honestly, it scared him to find out. So he said nothing. They were friends, and Bucky didn’t want to ruin that for anything in the world. Even if he felt the same, a real relationship between them could never happen anyway. No one would ever accept them as more than friends, and Bucky didn’t want a life in hiding. He’d rather keep the feelings to himself. It wasn’t like Steve wasn’t always going to be part of his life anyway. Best man at his wedding when he found the right dame to settle down with. Uncle to his kids, just like Bucky would be to Steve’s. Because there was no way in hell some gal wouldn’t realize just how amazing Steve really was.

So Bucky kept pushing Steve to go out with him. He kept setting up double dates, but Steve always ended up going home alone, telling Bucky to stay. He hated he did that, but he couldn’t just leave the girls behind. It tore at his heart every time Steve walked off. He hated people couldn't see Steve the way that he always had. Brave, kind and filled with love. Bucky had never cared about how sick Steve was at times. He would always bounce back. It was his poor health that caused him to be smaller than most guys their age, but it shouldn’t matter. Steve had a heart that was bigger than anyone Bucky had ever met. If people, women, just gave him a chance they would learn that too. So Bucky kept trying.

He also insisted on keeping their yearly tradition of going to Coney Island each spring or summer. This year the trip had been pushed because money had been scarce between the two. Bucky had saved whatever he could, though, and today it was Steve’s birthday. They were going today, no matter how badly Steve had protested they should save the money just in case of an emergency.  

Bucky was the impulsive one for sure when it came to stuff like this. When it was about getting into fights, Steve was the one jumping fist first, defending whatever he believed in. Bucky was the one who needed to save him. That was the way it had always been between the two. The qualities the other possessed annoyed the other endlessly, but it was also a big part of what they admired in each other, so they never really fought about it.

Steve took a deep breath, sticking his hands into his pockets as they got off the train, looking at the fair before glaring back at Bucky, who was smiling at him.

“We’re not going on the Cyclone,” Steve insisted, causing Bucky to laugh and wrap his arm around Steve’s shoulder, pulling him towards the fair with him.

“Yeah, we better not. I don’t think we can afford new shoes for you pal,” Bucky teased, laughing when he let Steve shove him off him with a grin.

“You’re a jerk,” Steve grumbled without any real anger in his voice, and Bucky smirked back at him.

“Well you’re a punk so we’re a good fit, don’t you think?” Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the happy look on Steve’s face as he nodded.

“Yeah. Perfect.”

The two of them spent the day trying to win at the shooting games, blowing more money than they should on games and junk food. Bucky didn’t leave Steve’s side that day even when a few women tried getting his attention. There was enough of those. Bucky would go out dancing next weekend. Today was Steve’s birthday, and they were going to do all the things Steve liked doing. Chasing skirt wasn’t one of them, and Bucky knew that. Besides, it was a nice to just be the two of them against the world again. Like when they were kids, hiding away from homework, bullies, or Steve’s dad.

Bucky felt happy and content as he stood next to Steve looking up at the fireworks above their heads. They stood close, arms brushing against each other. Their hands slowly linked, hidden between their bodies. The place was crowded, and no one paid attention to the two young men, but Bucky’s heart was still racing. Not just because of the consequence of someone seeing, but because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find an excuse for their actions. They held hands because it felt good. Because they wanted too.

“Thank you for today Buck,” Steve almost whispered next to Bucky, tearing him from his overactive mind. He couldn’t help but smile when his eyes met Steve’s. He was happy, and that was all that mattered.

“Anytime pal,” Bucky answered, giving his hand a slight squeeze. “Anytime.”

December 7th, 1941

Bucky was shaking as he rushed across campus. His engineering class had been cut short because of the news. He was sure Steve’s art class had been, too. Bucky felt as if a storm was not only brewing inside him, but all around him.

He and Steve hadn’t been blind to what had been happening around the world. They both hated it, but it wasn’t America’s fight. That’s how Bucky had rationalized it. Steve hadn’t seen it quite the same way, and truthfully, Bucky had agreed. It was bigger than them or even a country. It was between right and wrong. Bucky knew that. He just never would say that out loud. Agreeing with Steve would have probably meant trying to convince him not to travel to England or France to join the war. This was the exact situation Bucky knew he was going to be in. Only this time he knew his argument wouldn’t stand up to Steve’s. He was going. Innocent people were dying and being tortured all over the world. In the past few months that knowledge had weighed heavier and heavier on Bucky. Not because of anything Steve had said, but he because of who he was. Bucky had always been a guy that stood up for those that couldn’t defend themselves. He had tried to ignore that side of himself for a while now. Not because he was scared exactly. It wasn’t that he enjoyed the idea of being armed, killing people and having them try to kill him, but he believed in the cause. Truthfully, had it not been for Steve he probably would have traveled overseas himself months ago.

The bombing of Pearl Harbor had been a wake-up call to him. He wanted Steve safe. He didn’t want him to join the war. He was too fragile. More than that, he was too stubborn and didn’t see his own limitations the way that Bucky did. Joining this war would kill him. That was what scared Bucky the most. Not losing his own life but losing Steve.

The young men’s eyes met across the quad just as Steve made it out of the building, and Bucky rushed towards him. Little moments aside, like the one on Steve’s birthday a few years ago, nothing had changed between them. Neither of them was brave enough to speak up, and Bucky didn’t even know what his feelings meant, so he ignored them for the most part.

Today they were both so rattled, that neither of them thought about anything but getting to each other. The moment they did, they wrapped their arms around each other in a tight embrace, and Bucky closed his eyes fighting his tears. He couldn’t lose him. Not to anything.

“You’re enlisting, aren’t you?” Steve asked as they pulled apart, and Bucky swallowed harshly. He nodded, avoiding eye contact with Steve, knowing what was coming.

“So am I,” Steve spoke before Bucky had a chance too. “You can’t talk me out of it.”

“Steve…” Tears pooled in Bucky’s eyes when his finally met Steve’s. He knew Steve was speaking the truth. He recognized that damn stubborn expression on his face. He knew no matter what he said, Steve was having it his way on this. The only thing to prevent him from going was if Bucky tied him up in their apartment, and he wasn’t prepared to go that far. No matter how stupid of a choice it was, Bucky knew that Steve had the right to make it.

“Help me train? Help me get ready?” Steve pleaded, not letting Bucky break eye contact with him, and Bucky felt a tear stream down his cheek. He didn’t care he was in public or if anyone saw. He just kept looking into Steve’s eyes, fearing the end of the line would come a lot faster than either of them had ever wanted or foreseen.

“Sure pal…”

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When They Had Nothing (Stucky Series - Coming September 27th)

@barnesrogersvstheworld @verarocks @littlebitcrazy

[unholyhelbig]

Prompt- Beca needs to go to get a check up on her arm from the dog bite. Aubrey takes her to the check up, they both later talk about were!chloe and how Beca feels about it.

[A/N: I’ve been quick to notice that there are super light parts of this series and incredibly dark ones. This is the latter.] 

CHECK OUT MORE WERE!CHLOE HERE

Doctor’s offices all carried the same exact scent; a culmination of despair and antiseptic that burned the throat with each passing breath. Beca’s throat was numb, raw and coppery. The cold air making a layer of goosebumps coat her skin. She ran her fingers against them, trying to soothe them down.

Each move she made cracked through the air, a thick layer of paper covered a leather seat that looked like vomit. The green didn’t’ match the toothpaste colored walls or the tan floor. There was a framed picture of a beach that carried a gold perimeter. It made her yearn for the warmth of sand, even though she hated the coast with a strong passion. Anywhere was better than here.

Beca fiddled with the edge of the bandage that took up most of her arm. It was itchy. The adhesive pulling too far at exposed skin. Cold fingers grabbed at hers, brushing them away from the nervous habit. Beca cast her gaze to the blonde that stood close enough to hear her heartbeat.

“Relax,” Aubrey’s voice was a low growl that matched the hum of the overhead lights. “It’s a check-up, Beca. You’ve been healing well, nothing to worry about.”

It had been about a month since the ravenous animal had dug its canines into the tendons of her arm. It tore into open flesh and filled its mouth with a coppery edge of blood. A taste that it was sure to remember. She had been in the hospital for a week, maybe two. She had learned to hush her thoughts, quiet the mention of a wolf in the downtown area of Atlanta. If it hadn’t started a hunt, it would create a need for a rehab center.

Her nurses had stared her down, pressed their fingers against her cheeks to test her temperature in the more dramatic way. They thought she was crazy, she thought she was crazy. So, she stayed silent, getting released with the order of talking to a therapist on campus and staying out of any hard-physical activity.

Beca was timid when she asked Aubrey to take her to the doctor’s office. Her fingers shook too hard, and she had sat in her driveway for fifteen minutes before deciding she couldn’t drive herself. Aubrey was happy to accompany her.

There was a three-toned knock at the door before a soft-featured doctor walked in. He looked too young to have graduated medical school, a pristine blue button down over a broad chest. He wore a king smile and had blonde hair that brightened blue eyes. “Miss Mitchell, I’m Doctor Barns.” He reached out a hand and she shook it, wincing as the stitches pulled against her arm.  

“Aubrey,” She took his hand, squeezing it.

“I suppose the wound is still bothering you?”

He asked a simple question, turning around the counter as he pulled on purple latex gloves, pulling his fingers towards the inside of his palm to stretch the material. Doctor Barns poured alcohol onto a cotton ball, soaking it all the way through. It was cold against her outstretched arm. The man worked away at the adhesive.

“Some days are better than others. It’s worse now that it’s cold outside.”

The baby-faced doctor nodded like he understood. He didn’t. Beca hoped he was more competent than he was convincing. The bandaged edged off and she drew in a sharp bout of air. Of course, it burned, her whole arm on fire. Aubrey’s breath caught, but she tried to cover it, clearing her throat.

“I know it looks grizzly,” Doctor Barns said, running his crystal stare over the length of the shredded skin. “But it’s actually healing quite nicely, Beca. You’ve done well, the swelling has gone done immensely which impacts the likeliness of permanent scarring.”

Aubrey squeezed her shoulder as the doctor soaked another pad in the alcohol mixture that hung heavy in the air. He cleaned the rest of the adhesive away before applying yet another heavy-handed bandage. “How are the nightmares? Are they still impacting your sleep?”

The blonde lifted a perfectly pointed eyebrow. Beca would shut herself in her room when she wasn’t in class. She hadn’t been back to the station since the accident and had no immediate desire to. She no longer lounged on the quad, the staring was too much. She didn’t study in the library, the whispers not so quiet when the objection is silence. She certainly had never mentioned nightmares to anyone in the house.

“Not so much,” She said, voice wavering as she begged Aubrey to drop it. “I can sleep through half the night now. It’s getting easier.”

“That’s fantastic Beca” He smoothed his hand over the bandage before peeling off those gloves with a smacking noise. He was charming, sending an even smile towards “I’ll renew your prescription for Etizolam that Doctor Perry had you on. You can continue to take Advil when you need it for the pain. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, thank you.”

“Perfect, I’ll have Carrie draw up your prescriptions so you two can get out of here. It was nice meeting you, Aubrey. Beca.”

The door closed and rattled the picture of the beach that hung on the wall. They needed a stronger structure, or maybe a doctor that didn’t’ close the door with that much force. Beca winced, quickly going back to itching at the freshly applied bandage.

“You didn’t tell me you had nightmares.”

“Drop it.” Her tone was harsh “Please.”

Aubrey let out a clawed sigh, left Beca’s side, instead she leaned heavily against the cabinets that housed cotton swabs and tongue depressors that were really just craft store popsicle sticks. She crossed her arms over her chest, not necessarily staring at Beca, eyes tracing the coastline where waves met sand.

“When I was seven, I was in a car accident.” Beca’s midnight eyes shot up. She didn’t’ speak. “My father was driving, and my mom was in the passenger seat. I was behind her, reading some book ahead of whatever was assigned in class.”

She laughed bitterly at the memory.

“One minute the car was moving, and the next it wasn’t. We had stalled in the middle of the road, and a white Ford pickup didn’t’ stop in time. It hit the car head-on, shattered my mom’s collarbone. Hell, it broke my arm too.” Aubrey swallowed painfully “A piece of glass embedded in my chest and I almost bled to death right there on the interstate and the only thing I could think about was how I would never get to the end of that book. I wouldn’t’ know who won, or if the boy got his girl.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Tears were welled in Beca’s eyes, not yet pushing past her waterline as she searched Aubrey’s face.

“I had night terrors for three years after that accident, so vivid and realistic. I could hear the squeal of the tires and the crunching of metal against metal at eighty miles per hour.” She scoffed ruefully “I didn’t tell anyone either.”

“Why didn’t you?” Her throat was tight, and her fingers left little dents in the paper that she sat on.

“I was afraid, I suppose. Thought that maybe if I accepted the help that was offered to me I would be perceived as weak. Maybe I thought if I spoke out against it, I would somehow end up in a flipped car on the freeway again.”

“Did you ever…” Beca stalled “Did you ever ask for help?”

Aubrey stayed quiet or a bit, the only sound a deafening thudding from a clock mounted on the wall. It was too silent to forget the inner workings of the machine slowly moving along. Beca stilled herself, not wanting to make the paper crinkle or the vomit seat groan under her weight.

“Eventually I did.” She clenched her jaw. “I started talking to a therapist and the nightmares stopped. I didn’t’ have a panic attack every time I had to get into a car.”

“I see the wolf.” Beca’s throat was suddenly tight and her palms flooded with a cold sweat. Aubrey snapped her eyes towards the brunette, willfully begging for the doctor to come back. “It’s not like I’m afraid of dogs now. I’m not. One bad animal doesn’t define the whole entire breed.”

“What happens?”

“What?”

“In your dreams.” Aubrey shifted herself “What happens?”

Beca swallowed again like it could wet her dry mouth and her sandpaper tongue. It couldn’t. Nothing could cure that utterly cold ball of ice that melted through her veins. “It doesn’t feel like a dream, you know? It’s in the house, and everything looks normal. Sometimes things are different, though. Like the pictures on the wall, or where the spoons are in the kitchen. But nothing that doesn’t make it feel real.

“I’m in the living room sometimes, sometimes in the kitchen. Just doing normal things before I hear something growling. It’s not the wolf, it’s that black dog. The one that attacked me. But I can’t pinpoint it. That doesn’t seem to matter because the wolf always rescues me in the end.”

Aubrey nodded slowly, trying to piece together the dream, a constant reliving of action. One that kept Beca awake at night and turned her nerves into a tightly wound ball. “It doesn’t sound too bad, but it is.” Beca croaked out. “Because there aren’t any wolves in Atlanta.”

“Beca,”

“No,” She held up her hands “You’re right. Both you and Chloe are. I lost a lot of blood and was seeing things. It’s better to not mention this to people.”

She held that dusky stare long enough to let Aubrey’s shoulders lower from their defensive position. She had tucked her hands close to her side. Eyes darting to the soft wooden door. “Okay, Beca. I’m going to go warm the car. You going to be okay?”

“Yeah, Bree.” She forced a weak smile “I’ll be fine.”  

[likeaspeedingarrow]

Of Coursework, Christmas and Unexpected Happiness

For the wonderful Kels (@snarkysnartes). Merry Christmas! I know its not exactly what you asked for but I hope you enjoy it anyway. My first attempt at a College AU, so I hope it makes people smile.

Summary: Barry just wants to get through his remaining work. Cisco wants to go to a party. Despite Barry's reluctance maybe the party won't be so bad. Who knew Mistletoe could bring unexpected happiness. College AU.

Barry flicked through his textbook as he watched the campus' population wander lightly around the grassy quad, he sighed in frustration wishing that he could just finish this last criminology assignment. His pen dropped onto the page in front of him as a coffee cup was slammed in front of him. “Hmm… Coffee,” Barry groaned, his hand reaching blindly in front of him.

“Oh man.” The voice of his best friend washed over his groggy conscience. “You look rough,” There were many times Barry could say that he appreciated Cisco, this… This was not one of those times. He shot Cisco a glare but his target didn't seem fazed. “Like, Victor from Corpse Bride rough. You okay man?”

Barry's hand finally wrapped around the elusive cup, his whole posture relaxing. “I'm stressed. Cisco this thing,” Barry looked at the paper in front of him in disgust. “is due in two days, two! I'm not even halfway through yet and I promised Iris I'd take her shopping for Joe's Christmas present and—”

“Stop!” Cisco shook his head. “You're giving me a headache, come on man it's nearly Christmas.” Cisco leaned back in his chair, the front two legs of it lifting off the ground.

“Careful,” Barry warned, returning to his coursework.

Bang.

“Ow!”

Barry rolled his eyes, “What did I just say?”

“Careful?”

Barry nodded, getting up from his seat to help his friend up. “You idiot.” He stated, exasperated. He missed the glint in Cisco's eyes as he pulled the other male up from the floor.

-o-

“Where are you taking me?”

“You'll see!” Cisco responded. Barry was really starting to hate that response, it had grown steadily darker around them as they made their journey and Barry was really starting to hate his supposed friend. Iris was going to kill him. “Right… Here!”

“Finally.”

“Cisco, it's so good to see you.”

“You brought me to some stranger's house? Cisco!” Barry bit out, frustrated. “Iris is so going to kill me.”

“No, I took you to a party. Laurel, lovely to see you.” Cisco stepped further into the house, leaving Barry bewildered.

Barry sighed in resignation. “If I do die,“He told Laurel, who'd remained to hold open the door. “He is not invited to my funeral.” He let out a small smile as Laurel laughed.

-o-

Barry felt out of place. He glanced around the room nervously, noticing the designer brand clothes of the other, obviously rich, guests. His fingers gripped the plastic cup in his hand a little tighter as his eyes flickered around the room, darting past the unknown faces in search of a familiar one.

His breathing grew shorter. Harsher, as though he couldn't figure out how to get oxygen into himself. Faces grew more blurry, the sounds duller, even as he felt the vibrations of the music sweeping through the floor below him

He didn't remember dropping the cup. Nor did he see who caught it. He only knew that one moment it was secure in his clenched hand and the next it was neatly placed on the table in front of him.

Then he heard it. The low voice in his ear, whispering something he couldn't quite decipher in this state.

Whatever was going on was working though. His breathing began to even out and all of a sudden he could hear and he could feel. He could hear the soothing voice in his ear, “You're safe, it's okay. Find a happy place.”

So that's what he did. Or, well more accurately, tried to do. With every attempt, his mind wandered. Back to the worst night of his life. He could feel himself grow tenser at the memory, only relaxing as someone's thumb brushed over the space between his shoulder blades. He let out a sound like a purr and then turned around, horrified.

“I-I… “His brain stuttered to a halt. This was Oliver Queen. The captain of the university's archery club that Iris wouldn't shut up about. Barry faced two realisations now. First, Iris was right and damn she was going to be absolutely insufferable. Second, Oliver Queen was equal parts attractive and intimidating.

Of course, then Barry had to realise that more than ten seconds had passed and he was still staring. A blush formed on his cheeks.

“Hi, Barry Allen right?” Oliver said brightly. Ever the perfect host, he was holding two drinks in his hands.

Blushing even more, Barry ducked his head slightly. “Yeah, thanks.” He wrapped a hand around his new drink, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “So, uh...” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“So.”

Barry's eyes searched the room for a glimpse of the dark hair of the person who had dragged him here. His expression became one of pure panic as he realised he was on his own. With Oliver Queen. Great. Barry was probably going to make a fool of himself. “Great party.”

Oliver suddenly leant against the wall. “You look uncomfortable.”

Barry wanted to die. Right in this moment, he wished he had the power of invisibility just so that he could hide. “Parties aren't really my thing.” Truthfully, he wanted to be anywhere but here. The music was too loud, the vibrations from the speakers travelling through the walls and people were too close together, it made him hyperventilate.

Oliver was looking at him contemplatively again. “I get that.”

“You do?”

“Tabloids are sharks.” Oliver winked. “Come on we can go somewhere quieter.”

“I uh actually have some coursework left to do that Cisco dragged me away from. I should probably be heading home.” To be murdered, he added silently.

“I have some too. Come on.”

-o-

The house, as it turned out, was huge. Barry followed Oliver past half a dozen trees, down multiple fully decorated corridors and up a flight of stairs when he suddenly froze. “Everything okay?”

Barry studied Oliver's face from the angle he could see it. His eyebrows were set in a position conveying confusion, his mouth closed in a small frown and his jaw set in stubborn defiance of something. “Mistletoe.”

Barry glanced up. “Right.”

“Do you mind if I--”

Barry cut him off with a shake of his head and Oliver leaned forward. Slowly he brushed his lips against Barry's own as his hand fell onto Barry's hip. Barry wrapped his arm around Oliver's waist groaning as he deepened the kiss, fireworks exploding in his vision and a pleasant tingle making its way through every inch of his body. He would love to blame it on alcohol but truthfully he knew he hadn't drunk that too much, he wished he knew Oliver's thoughts though.

All too soon they broke apart.

“Wow.”

“Wow.”

“That was--”

“Something.” The two stared at each other for a while and wow Oliver's eyes were blue. Barry could get lost in those eyes, as endless as the ocean yet as clear as Central City's river. He was still panting slightly, his hand resting lightly on his companion's muscular back. He could feel Oliver's gaze on him, studying him in a similar fashion.

The moment was broken as one of the doors in front of them opened with a crash as the wooden door impacted the wall beside it. Two men came out (one dressed in a suit and the other, strangely, in a parka) as Barry stared in shock. Oliver merely raised an eyebrow.

“Oliver.”

“Ray.” Barry noticed a smirk of amusement cross Oliver's face.

“Snart?”

“Allen.”

Barry felt Oliver's hand gently wrap around his wrist. “Having a good time?”

“Yeah.”

“We'll leave you to it, come on Barry.” Barry had no complaints.

-o-

Barry wasn't sure what he was expecting Oliver's room to be like truthfully. The media had always portrayed him as a party boy so maybe some alcohol or some posters of girls perhaps but this, this was nice. Archery posters lined the walls and a bow stood proudly by the desk. The wooden furniture was decorated with emerald green fabric and green curtains hung on the window.

He'd learnt that Oliver was a Business major, particularly focusing on management since his parents wanted him to take over the family business once he'd graduated. He'd also learned that Oliver didn't want to.

The subject of his musings was frowning, his body bent slightly as he stared at his laptop his finger hovering over the submit button.

“You're staring.”

Barry blinked. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologise. Is everything okay?”

“It's stupid.”

“I doubt that.”

Barry sighed. “Christmas was always my mother's favourite holiday. We'd gather in the living room, my dad would always chase me around the room while my mother laughed and then we'd exchange presents. I miss her.”

Oliver swallowed. “What happened?”

Barry felt a tear trail down his face, Oliver's thumb brushing the back of his hand soothingly. Barry closed his eyes, composing himself. “She was… murdered when I was eleven. The culprit framed my father.”

Oliver felt like he'd been punched in the gut. “Barry.” Barry looked at him. “You can always talk to me. Do you understand?”

Barry nodded.

-o-

Joe always went all out. Barry couldn't help but feel cheerful as he joined his foster family in front of the tree. Iris was doing her best to keep him happy even as she did her usual routine of rearranging all of the ornaments she could reach. Joe chuckled at her antics even as Barry rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

Joe had swapped his usual jazz for a Christmas album, adding to the festive feeling but despite this Barry's mind was miles away, replaying the memory of the events of the party, the feel of Oliver's lips on his, the way his skin felt under his palm.

He was brought out of his reprieve by Iris handing him a present. “Here.”

“Merry Christmas Iris.”

“Merry Christmas Bear.”

Barry handed her a present. “On three. One, two… Three.” The two tore into the presents with glee, the torn paper littering the floor beneath them. Barry ran his hand along the new wallet Iris had bought him as she examined the small figurine of a ballerina he'd bought her.

Iris wandered off into the kitchen in search of her dad and Barry suddenly noticed an extra present, innocently lying tucked in a corner just behind the tree. Being raised by a cop had taught him to be careful but his natural and well-developed curiosity got the better of him.

He carefully made his way to the tree, picking up the small box that was wrapped with some arrow covered green wrapping paper and secured with a scarlet red bow. A grin began to grow on his face as he quickly realised it was from Oliver.

In the box he found a letter addressed to him, a small, decorated arrow pin and what looked to be a flash card from Oliver's substantial stock bearing a message for him. Who knew Oliver could be such a sap?

He pulled out his phone and composed a two-word text message to Oliver. “Absolutely. Yes.” He now had a boyfriend.

His smile refused to move from his face for the rest of the night.

[muszyart]

Alice Copper and the Budget Cuts Part 1: The Boy Who Died

Summary: The first part of a new series. Alice Copper is a fifteen-year-old witch from the Bronx. Her Quidditch broom is a plastic one from Walmart, and her Hogwarts is an inner-city high school for the abnormally gifted. Her magical world isn't perfect, but it's all she has.

Words: 7498 Words aaaaaaaaa

My name is Alice Marie Isolde Copper, and I'm a witch. My broom is one of those shitty plastic ones from Walmart, my wand is broken down to the size of a pencil, my Hogwarts is an underfunded, inner-city high school for weirdos, and I'm currently fighting a Hungarian Horntail, the most terrifying creature anyone's ever seen. Sure, some boy-who-lived who killed you-know-who might have been able to fight one when he was fourteen, but I'm not him, and I'm not fourteen, I'm fifteen. That doesn't help. Neither does this. I'll admit, maybe I got a little over my head with this whole tournament idea. Let me focus for a second.

Okay. He doesn't see me here. Eugh, gross... my broom is melting. Who knew plastic and dragon-fire don't mix? The reason why I'm fighting this dragon is... Anyway, how about I start at the beginning; otherwise, nothing will make any sense. It's not a long story, but a lot happens. It all started at 4 am on a stormy New York City Tuesday. I think I had fallen asleep an hour or two ago after numbing my brain to crappy YouTube videos. I hadn't left bed all day (of course I hadn't, it was winter break of my sophomore year). And I was wearing the same pajamas from the past few days, and I think all I ate the day before were Girl Scout cookies, I love Girl Scout cookies, it's sort of an addiction. Well, really an addiction-- more on that later. Anyway, I woke up to a terrifying pound on the door down the hall of our apartment. Almost like a body was thrown against it. I don't know why I went to the door to open it. You'd think I'd be scared and lock myself in my room, but I just thought that Dad had come home drunk again and couldn't get his wand out of his coat. I felt through the darkness of the hall and finally made it to the front door. I unlatched the three locks and pulled on the loose handle, that was when he crashed through, and then it all began...

"BAM!" An enormous man yelled as he blasted his way through the door. I flew back down the hall, nearly slamming my head against the air conditioner. Instead, a pile of dirty laundry that Mom didn't care for cushioned my fall. My original thought was, 'what the hell?' But my confusion dissolved into natural fear of a giant, hairy, trenchcoat-bearing figure towering over me down the hallway. I wanted to scream for help, but all that came out was a pitiful squeal. Our neighbors could probably care less anyway. I needed... I needed to defend myself. I can't punch him; I scrambled up to get a weapon from the kitchen. But that would be going near him. With strategic spontaneity, I ducked into my bedroom and clicked the frail lock, that wouldn't do... I barricaded the door with my chair, that won't work either! The chair has wheels, Copper! You absolute idiot! What to do... I needed to... I needed... I couldn't run. I could... I saw my old baseball bat poking out of the depths of my untidy closet. I jumped over my bed to reach the bat; my soul sank after I heard the door open easily behind me.

In one motion, I ducked down under his reaching arm, then I grasped the handle, pulling myself back up again, with all my might, I swung towards the figure. I hit him. It didn't follow through though, I noticed, and why couldn't I move the bat, I opened my eyes, the colossal man held the bat in his gloved, bear-like hand. That was it. Our eyes met, well, my eyes and his one, he wore a scratched, leather eyepatch. He was peering down at me as if I were a bug that landed in his food or if he was America after Pearl Harbor. I was about to get either squashed or Hiroshima-ed right then and there. I dropped the bat and backed away toward the wall.

"Holy shit..." I muttered, then spoke up. "Please, you can take whatever you want. My money is in the box in the dresser, but I don't know where my parents keep theirs because they keep changing it after they found out I was taking some. Don't kill me, please... take whatever you want! Anything..." I stuttered. I held my hands up. "Well, I mean, not anything..." The man stared at me, confused. "I mean, not my... I'm fifteen. But if you do, then just kill me." Why did I say that? His single eye squinted, his brow furrowed. He looked down at the ground and tossed the bat aside. Then he looked back towards me.

"Jesus Christ, Alice," he seethed. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

I lowered my hands and stared back at him, dumbfounded. "What? How do you-"

"I'm not here to rob you or kill you or anything!!! Christ's sake," he turned around and began to walk out of the room. "Or whatever the hell you were thinking about... Of course, you're a fucking weirdo. What did I expect?"

A small part of me started to believe this man was not here to kill me or rob me, with this newfound confidence, I retaliated. "Well, excuse me for thinking that after a giant stranger in a trenchcoat busted through my front door, screaming at me!"

The man stepped out into my hall and turned toward me. He barely fit in my door frame. The giant leaned against the wall and fished through his coat pocket; I still couldn't trust him. I braced for something, but I was relieved and even more disoriented when he presented a crumpled manila envelope.

"Alice Cooper, you have-"

"It's Copper."

"What?"

"My name's Alice Copper," I mumbled, still shaking a little. "Not Cooper." He stared at me blankly and started again.

"Alice Copper, I'm a representative from the Academy, and you've been accepted to a very special school. Take it," he waved the pale yellow folder in the air.

"What is it?"

"It's an envelope, dumbass," he shook his head. I wouldn't budge. "Think fast, Coop." He tossed it over to me, and I instinctively caught it. I hesitated.

"This doesn't involve Lucy Sullivan, does it?" I quivered fearfully.

"Who's that?"

"Nevermind." I tore open the package. My feet fidgeted, I rubbed my socks together nervously. My eyes quickly peered up at the guy; he wasn't looking back. The giant examined my room with curiosity, amused by my Green Day, Lord of the Rings, and House Slytherin posters. I saw him roll his eyes because I bet he noticed my dirty laundry scattered throughout the place and dozens of empty cookie boxes. His eyes then fixated on me.

I winced and rapidly emptied the envelope with shaking hands. There was a dark purple program for a school. It looked a lot like the dozens of ones my older sister got from colleges before she moved away. But this one was more simple in its design, not desperately trying to grab your attention to go there instead of Yale. It lacked the photos of happy college students on their apple laptops in the middle of grassy quads, it was straightforward and plain. I couldn't even find the school's name. There was also an acceptance letter, a facility map, a list of materials, a class schedule, a semester calendar, and a student ID with my name and face on it. Amusingly, my portrait was moving. It looked back at me with the complete and utter fear of seeing a gigantic me staring back at her.

"Wait... is this... you're here to-" I could barely form my thoughts into words, so many things were flashing through my brain. It clicked. I finally understood-

"I'm just here to tell you you're a wizard or some shit..." the guy stated bluntly.

"I'm... a what?" I beamed, a broad, toothy grin grew across my face.

"Ah, Christ," the man folded his arms and rolled his eyes again. "We're not doing this shit again."

"You're... Hagrid? But you're-"

"Black, half-blind, and not as tall? Yeah. I'm not Hagrid. But you know the deal, you've read star-kid Potter's books. The name's Wolfgang."

"I'm going to... Hogwarts!" I laughed and jumped. For so long, I thought I wasn't magical. My parents called me a squib forever. I tried to prove it to them, talking to animals or moving things, they just thought I was crazy! I'm a wizard! I'm a... wait. "Wouldn't I be a witch, though? Since I'm a girl?"

"Sweetheart, I don't know!" Wolfgang grumbled. "Call yourself a Jedi for all I care! I thought people these days were saying 'witch' was offensive. They started using 'magic-user' now 'cause it's 'non-binary' or something like that. You're a fucking wizard, goddammit. And no, you're not going to Hogwarts."

"Wait..." I stuttered. "Wh-what?" Wolfgang roared, laughing, shaking my room.

"You're too old for Hogwarts by now, but in the American school system, you've still got a couple of years to get your education. A kid died at the Academy so now you get to take his place, congratulations! You're coming with me."

I slowly glanced over at my Slytherin poster. My heart sunk... finally going to Hogwarts has been my dream ever since I was eleven, and I always thought I'd have a chance to go to the best, most excellent, most wonderful school there ever was. "Hogwarts..." I muttered.

"Hogwarts?!" The giant shook his head. "You're still on about that, huh? Your big dream! Ha! Ha! You got money?"

"No."

"Any rich parents?"

I gestured towards our dirty and tiny apartment. "Definitely not."

"Dead rich parents?" Wolfgang raised an eyebrow. I looked off into a corner.

"No. My parents are alive." I groaned.

"And that's an unfortunate thing to you; it sounds like," he walked closer towards me. "You a half-blood or a mud-blood?"

"Neither," I looked up at him. "Both my parents are magical. They just thought I wasn't."

"Wow, a pure-blooded witch, continuing the bloodline, lookit you!" Wolfgang laughed again, then grabbed my shoulder.

"It'll be alright, Coop-Copper." He pulled off his hat to reveal a glowing, friendly face, all except for the eyepatch. His mane of black, curly hair with gray patches also sprung out of his hood into different directions. "But sorry, two things. You're not the chosen one, and you're too poor for Hogwarts."

"Hey, wait. Then how the hell did the Weasleys all go to-"

"Way to assume their financial status! But you're right. They were all running on a family legacy scholarship."

"Shit." That made sense. I sat down on my bed, sheepishly, Wolfgang frowned. I didn't know if I should be excited about the new school, I always had that dream in my mind that I could go to that castle. I always told my parents that I really did have powers and that I would go there and become one of the greatest witches of all time. I would play Quidditch, or explore the dungeons, or meet so many new friends on an island across the world. Maybe even Harry Potter himself. That was gone now.

"It may not be the best school in the world, but you can still do magic and make friends. You're a crazy little turd, so you'll do great. Are your parents fine with me kidnapping you?"

I remembered they both hadn't come home in the past couple of days, which was normal. "I doubt they'd notice I was gone." Wolfgang's joking smile faded; he gave me a strange look.

"Oh, well, that bums me out." He turned and walked down the hallway. Each of his slow footsteps stomped and shook the entire apartment.

"Wait!" I called out behind him. "I'll get my stuff together!" I grabbed my special box off the dresser. I always feared that something would happen while Mom and Dad were away, so I learned to keep everything in one place. All of my money, letters from my sister, some CDs and USBs, my sketchbook and paints, and various other treasures I've found over the years at antique stores. Stuff like vintage buttons and coins, newspaper clippings, a glass ball, and a watch all nested in the corners between my old photos and my best drawings. That shoebox was probably the one thing I valued most, besides my computer, that I also shoved into my backpack freshly fished out of a pile of laundry. I opened my dresser drawers to grab some clean clothes.

"You don't need anything!" Wolfgang suddenly yelled back at me. "We're just going to the inner city-"

"The inner-city?!" I frowned and contemplated taking my things, but I still decided to bring the stuff. I pulled out some cash to keep on hand.

"We'll be back later, the school's just on Roosevelt Island, all you need is money, a backpack, maybe extra socks, and a pencil or something I don't care. Oh, but I have your school uniform here, get changed into it so that the muggers know to beat you up." He tossed a plastic bag to me. Inside it, he had bundled up a colorful, ugly uniform along with some black shoes. A sick part of my mind remembered what he said earlier.

"These aren't the clothes of the other kid-"

"What?!" Wolfgang wheezed. "No! Boys wear something different! We're not that crazy!" He groaned. "Alice, you need to stop asking all these stupid questions. Otherwise, you're gonna get beat up. Now go change!"

"Okay," I sighed and closed the door. I really should've showered, but deodorant would have to do for now. The uniform wasn't anything like Hogwarts, but I guessed that would be a theme. I finally fixed my collar and straightened my knee-high socks and purple blazer. The whole thing wasn't that bad... I still looked stupid, though. The colors were probably chosen a century ago back when wizard fashion was all gowns with stars on them. However, my daily clothing choices were no better. Popping some mints in my mouth and putting in some hair clips, I sauntered my way towards the door. I slipped on my backpack and made a last-minute decision to grab my mom's Slytherin scarf that she gave me a long while ago. It was going to be cold, and I might as well live the dream while I could.

I opened the door and found Wolfgang smiling at the family pictures in the hall. Many of the frames had cracked glass; they all had fallen off the walls multiple times. Magic was usually involved in all my parents' fights. We both stared at a picture of my mom for a short but awkward amount of time. She was leaning against a mossy stone bridge, the moment that the portrait captured was of her trying to find the best pose for the photograph. The wind flowed elegantly through her hair, and it billowed her yellow sundress. She smirked at my father, who was probably the one taking the picture. I saw her mouth open and laugh at something he had said, the photos obviously never capture the noise, but I could still hear her giggle in my mind. A sound that I had not heard or remembered in a long while.

"Oh, you're quick!" He jumped, noticing me beside him.

"So... we're going to Roosevelt Island?" I asked. He stomped over to the door and lifted it back on its hinges. I pulled out my keys and phone.

"Yeah, you'll have to take the subway every day. You live in the New York area, so we don't issue floo powder to you, it's expensive. That's how most of the American schools are now, everyone commutes except for a few of the prestigious ones. Thank your lucky stars, 'cause I've been reading up on it, boarding schools are actually pretty psychologically damaging."

"This is gonna suck," I groaned.

"You'll learn to like it! Get excited, Alice. You're a fucking witch for Christ's sake. What else do you want me to say? The world's bigger than Hogwarts, Alice. Not all of us get to live in that castle on the hill."

"Alright, alright, I know... Wait. I don't even have a subway station near me, how am I going to-"

"Are you sure?" Wolfgang smiled. "Do you want anything to eat? Let's find a diner or something, or maybe Chinese food for breakfast."

"Wolfgang! The nearest station is three miles away! I'm not gonna walk that every day!"

"Back in my day, I walked uphill both-"

"Wolfgang!"

"Don't worry. I can fix that; we're wizards, remember?" Wolfgang walked out of the apartment, and I locked the door behind us.

"Okay! But I'm a witch!"

"Yeah, whatever, c'mon."

***

Wolfgang breathed in the cold, fresh air and fully stood up straight without a roof over his head. He stretched and admired the sky filled with blue and purple clouds as the sun neared the horizon. It was almost sunrise, I hadn't slept at all, but this most definitely wasn't my first all-nighter. Excitement and nervousness swelled in my mind; I was finally a wizard after all. But still, the idea of Hogwarts lingered and poked at my brain as I struggled to keep up with Wolfgang as he strode down the street.

"Is this street usually busy, Coop?" He called back.

"Again, it's Copper, not Cooper."

"Yeah, yeah... whatever. Is it?"

"Um..." I looked up and down my street in the northern Bronx. It always seemed like the edge of the world, far from the heart of New York City. A couple of inches of snow covered the awnings and pavement. Grimy litter and withered leaves overfilled the gutters, the windows of the shops and apartments were locked for the night, and a plastic bag drifted through the wind along the road, like a tumbleweed. "Not right now..." I finally managed to say, as I imagined the morning. Nurses, janitors, and waiters all strolled down the sidewalks to get to work. Trucks and buses always came barrelling down the street, but they never stop here, no one ever stays here. It was just a road, never a destination.

"Well, yeah, no shit Alice," Wolfgang replied. I snapped back to reality.

"Right, I mean, yes. People are always coming and going." I replied. Wolfgang nodded and noticed a small alleyway across the street.

"That should do." He looked both ways down the empty street. I shot him a glance and began to walk forward. No one was there; everyone was still asleep. I felt his large hand grasp my collar, and he yanked me back.

"What the hell?!"

"Jaywalking."

"Yeah, everyone does it."

"Sorry, but something's crossing." Wolfgang's eye followed something intently as it raced by. He squinted down the road. I leaned forward and took a look around.

"There's nothing here!"

"Yeah, you see nothing," Wolfgang muttered under his breath. "You live on a dangerous street, Cooper." I gazed at him with annoyance but gave up correcting him. "Keep your door locked and your magic a secret." He moved forward across the street. I raced behind him then stopped for a moment as his words repeated in my mind.

"You mean, I can't tell anyone about it?" I asked.

"No one. Besides your parents, no one can know. I really don't have a good feeling about this. Let's get you to school." He pushed me forward in front of him, placing both his hands on my shoulders and guiding me into the alleyway. The long and narrow side street snaked between housing units and the sides of stores. Staircases led up to smaller apartments, and a couple of rancid dumpsters took up most of the floor space. Wolfgang checked over his shoulder and then pulled out a crooked, light brown wand. He closed his eye and waved his wand around a little in the space behind a dumpster. Nothing happened. The feeling of fear returned to my mind, did I seriously follow a crazy person into an alleyway?

"Done." He opened his eye and glanced at me.

"Nothing happened."

"Once you get your wand, tap this part of the wall four times whenever you need to use your subway station. Here, try it." He handed me the wand. It was enormous in my fingers, but I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and tapped the wall four times with it. I tried to bring forward any power I had but felt nothing. My arm fell to my side, and I sighed.

"Did I do it?" I watched the bricks with a frown.

"Yup!"

"Wait, really?" Suddenly, the concrete finish of the wall rolled back, and the bricks underneath rearranged themselves. The snow and ice on the ground melted into the pavement. Parts of the floor cracked into rows and sequentially fell, a little farther than the last, creating a staircase. A miniature subway entrance formed hidden by the cover of dumpsters, a sign even appeared at the top and glowed in pale yellow with black text: 'Hogwarts Station.' I shot a look at Wolfgang. He snickered and snatched his wand back from me.

"Welcome to the New York-Northern Magical Line," he grumbled then looked over his shoulder again. He grabbed my arm and dragged me down the staircase into the darkness.

"Could I... try the wand again?" I asked cautiously as I worked my way down the pitch-black stairs.

"No, you'll get your own, don't worry," Wolfgang reassured me. In the darkness, I heard him taking deep breaths. I noted the rustle of his coat whenever he looked back behind us, toward the closing brick door, the wall was reconstructing itself. We rounded some corners, and a warm light emerged at the bottom.

"Is there something wrong?" I looked toward his large silhouette. I barely saw his head turn towards me. He grabbed my arm tighter.

"We have to get you to school. Quickly."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." his booming voice decreased to a whisper. "It's just..." he stumbled through his sentence. "You live in a bad neighborhood."

"It's not the worst, for the Bronx, that is..." I laughed.

"But it's one of the worst for wizards." He muttered.

"Was what you saw... the invisible thing... one of the bad-"

"Yes," he hissed. "Now shut up. Just shut up about it, alright?"

I opened my mouth to speak again, but I felt his glare in the darkness and looked down at my shoes, the warm glowing light reflected off of them. I hugged my backpack as we finally made it into the underground station. My arm was relieved. Wolfgang loosened his tight grip on it once we were in the light. It wasn't a big station. It was a large tunnel along with a small platform the size of a sidewalk that extended for the length of one train car. The station was remarkably new and clean: no graffiti or ominous stains marked the brown brick walls, nor were the tile floors sticky and wet. The pillars were pristine and shiny, and the yellow line ran along the edge, unsmudged and uncracked. A vintage electronic sign hung above the platform flashing 'Next Arrival: 494.23 seconds. Next Destination: Under Washington Heights.'

"Did you build the train, too? How does that even work? Why don't all wizards do that? Why even use Muggle transport at all?" I buzzed on excitedly. Wolfgang rolled his eye and didn't answer. His eye widened as he looked on toward the end of the platform.

I turned and noticed the glowing, red vending machine that stood, slightly leaning, at the back wall. The window was a colorful collage of packaging, the machine stocked with all sorts of candy and food. The two of us made our way over, and I started to make out the labels. Some of them I remembered from the Potter books, like 'Chocolate Frogs,' 'Cauldron Cakes,' and 'Bertie Bott's.' But there were also some other ones, in plastic wrappers and bags rather than the vibrant cardboard boxes of the British candy: 'Crackling Crackers,' 'Whizzlesnaps,' 'Gummy Wizards,' 'Onion Wands,' and... Doritos...

"Doritos?" My brow furrowed. I glanced at Wolfgang, who licked his lips.

"Yeah, they're good."

"But they're Muggle food..." I groaned.

"We're not a different species, Alice, did your parents not eat Doritos?" he fished through his pockets and pulled out a dozen different coins. "What next? You think we don't use computers or iPhones and wear those funny hats?" I glared at him. "Well, some of us do..." he grumbled, then started shoving his handful of money into the coin slot. With his huge finger, he began to punch the codes for all the snacks he wanted; the whole machine rocked with each number. I imagined that the box of metal and glass would precariously come close to the edge and fall onto the track, but finally, he stopped and turned to me. "Do you want anything?" I nodded and pointed to the Cauldron Cakes and Gummy Wizards. He chuckled and entered those in, too.

Finally, he finished, and the machine began to glow and sparkles popped out of the sides. Each of the snacks started to fall forward slowly. My eyes lit up in awe as each package swirled around and then dropped to the bottom. Wolfgang unamused, folded his arms.

"It's not even magic, Coop. It's a Muggle machine. We just add all the show to make it look like it's magic."

"Oh," I mumbled and slumped my shoulders, understanding the artificial taste of it all. Wolfang bent down and tried to reach through the metal flap, but his arm wouldn't extend far enough into it.

"Ugh, I always," he winced. "Have trouble- ow." He pushed forward. "With these things..."

"Let me get it," I relieved him and effortlessly scooped up the snacks. Wolfgang counted them all then glared at the machine.

"We're still missing the Doritos." He glowered.

"Wolfgang, it's fine, they're just Doritos." I sniggered.

"NO!" He roared. Then he shoved his hand into his pocket again and pulled out another coin and pushed it into the machine. He aggressively punched in the code again for Doritos, and the sparks flew, and the bag of nacho-cheese flavored chips began to spin around, ever so slowly. Finally, they reached the end and halted before falling into the bin. I laughed. Wolfgang shoved my shoulder, sending me spinning, still smiling, into the wall.

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT! THIS IS BULLSHIT!" He screamed and began to shake the machine with intense passion and strength. I continued to laugh, the Doritos wouldn't budge. He punched the window, which retaliated with some sort of force that sent him flying back. I leaned against the wall, giggling hysterically. "IT IS MAGIC!" He shouted while scrambling up from the floor. He ran toward the machine with the intent of murder. "Oh, I see how it is! You stupid-ass machine. I'm going to break you into a million pieces-"

"Just because it's magic doesn't mean it can understand you." I interrupted, he scowled at me.

"Yes, it does," he snapped, then turned back to the machine.

"I don't think that's how magic works..." I added, I started rocking back and forth on my heels.

"You don't know how magic works yet, Alice!" Wolfgang hissed. A computerized ring sang from the intercom. A shrill, electronic voice buzzed from the speaker, which echoed throughout the small platform and tunnel.

"All passengers, please refrain from murdering our vending machine. Any complaints on its service may be directed to the New York City Department of Magical Transportation. Also, the train's here, idiots." Wolfgang and I gazed at one another and then examined the electronic sign. 'Next Arrival: 3.14 seconds. Next Destination: Under Washington Heights. Welcome New Passenger: Alice Cooper.'

"Seriously?! They spelled my last name wrong," I grumbled.

"Ooh! Look at you, Alice," Wolfgang swiped the snacks from my arms and opened one of the foil bags. "You're on the sign at Hogwarts Station! You're famous!" I rolled my eyes, and the train appeared instantly next to us once the three seconds were up.

"Please stand clear of the doors. No food on the train." The voice droned on. Wolfgang and I glanced at one another with resentful looks in our eyes. "Just kidding." The voice croaked in fright. Wolfgang crunched a mouthful of Onion Wands and flipped off the intercom as the squeaky doors slid shut behind us.

My subway station was new and clean, but the train car was aged, dirty, and reeked of something dead or dying. Wolfgang didn't find any of these things a problem and took a seat on the single bench without litter on it. He brushed a yellow and green stained napkin off the one next to him and gestured for me to sit. "You don't want to fall." He leaned back comfortably.

"I'm not sitting there... that napkin had the plague on it." I sneered.

"They probably had mustard on a hot dog or something. Sit down." He grumbled.

"No." I grabbed the sticky hand-rail above. My face visibly screwed up in regret while holding the disgusting metal rod. Wolfgang raised his eyebrows. I began to walk over to the seat when the train sped on at lightning speed. With rapid reflexes, Wolfgang grabbed my arm again to keep me from flying to the back of the train and dragged me through the air to finally sit down in the seat.

We sped on for a while, Wolfgang had pulled out his smartphone and was messaging a contact simply marked "D" in what seemed to be a group chat called 'The Boys.'

"'The Boys?'" I laughed. "Who are your 'boys?'"

"Well, you're a nosy little shit, aren't you?" The giant chuckled and gave my shoulder a light shove. He turned away for a bit to finish his message. I heard the 'whoosh' sound after he hit send, and he returned to me. "It's the group chat me and some of the other teachers have."

"And who's D?"

"Your magic teacher."

"One of my magic teachers?" I corrected him.

"No," Wolfgang rolled his eye. "The magic teacher. You only have one in the whole school."

"What?" I stuttered. "Hogwarts has a different one for each subject, D teaches all of them?"

"Yeah, well, again, the Academy isn't Hogwarts." Wolfgang smiled smugly. "It isn't a magic school, it's a school for abnormally gifted children, for weirdos. Like you and me, and vampires, and trolls, and werewolves, and kids who can fly or read minds or turn invisible for who-knows-what reason. Mr. Thomas is the one and only magic teacher in the whole magic department. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Magic History, Transfiguration, Potions, all of it, that's him, I also teach you guys some Muggle studies, Herbology, and general how-not-to-get-killed useful stuff, but I'm mainly head of security." He opened his trenchcoat to reveal a purple blazer like mine and he pointed at a golden badge fastened to his jacket. He continued, "a senior usually handles Quidditch, this year we finally have enough for an actual quidditch team if you're into that. Usually, we have to pull in kids from the other classes, and, if we don't have a load of flying kids, the poor devils just run around with the brooms between their legs. Then there's Dr. Abeille, the Vice-Principal, she's also a witch and has been teaching kids for 50 years, but she doesn't anymore because she hates you."

"Me? Why?"

"No, not you specifically, just children in general. What's your guys' schedule this semester?" He nodded toward my bag. I unzipped it, my box of valuables had opened and spilled throughout my backpack, but I finally found the manila envelope. I flipped through the papers until I found one that said at the top in bold Times New Roman: '2020 Magical Student (Sophomore) Class Schedule.'

8:15: Class Begins

8:15-9:05: Period 1: Thomas: Defense Against the Dark Arts I  - H7

Materials: SEE LIST

9:10-10:00: Period 2: Wolfgang: Auxiliary Magic II  - H7

Materials: None, just your butts in my class on time!

10:05-10:55: Period 3: Harrington: Math (Algebra I)  - E3

Materials: None.

11:00-11:50: Period 4: Gellensberg: Quidditch   - Gym

Materials: I mean, a broom, I guess... I don't know.

11:50-12:50: Lunch Period - Cafeteria

Note: Notify the cafeteria about allergy information before class.

12:55-1:45: Period 5: Thomas: Beginner Potions  - H7

Materials: SEE LIST

1:50-2:40: Period 6: Rodriguez: Art  - B2

Materials: $20 Lab Donation for class materials.

2:40: Class Ends

NOTE: If you have any difficulties acquiring the materials for my courses, EMAIL ME! I'll help you out! -Mr. Thomas

"Math?!" I cried, Wolfgang rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, wizards still need to know math." He chuckled. "I bet Potter didn't put that in his books. Lemme see it." He snatched the paper and skimmed it. "Oh, Defense Against the Dark Arts is this year, and Potions, you'll have some fun! The way D does it is that he rotates the classes every year. He's got all the different grades in one class, so he doesn't want to teach the same thing twice." He read something else, and his smile faded. He sighed, holding something back. "So they did give Quidditch to Gellensberg, poor girl."

"Who?"

"Wren, Wren Gellensberg, she's one of the- well, now the only senior magical student. She and Honey- Marcus Honey, the person you're replacing... she and him were very close. He was the one that got..." he paused, then gritted his teeth and traced his finger across his neck. "You know..." He fell silent again. Then a soft smile appeared on his face after rereading her name. "She's a real sweetheart though, a little socially awkward, and when that happened... she hasn't been taking it too well. She didn't want to lead Quidditch, because it was Marcus' whole thing." He sighed again. We stopped at a station, nobody came on, and the train moved along. He tapped his fingers on his knee while I fidgeted awkwardly with my phone, pulling at its rubber and plastic case. I couldn't bear it.

"What happened to Marcus?" I asked curiously but a little too demandingly.

"I can't tell you, Alice," Wolfgang answered solemnly. "Someone else might tell you, but don't go around asking for it. They're all still really hurt."

I nodded and looked down at the floor. We passed a couple of stops, a woman in a Victorian purple dress came onto the train and grabbed a handrail with a gloved hand. Her beautiful leather handbag floated in the air beside her. She and Wolfgang exchanged looks, but there was still silence on the train for the next couple of stops. She held the handrail and stood watching the window, unphased by the speed and rocking of the train. I felt a pain in my stomach, I hadn't eaten, and it didn't look like we were going to get that Chinese food anytime soon. I pulled out my bag of Gummy Wizards and tried to open it. It was tough, thick plastic, and it crinkled every time I attempted to break it loose. The woman glared at me for the noise. I set the bag down beside me.

I looked down helplessly at my bag, starving, holding my stomach like a little peasant girl in Les Mis. Wolfgang took pity on me and placed his wand on the package and muttered something. The bag's seal opened cleanly, and my Gummy Wizards came marching out. I smiled at him and began to eat, but Gummy Wizards turned out to be a noisy candy because all the little witches and wizards fired and cracked spells at each other in my hand and in the bag. The woman glared at me again. I turned red and prepared to put my snack away. She gave me a smug look, I wrinkled my nose, but I lit up when her phone rang, and the humbug reluctantly lost her war of silence and talked to the person who called her. I debated pulling out my phone and listening to music, but I still wanted to know more.

"Whaddar vah udder keds like?" I asked through a mouthful of gummies.

"Huh?" Wolfgang munched on his third bag of Onion Wands. I swallowed and repeated myself.

"In the magic department, who are the other kids? What are they like?"

"What are they like?" Wolfgang pondered for a second. "They're all weirdos." He continued to shove more food into his mouth.

"But-"

"Yeah, yeah. Copper, Cooper... You're gonna have to be a big girl and meet them yourself, Alice, you'll have to get to know them. And don't ask them about Marcus."

"I just want to know more about the school, though," I whined impatiently. "How many of them are there?"

"Eight, including you."

"Oh, really?" My eyes widened. "That's small."

"I told you a bit ago, just barely for a Quidditch team."

"How many sophomores?"

"You and this other guy."

"Who?"

"Jericho Winslow."

"He sounds cool," I gushed, mouthing out his name. "Jericho Winslow."

"Not really, he's a huge dork." Wolfgang munched and fished for another Onion Wand.

"Oh."

"But yeah, I'd say he's cool."

"Who's the most popular kid?"

"Well, everyone knows everyone since there's only eight of you. But the leader was Marcus, now that position's up for grabs."

"What about Wren?"

"Nope. Wren's gone into her little hole of emotional darkness and existential misery. I keep saying it's not good for her, but what do I know about teenage girls?" He paused. I tilted my head. "Nothing actually, I don't know anything about you guys."

I shrugged. "She doesn't sound very fun-"

"Actually, she was pretty fun." He corrected. "But I bet things change when you lose your best friend."

"Yeah, sorry."

"No problem, Coop. You're learning." He fished for another Onion Wand then looked into the bag disappointedly after finding it empty. He continued. "The two juniors are Cassia and Logan. Two knuckleheads, really. But not as bad as the freshmen twins, oh my god, those two. Roscoe and Rowan Valentino, sometimes I just want to strangle them in their sleep." I gave him a look of one-third-worry, one-third-nervous laughter, and one-third-horror. He laughed. "They're good kids, just troublemakers. They're wise-cracks, they love pulling pranks and not listening to anything anyone tells them to do. I hate doing detention, but whenever they show up, they do make it less of a slog. And then there's Theo. I don't know much about who he is or what he likes because whenever I'm around him, all he talks about are plants. Maybe that is all talks about, though."

"This is Under Times Square Station." The intercom rattled. "Those who wanna transfer to West-East get off my train. We aren't going back." The doors squeaked and slid open, a large group of nearly two dozen men, women, and children holding cameras and suitcases entered. They wore sunglasses and chattered endlessly. The Victorian woman had finished her phone call and glared at then newcomers with an evil passion in her eyes.

"Tourists," Wolfgang scoffed, "even worse, wizard tourists. Luckily we're getting off here. Let's go find some Chinese food, and we'll head to the school, alright?" He heaved himself up and shuffled through the tourists, all disregarding the giant man trying his best to pass through them.

We just barely squeezed between the doors. I double-checked that I had my bag and everything, the train disappeared behind us. No starting again, no speeding up, it completely vanished leaving the tunnel and the larger, dirtier Under Times Square Station empty. A copy of the 'Wizard's Voice,' New York City's wizard newspaper laid on the floor, soaked in some brown liquid. I stepped over it, catching the headline: "ST. CHARLOTTE'S SCHOOL FOR GIRLS ANNOUNCES NINTIETH ANNUAL NORTH-EASTERN YOUTH WIZARDING TOURNAMENT." Wolfgang started to make his way to the escalator. I wandered behind him, checking my phone if I had received any texts from my sister or my parents. Nothing except for three from... Lucy Sullivan. Oh god.

I read the words again.

"im coming today copper"

"i need it now all of it!"

"if you arent at your apartment with the money at 2 pm. ur dead! remember I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!"

"Alice! Are you coming? Let's go! Aren't you hungry?" I snapped back to reality. Wolfgang was standing over me, and I realized that I had repeatedly been standing on the down escalator when we were supposed to go up. He had come back when he noticed that I kept returning to the same spot at the bottom.

"Yes." I looked up at him with a cold face. He raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you saw a ghost." He chuckled. I forced a smile, then dropped it and followed him.

"I think I might see my own," I said softly. Wolfgang looked at me over his shoulder as we ascended on the right escalator.

"Well, that's some weird and ominous shit." The giant placed a hand on my shoulder, then fixed my blazer's lapel. "You're gonna be fine, Alice." He smiled. "If you're scared about all that stuff I said, don't be, nothing in the magical world is gonna hurt you, not on my watch. Keep your head up, and just, don't die." The thing was, I was still terrified of the Muggle World, especially now. I smirked, another forced smile, and he faced forward as we got closer to the top, the light of the outside world was bright and blinding.

We suddenly stood together in the middle of Times Square. Dozens of people walked past, not caring nor noticing where we had come from or that we had appeared out of nowhere. It was morning in the city that never sleeps. Red, green, yellow, and white lights flashed from the ads and pictures on the electronic signs. Muggles walked in all different directions. One tried to hand me something so I'd buy it, but Wolfgang pulled me in close in front of him. I stuffed my cellphone back into my pocket and hugged my backpack. The sun had risen, and the new sky was red-orange and purple above with the faint outlines of stars fading into the clouds. The smell of the crisp air and all different kinds of food filled my nose; the sound of bass-filled music and an ocean of people's voices and the irregular beeping of cars flooded my ears. I've always hated the sensory overload of Times Square, but everything didn't affect me now, as soon as I'd seen a person or light, heard a car or yell, or smelt a hot dog or someone's body odor, they all blurred, muted, and vanished in my mind as Wolfgang guided me along.

I felt like I was going to die, in one way or the other, oh, not from the dragon, that comes later in the story, but I knew that even though I didn't have many friends or family, the Muggle world was going to notice that I was gone. It was going to find out about my dangerous secret world and try to drag me back away from it. And even as I enter this new world of opportunity, a whole different reality, I couldn't feel excited because sometimes all I could think about was what I left behind and how it was going to come for me. How it was going to hunt me down, it would catch me and force me back into my old life. The Muggle world was going to follow me into this new world, this not-so-perfect but a better world, this one that would actually care about me, and the old one would nearly destroy it and take it all away. I told you those Girl Scout cookies were going to be important later. It just so happens, that the dealer of my addiction, a Muggle, Lucy Sullivan of Troop 934, a belligerent thirteen-year-old with gambling debts, would be so insane to follow me into the unknown.

[hard-satin]

117 (4.02)

Masterlist

We dropped Kira and Malia off when we got back from Mexico. Then Scott, Lydia, Stiles and I took Derek to Deaton to see if he could help.

“WOW.” Was all Deaton said as looked over the younger Derek.

“Wow, as in I’ve seen this before and know exactly what to do. That kinda wow? Because that’s the kinda wow we’re hoping for.” Stiles told him.

“I think you might be overestimating my abilities.” Deaton told Stiles.

“He’s cold.” Lydia said as she took his hand in her own.

“Do you think this is permenent?” Scott asked Deaton nervously.

“I’m not sure a medical diagnoses is even adequate. This is well beyond my experience.” Deaton confessed.

“So what do we do?” Stiles asked him.

“Until he wakes up? Probably not much. Might be best to leave him with me.” Deaton told us.

“Sounds good to me. I’m starving and I could use a good night's sleep before I try to deal with whatever crazy shit this is.” I told them heading to the door.

“He’ll be safe here.” Deaton insisted when nobody else moved.

“You mean from Kate.” Stiles surmised.

“If she’s alive and she is what you say she is she won’t be able to walk past that gate.” Deaton assured him.

“Why would she want to do this to him?” Lydia asked. I groaned. I was really really hungry now.

“Knowing Kate it’s probably for a reason that won’t be any good for anyone but her.” Deaton told her.

“And bad for everyone else, should the pattern hold. Now that that’s cleared up can we go before I eat one of you.” I threatened.

“Jamie’s right. You guys should probably go home. He doesn’t look to be in any danger. So maybe the rest of you should get some sleep and feed Jamie.” Deaton tells them.

“Thank you Doc.” I praise him motioning for my friends to leave.

“Someone should stay with you.” Scott pointed out.

“I’ll stay.” Lydia volunteered.

“Great. NOw that that’s settled.” I started to say but Stiles cut me off.

“I’m so not okay with this.” Stiles told her.

“Guys, go.” Lydia insisted.

“No.” Stiles told her.

“Text us if anything happens.” Scott tells her as Scott and I drag Stiles out of the clinic.

-

I met Malia in the quad as soon as I got to school. I brought her beef jerky and she brought me her math homework to check over. I stole a piece of her jerky as I looked over her messy work.

“Lia, these are all wrong.” i told her sadly. I knew the werecoyote was trying but math was a hard subject for basically everyone except Lydia.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t understand math.” She confessed.

“That’s okay. I’m not really good at explaining it but I think Stiles can help you. He helped me with quadratic equations when I was having a hard time.” I told her. She smiled at me.

“Why are you so nice to me? Everyone else seems to find me annoying?” She asked as I handed her homework back to her.

“I don’t know. It might be because we can both turn into animals.” I told her with a shrug.

“I used to.” She pointed out.

“You’ll get there again. Besides you’re part of the pack now. That basically makes you family in my opinion.” I told her.

“I’m part of the pack?” She asked me in surprise.

“Definitely.” I smiled at her before we headed off to history.

-

Lydia called while we were in history. Scott and Stiles went to figure out what was going on with Derek. I stayed with Malia. I promised I would help her study during our free period. I took her out to the lacrosse field.

“Why does Lincoln even matter?” Malia asked in frustration as we read over last night's reading together.

“He’s dead and white and that makes him important.” I joked. She didn’t laugh.

“He was the president during the civil war. Did you even read the chapter?” I asked her. She shook her head.

“Jamie! Get down here!” Coach called from the field where he was watching the lacross workouts.

“Just read this bit again and I’ll discuss it with you when I get back.” I told her.

“What’s up coach?” I asked jogging over to him.

“I want you to look at the fresh meat. See anything good?” Coach asked. I looked out on the field. There was one or two freshmen that looked decent. I pointed them out to coach. Then I watched another boy step up for two on ones. I looked on in awe as he took on the upper classmen with ease. He made a more than impressive shot.

“Who’s that?” I asked pointing the boy out to coach.

“A transfer I think his last name’s Dunbar. Hey Dunbar! Get over here!” Coach told me before calling the boy over to us. He jogged over and took of his face mask. He was adorable.

“What’s your name kid?” Coach asked.

“Liam.” He introduced panting slightly.

“Where did you come from? You got serious skills.” I told him.

“Greenberg! What the hell?” Coach yelled running over to berate Greenberg and leaving me alone with the freshman.

“I’m a transfer freshmen. I used to go to Devenford prep. Who are you?” He asked me.

“I’m Jamie. Are you excited for the season?” I asked him.

“Yeah if I make the team.” Liam told me.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that.” I assured him.

“Do you think you will be at the games?” He asked shyly.

“Every single one.” I told him with a chuckle.

“Wow. You know there's this tradition here where the players get someone to wear their jerseys when the game is played.” Liam told me.

“Yeah I know. I get my friend Lydia to wear mine.” I told him.

“What?” He asked confused.

“Yeah, she gives me hell about it because she says it’s not fashionable but I make her anyway.” I told him.

“You’re on the team?” He asked confused.

“Yeah. I joined my sophomore year. So I’ve only played one season but I really love it.” I told him.

“You’re a junior? Did coach make you talk to me?” Liam asked me.

“No. I was just trying to be nice. I figured you’d be on the team with me and you’re new so it might help to already know someone.” I told him.

“Woah, uh, thanks. That’s really nice.” Liam told me. His cheeks were a strange shade of pink.

“Jamie! I still don’t get it!” Malia yelled at me from the stands.

“Sorry. I got to go, see you at tryouts at least.” I told him before running back over to Malia.

-

I got a text from Noah when I was walking to french. Looked like he’d found Derek. I could only hope he wasn’t angry. I left my bag with Malia before I ran to the station. I was running in just as Scott and Stiles pulled up. I followed them as they ran inside. Noah waved us into his office. I smiled at Parrish before I followed them inside. Noah closed the door behind us.

“I want you to be honest with me. Absolutely and completely honest. Have you been time traveling?” Noah asked.

“Hang on. What?” Stiles said confused.

“Because if time traveling is real. You know what I’m done. You’re going to be driving me to Eichen house.” Noah said starting to freak out.

“We found him like that.” Scott protested.

“Where? Swimming in the fountain of youth?” Noah asked.

“No. We found him buried in a tomb of wolfsbane.” Stiles told him.

“In an aztec temple in mexico. Underneath a church in the middle of a town that was destroyed by an earthquake.” I added. Stiles gave me a look as I realised I probably wasn’t helping.

“You told me you went camping.” Noah said sounding exasperated.

“Yeah we were. It was in Mexico.” Stiles told him. Noah looked about ready to combust.

“Derek’s been aged backwards. He can’t remember anything.” Scott told Noah.

“We just need to talk to him.” Stiles insisted.

“Well so far he’s not talking to anybody.” Noah sat down defeated.

“He’ll talk to Scott.” I insisted. Finally Noah relented and brought Derek in the room with us. Scott explained that Derek needed to trust us and that we were going to bring him somewhere safe.

“Why would I go anywhere with you?” Derek asked.

“There was an accident. You lost some memory but we can help you get it back.” Scott insisted.

“How much memory?” Derek asked him.

“A lot, but you can trust us.” Scott told him showing him his glowing red eyes.

“You’re an alpha? Okay who are you? And are those two?” Derek asked looking to Stiles and I.

“Oh where just the people keeping you out of jail.” Stiles told him.

“Let us help you.” Scott begged.

“No.” Derek told him.

“Okay Dude, you almost tore apart two cops back there. You need to listen to us. That starts with no fangs, no claws, no wolfman! You got that?” I told him.

“I’m fine as long as it’s not on a full moon.” Derek insisted.

“You still have trouble with the full moon?” Scott asked in astonishment.

“I said I’m fine.” Derek insisted.

“Alright so are you coming with us or not?” Stiles asked.

“You want me to trust you? Where’s my family?” Derek asked.

“There was a fire and they’re not here anymore.They’re fine. THey just had to move out of Beacon Hills. We’re going to take you to them as soon as we figure out how to get your memories back.” Scott told him. I looked at Scott in shock. His heartbeat hadn’t spiked at all.

“Okay.” Derek agreed clearly buying it. I sighed in relief.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I lied my ass off.” Scott said as we waited for Derek at the front of the station.

“Hey, your ass is fine. You saved him a ton of unnecessary pain.” Stiles told him.

“Yeah, in a day or two he goes back to ordinary Derek and everyone’s happy.” I told him.

“Except for Derek who’s never happy.” Stiles pointed out.

“He’s just another person that we’re lying too.” Scott worried.

“That is Derek Hale in there. He may be a kid right now but he’s still Derek Hale.” Stiles pointed out.

“Alright. You two take him to my house.” Scott told me.

“Wait why me? I was going to go back to school and catch the last class.” I complained.

“Jamie I need you to help Stiles.” Scott told me. I reluctantly nodded.

“Where are you going?” Stiles asked Scott.

“I’m going to go talk to the guy we should have talked to before.” Scott said turning and leaving to go find Peter.

“Uh, Yeah I hate that guy!” Stiles told called after him.

-

“We are just going to wait here for Scott. We are going to sit quietly and we are not going to call or talk to anyone.” Stiles told Derek as we walked into Scott's house.

“Can I talk to you?” Derek asked.

“No.” Stiles told him.

“Can I talk to him?” Derek looked at Scott’s dad as he walked in.

“Oh, are you getting taller?” Stiles asked in disgust as Agent McCall looked at the three of us.

“What are you guys doing here?” He asked looking at the three of us.

“Waiting for Scott.” Derek told him.

“So am I. We’re supposed to have dinner. I bought extra, are you guys hungry?” Agent McCall asked.

“Yeah.” Derek answered before Stiles or I could stop him.

“What’s your name?” McCall asked.

“Miguel.” Stiles answered before Derek could.

“This is my cousin Miguel from Mexico so.” Stiles slapped Derek on the back. Scott’s dad looked at Derek and said something in spanish that neither Stiles nor I could follow. I looked in panic to Stiles. Then Derek answered flawlessly in spanish.

“Fantastic. Egg roll?” McCall offered.

“Hell yeah!” Derek told him going to sit at the table. I looked at Stiles, the both of us sharing a stressed look before we realised there was nothing we could do to stop this.

“So Miguel, what did you say your last name was again?” McCall asked as the four of us sat around the table eating chinese.

“It’s a Horhez Sinqua Tiapo.” Stiles told him. I felt like slamming my face into my loi mein.

“That’s quite a mouthful. How do you spell that?” McCall asked. Derek looked to Stiles to answer.

“Phonetically.” Stiles answered for him.

“Mr. McCall, you’re an FBI agent.” Derek realised as he noticed his badge on the table.

“He’s low level.” I tried to cut off this conversation before it could happen. I knew exactly where Derek was going with this.

“Do you investigate murders?” Derek asked.

“Sometimes. When it’s a federal crime.” McCall answered him.

“What about fires?” Derek asked.

“Oh my god. I wonder where Scott is.” Stiles said as he looked at me wide eyed.

“Shouldn’t Scott be here by now? Stiles you should call Scott.” I told him trying to help him stall.

“What kind of fires are you talking about?” McCall asked.

“Do you know anything about the Hale family?” Derek asked. I dropped my fork. We were sunk. I watched Derek's face as McCall told him everything we had kept from him. Stiles and I barely managed to get him away from the table and upstairs.

-

When we finally made it into Scott’s room, Derek was quick to turn on us. He grabbed Stiles and slammed him up against the wall. Stiles looked desperately to me. I just shrugged. He deserved what he was getting, we all did. And ever since void, I haven’t been to keen to jump to Stiles rescue.

“Okay, I didn’t lie. I just omitted certain truths. Vital truths now that I think about it.” Stiles told Derek as he realised I wasn’t coming to his rescue.

“I don’t want to talk to to you. Either of you.” Derek told us as he backed off Stiles.

“Who are you going to talk to?” I asked him.

“I’ll talk to the alpha. I’ll talk to Scott.” Derek told us.

“Okay. I’m going to go get Scott. My phone is downstairs. I’ll call him. Just don't move.” Stiles told him. He backed out of the room and I heard him run down the hall. I looked at Derek, he was glaring at me and his heart was racing. I could smell the anger but there was something else.

“What?” I asked him.

“I didn’t say anything.” He protested.

“I know but your heart sounds like it’s going to explode so what’s up?” I asked him.

“I’m angry.” He lied.

“Dude I can smell the anger but there’s something else. Don’t lie to me.” I told him narrowing my eyes.

“I think you’re pretty.” He mumbled but I caught it.

“You think what?!” I asked shocked.

“You’re really pretty okay! But you lied about my family and I’m pissed!” He confessed. I let out a bark of laughter.

“Don’t laugh at me.” He told me.

“Okay. I’m going to go get Stiles, and trust me when you’re back to normal there is no way in hell I’m ever letting you live this down.” I told him suppressing another chuckle and heading downstairs to see what was taking Stiles so long.

Stiles was just getting ahold of Scott when I found him downstairs. I followed him up as Scott filled him in on what Peter had told him.

“He’s in your room. He’s totally fine. If you actually think Kate’s coming to find him… then you might be right.” Stiles told him as he walked into the doorway. I looked at him in confusion. Then I smelled her. It was a slightly altered version of her scent but it was still Kate. It took me right back to that night in front of the ruins of the Hale house. I found myself on the floor gasping for breath as I relived the moment she killed my mother. I felt hands on my shoulders. Someone was shaking me.

“Jamie! Hey Jamie look at me! Look at me! Jamie please!” I looked up to see who was yelling. I recalled back when I saw it was Stiles. I crawled away from him as fast as I could and cowered in the corner. Shaking like a leaf as images of my dead mother flew through my head. Stiles reached out for me.

“Don’t touch me!” I warned him fangs descending to keep him at bay. Stiles jolted back. I dropped my head to my knees. I breathed in shaky ragged breaths until finally I made the panic attack stop. When I looked up Stiles was on his phone his brow furrowed as he read a text.

“What is it?” I asked him.

“They found Kate. She’s at the school.” Stiles told me.

“Stiles got in his Jeep. I transformed into a wolf and ran to the School as fast as I could. I heard the growling as I ran into the parking lot. I found Scott and Malia fighting against two giant men in animal bones. I joined the fight.

Jumping and tearing at them but I seemed to have no effect. I jumped on one that had slashed Malia’s thigh but it just threw me into a wall like I was nothing. The hit was so jarring that I was back in my human form before my limp naked body hit the floor. Malia pulled herself over to me. She wrapped one arm protectively around me, the other holding her injured leg. I wrapped my arms around her. Scott was thrown down next to us. I winced as he landed hard and groaned in pain.

Just before the monsters were upon us Kira ran around the corner. The sword arching as she twisted and slashed at the beasts. All foxlike and badass. Up until one of the creatures backhanded her and sent her to the ground right next to Scott.

Then Derek ran up. He fought the creatures like the Derek of old, and I watched completely transfixed as he changed back. As he fought he shifted back into the Derek of old. The Derek we knew. I managed to get to my feet, along with the others as Derek stood over the bodies of the creatures as himself. Scott handed me his pullover before we turned our attention back to Derek. He finally turned to look at us, with golden eyes.

[kappasigmalife]

Eternal Purgatory: Chp 1, welcome to campus

Eternal Purgatory: Chapter one

Welcome to AU

 Today marks the worst day of my life, joining a frat. My dumbass dad is forcing me cause I can't stand to alone forever in my room with my books and writing, even going as far as to take my tuition away if I don’t. my name is Christopher Matthews and I come from a long line of assholes controlling the mass market of industry, and as the next head of the family corporation, he expects me to be part of his alma mater and brotherhood. God do I wish for death right about now.

Christopher begins talking on the phone with his father

“dad you can’t be fucking serious about this, they want me in an initiation and you know frat guys will do something really heinous and I don’t think I can handle that.”

Christopher’s father Joseph talks to him pretty pissed off about the situation.

“Oh I’m so sorry that I’m paying for college while you spend all your time writing those weird stories and keeping yourself locked from the outside world. Get over yourself, you have to venture out on your own and get used to society, how else are you going to take over the company?” Chris responds

“Yeah that’s right dad I got to do everything you want, no use in arguing with it anyhow, I know your minds made up, but rest assured I don’t condone this and something will happen, I know it.” Joseph on the other end

“Jesus Christ again with you bitching about taking risks, hows about you stop trying to be such a little bitch and do as your told, not that you ever proved yourself before.” Chris sighs before hanging up

“Love you too dad.”

Chris looks outside his window seeing a bunch of people crowding around in frat sweatshirts and gets a knock on his door.

Chris rolling his eyes

“gee I wonder who it could possibly be, not that I would know.”

As he opens the door a bunch of guys rush him placing a bag over his head dragging him off. As he has the bag taken off his head, he finds himself feeling bitter cold and notices they are in the basement of the dining hall on campus. The frat guys come forth and welcome chris and several other young college students to the freezer.

Frat guy

“welcome maggots to the initiation, tonight you venture into the freezer for one hour wearing only your skivvies and when the hours up, you’re going to be brothers.”

Chris glares at them and asks

“So you want us to strip down and go into freezing cold as you guys get drunk and wait?” Frat guy

“yes that’s exactly what we want.” Chris strips off his clothes and walks in flipping off one of the frat guys staring at him

“Yeah I know I’m covered in scars get over it, just let us out when your done waiting.” Frat guy

“okay just for that kid, two hours for you”

Chris thinking to himself.

“Yeah I’ll be waiting with bells on.”

Chris looks at his watch as he shivers in the cold, noticing it’s been well over two hours and the frat brothers haven’t come for him. More time passes and Chris notices the lock turning, showing that the dining hall has been closed. Shivering in the back, Chris contemplates what he said and knew the brothers forgot about him and he told his dad so about the risks to going for the brotherhood.

“I told that asshole, I told him I didn’t want to do it, but he made me anyways, god I’m fucking freezing.” As Chris finishes thinking he closes his eyes waiting for help.

As he awakens he notices hes in his boxers in the quad and looks around

“huh, guess I was able to make it out after all, I wonder who let me…, this is not my campus”

Chris looks around quite a bit more seeing different toned people walking around heading to classes glaring at him

“What the hell, it’s not even Halloween, what’s up with the floating and scarred people… oh fuck I’m dreaming.”

As Chris ducts into the bushes he notices a  set of feet walking towards him and the person is wearing gold boots that are bejeweled and stands waiting for him to come out.

“Its okay, you can come out, there isn’t anything to be afraid of.” Chris crawls out of the bushes and notices a hulking man with piercing blue eyes and blonde hair slicked back in gold armor carrying a straight sword on his back and lending his hand out to help Chris up. Chris looks at him and immediately questions everything

Chris blinking and seeing if its all true

“okay did I stumble to a renassaince fair, cause your in armor and carrying a qhat I can only presume is the blade Excalibur, nice workmanship btw.” The man stares back at him and shakes his head.

“young man I am Dean Arthur, and this is not a replica of Excalibur, it’s the real thing, your in purgatory.” Chris’s eyes widen and looks around.

“so I’m dead, your king Arthur, and this place is a school.” Arthur

“Yes you died before your time came and so you will continue your education here, at Afterlife University.” Chris sighs and face palms contemplating the situation.

“good god I am in an never ending hell.” Arthur brings chris to his office registering him for classes as chris looks outside and sees a fat guy smoking a bowl outside the window. Arthur looks out and opens yelling at the young man.

“Mr. Stone, I have told you repeatedly no marijuana on the campus, recreational use may be legal, but only off school grounds.” Mr. Stone puts out the bowl exhaling his smoke in the air.

“Sorry, I keep forgetting, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind but had a test coming up and the nerves you know.”

Arthur looks at him getting annoyed.

“my boy, your so bright but yet your careless and lazy, why not be more like the new student, straight A’s and responsible.” Chris looks at Arthur and raising his eyebrow.

“actually after all the stuff that just happened, I could go for some of that.” Stone looks at him up and down.

“honestly dude, I can set you up with my dealer, hes super chill, but maybe get some clothes first.” Chris looks down at himself wearing only his boxers.

“Oh god that’s right, anyway I can get some pants.” Arthur looking at him in embarrassment.

“Apologies I didn’t expect this to happen, most come to purgatory with clothes on.” Chris with a blank expression

“well I didn’t, so get me some clothes before I freeze to death, again.” Arthur gets Chris a blue flannel shirt with a pair of brown cargo pants and has him change. After getting clean clothes on Chris is given a registration number for classes and an address for his housing off campus. Arthur tells him that he is going to meet a lot of nice people around but to be wary of a few unwanted figures. As he walks he notices a bunch of game characters, historical figures, and even people from canceled tv shows hanging around.

Chris looks onward to see everything around him from the students to the teachers

“Huh, so everything that dies comes here, even fandoms, that explains a lot.”

As he walks he suddenly bumps into a chubby goth boy with a black goatee and wearing a dark maroon flannel and jeans.

The boy he bumps into looks at him.

“geez man could you be anymore clumsy.”

Chris dusts himself off and looks back at the young man who looks upset.

“apologies, im new and I gotta get used to things around here.” The young man looks back at him glaring up and down.

“Whatever country boy, just watch your step.”

Chris questioning what he meant.

“do you mean you’ll hurt me, cause I won’t take that lying down.” The young man widens his eyes responding.

“oh no I mean watch your literal step, if you don’t focus, youll fall down the stairs over there.” Chris looks at the spiraling staircase going off campus and sees the point.

“Oh thanks, again im sorry to bump into you but I gotta go move in to my new place.”

as he walks away the young man in the maroon flannel covers his pants with his books.

“damn it hes cute.” An incarnation of link from legend of Zelda comes over seeing what occurred.

“so Brendan, got a nice little surprise there.”

Brendan glares at link with his hair getting fluffed up.

“shut it elf boy, I highly doubt that he plays for the same team.”

As Chris reaches the house he looks at his cargo pants that tore lightly.

“that chubby goth boy owes me a new pair, or a date.” as he opens the door he notices the same fat guy who smoked a bowl outside Arthurs and another man who comes in wearing a Naruto headband and a Tokyo ghoul mask over his face. Stone walks over and offers chris a joint and a shot of rum to welcome him to the home.

“hey there, im paul and this is Robby, looks like you’re the new roommate, your rooms down the hall next to mine, just clean up after yourself and don’t touch my stash.” Chris shakes his hand taking the joint and lighting it up.

“trust me, thank you so much for this I cant believe the day I’ve had, I don’t think I need any more surprises”

Robby takes the mask off tripping over some stacks of naruto manga trying to talk.

Chris looks down at him and sees if hes alright.

“so is this something you get used to at all.” Paul takes a controller out and begins playing call of duty.

“not a chance, just happy to have two new moneymakers in the house.” Chris helps Robby up only to quickly turn around.

“What do you mean two moneymakers.”

Paul just playing his game answering,

“don’t worry about it.”

The door opens to reveal a young woman wearing a pale green tee-shirt, black jeans and brown hair tied in a ponytail walking in.

“well, this is the address and it looks like… OH MY GOD.”

Chris’s eyes bulge out of his sockets and stares at the girl.

“HELEN!!!” “CHRIS!”

The two stare at each other and watch as a robed figure comes out with a clipboard. Checking some papers for the day.

“Paul, can you tell me when the new students arrive…. Oh their here, hmm as yes Christopher Matthews age 22, died of frostbite, Helen Monroe, age 24, died of accidental overdose, my names reefer welcome to the house, er are you listening.

The two of them glare at each other only to say the same thing as they contemplate the situation.

“I’m gonna fucking kill dad.”

[likalulu]

Harvard Commencement 2017

by : MARK ZUCKERBERG·26 MEI 2017

President Faust, Board of Overseers, faculty, alumni, friends, proud parents, members of the ad board, and graduates of the greatest university in the world.

I'm honored to be with you today because, let's face it, you accomplished something I never could. If I get through this speech, it'll be the first time I actually finish something at Harvard. Class of 2017, congratulations!

I'm an unlikely speaker, not just because I dropped out, but because we're technically in the same generation. We walked this yard less than a decade apart, studied the same ideas and slept through the same Ec10 lectures. We may have taken different paths to get here, especially if you came all the way from the Quad, but today I want to share what I've learned about our generation and the world we're building together.

But first, the last couple of days have brought back a lot of good memories.

How many of you remember exactly what you were doing when you got that email telling you that you got into Harvard? I was playing Civilization and I ran downstairs, got my dad, and for some reason, his reaction was to video me opening the email. That could have been a really sad video. I swear getting into Harvard is still the thing my parents are most proud of me for.

What about your first lecture at Harvard? Mine was Computer Science 121 with the incredible Harry Lewis. I was late so I threw on a t-shirt and didn't realize until afterwards it was inside out and backwards with my tag sticking out the front. I couldn't figure out why no one would talk to me -- except one guy, KX Jin, he just went with it. We ended up doing our problem sets together, and now he runs a big part of Facebook. And that, Class of 2017, is why you should be nice to people.

But my best memory from Harvard was meeting Priscilla. I had just launched this prank website Facemash, and the ad board wanted to "see me". Everyone thought I was going to get kicked out. My parents came to help me pack. My friends threw me a going away party. As luck would have it, Priscilla was at that party with her friend. We met in line for the bathroom in the Pfoho Belltower, and in what must be one of the all time romantic lines, I said: "I'm going to get kicked out in three days, so we need to go on a date quickly."

Actually, any of you graduating can use that line.

I didn't end up getting kicked out -- I did that to myself. Priscilla and I started dating. And, you know, that movie made it seem like Facemash was so important to creating Facebook. It wasn't. But without Facemash I wouldn't have met Priscilla, and she's the most important person in my life, so you could say it was the most important thing I built in my time here.

We've all started lifelong friendships here, and some of us even families. That's why I'm so grateful to this place. Thanks, Harvard.

•••

Today I want to talk about purpose. But I'm not here to give you the standard commencement about finding your purpose. We're millennials. We'll try to do that instinctively. Instead, I'm here to tell you finding your purpose isn't enough. The challenge for our generation is creating a world where everyone has a sense of purpose.

One of my favorite stories is when John F Kennedy visited the NASA space center, he saw a janitor carrying a broom and he walked over and asked what he was doing. The janitor responded: "Mr. President, I'm helping put a man on the moon".

Purpose is that sense that we are part of something bigger than ourselves, that we are needed, that we have something better ahead to work for. Purpose is what creates true happiness.

You're graduating at a time when this is especially important. When our parents graduated, purpose reliably came from your job, your church, your community. But today, technology and automation are eliminating many jobs. Membership in communities is declining. Many people feel disconnected and depressed, and are trying to fill a void.

As I've traveled around, I've sat with children in juvenile detention and opioid addicts, who told me their lives could have turned out differently if they just had something to do, an after school program or somewhere to go. I've met factory workers who know their old jobs aren't coming back and are trying to find their place.

To keep our society moving forward, we have a generational challenge: to not only create new jobs, but create a renewed sense of purpose.

I remember the night I launched Facebook from my little dorm in Kirkland House. I went to Noch's with my friend KX. I remember telling him I was excited to connect the Harvard community, but one day someone would connect the whole world.

The thing is, it never even occurred to me that someone might be us. We were just college kids. We didn't know anything about that. There were all these big technology companies with resources. I just assumed one of them would do it. But this idea was so clear to us -- that all people want to connect. So we just kept moving forward, day by day.

I know a lot of you will have your own stories just like this. A change in the world that seems so clear you're sure someone else will do it. But they won't. You will.

But it's not enough to have purpose yourself. You have to create a sense of purpose for others.

I found that out the hard way. You see, my hope was never to build a company, but to make an impact. And as all these people started joining us, I just assumed that's what they cared about too, so I never explained what I hoped we'd build.

A couple years in, some big companies wanted to buy us. I didn't want to sell. I wanted to see if we could connect more people. We were building the first News Feed, and I thought if we could just launch this, it could change how we learn about the world.

Nearly everyone else wanted to sell. Without a sense of higher purpose, this was the startup dream come true. It tore our company apart. After one tense argument, an advisor told me if I didn't agree to sell, I would regret the decision for the rest of my life. Relationships were so frayed that within a year or so every single person on the management team was gone.

That was my hardest time leading Facebook. I believed in what we were doing, but I felt alone. And worse, it was my fault. I wondered if I was just wrong, an imposter, a 22 year-old kid who had no idea how the world worked.

Now, years later, I understand that *is* how things work with no sense of higher purpose. It's up to us to create it so we can all keep moving forward together.

Today I want to talk about three ways to create a world where everyone has a sense of purpose: by taking on big meaningful projects together, by redefining equality so everyone has the freedom to pursue purpose, and by building community across the world.

•••

First, let's take on big meaningful projects.

Our generation will have to deal with tens of millions of jobs replaced by automation like self-driving cars and trucks. But we have the potential to do so much more together.

Every generation has its defining works. More than 300,000 people worked to put a man on the moon – including that janitor. Millions of volunteers immunized children around the world against polio. Millions of more people built the Hoover dam and other great projects.

These projects didn't just provide purpose for the people doing those jobs, they gave our whole country a sense of pride that we could do great things.

Now it's our turn to do great things. I know, you're probably thinking: I don't know how to build a dam, or get a million people involved in anything.

But let me tell you a secret: no one does when they begin. Ideas don't come out fully formed. They only become clear as you work on them. You just have to get started.

If I had to understand everything about connecting people before I began, I never would have started Facebook.

Movies and pop culture get this all wrong. The idea of a single eureka moment is a dangerous lie. It makes us feel inadequate since we haven't had ours. It prevents people with seeds of good ideas from getting started. Oh, you know what else movies get wrong about innovation? No one writes math formulas on glass. That's not a thing.

It's good to be idealistic. But be prepared to be misunderstood. Anyone working on a big vision will get called crazy, even if you end up right. Anyone working on a complex problem will get blamed for not fully understanding the challenge, even though it's impossible to know everything upfront. Anyone taking initiative will get criticized for moving too fast, because there's always someone who wants to slow you down.

In our society, we often don't do big things because we're so afraid of making mistakes that we ignore all the things wrong today if we do nothing. The reality is, anything we do will have issues in the future. But that can't keep us from starting.

So what are we waiting for? It's time for our generation-defining public works. How about stopping climate change before we destroy the planet and getting millions of people involved manufacturing and installing solar panels? How about curing all diseases and asking volunteers to track their health data and share their genomes? Today we spend 50x more treating people who are sick than we spend finding cures so people don’t get sick in the first place. That makes no sense. We can fix this. How about modernizing democracy so everyone can vote online, and personalizing education so everyone can learn?

 These achievements are within our reach. Let's do them all in a way that gives everyone in our society a role. Let's do big things, not only to create progress, but to create purpose.

•••

So taking on big meaningful projects is the first thing we can do to create a world where everyone has a sense of purpose.

The second is redefining equality to give everyone the freedom they need to pursue purpose.

Many of our parents had stable jobs throughout their careers. Now we're all entrepreneurial, whether we're starting projects or finding or role. And that's great. Our culture of entrepreneurship is how we create so much progress.

An entrepreneurial culture thrives when it's easy to try lots of new ideas. Facebook wasn't the first thing I built. I also built games, chat systems, study tools and music players. I'm not alone. JK Rowling got rejected 12 times before publishing Harry Potter. Even Beyonce had to make hundreds of songs to get Halo. The greatest successes come from having the freedom to fail.

But today, we have a level of wealth inequality that hurts everyone. When you don't have the freedom to take your idea and turn it into a historic enterprise, we all lose. Right now our society is way over-indexed on rewarding success and we don't do nearly enough to make it easy for everyone to take lots of shots.

Let's face it. There is something wrong with our system when I can leave here and make billions of dollars in 10 years while millions of students can't afford to pay off their loans, let alone start a business.

Look, I know a lot of entrepreneurs, and I don't know a single person who gave up on starting a business because they might not make enough money. But I know lots of people who haven't pursued dreams because they didn't have a cushion to fall back on if they failed.

We all know we don't succeed just by having a good idea or working hard. We succeed by being lucky too. If I had to support my family growing up instead of having time to code, if I didn't know I'd be fine if Facebook didn't work out, I wouldn't be standing here today. If we're honest, we all know how much luck we've had.

Every generation expands its definition of equality. Previous generations fought for the vote and civil rights. They had the New Deal and Great Society. Now it's our time to define a new social contract for our generation.

We should have a society that measures progress not just by economic metrics like GDP, but by how many of us have a role we find meaningful. We should explore ideas like universal basic income to give everyone a cushion to try new things. We’re going to change jobs many times, so we need affordable childcare to get to work and healthcare that isn’t tied to one company. We're all going to make mistakes, so we need a society that focuses less on locking us up or stigmatizing us. And as technology keeps changing, we need a society that focuses more on continuous education throughout our lives.

And yes, giving everyone the freedom to pursue purpose isn't free. People like me should pay for it. Many of you will do well and you should too.

That's why Priscilla and I started the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative and committed our wealth to promoting equal opportunity. These are the values of our generation. It was never a question of if we were going to do this. The only question was when.

Millennials are already one of the most charitable generations in history. In one year, three of four US millennials made a donation and seven out of ten raised money for charity.

But it's not just about money. You can also give time. I promise you, if you take an hour or two a week -- that's all it takes to give someone a hand, to help them reach their potential.

Maybe you think that's too much time. I used to. When Priscilla graduated from Harvard she became a teacher, and before she'd do education work with me, she told me I needed to teach a class. I complained: "Well, I'm kind of busy. I'm running this company." But she insisted, so I taught a middle school program on entrepreneurship at the local Boys and Girls Club.

I taught them lessons on product development and marketing, and they taught me what it's like feeling targeted for your race and having a family member in prison. I shared stories from my time in school, and they shared their hope of one day going to college too. For five years now, I’ve been having dinner with those kids every month. One of them even threw me and Priscilla our first baby shower. And next year they’re going to college. Every one of them. First in their families.

We can all make time to give someone a hand. Let's give everyone the freedom to pursue their purpose -- not only because it's the right thing to do, but because when more people can turn their dreams into something great, we're all better for it.

•••

Purpose doesn't only come from work. The third way we can create a sense of purpose for everyone is by building community. And when our generation says "everyone", we mean everyone in the world.

Quick show of hands: how many of you are from another country? Now, how many of you are friends with one of these folks? Now we're talking. We have grown up connected.

In a survey asking millennials around the world what defines our identity, the most popular answer wasn't nationality, religion or ethnicity, it was "citizen of the world". That's a big deal.

Every generation expands the circle of people we consider "one of us". For us, it now encompasses the entire world.

We understand the great arc of human history bends towards people coming together in ever greater numbers -- from tribes to cities to nations -- to achieve things we couldn't on our own.

We get that our greatest opportunities are now global -- we can be the generation that ends poverty, that ends disease. We get that our greatest challenges need global responses too -- no country can fight climate change alone or prevent pandemics. Progress now requires coming together not just as cities or nations, but also as a global community.

But we live in an unstable time. There are people left behind by globalization across the world. It's hard to care about people in other places if we don’t feel good about our lives here at home. There’s pressure to turn inwards.

This is the struggle of our time. The forces of freedom, openness and global community against the forces of authoritarianism, isolationism and nationalism. Forces for the flow of knowledge, trade and immigration against those who would slow them down. This is not a battle of nations, it's a battle of ideas. There are people in every country for global connection and good people against it.

This isn't going to be decided at the UN either. It's going to happen at the local level, when enough of us feel a sense of purpose and stability in our own lives that we can open up and start caring about everyone. The best way to do that is to start building local communities right now.

We all get meaning from our communities. Whether our communities are houses or sports teams, churches or a cappella groups, they give us that sense we are part of something bigger, that we are not alone; they give us the strength to expand our horizons.

That's why it's so striking that for decades, membership in all kinds of groups has declined as much as one-quarter. That's a lot of people who now need to find purpose somewhere else.

But I know we can rebuild our communities and start new ones because many of you already are.

I met Agnes Igoye, who's graduating today. Where are you, Agnes? She spent her childhood navigating conflict zones with human trafficking in Uganda, and now she trains thousands of law enforcement officers to keep communities safe.

I met Kayla Oakley and Niha Jain, graduating today, too. Stand up. Kayla and Niha started a non-profit that connects people suffering from chronic illnesses with people in their communities willing to help.

I met David Razu Aznar, graduating from the Kennedy School today. David, stand up. He’s a former city councilor who successfully led the battle to make Mexico City the first Latin American city to pass marriage equality -- even before San Francisco.

This is my story too. A student in a dorm room, connecting one community at a time, and keeping at it until one day we connect the whole world.

Change starts local. Even global changes start small -- with people like us. In our generation, the struggle of whether we connect more, whether we achieve our biggest opportunities, comes down to this -- your ability to build communities and create a world where every single person has a sense of purpose.

•••

Class of 2017, you are graduating into a world that needs purpose. It's up to you to create it.

Now, you may be thinking: can I really do this?

Remember when I told you about that class I taught at the Boys and Girls Club? One day after class I was talking to them about college, and one of my top students raised his hand and said he wasn't sure he could go because he's undocumented. He didn't know if they'd let him in.

Last year I took him out to breakfast for his birthday. I wanted to get him a present, so I asked him and he started talking about students he saw struggling and said "You know, I'd really just like a book on social justice.”

I was blown away. Here's a young guy who has every reason to be cynical. He didn't know if the country he calls home -- the only one he's known -- would deny him his dream of going to college. But he wasn't feeling sorry for himself. He wasn't even thinking of himself. He has a greater sense of purpose, and he's going to bring people along with him.

It says something about our current situation that I can't even say his name because I don't want to put him at risk. But if a high school senior who doesn't know what the future holds can do his part to move the world forward, then we owe it to the world to do our part too.

Before you walk out those gates one last time, as we sit in front of Memorial Church, I am reminded of a prayer, Mi Shebeirach, that I say whenever I face a challenge, that I sing to my daughter thinking about her future when I tuck her into bed. It goes:

"May the source of strength, who blessed the ones before us, help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing."

I hope you find the courage to make your life a blessing.

Congratulations, Class of '17! Good luck out there. 

[ttkusfic]

Chapter 1: Dasein Denied

Professor Bochs looked like Sartre as an old man. He was composed entirely of sharp angles except for a pair of frameless half-moon glasses that sat on his face like two fishbowls holding toad colored eyes. Professor Bochs was one of the few professors at Saint Sebastian’s who still conducted his classes entirely in lectures, and this was fine with most of his students who found him tough and intimidating and preferred to say nothing at all. Whenever anyone did speak in class, his eyes widened as if in fright that he might hear something stupid, making the top of his irises rise above his glasses, giving his eyes a fractured look from the right angle.  

My roommate, Meg was terrified of him, but (though I would have admitted it to no one) I liked Professor Bochs. I liked that he was tough, and I liked that he gave me the space to figure things out on my own. I liked that I was able to mull over the contents of his class in silence without breaking into groups to talk about it. I liked that it was enough for him that I turn in an occasional paper to prove that I was still alive.  

In senior year, on the day I was rejected by the only law school I applied to, Professor Bochs canceled the Existentialism class Meg and I were taking together. He was there in the classroom when I arrived, writing with a silver pen in a leather bound notebook, but he didn’t acknowledge us at all except to point to a note written on the board over his head without looking up or pausing in his writing.

Happy Good Friday!

Class is canceled. You will spend my lecture period in the library researching your final paper. The list of available topics is on the assignment sheet that you will find on my desk. Before leaving this room, please, write the name of the philosopher you have chosen on the board with your name.

One student per philosopher.

I took an assignment sheet from the stack of papers I found on his desk and sat in the nearest desk to read it. The assignment was to write a paper summarizing the major contributions of one philosopher we’d studied that term. It must have been an assignment he gave all his classes because there was no list to choose from. This was the first test, to collectively remember everyone we’d studied so far, but it didn’t matter to me. I knew immediately that I would do my project on Heidegger.

I stood up, ready to make my choice, but the board was already swarming with students. I stood in the back and waited like I always do, confident that Heidegger would be left for last, but when I got to the board all of the philosophers on the list were taken, and Heidegger’s name was next to the name of my roommate, Meg Bradley.

The room cleared, and I was left alone with Professor Bochs.  

“I’m looking forward to your paper,” he said as I stood there counting and recounting the philosophers in my head. There had to have been a mistake. Exactly one short? Should I say something? I wasn’t sure. What if he already knew?

“Most of my students start avoiding eye contact by the time we get to Heidegger,” he said, “but not you, Emily Stone. You will be writing about Heidegger, yes?”

“No,” I said, pointing at the board. “Meg Bradley took Heidegger.”

“Interesting,” he said and took off his glasses, as if they were just a prop, and removing them would help him see me better.

“You are not one of my students,” he said.

Since I was in his class, I hoped he meant that I wasn’t a philosophy major. I told him that I was a senior, an English major, and he asked me what I was doing in his class.

“Core requirement,” I said, and he sniffed, wrinkling his nose in disgust, “but I like it. I like philosophy.”

“You do.”

“Especially phenomenology,” I said, and this seemed to please him.

He asked why I like phenomenology, and that I like to think about things. Actual things, and that’s what phenomenology is, the object philosophy. I wasn’t sure I was right about this, so I started ramble about the thingy-ness of literature, repeating something I’d heard in a literature class about Homer’s delight in listing objects, as if he hoped that by listing all the things that were in the golden age of Greece they might come back again and the golden age with them.

“And, anyway,” I said. “I like the fact that philosophy gives me an excuse to think--”

“An excuse to think,” he said, and time stopped.

He was, as always, perfectly composed, but a steely intensity appeared in his eyes, and I understood for the first time why Meg was so terrified of him, but I said nothing. I just stood there doing my best to meet his gaze until my phone rang. I apologized, turned off the ringer without seeing who had called. When I looked up,  he was the impassive professor again.

“Which philosopher have you chosen for your paper?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “All of the philosophers on the list are taken. I was hoping to do my paper on Heidegger. What if Meg and I both do our papers on him?”

He shook his head and explained that the one philosopher per student rule was for our protection. “You don’t want me to be thinking about Meg Bradley’s paper while I grade yours, do you?” he asked, and I admitted that I didn’t, even though I was almost certain that against her’s my paper would almost certainly look better.

He considered me for a minute then turned to a blank page in his notebook, wrote a name on it, tore the page out, and handed it to me like a doctor handing out a prescription.

“You will write your paper on Hannah Arendt,” he said. “Heidegger’s favorite student.”

I started to argue that I knew nothing about Hannah Arendt, and it wasn’t fair since everyone else was allowed to do philosophers we’d studied already, but he interrupted me again.

“I know. You get the student when you wanted the teacher, but she was a great thinker in her own right. I think she will appeal even more than Heidegger to your love of the philosophy of things.” He trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. I took this as permission to go, but before I left I heard him mutter, more to himself than me, “Yes. Hannah Arendt is exactly what you need.”

Heidegger’s favorite student. I repeated the words to myself as I cut a path across the quad over the frozen ground. Until that moment, Heidegger had been a concept to me bound in abstractions and German vocabulary, but he had been a person. I knew that. Obviously. But something about thinking of him with students humanized him for me, a favorite student especially, and it made me want to write my paper on him more than ever.  

I skipped the library, planning to spend the afternoon in my dorm googling Hannah Arendt. Between Heidegger and law school, I wasn’t exactly in a social mood.

The fastest way from the classroom building to the dorms should have been around the quad, but I was forced to take the long way around. Directness seemed to have been one of the last considerations of the campus’s architect, who lived before the invention of airplanes and yet designed the place to look stunning from the air. The buildings were arranged in a perfect square around a courtyard and were connected by paths in the shape of a haloed cross. This arrangement would have been ideal if architect hadn’t dropped a tall-hedged labyrinth right in the middle of it. For a school made up mainly of Bostonians and women from the surrounding suburbs, the inefficiency of being forced to walk around the labyrinth was a constant annoyance. Despite the best efforts of the grounds keepers and their desperate pleas that we not walk on the grass, desire lines were permanently worn around the labyrinth’s evergreen walls.

When I got to my room I found the door open. Meg was her bed with a cup of tea, her philosophy textbooks open all around her and a stick of her frankincense and vanilla flavored incense burning on my desk.  Most college dorms are like storage cabinets for people, but Meg was a witch, and living with Meg was like living in a one hundred square foot metaphysical bookstore. Meg’s desk was the first thing you saw when you walked into the room. It sat under the twin windows opposite the door, I swear, just like an altar, and like an altar it was practically impossible to do anything in the room without referencing it in some way.

The TV lived on Meg’s desk on my side of the room which would have made it convenient for bedtime viewing except that she kept it continually looping a video of a thunderstorm she’d taken from her back porch during our last summer vacation. Having a bowl of cereal meant digging a box out of her desk drawer that she’d coated with sheets of stainless steel because she was afraid of mice and insisted that plastic containers did nothing but weed out stupid mice with BPA poisoning, and nothing short of a cereal box-sized fallout shelter would keep the smart ones away. Opening a window meant leaning carefully over her desk making sure to not knock over a candle or piece of burning incense or the electric fire bowl filled with the ashes of the sins of her enemies.

When I first moved in with her it was magical to me that she was allowed to light things on fire in our room, but when I told other people on our floor about it, I quickly discovered that I was the last to know. Apparently, she had challenged the rule against burning things in freshman year, arguing that it was a necessary part of her religious observance, and the nuns, who regularly burned things as part of their religious practices, understood completely.  

The fire bowl was at the very center of her desk and was also essential, she claimed, to her spiritual practice. I saw her burn all kinds of things in that bowl. Poverty. War. Traffic tickets. A woman who cut her in line at the mini-mart and argued with the cashier for twenty minutes about a coupon.

“How am I going to summarize Heidegger in five pages?” she asked.

“You could have chosen someone simpler,” I said, “Like Rilke. You’re always going on about realness and authenticity. You could have read Malte Laurids Brigge in less than a day, everything he ever wrote, probably.”

“I didn’t take a philosophy class to write my final paper on a poet,” Meg said. “I need to be well-rounded if I’m going to be a writer, and, anyway, you like him so much. I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.”

“So, you knew that I wanted Heidegger,” I said, “And you took him, anyway.”

“I didn’t know you wanted Heidegger,” she said.

“How is that possible?” I asked. “Existentialism is pretty much the only thing we talk about anymore. You know how obsessed I am with Heidegger.”

“I knew you were obsessed with him, but I didn’t know you wanted to write your paper on him.”

“Generally those two things go together,” I pointed out.

“Honestly, I didn’t think about it,” she said. “And what’s the big deal, anyway? You just said you could put together a paper on Rilke in less than a day.”

“I didn’t get Rilke. He was taken already. Everyone was taken already.”

“You didn’t get out of it then, did you?” she asked.

“No. Unfortunately.”

My phone rang again. This time I swore but checked to see who it was before I ignored it and put my phone on vibrate.

“Who was that?” Meg asked.

“My mother,” I said. “She called me when I was talking to Professor Bochs, too.”

“If she called you twice, shouldn’t you answer it?”

“No.”

I’d given my mother a copy of my class schedule, so she’d stop interrupting my classes, but she’d ignored it. Even though I wasn’t in class today, I didn’t want her to get the idea that there might be even the slightest chance she might catch me this way.

I took the piece of paper Professor Bochs had given me out of my pocket and handed it to Meg. “He assigned me someone I’ve never heard of before. Hannah Arendt.”

“Hannah Arendt. She’s interesting,” Meg said.

“You’ve heard of her?”

“Oh, yeah. She was a Holocaust survivor, taught at the New School in the early days.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“I thought about transferring to the New School for awhile in Sophomore year.”

Emily was brilliant. She had a mind like a mouse trap. As far as I could tell, she forgot nothing.

“I didn’t know that,” I said. “I mean, I always wondered how you ended up at a Catholic school. Why didn’t you transfer?”

“It’s kind of awkward being here, but I don’t want to be one of those people who only ever knew her own kind. My academic advisor is a nun! I’m probably never going to be this close to a nun again.” She handed the paper back to me. “Do you know why he gave you Hannah Arendt?”

“I have no idea.”

“There is a bit of a mystery around her, you know. She died right before she was supposed to start her last book. It was part of a series, I think, but I know I remember that all we have of it is what was written on the page they found in her typewriter when she died, a couple of quotes and a title.”

“That’s creepy,” I said. “You don’t think that’s why Professor Bochs assigned her to me, do you?”

“No way,” Meg said. “I bet your love of Heidegger weirded him out. He probably just wants to make sure you’re not a Nazi.”

[pork-cutlet-gays-blog]

Sentence 1,3, or 7 (or all three if you're a saint :D) with Otayuri, please!

i was gonna try and put them all in one but i just couldn’t ;-;

1. “I was just kind of hoping that you’d, y’know…fall in love with me.”

All of his jumps were executed perfectly. His step sequences were excellent and he started to feel confident in the mock program he had put together. 

Yuri didn’t usually do this. He wasn’t the type to create a program inspired by something that’s actually happened to him, but here he was. Practicing a beautiful program to death that he couldn’t wait to show-

“That was awesome.”

He had just finished the program with his final pose when he heard the voice echo through the empty rink. He lost composure and turned, so quick he was almost a blur. There stood Otabek, a smirk playing at his lips and his grown out hair out, flowing over his shoulders. It was usually pulled back into a bun to expose his undercuts, but he didn’t really care about how he looked with Yuri.

Yuri was wide eyed and aghast - spluttering and scratching the back of his neck. “Y-you… you weren’t supposed to see that.” He spluttered, looking to the floor.

Otabek tilted his head. “Why not?” Yuri muttered a few things under his breath, not nearly loud enough for Otabek to hear. The only part he made any sense of was ‘i made a program for you because…” and everything else was nonsense.

“Sorry?” Otabek smirked, bringing his hand to his ear. “I didn’t quite catch that?”

Yuri breathed in and yelled, his voice faltering mid-sentence. “I made a program for you because I was just kind of hoping that you’d, y’know… fall in love with me?” his head was directed at the ice, but his eyes were fixated on Otabek to see his reaction. It sounded stupid. Really stupid - who would fall in love with someone because of a shit quality skating program?

Otabek’s expression didn’t falter as he continued to stare at Yuri. His eyes didn’t widen, nor did he smirk (if you got close enough, you’d be able to see the sheer happiness glowing in his eyes). 

“Damn,” Otabek tore through the silence as he brought his hand to the back of his neck. He was more confident now, looking at (a very embarrassed) Yuri with a smirk. “And all this time I thought I was getting you to fall in love with me.”

3. “You know… that’s not what an apology sounds like.”

This fucking wedding. Yurio thought to himself. Yeah, they’re cute and all. But… fuck. I just wanna get out of here.

For a moment, Yurio wished he was man enough to smoke. Despite the pig’s sister repeatedly telling him that they were terrible, he just wanted to try it. But he wouldn’t. He wasn’t stupid, and he knew that excessive alcohol and smoking can ruin a skater, no matter their age.

Viktor and Yuuri were dancing together (they were both clearly wasted), and Yurio refused to be pulled into anything that reminded him of that damned banquet. He got up from his seat, flashing Yakov and Lilia an apologetic glance before hurrying to get his ass out of there.

He’d become pretty used to the onsen by now. It had about three years after Viktor began coaching Yuuri, and as much as the 18 year old didn’t want to admit it, he had grown accustomed to everything there. The coziness of the stained wooden floors and the Japanese decor, the smell of the amazing food every night… he had even gotten used to the Piggy’s family. 

Yurio scoffed at the thought and found an exit, exhaling as he heard excited cheers and laughter. 

“Come out to cool off, too, huh Yura?”

Otabek scared him, and not entirely because of the sudden greeting, but because of the cancer stick hanging out of his mouth. Yuuri furrowed his brow. “Beka!” he grabbed the cigarette from his best friend’s mouth and gave him a disapproving glare. “You told me you’d quit!”

Before he could throw it to the ground and stomp on it, Otabek snatched the cigarette from Yurio’s fingers and put it back in his mouth (despite him knowing how bad they were, he couldn’t deny that Otabek looked hot with one between his lips) (he tried to ignore that). “Yeah, well…” Otabek almost sneered. He seemed annoyed. “I’m stressed. Too many people here I don’t know.”

At Yurio’s silence, Otabek sighed. He offered the packet to the Russian, looking up only slightly into his eyes (Yurio had grown taller than Otabek by about an inch, despite the Russian being three years younger than him). “Do you want one?”

Yurio winced and shook his head, turning up his nose. He crossed his arms and grumbled a bit, taking in the fresh air before he’d have to go back inside. “You know…” Yuri muttered. 

Otabek might as well have been deaf. “Hmm?”

“You know,” Yurio repeated through closed teeth. “That’s not what an apology sounds like.”

He hid his face from Otabek, this shy persona not really suiting his taller frame. Otabek chuckled, taking a drag from his cigarette before throwing it to the floor and stomping it out. “Sorry.”

Yurio was 90 percent sure he was being a smartass.

7. “There are only so many times I can watch you break before I start to crack.”

Otabek’s arms were folded over the barrier around the ice rink. His eyes were fixed on the only skater in the rink who really mattered to him (there was also Georgi, Mila and a few other skaters who Otabek had no interest in). Yuri Plisetsky was desperately trying to nail a program Lilia had put together for him, and he was really struggling.

It was his fifth time trying to finish it, but he always fucked up at the forth quad - a quadruple toe loop. Otabek’s lips were in a straight line as his face twisted with concern. He watched his best friend, straightening his back and running to the entrance of the rink when Yuri failed a jump and seemingly injured himself. Yuri’s voice echoed through the rink as he swore in Russian.

“Yura!” Otabek was at his side in an instant, helping the boy up and wincing at the sound of his pained groan. “Shit, you sprained your ankle.”

“No,” Yuri shook his head and tried to get away from Otabek, only tripping in the process. “I’m fine. I can try it again.”

Otabek shook his head. “No you can’t.” He decided, his voice stern. “You need to sit down, Yura. You need to rest.” he tried to lead Yuri to the side of the rink, asking Yakov to get him some first aid supplies. 

Yuri grunted at the pain searing up his leg, but he pushed Otabek away and leaned on the barrier, giving his taller friend a harsh glare. “I’m fine, Beka.” he managed through grinding teeth. “I’m absolutely fine. I need to go out there and try it again!”

“Yuri!” Otabek’s voice boomed through the rink, catching the attention of the other skaters. Lilia’s eyes were wide, yet still hostile. She watched Otabek with a cunning stare. “You need to think about your well being! Stop being an arrogant shit and do something that isn’t ridiculously stupid for once!” Yuri stayed silent, his face twisting in something not quite extreme as fear. Otabek sighed and lowered his voice as he wrapped his arms around him.

“There are only so many times I can watch you break,” he began, holding Yuri tightly in his large arms. His eyes were shut tight, and it looked like he could have cried. “Before I start to crack.”

Yuri’s eyes widened for a moment before his arms found their way around his best friend. He hid his face in Otabek’s chest and nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’ll be careful.”

[netunleashed-blog]

Dwayne Johnson Is Ready For You to See Him Like You Never Have Before (Exclusive)

http://www.internetunleashed.co.uk/?p=2669 Dwayne Johnson Is Ready For You to See Him Like You Never Have Before (Exclusive) - http://www.internetunleashed.co.uk/?p=2669 The crowds amassed in the Hong Kong mall for the premiere of the China-set action flick Skyscraper were packed tens, perhaps hundreds deep, a palpable excitement turning into a deafening roar of applause upon the arrival of a certain sunglasses-bespectacled movie star. "I can't even hear myself talk," co-star Neve Campbell shouted with a smile. "Dwayne Johnson is in the house, evidently."That feeling was very much mutual in the moment. "There’s not a scream, a smile, a tear, a hug, a laugh, more tears, another laugh, another hug that I will ever EVER take for granted," Johnson captioned a photo of himself beaming alongside his screaming, selfie-seeking fans. That is the mentality he's built his entire acting career on. "Our connection is everything to me and I’m boundlessly grateful for this passionate luv," he wrote. "I luv you back."Part of that luving relationship is that Johnson knows what fans want to see from him. In the past year alone, he's starred as the unbreakable Agent Luke Hobbs in The Fate of the Furious, an "elite" "lifeguard" in Baywatch, the video game action avatar Smolder Bravestone in Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle and a primatologist with a giant, mutant gorilla friend in Rampage. Now, he's ready to introduce viewers to a side they haven't seen from him."He said, 'You're not a superhero. You're a wounded hero and you are a man who's gonna barely survive the entire movie,'" Johnson told ET of the conversation he had with writer-director Rawson Marshall Thurber. The night before their premiere, the actor is standing with his "brother" on the banks of the Hong Kong harbor, backlit by the neon lights of the city's many skyscrapers. Thurber chimes in, "People will see him unlike they've ever seen him before. He's so vulnerable. It's his best performance."The plot of Skyscraper is the sort of ludicrously over-the-top, popcorn-worthy premise you have come to expect from Johnson: he stars as a former FBI agent who must rescue his wife (played by Campbell) and their two young children from the eponymous skyscraper -- the tallest, most advanced building in the world -- after it is taken over by terrorists. After collaborating on the action comedy Central Intelligence, Thurber pitched Johnson Skyscraper as an homage to movies like Die Hard and The Fugitive, and Johnson said no."When he pitched me, I said, 'Hey, listen, let me think about it.' I finally called him back and I said, 'I'm so sorry to do this to you. We're already developing a movie based on the world's biggest building,'" the actor remembers. "He goes 'No!' I mean, he was heartbroken. And I was so happy. I hear him just wilt away on the phone. I'm like, 'I'm so sorry, brother. You got a great idea, but we beat you to it.'""I was really depressed. I was super bummed out," Thurber continues the story. "And then Dwayne hangs up on me and about three seconds later my phone rings and its him. He says 'I'm in!' So, hook, line and sinker. I didn't know he was that good of an actor. That sold me."Before you feel too bad for the director, he is getting his revenge now, launching into a bit about how he didn't actually write the role with Johnson in mind but only asked him after everyone else said no. "Tom Cruise said no and then Mark Wahlberg said no and then Kevin Hart said no twice," he jokingly lists off. "Then Melissa McCarthy and Will Ferrell. Arnold Schwarzenegger said no.""See what I gotta put up with?" Johnson erupts into laughter. Universal Pictures So, the story may be right up the actor formerly known as The Rock's alley, but the role Will Sawyer shows a new side to Johnson; he plays a disabled war veteran who lost his lower leg in an explosion. It's a responsibility Johnson took to heart, doing research and finding inspiration in the Paralympian and first U.S. amputee to climb Mount Everest, Jeff Glasbrenner. ("He told himself, 'It's not gonna be the excuse for me not to do things in my life. It's gonna be the reason why I do do things in life.'") Sawyer is also a family man with the (mostly) realistic skill set that entails. "He has to use his ingenuity to get the job done," Johnson says. "Compared to fighting his way through the building." He doesn't put his life on the line knowing he will come out the other end but does so anyway for the sake of his family. (For the record, Campell kicks her share of ass in this, too.)While the character is only human, it wouldn't be a Dwayne Johnson movie without some insane stuntwork, including one particular crane sequence that has been heavily teased in the trailers. "Hopefully, fingers crossed, it becomes an iconic moment," Johnson smiles. "Take a friend if you're afraid of heights. Or if you have vertigo, take a friend." When a fire erupts in the building, Johnson must leap from a super crane over the fireline and into the skyscraper, some 98 floors up."We built the top of a crane. I was suspended maybe 30, 40 feet in the air," Johnson recalls. "I was wired, but I still did it. Ran, jumped off. One take. I told [Thurber] I only had one take because years ago, I tore the top of my quad and my adductor from my pelvis, so it's hard for me to get a good jump off." To make sure he got the footage he needed, the director set up a number of cameras and Johnson jumped, once. "That's what you see in the movie."At the end of the premiere's red carpet, after Johnson had met and greeted his fans, he was welcomed with a traditional Chinese dragon dance, with large, colorful felt heads snaking around a stage as confetti fluttered downwards. "For luck and prosperity," he explained on Instagram of the dance's significance. Not that he needs either. With Skyscraper hitting theaters on July 13, Johnson already has plenty of prosperity on its way, with little luck required: the sequel to the mega-hit Jumanji, set to begin filming early next year; a Fast and the Furious spin-off centered on Hobbs and Jason Statham's Deckard Shaw, with Idris Elba recently cast as the villain ("He and I have been waiting a long time to work with each other"); and Red Notice, about an Interpol agent tasked with capturing the most-wanted art thief in the world, which co-stars Gal Gadot and will be written and directed by Thurber."He won't stop calling, 'What do you got next, man? I need it,'" Thurber imitates Johnson, before continuing the bit that he tried to get anyone and everyone else to star in the movie. "Chris Hemsworth, yes," Johnson grinned. "Ryan Gosling.""Anybody," Thurber deadpanned. "Literally anybody."In true Dwayne Johnson nature, he's happy to joke around, but never at the expense of sincerity. "You know, we had a great time on Central Intelligence. Skyscraper, we had a great time, too," he adds, earnestly, of his connection with Thurber. "Look, I've gotten to a point in my career, and that point is that life's too short and work is too important to, excuse my language, work with assholes" -- and, of course, candy asses -- "So, I refuse to do that."RELATED CONTENT: Dwayne Johnson Triggers Fan Mania Inside Massive 'Skyscraper' Premiere in Hong Kong! (Exclusive) Dwayne Johnson Jokes He Set Up His Former Co-Stars Nick Jonas and Priyanka Chopra (Exclusive) Dwayne Johnson on Taking Political Meetings and the Possibility of Running for President (Exclusive) Source link

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/mark-zuckerberg-harvard-speech-full-text/

Mark Zuckerberg Harvard Speech full text

Mark Zuckerberg returned to Harvard, the place that inspired him to drop out and become the founder and CEO of Facebook. He addressed the 366th class of Harvard University Thursday. These speeches he's been doing has led some to wonder if he's considering a run as President in 2020. To see how far he's come, check out his very first interview on television just below. You can read the full text of his speech here. You can also see the highlights and best memorable quotes here. President Faust, Board of Overseers, faculty, alumni, friends, proud parents, members of the ad board and graduates of the greatest university in the world... I'm honored to be with you today, because let's face it, you accomplished something I never could. If I get through this speech, it'll be the first time I actually finish something at Harvard. Class of 2017, congratulations! I'm an unlikely speaker, not just because I dropped out, but because we're technically in the same generation. We walked this yard less than a decade apart, studied the same ideas and slept through the same Ec10 lectures. We may have taken different paths to get here, especially if you came all the way from the Quad, but today I want to share what I've learned about our generation and the world we're building together. But first, the last couple of days have brought back a lot of good memories. How many of you remember exactly what you were doing when you got that email telling you that you got into Harvard? I was playing "Civilization" and I ran downstairs, got my dad, and for some reason, his reaction was to video me opening the email. That could have been a really sad video. I swear, getting into Harvard is still the thing my parents are most proud of me for. What about your first lecture at Harvard? Mine was Computer Science 121 with the incredible Harry Lewis. I was late, so I threw on a t-shirt and didn't realize until afterwards it was inside out and backwards with my tag sticking out the front. I couldn't figure out why no one would talk to me — except one guy, KX Jin, he just went with it. We ended up doing our problem sets together, and now he runs a big part of Facebook. And that, Class of 2017, is why you should be nice to people. But my best memory from Harvard was meeting Priscilla. I had just launched this prank website Facemash, and the ad board wanted to "see me." Everyone thought I was going to get kicked out. My parents came to help me pack. My friends threw me a going away party. As luck would have it, Priscilla was at that party with her friend. We met in line for the bathroom in the Pfoho Belltower, and in what must be one of the all time romantic lines, I said: "I'm going to get kicked out in three days, so we need to go on a date quickly." Actually, any of you graduating can use that line. I didn't end up getting kicked out — I did that to myself. Priscilla and I started dating. And you know, that movie made it seem like Facemash was so important to creating Facebook. It wasn't. But without Facemash I wouldn't have met Priscilla, and she's the most important person in my life, so you could say it was the most important thing I built in my time here. We've all started lifelong friendships here, and some of us even families. That's why I'm so grateful to this place. Thanks, Harvard. Today I want to talk about purpose. But I'm not here to give you the standard commencement about finding your purpose. We're millennials. We'll try to do that instinctively. Instead, I'm here to tell you finding your purpose isn't enough. The challenge for our generation is creating a world where everyone has a sense of purpose. One of my favorite stories is when John F. Kennedy visited the NASA space center, he saw a janitor carrying a broom and he walked over and asked what he was doing. The janitor responded: "Mr. President, I'm helping put a man on the moon." Purpose is that sense that we are part of something bigger than ourselves, that we are needed, that we have something better ahead to work for. Purpose is what creates true happiness. You're graduating at a time when this is especially important. When our parents graduated, purpose reliably came from your job, your church, your community. But today, technology and automation are eliminating many jobs. Membership in communities is declining. Many people feel disconnected and depressed and are trying to fill a void. As I've traveled around, I've sat with children in juvenile detention and opioid addicts, who told me their lives could have turned out differently if they just had something to do, an after school program or somewhere to go. I've met factory workers who know their old jobs aren't coming back and are trying to find their place. To keep our society moving forward, we have a generational challenge — to not only create new jobs, but create a renewed sense of purpose. I remember the night I launched Facebook from my little dorm in Kirkland House. I went to Noch's with my friend KX. I remember telling him I was excited to connect the Harvard community, but one day someone would connect the whole world. The thing is, it never even occurred to me that someone might be us. We were just college kids. We didn't know anything about that. There were all these big technology companies with resources. I just assumed one of them would do it. But this idea was so clear to us — that all people want to connect. So we just kept moving forward, day by day. I know a lot of you will have your own stories just like this. A change in the world that seems so clear, you're sure someone else will do it. But they won't. You will. But it's not enough to have purpose yourself. You have to create a sense of purpose for others. I found that out the hard way. You see, my hope was never to build a company, but to make an impact. And as all these people started joining us, I just assumed that's what they cared about too, so I never explained what I hoped we'd build. A couple years in, some big companies wanted to buy us. I didn't want to sell. I wanted to see if we could connect more people. We were building the first News Feed, and I thought if we could just launch this, it could change how we learn about the world. Nearly everyone else wanted to sell. Without a sense of higher purpose, this was the startup dream come true. It tore our company apart. After one tense argument, an advisor told me if I didn't agree to sell, I would regret the decision for the rest of my life. Relationships were so frayed that within a year or so, every single person on the management team was gone. That was my hardest time leading Facebook. I believed in what we were doing, but I felt alone. And worse, it was my fault. I wondered if I was just wrong, an impostor, a 22-year-old kid who had no idea how the world worked. Now, years later, I understand that is how things work with no sense of higher purpose. It's up to us to create it, so we can all keep moving forward together. Today I want to talk about three ways to create a world where everyone has a sense of purpose: by taking on big meaningful projects together, by redefining equality so everyone has the freedom to pursue purpose and by building community across the world. First, let's take on big meaningful projects. Our generation will have to deal with tens of millions of jobs replaced by automation like self-driving cars and trucks. But we have the potential to do so much more together. Every generation has its defining works. More than 300,000 people worked to put a man on the moon – including that janitor. Millions of volunteers immunized children around the world against polio. Millions of more people built the Hoover dam and other great projects. These projects didn't just provide purpose for the people doing those jobs, they gave our whole country a sense of pride that we could do great things. Now it's our turn to do great things. I know, you're probably thinking: I don't know how to build a dam, or get a million people involved in anything. But let me tell you a secret: no one does when they begin. Ideas don't come out fully formed. They only become clear as you work on them. You just have to get started. If I had to understand everything about connecting people before I began, I never would have started Facebook. Movies and pop culture get this all wrong. The idea of a single eureka moment is a dangerous lie. It makes us feel inadequate since we haven't had ours. It prevents people with seeds of good ideas from getting started. Oh, you know what else movies get wrong about innovation? No one writes math formulas on glass. That's not a thing. It's good to be idealistic. But be prepared to be misunderstood. Anyone working on a big vision will get called crazy, even if you end up right. Anyone working on a complex problem will get blamed for not fully understanding the challenge, even though it's impossible to know everything upfront. Anyone taking initiative will get criticized for moving too fast, because there's always someone who wants to slow you down. In our society, we often don't do big things because we're so afraid of making mistakes that we ignore all the things wrong today if we do nothing. The reality is, anything we do will have issues in the future. But that can't keep us from starting. So what are we waiting for? It's time for our generation-defining public works. How about stopping climate change before we destroy the planet and getting millions of people involved manufacturing and installing solar panels? How about curing all diseases and asking volunteers to track their health data and share their genomes? Today we spend 50 times more treating people who are sick than we spend finding cures so people don't get sick in the first place. That makes no sense. We can fix this. How about modernizing democracy so everyone can vote online, and personalizing education so everyone can learn? These achievements are within our reach. Let's do them all in a way that gives everyone in our society a role. Let's do big things, not only to create progress, but to create purpose. So taking on big meaningful projects is the first thing we can do to create a world where everyone has a sense of purpose. The second is redefining equality to give everyone the freedom they need to pursue purpose. Many of our parents had stable jobs throughout their careers. Now we're all entrepreneurial, whether we're starting projects or finding or role. And that's great. Our culture of entrepreneurship is how we create so much progress. Now, an entrepreneurial culture thrives when it's easy to try lots of new ideas. Facebook wasn't the first thing I built. I also built games, chat systems, study tools and music players. I'm not alone. J.K. Rowling got rejected 12 times before publishing Harry Potter. Even Beyoncé had to make hundreds of songs to get "Halo." The greatest successes come from having the freedom to fail. But today, we have a level of wealth inequality that hurts everyone. When you don't have the freedom to take your idea and turn it into a historic enterprise, we all lose. Right now our society is way over-indexed on rewarding success and we don't do nearly enough to make it easy for everyone to take lots of shots. Let's face it: There is something wrong with our system when I can leave here and make billions of dollars in 10 years, while millions of students can't afford to pay off their loans, let alone start a business. Look, I know a lot of entrepreneurs, and I don't know a single person who gave up on starting a business because they might not make enough money. But I know lots of people who haven't pursued dreams because they didn't have a cushion to fall back on if they failed. We all know we don't succeed just by having a good idea or working hard. We succeed by being lucky too. If I had to support my family growing up instead of having time to code, if I didn't know I'd be fine if Facebook didn't work out, I wouldn't be standing here today. If we're honest, we all know how much luck we've had. Every generation expands its definition of equality. Previous generations fought for the vote and civil rights. They had the New Deal and Great Society. Now it's our time to define a new social contract for our generation. We should have a society that measures progress not just by economic metrics like GDP, but by how many of us have a role we find meaningful. We should explore ideas like universal basic income to give everyone a cushion to try new things. We're going to change jobs many times, so we need affordable childcare to get to work and healthcare that aren't tied to one company. We're all going to make mistakes, so we need a society that focuses less on locking us up or stigmatizing us. And as technology keeps changing, we need to focus more on continuous education throughout our lives. And yes, giving everyone the freedom to pursue purpose isn't free. People like me should pay for it. Many of you will do well and you should too. That's why Priscilla and I started the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative and committed our wealth to promoting equal opportunity. These are the values of our generation. It was never a question of if we were going to do this. The only question was when. Millennials are already one of the most charitable generations in history. In one year, three of four U.S. millennials made a donation and seven out of 10 raised money for charity. But it's not just about money. You can also give time. I promise you, if you take an hour or two a week — that's all it takes to give someone a hand, to help them reach their potential. Maybe you think that's too much time. I used to. When Priscilla graduated from Harvard she became a teacher, and before she'd do education work with me, she told me I needed to teach a class. I complained: "Well, I'm kind of busy. I'm running this company." But she insisted, so I taught a middle school program on entrepreneurship at the local Boys and Girls Club. I taught them lessons on product development and marketing, and they taught me what it's like feeling targeted for your race and having a family member in prison. I shared stories from my time in school, and they shared their hope of one day going to college too. For five years now, I've been having dinner with those kids every month. One of them threw me and Priscilla our first baby shower. And next year they're going to college. Every one of them. First in their families. We can all make time to give someone a hand. Let's give everyone the freedom to pursue their purpose — not only because it's the right thing to do, but because when more people can turn their dreams into something great, we're all better for it. Purpose doesn't only come from work. The third way we can create a sense of purpose for everyone is by building community. And when our generation says "everyone," we mean everyone in the world. Quick show of hands: How many of you are from another country? Now, how many of you are friends with one of these folks? Now we're talking. We have grown up connected. In a survey asking millennials around the world what defines our identity, the most popular answer wasn't nationality, religion or ethnicity, it was "citizen of the world." That's a big deal. Every generation expands the circle of people we consider "one of us." For us, it now encompasses the entire world. We understand the great arc of human history bends towards people coming together in ever greater numbers — from tribes to cities to nations — to achieve things we couldn't on our own. We get that our greatest opportunities are now global — we can be the generation that ends poverty, that ends disease. We get that our greatest challenges need global responses too -- no country can fight climate change alone or prevent pandemics. Progress now requires coming together not just as cities or nations, but also as a global community. But we live in an unstable time. There are people left behind by globalization across the world. It's hard to care about people in other places if we don't feel good about our lives here at home. There's pressure to turn inwards. This is the struggle of our time. The forces of freedom, openness and global community against the forces of authoritarianism, isolationism and nationalism. Forces for the flow of knowledge, trade and immigration against those who would slow them down. This is not a battle of nations, it's a battle of ideas. There are people in every country for global connection and good people against it. This isn't going to be decided at the U.N. either. It's going to happen at the local level, when enough of us feel a sense of purpose and stability in our own lives that we can open up and start caring about everyone. The best way to do that is to start building local communities right now. We all get meaning from our communities. Whether our communities are houses or sports teams, churches or music groups, they give us that sense we are part of something bigger, that we are not alone; they give us the strength to expand our horizons. That's why it's so striking that for decades, membership in all kinds of groups has declined as much as one-quarter. That's a lot of people who now need to find purpose somewhere else. But I know we can rebuild our communities and start new ones because many of you already are. I met Agnes Igoye, who's graduating today. Where are you, Agnes? She spent her childhood navigating conflict zones in Uganda, and now she trains thousands of law enforcement officers to keep communities safe. I met Kayla Oakley and Niha Jain, graduating today too. Stand up. Kayla and Niha started a non-profit that connects people suffering from illnesses with people in their communities willing to help. I met David Razu Aznar, graduating from the Kennedy School today. David, stand up. He's a former city councilor who successfully led the battle to make Mexico City the first Latin American city to pass marriage equality — even before San Francisco. This is my story too. A student in a dorm room, connecting one community at a time, and keeping at it until one day we connect the whole world. Change starts local. Even global changes start small — with people like us. In our generation, the struggle of whether we connect more, whether we achieve our biggest opportunities, comes down to this — your ability to build communities and create a world where every single person has a sense of purpose. Class of 2017, you are graduating into a world that needs purpose. It's up to you to create it. Now, you may be thinking: can I really do this? Remember when I told you about that class I taught at the Boys and Girls Club? One day after class I was talking to them about college, and one of my top students raised his hand and said he wasn't sure he could go because he's undocumented. He didn't know if they'd let him in. Last year I took him out to breakfast for his birthday. I wanted to get him a present, so I asked him and he started talking about students he saw struggling and said "You know, I'd really just like a book on social justice." I was blown away. Here's a young guy who has every reason to be cynical. He didn't know if the country he calls home -- the only one he's known — would deny him his dream of going to college. But he wasn't feeling sorry for himself. He wasn't even thinking of himself. He has a greater sense of purpose, and he's going to bring people along with him. It says something about our current situation that I can't even say his name because I don't want to put him at risk. But if a high school senior who doesn't know what the future holds can do his part to move the world forward, then we owe it to the world to do our part too. Before you walk out those gates one last time, as we sit in front of Memorial Church, I am reminded of a prayer, Mi Shebeirach, that I say whenever I face a challenge, that I sing to my daughter thinking about her future when I tuck her into bed. It goes: "May the source of strength, who blessed the ones before us, help us *find the courage* to make our lives a blessing." I hope you find the courage to make your life a blessing. Congratulations, Class of '17! Good luck out there.

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