#football is less art more math now. numbers numbers numbers

[meowmeowmessi]

Please don't speak Haaland breaking Leo's 91 goal record into existence 😭 nothing against him but it kind of doesn't sit right with me??? Don't know if you know how I mean it

no worries anon as the president of messi fc pep'll kneecap him the moment he reaches 90 goals and he'll be out for two whole seasons #trust

[the-last-millenial-disaster]

Hi!!! I love ur headcannons!! Can you make a post on the agents favorite subjects please??

(a/n: Thank you for the ask! I’ll assume you mean school subjects? Because that’s what I’ll be doing)

Okay we’re gonna go in proper order.

Brimstone: History nerd. Popped off at every single US history quiz there was, had and still does vast trivia knowledge of world’s history and excelled in any political science related debate topic. Even in the army, he made time to pick up a book now and then.

Viper: You’re not going to believe this but...chemistry. Who would have thought. She was impossible to beat.

Omen: Physical science. I can’t list the exact subject since we dont really know where he went to school, but I always headcannoned him as someone who ended up majoring in Physics.

Killjoy: Math and Computer science. Mainly because it was easy for her. She taught herself programming way before they brought it up in school. She can remember numbers like noone’s business. Killjoy really enjoyed math since she could always come to a logical conclusion, and numbers just made sense to her (as much as many would argue otherwise).

Cypher: He could never keep his fingers from fiddling with something, so he took a liking to technology. It introduced him to a world of possibilities. If he got anything less than top marks in math he would beat himself up about it for weeks. Cypher was one of those talented students that didn’t have to try to excel. He became fluent in French before his sweet 17 (if you didn’t know french is mandatory in Moroccan schools). But like it often happens with ‘gifted’ children, school started catching up to him as he neared the end of his general secondary school. Due to his uh...unlawful commitment he continued his education by himself from 18 forward.

Sova: Homeschooled, since he was brought up in literal tundra. Adores Russian literature and, as a matter of fact, has the biggest book collection in the entire V.P. base. Big enough for them to start calling it The Library. Collection cosists of books in various languages, english alphabet and Cyrilllic script. He liked natural sciences too, but he learned all of that in practice, on the hunt.

Sage: Sage loved social sciences, especially philosophy. She also adored Arts and is still a very talented artist.

Phoenix: PE. I mean. What did you expect exactly. He was quite popular, and played football (soccer not whatever Americans think they’re doing) on the school team.

Jett: Well...for her it’s a bit complicated. South Korea demands a lot from their students, the enviornment is incredibly competitive. Jett really wanted to be an athlete, she excelled in any physical activity. Unfortunately, her parent(s) didn’t support her, so she had to become what they wanted her to be. That caused her to hate school, hate her parent(s), and go trough a long rebellious phase she never truly grew out of.

Reyna: She was generally uninterested in school and never had a favourite subject. However, she enjoyed the competitive nature of PE.

Raze: Chemistry. Raze was always a curious person. Her interests changed constantly, until she found out how to make things explode. Then her interests varied only for the things she could throw high up in the air.

Breach: Ok ok I know what you guys are expecting, but his favourite subject wasn’t PE. They barely let him go to a normal school, since he didn’t have the high tech prosthesis when he was a kid. Breach was always somehow excluded from the PE classes and the only feeling he can associate with that class is loneliness. Instead, teenage Breach focused more on subjects that were more theory than practice. He loved Swedish. He loved English. In the last couple years of high school, he got his first advanced prosthesis. That’s when he started to take a liking to everything that helped him improve his motorics. He started with higher intensity sports and became the Breach you know and love.

Skye: Now here’s a born and raised naturallist. She was always curious about the environment and as a result excelled in environmental studies, along with Indigenous studies and Geography. Being a very outdoorsy person she would have been fine with school, if only they didn’t make her sit in one place for six hours.

(A/N: The amount of research I did for this ask beats my school related search history. Not sure if that’s good or bad. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! My inbox is always open for new requests or just saying hello. Seriously, the amount of serotonin that releases after I get an ask is ridiculous.

I wanted to thank all of the people who are following me, the support you have shown me is greatly appreciated and motivating.

The upcoming posts will include:

Reyna headcannons

Theory post about Omen & Viper

Sova Headcannons

I plan to eventually do all of them, but if you’d like me to start working on some earlier, let me know. Right now I’m just making them in random order.)

[mychemicalficrecs]

Hiya! Not sure if you do this, but would you be able to suggest some non-ao3 finished frerard fics? It seems I've read ao3's entire collection 😅 Thank you so much, you're honestly my favourite blog on here xx

Thanks for your kind words, Nonny! And... congratz on reading the entire ao3 tag, there are a lot of works there :D

Frank/Gerard is such a popular ship that I was actually able to find quite a lot from outside ao3.

Non-AO3 Frank/Gerard

Thing-Thing by sinsense, 43k, NC-17. When Gerard signed the admissions paperwork for the Fordhaven School for Boys, he knew he was signing up for four years of sexual frustration. No one was gay at Fordhaven. Gerard was all-too-aware that he would be a virgin until he graduated. In his senior year, though, this stupid gay freshman disproves Fordhaven's straightness, and throws Gerard's entire world off-kilter. Now, in between drawing, avoiding bullies, running an incredibly serious tabletop RP game, failing out of math, and hanging out with friends, Gerard is also busy kind of falling for this asshole who's way too young for him. It's not what he planned on, but it's what's happening. In conclusion: high school sucks.

I Think I Thought (I Saw You Try) by thatsfinewithus, ~3,000, NC-17. Welcome to some weird AU world in which Gee only does awesome comics and Frank is a vampire.

They Came From Outer Jersey! by thatsfinewithus, 25k, R. New London Fire is an elite fringe government force assigned the task of protecting the earth from some of its more interesting threats: those from beyond the atmosphere or even the universe. They've handled dangerous cases before, but they've never seen anything like...ZOMBIES FROM SPACE. Vampires, long hunted in lore and legend, are now the earth's only saviors. There is little information as to who sent the creatures until Mikey Way, head of the NLF, finds out more by being abducted. Is it too late for him? Is it too late for the earth? Find out how six vampires, one government general, and one frustrated comic book artist save the earth in...THEY CAME FROM OUTER JERSEY!!

I never told you what I do for a living. by not0_fuckin_kay, 60k+, PG-13 to NC-17. Frank Iero, male nurse at Pete Wentz's private hospital and possibly more to one new patient he can't keep his eyes off of. When a new pateint is brought in with amnesia, just days before Christmas, and with nothing but the clothes on his back and a strange drawing, it's left to Frank to find out who he is and what happened to him. When he does, it changes Frank's life forever, as he's thrust into love and health scares he never thought would complicate his life. This is the story of how he tries to make it through, juggling his job and his love-life and just trying to make things better. With Patrick the doctor, Bob the ward supervisor, Travis the unlikely therapist, and Mikey, the sometimes wannabe homicidal geek.

Of All The Hidden Corners by moneyes, ~44K, PG-13. An epic, adventurous tale filled with alternate universes, lords, mischief, magical powers, snark, boyfriends, and luck of the bad kind.

All We Are by lightisbreaking, 21k, R. Set in the future, where humans are on the brink of evolution. For the select few born with a special awareness of their own minds - an awareness which gives them abilities beyond the norm, life is suddenly a very dangerous thing. Frightened of what this could mean, the government set out to make this new race of humans extinct, telling the public that these people are mentally unstable defectives and must be kept under observation for the safety of the public. All of this brings together a rather odd troupe of people, hiding from the government and eventually having to protect one of their own when he's taken into custody. Superpowers AU!

Tell Us a Story by bexless, imogenedisease, 32k, NC-17. The world as these kids know it is ending, and Gabe Saporta is throwing the party. High school AU based on the movie Can't Hardly Wait.

Stay Right Here by idktbh, swagneto, 28k, R. Frank is involved in an accident which renders him paralyzed from the waist down. When Frank begins to withdraw into himself, his relationship with Gerard crumbles and the band faces the hardest decision they'll ever make: whether to continue playing or not. This is a story about how MCR copes with the biggest obstacle of their career so far.

Return to Spirit Lake by inpurity, 22k, R. Gerard Way has left Spirit Lake when he was eighteen to study to become a veterinary surgeon, and with no intention of ever coming back. Twelve years later he is back, carrying secrets of a life spent away from his family and friends, and the weight of a dark, painful sorrow. His old home town has not changed, but his life, and the lives of the people he will meet along the way, will never be the same.

These Friday Night Lights by faux-disco-sins, 21k, PG-13. Gerard is the head cheerleader and wears the cheer skirt, Frank is on the football team, Pete is the school mascot, Ryan is the school’s hobo journalist, Jon does photography for the yearbook, Spencer and Patrick are in the marching band, Gabe and Ray are AV techs who do a ESPN spin-off for the school, Bob is the big scary lineman, and Mikey tries to fit in while ignoring the fact that his older brother is wearing a skirt in public.

Of Love And Superpowers by mcrnut, 20k, NC-17. Seventeen year old Frank Iero is in his last year at Mutant High. He has a couple of good friends, is doing okay in school and even though he has some issues with his Mother, life is pretty great. That is, until one day, when he overhears some of the professors talking about the well-known Anti-Mutant organization HSA and how they have already broken into two Mutant Academies and are heading their way. Frank and his friends have to stick their heads together and try to solve the mystery, and as if Frank didn't have enough to think about already, he finds himself falling for his friend's older brother, Gerard.

Cypress Grove by slashxyouxup, 24k+, NC17. My Chemical Romance fight off a town of sperm hoarding, men hating, PMSing maniac women in order to save themselves from certain doom! Also, Frank and Gerard get closer than close while pretending to not be completely in love with each other. Mikeyway is not amused.

Sleepwalker by lyrical_tragedy, 73k, NC-17. Frank Iero is one of the best cops in New Jersey so it’s only natural that his boss dumps a seemingly unsolvable case on him and his colleague Bob Bryar. With no leads whatsoever Frank enlists the help of Gerard Way, a reclusive young man who experiences strong visions and dreams of events from the past and visions of the future. However, none of them could ever begin to expect the terrifying chain of events that come into play once they delve deeper into the unknown, questioning Frank’s very beliefs on what the world actually holds. A story of visions, sacrifices, over protective brothers and love all in the midst of the attempted destruction of the world. The devil’s got your number and he will come calling, until it’s nothing more than hell on earth.

Patience Is A Virtue (You Might Be Good Looking, But You Can’t Sleep With Yourself Tonight) by eflorentino, 22k, NC-17. Frank Iero’s biggest hero is Gerard Way; the outspoken, obnoxious lead singer of the multi-platinum selling band My Chemical Romance. His world changes completely when he finds himself suddenly shoved into the limelight, playing sell-out shows every night and earning more than his usual $6 an hour. However, the infamously homophobic frontman isn’t what Frank expects, and after mixed signals and unsolved revelations he learns that, with Gerard Way, things are never simple.

But Nobody Cares If You're Losing Yourself by red_ones_fly, 16k, NC-17. It took me a while to work out that there was something wrong with Gerard, he kept it hidden well and, really, he didn’t even know something was wrong with him. To him it seemed like normal, everyday stuff. He never found any of his behaviour out of the ordinary. To him it was just reality.’ After Gerard's grandma passes away his behaviour becomes strange. He becomes less outgoing and more paranoid. As Frank tries to work out what’s going on with his friend/love interest, between school, learning psychology and dealing with the jocks, he doesn’t realise just how bad it is.

Parks and Recreation by vinvy, 35k+, PG-13. Gerard Way is an art school drop out with no prospects, student loans to pay off, and a dead end job. His mother works too hard and his little brother Mikey is keeping secrets. His boss runs shady contracts and smiles too much. It's nothing special and he tells himself that he'll learn to make peace with that- in the meantime he's got to carve out a living that doesn't involve artwork. Really, he's going to be okay. Then a crazy homeless kid comes along and screws up Gerard's Adventures in Normal Employment with his hippie magic and soulless eyes. Gerard can't shake the feeling that this guy "isn't quite right" but he's too busy fending off the freak accidents that are following him around to worry about that particular winged freak.

Empire Boys by noctecaelum, 30k, NC-17. In the city that never sleeps, it's tough to get your foot in the door. While Gabe Saporta may find it easy to blend into the socialite scene; Gerard Way spends his day blending eyeshadow at Bloomingdales. As newcomer Frank triumphs in Women's Lingerie, Gerard sparks a bitter rivalry in the vicinity of Lexington and 59th; but there's no use crying over spilt coffee because things are about to fire up. Meanwhile, on the Upper East Side, Gabe Saporta is none too pleased to read a socialite-bashing article, but when confronting the writer, he doesn't expect to meet fresh faced, pretty-boy William Beckett, who turns out to be the biggest tease this side of the Downtown Dunkin' Donuts.

The Evolution Index by theficisalie, 32k, NC-17. In a world where superpowers are just another thing that can get you sent to boarding school, Frank Iero and his friends know what it's like to operate under heavy levels of stress. After all, they did spend their formative years under the wings of the United States Government's most widespread and successful initiatives; a program that was created to protect and train young Americans with superpowers to become functioning members of society. And, as a side-benefit, the government realized that not only were telepaths great at taking drink orders, but they could also be trained to be highly successful secret agents. Under the guidance of Frank's volatile and (literally) power-hungry boyfriend Gerard Way; Frank, Mikey Way, and Ray Toro are an accomplished team of super spies. When a handful of people from Frank's sordid past crop up during an investigation of rash Superhuman disappearances across the country, the team finds themselves challenged both on and off the field as they fight to solve the mysteries plaguing their beloved nation. Frank knows all too much about uncovering things that he'd rather keep hidden, but can he and his team unravel the intricate web of crime and kidnapping surrounding Chicago without losing themselves in the process?

A Good Ocean Gone Wrong by xoxxblitz7, 32k, NC-17. Titanic AU - The Way's are one of the richest families in America and sometimes being an artist requires the need to travel. On the doomed maiden voyage of Titanic old friends are found, new love is formed and put to the test and the most luxurious crossing of the Atlantic ocean becomes a fight for survival.

A Fanfiction (In Which Gerard Has A Secret Stash of Star Wars Fanfiction) by sparklefap, 10k, R. Frank finds Gerard's bizarrely erotic Star Wars fanfiction, and is both disturbed and aroused by it. Those feelings won't do for Frank. He seeks revenge.

[mexicanbabe1997]

Maria the mouse

Name: Maria The Mouse (Full name: Maria Antonella Gomez Raffaelli) Age: 17-19 Gender: Feminine Date of Birth: March 31 Sign (horoscope): Aries Height: Undefined Weight: Unknown Type of blood: +B Hair Color: Ocre Eye Color: Green

*FAVORITES*:

Food: Muffins, chocolate, pizza, and pancakes. 

Sport: Swimming

Flower: Gardenia

Music: Rock n’ Roll and Pop (classics from 60’s to 90’s) Color: Blue (mainly the aqua/teal colors), pink, and green.

Hobbies: Singing, drawing, listening to music, eating, resting, reading, writting, exploring new places, swimming, collecting cute stuff, playing video games, brushing her hair, snorkeling, daydreaming, being small, making bead bracelets, skating (she’s an amateur), foiling bad guys, practicing the violin, taking strolls, posing in the mirror, playing dress up, and dancing (she’s taking lessons cuz she’s not that good). 

Likes: Music, hot chocolate, books and mangas, pastries, adventures, freedom, tranquility, having friends and family, flowers, animals, Damien, her sister (Dana), shabby chic style, art, perfumes, bubble baths, video games, city lights, comedy-romantic movies, justice, Sonic, Tails, having fun, cute boys, romance, fantasy stories, helping people, bravery, magic (she believes in it), rainy days, brownies, hide and seek (in mouse size), roller coasters, tomboy girls (she admires them), travels, ocean, the beach, aquariums, tours, ballet (when she was little), comfy socks, and cute shiny things. 

Subject: Calligraphy, art and music

*LESS FAVORITES*:

Food: Gherkins, soda, and coffee

Sport: American football Music: Reggaeton

Color: Lilac Dislikes: Mean people, backstabbers, blood (she suffers from hemophobia), being confused for a rat, horror-gore movies, injuries, darkness, algebra books (They always make her fall asleep), disrespect, bullies, snobbishness, braggarts, know-it-alls (but she can make some exceptions, like Tails for example), leeches, balls (she always gets hitted in the face), people messing with her friends, Dana acting overbearing, her hair getting ruined, people fearing her for being a mouse, being taken pictures, being called a “weakling”, not having a family, suffering, injustice, Eggman’s evil plans, cheaters, harassment, cowards, stealing, manipulators, being insulted, getting kidnapped, cold weather, storms, animal abuse, feeling left out, not having friends, getting lost, exterminators, mouse traps, bees (she had a bad experience with one), rice pudding, getting pranked, shallowness, letting people down, and when people say that rodents are nothing but “pests”. 

Subject: Mathematics and physics.

*PERSONAL INFO*:

Personality: She’s a cheerful although very shy girl, curious, kind-hearted, tender, headstrong, and energetic. Despite being shy with those she doesn’t know well (especially boys), she is honest, feisty, passionate, sweet, caring, respectful, and friendly. She tends to be rather clumsy sometimes and can get innocent to the point of being somewhat clueless, but don’t let that fool you cuz she isn’t stupid. However, she also has a very bad temper and is very impatient and stubborn, she can also get sassy or capricious and sometimes throws tantrums when things don’t go her way. She also has a grudgy side, and can become insensible, harsh, unforgiving, and cold if you hurt her feelings a lot or if she feels betrayed. Despites those flaws, she also has a huge heart, is fun loving, sensible, very femenine and never forgets her manners when saying “thank you”, she enjoys the outdoors and likes the flora and fauna as much as her hair, and knows when to apoligize if she really messed up at something. When facing dangerous situations she can act and be pretty serious, tough, brave, tomboyish, and determinated whenever the situation requires it, and always refuses to give up on a friend in danger. She finds family as the most important thing to her as well as her friends and will go to any lenghts to protect them. She’s also either amorous or a hopeless romantic, gaining many crushes on cute guys who get her attention, though she always ends up getting single at the end, but that dosen’t stop her from believing in love and having a good future.

History: She was the youngest member on her family, having two parents and an older sister named Dana. She lived in a sheltered yet comfortable lifestyle, she was dearly loved and cared by her parents and sister, she had a beautiful house and lots of toys to play with. However, she was far from being social, and rather then playing with other kids she prefered to stay at home and either play with her toys, watching tv, drawing, or reading books. She was a very calm yet withdrawn girl, unable to speak with other people or kids. The other kids always thought that she was a snob for the way she acted and often tried to prevent being around her, others also said that she was odd. Both her parents loved her and she also loved them back, she also liked and admired her older sister so much because she always protected her. One day she was sent along with her older sister to visit her grandmother out of town, at a luxurious villa. Maria was a bit sad for leaving her parents but they promised that it would be only for a week. But then weeks passed and the two sisters didn’t heard anything from their parents. Dana knew something was wrong so she went to investigate but never returned. Maria was depressed for sometime but with some help from her relatives she was finally able to move on and live happily, though deep inside she still felt depressed for not having her parents nor her sister with her.

Powers and abilities: Electrokinesis, good sense of smell and hearing (when concentrated enough), can shrink to the size of a real life mouse and go back in size at will, manipulation and control of machines and electronics, speed, excellent swimmer, good stealth when being small, can climb the walls thanks to static, magnetism and can magnetize any metalic objects, create thunderstorms, Railgun anime-like ability to shoot nuts and bolts like a powerful laser cannon, using her powers she can create weapons out of the metal and minerals of the floor, summoning thunders, create plasma, and can also shrink other people and back to their original size as well.

Weaknesses: Magnets can block her powers and in magnetic fields she is stripped of them. When she suffers from fever her powers are uncontrollable, she becomes overcharged and makes electronics go high wire. Whenever a lightning falls on her, her powers dissapear for at least a week. Since she’s innocent this also gives her a naive streak, as she can get pranked or fooled easily by Phoebe. Since she isn’t an animal of artic weather, this makes her untolerable to cold, and when in extreme freezing temperatures she can get mortally weak or faint due to losing heat. When small she is prone to be highly vulnerable to many things (extreme cold or hot temperatures, hits, falls, or poison), she also has to restrain eating chocolate unless necessary, cuz it grows her back to her normal size which can become troublesome sometimes. Instrument: Violin Romantic Interests: Damien, Blasco, Fido, Sonic and Shadow.  

Best Friends: Phoebe, Irving, Damien, Nova, Serah, Dana, Sonic, Tails, Fido, Clarissa, Cat-O, Lisa, The barker gang, Blasco, Thomas, Jake, Chase, Indigo, and the Freedom Fighters.

Enemies: Dr. Eggman, Pearl, Crystal Maria, Dr. M, Fallz, Voidless, Edna, Amadeus, Dimensi, Evan, and other bad guys. Paraphernalia: A photo of her parents (her only clue to find them), a comb, and her cellphone. Hometown : Twilight city (formerly)

Family: Silvana (Mother), Salvatore (Father), Dana (Older sister), Stella (Maternal aunt), Rupert (Maternal uncle), and Maternal Grandmother.

Dream: To find her family.

*INTERESTING FACTS (TRIVIA)*:

* Maria’s voice (English): https://youtu.be/b3DaGbMBgAY

* Her characteristics and personality somewhat reseamble that of a “Majo-Shojo” (Magical Girl). Also many of her features are mainly inspired by some of them, like Serena/Usagi Tsukino from Sailor Moon, Sakura Kinomoto from Sakura Card Captor, Momoko/Blossom (Demashita! Powerpuff girls Z), and Doremi Harukaze from Ojamajo Doremi. 

* She’s a very good singer but at first she keeps it to herself due to stage fright. However, she slowly started to get over it and her voice is now recognized by many people.

* Though she likes to be a femenine girl, she also dosen’t mind and is not afraid to do tomboyish stuff either, like climbing trees, playing in the dirt, and doing other kinds of sports (some of which she isn’t very good at, especially when it involves a ball). * She’s extremelly bad at math or anything academical that is related to it. She’s also terrible with computers and dosen’t seem to understand them to that much of an extent then Tails. * She has bad luck with balls, in sports she always get hited in the face, to the point where Phoebe mockingly stated to her that her face was a “Ball magnet”. * Phoebe calls her a “Goofy rat” and Maria in return calls her a “Ruffian princess”. * Her favourite number is 3. * Maria shrinks herself whenever she wants to do things like hidding, eating things in a more bigger perspective, surprising people, helping out, going on adventures and wearing the cute dolls clothes. * When she gets either dizzy or drunk, she has one ear up and the other one is down. * Whenever she goes into a battle, she always takes off her headband to show how serious she is and when it’s over she puts it back. * Maria is a DD bra size. * Her favourite gemstone is the aquamarine. * If her hair gets either cut or burned by someone, Maria goes violent mode and gives a great beatdown to whoever did it. * She is actually very witty when it comes to saving the day, can be sarcastic and is not dumb at all. * She’s allergic to peanuts. * In one of her pockets she always carries around a comb and a compact mirror, while in the other she has the picture of her parents and a cellphone. She also has inner pockets where she stores some coins she finds. * Maria loves animals and can sometimes be found either playing with them or giving them food. She has also went out of her way to rescue them from Eggman. * She uses her own hoodie as a home; she simply takes it off and puts it into place, then she just shrinks and goes in it. She also created her very own bed with some cottons for pillows, a sponge for mattress and a cutted sock for sheet. * Maria and Phoebe’s relationship reminiscence to the one of Serena/Usagi and Rini/Chibiusa from Sailor Moon. * Although Maria is very kind and whatnot, she has several issues when trying to express her feelings openly to the people. She can even be reserved sometimes, including with her close friends, because she feel it is rather complicated to talk to people or she simply dosen’t want to make any squabbles. But the truth is that she dosen’t know how to do it well, since she was not that sociable in her childhood. But she always defends what she believes in, is emotional and is not afraid to spill what she thinks when she feels brave enough or when the situation requires it. * Maria once went to ballet when she was 4 years old, but eventually quited doing it. * She can speak spanish, but just a bit and can say phrases like: “Hola” (Hello), “Amigo, Amiga” (boyfriend or girlfriend) , “Adiós” (Goodbye), “Lo siento” (I’m sorry) and “Gracias” (Thank you). * She always wanted to meet a magical creature. * Maria’s real dream is to have a real home, having someone to love and that loves her back and a family who loves and cares for her in order to have a happy life.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Back to Haunt Me

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 12301

Summary: Simon Snow hasn't heard from his former roommate in years. So when he gets a call from him, he's equal parts confused and intrigued. Based on "I called you at 2am because I need you" request from @god-themself

Read on AO3

AN: I'm really sorry for how long these requests are taking, oy. Every time I start writing, the fic ends up getting longer and my stupid body decides to crap out and not work. Anyway, here's the latest fic. Hope you enjoy it :)

———————————————

Simon

I’m sitting upside down on my couch when I get the call.

It’s not something I do too often, just when I’m really, really stuck on something. I say that ideas pool in my feet and this lets them trickle down to my head. Penny thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous. She says it will give me headaches, and it does, but it also helps. I’ve been stuck for an hour on coming up with new lessons. This is my last resort.

So I’m laying upside down on my small couch, legs up in the air, face turning a very bright shade of red. My glasses slipped off a while ago, making me essentially blind to anything more than five feet away. My mind is swimming with new ideas for maths games and art projects, the mental images almost swirling past my blurry vision.

And when I’m deep in contemplation a new history Kahoot, my phone blares out my “Toxic” ringtone. (Britney is amazing and haters can fuck off.) I flip up way too fast, making my vision spin like water in a toilet bowl. I paw at my phone while I wobble back and forth. With the combination of my glasses on the floor and blood rushing from my head, I don’t bother to read the caller ID. Or lack thereof.

“Hello?” I say shakily, still clutching my head.

“Siiiiimon,” a low, slurring, strangely familiar voice says. Is a student prank calling me again? Dammit, I thought I scolded them enough.

“Jeremy, if that’s you, this isn’t funny. This is my personal mobile and you-”

“Aw, did you already forget me, Snow?” the person continues, and my heart suddenly freezes. “It hasn’t been that long has it? Only seven years.”

My jaw drops and I sit ramrod straight. Every vein in my body turns ice cold. Holy. Fucking, Shit. “Baz?!”

“Yes, it is I. Good evening, Snow,” he snorts, but there’s still that weird waver to his voice.

“A-Are you drunk?”

“Ding ding, we have a winner in every category,” he giggles. Fucking giggles. I don’t think I ever heard him let out so much as a chuckle in all the years I lived with him. He must be very drunk.

“Um, how did you get my number?”

“Remember when you got mysterious calls supposedly from the Babadook when we were fifteen? Surprise! That was me! Got your mobile off the school registry.”

My mouth falls open even more. “I knew that was you!”

“Duh!” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “Shush! Yes, I actually have him on the line. I’ll get him to come.” He’s definitely not talking to me. He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry about that, Snow. Super sorry, for everything I did back in school. So please don’t hang up.”

Admittedly, I was going to. But he sounds so pathetic and drunk, so I stay on. “Alright,” I sigh. “I’m still here.”

“Hooray!” There’s a short stretch of silence. He doesn’t continue, so I have to pipe up again.

“Baz,” I say, “not to be rude, but, uh, why are you drunk calling me? We haven’t seen each other in awhile and it’s...” I scramble to grab my glasses, then look at my wall clock. “After two in the morning. Plus, you like, hate me.”

“No,” he slurs out. He sounds well pissed. “I don’t hate you, Snow. You’re too much of a kind brave hero to hate.”

“Um, thank you?”

He laughs loudly. I’ve heard him laugh more in the last five minutes than I did our entire childhoods. “You’re very, very welcome.”

Again with the silence. I can’t believe I’m the one talking more between us. “So... why are you calling? You wanna catch up or something?”

Baz lets out a long, low groan. For some reason, I imagine him slumping against a wall or something. “I bloody wish. Stupid barkeep won’t let me leave until I call someone to get me and my stupid friends and stupid aunt won’t pick up.”

“So you decided to call me?!”

“You’re the only other person I know who lives in London.”

“Who told you I lived in London?”

“Aggie. Said you had a cute little flat and a cute little cat.” He giggles, and I can almost picture a dopey smile on his usually frowning face. It looks so weird and wrong. “Hey, that rhymes.”

I sit even more upright. “Wait, Aggie? As in Agatha?! Are you two dating now?!”

He scoffs. Now that really reminds me of our school days. “No, Snow, I’m not dating your ex. She’s not my type.”

“That’s rude. Agatha is very pretty.”

“I mean that she’s not a man, Snow.”

My face immediately turns scarlet, and this time not from being upside down. “O-Oh. You’re gay?”

“Once again, duh!”

“Fuck off, you flirted with her all the time!”

“Nuh-uh.” He sounds like a bloody obnoxious American. “Not really. Just did that to piss you off.”

“I’m hanging up,” I growl.

“Wait!” Baz shouts as I move the phone off my ear. “Please don’t hang up, Simon. Fucking hell, I need you.”

I seriously debate actually hanging up. But there’s something in his voice that tugs at my chest. It’s weird and explainable, but it’s there. I slowly bring the phone back to my ear. “You need me?”

“Yeah,” he groans. “I’m drunk as fuck and uh...yeah, I’m still bleeding.”

My pulse goes wild instantly. “Bleeding?! Are you hurt?!”

“Yeah, but you should see the other bloke,” he laughs proudly. “Bartender says if someone doesn’t pick me up and take me home, she’s calling the police to come get me. Doesn’t trust me with an Uber or something.” Baz makes a weird yet familiar sound. Is...is Baz Pitch sticking his tongue out at someone? What the fuck has happened in the last seven years?

“Alright,” I sigh. “Where are you?”

“Yay! I am...” He takes a long pause, which gives me time to rub my aching temple. “Hey, where am I?”

There’s more rustling and some muffled yelling. “He’s at XOYO,” a stern woman’s voice says. “32-37 Cowper St, second floor. We’re closing in an hour so get here soon.”

Before I can say anything else, the phone clicks off. I stay frozen for a moment. My brain is still playing a bit of catch up. So, Baz bloody Pitch has called me out of the blue after seven years, drunk off his arrogant arse, apparently gay, and needs me to pick him up. And now he’s sorry for being a dick to me through our entire time in school? That’s nice. Few years too late if you ask me, but better late than never I suppose.

I look down at all my notes, the ones I have to finish in a few weeks before the new school year. If I were a worse person, I would forget about Baz, finish my lessons, and just go to bed. He’s my former bully, I shouldn’t care. But when I think about Baz, drunk, bleeding, sitting there alone at a bar waiting for me but I never show up, my stomach plummets to the centre of the Earth.

Godammit.

I march towards the door, grab my keys, and set out to fulfill a bad idea.

Turns out this bar is right in the middle of bloody Shoreditch. Which means at this time of night (or morning), there’s lots of closing nightclubs and stumbling drunk people being sick on the sidewalk. Glad I didn’t take the tube.

XOYO is a mostly nondescript red brick building with some black panelling and a neon red sign. I park as close as I can, which is not that close. The stairs up to the club are steep and leave me panting by the end. Bloody hell, I need to get back to the gym. Chasing ten years old is not enough exercise apparently. The bar is one of those hipster places with wooden tables and old Victorian chairs and candles. There’s a few people passed out on tables, snoring with their beer glasses.

“Simon!” a familiar voice shouts from the bar. “Simon, over here!”

I turn to my left too look at the bar, and...wow. After seven years, Baz looks so different, yet so the same. Same sharp cheekbones, same long-ish raven hair, same deep sea grey eyes. He’s broader though, shoulders filling out his blood stained grey dress shirt. Far less gaunt and gangly and vampiric looking than he was in school. The shirt has the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. Weird. Baz always had his uniform buttoned to collar in school. Then I have to do a double take, because...Baz Pitch is wearing jeans? They’re dark and expensive looking, hugging his legs, which still have a footballer’s strong muscles. He has a big, dopey, drunk grin, which is offset by the small black eye and blood trickling from his nose. It’s unfortunate this is the first time I’ve ever seen him smile.

I walk towards him, hands in my pockets, shoulders nervously hunched in. Why is my heart beating so fast? Bloody hell, calm down, Simon, it’s just Baz. You know him, probably better than most people. He’s an arsehole, not evil. And we haven’t had a physical fight since we were thirteen. Plus it’s been seven years, we’re adults now. He won’t bite. Hopefully.

“Hi Baz,” I say, trying to hide my nerves. “Uh, nice to see you.”

Baz squints at me, and a pang of panic shoots through me. Is there something wrong with my face? Bloody hell, what a cruel twist of fate it would be, to see my childhood enemy after years and have pizza sauce on my cheek.

“Um, Baz, you there?” I weakly wave a hand in front of him.

“Since when do you wear spectacles?” he asks, still slurring his words.

I instinctively touch my wireframe glasses, immediately self conscious. “Oh. Since first year uni. Turns out one of the reasons school Watford so hard for me was that I couldn’t read the board a lot.”

I chuckle awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. I expect Baz to laugh or mock me like he used to. But instead he grins again, leaning his cheek on his bruised hand. “They look good.”

Why are my cheeks heating up? Must be bad air conditioning. “Um, thanks, Baz.”

He keeps grinning, showing off his sharp bright white teeth. (There’s a good reason I thought he was a vampire.) “Welcome.”

It goes silent again, with me standing awkwardly and Baz grinning. Christ, this is so weird. I assumed I’d never see Baz ever again, let alone drunk and bloodied in designer jeans. I have less of an idea what to do than usual.

“Ugh, finally!” a woman’s voice says to the side. I whip my head around to see who must obviously be the bartender. She’s got a deep scowl on her face and hands on her hips. “You’re Simon Snow?”

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” I reply.

“Good. Please take this arsehole off my hands.”

Baz blows a raspberry at her like a toddler. Bloody hell, he is a weird drunk. The bartender glares and flips him off.

“I’ll get him out of here,” I say.

“Thank you.” She digs under the bar and takes out a sleek black iPhone. “Here’s his phone. Took it from him after he almost dropped it in a beer glass.”

“Alright.” My brow furrows in confusion. “Do you have Baz’s keys? Or does he still have them?”

“He never had them. Searched all his pockets, nothing there.”

“Worst feel up ever,” Baz grumbles.

I rub my aching temple. “Baz, did you really forget your keys?”

He frowns and scratches his head with a bloodied hand. “Hm, yes, I think I did. I left my flat pretty fast. Maybe the super will let me in if he’s awake.”

“Where do you live?”

His brows pull together, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Now that is certainly an expression I remember from school. It’s his thinking face. I used to glare at him while he studied all the time. “Somewhere...posh, and silver.”

I groan and drag a hand over my face. “Alright then. Well...I guess I’ll bring you to my flat.”

Baz’s jaw drops open and he shakes his head, making his black hair fan out in a strangely majestic way. “No no, you don’t have to do that. I’ll figure it out-”

“No, Baz, you won’t, you’re too pissed to think right now. I’m taking you to my place, no questions.”

He frowns. I can’t tell if he’s sad or angry. “I don’t wanna im-”

“We lived together for years, arsehole. One more night won’t kill you. Come on, get up.”

I grab his bicep and haul him to his feet. Bloody hell, does he work out a lot or something? He’s made of fucking rock. Baz wobbles back and forth and ends up leaning on me. I struggle to keep him upright.

“Baz,” I grumble, “you’re too heavy, I can’t hold you up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He sort of heaves himself upwards, still wobbling on his feet, but at least he’s standing. That’s something I guess.

“You good?”

Baz sticks out his arms like he’s on a tightrope. “Yeah, I’m alright. Mostly.”

“Good enough. Let’s go.” I look over at the still very annoyed bartender. “Uh, thanks for taking care of him.”

“If you’re really thankful,” she spits, “make sure he doesn’t come back.”

She marches off into the back. Baz flips her off before I quickly pull down his hand. “Enough,” I grumble. “Let’s get you out of here before she smacks you.”

“Kinky,” he chuckles. God, drunk Baz is fucking weird.

Getting down the stairs takes far longer than it should. Baz has to watch his every step so he doesn’t go tumbling down. He’s like a shaky newborn fawn. It would be cute if it weren't so frustrating. Finally, we get to the bottom and I lead Baz by the sleeve towards my car. He laughs loudly when we reach it. I immediately scowl and whip around to face him.

“What?!” I snap, assuming he’s making fun of my old beat up beetle. But instead he has his head tilted upwards, laughing at the sky. Neon club signs and yellow street lights light up his smiling face. He’s like a rainbow constellation, colour reaching every crevice. Huh. Baz has always been pretty, but has he always been this pretty?

“Lights in the sky,” he laughs. “Pretty.”

I groan and tug him hard. “Come on, you drunk prat, hurry up.”

Baz stumbles along reluctantly. I shove into the passenger seat and buckle him up like he’s a bloody eight year old, then take my place in the driver’s seat. Baz is slumping, the seat belt digging into his cheek. If we crash his pretty face is going to get cut open. I debate telling him, but Baz rarely ever listens to me, and I doubt that has changed much.

I turn the engine over. Baz lets out a whoop so loud I jolt. “Allons-y,” he shouts like some deranged adventurer.

“Silence, s’il vous plait,” I reply as I turn on to the road.

“Oo, you speak French now, Snow?”

“Yes. I lived in France for a year, I learned pretty well.”

“Very nice.” For a moment I think he’s mocking me, but his smile is completely genuine, if not a bit drunken. Is it weird that I like drunk adult Baz better than sober teen Baz?

I drive through Shoreditch slowly, making sure not to hit any wayward club leavers. Baz grumbles about the slowness, but I tell him to shut up or I’ll drive us into a pole. That makes him quiet for a little while, thank god. When we hit the main drag, he decides to pipe up again.

“So what have you been up to, Snow?” he asks.

My eyes briefly flick over to him, catching his grin and glazed eyes. I scoff and look back at the road. “Really? We’re going to chit chat about life after Watford?”

“You just want us to sit in silence the whole time?”

“Maybe.”

“Boring,” he groans. “Come on, Snow, it’s been a while. Let’s catch up.”

I chuckle low in my throat. “Yes, I would love to catch up with my plastered childhood bully.”

Baz lets out a pathetic sort of whining sigh. Suddenly, something brushes my shoulder. I jolt away and briefly look over, realising it’s Baz’s hand. He’s pouting in the way his mouth is perfectly made for.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “About all the shit I did. I was a messed up prick at Watford. I’m really sorry I took that all out on you.”

I raise an extremely suspicious eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?!”

“It’s been seven years, Snow. Am I not allowed to learn from my mistakes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, of course. I just didn’t expect it from you...”

“I’m a changed man, Snow,” he declares proudly. “No more picking on other people to avoid dealing with my emotional and family problems.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Wow, you sound like a therapist.”

“That’s because I am a therapist.”

We stop at a red light, giving me a chance to whip my head around in shock. My jaw is firmly on the ground. “You’re a therapist?!”

“Sort of.” Baz grins pointed ear to pointed ear. He offers his hand, though it’s a bit limp. “Dr. Basilton Grimm-Pitch, psychiatrist in training at University College Hospital. Pleasure to meet you.”

I can’t take my hands off the wheel, so I don’t take his, but I smile instead. Baz chuckles as his hand falls, so I think he gets the picture.

“Wow,” I sigh. “You, a psychiatrist. I never would have thought.”

“Me neither, until I took a psychology course in year 10. Then I decided I liked, y’know, mind stuff and shit. It was interesting and challenging. And I could help people with it.”

I scoff, but with a smile. “And you used to call me the overly noble hero.”

“Well, I decided to follow in your golden footsteps, golden boy.” He turns towards me, cheeks squished against the seat. He’s really going to die if we crash. “So really, what have you been up to since Watford, Mr. Hero? Storming castles? Saving damsels in distress? Travelling the world?”

That makes me laugh louder. “You have a way overinflated sense of my heroism.”

He snorts, but it’s not unkind like it used to be. Just sort of amused. “Alright. Then what do you do?”

“I’m, uh, actually a primary teacher. Year six, to be exact.”

“Oh,” Baz breathes out, sounding genuinely amazed. “That’s cool. That makes sense, yeah.”

“Makes sense?”

“You were always helping out the kids in younger years at Watford.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Yeah, guess you’ve got a point.”

“Is it fun? Teaching children?”

“Yeah. I like finding fun ways to teach them stuff. Though it’s not great they get in fights or stuck lego bricks up their noses.”

Baz lets out a barking laugh. It’s a fun, sudden sound. I’ve never heard it before, yet it works well for Baz. “Is that what people mean by ‘the joys of children?’”

“Something like that. Is psychiatry fun?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “But time consuming. Doctors aren’t supposed to have damn lives apparently.”

“Well, good thing you found time to go to a hipster bar”

Everything suddenly gets very, very quiet. It reminds me of when we would study. Backs to each other, no noise, plenty of tension. Did I say something wrong? I used to do that a lot, but I thought I’d gotten better. I’ve learned to chew my words better over the years. But when we stop at a roundabout, I turn to see that Baz is gazing ahead, mouth a thin line and grey eyes lost in the distance.

“Pretty lights,” he whispers in awe, like a child. I guess alcohol does turn adults into children. His nose is still letting out a small trickle of dark red blood. I sigh and shake my head.

“Glove box,” I say.

Baz turns his head to me. “Huh?”

“There’s tissues in the glove box. Your nose is still bleeding a bit.”

“Oh.” He paws at the latch in front of him, floppy drunk fingers struggling to just bloody lift it. I sigh and reach over, lifting it for him. Baz takes out the little packet and flashes me that dopey smile. Why does my chest feel funny? I must be overtired.

“Thanks,” he says, then presses the tissue to his nose. It’s weirdly comforting in its familiarity. I still remember sitting in the headmaster’s office after our fights, covered in bruises and blood, glaring at each other. This is better though. We’re not fighting, in fact we’re being nice. Maybe this is how we could’ve been at Watford. Maybe we could’ve been...friends.

We sit in silence for the rest of the ride. But it’s a comfortable silence, no tension. I like it. A lot. I like all of this better than fighting.

———————————————

I pull into my spot in front of my apartment. Dragging Baz out of the car is a bit of a problem, but luckily my place has a lift, so no more stair problems. He starts leaning on me as we go up to my floor. I use one finger to push him back, and he slumps against the wall. I need to strap him to a dolly.

We go into my apartment, and I instinctively prepare for a snide comment from Baz. Something about it’s size, it’s clutter, the decor. But he says nothing derogatory. In fact, he smiles, brushing his hand against my Van Gogh print and old dining room table.

“You, uh, like it?” I ask. Wait, why does it matter what Baz thinks of my place? I don’t need his approval.

“Yeah,” Baz replies. “It’s very nice.”

There’s a thump from my room, followed by the familiar pitter-patter of tiny paws. Cherry prances into the room, all fluffy tailed and cute. She blinks up at Baz with big green eyes. Baz makes a tiny gasp and gets on his knees, holding his hand out to Cherry.

“Hello, pretty kitty,” he says softly. “Aren’t you an adorable little thing.”

Cherry sniffs his fingers, then immediately nuzzles against his hand. Baz looks absolutely elated, a big childish grin on his face.

“You like cats, huh?”

Baz nods vigorously. “I would have one if my building allowed pets.” He scratches behind Charry’s ear with glee. “What’s this little one’s name?”

“Her name is Cherry.”

“You did love those scones,” he chuckles.

I chuckle as well, fiddling with my shirt sleeve. “Still do. Though none are as good as Cook Pritchard’s.”

“Very true.” He stands up, pulling away from Cherry, and wobbles his way into the sitting room. He stands between my coffee table and ratty old couch. “So may I sleep on that couch?”

I scramble in after him and start piling up my curriculum papers. I don’t want Baz shouting at me for the mess. “Uh, yeah, just lemme fix it up a bit.”

“It’s alright-”

“No, I’ll fix it. And...maybe you should clean up a bit first?”

Baz turns to me with a confused expression. “What?” I sigh and point at is blood spattered shirt. He pulls it in front of himself, like a child who’s spilled food. “Oh, right.”

“There’s stuff on you face too...”

Baz drags a long finger over his cheek, and rubs the dried blood between his fingers. “Good  point.

“You wanna take a shower maybe?”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah. But be warned, I don’t have any of your fancy French soaps.”

He lets out a loud short laugh, like a happy little firecracker going off. “Wouldn’t expect you to, Snow. I doubt you’ve changed that much.”

“Heh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, which is getting very hot for some reason. I think I need to fix my fan.

Baz wobbles back towards me. He stands a bit too close, and now that things are calm, I notice how he smells. It’s a mix of liquor, irony blood, and the very faint, familiar scent of cedar and bergamot. Seven years later and I can’t forget that smell. I guess it’s burned into my brain forever. I’m not sure that I mind.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks, snapping me out of my olfactory induced daze.

“Oh, uh, down the hall and to your left. There’s towels in the cupboard.”

“Alright.” He sticks his hands in his trouser pockets, a very shy gesture I’m not used to seeing from him. “Thank you. Again. I’m saying that a lot tonight, wow.”

I chuckle and shrug. “I guess so. Now go wash off that awful blood please.”

“Aye aye, Mr.Snow.” He does a mocking little American salute with two fingers. I watch as he half skips his way to the bathroom, trying not to giggle at his ridiculous gait.

The bathroom door shuts, and I let out a long breath. My brain is still playing catch up. I need to sit, relax, just process all this shit. Once I organize my papers into semi-neat piles and close my laptop, I grab a cherry granola bar from the counter and collapse on the couch. I hear the shower turn on. I glance over at the clock. Bloody hell, it’s past 3am, and my enemy is taking a shower in my flat. Well, former enemy, I guess. We’re not fighting anymore. In fact, Baz is being really nice. It’s pretty damn great. I hope we can keep this up.

Cherry jumps onto the couch, startling me from my daze. She immediately curls up on my lap, purring happily. I chuckle as I pet her. Penny jokes that Cherry is my emotional support service cat. Honestly, she’s not wrong. I don’t know what I would do without her.

“Wanna watch Dr. Who, darling?” I coo, scratching behind her ear. “Yes, yes you do.”

I grab the remote and turn on Netflix, going to one of my favourite episodes. We sit there in peaceful silence through the show. I try not to listen to the shower down the hall. I can’t help but worry. What if he slips and hits his head? What if he falls asleep and drowns? What if he tries to eat the bloody soap? All are strong possibilities. But he’s still Baz. He’s too smart and stubborn to die.

As I near the end of the episode, I realise it’s been half an hour since Baz went in. My heart beats double time, every fear racing through my head. (As well as concern for my water bill.) But the sound of water shuts off, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I hear Baz’s unsteady feet pad around the tiled floor. But then there’s rattling and muffled swearing, and I’m on my feet immediately. Cherry meows unhappily and scuttles away.

“Sorry, girl,” I say as I speed walk to the bathroom. I knock on the wooden door. “Baz? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” his muffled voice replies, but that’s followed by a loud bang. “Bloody fucking hell.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Snow, wait-”

I push the door open and immediately freeze. All the blood in my body goes straight to my face, turning it tomato red. Because Baz Pitch is standing in front of my medicine cabinet with nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is soaked and messy, falling adorably in front his shocked face. His legs look strong enough to crush someone. Thin rivulets of water drip down his broad, bare chest. I watch them for a few long, drawn out seconds, completely frozen. In our time living together, Baz and I made a point to never see each other without clothes on. Did he even look close to this back at school? Did I just never notice?

“Um...” Baz says, breaking me out of my daze. I whip around, hand cupped over my eyes.

“Bloody hell, Baz!” I shout. “Give a guy some warning.”

“I would have if you hadn’t come bursting in!”

“Well, you took awhile in the shower, then I heard swearing. Excuse me for being concerned.”

“I’m grateful for your concern, Mr. Hero, though not for your usual brashness.”

“Just put some clothes on, please.”

“Very well.”

I listen to Baz shuffle and grumble as I assume he gets dressed. I resist the urge to turn around and check if he can get his legs into his trousers. I’m not sure how drunk he still is.

“You can turn around now, Snow.”

I slowly turn, and my face turns scarlet again. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!”

“Because mine is covered in blood,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which I guess it is, but still he’s not wearing a shirt. Why are my hands so clammy?

Baz starts sorting through the medicine cabinet. I frown in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for bandages.” He lifts his left hand, showing off his bruised, still slightly bleeding knuckles. “You got any?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll get it, sit down on the toilet.”

Baz stumbles over and does what he’s told (for once). I grab the first aid kit from under the sink and sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“Gimme your hand,” I say. Baz holds out his arm, fingers limp. I try not to look freaked out. His skin is black and blue and there are many cuts, still bleeding slowly. “Why are you still bleeding? It’s been like, an hour.”

“My blood alcohol content is high,” Baz replies. “Booze is a blood thinner. Means I’ll bleed more.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Thanks, Mr. Doctor.”

Baz chuckles, a soft smile playing on his mouth. “Dr. Grimm-Pitch will do.”

I laugh as well. I take a towel off the rack and pat his hand dry, then get the antiseptic.

“I just had a shower,” Baz protests.

“Don’t care. We need to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

“I’m fine.”

I pour the clear liquid on a sterile pad. “Still doing it.”

“I’m the doctor here, dammit.”

“The doctor who is still drunk off his arse after a bloody bar fight. So shut up.”

Baz frowns, but doesn’t protest. I lightly pat his cuts. He inhales sharply through his teeth and tries to pull away, but I grab his wrist, holding still.

“Don’t move,” I say.

“It hurts,” he whines like a toddler.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what you get for getting in a bar fight, idiot.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t move again either. Once I’m satisfied all the cuts are clean, I use another pad to get them dry, then take out the bandages.

“You get injured a lot, Snow?” He’s smirking playfully, not a hint of malice. It’s much nicer than his smug arsehole face.

“No,” I chuckle. “But it never hurts to be prepared.”

“Especially if your former enemy shows up drunk and bleeding.”

Thoughts start racing through my head. Horrible, nervous thoughts. I stop wrapping his hand for a moment, but quickly start again. Unfortunately, Baz notices.

“Something on your mind, Snow?” he asks.

I chew on my bottom lip as I secure the bandage. I gesture for Baz to give me his other hand, and he does. I slowly pat on the antiseptic and he doesn’t move at all. Slowly, I look up, and I meet Baz’s deep sea eyes. He doesn’t look mad or annoyed, just concerned. So am I.

“Baz,” I sigh, “you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And considering you’re a bloody doctor now, I doubt that’s changed. So I’m absolutely astounded at how you could get so drunk and end up in a bar fight.”

Baz’s thin lips press together, and I watch his throat bob in a gulp. He leans his elbow on the sink, propping his cheek on his fist. “Snow,” he says slowly, “what do you know about my mother?”

My blood turns ice cold. I stop with the bandage completely, just looking at Baz. “Uh, not much. I know she died a long time ago. And...it was at Watford...”

Baz nods slowly. “Yes, that’s what everyone knows. But what most people don’t know is that I was there.”

And now my heart completely stops. My mouth falls open slightly. Baz’s face stays completely neutral. “You...you were there?”

“Yeah.” He leans harder on his fist. “I was sitting with the rest of the kids in the Watford nursery. Suddenly a group of men with knives burst in. They started to come after the nannies and the children. But that’s when my mother showed up with her hunting rifle. My father insisted she have it for protection when he wasn’t there. She got all of the men immediately, including the one holding me. She hit him in the shoulder so he dropped me. Another man charged her while she was distracted, and she shot him in the chest, but not before...” Baz rubs his eyes and the bridge of his nose, like I do when I have a headache. “Not before he stabbed her in the neck. She bled to death in seconds.” He drags his hand down his face. “I fell unconscious after that. When I woke up, my father and aunt were tending to my wounds, and my mother was gone. I was young, it’s all a bit hazy, but I remember enough.”

I’m left in stunned silence. Baz doesn’t say anything either, just rubbing his head. He’s not crying, but he looks on the verge of tears. I don’t blame him. I can’t believe it, can’t believe Baz went through that and no one ever knew. It’s just terrible.

“Wow,” I finally say, “that’s...wow.”

Baz chuckles quietly. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“I never knew that happened...”

“No one did, Snow. All the gruesome little details were kept under wraps. It would’ve been terrible if anyone found out Natasha Grimm-Pitch died in such an undignified way that traumatized her heir.”

His voice is mockingly scathing, even with his slightly slurred speech. He’s a mix between furious and mournful. I don’t understand how he feels, but I don’t think I ever could. I may never have had parents, but that’s a far cry from watching your’s die.

“I don’t know how much it means, but I’m sorry that happened to you Baz.”

The corner of his lip quirks up into a small half smile. “Thanks, Snow.”

I start wrapping his hand again, and my brow furrows. “So, uh, what does this have to do with you getting drunk and fighting? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Baz takes a deep inhale through his nose, and lets out the air through his mouth. “My mother was killed twenty years ago today.”

“O-oh. That...yeah, that makes sense.”

“Mhm. I’ve lived with it for most of my life, but this anniversary hit me harder than I expected. I had my first day off in months, so after some mindless telly, I went to that bar. Gave the bartender my card and told her to keep the tequila coming. First mistake.”

“Second one was getting in a fight?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He flexes his bandaged hand. “It was just some arsehole looking for trouble. He kept prodding at me and shoving my shoulder until I snapped. I don’t even remember what he said. I was just so angry and sad and drunk. And that arsehole was right there” He groans loudly and rubs his head. “One of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.”

“Probably. But you made one good choice.”

“Oh?”

I finish bandaging his other hand and smile at his mopey face. “You called me.”

His mopeyness melts away as he lets out a breathy laugh. Our eyes meet, and his are glinting in a way I’ve never seen before. “Yeah, I guess that was a good idea.”

We smile at each other. Something tugs in my chest, something I don’t fully understand. I’ve never felt anything like this. Maybe I’m just overtired.

Baz flexes his bandaged hands. I put the first aid kit under the sink again. Baz stands and presses a hand to his bruised eye. hissing between his teeth. “Got any ice packs, Snow?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” I reply. “It’s in the kitchen, c’mon.”

We walk towards the kitchen. I open the freezer and pull out my reusable ice pack. Teaching a bunch of children can result in some bad headaches. I wrap it in a napkin and hand it to Baz. He presses it to his eye with clenched teeth. As he leans back against the counter, I remember he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Uh,” I say, “those jeans don’t look comfortable. I’ve got some spare pyjamas. Want me to get them?”

Baz nods. “Yeah, that would be good, thanks.”

“Alright, stay here.”

I go to my bedroom, wading through the laundry I have to do tomorrow to get to the dresser. It takes awhile for me to find something that will probably fit Baz. Damn his extra four inches, always so infuriating. I eventually pick out some trackies and a long Chicago Cubs shirt. It’s all I’ve got. I go back to the kitchen, and come upon a strange scene.

“Baz,” I say slowly, “what are you doing?

Baz looks up from the messy, cutlery covered counter, still pressing the ice pack to his eye. He lifts a plate with two pieces of bread, both half covered in marmite. “Making a marmite and cheese sandwich. You want half?”

His expression is so innocent, not a hint of the old malice I used to know. I let out a sigh. “Sure. Let me get the cheese.”

He grins and goes back to slathering on marmite. I pull my sliced sandwich cheese from the fridge. Hope Baz doesn’t mind cheap Tesco brand swiss. I bring the package to the counter, and Baz takes out a slice without even looking. Guess he’s not as snobbish about food as he used to be. He cuts the sandwich into two slightly lopsided triangles and swans out to my dining room. I follow behind with the pyjamas.

Baz sits in a chair, leaning back with his legs spread out. I sit across from him, placing the clothes on the table. Baz snatches it. It unfolds and his brows pull together.

“You a baseball fan now, Snow?” he asks.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Nah. Micah definitely is though.”

“Who?”

“Remember that American exchange student from fourth year?”

“The short nerd with large glasses?” His voice is muffled as he struggles to put on the shirt. Drunk Baz doesn’t get along with t-shirt holes.

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him I guess. He and Penny started dating then and have been together ever since. She lives in America with him now.”

Baz’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. How is Bunce? I miss facing off with her in debate club.”

“She’s doing well. She’s got a job as an assistant professor in Chicago and loves American food. I just saw her a few weeks ago on vacation.”

“Marvelous. Tell her I say hello next time you speak to her.”

“Will do.” We both take one half of the marmite-cheese sandwich. Baz takes a huge bite, followed by a happy groan. I can’t tell if he’s drunk hungry or actually hungry. Probably somewhere in between. I take a bite as well. There’s far too much marmite, but it’s four in the morning. Right now anything tastes good.

Thinking of Penny makes me think of Watford. And something else, or more accurately someone else, pops into my head.

“Hey,” I say through the marmite, “you said you talked to Agatha earlier. How are you two still in contact? She cut off almost everyone after Watford. I didn’t start talking to her again until a year ago.”

Baz quickly chews and swallows. “Funny story there. I did a semester abroad in California and ended up in the same biology class as Agatha. It was extremely awkward at first. But once we sat down over coffee and sorted stuff out, we bonded very quickly. Similar upper class British family problems and expectations.”

“Oh. That’s makes sense I guess. It’s nice you guys talk.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” He chuckles, mouth gummed with marmite. “The weirdest part was telling her I’m gay. I apologised for leading her on, and you know what she did?”

I lean over the table, genuinely enraptured. “What?”

“Laughed her fucking arse off for ten minutes straight.”

I snort so hard I nearly shoot sandwich out my nose. Baz throws his head back laughing. He’s so loud he might disturb my neighbours, but I don’t care. His laugh is too incredible.

“Just like that,” he giggles, calming down.

“So she wasn’t mad?” I ask.

“No, not at all. She admitted she wasn’t really into me. She was just rebelling against her parents. We both sympathised on that front.” He sighs and leans back even more. “That’s all I wanted at Watford, really. I was under so much pressure to be the perfect son. I seriously considered yelling ‘fuck it’ and doing whatever I wanted.”

I sigh too, putting my cheek against my palm. “Yeah, I understand that. Mr. Mage put a lot of pressure on me. He wanted to prove to the Watford board that scholarship students were worthwhile, and since I was Watford’s very first scholarship kid, I had to be perfect. Every time I got a low grade he would yell at me for an hour.”

“What a prick,” Baz grumbles.

I chuckle as I nod slowly. “Yeah, total prick. Watford wasn’t an easy place to be.”

Baz slowly lowers his sandwich, looking pointedly at the plate, and therefore not me. My heart speeds up. Did I say something wrong? Did I piss him off by accident? I do that a lot. And I definitely used to do that to Baz.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he says carefully. “And maybe this is me still being pretty drunk. But...I saw something in your medicine cabinet.”

I squint, trying to think what could be so concerning. “Saw what?”

He fiddles with his still damp hair. It’s an old nervous habit I recognise from finals studying. “A bottle of citalopram. I’m a future psychiatrist, I know what that medication is usually for...”

My stomach drops out. I freeze with the sandwich still in my hand. “Oh,” I squeak.

“Yeah.” He leans closer, eyes round and sympathetic. “I’m sorry I looked. And...I’m sorry if I had any part in your need for it-”

“No no, Baz.” I shake my head, leaning forward as well. “You don’t have to. It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s in particular, really. It’s stupid chemicals misfiring in my brain. You’re a doctor, you know that.”

“Yes, of course I know that, Snow. But I also know my incessant arsehole behaviour for seven years probably didn’t help.”

I shrug, leaning back again. “Probably. And I bet me insulting you and punching you in the face all the time didn’t help your mental health either.”

He smiles and laughs again. He looks better when he laughs. “Okay, good point.”

“Exactly. So let’s agree neither of us need to apologise. We’ll let the past be the past, move on from here.”

“So you mean a truce?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I reach out my hand. “Truce.”

Baz smiles and clasps his hand with mine. His skin is just as rough and cold as I remember it being back at school. But even after we pull apart, my skin still feels warm.

“Just so we’re even,” Baz says with his mouthful, “my favourite antidepressant was cipralex. I went off it a few months ago because it started making me too drowsy, but it worked well for years. Citalopram made me far too ill. When I first tried it, I ended up vomiting in a bloody bedpan.”

I burst out laughing. And Baz’s grin outshines the sun.

We finish our sandwiches together. Baz complains that his mouth tastes like a rubbage heap. Apparently the combination of old tequila, Tesco cheese, and marmite creates a truly awful flavour. I give him an unused toothbrush from the dentist. He goes into the bathroom and soon emerges with clean teeth and wearing my trackies. I’m back on the couch with Cherry in my lap.

“You tired?” I ask.

“Not really,” Baz replies. “Late hospital shifts have turned me into an insomniac.”

“Wanna watch some Dr. Who?”

He throws himself down next to me, long arm stretched out over the back of the couch behind me. “Sure.”

I switch to a new episode. It’s a standalone, so Baz won’t be too confused. But he still asks incessant questions. Who’s this, what’s that, how the everloving fuck can they do that and survive? No wonder he’s a doctor. He’s perfect at looking for answers, no matter how annoying he is. Eventually I have to threaten to duct tape his mouth to get him to shut up. He huffs, crosses his arms, and sinks down further.. His head ends up on my shoulder. Despite my shorter neck length and Baz’s naturally long face, his head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck. Like it was made to be there. Wait, where did that thought come from?

The credits roll, and I notice a quiet whistling noise. I turn my head to the side. Oh. Baz is asleep. His eyes are softly closed and his lips are slightly parted. I’ve seen Baz sleep before of course, but this is different. Baz had nightmares throughout our entire time at Watford. (So did I.) I don’t think he’s having one now though. There’s no thrashing or whimpers. I’ve never seen Baz look so...peaceful.

“Baz,” I whisper. He doesn’t respond at all. “Baz,” I say louder, jerking my shoulder a bit.

“Ugh,” he groans, “let me sleep in, Daphne, it’s summer.”

“I’m not your step-mum, Baz.”

He cracks one eye open. “No, you’re really not, Snow.”

“Yeah. You wanna go to bed?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Okay.” I slowly get up, easing Baz off my shoulder. I gently lower him onto the couch. The bottom half of his face hangs off the arm. Yeah, he’s going to need a pillow. I go to my bedroom and grab a pillow and blanket. I also make a stop by the bathroom for some aspirin and make another at the kitchen for some water and a bowl, in case he’s sick. I would prefer not to clean vomit out of my carpet.

Baz is still awkwardly pressed against the sofa arm, drooling slightly. Who would’ve thought I’d see the day Baz Pitch drooled in his sleep? I wouldn’t have. Not in a million years. But apparently tonight is a time for new things.

I place the bowl, water, and aspirin on my coffee table. Slowly and carefully, I lift Baz’s head and fit a pillow under it. I drape the blanket over his annoyingly tall body. His arm hangs like a limp noodle off the side. I sigh, kneeling down to tuck it back in.

Out of nowhere, I feel long, rough fingers touching my cheek. My whole body locks up in shock. Slowly, I raise my head, and I meet Baz’s half open grey eyes and soft smile.

“Uh, Baz?” I say, not sure what else I can.

“You’re still so beautiful,” he whispers. My eyes widen and every nerve in my body is filled with...something? Fear, nerves, an absolute sense of what the fuck? I can’t tell.

“W-What?”

Baz’s hand moves lower. His thumb traces just under my bottom lip. Why does my skin feels like it’s fire? “Your face, it’s still really pretty.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, I guess you’d know. You punched it enough.”

He laughs softly. His hand falls, pulling back under the blanket, and his eyes slip shut. “Wish I had kissed it instead.”

I don’t even have time to respond to that, because Baz is asleep in an instant, snoring quietly once again. I’m frozen in place. My jaw is slack. Baz would tell me I’m going to catch flies. Baz, who’s sleeping right in front of me, who wished he had kissed me? My brain can’t process this. I’m like a computer with an eternal blue screen. This does not compute, cannot compute, fuck fuck fuck.

There’s only one thing I can think to do.

I grab my phone, rush to my room, and close the door. Cherry is already curled up on her side. The second I’m sitting on the mattress, I click Penny’s contact.

“Hello?” Her voice immediately calms me down.

“Hi, Pen,” I say.

“Simon?! Bloody hell, isn’t it like four in the morning in London?”

I look over at my clock. “Uh, yup, just about.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but why are calling me at four AM?”

I sigh and flop backwards. “Pen, you’re not going to believe who is sleeping in my living room right now.”

“Who? The Doctor? Boris Johnson? The Queen of England>

A laugh bubbles from my mouth. “Nah, even weirder.”

I can almost hear Penny’s face pinching together in confusion. “Who?”

“Baz Pitch.”

She gasps loudly. “What?! As in Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch? That Baz Pitch?!”

“You think there’s another Baz Pitch in existence?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “good point. So why is your arsehole former roommate sleeping on your couch?”

I rub the bridge of my nose. It doesn’t help. I’m not sure anything can help now. “That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

I sigh, and start spinning my insane tale. From the call to the bar to my flat, how Baz and I talked and became friendly and made a weird truce over cheese and marmite. I try to say everything quickly yet accurately. Penny barely makes a noise as I talk. I can’t tell if she’s shocked or contemplative. Probably both, honestly. I can’t blame her. The more I talk, the more completely nuts it all sounds. I’m living in a bloody sitcom.

“And then,” I say, “he held my face, said I was beautiful, and that he wished he had kissed me instead of punching me!”

“Wow,” Penny gasps. “That’s...a lot.”

“I know right? I’m so confused and I have no idea what the fuck to do!”

“Okay. What do you want to do though?”

I rub my very aching brow. “I don’t know, Pen. It’s so weird. Like, is this something he’s just realised or has Baz always felt this way?”

“Probably the second one.”

I bolt upright, brows knitted together. “Wait, really? You think so?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“But why?!”

“Well, Baz has always been very obsessed with you. He would go out of his way to be around you.”

“Yeah, to torment me,” I grumble.

Penny lets out a sigh. “Yes, he did. But as you told me, Baz said he picked on you because he couldn’t deal with his emotional issues. One of those issues certainly could have been romantic feelings for you.”

“Then why didn’t he just say something?!”

“Because he was the gay son of a conservative upper class British family, which probably wasn’t easy to deal with. Plus, his father and aunt hated the idea of scholarship students, also known as you.”

My righteous anger fizzles out like a dying campfire, shoulders slumping as I fall back against the headboard. “Oh. Yeah, that’s a good point. Still shouldn’t have been a snob and a bully.

“No he shouldn’t have. It was probably half poor coping and half trying to get your attention.”

“Like a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails?”

“I guess.”

“That’s a stupid and sexist way to handle a crush. I tell my students that all the time.”

Penny sighs. “Yeah, of course it is. But I’m pretty sure Baz knows that, at least now. He’s sorry for what he did. It seems like he’s gotten a lot better.”

“Yeah.” A smile creeps across my face without thinking. It just feels natural. “He’s gotten a lot nicer. He’s not the perfect, pretty, unfeeling arsehole I thought he was. And he’s funny, at least when he’s drunk. We had a pretty great time .”

I laugh quietly, but Penny’s is far louder. She sounds like she’s muffling her giggles. I frown a bit. “What’s so funny, Pen?”

“Oh,” she keeps giggling, “I think I’ve just realised something, and it’s hilarious.”

“Realised what?”

She takes a few deep calming breaths while my anxiety just climbs. “Simon,” she says kindly. This is the way she used to speak while explaining our complicated maths homework. “Hear me out, but I don’t think Baz is the only one who feels something.”

“Huh?”

“I think you have at least a few romantic feelings for Baz.”

“What?!” I shout far too loudly, and I worry I’m going to wake up Baz. I crouch inward, like I’m hiding, but I’m not really sure what. Baz? Penny? Myself?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hiss.

“Hear me out,” Penny says. “I’m saying that based on the evidence, you may have latent romantic feelings for Baz Pitch.”

“What evidence?!”

Penny lets out a low chuckle, like a super villain who’s plan has come to fruition. “Let’s see. Number one: back at Watford, you spent 99% of your time thinking about, talking about, or being with Baz. I had to put a limit on how much you were allowed to talk about Baz, remember?”

“Yeah, because he was bugging me,” I mumble.

“Number two: when you talked about Baz, it was always about how annoyingly pretty, smart, and graceful he was. You hated him, yet you had so many nice things to say.”

“Well he was perfect and it was annoying!”

“Number three: During the entire time you dated Agatha, you paid far more attention to Baz than you ever did to her.”

“T-That’s not true!” Though, looking back...fucking hell, it might actually be true.

“Number four: even though you hadn’t seen him in seven years, you dropped everything at two AM to go pick up his drunk arse from a bar.”

“It was the right thing to do!”

“Number five: you just gushed about how much you like Baz now and that he’s fun to be around. And I bet you were smiling.”

“No.” I think my cheeks are turning red.

I hear some rustling, and I think Penny is leaning forward in her chair. I can almost see her kind face in front of me. “Simon, I don’t want to push anything on you, but I also want you to really think about this. I know you hate to analyse things but it’s necessary right now. Maybe it could lead to something good.”

I tug on my hair, trying to distract myself. “I don’t know about that, Pen.”

“I know. Doesn’t even have to be romantic, maybe a good friendship. You could use more friends. And I’m not saying you have to jump his bones tomorrow.”

“Penny!” Now I’m definitely blushing.

She laughs uncontrollably, snorting every once in awhile. I cover my blushing face and groan. “Oh, I’m only joking, Si,” she says. “But I’m serious, don’t shut it down. Think about it. Baz is nice now, maybe it could work.”

“Why are you so desperate to set me up with my former enemy?”

“Because you haven’t been on a date or made new friends since first year uni. And I haven’t heard you this happy about being around someone in years.”

I hate to admit it, but she’s right. I’ve had more fun with Baz in one night than I have in ages. I enjoyed talking to him. I enjoyed laughing with him. I’m glad he’s asleep in the next room, where I can make sure he’s okay.

“You may have a point,” I say.

“Of course I do.”

I roll my eyes, just like she does. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve always known you’re smarter than me.”

“Mhm. And in my smart opinion, you need to go to bed.”

“Will do.” I flop backwards. The pillow feels heavenly on my head. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You better. Night, Si.”

I smile, and I hope she can hear my love and gratitude over the phone. “Night, Pen.”

The phone clicks off. I let it fall to the side. I am 0.2 seconds from passing out, even with so much still on my mind. I plug in my phone and turn on my side. I pull Cherry close to me. She curls around my hand like usual. When I close my eyes, all I see is raven hair, deep sea grey eyes, and a smile I never knew was there before.

———————————————

“Bloody fucking shit!”

I wake up with a start, clutching my sheet. Late morning sunlight is bleeding through the gap in my curtains. There’s muffled banging on the other side of my door. It’s like a very clumsy little rhino is moving through my flat. But I know exactly who it is.

I grab my glasses and slowly walk down the hall, peeking around the corner. It’s weird to sneak around my own apartment. I see a familiar long, lithe back, bent over as he struggles to get his struggles to get his oxfords on. He keeps wavering side to side like a branch in the wind.

“Good morning,” I say nonchalantly.

Baz whips around so fast he nearly topples over, stumbling to the side. He looks even more disheveled than last night, hair extremely tangled from sleeping on it wet, bruise worsening under his eyes, and bloodstained shirt buttoned wrong. He looks absolutely shocked to see me, which is odd, considering this is my flat.

“Um,” he says, shakiness in my voice, “good morning, Snow.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Uh, well, yes, I suppose.”

I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. “So you were going to go and what? Leave me a thank you note like some bad teen movie?”

He probably thinks I don’t notice, but I see him crumple up and shove something in his back pocket. “No. I-I would’ve texted you my thanks.”

“Because that’s so much better.”

Baz looks down in shame, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. It’s just...I didn’t want to make things awkward after last night. I’m truly sorry for the way I acted and imposing on you.”

“It’s okay.” I walk forward, hands in my trackie pockets. “I know you were pretty drunk, but, what do you remember from last night?”

Baz looks up, but still doesn’t meet my eyes. “I remember, being upset, going to the bar, getting in the fight, and the bartender screaming colourful obscenities at me.” That makes him laugh a little. It still sounds so nice. “Then I called you, you came and you had glasses. We drove to your place. I had a shower. You tended to my wounds like some war nurse.”

I giggle, nodding in complete agreement. “Yeah, I definitely did do that.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Then uh, we ate sandwiches, watched Doctor Who, and I assume I fell asleep.”

“Okay.” I draw out the last syllable on purpose, making my doubt extremely clear. “That’s most of it, but you’re missing a few key parts.”

“Am I?” He’s trying to sound confident, but I know Baz, and I can hear a waver in his voice.

I start walking closer. “Mhm. You’re missing the parts where you apologized for being a prick in school, called my flat was good, liked my cat, said you drank because it was the anniversary of your mother’s horrible death, talked about your experience with antidepressants.” I’m only a few feet away from him now, looking him right in his pretty. “And, the part where you said that you wished you had kissed me back at school instead of punching me.”

With his complexion, it’s hard to tell when Baz is blushing. But I can see it. Scarlet creeps down from his cheeks to his long neck, eyes locked on me in stun.

“Oh,” he squeaks. “I see.”

“You really don’t remember all that?”

He rubs his brow. “Well, maybe, it’s just...fuzzy.”

“But was it true? Did you like me back at Watford?”

He visibly gulps, then looks at the floor again. He looks incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. “Yes,” he says, like he has to force himself to say it. “Yes, it’s true.”

I let out a long breath, half from relief, half to calm myself down. Okay. It’s true. Baz had feelings for me. All through school, all that time, Baz was pining after me from afar. And I never knew. Not a bit. But I think that was the idea.

“Alright,” I say.

Baz lifts his eyes slightly, cocking one eyebrow. “Alright? Is that all you have to say?”

I shrug high then drop my shoulders low. “I don’t know what else to say. That’s all. It changes a lot of things I assumed in school.”

“I bloody well hope so.” His voice is lighter, trying to lift the mood, trying to make this even slightly less than horribly awkward.

“So,” I say drawing out the o, “when, uh, did it start? You feeling like...that.”

If Baz’s blush could get any worse, I think it just did. He plays with his sleeves, his buttons, his hair, obviously looking for a distraction. “I realised it when I was 15. But I think, it started almost since we met.”

That hits me hard. The first year we met, I wore ratty old clothes and was essentially nonverbal. Baz saw me like that, a dirty silent little orphan kid, and he already liked me. He didn’t show it, but only because he couldn’t. He cared about me, even then. Even when so few truly did.

“Huh,” I say stupidly. “That’s a long time.”

He lets out a scoffing chuckle. “No shit, Snow.”

“That makes me feel even more sorry for being a prick to you in school.”

Baz shakes his head very quickly. “No, no, don’t apologize. I was a prick to you first. I just...” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “In my family, I wasn’t supposed to be gay, let alone have feelings for someone they hated. I lashed out and hurt you because I was hurting. It was wrong.”

He sighs and sits down heavily on the couch. He looks so forlorn and ashamed, head hanging forward, his hair like a curtain. All the guilt seems to be pushing down on his shoulders, making him slump. Penny was right, as usual. But to hear it from Baz, to see him like this, it tugs on my heart. Like that time I caught him drunk in front of his mother’s grave when we were fifteen, or twice last night. He’s grown a lot and gotten happier, but a small part of Baz is still that sad kid, I guess.

Slowly, I walk towards him and sit down. Before I can think too much, I reach out and touch his hand. Baz’s head snaps up, completely terrified and shocked. Yet, he doesn’t pull away. One by one, I slip my fingers between his. Baz’s skin is such a strange contrast. My palm touches the smooth back of his hand, while fingers trace tiny rough ridges. It feels...really good.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “I know it’s been awhile, but what do you think about me now?”

I look him in the eye. I can see the way his lips shift, feel how his hand twitches. I wish I could hear what he’s thinking right now. He stays silent, so I decide to jump in.

“Well, let me start. I know what I think about you. I think,” I move closer, “that you’re kind, funny, smart, and still annoyingly gorgeous.” That makes his eyes widen ever so slightly. “And now I also know that you’re incredibly strong. That you struggled and mourned and came out okay. I mean, you’re a bloody doctor who’s going to help people work through their own problems. That’s amazing.”

Baz looks so shocked, probably both at my words and my coherency. I’ve gotten a lot better at speaking over the years. I’m so glad for that right now. “You really think all that, Snow?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always found you annoyingly amazing. Now it’s just not so annoying anymore.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Is it so hard to believe?”

Baz presses his lips together for a split second. “Honestly, yes. We hated each other for years, fought like cats and dogs. I assumed I had ruined any chance of that changing.”

“Well,” I move even closer so our thighs press together, “you didn’t. Because I like this.”

“What is this?”

“This!” I gesture wildly between us. “What we’re doing right now. I like this, I like you.”

He looks so shocked, yet there’s a twinkle of happiness too. “Like me how? As...a friend?”

And he calls me oblivious. I squeeze his hand again. “That depends. I know it’s been a long time, so have your...feelings about me gone away?”

Baz stares at me, studying my face. I just watch his eyes roam over me again and again. Then he reaches forward and delicately places his hand on my cheek, just like last night. Except it feels more purposeful. And so much better.

“No,” he says quietly, “they haven’t gone away. I don’t think they ever could.”

My body feels so light and happy and indescribably full. I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. It’s hit me so suddenly, yet it feels so right. I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning.

“Okay,” I say. “I feel the same.”

Baz’s hand falls, touching my arm. He raises a perplexed eyebrow. “Okay, but since when?”

I shrug, which makes Baz roll his eyes. “I’m not sure. All I know is that I do. That’s what really matters, right?”

He sighs. His hand moves up and down my arm. I can’t tell if he’s studying me or trying to hold on. “I suppose, yes.”

“Exactly. So why don’t we give it a shot?”

“What are you saying, Snow?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend.” Baz’s lips falls open and hand slips slightly down my arm. I hold onto him tighter. “Like, fair warning, I’m not a great boyfriend. I forget things, I’m super clumsy, and I haven’t dated anyone seriously since Agatha, so my experience is limited. But I like you. And I’m not asking for something serious right now, I just want to give this a try. Do you maybe want to?”

Baz’s face is such strange, confusing mixture. His brows are tense and pulled together. They scream worry and doubt. His thin beautiful lips hang open is absolute disbelief. But his eyes, a mix of dark blue and dark green, are filled to the brim with hope.

“I’m a doctor,” he blurts out.

“Um, yeah, I know,” I reply, trying not to laugh.

He shakes his head violently. “No, you don’t understand. I’m a medical resident. I’m at the hospital almost every day. I have barely any free time, and if I do I use it to sleep. And I don’t have much experience either. I’ve had two semi serious relationships that both ended in flames. I’m terrible at everything relationship related, probably even more than you, Snow.”

Baz looks so frantic and scared, but he’s hanging on to my hand. In spite of harsh realities, he doesn’t want to let go. I think he’s expecting me to admit defeat and walk away. But what he doesn’t seem to get, is that I don’t want to let go either.

I move closer, and cup his face this time. Baz instinctively leans into it. “You called me Simon before.”

He lets out a bursting laugh, sudden and unwanted. He immediately calms down, but there’s a little smile there. “Really? That’s what you care about?”

“Yeah. Because I like hearing you say it, and I like this. So,” I squeeze his hand again, “I want to try, no matter the risks. We’ll just deal with the rest later.”

He gives me a doubtful expression. “That’s your solution? Put off thinking about the problems we may face?”

“Yup. Because I want this, you want this, and that’s all that matters.”

“I guess...”

Stupid bastard still overthinks everything. I don’t want his mind far away, I want it right here with me. I brush my thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. “Plus, I’d rather focus on other things right now.”

“Oh? What things?”

“Well, more a question.” I deliberately move my hand lower, tracing under his bottom lip. “You said you wished you had kissed me when we were in school.”

He gulps. I watch his Adam’s apple bob slowly. “Yes, I did.”

“So, do you still want to kiss me?”

His eyes flick down, just for a moment. I can feel his hot breath on my face. “Yes.”

I smile, leaning close so our noses brush. “Then do it.”

Baz doesn’t ask for anymore assurance. He just leans forward, pressing his mouth to mine. And my mind completely implodes.

His lips are colder than Agatha’s, than anyone’s really. It’s like kissing a soft autumn breeze. Just chilly enough to send shivers over your skin. Yet when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, I melt completely, leaning closer and wrapping my arms around his neck. He clutches my sides, hanging on with a death grip. Like he never wants to let me go. (I wouldn’t mind that.) It’s an awkward position, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I run my hand through his hair. It’s soft and slips through my fingers, just like I thought it would. I clench my fist and push his face into mine. I more feel him groan than hear it. He bunches my shirt in his own fists. I like him here, under my hands, not off being sad or drunk, where I know he’s okay. I’ve got you know, Baz, I’m not letting go.

From that first press of our lips, I know I want this. Baz feels perfect and wonderful. I want to kiss him forever. It’s strange, to have something you never knew you wanted before, and suddenly need to hang onto it forever.

We both pull apart at relatively the same time, flushed and out of breath. Baz’s eyes flutter open. His pupils are blown incredibly huge, and his lips are swollen and pink. I think mine are too, at least it feels like they are. I’ve never felt so elated from just one kiss. I’m sure I never will again.

“Wow,” I breathe out.

Baz lets out a breathy laugh, so quiet and sweet. “Very eloquent.”

I chuckle too, twisting a strand of his hair. “Yeah, well, that’s all I can manage right now. I think you broke my brain.”

“Don’t stroke my ego too much, Snow. I’ll get a big head.”

“You mean a bigger one?”

Baz glares, but when I flash one grin, his entire face melts. My heart melts too. It’s in a goddamn puddle on the floor forever.

Baz presses one hand to his temple, eyes squinting shut. “Bloody hell, all the drinking and excitement is too much for my head.”

“Did you take the aspirin I left?”

“Yes, but apparently that only does so much. I want coffee.”

“I’ve got some. Probably not very fancy, but it’s good enough. That alright?”

He flashes a lopsided grin. It’s incredibly sweet, making me smile in return. “That would be wonderful, Simon.”

God, I want to hear him say my name like that a thousand times.

We reluctantly untangle ourselves, but our hands stay linked. I lead Baz to my tiny dining room table. He sits on the far side, facing the open space of my kitchenette. My hand drags across his as we reluctantly let go. I walk into the room and flip on my ancient coffee machine.

“How do you take your coffee?” I say over my shoulder. “Black?”

“Actually, I like a lot of cream and sugar.”

I laugh loudly and smile at him. “Still have a sweet tooth, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Of course. I still remember how you would steal my mint aeros.”

“You have no proof of that, Snow,” he singsongs.

His voice is light and joking. I look over my shoulder, and see his soft smile. I want to see that smile all the time. I want to find out every little happy expression he has, the ones I never got to see when we were kids.

“I’ll find some,” I reply..

“It’ll take a lot of coaxing.”

I lean against the counter, looking at him. Really looking at him. Baz Pitch, the former arsehole bully, now the mostly well adjusted altruistic doctor, still someone who can occupy most of my thoughts. This is all new yet so familiar.

“Good thing we’ve got time,” I say.

Baz leans his cheek on his palm. From his calm, happy expression, I know he agrees. We’ve got time to not just catch up, but start something strange and beautiful and new.

And I’ve never been so excited in my life.

———————————————

AN: Is this a bit unrealistic? Yes. Is this super adorable? Also yes. Hope you guys thought the same. I def enjoy writing drunk Baz and switching it up so Simon has glasses this time. And I like Simon's total obliviousness to his own feelings. He's a dumb romantic little shit lol. Thanks for reading, see y'all next time :D

PS: XOYO is a real bar. Hopefully they don't have to deal with drunk traumatized psychiatry residents too much lol.

[itsbuckysworld]

HELLO SPRING DAY 9

Pairing: Bucky x reader basically. Category: College-ish!AU Warnings: SO FLUFFY! Word Count: 1.6K Guest Appearance: Steve, mentions of Sam, a lot of made up names.

Summary: Bucky will never forget his first kiss and his first crush. Specially not now.

Day 9: First Kiss/ Last Kiss , for my Spring Short Story Writing Event

His hands are sweaty, he’s ran them over his jeans what feels over a hundred times by now. He’d told Steve time and time again that they should have stayed home playing Doom, he even promised he’d tell Steve how he always beat him at Mario if they had just stayed home, being the nerds they were, but no. Steve was too excited to have been invited to Stephanie Johnson’s party and he refused to believe it was because Steve had definitely grown taller and leaner over the summer, lost the braces too, and now every girl seemed to have a slight crush on him. It was like he was the new kid all over again.

Stephanie’s house was nice, and way too big for such a crowd. Plus they weren’t even supposed to be there. Everything felt like out of those movies his older sister watched. Steve had abandoned him some time ago, when Lillian Clark had pulled on his hand to go to the back where the 8th grade basketball team was, and Bucky found himself copying a decorative plant.

It’s not like Bucky didn’t like parties, what he didn’t like were the crowds of people he didn’t know and had no idea how to even begin to talk to. There was a reason he was considered a nerd, and so far he liked that. Again his palms felt sweaty. Him being a nerd didn’t exempt him from having crushes and wanting this: maybe a semblance of popularity and a good social life. But his awkward stance, lack of involvement in athletics and chubbier cheeks didn’t exactly make a good combination for ‘king of the prom’. He was okay with that, he had his own interests and talents and skills that didn’t make him shine like a supernova in the hallways of school, but maybe some other places.

His hands were sweaty because he’d been beckoned over to a game of 7 minutes in heaven mixed with spin the bottle, and the whole scenario played like slow motion in his eyes, him taking the tentative steps to join the circle sat on the living room floor, almost directly in front of Y/N Y/L/N, better known as the girl of his 12 year old dreams and fantasies.

Rounds came and went, most of the girls exploding in giggles when Aaron Carter and Leonard McGuire got paired to go in the closet together, but Bucky wasn’t paying much attention, all his little boy eyes could focus on was Y/N. Her plaid skirt and cute half up-do, a hint of glitter on her cheeks, laugh bright like the sun. He wiped his palms on his jeans one last time before reaching out and spinning the bottle when his turn came around. He didn’t know what to wish for; for the bottle to land on Y/N or someone else so he’d be spared the embarrassment of having to talk to her or worse: her being his first kiss? She’d probably had tons of kisses by now, and he’d be so inexperienced in comparison!

Whatever, he didn’t get enough time to even decide what to wish for, when the bottle came to a stop right in front of her. Giggles, ooh’s and aah’s erupted, along with surely come sour comment about Y/N having to go to the closet with a nerd, but all Bucky saw was the pep in her walk as she got up and extended her hand for him to take as he got up and followed her to the closet.

He turned the light on, hearing the laughter on the other side that indicated people were right outside, keeping the door closed until the 7 minute mark, no more, no less.

He stuttered, where to even begin? Did he have anything in common with her? Maybe telling her he sat right behind her in both Chemistry and Math would sound too creppy, right? So he did the most rational thing: outstretched his hand for her to shake and introduce himself. “Hi. I-I’m Bucky” her giggle was out of this world cute, and her hand really soft in his. “I know. I’m Y/N” of course she knew. Y/N was nice, nicer than anyone he’d ever met in school – well Steve was nice too, but that was different. Y/N was nice and pretty and smelled good and always gave him a soft smile on her way to her seat in Chemistry and Math –

The silence ate up around 2 minutes of their time in the closet. Two minutes Bucky spent silently stressing over how red his cheeks must be and how he’s so far only introduced himself unnecessarily and complimented her outfit. Her skirt swished along with her as she took in her surroundings, clearly not wanting to continue this awkward encounter, he thought.

And then the silence was broken. By her. With a shocking question “A-are you... Do you want to kiss me?” all Bucky could do was nod stupidly, because of course words would betray him now. He wanted to kiss her, really really badly. Her smile was tender and sweet as she leaned in a little, closing her eyes and softly puckering her lips, awaiting for him to meet her in the middle.

It took him a total of 5 seconds to tell himself it was now or never, and then his blue eyes were closed and he pressed his lips to her incredibly supple ones, the array of butterflies that ate him whole, something he could never explain.

The peck lasted about 10 seconds, and separating from her was so nerve wracking, he doesn’t know how he didn’t begin shaking like an earthquake right then. “I’m sorry” he felt compelled to say “I’ve… I’ve never… Uh” Why was he outing himself like this? Setting himself up for mockery and embarrassment? “Me too” she said with a blush to her cheeks he knows he will never forget, as well as the shock of the revelation. He was her first kiss too? No way, he quickly decides she’s just trying to be nice. Right?

She’s his first and second and third and fourth kiss, if you’re counting, as they had 3 minutes left that were spent kissing every way two naive 12 year olds knew how to. Sweet, short pecks, with varying head angles and varying lengths, and a riskier one with mouths half open, initiated by her because she’d seen her older brother kiss his girlfriend like that once.

By the time the door was opened they were just standing there, mute and blushy, and the swarm of giggling teen girls took Y/N away from him like a lightning bolt, Bucky knew that the events of that night would be in his memories forever and ever. His crush on her only growing from that moment on.

・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

He’s snapped back from the shock-induced flashback when a body bumps into his in the middle of the frat house kitchen he was currently standing in. His mouth, that had dropped open in surprise at what his eyes were seeing, clamped back shut, the drink in his hand almost slipping and clattering to the floor.

My god, it was Y/N Y/L/N in the flesh. 

Still fucking gorgeous, maybe even more so – impossible! Fucking impossible, yet so possible because it was right there in front of him – His biggest crush, his first kiss, the girl he pined after for years and years and years, even when she had moved towns and obviously switched schools in 8th grade, Bucky had promised himself that he would never love anyone like that – and proceeded to get himself his first girlfriend mid freshman year of high school despite still slightly crushing on the distant memory of Y/N. Steve always joked Y/N could have been his first girlfriend if he’d only had the balls to do something about it, to which Bucky agreed when it was too late –

“Bucky?” she said when she spotted him. “Bucky Barnes?” “Oh, god” He said, both faces splitting into laughter as her arms swung around his shoulders, enveloping him in a hug he returned, swaying back and forth with her. “Y/N it’s been… wow” “So long! You go to MIT too?” “Yeah, you go here!?” “I do! Art and design, sophomore year” she points to herself with the same red cup that is holding her drink. “Civil Engineering major, sophomore year!” each sentence brought in more and more shock. She was there all along? And he’d never seen her? Until a random party at Sam’s – Steve’s new addition to the gang which had always consisted of just him and Bucky – frat house? “What? Oh my god! It’s so nice to see you! You look great” And he did. Joining football and gaining some social skills did that to you. Also growing somewhat of a beard and keeping his hair just the right length. The truth was Bucky didn’t have trouble with girls anymore. “You too!” and god did she look amazing. The skirt, plaid like back then and almost out of his deepest dreams, with stockings and boots and a crop top, could she be anymore the girl of his dreams? “Steve is here too?” She looks around, probably remembering that the two are a package deal ever since diapers. “He’s… around, lost him long ago” he chuckles and some girl tugs at her arm from behind. She sends her away with a promise that ‘i’m going i’m going! Chill’ and turns back to him, giving him all her attention in the middle of the loud and crowded kitchen, making his heartbeat race. “Hey, tell him I said hi, and, here” she’s fishing the pocket of her skirt for her phone which prompts him to do the same. Oh god he’s going to have Y/N Y/L/N’s phone number? 12 year old him is  s h a k i n g. “We have to meet and catch up” “Definitely” after contacts are exchanged, she’s pressing a loud kiss to his cheek as a goodbye and disappearing into the party, leaving him stunned into place, a goofy smile slowly growing on his face

God damn, it’s been 7 years and he’s right back to square one, back to being a twelve year old nerd, at a party, with sweaty palms at the thought that he’s definitely crushing on her once again, if he ever even stopped. 

・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!! 

how cute is this reencounter?!?!?!? Also, let me know if you want to know her POV of this whole thing because I was thinking that’d be a nice little take for me to write, to see how much seeing Bucky Barnes again affects her.  Hint: a lot, she wasn’t lying, he was her first kiss too. 

[mars-walk]

hi everybody! i’m rose and here is a lil long intro to my boy marshall! i guess there are two of us roses, which is legit, but you can feel free to call me rosie or like, gmt rose if that helps make things less confusing lol

— && guests may mistake me as ( colson baker ), but really i am ( marshall walker + cis male + he/him ) and my DOB is ( 10/5/1993 ). i am applying for the ( personal trainer ) position as part of the EHP and would like to live in suite ( #305 ). i should be hired because i am ( adventurous & patient ), but i can also be ( insecure & naive ) at times. personally, i like to ( watch movies, write stories & work out ) when off the clock, but that won’t interfere with work.

edit: i forgot to link his pinterest board !! putting it here bc what’s the point of adding it if no one ends up seeing it, am i right?

// quick basic info:

Marshall Walker hails all the way from the land down under — specifically Melbourne, Australia. Aussie accent still going strong.

Like most Australians, he likes to make shit up about his homeland so beware of that.

As you can possibly tell, he is a libra so make of that what you will.

If he was lucky enough to attend Hogwarts, he would be a Ravenclaw.

Also he’s 26 in case any of you didn’t feel like doing the math (cause I sure didn’t).

He’s a former fashion model, current personal trainer, and an aspiring film critic.

Unfortunately it’s hard to establish yourself as a film critic, hence the current temporary job at the 312 gym while he figures it all out.

// random bits:

... these should totally be at the bottom but I’M PUTTING THEM HERE cause i’m not expecting anybody to read the entire novel that’s coming up wow.

He is a very tall boy at 6′5″.

Interests include movies (esp. old, Korean, and/or Italian ones), music (he plays the guitar ok), football (soccer for you Americans), rugby (on tv, mostly out of obligation), books, fashion, skincare, spirituality, mysticism.

His favorite film is without a doubt My Own Private Idaho.

He’s one of those people who insist that music always sounds better on vinyl.

Also has a deep appreciation for old school hip hop. Beastie Boys are a fave... but then you’ll also catch him jamming out to Simon & Garfunkel. He’s one of those “I like all music” kind of people.

Dreams of one day owning a berenese mountain dog.

Doesn’t remember his own phone number and has it saved in his phone.

Even though he’s officially retired from his modeling career, he’s still got a relatively active Instagram account with around 70,000 followers and some dedicated fangirls.

He’s also absolutely a walking skincare bible, although he doesn’t like to bring it up unprompted.

// ... more info, basically a bio:

Marshall grew up in the city, pacing back and forth between divorced parents from the age of 9. His older brother helped maintain some sense of stability, but that was only so effective when his parents could not stand being in the same room.

When he was 14, his mother moved to Perth and rather than uprooting everything for the boys, they stayed behind to live with their dad. Marshall’s relationship with his father was never the greatest, and he and his brother grew apart in their teens. 

His dad and brother were big sports guys and while Marshall did try to bond with them, he was always the skinny kid who never quite got it right.

As he grew older, he was honestly more content with picking up a book or spending his nights marathoning old movies. Whenever he did go to the gym, it was usually just to get out of the house and get some peace.

It wasn’t that he hated them at all. The relationship was that middling kind of bad that is tolerable in theory, but just strained enough that he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

At 20, he was studying film at university when he actually got his wish.

One night, he was scouted outside a concert venue, and he seized the opportunity to get away from his homelife. He decided that if he was going to do it, he was going to dive in head first, and so he did. Dropped out of university, said bye-bye to his hometown, and moved into a flat in Sydney with three other guys.

Soon it was Milan, then London, Paris, and New York. Even dipped out to Asia for work on a few occasions. Marshall was now a global citizen, in his own eyes anyway, and he thrived in his new career. All the things he got to see and experience. It was chaotic, but he was out there making art and actually making money just because someone someone outside a club had liked the way he looked.

The big adventure lasted five seasons before the industry spat him out — not a bad run for a tatted up skinny kid who was rather naïve to the whole thing.

Of course now he was 23 without a real sense of what he wanted to do with his life. He stayed around New York for a while, hanging out with the rich and famous and getting the occasional gig here and there. Being romantically linked to various socialites helped him out tremendously, as hollow as that attention felt to him.

After some brief, less than successful attempts at being an actor, he decided to retire from the career he had built for himself. Marshall dreamt of making a living as a writer, although that was easier said than done when you’re known for your looks and no one cares all that much what you have to say.

Wanting to get away from the industry altogether, he packed up and left New York. One of the old model mates had told him long before about the 312, and so that became his new destination. Getting to stay at a fancy hotel and just pop down and give some lady a workout once in a while? For someone who wants to hole up and write about movies, it’s absolutely the deal of a lifetime.

// connections:

I guess I’m more of a “go with the flow” kind of rp’er but I am 100% here for plotting and if anyone has a vision for a connection involving Marshall, or you just want to throw ideas around then definitely feel free to IM and let’s chat!

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wan High Weeping (Part 16)

Her face was terribly hot, her stomach knotted as tightly as it possibly could be. Tears threatened to break free, but she couldn’t afford to lose it in front of everyone. They had enough ammo as it were. But in her trembling hands she held the first failing grade she’d gotten since childhood. It wasn’t a test either. It was her midterm grade. It would seem the little assignments that she didn’t have the drive nor motivation to do had added up. Math, being the most tedious and insufferably boring, held the lowest grade. English and its need for deep thinking and focus was a close second worst. Her chemistry grade was only a little better than the ones before it.  History and art were the only things she managed to maintain a solid score in. Ironically, her physical education grad remained the same, but only because her former coach took pity on her soul—grading her for paper alternative assignments and eventually effort on the actually physical activity she was finally starting to get back into.

 Azula tried to think about that, about how her ribs were finally paining her less, about how she could start pushing herself harder again. But the sheet of paper in her hands brought an oppressive dread. She couldn’t imagine that she could hide it from her any better than she could hide her eating habits. She set the offending paper down and rubbed her hands over her face.

She couldn’t do this anymore. She just couldn’t.

 She heard Katara shift in the seat over. Her face was a complete picture of vexation. Yearning for a distraction, Azula leaned over and whispered, “why are you angry?”

 To her surprised, Katara actually answered. She turned her own grade sheet over and pointed to a big sparkling F. “Look at this!” She exclaimed loudly enough to draw a few looks and a snicker from Chu-Leng.  “She hates me. She graded me like this because she doesn’t like me. I’ve been doing all the work and…ugggh.” She crumpled the paper and shoved it into her backpack. A gesture Azula whole-heartedly agreed with. “I take it, she doesn’t like you either?”

 “Yeah.” Azula lied. She wished it was a matter of bias. No, it was rather objective that she was doing a lot worse than before. But it was hard to think with Ozai and Zuko going at it down the hall. And even harder when they weren’t—it helped even less that her belly has been empty for quite some time.

 Zuko had been gone for about two weeks. September had turned to mid-October. There was no sign of him and Ozai was growing moody and spiteful. Aside from that, it became terribly apparent that she missed Zuko. Even if he was only in his room pumping tar into his veins, his presence helped. There was a sense of silent unity when dealing with their father.

She wanted him to come home.

She wished that he would have said something.

 She hoped that Iroh had received her message. But he hated her just as well as Zuko did, so he didn’t text back either. She could only hope that he at least read her message and tried to contact Zuko. She couldn’t see Zuko ignoring him.

 The bell rang and she thought of trying to catch Katara to discuss grades. Perhaps it would do them both well to study together or something. But she fell back, she has just as little energy to keep conversation as she does to get her work done. She has even less energy to try to make amends.

 She couldn’t say how many teachers spoke with her, after class, about her grades before lunch time. But the answer, after minimal thinking, had to be every single one. Even Yengchen inquired about her grades in other classes. “I’m just a little worried about you, Azula, you’ve always had straight A’s…”

 Azula had answered as vaguely as possible. Her stamina was draining rather rapidly, just walking to lunch was an effort. She knew that she really ought to eat.

Eat and keep the food there.

But she was afraid to let it remain.

 She few weeks into her new habit, and she still couldn’t detect any progress. Visually, nothing had changed at all, the numbers on the scale didn’t go up…but they hardly went down either and she was growing frustrated. She didn’t know what she was doing wrong.

At least this time she had a more solid plan. She had allowed her father to pack her lunch for her and she took extra care to leave her cash and cards on her dresser. She would eat only what he had given her, if for no other reason than that she couldn’t pay for anything else.

 It would seem that Ozai’s version of lunch was only a snack bar and a single apple. Not even a water bottle.

 “That’s all you’ve got?” Teo wheels up to her. And because she wasn’t in the middle of an embarrassing binge, she let him stay.

 “I let my dad pack lunch today.” It was a half-truth. One that allowed her to pretend that she wasn’t thankful that she had such a small lunch.

 “My dad does the same things sometimes. I don’t think dads know how to pack lunch.” He laughed.

 Azula tries to do the same, but her stomach was groaning and she felt anything but giddy. So instead she nodded her head and finished the last of her apple. She set the core to the side and stared off, evidently her gaze fell on her former table. Usha was laughing loudly with Kori. A sorrowful knot worked its way into her throat, that should be her, not Kori. She should still be sitting there. At least they weren’t laughing at her that day. And with Chan’s suspension pending for another day, things were peaceful.

They should have been anyhow. Chu-Leng was working double time to make her feel like shit on Chan’s behalf. And he was putting extra effort into it, claiming that she’d gotten Chan suspended in the first place. Naturally, the rest of the boys’ volleyball team and Jet were invited to join in.

 The day prior it was jokes about how she was sitting alone and the day before that it was comments the same old tiresome remarks about her weight. She wished that they would just drop it and find something new to talk about.

 Her stomach rumbled again and she looked up at Teo, trying to find any topic to discuss that wasn’t food. But she didn’t know anything about the boy and jumping right into, “how’d you end up in a wheel chair,” seemed anything but appropriate.

 “You want some of my lunch?” He offered.

 She wished that he hadn’t because she did, she really, really did. “No, I’m fine. I’m not that hungry.”

 She was thankful that he didn’t push.

 “Are you okay?” Teo asked.

 As subtly as possible, she bit the inside of her lip. “I’m fine.” She allowed herself to dwell on that she had someone to sit by, that someone had gone out of their way to talk to her, and for a moment she can pretend that she is fine. “Are you.”

 “Now that Chan isn’t here, I’m sort of okay.” She could tell that his smile is forced. She knows, very well, the look of someone who is masking a world of hurt. And she was almost certain that he sensed the untruth of her own response.

 “Thank you for sitting with me.” She mumbled.

They don’t speak for the rest of the hour.

 .oOo.

 Azula took her time organizing her locker for the next day. She took her time finding her keys. She took her time walking to the car and she took the back roads all the way home. She had learned to fear the sight of her home.

 Now that Zuko was gone, there was nothing to take the spotlight off of her, and it was casting her in the most unflattering light. She stepped inside, with any luck, her father would be on a conference call. She took off her shoes and padded as quietly as possible to her room—an attempt that left her feeling worser still about herself, her footfalls are heavier now and she flinched with each one. Still she remains undetected. She locked the door.

 He didn’t speak with her so she didn’t speak with him.

 .oOo.

 She thought about it all day, because she knew that he knew about her slipping grades. She didn’t know how she knew, she just had a sense of it. It followed her to the cafeteria. The knowledge that she was going to get an earful very soon. She dug around her lunch bag only to find it empty, it was all the confirmation she needed.

 Her stomach pained her so terribly and she wished that she had brought her money along after all. The scent of french fries and pizza taunted her. On Usha’s tray she can see a helping of onion rings next to a serving of pasta. The athletes have plates teeming with carbs, apparently it was bulking time for the wrestling and football teams. Mai’s lunch consisted of snack sized sushi and a packet of bland crackers. Katara’s lunch looked the most appetizing; a sandwich—probably made by her mother—some fruit snakes, a banana, and what looked like homemade brownies. She, herself, had nothing. She has had nothing for too long. And because she had nothing for so long, she suddenly wanted to taste everything. All the same, she knew that she couldn’t. It was a cycle that was driving her mad.

 Teo took a seat.

She hardly noticed him until he remarked, “did you already eat?”

 “No, I forgot to pack lunch.” A full-blown lie.

 “Here.” He put his tray in the middle of the table and offers her some french toast sticks. He poured an unhealthy amount of syrup on the tray, practically dousing it. She didn’t know why he was eating breakfast for lunch, but in that moment it didn’t matter. She would take would she could get. It didn’t actually occur to her to ask how many sticks he was willing to give up until she had taken nearly half. Her control was slipping—in beginning her purge cycles she thought that she was taking control. Now she was beginning to think that she had set herself on a path that reaped it away from her. And this path was taking it fast.

 She couldn’t bring herself to face Teo. He was probably disgusted with how greedily she had taken him up on his offer.

If he was, he didn’t make mention of it and she is thankful for at least that.

But it didn’t matter, she felt disgusted with herself for the both of them and then some.

 She excused herself and headed for the bathroom.

 .oOo.

 Her streak of missing her father came to an end. He was waiting for her at the dinner table when she came downstairs to fetch her shoulder bag. He tossed a sheet of paper down on the middle of the table, she already knew what it was. “What is the meaning of this?”

 She opened her mouth to explain but he spoke over her. “It’s failure, that’s what it is. F is for failure, do you know that or are you flunking your spelling exams too?”

 She flinched. She felt horrible for it but she wished Zuko was there; skipping school altogether was, after all, a worse crime than attending and failing.

 “You can’t keep your grades up, but you can keep your weight up!”

 There probably wasn’t a spot on her face that wasn’t a shade of red. His insults were growing progressively worse, and far more frequent.

 “Why is that?” He demanded.

 “I have a lot of other things to think about.” She replied quietly.

 “Are these things more important than school?”

 She very well couldn’t tell him that it was hard to work and pay attention because she was being harassed almost regularly by Chu-Leng and Usha. It would just be one more thing for him to yell at her about. So she picked a different thing that bothered her. “I think it’s important to know where Zuko is.”

 Ozai scoffs. “He dug his own grave. Junkies belong in the streets not in luxurious estates.”

 There were so many things she wanted to say but she didn’t want to dig a grave like Zuko’s so she held her tongue.

 “Stop thinking about the family disgrace—believe it or not, that isn’t you…yet—and fix this.” He practically threw the paper at her.

 She knew that it was a horrible move but that day was a day without control, so she kept the ball rolling, “it’s hard to focus when you’re starving.”

 His laugher was rather booming. “No wonder your grades are so low, you’re always starving, aren’t you?”

 “Because you won’t let me eat.” She mumbled.

 “You can eat when you get yourself back in shape.”

 She swallowed. It took so much willpower to not let her hurt be seen. But he was cutting deep. Deep within, her hurt gives way to a tinge of anger. With him or with herself, she couldn’t decide. Suddenly she wished that Mai hadn’t cut her out, Mai would have been able to talk her down or at least distract her. At first she wished that she had TyLee for her peppy demeanor, but then she really put some thought into it.

The last thing she needed was TyLee with her slender and perfect hourglass figure. The last thing she needed was someone to make her look and feel worse than she did.

 Her father offered one final comment that she blocked out and retreated, declaring that he had to finalize his business plans—the ones that would apparently wipe their biggest rival out completely. She hoped silently that his plan would fail. It would serve him well.

 .oOo.

 She couldn’t sleep, not with Ozai’s commentary bombarding her mind. Not when the hunger tickled her stomach. Faintly she was aware that if he stopped restricting her so (and if she could stop restricting herself), that food might not be on her mind so constantly. But as things were, it was almost the only thing she could think of.

 She looked at the clock. Nearly 1:00 in the morning. She realized that this may be her only opportunity to get a real meal, so she crept down the hallway. From the shelves she pulled the first food item her hand landed on, frankly she didn’t even care for chips, but she ate them anyhow, promising herself that she’d only eat a few. But a few turned into half. And then half turned into the entire bag. She pulls something else down from the shelf and she did it with a purpose. She ate as much as she could just to spite him.

Just to be silently say that he couldn’t tell her what to do, that he couldn’t treat her how he was. A very quiet, unseen middle finger to the man.

In doing so she spites herself too.

 Because looking at the empty wrappers filled her with dread. It brought her back to reality, the one where she vividly recalled promising herself that she was going to get back in shape, not for her father, but for her own sake.

 Thank God that the bathroom was just a few doors down.

She promised herself that it would only be once…and then she had promised herself that it would be once more. But it never was, it never would be. It burned away at her throat most unpleasantly. She was dimly aware that it was destroying her, perhaps more than the actual binge itself.  

But there was so much relief and control—or at least the illusion of it—in doing it.

 She hurried to clean the mess she made of her face and the mess she had made in the kitchen. She took the extra time to discard the wrappers where her father wouldn’t find them.

 Indeed, she had spited herself so well that night.

And Ozai not at all, because he didn’t know what she had done.

He wouldn’t ever.

And because he didn’t know, it was as though he hadn’t been spited at all.

 No, she had only hurt herself.

[espvcio]

hello there sunshines   !   it’s me again, dallas . . . i’m also playing this dumb ass and i’d love for any plots with him too. also still like to be friends   !  if you’d like to plot, feel free to like this post and i’ll gladly hit you up, or just message me heh. i’m working on updating the wanted connections page so i’ll add that later. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

alvaro alarcón was born and raised in valencia, spain. growing up between beaches and palm trees, the everlasting warmth of the sun, the sand between his toes and afternoons spent in jardin del turia. the landscapes of the mountains in the distance and the utter calm that valencia had still remains to be his dream image and the place he enjoys calling home most, even when los angeles became a second home to him with ease. when the spaniard, at the age of eleven, made the move across the atlantic ocean with his family, the transition had been smoother than he had hoped for initially. he tended to hear spanish around him, especially since his aunt and uncle had already lived in the states and were the perfect bridge between improving his english and feeling at home at the sound of spanish. not even the landscape was altered much, with the rays of sunshine on most days of the year, perfect temperatures and beaches only minutes away.

the alarcón family is notorious however, mostly for their size. alvaro grew up a family man, and perhaps that is due to the many siblings he has. being the second youngest, he has four older siblings and one younger brother. alejandro, ana and pablo, of respectively 32, 27 and 26, are his older siblings. his younger brother, the nineteen year old rafael, is the one he feels closest to. he always shared a room with his younger brother, with the middle class family living in los angeles leaving a little less room than they desired in the house they had. it were paired with the regular fights over playstation controllers, or who would be allowed a second portion for dinner first. or the hourly fights over privacy, the others constantly being around you. their family is hectic, chaotic, living in a house that only portrays the mess they are. anyone from the outside entering the household, hearing loud voices arguing over the sound of mama alarcón cooking in the kitchen and someone else streaming their music too loudly in their room would figure they were dysfunctional. however alvaro would not wish for things to be different. the close proximity they always had, the quite literal proximity, also enabled him to get to know his siblings and his parents like the back of his hand. their personas are like a second nature to him, he understands them without words, they understand him with a mere look of those hazel eyes. it feels effortless, even though it is not   —   perhaps though, the effort feels worth it to all of them. family comes first in every situation to him, would in a heartbeat agree that blood is indeed thicker than water, and would give the world to see any of them happy. no matter the cost, he aims to see smiles on their faces. he might not see them every day, ever since he moved out for college. and the other family members might have wandered across the state more, yet there is the unconditional love that runs through the alarcón family.

as the family moved to los angeles when alvaro was eleven, he entered high school. he struggled more than usual with the language, perhaps therefore never entirely found his place in the courses that were entirely dependent on his language skills. never found himself interested in the stories of history, the explanations of geography, the beauty of language and translation. he were always distracted, struggling to keep his focus on the subjects that barely interested him, became so difficult upon the sudden change of language and barely passed any of them. high school, however, did open the doors for alvaro to discover what he was passionate about. perhaps it were the universal language of numbers and formulas that initially attracted him, yet he were immediately more drawn to the hard sciences. long nights, hard work and many many classes further, he mastered the art of physics, chemistry and math. the numbers seem to make sense in his head more than words to, especially as a boy who struggled with expressing his thoughts eloquently in a language other than his mother tongue.

his love for these subjects, and especially the influence of his dad, also sparked his interest in what now is the one thing dominating his life. he’s an astrophile, fond of the stars, the galaxies, the moon and the world beyond what is known. from a young age the dreams of becoming an astronaut were starting to appear, only dreaming of what setting foot on the moon would be like. not only feeling weightless, but as if he were indestructible. his father had been a high school physics teacher back in spain. he remembers the evenings they used to build their own telescopes together, sit in the garden behind their house and look up at the bright, clear sky to try and see whether they could identify orion. or whether he could spot his star sign, sagittarius. it were a bonding activity for the both of them, something that gave alvaro a step forward in comparison to his other siblings. but from very early on, these were dreams, interests and things he grew to love over the years. his dreams were empowering, even when they were merely dreams. he would not move on to be an astronaut, neither is that the aim anymore. after his high school graduation, he moved on to become an undergrad student in astronomy at ucla, and now moved on to become a graduate student in astrophysics. combining both what he considers to be the love of his life, and the numbers that make sense to him in his mind so easily.

it would be a lie to say that alvaro does not dream of working for nasa in the future. currently he is quite occupied, doing his research at the local observatory, being a teacher assistant and giving lectures in mostly physics and astronomy. it still remains however his goal in life to once be able to say he works for the biggest space organization in the world. although perhaps he is also quite intrigued by the secrets area 51 holds.

his persona in one word can be described as juvenile. far into his twenties, his soul can still be compared to that of a child. impulsive, reckless or perhaps even tactless, the spaniard is one that does not realize his own or others’ limits. it could be questioned whether he ever grew up, whether he ever matured. he fails to understand there are consequences to certain actions, avoids conflict like it’s the black plague and the act of fighting is something he dislikes more than he does waking up early. he would rather flee than face the consequences of his own actions, and most definitely does not deal with them like an adult should. alvaro lives in his own idealistic world in which he decides the rules, no one else does. in which he does not carry the burden or the responsibility, but everyone around him does. where he never lost the comfort of family, of others looking out for him.

by now, he might even be afraid to grow up. his birthday is a day he would dread if it were not for the celebrations bringing together his family and friends. the only numbers he doesn’t like, are those of his age. slowly but surely losing grip of the safety of the people around him, having to discover uncharted waters ... it scares him, it frightens him and it is something he wishes to avoid at all costs.

this same juvenile phase is also combined however with a way of living life that is carefree. he carries a childlike enthusiasm for adventure, for exploration and for the unknown. he seeks things that others would not dare to get involved with, is an optimist by nature and never fails to bring a smile to his own face. perhaps coincidentally as well, he is truly a disney fan with peter pan being his ultimate favourite movie.

similarly, the boy is notorious for being a fool. he does not fear, he enjoys or perhaps craves being the center of attention and does not know the definition to the word shame. in the end, looking back on his family situation, you could say that his behaviour had always been heightened as a way to seek the attention he wanted. to stand out, to attract all attention to himself, to put himself forward. even among family he is notorious for his reckless actions, his ways of failing to see when danger could strike, for failing to see shame or possible embarrassment in any situation. perhaps it only gives him a more positive outlook on life, where he feels as if he is on top of the world in every situation, yet it also brings the opportunity for him to fall hard, for it to absolutely crush him seeing the reality of the world compared to what he envisions himself.

some headcanons then   !   first of all, he’s a natural flirt. he carries some kind of natural charm that gives him this constant flirtatious look. he is completely unaware and perhaps that only worsens it. he would flirt with your mother in front of you and be completely clueless about it. perhaps similarly, he also has issues identifying the very thin line between interest and possibly love. he barely had any serious relationships throughout the years, perhaps never feeling as passionately in love, merely entertained by the chase. alvaro falls in love hard and fast, and once he does however there’s no going back from it.

he’s a gigantic football fan, and has always supported fc barcelona. despite growing up a bit to the south of the city, as a young boy he grew up watching the heroes such as andres iniesta and lionel messi, playing for the club he grew to love. he has visited them a few times when he still lived in spain, and still wears his jersey with pride whenever the team is playing. 

some more random ones . . . he’s got the ultimate dream date being a picnic in the park or at the beach followed by stargazing at night. perhaps utterly romantic for a boy who does not date, however he’s just a sucker for the bright night sky. his favourite colour is green, as it reminds him of the outside, of creativity, of optimism. he always said to himself he would move back to spain the minute he could, never feeling entirely at home in los angeles. it were a great second but would never become the first. yet recently he started to change his mind more, settling down in the city, having a job, his own small apartment in the city centre and perhaps the realization that those two worlds ain’t all that different. is a gigantic lightweight, can not hold his alcohol. will drink two beers on a slightly empty stomach and drags on your arm because he wants to go skinny dipping in your neighbours’ pool. also loves karaoke, he’s not a killer singer but he’s a stage presence  (  also a total sucker for the 80s and 90s classics  ).

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Episode 109

Covering for @eponymous-rose​ because she has just moved and has one chair in her apartment, and also her ceiling is apparently making it rain inside. Also, I’m still riding the high of seeing this show live, so let’s get this going! 

Tonight’s guests: Liam, Taliesin, and Marisha! Late start; Brian blames Spectrum. I blame Sam.

Regular Critical Role this week; Sam’s oneshot is next week! Tonight’s After Dark will be a rebroadcast of the panel from GenCon. 

Everyone is a little stunned at how much they packed into last weekend. Marisha is amazed that they’ve gone from 250 people to 2500 people in the audience, especially considering the number of volunteers and staff they need to run a show like this. Brian is very surprised it had so few hitches in the production. 

Marisha helped Brian piece together his outfit (it was Ashley’s shirt and pants from New York that Ashley made him get).

No one knew what Sam would be wearing until fifteen minutes before showtime. He originally used a Chessex dice box, but Liam “didn’t feel it would read in the back row” so he used a larger, hollow box. 

A fan offered Brian ten thousand dollars for that box after the show. Yikes.

The art book has been in planning for a year; the first official meeting was at the last ComicCon. Liam’s favorite piece is a group portrait that has not been seen before. Taliesin loves that there are bits of “ephemera” scattered throughout the book.

Neither Liam nor Taliesin anticipated how much work the book would be. No release date yet.

Liam had no plan to make sure the potion went to Sam. He just wanted a lighthearted moment, and hadn’t planned to use it until the Raven Queen’s trammel almost broke the episode before. 

Keyleth suspected foul play on the love potion because she knows Vax well enough by now, but wasn’t worried because she likes lighthearted trickster Vax.

Brian was hoping Scanlan would see a mirror first. Taliesin hoped for Keyleth or Grog. Marisha hoped for Vax. 

The Gif of the Week is Matt tearing up his notes. It’s still hilarious.

Liam feels like the whole night was a scene from 300, including the chant of Vax’ildan. It was overwhelming in a good way.

Liam thinks some of Sam’s song/speech schtick was prepared before the show, but Taliesin and Marisha think he was adlibbing some of it as he went. Everyone marvels at his ability to improv so quickly.

Taliesin thinks Vex would have taken a finger or two if Scanlan hadn’t backed off. 

Marisha thinks Keyleth has come to the acceptance that death is likely, even though she’s hopeful they will survive. 

Marisha was slightly concerned that Scanlan would be angry at the prank and leave again. 

Liam doesn’t intend the pranks to be as good as they are, he just trusts Sam Riegel. “I just had to hold the football for Riegel and let him kick it.”

If Scanlan had seen Vex first, Percy would have been amused at first and then quickly annoyed. Taliesin also notes that Percy doesn’t know there was a love potion involved and is vain enough to think it was genuine.

There will be a Talks Machina next week even though a lot of people will be at Burning Man; it just “won’t be a traditional Talks.” 

Brian was excited to emcee the live show even though he had to stall a few minutes at the beginning because the merch line was so long. He felt like he had a contact high from how many Critters were excited to see him and the crew, the crowd singing All-Star before the show, and everyone just being generally enthusiastic. 

The guy who owns the theater said they have had rock concerts that were less exciting; he apparently thought something had happened after the first cheer and came out to check that everything was okay.

Keyleth is okay plummeting to her death these days. 

Taliesin, Marisha, and Liam all feel they will be battling Vecna on top of the titan. They don’t think it will stop until he’s defeated. 

Liam was certain he was going unconscious when Matt said he didn’t have the dice for the damage. Vax’s HP dipped to the 30s. 

Brian sat next to Andrew from CritRoleStats during the show. Hi, Andrew! He does the math in his head for the HP tracking and Brian kept interrupting him by accident. 

Percy is very much looking forward to killing Delilah again. “She’s the gift that keeps on giving.” He also says something about keeping her in a dungeon and killing her every week. Marisha: “Geez louise, that’s dark!”

Keyleth thinks it’s better for her to be down a high-level spell slot than for Scanlan to be, since he has so many high level Hail Marys. 

Brian marvels again at how intense the crowd was. The pre-show panel helped amp them up as well. 

Favorite GenCon moments for everyone! Brian: watching the live show in the audience and going to the Logic show. Brian got to lose at MarioKart on that stage as well. He came in 7th out of 8, and six of the other competitors were bots. Liam loved Bobby pulling Hannah Banana onstage to rap. I’m missing a lot of these references, so apologies if any of this is misspelled! The guy behind Brian’s empty seat apparently cheered very hard for him, even though he lost. Brian also loved Travis’s face when they walked out onto the football field on Sunday. Taliesin loved photobombing Critters. 

During the standing ovation, Marisha felt “pure, distilled, emotional ecstasy.” Liam was very humbled by the love for something they created around Marisha’s dining room table. Taliesin can’t find words for it. Brian felt like it was a wall of love. 

Right before he came out to do the initial announcements, Brian gave Matt a hug and unexpectedly started crying, so he had to compose himself before starting the show. At the end of the show, he looked over and saw Matt had tears in his eyes as well.

Liam loves that events from the game feel like real memories, and that what they do matters so much to so many people. 

After Dark: aka That Pre-Show Panel From the Con

Everyone is nervous about the show except Travis, who’s stoked. Everyone had a strategy session beforehand, except the rules of the game kept getting in the way. Matt: “Antimagic field does not work against spells cast by deities, sorry!”

Marisha and Laura love the game because of the roleplaying elements. Marisha notes there’s still a problem with D&D being perceived as a boy’s game. Liam runs a game for five small girls who love it because it’s not treated as a game for girls; “get ‘em while they’re as young as possible.” 

Any two NPCs in a cage match: Marisha picks Kevdak and Groon. Laura picks Trish the Dish and Kima. Matt: “Now we’re just me at home playing with my action figures, and I’m okay with that.” 

Marisha notes that Critical Role builds every week, which is different than the pre-produced final product from Dread. She loves Dread’s team-building aspect for the puzzles and atmosphere. Matt: “It felt weirdly magical.”

Taliesin and Marisha are very proud of Dread; there will be more to come.

An audience member asks about favorite one-liners: “Your secret is safe with my indifference.” “Life needs things to live.” “Where’s Larkin?”

They talk about how weird it is to have their game so big. They’re constantly amazed by the fan productions of love. 

Matt works hard on the balance between grandiose successes, failures, and heroism, and the importance of grounding the adventure in realism. Liam loves that it runs the gamut from an argument over a pair of shoes to a beloved city crumbling around them. 

Matt never imagined this world he made up would end up in a campaign guide. It was originally a generic fantasy land for his friends to play in, but the more life he put into it the more life his players put into it, and it was very daunting to try to capture all that collaboration into a book for other people to play in. He talks a bit about Joey, his co-writer, who helped him with the overwhelming load of work and created some ideas of his own.

If Laura could reroll one roll from the whole campaign, she describes a moment pre-show where she was trying to slide on her knees through a troll’s legs to shoot up, except she rolled a 1 and the troll stepped on her stomach. Travis would reroll the skull spike. “I wanted that one bad.” Taliesin feels bad rolls are character-building. Matt mentions the roll in the Sunken Tomb, and apparently Laura has never realized how much hinged on that one roll before this moment. Matt thinks of the roll Raishan failed against the Feeblemind. “Thanks, Keyleth!”

Travis prevented Laura from taking a gift earlier, but totally accepts a gift beer from an audience member. The same person brings up how good D&D is for blind and low-vision players since it’s theater of the mind, and as my residency was in low-vision rehabilitation, this means a lot to me. Matt also brings up Critical Role Transcripts as another great method of accessibility. They have over 60% of the whole show completely transcribed, which is over $50,000 in transcribing time. You can sign up to volunteer for five-minute slots at CRTranscript on Twitter. 

Matt talks about the importance of writing down details for NPCs you create on the fly and fleshing them out after the campaign if you think they might recur, because the players will remember every time if you don’t. 

Senokir was made up on the spot. Serious Alpha technical issues, so I’m sorry if I miss some stuff here. 

Matt does not believe in punishing players for being clever. He would rather throw away material and reuse it later. 

Sam is proud of the Washington Football Team inspiration and the library sequence with Laura. He liked the pressure of coming up with so many songs on the spot. 

Grog would take the Deck over the Alchemy Jug without a thought.

Travis will always choose character-based leveling for Grog over meta-gaming every time, especially if it makes Grog dumber. Sam looked up good spells for bards and the mansion was not one of them, but he took it because he loved the idea and hasn’t regretted it. Laura feels the same way about keeping Trinket through the Pathfinder transition. Taliesin never took Luck for the same reason; he feels the potential of the gun backfiring is the price he should pay. “I don’t want to undo my weaknesses.”

Liam’s choice of Fated is why Matt started thinking about him being fate-touched. 

More serious technical issues, sorry. Matt talks about the fact that all DMs will make mistakes and that it’s important to find creative solutions within the bounds of the world you’ve made. 

If Vex could reincarnate as anything, she’d pick “angel babyyyy!” Marisha would like to see Keyleth as a half-orc.

Laura is very disappointed Matt didn’t haggle the last time they went to the flea market together. 

[devotedlydistinguishednut]

Wednesday Briefing by The New York Times

India’s coronavirus mystery

    The country has around 125 confirmed cases, and it’s a bit of a puzzle how the world’s second-most-populous nation, with 1.3 billion people, has seemingly remained unscathed so far.

    There could be many more cases in India than have been detected, because of the difficulties of getting tested. But it’s also possible that the country has actually managed to so far escape the worst — either because of quick and strict efforts right from the start, or another mix of factors.

    The relative calm has fueled disbelief in some quarters that the virus is even a threat. Over the weekend in Lucknow, one of India’s bigger cities, young people packed into pubs. “I am not scared. I eat, party, sleep,” said Akshay Gupta, an accountant who was bar hopping on Saturday night. “The scare is overhyped.” 

    Elsewhere in Asia, countries have begun to impose strict measures, including lockdowns in the Philippines and Malaysia and the widespread closure of schools, businesses and entertainment venues in Thailand. Some nations face a worrisome rise in cases without health care systems that can deal with a major outbreak.

Case studies: 

    Early intervention, meticulous tracking, quarantines and social distancing helped Singapore, Taiwan and Hong Kong get their outbreaks under control.

■ New York City residents were told to prepare for a possible “shelter in place” order in the next 48 hours. Separately, the Trump administration will seek to send cash payments directly to Americans to cushion the economic blow of the pandemic.

■ The first testing in humans of an experimental vaccine has begun, but even if it is proved safe and effective, it will not be available for at least a year.

■ The European Union has adopted a 30-day ban on non-essential travel to European countries from the rest of the world, starting a stretch of isolation like nothing in modern history outside wartime.

■ After suffering their worst day in decades, stocks bounced back: The S&P 500 rose about 6 percent as Washington policymakers talked up plans to try to cushion the economy.

■ The actors Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson have been released from the hospital after contracting the virus.

What we can do next

    Melina caught up with Donald G. McNeil Jr., our infectious diseases reporter who has been covering epidemics for nearly two decades. He has been reporting on experts’ recommendations for what to do next.

    You’ve said this is a crisis but it’s not unstoppable. How do we stop it?

    We need to shut down all travel, as experts have said. And then we really aggressively tackle the clusters. People have got to stop shaking hands; people have got to stop going to bars and restaurants. New clusters are appearing every day.

    It’s basically urgent that America imitates what China did. China had a massive outbreak in Wuhan, spreading all over the country, and they’ve almost stopped it. We can shut off the roads, flights, buses and trains. I don’t think we’ll ever succeed at doing exactly what China did. It’s going to cause massive social disruption because Americans don’t like being told what to do. 

    In places like China, Singapore and Taiwan, they’ve gone through SARS — they know how scary it is.

    Is that what some countries are missing? This sense of collective action and selflessness?

    That is absolutely what many Americans are missing — that it’s not about you right now. When I was a kid, my parents were in the World War II generation and there was more of a sense of, hey, we did something amazing; we ramped up this gigantic society effort. It was this sense of we’re all in this together. 

    We’ve got to realize that we’re all in this together and save each other’s lives. That has not penetrated yet and it needs to penetrate because we all have to cooperate.

    The sad thing is: Most people — this has been true in every epidemic I’ve covered, whether it’s Zika in Puerto Rico or AIDS in South Africa — don’t believe in the disease until they see someone get sick and die from it, someone they know. And it’s too bad. It’s: Oh, that’s happening to those people over there; that’s happening in China; that’s not going to happen to us.

    I imagine that after decades of covering epidemics, you understood Covid-19’s severity early on. Tell me about when this became serious for you. 

    I remember vividly — I went on vacation to Argentina, not thinking this was terribly serious: It sounds like an animal disease and it’s going to kill a limited number of people. By the time I came back, China admitted there was sustained human-to-human transmission. I started watching the case counts double and doing the math in my head, and I realized, oh my god. This is going pandemic.

    When was that?

    It was late January. I was on the subway, going from work to my girlfriend’s house, just sort of thinking about the numbers and realizing: Wait a minute, that doubling rate is so fast, there’s no way this isn’t going to become a pandemic. I started writing on a piece of notebook paper trying to see if I was crazy — and then went looking up the 1918 pandemic and realized that was the closest model to this.

China bans American journalists from major outlets

    Beijing announced that it would expel American journalists working for The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal and The Washington Post, and also ban them from reporting in territories like Hong Kong and Macau.

    It also demanded that those outlets, as well as the Voice of America and Time magazine, provide the government with information about their operations. The full scope of the directive was not immediately clear.

     The latest move in the tit-for-tat campaign between Washington and Beijing comes at a moment when reporting on the coronavirus is a global, 24-hour operation for most news outlets. Last month China expelled three Wall Street Journal reporters from the country. President Trump responded this month by limiting the number of Chinese citizens who could work in the U.S. for five state-controlled Chinese news organizations.

    Related: China has been cracking down on online anger toward the government for its handling of the coronavirus outbreak. A new internet police force is knocking on doors of suspected critics, subjecting them to hours of interrogation and in some cases forcing them to sign loyalty pledges.

Why yoga is causing a stir in Nepal

    Next month, the small Himalayan nation will become the first in the world to make yoga a required subject nationwide.

    For many around the world in similar programs, it’s a healing and stress-reducing addition to a curriculum. But in a region where the exercises are increasingly intertwined with rising Hindu nationalism, some Muslims are worried.

Here’s what else is happening

Football: The European Championship, second only to the World Cup in international football, will be postponed until 2021.

Germany: A laptop sold on eBay for $100 was discovered to contain classified software for a surface-to-air rocket system used by the country’s air force.

Syria: Amid a cease-fire in the northern province of Idlib, some of the hundreds of thousands of displaced residents are trickling back. But very few believe the quiet will last.

Snapshot: A physicist is trying to disentangle the structural dynamics of bird nests using bamboo skewers, above. A nest is “a disordered stick bomb,” resilient in ways that humans have hardly begun to understand.

What we’re reading: This Harvard Business Review article about two new mothers who take very different paths going back to work in Sweden and the U.S. “Reading the two stories side by side shows just how dismally work-family policies in the U.S. measure up — if they’re there at all,” says Francesca Donner, the director of our Gender Initiative.

Now, a break from the news

Cook: This rosemary, olive oil and orange cake is great for what our Food editor Sam Sifton calls “procrastibaking,” though “anxiety baking may be the better term of art these days.”

Shows for social distancing: Looking for a few hours of distraction between vigorous hand-washings? Need a moment away from Twitter? A musical mockumentary, an addiction sitcom, two true-crime docs and a pottery competition are here to help.

Read: Was there a murder on the Mayflower? In her new novel, “Beheld,” TaraShea Nesbit uses a death on the pilgrim ship to examine what life was like for women in the Plymouth Colony.

Smarter Living: Here are some ways to help your community combat the coronavirus while still practicing social distancing. For starters, donate — ideally money, not old cans — to your local food bank.

And now for the Back Story on … Covering an infected global economy

    The pandemic is having a big impact on the world’s wallet. To understand the fallout, Times Insider spoke to Jeanna Smialek, who covers the Federal Reserve from Washington. Below is a condensed version of the conversation.

    On Sunday, the Fed slashed interest rates to almost zero. How could that affect us going forward?

    The move should help consumers borrow and spend. For example, it should make mortgages cheaper. But at the end of the day, nothing the Fed can do at this point is going to offset the full shock of coronavirus, because its tools are just not well suited to making up for lost work hours or helping employees who have missed out on paychecks.

    Can nations work together to help the global economy rebound?

    Central banks do not have the firefighting power that they had going into the 2008 financial crisis. Many central banks, like in Japan and in parts of Europe, already had very low or even negative interest rates. And so they just have less room to act to soften the economic blow.

    What matters right now is what happens to the companies getting clobbered in the moment. Is this a short-term blip that is painful but not devastating? Or will this kill companies, thereby having greater repercussions for financial markets, and be much more long-lived in its pain?

    If there’s one takeaway for readers on the global economy, what should it be?

    It’s been said by every person on the planet at this point, but the single best thing for the global economy is for this virus to be contained. More than any fiscal or monetary package, the public health response here is most important.

— Melina and Jonathan Adapted from "Your Wednesday Briefing, The New York Times" <nytdirect@nytimes.com>

[marymperezga]

Top 15 Mayan Ruins & Archeological Sites You Should Visit In Mexico

The Best Mayan Sites in Mexico!

Mexico Culture

One of my favorite parts about traveling in Mexico are all the interesting ancient Mayan ruins to explore. Here are the best Mayan archeological sites that you don’t want to miss!

Maya is a lifestyle; a community of settled people who have inhabited areas of Mexico and Central America since around 1800 BC.

Many people assume the Maya were wiped out — which is not the case.

The Maya community today totals around 7 million people who live by the traditions and are still native speakers of the Mayan language – rather than Spanish which now dominates the countries in which they reside.

However Mexico is littered with crumbling Mayan cities built by their late ancestors, pyramids of stone abandoned for various reasons and left to be overtaken by the jungle.

Many Mayan ruins have been excavated and opened to the public — but some, in particular, stand out.

After living in traveling through Mexico for the past 2 years, I wanted to share some of my favorite Mayan ruins & archeological sites in Mexico.

Learn a little bit about the history of these incredible ancient pyramids and historic sites before you explore them on your next trip to Mexico!

Mayan Ruins Mexico Map

How To Use This Map

Above you’ll find a map of the best Mayan Ruins in Mexico. Click on the top left of the map to find separate layers marking the route and points of interest. You can hide and show different layers, or click icons on the map to see the names of places I mention in this travel guide. “Star” the map to save it to your own Google Maps, or open the map in a new window for a larger version. Enjoy!

A Short History Of The Maya

Agricultural people by nature, the Mayan civilization harvested crops such as maize and beans, clearing jungles for farming as they developed more sophisticated techniques to expand their production.

Spiritually, the Maya worship more than 150 Gods who they believe their Kings are related to; with one God ruling over every subject associated with their lives, for example, the God of Rain, the God of Agriculture, and the God of Death.

Though it may seem complicated to us, this extensive list of deities actually resulted in huge advances in math and astronomy plus the development of the famous Mayan Calendar.

Although the original Maya Empire was destroyed many centuries ago, the Maya people still exist today.

The modern-day Maya hide in plain sight, so to speak, living in Mexico while keeping much of their own traditions and culture from the past.

Best Mayan Archeological Sites In Mexico

History lesson over, it’s time to dive into the multitude of ancient Mayan ruins – and there are quite a few, with around 200 different sites in Mexico alone! Over 4000 spread around Central America.

Work is still ongoing to uncover some of these, as archaeologists are actively engaged in extracting and understanding the secrets of ancient Maya, buried beneath a combination of thick jungle and time.

I’m going to help cut down this number for you, and share what I think are the 15 best Mayan archeological sites in Mexico. Let’s go!

1. Chichen Itza Mayan Ruins

The Famous Ruins of Chichen Itza

One of the greatest Maya cities in Mexico was Chichen Itza – a sacred city which covers around six square miles and was once home to hundreds of buildings which were built in both the classic Maya period and the later Maya-Toltec period.

Chichen Itza is probably the most visited Mayan ruins in Mexico, since being named one of the New Wonders of the World. The highlight is Kukulkan Pyramid which stands at 75 feet tall and built for astronomical/sacrificial purposes.

Perhaps one of its biggest draws for tourists is the twice-annual equinox when the setting sun creates shadows on the pyramid steps that resemble the body of a serpent.

Chichen Itza can get crowded with tour buses, but if you pick up a sunrise skip-the-line ticket, you can basically have it to yourself for a while. ➜ BOOK IT HERE

➜ Read My Free Guide To Chichen Itza

2. Coastal Ruins Of Tulum

El Castillo Pyramid in Tulum

Just a few hours away from Chichen Itza is the iconic walled city of Tulum perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. Tulum’s ruins feature a beautiful Caribbean beach (that you can swim at!), with incredible views all around.

Tulum was a major trading and religious center for the Maya between the 11th and 16th centuries. They traded turquoise, jade, cotton, food, copper bells, axes, and chocolate.

Because of Tulum’s prime location along the touristic Riviera Maya coast, it gets a lot of visitors. The site isn’t that big either, so it can get super crowded mid-day.

My favorite part of the Tulum ruins is the Temple of the Frescoes, where you can still see painted murals inside!

➜ Read My Free Guide To Tulum’s Ruins

3. Maya Ruins Of Coba

Climbing the Pyramid at Coba

Just 40km west of Tulum you’ll reach Coba — one of my favorite Maya ruins in Mexico. Covering 80 square miles and featuring 5 large lakes, Coba is a less popular destination with a real air of mystery about it.

Though archaeologists believe it may one day be one of the largest Mayan excavations, right now it remains mostly untouched so visitors can engage their imagination to dream up the story behind the many mounds and pyramids.

To really appreciate the natural spectacle that is Coba, visitors can still climb 120 steep stone steps to the top of Nohoch Mul – the tallest pyramid in the peninsula – and gaze out over the jungle-covered ruins.

➜ Read My Free Guide To Visiting Coba

4. Palenque

Majestic Palenque Ruins

The Mayan ruins of Palenque are steeped in historical significance, and today stand as part of a UNESCO Heritage site surrounded by great trees and wildlife.

One of its highlights is the Temple of Inscriptions, which was built by King Pakal’s first son and provides records of over 180 years of the city’s history.

As well as its historical information, the temple is also home to King Pakal’s tomb, with humidity in the burial chamber so intense that the walls drip with water and individuals can only enter with special authorization.

5. Calakmul Mayan Ruins

Calakmul Ruins in Campeche

The Mayan ruins of Calakmul house two very large pyramids and an extensive system of reservoirs that once provided water to 50,000 Mayans.

Located far away from most tourist attractions in the heart of the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve, a massive protected jungle near the border of Guatemala with wildlife like howler monkeys and jaguars.

Visitors can still climb to the top of these structures and take in the surrounding tropical forests, the expanse of the central plaza and the multiple palaces that lie around it.

Of all the Mayan sites in Mexico, this one is my personal favorite. You can get lost for a full day exploring the site, and due to its remote location, there aren’t many visitors.

➜ Read My Tips For Visiting Calakmul

6. Monte Alban

Massive Site of Monte Alban

Monte Alban was one of Mexico’s first pre-Colombian cities, after being founded around 500 BC and supported primarily by agriculture through centuries of development and changing populations.

The city is located in the southern Mexican state of Oaxaca, spanning a great many cultures as it remained inhabited for 13 centuries. It’s also a UNESCO world heritage site due to its historical influence.

Monte Alban is a popular destination for tourists as much of the city is still intact; including temples, tombs, palaces, an astronomical observatory, and even a historical ball court which would have hosted games of Ollama (similar to football).

7. Teotihuacan

Beautiful Ruins of Teotihuacan

The impressive ruins of Teotihuacan outside Mexico City is another mix of culture, with the initial founders still unknown despite features from a variety of cultures apparent in its design.

Items and artifacts found within the city ruins suggest that it was once home to some of the more elite individuals of Maya and other cultures, making for an interesting historical analysis into the city.

Teotihuacan’s main attraction is the Pyramid of the Moon, which hides a plethora of secrets that are slowly being revealed as archaeological digs continue – years ago researchers discovered the bodies of animals and humans that had been treated to awful brutality in what is assumed to be a ritualistic sacrifice to the Gods.

Visiting the city today, you can explore the Citadel (large open plaza surrounded by temples), the Avenue of the Dead (the main road across the city that aligns with the setting sun once a year) and the Pyramids of the Sun and the Moon – some of Mexico’s largest structures.

8. Ek Balam

Ek Balam Archeological Site

Another favorite set of ruins in the Yucatan, near Valladolid, is Ek Balam, meaning Black Jaguar in the Maya language.

You can spend the day exploring and climbing around the site before enjoying a dip in the beautiful X’Canche – a cenote sinkhole full of fresh crystal-blue water.

Ek Balam is also the location of King Ukit Kan Lek Tok’s tomb, which lies within the largest pyramid – standing alongside 45 other ancient structures.

Some of the main highlights are the walls surrounding the site, the views from atop of the highest pyramids and buildings, and the incredible works of art and calligraphy plastered on the walls of some of the remaining buildings.

➜ Read My Tips For Visiting Ek Balam

9. Uxmal Ruins

The Mayan Site of Uxmal

Uxmal is a set of Mayan ruins located near the Mexican city of Merida, on the West side of the Yucatan Peninsula.

In ancient times, Mayan high priests would perform ceremonies (including sacrifices) atop the religious structures in Uxmal – many hundreds of steps above the ground.

According to Mayan legend, Uxmal’s rounded Pyramid Of the Magician was magically built overnight during a series of challenges issued to a dwarf by the king of Uxmal.

Maya priests doubled as astrologers, and Uxmal was built and designed using astronomy to track the cycles of the moon and the stars. It was also used as a sign of power, as they used their superior knowledge to coincide religious ceremonies with natural phenomena such as the eclipse.

Gazing out over the ruins today, you really do get a sense of the detailed design and work that went into creating this great religious city.

➜ Read My Tips For Visiting Uxmal

10. Edzna

Edzna translates in Mayan to “House of the Itzas”, which has led many to believe that this particular city was the initial home of the Itza family – before they moved on to found the iconic Chichen Izta.

Edzna is somewhat of a mystery in many ways, and this contributes to why it is such a great stop on any road trip through Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula.

Though Edzna was a major city at one point in Mayan history (around 200A), in 1450 it was fully abandoned – with no obvious reason why. Edzna was then “rediscovered” in 1907, and today plays host to a daily Evening Light Show which lights up the city ruins.

When visiting Edzna, make sure to visit the Gran Acropolis, the Temple of the Masks – which showcases two masks, one honoring the Sunrise God and one the Sunset God – and the imposing Palace that faces the Gran Acropolis and is a residential building that runs from the North to the South.

11. El Rey

One of the smaller communities frequented by the Mayans is El Rey – which is actually located in the heart of Cancun. Visiting these ruins can take less than an hour if you’re short on time.

El Rey is considered a temple complex and, when compared to some of the other city ruins, is fairly unspectacular. There are none of the tall pyramids we come to expect with Maya communities, and the architecture is simple and low key.

However, what El Rey does provide is a sense of real history, as you walk amongst the structures and learn how it connected to come of the other Mayan cities nearby – both for trade and for worship pilgrimage.

El Rey is a nice one to visit if you are after some undisturbed exploring, and the nearby Museo Maya will fill the gaps for you in terms of the history and culture of the Mayan communities.

12. Chacchoben

Next up are the ruins of Chacchoben near Mahahual – one of the most popular sites of the Mayan era. Unlike many of its smaller counterparts, Chacchoben has only a portion of the site open to the public.

Many of the original temples are still standing in their ancient condition, awaiting restoration. The city was home to the largest community in its region by 360 AD, and was considered by the Mayans as the center of their ceremonious activity.

The Gran Basamento was the Maya’s most important ritual plaza. Surrounding the ruins is a deep jungle which is now home to a huge variety of plants and creatures, including jaguar, puma and tapir – if you’re lucky – making for an exciting day out!

Another thing to look out for is the traces of red around the base of the temples and structures – proof that these buildings were once coated completely in red paint – though the unrelenting sun is gradually causing further degradation to this as time goes on.

13. Templo Mayor

Continuing our exploration into the major cities of the Mayan era, we now reach the Templo Mayor – Spanish for “The Greater Temple” which was once considered the center of the Maya universe.

Templo Mayor is located in present-day Mexico City, considered part of Tenochtitlan and historically dedicated to both the God of War and the God of Rain and Agriculture.

The ruins stand next to an expansive cathedral, and it is said that stones from the temple were used in the construction of the cathedral; linking Mexico City’s levels of history.

Templo Mayor itself was once the scene of both coronations and human sacrifices – with the blood of the sacrifices supposedly feeding the two Gods to whom the temple was dedicated.

14. Izamal

The Pyramid at Izamal

Izamal was an important Mayan pilgrimage site containing one of the heaviest pyramid structures in all of Mesoamerica. It had its own glory days early on, before Chichen Itza took over around 900 AD.

Eventually invaded by the Spanish, Izamal remained a place of importance to the Mayans and the Spanish built a large religious complex which is still a pilgrimage site even today for Mexican Catholics.

In 1993 the site was even visited by Pope John Paul II! There are some interesting annual festivals here which fall in April, May, August and December.

If you pay Izamal a visit, make sure you keep your ears open, as the Maya language is still very much the chosen mother tongue in and around the “yellow town”.

15. El Meco

Cool Ruins Outside Cancun

El Meco is a set of smaller ancient Maya ruins that aren’t well known located just North of Downtown Cancun. There’s even a 41-foot high pyramid!

These ruins were probably related to Isla Mujeres and an important port for the Maya in the Yucatan Peninsula.

To find them, head up Avenida Lopez Portillo (aka the Cancun-Puerto Juarez road) in a rental car, taxi, or collectivo bus. The site is located at KM 27. The ruins are just off the road on the left.

Other Important Mayan Sites

While much of the historic Maya empire was based in present-day Mexico, you can still find many ancient Mayan cities in countries like Guatemala, Honduras, and Belize too.

If you plan to continue your travels to these parts of Central America, I also recommend you stop by sites like:

Tikal – Guatemala

Tikal is one of the largest Mayan settlements in the Americas, located in Guatemala’s Peten basin and Tikal National Park. It was probably called Yax Mutal when it was a thriving city.

The Great Plaza is particularly impressive, flanked on the east and west sides by two great temple-pyramids.

Caracol – Belize

The Mayan site of Caracol in Belize was built around 330 AD, becoming one of the most important political centers of the Maya lowlands through 600-800 AD.

Copan – Honduras

The Copan Ruins feature large open plazas, as well as many altars and monoliths. It is also home to the world’s biggest archeological cut, revealing many layers of the floor beneath the Great Plaza.

It’s also home to the Hieroglyphic Stairway Plaza, with the longest known Mayan inscription (made up from over 1800 glyphs).

Mysteries Of The Maya

So there you have it – a snapshot of Mayan history, told through fifteen different ancient archeological sites.

In spite of the attempted modernization of the world around them, Maya communities have largely succeeded in preserving their identity and traditions; making them somewhat of an attraction for the many tourists who flock to their neighborhoods – both past and present.

Visiting Mexico without seeing at least a few of these historic archeological sites would be a shame, so make sure to pick a few and experience some history and culture on your next trip to Mexico!

Travel Planning Resources For Ek Balam

Packing Guide

Check out my travel gear guide to help you start packing for your trip. Pick up a travel backpack, camera gear, and other useful travel accessories.

Book Your Flight

Book cheap flights on Skyscanner, my favorite airline search engine to find deals. Also read my tips for how I find the cheapest flights.

Rent A Car

Discover Car Hire is a great site for comparing car prices to find the best deal. They search both local & international rental companies.

Book Accommodation

Booking.com is my favorite hotel search engine. Or rent local apartments on Airbnb ($35 discount!). Read my post for tips on booking cheap hotels.

Protect Your Trip

Don’t forget travel insurance! I’m a big fan of World Nomads for short-term trips. Protect yourself from possible injury & theft abroad. Read more about why you should always carry travel insurance.

Recommended Guidebook: Lonely Planet Yucatan Suggested Reading: The Maya: Ancient Peoples & Places

Enjoy This Post? Pin It!

READ MORE MEXICO TRAVEL TIPS

I hope you enjoyed my guide to the best Mayan ruins in Mexico! Hopefully you found it useful. Here are a few more wanderlust-inducing articles that I recommend you read next:

Ready to party in Mexico? Here are my top things to do Cancun.

Road tripping the Riviera Maya? Read my favorite things to do in the Yucatan.

Save money on your vacation with my ultimate guide to budget travel in Mexico.

Stay safe out there with these great travel safety tips everyone should know.

Take better travel photos with my useful guide to the best travel cameras for any budget.

Have any questions about visiting Mayan Ruins in Mexico? Are you planning a trip? Drop me a message in the comments below!

This is a post from The Expert Vagabond adventure blog.

from Tips For Traveling https://expertvagabond.com/mayan-ruins-mexico/

[teamiplier-prefrences]

Parents au

♤Ethan would be the type of dad who:

¤"Dad, I can’t go to school, I fractured my motivation.“ He laughs to hard and doesn’t bring you to school, writing a note that says how you woke up vomiting that morning.

¤finds out you cried yourself to sleep multiple nights in a row over a math project that’s supposed to be for people in the tenth grade, not for people in the sixth. Proceeds to go to twitter to rant about your school while actively brings the school to court to teach them a lesson on forcing advanced stuff on kids who should be learning the basics of multiplying decimals.

¤Conversations usually go like:

Ethan, while reading the newspaper: So, have any crushes?

Son/Daughter, embarrassed: daD!

Ethan: Do you? I saw this cute cashier when I went to the store and they’re roughly the same age as you, and has a 4.0 gpa, so I gave them your number

Son/Daughter: You can’t just give away my number to people who you think should be my s/o!

Ethan: But they have a 4.0 gpa!

¤Has one of those family member car stickers, and they’re little birds because you’re absolutely fascinated with birds.

¤"Y'know, I just realized I never gave you the talk. Let me go to the store real quick, and then I’ll tell you all about it.” He comes back with a box of condoms, a cucumber, and a doughnut and proceeds to scar the fuck out of you.

♡Amy would be the type of mom who:

¤reads alien conspiracy theories to you as a bedtime story.

¤somehow managed to convince you that she’s an alien, which by default, means you’re an alien too.

¤"Uh, Miss. Nelson? Can you please tell your child that they’re not an alien, and to please stop trying to ‘probe,’ the other students?“

¤teaches you how to do your makeup while also helping you with homework.

¤"To get the perfect wing is art, darling. But, learning how to divide 300AB^2 by 9008AB^3 is downright torture when you’re in the seventh grade. I didn’t learn that until ninth grade, at least.”

¤¤"Mom? I’m being bullied at school.“

¤¤”*sliding a pen and paper across the table to you* Write down their first and last names and what class period you have them in, and they won’t be a problem ever again.“

¤Has a 'My Band Student Child Can Kick Your Football Team Child’s Ass Any Day.’ Bumper sticker.

¤You’re a first chair trumpet, and once you told your dad, he never felt more proud of you in his in entire life.

♢Kathy would be the type of mom who:

¤"Hey darlin, your teacher called and said you had broke down crying during a test and wouldn’t tell her why. I bought pizza for dinner and we can talk about it as we watch Moana.”

¤Doesn’t matter if it’ll take seven hours to get it done, she will sit down with you at the table to help you with your homework with thirty minute breaks every ten questions.

¤Has a 'My kid isn’t an honors student, but they can kick your honor student kid’s weak ass any day of the week.’ Bumper sticker.

¤You still crawl into her bed on days where your adhd makes your mind wander dangerously when you hear noises coming from somewhere in the house.

¤¤You still crawl into her bed when there’s bad weather because you’re absolutely terrified of it.

¤¤¤To the point where you had a panic attack one night when she asked Ethan to babysit you because the thunder was too loud and the lightening was too close and the rain was hitting the house too hard, and your mom wasn’t there to protect you from the loud noises.

¤cuddles are The Best™ because she’s not a little woman, so there’s so much of her to cuddle and she’s so soft and wow your mom is the best.

♧Mark would be the type of dad who:

¤Has set rules, but they’re totally weird, and not normal rules.

¤¤"If you come home and you’re not practicing your instrument for at least ten minutes, then I’ll help you practice.“

¤¤"No macaroni on Tuesdays and Fridays.”

¤¤"Spaghetti is forbidden unless you say 'Knees Weak, Arms Heavy, Mom’s Spaghetti.’ at least once before and after you make it.“

¤¤"Dabbing is banned in this household. If I see you or any of your friends dabbing in or around this house, you’re on dish duty for a week.”

¤¤"You must pet Chica at least once a day. If you don’t, she gets sad.“

¤Made a twitter account dedicated to posting pictures of you as you grow up.

¤"Ethan, your child may have a higher gpa than mine, but at least mine can actually appreciate the art that is memes.”

¤Has a silly rivalry going between him and Ethan on who’s child is the best.

¤¤Little do either of them know, you both are dating and love each other dearly.

¤"What do you mean the bananas at school went up to a dollar? Last week they were fifty cents per banana!“

¤once you’re old enough to understand your dad makes youtube videos as a job, you decide you want to follow in his footsteps and be like him.

¤¤Cue to him holding you in his lap as you make a trial video for his channel to see how you’d do, and you playing it with him giving you tips on what to do.

¤¤¤It goes well, a lot of positive feedback and the video reached almost 100k views in less than three hours. Mark decides to let you start your own channel once you turn sixteen, so until then, you appear in some of his videos and play games with him.

¤Has a 'My Kid Can Beat Your Kid In Mario Cart # Any Day Of The Week.’ Bumper sticker

☆Tyler would be the type of dad who:

¤Let’s you have a mental health day twice a month (unless there’s a week long break in that month, like spring break, or thanksgiving).

¤Is proud of you, even when you have a ’D,’ on your report card.

¤(tw: suicidal thoughts) School made you so stressed that you literally used to spend hours on end contemplating whether or not killing yourself would make everything so much better.

¤¤(tw: suicide attempt) You actually did try to commit suicide. You regretted it because not only did you make your dad an absolute mess, you created three stacks of missed homework from school that made you wish your attempt was successful.

¤"Look, sweetheart. School’s hard, I know. I’ve been looking into online school’s and I found this one where all you have to do is go to the site for two hours for just once a week, and then you’d have to do at least three hours of work at home for the rest of the week. I want you to think over this, and as soon as your discharged, I want your full decision.”

¤Cuddles with him are The Bestest™ because he’s just so soft and warm. You always go to your dad for cuddles when you’re having a particularly rough day (which is usually when you’re sitting on your bed, looking at the closet you tried hanging yourself in.)

¤He’s even more proud of you when you start doing better in school now that you’re doing online school.

¤"Guys! The lowest grade she has on her report card is a 'B,’ and it’s in English! I’m so proud of her!“

¤Is extremely proud of you. Will make happy indirects on twitter and they’re usually like:

•"When you think of the past, you realize how far you’ve come from, and how better you’re doing.”

•"Anything you can create is and always will be deemed 'Fridge Worthy™.’ No matter if it’s a stick figure drawing, or the next Picasso painting. It’s fridge worthy.“

¤Has a 'My Kid Might Be Depressed, Anxiety-Ridden, and Stressed Out, But They Can Still Fight Your Kid In A Denny’s Parking Lot At 2 AM and Win.’ Bumper sticker.

[moricatlibrary]

A Day of Texts Between Eren and Armin

In which we read a day's worth of texts between the two friends before they became a couple.

I was bored so I wanted to write a day's worth of texts between Eren and Armin.

(Maybe I'll do a sequel chapter where they are a couple?) idk. enjoy if you can^^

Armin:

Good Morning! :)

[sent 7:00am]

Eren:

Hey! :)

[sent 7:30am]

 Armin:

Ready for those tests today? 

[sent 8:03am]

Eren:

Hell no lol

Armin:

Aw, power through it! :')

Eren:

You too

Armin:

What'd you have for breakfast?

Eren:

Mom made Belgian waffles! You?

Eren:

What makes them Belgian?

Armin:

Just cereal. But lucky charms no less! ;3

A Belgian waffle has lighter batter and bigger squares than regular waffles.

Eren:

Oh, nice!

[sent 8:31am]

Eren:

[link]

Armin:

LOL!!!

Eren:

Reminds me of my brother xP

Armin:

Ditto!

   Armin:

Hey, heads up, that history exam is BRUTAL, there're at least 5 trick questions on there.

[sent 9:31am]

Eren:

Yikes!

Armin:

Don't worry, we studied hard. Just save numbers 4, 9, 12, and 13 for the end so you have time to mull over them after you get the easy stuff out of the way.

Eren:

Thanks!

Armin:

Dreading this gym class... wish you were here >~< 

Eren:

Don't sweat it! You'll come out on the other side. :) It's only for an hour.

Eren:

Shit, gotta go, here comes that history exam... :'(

Armin: 

Good luck! Ganba!

  Eren:

Oh god I failed that test for sure...

[sent: 10:33am]

Armin:

Sorry, just got out of the shower. Don't worry. Next period Mr. Smith is subbing for Mr. Zoe so it'll be a breezy class period to recover.

Eren:

Oooh texting in the locker room? Naughty naughty ;)

Armin:

You're texting in chemistry :T

Eren:

Yeah, but I have clothes on

Armin:

Hmm...

Eren:

Hurry up and get in here before the bell rings, quit sexting ;)

Armin:

Lol fine fine fine, stop texting me xP

Armin:

And I'm NOT sexting!

Eren:

Suuuure

[A/N Eren's mind spends the whole period dancing around the image of Armin texting him naked while they watch a science video...]

  Armin:

[sent 12:30pm]

How was math?

Armin:

[link]

  Eren: 

Sorry just got out of the shower! Jean kept bothering me ALL period :/

[sent 1:27pm]

Eren:

Woah... That's an awesome story! Let's discuss it during lunch!

Eren:

Where are we sitting? I'll be there in a few minutes

Armin:

Where are we sitting?

Armin:

Oh, ummm...

Armin:

Wanna sit outside today?

Eren:

Nah I just showered. Can we sit by the window in the art room? 

Eren:

That way we can keep talking without having to rush off when the bell rings.

Armin:

Sounds perfect! See you then!

  Eren:

Man, Miss Reiss is such a pushover...

[sent: 2:20pm]

Eren:

Super pretty though.

Armin:

Well don't text during class just cuz she's a pushover, Eren. :/

Eren:

Why not? It's just art.

Armin:

Art is the most under appreciated subject of our time.

Eren:

Like you're not texting during English lol

Armin:

It's literature, and I can't pay attention when Mr. Roy is such a dry reader anyway.

Eren:

What's the difference between literature and English?

Armin:

Literature is written word, English is the language.

Eren:

And how come in Spanish we don't read Spanish stories?

Armin:

And grammar is the rules and construct of the language.

Armin:

Because Spanish class is a language class, not a literature class. You read stories in English just to learn about structure.

Eren:

So confusing. Why do we even have to take it, we ARE english!

Armin:

So people know how to read and write properly. It's good to know an official set of rules.

Eren:

So you can break them? ;)

Armin:

LOL exactly.

Armin:

ROY ALMOST CAUGHT ME TEXTING! BBL!

Eren:

Oooh you're in troubleeee!!! See you later~

Eren:

God I hate english...

[sent 3:20pm]

Eren:

Sorry I mean literature*

Armin:

Me too...

Armin:

Boy, Art sure is fun though! Miss Reiss is so nice and easy going ;)))

Eren:

Aw come on, you suck!

Armin:

She called me a bright pupil!

Armin:

Lemme know how long it takes for Mr. Roy to read through the tiger poem hahahaha XD

Armin:

Oh gosh I'm sorry, that was mean, please don't be mad at me!

[sent 3:40pm]

Armin:

Eren? Are you mad at me?

Armin:

I was just playing around! I wish you could finish the day in art with me!

Armin:

Eren? :'(

Eren:

Sorry, Roy caught me texting and took my phone then gave me a long ass lecture after class.

[sent 4:08pm]

Eren:

Where are you?

Armin:

Oh gosh I'm sorry!!! I'm in the courtyard, I was looking for you. Sorry sorry sorry

Eren:

Don't be sorry! I'll be there in a minute. :)

Eren:

Watch out for Jean until I get there.

Armin:

I'm with Mikasa, she said not to worry.

Armin:

Tonight's a new Steven universe! Wanna call when it's over?

[sent 5:22pm]

Eren:

My mom just yelled at me...

Armin:

Oh no, what happened? D:

Eren:

She got a call from Mr. Smith about my bad History grade...

Armin:

But we study so hard for that class!

Armin:

Do you wanna call?

Eren:

No.

[A/N: Armin easily recognizes that Eren said 'no' because he is crying...]

Armin:

Aw I'm so sorry. :( Wanna tell me what she said?

Eren:

She said I need to get my grades up and do a little more studying and a little less screwing around or I won't get into a good college. Then my dad came in and said that an American man doesn't make it anywhere if he's not getting good grades from the start and trying his best. But we DO study hard! And I AM doing my best! We have 6 fucking classes until 4 and then I have football practices during the fall too! It makes me feel so shitty when they talk like that cuz what more can I do?

Armin:

I'm so sorry about all that pressure on you... I wish you'd told me you still didn't understand something in the materials :( I'd have worked harder to help you remember it... 

Eren:

Mmm well... confession: I actually feel really embarrassed that you're so much smarter than me... so I fake it sometimes.

Armin:

Aw Eren... Please don't do that, okay? I'm never ever going to look down on you or anything. Some things are just challenging for some people and that's okay! There're so many things I admire you for! So don't ever worry about being embarrassed with me. 

Armin:

Please be honest with me from now on? :)

Eren:

...You're the best.

Eren:

Really.

[A/N: Armin knows that means Eren feels a lot of affection for him. Eren's not great with expressing his feelings so a safe and understated phrase like "you're the best" actually means a LOT...]

Eren:

And I promise. Please come to me for help in anything you need too.

Armin:

Thanks.

Eren:

They're grounding me from tv and video games for a month by the way.

Armin:

Ah, I'll wait til the episode comes online and I'll link it to you here then.

Eren:

Thanks. And yes, please call me afterwards! Brb, dinner.

Armin:

[link]

[sent 5:43pm]

Eren:

FUCK YES!!!!

Eren and Armin:

[watch Steven Universe at 6pm and then call for 20 minutes after dinner before his dad comes in and sends him downstairs to do his homework and study for 3 hours].

Eren:

Sometimes I really hate it here...

[sent 9:35pm]

Armin:

I'm sorry :( 

Eren:

I know my parents love me and all, and it's not all bad but...

Armin:

I get it. It's okay...

Eren:

Thanks for not calling me ungrateful. I know I have it really good, and my mom's awesome, and my dad has a lot of faith in me but...

Armin:

I know. I know it's hard not to stress over the promises they project on you, but you're amazing, Eren. I already know that and you have nothing to prove in my opinion. Not to yourself, either.

Eren:

I don't know what I'd do without you. :)

Eren:

Honestly if it could just be me and you forever I'd be pretty happy about that

Eren:

I mean no homo but you know

[A/N Armin frowns from his side of the phone while his heart sinks at this phrase... Eren always feels a painful tug in his heart after saying it to him too...]

Armin:

I'd love that too...

Eren:

You in bed?

Armin:

Yeah.

Eren:

Can I call you again?

Armin:

Sure :)

 Eren and Armin:

[Call for another 30 minutes before bed, talking about their future together.

There's an awkward silence while Eren's brain goes blank at how to tell Armin good night. (Since he's too in denial to realize he wants to say "I love you." to him...)

Armin breaks the silence. "See you tomorrow..."

Eren smiles. "Night..."]

Eren:

Good night.

Sleep well. 

[sent 9:59pm]

[A/N: Eren always struggles to find the words for a better text than his spoken "good night" but it's never enough... Not until he comes to terms with his feelings and can say "Love you, Armin.<3 Dreaming of you. See you in the morning :)"]

Armin:

[A/N: Armin smiles anyway, knowing as always how much Eren means to say in his words. He may be stuck waiting for him, but Eren is more than worth waiting for...]

Good night, Eren. :) 

Armin:

Good morning!^^ 

[sent 7:00am]

Eren:

Hey! :D

[sent 7:30am]

[smokeybrandcompositions]

Blackjack

I’m blacker than the ace of spades, man. I love our skin tone. I love our swag. I love everything about being black, culturally. We are the most influential and imitated culture, worldwide, and at the same time, the most aggressively hated. When i was in high school, i asked a bigot who was a huge fan of Busta Rhymes how he could be such a hypocrite and he told me, i sh*t you not, “Love the sinner not the sin.” Being black was a sin to this motherf*cker but, since he liked our music, he compartmentalized our identity into something more palatable to his ignorant senses. He separated Busta’s art from Busta, himself, which i can’t even understand. Beethoven was black. You’re telling me his Fifth is any less a triumph of sound because of his moorish beginnings? I find it odd how people can just write off your ethnic identity when you don’t fit into the box they want.

My dad was one of the blackest motherf*ckers i have ever met but what does that mean? Yes, he was loud. Yes, he was intimidating. Yes, he was a petty criminal and drug addict. But he was more than that. He was also a brilliant mechanic and gifted athlete. He was amazing when it came to problem solving and often weeded out solutions most people couldn’t even see. Pops grew up in a single-parent home, in the ghettos of San Francisco during the 60s and 70s. He was a goon, that caricature you see in old black gangster movies like Juice. My dad was a ghetto stereotype and the polar opposite of my mother. My mom grew up in a two parent, upper-middle class, household as a kid. She didn’t see the world the same way my father saw it. She acquired a completely different set of skills, skills so alien to him, personally, he simply couldn’t reconcile my mother to his cultural experiences. To him, my mom was one of the “whitest” black people he had ever met.

Therein lies the question; What does it mean to be black? My father equated blackness to the ghetto gangster archetype popularized by rap music and what not, but my mother disagreed. She felt that blackness was more than that. She understood there were more facets, nuance, to the identity of our people. In the macro sense, i agree with that. We are man. We can be more. But, ultimately, even among ourselves, we make these superficial judgments over stupid sh*t all the time. I don’t think my mom is “white”. I think she’s naive. I think my pops thought that, too, but he couldn’t articulate it as eloquently. I think my dad was too stubborn or afraid to broaden his perspective about our culture, probably stemming from the trauma of losing his father at such a young age. My Grandpa died when my dad was five or six. Grandpap was a gangster. He was a pimp. He was a low level criminal, everything my father equated to “blackness.” I think he held on to that image as a means to hold on to his father and it became his overall worldview. When my father died, my sister kind of did the same thing. I didn’t because f*ck that guy. My dad and i hated each other. We were very clear on that.

Speaking of Me, i am blacker than the ace of spades. I mentioned that earlier. I, too, and this is probably because i am my father’s son in SO many uncomfortable ways, am very intimidating. I am wildly athletic, particularly in American football. I love hoop and Rap music, i hate cops and authority, and i have a healthy, organic, lust for big butts. I cannot lie. I grew up in the ghetto and, when need be, can become extremely, cartoonishly, hood. I have an unassailable pride in exactly who the f*ck i am and very aggressively protect myself from others less-than-sterling opinions of themselves. Now, all of that said, i hate fried foods, i f*cking love math and physics, i don’t care for watermelon, I'm not really a Democrat, and i don’t lust after white women. The love of my life, who we’ll get too in a minute, is Black, Mexican, French, and Native. I am stunningly intelligent and tend to live inside my head because most people are exhausting to me. The last time i was tested, i had an IQ of 154. Being smarter than most people you meat, just loving the process of learning in general, is something that is shunned with in the discussion of “being black.” If you’ve followed me for some time, or just give a cursory look at this blog, you can probably tell i am total and complete weeb. My Geek Card is punched and official. I play the sh*t out of video games and have since i was a Wee Smokey. Actually, I've been all of these things since i was extremely young. It’s funny because my two favorite genres of games to play are JRPG and f*cking NBA 2K. That little tidbit is a microcosm of who i am.

When i was in high school, i was considered hood as f*ck. I fought everyone i could, conditioned with the football team, skipped class at every opportunity, and dated a Brazilian chick for two years. That was the outward Me, the Me people assume i am. I cannot deny that version, that perception, is a part of who i am but i am so much more than that. The thing is, i skipped class to get home in time and watch Transformers: Robots in Disguise. My lady at the time and i met because of the poetry i had written in my spare time. Yes, i used to write poems. I was published a few times actually. She and i bonded over our mutual love for The Red Hot Chili Peppers and No Doubt. Bro, The Killers are my all-time favorite band. Mr. Brightside and Read My Mind are classics i know by heart. I conditioned with the football team but i only ever played my Freshman year. I don;t care for the sport at all. On the surface, the superficial, public perception of who i am, makes me as black as night. But who i am, totally, one could make the argument i am nowhere near negro. I find that contradiction fascinating.

As i stated above, my lady is a cadre of cultures but the two that stand out most are her Mexican and Black roots. Cats can mistake her for either but she usually gets Black. Like my mother and father before me, my lady and i grew up on the extreme opposite ends of the scale. I was a Dirty Ghetto Kid and she grew up rich. Yeah, i landed me a rich girl, what of it? I went to a school that had metal detectors at every entrance and she went to f*cking finishing school. I had no idea there were so many forks until i met her. I turned sixteen with no jail time, beating several not-so-flattering statistics. She had a Quinceanera and attended debutante balls. My lady, of course, had her own issues, things i have no way of properly understanding outside of a theoretical assumption. For all intents and purposes, because of her upbringing, because of the way she carries herself, she’d be considered “white.” The thing is, she can give MY hood a run for it’s money but the way she portrays that side of her, is way more palatable than how i do it. If I'm a blunt object, she’s a precision edge.

She didn’t grow up in an environment where masculinity was paramount and you absolutely had to destroy a motherf*cker if they pressed your manhood. She never had to interact with the streets so the street code was academic to her. She didn’t approach problem solving with physical intimidation and aggressive threats like i learned. I literally got my license after failing the driver’s test for a rolling stop, by punking out my instructor into signing my forms. That sh*t works for me. My lady is five-foot-nothing. She ain’t intimidating anyone. Her solution to this solution problem was to outsmart everyone. She is one of the quickest, most intellectually agile, people i have ever met. She can debate anything until they are literally, physically, exhausted. Our first real conversation was an argument over who the better character in DBZ, Vegeta or Gohan. I had to concede to her. I lost that debate. Me. That NEVER happens. I don’t lose arguments. I immediately fell in love. I’ve watched my lady bring grown men to tears after verbally undressing them. She’s that intense and i just kind of fanboy when she does it. But, according to the Laws of Blackness, that’s not how you do things. You gotta get in there and posture as hard as f*ck until you come to blows. Like Walruses.

There is no satisfactory way to conclude this exploratory essay into what defines blackness. There cant be. Being black is as fluid as the ocean and just as deep. My little sister is Desi, smart as a whip, and pulls in six figures a year. She has two degrees and is in school for a third in math just because she enjoys the process of learning, like me. She’s incredibly shy. bordering on agoraphobic, but let a motherf*cker test me or anyone she loves. She because the blackest motherf*cker i have ever seen since my pops and it’s adorable. She’s not even anywhere near black. Not a drop of the Afros in her lineage. Does that mean “being Black” is simply a state of mind? Is it just a catch-all standard of media perpetuated stereotypes? Does any of this sh*t even matter? No. No it doesn’t. Look, i got two kid brothers that i raised because my parents weren’t real good at parenting. One has grown up to be an Uncle Tom with next to no self worth. The other is a nomadic, pot-smoking, emo Skaterboi. Both of them will mash you if pressed. Both of them can recite Pi to the thirteenth number. Both of them love hoop and hate cops, just like me. Both of them game hard, the Hippie Skaterboi is actually a pro LoL player, and they both love anime. Most of that is my influence on their world but does that disqualify their blackness? Does my Weeby Nerdom which rubbed off during their development, make them any less black? No! F*cking no, of course not! This sh*t is stupid and I'm tired of talking about it.

There is no such thing as “being a bad black person” or “being a white black person.” That sh*t is dumb. Black folks are black. We define ourselves. Sure, a real good indicator is our skin tone and the way society treats us but, underneath that surface bullsh*t, we are so much more. I love Spider-Man, Godzilla, and Transformers. I love Rap, Nuwave, hip-hop, Grand Ol’ Oprey, classical orchestra, Post Punk, ska, retro wave, and so many more music genres. I am an NBA historian but know next to nothing about the NFL. I just don’t care. I’m a massive fan of Cyberpunk claims but absolutely hate anything Tyler Perry or budget Black cinema. Neon Genesis Evangelion is my all-time favorite anime and Hannibal is arguably the greatest show to ever air on US televisions. Star Wars hold a special place in my heart, along with Doctor Who, Batman, Dragon Ball Z, and Luther. I grew up in the ghetto, lived in the rich suburbs, and stay downtown. My first car was a 65 Mustang Coupe, then a Ford Probe, followed by 91 Accord. I've driven a 350Z since 2014. I held a nine to five job for probably a decade but now write professionally. I am l of this but, before any of that, i am blacker than the ace of spades.

[smokeybrand]

Blackjack

I’m blacker than the ace of spades, man. I love our skin tone. I love our swag. I love everything about being black, culturally. We are the most influential and imitated culture, worldwide, and at the same time, the most aggressively hated. When i was in high school, i asked a bigot who was a huge fan of Busta Rhymes how he could be such a hypocrite and he told me, i sh*t you not, “Love the sinner not the sin.” Being black was a sin to this motherf*cker but, since he liked our music, he compartmentalized our identity into something more palatable to his ignorant senses. He separated Busta’s art from Busta, himself, which i can’t even understand. Beethoven was black. You’re telling me his Fifth is any less a triumph of sound because of his moorish beginnings? I find it odd how people can just write off your ethnic identity when you don’t fit into the box they want.

My dad was one of the blackest motherf*ckers i have ever met but what does that mean? Yes, he was loud. Yes, he was intimidating. Yes, he was a petty criminal and drug addict. But he was more than that. He was also a brilliant mechanic and gifted athlete. He was amazing when it came to problem solving and often weeded out solutions most people couldn’t even see. Pops grew up in a single-parent home, in the ghettos of San Francisco during the 60s and 70s. He was a goon, that caricature you see in old black gangster movies like Juice. My dad was a ghetto stereotype and the polar opposite of my mother. My mom grew up in a two parent, upper-middle class, household as a kid. She didn’t see the world the same way my father saw it. She acquired a completely different set of skills, skills so alien to him, personally, he simply couldn’t reconcile my mother to his cultural experiences. To him, my mom was one of the “whitest” black people he had ever met.

Therein lies the question; What does it mean to be black? My father equated blackness to the ghetto gangster archetype popularized by rap music and what not, but my mother disagreed. She felt that blackness was more than that. She understood there were more facets, nuance, to the identity of our people. In the macro sense, i agree with that. We are man. We can be more. But, ultimately, even among ourselves, we make these superficial judgments over stupid sh*t all the time. I don’t think my mom is “white”. I think she’s naive. I think my pops thought that, too, but he couldn’t articulate it as eloquently. I think my dad was too stubborn or afraid to broaden his perspective about our culture, probably stemming from the trauma of losing his father at such a young age. My Grandpa died when my dad was five or six. Grandpap was a gangster. He was a pimp. He was a low level criminal, everything my father equated to “blackness.” I think he held on to that image as a means to hold on to his father and it became his overall worldview. When my father died, my sister kind of did the same thing. I didn’t because f*ck that guy. My dad and i hated each other. We were very clear on that.

Speaking of Me, i am blacker than the ace of spades. I mentioned that earlier. I, too, and this is probably because i am my father’s son in SO many uncomfortable ways, am very intimidating. I am wildly athletic, particularly in American football. I love hoop and Rap music, i hate cops and authority, and i have a healthy, organic, lust for big butts. I cannot lie. I grew up in the ghetto and, when need be, can become extremely, cartoonishly, hood. I have an unassailable pride in exactly who the f*ck i am and very aggressively protect myself from others less-than-sterling opinions of themselves. Now, all of that said, i hate fried foods, i f*cking love math and physics, i don’t care for watermelon, I'm not really a Democrat, and i don’t lust after white women. The love of my life, who we’ll get too in a minute, is Black, Mexican, French, and Native. I am stunningly intelligent and tend to live inside my head because most people are exhausting to me. The last time i was tested, i had an IQ of 154. Being smarter than most people you meat, just loving the process of learning in general, is something that is shunned with in the discussion of “being black.” If you’ve followed me for some time, or just give a cursory look at this blog, you can probably tell i am total and complete weeb. My Geek Card is punched and official. I play the sh*t out of video games and have since i was a Wee Smokey. Actually, I've been all of these things since i was extremely young. It’s funny because my two favorite genres of games to play are JRPG and f*cking NBA 2K. That little tidbit is a microcosm of who i am.

When i was in high school, i was considered hood as f*ck. I fought everyone i could, conditioned with the football team, skipped class at every opportunity, and dated a Brazilian chick for two years. That was the outward Me, the Me people assume i am. I cannot deny that version, that perception, is a part of who i am but i am so much more than that. The thing is, i skipped class to get home in time and watch Transformers: Robots in Disguise. My lady at the time and i met because of the poetry i had written in my spare time. Yes, i used to write poems. I was published a few times actually. She and i bonded over our mutual love for The Red Hot Chili Peppers and No Doubt. Bro, The Killers are my all-time favorite band. Mr. Brightside and Read My Mind are classics i know by heart. I conditioned with the football team but i only ever played my Freshman year. I don;t care for the sport at all. On the surface, the superficial, public perception of who i am, makes me as black as night. But who i am, totally, one could make the argument i am nowhere near negro. I find that contradiction fascinating.

As i stated above, my lady is a cadre of cultures but the two that stand out most are her Mexican and Black roots. Cats can mistake her for either but she usually gets Black. Like my mother and father before me, my lady and i grew up on the extreme opposite ends of the scale. I was a Dirty Ghetto Kid and she grew up rich. Yeah, i landed me a rich girl, what of it? I went to a school that had metal detectors at every entrance and she went to f*cking finishing school. I had no idea there were so many forks until i met her. I turned sixteen with no jail time, beating several not-so-flattering statistics. She had a Quinceanera and attended debutante balls. My lady, of course, had her own issues, things i have no way of properly understanding outside of a theoretical assumption. For all intents and purposes, because of her upbringing, because of the way she carries herself, she’d be considered “white.” The thing is, she can give MY hood a run for it’s money but the way she portrays that side of her, is way more palatable than how i do it. If I'm a blunt object, she’s a precision edge.

She didn’t grow up in an environment where masculinity was paramount and you absolutely had to destroy a motherf*cker if they pressed your manhood. She never had to interact with the streets so the street code was academic to her. She didn’t approach problem solving with physical intimidation and aggressive threats like i learned. I literally got my license after failing the driver’s test for a rolling stop, by punking out my instructor into signing my forms. That sh*t works for me. My lady is five-foot-nothing. She ain’t intimidating anyone. Her solution to this solution problem was to outsmart everyone. She is one of the quickest, most intellectually agile, people i have ever met. She can debate anything until they are literally, physically, exhausted. Our first real conversation was an argument over who the better character in DBZ, Vegeta or Gohan. I had to concede to her. I lost that debate. Me. That NEVER happens. I don’t lose arguments. I immediately fell in love. I’ve watched my lady bring grown men to tears after verbally undressing them. She’s that intense and i just kind of fanboy when she does it. But, according to the Laws of Blackness, that’s not how you do things. You gotta get in there and posture as hard as f*ck until you come to blows. Like Walruses.

There is no satisfactory way to conclude this exploratory essay into what defines blackness. There cant be. Being black is as fluid as the ocean and just as deep. My little sister is Desi, smart as a whip, and pulls in six figures a year. She has two degrees and is in school for a third in math just because she enjoys the process of learning, like me. She’s incredibly shy. bordering on agoraphobic, but let a motherf*cker test me or anyone she loves. She because the blackest motherf*cker i have ever seen since my pops and it’s adorable. She’s not even anywhere near black. Not a drop of the Afros in her lineage. Does that mean “being Black” is simply a state of mind? Is it just a catch-all standard of media perpetuated stereotypes? Does any of this sh*t even matter? No. No it doesn’t. Look, i got two kid brothers that i raised because my parents weren’t real good at parenting. One has grown up to be an Uncle Tom with next to no self worth. The other is a nomadic, pot-smoking, emo Skaterboi. Both of them will mash you if pressed. Both of them can recite Pi to the thirteenth number. Both of them love hoop and hate cops, just like me. Both of them game hard, the Hippie Skaterboi is actually a pro LoL player, and they both love anime. Most of that is my influence on their world but does that disqualify their blackness? Does my Weeby Nerdom which rubbed off during their development, make them any less black? No! F*cking no, of course not! This sh*t is stupid and I'm tired of talking about it.

There is no such thing as “being a bad black person” or “being a white black person.” That sh*t is dumb. Black folks are black. We define ourselves. Sure, a real good indicator is our skin tone and the way society treats us but, underneath that surface bullsh*t, we are so much more. I love Spider-Man, Godzilla, and Transformers. I love Rap, Nuwave, hip-hop, Grand Ol’ Oprey, classical orchestra, Post Punk, ska, retro wave, and so many more music genres. I am an NBA historian but know next to nothing about the NFL. I just don’t care. I’m a massive fan of Cyberpunk claims but absolutely hate anything Tyler Perry or budget Black cinema. Neon Genesis Evangelion is my all-time favorite anime and Hannibal is arguably the greatest show to ever air on US televisions. Star Wars hold a special place in my heart, along with Doctor Who, Batman, Dragon Ball Z, and Luther. I grew up in the ghetto, lived in the rich suburbs, and stay downtown. My first car was a 65 Mustang Coupe, then a Ford Probe, followed by 91 Accord. I've driven a 350Z since 2014. I held a nine to five job for probably a decade but now write professionally. I am l of this but, before any of that, i am blacker than the ace of spades.