#how i felt when my college stopped doing rocky horror because some people were too offended by it

[quindolyn]

hi can i request the maurauders going to see the reader do a musical like heathers or mean girls and they are just confused and turned on bc they didn't expect it to be this dirty (can lead to smut or not). luv you and hope you are taking care of yourself, if not go get something to eat, drink some water, take a nap, or do somthing you enjoy. or dont not trying to be pushy :)

Creature of the Night || Poly!Marauders

Word Count: 3029 (excluding song lyrics)

A/N: I think I liked how this turned out? I didn’t make it smut but it’s certainly suggestive, I went with Rocky Horror, I know that the musicals mentioned in the request are more modern but I fucking love Rocky Horror and I think it works with the request. When I first read this request I smiled so much because I love live theater, I don’t perform as much as I used to because as I progress with my education I’m focusing more on the stuff I can use to pad my resumes for college and stuff but I still love going to see productions. One of the worst parts of the pandemic for me has been not being able to go see shows, I miss it so much.

Warnings: theatre enthusiast reader, erections, suggestive material, song lyrics, slight teasing, wearing very little clothing in front of an audience, I believe that that is it

Masterlist

500 follower celebration

antici-

The magic of the stage was second to none. Sure, Hogwarts may have had witches and wizards, subjects like Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and ghosts that spent their time meandering about the halls but there was always a part of you that looked forward to the summer between your years at Hogwarts. Because no matter how magical Hogwarts was, the theater always made you feel completely and utterly alive. 

Every summer since the one after your first year at what all of your muggle friends thought to be a very prestigious boarding school up in Scotland, you’d taken part in your local youth theater’s productions. Your parents both being muggles thought that it would be a great way for you to be able to stay in touch with your muggle origins. 

The first year you’d been far too nervous to actually audition for a role, the very thought causing bile to churn in your stomach and threaten to make you sick all over your kitchen floor when your father first pitched the idea. So instead you’d done costumes and it was the most wonderful experience of your life. 

Who needed drugs when you had live theater? The hustle and bustle behind the scenes was electrifying but after two summers of costuming, of quick changes in the wings, learning how to use the ancient sewing machines they stored in the depths of the storage rooms, and pulling pieces for the actors to try on you decided that you wanted to try something more.

The moment you had stepped onto the stage it was like you’d come to life and you cursed yourself for not taking the risk earlier. You belonged on the stage, with the harsh stage lights on you and pounds of makeup plastered onto your face you could feel the magic thrumming through your veins and it was addicting.

If it was possible, you were even more excited to perform this summer, the previous school year you’d finally gotten together with your long time best friends the Marauders, turning them from friends to your boyfriends.

When your mother had sent word of the production being put on this summer you’d squealed while seated next to James and across from Remus, who had Sirius hanging off of his side. After explaining to them, mostly Sirius and James really, just what live theater was their first reaction was to ask if they could come see you perform.

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be cast,” You had explained gently, not wanting to get their hopes up in case you weren’t cast this year.

“Bull shit of course you’re going to be the cast,” Sirius had contested through a mouthful of jam and toast, waving his hand theatrically through the air, watching him that day was not the first time you’d considered how the way he acted often reminded you of an over enthusiastic theatre major.

Remus, the only one with any knowledge on muggle theatre had snorted, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ waist to pull him closer to his body, “She’s not going to be the cast Pads, she’s going to be casted,” He’d corrected gently, pressing a kiss into his long, dark tresses.

“Whatever,” The smaller boy had grumbled, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Which brought you to where you were right now, five minutes to curtain touching up your make up in the mirror of the shared make-up room.

“Hey (L/N),” One of your cast mates called settling into the makeup chair next to you as she plucked a tube of dark red lipstick from the small canary colored makeup bag she had previously abandoned on the counter, “Your boyfriends coming tonight?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, they are,” You responded, applying mascara to your lashes.

“Excited to meet them, that photo you showed us,” She smiled, fanning her face with her hand, “Smoking,” She smiled, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

Rolling your eyes you ignored her comment, “It’s five minutes to curtain, you’re just now doing your make-up?” You chuckled, noticing her black face.

“Oh, shove it,” She laughed as you pushed yourself from your chair, traipsing out of the room, giving her the middle finger on your way out.

“Break a leg!” She called after you as the door latched shut.

You weren’t usually this nervous before a performance but knowing that your three boyfriends were sitting out there somewhere in the audience had you pacing back and forth backstage wondering what they were going to think of the whole production.

“Rocky Horror?” Sirius’ confusion evident in his voice as he plopped down in his seat next to Remus, throwing his arm around the werewolf’s shoulders, drumming his fingers on his clothed shoulder hidden behind his knitted cardigan.

“Yeah,” James collapsed into his chair on the other side of Remus, tucking one leg under his body, “No clue what it’s about but I’m sure our angel will be wonderful. Can you guys see her?” He straightened himself up in his seat, craning his neck in attempts to catch a glimpse of you.

Remus being the only one with any ties to the muggle world knew a bit about the show and had to do his very best to suppress a smirk from overtaking his face as he knew exactly what he and your other two boyfriends were getting themselves into. 

“Just hush up you two, the show’s gonna start any moment,” He scolded, patting his large, scarred hand on James’ thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Rem,” Sirius whined, puckering his lips and closing his eyes, signaling to his boyfriend that he wanted a kiss.

“My needy baby,” He crooned, leaning in to connect his lips with Sirius’ in a quick liplock before pulling back, allowing Sirius to drop his forehead to smear against his shoulder.

“That’s mean,” Sirius murmured discontentedly.

“Poor baby Pads,” James cooed mockingly.

“Both of you,” Remus hissed as the lights in the theatre dimmed, “The show’s about to start, be good for me and be quiet yeah?”

Their response came in their silence as the crowd started settling down and the music from the orchestra pit began a voice coming from somewhere out of sight as it was played through the speakers,

“Michael Rennie was ill

The day the earth stood still

But he told us where we stand”

Not 20 minutes into the show all three of them were as hard as rocks, James had already made Remus check the playbill for the name of the character you were playing, not being able to remember what you’d told them as all of his concentration was focused on a certain place.

Janet Weiss.

Remus couldn’t remember either, but he was almost certain that’s the name he could make out in the dark theatre, printed next to a picture of your smiling face.

When you’d stripped down to your underwear the boys could barely focus on the plot line of the show, only being able to watch the way your bare skin shone under the harsh light of the spotlights. Watching as sweat glistened on your skin, making you shine as you moved about the stage. 

Enchanted by the melodic cadence of your voice they all felt a certain jealousy burning deep in the pits on their stomachs at the thought that there were dozens of other people packed into that theater, all observing you in your vulnerable state of under dress. Only they got to see you like that.

Sirius missed much of the first act glaring at members of the audience who he deemed as looking at you for too long for his liking, but if you were being honest a 4th year smiling at you in the hallway was sometimes too long for his liking.

It wasn’t like any of them had never seen you naked before, in fact they’d all seen you naked more than their fair share of times but something about you on that stage in a white bra with a matching slip was driving them all crazy.

Especially Remus, whose ultimate weakness was seeing you in anything white which was one of the reasons you’d been so excited to invite them in the first place, knowing that they would be horny messes the entire time.

On stage you did your very best not to look out into the audience looking for them, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop a ginormous grin from forming on your face and you couldn’t afford to break character. Not if you wanted the night to go your way.

As the opening notes to “Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me”, rose from the orchestra pit you had trouble stopping a small smirk from pulling at your lips as you opened them, inhaling deeply before singing the first words of the song,

“I was feeling done in, couldn't win

I'd only ever kissed before”

Despite yourself you caught a glimpse of long dark hair in the audience, quickly taking a glance at Sirius’ face, eyes glazed over in lust, legs shifting uncomfortably with his mouth hanging wide open. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed another raven-haired boy’s mouth dropping as you shrugged off of your robe

“I thought there’s no use getting, into heavy petting

It only leads to trouble and, seat wetting

Now all I want to know, is how to go

I've tasted blood and I want more”

It was impossible to miss the way Remus’ jaw clenched as you laid your palm against Rocky’s chest, he was being played by your good friends who’d been working with the same theatre company as you since forever, he was like a brother to you. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t lay it on extra thick tonight with your boyfriends in the audience.

Tracing a dainty finger down Rocky’s chest you pushed your body against his singing out the next lyrics of the song,

“I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance”

You turned you and your cast mate so that looking over his shoulder you were able to meet Remus’ eye, sending him a quick wink before focusing back in on Rocky.

“Toucha, toucha, toucha, touch me

I wanna be dirty

Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me

Creature of the night”

Pressing your back up against Rocky’s chest you guided his hands with yours to your breasts, squeezing them as you followed the choreography you knew by heart.

You ripped your slip from your body with the help of Rocky leaving you in only your white bra, matching panties and a pair of small heels as you paraded around stage, belting the suggestive lyrics into the theater.

“Then if anything grows, while you pose

I'll oil you up and rub you down (down, down, down)

And that’s just one small fraction, of the main attraction

You need a friendly hand, oh i need action”

You smirked, thinking about all of the action you’d be on the receiving end of later that night as you sunk to your knees in front of Rocky, your hands grasping his thighs. Deciding to tease them perhaps a little more than necessary as you went through the number, curling your leg around his and pressing your bodies together so that there was no space between your two questionably clothed bodies.

As the number was brought to a close it was impossible for you to ignore the excitement bubbling up inside of you as you continued your way through the show you kept throwing glances at your boyfriends, always finding their eyes already trained on you. More often than not, on some body part other than your face.

If your boyfriends thought that they had a bit of a problem before that song they were in a terrible predicament now.

Remus caught Sirius on multiple occasions trying to move the hand that he was holding to grope at his crotch as he tried to buck up into his boyfriend’s hand. And much to his own dismay, Remus would pull his hand away, thinking it probably wasn’t the best idea to give his boyfriend a hand job in a crowded theater. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about James touching himself because he would never dream of disobeying him, Remus divided his attention between you on the stage and keeping Sirius in check.

Each of the boys were counting down the seconds until the show came to an end and they could get out of there and relieve some of their tension.  As the curtains were pulled closed they all breathed a sigh of relief before they reopened, leaving all three of them bewildered and slightly annoyed, even more so when they noticed everyone around them standing as they applauded the actors.

Remus forced both of them up when you rushed to the front of the stage, curtsying as the crowd went wild, your boyfriends most notably. As you took your bow you blew a kiss to your boyfriends taking note of the uncomfortable way they all stood, trying to adjust their erections to make them less noticeable while simultaneously applauding you.

As you cleared the stage after curtain call you took your time, doddling towards the dressing rooms where you had left the clothes you’d arrived at the theater in along with a special outfit you’d brought for after the show. Usually you were one of the first actors to clear the theater after a show but tonight you took your time. Hanging up your costume with more care than anyone really should treat any garment with and certainly more than what it needed. 

You smirked mischievously as you pulled the you’d brought outfit from your bag and shimmied it up your legs before slipping the delicate straps up your shoulders. You glimpsed yourself in the mirror, the red satin of the dress clinging to your curves in an attractive manner, short enough to display miles of legs and low cut enough to show off a decent amount of cleavage and perhaps a sighting of the matching red bra you were wearing beneath it.

Slinging the back of your black heels over the heel of your feet you snatched your purse from the armchair in your dressing room before striding out to go meet your boyfriends in the lobby, where you’d told them to wait for you.

Their heads all turned as they heard the clacking of your heels against the tile of the floor, “Boys,” You greeted as they unabashedly took in your new appearance.

As he most often was, Remus was the first one to collect himself, “Puppy, you were wonderful,” He praised, walking to meet you as you approached him, leaning down to smear a kiss against your cheek, “You did amazing up there, so proud of you,” He threw his arm around your waist as you walked towards Sirius and James.

“We got something for you,” He explained, his grip on your waist tightening, “Jamie give it to her, yeah?” 

“Oh yeah,” The smaller boy grinned, remembering the bouquet he held cradled in his arms as he handed it over to you, “Here you go angel.”

“Thank you Jamie,” You said as you took it from him, closing your eyes as you buried your nose in the sweet smelling flora. As you opened your eyes you made eye contact with Sirius, who stood across from you, practically drooling as he took in your appearance without any shame, “They smell wonderful.”

“You okay Si?” You asked, looking up through your eyelashes, batting them innocently.

“Like you don’t know exactly what you did up there to us (Y/N/N),” Remus whispered in your ear, pressing his nose into your temple.

“You guys are the ones who wanted to come,” You lilted, rubbing one of the velvety petals between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.

“Could’ve warned us,” James mumbled, his eyes not leaving your thighs as he licked his lips, if it were anyone else you would’ve been uncomfortable but you couldn’t help but feel flattered whenever any of them ogled you. 

“And what’s with the dress Pup?” Sirius nodded his head appreciatively towards your dress, obviously admiring the way it hung on your body.

“What, you don’t like it?” You asked with fake hurt in your voice, knowing that he more than liked it, he fucking loved it. 

“S’not that,” Remus mumbled, nosing at your jugular, “Just that whole show, got us a little bit worked up. We didn’t expect it to be so sexual Puppy,” He nodded towards James and that’s when you noticed the erection he was still sporting. 

“Got us really worked up, can we go home now?” James asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to distract himself from his little problem.

“Jamie,” You whined, smiling wickedly, “I wanted to celebrate, I was thinking we could go eat somewhere, I was thinking maybe Thai food?”

You watched as Sirius ground his teeth, conflicted between needing to get home and not wanting to deny you from what you wanted. 

“Having fun teasing us Bunny?” Remus asked you with a sly smirk, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“M’not teasing,” You insisted, turning indignantly to your other boyfriend.

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckled, “Thai sounds great (Y/N), wanna talk with you about the show,” The idea of teasing Sirius and James even longer was very appealing to Remus and he was ready to make the sacrifice of being teased himself, knowing that he’d be able to get back at you later that night.

“But-” James began.

“You wanna argue with me Jamie?” Remus challenged, raising a singular eyebrow.

“No,” He moped, “Of course not.”

“Good,” Remus said, nodding his head approvingly, “We wouldn’t wanna deny our Princess would we?”

James shook his head, eyes pleading, desperately seeking Remus’ approval.

“Pads?” Remus challenged, turning his attention to the other raven haired man.

“What? Oh um, of course not,” He agreed distractedly, dragging his eyes from your form to meet Remus’, his reluctance evident in his voice.

“Good,” Remus said pointedly, his eyes cold, daring Sirius to question him. When he didn’t the werewolf continued, “Let’s get going then, there’s a nice little restaurant a couple blocks away yeah?”

As you all hummed your consent you made your way to the exit, “Ten galleons if you can make James cum in his pants at dinner,” Remus whispered in your ear quietly enough so that  James and Sirius trailing behind you wouldn’t be able to hear you, you could hear the smirk in his voice as you exited the theatre.

“Deal.” This was going to be fun, you considered that you might have to invite them to come see the show again.

-pation

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 15

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x Reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3 ; Chap 4 ; Chap 5 ; Chap 6 ; Chap 7 ; Chap 8 ; Chap 9 ; Chap 10 ; Chap 11 ; Chap 12 ; Chap 13 ; Chap 14

Masterlist : here

AN : Hi ! How are you? In this chapter, you go on a date with Jake. Well it’s not really a date... Unless... The end is near friends, few more chapters now and I’ll wrap it up! I’m LATE on my chapters, because I’m starting to grow tired, I have lots of other fic ideas that I want to write and it requires EXTRA patience for me to not rush this ending. Let’s say, 2 to 5 more chapters! Enjoy and thanks for the love and support! Feel free to share your thoughts or message me, I’m always happy to make friends!

Chapitre 15 : What's on your mind ?

My New Year's resolution about getting over my crush on Jake was a total fiasco so far. Our kiss kept replaying on my mind, at all times. The soft touch of his delicate lips against mine, the caress of his hair on my cheeks, his calloused fingertips slithering down my neck... The butterflies were unstoppable now, and my face was so used to redden that people just assumed it was my new skintone. Jake and I didn't cross paths since that night. Didn't text either. Only a few days had passed since Josh's party though, so it wasn't like we were avoiding each other. Although it became clear on Monday that what should've just been a little smooch between friends had made us really awkward around each other.

Since the Mina Situation now belonged in the past, Josh and Mandy were doing everything in their power to bring Jake and I closer. And of course sitting together during lectures was now an obvious move. Not the most discreet one, if I may had, given that Josh had sent his brother packing when he asked two weeks ago. Jake now looked positively lost, but couldn't refuse, so Mandy and I took a seat between the Kiszkas, already witnessing the menacing glare the teacher was giving us, probably not surprised in the slightest by the peculiar sandwich the lot of us formed in front of her. Mandy and Josh were playing Draw and Guess, purposefully leaving me and Jake out of it probably so we could talk. And if in the past month I had fantasies about the exact moment where I'll be sitting next to him, now that I was, all the pros and cons were slowing surfacing the ocean of my mind, like a beautiful blue sea at first glance who'd turn out to be full of plastic garbage. His mere presence was making me giddy and jittery. His smell of pine, incense and soap filled my lungs, his knee kept brushing mine, and I couldn't look at his face like I used to, just his hand making the pen dance on his sheet. I hadn't noticed I was vigorously tapping mine on the table until his warm hand covered mine, making the motion stop. Slowly, we exchanged a glance.

- Sorry, I murmured.

Jake's eyes seemed to observe mine a moment before going South and settling on my lips. Quickly, as if realizing what he was doing, the boy turned away, withdrawing his hand and resting his cheek on his other one.

- S'alright...

During the two hours, he looked rather bummed, there was no way to phrase it differently. His face showed a mix of thoughtful and troubled, and I was by now used to him being mentally elsewhere but at some point a ball of paper had landed on his forehead and Josh had to call him four times to get it back before he finally shook out of it. Man, I was starting to get concerned. Maybe he wasn't as over his breakup as he had pretended to be... I couldn't help feeling a bit guilty. It had not been a good idea to kiss each other under the mistletoe, Jake had personal stuff to sort out, and the same went for me. We both should've known better but the moment had been perfect... We'd been laughing, exchanging gifts, slowly dancing under the dim light... Anybody could've felt the romantic tension, and I was certain we both saw it in each other's gaze that night. Nothing mattered but us and this moment. But at what price, I thought bitterly. We couldn't undo the kiss we shared even with significant efforts, and I had no wish to do so. Now that I had a taste of his lips, I was becoming greedy. Like every other human in existence, my instincts were screaming they wanted more. Of that, of everything that was him. Like Janet in the Rocky Horror, I wanted him to touch me. Thoughts I shouldn't have about a friend, but the voice that took over my conscience since that night kept telling me nothing was new. I always had romantic feelings and fantasies about Jake. And while sometimes it bugged me to be a dishonnest friend, most of the time I told myself my mind was my own property, free of any laws except mine. But me arboring those kind of feelings towards Jake didn't mean I had the right to be a shitty friend either. So when we reached the end of the week and Jake's mood didn't improve at all, I took the matter into my own hands.

« Are you free this weekend ? »

Pacing in the kitchen, tugging at my thumb's fingernail with my teeth, my eyes wouldn't leave my phone, waiting for the moment it'll finally buzz. Mandy came into the kitchen to pour herself a coffee.

- Oh, don't tell me !, she exclaimed with false excitement. Rehearsing for The Shining ? You'd be a great Jack Torrance.

- Fuck you dude I'm stressed out !

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips, but seeing as I was serious, Mandy paused, delicately putting her mug on the kitchen table.

- Oh my God. You asked him out.

- It's not a date-

- Bullshit, dude, you finally asked Jake on a date, I can't believe it.

- Jesus Christ..., I muttered under my breath.

Hand on my face, pinching the bridge of my nose, I tried to remain calm. She wouldn't believe me and she was already sitting and babbling about how it took me so long but I finally made the first move and so on...

- I usually ask someone on a date like, three days after we met, my roommie explained while sipping her coffee.

- 3 DAYS but you don't even know them !

- But if you wait longer you're in the friendzone, doll.

It was my time to take a seat. That never crossed my mind before. Why had I never consider it ? Am I dumb ? Will he start calling me bro and fist bump me on the shoulder ? Oh no.

- Do you think I'm in the friendzone ?, I hurriedly whispered.

Mandy loudly snorted into her mug, splashing some coffee on her cheeks.

- After that kiss ? No way.

- What do you m-

That was the exact moment my phone chose to vibrate, making the wood table tremble under it, and myself drop the subject to grab it. It was Jake. Mandy saw it in my eyes and couldn't hide her smile. But now that his name was appearing on the screen, I suddenly got scared of rejection. I knew he wouldn't be harsh nor rude with me, probably saying something like « Sorry I have something to do. Next time ? », sending me packing in the nicest way possible. But when being rejected, even like that, I couldn't help thinking it was just the tip of the iceberg and people weren't being honest with me. Maybe they were lying, they didn't want to hang out with me. You never know. And if this text was about not being able to go out then... I'd never know either.

- For God's sake would you stop overthinking and read the damn text.

« I'm free right now, what do you have in mind ? »

Jake always had that way with words that made my cheeks instantly color. Either he was being cheeky, or I was the dirty minded one. As I was typing an answer, I remembered what Mandy had told me the other day, and tapped the backspace key. Be bold.

« Not telling you. Bring a coat and your wallet, we're going to town. »

I had a precise idea of where I wanted to take him, convinced it will improve his mood or at least make him think about something else.

The grey sky devoid of all sunshine was just a big cloud hovering above our heads, giving the streets a gloomy vibe. Not exactly what I had planned for my first « date » with Jake, but at least he was here with me. When he texted me he was downstairs, I saw him through the window standing in front of the door, cigarette in hand, looking at his phone with the other, waiting for a reply. A sheepish smile spread on my face as I took my phone out of my pocket. It was amusing to watch his reaction to my message, all smiles and chuckles as he was texting me to hurry up before he starts freezing to death.

- C'mon, said Jake while we were sitting in the cab. At least give me a clue.

- Well, let me see... No.

Jake let his back dramatically fall on the leather seat, raising his hands in disbelief.

- If we're going shopping then you should've ask Josh to join us because-

- No !, I panicked when I thought I saw his hand reach his phone. No, just us today. You said you missed spending time together.

My voice was a whisper while I kept my eyes on the streets we were passing by, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. The window's reflection, however, betrayed me, showing me Jake's figure nod slightly, as if he understood. He wouldn't have to wait much longer anyway because the cab was pulling over already, telling me the course's price. Jake's impatient self didn't let me any chance to react however, paying for us and getting out of the car in an instant, while I sat there with my wallet in hand asking myself what had just happened. The moment I stepped out the freezing air hugging me tightly made me regret not bringing gloves, or a scarf, or even a beanie. I wanted to punch myself for being an airhead but I sucked it in because we couldn't go back now, and complaining was out of the question. This day was about Jake, not me. Letting my sleeves cover my hands as much as they could, we started walking, the long haired boy by my side becoming more and more confused as time passed.

- Oh now I know, he said as the first cabins were in sight.

As we slowly approached, fragrances emanating the small Christmas market in front of us came caressing our nostrils, filling our lungs with savoury scents such as cinnamon and sugar. A few people were there, whether with their significant other or their family, all looking as joyous as the merchants.

- It's probably not as big as it is in your hometown, but it's still decent.

Jake called my name, making me stop on my tracks to turn my head at him.

- It's perfect, he reassured me.

We shared a smile, entering the miniature city were wooden cabins were neatly aligned next to each other and facing themselves, selling anything from homemade winter food to handcrafted toys and jewelry. Even if Christmas was over already, the market was a bit of an event for passerbys, whether they were inhabitants or foreign tourists. It looked charming, didn't seem like it cost the city a lot, and it made profit, so win-win situation in every way, which was the reason why they kept it going for a little bit longer than needed. And I understood why when I saw Jake's face, completely in awe with every thing he noticed, even though he was the one who was used to it. It was a cute sight, he kept calling my name every once in a while to excitedly show me home decoration he never saw before, or miniature handcrafted guitar replicas resting in their tiny stands, telling me which one was Hendrix's and which one was Clapton's. For the whole time since we got here, Jake genuinely looked like nothing was on his mind except fun. A wave of relief came through me, making me sigh in happiness. We were together, just the two of us, having a blast, and he wasn't thinking about his breakup. So far, things were going so well. Except for the (not so much) insignificant memories of our kiss that kept flashing on the blank screen of my mind like subliminal images. It was like a movie was playing in my head, only as background noise, while the other parts of my brain kept doing their work, barely noticing it. Nobody knows that they saw it, but they did. This was the absolute worst time for acting all awkward. If Jake realized I was, he will put one and one together and he'll be the uneasy one. I needed a distraction. And I just found the perfect one.

- Hey, Jake, I called without looking, what do you think ?

Raising his head from the rings stand he was focusing on, the boy briefly searched me through the small groups of people, coming closer and glancing in the direction I was looking.

- Have you ever done it before ?, he said without glancing away.

- Have you ?

We turned to face each other, exchanging a challenging look.

- Come on ! Try to reach my hand at least !

- I'm trying !

Shaky on his feet, Jake stubbornly kept on gripping the hem of the wooden hoop delimiting the track. So it turned out it was his first time ice skating after all. Who would have thought ? The boy was the one telling Mandy and I his hometown was basically a giant Christmas market but he apparently never learned how to ice skate. And it was hilarious to watch. Now I wasn't a professionnal myself so I initially planned on not making fun of him but for once he looked so ridiculous I couldn't help it. Jake was usually that guy who knew how to do absolutely anything, and in addition to it, excelled on it. There was no way I was going to let this golden opportunity pass. While I was waiting for him leaning on the wooden barrier, his handsome self was taking baby steps, bending over so much he was almost completely folded in half, pulling himself with the help of the barrier to move forward.

- You look constipated.

- Just wait until I get there and I'll kick your ass !

- Yeah, I'll come back in a week or so to check on you.

His laugh got the last of his energy and he let himself fall on the ice, defeated, throwing his arms in the air in surrender. I understood it was my cue to go help him out. With wobbly legs, I slid his way, trying to keep my balance because overwise Jake would make a show of poking fun at me for falling too. Having made sure my position was bringing me enough support, I offered Jake my hand to help him on his feet. And boy it wasn't an easy task. We almost tripped over, one of his legs was sliding away on the ice, and the guitarist was heavier than it seemed, but we got it eventually. Not confident in the slightest, Jake got my hand firmly in his, letting me lead the way, eyes going from my face to his feet, looking somewhat proud he was at least going somewhere. His undying enthusiasm was so endearing, it never failed to make me smile. Wanting to make the most of this experience, I turned on my heels to face him, taking his other hand in mine, skating backwards, a little faster now. Even though his legs were still stiff, the firm grasp he had on my fingers relaxed a bit, and he was standing almost straight now, trusting me to pull him around the track. The few people around weren't bothered by us at all wading around, circling us and not paying attention, which helped putting us at ease.

- Alright I'll let you slide alone now, try to come to me.

Reluctantly, Jake let go of my fingers, trying to find a stability by himself, while I stayed at a safe distance to prevent him from falling against the hard surface. The boy wiggled a bit but eventually found his balance, slowly skating my way with an arm reaching to me, a proud and boyish smile on his face. However, impatient to get here, he caught my hand too fast and too abruptly, pulling me close to him, making our bodies collide into one another, legs tangling and sliding awkwardly together as we both tried to stay on our feet, grabbing onto one another. We paused, making sure we weren't slipping anymore, and Jake was the first to let out a sigh.

- Man I didn't realize it was so hard. You alright doll ?

His warm breath caressed my cheek, and his rough voice my ears. It's only when I raised my head to look at him that I noticed how close we were. My hands were still tightly holding his coat around the shoulders, while his arms had wrapped themselves on the small of my back, keeping me safe in his embrace. Just a look at his warm brown eyes and his blushed cheeks and I already forgot what was the question. I just studied his flushed face, from his cute beauty mark to his plump lips... There was no mistake that he caught me doing it, but instead of speaking up to lighten the mood, Jake stood still, the only moving thing his eyes, observing me through dark eyelashes, leisurely settling his gaze on my lips... And in this moment more than any other, I really wanted to kiss him. To hell with being friends, to hell with everything, my only wish was to feel his lips against mine once again. Jake didn't let me the time to give it much more thought however, because one of his hands left my back to reach my face, making me instinctively close my eyes.

Gently, his clothed digits brushed my hair, then the tip of my nose.

- There was a snowflake..., Jake muttered.

Feeling bashful that my naive self betrayed my thoughts, I glanced at him through my eyelashes, biting the inside of my cheek. That's when I saw it. A tiny, tiny snowflake, carefully landing on one of Jake's brown locks. We raised our heads, witnessing the first snow of the year after a long and dry Winter, smiles adorning our rosy visages. The boy took my hand, leading the way the best he could.

- Come, let's resume our tour before the snow starts settling.

Walking around with my arms crossed over my chest in order to keep me warm didn't go unnoticed by Jake, who started being concerned about me before I even got to answer his question. And not only did he rubbed my sides in order to provide heat, he also removed his beanie to put it on my head, shoving it up to my eyebrows and making sure it covered my ears. It felt good, being pampered like this. I must've looked so small, face all red from the cold with Jake stroking my back. He even had the idea to get us hot chocolate, which was the best we had all day. We quietly sat on a bench, watching the snow fall, blowing on our hot beverage to cool it down. The moment the carton cup got in contact with my numb hands, all my body woke up, heat circulating everywhere inside. There was nothing like hot chocolate in Winter, it was so comforting. And having this moment shared with Jake made everything better. Stealing a glance, I observed his lean frame quietly sipping on his drink, before he noticed me and lifted his head, eyebrows raised with a quizzical look on his face, chocolate mustache all over his upper lip. That made me snicker, while the idiot still pretended he didn't know what was going on.

- Why are you laughing ? Is snow that funny ? Do you know how people will have to work hard to shovel the roads tomorrow ?

- Stop it, I breathed between loud chuckles.

- Stop what ?

With the only purpose of making me laugh some more, he got closer, big proud smile on his lips, shoving his new mustache to my face.

- Oh my god Jake wipe your mouth, I can't-

- Is there something on my face ?

Gulping down some of my hot beverage, it was my time looking silly, abruptly turning to him for dramatic effect, already feeling the chocolate on my upper lip drip lower. Now it was Jake who was calling my name, while we cackled like two idiots. A couple of old folks passed us by, seemingly amused by our childish behaviour, like everytime we were together.

- It looks so gross, he commented.

- How dare you talk about my mustache like that, sir.

- Your « mustache » is smeared all over the place, doll.

That made us come to the agreement that it was time for both our respective mustaches to go. And like a child, I didn't have a say in Jake's decision to wipe my mouth himself. We continued our tour, feeling warmer and more energetic now, pointing at everything and closely examining each Christmas light or clothes we found in our way. Sellers were all in a genuinely good mood, happiness communicating from one another, proudly offering us a taste of their food, or explaining how they carved wooden sculptures and what paint they used. Some of them even called us, asking if we wanted to come have a look at their stand and we obliged, even without buying anything, just to have a small chat with the men and women standing in their cabins wrapped in big comfy sweaters, sticking to the heater.

- Hello there !, one of them called, Looking for anything in particular ? I have beautiful scarves for your girlfriend.

Oh, I figured it might happen. It wasn't the first time, nor wouldn't be the last that someone had or will mistake a friend and I for a couple. So of course, the rule applied to Jake too. And given the romantic feelings I arbored for him, some people must have felt it. Things like these showed. It wasn't something one could explain, it was just... in the air. In the soft gestures, the smiles, and the languid looks. Not wanting to make Jake feel embarrassed, I tried to clear the misunderstanding.

- We're not-

- Do you have this one in purple ?

Much to my surprise, the boy didn't care at all. Or most likely he didn't even seem to catch it. He just went nearer to the stand, perfectly unperturbated by the fact that the man believed we were an item. As my sheepiness was reaching another level, I shyly took a step forward to stand next to Jake, trying to focus on his next purchase without asking myself if we both looked like a real, credible couple. The seller who had took a step back to look at the model Jake had asked returned with the scarf, handing it to him to feel the material, adressing me a polite smile while he took off his wallet to pay. We had just said our goodbyes and wished him a nice day when Jake wrapped my neck with a soft, fluffy purple scarf, tying it at the front to make sure I stayed warm.

- Remember when I told you I'll find a way to repay you for the flyers ? I hope this'll do.

My hands took his, preventing him from whatever he was doing with the scarf.

- Jake I... This is too much, I didn't invite you to buy me things. To be honest it was supposed to make you feel better, but...

Stuttering, trying to find a way to express what I wanted to do and fumbling with my words, they finally died on my throat, leaving me in front of a very confused Jake, brows furrowed. I let out a small sigh through my nose, now fearing to have fucked up somewhere without exactly knowing where. Is he upset ? And if so, why, he looked depressed, I wanted to help, and he was smiling all day so why be upset ? Or was there something I missed ?

- To make me feel better ?, he parroted.

Much to my relief, he didn't sound mad, just genuinely confused about the whole situation, like my mind was a code he was trying to crack. Still not knowing how to formulate my thoughts without him taking it the wrong way (for some reason, you never know), I stayed silent, until he spoke up.

- About Mina ? Listen doll, if this is about that, I'm not sad. I was, but as I told you, I'm over it already. Maybe it sounds fast, I don't know, I had a lot of time to think about it, and I'm good. Honesrly.

What ?

- You are ?

- Yeah, he chuckled. Why ? What went through your head ?

Oh no, it was so embarrassing. I could hear all the little persons making my brain work screaming and setting everything on fire, giving in to panic, letting me in my awkward mode to face Jake.

- You uhm... You looked elsewhere, so I figured...

Surprisingly, it was Jake's turn to look perfectly uncomfortable, cheeks turning a darker shade of pink than they already were, refusing to meet me in the eye, shifting awkwardly on his feet. The long haired boy cleared his throat.

- Yeah, there's something on my mind actually, but it's... a pleasant something. Don't worry about it. I appreciate your concern, anyway. Thanks. It was a really good idea.

The change of topic was sudden but effective, his bright smile too, and even if I noticed, I didn't push the matter. What was going on in his mind wasn't any of my business. Glad that we cleared that misunderstanding, we continued walking, taking our time to leave the Christmas market to call an Uber to ride us home. It was quiet, only the sound of our feet mashing the snow accompanied us, yet it wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, it was a comfortable silence, the one when you just enjoy the other's company, and where no words were needed. My red and shaky fingers kept grabbing the hem of my sleeves to cover them, which Jake managed to notice. Without saying anything, he took my hand.

- You must be freezing, he muttered. Here, let's share.

Before I knew what was going on, Jake had removed one of his gloves for me to borrow, and warmth instantly tickled my skin.

- Give me your other hand.

Raising an arm to him, the boy took it in his bare one, carefully putting them deep into his jacket pocket, sheltering them from the cold air. We stayed close to one another like that, resuming our walking, fingers tangled into his pocket, hidden from the outside world like they were in their own little hideway. My thumping heart accelerating my pulse must've resonating through my fingers, but I didn't dare to move an inch, relishing each second our skin touched like it was the last one.

[volgotha]

Holy shit I just read your text post I'm so sorry! How are people so easily sold on bullshit??? What happened that lead up to all that?

Okay, strap yourself in. I’m only typing this mess up once more and then I’m never mentioning it again as long as I live. I’m not going to tag it with anything relevant either so once its posted, i’m letting it get lost in the sea of reblogs. Here we go, warning; this is gon be long.

In 2006 I went to college. From 2006 to 2009 I hung out with 5 friends and my bf at the time, Andre. It was in 2007 that we started to poke our heads into the 2C11 room (the clubspace room). Matt and his best friend Jogn Carlo started coming with us to Rocky Horror, a thing only myself and two of my 5 friends would do together, along with ppl they knew from their old highschool. By 2009, we had formed a big gang of friends from the clubspace, and we all started going to movies and sushi together. One of my friends organize panels for Otakuthon, where we’d all meet up.      

But in 2009, two of the 5 ppl I hung out with had a falling out. They stopped being friends. One went to university, the other was around for one more year then she went to university in 2010. That’s when the old group began to change from a family to a clique: In 2010 new members joined the club, and became new staples in the old group–most importantly, a guy named Tin.

It used to feel like a big family, but when the new semester started in September 2010 and new members flooded the club, everything changed. Tin instantly gave me a strange feeling in my gut, like there was something off abt him I couldn’t articulate. Shannon was dating Alex, the then club president, who stepped down in disgrace after I and one of those 5 friends went to the student union to complain abt him being the Harvey Weinstein of the club,. He wanted to permanently ban her from the club bc that summer when he was making a shitty youtube movie, he asked her out and she said no. The only reason he stepped down is bc I helped her take it to the student union and took him down. So when 2010 came along, Tin swooped in and became Alex 2.0, and when I warned ppl abt him they didn’t listen.

Fast forward a year to 2011, and the shitstorm happens; My mom had bvee battling with cancer since 2009. She had a hysterectomy but it didn’t work, and the cancer came back with a vengance.

January 15th 2011: My mom comes into my room and tells me her doctor doesn’t give her 1 year left to live. A few minutes after she leaves my room, Tin talks to me on Steam. He starts trolling me, I exploded on him. I felt bad about it so I tried to apologise to him, and I wrote on my facebook wall a message: “Just found out my mom has a year left to live, not in my right head, plz stay away from me for a while” so i wouldn’t explode on anyone else. I said I tried to apologise to Tin on steam, because him being an abujsive sociopath, instead of just accepting the apology or not like a normal person, instead he starts demanding that i admit to being a shitdisturber. I ignore him at that point, tell him im sorry, wish him good night and then sign off steam, and go to bed.

The following day, Shannon heads me off as I’m in the 2C11 hallway heading to the clubspace room; she warns me that Kelly is having a shit fit and screaming about how much of a horrible person I am, that apparently Kelly thinks my facebook post is me using my mom as an excuse to get away with being a bitch. I run to confront her, because excuse me, no it fucking wasn’t yknow? and whatever trauma she hasn;’t resolved yet doesn’t give her the right to twist my meanings and paint me as a monster. Thats when she goes into the Oliver’s caf so I follow her, and she screams at me calls me pathetic and heads back into the clubspace, and everyone followed her and left me in the caf crying with Shannon and Alex. :/

The situation was made ten times worse later that night by a certain person named Mathew, remember him? He was supposed to be my friend. Instead, he took the opportunity to write a huge post on fb tearing me down, on which everyone else joined in taking a public jab at me. Matt was seen as the community leader at the time. He could have used his power to calm the situation down, instead he made things worse. To this day, I suspect that troll Tin is the one who twisted my words to trigger Kelly and cause all of this, and that he also had Matt in the palm of his hand, but i digress; Matt’s post convinced most of them to ditch me. That devastated me in an already overwhelmed state, and I attempted suicide a few nights later.

That summer, I saw that my former friends were all having a big party, “What Killed the Dinosaurs? The Bad Movie Night.”, and I wasn’t invited. Shannon saw how much it hurt me, so she invited to her bf’s party instead, and that’s where I met Paul.

The following school year of 2011-2012 went by without much incident. The people who had ghosted me slowly added me back, Matt even apologized for his shit, and things seemed to be on the up and up. It looked like all this drama was behind us. I was wrong.

After I graduated, I decided to go visit the club in Fall 2012. Big mistake.

I saw someone I knew, Sarah, crying on someone’s lap, and asked her what was up. She told me she was in an abusive relationship with Tin. For giving her the advice to leave him, Tin came at me on steam again, and I told him that he was an abuser, that he would not intimidate me and to go fuck himself, and I blocked him. Suddenly, Matt was trying to extort 100$ from me for 2 locks I had broken the year before, which should’ve only cost 42$. Where did that come from? Well, Tin was the club’s Treasurer that year. He was trying to get back at me for standing up to him and helping his victim escape, and he was doing it through Matt, who was going apeshit on me on MSN for refusing to pay 100$. I insisted I should only have to pay what I owe, which was 42$. He kept freaking out on me, so finally I threatened to get a lawyer involved, and that’s when he backed down. I still paid the money I owed for the locks I had broken but I blocked Matt, having had enough of his bullshit, and that’s when suddenly a bunch of ppl from the group ghosted me for good.

Why was I ghosted when Matt was clearly the one in the wrong? Because Tin. They ghosted me bc Tin told them to. Tin and Matt told them all sorts of shitty things about me and they believed them. They don’t hold Tin or Matt to any of their shitty actions though bc they don’t want the same abuse that happened to me to happen to them. They turn a blind eye to every shitty thing Tin and Matt do. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand there’s an extremely toxic abuse dynamic at play in that group.

But the story doesn’t end there. Remember that party I went to with Shannon, and that guy I met named Paul? From november 2011 to march 2015 we were together. I was isolated from whoever was left, only hung out with him and his friends. In 2014, I became close friends with a girl name d Ariel, a member of that old groiup who ghosted me. But that was probably a manufactured relationship manipulated into existance by Paul, so he could jump to her when he was done with me.

Paul was extremely abusive when no one was around. The night he left, we had a huge fight. I tried to escape the situation by running upstairs. He chased me and when I ran into my TV room and closed the door behind me, he started pounding on it and trying to push his way in. When he did manage to get through the door, I panicked, picked up a glass bottle and threw it at him, and then slammed the door again when he backed out. The bottle broke, and cut his finger very deep. He used that cut to get everyone present during the situation on his side. Nevermind all the crazy abusive stuff he had just pulled in front of them, no, I was the bad guy, and once he had them convinced, he left to my then bff’s house, who later became his new gf.

He posted a picture of the wound on facebook, and because of that and previous drama from years ago that never really went away, most of the friends I had left from Dawson believed him, and ghosted me. I couldn’t tell them that a week earlier he had raped me, and that’s why I was scared enough to throw that glass bottle at him.I filed a police report, I warned everyone who would listen to me about him, and I warned her. I did all I could.

 I was too scared to tell this story for such a long time, because if asking for understanding while my mom was dying was twisted into me using my mom as an excuse to get away with being a bitch, then asking for understanding for the outbursts I had after being raped would just be twisted into me using my rape as an excuse to get away with being a bitch. I couldn’t handle the idea of my rape being trivialized as just some excuse–and Mathew is in part responsible for it all, because of that fucking post he made publicly tearing me down. Had he not posted that, I would’ve never lost my support system, I would’ve never gone to that party with Shannon, and I would’ve never been raped.

So I spent the better parts of 2016-2018 telling those involved off for their part in my current situation and blocked them, and the rest rebuilding what I had back in 2009, with resounding success. 

So, there you have it. That’s what happened. Fuuuuuuuucking insane isn’t it. Its over now, none of them can hurt me anymore and Ive once again surrounded myself with friends I can actually trust, so everything’s good now. I still have my low days bc this was yknow, a lot, but I’m doing much, muuuuch better now. 

[lovemesomesurveys]

Are you fascinated by outer space?: Nooo. Just the idea alone terrifies me. Is there a tree outside your window?: Yes. Can you ever see the moon from your bedroom window?: No. Do you have a window right by your bed?: It’s across from my bed. When was the last time you had sushi?: Years ago I tried it and I hated it, so that was the end of that.

Do you pray regularly?: No, but that is something I want to change. Do you wish there were more to do online?: Sometimes yeah like when my dash is dead, I can’t find any new surveys, and I’m caught up on my social media. What’s a fun website you recommend?: I don’t know of any that most aren’t already familiar with.

Do you shop for new clothes each season?: I usually get something each month. :X My main thing is graphic Ts. When fall comes around, I do get especially excited about buying hoodies even though I reallyyy don’t need any more. Do you answer your phone when it’s a number you don’t recognize?: Nope. I don’t always answer when I do recognize the number.  :X Have you ever been to Africa?: No. Do you like spontaneity?: It really depends. I’m a planner and live a very routine life. However, if some random day my mom was like, “Hey, pack your bags we’re going to Hawaii” I’d totally be down for that. haha. What are you looking forward to wearing this spring?: I’m not thinking about spring, my mind is set on fall! Is your hair dyed right now? If so, what color is it?: Yes, though it’s way overdo for another dye job. Anyway, I’ve been dying it red the past few years. Do you look up your symptoms online whenever you have a problem?: Yes, which is never good. Do you shop at Goodwill?: No. Do you donate things to Goodwill a lot?: I have a few times. Does your place have a lot of clutter?: Kind of yeah. :/ We’re 4 adults who have just simply outgrown this 2 bedroom home long ago. Do you eat enough fruits and vegetables?: No. I eat spinach most everyday in my eggs and sandwiches, but that’s all.  Do you have dreams that you’re not giving up on?: I’ve given up years ago. :/ Do you believe in yourself even when no one else does?: No. Do you have hope for the future?: ... Does God’s grace get you through each day?: That is something I need to be more mindful and appreciate of and focus on the blessings, but it’s just so hard.  What motivates you?: Um. Are you optimistic?: For other people. Are you going to wear anything floral this spring?: It’s almost time for fall, man. That’s what I’m thinking about. Do you think your hair looks better up or down?: Down, but I always wear it up because it’s hot and I can’t be bothered to do anything with it besides throw it in a pony tail or side braid. Do you like bare trees or green-leaved trees better?: I like fall colored leaves best. What season would you want to get married in?: I don’t plan on getting married. Are you currently wearing anything pink?: My socks have some pink. Do you wear socks that match?: Yeah. I don’t like wearing mismatched socks. Do you own a pair of slip-on shoes?: Well, I can slip my feet into my shoes without having to untie them does that count? ha. Do you have a balcony?: No. What does your favorite stuffed animal look like?: I have tons of giraffe stuffed animals all around my room and they’re all my favorite. Do you collect anything?: Aforementioned giraffe stuffed animals, key chains, various things from different fandoms I like. What was the last book you read?: Burying the Honeysuckle Girls by Emily Carpenter.  Do you have any Christmas decorations still up?: The ones in my room still are lol. It’s almost Christmastime again now and I’d obviously just leave them up, but I do have cute Halloween decorations I’d like to put out for a bit, ha. I wanted to have already done that at the start of this month, but I just haven’t gotten around to it, yet.  Are there any events you are looking forward to soon?: No. Do you love your hometown?: No. Do you dream of decorating a house someday?: I’m not great at that kind of thing. When was the last time you moved to a new house?: Almost 10 years ago.  What is the most interesting thing in the room you are in?: Various things. On a weekend, how long do you typically lay in bed before getting up?: Everyday I struggle with dragging myself out of bed. I probably take about an hour to finally get up and get coffee. How long was your longest relationship?: Almost 4 years if you count Joseph. What is your star sign? (ex: Aquarius): Leo. Now what is the star sign of your significant other/crush?: I don’t have a crush or significant other. Which cities/states have you lived in?: 2 cities in California. Tell me about how your parents met. How old were they?: They were coworkers in their early to mid 20s at the time. Are you in college? If not, where do you want to go to college and why?: I graduated college in 2015. What makes your bedroom special to you/what is your favorite part about it?: My bed and everything in it. All the things I’ve collected over the years. My only complaint is my room is too small. When washing your hands, do you wet your hands or put soap on first?: I put soap first. If you had to pick one chore to do today, what would it be?: Nah. When was the hardest you ever cried? What was the circumstance?: Over the loss of loved ones. When it comes to school, how motivated are you to work?: I’m done with school, but I was motivated back when I was in school. Once I finished; though, I lost it. :/ Do you know any high school sweethearts? How’s life treating them?: Yeah. They’ve been married for years and have 2 kids. They seem to be doing well. Where do you usually buy your clothes?: Hot Topic, BoxLunch, and Kohl’s.  Would you rather be fluent in Chinese or Japanese?: *shrug* Would you rather meet your soul mate early or date a few people beforehand?: I’m 30 years old now, if I ever find someone then I’d really hope they were the one. I’m not interested in dating around. Name me a funny/weird/entertaining YouTube video, please?: I don’t know. I only watch like ASMR and vlogs. Are your fingernails currently short or long?: Very short. If you had to be a school teacher, which subject would you teach?: Nah. When it comes to relationships, are you the jealous type?: No, not so much. I’ve felt jealousy in certain situations, but overall no I wouldn’t say that.  What do you usually order at Jamba Juice?: I used to get Strawberries Wild, Razzmatazz, or Blueberry acai.  Have you ever been to see Rocky Horror?: Yeah, a few times. How long have you had your cell phone?: It’ll be a year this Christmas. Which gift cards do you have in your wallet?: I don’t have any. Which is the scariest ride you have ever been on in a theme park?: The one time I made the mistake of riding this ship ride that sways back and forth and gets pretty steep, at some points going until you’re upside down. I HATED IT. It was a horrible experience. I screamed the whole time to stop the ride and no one heard me. Which celebrity do you think is the prettiest nowadays?: *shrug* A lot of them are.

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/23 & 10/25/2018: HALLOWEEN (2007) & HALLOWEEN II (2009)

By the time Rob Zombie made the bold move of remaking John Carpenter’s name-making classic HALLOWEEN, the horror rock-star’s directorial career had already proved to be incredibly divisive. His 2003 film debut, HOUSE OF 1,000 CORPSES drew a cult from among diehard fans of his music, but was largely panned by critics who identified it as a ramshackle, self-indulgent disaster. The movie was little more than a Frankensteining-together of Zombie’s favorite things, but he managed to follow it up swiftly with 2005′s semi-sequel, THE DEVIL’S REJECTS. With this project, he appropriated three of the principle characters from his cartoony, ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW-like first feature, and reimagined them as the redneck antiheroes of a story that plays like a cross between THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE and THE WILD BUNCH. While DEVIL’S REJECTS showed major improvements in terms of drive and focus, it still felt unsettled. It is an emotionally confused movie that has trouble deciding whether its tale is more tragic for the innocent victims of its psychopathic protagonists, or more triumphant, for the Rejects’ anti-establishment swagger and charisma. Rob Zombie displays a refined aesthetic sense, and seems sincere in his storytelling, but he didn’t have much time to let these things ferment into a more potent cinematic brew before he stepped up to bat again with his controversial remake of the beloved HALLOWEEN in 2007. 

Reviled even by the likes of John Carpenter himself, Zombie’s dour, ponderous retelling of the archetypal slasher story was baffling to critics and genre buffs alike. Loaded up with clunky psychoanalysis that flies in the face of Carpenter’s original intention--Michael Myers is PURE NO-REASON EVIL, FULL STOP--this iteration of HALLOWEEN worked for few people besides Zombie’s hardcore stans. In spite of that very large and general problem, the writer-director was back again in 2009 with a sequel to his own remake. With HALLOWEEN II, he took two major creative risks: Bringing the ubiquitous Sheri Moon Zombie back even though her character died early in the first film, and centering the narrative on Laurie Strode’s psychological recovery, or lack thereof, from her original ordeal. It is easy to see how this setup would draw more complex and ambivalent responses. Mrs. Zombie’s appearance as the ghost of Myers’ mother, whose character is plagued by a lot of Jungian nonsense, was identified fairly as ludicrous by many viewers. On the other hand, Scout Taylor-Compton’s return as Laurie Strode takes a character who was little more than a cardboard cutout in the first film, and turns her into a convincing mass of trauma who undergoes a profound transformation over the course of this sequel. As with THE DEVIL’S REJECTS, HALLOWEEN II suggests that even while Rob Zombie can be an incredibly frustrating filmmaker, he still seems to be on to something. Even in my most stuck-up moments, when his smug use of slow motion and arias of unshocking cuss words make me want to forget everything I just watched, his movies nag at me in a way that I have a hard time describing.  I’m just now starting to formulate an understanding of why.

Often, I find myself asking: Who is Rob Zombie? First and foremost, he is a professional nerd. His music, art, videos, and feature films are strung together by his scholarship in all things genre, whether he’s invoking Tobe Hooper’s snuff-like realism, or the innocent sitcom pleasures of the Munsters. Zombie is vastly erudite about horror, and really anything remotely culty. This is actually to the detriment of HOUSE OF 1,000 CORPSES, which is so bloated with pop culture references that it almost chokes out the movie’s dubious originality. But while he has that irritating nerdy compulsion to competitively show off what he knows, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who buys and bags comics without even cracking them open. Rob Zombie is clearly, legitimately passionate; it’s heartwarming, and enough to make you want to root for him even when you don’t totally love what he’s doing. His craftsmanship is on point, too, as a multimedia artist whose talent has been abundantly evident since the early band flyer days. It comes as no surprise that he attended Parsons School of Design, and he occasionally shows his hand as an amateur film historian with a love for golden age Hollywood. So, whatever he wants you to think about his hellbilly stage presence, he’s clearly no hick, and no basement-dwelling dweeb either. He’s an educated artist with a background in New York City’s brainy ‘80s noise rock scene. It’s because of this that I find the worshipful attitude his films take toward their sociopathic murderers to be, well...kind of annoying. Why am I supposed to think it’s so cool, as the movies’ punk rock tone suggests, that the Firefly family tortures random bystanders to death for no apparent reason? Why doesn’t Rob Zombie know how tired the whole “scary clown” thing is, and has been for a long time already, even when it’s someone as magical as Sid Haig under the greasepaint? Why do I feel like Zombie’s interest in pimps and ho’s is deeper than just exploitation pastiche, which makes it potentially worse than if it were just a shallow affectation? The thought of this Massachusetts-born college boy fantasizing obsessively about being so crude and violent and salt-of-the-earth is kind of lame. So, instead of just, you know, being a hater as usual, I looked it up--and discovered that Rob Zombie’s roots are actually in the fairway. As Wikipedia aggregates from various interviews: 

While raising their sons, Rob's parents worked in a carnival, but they chose to leave after a riot broke out and tents were set on fire. Zombie recalled the experience in an interview, stating, "Everybody's pulling out guns, and you could hear guns going off. I remember this one guy we knew, he was telling us where to go, and some guy just ran up to him and hit him in the face with a hammer – just busted his face wide open. My parents packed up real quick, and we took off."

Suddenly, it all started to make sense. Sure, the costumed popstar isn’t an undead cross between Jerry Lee Lewis and Charles Starkweather in real life, but he isn’t a complete poseur either. It isn’t immediately clear, from underneath his mountain of collectory movie references, that he is, more or less, writing what he knows. He isn’t just emulating his cultural heroes, he’s mythologizing his own childhood. 

In view of this, the key to Rob Zombie’s movies is not an awareness of horror history and semiology; it’s actually all about outlaw culture. So, back to 2007′s deeply flawed HALLOWEEN. It’s a heavily bro-y movie, in its outsidery way, that breaks up the Dr. Loomis-Michael Myers-Laurie Strode love triangle, and focuses almost entirely on building a Myers biography. The fascinatingly sullen Daeg Neergaard Faerch plays young Michael, a fatherless boy on the verge of snapping from the relentless torment coming at him from all directions: his slutty sister, school bullies who fixate on his stripper mom (Sheri Moon Zombie), and his mother’s latest violent, depraved boyfriend. Michael follows the serial killer script perfectly, graduating rapidly from torturing animals to brutalizing other kids to annihilating his sister, her boyfriend, and his mother’s beau one Halloween night when his sibling chooses sex over taking her little brother trick-or-treating. He soon finds himself installed in a mental institution where he moves on to slaughtering the staff. Dr. Loomis (Malcolm McDowell) spends years evaluating the boy, though he is ultimately stymied by Michael’s profound lack of humanity. As Michael increasingly retreats behind the folksy homemade masks he spends all day crafting, the opportunistic Loomis gives up on him, instead committing his energy to a money-making true crime/pop psychology book about Myers. Flashing forward, we find the hulking adult Michael Myers (played by the 6′8″ wrestler Tyler Mane) getting ready to bust out of the asylum and wage war on his home town of Haddonfield. There we finally meet teen dream Laurie Strode, a spunky babysitter with a gaggle of gal pals who are perfect grist for the slasher mill. In the final leg of the film, Myers carves his way through Laurie’s social circle, in an apparent attempt to reunite with his sister: Laurie herself. Sheriff Brackett (Brad Dourif) reveals that when Michael’s despairing mother committed suicide years ago, he took her infant daughter and had her adopted out anonymously to insulate her from her family’s tragic history. Laurie, for her part, is unaware of anything other than her need to survive, which she only barely accomplishes.

Naturally, Laurie’s story is the weakest part of a movie that is otherwise so focused on male experience. That is, the experience of needing a father, the ambivalent and ambiguous craving for maternal intimacy, the trauma of having your masculinity impugned by your (fag-obsessed) peers, and perhaps even the undermining influence of academia and capitalism on a man’s natural-born strength and worth. When the newly-freed Michael Myers storms through a truck stop to begin his pilgrimage to Haddonfield, and Rob Zombie chooses to accompany this scene with Rush’s regal outlaw anthem “Tom Sawyer”, it tells you everything you need to know about this take on HALLOWEEN. Like the rampaging Firefly family in DEVIL’S REJECTS, Michael is certainly evil, but he also represents something essential about the formation of and reinforcement of one’s individuality in the face of castrating societal norms--something the carnies among whom Rob Zombie grew up would have found very relatable.

It’s worth noting here that, while the sexuality of the women in Michael’s life plays a role in his distorted development, he is not reacting to their sexuality in and of itself. Michael Myers is not driven by the kind of covetousness that we associate with the archetypal slasher, who gives sexually frustrated male viewers a vicarious thrill by punishing sluts and teases. Michael’s problem is that his mother and sister’s sexuality contributes to his isolation. His classmates use his mother’s profession against him, and that profession keeps her from being able to tuck him in at night. Similarly, Michael doesn’t get to enjoy Halloween with his family and the other neighborhood kids, because his sister is too busy getting laid. Michael is abandoned, even while he still has a home to return to, an outsider even in his own house. 

This leads me to an important point about why the portion of the movie that is devoted to Laurie's struggle is so ineffective. It is a flaw in the film, but a virtue of the director: Normal, attractive teenagers are not Rob Zombie’s people. He doesn’t even participate in traditional slasher movie misogyny, he’s so far away from thinking about them. His movies are full of badass women who are fully possessed of their sexuality, and who wield it like a weapon against hypocrites and assholes, and this is always shone in a heroic light. Moreover, he delights in casting women of all shapes and ages, often assigning them immense personal power, as in LORDS OF SALEM, an enormously satisfying movie about society’s original persecuted outcasts: witches. Rob Zombie is deeply committed to outsiders, and his definition of them isn’t limited to banal lawbreaking--he also rejects conventional beauty and our cultural obsession with youth. His films are populated by all manner of human beings, and the farther away they are from looking like model material, the more likely it is that they’re meant to be the heroes. On that note, whatever you think of his movies, you have to acknowledge that they are almost never dehumanizing. Zombie is an accomplished actor’s director who gets a full spectrum of emotion out of his performers, and who excels at creating a feeling of camaraderie within his ensemble casts. It is this surprising sweetness, and compassion even for the victims of the villains he lionizes, that makes HALLOWEEN II so peculiarly effective.

If 2007′s HALLOWEEN was a remake on which Rob Zombie couldn’t resist draping some of his personal hangups, HALLOWEEN II is almost a completely original and separate entity from what one thinks of as the franchise started by John Carpenter. In it, Michael Myers is presumed dead but his body is missing--and indeed, his character is missing for much of the movie. We find a disturbed, scarred-up Laurie Strode living with her surviving friend Annie, and Annie’s father, Sheriff Bracket. Laurie is dealing, poorly, with a heavy dose of PTSD. Along with nightmares and flashbacks, she also has trouble just being nice to people, or accepting affection. Annie and her father’s attempts to be charitable with their adoptive family member are no match for Laurie’s increasing surliness and mistrust of the world. Once a good-natured and optimistic young woman, her appearance becomes vagrant-like (curiously similar to Rob Zombie’s own casual look), her attitude is more and more nihilistic, and she develops a drinking problem. I’ve always wanted to see a movie with a slasher-like narrative foundation, but that focuses on aftermath and recovery, and recent gimmicky efforts like FINAL GIRL and LAST GIRL STANDING did absolutely nothing for me. HALLOWEEN II--at least, the superbly-acted Strode part of it--is the movie I’ve been asking for.

The other part of the movie is also interesting--or more specifically, it’s as ballsy as it is flawed. The movie gets off on kind of a bad foot when a title card quotes an obscure psychology text book called The Subconscious Psychosis of Dreams: 

WHITE HORSE - instinct, purity, and the drive of the physical body to release powerful and emotional forces, like rage with ensuing chaos and destruction.

This is the excuse we have for the fact that the ghost of Deborah Myers arrives with a white horse to compel her son to find his sister Laurie Strode, aka Angel Myers, to reunite their family, presumably in the afterlife. Deborah Myers is kind of a spectral cross between Glenda the Good Witch and the Wicked Witch of the West, at once welcoming and sinister, drifting in and out of Michael’s consciousness in the company of a sort of ghost of his childhood (Chase White Vaneck, who is no Daeg Faerch honestly). It might be easy to dismiss this anomaly as an expression of Michael’s mental illness, and his desire to experience an idealized version of his youth in which his mother still looks after him--except that later in the movie, during the final standoff, Laurie is shown to be physically affected by these spirits. Maybe the implication is that she and Michael suffer the same psychological ailments, but for them to share such specific hallucinations without speaking is borderline supernatural in and of itself. So, while Sheri Moon Zombie does her best with her impressive force of personality and compelling physical presence, it’s hard to say what this part of the movie serves. When I first saw the film, I was completely outraged by this, not only because it made no sense to me, but because it felt like a cheap ripoff of Sarah Palmer’s similar prophetic visions of a white horse in Twin Peaks. That was all I managed to make of it. 

Today, I still don’t love it, but I have more trouble faulting Rob Zombie for trying to make HALLOWEEN his own, something more than a remake. He also does this by truly letting go of the Shape. The famous William Shatner mask was blown in half by Laurie at the end of the 2007 HALLOWEEN, and scarcely makes much of an appearance in this movie. Michael Myers is a disheveled drifter, literally haunted by his past, whose only real aim is to find a place to belong. It’s sort of funny, in retrospect: When John Carpenter made the first HALLOWEEN, he-by-way-of-Dr. Loomis declared Michael an empty shell of a person, someone who was simply born evil, as reflected by the empty-eyed mask he wears. For some reason, though, a whole legacy of directors just couldn’t resist trying to explain Myers away. The original HALLOWEEN II then says, “Well...what if Michael Myers is on a rampage because LAURIE STRODE IS HIS SISTER? What’s that you say? Why is that a reason to rampage? Ummmm...” And then HALLOWEEN 4 sees him pursuing other young female relations of his, and then in subsequent movies there’s an accursed rune, and druids, and immortality rites, and by the time you get to HALLOWEEN 6 you have this absurd stone soup of bad ideas. It’s a miracle that this franchise became such a thing. Rob Zombie makes the same fundamental mistake, but at least he tries it in the simplest possible way, asserting plainly that Nurture, not Nature, made Michael into a killer. Now, terminally lonely, he’s like a clown waking up in his trailer to find that the carnival left without him. Exiled from mainstream society, he seeks out what remains of his family, who, due to his own violent actions, has grown up more like him than he may have imagined.

I’m not saying I think this was the best thing to do with HALLOWEEN 2. Personally, what I crave in horror movies is something that is farther beyond explanation than this--something that gesturally resembles my life experience, but that plunges past the veil of mundanity into a deeper, darker world of primordial fears and urges, addressing things that unsettle me because I cannot rationalize them. For me, horror is definitionally incomprehensible, and Rob Zombie’s HALLOWEEN diptych is fundamentally sane. But, I think what I’ve discovered is that these movies are not proper horror movies, in spite of their relentless sadistic violence. They are outlaw fables, with more DNA in common with something like EASY RIDER, than with FRIDAY THE 13TH. It’s funny to watch myself coming to a compassionate understanding of these movies that are themselves about outsiders and rejects who are specifically deprived of understanding. My goal in all this was not so much to convince people of the value of these movies, which one might reject on any number of reasonable counts, but to explain to myself why I keep coming back to them. It isn’t to condescendingly heckle them, and it isn’t just because they’re often handsome-looking, or because they’re so emotionally authentic even when the narrative is less than compelling. It must be because, even when I’ve found him challenging, I can’t help seeing Rob Zombie as a person with vision, someone who heroically eschews common consensus on taste and sense-making--the consensus even among horror fans and his own cinematic heroes--in order to say what makes sense to him personally. Finally, he has begun to make sense to me, too.

[indigosandviolets]

Get Back - Joe Mazzello x Gender Neutral!Reader - College AU

Part - 1

Summary - Y/N was never one to go out much, but a night out with Lucy’s boyfriend’s friends make that change sooner than they thought it would, especially when they meet the red headed friend.

Word Count - 1.1k

Song - I’m Only Sleeping by The Beatles

“I know you’re an Arts Major, Y/N, but Jesus Christ you need to get out more!” Lucy said, plowing down on her bed as Y/N drew in their sketchbook. “You’re always in here, drawing and painting and I only see you here or at the dining hall.”

Y/N shrugged. “You know I don’t like going out. I’ve never been about going out.”

Lucy sat up. “I know, but I really do think you could have some fun. You can come out with me and boys tomorrow night.”

Lucy had been Y/N’s friend since freshman year of high school, but Y/N wasn’t as sociable. The only reason they first talked to each other was because they both hated gym, and stuck together and built a friendship out of it. The boys were her boyfriend’s, Rami, friends. Y/N had met Rami a few times and he was incredibly nice, but she hadn’t met any of the others. They knew their names, but had never been able to put any faces to them.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Y/N asked, folding up their sketchbook and placing it on their nightstand. “If you’re gonna do something stupid like getting drunk and going bowling I’m not going with you.”

Lucy shook her head. “No, we’re just going out to dinner and then we’re gonna see a movie at a drive-in.”

Y/N cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not one for dinner and a movie.”

“Joe suggested it. He said it would be like a movie because it’s a ‘science fiction double feature’.”

Y/N snorted at that. “Rocky Horror Picture Show. Alright, I’m in.”

Lucy bounced with excitement. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Rami won’t believe this,” she said, laughing. “He owes me a dinner.”

“How convenient.”

The next day of classes and hand cramps from sketching passed and Y/N slipped on a hoodie, not dressing too nice since it was only an evening out with friends. Well, not their friends, but maybe at the end of the night they would be.

It was cold and Y/N walked with Rami and Lucy to the restaurant. It was a pizza place, warm and inviting and only a block off campus. Y/N had eaten there a few times already and knew the menu like the back of their hand, so when they found out that they were going to the pizza place their mood shot up.

“Everyone else is already here,” Rami said as he held the door for Lucy and Y/N, each of them thanking him as they passed through the door.

As Rami had said, Joe, Ben, and Gwilym were already at a table. As they approached, Y/N saw the red headed one and immediately became nervous. Why were they so nervous all of the sudden?

“Y/N, this is Ben,” Lucy introduced, pointing to the blonde one, “Gwil,” pointing to the tall brunette, “and Joe,” pointing to the red head.

“Nice to meet you all,” Y/N said, taking a seat beside Joe in the booth, as Rami and Lucy had already sat down beside Gwilym and each side held three people. Ben was on the other side of Joe. Ben was a more muscular guy, more of the athletic type. He waved with a soft smile and greeted Y/N kindly before returning to his conversation with Gwilym.

Gwilym was tall, Y/N could tell even though he was sitting down. He was leaner and had a little bit of scruff on his face. He said a happy ‘hello’ to Y/N before going on about some sort of poetry that Y/N didn’t quite catch the name of.

Then came Joe. He was about average height and smaller. He wasn’t lean but he wasn’t muscular, he was average. He had soft features with a familiar face and a kind smile as took a sip of his drink and turned to face Y/N.

“So you planned this night?” Y/N asked him. “Lucy told me about your Rocky Horror reference, I thought it was pretty funny.”

“It’s what it is, though,” Joe said. “The drive-in only plays vintage movies and tonight they’re playing The Fly and The Time Machine, the H.G. Wells version.”

“You like vintage movies?”

Joe nodded. “They’re something I grew up on. They kind of inspired me, I guess,” he stated. “Uh, what about you?”

“I like their aesthetic and the sense of nostalgia. My last project I had to make a collection of posters, so I made up a bunch of movies and made vintage posters for them.”

“That’s really cool,” Joe said with a smile that made Y/N feel warm, so they returned it. “Do you have any pictures?”

Y/N shook their head. “No, I don’t, eh, take pictures of my work,” they said, scratching the back of their neck. “No one ever asks for pictures, so I never take them,” they explained.

“Well, I’d love to see them. Maybe they can give me some inspiration for my project.”

Y/N cocked an eyebrow. “Are you an Arts Major?”

Joe shook his head. “No, no, god no. I can’t draw to save my life,” he told them. “I’m in directing, and we have to do a short film and have all of it done by the end of this year. I wanted to do mine in more of a vintage feel, that’s why I was asking.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Y/N said. “I know they’re on display in the art hall right now, I can take some pictures of them tomorrow if you’d like.”

Y/N felt themselves growing more and more comfortable with Joe, and the nervous feeling melted away. They were never that comfortable with strangers, ever. It was strange, getting to know Joe like that and have themselves be as comfortable as they were.

As dinner drew to a close and the movie approached, everyone packed up their things and stepped outside. Ben was the first to stop everyone’s walk to the drive-in.

“Hold on, we’re going to a drive-in movie theatre, Correct?”

Lucy nodded. Rami’s arm was around her shoulder. “Yes, we are.”

“And we’re walking to it?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s not really a drive-in.”

“Not exactly,” Joe said. “They have benches at the theatre, it just costs more to sit at the benches. Maybe tonight they’re doing a deal or something like that.”

As Joe had said, the drive-in was doing a deal. Couples get in for the price of one. Lucy and Rami were perfect for that, and Gwilym had no problem pretending like he was Ben’s boyfriend. They even got into a little argument over who would top, and that made Y/N laugh.

Then it came to them and Joe.

“Are you, uh, comfortable with pretending like we’re dating?” Joe asked, and Y/N nodded. “It’s also cool if you’re not, I don’t have a problem with paying for you if you don’t have any money.”

“Yeah, that’s fine if you’re fine with it. I’ll pay for your popcorn and all that since you’re paying for the both of us.”

Joe shook his head. “No, it’s alright, I’m only really paying for me.”

As they came up to the ticket both, Joe had his arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders and paid for their tickets. However, as they walked away from the counter with the tickets, Joe didn’t remove his arm.

And Y/N didn’t want him to either.

[crimsxnflxwerz]

I would like that [shyan oneshot]

I would like that summary: the third person who knew Ryan was trans was the ghost that haunted his apartment. rating: teen+ fandom: buzzfeed unsolved pairing: ryan bergara/shane madej warnings: mentioned [murder/death/drug use/stalker/abuser] tags: ghost!shane, trans!ryan, ghost boyfriend, lol, weird universe notes: this is just a random little thing that wouldn’t leave my head no matter how hard i tried so I wrote it down to give myself some peace. have fun guys! this makes no sense, so fair warning!

Ryan could count the number of people who knew he was trans on one hand. 

The first person that he counted would be himself, of course. He’d known ever since he’d heard the word. Whether it was from some botched argument about gender roles or a fresh criticism of Rocky Horror Picture Show, he couldn’t remember, but ever since that he’d been sure that was what he was.

The second person to find out was his brother, Jake. He’d always had a good relationship with his brother, and that didn’t change when Jake had grabbed Ryan’s laundry for him when he still lived at home and accidentally witnessed Ryan’s binder. Jake actually didn’t even realize what it was at first, thinking it some kind of cheap sports bra, and Ryan figured this accident was as good as any to use to come out to him.

It seems horrible to say, but his parents don’t make this list. Ryan moved out of his parents house after graduating college and getting a job with a company he interned with. When he was safely away with his parents, he legally changed his name, started T shots, and got top surgery. He still spoke to his parents, but it was usually over the phone, and if they noticed a change in his voice, they refused to mention it.

The third person who knew about it wasn’t even really a person at all, but rather it was the ghost that haunted his apartment. 

Sounds crazy, and for a while, Ryan thought he was. He went to therapy briefly,not for any depression, just to help him through his transition. He figured maybe the stress was getting to him, or the T affected his brain somehow, but couldn’t find any definitive evidence that linked these things to what he was experiencing.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in ghosts, but rather, now that he was actually the subject of a haunting- he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. 

There were many things to tip him off that it was a ghost in his house and not just random happenstance that seemed paranormal. The first thing that happened was one night he had been drifting off while watching television on his couch. Behind him, on his kitchen counter, his microwave had randomly turned on. He jumped up and turned it off, before any damage was done, but afterwards just blankly stared at it. He had just gotten the thing, brand new. It shouldn’t have been acting up yet. He figured he’d check it out later. 

The second thing happened after he adopted his first dog, a dachshund named Dori. The first few weeks with her were eventful, but more so in the new puppy way than haunting. After he potty trained her, he let her sleep with him at night, making sure to leave the door open in case she got hungry or needed to pee. 

One night, he woke to find Dori softly growling, while still curled up next to him. He rubbed his eyes and tried to look over to the door she was facing to see if something was there, but he couldn’t see anything. All of a sudden, however, the door slammed shut, and he was snapped right out of his groggy state. He stared in horror and fear at his bedroom door. He didn’t go to sleep again that night.

The third thing to happen was something that continued to happen regularly after that. Ryan would wake up, go into the bathroom, and take a shower. After coming out, he noticed that there was some form of scribbling on his mirror, as if someone had run their fingers through the steam. It never really spelled anything, at most creating a dumb shape or something. At first, Ryan was scared of it, but then he figured it was harmless, so he took it as just a normal part of his life. 

All these things eventually prompted him to do some research on his apartment. At first, he didn’t find anything, but that was just from surface level research. He began to get to know his neighbors, and they were fairly quick to open up. Apparently, a man had lived there before him. He had worked as a freelance website designer, but was also known to frequent the local bar and sing or do stand up comedy. His neighbors were deeply saddened when they found out that he had passed away. 

His name had been Shane, and he overdosed on sleeping pills at 35. He had no family or friends close enough to him to confirm anything, but police ruled it a suicide. 

After this, Ryan tried communicating with him. He purchased a Ouija board to ask him some questions, but he either must’ve done something wrong or Shane wasn’t too keen to cooperate, because nothing happened. 

Ryan forgot about it for a while, forgot about him. After a few weeks of no more activity, something else happened. Ryan came home one day to find Dori cowering near the front door. Everything in his apartment was okay, but in his bathroom, the medicine cabinet looked like it just exploded. The door was handing off it’s hinges, bottles, pills, liquids, band-aids, everything scattered across the floor. Ryan was glad that Dori was too scared to eat anything, but he wondered what had caused the outburst. 

He tried reaching out to Shane again, and this time, the Ouija board spelled out “pills” and then stopped working with him. 

The interaction basically confirmed that the ghost in his apartment was, in fact, Shane. For whatever reason, he was unwilling to talk to him. Except to tell him his non-explanation as to why he destroyed his medicine cabinet. 

He figured that before he left for work that day, he’d taken a pain killer to help his headache- something he did very rarely, since he didn’t normally get headaches.

Maybe it bothered Shane, considering how he died. 

Anyways, Ryan knew that Shane knew that he was trans. That was his third person. How did he know this? Well, the scribbles on his mirror after each shower slowly became a dialogue between them. Shane would normally leave something for him to see (like “dog?”), and Ryan would reply with an answer (like “Dori”) and then leave the bathroom. 

One day he stepped out of the shower to something quite comical. It was a drawing of him, albeit crude, and there was an arrow pointing to his crotch with a question mark at the end. Ryan rolled his eyes playfully, and wrote “I’m trans” on the mirror. The next thing that happened really spooked him. 

Slowly, new words started forming in the condensation, “trans?” Ryan stared in disbelief for a moment, before he recovered and wrote, “female transitioned to male”.

There were no more responses after that, but Shane didn’t go away.

Through his time living there, he began to warm up to Shane. The fact that he was regularly interacting with a spirit was wild enough, but that spirit knew and understood that he was trans as well was even more outlandish. He couldn’t imagine telling anyone about it. This would be his secret- but he was fine with that- he was used to keeping secrets. 

Sometimes he would wake up to his coffee already made, or the news on. One time he woke up to find that Shane had literally picked out his clothes for the day. 

Ryan began to get more and more curious about the specter living with him. He asked around and found out Shane’s last name, and scoured the web for any information about the man. He even frequented the bar that Shane had gone to in his life to perform stand up. Some people knew Ryan as the guy who moved into Shane’s old apartment, and they were pretty willing to share stories about the dude. Apparently he had lots of friends.

So why did he kill himself? Why did he overdose on those sleeping pills? Was it an accident? Ryan realized that he was being nosy, but he had to know. It was killing him to not know.

Maybe he was being too invasive, since not long after he started researching and compiling information, things started happening in his apartment. He’d get out of the shower to the word “no” written all over the mirror. He’d come back to his apartment, only to find his lights flickering or his fridge door opening and closing. Sometimes, he found Dori growling and barking at empty corners, and random spots in his apartment freezing cold. 

Was Shane angry that he was looking?

Ryan set up some candles to try out the Ouija board again, but each time he lit one, he would go on to the next to find the first one had already gone out. He tried several times, the candles getting put out each time, before he gave up. He cursed at the room.

“You don’t want to talk to me? Fine! Fuck you!” he shouted, making Dori whimper next to him. 

That night he dreamed of a tall, lanky figure with soft features, and messy hair. He had warm, brown eyes- calloused hands- rough five o-clock shadow. The figure in his dream slipped into bed next to him and wrapped him up in a hug. He felt warm as he slept. When he woke, the space next to him was still warm like someone had slept there. It couldn’t have been Dori, since she always slept at his feet.

So maybe Ryan had developed a little bit of a crush. 

Even though it was impossible. How could he have a crush on a ghost? Though, the ghost knew more about him than anyone else in his life. Shane knew how Ryan liked his coffee, he knew that while Ryan found it hard to wake up early, he enjoyed the soft silence before dawn. Shane knew that he sang pop songs in the shower, and that he preferred shampoo that smelled like lilacs, and sometimes when he was cooking he did a little dance while he waited for something from the oven.

And Shane knew that he was trans, and he respected that.

Not that he’s sure what Shane would or could do if he didn’t respect that. He was a ghost after all.

When he came home from work a few days later, he found something tied onto Dori’s collar. It was a little note. He opened it. It read: “talk ?” in a messy scrawl he recognized from the many conversations on his bathroom mirror he had.

He smiled and brought out the candles and Ouija board and got everything ready. He opened a channel and put his hands lightly on the planchette. He moved the object over Hello to welcome Shane, and then let it move freely.

“Sorry,” Shane spelled out. “End like me.”

“Were you afraid I’d end up like you?” Ryan asked. He was sort of confused, because he wasn’t really depressed or anything. Ever since he moved out of his parents house, he felt the stress of hiding his identity wear off. After top surgery, he felt even better. The only thing stressing him out right now was Shane.

The planchette moved to the yes on the board. Ryan shook his head.

“I’m fine, Shane,” he reassured him. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Not depressed.” Shane spelled out. Ryan paused for a moment. He wasn’t really sure what he meant by that. Did he mean to say that he knew Ryan wasn’t depressed- or had he not been depressed? Did that mean that what happened to him wasn’t a suicide?

“Did...Did you...” Ryan started, hesitating. “Did you kill yourself?”

There was along, silent moment where the planchette didn’t move at all. Then it slowly moved to the no in the corner. Ryan felt like his heart had stopped. It had been the usual story, the funny guy with no family killed himself in his apartment alone one night. He hadn’t really found out anything about the cops doing any blood tests or anything- only an empty pill bottle on the bedside table. He figured that kind of thing wouldn’t have been released anyways, but maybe it was never done. Maybe they saw this lonely, dead man and figured it was a suicide.

Was Shane still here because he had been given no justice in death?

“What happened to you?” Ryan asked, even though he knew the ghost wouldn’t be able to give him any long answers. He stayed quiet, however. The planchette remained still for a moment longer, before Ryan’s laptop that had been sitting on the coffee table near the couch flew open and turned on. Things were being typed into the search bar, and eventually a social media account was brought up. It was a dating website profile. Ryan let go of the planchette and moved over to look at it closer.

Shane Madej. Age, 35. Male. Hey, my name is Shane. I’m really just looking for a chill relationship with someone I have some stuff in common with. I love cartoons and video games, so I’m kinda nerdy, but I’m not opposed to a night on the town, or a romantic dinner and movie. I’m obsessed with popcorn, and just a foodie in general. If interested, please hit me up, maybe we could meet.

There were lots of comments and likes on his profile, but they were all from a long time ago- a few years in fact. It looked like the account had been inactive for at least a year before Shane had passed away. The most recent comments, however- just weeks before Shane had died, were the most disturbing. They were from a man named Zach Smith, a white man with dark hair who looked to be in his forties. 

Zach Smith Hey babe, want to catch a drink with ol Zach-y sometime? I’ll make it worth your while.

Zach Smith Hey, answer me sweetheart, or you’ll regret it, I promise.

Zach Smith Oh darling, I’m obsessed with you. I know where you live, I saw you park outside your apartment today and I almost just went up and grabbed you.

The comments went on, but Ryan couldn’t stomach them any longer. Ryan looked back at the planchette that started moving on it’s own. It spelled out found me and hurt and drugs. Ryan felt his stomach flip as he glanced between the Ouija board and the dating website. He clicked over to Zach Smith’s profile, and immediately saw that it was a fake account with a false name. He turned back to the board again and saw that Shane was spelling something else out.

“Hate that they think I wanted to die,” he spelled out. “afraid of drugs afraid for you.”

“Why are you afraid for me?” Ryan asked.

“Trans boy,” he spelled out. Ryan felt a little cold at the explanation. He sighed.

“Just because I’m a trans boy?” he asked, sounding a little annoyed.

“I was gay.” the planchette spelled. Ryan let out a soft ‘oh’ upon realizing the connection. His killer had been preying on gay men looking for relationships online, and that was how he’d found Shane in the first place.

Ryan wondered if he should turn over this information to the police. But, It wasn’t as if Shane’s case was any kind of mystery to them. He knew the dark truth, but no one else did.

“Is there anyone you want me to tell?” he asked Shane. The planchette didn’t move. Nothing moved. Dori started barking, but after Ryan reached out and pulled the puppy into his lap, the candles were blown out. He figured this session was over. Maybe Shane could only speak for so long before he got tired.

Either way, a lot of information had been exchanged today. 

That night, when Ryan slipped into bed, he waited for the dip in his mattress and the warm arms around his waist to fall asleep. Peaking over his shoulder, he could just make out the angle of a broad shoulder, and he felt safe. 

A week later, he came home to a note on his fridge. it read: nobody. He could tell it was written by Shane. At first, he wasn’t sure what it meant, then he remembered his question from the other night about telling people. Shane was killed, and he didn’t want anyone to know. Ryan wondered if Shane was estranged from his family because he was queer, too. He wondered if Shane just didn’t want to reopen old scars with new information about his death. Whatever the reason, it was Shane’s decision, so he respected it. It wasn’t like the police would believe him if he told him he could talk to Shane from beyond the grave or anything. 

“I wish you weren’t dead, though,” Ryan said out loud to himself. “Although, if you never died, we never would have met.”

After the revelations, weeks went by without any communications from Shane. He attempted to talk to him several times, but after still only getting radio silence on his fifth attempt, he decided to stop trying. He knew Shane was still hanging around, he hadn’t moved on or anything yet, he just wasn’t talking to him. Ryan still felt the familiar presence join him for bed at night, and the blanket of security he always associated with Shane meandering about the house moving things around. He wondered why Shane wasn’t talking anymore, but he was okay with it. 

He was starting to really settle into the neighborhood- gaining more and more friends- and he’d even invited his brother over to his apartment a few times. His job was the best thing ever, he had fun everyday, and worked with amazing people. Though, no matter how many people he met and became friends with, a little nagging voice in the back of his head would always remind him of Shane. He wondered how different the man would’ve been while he was alive. Ryan had heard plenty of funny or wild stories from everyone who had known Shane, but hearing a story and living one where two different things. 

A year went by, and Ryan was finally looking like the kind of male he wanted to look like. He started working out to give his body a more defined shape- lifting, jogging, stuff like that. He wasn’t super obsessed with working out or anything, but he did enjoy it as just a little past time thing to stay in good health. He also loved checking out his own flexing in the mirror sometimes, although he would never admit it.

It was the one year anniversary of the first day Ryan had moved into his new apartment. Dori was bigger, and Ryan was thinking of getting another dachshund to keep her company (and just because he wanted another one). That day, he came home from work and popped himself some fresh popcorn, making more than he usually made just for an extra little treat. He plopped down to watch Netflix on his tv, when he heard something. It sounded like a shifting noise, like someone was shuffling around, and it was coming from his bedroom. 

He put his popcorn down on the coffee table and grabbed a skateboard that he had resting up against his hall closet. He carefully approached his bedroom, seeing that the door was ajar. He crept up and paused at the door momentarily, taking a shaky breath in, before slamming the door open. Inside his bedroom, there was a tall, lanky man, back facing him. He was wearing a worn, jean jacket and black pants, but no shoes. His brown hair was shaved on the sides, long on top, and unkempt- some pieces sticking straight up dramatically. 

As soon as he saw him, Ryan screamed. The man spun around, the motion almost comical, and he started screaming as well. Ryan, spooked, swung the skateboard at the stranger, hitting him so hard that it cracked. Although, he’d only managed to hit the length of the man’s arm, even though he was aiming for his head. He was too short.

The man started speaking, or rather, shouting.

“Wait! Wait!” he begged. “Wait a second! Ryan, wait a second!”

“How do you know my name?” Ryan demanded, dropping the skateboard, but not relaxing in the slightest. He looked as if he were about to bolt. 

“It’s me-” he said. “It’s Shane. I’m Shane. You can see me now.”

“It’s-- It’s uh--” Ryan stuttered, still feeling shell shocked. He looked the man up and down. Now that his brain wasn’t in danger mode, he could tell that the man looked very familiar, similar to the man he’d seen in all the pictures. From the warm, brown eyes, to the worn jean jacket, to the unkempt hair and soft stubble framing his face. He was tall, and awkward, like he heard about. 

But-- he was right there- he was standing right there and Ryan had hit him with a skateboard, not passed through him, actually hit him! This person was a solid, real human.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Ryan said bluntly. He didn’t mean to sound so rude, or cold, but he was confused. Wasn’t Shane dead? Hadn’t he been killed? Was his happy life just a dream? Was this a dream?

“Well,” Shane said, patting himself down. “I was dead. I might still be?” 

Ryan felt some of the tension in him melt away. Just a tiny trickle, at the smile that pulled Shane’s face, and he sensed himself smiling back- if only just slightly. He shakily reached out a hand for Shane to touch, to see if he was really real- if he was really solid. Shane saw this, and reached out as well. 

When their hands touched, Ryan felt it, and he was warm. The calloused pads of Shane’s fingers traced over the lines in Ryan’s hand, sending shivers all through him. He stared for a heartbeat or two at Shane, completely speechless. 

“You’re warm...” he said. “You’re alive?” 

Shane didn’t move or response to the question- as if this all was some kind of illusion- as if the wrong movement would shatter it all. Ryan payed that no mind, he had one thing in mind that he wanted to do.

He moved forward and wrapped his arms around Shane’s torso before the other man could protest. Ryan pressed his ear hard against the man’s chest and listened. Against his ear, he heard, without a doubt, a heartbeat. After a moment, he felt Shane’s awkward arms come down around him, and it was like all of those night they shared Ryan’s bed, but this time- Shane wasn’t cloaked in darkness. This time, it was real, and Ryan could hug him back. 

“H-How?” Ryan asked softly, feeling a weird, overwhelming emotion bubble up in him. Confusion, sadness, happiness, and love.

“I don’t know,” he said. “One moment, I was about to toss around your pillows for something to do, the next moment, I could see my reflection in your mirror.”

“You were gonna mess up my bed?” Ryan laughed, but it sounded a little choked, as a few tears ran down his face. 

Shane moved his hand to wipe away the tears.

“Yeah, I’m haunting you after all,” he said, although his voice was softer now, his arms pulling Ryan closer- tighter- “isn’t that what ghosts do?”

“I guess it is.” Ryan said, and closed his eyes. He felt safe. “But you’re not a ghost anymore. What are you gonna do now?”

“Idk,” he muttered. “become a human again?” 

Ryan laughed, Shane joining in, too. “You can stay here if you’d like.”

Shane paused for a moment, before running his hand through Ryan’s hair. “I would like that. No- I would love it.”

-the end(?)-

[chasingeast]

Day 9: Don't slide down a log on your back and my love for hiking- 5:19 P.M., December 28, 2019

Dear Me,

I'm glad that S and I were able to work out a schedule to see J and T. It was undoubtedly awkward at first seeing them again because we didn't have anything to talk about. I felt like I was drawing a blank when it came to finding things to say. We all met up at State Line Lookout to hike Giant Stairs. It was fun! It had been so long since I returned to this particular location. The trail was the same as usual- down the extremely steep stairs, scramble on the giant rocks, and back up a different set of uneven largely steep stairs. One thing that brought me peace was that I was able to catch up and if anything go ahead without being out of breath. Something I learned about myself is that constantly drinking water helps to distract me from the stress I feel. It also hydrates as a plus. I don't think about how hard or strenuous something is if I am constantly drinking water. 

Unfortunately for T she slipped on a rocky part. And then for reasons unexplained, only God knows why she tried to cross a giant diagonal log by putting her back down to the log. It's just asking for her to slide down the mountain! It was honestly quite a sight haha. 

So being able to catch up and taking a slight lead was beneficial. I highly doubt that T or J have time to do this activity together anymore. Listening to their schedules, they probably don't see each other until they go to bed. Which of course brings me back to the boyfriend thought. Would Baby ever hike like this with us? I know JP was absent because of timing but he would have gone. Would Baby have gone with me? Would he even want to? I would be okay if he didn't want to hike all the time. I'm perfectly happy with just spending some one-on-one time with my friends. Would love it if his schedule allowed for some together time. I think I would be okay if he went at least 2/season which is essentially like every other month or even once a season. It would really only matter most if we met up with friends or went on vacation together. I wouldn't get a boyfriend to match our vacations because chances are that the Vacation is only 1 week +/- and once every 2 years. Just once in a while is fine. I wonder how K would feel about his. 

I know I want someone who I am passionate with. Who I can stand up to me I'm afraid. I have all these thoughts. His job schedule really wouldn't allow for it to work out. He works when everyone is enjoying their free time. He works so others can enjoy. I've read so many "horror" stories about people never seeing their significant others. It's nice in a way because if there are a lot of things to be done then you would have the time. On the other hand you would never be able to spend the same amount of time together I'm not sure if I'm okay with that.

I had to take a nap because I was so exhausted. And then I spent hours reading your blog posts. And each memory comes flooding back. Yes I'm as vain as you but could never openly admit that. Every word that you wrote was exactly how I felt about you. How I saw you. How you saw me, this little thing that needed more in life. You put out your hand and held it out for me. I grabbed it. And I've never seen the world the same way again. You became my model for every person I would look for in the future. You also became my every source of comfort when each relationship failed. I wanted you for an eternity back in college. I couldn't see life without you. I crumbled to nothing when we parted the first time. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't live. I had no will or fight left in me. I could do nothing if I could not have you. When I finally had to move on I had to move on. I had to let go because I was giving up on life and I couldn't keep up. I didn't want a life where you weren't in it and I would have been in a lot of trouble if I didn't stop. And I had to let you go. Curse you off let go of everything I wanted so dearly. And I moved on and I was doing well even though I'd check in on you. And then one day, I couldn't take it anymore. I still wanted you and I fought and I was dying then too, trying to figure out if it could even be a possibility. And so I took a chance and it was everything I hoped for. And I was in love again. But then the world came crashing down in realization of how different we were because of our new circumstances. We were no longer living the life we had so we could no longer continue being the people we were. And we were different and we wanted different things at the time. And I destroyed us like how you destroyed us once before. And that was how our story ended. But here I am now again, no matter how much time has passed and still unable to move on. Unable to find happiness elsewhere. Always checking in on you. Always thinking of you at all times of day between the years, before and after. Of my guilt. Of our love. Of our history. Most of which I've forgotten, much I'm clinging to. And in the end, let it be damned that it took this long to realize that all along it was you. Finding new joys is an act of growing up. But learning to love someone so entirely, has always been there. I don't mind that much if you don't enjoy everything that I love. I did want a life of craziness and I will live it, but I can still love in your world. I can find a way to manage both without it feeling like a burden. I've done it countless times and it feels like all this time it was preparing me. Testing me and my willfulness and strength. Seeing if I could even fathom what the future holds and could bring about. It's not about you fitting into every check and box. It's about you, being you and that's why I love you. And it took me 10 years of our time since meeting to learn this. As each relationship proved its challenges of who I was and currently am. Of what I am willing to give. And yet more tests to prove that my love is honest and pure and becoming more and more selfless. And I'm terrified that I may never leave this  because I don't want to. Because this is where I've always wanted to be but have been too afraid to deal with. Too afraid to handle risk without reward. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't want to run away anymore. I want to hold you and cradle your heart and protect it with all the strength I have. With all the love I still have yet to give. To use what I know to make the best, most eternal treasure. Because I'm afraid of this test of time. 8 months is a long time from now. A year is a long time from now. But I'm not afraid of the test of time as I am of the damage being irreversible. Because I think that what I've learned now is that right in front of me is a love so strong that I am terrified and enamored. That I may never leave this spot. That I may wait forever to have you again and that anyone else in the world be damned because it's never enough unless it's you. 

[artificialqueens]

White Houses (Jalaska) Chapter 1 - Dottie

A/N: Hi, I’m back! I’ve been way too obsessed with the song White Houses by Vanessa Carlton, thank you Kim Chi, and so this is a result of listening to that song on repeat for two weeks straight. This isn’t a song fic- I was just inspired by it. This is my first multi-chaptered fic, so bare with me!! I’m super excited about this!!! I would like to thank the wonderfully talented Marble for agreeing to beta this! And you can follow me and talk to me on my blog (if you want)! Okay, enjoy!

Alaska has always known who she is. From an early age she would sit for hours and flip through dozens upon dozens of fashion magazines, showing the pictures she liked to her family members and saying, “when I’m a woman, I want to wear this, and I want my hair to look like that.”

Her mother would always smile and run a hand through Alaska’s short hair and say, “You can wear or be anything you want, don’t let anyone stop you, sweetheart.”

Her stepdad would frown, but he’d listen to her talk about how pretty she was going to be, and he would take the pictures she drew for him and hang them up in his office at work.

Her older sister, Brooke, would let Alaska try on her clothes and occasionally, if Alaska bugged her enough, she would do Alaska’s make up. She loved looking in the mirror and seeing red, messy lips and blue eyeshadow. Cory, her younger brother, was the only one who made fun of Alaska for not liking ‘boy’ things and for wanting to be a girl. He would constantly beat up on her and force her to play catch with him for hours, when she would rather be inside drawing. He even went as far as to rip up her drawings.

She doesn’t recall exactly how she came up with the name Alaska, but she does remember the first person she had ever introduced herself as Alaska to. It was to a new kid at school, when she was in second grade; his name was Aaron. He had been sitting by himself every day for the first week of school, and all of the other kids thought he was weird because he would hiss at them if anyone went up to him. Alaska wanted to be his friend, though. So one day, she went up to him and sat in the lumpy bean bag chair next to him. She only giggled when he hissed at her, and she meowed back. He scrunched up his nose and tilted his head to the side in confusion.

“Why did you meow?” He asked her.

“Because I want to be a cat, too!” she said with a toothy grin. Aaron rolled his eyes at her.

“I’m not a cat, stupid, I’m a vampire!” he exclaimed, shaking his head, clearly offended that Alaska had called him a cat. Alaska frowned, but introduced herself, because her mom taught her to be polite.

“I’m Alaska,” she said. He narrowed his eyes and looked her up and down.

“People can’t be states, you’re dumber than I thought,” he said. It was Alaska’s turn to roll her eyes.

“No, silly, my name is Alaska,” she replied.

“That’s a girl’s name,” he said, confused.

“I know, I am a girl. Or I will be when I grow up!” Alaska explained.

“That’s silly, boys can’t grow up to be girls!” Aaron exclaimed, causing Alaska to tear up a little bit.

“But my mom told me I could be anything I wanted to be, and I want to be a girl!” Alaska whined, holding back tears.

“Your mom is a dummy!” Aaron said, crossing his arms. Alaska couldn’t hold it back anymore, and started crying. Aaron’s eyes widened at the sobbing mess in front of him. “No, stop crying!” He pleaded, his eyes nervously glancing at the preoccupied teacher. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, honest,” he pulled Alaska into a tight hug, and she gradually started to calm down.

“You didn’t mean it?” She asked, sniffling as she pulled away from him. He nodded his head enthusiastically.

“I didn’t mean it, Lasky.” He said, causing her to smile at him again. He vowed to himself to never make her cry again. “I’m Aaron.”

And they’ve been inseparable ever since.

Aaron had been the only one who called her Alaska for the next seven years, and he was there for her, supporting her through every second of those seven years. When she got made fun of for wearing makeup in the 7th grade, he painted his face white, threw on some messy eyeliner, a hint of mascara and stole his mom’s red lipstick. He showed up to school looking like that every day for three weeks straight, until he got called into the counselor’s office and was told he was a distraction. Alaska had kissed him at recess, on the side of the building, away from prying eyes as a thank you. They dated for three months before they messily broke up right before summer vacation. They were only thirteen, but it felt like a real heartbreak, and they missed each other like crazy for the entirety of that summer. In 8th grade, they made up, but decided not to date, instead promising to continue their friendship.

Alaska came out as transgender when she was fourteen, on the Halloween of her freshman year of high school. It was to Aaron, naturally, in the middle of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. While Dr. Frank-N-Furter was chasing Rocky around the lab, Alaska cried into Aaron’s shoulder. He held her tightly, showering the top of her had with small kisses and told her that he loved her no matter what her gender identity was. She’d never felt safer. She came out to her family the next day, her hand intertwined with Aaron’s in a vice grip. Her mom cried and told her she loved her, her sister told her she could have any of her old clothes, her step dad frowned but told her he loved her, and Ryan was too young to understand. The only one who didn’t accept her with open arms was Cory, who, in a fit of rage, called her multiple different slurs and pushed her over before running off down the street, Aaron chasing after him. Her parents got a divorce a year later, and Cory continued to not speak to her, opting to move in with his dad. He avoided her every chance he got.

She started taking estrogen when she turned seventeen, she had wanted to ever since she had come out as trans, but her mom and stepdad couldn’t afford it. However, for her birthday, and as a very early graduation present from her mom and stepdad, they had both separately saved up the money needed to be able to pay for it, along with the medical bills.

The following year was one of the toughest of her life, but it was also one of the best. Her body was changing, and it felt like she was going through puberty all over again, she was moody and constantly tired, but she had Aaron and most of her family’s support to help her through it. By the time she graduated high school, her name had been legally changed to Alaska Thunder Honard, and she was finally recognized as a female.

Now, she’s finally starting college at the University of Pittsburgh, with Aaron. And she’s in a good place, she has her best friend, a new adventure ahead of her, and a degree to get. This was the beginning of the rest of her life.

[inst4nt-n00dles]

08.22.2017 - Scared of Boys

The other day someone from the frisbee pickup found me in the 24 hour bookstore. Now there’s a significance in this encounter because this guy had been trying to get me to meet up with him for the past 2 weeks. He’s been an American resident in Taiwan for a couple years teaching English and tutoring little kids and he’s nowhere close to Asian. We got along well at pickup and were on the same team. He was pretty good, but I was a little more focused on the fact that it was extremely hot and I was wrinkling dry in the heat.

When he chatted me on Facebook, I reacted the same way I did with any guy that tried to hit me up at school: With shyness and hesitancy. In addition: I was completely turned off and shut down. Now this isn’t one of those “I’m too good for anyone” attitudes, but rather an “oh my god get me out of this situation I can’t talk to boys breathe breathe remember to fking breathe I want to die leave me alone I feel like crying” kind of reaction. He was giving off the vibes I craved just like any one of the other guys I've met in the past year, but I just felt awkward and I wanted to remove myself from existence out of fear and minor irrational disgust. I don’t know why I was disgusted; he was a perfectly decent dude who was just trying his nice guy moves on me. But I just didn’t want it and it made me squirm.

And these feelings of anxiety carried on through the week until it built up to the day pickup was held again. For seven days, every time I opened messenger, his unread message would sit there making me guilty, but not enough to open and respond to it. That morning, I woke up knowing that I didn’t want to go. Primarily because of my rocky relationship with frisbee, but also out of complete fear of seeing this perfectly nice guy and possibly having to awkwardly explain why I didn't respond to him. I didn’t want to see him. So I didn’t go and spent the morning crying to my dad about my frisbee situation instead, avoiding the topic of that guy.

Later, my dad treats me to a relaxing day and ends it by taking me to this fantastic book store open 24/7. And so there I am, in a quiet paradise trying really hard to decide which Wonder Woman comic I should start with when the guy approaches me.

“Hey, funny that I see you here.”

Muscles tense. Hands begin to shake. An embarrassed blush comes quickly following the reminder in my head that I didn’t go to pickup. And I don’t make eye contact.

He hovers around me after that encounter, coming back after a couple minutes trying to make conversation with me about graphic novels and why I didn’t go to pickup. I pull the lame excuse that I just overslept. If I wanted to vaporize when he first approached me, I wanted to combust the moment I realized he was hovering. In fact, he chose to stand across the aisle pretending to look at the books on those shelves; a safe distance but giving me the impression that he wants to be there when I decided what book I wanted.

He actually caught me returning to my respective comic bookshelf after I tried to leave wanting to escape but guilt tripping myself to go back because I really wanted a Wonder Woman book. Awkward. Finally I select my book, relieved and annoyed at myself for taking so long and staying in that awkward situation because I couldn’t freaking choose which one I wanted quick enough. Then I bolted when he wasn’t looking. Ran the other way, and circumvented around him in desperate search of my dad. And as soon as I do, I push him to the checkout counter, nervously peeking over my shoulder in fear this guy would find me. We leave safely, not that there was any danger in the situation at all. It was just me being a freak.

I had half a mind to message him later and apologize for leaving so abruptly, planning to use the excuse that my dad had some place to be. But I didn’t. Thus, continuing my trend of ghosting guys. The walk home was silent. My anxiety was on full blast and I just wanted to die, because this isn’t something I would tell to my father. This is something I don’t think I would ever tell anyone except for that one friend of mine. And so I did.

I was frustrated when I messaged my friend, rhetorically asking him why the crap was I so frightened to talk to guys. Why every guy I met who I could have started a thing with ended up being ghosted and ignored by me. I keep telling myself I’m just not interested, but they weren’t all that bad. For some, if circumstances were different, things could have flourished. I also tried to convince myself that maybe I was still attached to him and was mentally still saving myself for him (which probably was so in the beginning of the school year) but now I’m not so sure. Heck, I’m not even sure if I can face him now either. And we made plans for Saturday. What plans, I can’t entirely be sure because I’m half convinced he’ll chicken out again. And if not him, what if I do?

So I’m ranting to my friend, and halfway through, I realized that I’m just frightened. Because the feelings that come to me when approached by these guys are feelings of heartbreak and pain. I’ve associated the intense searing pain of heartbreak to every guy out there who shows remote interest in me. It drowns me at once, and I freak out. I think about the inescapable pain I’ve felt through this past year, the nights I spent crying, the desperation calls, fear, and irrationality that drove me mad, and especially the drunk calls. I think about how difficult I am to deal with, how needy, how annoying, how unattractive I am as a person and then the rejection responses follow immediately.

“Do you still love me?" "No.” “You became an emotional wreck.” “Do you want to meet up?” “I don’t think that’s a good idea." "We haven't been together in months." I'm not looking to get together.”

I meet and talk to eager guys and suddenly that’s the future of our relationship that never started. And I just want to flee the scene at that point. No more of that pain, no more no more no more I want it to all end. And there are goods in this I guess, I’m being less reckless and more careful, but the bads are that I’m using bad defense mechanisms. I’m convincing myself I’m okay, subconsciously aware of these rushing feelings of anguish and total fear and denying them. They’re not there, I’m completely fine, what are you talking about? Oh, excuse me as I run away screaming "I DON'T KNOW WHY”. BUT I do know why. Why can’t I accept it? Probably because I don’t know how to fix it.

But that’s not the worst consequence coming out of that relationship with him. I was at my greatest with him. He let me be open, let me be weird, let me say what I wanted and made me feel okay about it. Even when I met him, I was pretty forward with him, made first moves, and was outrageously unapologetically me. But as the person I thought loved me entirely at my highest and my lowest, he broke my heart and subsequently broke me too. Because there is no worse feeling than having the person you loved the most who thought loved you the same tell you they thought you were a wreck. That when you were at your highest, they’d knock you down, causing you to question everything about yourself, everything you loved about yourself. You really lose yourself, your identity, your foundation that way.

I will say, breaking up was the better option at the time given his loss of feelings and my mania, but the relationship couldn't have ended at a worse time; maybe when I wasn’t struggling with academics and finding an identity and conforming to the new environment. He left me completely faceless in this unknown place. I don’t want to blame him; I was the one who broke up with him. But he had already mentally broken up with me. And his side of the breakup was easier than mine. Whereas I was in a new place and not adjusting well, no family, no established friends, dealing with gross dudes and horrible test grades and just the horrors of first year college (they are legitimate and I will fight anyone who says anything against how hard it can be), he was in the safety of his home, his friends, the same school, and everything that couldn’t rock his foundation.

Now I’m stuck with the mental consequences. I’m shy, too quiet. I can’t speak for myself anymore, I let people step all over me. I’m hesitant, I’m insecure. I can’t even order an omelette at the omelette station. I can’t talk to guys, I can’t make eye contact. I stay in my room all day and I have a lethal eating habit of starving myself for consecutive days and feast on one day. I run myself to the ground with work and school, I cry when I feel like there’s not enough time, and I will on and off call my friend and tell him that I’m over this guy and that I’m not and lying to myself. I’m aware of all of this, but I can’t seem to get a grasp of my own body and actions and I keep falling deeper and deeper.

In contrast, he’s fine. He’s better than ever. Captain. An amazing player. So much more social, kind to most, talking to so many people, working, playing with kitties. I’m dying here, knowing all of this. Knowing that he��s becoming only more and more attractive to me, becoming more and more what I hoped he’d become. The only catch is that I wanted to be present with him through all this and obviously I was not. And I feel…unsatisfied with it. Maybe I wasn’t meant to see him in his prime despite how bad I wanted to. Maybe I was holding him back. Maybe my leaving was the reason why he changed. Life is holding him just out of my reach and is going to force me to watch him meet some other lucky girl who gets to see this new and improved him. It’s like one of those concepts on TV where the guy cheats on the girl and goes on to marry that girl instead because he changed and the other girl got the better part of the deal.

And now I’m just rambling at this point. I was supposed to stop at the part where I analyze my fear for guys but I continued and my thought process brought me here, to the world of what ifs filled with pity and bring-me-downers. So I guess I’ll end with this:

I’m scared to see him. For once I’m chicken. I don’t know what to expect from me or him and my anxiety is going to eat me counting down to when/if we do meet, and starting my second year of college. What will be different? What will be the same?

My god, I’m unbelievably petrified.

[hoopslab]

A Black Man venting at 3 AM about racism and the new president

So…later today Donald Trump officially becomes the president of the United States of America.

Simultaneously, of course, Barrack Obama will no longer be president.

I feel like I’m walking towards a historical crossroads…no, that’s not the best analogy. Instead, maybe I’ve been riding for months towards an inevitable world-wide fork in the road, and as I look out the window I see that we’re almost there. I say riding instead walking, because ultimately I feel like I had no choice in this. I didn’t have any volition, any real inkling that this particular set of events would or could happen. My state of mind since the election has often been horror, and though I try to fight it with bursts of optimistic energy, the sense of impending doom just keeps sneaking back up on me.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

In the midst of trying to prepare myself for the new direction of my country, I have started trying to make myself watch CNN again. I had pretty much stopped after the election, you see…I guess as a form of denial since the pain was too fresh for me to handle tuning in right away. But in the end I’ve got to stay informed and into the world, even if I don’t like what’s going on, because hiding my head in the sand doesn’t hurt anyone but me. So I watch…and I read…and I listen to the radio…and every story seems to stab at something in me.

I watched the CNN special on President Obama’s legacy. I re-lived the joy and hope that this amazing thing could come to pass. And then…they started showing the hate. The absolute vitriol and destructive language with which people talked about him, screamed about him. The rise of the Tea Party as an “acceptable” way for a mob to say “I hate you”. Seeing him disrespected in ways that I’ve never personally seen any other president disrespected, especially by others in office. A U.S. Congressman shouting “You lie!” in the middle of the president’s speech. Public announcements by leaders in Congress right off the bat of intent to obstruct and prevent everything that he wanted to accomplish, then faithfully following through on that obstruction.

And ultimately feeling…KNOWING that at the heart of a lot of the vitriol was simply that some people could not allow themselves to accept that a black man was leading the country.

Then, I watched the coverage of Kellyanne Conway and other Trump supporters. Not even getting to the absurdity of the Russian conspiracy to interfere with the election, the cabinet and official appointment nominees that seem almost universally terrible, or the blatant lies and unprofessional conduct of our soon-to-be Commander in chief and his administration…maybe I’ll get to those things later, maybe not. They could really each be their own complete volume of articles, and I don’t know that I have that many words in me to work through them.

But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes. Besides the policy, I’ve watched Kellyanne and the other Trump Supporters celebrating and giving their reasons for why Trump won. The talking point is that the Democrats and the media didn’t listen to the voices of “real” Americans, didn’t realize how passionate they were to get “their country” back, how terrible “middle” America had it. This last week I’ve been hearing it asked why Democrats didn’t reach out to “Trump America” during the election, before it was too late.

Some are even honest, and instead of using code words in quotation marks just calls the demographic what it is: a subset of White America, many of whom felt that they lost control because a black man was in charge.

People of color are being asked to empathize with White America. President Obama himself, in his Farewell Address, said that we have to make the effort. Van Jones, a very respected CNN pundit that happens to be black, has started a whole series on trying to heal the divisions in the country by communicating with and trying to understand the point of view of people that we may disagree with…leading the way, as it were, as himself a minority non-Trump supporter volunteering to interact with a lot of (usually) non-minority Trump supporters.

It sounds like it should be the right thing to do. At my heart, I am all about communication and healing. I’ve got role models in this, people that I respect trying to lead the way…

So why does it stick in my craw?

Actually, that’s rhetorical. I know why. It’s BECAUSE I just got done watching eight years of how President Obama was treated. It’s BECAUSE Trump won by blatantly appealing to the most racist sector of our society, giving them a platform to claim superiority over minorities in ways that haven’t been allowed publicly since the Civil Rights Era. And it’s BECAUSE, having empowered that segment of society, there are real and present consequences moving forward.

Kellyanne Conway was on some show where she was accused of running a racist campaign.  And Kelly Ann was incredulous. “Do you think I ran a campaign where white supremacy had a platform? Are you gonna look me in the face and tell me that?” she asked indignantly, contempt dripping from her voice.

But the answer is yes. Yes! Yes, you did! And you KNOW that you did. And the fact that you continue to go on television and straight-faced lie to my FACE about it, just like seemingly you’ll lie about every subject that comes up, is ballsy and galling as all hell.

All around the country, in the immediate aftermath of the election, it became racist open season. On a big scale we had an elected mayor participating in social media conversations with city officials calling our beautiful, dignified first lady an “Ape in Heels”. 

Carl Paladino, the honorary co-chair of Donald Trump’s New York campaign, called Mrs. Obama a male gorilla. Or, more specifically, he said this:

"I’d like (Michelle Obama) to return to being a male and let loose in the outback of Zimbabwe where she lives comfortably in a cave with Maxie, the gorilla,"

Oh, and he wasn’t done...and he didn’t want to only target Mrs. Obama. Of course not. Here’s a snippet of what he had to say about President Obama, and what he’d like to see happen to him in 2017:

“[Barack] Obama catches mad cow disease after being caught having relations with a Her[e]ford,”...“He dies before his trial and is buried in a cow pasture next to [senior Obama adviser] Valerie Jarret[t], who died weeks prior, after being convicted of sedition and treason, when a Jihady [sic] cell mate mistook her for being a nice person and decapitated her.”

Yes, I know this is crazy over the top. No, I’m not making it up. Yes, this was really said by a former New York governor candidate and Trump campaign official. And oh, by the way...Paladino insists that he’s not racist. 

And it’s not just the Obamas that get it. Literally TODAY I read about a tennis announcer being suspended for saying Venus Williams had a “gorilla effect” on a tennis match when she came to the net. After he got in trouble he apologized and said he just used the wrong word, that he was describing her aggressive style as "guerrilla" tactics and not comparing her to a "gorilla."  That’s garbage. Guerilla Warfare involves hiding and attacking from out of sight. 6-foot-2 Venus Williams running toward the net is the exact OPPOSITE of guerilla warfare. But …yeah.

White Supremacists gleefully celebrated Trump winning and appointing Steve Bannon his Chief Strategist. KKK leader David Duke celebrated Trump Advisor Bannon “basically creating the ideological aspects of where we’re going.”   White nationalist Peter Brimelow gushed: 

"I think it's amazing," Brimelow said of Trump's decision to tap Bannon. "Can you imagine Mitt Romney doing this?”

Chairman of the American Nazi Party (yes, you read that correctly) Rocky Suhayda celebrated Trump’s election as a call to action on their website (which I refuse to link to, but if you’re curious I’m sure you can Google it).

Richard Spencer, the president of the white nationalist National Policy Institute, also celebrated Trump and Bannon. Then, a month later he went and spoke on the Texas A & M campus to college kids. Oh, and speaking of college campuses…

All around the country, numbers of racist incidents were reported on college campuses and schools. I went to the University of Michigan and still have people there. So these are the incidents I’m most familiar with. But these types of things were in NO way isolated to UM. But at UM…

White nationalist flyers and graffiti were all over campus (started before the election, continued after). “Alt Right”. “Be White”

A female UM student was forced to remove her hijab under the threat of being lit on fire 

Another female student was pushed down a hill by two men after being accosted over religion 

And here’s a list of a cross section of 13 racist incidents from all around my area, including three white students threatening to hang a Wayne State University student by her hijab, swastikas drawn on apartment doors, and of course, a police officer posting “go home monkeys” on Facebook in response to black protestors. Good old primate jokes, they just never get old, do they? 

This is the kind of stuff that many don’t see. Because it doesn’t happen to national figures and doesn’t get much run on CNN. But it happens, just the same. All around the country.

Now, can I say that Trump officially endorses any of these specific incidents? No. Am I saying that all Trump supporters are racist? Of course not. But what I CAN say is what I did above, that by running the campaign that he did, pandering to the racist segment of our society, and tacitly supporting racist ideologies, he (yes, Kellyanne) ABSOLUTELY empowered racism on a national, public level in a way that …in a way that I hoped I’d never see.

I’m…tired. I’m…scared of what happens next, where this country might go. Just last month Dylan Roof was convicted of mass murder at a historically black church, rationalizing “Somebody had to do it” and “Our people are superior.”

On Martin Luther King Day weekend I got to see Congressman John Lewis question the legitimacy of the next president, only to have that soon-to-be-president say that Civil Rights hero Lewis was all-talk/no-action. On Martin Luther King Day weekend! 

I’ve got three children. Two beautiful, intelligent little black girls that light up the world and a brilliant son who’s currently the Student of the Month in his class but that one day will be perceived by some as a dangerous thug. I’ve got to prepare them for this life. To protect them. And I…

It’s 3:09 AM. In just a few hours Donald Trump officially becomes the president of the United States. God help us all.

Other articles of interest

Sometimes you have to speak up…We matter too!

A black man and a police detective walk into a bar…

A Black Man Sits at a Counter in 2016

From Slave to Hashtag: 13th, Kap, Race Relations and the Election

Diary of a father of little girls, Part 1

My president is Trump

Moving Forward in a Trump presidency

Hidden Figures Change Our World