#i was honestly going to skip applying entirely probably but my mother texted me asking about it so. sigh.

[piplupod]

WHY DO I NEED TO MAKE /TWO/ ACCOUNTS TO SEND IN A RESUME TO THIS PLACE WHAT THE FUCK !!!!!!!

also i just found eraser shavings in my ear HFSHDGDSJKL

[tjkiahgb]

Episode Recap: 3.17, “Arts and Inhumanities”

The episode starts with some glamour shots of Andi’s art piece. It shows off a lot of the cool little details of it.

Then it shows this...

...which isn’t as impressive.

Or this one...

I feel like the crushed can of La Croix wasn’t Andi’s addition. I think someone was leaving lunch and saw a pile of trash and thought, “Oh, I guess we’re just doing this now,” and they threw it on the pile.

Bex takes pictures of the piece like a proud mother.

Is this in a different part of the school? Did they move this cumbersome thing across the school? How many people did that take? There must be paper shreddings everywhere.

Bex continues to take pictures and ask questions and make attempts to impress passersby.

Bex asks Andi where she learned to do art and Andi tries to play it down, saying it’s not art like Picasso or... you know... other artists whose names don’t come to mind.

Andi says she knows crafts, not art, and, after all, it’s arts and crafts, not arts are crafts. Bex still wants to know where she learned to make this and Andi isn’t sure.

“The rage just took over my body. I blacked out and when I woke up, I was standing in the middle of school and there it was.”

Another kid comes over and asks if Andi is the artist and Bex gets excited as Andi tries to put an end to the whole discussion.

But, listen Andi, you know how you become an artist? You call yourself an artist. That’s it. And you just keep doing that until people are too scared to look stupid by saying they don’t get your art. That’s what the guy who painted the drips did and now his paintings sell for the GDP of a small island nation.

That’s right, Jackson Pollock, I’m calling you out. Meet me in the parking lot of the Waffle House and we’ll throw hands, unless you’re a coward.

Buffy and Cyrus hang out at the bowling alley.

Cyrus does some light calisthenics to prepare.

Buffy tries to figure out what he’s doing. He says according to his research a bowling ball should be about 10% of the bowler’s weight, which, fine, but how is this measuring 10% of his body weight? The balls say how much they weigh on them. Why does he need to do this strange dance like he’s trying to sacrifice his bowling ball to the sun god?

Also, I don’t think they make bowling balls that are seven pounds soaking wet.

Buffy heads off to put their names in the name machine.

Cyrus, you’ve had your Bar Mitzvah. You’re a Bumper Man now.

Buffy gimps badly through the alley.

She spots Marty. He immediately asks her what’s up with her limp. She deflects. He asks her seriously if she’s okay and, panicking because she might have to admit to weakness, she’s turns and goes, oh!

New person!

Marty introduces Rachel as his girlfriend and Buffy cracks a few jokes about not thinking she was real, that maybe she was one of those imaginary girlfriends who “lives in Canada.”

Rachel’s like, EXCUSE ME?! CANADA?? How dare you even suggest I’d ever go to such a place?!

Buffy and Marty try desperately to explain it was just a joke.

Buffy, realizing she’s just created an air of awkwardness so thick you could shape it into a ball and use it to bowl, excuses herself.

Marty mentions her foot again. Buffy tries to play it off once more as just sore. In fact, she says, it’s getting better. You know, how injuries work. They start out a little painful, then get worse and worse and worse until you can barely walk, and then one day, they’re fully healed and you’re good to go. The human body is so mysterious. No one truly understands it.

Marty texts Buffy info on a foot doctor, even as she insists she doesn’t need one. “I’m fine! Honestly, I hope it just falls off. I don’t even want it anymore. Two working feet? Who can even be bothered?”

Rachel’s like, are we just going to stand around here all day talking about feet or are we gonna bowl?

Buffy limps back to Cyrus. She tells him how unpleasant it was meeting Marty’s girlfriend, even though she’s happy he’s got one. Cyrus is like, give that a minute, because Rachel is over there doing some weird thing where she whisper-screams at Marty.

You can really see why Marty fell for Rachel. Sure, on one hand, she has no sense of humor, but she’s also quickly prone to jealousy and anger. That’s what they call the total package.

Also, what does she mean “How did she know?” How did Buffy know what? Wait. Is Rachel actually Canadian? Is this like some horrible secret she didn’t want anybody to know? “If anyone finds out, it’s nothing but poutine jokes and people saying ‘Eh?’ to me from here on out! I can’t live like that!”

I mean, it’s either that or that she’s actually imaginary.

Cyrus is like, you think she’s talking about you? Buffy’s like, no, she’s probably gesticulating angrily at someone else in this direction.

Rachel storms off and Marty chases after her.

Buffy and Cyrus go back to their bowling. Cyrus finally picks a ball and gives it the gentlest of pushes down the lane.

It rolls as slow as it can get before being considered technically immobile and knocks over a single pin.

At least there’s room for improvement.

At Red Rooster, Jonah plays guitar and hides from Amber in the place she’d most expect to find him.

This is just a rookie mistake on Jonah’s part. He kept his back to the door! Any crime lord will tell you, you always keep your eyes on the door so they can’t sneak up on you and ask you if you’re writing them a song.

Amber’s like, I’m just kidding about you writing me a song, though if you wanted to, here are some words.

I like gerrymander. If this comes together right, could be the next great political protest/love song.

Jonah wants to know what Amber wants. Amber wants to hang out. She says she tried texting him and wants to know if something’s wrong with his phone. He’s like, yeah, it keeps giving you ways to try and get in touch with me.

He says it was on silent. Amber wants to ask him a question.

Well, see, the thing is Amber, okay means different things to different people. For some people it means that the relationship is going well. For others... well, you’re both still alive and breathing so...

Jonah insists things are fine, but then Amber asks to hang out and watch him practice guitar and Jonah’s like, CAN’T! CHESS!

He says he’s going to meet Cyrus for lessons. Amber’s like, you don’t seem like a chess guy, you know, because of the whole inability to think about stuff thing.

Jonah’s like, yeah, well, that’s why I’m practicing. He heads for the door. Amber asks about tomorrow. Jonah says to text him. She jokes to make sure his phone isn’t on silent and Jonah’s like, *finger guns*

And Amber’s like, okay, *finger guns* we’re doomed...

And I’m like, Amber, look at the sign, girl!

I mean, literally, look at that sign behind you.

The prop guys know what’s up.

Over at Andi’s, Andi works in her room when Bex comes in asking if Andi got her email. Andi reasserts that no one uses email. Bex tells her to just check her email, so Andi opens her computer, where she has a folder for pictures and another, separate folder for “Pictures o’ Stuff”

Aren’t all pictures pictures of stuff? How does this filing system help at all?

She opens up her email.

Oh, nobody opens email anymore? Then explain to me why you checked two emails from Social Post yesterday! What’s the truth?!

Oh, and by the way, Olivia sent you help with the files and you didn’t even have the common courtesy to at least reply with a “Thanks”? Rude.

Anyway, Bex sent Andi a link to the website for the Shadyside Academy of Visual Arts, or SAVA.

SAVA is a high school for the arts that Bex thinks Andi should apply to. She says the application is due by the end of the month, so think about it, but think quickly.

Andi checks out the application. First it asks her to upload her portfolio, which is preposterous because how can you upload a trash sculpture into a computer? I mean, come on.

Andi skips that and looks at the next screen, which tells her to list any rewards she’s received.

That’s not nothing. She skips that question, too.

The last thing asks for three recommendations from her art instructors. She has no art instructors.

Andi shuts down her computer and goes back to her school work.

Hear me out, though. What better way to showcase your creativity than craft an entire résumé out of whole cloth? Say that you won the blue ribbon at the “Cloud Ten Art Show”. Bex will lie for you. Invent three art instructors and their recommendations and if someone asks you for their contact info, say that they all decided to retire and live off the grid. Tell Metcalf you're doing a social experiment on high school admissions officers and he’ll back you up.

Back at the bowling alley, Buffy tries to order food while a couple has an uncomfortably loud fight in public behind her.

Marty swears to Rachel that Buffy is just a friend, but Rachel thinks Buffy’s interested in him. Rachel is positive that there’s something going on and that Marty wishes he was with Buffy instead of her. Marty tries to insist otherwise.

Buffy, trying to sneak away from the scene in a hurry, steps too hard on her foot and screams out in pain.

In a totally healthy way, though. It was a scream of pain in acknowledgment that her foot was almost all better.

Marty runs towards her and Rachel’s like, I knew it.

You ran to help someone in pain? Final straw, mister!

That night, at Bex’s, the family gathers for dinner. Bex asks Andi if she filled out the application to SAVA, but Andi says she didn’t. She doesn’t have a portfolio, or awards, or any letters of recommendation. Bowie asks if Andi really needs art school when she has Andi Shack. Bex says he hasn’t seen the place, but Andi points out that neither has she.

Oh really? If that’s true, then explain this!

You can’t! There’s no explanation for it existing in the year of our Lord 2019.

Bowie points out that neither of them has actually been to the school, and maybe before they decide anything, that would be a useful thing to do.

For having this insight, he is viciously attacked.

At the movies the next day, Jonah points out to Cyrus how films about people who have magic powers but don’t use them effectively are dumb as hell.

Cyrus spots Amber and calls her over. This upsets Jonah because that was the last thing he wanted to happen.

Amber’s like, no lesson today? Jonah’s like, we’re about to lesson! She asks Cyrus how Jonah’s doing.

Jonah says it’s going slow. Honestly, he could see himself wrapped up in trying to learn chess for the next three to four years. Amber wishes them luck and walks away.

Cyrus asks Jonah what that was all about. Jonah explains that Amber was getting too clingy so he lied to her about learning chess from Cyrus to get away. That presents a slight problem.

Jonah’s like, that’s fine, I’m not really taking lessons.

This, obviously, opens him up to easily getting caught in a lie. He should’ve gone with something he knew for sure that Cyrus could’ve taught him, like Hebrew or how to run in an awkward fashion.

Later, at Cyrus’s house, Amber sits down with Cyrus for a therapy session. He says let’s dive in, and Amber says, yes, let’s. And then she reaches down under the table...

and she pulls out an entire chess set from out of nowhere!

And not just a chess set. A fully-prepared chess set. Where the hell did this come from?!

Hold on, I gotta to try and figure this out.

She pulled it out from under the table like it was already there, like it was Cyrus’s parents’ set, but then you’d think Cyrus wouldn’t be so caught off-guard. He’d probably think, oh, Amber is coming over and there’s that whole thing about me pretending to teach Jonah chess, I should probably hide the fully-prepared chess set my parents keep under the table at all times, just to be safe. Just so I don’t get caught in a situation where my lack of chess knowledge is exposed.

Plus, Amber’s plan here requires a chess set, so she couldn’t leave this to chance. Even if she saw it there before, it could’ve been moved or it might not be fully-prepared.

No, she brought this chess set from home. But how could she bring a fully-prepared chess set from home and sneak it in when Cyrus would be the one letting her in the house? He’d surely notice her holding something like that.

No. No, no no no. No. She came ahead of time. She came ahead of time and either got one of Cyrus’s parents to let her in while he wasn’t home, or, and this is my guess, she broke into the house with a chess set, snuck upstairs with it, and prepared it under the table. Then she snuck out and scheduled an appointment with Cyrus to talk so she could spring this on him! The dedication to this scheme is unbelievable!

Cyrus tries to get Amber to stay on topic, but Amber says this is the topic. She starts pressing Cyrus on his chess knowledge and his story immediately starts to fall apart.

Then Amber mentions she knows a thing or two about chess.

You know, she says that, but I don’t know if I believe it. Seeing how the rest of this plan went, I’m guessing she pulled an all-nighter last night and learned the ins-and-outs of chess out of spite.

Cyrus makes two moves and Amber checkmates him. This is the very rare -- though appropriately named -- scenario known as the “Fool’s mate.”

See, it’s called that because you’d have to commit a very serious blunder for it to happen, like agreeing to play chess when you know hardly anything about chess instead of insisting that you stick to the topic or ending the volunteer therapy session.

Amber’s upset that Jonah lied to her and that Cyrus stood there and let him lie. That’s fair, but also, the two of them are only standing in this room at this moment because of a series of her lies and deceptions, so, are any of us truly free from sin?

Amber’s like, why would you do that? Cyrus says Jonah’s his friend. Amber wants to know what about her? Cyrus says she’s his friend, too.

I mean, yeah? Let’s be honest, we’ve all ranked our friends. If you don’t know which of your friends you’d lie to to help your other friends, you’re not properly prepared.

Amber walks out. And without her chess set? She bought it just for this ambush, didn’t she?

Cyrus feels bad about the whole thing.

Maybe psychology isn’t for him anyway. Maybe he might do better in something like... law?

At school, Buffy takes off her shoe to check on her totally-fine, better than ever foot.

Marty shows up and tells her to get it checked on. She’s like, don’t tell me how to live my life, I don’t tell you how to live yours.

Like getting sad and disappearing for a year and a half.

Marty says he broke up with Rachel, or rather, Rachel broke up with him. Either way, it’s over and he’s fine with it. I find that hard to believe. He says that now, but in a couple of weeks, he’s really going to miss how she always never laughed at his jokes.

Buffy says she hopes the breakup wasn’t over her, but Marty says no matter how many times he told Rachel he and Buffy were just friends, she insisted it was more.

He’s like, don’t worry, I’m not into you. And Buffy’s like, oh good. Wait.

Marty says they really work as friends. The bell rings and Buffy sends Marty off with a promise she’ll talk to a doctor.

Bex and Andi tour SAVA, where they’re doing all kinds of cool art stuff.

Like these pipes. Or those lines on the wall. Really demystifies art, huh?

Back at school, Jonah heads out and Cyrus runs to catch up. Jonah gives him props for doing something physical without wheezing.

Cyrus warns Jonah that Amber figured out the chess was a ruse. Jonah panics. He realizes he needs to find a new reason to hide from her. He’s like this close to faking his own death and coming back with a fake mustache as Jonah’s long lost twin, Jonas.

Amber shows up. She’s like, I know how you can avoid spending time with me: break up with me.

Cyrus apologizes but Amber’s like, eh, forget it, I’ve already lost interest.

Cyrus excuses himself.

Amber and Jonah talk. He apologizes, says he didn’t want to hurt her, and says he hopes they can still be friends.

Amber says, for future reference, don’t drag out a break up and make the person you’re breaking up with feel like an idiot. Amber walks off, leaving Jonah saddened.

I feel like maybe they’ve both learned a valuable lesson.

Jonah should just be forward with a break up if that’s what he really wants, and maybe Amber shouldn’t date 8th graders when she’s a sophomore in high school and expect a loving, mature relationship.

At SAVA, Andi returns to Bex to see what she thinks of the place.

Bex thinks it’s impressive. Andi asks her how hard she thinks it is to get in. Bex is like, I don’t know, we should probably look that up. Probably. Could be really good knowledge to have in this situation.

Especially because Andi’s really buying in to this school.

I mean, yeah. If you were designing a school from scratch to match Andi’s personality, it would look just like this. This would be like if Buffy went to check out a high school and when the bell rung after class, all the kids raced through an American Gladiators-style obstacle course in the halls to their next class.

Andi asks Bex if she still thinks she can get in and Bex says of course, but then Andi walks off and Bex is like...

Ehhh, I hope so.

[chiseki]

Figured I’d make this an intro post, since I’m pretty much using this alternate url as an “out” url compared to my usual vagueness.

I’m Joshua. Yes, that matches the sidebar, so it’s not really surprising here.

And that would surprise an entire two people following my main blog that know me irl because the rest were previously informed. Maybe three people, I forget if the last one is on tumblr or not.

Which is, by the way, ““““““““fun”““““““““

Yup, having like three local friend circles that had relations to each other outside of myself, and only one of them being in the know is fun.

You can basically stop reading at this point, because from here on out is just gonna be a massive time rewind to.....jeez, fuck if I know when, my childhood? I promise there will be time skips, we don’t need that mess played at normal tempo. (Also some funny stories after the giant gap in the text, if you want to scroll for that).

Most of this story is actually located in college, but the only real indicator (aside from having a general dislike of dresses) was way back when I was in all of second grade--apparently I was so damn insulted I burned all these facts into my memory--and an older kid was brought into the classroom, gave us this cool sales pitch about do we want to learn to shoot a bow, go camping, build campfires, etc

and then was like “OH YEAH THIS IS THE BOY SCOUTS IT’S BOYS ONLY”

I was so hyped lol.

Wound up being in a mediocre girl scout troop later, and my brother obviously got directed into boy scouts. At which point I got to find out that their camping trips were mostly getting rained on and finding black windows and getting taught woodworking by a dude missing a chunk of finger.

So more suffering than child me would have expected, but they still got to build fires and go REAL camping and shoot bows and rifles and shit.

Meanwhile, in girl scouts, we went to this one set of cabins every year. We never stayed in the damn cabins, because someone would find A Bug in there, or a spider, and then someone ELSE would have the same issue, and no one wanted to be in a cabin alone let alone be the only one in the cabins at all, and we always wound up sleeping in the air conditioned lodge that was visible from the damn cabins.

Except the one year where we went to a different camp, stayed in the legendary caboose, and there was a bat sleeping on the outside of the window so no one wanted to sleep there except me.

My scout group was weak.

I miss the cookies, though.

Anyway, due to not being forced into gender-targeted toys and getting to play with whatever the fuck I wanted, I also have jack shit for anything resembling an early warning sign aside from the above.

Actually, scratch that, I was not really a fan of dresses. I mean, this was fair in general, since they were usually scratchy, didn’t fit my arms/shoulders right, were designs I had no say in, and everyone would get on my case if the dress might get even a LITTLE dirty. Had some skirts I liked in middle school, but even that was a mess of having to wear tights because my genes have never resulted in anything resembling a thigh gap.

And I was like, constantly trying to play with the guys in grade school. And they’d periodically get that “NYEHHHHHHH GUYS ONLYYYYYY” shit going on. That was never not infuriating tbh.

Flash forward to high school, still basically left to my own devices. Only indicator here was that I was just tickled fucking pink whenever I heard that I either passed at cons or was at least tossed in the “maybe.......?” zone.

Flash forward to college. I honestly don’t remember what set me off on thinking about it, but started eyeballing my gender with a microscope. Unfortunately I couldn’t apply a litmus test like sexuality, so there was a lot of “uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhfuck” going on.

Actually, I think part of it was that on the forum I hung out on, a lot of the old regulars had assumed I was a dude until a childhood friend had dropped a pronoun several times in succession & asserted its correctness, which then led to a discussion along the lines of “whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat”.

But yeah, started testing the waters.

Also tried going to a LGBT+ club like, once. With the gal I was either dating at the time or was about to be dating, my memory is shit tbh. “HEY SO HOW ABOUT WE ALL JUST COME OUT TO EACH OTHER, A BUNCH OF STRANGERS <33333333″ still freaks me out, honestly. I get why it’s generally done, but like, no thanks. But I was horrendously obvious in ducking about the gender question and she totally called me out on it later in private lol. Also got me my first binder, but I digress.

Anyway, basically spilled on “I’m.....probably..............? a dude...........? jsyk??????” to my immediate friends, which was met with a lot of “.....YEAH ACTUALLY THAT MAKES SENSE” and a “hang on I need a dictionary........ok I get it”

I think I was the least smooth part of anything resembling a coming-out just due to like, me not wanting to have to tell people to do things for me? It’s something I find extremely awkward, like I know it’s that horribly stereotypical dating thing of “what’s wrong, bby, what do I have to do” “I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO TELL YOU WHAT TO DO” but.

And that’s an entire digression about how my relationship with my mother often included me saying a lot of shit I had to say convincingly, but didn’t mean at all, and probably led to me having fuckall faith in what people say, most especially when under a forced prompt. I could do an essay on that, but not here.

Which, admittedly, I’m gonna rewind here because I think it’s funny in hindsight, but it means the dictionary reaction went like “SO...........I’M.............TRANS?” “What?” [thinking this is pushback on the idea] [PANIC MODE] “UH” “Like, literally, what does that word mean, I've never heard it in my life.” “OH. WELL. Heh. Uh. That internal reaction I had was embarrassing then, oops.”

Anyway.

Then the collective action was, “well, have you picked a name what do you MEAN you haven’t picked a name, we can’t just run about calling you by your deadname after all that”

And I tossed some names out, that I’m not going to list, because they were just fucking awful. So I got interventioned and the method became throwing names at me until they stuck.

Adam? Nah I knew an Adam and I can’t unassociate with that

Noah? Violin teacher’s third kid was named Noah. Same issue with Gabriel and Caleb.

Benjamin? I fucking grew up with a Benjamin he would kill me.

you get the idea.

And those were like, actual reasonable rejections. At least half the time I was just like “I DON’T LIKE HOW IT SOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNDS.” Take, for example, Josh. I 1) knew one in high school and he was a piece of work and 2) I just, inexplicably, don’t like how the word sounds.

Which is part irony and part masochism that JoshUA stuck.

I mean, that name had pre-existing connotations for me. I had played..........a game.........in high school. And given that my options were pretty shafted to Stereotypical White Boy Names if I didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb, some positive(?) pre-existing connotations were going to be needed.

Incidentally, I had a v. sweet trans girl offer me her deadname, which was a cool name, but just, like, didn’t fit me in particular so. She also picked her name by RNG tournament, with the top 10 baby names for her year being the competitors. Which was neat and worked well for her, but I know I would have just re-run the fucking tourney if I didn’t like the winner lol.

But anyway, continuing on to a less flowery story. I’ll add some blank lines so it’s skippable. No need to set off every other person with gender issues here.

Decided to come out to my family. Apparently time fuzzed down my memories of being devoured by mosquitos outside while my parents were trying to decipher that their kid was holding hands with a girl in the back of the van and that girl had been planned to sleep over that night, and despite the fact that booth teens wouldn’t be jumping to sex that fast nor had the equipment to make a kid between them....it was Reason For Concern like a straight couple sharing a bed.

I mean, my mom was convinced that anything touching the nether regions was SEX and PREMARITAL SEX was EVIL. But I digress.....again.

So. I tell them. And the reaction ranged from “well ok I mean you’ve always been weird” (thanks, bro) to “uh I guess my last name’s odds of getting inherited just doubled........?” to “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME”

Yeah. That last one was word for word. Some stuff was thrown, lots of crying (”I CAN’T EVEN DO MY MAKEUP AND IT’S YOUR FAULT”)--both of which were not my doing, though I got shocked(?) into my own set of tears iirc.

I think I set a speed record for climbing back into the closet. Like, a week later, everyone was pretending it never happened. I sorta emotionally cut ties with my mom at that point--kept it civil, but Did Not Want to discuss my life or friends at all with her or in any way that would get back to her.

So obviously, no one in my family knows I go by Joshua. If they asked, I would tell them, but lo and behold, zero questions, they never brought it up again, etc. And I’ve been very careful about not letting that knowledge spread, not putting it on the internet in a way that connects back to my legal name, being primed at any point to pretend “Joshua” is a mutual friend and to not respond to that name if someone accidentally calls me by it.

Incidentally, during Yet Another Family Counseling that was at least performed at an individual level this time, my mom apparently told the counselor that she thought she handled that well. Last I checked, making the situation about yourself and doing the whole “woe is me, the mother, with a child like this” shpeal was not “well”.

And I mean the WHOLE shpeal. If you’ve ever had the misfortune to see the posts by parents of trans kids that wax soliloquy about losing their child and mourning their “death” (especially the ones that aren’t all “but I got a new kid!”) like, the ones especially cut from the same cloth that would be like “my child is autistic but ~I~ am the inspiration for waking up in the morning” like no, your kid is the inspiration for dealing with you.

And if anyone is wondering, this is basically the Midwest Stereotype for....LGBT, interracial dating, etc rejection imo. Seemingly ok with it, but NO WAIT HANG ON, NOT MY CHILD. Like, I legit had trans kids explained to me (albeit without terms for it) at a relatively young age by my mother and yet. “X exists but not in our good christian neighborhood” attitude. Ugh.

So where was I? Hmm, yes, funny Joshua stories. Ok I have like ONE story. One of my friends that was in the know finally got me to play Trails in the Sky. Now, this sucker has a chunk of text lead-in with a ~mysterious~ boy that young Estelle’s father has brought home, and the whole discussion skips his name, ending on “my name is....”. Then it time-skips to present day, finally casually dropping this dude’s name, which, obviously, is Joshua.

My friend did not tell me this.

No warning, nada. Only Estelle had really come up in conversation.

And then we collectively dragged another friend into the abyss with us, except he wasn’t in the know. We also had him streaming his playing sessions when our schedules coincided, which led to--because of a shitty accuracy stat--him yelling (as we did) “JOSHUA!” frequently in combat.

I debated on just responding “Yes?” randomly one day in the most casual closet-exit possible. Then procrastinated by deciding to just be out with it at the end of the first game since he’d also played twewy.

Some of you have probably started to eye my avatars with judgement in your hearts. That’s fair.

Anyway, we had forgotten about another character that practically had his name, so at least I had someone to share my weird feelings with.

And then, he started the second game, and I didn’t hold back on responding “yes?” every time “Joshua” was used as an interjection.

Also because of that one post about biblical names, I will respond to any use of “Jesus”.

[luckyinmoonlight-blog]

CHAPTER ONE

My face had to be bright red at this point. I could feel the heat radiating off of my cheeks. It didn't matter at this point in time how much foundation, concealer, bronzer, and blush was applied to my face by the cosmetic team because I was sure to have it run off before I even made it to the stage.

He was ruining me, and I had only known him for a month. It was the way he looked at me... longingly. It's like he needed to stare me down. Harry Styles, was running me, and I was allowing it to happen.

"Mollie, you're up!" Dan shouted from behind his large studio camera.

Deep breaths, you can do this. I can do this.

I stepped onto the raised platform as Jimmy Fallon continued to crack up at some joke Harry made nearly two minutes ago. Boy, that guy could sure laugh. But I wasn't laughing. I was sweating like a stuffed pig, apple in the mouth and all. I should be trying my hardest not to look freaking constipated, instead, I worried about what Harry would think.

My fingers were shaking but I blew out a quick breath and wiggled my fingers before gripping the guitar pick once again. Okay, smile I told myself, and then I smiled into the microphone because the camera would scan to me at any second now...

"Here she is, the girl we've been waiting for! Mollie Roark performing her brand new first single..." Jimmy eagerly belted into the microphone. I laughed a little giggle as my band started up performing the song... that I wrote... that was being performed live by myself on late night television. Shit. Don't faint.

-

"Not too shabby, I would say." He whispered into my ear, making the blonde hairs on my arm stand up. I was thankful that we were in my dressing room backstage alone. I didn't need any media footage leaking of the newbie singer with Harry.

"Thanks, my vocals could have been less shaky but I-"

"Oh shush. For your first time performing live on the telly, I would say you did damn bloody good!" Harry smiled as his finger traced my lower lip causing another shiver down my spine. Who taught this boy how to flirt?!

"Thanks, it means a lot."

The smile he gave back lit his eyes up. His beautiful green eyes. I had only known Harry for two months, but I think I was falling in love. Love. Such a strange concept, I have never been in love before. But I can't ever recall a time when my stomach would do nauseating flips just by someone smiling at me. The thought of Harry gave me anxiety. How could this perfect boy want anything to do with ordinary Mollie Roark?

I was your average 22-year-old girl. I grew up in Green Hills, Tennessee just outside downtown Nashville. My father Ben is an accountant, and my mother Kathryn is a middle school art teacher. I lived a normal life. I graduated from Hillsboro High School. The only interesting thing about me up until now was I grew up outside of Nashville, where my love of music flourished.

My brother Spencer is 19 and is currently a student at the University of South Carolina. I never went to college, but I visit him as well as my best friend from high school Annie Keller, who goes to East Carolina University.

Now, you could argue that I live anything but a normal life. I still reside in Green Hills with my parents. But I am more frequently traveling to New York City once a month trying to get my music to be heard. This is how I ended up on Jimmy Fallon. But more importantly, music is what brought me Harry Styles.

"I'm staying at the Gramercy Park Hotel tonight, are you?"

"Yeah right. I'm not international pop sensation Harry Styles."

He blushed a little at my comment. I think he truly forgot sometimes how famous he truly was. Crap, I offended him.

He scratched the back of his neck and bent his neck to look more towards the floor. "I- I didn't mean anything by that. I let my management team book hotels, I truly don't have a preference they just-"

"Harry stop! You don't have to explain anything to me, I was only kidding."

"I know Mollie. You're a true friend."

Shit- wait, what. A true friend? Usually, I would take this as a compliment. It is a nice thing to say. But did I really want my crush calling me "a true friend"? That was friend zone material if I've ever heard of it.

Ignoring my fallen face like a true gentleman, Harry continued on "What hotel are you staying at? Maybe I can come over, we can hang out? Only, if you want to of course."

"I'm at The Hotel at Times Square, and I would really like that. It would be nice to hang out somewhere, more relaxed for once."

"I would like that too."

My iPhone began vibrating in my bag and Harry and I finally averted our eyes from one another before I mumbled a sorry and went over to pick it up.

It read incoming FaceTime from Mom.

I answered the call and saw both my mother and father sitting on the couch in our family room.

"Hello?"

"MOLLIE! Oh my gosh, we watched the whole thing- "

Harry smiled, "I'll leave you to it, I'll text you." Before exiting my dressing room.

"Stayed up late and everything for it. You were just fabulous." My mom continued beaming.

"Good job, Molls." My dad smiled politely.

"Has Spencer or Annie texted you yet? Oh, I bet they are so thrilled to see you on the television. Isn't it wonderful, Benjamin?"

"It's something, dear."

My dad was clearly the calm one out of both of my parents.

"Thanks, mom, thanks dad. Actually, I haven't heard from Spencer or Annie. Probably at some wild college party."

"Mollie! Don't scare me like that. You know I'm constantly worried about your.... Well... not so mature brother." Her face did look really concerned. That was my mother for you. The three of us would pick on her all the time for it. I practically begged her to allow me to travel to New York by myself this time. I felt bad she was using all of her work leave to travel with me, and I was 22 years old, a legal adult.

"Oh relax Kathryn, we all know Spencer can hold his liquor."

SLAP! My mother's dainty hand hit right on my dad's shoulder. My dad just laughed at her and turned back towards the phone. "Mollie, please come home soon and rescue me from this mad woman."

"You guys will miss me when I'm gone!" my mother said flustered and frustrated.

I giggled but saw my manager Jessie walk into the dressing room, "Hey mom and dad thanks for calling, it means a lot. But, Jessie is here so I should probably go."

"Text me when you get to your hotel sweetie." My mother said sternly.

"Don't forget, Molls. Or your mom won't sleep." My dad warned, and he was dead serious.

"I won't. Love you."

"We love you too." They both answered, and then I clicked the end button.

"Hey, Jessie." I smiled as I flopped onto the loveseat and opened a bottle of Core water.

"Nice job out there Mollie. We are in the process of making you a star! Jimmy and his team thought you were fantastic!"

"I'm glad, I was nervous. But I think it went well."

"It did! I would tell you if you were bad." Jessie combed a hair through her black hair and looked around the dressing room. "Well grab your stuff, they need to start cleaning up, and we should probably check into the hotel."

-

There was a light knock on the hotel door letting me know he was here. I carefully got up from the king size bed I was sitting on and smoothed out the covers to make them look perfectly untouched.

I tiptoed over to the peephole, I didn't want to appear to be too eager. I looked through and there he was looking around the hallways, probably silently praying no fans would catch him wandering the halls.

I opened the door and was greeted by his bright smile.

"Hey Mollie, can I come in?"

"No, you can stay out there."

He gave me a confused look with his eyebrows raised.

"I'm kidding! Sheesh, lighten up."

He laughed and came inside my room. Now that I got him to come see me... what do we do now?

"What have you been up to on this lovely night?" He asked before plopping on the bed.

"If I told you, I'm not sure you would believe me."

"Oh really? Try me, love."

Love? He was calling me love. God, I loved the British.

"Well, I performed on Jimmy Fallon."

"What? No. You're right. I don't believe that."

"And now..." I let my voice trail off and bit my lip. Okay, how would I explain this to him? If I were talking to Annie I would say I was hanging out with a cute boy that I was majorly crushing on... Obviously, I had no intention of telling that to him.

"And now?"

"And now I have Harry Styles in my room... which honestly is pretty terrifying."

"Terrifying?"

"Mmhmm.." I sat down next to him and he turned towards me searching my face, I could see him trying to figure me out. He possibly could even see right through me that I was so into him.

"I've been called a lot of things, Mollie. But terrifying has never been one of them."

Before I knew it was even happening I burst out into a giggle fit. The kind of giggles that send tears to your eyes. Only I could fuck up a perfect moment with a perfect boy. This is why I was chronically single for the majority of my life. Luckily, and much to my surprise Harry was laughing just as hard, and I think I even heard a snort.

After a couple of minutes, we both seemed to calm down a bit. I pulled a strand of long blonde hair behind my ear and wiped the tears from my eyes.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I'm just so awkward."

"A little. But, your down to Earth. That's one of the things I like about you."

"Really?"

"I really like you, Mollie Roark." His sweet voice was almost a whisper as he edged towards me, his tall frame encompassing my body, hands cupping my face ever so lightly.

"I really like you, Harry Styles." I vocalized a mere whisper back.

With a light chuckle, his brilliant lips parted and my heart skipped several beats.

And then, Harry Styles kissed me for the first time. It wasn't my first time ever being kissed. But it was my first time feeling slightly light headed from the entire thing. It was as if life just stopped as we knew it. I could feel his lips caress mine, in a sweet and sickeningly satisfying way, like when you take your first bite into a caramel apple. The caramel sparks a sense in your teeth, letting you know this will probably give you a cavity. But then you bite into the apple and the sourness balances it out. This is what kissing Harry Styles was like. So sweet, passionate, with a hint of lust. I thought I might just die from overwhelming emotions. This was only our first kiss, and I was instantly aware that this boy would break me. He had me wrapped around his finger, and I've only known him for two months.

Harry and I spent the next hour talking about his upcoming tour, watching stupid silly TV shows like Deadliest Catch, and him asking questions that would cause me to blush and prove how awkward I was.

That night wrapped in the hotels comfiest duvet and soft blankets, I curled up and got warm and cozy. For a while, I stared at the ceiling and reflected on what all had happened in this single night. Performing on Jimmy Fallon, hearing praise from my adoring family, and getting to know the real Harry, and kissing Harry. Eventually, I was able to calm down and go to sleep.

That night I dreamed of Harry. The next morning, I decided how to get rid of Harry.

[fantasysuiteleague]

Week 2 Recap: The Three Ds

Is it just me or does it always seems like The Bachelorette gets a shitty draw of contestants? Each year there are at most 3 guys I would take home to meet my parents, maybe one worth actually marrying, and the rest are all that terrible guy you see on TV and hope you never meet in real life. They only care about themselves and what makes them look good or what will get them the most screen time. This season, with its new colors and Blachelorette, is no different. At most we’ve added an extra amount of swagger, but with that swagger comes an added level of douchebaggery that leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

D is for Doggo

This episode highlighted 3 of the worst people we’ve met since Chad, and one precious angel who is too pure to be around any of this mess. That’s right, I’m talking about Copper. That precious baby with the broken toe who stole Bachelor Nation’s heart. Not only did he get his own limo entrance, but he also went on the first and best 1-on-1 date of the season, accompanying Rachel and Peter to a DOG PARTY. I can’t say I paid much attention to Rachel and Peter, as I was focused solely on Copper and all the ways I could pet him and be his best friend.

The only thing I took away from the 1-on-1 date was that Peter and Rachel bonded over the gap in their teeth, and that Rachel doesn’t seem to mind that Peter is dead in the eyes. Something’s off about him, but it looks like he’ll stick around for awhile so I’ll come back to him when the meat isn’t as fresh.

D is for Douchebags

The first group date of the season is very on-brand for the Bachelorette: a low key picnic with ... an obstacle course and celebrity sighting. The picnic is set up in what I assume to be a vacant lot three spaces down from the Bachelor mansion, where everyone takes turns grilling and playing touch football. Right off the bat it’s hard not to focus on the douche of the century, Whaboom. Everything he does is for attention. He pushes other guys around so he can be the “first” to say hi to Rachel, he obnoxiously dances around the football, shouts constantly, and even picks Rachel up at one point and spins her around like a Disney Princess. It’s not hard to see that Lucas is, in the words of Blake: garbage. The other guys question his personality traits and whether he’s here for the right reasons simply because he is TERRIBLE.  He’s not even trying to fight with anyone, he’s just being himself, which is absolute garbage. Fun fact: My friend was in the same frat as Whaboom at Berkley and said that he is, hands down, the absolute worst person he has ever met in his life—next to his twin brother.  That’s right, there are two of these assholes. 

He also told me that Lucas was constantly trying to be the center of attention and was always making loud obnoxious jokes or trying to steal the stage but NO ONE thought he was funny. Some quick sleuthing on the interwebs brought me to his IMDB page, which honestly says it all. I mean, a 2012 Spanish dating show? God what a fucking loser. But his “rival” Blake is no better, and we need to unpack both of these shitty bags of garbage to really get down to their trash core. In a voice-over, Blake mentions that he knows Whaboom and is the only person that can “ruin this” for him. Well first of all, Whaboom doesn’t need anyone’s help ruining anything. Second, Blake knows the true garbage nature of Whaboom because they were both on a trashy reality TV dating show hosted by Carmen Electra. Yep, that’s right. Garbage, meet Garbage. Oh, you already met on the Ex-Isle? Perfect. Let’s skip the pleasantries, and the entire obstacle course while we’re at it. That way we can also skip over Blake whining the entire time that Lucas is cheating and not following directions, and Lucas winning then attempting to get Ashton Kutcher to yell “whaboom.” To literally everyone’s relief, Ashton politely passes on the offer, as he should have with My Boss’s Daughter / Just Married / Killers / basically all movies he’s ever done.

No really, name a good Ashton Kutcher movie. You can’t, because there are none. Anyway, since Whaboom won the competition he got the first 1-on-1 time with Rachel. Blake takes this opportunity to let everyone know that, to the extent they hadn’t figured it out yet, Whaboom is a douchebag. Blake, it is the first fucking week. Chill the fuck out man. When Lucas gets back to the perfectly stirred pot, he’s confronted with the question of our generation: how do you identify yourself? The correct answer, of course, was garbage, but we would have also accepted trash. Speaking of trash, Blake continues his crusade against Whaboom by informing Rachel that, to the extent she is both blind and deaf, Lucas is just a clown here for TV exposure. Like any guy NOT trying to get TV exposure, Blake then goes and tells Lucas that he just spent his time with Rachel letting her know that Whaboom is wearing makeup and is here for the wrong reasons. 

At this point it’s pretty clear that Blake is also here for the wrong reasons and obsessed with Lucas, who may or may not be totally wasted. It’s hard to tell, because he’s just that terrible. In the end, Whaboom walks away the winner of this confrontation after he tells Blake he’s going to do “him” and that Blake is “dismissed.” Point, Garbage. I can’t really tell you what else happened on this date due to the overpowering stench of Garbage, but everyone else was so boring that the 20-year-old Ricky Fowler look alike, Dean, got the group date rose. Good for you, Dean.

D is for Drama

The second group date the guys get a considerably better draw with a game of pick up basketball monitored by Kareem Abdul Jabar. DeMario is the focus of this date, which I wanted to attribute to his charisma fuckboi charm and casual ability to dunk a basketball. But something doesn’t feel right about this spotlight and even though deep down I know why, I think and hope that maybe, just maybe, it’s not him. It’s like when you’re watching a Law & Order SVU episode and it’s definitely the dad, but it feels way too obvious to actually be the dad, so instead you convince yourself its the neighbor but like, it was always the dad.  It was always DeMario. Always. You don’t get this kind of attention in a group date when there are previews of a scorned lover confronting her man unless it’s your scorned lover. Enter Lexi, the girl who DeMario was allegedly fucking days before he went on ATFR and met Rachel. Before she even opened her mouth I could tell from her eyebrows that this girl was trash and was ready to shamelessly take down the Big D. The build up to this drama is great. After being summoned by Rachel, DeMario is convinced he’s getting the rose and walks gleefully back into the gym talking about what he learned playing the game until he saw cash me ousside girl waiting for him.

DeMario’s face quickly goes from happy to freaked out to “confused.” He immediately launches into fuckboi defensive mode and makes a series of moves that only digs him deeper into the pit of despair.

Move 1: Pretend like you have no idea who this girl is and that you’ve never seen her before. Obviously this is NOT the right way to go, but you have to give him partial credit if only because I would also deny knowing (let alone fucking) someone that trashy. This obviously doesn’t work as she’s tracked him down, so it’s on to the next move.

Move 2: This girl is fucking crazy, and we met “many many times ago.” Um, what? Thankfully Rachel is smarter than to buy into the “she’s crazy” excuse that’s constantly applied to women by the patriarchy. Instead, she asks for clarification on what “many times ago” means, and at this point the Big D starts to sweat.

Move 3: Claim that this is personal stuff that we should handle off-camera. This was an obvious misstep that sent Lexi into a rage about unanswered text messages and fucking her 2 days before he went on ATFR. Rachel keeps it classy, however, pointing out that this is also her personal life so DeMario really needs to explain himself.

Move 4: Admit he dated her, but claim that he broke up with her because she was “too much” to handle, circling back to the old “she’s crazy” thesis. DeMario tries to suggest that he broke up with Lexi face to face, but then Lexi starts shouting about how he still has her keys... 

Move 5: Keys? What keys? I don’t  have your keys..... Oh, wait. I actually mailed them back to you. As if this mother fucker has ever been to the post office. At this point DeMario has to know that he’s totally fucked and should probably just leave before he says anything else. But he doesn’t. Instead, he continues trying to downplay what Lexi is saying until finally Rachel tells him he’s not making any sense and she just wants to know when was the last time he saw Lexi.

Check: Lexi stops swearing on her kittens’ lives long enough to offer up the receipts to prove not just her side of the story, but the exact date and time when Demario was last in and out of her...apartment. Before Rachel accepts any documents into evidence, she gives DeMario one last chance to say literally anything that isn’t a lie and asks if the dates on Lexi’s phone will match his story or hers....

Move 6: It depends on the dates...

Checkmate: Finally at the end of her rope, Rachel takes Lexi’s phone (which I imagine smells like cigarettes) and reads the standard fuckboi texts we all knew DeMario sent. Rachel calmly informs DeMario that she is not here to be played or to be made a joke of, so he can get the fuck out.

In the aftermath of the DeMario drama everyone starts whispering about how DeMario was obviously not there for the right reasons when, in reality, they are all there for the same reason: fame. DeMario was just sloppier about it. The remaining guys on the date all use this as an opportunity to let Rachel know they’re there “for her” and will “protect her” from this kind of behavior. Josiah flexes his protection muscles the most with his... creepy side eye stare and ends up getting the group date rose. We don’t get too far into the cocktail party before the ghost of DeMario comes knocking at the gates of The Bachelor mansion to prove once and for all that D is for determination dumbass.

Did you notice . . .

Ashton knew when he “first saw” Mila that they would get married ... after he married Demi Moore and played dad for a few years, of course.

“This is not a show. When I want to turn it on, I turn it off. When I want to turn it off, I turn it off.” - ummm that’s a show, Lucas.

Curious that Lucas and Blake hate each other so much yet look like pals in this picture from 2016....(also, the hastags...)

“I check my mailbox every day.” - Lexi, lol.

OF COURSE her name is Lexi with an I.

I could do without Alex’s singing, especially as it’s likely a trigger for the Russian Manchurian Candidate, Jared Kushner.

Minority Report: The most embarrassing part of the whole DeMario saga is that before the Bachelorette he was dating white trash like Lexi.

[freudensteins-monster]

The Wager

@captain-biryani asked for Logyn x 10 Things I Hate About You. Sorry it’s late, and I hope it’s okay. xoxox

Character descriptions inspired by @nanihoosartblog Logyn High School AU posts.

Loki sat in the living room, a sharp contrast to the cheerful décor in his signature black, trying not to sigh with boredom whilst Odin ripped into a hungover Thor yet again.

“I’ve had had it up to here with your immaturity and your recklessness!” the old man shouted whilst his wife lingered in the background, ready to step in if things went too far. “Do you have any idea how many favours I had to call in just so that the police wouldn’t press charges?! Do you honestly think you will get into any decent college with that sort of drunken buffoonery on your record?!”

“I’m sorry, father. I wasn’t thinking-”

“Exactly!” Odin roared. “You weren’t thinking! You never think things through. You only care about having ‘fun’ in the moment, consequences be damned. Well, I have had enough! You are grounded until you graduate!!”

“Odin…” Frigga chided quietly before Thor had a chance to object.

“Fine,” Odin grumbled. “A month, then. And after that you will have a strict curfew. Home by eight every evening. No excuses.”

“Father! You can’t be serious!” Thor whined, failing to know when to keep his mouth shut.

“Deadly serious,” Odin shot back. “You will be home by eight. You will eat dinner, you will do your homework, and you will go to bed at a reasonable hour.”

“And have no social life! If you wanted me to become like Loki so badly why didn’t you just say so?” Thor grumbled petulantly, sparing a glare at his brother sitting quietly at the other end of the couch.

Frigga whispered in Odin’s ear and Odin smirked.

“Very well,” Odin murmured before turning back to address his son. “Your mother has thought of reasonable compromise.” Thor perked up, shifting to the edge of his seat. “You can go to parties on the weekend… when your brother does.”

“What?!” Thor bellowed, jumping to his feet. “But he’s a freak – he never leaves his room!”

“Then you’ll never leave your room. Oh, I do like the sound of that,” Odin smiled, acknowledging his wife’s cleverness.

“This is so unfair!” Thor shouted before storming off to his room to fume and eventually sleep off the rest of his hangover.

Odin awkwardly acknowledged Loki’s patience and made a hasty retreat for his office. Loki bit back a sigh and rose off the couch, smiling indulgently as his mother pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m sorry, Loki. I don’t know what your father insisted you be here for Thor’s punishment.”

“It’s because Odin wants to ensure I feel involved in family affairs, and he wants to prove to me that doesn’t favour Thor.” Frigga winced at Loki’s use of his adopted father’s first name. He hadn’t given up the habit, not in the year since they’d told him the truth. “What I don’t understand is why you had to drag me into this literally. You know Thor’s going to redirect all his anger about this at me, make it my fault that his enviable social life is flagging.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much, my love,” Frigga assured him. “Your father will probably change his mind before the month is out, or Thor will just take to having parties here. You know he always finds a way out of these things,” she sighed.

“Don’t I ever,” Loki muttered, climbing the stairs to his room, fighting back against the heavy bassline of Thor’s deliberately loud music with his favourite metal album.

 A month later…

“I can’t believe my father won’t change his stupid mind,” Thor whined to his friends as they loitered on the bleachers during a spare period.

“We’ll just have to party at your house,” Fandral suggested.

“My father seems to have thought of that and has cleared his schedule of any trips away for the foreseeable future. Bastard,” Thor muttered, pacing up and down the row.

“Well,” Sif mused. “What about his rule regarding Loki?”

“What about it?”

“You can go out when Loki goes out. So… perhaps invite him to the parties you want to go to,” Sif suggested meekly, knowing it was a long shot.

“Loki would say no simply to spite me,” Thor replied. “And it’s not like he’s shown any interest in parties before. He seems content to waste away in his room until he can run away to college.”

“We simply need to find a way to make Loki want to go,” Hogun suggested, using half his allotted words for the day.

“And how do you suggest we do that? Wait for Halloween so Loki will feel like he fits in?” Fandral snorted.

“Why does anyone go to parties?” Sif thought aloud.

“To hang out with friends, to drink, and to get…” Volstagg trailed off, and each of the boys in her company promptly averted their gaze. Sif went to roll her eyes at them but was struck with an idea.

“We need to get Loki a girlfriend,” she announced. “Get him interested in a girl, encourage the girl to go to the parties we want to go to, and Loki will want to go to them to see her!”

“That’s excellent, Sif,” Fandral commended sarcastically. “Just one problem. What kind of girl would want to date Loki?”

“She doesn’t have to want to date him, she just has to want to do us a favour,” Sif shrugged, unable to figure another way out of their conundrum.

“Amora would probably do it,” Volstagg suggested absently as he fished a packet of crisps out of his jacket.

“No,” Thor replied sharply. Amora had ‘crazy ex-girlfriend’ written over all her. Even when inebriated Thor knew better than to cosy up to her.

“I could probably talk one of the junior girls into helping us out,” Fandral smirked, running a hand over the facial hair he was growing in.

Sif sneered at the patchy stubble in disgust. “As usual, you over estimate your charms. I highly doubt you could seduce a girl into dating someone else. What we need to do is find a girl that Loki might be genuinely interested in, and just ensure their paths cross.”

“Let’s go find some goths, then,” Thor declared, heading back to the main building.

 Two days of talking to every girl in their grade with a penchant for black clothes and excessive eyeliner and they were still no closer to finding a girl to date Loki. Whilst some of them admitted, under duress, that they found him attractive, they also said that his personality left a lot to be desired. ‘Moody’ and ‘just plain rude’ were common descriptors.

“This is hopeless,” Thor whined, smacking his head against his locker.

“What about her?” Volstagg asked as a girl with copper hair and tanned skin pushed her way through the throngs of students.

“Watch where you’re going!” she snarled, pushing back against a few senior boys who were deliberately trying to get in her way.

“Moody… rude…” Sif ticked off. “Not goth though,” she added, noting the girls grungy wardrobe.

“Not a deal breaker,” Thor murmured as the group watched the girl make her way to down the row of lockers, stopping in front of a notoriously difficult-to-open one. With a little patience and properly applied force she opened it on her first try earning her several impressed glances.

“Clever,” Thor mused, hope brewing in his chest as she started switching out text books and shoving a few additional novels into her bag. “Who is she?” he asked, and all eyes turned to Fandral who was already busy getting the details from one or more of his girlfriends via text.

“Sigyn,” he read aloud. “Scholarship student. Transferred here at the start of term. Hoping to get a fine arts scholarship to a college on the East Coast.”

Thor was already making his way over to her before Fandral had finished talking.

“Hi,” he greeted, giving her his best, most charming smile.

“What do you want?” she asked sharply without looking up, slamming her locker shut.

“Uh, well,” Thor stammered, not used to women who weren’t Sif failing to swoon in his presence. “Um, long story short: I want you to date my brother.”

Sigyn blinked. “Long story long?”

“I’m grounded indefinitely. But my father put in a clause that says I can go out if my brother does. So I want you to date my brother and take him to parties so that I can go to them.”

“Oh… In that case, no,” she replied tersely, trying to end the conversation by storming off. Thor caught up to her, noting her ratty backpack, second-hand books, and clothes that were definitely goodwill grunge not newer mass-produced pseudo-grunge, and blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.

“I can pay you.”

Sigyn hesitated and hated herself for it. Thor dug out a fifty from his wallet and held it out to her, pushing down the guilt he felt at the girl’s hungry look.

“Fifty just to go and talk to him,” Thor said quietly, pressing the money into her hand. “And if he doesn’t make you want to run screaming into the hills,” he jested. “I’ll give you another hundred if you can get him to go to Stark’s party this Saturday.”

Thor waited more patiently for Sigyn’s answer than he had waited for anything else in his entire life.

“Who’s your brother?” she asked, shoving the fifty into the pocket of her jeans.

 Thor practically skipped back to his friends.

“She’ll do it. She’ll go talk to him today, and with any luck I’ll get to go to Stark’s party.”

“How’d you get her to agree to it?” Sif asked.

“Paid her,” he replied smugly as the bell rang.

“This will not end well,” Hogun sighed as they made their way to their next class, but his warning fell on deaf ears.

 Loki was sitting at his usual table in the library when he sensed someone hovering nearby. He glanced up from his book to see the new girl from his English class looking at the empty seat in front of him nervously.

“Do you mind if I sit?” she asked.

Loki shook his head and turned back to his book as she got settled. He expected her to get out her phone like most of students did when there wasn’t a teacher’s presence nearby to scare them into studying, but no, she got out her textbooks and her notebook and got to work. They worked in silence but Loki couldn’t help looking up from his books from time to time to see what she was doing. Eventually she shoved her text books aside and pulled out a sketchbook, a finger toying with a stray strand of copper hair as she became engrossed in the lines on her page. She filled one page and turned to the next empty one, flicking away a red flyer that had been shoved between the pages with a grimace.

“Sorry,” she murmured when she caught Loki looking at her curiously. She picked up the flyer from where it had encroached on his side of the table and shoved it into her bag. “Some girls in my art class told me about this party on weekend. All the cool kids will be there,” she repeated disdainfully.

“And you wish to be one of the cool kids?” he asked, reeling back a little when her eyes met his, realising that they were the first words he’d spoken to her.

“I’d settle for making friends,” she replied bashfully, putting her books away as the bell rang.

He followed her out of the library, walking in step with her when he realised that they had English next.

“I’m Sigyn, by the way,” she said as they neared their classroom.

“Loki,” he replied, gracing her with a rare smile, before taking his usual seat at the back of the room.

 “Loki!” Thor called for the hundredth time that day, banging an oversized fist against his bedroom door. “Come on! It’ll be fun, I promise. Stark’s girlfriend is inviting a bunch of her friends. Private school girls, Loki! Come on!” he begged.

Loki sighed, pressing his hands against the side of his head to push back the headache Thor was giving him. Like he wanted to go meet a bunch of stuck up private school girls. They were probably no more interested in talking to him than the girls at his own school were. Girls who turned their nose up at the way he dressed or the books and music he liked. Or, worst of all, girls who changed their tune when they found out who his brother was. But there was Sigyn, he thought glancing at his door. Sigyn hadn’t even blinked at his wardrobe choices, and carried a couple of his favourite books in her bag. And she didn’t mind being seen with him, choosing to sit beside him the next time they had English together. He’d seen her struggling with the Shakespeare text they were studying and had almost worked up the nerve to offer to help her with it. But now it was the weekend and he wasn’t going to see her again until Wednesday, unless…

She’s probably not even going to be there, he reminded himself as he dug through his wardrobe, trying to distinguish one black item from the next. But she had said she wanted to make some friends, and she’d look so lonely when she said it…

Loki huffed as he shoved his feet into his favourite boots and adorned his wrists and fingers with the requisite amount of jewellery. He had just finished applying some eyeliner and was slicking back his hair when Thor started banging on his door again. Loki threw it open and pushed passed his startled brother.

“I’m driving. And I’m not staying long.”

“YES!!” Thor roared, practically picking Loki up and carrying him down the stairs.

“Let go of me, you oaf! Before I change my mind,” Loki growled, straightening his shirt while Thor raced for the door.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Odin called from the living room, moving from the couch to glare at his sons with suspicion.

“Well, you said that I could go out when Loki did, and look! Loki’s going out,” Thor beamed, bouncing on his toes.

Odin sighed. “Be back by 1am,” he said to Loki before turning his stern gaze upon his older son. “And you will return home when Loki does. If you are even five minutes behind him I will revert to my original decision and ground you until graduation. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, father,” Thor said, attempting to sound serious but unable to wipe the smile from his face. “We should get going. Goodnight!” he called, waving at his mother and running for the car before Odin changed his mind.

“I’m already regretting this,” Loki muttered, closing the door behind him.

 “This is not good,” Odin groaned as he settled back on the couch beside his wife.

“Wait and see, dear,” Frigga smiled, passing him his book. “Wait and see.”

 The moment Loki stepped inside Stark’s house Thor was pushing a red solo cup into his hands.

“Loosen up and have some fun,” Thor ordered before abandoning Loki to go find his friends.

Loki tipped the drink into the nearest antique vase of expensive flowers and scoured the room for a head of copper hair. He moved from room to room, trying not to look as foolish as he felt. He found Thor again, doing a keg stand in the living room, as the rest of his teammates cheering him on, and walked in the opposite direction. Thor’s friends had never thought very highly of him, and after Loki played a harmless prank on them in their junior year (involving their brand new uniforms and food dye in the sprinkler systems) they’d had it out for him. Loki foresaw himself being thrown into Stark’s Olympic-sized swimming pool if he didn’t keep out of their way.

He pushed his way into the kitchen and decided ‘to hell with it’ and reached for a drink.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” a familiar voice warned.

Loki turned and felt his heart skip a beat as Sigyn smiled at him.

“…hi,” he murmured, his voice lost beneath the chaos of the party.

“It’s really cheap beer,” Sigyn advised, reaching past him for a shot of something red. “But Stark didn’t skimp on the spirits.”

Loki picked up a blue shot, clinking the glass against Sigyn’s before knocking it back. They both coughed as the alcohol burned their throats, then laughed at each other, then coughed some more.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Loki asked, revelling in how close he had to get to her to be heard, smiling at the way Sigyn’s freckles darkened as she blushed.

She nodded her assent and Loki took her by the hand, leading her away from the swarms of teenagers and up the stairs. Tony had barred the way, with velvet rope of all things, as he always did, in a poor attempt to keep people for having sex in any of six bedrooms upstairs. As a secondary measure he always made sure his parents’ bedroom door was locked, as was his own. Loki, not wanting to seem remotely presumptuous, didn’t make for any of the bedrooms, instead he walked down the hall and stopped in front of a large bay window. He pushed it open and stepped out onto the roof, holding out a hand to help Sigyn through.

“Wow…” Sigyn remarked once she got settled, her eyes roaming over the lush, manicured Stark estate. “Tony’s parents are really loaded, huh?”

“Mhmm,” Loki replied dumbly, unsure what to say now that he’d gotten Sigyn alone.

“I didn’t think you came to these sort of things,” she commented, fidgeting with a loose button on her plaid shirt.

“Not really my scene, no, but I wanted to see you,” Loki admitted, too nervous to gauge her reaction.

“Loki…” Sigyn sighed, her body tensing.

Loki felt himself deflate; hope was for fools.

“Sorry for bothering you,” he muttered, moving to escape back through the window.

“Wait. Please,” Sigyn begged, digging into the pocket of her jeans. “Here,” she said, handing him a crumpled fifty dollar bill.

“What’s that for?” Loki asked warily.

“Thor paid me to talk to you. He wanted me to get you to come to the party so he could,” she confessed, shaking as she fought back tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“He paid you to get me here?” Loki repeated through gritted teeth, sitting back down next to Sigyn in a huff. “But you didn’t even ask me to come,” he said after a moment’s contemplation.

“That’s what makes it worse,” Sigyn sniffled. “I like you, and you like me, and I ruined it,” she cried, trying to get Loki to take the tainted bill from her. Loki curled his hand around hers, fighting against every instinct he had to cut his losses, cut Sigyn out of his life, and run.

“Why did you agree to it?” Loki had to know.

“I needed the money,” Sigyn replied, hanging her head in shame. “I hated myself for taking it, but I really needed it… and then I met you… I’m an awful person, I’m so sorry.”

“Keep it,” Loki whispered, pushing the bill, clenched in Sigyn’s hand, away. When Sigyn looked up in surprise he kissed her, briefly, sweetly, and wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Keep the money,” he repeated. “I want to believe that you wouldn’t have made such an agreement unless you were desperate. And I know that you wouldn’t have confessed unless you were a good person, Sigyn. A good person, but a foolish one,” he smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“How so,” Sigyn demanded, her lip curling in amusement.

“You should have held out for double.”

“Oh, well, the fifty was just to talk to you. I get an extra hundred for getting you here,” Sigyn teased.

“Oh really?” Loki laughed, his eyes dancing with mischief as an idea started for form.

 Thor was rummaging through his locker before heading for practice, his friends milling about nearby, when Sigyn appeared beside him, clearly her throat loudly.

“Sigyn!” Thor bellowed, pulling her into a bone crushing hug. “I don’t know how you got Loki to go to one of Stark’s parties but you have my thanks,” he beamed.

“I’d prefer your cash,” Sigyn replied tersely.

“Right, right,” Thor muttered, digging out his wallet. “There’s a hundred for Stark’s party, and there’s another hundred in it for you if you can get him to go to Bucky’s party after the game on Friday night.”

“Make it two. Half now,” Sigyn countered, holding a hand out expectantly.

“No way! You don’t get to dictate terms,” Thor scoffed.

“Then you’ll have to find someone else to drag Loki to your friends parties,” Sigyn replied, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.

Thor deliberated for a split second before conceding defeat; he needed Sigyn.

“One twenty-five,” he bargained.

“Two.”

“One fifty,” he begged.

“Two.”

“One seventy-five,” he pleaded.

“Two,” Sigyn smirked, reaching out once more.

“Fine. Half now,” Thor grumbled, slapping the bills into her palm petulantly. “And he has to stay out until curfew. No ducking out early.”

“Whatever you say,” Sigyn replied cheerfully, turning on the spot and walking away with a spring in her step. She was joined shortly by Loki who took the money off her hands. He turned back to Thor, making a show of counting them.

“Thanks for this, Thor,” Loki grinned wickedly. “It’ll pay for a nice steak dinner,” he gloated, shoving the bills into his pocket and leading Sigyn away. “Oh,” he called back over his shoulder. “And you can forget about Bucky’s party. Sigyn and I are going to stay in and watch a movie this weekend. And the weekend after that, and the weekend after that…”

Thor watched on numbly as the pair stumbled out of the school building, leaning on each other as they laughed themselves sick.

“What the hell just happened?” Thor demanded.

Hogun just smiled grimly and shook his head, patting his friend on the back in mock sympathy.

“I told you so.”

[charleyannnix]

I cannot believe it. I am Charley Ann Nix, and I am Miss University 2018.

I am living a dream. I am living what I watched multitudes of women live while I sat and dreamed of it happening to me one day. To be completely honest with you, I never really thought it would happen to me. I never thought that I would be able to accomplish becoming Miss University and representing Ole Miss at Miss Mississippi. I grew up watching the ladies compete on stage at the Ford Center in Oxford and at the Convention Center in Vicksburg, I always thought they were so perfect.

When I was 11 years old, my mom took me to watch the Miss University pageant in Oxford. I sat mesmerized and watched Mary Brandon Norman win and become Miss University in 2008. She was the first Miss University that I had ever seen crowned, and being the true Ole Miss fan that I am, I knew I wanted that in the future. I watched as the Miss Universities travel to Vicksburg every year and compete to become Miss Mississippi. I cheered for them even if I didn’t know who they were simply because they were representing Ole Miss. I always wanted to make sure I got a picture and autograph from whoever Miss University was that year.

I didn’t get to return to the Ford Center to watch the local pageant again until 2012 when Kayla Snow (who ended up being my judge this year) was named Miss University. I sat in the audience still awe struck even though I was 15 years old. Fast forward to college, my freshman year I skipped a swap to watch France Beard win. Sophomore year, I took a study break the night before an exam to see Carol Coker become Miss University 2016. Then a few months later, I decided to compete in a different local and ended up at Miss Mississippi with her. I will write an entirely different post about my journey to and within the Miss Mississippi Organization though. In the Fall of 2016, I signed up to compete in my first Miss University pageant. I pretty much coasted on from competing in Vicksburg the summer prior and didn’t really attempt to enhance myself for the local preliminary season. I was 2nd Alternate to Leah Gibson, Miss University 2017, and I was so excited. I honestly felt like I was second runner up to Miss Mississippi. I went on to compete in Miss DeSoto County and won a crown and a chance to go back to Vicksburg.

After making the Top Ten in Miss Mississippi during June 2017, I immediately began preparing myself to become Miss University. I remember someone telling me how hard Leah had worked the year before to win, so I knew I needed to match her level of dedication. I was in the gym and at the piano every single day of the week from August until the day of Miss University. I began prepping for my interview two months in advance. I was READY in my mind. But, I knew coming off of an excellent competition in Vicksburg that there would be lots of talented, intelligent, beautiful girls signing up too. This was almost my downfall. I almost let myself accept defeat and almost did not sign up to compete. After a long conversation with my mom, she convinced me that win or lose, the experience would be priceless. I continued to work hard knowing that if I didn’t win, I would probably move on to another local pageant so I would want to be prepared there, too.

I had to do some serious soul searching and began telling anyone who asked me who else was competing (including my mom and friends) that I did not know and did not care, because I was only competing against myself. Of course I wanted to win, but I also wanted to beat the previous version of myself that I had presented onstage. I wanted to grow as a competitor.

Between school and being involved as a Gamma Chi during recruitment and working as a Community Assistant, I seemed to have lost track of time. I woke up one Sunday and realized that Miss University was only a week away. I spent the afternoon trying on clothes and packing my things to move into the Ford Center that Thursday. We finalized my wardrobe, and I had an extreme peace over me. I was completely packed and prepared to compete a whole week in advance. Of course my sweet family and friends would say “We just know you’re going to win,” then I would explain how competitive it was going to be. They would then just say “Ohhhhhhh,” in an understanding voice. Still, they purchased tickets and planned to come watch. I honestly think if I would have finished in last place, they would still have been so proud of me.

When you compete in Miss University, you have the best student crew to help make the experience wonderful. Besides the extremely invested directors, each contestant is assigned someone to help you get changed between competitions. Thankfully, Kasey Pearson was my “girl.” We had competed together for the past two years, so we were both really excited. We had two nights of rehearsals, one of which we had to do a full-dress rehearsal. So pale, spray tan-less Charley Ann pranced around in a swimsuit, and boy was that embarrassing. After Kasey kindly videoed me on-stage, I sent it to my mother and there was a huge issue. My swimsuit did not fit as snug as it did just a few months before, but we were convinced with some butt glue (which is spray adhesive that pageant girls use to make sure their swimsuit bottoms don’t move) that it would be fine. Rehearsals wrapped up on Thursday night and that began Homecoming weekend at Ole Miss.

Kasey and I!

Friday was the parade day with the Homecoming game following on Saturday. I did not attend the game; however, my mom did. When she got home around 9 o’clock on Saturday night, we decided to change my swimsuit. HAHAHA! The top needed taking up on both sides, but we were exhausted. We went to bed and woke up around 6:30AM on Sunday (the day of Miss University) morning to sew my swimsuit top. I fixed my hair and makeup, and FaceTimed Lillian who couldn’t make it to the pageant.

Altering swimsuit the morning of the pageant.

Lillian and her dog, Ellie, live streaming the pageant.

I was ready an hour early to leave home and drive to Oxford for my interview that was set to begin at 1:36PM. So at 12:45, I left home and drove down Highway 6 to Oxford. I was so excited. Interview is my favorite portion of competition, and I was ready to knock it out of the park. I had thought through exactly what I wanted to say for certain questions and was so giddy to get in there and meet the judges. Finally, I walked in the room and began answering the array of questions. None of my “home run answers” had been given when the head judge looked at me and said “well, I think our time is up.” I could’ve passed out. I could not believe that ten minutes had already went by, and I couldn’t remember one thing I had said. I thanked them for their time, smiled, and walked out.

Right before I left home for interview (not pictured is my interview dress.)

When emerging from the room, I looked to one of my friends who was competing and said “I’m not sure how I feel about that.” I grabbed my bag and ran to the bathroom at the Inn at Ole Miss. I changed out of my interview dress while I fought back tears because I just knew that I blew it. I texted my mom and explained that I was really disappointed with myself. I went to my car and hysterically cried. I called my mom and tried to relay some of the questions and my answers to her. She assured me that I did not do as bad as I thought, and I had to be ready for my onstage competition. After all, there was still 75% of my overall score left.

I went to my room and applied my tan extender while I waited on Maddie to come over and curl my hair for me. She arrived with coffee that was MUCH NEEDED, and we watch the closing statements of the Jessica Chambers case while pinning up my hair. I looked at my phone and realized I had 15 minutes to get to the Ford Center. So we packed my things, and she dropped me off in the misting rain. I ran inside, finished my makeup, and then started brushing out my hair. Luckily, Blair and I had a dressing room to ourselves so we had lots of space to lay our things out everywhere. As I was clipping in my extensions, all of the contestants gathered to pray right as 5:30PM was rolling around. At this time, Bradley, director of the pageant, announced that they had decided to do a livestream on Facebook. We all ran back to the dressing rooms to grab our cell phones and text those who couldn’t be there to let them know. Shortly after, it began.

We went through all phases of competition, and I was just glad that I had completed every phase. Blair and I would say throughout the whole night, “Well at least we are done with swimsuit,” then “Thank God we are done with talent.” Before we knew it, we were lined up for our last segment. The onstage questions part. It was the last 20% that we had to gain. They asked me about being a Community Assistant and some of the issues I had faced. I answered and walked back to the dressing room hoping that I had done enough to at least place as an alternate. I will be honest; I did not think I was going to win. I put my gown back on and went back to the stage for crowing.

Blair and I after the pageant.

We knew they were going to give preliminary awards in the interview, swimsuit, and talent competitions. The first announced the fan favorite award for collecting the most Band-Aids for Blair Batson’s Children’s Hospital. I really wanted to win this because I collected 115 boxes thanks to my Kappa Kappa Gamma sisters donations. I didn’t win it. I later found out I was in second place! Then they announced that it was time for the interview award to be given. Anne Elizabeth called my name as the winner of the overall interview award. HAHAHAHA this was after my major meltdown. I was so happy. I kept telling myself that if that was the only award I received, I would be perfectly fine with it because I thought I didn’t do well.

They continued to call out the preliminary winners in swimwear and talent and two very deserving girls won those. All of a sudden, it was time to call out the second alternate. I couldn’t do anything but look at the ground. Sometimes the emcee will look back at the girl’s name that she’s about to call or the judges will look at who they think is about to be announced. I did not want to see them look at me or anyone for that matter. 2nd alternate was announced as Emma Gaddy, the phenomenal overall talent winner. They said the “if the winner cannot complete her duties” spill and Blair Wortsmith, my dressing room buddy was 1st alternate. I subconsciously thought about the girls who were still standing on stage with me and was pretty sure that the pretty award I had received for overall interview was going to be the only thing I was taking home.

2nd alternate, Emma Gaddy, myself, and 1st alternate, Blair Wortsmith

Then, it happened. They called my name and all I could hear was my family and friends screaming. I was in shock. Chancellor Vitter handed me a beautiful bouquet of flowers and placed the Miss University sash on me. Leah hugged me and then pinned the crown to my head. I continually kept thanking the judges because I was in disbelief. I know I looked out to my family but I could not tell you what any of them were doing. I waved and turned around and walked back as the curtain closed.

Reaction.

The girls that competed with me hugged me and congratulated me. I wish every single one of them would have won an award because I could honestly have given them each a specific one. They are talented beyond belief. I have never seen the level of talent at a pageant that was presented on stage that night. They are intelligent and eloquently answered their respective questions. And they are so beautiful. Their dresses and hair were specific to their personalities and radiance erupted from them. This is why I did not think I was going to win and why I am so humbled and shocked that I did.

With our highly distinguished judges panel!

I took pictures with the judges and some of the students that made the production all that it was, then was taken to the photography room to take official pictures. I turned around to see my Mamaw Pat standing in the corner watching, and that was enough to make anyone emotional. Thankfully, someone went and got the rest of my family including Mama, Daddy, my sister, Olivia, my nieces, Emma Ray and Macey, Aunt Barbara, and cousins Belinda, Sarah Bonner, and Georgia, plus Maddie. The photographer patiently took photographs of us in rotations. I am so thankful for him capturing those moments.

Some of my always supportive fan club and family.

To finish what I am saying, it’s kind of like dream come true for me to be Miss University after watching the women that came before me excel in this position. I am following 68 women, five Miss Mississippi’s, and two Miss Americas who have held this title. Wow.

I could thank every single person that played a small part in my journey to becoming Miss University 2018, but that would require an entirely separate article. However, just know that if you listened to me play, asked me an interview question, watched me practice, or even made a sweet comment to me about competing, you are so valuable to me. I promise even the smallest of remarks don’t go unnoticed. God has blessed me beyond anything I could’ve imagined. I am so grateful for this opportunity, and it is because of Him that I have it.

Challenging Charley into Miss University 2018 I cannot believe it. I am Charley Ann Nix, and I am Miss University 2018. I am living a dream.