#school starts a week from tuesday catch me ABSOLUTELY dying

[karizard-ao3]

Ask and you shall receive!

I remember thinking it would be funny if as the days of the week went by, Armins body starts to have a physical reaction to the stress he’s feeling so this is was what I had:

- Monday; wakes up late and start of his back rash, Tuesday; back rash has spread from his right shoulder to his left. He wakes up and finds he has a giant pimple on his nose. Wednesday; back rash has now spread to his middle back (very itchy!!). Jams his pinky finger in the classroom door which results in him having to wear a cast. Thursday; back rash has now spread lower. Breaks his glasses. Friday; pretty sure the rash is spreading elsewhere now, his pimple is about ready to pop, he has a cast on his pinky and hand, is forced to wear contact lenses and ends up getting gum in his hair. Also loses his shit.

Also, I loved this idea of both Eren and Mikasa listening to “Drivers license” by Olivia Rodrigo on repeat because they both think they’ve been broken up with. So after the disaster that was Monday, he decides to go visit his friends after school:

Mikasa

- knocks on the front door of Mikasa’s house and is met by the very tired stare of a father to a teenaged daughter filled with angst. Her dad tells him to come in, where he subsequently hears the bass of what seems to be the bridge of Drivers License. Mikasa’s mother also looks very tired sitting at the kitchen table, where she says to Armin “she hasn’t stopped playing it since last night”. He makes the very daunting walk up the stairs and down the hall to Mikasa’s bedroom where he waits long enough to hear the song end and start again. He knocks and is met by a very puffy Mikasa and a thousand tissues scattered around her bedroom with miss Rodrigo blasting against the walls. He leaves her house with absolutely no answers and a snot stain on his shoulder.

Eren

- goes to Erens place next where hopefully Aunt Carla will ask Armin to stay for dinner because his mom is making tuna casserole at home and the Ackermans had not uttered a single word about dinner invitations after he failed in getting Mikasa to turn the music off. As he stands at the front door he hears the music playing from Erens bedroom because his window is wide open and his room is directly above him. He doesn’t knock, Carla doesn’t care, she’s wearing noise cancelling headphones. To Armins horror Eren doesn’t have his door closed, no, it’s wide open and there he is, laying upside down on his bed, belting the bridge to Drivers License as if he’s the only boy in the world.

Armin goes home that night with less answers than he started with and rumbling of his tummy as he accepts his fate of tuna casserole. The bridge to Drivers License is stuck in his head.

Feel free to add your own ideas if you have any!! I would love to hear if you have any suggestions because you’re my idol when it comes to idiot EMA teenagers 😂😂

Please forgive me because I'm doing talk to text so I'm sure things are going to be misspelled but I'm too excited about this to wait any longer to reply LOL. I love that they're listening to driver's license because at 15 years old, in the US at least, the most those chuckleheads have are there Learners permits and so if they wanted to drive past each other's houses to be dramatic they would have to bring an adult with them. Please imagine if you will e r e n inviting Zeke over and not telling him that the sole purpose of him being there is for him to sit in the passenger seat while e r e n circles mikasa's block.

Also, I'm dying at arman's maladies. The rash spreading over his poor, frail body, his glasses breaking... This boy can't catch a break! And then the tuna casserole on top of that. Why does it feel so canon for Armin's parents to cook the most American Midwest shit? I just know his mom is a connoisseur of the different varieties of condensed cream soup.

Is Jean going to be opportunistic about the breakup or is he planning to bide his time?

[seesiderendezvous]

👒

[les-mis-still-makes-me-cry]

Lily Evans Definitely Has a Boyfriend Chapter 2

Enjoy! Chapter 1 is here

Every hour that passed seemed longer than the last. Lily was certain that Remus lived fairly close by, so she was on tenterhooks all afternoon, thinking at any moment Scarlett would flap back through the window. How long could one trip take?

Petunia asked Lily at dinner if she and her “boyfriend” (Lily could hear the quotation marks in her sneering voice) wanted to come to the dinner on Saturday, to which Lily replied that she was sure he would just LOVE to come, she’d just have to write to him and ask.

“Oh, how wonderful,” Petunia replied, sarcasm lacing every syllable. Lily quickly ran upstairs to pretend to write the letter, avoiding any further questioning about her secret relationship.

The sun was just setting when Scarlett returned. Lily raced to the window to catch her, frantically untying the thread attaching the letter to her leg. She started to open it, when she was distracted by Scarlett mercilessly nipping her finger.

“Ow, that hurts you daft- oh, I promised you a treat, didn’t I,” Lily realised. Scarlett hooted in affirmation, ceasing her assault when Lily laid out some of her favourite treats.

Lily quickly opened the letter and started scanning Remus’ neat handwriting.

Dear Lily,

My holiday was pretty standard until I received your letter, which I found highly entertaining. It’s probably not what you want to hear right now but this is possibly the funniest mess I’ve ever heard of you getting into, and that’s including that time you thought Slughorn was flirting with you. I’m still confused at how you supposedly hate your sister, yet want to spend days planning a wedding with her and her friends. You two make me glad I don’t have siblings.

I would love nothing more than to get involved and help you become a bridesmaid, however unfortunately for your plans, I can’t help you this Saturday. There’s a certain monthly engagement that I can’t cancel, as much as I would like to, and I’m sure you want to ensure your sister and her fiancé remain bite-free for their big day.

I hope you can find another actor to play the part, maybe Slughorn isn’t doing anything this weekend (one day I’ll maybe stop bringing that up, but it’s unlikely). Please do keep me in the loop and let me know how it all turns out.

Your friend,

Remus

P.S. Can I still claim on the grovelling some time?  The boys have something planned for the first day back and we could really do with a blind eye being turned. Don’t ask me anything else, I’ve been sworn to secrecy (but it’s mostly harmless, I swear).

Lily sighed in frustration and flopped back onto her bed. Dammit. She hadn’t checked her lunar chart since the astronomy exam in June so she had no idea the full moon was so close. She felt a pang of guilt that she hadn’t thought to check, knowing how much it hurt Remus being reminded of his condition, and knowing that she was one of the few people in the world he trusted to keep it secret.

She’d heard speculation about it for years from Snape, of course, but he was so obsessed with making those boys seem evil she had just put it down to overactive imagination at first. Over time though, she began to see how his theories might line up with reality, noticing the regularity of Remus’ visits home and his exhausted demeanour surrounding them. The fundamental difference between Lily and Snape, however, was that Lily simply didn’t see how it was any of her business. Remus was an alright bloke with terrible taste in friends, and that was all she needed to know.

Lily hadn’t even meant to let Remus know that she had guessed what he was. They were just finishing rounds together one Wednesday night, heading back to the common room after shepherding a sleepwalking Ravenclaw back to her tower. Remus stretched and yawned, already looking a little pale despite Lily’s calculations that the full moon wasn’t until next week.

“What- day are we- patrolling- next week?” he managed to say through his yawn.

“Tuesday, but I can get Marcella to cover you if you won’t be up to it,” she said without thinking, taking off her jumper now she was safe in the warm common room rather than the draughty corridor. When she got it over her face and saw Remus’ stricken expression, she realised what she had just said.

“I mean, not that you wouldn’t be up to it, can’t think of any reason you wouldn’t be okay next Tuesday-” she started babbling, before Remus cut her off.

“Did Snape tell you? He swore to Dumbledore that he wouldn’t say anything,” Remus’ whisper seemed tiny in the empty common room. His face had gone white despite the red glow of the dying fire.

“No, no, I haven’t spoken to him in months and even when I did he never said anything concrete, I just realised that his theory sort of made sense,” Lily quickly replied. Remus stared at her for a long second, biting his lip. He seemed to be trying to figure something out something very complex.

“But you’re still happy to patrol with me and stuff? I don’t want to make you do anything if you’re not comfortable being around… what I am… and I know it’s a lot to ask to not tell anyone, but Dumbledo-” He was cut off by Lily throwing her arms around him.

“Don’t be an idiot, Remus, I’ve known for months and it hasn’t stopped me being your friend. I would never tell anyone.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Remus’ arms closed around her and held on tightly.

***

Lily smiled at the memory, before the sinking feeling hit again, realising that she was still date-less for Saturday night. Remus would have been so perfect as well, she mused. Shame there would be no way of convincing Tuney to change the date, since Lily suspected that would simply result in her losing any chance of being a bridesmaid.

She reread Remus’ letter, hoping for guidance on what to do next.

I hope you can find another actor to play the part…

Who could she possibly get? Obviously, any muggle boys she knew from primary school were out, Petunia already knew them all better than Lily did. All the other Prefects apart from Remus were fairly good friends, but even Lily admitted they were a bit too… reserved for this kind of venture (she stopped herself from using the word dull). She didn’t know any of the Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff boys in her year well enough, and the one Slytherin she knew all too well was absolutely not an option. So that left her with just…

Lily put her head in her hands, finally reaching the conclusion she had been trying to avoid. She knew exactly who would love to pretend to be her boyfriend for an evening, hell, he’d be happy to do it for the rest of the summer. And Merlin knew he would love a chance to pull a prank on someone new, deprived of new targets being stuck with just his family all summer. And, Lily thought begrudgingly, he did have a sort of charm about him that tended to make people like him even when they were determined not to, which Petunia most definitely was. And he wasn’t as appallingly arrogant as he had been a year ago. And he wasn’t the worst-looking bloke in the world, although Lily would never have admitted that unless Veritaserum was involved.

“Fine,” she groaned, reaching for another piece of parchment. Her quill hovered over the page, wondering how to start this thing.

Potter,

She immediately vanished the word with her wand. She was asking a huge favour, now was not the time for surnames.

Dear James,

She vanished that too. She couldn’t have him getting the wrong idea before they’d even begun.

Why was this so difficult? She wondered. In person she seemed to have no issue talking to Potter, or indeed coming up with ever more creative ways to decline his proposals (although she was out of practise on that one). It must be the subject matter throwing her off, Lily convinced herself. After all, how often does one ask a boy who fancies you – or at least did for a while – to pretend to be your boyfriend?

Come on, Lily, it’s just Potter, she admonished herself. Get a grip. Dipping her quill back into the ink, she began to quickly write.

James,

It’s Lily. I know I’m probably the last person you expect an owl from in the holidays but I’ve got myself into a little bit of a pickle, and I think you’re probably the only person who can help me get through it.

I told my sister I had a boyfriend so that I could be a bridesmaid in her wedding. It’s a really long story, but that’s the gist of it. The issue is that I currently don’t have a boyfriend to go with to the dinner on Saturday night for the whole bridal party, and without going to that dinner I have no hope of being a bridesmaid, or ever having any sort of friendship with my sister again.

I am NOT (Lily underlined this twice) asking you to be my boyfriend, just to be clear. What I am asking, stupid as it sounds, is if you want to use your flair for drama for a good cause for once, and pretend to be my boyfriend for the evening. If your Saturday night is free and you fancy playing a Muggle at a nice restaurant, send an owl back as soon as you can.

If you say no I’ll just have to tell my sister you got dragon pox and died tragically this Wednesday out of the blue, and I’ll grieve you accordingly, but know that you’ll watched like a hawk for all of next year (Remus mentioned a certain first-day-back prank that you would very much like kept quiet. I’m not saying I would spoil it, but McGonagall may be pointed in the right direction. Yes this is blackmail, but desperate times, Potter.)

Anxiously awaiting your owl,

Lily Evans

That ought to do it, she thought. She folded up the letter, wrote James’ name on the front, and took it over to Scarlett, who twittered indignantly at being sent out again so soon.

“I know, I know Scar, but this really is urgent. I’ll give you as many treats as you can eat as soon as you’re back, I swear,” Lily pleaded. Scarlett stopped trying to flap Lily away, which she took to mean begrudging acceptance, and tied the letter to her. “It’s for James Potter, I’m sure you can find him.”

Scarlett immediately soared out the window, trying to get back as soon as possible for those treats. Lily marvelled for the thousandth time at how incredible it was that owls could find people so easily, despite Lily having no clue where Potter lived at all.

James, she mentally reprimanded herself. If he was going to be her fake boyfriend, she should probably start with civility. She wondered if this was a good idea after all. Would she even be able to convince Petunia that she was in a relationship with a boy she had been repulsed by the presence of just a year ago? Would he even want to do this with her?

Lily needed something to distract herself from her doubts. She decided to go downstairs and make herself a cup of tea before she tried (in vain, she suspected) to get some sleep. Making her way to the top of the stairs, she groaned inwardly seeing light still coming from the kitchen below. Lily prayed it was her mother, not Petunia.

Thankfully it was her mum, finishing up the last of the dishes from dinner. Lily breathed a sigh of relief and switched the kettle on, picking up a tea towel to help dry off the stack of wet dishes.

“Thanks, love,” her mum smiled, hugging her as best she could without getting her soapy hands on her daughter. “I thought something was maybe wrong earlier, you left dinner quite sharpish.”

“Yeah, I was just…” Lily struggled to think of what to say next.

“Too eager to invite that boyfriend to dinner?” Lily’s mum elbowed her, a knowing look in her eye. Lily welcomed her mother’s excuse.

“Yeah, I’m not sure how long the owl will take to reach him, I’ve not sent him anything before now,” she said.

“Ah, I did think it must be a recent thing. I couldn’t believe you hadn’t told me about him yet!” said her mum reproachfully.

“Ah well, with all the end of year madness to write about I guess I just didn’t think. Plus it wasn’t really such an official thing, it just kind of… happened,” Lily babbled, wondering how little she could say to satisfy her mother. Luckily, her mum was a romantic at heart, and anything Lily said was enough to make her mum sigh happily.

“That’s always the best way, isn’t it,” her mum said dreamily as she absentmindedly scrubbed at a saucepan. “Sometimes they just sneak up on you, and before you know it you’re in love.”

“I’m not in love with James!” Lily squeaked, shocked at the very idea. She cringed at her mum’s next words.

“Ah, maybe not yet, but it’s early days yet, dear,” Lily’s mum smiled. “And his name’s James, is it? That’s a nice name.”

“Yeah he’s… a nice boy,” Lily ventured, hoping her mum wouldn’t notice the twinge of sarcasm in her voice.

“Well I can’t wait to meet him. And I’m so glad you and Petunia are going to have the wedding to bond over, it’ll be a nice change from the bickering.” Her mum finished washing up and started putting away the dried dishes. Lily rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, like me and Tuney won’t find something new to fight about there,” she muttered.

“You two don’t know how lucky you are,” her mum said wistfully. “I always wanted a sister to dress up with, and talk about boys with, and-”

“Help each other sneak out of the house with,” Lily finished the speech for her. “Honestly mum, it just sounds like you think Tuney and I haven’t given you enough trouble over the years, I can sneak out and drink if you really want. I’m still underage in the Muggle world, you know.”

Her mum laughed loudly. “Absolutely not, you cheeky girl. I should probably be grateful that you two never put your minds together like that, I’d lose all authority.”

“What authority?” Lily quipped, and her mum swatted her with the tea towel.

“Shut it, you,” she joked. Her face grew serious again as she took the last of the plates from Lily. “Really though Lil, promise me that you’ll do your best to get along with Petunia until the wedding? You only get married once, and you know how much your sister loves Vernon, I don’t want anything to put a damper on her special day.”

Immediately Lily thought of several choice remarks about Vernon and Petunia, but seeing the look on her mother’s face she realised now really wasn’t the time to play comedian.

“Of course I’ll try mum, I don’t want to ruin Petunia’s wedding. I’ll be the best bridesmaid ever,” she said with as much sincerity as she could muster. Her mum gave her a tight squeeze.

“Thank you so much love, you were always the mature one. Don’t tell her I said that,” she whispered into Lily’s hair. Lily stepped back and mimed zipping her lips, smiling back at her mother.

“Now off to bed you, you may be an adult in your world but under this roof you’re still my daughter,” her mum ordered, swatting her once more with the tea towel.

Lily dodged out of the way quickly, grinning as she poured out her cup of tea. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. She headed back upstairs, her mum following closely behind after turning out the kitchen light.

Still smiling, Lily sat down her bed and took a sip of tea, feeling it warm her up. She regretted that she couldn’t have chats with her mum like that more often, given that she was away so much of the year. Letter writing was okay, but writing always felt so impersonal, so detached from real life. It could never compare to being home with her. She was thrilled to be a witch, but leaving behind her mum every year was as hard as it was at eleven.

But that wasn’t for another month, she reminded herself, clearing the sad thoughts from her brain with another sip of tea. She glanced over to Scarlett’s empty cage, wondering how long it would take for her to return. It was a strange reality of Hogwarts life, she mused, that you could live with people the majority of the year and yet have very little idea of where they actually came from.

Despite her earlier doubts, the tea did in fact tire her out, and within half an hour she was sound asleep.

***

As soon as she woke the next morning her eyes went straight to the window, but Scarlett wasn’t there tapping to get in. She sighed, resigning herself to another day of anxious anticipation. She started to get dressed for the day, trying to prepare what she was going to reply to Potter when Scarlett returned. Would he say yes, she wondered? It had been a year since the last time he asked her out, and Lily knew several girls had tried to go to Hogsmeade with him throughout 6th year. Not that she paid attention to gossip, of course. She wasn’t interested in who Potter was dating, unless it meant that she was without a partner on Saturday night.

She was just heading downstairs for some breakfast when she heard a hoot from the front door. Lily frowned. Why wouldn’t Scarlett just go to her window like always? She tried to continue on to the kitchen but there was another hoot, louder this time.

This was weird behaviour for any owl, and Lily’s was always the model of good behaviour. Maybe she was hurt? Lily rushed to the door, not wanting Scarlett to suffer. She unlocked the front door, and opened it.

Looking down for an injured owl, she saw nothing but a pair of feet in brand new trainers. Her eyes travelled up, and there he was, his hand already buried in his messy black hair. Lily’s jaw dropped.

“Potter?” she croaked.

James smiled in a way he clearly thought was charming.

“Now, is that any way to greet your fake boyfriend?”

***

Chap 3

Thanks for reading! Future chapters uploaded to AO3 here and FFN here :)

[longclawislightbringer]

Arya Stark and the Green-Eyed Monster Chapter Five: Arya Stark Knows Nothing

Rating: T

Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Elinor Tyrell/Gendry Waters, Arya Stark/Trystane Martell, background Jon Snow/Sansa Stark

Characters: Arya Stark, Gendry Waters, Daenerys Targaryen, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Elinor Tyrell, Hot Pie, Trystane Martell

Summary: Arya ends up sitting next to Gendry at the highly anticipated Hufflepuff v. Ravenclaw match and certain things come to light.

Lol, finally uploading the final chapter here. Really should keep to a better schedule. Anyway, have the original author’s note: 

This is it! The final chapter. I'm glad I got it finished before the final episode. Thanks to my wonderful beta reader sansapotter for that.

Thank you so much to every person who has read, left kudos, commented, and bookmarked this story. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Four. Chapter Five. 

Also on AO3. 

Chapter Five: Arya Stark Knows Nothing

Candles flickered, casting dark shadows over the crowded patrons of the Three Broomsticks. Smoke hung thick in the air. Trystane stopped at the end of the bar to order them a couple of butterbeers. He nervously signaled to the bartender as Arya tapped her foot against the floor. The bartender placed two tankards of butterbeer, each overflowing with golden foam, on the bar. Trystane tossed down a few coins before taking the mugs. Weaving through the tables of students drinking their own butterbeer, he lead her to a small table in the back corner. Arya flopped into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well?” she said. “This better be good.”

“Right,” Trystane stammered, passing her a tankard. “I should start by saying that I do think you’re cool and that I did want this date to go well.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” She took a big gulp of her butterbeer. The butterscotch bubbles bounced around her mouth before careening down her throat. “Why did you ignore me for half of the date and then tell me that I looked like 'a girl for once,'?”

Trystane gulped. “Okay, that does sound quite bad thinking about it now . . . I don’t know why I said that; you look pretty all the time. Can I make a confession?”

Arya raised a brow and gestured for him to continue.

“I wanted this date to work because I’m trying to get over Myrcella.”

Arya nearly choked on her butterbeer, the golden liquid dribbling out of her mouth. “I’m sorry, what?" She mopped the spilled butterbeer off the table. “Myrcella is your best friend, even I know that.”

Trystane glanced around the pub before lowering his voice. “I’ve been in love with her for years, but she’s too caught up in her crush on your older brother—" Arya spat out her butterbeer again, ”—To ever think of me as a possible romantic partner. I guess I thought I could get over my unrequited crush by trying to find someone else. I do admire you; you’re probably the coolest girl in the whole school.” Trystane hung his head. “I’m just too in love with Myrcella for this to have ever worked.” Arya stared at Trystane, the words to respond dying on the tip of her tongue. He fiddled with a napkin while he waited for Arya’s reply.

"I understand perfectly," Arya responded after she finished processing his confession. The part about Robb was particularly hard to wrap her head around. “I also have a confession to make. I said yes to this date because I’m trying to get over someone too.”

Trystane jerked up. “Gendry?”

“How did you know?” Arya gasped, flushing a deep crimson.

“Please; the whole school has shipped you two together since he stood up for you down by the lake in our first year. You know, I wouldn’t have asked you out if he was still single.”

“The whole school knows?” Arya panicked, the pitch of her voice rising with each word. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Had Gendry known this whole time?

“Relax,” Trystane assured her. “I don’t think he’s caught on yet.”

Arya breathed a sigh of relief. She gulped down the rest of her butterbeer.

“Where does that leave us?” she asked.

“I don’t think a relationship would work out.”

“Seconded. But I do think you’re cool. Friends?” Arya stuck out her hand.

Trystane grinned and took her hand. “Friends.”

***

A week later, Arya glared at her ever-problematic Arithmancy homework. The equations seemed to swim together in impossible combinations, the numbers and letters blurring. She pounded her head against the desk. If only Elinor were here. The great clock chimed three times, piercing the silence of the library and startling her from her reverie. Arya bolted upright, one of her papers sticking to her face.

"Shoot!" she yelled, jumping from her chair as she shoved her papers haphazardly into her knapsack. Trystane, across the table, looked up from his History of Magic paper. "I'm late; Jon would kill me if I missed his last game."

Trystane nodded, cleaning off his quill. “I guess I should get going too. See you Tuesday, then?"

"Yep," Arya smiled. "Bye!" She darted out the library doors in a flurry, her furious footsteps pounding on the pavement floor as she dashed through the corridors. Outside, she sprinted down the hill, skidding to a stop at the spectator entrance. She paused for a moment, leaning against the door to catch her breath before she entered the stadium. Students milled about in the hallway, waiting for a chance to enter. Arya pumped her fist in victory; she made it just in time after all. She tapped her foot against the ground, waiting for the line to move. At last, she entered the stadium.

Perusing the stands for her sister, Arya wove through the large crowd assembled for the highly-anticipated Hufflepuff v. Ravenclaw match. She spotted Sansa in her usual seat, though she had swapped out her red and gold Gryffindor scarf for one of Jon’s. Arya waved to her as she climbed the steps to the top of the stands.

“Hey,” Arya greeted her sister when she reached Sansa’s mostly empty row. Sansa took removed her handmade sign with Jon’s name in perfect glittery letters from the seat so Arya could sit.

“I brought snacks.” Arya held out an assortment of sweets.

"Excellent," Sansa replied, taking a proffered chocolate frog.

Arya plopped onto the wooden bench beside her sister. “Are you nervous?”

“Nope,” Sansa answered, popping the frog into her mouth before it could escape. “Jon’s the best chaser at this school, and he’s been preparing for this match for weeks.” The pitch crackled to life as both teams entered the field. “Look! There he is,” Sansa sighed, her cheeks flushed.

Arya gagged.

"You know, sometimes, I wish you guys weren't so insufferable together, but then I remember how you were when you were both still pining, and this is infinitely better."

“Haha, very funny.”

Margaery's voice rang out through the stadium. "Welcome to today's match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw." Arya cheered, clapping her hands. Margaery began to announce the player's names, but the noise of the crowd faded when she noticed Gendry climbing the stairs two at a time in a beeline for their row.

“What is he doing here?” Arya hissed, her heart pounding as he stepped closer. She curled in on herself, attempting to hide behind her much taller sister.

“I invited him to sit with us,” Sansa responded. “I thought you would want to sit with your best friend.”

Arya cursed under her breath. She still hadn't figured out what to do about her Gendry problem, which was precisely why she been avoiding him for the last week aside from Quidditch practice.

“Hello, Gendry.” Sansa smiled.

“Hey there,” Gendry grinned as he turned onto their row.

“Hi,” Arya squeaked, her voice suddenly an octave higher. Gendry plopped onto the seat beside her. Arya tensed, holding herself very still to avoid looking into his ocean blue eyes. She tried to concentrate on the game, but every now and then Gendry’s leg brushed against her, sending jolts of electricity through her body.

The whistle blew, and the players took off. Jon got the first possession of the quaffle. Leaning forward in her seat, Arya followed him down the field toward the Ravenclaw goalposts. He had nodded to his two other chasers, Gilly and Shireen, and they flew in formation to protect him from flying bludgers. Jon may have been the kindest and most loyal Hufflepuff in her acquaintance, but he was ruthless on the Quidditch pitch. He lobbed the quaffle straight down the center goal post. Arya, Sansa, and Gendry cheered; Sansa waved her sign like a maniac.

“That’s ten points for Hufflepuff!” Margaery’s disembodied voice rang out.

“He’s good,” Gendry remarked. “Wonder if he’ll share his strategies with us now that he’s graduating.”

“Yeah,” Arya replied, trying to keep her voice steady and not so high-pitched. “Then maybe we wouldn’t keep getting absolutely destroyed like the last time we played Hufflepuff. They don’t call him the Lord Commander for nothing.”

Gendry laughed.

One of the Hufflepuff beaters knocked a bludger into the Ravenclaw chaser, sending the quaffle spiraling into the air. Gilly soared in to catch it just before it hit the ground.

“Quiet, you two,” Sansa shushed them, leaning forward in her seat. “I’m trying to watch the game.”

“I didn’t even think you liked Quidditch that much.”

"I don't," Sansa answered. "But you, Robb and Jon like it, so I'm supporting you all. I even helped Jon come up with some new strategies for this game." She game Arya a smug smile.

Arya rolled her eyes but kept her commentary related to the game at hand.

Sometime after the snitch entered the pitch, Arya spotted Robb and Dany sitting together several rows down. Dany stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth. When they noticed that they had been discovered, they whipped back towards the game, whispering conspiratorially in each other's ears. What weirdos. Arya shook her head and thought nothing of it for the rest of the game.

The game passed in a couple of hours, much faster than Gryffindor's game against Slytherin last fall. Jon and the rest of the Hufflepuff crushed the Ravenclaw keeper in points so in the end the Ravenclaw seeker dove for the snitch to end their humiliation.

"Hufflepuff wins!" Margaery announced through the speaker.

Arya, Gendry, and Sansa leaped to their feet, yelling and clapping. Sansa pulled her sister into a crushing hug. Arya hugged her back before releasing her. The Hufflepuff team dove to the ground, tumbling off their brooms to dogpile on Jon in the center of the pitch. When they pulled back, dinkon Tarly and Dolorous Edd pulled Jon onto their shoulders. As his teammates carried him off the field, he searched the crowd. When he located Sansa and Arya, he waved. Sansa blew him a kiss.

“I’ll see you guys later.” Sansa scooted past them, bounding down the stairs through the crowd of students exiting the stadium to meet Jon outside the player’s tents. She only paused to give Robb a high-five.

The euphoria of the Hufflepuff victory faded, leaving only awkwardness behind. Gendry was looking at her again, the way he had while they were under the mistletoe at the Yule Ball.

“Guess we should head back in,” Arya broke the silence before she got lost in his blue eyes.

"Yeah," Gendry agreed. They joined the line that funneled out the door, walking together in uncomfortable silence until they made it back into the castle. Arya stopped in an empty corridor.

“I should go,” Arya said. “See you around.”

“When?” Gendry asked.

“I don’t know,” Arya answered, turning to leave. “Sometime.”

“Nope,” Gendry shook his head. “That’s not good enough.” He grasped her wrist, dragging her into a nearby closet. The door shut with a bang behind them, cloaking them in darkness.

“Lumos,” Gendry said, lighting the lantern hanging from the ceiling. Arya’s breath came fast and shallow as she noticed how close they were.

“You’ve been avoiding me again.” Gendry crossed his arms, stretching the muscles underneath his shirt.

Arya flushed.

“No, I haven’t,” She stammered, turning to leave the closet. Gendry put an arm up to stop her. Arya huffed, avoiding his searching gaze.

"Don't lie to me," Gendry implored. “Does it have something to do with Elinor? Because Elinor and I—”

"Elinor's fine." Arya snapped, crossing her arms.

"What is it, then?" He dropped his arm. ”Arya, please. I can’t lose you. You’re my best friend.” His voice broke on the last sentence.

“You want to know what’s wrong?” She whirled to face him, full of fury as her heart sped up like it was on fire. “What’s bothering me is that I’m so jealous that I can’t think straight.”

“What? I don’t understand—”

“Gendry, you dolt. I don’t want you to kiss her stupid face, I want you to kiss me!” Arya gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. Her pulse quickened; had she just said that out loud?

Gendry stood dumbstruck.

“I’m so sorry,” Arya apologized, paling. “Forget that ever happened.”

The gears turned in Gendry’s head.

“Do you like me?” He asked after a moment’s contemplation.

“I thought that was kind of obvious from my desire to make out with you.”

A wide smile spread over Gendry’s face. “Elinor and I—”

“I don’t want to hear about how happy you are with your girlfriend.” Tears welled in Arya’s eyes as she turned away.

“You don’t understand.” Gendry grabbed her shoulders. “Elinor and I were never actually together—she was using me to make her ex-boyfriend jealous. And we' fake broke-up' a week ago."

“What?” It was Arya’s turn to be dumbfounded.

Gendry pulled her close, cupping her cheek with one hand. “Arya, I’ve been in love with you for years.”

"Really?" Arya murmured as he closed his eyes and leaned down.

“Since the moment I met you,” he breathed.

She punched him in the arm.

“That’s for lying to me,” she said.

“Arya, I . . .”

Arya surged forward, devouring him in a bruising kiss. She molded herself against him, reaching her arms around his neck to pull him closer. His hand gripped her hip, setting her aflame.

They separated when the need for air became too high.

“Wow,” Gendry panted.

"You can say that again," Arya smirked, shoving him against the wall of the broom closet to dive back in.

A broom clattered to the floor.

Arya winced.

“Do you want to go somewhere without brooms?” Gendry asked.

“Yes.” Arya laced her fingers through Gendry’s and pushed the door open. After checking that the coast was clear, she pulled him out into the corridor. They walked hand in hand through the hallway. “I’m curious; how did Elinor rope you into her being her fake boyfriend in the first place?”

Gendry rubbed the back of his neck as he walked. “Robb and Dany apparently suggested me to her as a viable candidate when she was looking for a date to the Yule Ball.”

Arya halted. “Robb and Dany?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why, though.”

“I do,” Arya groaned gritted her teeth as she thought on every interaction she’d had with those two meddlers. The strange comments at the victory party; the yellow dress that Dany picked out and the mysterious mistletoe at the Yule Ball; Dany's surefire plan for getting over Gendry; she even thought she recognized them sitting at a table in the back corner while she was on her date with Trystane. She smacked her forehead. “We’re so oblivious. They've been trying to set us up for months." She stormed down the hallway, their earlier plans wholly forgotten.

“Where are you going?” Gendry struggled to keep up with her fast pace.

“Come on; we’ve got to concoct a revenge plot.”

“Revenge? What for?”

“I’m tired of their meddling.” She paused just before they entered the main hallway, her fists clenched.

"How are we going to do it?" Gendry asked.

A sly grin spread across Arya’s face.

“Gendry, I know what we’re going to do today.”

[tonicandjins]

house of cards by bts + hoshi

gin and tonic + 1.9k words + light smut + auwarning: swearing, cheating, sexnote: i really enjoyed writing this one so if you want a prt 2 pls let me know!! also, it was difficult to insert the song given but it has the same vibes/message into it. i wanted this to be short but when did i ever succeed in writing short scenarios lol 

It usually takes six glasses of gin and tonic to get Kwon Soonyoung absolutely drunk, but he’s had barely half of his second shot when he’s pulling down your panties in the ladies’ washroom at the back of the club.

Tuesday nights aren’t meant for drinking. Soonyoung needs to be at work before eight if he doesn’t want bullshit for breakfast. He’s normally punctual, always organized. He’s known for that. Kwon Soonyoung, the best man to ever grace this earth. He doesn’t break rules and makes the world a better place with just a polite smile.

But somehow, something—someone—makes him break the rules tonight.

The bartender just handed him his second shot when you sloppily slid on the stool on his right, looking like the loneliest princess there is. You’re dressed in black and the stain of your lipstick is dark, bold—it almost seems like you came from a funeral. Soonyoung doesn’t realize he looks exactly like you—lonely and desperate to get shitfaced.

He blurts out that you seem lonely; you laugh it off and he blushes because you might think he’s hitting on you. (He eventually does, though.) You tell him he looks lonely, too. Soonyoung admits it and asks you if someone died.

“What?” you ask, confused. “Do I look like that? Oh God, I didn’t mean to.”

“So, no, then?” he confirms; you shake your hand. “Good. I was worried you’d start sobbing about someone’s death when you’re drunk enough.”

You chuckle bitterly and continue to drink the martini in your hand. Soonyoung’s body is still facing towards the counter but his face is turned to you while he talks. You, on the other hand, have fully given your attention to him. Your right elbow rests on the cold, marble counter, legs crossed as you face him. The skin on your thighs show as your skirt hikes up higher and higher by the second, but Soonyoung pretends he doesn’t see it.

“Something funny?” he asks when you’re still chuckling silently even after downing your drink and asking the barista for another one.

“I just thought of something,” you mumble. You don’t wait for Soonyoung to ask you to continue. “The stupid thing with love dying out is that we don’t die with it. You helplessly watch it be buried six feet under the ground and visit its grave every time you’re drunk.”

Soonyoung watches your fingers when you play with the olive on the empty glass of martini and then drifts his attention to your lonely eyes when you speak again.

“And you’re always so god damn drunk.”

You look into his eyes when you say this and something inside him snaps; next thing he knows, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he fucks you into oblivion on the counter of the ladies’ room. He momentarily forgets where he is and moans out loud when you pull a portion of his slicked back hair just as he hits the right spot. It’s hot and intense but you don’t let out a sound besides the quiet whimpers you involuntarily breathe out—especially when he pushes himself deeper.

Soonyoung loses a bit of air in his lungs when you give him a sweet kiss on the cheek when it’s done. You leave before he could even zip up his slacks and collect himself and it doesn’t dawn into him until another woman comes in and catches him leaning against the cold concrete of the counter, catching his breath. Then he follows you out, but you were already long gone. He didn’t get to ask your name.

He asks the bartender, but the employee says you never came back to finish the martini you paid for before you and him went to the ladies’ room.

Soonyoung sits on the same stool and stares at the empty one beside him. The stain of your dark, red lipstick on the mouth of the half-empty martini glass catches his attention.

He’s about to reach for it to stare closely and study the way your divine lips are shaped on the glass when the phone on his back pocket vibrates twice.

Messages (2)

eunha: I’m so sorry, Soonyoung. I didn’t mean to say the things that I said. I was angry and I know it’s uncalled for but please. Let’s talk about this.

eunha: come back home to me.

Soonyoung shudders and the liquid he just consumed travels from his stomach to his throat, knocking and fighting to spill out. He throws up on the stool you were sitting on as he realizes what he had just done. He cheated on Eunha, the love of his love, with a stranger just because you looked lonely sitting there. An employee is assisting him and asking him if he’s okay, but Soonyoung doesn’t hear a single word from them—he doesn’t hear anything at all. He collapses, letting his body fall on the floor, and the bartender wonders why because he hasn’t even finished his second glass of gin and tonic.

This is how your story started and how it’s supposed to end. And God damn, does Soonyoung wish it ended there.

It’s six days later when Soonyoung sees you again at Wonwoo’s 22nd birthday party. Eunha’s holding his hand, like she’s been sweetly doing so for the past week.

The fight from last week wasn’t petty. Soonyoung wouldn’t have stormed out of their apartment and made it a mission to get drunk if it was simple. When she learned about Seungcheol’s promotion, Eunha called Soonyoung names that he doesn’t really want to recall and told him that he’s never going to get promoted if he let his friends take all the credit for the things he does at work. She blabbered about how he’s not strong-willed and that he wouldn’t survive this cruel world if it weren’t for her keeping him on the right track. His mother never said those things to him even when she raised him alone and worked three jobs just so she could send him to school. It stabbed Soonyoung in the chest when Eunha said her parents do not want her to get married to him until the amount of money in his bank account has nine digits.

Soonyoung wanted to end things when she screamed at him that night but didn’t have the heart to because they’ve been together for five years. He doesn’t want to throw away five years of good memories because of a fight, despite being hurt.

And then you entered the story. Soonyoung woke up the next morning on his bed and with Eunha making him breakfast. Apparently, the employees called his emergency contact—Eunha—and informed her about what happened. His girlfriend apologized over and over again until he cried. He was crying because the memory of you is still etched in his mind, but Eunha doesn’t need to know that. Soonyoung let her believe he was crying because he’s still hurt from all the things she said the night before.

Soonyoung doesn’t breathe a word about it; in fact, he has barely talked to Eunha since that Tuesday night. His girlfriend tries her best to make it up to him and he notices her doing the things she doesn’t usually do for him—ironing his shirt into perfection, making him breakfast every day, calling when he’s on break at work, and a handful more. It makes him feel even worse.

Eunha usually doesn’t allow Soonyoung to stay with his friends when they’re at a party. She would normally drag him home with her before the clock struck 11, but she tells him he could stay longer when she leaves at 10. Wonwoo is surprised when he sees his best friend walking towards them alone.

“It feels weird to not have Eunha sticking on your side,” Seungcheol comments.

Wonwoo glares at the older guy.

“What?” Seungcheol asks. “It’s true. I never see you alone when we’re off from work.”

Soonyoung only shrugs and reaches out for a bottle of beer. It feels odd in his tongue, the taste of beer, and perhaps it’s because the last time he drunk alcohol, he was—he doesn’t want to think about it.

But the universe has its ways. Soonyoung thinks you’re a witch or something because he can’t get you out of his mind no matter what he does. He guesses it’s your sinful lips that made you unforgettable. Maybe your neck, or the soft skin on your thighs. He—

“Wonwoo, happy birthday, man,” a masculine voice calls out, but Soonyoung doesn’t bat an eye. “It’s been so long since I hung out with you, guys. Seungcheol, I heard you’re up for the VP position?”

Soonyoung could use some gin and tonic now.

“Soonyoung,” the voice calls out, and it’s only when said name looked up that he realizes that it’s their friend from college Jaehyun. “Man, you look so different. How are you?”

Soonyoung replies with a decent sentence and nods in his direction, where Jaehyun is standing outside the small circle Wonwoo created for his friends. Soonyoung gets up lazily to get himself a shot of gin and tonic from the bar in the corner but stops when you walk towards their table.

For a second, your eyes widen and you stop your tracks, and Soonyoung wonders how you do it—how you act so cool and indifferent when things are obviously out of proportion. He gulps and sits back down, the gin and tonic are forgotten on his mind.

“Babe,” you call out. Jaehyun turns and gives you a kiss on the cheeks. Jaehyun steps aside and introduces you to the group.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” he says with a smile. Soonyoung wants to throw up. “Y/N, these are my friends from college. Wonwoo, the birthday boy,” he continues.

“Happy birthday,” you shyly greet. Soonyoung wants to pull you and scream at your face. You’re just pretending because you’re not shy at all.

“Seungcheol,” Jaehyun trails off. “Junhui, Jeonghan, and Soonyoung. Damn, I wish Jihoon was here. I miss him.”

You leave when you’ve whispered to Jaehyun what you wanted to tell him. Jaehyun finally takes a seat to catch up with everyone. Soonyoung remembers the gin and tonic and gets up again to get himself one.

A shiver runs down his spine when you sit on the stool beside him like the week before, but this time, Soonyoung’s standing as he waits for his drink.

“From the look on your face I’m guessing you remember?” you ask, voice sultry. He ignores you and it makes you laugh. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t want to talk to me now.”

“Y/N, huh?” he speaks, taunting you. “I didn’t think I’d hear your name from an old friend’s mouth.”

“Soonyoung,” you repeat his name. You say it again. Three times. “Doesn’t quite fit.”

He looks at you.

“I think of sunshine and all the happy stuff when I say your name,” you explain. “You’re obviously not too good of a boy of you slept with a stranger when you have a girlfriend.”

“Do I?”

“I saw you two earlier,” you shrug. “Doesn’t seem like a first date to me. A long-time girlfriend?”

The barista hands him his drink. Soonyoung takes it and proceeds to leave but you speak again.

“Jaehyun says you’re the good boy from college. You’ve never broken a single rule and you try to be as punctual as you can,” you recite. “That’s what everyone thinks of you. I guess I’m the only one who knows about your bad side, huh?”

Soonyoung fights the urge to spill his drink on your face. You see him grip his glass tighter and let out a chuckle. He doesn’t even need to look at you to know you have a smug smirk on your face.

“I’ll be sure to see you around, Soonyoung.”

[neighbours-kid]

A Very Whovian February

Here we go again, another month over already. To nobody’s surprise whatsoever, I have continued watching way too many movies and tv show episodes in February as well. There weren’t as much as in January because university started again, but there were some. It totals in at 3 movies, 1 musical, and 116 episodes of tv. I was a bit heavy on the shows this month, less so on the movies, as you can see.

February is always a….peculiar month, if you will. It’s short, it’s half holiday and half university, it’s sort of winter but not anymore, and just really weird. What was particularly strange about this month however, was that even though I sort of committed myself to binging through Money Heist once more—and managed three episodes—I quickly went back on that decision and made another, rather bigger commitment: I decided to re-watch and finally catch up on Doctor Who. No one was more surprised at this decision than me, I believe.

I used to love this show, I used to talk about little else. Doctor Who dominated big parts of my interests for a few years. Through a combination of my brother watching the show and me discovering tumblr, I started watching it in 2012. That was right at the end of ninth grade and the beginning of grammar school. I was 16. I was awful. I talked about it constantly, and especially after I “converted” a friend and she ended up watching it too, it was a constant stream of talking about Doctor Who, always, all the time, everywhere. Which I now understand is annoying as hell. However, back then? People being annoyed with it and sort of shaming me for it? That—and the show losing what made me love it mostly through Moffat taking over—made me stop watching it. At some point I just—stopped. I didn’t talk about it, didn’t think about it much anymore, unfollowed a lot of blogs on tumblr who posted about it, and turned my interests elsewhere. I abandoned it.

For a while there it was also just a thing that I didn’t wanna touch. I watched it in a part of my life where I was awful and toxic and just not a really fun human being to be around, I think. At least I don’t look back at this time all too fondly. It was just part of a person who I wasn’t anymore, who I grew out of, grew up from, and largely also moved on from. It was a strange time. But it was always sort of at the back of my mind as something that I loved, something that brought me great joy and parts of which I really missed deep down. Once I got a Netflix account and it kept appearing in my suggestions, my resolve to not go back to it started to crumble and I ultimately decided that I could learn to love this show again and maybe be better about it this time around. And I also just really wanted to give Peter and Jodie a chance, because no matter how good or bad the stories are, taking on a role like the Doctor is a feat, and I want to give them the opportunity to impress me and make me like them.

Watching that very first episode of Chris Eccleston’s arc at the beginning of this month felt very similar to when I completely re-read all of Naruto last Spring. It felt like coming home, like re-discovering a long lost love. And I am loving it. I am enjoying this tremendously. The monsters are ridiculous, the CGI is hilariously bad, the masks and make-up are insanely cool, the stories are simple and honest and lovely and I just adore it so much. Russel T. Davis was such a wonderful show runner, his vision for the show was so….lovely and simple and human. There were so many brilliant moments in the first four seasons, the companions were fascinating and conflicting and challenging and the Doctor was fantastic and brilliant. And even now that I have already binged through most of Matt’s arc as well, I still appreciate this show. The first time around, I think, I wasn’t too fond of Matt as the Doctor because I really loved David and his take on it, but this time, I am really enjoying Matt’s way of navigating that sort of dichotomy of darkness and ridiculousness that the Doctor has. Matt is fun. David is still my absolute favourite, but I am enjoying Matt tremendously as well. The CGI might have gotten better, the stories bigger and bolder, and, what I felt the first time around, maybe lost a bit of it’s simple and human aspects, but it is still a show that makes you keep thinking, what if?

If you know me you know that I often say the words “ugh I hate people”. I hold the opinion on most days that we, humans, are the worst and we’re being for the most part terrible to ourselves, our environment, and that Earth would be better off if we all just died. However, on odd days in between, I am also like insanely fascinated by humans and by what we can do and who we are and all that. Watching nearly seven seasons of Doctor Who in one month and seeing the world and humans through the Doctor’s eyes, raised those odd days in between to a level able to compete with my humans-suck days. It’s basically 50/50 now, to be honest. If you boil my entire life down to a single conflict it’s that of HUMANS SUCK WE’RE THE WORST and HUMANS MY DUDE HUMANS WE HAVE SO MUCH POTENTIAL. Basically. Combine this binge-watch with the Opportunity Rover dying and you have me sobbing in a corner filled with hope for humanity and the need to change the world, because we could.

Oh.

Well.

Look at that. This is supposed to be a recap slash diary entry about this month and I have already spent all this time talking about Doctor Who. Can you imagine how annoying I was when I watched it the first time? Yeeeaaaah.

Anyway.

Watching Doctor Who was not actually the only thing I did in this month. I did a lot of procrastinating on a paper about witchcraft in Dutch art which I then finally finished the day before I had to hand it in, started university back up again in the middle of it, helped some friends on their moving day, hung out with other friends, went to a birthday, and, y’know, did things human beings do.

But—and I’m going back to Doctor Who again, sort of, I am so sorry—I also read a book. And not just some book. It was Good Omens by the two amazing gentlemen Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Watching four seasons of David Tennant being amazing on Doctor Who also made me re-discover my adoration for him. Not that I didn’t already know that, I mean I did just watch him in Broadchurch. He is just great and I love watching him in things. And then he started a podcast (David Tennant Does A Podcast With…, it’s amazing, you should all listen to it) and he’s on radio shows promoting it and he is just ever present. And there was press and information and stuff going around for the tv adaption of Good Omens in which David plays Crowley, so he was just constantly on my mind. So I said to myself, hell yes, you need to re-read Good Omens before the show comes out in May, so why not do that now. And I did. And it was fantastic. And because I am me, and I am weird, I forced myself to stretch the last 100 pages of the book over an entire week, so I could walk into every first session of classes at university reading this book (four of which being theology classes, which was very important for me to be reading this book in). I needed to mark my place as resident weirdo, because who else could it be?

So, in summary, I guess my month could also be called “David Tennant February”. I watch Doctor Who nearly every evening, listen to David’s podcast every Tuesday, think about Good Omens every day—yeah, February was very heavy on the David Tennant content. I am not complaining.

To end this on a less David Tennant-y note, and a more “these things actually happened this month” bit, February has also been a month of, I don’t know, resurrection? Is that a good word? Anyway—February has brought out (or back) more of who I truly am again. Most of it is the weather (thanks climate change, I’m sorry the planet is dying), the sun being out, the temperatures already clocking in above 10 degrees celsius. I am enjoying it tremendously. I am convinced that I might be half-plant because the sun just revitalises me so strongly. Seasonal depression just goes down the gutter once the sun is out and I can feel the warmth of Spring on my skin. I am alive. Another thing is that I stopped, just really stopped giving a shit at university about other people and what they think. I am using all the bathrooms, no matter what. I am going by Alex even in German classes. I don’t apologise for anything or justify my actions. I don’t care anymore. What I do care about, is that I finally got a date for my consultation with a psychiatrist here in the city. I am partially excited and happy about it, however I also, as soon as I opened the envelope, felt completely numb and detached because the date is in June and that’s still so far off, which I guess I knew would be the case, but having confirmation for it, was just a bit…much, I think. Knowing that my future is in the hands of other people is not a thought I like very much and having to wait for other people to have time for me in that perspective is just not a fun thing. But we’ll get there. Eventually.

I don’t know guys, this post is just full on stream of consciousness, just me blabbing on and on about things that I don’t think anybody really cares about. But like I said last time, this is supposed to be a sort of diary entry for my garbage brain to remember what I did in my life, so y’know, this is valid.

I’ll talk to y’all in a month. Be good out there, guys. Be good.

Bye.

[junhuiste]

[ junhui - a sweet sting ]

⌦ fluff, very faint nsfw themes, secret admirer!reader, high school!junhui, some “godammnit i’m a fool!”s dusted throughout, and a surprise hollywood guest visit from your fav jolly holiday ho ho hoe

⌦ junhui was simply an ethereal being and you wanted to let him know (ur boi  is slightly cocky in this one but don’t worry, the word grease doesn’t exist in this fic unless it’s to describe a juicy burger)

⌦ words: 2701

It wasn’t the fact that your teacher babbled about Tuesday’s test and you couldn’t conspire any speculation about what she said, nor was it the fact that you were on the brink of dozing off and that you sat right smack in the front of the class where the teacher could give you a side-eye.

No, it wasn’t any of that, and it was never any of that since this subject was one you had such a tenacious grip on that you knew like the back of your hand. Inexplicably enough, you should have been taking a mental note of next week’s test as school was a priority for you, but in lieu of that, it was the ruffling through the hair, the affable giggle, and the suave, almost slick tone of voice a certain someone had that was it for you.

To see someone carry themselves in such a manner left you jaw-slacked constantly, and this, to put it  frankly, your hand at night, as you lied in bed atop cotton-polyester, took this thought to an extreme extent, as it trailed down your hips, leaving you whimpering out of pure guilt and desperation, and in a puddle of shamed, soaked underwear. It was never fair–to witness Adonis’ reincarnation, such pulchritude in its sheer form, but you had to hinder yourself from acting upon these measly thoughts of yours.

Wen Junhui was the absolute, outright, most–“Y/N? Did you not get enough sleep last night? I know you guys are leaving this school  in half a year and don’t have much fuel left to power through this year, but please, stay with the program,” your teacher’s words rattled you, yet still went in one ear and out the other, “all of you, please get at least 6 hours of sleep, because I know 9 hours isn’t realistic for you guys anymore.”

A searing spring of mild distress coiled around you tightly, seizing your body in the warm atmosphere of humiliation. Internally sighing, you turned around as your classmates were groaning “Ugh, same!” because you were at the peak of relativity, just to capture a fragment of a glimpse of the criminal who invaded your thoughts every class period.

Nothing but a blank look of boredom was sprawled across his face–the face that undid your every train of thought and had you run over from blatant admiration. You didn’t really intend to occupy his gaze for an unadorned, yet heightened 3 seconds, but when Wen Junhui looked at anyone, he looked at them.

“I get you. I’m tired as hell too and I really don’t have enough energy to carry on through the damn year, but trust me, we’re all dying, and we can get through this together,” the lackadaisical curve bestowed upon such a magnificent portrait flashed at you, and out with his words came a silky yet mellow resonance.

Was it possible to want to touch someone’s voice, to actually hold their voice in your hands? Yes, because you wanted nothing more than to twiddle your thumbs over the texture of Junhui’s voice. Every interaction you had from him, though there were barely any in your repertoire, turned you into a jumbled mess of the alphabet. You couldn’t comprehend what actually happened in the last 5 seconds but you were pretty sure that every ounce of your being had melted away and dripped into your thoughts, through the cracks of Jun’s palms.

“Uhh, thanks for reassurance?” You barely managed to squeak out before turning back around, as if you were the last morsel of toothpaste and Junhui’s reaction was an idly squeezing hand.

Wen Junhui spoke to you. Yes, he did, as in vibrations caused by molecules and the energy in his throat were directed towards you. This didn’t send you to the moon and back, but it fired you at the fastest speed possible to all planets in the Milky Way NASA discovered, including Pluto.

It wasn’t that you floated around school and camouflaged into the surface of the locker that you barely talked to Jun, not really, but when given the chance by some gracious deity up there to encounter him in some way, you shied away, which was followed by a mental slap to your frontal lobe.

It wasn’t that easy, however, to just approach someone as beloved around the school as Jun, and it was never that easy for someone that didn’t really demand for his attention. That kid was bolting through the school daily, so who cared about eggshells? He crushed them. Even getting a glimpse of him outside of school was nonexistent, as he had some sort of martial arts practice, or something of that branch, and you’d heard around from senior buzzing that he was apparently a good dancer too, so there would be no way for you to ever catch him.

Sigh. What the hell were you doing with some frivolous little crush on Junhui? It wasn’t like you were at the most somewhat dismayed when you watched some girl pull Jun by his collar to sneak a kiss at him, and it certainly wasn’t like you were kind of crestfallen when you saw another girl wrap her arms around him in his car, no, maybe to some extent, but never heartbroken. 

How downright ludicrous would it be for you to swell up with these feelings over something as trivial as a crush?

And fuck, oh fucking hell did you loathe that word, and every time it clouded your thoughts you wanted to groan in resentment.

Freshman year, when you spilled the beans to your circle of friends about how you felt about this boy, the only word you’d ever retained from the pep talk they gave you.

“Y/N you’re so cute, aw! You’re out here with a little crush!”

“So, does Jun know about this crush of yours?”

“Are you really going to tell him about your crush?”

“Oh boy, I swear to god if this kid crushes that frail heart of yours he’ll never see the light of day again.”

Such a foolish word with its steady grasp on you. It just seemed to ruin you through its fingers, watching your downfall, you crumbling to your core in the palm of its hand. Poor you, letting yourself get destroyed single-handedly by nothing more than a puny little 5 letter word. It was utterly tragic, and you didn’t really do anything about it, but there was just something tugging at you from inside, somewhere, but you didn’t know where, and any kind of concurrence you had with that boy, it just dragged you into its toxic hell of embarrassment.

For the rest of the period, you stayed with whatever dignity you had left clutched to your chest, alongside the half-eaten candy bar you had on your desk in case of a breakdown later.

Junhui’s eyes weren’t even trying to catch you in its line of sight in the slightest bit, nope, none of that, but that thought lingered in the corner of your mind throughout the lesson, thus you couldn’t even curl yourself into a ball, but more so crammed your flushed being into a messy mingle of entangled limbs.

“Hey!” you whipped your head around faster than the tiniest ounce of unease could knock you over.

Thank fuck; it was nothing more than student body trying to get you to buy candy cane grams.

You didn’t want to be rude to the students who actually tried at school, whether that be by making friends or attempting at the ugliest mayhem of a math problem, so you hastened your steps towards the boy in the middle with the widest grin you’d ever seen.

“...and then just sign off with your name and we’ll deliver it to them tomorrow in class!” the student in the middle, who you recalled as Seokmin...who also ran around the school, exclaimed.

“Um, thanks, but I think I might just buy one tomorrow, I don’t think I have enough mon–” “Hey, Y/N! Thought you were having lunch with us today?” your friend, Yeri, cut you off, in which it was something you both did to each other that pushed your buttons, but today she saved you from seeming a tad bit coarse. And you didn’t want to come off that way to someone as amiable and genial as Lee Seokmin.

“Yeri, do you want to buy a candy cane gram here from student body?” Seokmin asked.

Your friend pondered for what seemed like a second in an hour, and rapid beams of affection radiated a little too strongly.

“Um, I don’t think there’s anyone–wait, actually...Wonwoo! Oh my god! He’s the cutest person ever, just the way his nose scrunches and his voice–fucking Jeon Wonwoo!” the way her pupils glimmered at some flashback she was probably trying to recall in class of Wonwoo doing his thing or something like that, it was one you’ve seen before.

One you’ve known all too well, one you’ve experienced yourself before, but not for Jeon Wonwoo, but for another 6 foot tall hunk who never seemed to be around.

“Jesus, Yeri! I knew you liked Wonwoo but not to the point you’ve noticed frivolous habits of his!” “Shut the hell up, Y/N, you’ve marveled at Wen Junhui for 4 years. Seokmin, Y/N will take a candy cane gram, thank you.” You couldn’t blame her, it wasn’t like you noticed his seasonal hair color changes, as this time of year you’d expected it to be black like it had been last year, but you were taken aback with a pleasant auburn surprise.

You didn’t hate his copper look, but rather thought about it too much to the point where you wanted your hands to be the one to dishevel it, your face to be buried in it when he hugged you, man, when would you learn to shut the fuck up?

“‘Dear Junhui, you’re the x to my y,” Yeri started, “and I might be shy, but you look like a goddamn snack all throughout the clock, I wouldn’t mind it if we get cockblocked?’ I don’t know, say something sappy, or you’ll scribble all over the paper.”

I wouldn’t mind if we get cockblocked? You began to wonder what kind of crack they’d been selling at school these days, and how the fuck Yeri had gotten her hands on it.

“Whatever, I’ll leave it short and sweet. Oh! And I’ll leave it anonymous, so he doesn’t know it’s from me,” you wailed.

An ample amount of reality had been inflicted upon you in what was an explicit and stinging 2 seconds you had to think, but you’d just realized that Junhui probably, no, definitely, received dozens of these every year, and it hurt to try and grapple onto sensibility like that.

You’d both part ways within months, never going to bat an eye at each other, and it certainly wasn’t like you’ve made actual actual eye contact in the past, but instead of parting ways with Wen Junhui, he’d jaunt contentedly into his future, while you trudged, trying your best to forget about who ⅕ of your attention went to in high school.

Another slap in the face. 

Maybe that’s why you were sending him a candy cane gram (but Yeri totally shoved the cutely decorated paper in your face, you’d argue): Junhui was a sweet boy, and all you’d ever seen him as was a candy-coated type of person, but it left a mild, abiding prick in your mouth as you had danced and made a deal with Satan, whose middle name was Get Your Fucking Shit Together.

Yeri shrugged as she knew you’d try to outargue her and have a neighborly sort of quarrel if she ever inquired to know your reasons for your anonymity. Plus, the line grew a little bit as you had both been standing there for the past 12 minutes trying to conceive a mushy message about two aforementioned losers, whom had both never left your minds. And, she didn’t want to miss out on her sandwich, especially because she prepared it herself this morning!

“Thanks Seokmin!” you both slap your small papers on the sad, rickety, practically busted school plastic table, provoking the ugliest creak that in turn, startled a mess of raven hair into next week.

“OhmyLordhaveanicedaythankyouforsupportingStudentBody!” a poor Lee Seokmin tried to string together a cohesive, buoyant sentence without having his left buttcheek slide off the chair.

It was Wednesday.

Maybe it was Hump Day, sure. Maybe it was the day student body announced that they were distributing the candy cane grams during 4th period. Maybe it was the day where you could’ve been your normal, muddled self, but in actuality, was it the day where you’d get noticed by a Junhui?

Whatever up there was working its powers, you expressed your gratitude towards in a sigh of relief, as you had already taken the test for this class. Tuesday had been promoted to being your beloved day of the week, your prized child that set up high expectations for younger children, but none could ever really live up to Tuesday. It was Wednesday today, however, as no one in all of existence had lived to experience Tuesday twice.

Muah, you cradled Tuesday in your mind, not only had you not given Junhui any sliver of attention, but you also fucking aced that test. Tuesday was a godsend.

“Ho ho ho, fellow children of Stats 3rd Period! You know, I really don’t know why my elves in the student body insisted on still handing these treats out, because you’re all naughty in my eyes, but whatever! A nice one is a nice one!” The whole class chuckled for a good few minutes as Choi Seungcheol, all clad in a red, velvet Santa suit (and was it mentioned Seungcheol took his role too seriously and got too attached to his fake white wig and the sad little beard he took pride in?), tossed his mighty big, matching red bag full of candy cane grams into the air.

“Seungcheol, please just hand them out.” your teacher flashed an all too well known demeanor of disapproval towards the boy who probably won a $10 bet with Jeonghan for wearing the costume.

Santa Seungcheol paraded to Junhui, and dropped 6 candy cane grams individually on his desk, each one clattering uncomfortably atop the splintered desk.

“Ya know, I thought they’d all be from Minghao and Wonwoo trying to troll you again, but uh, congrats?” Santa simpered to his friend.

“Well, they are somethin’. Tell Jeonghan I said ‘hi’, will ya?” Jun quipped back to a sighing, supposedly jolly bearded man who grunted in return.

You’d almost swung your head around back too suspiciously to snag nothing more than a persistent glimpse at Junhui, who omitted any sort of scrutiny he had from reading asinine love notes to him.

Junhui beared nothing but a carbon copied look at every note that flashed leisurely before him. And then, it almost happened too quickly, but you’d ingrained it in your memory in slow motion.

Getting similar kinds of notes every time with different phone numbers everytime the student body distributed holiday grams was simply a routine for Wen Junhui, he’s read all sorts of notes.

You diverted any absorption from today’s lesson to Junhui curiously raising an eyebrow at the very last candy cane gram he’d received for today. He pouted his lips (well to anyone else it was just a pout, but to you, it was cute, ha, duh), and you watched as he seemed the slightest bit perplexed at this last note, which you’d so badly wished you could snatch for yourself to see if it was yours or not.

The rest Junhui had stuffed lazily into his jeans’ pocket, yet you noticed–but you should really turn back around to the front, though–the very last slip of striped red and white received different treatment, and was placed into the front pocket of his flannel instead.

You tucked away any sense of false hope you had garnered once Santa Seungcheol stepped into the room, as you were probably stuffed in denim instead of flannel. 

⌦ a/n: i typed half of this in the school library goddamnit,, but uh,,,this is going to have a shorter part 2, but i’m 1/16 done with my soonyoung fic that i actually started b4 this

[jencey86]

Take My Pain Away - Chapter 20

*TRIGGER WARNING* This story contains narcotic abuse, self harm, mentions of eating disorder, and emotional abuse.

Title: Take My Pain Away Rating: Overall M due to Content

Pairing: Dani/Santana. Mentions of Finn/Rachel, Quinn/female OC Genre: Angst with eventual Romance

Chapter Word Count: 4,483

Take My Pain Away

Chapter 20 – Week 20

 January 6, Monday – Glee

 Santana’s absence didn’t go unnoticed throughout the day. Of course there had been chatter surrounding it, but Dani did her best to keep her cool. The people in the school were the best at coming up with rumors. She had heard everything from her being arrested, to her dying in another car accident. Granted, it was the latter of those that really made Dani’s skin crawl. They joked about it like it was something that was meant to be funny.

 “So, you guys know where she is. Where is she?” Artie spoke when he saw Dani walking into the choir room and sitting with Quinn and Rachel, her normal spot in the room.

 The girl just shook her head some and chuckled. “Well, I’ll confirm to you that she’s not dead, since that seems to be the going rumor.” She put her bag down on the floor and glanced at her phone before replying to a quick text message from Santana. “She’s okay, she’s just at home and will be until next Monday.”

 “Why, what happened?” That time it was Mercedes asking the question.

 Dani ran her fingers through her hair before turning around to look at the girl and the others then. “She fell and broke her hip on Christmas and decided to go through with the hip replacement surgery. When she comes back she’ll probably be using a wheelchair to get around school easier.” She wasn’t exactly surprised by everybody’s reactions. Quinn and Rachel already knew and she was sure that Puck already knew too because of Quinn.

 “You mean she actually had it?”

 The girl nodded and looked to her phone again when she felt it vibrate. “She’s about to head to one of her physical therapy appointments now. Honestly, she’s walking better than she was before, but they don’t want her spending too much time on it yet while it’s still healing, hence the wheelchair when she comes back next Monday.”

 Dani hated the fact that she couldn’t be with her girlfriend that day. It was her first day of therapy and she was stuck in school while Maribel took Santana to the appointment. She hardly paid attention as their teacher came in to start talking about Nationals and how he had decided to let the Seniors pick the set list.

 Dani: He’s finally caved and is letting us pick the songs.

 Santana: It’s about damn time we know what we can do that is best for everybody

 “Dani and Santana should definitely have another duet.” Rachel suggested, taking Dani and everybody else by surprise.

 “Wait… you’re willing to give up the limelight to other people. I never thought that was possible.” Dani teased her best friend, earning a huff.

 “It’s our senior year, we get four songs, all of us can be showcased in some way.”

 Dani smiled widely and reached out to rest her hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Rachel. This will be the last show for a majority of you. It should belong to you.” Mr. Schuester agreed with her before moving over to the piano to grab the envelope that he’d placed there when he came in. “I have something that I got in my mailbox this morning. This year’s National’s theme.”

 That was something that got everybody’s attention. Dani put her phone down for a minute to watch as he opened up the envelope to pull the sheet out with all of the information.

 “As most of you know from last year, it’s 40 teams competing from all over the country. We need to do our best to hold onto our title from last year.” He smiled to the group in front of him. “This year’s theme, perseverance.”

 Dani couldn’t help but laugh some and shake her head. She already knew she could go on all day long about songs related to that topic. Ignoring the looks around her, she went back to her phone.

 Dani: National’s theme perseverance

 Santana: You’re kidding me… that’s perfect

 “Do you mind sharing what’s funny about that theme, Dani?” Mr. Schuester asked, pulling her attention from her phone in her hand.

 “Nothing, Mr. Schue. Santana thinks the theme is just perfect by the way.” She went quiet after that, knowing that only Quinn and Rachel knew the underlying meaning behind Dani’s reaction and Santana’s statement. They were the only ones that knew anything that was going on in their private world. “I could just list songs off all day about that topic is all. You guys only know about the tip of the iceberg with me.”

 Dani: They’re all staring at me. I told him I could list songs all day long and made the mistake of saying what they know is the tip of the iceberg. Fuck me

 Santana: Baby, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to

 Santana: I’ve been thinking about opening up some to them too, but we’ll see

 That was definitely something they’d have to talk about later on. Dani wasn’t sure if she was ready to tell them all about her eating problem. Sure, a lot of it had already been blasted around the school as a rumor, but she never confirmed any of it.

 January 6, Monday – Santana’s House – 3PM

 The therapy session left her in some pain. But it was weird. The pain she felt was nothing compared to what she felt on a daily basis beforehand. “I’m going to stay down here for a little bit before going to my room.” Santana slowly walked into the living room, taking the step down carefully.

 “Is Quinn coming by with your homework later?” Maribel asked, following her daughter into the living room to make sure she was settled on the recliner.

 “Yeah, she said she’d come by right after school.” She dug out her phone from her pocket then pulled the lever to prop her legs up so she’d be comfortable. “Dani texted me the theme for National’s this year. Perseverance. Her and I could have a field day with that.”

 “Then have a field day with that. Come up with a list of songs to share about it. You’ve both gone through so much just this school year alone.” Maribel reached out to run her fingers through Santana’s hair gently. “I wish you weren’t so afraid in school. When you’re home you’re yourself. But just hearing you and the girls talk I know things are school are different. Why do you care so much what others think?”

 “Because we live in backwaters Ohio. If we lived in a bigger city then I honestly wouldn’t care. But there aren’t a lot of gay people around here, you and I both know that. Kurt and Blaine… and Dani. That’s about it that I know of. Oh, and Rachel’s dads but we know the kind of treatment they get for being open.” She saw her mother’s face change some in understanding. “So, I choose not to be out in school. It’s easier that way. The rumor mill has already started because people see me with Dani, but I’m careful not to do anything to confirm it.”

 Santana watched her mother for a moment. She knew what the Berry’s have had done to their home just because they were a couple of gay men. The people that lived in Lima weren’t accepting of anything they didn’t consider to be normal and they passed that on to their kids. “Bree goes after Dani almost daily. Poking fun at how much weight she gained over the summer, and you already know why she gained weight over the summer. Even though I was a cheerio, I’m not immune to it either. I can’t wait to see what happens when they see me in a wheelchair.” Santana added on and sighed softly.

 “Mija, it’ll only be for about two weeks until your hip gets strong enough to walk from one side of the school to the other.” Maribel sat on the armrest of the recliner and reached out to take her daughter’s phone when she tried to look at it and distract from their conversation. “I wish you would have talked to us sooner about all of this. I want you to tell me if it continues once you go back. Your father and I will take care of it.”

 The teen took a deep breath and nodded some before shifting so she could lean into her mother. “Dani’s mom outed me as her girlfriend in front of the glee club when we were at regionals. They didn’t care. But I’m afraid of others knowing, I saw the torment she went through last year when she came out.”

 “But you being with Dani and how loving you two are in private… honey, it’s only a matter of time before people catch on or you two slip up in public. People will figure it out. Isn’t it better to tell them on your own terms then to have someone tell everybody for you?”

 Santana sighed softly as she thought. She knew, deep down, her mother was right. She was comfortable, for the most part, with being a lesbian. At least being out to the people she trusted helped her to feel comfortable. “I’ll talk with Dani about it.” She offered her mom a small smile before relaxing some against her. “I just don’t want to go to school and be scared like I know Kurt was for a while.”

 Maribel slid her arm around Santana’s shoulder and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “You just have to promise that you’ll talk to me if something happens.” She kissed the top of her head again once she felt Santana nod against her stomach.

 January 7, Tuesday – Santana’s House – 5PM

 “I have to say, you two are absolutely adorable together when you’re not trying to hide anything.”

 Santana lifted her head off Dani’s shoulder to glare at the other brunette. “You watch it Berry, I can easily kick you out of my house.”

 “And there’s the Santana that I know.” Rachel shot back as she adjusted on the foot of the bed to finish off the last of her homework.

 “You’re lucky I like Dani or else you wouldn’t be here right now.”

 “And you’re lucky that you’re hurt or I’d smack you.” Dani turned her head to look at her girlfriend. Santana just grinned to her, causing Dani to laugh and lean in to kiss her softly. “Did you finish the homework Quinn brought you yesterday?”

 Santana shook her head. “She brought me the assignments for all week that I’ll miss. I got a good chunk of it done earlier today because I was bored. Sitting up for a while starts to hurt so here I am, stretched out with you.”

 Rachel looked up from her math homework to watch Santana slid her arm around Dani’s waist. “Are you guys going to the Valentine’s Day dance?” She noticed how Santana immediately tensed up some. “You could go as friends, people do that all the time.”

 Santana actually wanted to talk with Dani about that, but it was also something she wanted to do in private. She wanted to go to the dance with Dani. As a couple. But she was still scared to do so. “What’s on your mind, baby. If I can trust Rachel, so can you. She knew everything about this past summer. Her and Finn where the ones that finally talked and got me to get help.” Dani explained as she ran her fingers gently along Santana’s back.

 “I um…” she took a deep breath and played with the bottom of Dani’s shirt some in order to keep herself occupied. “I wanted to ask you to the dance in private. I was talking with mami yesterday and about how I shouldn’t be as scared to be who I am at school. So I spent a lot of time last night thinking about it and I knew the dance was next month.” She heard Rachel laugh as Dani cut her off with a kiss.

 “Of course I’ll go to the dance with you.” Dani whispered against Santana’s lips. She knew there was more they needed to talk about in private and she respected Santana’s desire to do that.

 Rachel noticed the change between them and started to pack up her things. “I’m not going to force her to talk to me if she doesn’t want to. I’ll finish up my homework at home. Thanks for inviting me over for a while.” Rachel slid everything into her backpack then moved up to give Dani a quick hug. She patted Santana’s shoulder gently, not sure if the girl would accept a hug or not from her, but she chose not to push her limit. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school, Dani.”

 The Latina watched the girl leave before she pulled back and sat up some. “You know how hard it is for me to talk.” She chuckled some when she spotted the familiar smile on Dani’s face. “I’m still scared for how everybody will react to it. But I want to be able to hug you and kiss you at school.”

 “Then hug me and kiss me at school.” Dani stated to her and reached out to cup her cheek. “I know it’s a lot for you to overcome. I remember how much you panicked in Cincinnati when my mother showed up. But you have others on your side. It’s not just me and you against them. We’ve got Quinn, and Rachel, and the others too.” Dani ran her thumb gently along Santana’s jaw.

 “I’ll just need your help to have the courage to do it.” She leaned in some to rest her forehead against the girl’s and sighed softly.

 Dani leaned in to kiss her gently, letting it linger for a moment before pulling back. “How about I just hug you in the morning. Just don’t even think about it and give you a hug and a kiss before we head to our first class?” She whispered against her lips before pressing them together again. If Dani were to be honest with herself, she couldn’t get enough of Santana’s lips and could easily spend all day kissing the other girl.

 Santana sucked in a deep breath, forcing herself to break the kiss from Dani so she could look at her. “Okay.” If Dani were to kiss her in school, she knew there was no way she could deny the girl. There would be a lot of shock and she knew that all it would take was one person to see them for the entire school to know before lunch that they were a couple. “I think I’m ready.” She smiled to her and nodded. “At least I’ve got a few more days to work myself up to it.”

 Chuckling some, Dani stretched out against the pillows and pulled Santana close to her again to hold her. “It’s a shame that you’re restricted to any kind of physical activity for another week.” She grinned to her girlfriend.

 “Don’t remind me.” Santana huffed as she wrapped her arm around Dani’s stomach and rested her head on her chest. “It’s not fair to get all worked up and know I can’t do anything about it.” She pouted more when Dani just chuckled again at her. “You hush, you can take care of it when you get home. I can’t do anything. I tried last night and you never realize how many muscles you use until you’re hurting.”

 “Soon enough we can have fun again.” Dani kissed the top of her girlfriend’s head before turning back to the movie that had been playing in the background.

 January 9, Thursday – Santana’s Therapy – 4PM

 The Latina looked toward her best friend as she slid up onto the table for Matt to start with her range of motion for her hip. “So Dani and I talked the other day.” She laid back on the table and got as comfortable as she could until Matt could get back to her. “I want to take her to the Valentine’s Day dance.” Santana glanced over in time to see a huge smile spread across Quinn’s face.

 “I have a feeling there’s more to that too.” Quinn made herself comfortable on the chair beside Santana’s table. “Going to the dance together means everybody will know you’re together.”

 “I want people to know we’re together before the dance… I just want you to stay close to me Monday morning. She’s going to hug and kiss me before we part ways.” She saw the way Quinn’s eyes shot open. “Yeah… I figured. I can’t deny her a kiss. I’m tired of hiding who I am. I want to be able to be close to her in school too, not just in the choir room.” She looked up and smiled toward Matt when he made his way over to the table to check on her hip. Santana turned her head away some when he adjusted the waistband of her pants to check on the incision area as well.

 “When do you get your staples out?” He asked then moved to the base of the table to lift her leg up onto his shoulder.

 “Tomorrow morning. I think the appointment is at like 11. My mom’s taking me.” Santana hissed when he lifted her leg up a little too far.

 Matt let up a little bit when he heard Santana’s reaction. “Your range of motion is almost to where it should be with a healthy hip. Have you been walking around your house?” Santana nodded. “What about stairs? How are you doing with those?”

 Santana let her body relax as Matt took her left leg and stretched it out to the left. “Stairs are still slow. First day home was the worst. I went up and stayed up there.”

 “What matters is that you’re doing them. The steps help to build up the strength that you lost since the wreck. Alright, come on, bike time. You know the routine by now, it hasn’t changed since before your accident.”

 “I’m coming with you, we have to finish our conversation.” Quinn left her things by the table, knowing Santana would make a full circle and end up back at the table for some heat on her hip.

 Santana chuckled at her friend as she slid off the table and went over to get onto the bike. “All of this is really weird. I almost forgot what it was like to have just little aches here and there. How long until I can start running or something?” From the corner of her eye she saw Quinn smiling at her.

 “That might still be a little while. You want to avoid higher impact activities for about a month. Walking is okay though, so are stairs. Two more weeks I’ll put you on the treadmill in a light jog to see how you do, deal?”

 “Sounds like a deal to me.”

 Quinn waited until they were alone again before looking down at Santana. “Where did this old Santana confidence come from?”

 “I talked with my mother some. I don’t feel as helpless as I did before I fell.”

 “Honestly, I missed that Santana. The one that didn’t give a shit about what anybody thought of her. The one that realized once she got out of this place that nobody would care if she was gay.” Quinn stated to her, causing Santana to nod up to her as she peddled slowly on the bike. “Dani doesn’t care what others think, why should you?”

 Santana knew her best friend was right. She had been all along. Once they graduated, none of them would care about any of this because they’d be able to get out of Lima and move to a bigger city where people just didn’t care. “It’s still going to be rough.” She stated to her friend then, earning a pat on the shoulder from Quinn.

 “Trust me. I understand. I’m dealing with some things too that I’m trying to understand.” Quinn admitted softly. When she saw the way Santana’s head snapped up to look at her, she brushed it off. “How about I invite myself over Saturday night and we can talk some more?”

 “Dani’s coming over, would that be okay?”

 The blonde nodded. “That will be fine. Maybe she can help too to be honest.”

 Santana furrowed her brows some as she just watched her best friend, but she decided not to push the topic. Quinn didn’t push with her when she was struggling to talk about something so she figured it was best to return the favor.

 January 11, Saturday – Santana’s room – 8PM

 Quinn had come over shortly after they’d finished having dinner. Santana figured she wanted to stay the night and it didn’t bother her a bit, knowing she could throw the air mattress on the floor. She made her way up the steps with her girlfriend and best friend before climbing into her bed to get comfortable off of her hip. “So, okay. It’s been bothering me since you brought it up Thursday. What’s going on Q?”

 Dani slipped into the bed beside Santana and looked toward the blonde. “Is everything okay?” Dani propped herself up on Santana’s pillows as Quinn sat down at the foot of the bed and looked at something on her phone. Without a word the blonde loaded up a picture of a girl and turned it around to show them. “Who’s that? She’s cute.”

 “Very cute.” Santana agreed before she adjusted her pillows so she could curl up on her right side and still see Quinn.

 “Her name is Emily… and I’ve been talking to her.”

 Quinn’s simple statement caused Santana to sit up quickly. “Wait, what? Talking how?”

 The blonde blushed and dimmed her phone screen as she pulled back. “Talking like you two talk… in that sense.” Quinn nervously ran her fingers through her hair.

 “Are you coming out to us right now?” Dani reached out to take Quinn’s hand gently.

 “Honestly, I don’t know. I thought I liked Puck. But when I slept with him, I hated it.”

 “You fucking slept with him and you didn’t tell me?” Santana almost wanted to smack her friend then and she would have if Quinn wasn’t so torn over everything.

 Quinn pulled her hand back and glared at Santana. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. It happened at New Years. He took me to a party where he spent more time with his friends than he did with me so I started talking to some people there and met Emily.”

 Santana looked toward Dani for a moment before she leaned back down to relax on her bed. “So, tell us about her. You know we won’t judge you, Quinn.” Dani pulled back from Quinn and started to run her fingers through Santana’s hair gently.

 The blonde smiled some to her friends and moved to cross her legs under her so she’d be more comfortable on the bed. “She’s 22 and in the Law masters program at the Ohio Northern University.” She watched their eyebrows shoot up. “Yes, she is aware of the fact I’m a senior in high school and that I’m not 18 yet. That’s why we’re just talking. She did, however, kiss me at the party before she knew I wasn’t a student there.”

 “Aren’t you still with Puck though? Does he know about all of this?” Santana asked then.

 “He saw it happen and of course, Puck being Puck, he thought it was hot and wanted her to join us that night. But I enjoyed the kiss. And I decided to sleep with Puck that night to try to prove something to myself. But I hated it. I don’t know if it was just with him, or guys in general.” Quinn kept her eyes down until she felt Dani’s hand on her arm gently. “Emily has the maturity that I want in someone. Law is what I want to go into, we’ve been talking a lot about that. I feel like I need someone that can challenge me intellectually. And she can.”

 Santana glanced up to Dani and smiled. “You like her.” She watched as Quinn looked up and nodded to them.

 “I do. And I told Puck that I needed to figure some things out on my own. He didn’t seem to care though. So honestly, he got what he wanted by sleeping with me. I’ve already seen him chasing other girls around school.” Quinn shrugged some.

 Santana suddenly let out a loud laugh. “That’s why you didn’t want to watch any of my shows with me. You were afraid it would add to your confusion.” She felt proud of herself for actually piecing something together. “You know I want to meet her now, right?”

 Quinn slowly let a smile come to her face as she looked up to meet their eyes finally. “Can you at least wait until after our date next weekend? She wants to take me to a place out in Ada that she loves. Then we’ll go from there.”

 Santana sat up then and reached out to hug her friend. She laughed as she kept Quinn in her arms and pulled her down to relax with them. “You staying tonight?” When she felt Quinn nod and laugh some, she pulled back to give her some space. “Make sure you tell your girlfriend good night.” She grinned when Quinn rolled her eyes.

 “And there’s the Santana that I know. Can we watch a movie?” Quinn wiggled out from between them and went to the bag she had brought with her.

 “Only if you go and fetch us all some ice cream. And you let us pick the movie.”

 The blonde rolled her eyes and left the room to head downstairs. The moment she was gone, Dani turned to look at her girlfriend. “I was not expecting that at all.” Santana shook her head. “You know her better than I do, and you didn’t suspect anything?”

 “Nothing. I mean at that party she hinted at being curious after her and I kissed, but I never thought she’d be gay.” Santana reached over Dani to grab her remote so she could turn her TV on and load Netflix. “I suggest we give her a proper welcome to our world.” The Latina grinned and typed in the name of one of her favorite movies. When ‘Imagine Me and You’ popped up, Dani laughed. “Good choice?”

 “Good choice.” Dani agreed and pulled Santana close so she could give her a soft kiss before getting comfortable again to eat her ice cream once Quinn brought it back up to them.

[sinrau]

It took less than two weeks: the University of Notre Dame, one of many schools to reopen despite the raging pandemic, started classes on August 10. By Tuesday, the school had been forced to reverse course as coronavirus cases spiked. “The virus is a formidable foe,” school president John Jenkins said in a statement, announcing the quick switch to online classes. “For the past week, it has been winning.” Nearly 150 people at Notre Dame have reportedly tested positive for COVID-19 since the beginning of the month.

The announcement came days after the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill similarly reversed course, shifting their entire fall terms online; after a week of classes, 130 students and five employees tested positive, and the positivity rate on campus soared from 2.8% to 13.6%. “We have tried to make this work, but it is not working,” Barbara Rimer, dean of the Gillings School of Global Public Health at UNC, wrote in a blog post Monday. Perhaps seeing the writing on the wall, Michigan State University scrapped its plans for an in-person fall semester Wednesday, acknowledging that filling dorms and packing classrooms would trigger a spike in infections. “Given the current status of the virus in our country—particularly what we are seeing at other institutions as they re-populate their campus communities—it has become evident to me that despite our best efforts and strong planning, it is unlikely we can prevent widespread transmission of COVID-19 between students if our undergraduates return to campus,” Samuel L. Stanley, Jr., the school’s president, wrote.

Campus outbreaks and school reopening reversals, both at colleges and in school districts across the country, underscore what has been obvious for months: schools won’t be able to open safely unless the coronavirus crisis is brought under control. Everyone knew this, of course. Parents, eager to send their kids back to the classroom, nevertheless worried about the health risks, according to polls. Surveys have shown that a vast majority of teachers are similarly anxious, with educators—many of whom are at high risk of dying from the virus—expressing fear that they’ll be putting their health and that of their loved ones on the line. Everyone, from parents and students to teachers and support staff, would rather be in school. But with coronavirus still running rampant, they recognize that returning would be dangerous.

Donald Trump, desperate to jumpstart the nation’s sputtering economy, has been pushing hard for schools to reopen, even though he’s done absolutely nothing to facilitate the process. “It’s very important,” he said last month. “We’re going to be putting a lot of pressure on: Open your schools in the fall.” His campaign has nominally been in the interest of students’ well-being. But the real reason this administration is suddenly interested in education has been clear all along: “To open up America,” Mike Pence said at the White House last week, “we’ve got to open up America’s schools.” For the economy to take off like a “ rocket ship,” as Trump has promised, parents have to send their kids to school so they can go to work.

That would be fine, provided the White House took the virus seriously. But Trump has mostly played down concerns. “For the most part, they don’t get very sick,” he said this month of kids, claiming they make up only a “tiny fraction” of COVID-19 deaths. Children and teens are not “almost immune” from coronavirus, however. And, contrary to the president’s insistence that kids “don’t catch it easily” and “don’t bring it home easily,” research has suggested children could, in fact, spread the virus as much as adults. On Tuesday, the World Health Organization cautioned that younger people in their 20s and 30s now appear to be driving the spread of coronavirus, a trend that could worsen as more schools open, which many remain determined to do.

Trump’s School Reopening Push Is Looking More and More Idiotic #web #website #copied #toread #highlight #link #news #read #blog #wordpresspost #posts #breaking news# #Sinrau #Nothiah #Sinrau29 #read #wordpress

[rebeccathewinterqueen]

Awakening: Furious Battle pt 1

Title: Awakening (The Samaya Court Book 1)

Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh! and Pokemon

Characters: Yuugi Mutou, Jounouchi Katsuya, Anzu Mazaki, Honda Hiroto, Miho Nosaka, Ushio

A/N: Aiming for once a week updates in the vicinity of Monday nights/Tuesday mornings ^_^

The air was unusually warm for spring in the Kanto region of the world. Domino City, which sat near the coast, felt warmer still. The students of Domino High, particularly class 1-B, were taking advantage of it for their lunch break.

“Hey, who’s up for basketball?”

“Let’s invite the girls to play!”

“Yuugi,” a dark haired boy called. A short student with dark, red-tipped spiky hair peeked shyly up from under dyed blond bangs. “You should come play with us! It’ll be fun.”

Yuugi shook his head rapidly, grinning apologetically. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Besides, any team I’m on will just lose.”

“Yeah, but—” The student sighed, then shrugged. “I guess that’s true.” The boy left without even looking back, tucking the basketball under his arm and running to catch up with the rest of the class.

Yuugi looked down at his cards. He had brought them with him because it was a popular game and he thought maybe someone would want to play, but…“I guess no one wants to play Pokemon today,” he whispered, slouching down. He barely interacted with the other students in his class, barely spoke to anyone, so sometimes he spoke to himself just to hear something. “That sucks. Maybe I should stop bringing them…but they were talking about starting that club, that could be fun…”

He sat back in his chair. A couple students had mentioned starting a Pokemon club just so they could have something not related to school. But it would require a petition and Chono-sensei was notorious for opposing “non-essential” things like that.

“Oh, I know! I can work on my treasure today.” Yuugi sat up and dug through his bag for the small gold box he carried with him constantly. It was covered in old runes formed of circles and spindly lines. They looked almost like the English alphabet used in Unova and Kalos, but the circle-within-a-circle thing always threw him off when he tried to read it. And he wasn’t exactly good at English, either.

He popped open the lid. It was filled with jagged gold objects, most of them with sharp edges and smooth sides, except for three pieces with a raised design, one of which was an eye. “I wonder how far I can get with you today…”

The lid snapped shut under the weight of a large, long-fingered hand. “Talking to yourself again, Yuugi?”

“Jounouchi-kun!” Yuugi looked up with wide amethyst eyes. Jounouchi Katsuya was a blond teen with messily styled hair who, like Yuugi, wore the dark blue slacks and jacket of Domino High’s winter uniform. Why was Jounouchi in here instead of out playing basketball with the others?

“What is this thing, anyway?” Jounouchi held the box up, tilting his head in curiosity, locks of blond hair falling out of place.

Yuugi bit his lip. “Okay, you can look at it, but don’t lose any of the pieces! It’s my treasure, it’s important to me.”

Jounouchi opened the lid. “What the hell is this?” He glared at Yuugi. “You’re annoying, you know that? Going on about this special treasure, and it’s just a puzzle! Makes you sound like a girl.” He poked the loose pieces, picking one out and holding it up. “It’s about time someone taught you to man up. You want this back?” Yuugi nodded, biting his lip fretfully. What did Jounouchi mean? “Tell you what, then. You attack me, full-force, and I might give it back. Give me everything you got!”

“Wha—?” Understanding dawned on Yuugi—Jounouchi wanted him to hit him! Or at least try. Yuugi knew Jounouchi’s reputation, Yuugi wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on him. “No, I hate fighting!”

Jounouchi held the box over Yuugi’s head, out of reach. “Guess you’re never getting it back, then!”

“Jounouchi, is that you?” Hiroto Honda, the classroom beautification officer, stuck his head in the door. “Why aren’t you outside?” He looked at Jounouchi, then at Yuugi. “Come on, Jou, give it back to him.”

“Why? It’s dumb, anyway.” Jounouchi closed the box and tossed it at Honda, who scrambled to catch it without dropping it. Before he could, however, another, more delicate hand snatched it out of the air, saving the puzzle from spilling out onto the floor.

“If it’s so dumb, you should have given it back to Yuugi,” a feminine voice scolded.

“Mazaki!” Jounouchi yelped, stumbling slightly. “Where the hell did you come from?!”

“Anzu!” Yuugi grinned, his cheeks reddening slightly when he saw the brunette. He and Anzu had been best friends all through elementary school, until she ended up in a different middle school. When they realized they were in the same class at Domino High, though, their friendship picked up again like it never stopped.

“If you and Honda are only going to cause trouble, you should leave.” Anzu glared at the bigger boys. Honda tried to protest, but it was lost on her.

“Whatever, Mazaki.” Jounouchi glared back, then turned deliberately to Yuugi. “You really need a girl to stick up for you?” he taunted.

“Will you just shut up already?” Anzu snarled. There was a soft gasp, making them all look around. A cute girl with pale purple hair looked at them with mournful, watery eyes. “Miho!” Anzu grinned weakly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you.”

“Miho-chan!” Honda and Jounouchi both tried to get her attention, tripping over each other.

Like Anzu, Miho wore the girl’s winter uniform—a pink blouse with a blue knee-length skirt and a bow on the blouse’s front. Her lilac hair was pulled back and held in place with a yellow bow, her bangs partially covering her eyes and lending her a shy appearance. She batted her eyes at the boys, pulling their attention from Anzu and Yuugi completely. “I came to find Anzu for lunch. I haven’t eaten yet.”

“I’ll go buy you something!” Jounouchi and Honda yelled together. Yuugi blinked as they both tried—and somehow succeeded, wow, look at that—to squeeze out the door at the same time. He cautiously poked his head out the door, wary Jounouchi at least would remember he had been busy teasing Yuugi, but was barely fast enough to see them rounding the corner, well on their way to the lunch room.

“Wow, Miho,” Yuugi said, “they’re already gone!”

Miho bit her lip, but her eyes sparkled. “They really shouldn’t run so fast. The line was really long when I was there, they’ll probably just end up waiting.”

Yuugi giggled. “Thanks, both of you,” he said sincerely. “But Anzu, weren’t you playing basketball outside? Why did you come in?”

Anzu snorted and dropped into the empty seat in front of him, setting the box carefully in front of him. “Oh, that. The boys were passing to the girls a lot, and I thought it was weird. Then I saw them looking up the girls’ skirts when they made a shot! No way am I putting up with that.”

“Yeah, that’s awful…” Yuugi said, his face turning bright red. Wonder what Anzu’s panties…nope, he scolded himself. Anzu was a fun, strong person, what panties she was wearing was the least important thing about her.

“So what was Jounouchi-kun bothering you about?” Miho asked, linking her fingers behind her back.

“Oh! Um, this.” Yuugi tapped the box. “It’s my most precious treasure, my Millennium Puzzle.” He drew a fingertip down the side. “See these markings? They’re runes. They’re found around the world. The Millennium Puzzle was found in a ruin near the Hoenn coast, but the ruin didn’t really mention it anywhere, so they don’t know if it belonged to that civilization or if it was moved there later.” He cracked a grin. “I bet it says something like ‘whoever solves this puzzle will be granted one wish’ or something.”

“Wow, Yuugi! Where’d you get something like that?” Anzu exclaimed.

“I found it in the attic one day. Jii-chan was the one who found it, I guess, years ago, when Hoenn still let adventurers keep part of their finds.” He laughed slightly. “He said that’s why they changed the law so soon after, so they wouldn’t lose any more valuable artifacts.”

Anzu raised an eyebrow. “And he lets you just run around with a valuable artifact?”

“I’m careful with it,” Yuugi defended, placing one hand over the box.

“I know you are. Sorry, Yuugi, I was only teasing,” Anzu said apologetically. “Why would you let Katsuya look at it, though? He doesn’t exactly like you.”

“Jounouchi-kun’s not so bad,” Yuugi said softly. He looked away from her. “He just wanted me to man up, that’s all.” He looked up, grinning weakly. “Besides, you scared him off pretty quick.”

“If I’m nice, I get walked on,” she pointed out, leaning back in her chair. “The same goes for you—you have to stand up to them, at least once in a while, otherwise they won’t leave you be.”

“I guess…” Maybe Anzu was right, he thought glumly. But he hated fighting.

“Wow, it’s so pretty!” Miho exclaimed, pulling their attention back to the puzzle. She stroked one of the Puzzle pieces. “What did you wish for?”

Yuugi shook his head and lifted himself out of his thoughts. “That’s absolutely top secret! It won’t come true if I tell you guys.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Anzu was already gone by the time Yuugi was ready to leave at the end of the day. He pouted slightly—he had been hoping to offer to walk her home. Oh well, he thought, another day. Tomorrow, maybe. He ran outside, following the crowd but sticking to the edge of it—being in the middle of a crowd was uncomfortable at best when you were as small as he was.

“Yuugi Mutou.” Yuugi paused and turned, head tilting slightly. He swallowed when he saw who it was—Ushio, president of the Disciplinary Committee.

“Um, yes, that’s me.” Yuugi took an instinctive step back. Ushio was huge.

“I wanted to check in with you, Yuugi,” Ushio said seriously. “Are you being bullied by your classmates?”

“Wha—? No!” Yuugi shook his head hard, slightly taken aback by the direct question. “No, of course not! Why would you ask that?”

“Of course you would say that,” Ushio said, shaking his head regretfully. “Victims always stand up for their abusers.” The young man smiled, and Yuugi was pretty sure he meant it to be reassuring, but there was something off about it he didn’t like. “Don’t worry anymore, Yuugi. I will be your bodyguard from now on. I’ll make sure no one bullies you ever again.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard, Ushio-san,” Yuugi insisted. “I’m not being bullied, I promise. I-I have to get home now, though. Goodbye!”

He dashed away before Ushio could say anything else, backpack bouncing against his shoulder. “Weirdo,” he muttered. “Why does he even care?”

He tried to shake off the weird feeling he got from the encounter, but the unease clung to him all the way home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

“Jii-chan, I’m home!” Yuugi pushed the front door of the Kame Game Shop open, the bell ringing cheerfully to announce his arrival.

“Welcome home!” Sugoroku called cheerfully from the counter. He was as tall as Yuugi and wore green overalls, a white long sleeved shirt, and an orange bandanna. At one point in his life he had had black hair in spikes similar to Yuugi’s, but now his hair was a solid steel color and the spikes drooped slightly. The customer he was with turned, smiling cheerfully.

“Hey, Yuugi!”

“Anzu!” Yuugi grinned. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said. She looked around. “Seems like it’s been forever since I’ve been in here.”

“Not since middle school,” Sugoroku agreed, scratching his beard. “Anzu was just telling me about the Millennium Puzzle. You still haven’t given that up?”

“Of course not,” Yuugi said cheerfully. “I’ve spent so long on it, I bet I’ll solve it any day now!”

His grandfather shook his head. “It might be better if you didn’t,” he said seriously. “That puzzle is beyond human knowledge, Yuugi. It does not want to be solved. Did I ever tell you about what happened on that expedition?” Yuugi shook his head, eyes wide, and Anzu scooted closer, drawn by the irresistible pull of one of Sugoroku’s adventures. It made it harder to concentrate on his grandfather’s story—she was right there! She was almost touching him! But he managed. “We found the remains of a series of tombs, probably belonging to an ancient civilization that lived in Hoenn. This tomb had been harder than most to open, and most of the traps were still intact.

“I wish cameras had been more portable then. The walls were full of carvings of strange creatures, and of course the ancient language archaeologists have found all over the world. It was a long, hard journey to get inside…” Sugoroku trailed off, eyes unfocused as he drifted in memory. “A lot of things happened in that tomb…I won’t get into all of them. But that puzzle was there at the end, instead of the embalmed body we expected. Of course I was able to retrieve it and bring it home.”

“And Hoenn decided any artifacts found were theirs, instead of letting explorers take part of it,” Yuugi concluded.

“Yes, but that’s not all,” Sugoroku said, wagging a finger at them. “Several of my team died in that tomb.” Anzu gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. “Oh, yes. Many got sick before we even started exploring—those poor people died afterward. But some of them, the ones who didn’t get sick, died because of traps inside. That tomb was said to have been cursed.” He pointed to the letters adorning the side of the box. “Do you know what this says, Yuugi?” Yuugi shook his head, eyes wide. “It says, ‘Whosoever solves this puzzle shall inherit the knowledge and power of legends.’”

“That sounds so cool!” Yuugi gushed. He held up the box. “Makes me want to solve it even more!”

“Yuugi, no!” Anzu pleaded. “It’s dangerous! What if it’s cursed or something? You should give it up.”

“Anzu’s right,” Sugoroku urged. “I…” He seemed to consider what to say, then continued. “I decided when I brought that puzzle home that I would never try to solve it. I believe that’s why I’m the only survivor of my team. But you, Yuugi? You were a kid, and I think that protected you, but you aren’t anymore.”

“No way!” Yuugi said hotly. He held the box to his chest. “To me it sounds like it’ll grant my wish after all. And nothing bad has ever happened to me!”

“Except when Katsuya and the other boys bully you,” Anzu pointed out dryly.

“Jounouchi-kun just wants me to man up,” Yuugi said lightly. “And the others are only teasing, they’re not being mean.”

“You’re father—” Sugoroku began. Then he hesitated.

“Tou-san is working overseas,” Yuugi said firmly, after a few moments’ pause. “He can’t afford to fly back and forth all the time.”

Sugoroku sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Yuugi, I know you’re right on that.” He glared at the counter top. “It has nothing to do with the Millennium Puzzle.”

Anzu was giving him a look, but suddenly Yuugi didn’t want to hang out anymore. “I have homework,” he announced, “and then I should probably get some sleep.” He smiled brittlely. “It’s been a long day. I’m sorry, Anzu.”

“Yuugi—”

He turned and fled through the door connecting the shop to the house.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

That night Yuugi worked on the Puzzle, forgoing his homework entirely. It was a welcome distraction after…he shook his head. He wasn’t going there. It was a bad idea.

So of course his brain went there anyway, he thought bitterly, half-formed thoughts on the subject popping up and fading out. He sighed and let himself think on it.

So what if his father had been gone for years, since around the time he found the Puzzle? That didn’t mean the Puzzle was responsible. Curses weren’t real!

The pieces clicked together almost reluctantly.

So what if his father hadn’t written or called in over a year? That wasn’t because of the Puzzle. His father was just busy, that was all.

He fell asleep at his desk, the Puzzle next to him partially complete.

[magnuslightwoodbane]

(you are) rarer than diamonds

written for day 4 of malec appreciation week: alternate universe

(it’s 4:50am on day 5 where i am, but better late than never right?)

3.1k words, alec is a jeweller, magnus is a ceo and Certified Most Beautiful Man In The World™

ao3 link

If you’d told Alec Lightwood at 18 that he would drop out of law school and open a shop, he wouldn’t have laughed in your face, because he was too subtle for that. He would, however, have given you a Look that made it clear what a fool he thought you were.

Well, more fool him, he thought.

Adamant that he’d support himself through school, he’d by some miracle gotten a part time job at a jewellers near campus his first year. Originally hired to lend a hand around the shop, his boss had like his drive so much he’d sent him on course after course. Despite the mountain of work school gave him, he lapped up knowledge in all forms and soon was legally and officially qualified to be a full-fledged jeweller.

His second year was full of conflict, indecisive about whether to pursue his dream (read: parents dream) of graduating, starting a law firm, jacking it all in to become another stone faced politician and dying with a brood of spoiled kids left behind to squabble over his riches, or to pursue the whole jewellery thing. He’d grown to like work more than school; in some way, he was impacting people’s lives in a real, tangible way to him. A necklace to woo someone and help them realise possibilities; a ring bound to catch the eye at the next fashion show and set the wearer on the track to stardom; wedding rings to give each other forever…

If you’d told Alec Lightwood at 18 that he’d still be consistently single at 25, he’d believe that one.

In what would have been his third year, when he was able to access his trust fund, he used the money meant for a law firm to purchase a middling-sized shop with a one room apartment above it. His parents’ money had to be good for something, right? (It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful. He knew how lucky he was to have rich parents and a kick start in life). And he took it on board.

Not a fan of how jewellery was so often the plaything of the rich, he deliberately sought out more affordable jewellery and advertised it alongside the precious gems and metals that cost far too much. It helped that his brother’s girlfriend was an incredibly creative craftsman herself; and that her mother was an artist, which meant his decor and stock was sorted out in one fell swoop. All in all, he was content. Five years of running his own business, going from strength to strength and getting a name for himself. His parents had even grown to accept his drastic career change, even if they continually bugged him about his perpetual singledom. He was fine with it.

Until the most beautiful man in the world walked into his shop. Obviously. He was tall and muscular, burgundy henley clinging to his arms and necklaces draped around his neck, hanging various pendants at various lengths on his chest. He was obviously in the right place, adorned with various pieces, of which Alec could see were expensive and very well made. His black hair was carefully styled back and up, with short sides and red streaks at the front. His eyes were a warm brown, with dark and precise wings and champagne glitter smudged under his waterline. And his lips, oh his lips - Alec had never wanted to kiss anyone at a first glance quite as much as he wanted to right now.

It took a minute for Alec to realise that he’d been staring, and what’s more, the beautiful man had been staring back at him. They both came to the realisation at the same time, and Alec blushed as the other man chuckled nervously and rubbed his ear, the one with the silver cuff.

“Hi! Uhh what can I, uh, do for you today?” Alec stammered out.

“Hi,” he said, and Alec nearly melted at the sound of his voice.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” They both blushed this time.

“So,” the man blinked a couple of times, shaking his head a little as if he were righting his thoughts, “a little bird told me that you stock Clary Fairchild’s work?”

“You know Clary?” Alec asked.

The man smiled wistfully. “I’m an old family friend of theirs, known her since she was 8. She wanted to give me some pieces, but I’d rather buy it and support her, and Luke told me about this little palace of wonders. I’m Magnus, by the way. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”

“Alec,” he grinned. “This, uh, “palace of wonders” is mine.”

“You stock it?”

“Yep.”

Magnus looked around the place, impressed look on his face. “You clearly have good taste.”

“Clearly,” he whispered. Magnus raised an eyebrow questioningly, and he stammered “Uh we should, you know, get back to uh-“

“Shopping, right!” Magnus smiled.

Magnus kept coming back, every week.

One week he bought a ring, and he told Alec about the media conglomerate he’d built up here in New York. Alec told him about how he moved from law to retail. He didn’t know why, but he found himself telling Magnus about the college party that made up his mind; about how he’d overheard some rich stuck up dick being homophobic, all his drone buddies laughing, and how Alec had punched the guy in the face and could only be talked down from rage by his best friend Lydia.

(He did know why, but he didn’t want to think about how much he really, really wanted Magnus to know he was gay.)

The next week, Magnus bought a necklace, and told Alec about how he’d inherited a lot of money from his mother and stepfather; they’d made an absolute fortune in importing cut flowers from the Netherlands. He told him about how he met his real father once, and automatically decided he didn’t have one. The way he said it was so Magnus that Alec found it hilarious; he definitely didn’t think that at their third meeting he could already tell what was particularly… Magnus-y about Magnus. Alec told him about Maryse and Robert; he more animatedly told him about Jace and Izzy and Max.

“It’s amazing how much you love your siblings, I’m a little jealous,” Magnus smiled.

“Jealous?” Alec asked.

“Well, on second thought, I don’t think we should be siblings…” he smirked, leaving the shop with an “Until next time, Alexander” and the chime of the bell.

The week after, Alec couldn’t even remember what Magnus bought, only that he offhandedly mentioned an ex-boyfriend and Alec’s heart soared.  After Magnus had left that day, he dug out the little rainbow flag on a stick he’d gotten at the first Pride he went to, and stuck it to the register. The only other employees there were Clary’s friend Simon and his friend Maia, neither of whom were straight either, so even if Alec cared for their opinion about it he knew it would be a non-issue. Maybe he’d even let Simon put little pan and bi flags with it, he was having that good of a day.

Magnus came in at least once a week, and always bought something, but Alec found he couldn’t care less about the money. He got to spend roughly an hour every time talking freely about everything and nothing with him, and Magnus’s visits quickly became the highlight of his week. He’d never been so comfortable with someone that wasn’t his family.

After a couple of months of regular visits, on an exceptionally quiet Tuesday, Magnus came in as usual, but with his right arm in a sling. Alec dropped the watch he was carefully fixing on the counter, not for a second considering the delicate workings, and rushed over to him.

“Magnus! What happened?” he asked, concerned.

“I got into a fight with Dwayne “The Rock Johnson,” he said, completely deadpan. Alec just gave him a look.

“Fell off the dinosaur I was riding through Times Square?” he pouted.

Alec tried to keep a straight face, he really did.

“Oh come on Magnus,” he laughed quietly. Magnus grinned.

“Okay fine, I was drunk and messing around by my pool with friends. I slipped, fell in, and sprained my wrist. And my pride. And my watch. Which is why I’ve come to see you today, Alexander!”

“Well, I can’t fix your wrist, but I can fix your watch if you need?”

“I’m sure you could kiss it better,” Magnus winked. “But to be honest, I was after a new watch anyway. And also, to see your pretty face.”

Alec blushed, but kept smiling anyway. “This way for watches,” he beckoned.

It turned out Magnus was quite particular about watches, in a way Alec could appreciate. It also turned out that with a hand down, it was up to Alec to put them on and take them off, and it took all he had to keep breathing every time he touched Magnus’s impossibly soft skin. He pretended not to notice that his own hand lingered on Magnus’s skin far longer than necessary. He definitely couldn’t help but notice Magnus did the same to him.

“What about that one?” Magnus said after trying on the ninth watch so far. Alec looked to where he was pointing, to see the one he’d hastily forgotten about as soon as Magnus walked in.

“Well, that one is being repaired right now, but if you don’t mind waiting, it can be yours?” he said.

“One of your own that broke?” Magnus asked.

“No, uh. I have this thing where people bring in their old broken watches, and if I think I can get them good as new, I’ll buy them off them. Sometimes I’ll buy them for parts. I mentioned Jace?” Magnus nodded. “Well, he runs a charity dedicated to bringing music into schools, you should hear him play piano, it’s incredible. I sell the fixed watches and donate the profits to him,” Alec said, looking embarrassed.

“Does he know it’s you? Donating the money?” Magnus asked. Alec shook his head, still looking at the floor and scuffing his feet on it. Magnus scoffed, and caught Alec’s cheek with his palm. Shocked, Alec looked up to see Magnus smiling, warm eyes searching his own.

“Why are you embarrassed?” Magnus whispered.

“I guess, I just don’t… I don’t like playing myself up. If it’s right, I just… do stuff. I don’t really think about it,” Alec whispered back.

Magnus’s thumb skirted Alec’s cheekbone, and his breath hitched. “Alexander, you never cease to amaze me.” There was something electric in the air between them, exacerbated by the contact of both hand and eyes, and the last words whispered hung in the empty space. Alec’s eyes dropped to Magnus’s parted lips, and Magnus’s did the same. It would be so easy to…

Ding!

Alec groaned, very quietly, as Magnus’s hand dropped from his face and their heads turned to see Simon walking in for his afternoon shift.

“Hey, bos- oh hey, Mr Bane!” he greeted them both enthusiastically.

“Oh, Sherwin, I didn’t realise you worked here,” Magnus said. Alec snorted.

“Uh, yes sir. Clary got me the job.”

“I hope you thanked her properly, Samuel.”

“Bought her new brushes with my first pay check!” Simon grinned. “Good to see you Mr Bane!” he called as he made his way into the back.

Alec laughed. “Do you actually know his name, or-?”

“Oh yes, but it’s much more fun pretending not to. Sooo, how much for that watch when it’s repaired, then?”

“I got it for fifty, so let’s say… a hundred dollars?”

“Make it $200, and you’ve got a deal,” Magnus said very matter-of-factly.

“Magnus! That’s-“

“A small amount for a good cause,” he said, counting out ten twenty-dollar bills. “When will I see you next for it?”

“I bet I can get it done by Thursday, for you,” Alec grinned, still bowled over.

“It’s a date,” Magnus grinned back. Alec choked a little, but Magnus was already on his way out and mercifully didn’t see. Regaining his composure, Alec poked his head round the back to see Simon coming out in his work clothes.

“I need to concentrate on fixing this, do you think you can handle the place?” he asked.

“You got it boss! Anything for love, right?” Simon grinned. Alec spluttered.

“Watch it, Sherman.”

Simon mimed being shot in the heart. “Ouch. Well anyways, I’ve got it. You go literally… watch it.” and he headed into the shop. Alec shook his head at the stupid joke, but laughed anyway, as he went to get to work.

Thursday came, the watch was finished, and Magnus didn’t show.

He didn’t show Friday, either.

Or Saturday.

Or Sunday.

He didn’t show for three whole weeks.

Alec kept the watch by, of course, but he knew that it wasn’t about the watch. He missed Magnus, wanted to see him. He prayed to the god he didn’t believe in that if Magnus came back, if he got another chance, he’d ask him out, ask him to dinner, he’d tell Magnus that he was beautiful every day if he could.

On the Thursday three weeks after Magnus was meant to come in, Alec found himself particularly miserable about it. Maybe he wasn’t meant to have a beautiful, generous, funny boyfriend. Maybe he was being dumb as hell. Magnus was a customer, for Christ’s sake. A man with business interests like Magnus, and hell, fashion sense like Magnus, probably went to a bunch of different places. Variety, and all that.

“Hey, Alec?”

Simon was leaning on the counter, with an uncharacteristically serious look on his face, and Alec had been so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed him come in. “Yeah, Simon?”

“Can I ask you something personal?” Alec shrugged, as if to say Go ahead. This day can’t get worse.

“Do you uh, like Mr Ba- ah, Magnus? Like, as in like like?”

Alec didn’t even have the salt or energy in him to act annoyed. He merely sighed and nodded. He guessed it was obvious; the last three weeks he’d barely spoken a word, leaving Simon or Maia to handle the actual customer service.

“I thought so. I uh, spoke to Clary, and-“ he held out a piece of paper. “I can handle the shop tonight.”

Alec frowned, and stood up straight. “What?” he said, taking the paper.

“I got the address of Magnus’s office from Clary, who got it from Jocelyn, and I think maybe you could… go to him instead?” Simon grinned nervously. A slow smile spread across Alec’s face, reaching his eyes for the first time in weeks.

“You’re the best, Samson.” Alec grabbed his jacket.

“I’m not even mad!” Simon called after him, as he left.

Alec gave the address to the first taxi he saw, spending the whole journey nervously bouncing his leg. It only took ten minutes, but he felt like time had slowed, keenly aware of everything around and how damn reckless this was. What if Magnus hadn’t come back for a reason? What if he didn’t feel the same?

Could Alec live with not knowing?

No, he thought. Better to be rejected than to wonder what if.

He arrived in front of a large glass building, several storeys high and somewhat imposing. It had a large revolving door, which he stepped through into an equally large lobby. The floor here was black marble, gold accents everywhere and the decorations minimal yet quirky. He felt Magnus’s influence all about this place. He approached the reception, where a bored looking young man sat, name badge simply stating “Elias”.

“Uhm, hi. I’d like to see Magnus Bane?” he said.

“You and hundreds of thousands of others, sir. Did you have an appointment?” Elias asked.

“Um, no. He knows me. Can you tell him it’s Alexander here to see him?” he asked (he did not plead. Alec absolutely did not plead.)

Elias seemed to struggle to contain an eye roll – Alec was very familiar with the gesture. “Unfortunately, Mr Bane has-“

“You’re that jeweller, aren’t you?”

Alec turned to find the source of the voice, a scowling young man in a black suit. “I’m A jeweller, yeah. Alec Lightwood.”

“Well now I see why Magnus keeps going back there,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Magnus! Is he okay? I haven’t seen him in a couple weeks, and I was worried, and-” Alec stuttered to a halt, suddenly keenly aware that he was being overly panicky.

“He’s fine, the idiota. He should be here any sec-“

“Alexander!” He knew that voice. He’d know that voice anywhere.

“Magnus,” he breathed, seeing the man come through the revolving door with luggage in tow.

“I am so, so sorry Alexander, truly. You remember my birth father, I mentioned him once? He finally died the day after I last saw you, but being his only living relative, I had to fly to England and sort out his affairs, and I just got back-“

“It’s okay, Magnus,” Alec said.

“No, it’s not, I tried to find your number online, but I couldn’t, and I feel awful about leaving you hanging Alexander, I really do. And I – well, it’s probably weird but I really quite missed you, and-“

“Magnus, it’s okay!” Alec cut him off, voice happier than it had been in a while. “It’s okay, really, it’s not your fault. These things happen. And uh, there is something good about it, because over those three weeks I realised- I realised that when I saw you again, I,” Alec paused and swallowed, looking up at the sky, mustering his courage. “What I really, really wanted, was to, um. Ask you on a date?” Alec chanced a look at Magnus’s face, unsure what to expect. Magnus’s features were still, but his eyes twinkled, and Alec hoped-

“Oh, that is good. Because I was going to ask you out when I got back.” Magnus smiled.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Alec cleared his throat, utter relief coursing through his veins. “Well then, uh, Magnus, do you want to go on a date with me?

“I’d love to. Alexander, would you like to go to dinner with me?”

He grinned, happier than he’d ever been before. “I’d love to.”

If you’d told Alec Lightwood at 25 that in three years’ time, the most beautiful man in the world would give him one of his own wedding rings and the rest of his life, he wouldn’t have laughed in your face, because he was too subtle for that. He would, however, have given you a Look that made it clear what a fool he thought you were.

More fool him.

[vanilla107]

Masterpiece (Part 9)

Okay...I’m still in awe that this is the 9th chapter of this fanfiction and it is oVERWHELMING. This has probably been the longest fanfiction I’ve ever written and I’m so grateful for every single person who leaves kudos, comments and reblogs this fanfiction. <3 I can’t say for sure when I’m planning to finish it...I feel like there’s so much that I still need to add to these two wonderful characters but I can tell you all one thing; I’m not ending it any time soon.

My mock exams are in two weeks and then less than two weeks after that, it's my final exams. I can say with full confidence that I won't be updating Masterpiece for a while because of that. I need to focus on my exams in order to get into the university I want to go to. Thank you for understanding everyone. <3

Loads of love vanilla107

To these amazing people constantly supporting me : @krzed, @angellecookiewingz, @tahciram and @sugar--pie

https://vanilla107.tumblr.com/post/162975990025/masterpiece-masterlist

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Chloe heard a chuckle and she groaned and cuddled closer to her pillow. She felt so warm and relaxed. She hated that she had to go to work but money meant paying rent.

She heard another chuckle and a slight brush of a hand against her cheek.

“And you warned me about being a cuddler. Look who’s talking.”

Chloe froze and opened her eyes to see a grinning Nathanaël looking at her. She looked down to see that her body was safely tucked into Nathanaël’s chest and her hands gripping onto his pajama top.

Chloe did the one thing that would save herself from dying of embarrassment.

She kicked him off the bed.

Nathanaël landed on the floor with a thud and she heard him groan in pain.

“I swear, we spend one night in the same bed and you end up kicking out the next morning,” he grumbled before standing up and glaring at her when he stopped.

Chloe had covered herself under the blankets and he could only see her rosey cheeks, her wide blue eyes and golden hair.

Nathanaël stared at the girl, who was inwardly dying of embarrassment, and smiled before walking to his cupboard and selecting his clothes for the day. He had an important meeting with the manager of the gallery and according to her, there were going to be some people who wanted to talk to him about expanding his artwork further and commissions. He needed to look presentable and sighed as he looked at his clothes.

He never saw the need in owning expensive clothes but when Marinette insisted on giving him her whole new line after her very first fashion show, he couldn’t refuse. She gave it to him for free because her internship with Gabriel Agreste was in full swing and she didn’t want her previous designs blocking her creative flow.

He had asked her why Adrien couldn’t wear the clothes instead but she just giggled and replied, “His whole closet is already full of my designs as well as his dad’s. It’s going to burst if he tries to fit another garment in!”

Nathanaël couldn’t argue with that so now he wears Marinette Dupain-Cheng in collaboration with Gabriel Agreste. Since then, he would get little packages from her monthly, either a sweater or jeans. When the would meet up, she would beam with happiness when she saw he would be wearing one of her designs.

Today, he planned to meet up with her and Adrien after his meeting with the gallery manager for coffee and catch up. He picked out a pair of black slacks, black dress shoes and a black blazer before humming thoughtfully on the shirt. He could either choose the leaf green shirt or the deep red one.

“Choose the red one,” came a tiny voice from behind him and he turned his head in surprise.

Chloe was sitting on the bed her face a little less red and her eyes locked on the shirts. “If it’s a meeting, choose the red one. If it’s informal, choose the green. Red radiates power and control. You’ll make a good first impression with it and it brings out your hair,” she said as she tied her hair into a ponytail and slipped on her slippers.

She checked her phone and sighed. “I gotta get to work and clean those floors. Tuesdays are hell because it’s ‘Buy a burger, get one free!’ Tuesday,” she mumbled.

Nathanaël smiled as he watched her make the bed. It was such a weird thing to observe. One of the richest girls he knew in high school was making his bed and she didn’t seem to notice him smiling because she was in a sleepy daze.

“Okay, I’ll pick you up at six?” he asked as he took the red shirt off it’s hanger and felt the light material between his fingers.

“Pick me up at six? Why?” Chloe asked as she fluffed the pillows. “We’re dating remember? Gotta make it as realistic as possible.” Chloe nodded and looked at Nathanaël, a blush rising on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I kicked you off the bed,” she squeaked before running out the room and exiting his apartment. Nathanaël chuckled and started to undress. He looked at the red shirt as he slid it onto his body and smiled as he looked at himself in the mirror.

“She’s right. It does bring out my hair.”

*****************************************************************************************

Nathanaël hid a smile as he signed the contract and handed it to the gallery manager who smiled and walked away.

“Thank you, Mrs Lefevre, I will be in touch with you,” he smiled as he looked at the beaming middle-aged lady.

“Thank you so much Mr Kurtzburg! I can’t wait to see the commission when it’s ready!” she giggled and her husband glared at him.

“I still don’t see why only one painting costs so much money, and this painting could take forever for him to finish,” grumbled Mr Lefevre.

Nathanaël was about to explain that painting wasn’t an easy process when Mrs Lefevre glared at her husband.

“Have you ever painted before, Nolan? Do you have any idea how the shading is merged with the colours? The mistakes the artist has to go through until they’re finally happy with the result? The stress of people judging their art? No. So don’t judge me or Mr Kurtzburg because we are artists and we appreciate good art. Mr Kurtzburg didn’t have to accept my request for my portrait but he did and he is getting paid for his work,” Mrs Lefevre said with sweetness but Nathanaël could sense the anger in her tone.

“ I believe that we’re all done here but your husband is right...I can’t be sure as to when I will finish your commission-”  Nathanaël started but was interrupted with Mrs Lefevre waving her hand reassuringly.

“-Oh, it’s alright Mr Kurtzburg! I’m just happy that you’re painting it! I’m a huge fan of your work!” Mrs Lefevre gushed as she looked at him through her short brown hair and Nathanaël swore that he saw Mr Lefevre pop a blood vessel.

“I’m going to the car,” growled Mr Lefevre and he stormed out of the building.

Mrs Lefevre rolled her eyes and sighed. “Nolan just doesn’t understand my love with art,” she sighed and looked close to tears. “He says it’s a waste of time and that I should focus on our business instead. I’m so sorry he disrespected you Mr Kurtzburg.”

Nathanaël felt sorry for the lady and smiled before lowering his voice even though it was only the two of them in the gallery.

“Well then, let me tell you a secret. There’s going to be a secret gallery of my latest artwork, here in this venue in two weeks. I’ve kept it secret because I want it to be a private viewing, but since you are such a big fan, I’m inviting you. Please don’t tell anyone. There’s already going to be a few photographers there for the newspapers the next morning....and please call me Nathanaël,” he whispered.

Nathanaël didn’t think it was possible for someone to die of happiness but Mrs Lefevre looked close to it.

“Oh my word-! I’d love to! Thank you so much Mr K- Nathanaël!” she squealed and gave him a quick hug. “Oh and before I leave, are you wearing Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” she asked as she let go and admired his clothes.

“Yes, she’s a fantastic designer,” Nathanaël said with pride. “I went to her first fashion show and I was absolutely blown away! Such raw talent! Goodbye Nathanaël, I’ll see you in two weeks! Oh, and the red suits you, it matches your hair,” she said smiling before skipping merrily out of the gallery.

Nathanaël looked at the shirt again and let out a small laugh as he thought of the incident with Chloe that morning.

“It really does suit my hair, doesn’t it?”

************************************************************************************

Nathanaël looked around the quiet coffee shop and spotted the familiar raven haired woman and blond haired man in a secluded booth at the back of the coffee shop. He made his way there and slid into the seat and was greeted with two bright smiles.

Marinette was wearing a light peach blouse with a white blazer, blue jeans ( all from Marinette’s new line) and matching kitten heels. Her hair was a little longer so she had styled it in a fishtail plait. Her face radiated beauty and her signature ladybug earrings in her ears.

Adrien was wearing a teal button down shirt (Marinette Dupain-Cheng of course) and black jeans (Gabriel Agreste naturally) and sneakers. His silver ring on his ring finger glinted and Nathanaël couldn’t help but smile at the couple.

“Nath! It’s so good to see you!” Marinette grinned as she gave his hand a squeeze.

“Nath! I have to say that you look good today. Let me guess...are you wearing Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” Adrien asked with a grin.

Marinette’s cheeks went pink and she buried her head in her hands as Nathanaël said, “You are correct, Adrien. A superb designer and the fabric choice is so light and airy.”

“Nath! Adrien! Stop it!” Marinette groaned and the two men laughed.

“You’re too modest, Mari,” Adrien said wrapping an arm around her shoulder and giving it a squeeze and Marinette looked up at him shyly.

“Anyway, Nath! How have you been? It’s been a few weeks since we last met up. You organizing your next gallery showing?” asked Adrien turning to face the artist.

Nathanaël nodded as he sipped his coffee.

“Yeah, I’m happy that it’s finally happening. The paparazzi weren’t helping with the process so I’m glad that they’ve finally backed off and I can work,” Nathanaël sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Marinette and Adrien grinned.

“Ah, yes the perks of being famous,” mused Marinette taking a bite of her strawberry cheesecake.

“Yeah, but rumor about you and Mari dating really spiralled out of control, and just because you were hanging out! And then someone still broke into your apartment and ruined your work!” Adrien growled angrily.

“Well, that’s passed now so we’re all okay,” Marinette said soothingly to Adrien and quickly changed the subject. “How great is this cafe by the way? Ayla and Nino said it’s a ‘hidden gem’ in Paris and I’m so happy we decided to meet here!”

Adrien smiled and said, “Yeah, some of this food is even better than most five star restaurants!”

“Speaking of restaurants...we actually bumped into Chloe last week Friday,” murmured Marinette.

Nathanaël froze.

“Really?”

“Yeah, she was working at a restaurant! And not working like CEO of the restaurant working, like a waitress working at a restaurant working.” Adrien said in disbelief.

“She slipped and food went flying and...well let's just say it didn’t end well,” Marinette said softly.

“Serves her right! She’s been a downright bitch since high school and looks like karma finally caught up with her!” a familiar voice said from behind Nathanaël and he flinched at the harsh words.

Marinette jumped up from her seat and pulled her best friend, Alya, in for a hug. The news reporter grinned and hugged the young designer back and Nino frowned.

“Alya! Don’t be so mean!” Nino said scolding his girlfriend. Alya looked at him like he grew an extra head as she sat down next to Nathanaël and he joined her. She gave Adrien and Nathanaël a smile before resuming her argument with Nino.

“What? It’s like she made it her personal mission to make our lives miserable in high school! Maybe she deserved having fries in her hair!”

Ayla had not changed the slightest since high school. She was still the same story-hunting, risking-her-life, curious girl. She had managed to get her very first job for a huge newspaper and she was living her dream. Her hair was in a bun that she quickly pulled out and let it fall down in thick waves. She wore an orange shirt tucked into a black pantsuit and her glasses framed her face. She had the lightest amount of make-up on and her smartphone in her hand.

“Alya, she looked like she wanted to cry...be a little sensitive,” Marinette whispered and Alya sighed and ordered a cappuccino.

“I’m just saying...the girl had it coming since she started being mean-no offense Adrien, I get that she’s your friend and everything but...she was crazy in more ways than one-”

“-She’s living with me,” Nathanaël blurted out.

[bountyofbeads]

My Whole Household Has COVID-19

“The thought of simply breathing in and out without coughing and reuniting with my children ... is goal enough. To—literally—live and let live will be enough.”

By DEBORAH COPAKEN | Published March 27, 2020 12:35 PM ET | The Atlantic | Posted March 29, 2020 |

I can pinpoint the exact moment I started feeling off. My partner, Will, and I were on a bike ride on the afternoon of Wednesday, March 18, to escape our apartment and get some exercise. This was back when leaving a New York City apartment to get some exercise was still okay, or at least that’s what we’d read, or at least that’s what we thought? If the coronavirus pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that what is considered dogma today might change tomorrow.

Ten minutes into our bike ride, I was overcome by an intense fatigue. “I think I have to go back,” I said.

Back home, I felt chilled. Took my temperature: 99.1. I’m normally 97.1, but still, not a huge deal. We’d been so careful about wiping down doorknobs, washing our hands, and keeping everyone except for our family out of our apartment. I’d been ambiently worried enough that my 13-year-old son could be a silent carrier of the virus that I’d yanked him out of his public middle school and off the crowded subways four days before Mayor Bill de Blasio pulled the plug– (far too belatedly, in my opinion). I was getting over a urinary-tract infection, so my fever, I thought, must be from that.

That evening, I answered a bunch of Slack messages from work, finished a project for my boss, and picked at the dinner Will cooked. I was, unusually, not hungry. Neither was Will. Neither was my son, which is weird because normally he eats twice his body weight in food.

The next day my temperature was back down to 97.1, but the UTI had worsened. I called the nearby urgent-care center to see if they could prescribe me a new antibiotic, but no one was answering the phone. Figuring the place was overwhelmed with coronavirus calls, I walked over to the urgent care, opened the front door, and poked my head in. “Hi,” I said. “I’m so sorry to bother you at this time, but no one’s answering your phones.” I explained that the antibiotic course I’d just finished hadn’t worked, and I needed a different prescription.

“Do you have a temperature?” I remember the receptionist asking, as she walked over to the door and handed me a mask. Wait, what?

“No. I had a slight fever yesterday. Can I just leave a message for the doctor? I don’t want to come in.” I could hear a hacking cough coming from one of the exam rooms.

“If you need a new antibiotic, you’ll have to pee in a cup again.”

“But you guys already have my pee from last week! Use the same pee!”

“Sorry, we can’t treat you unless you meet with the doctor again and give us a new sample.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought. Why are we talking about pee during a shit storm? I weighed my options: either endure the UTI for who knows how long until this pandemic is over, which could lead to a kidney infection, which might eventually mean being forced to enter an overwhelmed, COVID-19-infected hospital anyway, or walk into this urgent care right now and possibly get exposed to the virus, but only from the two people coughing. I didn’t like this game of “Would you rather.”

I put on that mask and walked straight in––in my regular clothes, with no eye protection––where I stayed for a good 30 to 40 minutes until I could pee into a new cup, meet with the doctor, get a prescription, and go home. To say it was scary sitting there listening to all that coughing in the other rooms would be an understatement. The other patients sounded as if they should be on respirators, not in a neighborhood urgent care.

When I came home, I immediately stripped and washed all my clothes. That night, I got word that I did, indeed, have an ever-worsening UTI. (Duh.) A few hours later, Will came down with a fever and diarrhea and fell asleep watching Rachel Maddow, which he never does.

We isolated ourselves in separate rooms. My son stayed in his room, Will stayed in my other son’s room––that son, 24, had been volunteering for several months with Syrian refugees in Samos, Greece, and was self-quarantining in a nearby Airbnb––and me in the master bedroom, but not before I wiped down the entire apartment with Clorox wipes again. The next night, March 20, I cooked some rice and beans that no one ate.

Will stayed quite sick for three days, his temperature spiking and then retreating, but he never came down with a cough. Just the diarrhea, which is a rare COVID-19 symptom. We considered heading over to the drive-through test site that had just been set up on Staten Island, but by the time Will was feeling well enough to sit in a car for several hours, New York City had been declared a FEMA disaster zone. All masks and pieces of personal protective equipment were needed to treat the sick and dying, and the city put out a statement saying that people whose illnesses didn’t require hospitalization should not get tested. So we stayed home.

We missed each other’s company, though, so I threw caution to the wind, washed my hands, and invited Will to wash his hands and lie on the bed with me, as far from my body as possible, to listen to a recording of the 1977 Cornell Grateful Dead show while watching the sunset from our bedroom window. I kept it together until Jerry, in “Morning Dew,” sang, “Where have all the people gone, my honey? Where have all the people gone today?”

My fever spiked again on Sunday night. Monday morning, March 23, the fever was gone, so I decided to reorganize our spice cabinet. As one does in a lockdown. But I found I could no longer smell the spices. I had to make sure, when writing up new labels, not to mix up the herbs de Provence, the basil, and the oregano, all of which now looked and smelled exactly alike, which is to say they all smelled like nothing. (Doctors have begun observing a loss of smell and taste in some COVID-19 patients.) By the afternoon, I had a well-organized spice cabinet and a sore throat. Not a bad one, just a slightly annoying one.

By Tuesday afternoon, I was quite sick. I was now coughing a deep and scary dry, wheezing cough, just like the ones I’d heard in the urgent care a few days prior. My temperature was spiking and falling, spiking and falling; my throat was still sore; and I could not drink enough water to quench my thirst. My chest felt as if there were an anvil sitting on top of it. When I attempted to take a deep breath, I could not get enough air into the bottom of my lungs to fill them.

I sent a text message to my primary-care providers’ office through their telemedicine system. I made an appointment with a doctor to speak on the phone. Over the course of our 15-minute call, she asked many questions about my symptoms, about Will’s symptoms, about my son’s loss of appetite. She also heard my cough several times, and said, as I remember it, “That’s a COVID cough. You have to assume all three of you have it at this point. Just lay low until everyone’s symptoms are gone.”

“Can I get a test?” I said.

“No,” she said. “You can’t. Only essential workers. You don’t need one. I can tell just from listening to your cough and hearing your symptoms. When did you first start to feel ill?”

I told her about the bike ride.

The doctor became irritated. “You rode a bike? With viral load everywhere? Why?”

Hadn’t I read one or maybe several experts saying it was safe to go outside and exercise? “I thought it was okay to go out if you stayed six feet from others?”

“No,” she said. “Not in New York. Not right now.”

So nobody knows anything. Or some people know some things, but then facts catch up and prove them wrong. What an embarrassment, how unprepared this country is. We had time to right the plane before it crashed. But the pilot’s been too busy blaming the clouds and spouting lies over the loudspeaker. If I’m sick and can’t get a test, how do we even know that the attack rate in New York City is, as was recently reported, five times the norm? Maybe it’s 10. Maybe it’s 100. Who the hell knows? How many others are sheltering in place in my city right now, coughing on the down low because they can’t get tested? I want to be counted, goddamnit.

“Can my partner and I sleep in the same room again, now that we’re both sick?”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” said the doctor. “Your bodies need to get better. Keep your viral load from his and vice versa. Do you have enough rooms for all of you to self-isolate?”

“For now, yes,” I said, explaining how I have one child self-quarantining in an Airbnb in Brooklyn and now another, just evacuated from the Peace Corps, in an Airbnb in Washington, D.C. It’s been an expensive month.

The doctor told me to open up an account with Capsule, a prescription-delivery service, to keep my germs from infecting our local pharmacy. She’d send over a prescription for an inhaler and a nebulizer. The key thing, she told me, is to stay away from the hospitals unless absolutely necessary. There are no beds, even if I need one. And I could get sicker in a hospital than I would staying home.

These were not reassuring words to hear from a doctor.

The drugs and equipment would be delivered later that evening, but before they arrived, my cough and breathing had become so bad that Will barged into my room and said, “We need to make you a go bag.” I could barely get out of bed to go to the bathroom, much less contemplate what items I’d toss in a go bag, a bag to go to the hospital, a place I’d just been told by a doctor not to go.

“If it gets that bad, I won’t even notice if I don’t have my phone charger or extra underwear,” I said. My older children were each FaceTiming me from their own quarantines, but it suddenly hurt too much to talk.

A few hours later, the medications and the nebulizer arrived at my door via a brave delivery man who left the bag at the end of the hallway, smiled, waved, and then ran. “Wait, don’t I need to sign for that?” I shouted after him.

“That’s okay!” he said. “I’ll do it for you.”

I watched a YouTube video that explained how to use the nebulizer. Then I set up mine, squeezed the medicine into its chamber, turned it on, and suddenly … relief! For the first time all day, I could breathe. I could feel the bottom of my lungs again. Hallelujah.

But then my heart rate shot up. It got up to 144 beats per minute according to my Apple watch. I was dizzy with heartbeats. I’m prone to premature ventricular contractions––extra, abnormal heartbeats that begin in the ventricles and disrupt the heart’s regular rhythm––so I have to be careful. My doctor, after I texted the office about my heart rate, called at 8 p.m. and gave me her personal cellphone number in case of emergency.

It’s been three days since my COVID-19 diagnosis, nine days since that first rush of fatigue and slightly elevated temperature. My life is now centered on finding a balance between being able to breathe and not feeling like I’m going to pass out from a too-thrumming heartbeat. Periodically, I send photos of my Apple Watch heart monitor to my doctor, and she gives me advice on when to use the nebulizer next.

All in all––aside from the few hours when I couldn’t breathe and didn’t have the nebulizer; and when I passed out walking from the living room into my bedroom; and when I cough; and at night, when it all feels much worse, and my back aches from coughing, so I can’t sleep––I’ve been okay. Groggy and irritable and down six pounds, but okay. I’ve had worse colds and flus, and I’m hoping I’ll still be able to say this when I’m all better. My biggest fear now is getting sicker and needing to enter either a too-crowded hospital at the viral peak or, heaven forbid, the Jacob Javits Center, which FEMA is transforming into a giant COVID-19 treatment center. Not to make light of an increasingly dire situation, but the last thing I want is to die in the Jacob Javits Center.

I spoke with my daughter yesterday morning from her Airbnb in D.C. She’s not sure where to go after her 14 days of quarantine are over. She’d planned on staying in her post in Cameroon for two years but was able to complete only six months before the emergency evacuation, and she’s not allowed to return. As a Peace Corps volunteer, she’s not eligible for unemployment. She is, at 23, broke, heartbroken, and homeless, which is another reason I’d better not die right now. My son is going stir-crazy all alone in his Airbnb. I haven’t been able to hug him since he got back from Greece. Should he come home on March 31 or pay for another week of the Airbnb, given our illnesses? How long will we remain sick? The World Health Organization says two weeks for a mild case, and three to six weeks for a more serious bout. But that’s just the accepted dogma right now. Tomorrow, those numbers could change.

Part of me wants, as soon as we’re better, to grab my three kids and my partner and escape someplace remote, but where? COVID-19 is everywhere. I guess the thought of simply breathing in and out without coughing and reuniting with my children, wherever that might be, is goal enough. To––literally––live and let live will be enough. Because in the middle of writing that last sentence, I learned that an old friend has been felled by COVID-19. Rest in peace, Mark Blum. I’m so sorry we didn’t do more to flatten the curve while we still could.

Trying to remain optimistic, I have sent an email to researchers at Mount Sinai, who are searching for antibody-rich plasma from those of us who catch COVID-19 and make it through to the other side, to treat critically ill patients—a protocol that showed some promise in China. I definitely, certainly, 100 percent plan to give my antibodies as soon as I can. If my illness can help someone else be less ill, then it is my moral duty to make that happen, just as staying home right now is our moral duty to save others. “We must love one another or die,” W. H. Auden wrote. I read that poem to my older kids after 9/11, and I plan to read it to them again when we’re all reunited.

I received an email back from Mount Sinai asking for my full name, date of birth, symptoms, date of symptom onset, and last day of symptoms.

“Still sick,” I responded. But hopefully not for much longer.

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We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.

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DEBORAH COPAKEN is a contributing writer at The Atlantic. The author of The Red Book and Shutterbabe, she's currently at work on a new memoir for Random House, Ladyparts.

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I’m Treating Too Many Young People for the Coronavirus

Americans in their 20s and 30s—no matter how healthy and invincible they feel—need to understand how dangerous this virus can be.

By Kerry Kennedy Meltzer, Internal medicine resident physician in New York City | Published March 26, 2020 | The Atlantic | Posted March 27, 2020 |

ON FRIDAY NIGHT, I WORKED A 12-hour shift in the designated COVID-19 area of my hospital’s emergency department in New York City. Over the course of the night, I examined six patients who were exhibiting common symptoms of the novel coronavirus; five of them were in their 20s or early 30s.

I am 28 years old. Up until Friday, when people asked me whether I was scared, I would tell them yes—for my country, my colleagues, my 92-year-old grandmother, and all the people most vulnerable to getting seriously ill from the virus, but not for myself. I, like many others, believed that young people were less likely to get sick, and that if they did, the illness was mild, with a quick recovery.

I now know that isn’t the case. The fact is that young people with no clear underlying health conditions are getting seriously ill from COVID-19 in significant numbers. And young Americans—no matter how healthy and invincible they feel—need to understand that.

My first patient was in their early 20s. (To protect their confidentiality, I’m referring to my patients without mentioning their gender.) They had a dry cough and a 102-degree fever, but their chest X-ray came back clear and their oxygen levels were safe. I wanted to test them for COVID-19, but they weren’t sick enough to require admission to the hospital, which meant I couldn’t do so. We desperately want to be able to test and take care of everyone, from the seriously ill to the mildly sick and worried, but with our current capacity, we simply can’t. I told them that they needed to assume they had the virus, and gave them instructions on how to quarantine at home.

I changed my gown and gloves, checked my mask and goggles, and moved on to my next patient: a student who had been coughing and feeling fatigued for multiple days. They had been with a friend before getting sick, and that friend had since fallen ill with symptoms of COVID-19, including a fever. The patient was having trouble catching their breath, but their symptoms were not severe or acute—as confirmed by a chest X-ray and a test of their oxygen levels—so I recommended discharge and quarantine, and they understood.  

My next patient was a young professional. For the past week they’d had a dry cough and chest pain. They had no underlying health conditions, and they’d tried to follow the current guidelines by staying at home (the right thing to do, given the overwhelmed state of hospitals like mine) but that evening their breathing had become so labored that they called an ambulance. When I saw them, however, they were breathing comfortably, their chest X-ray was clear, and their oxygen levels were safe. They were visibly upset when I told them they would not be admitted. They wanted to be tested. I explained why we couldn’t do that, and completed their discharge paperwork.  

I collected myself and approached my next patient: a young person who’d been suffering with a fever, cough, and extreme fatigue for the past three days. Their boss didn’t believe they were sick, so they’d continued to complete long shifts working with customers at a local business. After examining the young patient, I determined that they were in the same category as the previous three I’d seen—sick, but not sick enough to be given a precious hospital bed or COVID-19 test—so I gave them fluids, Tylenol, and a note for their employer confirming that they were indeed ill, and needed to stay home.

Late in the night, another young patient came in with a high fever and no underlying health conditions. They’d had a dry cough for the past four days. They’d come to the hospital after finding they were unable to walk a few feet without getting severely short of breath. On their chest X-ray, I saw lungs that were almost completely whited out, indicating a significant amount of inflammation. It was clear how uncomfortable they were, and how desperately they were trying to catch their breath. They were in a different category from the previous patients I’d seen that night. They needed to be admitted. They needed testing. They needed close monitoring.

I called the Intensive Care Unit team, and they admitted the young patient to the hospital. I finished my shift not long after, walked home, and got in bed, feeling unsteady. When I woke up a few hours later, I logged into our electronic medical record system and learned that in the time I’d been asleep, my patient’s oxygen levels had dropped severely. A breathing tube had been placed down their throat. A ventilator was now keeping them alive.

Recent statistics suggest that what I saw that night is not unusual. On Tuesday, California Governor Gavin Newsom said that half of the 2,102 people who had tested positive for COVID-19 in his state were ages 18 to 49. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention published data on March 18 showing that, from February 12 to March 16, nearly 40 percent of American COVID-19 patients who were sick enough to be hospitalized were ages 20 to 54. Twelve percent of patients with the most critical cases, requiring admission to an ICU, were ages 20 to 44. There are some caveats worth noting: The CDC was not able to determine whether the young people included in its report had underlying health conditions. And all of this is early data. We know that we are still not testing nearly enough people in the United States. The numbers may change.

But in spite of these alarming figures, too many young Americans have been slow to give up the false belief that they are safe from COVID-19. The day after the CDC report was released, college students began responding to a poll. Only 50 percent said that they were concerned about contracting COVID-19. Fifty-three percent admitted that they or their friends had gone to social gatherings in the previous week.

At the same time as I was seeing the flurry of young patients on my overnight shift, a resident friend of mine at a hospital on the West Coast was placing a patient in their 20s on a ventilator. A 26-year-old woman who was hospitalized with COVID-19 recently told her story in The New York Times. A doctor at my own hospital said that he has never seen so many young people in the ICU as he’s now seeing with COVID-19.

This isn’t the type of evidence that we like to talk about as scientists—anecdotes, instead of hard data—but doctors are people too. We listen to the stories of our patients and our colleagues. We pay attention to the trends that we see on the ground. We connect the dots.

We still need better data to fully understand how young people are being affected by COVID-19, but until we can get it, we have to spread the word, and ask friends and family—no matter their age—to stay at home.

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KERRY KENNEDY MELTZER is an internal medicine resident physician in New York City.

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A New York Doctor’s Warning

China warned Italy. Italy warned us. We didn’t listen. Now the onus is on the rest of America to listen to New York.

By Fred Milgrim, Emergency-medicine resident physician in New York City | Published March 27, 2020 7:00 AM ET | The Atlantic Magazine | Posted March 27, 2020 |

In the emergency-department waiting room, 150 people worry about a fever. Some just want a test, others badly need medical treatment. Those not at the brink of death have to wait six, eight, 10 hours before they can see a doctor. Those admitted to the hospital might wait a full day for a bed.

I am an emergency-medicine doctor who practices in both Manhattan and Queens; at the moment, I’m in Queens. Normally, I love coming to work here, even though in the best of times, my co-residents and I take care of one of New York City’s most vulnerable, underinsured patient populations. Many have underlying illnesses and a language barrier, and lack primary care.

These are not the best of times; even for my senior attendings, it is the worst they have ever seen. Here, the curve is not flat. We are overwhelmed. There was a time for testing in New York, and we missed it. China warned Italy. Italy warned us. We didn’t listen. Now the onus is on the rest of America to listen to New York. For many people around the country, the virus is still an invisible threat. But inside New York’s ERs, it is frighteningly visible.

Every day, in our hastily assembled COVID-19 unit, I put on my gown, face shield, three sets of gloves, and N95 respirator mask, which stays on for the entirety of my 12-hour shift, save for one or two breaks for cold pizza and coffee. Before the pandemic, I would wear a new mask for every new patient. Not now. There are not enough to go around. The bridge of my nose is raw, chapped, and on the verge of bleeding. But I consider myself one of the lucky ones. My hospital still has a supply of masks—albeit a dwindling one—to protect me and my colleagues.

Many of my patients clearly haven’t received the message to stay home unless they’re in immediate need of professional medical assistance. Their fevers and coughs alone are not enough to even earn a test. I hand them discharge paperwork and a printout about how to prevent the spread of the coronavirus, tell them to self-isolate, and then I move on to the next person. If they didn’t have the coronavirus before coming to our hospital, they probably do now. So much for gatherings of 10 people or fewer.

Meanwhile, my colleagues tend to patients in the critical-care bay with dipping oxygen levels, patients who can barely speak and may need breathing tubes.

Earlier in the month, we were told that positive-pressure oxygen masks, such as CPAP machines, were risky, as they would aerosolize the virus, increasing health-care workers’ risk of getting infected. But in recent days, running dangerously low on ventilators, we have attempted using CPAP machines to stave off the need for medically induced comas.

Still, the increasing frequency of intubations we need to perform is alarming. Our ventilators are almost all in use, and the ICUs are at capacity. Our hospital has already received extra vents here and there from other hospitals in the region that can spare them, but those few additions are merely a stopgap. Will we soon have patients sharing vents? We wouldn’t be the first hospital to attempt that unusual and suboptimal practice, which gained traction after the Las Vegas shooting, when scores of young trauma patients were vented in pairs. But these COVID-19 patients have delicate lungs, which makes vent-sharing far more dangerous. Nevertheless, we’ve already started studying the mechanics of how to make this happen, as a last-ditch effort.

By next week, we may simply have no choice. Those hundreds of relatively healthy patients we sent home may return to the hospital en masse in respiratory failure.

On Wednesday, I greeted a patient I had discharged only one week prior. When I saw his name pop up on the board, my heart sank. He is just shy of 50, with hardly any past medical history, and he had seemed fine. Now he was gasping for air. His chest X-ray was no relief—COVID-19 for sure. I needed to admit him to the hospital, and set him up with oxygen, heart monitoring, and a bed.

Last week, I saw an elderly woman on dialysis. She had arrived with a mild cough. But her vital signs were normal—no fever. After her chest X-ray came back clear, we decided to send her home. But before her ride came, she spiked a fever to 102. Change of plans. With her age and complex medical problems, she would need to be admitted.

The next night, I saw a rolling bed wheeling past me with a resident riding on top, performing chest compressions on the patient.

Only after we pronounced the patient dead did I learn her name. She was my patient from the night before. She went into cardiac arrest before she even got a bed in the ward. My first COVID-19–positive death. The numbers have been mounting ever since.

A few days ago, FEMA finally arrived to help with this crisis. It has brought more tests, hopefully more vents, and a morgue in the form of a truck to help with the ever-growing number of dead bodies. I wonder if this help will be enough. My colleagues and I discuss this pandemic with a sardonic sense of helplessness. Some of us are getting sick. Our reality alters by the moment. Every day, we change our triage system. Each day could be the day that the masks run out. There is much we think but are too afraid to say to one another.

I do not want to see you in my hospital. I do not want you to go to any hospital in the United States. I do not want you to leave your home, except for essential food and supplies. I do not want you to get tested for the coronavirus, unless you need to be admitted to a hospital.

For those of us at the forefront, knowing who has COVID-19 won’t change our ability—or inability—to treat patients. The problem is, and will be, our shortage of healthy personnel, personal protective equipment, beds, and ventilators. A nasal swab is not the answer anymore.

If you have mild symptoms, assume that you have the coronavirus. Stay home, wash your hands, call your doctor. Don’t come to the emergency department just because of a fever or cough. Receiving a test won’t change our recommendation that you remain in self-isolation. We don’t want you to expose yourself to those who definitely do have the virus.

Social distancing, while still crucial, came too late in New York to prevent a crisis. Maybe, just maybe, extreme measures can prevent this from happening in other cities around the country.

In spite of all this morbidity, the doctors at the hospital received one piece of good news yesterday. A coronavirus patient was successfully taken off a ventilator after two weeks, a first for our Medical ICU and a victory for the staff and, of course, the patient.

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We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.

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FRED MILGRIM is an emergency-medicine resident physician in New York City, currently working at Elmhurst Hospital.

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Watch New Orleans

With the country’s attention turned north, the coronavirus pandemic is exploding in Louisiana.

By VANN R. NEWKIRK II | Published March 27, 2020 2:11 PM ET | The Atlantic | Posted March 27, 2020 |

Between the time this sentence was written and the time this article is published, hundreds more Americans will likely have died from COVID-19. Hundreds or perhaps thousands more people will have been hospitalized, and certainly tens of thousands more will have tested positive for the coronavirus. At this point, making predictions about the pandemic is like riding a barrel over Niagara Falls: We can only guess how it ends, but we do know things are going down.

Here’s another prediction that’s safe to make: The city of New Orleans—and, potentially, all of Louisiana—is going to become the next front in the fight against the pandemic. Even as national attention is justifiably focused on the aggressive outbreak in Washington State and the mounting pressures on New York City’s hospitals, the virus’s advance in Louisiana has shaken local officials and doctors, and the state is already approaching a similar burden of infections and deaths as the crises to the north. There’s good reason to believe that this southern outbreak will be even more difficult to contain, and is perhaps a better harbinger of what’s to come as the pandemic spreads across the country.

The numbers already indicate that Louisiana is a global epicenter of the pandemic. Just over 1 percent of the U.S. population lives in Louisiana. But according to the COVID Tracking Project, 7 percent of all COVID-19 deaths, 7 percent of all hospitalizations, and 3 percent of all positive tests have been in the state. New York has suffered about two deaths per 100,000 residents. Louisiana is at 1.8.

To put the numbers into perspective, if Louisiana were a country, its death count would put it in the top 15 globally. The burden appears to be increasing so quickly that all of these statistics will become quickly out of date. The state reported 83 total deaths from COVID-19 as of noon yesterday. It had reported 34 as of Monday. And, as is the nature of this virus, most of the reported data represent only a snapshot of the infections that took place a week or two ago.

Hospitalizations and deaths will increase. And, if other outbreaks around the world are any example, the curve will not rise gently. The fallout in Louisiana will be most painful in the New Orleans metropolitan area, whose Orleans and Jefferson Parishes account for two-thirds of all cases in the state.

Louisiana Governor John Bel Edwards has already declared a state of emergency. In a press conference on Wednesday, he said that, despite the official numbers, he’s certain that all parishes in the state have coronavirus cases. He asked citizens to continue to stay home and follow state guidelines on slowing the spread of the virus. Like New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, Edwards also warned of a critical shortage of ventilators in the hospitals that will soon be hit with waves of COVID-19 patients. “We could potentially run out of vents in the New Orleans area in the first week in April,” Edwards said. According to state data, a third of all people hospitalized because of the virus so far have required ventilators.

Local officials in New Orleans have made even more dire pronouncements. “We are preparing to mobilize in a way that many of us have never seen,” said Collin Arnold, the city’s homeland-security director, in a separate press conference Wednesday. “This is a disaster that will define us for generations.” New Orleans Mayor LaToya Cantrell said the same day that the city expects hospital beds to fill within two weeks, and she authorized the use of the Morial Convention Center as an overflow site.

Physicians and other health professionals in the city already seem close to being overwhelmed. In a tweet on Wednesday, the former state secretary of health, Rebekah Gee, referenced stories of people reusing protective gear or ordering it from eBay. Joshua Denson, a pulmonary and critical-care physician at Tulane Medical Center and University Medical Center New Orleans, diagnosed the second confirmed case of coronavirus in the city. Now he’s currently under self-quarantine as he awaits the results of his own test for the virus. “I'm not the only one of our critical-care doctors who is on quarantine or sick right now,” Denson told me. “The big point is: If you lose one or two, it’s a big deal. This isn’t a place that’s just swimming with available options.”

According to Denson, problems particular to Louisiana might make an outbreak there worse than what other parts of the U.S. have seen. The state has one of the highest poverty rates in the country, and with that burden comes health disparities—including the kinds of conditions that appear to put people at risk for serious complications from the coronavirus. Louisiana is one of the youngest states in the country, which would seem to suggest its residents would have better outcomes, given that older people have so far been the most vulnerable to the outbreak. But about 43 percent of its adult population falls into “at risk” categories, according to the Kaiser Family Foundation. A sizable number of young adults in the state have preexisting conditions.

According to Denson, that means that New Orleans and the rest of Louisiana might be looking at a different kind of outbreak than most countries—or even New York and Washington—have seen, including widespread hospitalizations or even deaths of young people. Yesterday, Louisiana reported its first death of a person under 35, a 17-year-old in Orleans Parish.

“We’re seeing different processes of this disease than they have seen in China, at least anecdotally,” Denson said. “We’re seeing more comorbid conditions that are common to Americans, such as high blood pressure, stroke, and diabetes.”

Many common assumptions about the coronavirus pandemic are about to be tested in the U.S., in ways they haven’t been so far. The effects of the virus on populations like those in the American South—poorer, characterized by marked racial and social disparities in health status and health access, and often saddled with multiple existing conditions—aren’t yet well known. And many other southern states, unlike Louisiana, New York, Washington—all of which expanded Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act—have little in the way of public health-insurance options for those younger at-risk populations. If Louisiana (likely through Mardi Gras) was COVID-19’s foothold in the South, then America is about to learn a whole lot about how the disease interacts with some of the most stubborn and intractable health-care issues in the country.

For now, the next point of focus should be on New Orleans. It’s not Italy, not yet. But the warnings are urgent, and perhaps even more portentous in their sobriety and certainty. The state will run out of crucial resources for taking care of coronavirus patients, likely before their number peaks. Hospitals will be under extreme strain. Health-care professionals will contract the virus themselves. Underlying health conditions will make their jobs more difficult.

That means now is the time for desperate measures, Denson thinks. He’s calling for the kind of mobilization people reserve for the worst disasters—including donations of supplies and more doctors and nurses. “I hope that two months down the road, people are saying, ‘I overreacted,’” he said.

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The Rich Fled New York. Don’t Be Like Them.

You live in a cramped apartment and you’re scared. But escape is selfish.

By Nathan Thornburg, Host of The Trip podcast | Published March 27, 2020 6:45 AM ET | The Atlantic Magazine | Posted March 27, 2020 |

Hello fellow New Yorkers. You want to leave. So badly. I know. Me too. But don’t. Don’t do it.

It is absurd at this point that it’s even your choice. The bridges should be closed to all but essential traffic. The airports should be shuttered. Instead, Hertz is still renting cars at its 17 Manhattan locations, AirBnB is listing “Corona free” homes in New Jersey, and airlines are offering (apocalyptically cheap) tickets from all three New York airports to Anywhere But Here.

I know all that because I spent one morning this week Googling a dozen possible escapes, in a moment of claustrophobia and panic. I share 900 square feet with two kids and a dog. My wife is a physician who is still seeing patients. And even though I trust her precautions and protocols, I can’t shake the feeling of dread. Mixed in with the uncertainty is the certainty that everything is going to get much, much worse, as the cases spike and people I love or know or admire begin to die. My impulse is to do something—to move, to flee. I’m sure virtually everyone else in the city feels the same way.

The rational truth, though, is that I probably won’t contract COVID-19 while locked in my apartment, though I may well have it already, a holdover from those faraway early-March days when this city was a big pool of the virus and we all were just doing laps together. And if I leave, I’ll bring my germs with me.

There are already pockets of disease on Long Island, and fever spikes in the Catskills, and empty stores in Jersey shore towns that have long put up with our summering bullshit. To paraphrase the New York Post, Nantucket thinks NYC can suck it.

And though I am dreaming, hallucinating almost, of what it would be like to have a yard for the dog and the kids while we wait out the pandemic, rural communities just aren’t built for anybody’s dream quarantine. Proactive governments recognized this early on. A friend of mine in Norway, the restaurateur Nud Dudhia, had been staying with his family in their super-hygge mountain cabin. But in mid-March Norway’s government ordered everyone back to their primary residence, so that any potential health-care burden would land where the population actually lived.

In the U.S., unbelievably, whether to leave is still up to you, as is where to go. If you fled for the hills the moment you read about Dr. Li Wenliang’s death in February, then kudos. I’m jealous of your paranoia, and perhaps you didn’t endanger anyone. But if you left this week, or are planning on leaving, you are nakedly prioritizing your comfort and peace of mind over the physical health of others. Don’t start in on Donald Trump, Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin, or any of those faraway self-dealers unless you start by doing what you can do to be part of the solution. Stay home.

I borrowed some of this moral clarity from an aunt in Madrid. She had watched with horror and fascination as politicians in Italy (about as far ahead of Spain along the coronavirus curve as Spain is of the United States) leaked news about a planned quarantine so that, instead of being contained, the virus scattered around the country on the wings of hundreds of thousands of individual decisions. That was on my aunt’s mind as the cordon started closing in on her city. She and her partner thought about fleeing to the village of Adahuesca, but, as she put it, “there was a chance that we’d just kill all the old people there.” They stayed put.

The restrictions in Madrid make New York’s stay-at-home guidelines look like an invitation to bacchanalia (seriously, why are our playgrounds still open?). In Madrid today, you can’t walk a dog with more than one person. Police have the discretion under Penal Code 556 of fining you if you are smoking or otherwise loitering on the street. Spaniards are lovely people and frequently also insolent scofflaws, so some started taking a couple of cans and a carrot or two from their own pantry and walking them around the city, to pretend they had been out shopping. Now police demand that you show a grocery-store receipt.

If you are nervous about staying in New York, and shopping solo, and surviving, this video that everyone is sharing from the Weill Cornell ICU doc David Price should reassure you that you can do this. Wash your hands. Don’t touch your face. Smile at your neighbors.

This pandemic involves a class element, of course. This is, among other things, a Prince Charles disease, a Tom Hanks disease, splashed around the planet by the kind of world traveler I’ve become myself. In the past year I’ve been to Iraq, Kenya, Beirut, Cuba, Japan, Mexico, and beyond, for a podcast. I flew to Chiang Mai for a wedding, to Sweden for the last night of a famous restaurant. And leaving aside for the moment what I’ve done to the ozone layer, it’s safe to say that I’m exactly the kind of asshole who brought you rapidly circulating global disease. COVID-19 became a wildfire thanks to a super-spreader soiree in Connecticut and the Biogen breakout in Boston and the Mar-a-Lago miasma and that gentleman who flew from New York to Florida while awaiting his COVID-19 test results.

I imagine that few of the people who stock the bodegas and clean the subways here in New York are surprised by the exodus. Privileged New Yorkers, the kind who moved here with college degrees and an Exciting New Career Opportunity, have long held themselves aloof from the city. They are ready for the rewards—a beautiful skyline, a killer shawarma—but are often trying to skip the bill. They can’t even stomach August in New York. I get that they don’t want to stay in the embattled epicenter of a global contagion.

And by they, of course, I mean me. Except not this time. The coronavirus is running a massive social experiment on us all. The question: Can each of us put aside our dreadful specialness long enough to slow this thing? Can we grit our teeth through the eerie nights to come? Do we trust our neighbors, the dudes on the corner, the first responders, the men living in the single-room occupancy down the block, to have our back—and can they trust us to have theirs? The answer has to be yes.

We are New Yorkers. We rushed the pile after 9/11, rebuilt after Sandy, walked home during the blackout, made out in Times Square on V-J Day. We’re minting a lot of heroes at Elmhurst Hospital  and Mount Sinai West this week, health-care workers who have answered the call with bravery and compassion and sacrifice. The story of New York in this pandemic should belong to them, not to the summer-home super-spreaders.

So it’s settled then. We’re going to get through this, right here, in our tiny freaking apartments. Sending love to you all.

______

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.

______

NATHAN THORNBURGH is a co-founder of Roads & Kingdoms and host of The Trip podcast, which he started with the late Anthony Bourdain.

*********

[wetrumpfeed]

Afternoon MAGAthread: YOUR WEEKLY PRESIDENTIAL RECAP!

HAPPY SATURDAY SUPER ELITES!

This is u/Ivaginaryfriend here and I'm back with a recap of last weeks winning! If you happened to miss any past recaps you can catch those here!

Sunday, June 2nd:

TODAY'S ACTION:

President Trump Delivers Remarks at the Ford's Theatre Gala

President Trump Delivers Remarks Upon Departure

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

The Democrats are doing nothing on the Border to address the Humanitarian and National Security Crisis! Could be fixed so easily if they would vote with Republicans to fix the loopholes.

People have been saying for years that we should talk to Mexico. The problem is that Mexico is an “abuser” of the United States, taking but never giving. It has been this way for decades. Either they stop the invasion of our Country by Drug Dealers, Cartels, Human Traffickers.... ... ....Coyotes and Illegal Immigrants, which they can do very easily, or our many companies and jobs that have been foolishly allowed to move South of the Border, will be brought back into the United States through taxation (Tariffs). America has had enough!

The Wall is under construction and moving along quickly, despite all of the Radical Liberal Democrat lawsuits. What are they thinking as our Country is invaded by so many people (illegals) and things (Drugs) that we do not want. Make America Great Again!

NO COLLUSION, NO OBSTRUCTION, NO NOTHING! “What the Democrats are trying to do is the biggest sin in the impeachment business.” David Rivkin, Constitutional Scholar. Meantime, the Dems are getting nothing done in Congress. They are frozen stiff. Get back to work, much to do!

I never called Meghan Markle “nasty.” Made up by the Fake News Media, and they got caught cold! Will @CNN, @nytimes and others apologize? Doubt it!

Peggy Noonan, the simplistic writer for Trump Haters all, is stuck in the past glory of Reagan and has no idea what is happening with the Radical Left Democrats, or how vicious and desperate they are. Mueller had to correct his ridiculous statement, Peggy never understood it!

Mexico is sending a big delegation to talk about the Border. Problem is, they’ve been “talking” for 25 years. We want action, not talk. They could solve the Border Crisis in one day if they so desired. Otherwise, our companies and jobs are coming back to the USA!

Democrats can’t impeach a Republican President for crimes committed by Democrats. The facts are “pouring” in. The Greatest Witch Hunt in American History! Congress, go back to work and help us at the Border, with Drug Prices and on Infrastructure.

Hearing word that Russia, Syria and, to a lesser extent, Iran, are bombing the hell out of Idlib Province in Syria, and indiscriminately killing many innocent civilians. The World is watching this butchery. What is the purpose, what will it get you? STOP!

Kevin Hassett, who has done such a great job for me and the Administration, will be leaving shortly. His very talented replacement will be named as soon as I get back to the U.S. I want to thank Kevin for all he has done - he is a true friend!

BIG NEWS! As I promised two weeks ago, the first shipment of LNG has just left the Cameron LNG Export Facility in Louisiana. Not only have thousands of JOBS been created in USA, we’re shipping freedom and opportunity abroad!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Elon Musk Schools Fake News Media

Daily Beast Says Facebook Helped Them Dox Trump Supporter | Breitbart

FAKE NEWS - Look how they subtly try to manipulate the way you think .

Fucking bitch says Dems need to take "kill shot" on Trump, then acts like she didn't realize what she was saying. ABC leaves it in show. DECLAS is about to expose her traitor dad. Lock them all the fuck up.

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

Message straight from the White House

Last time I posted this it caused a massive triggering, and we were invaded, and it was eventually downvoted to 0 from 300. Round 2, let's do this.

"Progress" in Europe

👌🏻

Tim pool vs msm

Monday, June 3rd:

TODAY'S ACTION:

President Donald J. Trump Announces Intent to Nominate Individual to a Key Administration Post

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

.@SadiqKhan, who by all accounts has done a terrible job as Mayor of London, has been foolishly “nasty” to the visiting President of the United States, by far the most important ally of the United Kingdom. He is a stone cold loser who should focus on crime in London, not me...... ... ....Kahn reminds me very much of our very dumb and incompetent Mayor of NYC, de Blasio, who has also done a terrible job - only half his height. In any event, I look forward to being a great friend to the United Kingdom, and am looking very much forward to my visit. Landing now!

Thank you! 🇺🇸🇬🇧

China is subsidizing its product in order that it can continue to be sold in the USA. Many firms are leaving China for other countries, including the United States, in order to avoid paying the Tariffs. No visible increase in costs or inflation, but U.S. is taking Billions!

Just arrived in the United Kingdom. The only problem is that @CNN is the primary source of news available from the U.S. After watching it for a short while, I turned it off. All negative & so much Fake News, very bad for U.S. Big ratings drop. Why doesn’t owner @ATT do something?

I believe that if people stoped using or subscribing to @ATT, they would be forced to make big changes at @CNN, which is dying in the ratings anyway. It is so unfair with such bad, Fake News! Why wouldn’t they act. When the World watches @CNN, it gets a false picture of USA. Sad!

London part of trip is going really well. The Queen and the entire Royal family have been fantastic. The relationship with the United Kingdom is very strong. Tremendous crowds of well wishers and people that love our Country. Haven’t seen any protests yet, but I’m sure the.... ... ....Fake News will be working hard to find them. Great love all around. Also, big Trade Deal is possible once U.K. gets rid of the shackles. Already starting to talk!

Russia has informed us that they have removed most of their people from Venezuela.

As a sign of good faith, Mexico should immediately stop the flow of people and drugs through their country and to our Southern Border. They can do it if they want!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Now THAT is a FLOTUS.

CNN is one giant meme...

Facts You Won't See on CNN

Judge tosses House Dems' lawsuit over Trump's use of emergency military funds for border wall

BREAKING: California state bar moves to suspend Avenatti's law license, saying he poses 'substantial threat of harm to clients or the public'

The Democrats Don't Even Try to Hide it, They HATE America

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

The Trump balloon surveys the carnage that is part and parcel of daily life in Sadiq Khan's London

How Her Majesty looks at Meghan Markle vs how she looks at President Trump.

POTUS Keepin' an Eye on Fake News while Peepin' the Queen's Trinkets

The floor is the FALSE SONG OF GLOBALISM

Tuesday, June 4th:

TODAY'S ACTION:

President Donald J. Trump Announces Intent to Nominate Individual to a Key Administration Post

President Trump and First Lady Melania Trump's Visit to the United Kingdom - Day 1

President Trump Participates in a Press Conference with the Prime Minister of UK & Northern Ireland

President Trump Participates in a Business Roundtable

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

#USStateVisit🇺🇸🇬🇧

President Trump Participates in a Press Conference with the Prime Minister of UK & Northern Ireland

Thank you @Theresa_May!🇺🇸🇬🇧

Can you imagine Cryin’ Chuck Schumer saying out loud, for all to hear, that I am bluffing with respect to putting Tariffs on Mexico. What a Creep. He would rather have our Country fail with drugs & Immigration than give Republicans a win. But he gave Mexico bad advice, no bluff!

Washed up psycho @BetteMidler was forced to apologize for a statement she attributed to me that turned out to be totally fabricated by her in order to make “your great president” look really bad. She got caught, just like the Fake News Media gets caught. A sick scammer!

#USStateVisit🇺🇸🇬🇧

Plagiarism charge against Sleepy Joe Biden on his ridiculous Climate Change Plan is a big problem, but the Corrupt Media will save him. His other problem is that he is drawing flies, not people, to his Rallies. Nobody is showing up, I mean nobody. You can’t win without people!

I kept hearing that there would be “massive” rallies against me in the UK, but it was quite the opposite. The big crowds, which the Corrupt Media hates to show, were those that gathered in support of the USA and me. They were big & enthusiastic as opposed to the organized flops!

Just had a big victory in Federal Court over the Democrats in the House on the desperately needed Border Wall. A big step in the right direction. Wall is under construction!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Never forget what they did to this family, as they will most assuredly do the same to yours.

'Coward of Broward' police deputy arrested for inaction during Parkland mass shooting

ICE planning large-scale deportations that 'will include families'

BBC and uk politicians heads explode in- 3-2-1 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 link in comments

Trump destroys Sadiq Khan - Mayor of London 🔴 Press Conference

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

MAGA 2020

Yes, we do lay out a red carpet for our favourite world leader and no, liberals you can’t stop us!

Absolute truth

Beef Status : Roasted

Then I said... "Because You'd be in Jail"

Wednesday, June 5th:

TODAY'S ACTION:

Three Nominations and One Withdrawal Sent to the Senate

President Trump Participates in a Bilateral Meeting with the Prime Minister of Ireland

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

.@FLOTUS Melania and I send our deepest condolences to President Reuven Rivlin and the entire State of Israel upon the passing of Mrs. Nechama Rivlin. Mrs. Rivlin represented her beloved country with grace and stature. We will miss her along with all those who knew her.

Could not have been treated more warmly in the United Kingdom by the Royal Family or the people. Our relationship has never been better, and I see a very big Trade Deal down the road. “This trip has been an incredible success for the President.” @IngrahamAngle

House Democrats, fresh off a Republican victory against them (in Federal Court) on the Wall, keep asking people to come and testify regarding the No Collusion Witch Hunt. They are very unhappy with the Mueller Report, especially with his corrective letter, & now want a Do Over!

If the totally Corrupt Media was less corrupt, I would be up by 15 points in the polls based on our tremendous success with the economy, maybe Best Ever! If the Corrupt Media was actually fair, I would be up by 25 points. Nevertheless, despite the Fake News, we’re doing great!

“House Republicans support the President on Tariffs with Mexico all the way, & that makes any measure the President takes on the Border totally Veto proof. Why wouldn’t you as Republicans support him when that will allow our President to make a better deal.” Thank you @GOPLeader

As we approach the 75th Anniversary of D-Day, we proudly commemorate those heroic and honorable patriots who gave their all for the cause of freedom during some of history’s darkest hours. #DDay75

Immigration discussions at the White House with representatives of Mexico have ended for the day. Progress is being made, but not nearly enough! Border arrests for May are at 133,000 because of Mexico & the Democrats in Congress refusing to budge on immigration reform. Further... ... ....talks with Mexico will resume tomorrow with the understanding that, if no agreement is reached, Tariffs at the 5% level will begin on Monday, with monthly increases as per schedule. The higher the Tariffs go, the higher the number of companies that will move back to the USA!

#DDay75thAnniversary #DDay75

“The President has received glowing reviews from the British Media. Here at home, not so much. MSNBC Ramps up hateful coverage and promotes conspiracy theories during Trump’s trip to Europe.” @seanhannity The good news is that @maddow is dying in the ratings, along with @CNN!

A big and beautiful day today!

Heading over to Normandy to celebrate some of the bravest that ever lived. We are eternally grateful! #DDay75thAnniversary #DDay75

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Just Donald Trump wearing Winston Churchill's bowler hat

POTUS showed his dominance over the rest of the world leaders.

Youtube has banned a respected history channel for "hate speech." Thanks, Vox.

Guilty until proven innocent for the Samaritans

WINNING: Judge approves more than $6 billion in border wall funding

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

Celebrate

Ouch

Don't Hate the Straight

A baconator is in order

The GEOTUS finger point

Thursday, June 6th:

TODAY'S ACTION:

Proclamation on National Day of Remembrance of the 75th Anniversary of D-Day

President Trump Delivers Departure Remarks

President Trump and The First Lady Participate in the 75th Commemoration of D-Day

President Trump Participates in a Bilateral Meeting with the President of the French Republic

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

#DDay75thAnniversary

So sorry to hear about the terrible accident involving our GREAT West Point Cadets. We mourn the loss of life and pray for the injured. God Bless them ALL!

Today, we remember those who fell, and we honor all who fought, here in Normandy. They won back this ground for civilization. To more than 170 Veterans of the Second World War who join us today: You are among the very greatest Americans who will ever live! #DDay75thAnniversary

To the men who sit behind me, and to the boys who rest in the field before me: your example will never grow old. Your legend will never tire, and your spirit - brave, unyielding, and true - will NEVER DIE! #DDay75thAnniversary

Just signed Disaster Aid Bill to help Americans who have been hit by recent catastrophic storms. So important for our GREAT American farmers and ranchers. Help for GA, FL, IA, NE, NC, and CA. Puerto Rico should love President Trump. Without me, they would have been shut out!

#DDay75thAnniversary

John Solomon: Factual errors and major omissions in the Mueller Report show that it is totally biased against Trump.

“Mueller’s report was pure, political garbage!” @SeanHannity

#DDay75thAnniversary #DDay75

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

President Trump hugging Russell Pickett, 94, the last survivor of Company A whose young men led the Omaha Beach charge on D-Day. Private Pickett was just 19 years old; 96% of A Company suffered casualties within the first 30-45 minutes.

We had our heads chopped off by a blunt knife screaming for our mommies and reddit scrubbed every mention of our story because they are globalist muslim shills

Trump Administration and Taiwan announce $2+ Billion deal for Taiwan to purchase over 100 M1A2 tanks, 1600+ Javelin & TOW anti-tank missiles and 250 stinger missiles. MSM frets about “angering” an increasingly aggressive China

Our President over in France taking time to shake every WW2 veterans in attendance hand and they love him and Melania

Call to action: time to report vox for violations of TOS on YouTube!

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

VOX burn books

Saw this hilarious sign and knew exactly where to post.

Jihad Barbie has a tax problem.

My nephew is in the ROTC group presenting the VP Pence with the flag in full WWII Uniform!! So damn proud 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

Friday, June 7th:

TODAY'S ACTION:

Proclamation on Flag Day and National Flag Week, 2019

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

Video

Video

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to our great @VP Mike Pence!

China is subsidizing its product in order that it can continue to be sold in the USA. Many firms are leaving China for other countries, including the United States, in order to avoid paying the Tariffs. No visible increase in costs or inflation, but U.S. is taking in Billions!

Nervous Nancy Pelosi is a disgrace to herself and her family for having made such a disgusting statement, especially since I was with foreign leaders overseas. There is no evidence for such a thing to have been said. Nervous Nancy & Dems are getting Zero work done in Congress.... ... ...and have no intention of doing anything other than going on a fishing expedition to see if they can find anything on me - both illegal & unprecedented in U.S. history. There was no Collusion - Investigate the Investigators! Go to work on Drug Price Reductions & Infrastructure!

If we are able to make the deal with Mexico, & there is a good chance that we will, they will begin purchasing Farm & Agricultural products at very high levels, starting immediately. If we are unable to make the deal, Mexico will begin paying Tariffs at the 5% level on Monday!

Democrats are incapable of doing a good and solid Immigration Bill!

For all of the money we are spending, NASA should NOT be talking about going to the Moon - We did that 50 years ago. They should be focused on the much bigger things we are doing, including Mars (of which the Moon is a part), Defense and Science!

Heading back to D.C. Many great things are happening for our Country!

Dow Jones has best week of the year!

I am pleased to inform you that The United States of America has reached a signed agreement with Mexico. The Tariffs scheduled to be implemented by the U.S. on Monday, against Mexico, are hereby indefinitely suspended. Mexico, in turn, has agreed to take strong measures to.... ... ....stem the tide of Migration through Mexico, and to our Southern Border. This is being done to greatly reduce, or eliminate, Illegal Immigration coming from Mexico and into the United States. Details of the agreement will be released shortly by the State Department. Thank you!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

MN investigation shows Rep. Omar filed EIGHT YEARS of false tax returns

[Timeline] Spygate - or how the US intelligence tried to depose a duly elected president

FBI Vault released Part 33 of their Hillary "She belongs in Jail" Clinton investigation.

BREAKING: State Department releases the following statement outlining the agreement between the U.S. and Mexico

Judicial Watch: FBI Docs Show Notes about Meeting with Intelligence Community Inspector General about Clinton Emails are ‘Missing’ and CD Containing Notes Is Likely ‘Damaged’ Irreparably - Judicial Watch

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

Nervous Nancy (D)

Sand from Omaha Beach is used to make the names on white crosses more visible

BIDEN THE BITCH...can be swayed to change his opinion by ALYSSA MILANO....😂😂😂😂. What a pussy. Maybe he’ll flip on the HYDE ruling again tomorrow. 👌🏻

POTUS and FLOTUS

These young women admiring POTUS. 2020 is in the bag folks!🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

Saturday, June 8th:

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

While the reviews and reporting on our Border Immigration Agreement with Mexico have been very good, there has nevertheless been much false reporting (surprise!) by the Fake and Corrupt News Media, such as Comcast/NBC, CNN, @nytimes & @washingtonpost. These “Fakers” are Bad News!

Brandon Judd, National Border Patrol Council: “That’s going to be a huge deal because Mexico will be using their strong Immigration Laws - A game changer. People no longer will be released into the U.S.” Also, 6000 Mexican Troops at their Southern Border. Currently there are few!

Mexico will try very hard, and if they do that, this will be a very successful agreement for both the United States and Mexico!

MEXICO HAS AGREED TO IMMEDIATELY BEGIN BUYING LARGE QUANTITIES OF AGRICULTURAL PRODUCT FROM OUR GREAT PATRIOT FARMERS!

Nervous Nancy Pelosi & the Democrat House are getting nothing done. Perhaps they could lead the way with the USMCA, the spectacular & very popular new Trade Deal that replaces NAFTA, the worst Trade Deal in the history of the U.S.A. Great for our Farmers, Manufacturers & Unions!

Everyone very excited about the new deal with Mexico!

I would like to thank the President of Mexico, Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador, and his foreign minister, Marcelo Ebrard, together with all of the many representatives of both the United States and Mexico, for working so long and hard to get our agreement on immigration completed!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Ted Cruz with the reckoning—This will not end well.

Mueller put the public at risk through Nader

HUGE: @RealDonaldTrump Takes Border Crisis Head On; Bruce Ohr Gets $28k Bonus in Middle of Spygate Abuses; Muller Report Fails; And More Clinton Email Docs Go Missing. Massive Judicial Watch Update!

Trump Deal with Mexico Likely Ends Catch-and-Release, Defunds Cartels

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

When you don’t understand how President Trump negotiated a successful Mexico border deal without sending pallets of cash

Finally found the Bolsonaro vs. the Commie Reaper meme I’ve been looking for since last year.

Gillette be like:

WEEEW LAD!

Without further ado, some tunes to get you jamming through all this winning:

Light

True Feeling

Swing Tree

Wait A Minute!

Chasing Colors

MAGA ON PATRIOTS!

submitted by /u/Ivaginaryfriend [link] [comments]

[selflovinalicia]

Hi everyone and happy last day of 2018. This year absolutely flew by + It’s a little bittersweet that it’s ending, however, I’m hoping 2019 is everyone’s best year yet! Just like last year, I wanted to make a little year in review to showcase my 2018 [especially these past few months with no posts]. Here was my 2018!

In January, I headed back to Athens to begin my second semester at Ohio University. Nothing significant happened to me, but my roommate got a boyfriend (sort of…) so go her!

Me and some friends from high school

My roommate and some friends

I met some amazing people through CHAARG in February and worked out with 2 of my best friends for the first time! Crazy how time flies. OU also flooded and we got a 3 day weekend because of it! February consisted of a lot of interviews, a lot of rejection, and a lot of teaching myself how to handle it. It was rough during the time but I’ve learned so much because of it. Rejection is never easy but sometimes those things just weren’t meant to be.

Fest season began in March. I’d never experienced a “darty” quick like OU in my life. It’s very crazy and hectic but with the right people can be fun! I also headed home for Spring break in which I did pretty much nothing besides catch up on homework and hang out with my dog. It ended with the CHAARG formal [in which I was given the award of “Boss A$$ Bitch”] and me being chosen to be on CHAARG’s exec team.

With mom’s weekend, finals prep, and CHAARG coming to a close, April was a whirlwind. Trying to squeeze as much time in with my friends before heading home for the summer, more fests, and simultaneously trying to not fail all my classes was rough but I conquered. I ended the semester with all As [one A- but who’s counting?] for my best semester [grade wise and others] yet!

Upon returning home on May 1st, I had a whole lot of nothing to do. The lady I nannied for the summer before, who ensured I’d have a job this summer, didn’t get a job herself so my service to them was unneeded. I applied for a few jobs that were close by but none of them wanted a college kid who would only be there for a summer or two. So, I was left jobless and bored counting floor tiles in my kitchen. Nevertheless. I spent May catching up with high school friends, celebrating my dog’s 2nd birthday + 1st gotcha day and reacclimating to my life at home.

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Did somebody say road trip? In June, my family + I took a road trip to Orlando Florida to visit Universal studios for the first time! We stopped in Chatanooga TN to see Ruby Falls, St. Augustine Florida to see one of the oldest colonial cities in the USA, hit Universal for 3 days, and then back up to Sarasota Florida, to visit some family friends. I was able to live out my dream of being a witch in Harry Potter World, turn 21 + enjoy my first few legal drinks poolside, and get some much needed Vitamin D. I was able to finish off the month with some FREE tickets to see Harry Styles [the love of my life] on tour with a good friend of mine!

Back to school already? Nope! In July I did make a trip to Ohio, but for reasons besides school. I visited my friend Olivia + her friend Kennedy in their hometowns for an early birthday celebration for Olivia. It was cool to see where they are from, spend more time with their dogs than with them and meet their families.

I headed back to school 2 weeks early in August. It was nice to be back in Athens when there’s no one else around. It’s peaceful and the feel, in general, is much different than the following 8 months. I was able to bike a lot, go to the gym a lot, see my school friends, do CHAARG stuff, and then also do early move in for my work. Finally, school started. I had a whole one day with my business classes, realized it wasn’t for me, headed right back to the education building, switched my major back and it was as if my business career had never happened.

Once I was back in the swing of things with all of my education classes, my education friends, etc. I was able to focus on working hard in all aspects of my life. On September 11th I did a stair challenge with some CHAARG girls. We ran the number of stairs that were in a twin tower building to remember the lives lost on 9/11. It was HARD but I’m so glad I did it because it was SO motivating doing that with other CHAARG girls. That following Tuesday, I broke my pinkie finger, I was lifting an 85 pound ball of cement, picked it up wring, and then it landed on my pinkie. 6 weeks in a splint, a lot of pictures, and some makeshift physical therapy to learn how to bend it again, + I was healed.

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I began my student teaching in October. The school was 50 miles away and I had to get 40 hours there, so 8 or so time throughout the remainder of the semester, my friend Sara and I would drive there, grab coffee, and then do some student teaching to get ourselves one step closer to an education degree. Also in October, I participated in the NEDA walk, where I was a top overall donor and helped CHAARG become the highest group donor.

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November started out strong with Dad’s weekend, in which my dad and I drank a lot of coffee, watched a lot of movies, and just hung out for three days. The following weekend was the CHAARG retreat which was just as magical as I imagined. I put SO much effort into that retreat + everyone loved it! The month ended with my being home for Thanksgiving, dying my hair again, and catching up on sleep

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The semester ended just as every other one does; my orgs ending, an ungodly amount of group projects, and a lot of work. I got promoted at work so I am now a Student Manager which is very cool. I ended the semester with a 4.0 and then I headed home for the rest of December which is where I am now, surrounded by a lot of good people and a lot of good food.

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I hope your 2018 was even better than mine!

Much love,

Alicia

2018 year in review

Hi everyone and happy last day of 2018. This year absolutely flew by + It’s a little bittersweet that it’s ending, however, I’m hoping 2019 is everyone’s best year yet!

2018 year in review Hi everyone and happy last day of 2018. This year absolutely flew by + It’s a little bittersweet that it’s ending, however, I’m hoping 2019 is everyone’s best year yet!

[fashiontrendin-blog]

A Chronicle of All the Fashion Shows I Saw, Missed and Loved

http://fashion-trendin.com/a-chronicle-of-all-the-fashion-shows-i-saw-missed-and-loved/

A Chronicle of All the Fashion Shows I Saw, Missed and Loved

I’ve tempted fate one too many times during past fashion weeks and skinned a few too many of my teeth in the almost-late process. It finally caught up with me. On the rainy morning of Monday, September 10th, late to Wes Gordon’s debut at Carolina Herrera and got locked out of the show.

I was pissed. The show was at the New York Historical Society, which I wanted to see the inside of. On top of that, I’d planned to cover Carolina Herrera, and not being there in person to experience the lights and the sound and the general ambiance made me nervous I’d have no real feelings about it.

Turns out I am the rainbow cake girl from Mean Girls this week, because I had plenty of feelings about it, and about a few other shows I didn’t actually attend…and I managed to save some for the shows I did sit at! Details below.

Monday, 10 a.m.

Carolina Herrera Spring 2019

I look at fashion shows the way I read magazines: back to front. So when I got to the office after my commute of shame and opened Vogue.com, my first impression of Wes Gordon’s Carolina Herrera really started with look #43: a four-tone stripe tent (compliment) with an off-the-shoulder ruffle and a flower exploding its own petals in a fit of “loves me, loves me not.” Then came look #40, with a curved arc up toward the clavicle and molten sunshine satin fabric melting below. As the collection subdued, ever so slightly, toward the technical front, I imagined a Carolina fan in the audience’s excitement growing as she liked what she saw — especially, unexpectedly, the knee-high boots with embroidered flowers — but had no idea what to expect next. We’d meet somewhere in the middle, around look #24, perhaps, lock eyes at the marigold gown covered in a leopard-spot-print of red flowers, simultaneously register our appreciating for the menswear-esque top’s silhouette (a nod, maybe, to her classic white shirt-plus-ball-skirt combination) and proclaim together, “Yes!”

Wes’s version of Carolina no doubt leans a just a little bit younger (the blazer-coats, the shorts, the mini skirts) but if youthfulness is a state of mind and the numbers are just for candle-adorning purposes, than these clothes are for his customers of all ages. I think they’re going to be very excited.

11 a.m. – 3 p.m.

I’m at the office. I write some emails, eat a kale-bowl thingy with sweet potato hash and a poached egg, drink half an ice coffee, attend a short meeting, do some work-work, and then OFF I DASH, en foot, to 3.1 Phillip Lim, located in a high school about a 15-minute walk from our office.

3 p.m.

3.1 Phillip Lim Spring 2019

We’re on the roof of a high school, which is giving me flashbacks, and reminding me that everyone, including another Philip (Philip Ellis), has been telling me to watch To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. It’s my main plan for this evening.

And now, a two-sentence review of Phillip Lim: The slight drizzle that steadied during Phillip Lim’s Spring 2019 collection was weirdly perfect given that he’s going one step past the bucket hat and full-on into fisherman headgear. As for the clothes, they’re perfect for a summer city staycation, but they wouldn’t mind if you brought them (the silver coat in particular) to Burning Man.

4 – 7 p.m., back to the office

Hello! Here I am, back in the saddle. I picked up a weird salad on my way back from Lim. It was weird because it was more bacon than lettuce, so also kind of a blessing. I can’t focus on work yet, so I use this time to catch up on Rodarte and Chromat online.

Set in a graveyard on a rainy Sunday, Rodarte’s Spring collection show looks like it would have given me goosebumps had I been there in person. There was a beautiful, romantic melancholia to the whole production that carried over into the photos (either everyone who posted on Instagram caught the hazy effect of light and water just so, or there’s a new Huji in town), but pulled away from the wonderful drama, I could see any of these pieces worn by the happiest of person, like a bride, on the happiest of days, like a wedding — or an attention-grabbing attendee! Or someone very excited to pick up their unicorn’s groceries. Either way, it was a lesson in pure candy fantasy. And a really nice work break.

Out of the woods and into the water: Chromat. In addition to her fantastic casting that, season after season, proves to the industry there are 8 million ways to be beautiful and make clothes look aspirational, she turned the self-conscious coverup beach tee on its head, then soaked it in water, confidence and sex appeal. She told Vogue it was a reimagining of “throwing a ginormous shirt over your swimsuit at the pool because you’re too embarrassed to be seen … to take that moment of vulnerability and make it something to be proud of.” If you’ve ever wondered what the “point” of a runway show is, I’d say Becca’s makes the case for the importance of a stage.

7 – 11 p.m.

Home to watch To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before and eat pizza from this gluten-free pizza place called Wild. The pizza is AN HOUR AND A HALF LATE (way worse than my timing to Carolina, okay) and I’m starving so I eat an entire bag of full-gluten everything bagel chips. The movie is perfect. I, like every other person on this planet apparently, am in love with Noah Centineo.

Tuesday, 6:30 a.m.

Oh look, it’s morning! Nothing to see here folks, other than my Artist’s Way morning pages, 15 minutes of not very good meditation, teeth brushing, varied attempts at writing a few stories I have do (writer’s block has been at an all-time high this week, bad timing) and other general boring morning stuff.

At 9:55 I haul ass to the 1 train, stand too close to the platform because I’m impatient and can’t get it out of my body that leaning into the dark abyss won’t make the train come, when a woman I don’t know gently scolds me (lovingly, or as much as a stranger can muster) for doing so. She’s right, though! I vow to be a changed woman.

10 a.m.

Oscar de la Renta Spring 2019

Time for Oscar de la Renta, which was partially a lesson in How to Look Really Chic While You Travel (with a blanket and socks in your carryon if you get cold), but largely a reminder that glamour is alive and well — or it could be if we all stopped wearing workout clothes to dinner and spent more time inside the heads of Laura Kim and Fernando Garcia. Their take on Oscar de la Renta this round isn’t 100% what I associate the house with, and from watching Monse a few days earlier, it’s clear they’re two designers who are growing and changing. But that’s what fashion is about, right? And how boring would it be if all they did was the same old thing?

Some of the dresses were so dramatic that I almost felt redeemed for missing Carolina yesterday (I’m not going to Paris, so this is just in case there’s a glamour quota I was supposed to be hitting during fashion week). Also alive and well, I am so happy to say, are little straw hats for your little square handbags, and flat sandals with raffia fringe all around, like that of a deconstructed straw hat brim. Shuffle, shuffle.

Now off I go, to the 1 train, back home.

11:30 a.m.

I’m eating last night’s leftover pizza and chugging water while working. Get lost in an email black hole. And then, like it’s groundhog day, I leave my apartment, get back on the 1 train, get off at the same stop, and head to the same studio that Oscar was in, this time for Tome.

1 p.m.

To quote our one-sentence review (which, don’t forget, has its own Highlight on our Instagram!) of Tome: “Dip-dyed and faded sherbert-colored happy sunny sweet breeze clothes to combat a rainy mood, or, to dream about for next summer.” Okay I’ll take it.

2 – 3 p.m.

I have traveled far and wide to reach these parts by subway and my feet hurt. These old boots are not (here comes a joke you’ve never heard before) made for walking. I’m sitting at Coach and thrilled that the bench is a little too high, so my feet are dangling. It feels like sweet relief and makes me think of T. Wise’s bit about dangling feet:

“This obviously makes me think that it doesn’t matter how big or grown or serious a person might be: If they sit in a place where their feet don’t touch the floor, they look absolutely adorable. There are no exceptions to this rule: Football players, supermodels, soldiers, reverends, rappers, I don’t care. Adorable.”

I couldn’t see so well from my seat, but upon close online review, I’d call the collection a cross between West World meets your favorite childhood cartoons that says “PrairieCore isn’t going anywhere, but it might get a lot less sweet and a little more everyday-vampire.”

4 p.m.

They gave us popsicles after the show. I eat mine on the subway ride home, change into sweatpants upon arrival, clean up my apartment that got weirdly messy out of nowhere, and start writing all of this.

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Feature image by Slaven Vlasic/Getty Images for NYFW: The Shows. Photos via Amelia Diamond.