#this did remind me why i wanted to get a scholarship so bad though. cannot wait to get the hell out of here.

[chilapis]

Just came back from the exam, I hope everyone is doing well.

[pynches]

for @non-platonic-murphamy​ aka the best girlfriend in the world! happy birthday my love, I hope you like it <3

People deal with pain differently. Some lose themselves in the bodies of others, others crop up the pain inside until it becomes unbearable, threatening to explode and taking everybody with it in its vicinity, but in Ronan’s case, alcohol had been his biggest helper.

He didn’t drink before his father’s death, always saw it as something grown-ups did, a category he definitely didn’t belong in at fifteen. But there he was, a dreamt up id-card in hand, his curly hair replaced by a buzzcut and the angry lines of a fresh tattoo tangling around his neck. He bought his first beer then and didn’t stop.

Adam never saw the beginning, how Ronan was before his father’s death and how he dealt with it right after. He was, however, there to see the end of it. How Ronan learned to cope in a healthier way than getting himself wasted and the self destructing tendencies that followed. He was proud of how much Ronan had grown since then, how much happier and calmer he seemed now.

That’s why, when Ronan announced that he was going to the bar with Blue who had just returned with Gansey and Henry from their big road trip, Adam was a bit apprehensive. Not because he didn’t trust Ronan or because he thought Ronan would cheat on him in a drunken stupor but because he was afraid Ronan would fall back into his old tendencies if he started again. The only drunk Ronan he knew was one of self-destruction and anger and he wasn’t keen on seeing that side of him again, not with the progress he had made over the years.

Of course, he told him to go, have fun, say hi to Blue for him.

Adam stayed at the Barns himself, alcohol only reminded him of his father and he had an early morning at Boyd’s the next day since he had been all too happy to have Adam back for the summer holidays so keeping an eye on both Blue and Ronan wasn’t an option for him even though he desperately wanted it to be.

His cellphone was placed next to him, the notification sound on to the highest volume in case Ronan needed him. He nearly jumped when he heard his phone go off, picking it up with shaking hands and scolding himself for his anxiety when he saw it was just a snap from Blue.

Adam put his phone away without responding and turned on the tv, hoping it would settle his nerves at least a little bit. He wanted Ronan to have fun and live his life but the thought of losing him because he drank too much and did something stupid like pick a fight with the wrong person made his stomach feel tight.

He sat through one episode of a random tv show he barely followed before he got another notification, this time from Ronan himself.

Adam couldn’t help but smile a bit, feeling more rested now that Ronan was still sober enough to send coherent text messages. Though it had scared him at first, he was now happy that Ronan knew him well enough to send something like that to ease his mind.

Adam put his phone away.

And so the night dragged on.

Adam went from watching tv to doing homework he didn’t even had to do until later that week. He stayed up longer than he had since St. Agnes where he often dedicated those precious sleeping hours to the mountains of homework he had to go through, that being the only time he had for it. Now that he studied at Harvard on a scholarship and didn’t have to work more than one job anymore, he had a much more regular sleep pattern and he felt healthier than ever before.

Some things, though, were hard to unlearn.

He easily stayed up until Ronan finally texted him he was coming home, or well, he thought that was what he was trying to say.

Ronan typed like he was absolutely smashed and it didn’t ease his mind one bit but he trusted Ronan to know what he was doing. Ronan had always made it safely back home, even when he didn’t like life as much as he did now.

He wanted to message back so many things. Please be careful. I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.

He eventually went with: Okay, I’ll see you soon.

To take his mind off the worry he felt, he made his way upstairs and got himself ready for bed. He had just turned off the lights and gotten into bed when he heard someone stumble through the door and it would’ve worried him if not for Ronan’s familiar cursing ringing through the quiet house.

Ronan made his way upstairs, punctuated by the sound of his heavy boots on the creaky staircase. He opened the door of their bedroom and started to undress himself without even uttering a word, his movements sluggish and clumsy.

Adam watched him in slight amused, raising an eyebrow at him when he just stood there in the dark, seemingly staring at him in mild confusion.

“Are you coming to bed?” Adam asked, muffling a slight laugh at the fact that Ronan didn’t even recognise him. Though, he was curious to see what Ronan would do. Ronan didn’t do casual and Adam knew Ronan was utterly devoted to him, but if he really didn’t recognise Adam in the dark and thought it was a random guy, then how would Ronan even respond to that.

“No, thanks,” Ronan said, his words a bit slurred. “I’m sure you’re lovely and all but I have a boyfriend.”

And with that he dropped to the floor and promptly went to sleep. Adam couldn’t help but laugh quietly at Ronan’s words, how he seemed more polite drunk than sober, a vast difference from how he used to be. He also felt a warmth spread through his chest at how Ronan still thought about him, even in his completely wasted state, how he went to sleep on the floor without even thinking twice. It reminded Adam of those nights at St. Agnes when they used to sleep like this all the time, both still too scared to admit what they were really feeling to each other but to themselves as well.

Adam went to sleep with the ghost of a laugh still pulling at his mouth and woke up to a disoriented Ronan trying to get into their bed.

“I cannot fucking believe I didn’t recognise you,” Ronan said, his voice still gruff from sleep. “My back is fucked now.”

Ronan plastered himself against Adam’s back, throwing an arm around his waist, and Adam automatically leaned into his body heat. “You used to do that for me all the time,” he pointed out with a laugh. He couldn’t help but feel a little bad that he made Ronan sleep on the floor so many times, though he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if Ronan was next to him, pressed against him like he was now.

“Yeah, well, I was younger then. More resistant against floors.”

“It was last year!”

Ronan dropped a kiss to the back of his neck, Adam thought he could feel him smile too.

They laid there in comfortable silence. Adam was already slowly sinking back into sleep, his body fully relaxing now that Ronan was lying next to him, when Ronan spoke up again.

“I behaved,” Ronan mumbled into his skin. “Didn’t fight anyone, didn’t mess up.”

“I trusted you,” Adam said defensively, though he knew he didn’t fully. He put his hand on top of the one Ronan had curled around his waist. Ronan stayed silent, it felt expectant. “Okay, fine, maybe I was a bit nervous but I won’t be anymore.”

“That’s better,” Ronan said with a sharp grin before turning Adam around so he could look at him properly. “I’ve changed,” he said and Adam could hear how much it cost him to admit it to himself, to feel good saying it.

“I know and I’m proud of you,” he replied, tracing Ronan’s sharp jaw gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t before.”

“I understand why,” Ronan said softly, taking Adam’s hand in his own and kissing his palm. “But you don’t have to worry.”

Adam nodded and let Ronan play with his hands, enjoying Ronan’s ever gentle touches. “How did the others do?”

“I had to carry the maggot home, I think, and Noah got stuck in a tree.” Adam opened his mouth to fire off a round of question but Ronan shook his head. “I have no idea what happened either but maybe I will after some painkillers. My head fucking hurts.”

Adam nodded and cradled Ronan’s head close, dropping a kiss on his forehead. It would take him a while to get used to this, Ronan slowly enjoying his young adult life more with the sometimes drinking that came along with it and the fear Adam still possessed for strong liquid, having seen the possible effects of it up close and personal. But Ronan wasn’t like that and it was something he had to learn. Much like everything else, this was something they had to grow into together and Adam had no doubt in his mind that they would succeed in that.

But for now, teasing Ronan on the internet was a good way of dealing with it.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

August Contest Submission #16: The Transfer Student

Words: ca. 2,000 Setting: Modern AU Lemon: No CW: Bullying, arranged marriage, mild angst, talk of suicide

Elsa was a new student on Arendelli High in Tokyo, Japan. Despite her constant reminders to her parents that she didn’t need their help picking school, they had persisted, Elsa had had to give in eventually. The school was what Elsa expected it would be, full of very antagonistic, rich, spoiled brat students. She quickly rose to popularity which she kind of expected. Not only was she the heir of a well-known, rich CEO and granddaughter of a corporate empire, she was also conventionally seen as attractive, which had both perks and cons. One of the cons was being constantly bombarded by the popular kids as they tried to get her into one of their ‘exclusive clubs’, which she had to persistently decline.

Which earned her the title of ‘Snow Queen’ in no time at all. “As usual,” she sighed. “It’s like some sort of a tradition.”

  This time she wasn’t going to just give up. She didn’t hate them, per se. She just couldn’t stand them. They were wildly immature, highly superficial if her overhearing their very loud gossip in the stall was any indication, back when she happened to be in one after helping to clean the bathroom. They also bullied the only person she actually wanted to get close to.

See, Elsa had a secret, just like everybody else, but this secret she cannot let anyone know. Not her parents nor her friends. Not if she can help it.

  She’s into the same sex,

swings the other way,

flower napper,

gay for girls,

  You get the idea.

  The girl named Anna was from her class too, she was really smart and got a scholarship to the school, so she wasn’t from money, as Elsa heard from one of the gossips. That was why a lot of the superficial ones bullied her. Elsa fancied that the real reason they were so harsh on Anna was that she was more beautiful than them and they felt threatened by her beauty, it might actually be true. Elsa once bumped into her ‘accidentally’ at lunch and was about to talk to her and maybe invite her to coffee but the redhead only apologized profusely and excused herself.

  Elsa felt guilty after that. She felt like she should be doing something to change this situation, she feared that the bullying might get to her one day. She wanted to do something for the girl so despite her hesitance she contacted someone she can even remotely consider her ‘friend.’

  “Yellow?” Elsa sneered as soon as she heard his voice.

“Oh, Elsa I can hear your sneer from here, if you need something from me then you would have to be a bit nicer.”

Elsa conceded and breathed in. “Fine. I need your help with something… and yes I can hear your grin reaching from ear to ear here too.”

“Oh, dear Elsa. What might this help be? Is it something your Mommy and Daddy cannot solve for you?” Hans replied.

Elsa snapped at that comment. “You bring up my parents and I hang up,” she threatened.

Hans knew that she meant it. “Alright Snow Queen, tell me what has got your ire this time.”

“It’s not a what, it’s a who.”

“Already? You just moved in the school.” “It’s not that!” Elsa said, flabbergasted the situation that she was in. “I…I want to court someone.”

“Oh, so it’s that,” Hans replied, seemingly reminiscent.

  Elsa doesn’t blame him. Sometime they forget that they’re more similar than they think, since Hans is gay too.

  See here: Hans and Elsa were to be betrothed, and so both of them had hired investigators to follow each other and find a reason to cancel the marriage. This was how they had discovered each other’s secret which, oddly enough, is what got them to keep the arrangement, since if it came to it, they’d let each have more leeway or even a chance to pick who they really love. They decided they are both fine with that kind of arrangement since eventually they’ll give in to their parents’ request and they would rather end up with someone they can negotiate with.

  “Can’t you just…I don’t know. Charm her or something, like talk about how you’re the daughter of great CEO and have a corporate empire or something?”

“Hans,” Elsa said, as she held the bridge of her nose, she’s just basically done. “I’m not like you, and it doesn’t work like that.”

“Hey, just throwing around ideas out here.” Hans defended himself. “Also it worked for me.”

“Well, I’m not like you. Prince Charming!” Elsa pointed out.

“Yeah, I wonder why? Miss Snow Queen!” Hans retorted. “Have you tried the ‘Accidental bump method?’”

“Yeah, and it didn’t work.” Elsa sighed, remembering how much it hadn’t worked. “It even kinda backfired.”

“Oof, a tough one huh. When did you get so picky?” Hans quipped.

Elsa sneered again. “I thought we’re here to, I dunno, help me court someone? Not judge my choices?”

“I know, I know. Sheesh…” Hans attempted to diffuse the situation. “Have you tried giving her a flower?”

“Ha Ha, that’s really stereotypical,” Elsa said.

Hans continued. “Look, Elsa. The goal here is to court someone, you kinda do need it to be stereotypical in a way or, if you prefer, predictable.”

“But it’s too obvious,” Elsa argued.

“That’s kind of the point.” Hans laughed. Then he was quiet for a while.

  Elsa thought about what Hans said. He did, kinda, have a really good point, Elsa had to admit. If only he used that brain of his to do good things instead of just goofing around and causing mischief then she might actually like him, not too much though, Elsa still for sure preferred girls.

  “Elsa, I gotta go,” Hans said a minute later. “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, and thank you,” Elsa replied. It was at these times that Elsa was happy that she let him stick around.

  Elsa followed Hans’ advice and went to buy flowers. She would have to be careful about this, else she might just be at the bullying end and she couldn’t help Anna that way. Though she does think there can be sort of a camaraderie in that, she prefers if it didn’t happen. Not if she can help it.

  What she decided to go with was yellow crocus flowers, as they were apparently a great symbol of hope and joyfulness. Which was definitely the message she was looking to send. Winter will indeed end, spring will come again and life will go on.

  She arranged them in a vase with water to keep it fresh and left it at Anna’s desk as they were going to class next morning.

  However, Elsa didn’t get quite the expected reaction. Yes, students were talking about it when they saw it but they had sort of a look of dread in their face instead of curiosity and intrigue which worried Elsa. That can’t be good but it’s not as if she can undo it now. She needs to know what’s wrong, then it came to her. It was sort of a slow realization.

“What if the culture around flowers here in Japan is vastly different compared to where I’m from?” she thought and the gears on her head started to turn. She leaned in a bit to the other table and calmed herself enough to listen in to their conversation.

  “Do you think the Gyaru girls did it?”

“No even they wouldn’t stoop this low.”

“What kind of asshole would tell someone to kill theirself?”

  That was the last straw for Elsa, she is still confused as to how this all worked it but if it was bad enough that even the gyaru girls won’t do it then she’s royally fucked. She was going to remove it now no matter what, reputation be damned. Then Anna walked in and headed directly to her table, on when she reached the table did Anna notice the flowers. It was like scalding hot water being poured on her when Elsa watched Anna’s expression shift from bad to worse.

  Anna went running out of the room. Elsa followed quickly after, determined to comfort her properly this time. Anna was fast walking and then running and Elsa almost couldn’t keep up with her. This was a very unfortunate day to wear heals. Elsa followed her to the rooftop expecting to see her sulking there, but what she saw was something else.

  Anna was on the edge of the school rooftop, she had her shoes off and she looked like she was about to… no… nooo… please don’t do it, please don’t jump.

  “Hey, don’t do it, please.” It just came out of Elsa’s mouth without her permission, but she was glad that it did.

“Let me be,” Anna replied, her voice full of resolution.

“It was me, I was the one who put the flower with the vase there. Whatever it meant, it was not my intention.” Anna looked at her like she had grown two heads but Elsa kept going, she had Anna’s attention now and that’s good. She’s also slowly getting closer to her as she spoke. To pull her away if needed.

  “I didn’t… I just wanted it to be your hope in this trying times. I wanted to be…”

  “You’re not just making this up to make me feel better?” Anna asked, still guarded.

  “If you want to, I can show you exactly where I purchased the flowers and the vase but I can’t really do that unless you get down from there first.” Anna seemed to realized she was still outside the protective fence of the rooftop, she seemed to blush at the realization. Must be from the height, Elsa thought. Anna finally moved to get to a safer location and Elsa helped her. After she was safe and sound, Anna grabbed at Elsa’s hand. For the first time since Elsa got to the roof, Anna finally met her gaze.

  “Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

Elsa looked into Anna’s eyes, she didn’t find any blame or sarcasm there, it was just genuine curiosity.

  “I tried and I failed the first time, I guess…I should have just tried again.” The situation of the earlier encounter was finally getting to Elsa, crashing down on her like huge waves on an unassuming shore, she holds on tighter to Anna’s hand “I’m just, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Anna traces soothing circles on Elsa’s hand.

“But I almost killed you,” Elsa says to Anna. Anna reaches for her to remove the tear that fell from Elsa’s eyes.

“I’m also being stupid, to be fair, I wasn’t in a great place but still it’s a stupid move. I’m not saying you’re off the hook, just saying it wasn’t just you.” Anna patted Elsa’s back and it worked wonders. She breathed as she hears that and despite herself, she felt a bit of relief.

  “What did it mean anyway? The flowers and the vase on the table?” Elsa asked after she had retrieved her handkerchief to clear her nose with. Her back turned to Anna as a polite gesture.

  “It means the whole class wants you to be dead. It’s like sending someone a coffin while they are still alive.” Anna replied.

  “Oh…that’s,” Elsa started to say, “kind of morbid.” she thought outloud and Anna nodded to her in agreement.

  “I think I should be more careful about this, culture difference and knowing the norms in this place.” Elsa concluded, still a bit guilt-ridden over what happened.

  “It’s fine, you were new so you didn’t know. Now you know what not to do next time.” Anna replied to Elsa, and then she flashed a smile to her direction, “Like I said, still not off the hook though,” she reminded her. “You still need to make it up to me.” Elsa didn’t get it at first but when she did, she blushed profusely. She didn’t want to misunderstand more things but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t take this opportunity “So uhh…coffee?”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t pass on that, but I prefer hot chocolate.”

“Me too.”

[cupcakemolotov]

New York, New York

So I finally finished a thing, and its not what I thought I was going to wrap up first but that is life! It is completely SFW, and very much “Canon, what Canon?” And its been more years than I willing to admin since I applied for colleges, I just glossed over those details. :)

Also, formatting, why are you like this.

-

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Bon. I don’t want to say I told you so but��”

The groan was loud in her ear. “I know, I know. But who would have thought it would be this bad?”

“Me. I thought it would be that bad,” Caroline said with a laugh. “And then I told you about it so you could avoid it. And then you didn’t.”

Bonnie muttered something so low, even Caroline’s vampire gearing couldn’t quite catch it. “Well, we're going to put down rules. As I’ve already told Elena, I might not be a vampire but I have a perfectly good set of ears and there are some things I do not need to hear.” Bonnie huffed out the last sentence. “And I refuse to have to spell my own bedroom to sleep.”

Caroline bit down on the side of her tongue to keep from commenting, knowing it would do little good. Somehow Damon and Bonnie had become friends, and while she would never understand it, she and Bonnie had come to an agreement. Caroline wouldn’t be automatically negative about Damon as long as Bonnie managed to do the same for some of Caroline’s friendships. 

It was a work in progress. 

“Well, if you need some breathing space, you are welcome to come hang out with me for a weekend. I’ve been melting my credit card, and I might as well use those points for something instead of shoes.” She glanced towards her bedroom and grudgingly admitted the next sentence. “I really don’t have the closet space for more shoes.”

Bonnie seemed to consider that. “Shoe collection aside, it can’t be that small…”

Caroline laughed. The apartment was a small one bedroom and technically outside of her budget, her dad’s insurance money only went so far, but she hadn’t felt a lot of guilt over her teeny tiny use of compulsion. Not when the renting market was so high and her textbooks were so expensive. And while hardly microscopic, her bed barely fit into the space designated as her bedroom. She did have walls that separate her bedroom from their living room, her couch, TV, and small table were tucked pretty close to her tiny kitchenette. The big selling point had been the claw-foot bathtub. She’d given up having a real shower, the  shower-head had been rigged above the tub and the shower curtain she’d bought was super cute but if she’d still been human the breeziness of the space would have been murder. Overall, the space she had carved out for herself was cute but cramped. 

And she wouldn’t change it for the world.

“It really can be. You should have seen Mom’s face when she agreed to co-sign, which is another really weird thing about this city. My credit check was stellar, I had the cash for the down payments and still they wanted a co-sign, but whatever. The good news is my obsession with HGTV has taught me plenty about hiding organizers, and thankfully, I don’t really need the kitchen.” She wrinkled her nose and looked down. “Though carpet is new but seriously ugly, so I am going to have to invest in a rug, I think.”

“The lack of needing a kitchen thing is kind of ideal for New York, but I personally am going to miss your stress brownies, though my hips wont,” Bonnie said with a sigh. “And your note taking. I already miss you in Physical Science, and why are Gen Eds so terrible?”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “It cannot be that bad.”

“Says you,” Bonnie retorted. “And anyway, Elena just stuck her head in to remind me that I promised to go to some Freshman Orientation event, so I guess I gotta go. Stay out of trouble, will you?”

“You first,” Caroline retorted. Bonnie laughed and disconnected the call. For a moment, she held onto her phone before sighing and setting it on the coffee table and flopping onto her couch. If she closed her eyes and listened she could hear everyone in her apartment building, which was something she hadn’t really thought about when deciding on an apartment.

Not that she’d had much time to figure things out. Weeks instead of months, but Forbes women were nothing but resourceful. And very, very determined.

Caroline just hadn’t expected her mom to get stubborn about her college experience. She’d expected Liz to be fine with Caroline going to Whitemore and sticking close to home, and it’s been a shock when things had gone sideways. When Caroline had marked down NYU on her SAT application form, it’d been on a whim. She’d been required to pick three schools and some part of her just couldn’t stick to the local community colleges. 

And later, when her counselor had handed her the application packets, she’d stared at them for hours, considering. She had never thought she’d get in or that she’d get enough of a scholarship that living in the city would be manageable if she was careful. Very, very careful with a bit of compulsion thrown in at least. She’s considered it for all of thirty seconds before tucking the acceptance letter away. 

There was just too much going on that she could walk away. Even with the Originals packing up and moving on, there was still her mom to worry about. One of the perks of being a vampire was that she could always pick up those dreams later. 

Her mom had disagreed. Loudly. It’s taken three days before Caroline has finally cracked, and admitted why she had refused. And she’d learned a lot about her mom that morning that she hadn’t expected, and hadn’t had much time to contemplate with the scramble of getting into NYU. Her mom hadn’t even argued when Caroline had dragged her to NYC to check things out and to smooth over the issues her late application had caused. 

Compulsion really was quite handy if she was careful with it. But more importantly, NYU was totally close enough that if she had to she could get on a plane for an emergency, but her mom, in a bit of underhanded maneuvering that Caroline had admired, had made a very specific list of what could be considered an emergency. And then she’d invited Elena and Bonnie over for dinner, and her mom had also explained it to them too. It’d been weird to have someone else fight that battle, but good. 

Above her, something crashed and there was muted swearing and Caroline sighed heavily. She was really going to have to make a point to stay well fed. Going on a rampage because Courtney in 4A couldn’t keep her dog from yapping at all hours of the night was not ideal. She had been prepared to listen to her neighbors have noisy sex, well, at least until she could get Bonnie here to do some proper spell work, but the rest of it was a learning curve. So far, eating had been going okay. 

She’d been getting tips. 

And boy, would her friends freak out as soon as they learned who she’d been texting. But Caroline had always considered herself pragmatic, and her options had been limited. Stefan would rather light himself on fire than give her any kind of 101 Guide To Eating People Without Killing Them, and she would rather light herself on fire than talk to Damon. 

Klaus…

She blew out a breath. Klaus was her friend, even if her graduation ceremony had made his position on… things… perfectly clear. But weirdly, she’d found his words strangely boundary defining and a relief. Last love was definitely not now, not anytime soon in fact, and his acknowledgement of that had eased the knot she always seemed to carry around in her chest. And so when she stood in the middle of the hustle and bustle of more people than she could remember really seeing in one place, like ever, she’d let herself text a number she’d refused to admit to anyone she had memorized ages ago. 

And he had responded. 

And Klaus had kept replying, no matter when she sent him a question. In between organizing her life and schedule, he’d been extremely helpful without any sort of judgement. If anything, he seemed more resigned to her lack of knowledge than anything else, providing her with Vampire Basics she’d never thought to ask Damon or Stefan about, and the knowledge had helped. Accepting the monster under her skin was not something that was going to be easy, but Klaus providing actual information about the whys and the hows helped far more than she thought she’d ever tell him. 

And his faith in her control was not something she’d ever expected to need. But he’d offered it with no prompting and the truth was she made an excellent vampire. She was good at it, thrived with the challenges of it, and she thought the next few years would be good for her. And it was nice, knowing that if she screwed it up she’d have people who’d help her fix it. Even if  some of them were just  a tiny bit more dangerous than others. 

Head tipping to the ceiling, she chewed on her lip and sighed. Putting Klaus in one category had never been easy, even when he’d been firmly in the villian bucket. She didn’t doubt he would continue to refuse any easy labels, and she thought she might be okay with that. 

For now. 

Pushing to her feet, she stretched and sighed. Classes started in two days, and while she’d already organized her books and started doing some pre-class reading, there was no harm in double checking her planners and reorganizing her books. And after, maybe she’d go for a walk. Check out some of the all night places near her place to plan for future all nighters. The kind of places you’d take broke friends to for pie.

The sudden knock on the door startled her, because she hadn’t noticed any unusual footsteps. For a moment, her pulse slammed in her ears as she recognized the slow thump of a dead heartbeat. A familiar barely their heartbeat that promised something old was outside her door, and one that should not be in New York City. Reaching for the phone she tossed on her coffee table she picked it up and typed out a quick text. No point in guessing who was there; not when it was pretty easy to check without moving any closer to the door. 

Caroline [8:30pm]: Seriously, tell me you are not standing outside my apartment. Like, right this second. 

A soft vibration, a low noise of amusement was all the confirmation she needed and Caroline stomped towards the door and yanked it open. “Are you serious right now? How do you even know where I live? I didn’t tell you that.”

Eyes gleaming, a hint of dimple curving in his cheek as he looked up from his phone, Klaus smiled at her. “Hello, Caroline.”

Arms crossed, she leaned against the door and huffed to cover the way her pulse skipped at the sight of him. He looked the same, same clothes and same hair, but she felt his presence with an awareness that did not bode well for her intentions of thinking of him as only a friend. Klaus had always straddled that line but here, outside of Mystic Falls, it somehow felt different. Better. And that was not something she could allow with her plans laid out in front of her. Plans that did not suit him. “Yeah yeah, hi. Why are you here?”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket, lips tugging upwards. “I was in town, and I thought I would stop by. See how you are settling in, perhaps come up with an idea for a house warming present, since it seems you will no longer need that mini-fridge, hmm?”

“In town,” she repeated, ignoring the rest of his words. “Doing what? Because I am attempting to avoid vampire shenanigans for the next four years, Klaus. I promised my mom.”

“Nothing like that,” he assured her. “Just a quick errand, and I head back to New Orleans tomorrow. I am quite invested in you having the experiences of your choice, sweetheart. No one will bother you while you are here.”

Caroline paused. “No one...  as in no one? Are you threatening people again? People I haven’t even met?”

“Not yet,” Klaus said mildly. 

She bit the tip of her tongue to stop the barrage of words that wanted to spill out. Slowly exhaling, she forced herself to let it go. There was a time and place for this discussion and she wasn’t sure right then was it, not when she was so surprised to see him, and she could hear some of her neighbors coming up the stairs. “Don’t think we won’t discuss this later but I suppose you can come in?”

“Thank you, and I don’t doubt it,” he murmured as he took her invitation and stepped into her home. His gaze swept her space and for a moment, she had to stop herself from fidgeting. This was her first space that was hers and Klaus was the only person besides her mom who had seen it. He walked slowly through her public space, and his words were sincere when he spoke. “You’ve done a lovely job with your home, love. “

For some reason, she had to fight down a blush. “Thanks. The carpet sucks though.”

He slid her a laughing glance. “An entirely fixable state of affairs.”

“You will not compel my landlord,” she warned him, exasperation almost hiding the hint of her own smile. “About carpet or anything else, Klaus.”

He made a low noise but no promises. “And how are you liking New York?”

She did smile then. “I love it. But we’ll see if that sticks when I have to deal with the snow this winter and pushy people and an overheated subway. I’ve been warned.”

His laugh was soft. “I think you’ll manage. And while it's a bit late in the evening, could I interest you in dinner? My treat.”

Caroline eyed him carefully. “Taking me to dinner will not get you out of explaining how you have my address or any potential yelling about it.”

Klaus slid his hands into his pockets and dimpled. “I would expect nothing else. But I do hope that’s not the only topic you wish to discuss tonight.”

Curious, she tipped her head. “Oh?”

He lifted a shoulder, gaze intent. “I assume you’ve picked out your classes? Have your semester organized down to the hour? And while I am certain you more than have the knack of feeding down, sweetheart, I’m happy to answer any remaining questions you have or even provide a demonstration or two.”

The idea of hunting with Klaus did something funny to her stomach, and she turned towards her room to cover it. “I’ll think about it. Give me ten minutes to change and then yes, you can take me to dinner. But not something fancy, I am not in the mood for multiple forks. But wine would be great.”

His laughter followed her into her bedroom and she shut the door. Taking a deep breath, she forced down her tangle of emotions. One night out with Klaus wouldn’t hurt anything, she reminded herself, and he was right. She did have questions, and lists, and she should probably take the opportunity to go over everything while he was here in person. Plus she’d be willing to bet he had an opinion or two he’d be willing to share about rugs. 

Squaring her shoulders, Caroline headed for her closet to slap together a friendly dinner date outfit that would be suitable even if he did take her somewhere with too many forks. But they were definitely going to be chatting about his business in the city, and how he would not be dropping by without warning whenever he wanted to.

No matter how nice it was to see him. 

[gretchensinister]

also TDoP Blacksand and whichever of the NDU ships strikes your fancy

For TDoP (that’s The Doors of Perception, for those who don’t know, a long human AU on Ao3—my username there is the same as my url here) I think I will only do a few, since quite a lot of these questions get answered in the fic itself!

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

Sandy—so early Kozzy has trouble believing he means it as seriously as he does. Sandy’s parents and all of the Guardians characters living in the house that’s the main setting say I love you far more freely than anyone in Kozzy’s family.

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

After a lot of discussion, the answer to this is, in fact, “no one.” The conversation came up during the ‘60s part of the AU, and even though it wouldn’t have been too difficult to arrange, then, they never agreed on any particular person to ask. Later, however, in a purely hypothetical discussion, they did agree on Aragorn.

17. When they find a time machine, where do they go?

The future. The future, always and forever.

26. Why do they need to have a serious chat?

The thorniest part of writing and thinking about this AU is that I’ve tied it so closely to the real world (there are small offshoots that link it to more fantastical worlds, but the main fic is a real world human AU). Sandy and Kozzy are 73/72 this year. They don’t want to do nothing, but they can both get very paranoid about the possibility of losing the other/the other being in danger. So the chat they need to have is how they can help other people without doing things they think are intolerably risky for each other.

 *

For NDU (that’s Nightmare Dork University, for those unfamiliar, a college AU collectively built upon by a number of authors and artists that puts a whole bunch of AU Pitches and one Jack together—more of a mood than a single storyline) I will go with Nightmare Galleon, because I think I’ve really got my own particular variation of the pair now, so why not work through some headcanons?

1. Who makes the first move and how?

Pitchiner makes the first move, very straightforward, he just asks for Pitch’s number. Pitch refuses and immediately retaliates by asking for his. To Pitchiner that’s six of one, half dozen of the other, so he agrees.

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

Pitch is more insecure by far, but it mostly has to do with Piki rather than Pitchiner. What Pitchiner realizes, though, is that Pitch appears to feel much better when he’s doing the things that he’s good at that Piki doesn’t do. These things include costume and set design, costume construction, lighting, sound design…but if Pitch stops to think he sometimes can throw himself into a funk about how none of these aspects are as prestigious/relevant/important as being The Prodigy Playwright like Piki.

3. Who is the most romantic?

Pitchiner, but he’s also not going to be very romantic unless Pitch can stop acting like any romantic gestures he’s given are his due and taking them for granted.

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Pitchiner is very grabby, it’s true, and the things he does are more obviously affectionate/sexual, but Pitch is also incredibly physical with Pitchiner, even if it is in a somewhat haphazard/almost violent way. He gets better with time, though the process gets set back every time he visits home, and also once when Pitchiner compared him to a rescue cat.

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

Pitchiner does, however it’s not in a really sweet moment, it’s more like a WTF moment, like, I’m still here because I love you? Oh shit that’s true! This strikes Pitch as reckless behavior and he doesn’t say he loves Pitchiner until much later. He’s very lucky that Pitchiner is more perceptive than he gives him credit for and recognizes the signs of Pitch’s growing love.

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

NDU doesn’t always have a Sandy, but I don’t think there’s any harm in putting one in one of Pitch’s creative writing classes who embodies “it’s always the quiet ones” and has a wit that runs around Pitch’s in circles. This infuriates Pitch, but in a confused way, as unlike his brother, Sandy is not trying to be a better writer than him, in particular. He just is. That’s how Pitch feels, anyway. He’s not at the point where he can understand that art doesn’t need to be ranked. Anyway so this Sandy decides to respond to antagonism with flirting, and it’s not as though Pitch thinks he doesn’t deserve to be flirted with, he’s got a hot boyfriend after all, and Sandy knows this…Sandy does know this, because he and Pitchiner are both in the honors program. And when Pitchiner meets Pitch after class one day Sandy is perfectly happy to flirt with both of them. The audacity in itself is appealing. So in this scenario it’s less them asking and more someone else asking them.

In another branch of the NDU story cluster I think they would ask Jack Sickle, not particularly to spite Piki even, but because Piki is being weird about sex with Jack and Pitchiner thinks that Jack should have his first experience of gay sex with less baggage attached to it. Pitch is not 100% sure that a threesome involving the twin of the man who’s obsessed with Jack counts as LESS baggage but sometimes in college you make decisions that seem obviously bad for reasons that aren’t really clear.

11. What do they hide from one another?

So, these things are kind of all the starting point state for my NDU boys. They wouldn’t remain static if I actually did write the version of the big long NDU story I have in my head.

On the mundane side, Pitch hides almost everything he can about his childhood with Piki, because while they weren’t perfectly harmonious siblings, they still had a pretty strong bond and their relationship didn’t start to turn sour until about high school. Pitch isn’t sure how to explain how it all happened to himself, much less anyone else, so he does what he can to avoid questions. He also tends to hide his family dynamics from everyone in general, because he’s from a money-poisoned environment and the more people know about him, the more likely someone’s going to say, “you know that was/is fucked up, right?” and he does NOT have time to think about that right now. He also hides the fact that he occasionally has idiopathic seizures, because that would mean he’s weak or something. However this last thing was revealed to Pitchiner very dramatically and resulted in a lot more panic than it needed to, because of the surprise.

Pitchiner, on the other hand, habitually hides any worries and fears he has about anything. He shoves all that down and tries to change all that energy into things that could be possible solutions. Not feeling strong enough? Never tell anyone, just work out more! Worried that you can’t take care of your loved ones? Learn how to cook! Worried that you really are just a meathead and that you’re wasting your scholarship? Study more! But alone! So no one will know! Pitchiner also hides from himself and anybody else the fact that he’s thought about and is aware of the way his size/strength can be intimidating/scary and not just a hunk/himbo trait. He’s deeply worried that he’s an inherently dangerous person, and so he tries to act like he’s just too dumb to have thought about it…but he has, and he’s wondered if this aspect of himself is a tool he can, should, or would use in different aspects of his life.

On the non-mundane side, both Pitch and Pitchiner hide the fact that they’re having weird, possibly supernatural visions/encounters with terrifying entities that they nevertheless seem to have some kind of deep kinship with.

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

Pitch falls asleep around Pitchiner. Pitchiner starts paying a lot closer attention to what he can or cannot casually needle Pitch about.

13. When do they realise they should get together?

Well, at first Pitch is like, Pitchiner won’t worry about me, that’s GREAT. And Pitchiner is like, Pitch doesn’t have any expectations of me, that’s GREAT. So they first get together because they think they won’t care about each other…which is incorrect.

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

When Pitch has a cold, Pitchiner has got the somewhat homemade chicken soup ready! He’s got the tissues! The immune-system-boosting vitamins (hey, he may be in the honors program but he still can’t perfectly detect bullshit)! He’s got a huge bottle of water with times marked on it for Pitch to drink all of! Which is good, because otherwise Pitch would just wrap himself in a quilt, take swigs of nyquil at random times, and sleep until he either died or felt better. When Pitchiner has a cold, Pitch is the one who reminds him (none too gently, though) to stay in and fully recover. He will also bring canned soup and huge water bottles upon request. Not the vitamins though, they smell weird. He will argue with Pitchiner to take actual cold medicine and usually succeeds.

18. When they fight, how do they make up?

The glib answer to this is sex, and that works for their arguments and spats over minor things, but when a major issue comes up it’s different. They fought over Pitch keeping his seizures a secret, for example, and it seemed like they’d never be able to resolve that, though they both knew they didn’t want to break up. So…they tried to bring in someone neutral as a moderator. Fortunately or unfortunately, the only person who was around was Proto. Who said some insightful things and some bizarre things and soon enough both Pitch and Pitchiner wanted him out of the conversation. And then they were just like, “Are we breaking up? No? All right, let’s try to forget the whole thing.” Actual apologies and vulnerability are a few years away.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

Pitchiner is nervous about going to see his family with Pitch, because he’s worried that someone’s going to be like, “hey, he’s pretty bad for you, you know that, right?” and he can’t fully explain their connection and he doesn’t want to have to. Pitch is nervous about going to see his family with Pitchiner because he knows they’ll look down on him and won’t believe that Pitch could actually care about him as more than just a body, which will force Pitch to admit to himself how much Pitchiner means to him and it’s a whole mess (for Pitch, mentally).

22. Where does their first kiss happen?

Pitchiner goes for a cheeky, casual kiss after they have lunch together one day in the school’s main dining hall, like it could be a Bugs-Bunnyish joke unless…But then Pitch is like, what? How dare you? And yanks Pitchiner down by his t-shirt for a much deeper kiss that leaves both of them kind of flustered as they have to hurry off to their next classes.

24. Where do they first have sex?

Pitch’s dorm room. He’s got a single, he knows he’s planning to be discreet, and he’s very clear that he’s making a booty call to Pitchiner.

25. Why do they fight?

On a serious level, they fight because they try to keep so much from each other, but their relationship develops enough that they things they try to hide eventually come to light. And then both of them get mad because it’s like “we could have worked this out sooner!” but unfortunately it doesn’t work out that way. They fight because they care about each other but are squirrelly about deserving care/being cared for.

On a less serious level, they squabble because they can. Pitch is zero percent scared of Pitchiner, and Pitchiner doesn’t expect Pitch to be emotionally controlled at all times and he doesn’t compare him to his brother. Having a raised-voices argument about bananas or Stephen King or whatever is freeing.

26. Why do they need to have a serious chat?

Because the evidence that supernatural stuff is real and taking an interest in them and a few other people close to them is accumulating and talking probably won’t solve that but it might help them get through it all alive.

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

Over the top public displays of affection and stupid loud fights about things like bananas or Stephen King

28. Why do they get jealous?

Pitch gets jealous of the way Pitchiner seems so comfortable taking up space. Pitchiner gets jealous of how quick Pitch’s wit can be, especially in arguments.

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Pitch falls a little bit more in love with Pitchiner for what seem like contradictory reasons. As they’re together in their years of young adulthood, Pitchiner learns the skill of pausing before reacting, how to be more effectively compassionate, etc., and Pitch learns to accept that Pitchiner really does love him for him. But as Pitchiner is getting more mature in this way, he’s also gaining confidence in being implacable/unstoppable when he deems it necessary. Like the fact that Pitchiner is able and willing to intimidate people is maybe a red flag, but it also lights him up like nothing else. Pitchiner falls a little bit more in love with Pitch as Pitch learns to appreciate the things he himself can do, and care less about what Piki says or does. He also falls a little bit more in love with Pitch as he becomes more and more refined and precise in how manipulating or cruel he can be. Again, not good, but sometimes it’s just impressive, you know? But AFTER this point…they both get a chance to see each other respond to being offered power that very very few people are ever offered, and see each other recognize the strings attached, and recognize that they cannot deal with this on their own. And they come out of this without losing themselves, and without becoming truly monstrous, either. And that inspires more love than skillfully being terrible.

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them?

It works out between them partly because of the horrifying supernatural stuff they’ve both experienced. These experiences are something they share with Proto, Piki, and Jack, but as far as they know, no one else. To have a long-term partner that doesn’t have that kind of supernatural heaviness in their past is, at least subconsciously, totally unworkable to both Pitch and Pitchiner.

But it’s not just the supernatural shared experience. They do like each other, they do love each other, and, most importantly, they’ve seen each other grow and change over their years at college. Sometimes it was for the worse! Eventually it was for the better. Now, in the kind of overarching story I would create, at the end of college Pitch and Pitchiner might break up because of the weird events they went through and now feel like those are something they want to be done with and put behind them, plus a worry that being around the others will cause more of it to happen. But they can’t lose contact completely, and let’s say Proto eventually arranges for them to randomly meet again. And basically it’s like—“You loved me when I was terrible. So I know I can be myself around you, and it can be okay even if I fuck up while trying to go through life while being less terrible.”

[claudiafern96-archive]

the reconciliation ll nicola & claudia

Discord thread featuring: Claudia & @nicolaeisms

Mentions: @themarissaharrison @cmlopezofficial @thealexkingsley

When: July 16, 2020

Description: Claudia visits Nicola after she hears about the attack

Trigger Warnings: physical injuries, mentions of drug use/withdrawals/early recovery

Nicola

it's been days since the attack happened, and nicola still wasn't allowed to go anywhere without anyone to assist her but her bed. with the tone of cleo and marissa, she thought that it would better to listen to them. she missed work, she missed going to blue, yes, she had a little vacation to montauk with them, but she still had her hands on her businesses during those times, checking on them at least every night. though right now, she was told to just rest not just her body, but also her mind for a while. she has not only a new set of gashes and bruises, but also cracked ribs, which gave her a hard time moving around, even breathing. today, she’s still stuck in bed, doing a light reading when one of the bodyguards cleared his throat. “miss sloane, you have a visitor. claudia fernandez?” the businesswoman puts down her book. “let her in.”

Claudia

Claudia had been through such a whirlwind of emotions the past two weeks. She had finally decided to get clean, and so far she was staying clean. She was still smoking weed and sometimes drinking, but she hadn't touched that disgusting white powder since she had done it with Alex at the reception. She was proud of herself. Like actually proud of herself for once. When she had initially heard about the accident with Nic, she had read the article and cried for hours but she didn't do anything. She wasn't sure what to do. So she waited. Until finally she found herself heading over to her place. God, she was going to regret this. But she needed to know if Nicola was okay. It had been eating at her for days and she didn't know what to believe on Facebook or on Twitter. She needed to see for herself. She was shocked to see some unfamiliar body guards at the door who didn't recognize her. "Claudia. Claudia Fernandez. Just tell her who I am. She'll let me in." She told them with a bit of an attitude. Finally, Claudia was let inside of her pent. She was lead into her room and Claudia's eyes widened when she initially saw the blond- no...the brunette now. God, her face was so beat up and bloodied. She brought both of her hands to her face to cup her mouth and nose to hide her now gaping jaw. "Nic..." She mumbled, green eyes welling at the sight.

Nicola

nicola has seen the news, the speculations, the theories of what happened. it was different kinds of reach and somehow just entertained her. the only people who knew truly about the attack are both of her lovers, marissa and cleo. not even cordelia knows, she didn't want to worry the child. she has only told her that she was sick with something contagious, and she couldn't let her come see her like this. what she didn't expect though, is for claudia to visit her. the two haven't talked ever since the last time they met at the wedding reception, though she kept her tabs on the other, buying one of her paintings as an anonymous buyer. she didn't want the other see her like this, yet it was too late. she was here now. she straightened up her posture in bed, hiss slipping from her lips due to her cracked ribs. "hello, claudia."

Claudia

“Nic...” She spoke lowly again. Nicola wasn’t her favorite person at the moment but she never wanted to see her like this. She still did love her after all. Claudia slowly approached the older with caution, deciding to stand at the door of her bed almost afraid to move any closer. It was so weird how that dynamic had changed. Normally she’s run towards her, grabbing her hand and trying any way to comfort her. Now...she felt uncomfortable even approaching the other. “What happened?” She asked, green eyes staring blankly at businesswoman.

Nicola

"how have you been?" nicola was aware of the green eyed girl starting painting, and she's heard that she's decided to get clean. a part of her wanted for claudia to know that she'll always be proud of her. that regardless of what happened between the two of them, she'll always be someone important to her. she was still somehow hoping she'd agree on meeting with her to talk, hoping that she would take the scholarship offer. she's always believed in her talent, her potential. the young woman was smart, and nicola could listen to her talk for hours. she sighs when she asked her what happened. "someone attempted to rob me." she lied. no one really knew what's happened to her and her connection to jackson kingsley, that he was the one who has caused this. and she cannot have her know this.

Claudia

That was just a loaded question. She didn’t know how to answer. She had been actually pretty well. Getting clean wasn’t easy but she was starting to feel okay again. She had been distracting herself with art and she was actually making some money from her paintings, which she never thought she could do. Nic was about to give that to her but gifting her the art supplies. “Good. Fine.” She said shortly, even though she wanted to tell the older so much more. She suddenly remembered the resignation letter in her back pocket. How was she going to give Nic the letter when she was in this state? She already felt bad enough. Claudia furrowed her brow when she told her she was robbed. That just didn’t add up. “Well, where was your security detail?” She asked, suddenly realizing why she didn’t recognize the guards when she walked in.

Nicola

nicola wasn't that much surprised with claudia's response, knowing how they ended their relationship on bad terms. she could see in her eyes that there's so much to tell while they were away from each other, but she respected the other not telling her that much now. they weren't what they were before anymore. "marissa fired my old security detail." she cleared her throat, why are her ribs starting to complain right now? especially in front of the younger brunette? she doesn't need to see this right now. "i sent them away the day....i was robbed. i wondered about having some time for myself, turns out, that wasn't a smart decision," she shakes her head to herself. "those are newly-hired ones. i've been advised to stay rested as much as possible."

Claudia

She was a little disappointed that the older didn't press her for more information on how she was doing, but she also couldn't blame her so much. Claudia had been very cold to her the last few times they had spoken. And Claudia did feel bad for that. She was just so angry, and she didn't know how else to express that besides using hateful words. "Right." She nodded once. She looked over at the other brunette and finally took a long look at her. She had really been through it and that broke her heart. God, she was probably hurting so bad. Looking at Nic in her bed reminded Claudia of when she was sick in the exact same bed not too long ago. Claudia shook her head. "You live in a penthouse in North Kingsboro. No one would ever randomly rob someone as wealthy as you unless... unless it was personal or something." Shit really wasn't adding up and she knew Nicola wasn't telling her the whole truth. She shook her head. Nic didn't owe her the truth. She could tell her whatever she wanted. Claudia finally mustered up the courage to sit down on the foot of her bed. She was having deja vu as she looked around the familiar room. She sat in silence for another moment. "I've been painting." She said dryly.

Nicola

claudia was too smart to be lied to, yet nicola cannot tell her the truth. anyone who is close to her and have the knowledge of the connection between her and jackson are in danger already, and she couldn't just risk that. she was really roughhoused by those men on that day, so she couldn't blame the younger woman with the way she was looking at her. she hasn't prepared anything to say to the other, especially with how she was questioning the attack and the common knowledge of how it all went down and why. "i must've been targeted, and i didn't have security that morning, i don't know...." she sighed. "if cleo and marissa didn't get here in time, it would've been much worse, from what i've been told." nicola now smiled when the green eyed girl has told her what she has been doing. it was evident that claudia hasn't seen her own painting displayed in the living room yet, or the other one on the way to the kitchen. "yeah? how has it been going for you?"July 18, 2020

Claudia

Claudia still didn’t believe her. It hurt that she wasn’t going to tell her the truth. She wished she could be on that level with her. Marissa and Cleo probably knew exactly what happened. She didn’t want to think anything bitter about them though. At least she was trying. “Yeah...” She mumbled. She wasn’t going to argue with her. And she especially wasn’t going to ask her to retell the traumatic story anymore than she had to. Claudia looked towards the wall, but making eye contact with the older but she could hear the smile on her face as she spoke. She couldn’t help but smile. “It’s great, Nic. An anonymous buyer bought two of my paintings!” She exclaimed, beaming now. “Thank you for the supplies.” She said, finally turning to face the other.July 19, 2020

Nicola

"i won't be at blue for the next six weeks. i'm having someone else to take over while i'm not around, but i'm still going to check up on everyone from time to time." it’s definitely going to be hard for nicola to stay at home all throughout her time staying at home. she wanted to at least do some research for the distillery some more, maybe just go start a vineyard instead, but she knew the two women who are taking care of her won’t be so amused. in a way, she missed seeing claudia smile, especially right now, there was suddenly this glow that she has talking about her paintings, and an anonymous client buying them. “i’m so proud of you, claudia. i hope you remember that.” she mutters, staring into those green eyes. “i will never not be proud of you. and you’re welcome, i know how much you really wanted them, and how good you are.”

Claudia

Blue. That was the other reason she needed to come and talk to Nicola. The real reason she convinced herself that it would be okay to come here. This was a conversation she needed to have in person. Nicola wasn't a regular boss; she couldn't just put her letter of resignation on her desk and leave for good. When the older told her she was proud of her....that was all Claudia ever wanted to hear. She didn't know how bad she needed to hear that from her until she said that. If it was at all possible, he smile grew even wider. "Nic..." She began, smiling suddenly fading. This was going to be a hard conversation that she anticipated. Here was Nic giving her so much love and support and she was about to quit on her. "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me to hear you say that, but..." She looked down at her feet then shifted her body weight to grab the envelope from her bag pocket. She reached her arm out to let the other woman take it from her, making sure to get it close enough to her so that she didn't have to move so much. "Nic, I have to leave Blue. I hope you can understand, but I can't do it anymore. It's the last thing I want to do, but I...I need closure and I don't know if I will ever get that if I continue to work there." She frowned.

Nicola

the bar owner has seen this coming, especially with what happened between her and claudia, she just knew it would be best for her to not work at blue anymore. “i kind of expected that.” nicola nods, taking the envelope from her and putting it on top of her bedside drawer. “you know, you have so much future than just bartending for me, claudia,” she looks at her with a genuine smile. “there’s so much more out there in the world for you, besides this. when we first met and then i got to know you better outside of blue….i thought you were overqualified to just be working as a bartender for me. seeing the passion in your eyes whenever you talk about art, social issues….just anything.” she clears her throat, straightening up her posture against the headboard. “i’ve learned so much from you during our time together, princess. i hope you don’t forget about that. and….i’ll never ever stop being so proud of you.”

Claudia

Claudia nodded. Nicola was a smart woman. She had to have known that Claudia wasn't going to last for very much longer at Blue. Nicola's words made Claudia's heart melt. In that moment, she remembered that the older did genuinely care about her and always would. She knew that she would never intentionally hurt her. Claudia knew she had am extensive knowledge of social and political issues, and it was something that she shared often. It was validating to hear Nicola tell her that she could see the passion she had for it when she spoke. It let her know that the older was listening to her; really truly listening to what she had to say and that Claudia wasn't just another sugar baby to her. She felt her green eyes well up again. Nicola never deserved the cold shoulder than the younger had given her. "I'm so sorry...for the nasty things I said to you." She said, looking down at her hands and feeling a couple tears hit her fingers. "I let drugs get in the way of everything. I'm getting c-clean now. For real. It's been a few weeks now, and I'm already feeling better. What you saw at Throuple and at the cove...that is never going to happen to me again. I'm so sorry." She said, finally let a sob out as she shoved her face into her hands.

Nicola

“it’s okay, claudia. hey….” nicola can see why the younger woman acted the way that she did when they’ve talked over the phone and meeting at the cove. she had very much a complicated life, something she knew the other didn’t deserve to be part of. she almost fell for her at one point, but after what happened back at throuple, she knew whatever they had, it wasn’t meant for them. she carefully stands up from her bed and hugs the girl. “i’m proud that you’ve been off of it for weeks.” nicola rubs claudia’s back in attempt to comfort her. “you have nothing to be sorry of. i should’ve told you earlier when i could. i was going to tell you. i….i’m sorry, claudia. you deserved better than this.”July 20, 2020

Claudia

Claudia actually felt some comfort when Nic put her hand on her back. It was familiar. And she still made her feel so safe even after everything they had been through. She let out a few more sobs. Why couldn't she stop? She felt so vulnerable right now. Maybe this was what she needed. What she finally needed to to do to start moving on. Her sobs finally began to slow, and she was trying to breathe as deeply as she could but her breathe was still shaking. "N-Nic...I really did love you." She admitted as she finally looked up from her hands, green eyes meeting.

Nicola

nicola just sighed, holding claudia close crying, while she comforts her. maybe this is what they both needed right now. "i know....i know you did, claudia. i saw it in you everyday. i felt it. and i just know someone else out there deserves your love even more than me." she could feel her own heart sting at her words, but that was the truth. claudia deserves more than blue, more than being a bartender, than being her sugar baby. she deserves better, better than nicola sloane. "i will always be here for you, okay? whatever you need. and like i said.....the scholarship offer is still on the table."July 22, 2020

Claudia

Claudia sniffled and rubbed the tears off of her face. She still wanted to be loved by Nic. She didn't think that that would ever go away, but she also knew that it was time to move on. The scholarship. Claudia couldn't believe that Nic was still offering this to her after all she put her though. She wanted to take that. Now that she started painting again, she wanted to go back to school to finish her degree more than ever. "I'll think about it." The younger spoke, standing from her bed and looking back at the beaten older woman. "I should go."

Nicola

nicola sighs as she pulls away, nodding at the younger girl's words. "alright. it was nice seeing you, claudia, even though i've imagined it not like this." she says as she was referring to herself. she carefully steps back to her bed and sits on the edge, one of the bodyguards was about to come to help her but she's raised her hand up, muttering the words "i'm okay." she gives claudia a soft smile. "alright. i will be here for the next six weeks, if not, you know where to find me, okay?"July 23, 2020

Claudia

Claudia nodded her head. "Okay..okay." She muttered after she spoke. She cringed a little because the older woman looked like she was in so much pain. "Yeah...okay." She made eye contact with her once more, but her greens quickly fell to the floor as she walked out of her bedroom, body guards escorting her out like she was a prisoner. She felt like that right now anyway. She made her way through the pent towards the door. She was collecting her sweatshirt and shoes when she looked up towards the living room wall. Her painting. TWO of her paintings. Nic was the anonymous buyer. Her hand flew up over her mouth to hide the fact that she jaw had fallen open. Tears starting welling in her eyes. They looked beautiful on those walls. That was her art on display like that. She would cry the entire walk back to her apartment. She didn't know why she was crying...She was just so overcome with emotions. She needed to focus on herself, and she couldn't do that if she was caught up with Nicola. She vowed to herself on the walk home that this would be the last time she would cry over Nicola Sloane.

[stuclyblrs]

hi everyone! i spent this past semester (spring ‘19) studying abroad in china so i wanted to make a post about my experiences! i hope this can help you in deciding if you want to study abroad and help you while you’re abroad! **this post is directed at study abroad programs through a university in the us - i have never done other programs so i cannot speak about them**

choosing to study abroad

i do want to start by saying you dont have to study abroad. this is something that is definitely being pushed lately by colleges (at least in the us) and it can feel like that you must study abroad to get the full college experience. however, its not something that’s necessary or right for everyone and you don’t need to feel pressured to do so. for me personally, i knew i wanted to study abroad in china long before i entered college whereas some of my friends weren’t interested until they started college and learned more about my school’s programs and hearing from upperclassmen who already studied abroad. some questions to ask yourself when deciding if you want to study abroad

will this benefit you as a person, whether its academically and/or for personal growth?

will studying abroad mean you have to take out more student loans that you don’t think you can fully handle (more on this later)?

is your only motivation only to have a more relaxed semester at a country where its legal to drink and/or for resume building? well these aren’t bad things necessarily - live your life the way you want to! - you might not have the amazing time that you’re thinking you will if these are your only motivations

are you (or will you) be able to mentally/emotionally handle the extra challenges that come with living and studying in a foreign country?

this is just a small amount to consider when choosing to study abroad, but another important thing is do what feels right! feel a calling to study in a specific country - then consider it! don’t think traveling is for you despite everyone pushing for it? - then don’t worry about it!

when and where to go 

things to consider when determining when

how long do you personally believe you can handle? will a shorter summer session be better so you’re not away as long or do you want a full year for a more immersive experience?

which semester/summer fits best in your schedule? do the classes offered during this time keep you on track?

things to consider when determining where

what location has classes that fit your major/academic goals? if you’re ideal location doesn’t offer what you need, are you okay with doing a summer session or graduating a semester late?

where are you interested in traveling? have a language or culture you’re really interested in (this is why i chose china for my location!)? is there a place you don’t think you’ll get a chance to visit otherwise?

what are the costs for each possible location like? don’t forget to consider paying for food, transportation, activities, and other travel

if your school doesn’t offer a program in your target location don’t let that deter you from studying abroad. a lot of times universities allow students from other universities to apply to their study abroad programs. start by talking to your schools study abroad office/program to see if there are universities that your school already works with!

money

as i mentioned in determining if you should study abroad, one thing that should be considered is money. if studying abroad means you have to take out extra loans that you’re not sure if you can handle, then it might not be the best choice at the moment - there will be other opportunities in your life to travel and not studying abroad does not mean your college experience is incomplete. do whatever is best for you.

when it comes to determining the cost of a semester abroad, do your research! contradictory to what i just said, in terms of student loans, it was cheaper for me to study abroad due to housing being cheaper. however, i still had to spend extra money on plane tickets, travel, food, and other experiences, so it’s not just the cost of tuition and housing that needs to be considered when budgeting for study abroad. not everything will be budget breaking though, food was incredibly cheap relative to nyc in china, so that was another aspect where my semester abroad was cheaper than normal. additionally, with doing your research on the costs of studying abroad, don’t forget to research scholarships! i received two extra scholarships from my school that were strictly study abroad related and there are plenty of outside scholarships related to general study abroad, different majors, and certain locations.

some tips on saving money for study abroad

once you’ve decided to study abroad work on saving money - set a specific amount of your paycheck dedicated for time abroad, think about maybe skipping getting takeout and cooking at home to put that money towards abroad, possibly get a second job during the summer/other breaks

determine beforehand where you want to travel within the country/neighboring countries beforehand so you can approximately figure out what you’ll need to spend to achieve these travel goals

make a budget for daily expenses (food, transportation to campus if needed) and keep track of your spending

take advantage of programs hosted for study abroad students. about half of my traveling to other cities was done through the study abroad program, which cost a small fraction of what the cost would’ve been if i did it on my own

be flexible! there is a good chance you will go over your intended budget, but it is okay - money can comeback, time will not

with that being said however don’t overdo it, there’s nothing wrong with going a bit over for some extra experiences, but you don’t want to break the bank 

homesickness/loneliness 

in terms of being far away from my family, it wasnt that big of a change compared to a regular semester as i don’t see them during the school year. however, i did miss nyc and my friends very much. it was hard to deal with at certain points, especially when i was having a difficult time with school but here’s somethings i did to help:

set up times to video chat with family and friends - and try to make it a regular thing

send your friends dumb things that you’re doing - dying over homework, eating good food, some animal you saw on the street, a meme that reminded you of them, and so on they’ll be missing you too

make new friends! i know thats easier said than done, but other students in the program are in the same situation as you and will be feeling homesick. set up a semi-regular time to hang out (i made friends with my roommate and another girl and we hung out nearly every saturday to play games on the switch)

some easy ways to get to know people at the beginning are have lunch/dinner together, talk to people in your classes (especially in language classes if you’re in a country that doesn’t speak your native language), hang out with your roommates

participate in any opportunities hosted for study abroad students that you can. it’s a great way to meet other students and get involved in the local culture while spending less money

finally, its important to remind yourself that you have this amazing opportunity to study in a foreign city/country/culture. it is very normal/expected to feel homesick, but reminding yourself of this helps to bring yourself back into focus and enjoy your experience

balance between academics and traveling

this is something i did struggle with and i still do wish i had planned my time better so i could’ve done more, but in general its about finding balance similar to how you would during a regular semester with classes, extracurriculars, friends, jobs. since i wasn’t involved in any extracurriculars or didn’t have a job while abroad that freed up a lotttt of time that i don’t typically have to focus on school work during the week and travel on the weekends. when planning to travel outside of your host city, you’ll want to plan ahead as much as you can as those times are the hardest times to keep up (i had one class that was based on three papers... and two of them were due after weekend trips hosted by the study abroad program not fun man!) here’s some advice that i have for this

save ‘big’ trips for time off - i went to beijing over our spring break, which was the best time to go as i didnt have to worry /as much/ about my work and i could spend more time there compared to my other travels

spend time in the country either before or after. other than beijing, my other ‘big trip’ was to chengdu/xian/zhangjiajie where i visited these cities back to back right after my finals were done

use the time on the plane/train/car/whatever to do some work. i know its easy to just fall asleep or be on your phone, but you’ll be glad that you did some work once the next school day comes

talk with your professors! they will understand that you are a study abroad student and have limited time in the country - one of the weekend trips hosted by my school left before my friday class but we had quizzes every friday in that class so i just let my prof know that i had this opportunity coming up and he let me take the quiz the next monday

try to do your work during the week to leave the weekends free. i would suggest to even save traveling around your host city should be left for the weekends, unless there is some special event going on so that way you can maximize study time during the week and have the weekend free for travel time!

use whatever planning system typically works for you (traditional planners, google calendar etc.) and as soon as you know you have assignments/tests/quizzes, put that in your calendar and start working towards them immediately. also schedule in time to study so you can work towards tests/quizzes everyday so you can travel without worry

i felt i did a good job of balancing travel and academics, however i felt i didnt explore shanghai as much i wanted to. if i had planned out my study time better, i could’ve opened up more free time on the weekends to go out in the city.

other advice

if you’re not in college yet, make sure you’re researching schools that you look at their study abroad programs and that they have the location(s) you’re interested in!

let your advisor know that you’re planning on studying abroad as soon as you can (even if you’re just thinking about it and aren’t sure yet) so they can help you stay on track and plan for it

with that last point being said, don’t solely rely on them - do your own research, check which classes are offered, save any emails confirming that classes abroad will count for your classes, keep track of application requirements and deadlines and so on

i hope this post is helpful in your study abroad journey! if you have any further questions please feel free to message me✨

bonus! check out my day in the life in shanghai video :]

[sparkesink]

Chapter 14:

Such Is, The American Dream

How Does One Write…

(When One Has Nothing To Write Upon?)

No Desperate Tragedy…

No Thrilling Woe.

My Rains,

(My Snout…)

Never Forced,

(Still Out.)

 The Most Difficult Task, 

(Writing Upon A Wim…)

Not Which Becomes A Light Source, 

(Discarded Amongst The Gray…)

But That Of The Smiles Which Roll Astray.

 The Memories That Stay,

Through A Drought-Full Snow…

Never…

(Really,)

Mattered…

We Always Destined…

(Take Such Blow.)

 I Had Never Imagined,

(The Difficulty…)

“Catch What You Sow…”

I Really Just Hope,

I Did Not Catch The Bow…

Allow Intellect,

(Power To Tow.)

Slow,

Sweet Ebb And Flow.

Only One Little Thing:

(Keep My Mind Low.)

 This Internet Shit Is Much Harder Than It Seems…

Seamless Integration,

Flawless Digital Frustration…

Hours Upon Hours Of Choices To Feed…

How Many Algorithm Marketing Targets Do I Need?

Constant Change,

(A Living Thing…)

Creating A Robot,

(Behind Your News Feed.)

Good Money Spent: 

(Just One Moment Of Your Time…)

Try Being More: 

Sensible, 

(Simply,) 

Speaking In Rhyme…

There Is No Easy Feet,

While Introducing Something New.

There Is No Target Audience,

(Per-say,)

In Lieu.

There Is No,

(One,)

Industry We Fall Within.

Shall We Write Code?

(Leaving Artistic Voice Shackled And Thin?)

Maybe The Camera Feel Cold?

While Contracts Come Tackled, 

(Spattered Upon Tin.)

How Can So Many Things,

All Come Shining Their Rings…

 And I’m Expected To Succeed…

(You Don’t Know:)

Not A Single Itch Of This Presentation…

Is Procured By Any Other…

(Than Me.)

One Little Girl,

Four Personalities…

All Separate In Their Beautiful Talents.

How Could Anyone Know…

(She Performs The Full Trapeze.)

Not A Building,

No Projects… 

(Between Groups…)

Just Me;

(Here,)

Trying Not To Cry.

Pushing A Project: 

(I Never Got To Practice.)

I Didn’t Go To College For Computer Science…

A Whole Degree Dedicated:

(The Science Of Marketing…)

I Didn’t Ask For This Work…

As It Laid It’s Beautiful Head Upon My Chest.

 I Was Given This Burden,

To Think And Create…

To Reach The Stars:

Give Them All Back… 

(Sensibly Late.)

 Heaven Forbid,

We Use Our Word,

To Speak…

(To Talk.)

Create Conversation,

(Substituting Reaction To Mock.)

 We Are Forced Language Of Societal Choosing,

From The Moment We Enter This World.

Here,

(Upon This Earth…)

Within This Reality,

At This Exact Moment In Time:

We Grow,

We Forget How To Talk…

We Let All Of The Bullshit Hide,

(Who We Really Are Inside.)

 That Happy Child,

Giggling With Your Mother…

She Raspberries Your Little Baby Belly.

She Kisses Your Forehead:

Promising Beauty Within Life.

Unconditional Love, 

(Regardless Societal Strife.)

Though, 

(At Some Moment…)

For Some:

Brief…

A Loss At Happenstance…

(A Loss Of Seconds To Breathe.)

For Others:

An Extensive Span Of Trauma And Fear,

Acceptance Washed,

(Blatantly Clear.)

 Do You Understand Fear?

Months Turned Years,

Consistent Fears:

Fear To Open The Front Door,

Fear Of Anything,

(Aside The Shore.)

I Broke Myself.

I Ignored Myself.

I Allowed Others To Abuse Me,

(Shamed The Woman I Could Be.)

I Feel Sick, 

Consistently At War:

I’ve Fought My Whole Life,

(My Truth Resides Within My Lore.)

 Do You Think I’m Privileged?

(I’ve Been Given A Hand Up?)

Could You Realize It All Came At A Price?

Do You Understand Manipulative Narcissistic Strife?

It Flows As The Waves Within The Sea,

(Maybe This Is Why It Consistently Captivates Me.)

 Though I Have Only Begun To Live This New Life:

One Of Health,

Truth,

Integrity,

(And Dignity…)

All Those Dark Memories:

Transparently Vibrant Through Stained Glass.

I’ve Been On This Emotional Ride Since Birth,

I Am Their Narcissistic Supply,

(Second Class.)

“My Worth”:

Highs And Lows,

“You’re Impressively Bland,”

“You’re Intelligently Stupid,”

“You’re Non Like The Rest,

As Soon As She Breaks,

Make Haste:

Take Her To The Test!”

Round And Round,

I Tumble Through Sea Foam,

An Eternity Caught,

(A Weightless Tomb.) 

 Little “B”,

So Soft And Sweet Was She.

She Crawled Beneath Her Bunk Bed,

Just A Moment To Breathe.

Forced To Obey,

Shunned If She Don’t Stay.

She Just Did Not Want To Play, 

(With That Little Girl,)

A Girl Who’s Cousin Fondled Her, 

(Post Six Years From A Six Year Old Twirl.)

She Moved Each Toy,

All Those Soiled Clothes,

She Placed Herself Perfectly…

Between The Mattress And The Floor.

She Only Six At The Time…

She Didn’t Understand, 

(Emotional Manipulative War.)

She Didn’t Understand, 

She Deserved Her Respect,

Her Heart Under-defined: 

(“Sore”.)

 She Hid Under That Bed,

Gasping For Breath;

Rocking Back And Forth,

Both Hands Entangled Her Head.

She Sat There Crying,

Though Silent She Must Be…

For If Anyone Found Her,

(Emotional Scrutiny.)

 She Learned To Sob Silently:

(No One Let’s The Girl Just Be.)

She Tucked Her Tears Within A Sock,

Bit Her Lip And Listened,

Counting The Clock…

Curious How Long She Could Disappear,

Before They Even Noticed,

“She’s Not Here.”

 One Hour,

Two?

(None Hadn’t A Clue…) 

Till Finally Her Mother Came Ringing Through…

She Heard Her Panic,

Thirty Minutes Gone By…

Is It Fucked Up,

She Enjoyed It?

(Hearing Mom Cry.)

 They Called The Police,

Worried She Had Been Taken;

She Finally Wiggled, 

(Mountains Of Emotion Shaken,)

Out Of Her Room,

(Snot Encasing The Entirety Of Her Face,)

Why Couldn’t You Understand,

(She Isn’t At Home In This Place.)

She Was Escorted To The Side Walk,

Directly Affront Her Claim.

She Sat Silent As The Officer Explain,

“You Cannot Hide From Your Parents,

This Is Bad.”

 So What If She Is Sad?

So What If She Has No Name,

So What If She Is Human,

So What She Lives In Shame?

She Is Six,

(Just Her Parents Property.)

Never Hit,

Welted Below The Belt…

(Emotionally Scarred.)

 Never Bled,

(Controlled,)

“The Person She Is… 

(Must Be Discard.”)

 “She Is Not Allowed To Be,

(The One She Is Meant To See,)

She Only Allowed To Be,

(The One I Want To See!)”

 Her Desires Shot,

Her Goals,

‘Just Silly Dreams…’

(Even Early Graduation Wasn’t Satisfactory To Thee.)

Her Dean’s List Scholars,

Scholarships At Sixteen…

“She Could Have Done Better,

Had She Only Listened To Me…

Had She Only Let Me Direct Her Life,

(Listened As A Sheep,)

Maybe She Would Be Normal,

Maybe She Wouldn’t Be… 

(A Fucking Head Case,)

Maybe She Would Finally Sleep.

She Could Live And Become ‘Normal’,

If She Would Only Just ‘Play The Game’…

Since She Refuse,

We Mock Her In Exasperating Blame.”

 Forward To Twenty-one Years,

(Now Enthralled Within Devine Game:)

A Rabbit Called,

His Eye Yellow Amongst A Brunette Mane.

He Scurried Diligently Amongst My Toes,

Furry Innocence Disregard Hidden Foes.

I Offered Him My Guidance,

A Compass Found,

(Hanging Amongst The Fir…)

 The Rabbit Shook His Tale In Great Exuberance,

My Third Eye Cringed Within Prominent Clairvoyance.

I Had Been Wandering For Days Amongst These Trees,

(I Hadn’t Expected To Find Creatures Such As These.)

The Rabbit Was First,

He Spoke Aloud,

(Whispered,)

Follow Me, 

(I’ll Show You Around.)

 All This Time Rummaging From Within The Trees,

Consistently Trudging Muck,

(Seeping Between The Leaves.)

 He Turned Timid,

Around And Around,

Figure-eights Between Each Tree:

Before A Days Pass,

He Guided Me,

Beyond The Forest Entrance, 

(Amass.)

 I Forfeited Precious Time Progressing,

(Before Encountering You!)

“I’m Back Where I Fucking Started!

You Beady Eyed Fool!”

 The Rabbit Appeared Different, 

(His Eye Gold Sprouting Orange:)

“Don’t You Get It?

I’m Not Here To Help You.

You Should Have Taken Interest, 

(Within Prior Warn.)

Enjoy Trudging Back,

Dusk Covers Within Mist Until Morn.”

 Then Out Of The Muck,

This Yellow-eyed Rabbit Disappear.

Leaning In Close With One Ear…

“FUCK!”

Kicking The Mud,

My Heart Sweltered Within My Chest,

My Knees Buckled,

(Demanded Rest.)

 One Should Never Follow The Rabbit:

(Fuck That Rabbit.)

Forgive My Language,

I Was Never One To Censor…

(I Should Have Procured A Sponsor.)

 Here,

Returned Upon The Beginning.

(Happy Anniversary To Me;)

3/14,

Another Beginning To Be.

I Suppose We Shall Try Again:

Follow My Heart,

Close What That Yellow Eyed Rabbit Left Tart,

Sever A Clean Part.

 Keep The Soul,

Sponge The Rest.

Remain Hopeful,

(This Is Not A Final Test.)

 I Suppose,

(To Me,)

It Seems Unbearable:

To Pull Myself From The Muck,

A Constant Reminder, 

Slivers Of Luck,

(Fuck.)

Purchased Clothing To Tuck,

To Be Taken Into Success,

Without A Harvey Weinstein Conclusion…

(Business Fueled By Your Sucking Skills;)

I Digress.

 No One Ever Talks About Modification Discrimination:

A Projected Judgmental Temptation,

Toward Self Expression.

Sighted Within The Way The Eyes Glaze,

Creases, 

(Between The Sinus,) 

Laze.

 Projecting Yourself As A Business Cog:

“Don’t Quit Your Job.”

 Bouncing Baby Blue,

Upon One Hip Or Two?

Can You Meet Next Wednesday?

Let Us Print Money For Few,

Don’t Mind The Toddler Fingers,

Find Purpose For My Mouth, 

(En Lieu.)

 Don’t Mind The Baby Babble,

(Mommy Wears Twenty Hats, Too.)

What Shall It Be Today?

Manning Landscape Stats?

Emotional Abuse? 

(Milk Toppled By Stray Cats.)

Mommy And Me,

Climbing Counters, 

(Refuse To Leave Be.)

Business Woman Performance:

A Joke,

(Scuffing Down Toke,)

Gaining Courage To Speak… 

(To Other Folk.)

 When Does This Feel Good?

When Does Satisfaction Creep My Soul?

(As I’m Told It Should.)

 Such An Interesting Observation;

(In Which I Stand Alone.)

Expressing My Soul… 

To Feel Sensation:

(A Cold And Lonely Tone.)

Choosing Printing Paper,

Juggling A Tired Toddler,

I Hold Her For Hours While Yawns Taper…

Which Ink Can Finally Coddle Her?

Could I Choose To Become A Cloud?

I Would Never Become “To Loud”.

I Would Never Drag Myself Through Sharpened Glass,

No Results Within My Mass.

I Could Be Beautifully Gazed Upon For All To See,

(While Remaining Far-away…)

Intact,

(With My Dignity.)

Removing Myself From Toxicity,

(Festering Within Such Simplicity.)

 I Dream Upon Days,

(Lost In Daze,)

With Him…

Fizzled Out Of Adolescent Faze.

Fingers,

(Twirling My Hair Up Within Them.)

Coffee In Bed,

Date Nights In Red,

Laughing,

Exuding Such Needed Encouragement Said.

“Good Morning Beautiful,”

Every Morning.

A Hazel Eye That Never Projects A Bore…

A Look That Never Dies,

Such Relationship, 

(Containing Exclusive Polite Lies.)

 Weekends In Adventure,

Dreamer Talk Of Tenure,

Clouds Positioned To Lend An Ear…

Speaking Of Peace And Beauty,

Without A Reminder Of The Muck…

Gaining Momentum…

(Circling Near.)

 Appreciation Of The Highs,

Consideration Of The Lows,

(An Anchor Lent Each Time It Shows.)

Walks Along The Beach,

Ability To Intellectually Teach…

A Woman, 

(Who Is Anything But What She Wants To Be.)

A Smart Ass,

(Behind An Extended Vocabulary.)

Something Equivalent,

(Capable In Loving What Cannot Become Seen.)

 Am I Lost?

Naïve?

Exclusive Denial Of What My Soul Is Screaming?

My Tower Leaning,

My Foundation Feening…

(Freely Poured Concrete…)

In Which Will Not Crack Under Pressure.

A Sentiment Of Force Capable To Hold,

(A Collapsing Infrastructure,)

Containing Such Vast Weight,

(Others Incapable Of Supportive Toll.)

A Crumbling “Eighth World Wonder,”

Supporting It’s Self Under Continuous Richter…

Acknowledging Important Features,

Cracking Off Remaining Seizures… 

(Demolishing Pertinent Structures…)

Praying To A One-way Conversation…

(Within Myself.)

 I Am Sick Of Being Sick.

Left Alone,

(Head Filled With Ideas Of “Home.”)

 Just Let This Pressure,

(Excruciating Weight From Within My Chest,) 

Dissipate…

Allow “Sensibly Late” To Mark Date…

I’ve Only Ever Desired Peace,

(Within Myself.)

 Countless Influential People Project The Same Bore:

“Follow Your Dreams, Determination Hangs Sore…”

When Does A Lifetime Of Unfortunate Events End?

When Will I Be Given Time To Mend?

What Is Time But A Linear Bend?

If There Is No Beginning…

(Subsequently,)

There Is No End.

 All Versions,

Within All Realities,

Upon All Timelines:

(Alive And Vibrant,) 

Simultaneously Thrive.

 Amongst A Paradox,

(Created Within Such A Reality, 

Accepted Through Current Consciousness…)

Somewhere, 

Along Some Timeline,

Within Such Reality,

Procured Through Such A Paradox…

In Which I Have Made This Work Worth Something.

 At This Very Moment,

In A Linear Timeline,

Upon A Parallel Paradox;

I Have Succeeded.

 The String Of Unfortunate Events Severed…

The Curse Lifted From My Ora.

I’m Left Staring Within This Same Pacific Ocean,

(Washed Away With The Sand.)

 What Does This All Mean?

(Why Me?)

Why Have I Been Chosen To Endure This Strife?

Why Must A Devine Test Be Inflicted Upon This Life?

Why Am I Here?

(A Breeze Guided Me Near.)

Why Hasn’t This Happenstance Become Clear?

When Will This Trepidation Recede?

Will I Remain Humble If Encased Within Greed?

Eight Years Of Sorrow And Woe,

(Why Does This Fucking Novel Breed Such Daunting Tow?)

 WHY AM I HERE?

WHY CAN I NOT SEE CLEAR?

AM I FACED TO ACEND WITHIN THE MIRROR?

WHY AM I FUCKING HERE?!?

 What’s This Ship Got To Do With Anything?

Why These Sands?

Why This Bay?

It Felt So Natural,

(Before We Came To Stay…)

The Cosmos Were Ringing,

Guiding Me Amongst This Shore,

Now Enthralled In Silence,

Saturated Within Thirty Days,

(Blood And Pain,) 

Payment For This Lore.

 I Peer Amongst These Ruins,

(Sunken Deep Within Our Sands…)

What Does This Old Ship Have To Do With Anything?

What Am I Doing?

 I Moved My Family,

Upon Premonition And Happenstance:

Guided Transition With Ease…

I Just Cannot Find My Purpose… 

(Amongst These Seas.)

 It’s As Though I Should Just Call It;

(Wave My White Flag And Surrender.)

Live Within Death:

Pull My Life Together,

(Ascender.)

 I Cannot Seem To Convince,

Which I Am Meant

A Fruit Gathered, 

(From Purposeful Quince.)

 Am I Writing In The Wrong Direction?

(I Cannot Seem To Find My Way.)

What Could I Become?

In Such Case Of Succession?

 This Lore Is All I’ve Ever Known…

My Key To Contentment Unknown.

How Could I Continue This Dream?

(My Work Greatly Unseen.)

 I Came Here Upon This Day,

To Wave Goodbye To My Bay.

To Kiss My Waves One Final Day:

I Kiss The Earth Which This Tattered Ship Lay.

I Cannot Continue This Silly Nonsense,

I Must Learn To Become Practical;

Build A Wall Around My Heart,

Coated Kevlar Tactical.

 The Coroner Always Gets His Way,

(Impractical To Believe I Could Stay…)

 Something Happened:

(I Have Black Chunks Re-written Within My Memory…)

A Night Called An Instance…

A Body Arrested Through Our Back Gate…

I Couldn’t Recall The Melody…

A Tiny Girl,

Standing In Our Backyard So Late.

 I Saw The Police Escort Him,

(From Back Through To Front,)

Why Was I There?

Did I Come Out To Confront?

I Was Told Our Chow Chow Bit Him…

(That Couldn’t Become Correct?)

For Had This Been Truth,

My Jazmine Girl Would’ve Become Laid To Rest…

 Were We Victim To Common Burglary?

Or Maybe…

I A Victim Of Something Grotesque. 

Why Are All Other Moments, 

(Surrounding This,) 

A Blackened Mess?

 Just One Slide,

Seared Within My Psyche…

Just One Man,

Blood Dripping Down One Pant Upon A Lichee.

Two Officers Restraining Each Hand…

Walking Through My Back Gate;

My Mother Weeping Amongst The Blue And Red,

Authoritative Lights: 

(Illuminating A Common Cul-de-sac…)

Why Was I In Back?

How Did I Get There?

Where Is The Archive;

(These Memories In Which I Lack?)

 This Chapter Is Shit, Any-who.

Written From Within The Desperation:

An Unemployed Failure,

Female,

Tattooed, 

(And Equally Discriminated.)

 I Don’t Think Many Realize,

I Manage Traffic Analytics…

Do You Know What It Is Like?

Working Diligently Upon A Project;

Simultaneously,

Nineteen Months Only One…

One Single Human Came To Visit.

 Do You Know What It Is Like?

Explaining Brilliance: 

To Pinheads In Suits Of Murk?

Endless Determination,

Anxiety Loaded,

(Maximum Pulsation.)

 What Would The Common Human See?

If Only To Look Past This Cover,

Do My Tattoos Cause Anxiety To Flee?

Could It Be?

For What Purpose Could You Possibly Leave?

Pretending To Understand,

When I Prove Fact:

(You’ve Never Even Ventured One Page Through This Land,)

Though, 

You’ve Graciously Provided Patronize,

(Enveloping Strength In Which You Lack.)

 Such A Shame,

A Vortex Cannot Become Undeveloped, 

(Once Given Life To Breathe…)

This Story Cannot Become Untold,

(Reaction To Mature To Leave.)

 Could You Evaporate Within The Fog?

Lending An Ear Amongst This Slimy Log?

 Maybe It’s Just Ahead Of It’s Time…

Maybe,

(One Day…)

My Words Will Not Become Overlooked…

Maybe You’ll Investigate;

(A Thorough Understanding Of This Song.)

 I Make Others Feel Uncomfortable?

(Speaking My Truth Is Unavoidable…)

How Can You Possibly Judge?

(There Has Been No Company Enthralled Within My Work.)

This Story Lay Stagnant:

Tattered Memories Of A Warrior Lurk.

 Then Again,

Who Ever Cared About The Survivor?

Veterans Homeless,

Left Within Insanity Amongst The Street…

A Jungle Few Understand,

Portraying Images Of War,

Within Survival Upon Distant Land.

Have You Been Without Shelter?

Do You Understand The Terror?

Sleeping In A Tent,

Praying For A Lucky Start…

Sleeping In The Back Of A Festiva,

(Two Lovers Between Two Dogs Is An Art.)

 Have You Ever Woken Up On a Stranger’s Floor?

Thanking The Sun For Another Day Of Lore…

Have You Experienced A Soul Saturated In Blood Stains?

(Those Chosen For Greatness Are Greatly Maimed.)

Do You Understand What It Could Feel Like?

The Pain Of Hunger Outweighs Pain Of Plasma Donations,

Joining Medical Research Studies,

Finances Supplied Only A Few Brief Moments To Breathe…

And You Look At ME?

 “Don’t Quit Your Day Job…”

 I Should Petition The Gods In Which I Dedicated My Soul,

But Then…

That Would Become Wrath…

And In Doing So I Endure Disown, 

From This Pursuit Of Becoming “Whole”.

 I Ponder Amongst My Thoughts:

How Dare You?

Patronizing Something,

(You Never Even Gave A Chance.)

A Research Experiment In Sloth And Judgment:

Could One Become So Busy?

Not Even A Seconds Chance?

Before Discarded? 

(Lousy?)

 There Will Become A Day,

Where Those Whom Shunned,

Come Flowing In Throughout Our Bay…

They Will Pretend To Believe In Divine Things,

(I Know They Only Bare Steel Woven Strings…)

 I Shall Look You Within The Eye,

Plant My Courage As I Say,

“Please, Walk On By.

Your Money Is No Good Here,

For I Had Plans You Could Have Received…

Instead?

You Left Me,

Here To Bleed.

I Cauterized My Wounds,

I Had No Assistance From Greed-written Fools.

 There Will Become A Day:

One Glorious,

Relieving Day…

In Which I Will Have Gained This Courage,

Take My Stand,

Show Off This Pearl-Glass Spine,

The One Abandoned Upon Needful Time.

 I Will Build This Myself,

I Will Become Relentless…

I Will Show The Judged:

I Cannot Be Rendered Senseless.

 You Cannot Break Me:

I Am The Mother Reaper.

 “What Exactly Are You Doing?”

There She Was:

Vivian,

(In The Flesh,)

Sitting Amongst That Moss Covered Log,

(Before Me.)

 “Didn’t I Explain?

Blatantly Clear?

Your Swimming Within Muck…

It Will Devour You,

You Foolish Buck.

No One Wants To Drown Within Your Quicksand,

Where Is Your Land?

You Sit Around Here,

Swimming In Mud And Blood…

He’s Fucking Waiting For You!

Get Your Ass Up!”

 She Held No Consequence, 

(A Royal Demeanor:)

I Stop To Acknowledge My Current Surroundings,

Listen To Logic…

Internalize Her…

 “How Are You Here?

I Mean, How Are You Within This Chapter?

I Am Alone Here,

Left To Retrospect…

A Blackened Cell Within A Writing Table…

Expected To Secure A Sable Label.”

 “You’re Past That, My Love…

You’re Swimming In Muck.”

 My Eyes Jaunt Aside, 

Then To Beneath…

My Skin Consumed In The Sticky Black Tar…

The Skulled Outlines,

Consuming Me Full…

They Paralyze Your Senses…

Construct False Locations…

 “Don’t You Get It?

You’ve Never Left This Lost Forest.”

 “For Which Do You Mean I Never Left?”

I Already Pulled Myself Up Out Of The Muck,

Stuck,

Undeniable Quicksand…”

 “The Faster You Pull The Quicker They Tuck…

You Must Be Cunning,

Haven’t You Learned Anything?

You Have No Receipt For Luck.

You Must Will It Off,

It Shall Cling To Your Soul If Not.”

Returning Her Casual Ignorance With Scowling Stare:

“That’s All Your Advice?

‘Will It Off’ While You Just Fucking Sit There?”

 “Yeah, You’re Being Weak.

Should I Spell It Out For You?”

 She, Sitting Upon Her Log:

Joint Cherried Upon One Hand.

She, Lounged:

Weight Shifted Left To Mock,

Legs Crossed Amongst The Dew.

Stiff Fingers Find Smoke Inhalation:

Kissing Fingerprints Along Each Solemn Drag…

 “You Saw The Rabbit?”

 She Leans In Close,

(Three Inches From My Thigh…)

Whispers:

“It Hurts To Climb High?”

 “No,

How Are You Here?

This Breaks All The Rules…

I’m Not Near…

It’s A Black Coated Fear,

This Chapter Is Within Me,

I Cannot Be Within This Lost Forest…

This Is Not Real…”

 Within Blinking Seconds:

The Scenery Flicker…

A Dark Interrogation Room,

One Light With That Writing Table Central:

Drowning In Blacked,

Living Tar…

The Mud-blood Creatures Sleeking Upon My Mind…

 Gasping For Breath;

One Eye Opened From Between This Slim Kind,

Vivian Kissing Her Joint…

Watching Me Suffer…

The Slime Covers My Mind,

Desperate,

Desperation,

Within That One Table Cell…

 She Whispers:

“It’s Coming…

That Dream…

It’s Your’s To Capture, 

Doll-face…

 You Want Your Salvation?

Your Dreams Turn Reality?

Disregard Temptation?

Just Get Up,

Find Your Way Through This Lost Forest…

The Galaxies Owe You Reciprocated Payment,

You Already Succeeded…

Just Wake Up!”

 Devoured Within Blackened Tar,

Jade Sit Within The Corner Of My Cell,

(Right Far.)

Sobbing Amongst Herself…

 “I Have A Forest To Navigate,

I Cannot Save Her Here…”

 An Unseen Sensation,

A Delicate Hand,

Index And Thumb Clenching My Conch…

Ripping My Ear, 

Out From Within The Clear.

 “Find Your Will To Walk,

My Subtle Naive Friend…

You Better Prepare:

The Land Beyond This Is A Living Jungle,

The Circus Will Lead Your Final Test…

 It’s Coming For You,

All Those Passionate Desires: 

Pleads For The Best…

Living Light,

Past The Circus…

 Glorious Wonders You Could Never Imagine,

Endless Salvation…

Gifted To Those Suffering Temptation:

You Must Finish,

You’re Meant For This.”

“I Don’t Know If I Am:

My Shoulders Can’t Take Anymore Weight…”

 “You Silly Fool,”

Vivian Snarking From Between Strings Of Muck,

(Spiderwebbing My Appearance:)

“Remove The Toxic Parasite Upon Your Luck!”

 Sure Enough, 

I Straighten My Spine,

Stand Within The Blood,

(Two Vertebrae A Time…)

His Smile Grin Beyond This Blackened Muck…

The Corner,

Disguised In Luck…

His Sweet Face Shift,

Those Green Bifocals Lift…

 “You Have No Power Over Me!

Return To Where You Came, Be!”

 Within Astonishing Grace,

I Remove His Toxic Control,

Willing Him The Size Of A Rabbit Face.

I Gently Place Him Back Within The Muck…

 “You Cannot Control Me,”

I Kiss His Forehead In Empathetic Laze,

“I Cannot Continue As Your Puppet,

Tethered To Abusive Greedy Strings, Ablaze.”

 This Little Toy Man,

In This Little Toy Boat…

Evaporated, 

Taken Amongst The Creatures, 

(Within The Quicksand: Despair.)

 Dripping In Toxic Goo,

I Straighten My Spine,

Now Three Vertebrae A Time…

 “Ahh, Now You Understand…

The Brave Of Heart,

The Relentless Conquer This Land…

Here, 

Wipe Yourself Off,

Inhale This Toke,

Find Relaxing Enjoyment Within Your Cough.”

Vivian Lent Me A Silk Handkerchief, 

(From Within Her Brassiere.)

 “Now Listen Here,

I’ve Willed Paths Within This Forest:

Three Guarded By Rabbit,

One Left Free And Clear.

Just Follow Your Heart,

You’re Intelligent Around Here:

Wait For Your Moment…

It’s Coming Near.”

 She Evaporated Within This Forest Mist,

A Fine, 

Black, 

Shear, 

Delicate,

Smoke Dissipated Before My Iris.

The Handkerchief Now Sizable, 

(Equal To That Of A Blanket Towel.)

 I Remove The Blood From Amongst My Skin,

Watching The Remanence Dance Amongst The Fabric:

Alive In Devaluation,

Desperation,

(Despair.)

 I Look Back Amongst The Muck,

One Final Time:

The Corner’s Greed-Colored Bifocals Sink,

Accompanied With A Porcelain Grin…

I Sat In Grief,

(Watching Them Slip Beyond The Blood, Water Thin…)

 “I’m Sorry,

I Am The Mother Reaper…

You Cannot Break Me:

I Must Live Beyond This Mud, 

Tasting Of Tin.” 

 Grief Stricken Relief.

[artistlove17]

This was my Nana at my second birthday party!

She and my Papaw bought me a new swingset that year.

My mom gave me some old pictures the other day on my 21st birthday from my 2nd birthday party, so this picture of my Nana is 19 years old... that's wild.

I've been thinking a lot about my Nana and my Papaw and my mom. And I realized that most of the people around my age act the way they do (fucking crazy) because of their parents and the environment they were raised in. Most of them had parents who either wouldn't allow them to do things (or couldn't afford it) or the opposite, where they forced their kids to play a sport or like a certain thing. (The amount of fathers I've seen get pissed off when their boys don't want to hunt deer or play football... I cannot tell you! Extreme Christian men are fucking bonkers about their children not being exactly how they want them...)

And it occurred to me that I actually didn't really have to deal with that. Not to any extreme level anyway...

I've seen a friend cry and scream and have several mental breakdowns because her dad would steal her journals and read them and told her that as long as she lived under his roof she wouldn't keep any secrets from him. He told her that reading was a waste of her time and money and refused to let her mom buy her the books she wanted. He told her that art and writing were also a waste of her time and practically beat it into her head that all she would ever amount to was a housewife who stayed at home raising babies and caring for a manchild/husband.

And he absolutely hated my guts because I tried my DAMNDEST to get her out of that mindset and to get her to see that she could be or do whatever she wanted (she WANTED to teach elementary school). (It all ended up with us falling out and her reverting back to being his little puppet and following every order he spit at her.) And so he ended up forcing her to go to college on a small grant and a student loan... but made her take the nursing program. Which she ended up failing out of almost immediately because nursing programs are extremely competitive and she was an average student with barely passing grades. (Not trying to make fun of her, but the standards compared to her actual grades were EXTREMELY unrealistic, even she knew it. But her father insisted.)

She ended up dropping out, marrying a criminal (also one of the ugliest dudes I've ever seen, like no joke.. his creepy eyes make me nauseated) and had a baby with him. Now she's constantly back and forth from "I love him, we're a happy little family, I'm a stay at home mom!" and "I hate men, both parents need a job, I can raise my child by myself!"

It just kind of eats at me because while we were friends I could see her finally getting away from her dad and the shit he was constantly shoving her way. But as soon as we stopped being friends... it just seemed like she gave up. And I don't blame myself or anything like that (after all, you can't help someone who refuses to believe they need help)... but it was just crazy to watch it all happen and to think about it now with a new outlook and probably a good bit more maturity.

While we were friends she was more open and out there and we could go hang out with the "weird kids" and party in our own way (usually at the arcade like the nerds we were). We would paint together and make friendship books together and just have fun as kids should... but then I moved away and watching her social media was like watching someone take a leap off a cliff. She even tried to steal my fiance and my friends from me amidst all of this insanity... just out of spite and jealousy that I got away and she stayed trapped in her own personal hell...

And one day it was like her dad finally got into her head. She started hanging out with people we used to hate. She started giving out blowjobs like candy on Halloween (to the point that guys were asking her for blowjobs for their 18th birthdays). She was constantly partying and drinking and doing who knows what kind of drugs. She got married to a guy she met while he was on the run from the police and they ended up having a baby and she became a stay at home mom. (Which she tried her hardest to pretend was fine by her in the beginning, but later had a meltdown over it and got a job again).

She gave up everything she said she wanted to do. Every dream she ever had. And became exactly the person her father was always telling her she would end up being.

Watching all of this happen and seeing how she ended up... was is so fucking surreal to me. It's just so... fucked up.

I surely didn't have the BEST childhood and I plan to raise any children I might have in the future very differently than how I was raised. But I did have a mother and an amazing set of grandparents who made sure I could do whatever I dreamt of.

When I decided I wanted to try out for basketball, my mom signed me up and made sure I went to every practice and game when I made the team. (Though I only played for 3 years before getting bored of it.)

When I wanted to play Tball as a toddler, mom signed me up and made sure there was always someone to take me to my games.

When I started dancing and doing cheerleading my grandparents paid for everything I needed and took me to and from every event and cheer camp.

When my Uncle started learning the guitar they bought me a small one to practice on. When he later started learning the keyboard, they bought me one of those too. I wanted to learn everything he did.

My mom let me get a couple of piercings and dye my hair crazy colors and wear whatever I wanted (except for when it was WAY too revealing for my age, then I was only allowed to wear it inside the house.) She allowed me the freedom to pick things out for myself and make myself look however I wanted. My Nana actually put hot pink streaks in my hair when I was 8 and I loved having colored hair after that...

And during the periods that I didn't want to be active... they let me do that too. They bought me notebook after notebook and sketchbook after sketchbook. They let me write and draw and sing and dance to my hearts fucking content. My Nana kept a wall in her house covered in my art. She loved that I was an artist and made sure to always support me.

My papaw even bought me my own pair of roller skates because for literally 5 years straight the only thing I wanted to do on the weekends was go to the movie theater.. and the skating rink! He and my Nana let me roller skate THROUGH THE HOUSE so I could practice without being in front of everyone. And then they'd take me to the skating rink and let me skate for hours. And now that I think about it... it's kind of crazy that they just let me skate in circles for hours by myself and never once tried to force me to make friends or talk to other kids. As long as I was happy and content, they didn't care.

They supported me and loved me no matter what I wanted to do and I honestly feel like that's why I don't just sit back and follow orders. I don't just do whatever someone tells me to do (unlike so many people around me who I've seen try SO hard to fit their parents expectations, only to fail almost every time.)

I did feel that pressure a little bit. Everyone expected me to do good in school and go off to college (because I was always good in school and made good grades, so it became an expectation). And I think that's why it hit me so bad to quit college... because I felt like I was letting everyone down. But then my mom reminded me that she gave up college so she could keep me and that college really isn't for everyone (even people who are good at school).

My Papaw supported my choice (I could tell he was a little unhappy) but he never voiced that he was in any way disappointed in me. He believes that since I earned my scholarship by myself, then I get to decide what to do with it... which includes not using it.

My Nana fully supported my decision. She thought similar to my Papaw, that I had earned that scholarship on my own and so I got to decide what happened with it. She was also one of the only people who really knew how mentally and emotionally fucked up I was while trying to attend college and fully supported me leaving that stress behind if it made me happy to do so.

I've seen kids fall apart because they never had people like this in their lives. They were never allowed to be themselves or just enjoy whatever it was they liked. They were constantly pushed and pushed until they finally went over the edge.

And that's really fucked up.

And I'm really thankful for my mom and grandparents who always allowed me to be myself and make decisions for myself.

I'm really thankful to have been allowed to be me (at least for the most part). 💛

[strwbrryeos]

Steam (M) [R]

Requested by @jincci. I thank you for this.

SUMMARY; You’re a good student. A great student, actually, so of course you got yourself a scholarship into university. It was the least you could do for your parents. You ended up living in an apartment with the sociable Kim Taehyung. You got along great, and you disregarded his playboy antics because of how kind he was to you. But a little alcohol and a broken water heater may force you to rethink that. 

Genre : Just smut, and more smut, au, fanfiction, one-shot, request

Pairing : Reader x Kim Taehyung

Contains : dom!Taehyung, like a sensual massage thing?, hair pulling, lube use, unprotected sex, hand job, blow job, dirty talk, spanking, general roughness, rough sex, begging, minor choking, praise kink, humiliation kink if you look hard enough, have safe shower sex kids

MASTER LIST

The wind ripped through your much too thin outfit, and if it weren’t for the thought of a heated building to keep you going, you might’ve stopped to curl in a ball right then and there. “Fuck,” you hissed as the chill bit at your skin. Today was not your day. Your professor lost your paper, and instead of giving you time to redo it, failed you, then that idiot in the hallway spilled their iced coffee on you (seriously, who drinks iced coffee in the middle of winter?) and now you were stuck walking home in this weather. Ugh, you could certainly do with a warm shower right about now. 

—

You’ve probably lost all your fingers to frost bite by the time you reach your apartment. All you can think about is warm water heating you up before you burrito yourself in the fuzziest blanket in your closet. Frustration courses through you as you fumble with your keys for what feels like an eternity; you don’t have enough feeling in your fingers to even hold them properly. A handsome face appears not two seconds later to put you out of your misery. 

“Oh, thank god,” you sigh as Taehyung moves aside to let you in. 

“Strugglin’?”

“More than my grades. I can’t feel my fingers. Feel my fingers!” 

“Yah!” Taehyung cries as you thrust your hands onto his skin. He’s warm, and you want to keep them there, but he’s pushing you away in a rush. “Geez, you’re freezing!” 

“Well what did you expect? I walked home!” 

“That’s not my fault! Don’t be touching me with your cold hands,” he says, wagging a finger at you. 

“Whatever,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “Since you’re gonna be so unhelpful, I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Can I join?” he asks with a smirk. 

“Ha. Yeah. Fuck off.”

“Just hurry up so we can eat dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. You saunter over to your room, peeling your layers off in the process (not that there were many). You eagerly change into your bathrobe and practically sprint across the hall into the bathroom. Your towel is strewn messily across it’s rack, as is the robe that you’ve so carelessly tossed aside in your haste to shower.

When you step in, rather than being greeted with the warmth that you had imagined, you were assaulted by water as cold as outside. “WHAT THE FUCK!” you screech, jumping out and slipping in the process. “Fuck!” 

“Y/N?!” Taehyung exclaims, rushing into the bathroom. “Shit! What are you doing?” he asks, hastily turning around to cover his eyes. 

You groan, throwing your robe back on but not standing up, instead looking at Taehyung with pouty eyes. “The water heater is broken,” you whine, “and I was so surprised that I jumped out of the shower and fell.” 

“Ah, I can’t take you anywhere,” he laughs, helping you to your feet and escorting you to your room. “I’ll call the landlord. Get dressed. If we’re not gonna be fucking then I don’t want to be seeing that much of you.”

“Tae!”

“What? Not changing your mind on me now, are you?”

“Please, just go call the landlord,” you groan. He shrugs and hops out with a satisfied grin, and you can only roll your eyes. He’s always like that—the flirt of the school, girls and boys just falling at his feet. Not you, though. Probably part of the reason he liked you so much. Also made it easier to live with. 

“Bad news, babe,” said Taehyung as he came back into the room, phone in hand. “Looks like the heater’s gonna need replacing. Entire building is out. We’ll all have enough hot water for one full length shower, two if we take it quick enough. They’re gonna fix it on Thursday.”

“Ah, really? Great,” you reply, leaning back in bed with an exasperated sigh. “It’s too cold for this shit.”

“I know, sorry. I can make you some soup if you want? Or I could call up Jin-hyung and ask him to make you something.”

“Nah, don’t bother him. Soup is good. And alcohol. Lemme warm myself up.”

“Soup and alcohol? Is that even a combination?”

“It is now.” 

You follow Taehyung into your kitchen, your agitation growing at the sight of the empty liquor cabinet. Your eyes threw daggers.

“Ah, I guess I used it all up at the last party,” said Taehyung sheepishly. Any other day, you would’ve laughed. He’s a playboy, you knew, but it had never really affected you, and so you’d never really cared. But everything seemed to be piling on today, and you couldn’t help but snap. 

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to stick your tongue down every girl’s throat, you wouldn’t have drained so much on alcohol! Which reminds me, you still owe me for last month’s rent that you forgot to pay!”

Taehyung’s face fell, and he looked at you with remorseful eyes. You didn’t normally yell, but it certainly wasn’t fun when you did. “I...I know. I’ll go to the bank tomorrow morning,” he said.

“Okay,” you replied sharply. “I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”

—

Taehyung was being extra nice to you the next day, afraid you were still mad. Of course, you weren’t, and you explained that to him, apologizing for snapping at him, but he was insistent on making it up to you. 

Not that you were complaining.

The liquor cabinet had been fully restocked, as had your bank account. He even convinced Jin to make your favorite homemade meal. So there you sat, the evening just as cold as yesterday, on the floor of your living room as Taehyung made puppy faces at you: his form of an apology. 

You snuggled into his figure as you backed another glass of whatever the hell Tae had decided to put in your cup, saying, “You can stop with the faces. I forgive you.”

“Yeah, but it’s more fun this way. I’m only weird around you.”

“What about all those girls you flirt with?” 

“Are you jealous?” he asked, faking a gasp. 

“Oh, shut up. I mean, you hang out with them a lot more than me.” “Well that’s only because we’re not fucking,” he laughs. 

You can’t quite tell if that’s Taehyung or the alcohol talking.

“Yeah, wonder what all the rave’s about,” you mutter. 

“What?” he asks, his cheeks adorably rosy from the liquor. 

“You know,” you laugh embarrassedly. “You get so many girls that they’re always talking about you.”

“What are they saying?”

“Stuff.”

“What kinda stuff?” he questions with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

“All kinds of stuff!” you say, your head spinning with a little buzz. “Apparently you’re not as cute and sweet behind closed doors.”

“Wanna find out?” 

“Psh, yeah, Tae.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Pervert!” 

Taehyung doubles over in laughter, his hand smacking against your thigh. “You should see your face!”

“Yah! Fuck off!” you shout as you stumble to your feet. He gets up too, afraid you’ll fall. “I need a shower.” You pause. “Ugh, you do too. You smell like alcohol.”

“Yeah, I wonder who’s fault that is.”

“It’s because it’s cold!” you whine. “I want a shower.”

“Okay well hurry up. I want one too.”

“Fine, fine,” you say dismissively as you trudge to the bathroom. You turn the handle until, feeling until the water’s temperature satisfied you. You stripped down slowly and stepped into the shower carefully, aware that the effects of the alcohol was making your balance increasingly unreliable. 

The water was deliciously hot, and it ran down your skin soothingly, creating goosebumps from the change in temperature. You were enjoying yourself so much that you didn’t realize how long your shower had become. 

“Yah! Y/N!” an irritated Taehyung shouted. “What’s taking so long?” 

“Uhh... wait I still haven’t cleaned myself.”

“The fuck? You need me to teach you?”

“The water is just so nice...”

“You’re gonna waste all the hot water!” Taehyung shouts, his voice becoming clearer as he enters the bathroom. “Look, it’s steaming! The mirror’s all fogged up!”

You peek your head around the shower door to look at him. He sees you and scowls. “Get out already.”

“But I don’t want to. What are you gonna do? Make me?”

“Don’t fucking make me,” he growls. You stick your tongue out at him and laugh. Wow, you think, I’m kind of a bitch when I’m drunk. 

“Okay, if you’re gonna take this long then I’m coming in,” he said.

“Wait, what?” 

You didn’t think he’d actually go through with it! You watch as he strips his clothes off, obviously not shy about revealing himself to you. If anything, you were more embarrassed from simply watching him. You can’t help your eyes as they dip down to rest on his slightly erect cock. Oh.

“Enjoying the view?” he says with a smirk as he steps into the shower. 

“I...um—”

He only laughs, reaching over you to grab the shampoo. “Do you need help? Since you apparently cannot figure out how to shower properly.”

You’re irritated at how perfectly unaffected he seems to be by the entire situation, but you’re not sure why you expected anything else. You had a feeling he did this often. 

He lathered up his hands with shampoo and ran it through your hair. “T-Taehyung,” you mumbled.

“What?” he asked innocently, loving the way you trembled under his touch. His hands massaged you gently at first, but grew rougher gradually, until he was damn near yanking your hair in an effort to pull you closer.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it. He knew it, too.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You nod.

“I can’t hear you,” he says with a slight tug of your hair. 

“I-I like it.”

“Like it enough to thank me?”

“Thank you?” you ask stupidly, somehow not noticing the hard appendage that’s poking at your leg. “Oh.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond, but eyes you instead, as if to say: here’s your opportunity. Take it. Get out. Leave. You’ll laugh it off as a drunken mishap later. 

But his eyes are dark, and you’re not laughing, and you’re very aware of the heat that’s pooling between your legs as you slide onto your knees like the water that slides down the both of you. 

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers just barely loud enough to be heard over the shower head. 

The water has your knees threatening to slip out from under you, so one hand steadies yourself on Taehyung muscular thigh. You can’t help but massage it as your other hand begins slow stroking his hard cock. He moans out loudly, and pre-cum begins leaking from the tip. A swell of confidence in your chest has you smiling devilishly. You increase your pace in the same gradual sense that he had with his massage until he’s gripping your wrist.

“Stop,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “and use your mouth.”

Your previous confidence is replaced with an eagerness to submit, and you do, putting his length into your mouth earnestly. The taste is bitter and a little salty, but it’s mostly wet and you’re not really in the business to care when Taehyung lets out a long, guttural groan that goes straight to your thighs. “You’re doing so good, baby. Fuck. Keep going.”

He continues murmuring words of encouragement, and every praise is sending a red hot blush through you as well as the desire to do even better. Even better. Give him more. Make him want you. And it works. He’s restraining himself from fucking your mouth, you can tell, as you work your tongue around him. His hands are entangled in your hair, forcing you to take him even as the steam makes it hard to breathe.

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Y/N, ugh, shit, your mouth feels so good- I’m gonna- Where do you want me?”

You take a breath only to answer him. “I want to taste you.”

Your words alone are enough, and you’ve barely just taken him back in your mouth when his deep voice is moaning, “Fuck! Y/N!” and he’s cumming on your tongue. 

The taste of him, the sound of him... it was all too much. You rub your legs together while he rides his orgasm out in your mouth, and he notices your struggle. “Babygirl, are you wet?” he asks. “Are you turned on from sucking me off?”

“Yes...”

“Why don’t you touch yourself for me, hm?”

You oblige eagerly, slipping two fingers inside you while your thumb flicks your clit. You whine softly, relishing in the feel, and the entire scenario has you so worked up that you’re sure to be cumming soon.

But then Taehyung’s grip tightens and he gives you a firm tug. “You aren’t going to cum, are you? I don’t remember saying you could.”

“I-I’m sorry, Tae,” you whimper.

“Get up,” he commands, and as you do, his hands move from your head to your waist and he’s turning you around and pinning your front to the shower wall. The tile is cool against your breasts and rough against your nipples, and the sensation is overwhelming, especially when Taehyung takes it upon himself to spank your ass until it’s red. 

“Tae!” you cry out when he reaches around to pinch a nipple roughly. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, babygirl?” he chuckles darkly. “And to think I thought you were such a good girl all this time. You’re a slut. Such a good slut for me.”

“Taehyung...” you gasp, “please. I need you.”

“You need me? What do you need?” he asks even as his cock is pressing against you. 

“Oh my god, please! I need you. Your cock. I need it inside me, please,” you beg. 

“Fine,” he relents. “Since you’re so needy.”

He reaches towards his side of the shower, where he keeps all of his hair products, and grabs a small shampoo bottle. 

“Taehyung?”

“What, you think I don’t keep lube in the shower?”

For a second you silently thank Tae, though you know that in any other situation you’d be saying something entirely different at this revelation. He squirts a generous amount onto his hand, taking his time to slowly lube up his length. He moans at the sensation, and you whine at him. “Taehyung... hurry up.”

“Don’t get greedy, slut,” he growls. One hand finds its way around to your neck, pressing down lightly as he enters you. You let out a stifled moan, and Tae loves it. He pushes into you ever so slowly, and you wriggle your ass in an attempt to get him to move. “So needy.”

He picks up his pace, fucking you into the wall. “Fuck, you feel so good around me, baby.”

“Ungh, T-Tae!” 

“You like this cock in your pussy?”

“Yes!” 

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he praises, slowing down a bit. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Please,” you splutter “Please cum. Make me cum.”

“Is that what you want?” he asks as his grip around your neck tightens. You cough, and you can feel him twitch inside you.  

“Please, Taehyung.” He withdraws himself entirely and thrusts in at once, hard. “Fuck!”

He sets a relentless pace, and the sounds of skin-on-skin-on-water-on-lube is obscene and sending heat coursing through you. Your body is on fire and you can’t tell if it’s the air or the water or the way Taehyung has you forgetting what your own damn name is.

Probably the last one.

“Fuck, you like this, don’t you? You like me taking you in the shower like this?”

“Yes, yes, I like it so much! Please!”

“Please what? Want me to let you cum?”

“Yes!” you cry out, and the situation must be getting to Taehyung, too, because he agrees. 

He thrusts, if possible, even harder into you, and the hand that had previously been restricting your airflow now comes down to rub your clit as quickly as he pounds into you. You choke out a sob, and then your body is searing with white-hot pleasure. “T-Taehyung!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he exclaims, following your orgasm. He pulls out quickly, leaving himself to cum down your back. He groans as he paints your skin white, and you’re suddenly very aware that his cum is a lot warmer than the water.

In fact, the water is now freezing. “Shit!” Taehyung turns off the water hurriedly, and you all but collapse onto the shower floor. 

“Well, I guess you were right. I really was gonna waste all the hot water,” you laugh. Taehyung chuckles and slides beside you, breathing heavily. “Have you really had a bottle of lube in here the entire time?”

“Is that really what you’re focused on?”

“Well...”

“Unbelievable. Who would’ve thought that my goody-two-shoes roommate would fuck like that?”

“I am not a goody-two-shoes!”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “I can see that now. You’re just as bad as me.”

You scoff. “Am not.”

“Oh yeah?” he says slyly. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t be up for another round, right here, right now? You’re telling me that you’re not gonna be sneaking into my room from here on out when you need a little relief?”

“Tae...” you whined.

“What is it, baby?”

“There’s no more water for a proper shower anymore!”

[megaexplorerthings-blog]

Numerous times failed but get Padma Shri Nomination for 2019 - Rajatkumar Dani founder of The Dani Groups

Rajatkumar went from a college dropout, to be the Founder & CEO of Founder & Managing Director of The Dani Groups & Cosmagen – A multi-service groups of company and Research firm built for the modern-day. I had the pleasure of interviewing Rajatkumar, Here’s what he had to say!

Rajatkumar: Growing up, the school wasn’t a choice for me. It was mandatory. I was always reminded by my friends, peers, coaches, parents of the cliché “Go to school, get good grades, play sports, train for the scholarships, and then get your degree so you can get a well-paying job.” This never sat well with me. I never really knew what I wanted to do, but that was just about the last thing I was interested in. Interestingly enough though, that’s exactly what I did.

I quickly found out that the education system was not the platform that would teach me the proper principles of high success. I looked around and compared the habits of college students and teachers against the habits of those who had already attained high performance and success, and (not) to my surprise, I found massive differences. College is sort of like pre-school for adults. No matter how similar to the real world it may be, it’s just not the real world.

As you may be able to tell already, I think very differently than a lot of people. Instead of going out every night, I stayed in my dorm room to work on research projects and theories on Space science & Astrophysics. The work I was doing pushed me to cultivate high-performance skills and put me in a position to build key relationships. In a few months’ time, I realized if I don’t go after my passions, I’ll be stuck at a desk job paying bills for the rest of my life. So I left.

My vision to encourage successful associations with youth and Young Researchers and Non-Researchers, youth-drove associations and youth developments to additionally fortify comprehensive youth investment in the basic leadership forms. To give instructive assets, Research Team, administration openings, and a worldwide system to the up and coming age of world pioneers. There was one problem. In India, you need a license to show your talent in front of the world. But nothing stopped to change the world and I change my everything and  I fell into bad habits, bad routines, and left room for complacency in my work.

I longed to know the answers to the age-old questions of “why am I here?” and “where do I come from?” Those questions were probably not as understandable in my mind as they seem when I recount them here and now, but they gnawed at me, just the same, on some primordial, undefined level of my genetic make-up.  Within every cognitive, rational human being lies that dark unanswered fog that rises to the surface every so often, want to have answers. And, yet, most of our lives, we move with slow through the years, totally unaware that those desires smolder deep down inside. We subconsciously suppress any wild, weird thoughts that there just might be answers beyond the domain of what we think we already know and accept. Human Beings walk around this world feeling absolutely unconnected to the greater world and universe around them. As a race, we have forgotten how to make this connectivity, and this ties into all aspects of how we recognize ourselves, our loved ones, our politics, our jobs and careers, our deities, our personal spiritualities, our place in the Order of Things.

Sure, like many kids growing up in India during the late ‘11s and 2012s, I asked my sir who knows about Hebrew Bible and I attended him at my uncles home and he taught about the Origins of Man from a Genesis-Chapter-One perspective. But I am not agreed on some points and I am thinking about his words. And for many years of my life, that was the only source point to which I subconsciously recognized. It was as if the stories of creation were settled long ago in that unquestioning little child’s understanding of How Things Work. The curiosities and questions that rose later in life from the mental depths were somehow summarily crushed by the teachings that had been put into my head so many years earlier.

But little did I know – for it was something that was never taught, but always skipped-over, avoided, misinformed or never mentioned – that the very book from which we dogmatically drew our genesis, held secretive, mysterious, encoded messages about origins, visitations and beings not of this world.  What was once accepted without question as to the mystical, magical, miraculous stuff of ancient biblical stories, suddenly took on a very different perspective once I opened myself to the idea that there was more to those stories that I had been told, and much more brewing under the surface of what I had been taught.

Remove yourself, for a moment, to a place somewhere in a more dark past, before the days of modern psychological discipline and scientific advance. A time when we, the human race, believed that our life’s fortunes, illnesses, pains, and serendipitous events were strongly rooted in the spiritual and the supernatural. As we evolved our technology and sciences, we learned more and more about the mind and body, universal expansion and entropy, geological tectonics, and the movement of our solar system around a somewhat smallish star that burned in the Milky Way galaxy. Along the way, we dispensed with our trust on the astronomical, casting aside our need for gods, devils and every cast of angel, demon, and spirit in between. We corporately tuned-out our hearts, and turned our minds to the methodological pragmatic, allowing Science and skeptical thought to successfully supplant faith in that great “Something-Bigger-Than-Ourselves.” Quantifiable Fact became the inevitable surrogate for the misty stuff of myth and legend. And while we may not have totally thrown out the baby with the bath water, we have successfully become a culture that discounts anything that cannot be measured by the Scientific Method, casting dispersions on experiential faith and even the slightest adherence to anything that smacks of an older spiritual belief system.

The supreme effort that occupies most of the recorded history of the Human Race – after the history of War, that is (which, sadly, seems to be synonymous with the History of Mankind) – is the great quest for discovery: the seeking-out of the whos, whats, wheres, whys and hows of our existence. And yet, while attempting, on that quest, to adhere to strict, quantifiable sources, we have let go the Spiritual; the innocuous, insubstantial, airborne flotsam that, when you actually look for it, seems to permeate every facet of being, down to the very spark of life, itself.

I wanted the real, raw, non-simulated experience of being punched in the mouth, and having no choice but to work my ass off to get the results I wanted. I was jolted awake by the stark reality that if I continue to allow my surroundings to dictate my actions, I would never achieve any of the goals I set for myself.

I will continue to grow and scale my agency to a National Space Agency, and hopefully, impact others on the way. I want other people to understand that we only have one life. Only one. If you don’t ever take the risk to chase your dreams, the probability of you living out that dream goes down to basically 0. So don’t be afraid. What’s the worst that can happen?

Wow! Amazing story, what are two things you wish someone told you when you first started?

80% of the obstacles you put in front of you are from yourself, and they’re fake obstacles. Just do the work.

The more time you think or strategize about what you’re going to do, some else is out there already doing it.

What sparked your journey towards entrepreneurship?

Rajatkumar: The idea that we only get one life, so we might as well make it the best life we’ve ever dreamt of. Research embodies that idea. Through massive pain and adversity, you’re able to live a life of total control and add tremendous value to other People’s lives at the same time. The most successful people live in comfort because they operate in a world of chaos.

None of us are able to achieve success without some help along the way. Is there a particular person who you are grateful towards who helped get you to where you are? What lesson did you learn from them?

Rajatkumar: I’ve learned from a multitude of people. From  Albert Einstein, Stephen Hawkings, etc. The list goes on. I never had a direct mentor, but I surrounded my mind with positivity. I listened to successful people online, I listened to their podcasts, I invested me to learn new things, I read their books – and then I act on that information.

[gcvalas-blog]

hi babes! i’m syd (or squid, you with the face, you know, whatever, i’m not a picky cephalopod) and i’m hella excited to be here! i’m very new to the whole, structured group rp concept on tumblr thing, so this is all basically a series of new experiences that i’m pumped to have with you all! anywho, if you wanna plot, come slide into my dms, either just in general or to get my discord i’m a paranoid cephalopod so i don’t wanna like, just have that sitting out where just anyone can find it !! without further ado, i give you jack!

[ michael vlamis, cisgender male, he/him, 27 ] FREEDOM by DOROTHY? whenever i hear that song, it reminds me of JACKSON “JACK” GAVALAS. maybe because they’re FREE-SPIRITED but also RECKLESS. they’ve been living at mulberry apartments since OCTOBER of 2018 in APARTMENT 507 and have 1 ROOMMATE**. ( LANDSLIDE, COME OUT AND PLAY) [ syd, they/them, 18+, pst ]

BASICS:

Name: Jackson Bennett Gavalas Nickname(s): Jack, Gavalas Age: 27 Birthday: July 7, 1991

BACKGROUND:

he spent most of his early years an only child, growing up outside of baltimore

his mom was never really in the picture. he doesn't know too much about what went down between her and his dad, but she gave full custody of him to his dad and vanished when he was just a few years old

his dad remarried, and jack found himself with a brand new baby sister (@ftspcncer) he absolutely adores to this day

he wasn't a bad kid, though he could be a little hotheaded, and chasing the next adrenaline rush sometimes had him returning home sporting some new scrape or bruise

he was and is a total nerd, though. he was on the robotics team in high school, and if his family had had the money to send him straight to university, he'd have been a mechanical engineering major

as it stands, he did well enough in school that he got scholarships from the colleges he applied to—they just weren't enough to offset the cost, and he wasn't going to put their family into debt if he could help it

instead, at eighteen, fresh out of high school, he enlisted in the navy—at first a five-year commitment as an engineman, which he then re-upped for another three years—and remained until he felt it was time to do something else with his life, upon which point he moved to baltimore proper

if you asked him why he enlisted, he'd say it was a way to jump-start his life without having to worry so much about the cost of it all, which would be true, but he also did it seeking adventure

he went out of his way to keep in contact with his family, sending emails, letters, postcards, and the occasional trinket from his travels, as well as doing his best to fit in regular skype and phone calls. and if he had more than a few days leave, you bet your butt he was coming home to spend time with his family

he's had some hiccups in adjusting to civilian life, still less than a year out of the navy. he's up at odd hours, sometimes, and the loose structure of day-to-day life (even with him taking community college classes as a full-time student) without specific checklists of duties can get daunting. those especially are the days he'll disappear into the gym or spend all day just driving so he can get out of his own head for a bit

PERSONALITY:

he's a thrill-seeker (always has been) and a fan of just being outside. he was the kind of kid who climbed trees and just kind of laughed it off if he fell out, and shrugged off most injuries. he's also the kind of guy who got his motorcycle license very shortly after his regular driver's license, had worked his ass off saving up for his own bike, and very happily used it as his preferred mode of transportation

he likes having other people around, even if he's not talking to them. jack and quiet spaces don't mix well—he'd rather go to a crowded park or a bar to do work for class than sit in a library

don't get me wrong, though, he's the grumpiest mofo without his coffee, or if he doesn't get at least three or four hours of sleep (or a combination thereof). he's a morning person out of force of habit, not of his own volition, and it's glaringly apparent when his equilibrium is thrown off

he can also get irritable if he's having a particularly bad tinnitus day. he hates having to ask people to repeat themselves, but sometimes he has to, and it puts him in a bad mood

he tries very hard to be an optimist with a positive outlook on life, which is absolutely hilarious when coupled with his foul mouth. he does his best to keep it to a minimum (or, rather, he tries to keep it on the tamer end of things, at least) but sometimes an f-bomb slips out in the middle of a perfectly good sentence in what might be considered 'polite company'

he can be a goof. he loves life and wants to just have fun with it. he is absolutely your best bet if you're trying to find a friend to go on a 2 am trip through the city for ice cream, or if you want to drag someone along to hit up every thrift store in the city (but also like, never play pool against him. he will hustle you, and he might not give you your money back once you realize he's actually really good)

he also has a huge heart. he makes friends easily and tries to make time for anyone who needs him around

that being said though he's kind of a commitmophobe. he draws the line at anything beyond fwb, especially after opening his heart to a guy he thought he really had something with who never called him back (who is one of his connection songs ;3)

on a related note, he has a heavy preference for dating men, though he's equal opportunity when it comes to bedfellows

he's just a huge puppy you guys (a friendly german shepherd puppy who cannot be left unsupervised because he'll get himself into some kind of mischief) 

ADDITIONAL (random) FACTS:

for a smart guy, he can be kinda dumb when it comes to technology, especially social media. he only has facebook down because he joined not too long after he enlisted, because it was the best way of keeping in touch with people coming and going with their deployments and stationings (someone pls teach him what twitter and instagram are)

he's still not quite used to cooking for himself. tv dinners and other microwavable goodies all the way, with the occasional boil-able frozen food thrown in (he'll get there eventually, he just doesn't often remember he has to make food until he's too hungry to go through the work of preparing a meal from scratch)

he has both the best and worst fashion sense. he's perfectly at home in steel-toed boots, snug jeans and a leather jacket, but he's also regularly wearing truly gaudy, loud print button-ups. it's kind of a signature look, at this point

he’s a baseball fan. he played club most of the way through school, and still kept up with the world series while he was deployed

he has days where he desperately misses being at sea. he has a hammock hung by the window in his room for the days he really needs to feel something similar to the sway of a ship on the waves, but other times he has to be down in the harbor, feeling the wind on his face and listening to the sounds of a busy port

he’ll answer to gavalas about as fast as if not faster than he will jack, and will answer to either a hell of a lot faster than he’ll answer to jackson

he picked up an infrequent smoking habit while in the navy. if you ask him, he'll say he's “pretty much” kicked it, especially now that he's out, as he was mostly a social smoker, but if you searched his room, you'd probably manage to find either a few loose cigarettes or part of a pack, which he's usually gotten off of someone else

[qqueenofhades]

the tangled web of fate we weave

This is highly self-indulgent because I, an extremely stressed-out final-year history PhD student, needed extremely stressed out final-year history PhD student Lucy Preston and also Garcy, because I always need that. 

This is an unofficial sequel to this, where Flynn was the one to save Lucy from the car accident in her sophomore year. 

March 19, 2010

It’s Friday, and it’s the first time all week that Lucy Preston has seen the sunset. Possibly in two weeks, for that matter, or more. She has been shut up in the library since what feels like the start of the new year, buried in her carrel among an endless stack of books, articles, notes, photocopied primary sources, her overworked laptop, her three thumb drives (someone else in the department has a horror story about their computer dying five days before submission, and Lucy isn’t taking any chances), a rotation of takeout cups and sandwich wrappers from the library café, and whatever other sustenance she needs to keep going. She’s rented a campus studio apartment, otherwise she would probably be sleeping in the stacks in the basement. Be way too much hassle to try to commute back and forth to Mom’s house in Mountain View otherwise.

The Stanford campus is cool and blue and quiet, and Lucy leans against the outside library wall, rubbing her eyes and trying to get them to focus. They don’t seem to want to. She turned twenty-seven two months ago, and feels about eighty-one. It’s been a nonstop grind of work, from that moment she nearly died seven years ago, almost exactly to the day – that was the twenty-first of March, 2003, she’s never forgotten. Dumped Jake, abandoned her plans of joining a band, enrolled for junior year of history, finished, graduated, went straight onto her master’s degree that fall, and now, the fact that the end might actually be in sight is one Lucy cannot wrap her head around. It feels surreal and dreamlike.

Overachiever that she is, her PhD is being conferred jointly by two departments, history and anthropology, which means her dissertation is at least one and a half times longer than everyone else’s. She’s teaching HIST1210 on the Civil War and HIST1300 on primary sources, she still has papers to mark from both, and she needs to update her CV and apply for research funding for the conferences she submitted paper prospectuses to. And think, again, about the future. Even having a mother who basically invented the Stanford women’s studies department isn’t a guarantee that she’ll get a job, even if it does pitch her odds a lot better than most people’s. Lucy has already had most of her tuition paid by Carol Preston’s institutional pull, and she can’t help but wonder where the gravy train stops. She likes to think that she’s smart enough that she’d have earned scholarships on her own merit anywhere, but why go anywhere else, when it’s Stanford, for God’s sake? Not Jim Bob Jones Community College.

After a long pause, Lucy straightens up, swings her bag to her shoulder (she leaves most of her stuff in her carrel overnight) and starts down the path. She’s wondered if now might be an opportune moment to develop a drinking habit, but her anxious mind won’t let her. One near-fatal car crash was bad enough, after all. No need to push her luck with a second.

(She thinks again of the man who rescued her. Just dove in, no hesitation at all, and fished her out, told her not to quit history for a boy, and vanished. She never got a name.)

(Is he pleased, then, that she threw herself in headfirst? Is that what he wanted? Not that it matters. Not that that is the reason she’s doing this.)

Lucy comes to a halt in front of the beige-stucco residence halls and digs for her keys, wondering how obnoxious her neighbors feel like being tonight. This is postgrad housing, supposedly quiet, but the way they go at it, you’d think it was undergraduate party central. Lucy has been over to bang on their door at 1AM a few times, and she could complain to the office, but – again, Lucy Good Girl Preston – she shirks from the idea of actually getting anyone in trouble. She’ll be out of here soon anyway, moving on. She can endure it, she can –

“Good evening, Lucy.”

She almost has a heart attack. Drops her keys and fumbles for them madly in the dimness, having some panicky idea that it’s someone jumping out of the bushes to put a bag over her head and drag her off behind a dumpster. Yes, it seems odd to politely address her by her first name beforehand, but who knows? It’s a man’s voice, gravelly and accented, almost familiar. But it’s been at least two years between boyfriends, it’s not any of her professors (and it would be more than a little creepy to follow her home) and –

She whirls around, gets a good look at his face in the portico light, and feels momentarily faint. She was, of course, just thinking about him, and wonders half-seriously if she’s charmed up him up like a djinni. He looks exactly how she remembers: tall, dark hair, sharp-nosed profile, though this time he is not dripping wet, having not had to dramatically dive into the Bay to save her from her sinking car. He’s wearing the leather bomber jacket and a nice pair of jeans, has his thumbs linked casually through his belt like a Grease extra, but it comes off casually competent and slightly chilling. She also remembers what she thought about him last time, that instant response to high-pressure situations might be something he deals with a lot. What the –

“You,” she says at last, having managed to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “What are you doing here? How did you – how did you know where to find me?”

He has apparently been prepared to remind her how they know each other, but sees at once that he doesn’t have to. He shrugs. “I know people.”

That’s not exactly a reassuring answer. Lucy clutches her bag closer, as if he’s really come here for the $3.20 in her wallet and her backup thumb drives. “Have you been stalking me?”

He looks amused, but only briefly. “We should get inside.”

Lucy goggles at him, not least at his apparent presumption that she’s going to ask him into her house, but something makes her do as told. Hands trembling for no good reason, she taps her key card, buzzes them in, and climbs the stairs to her second-story apartment. She can hear the thumping of rap music before she even reaches the hallway – yep, her neighbors are at it again. Trying to ignore it, not least because she suddenly has bigger problems, she reaches into her bag for her phone, trying to dial a 9 and 1 without him noticing. But why would the man who saved her life want to kill her?

His eyes flick to her hand. “You don’t need to call the police, Lucy.”

“Don’t need to, or you would prefer that I didn’t?” Lucy refuses to budge. “There’s a difference.”

He looks admiring of her bravery, if irritated at the timing. “Don’t need to. Go inside, I’ll be along.”

Lucy debates dialing the last 1 with her thumb. Or campus security, they could probably get here faster. But – weird as this is, and as he is – something stops her. He slowly removes his hands from his belt and holds them up, then opens his jacket to show her that he isn’t packing heat inside. There is, however, a holster as if he usually does, and he reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a slim black case, and flips it open, holding it out. It’s a U.S. government ID. Gives his name as Garcia Flynn.

“Okay,” Lucy says, a little weakly. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

Garcia Flynn doesn’t bother to answer this perfectly reasonable question, making another gesture at her apartment. Lucy goes inside, puts down her bag on the couch, and feels like collapsing onto it. Next door, the music continues unabated for a few more moments, until it abruptly cuts off. The silence is blessed, but suspicious. She hears voices, but can’t make out what they’re saying. Then her front door opens again, she jumps, and Flynn enters, looking smug. “That’s better.”

“You didn’t kill my neighbors, did you?” Lucy isn’t sure they wouldn’t deserve it, but that is obviously not a man she wants to be alone with. Not that she knows how he would kill three people in thirty seconds with no noise, but. . . it’s the sort of thing that doesn’t seem out of his ability. “Or – ”

“I didn’t kill anyone.” He seems somewhat aggravated that she keeps harping on this point. “I’m not here to hurt you, Lucy.”

Lucy remains looking at him tensely, but he returns her gaze forthrightly, and she finally lets out a whisper of a breath. “What’s going on?”

“That’s complicated.” Flynn is prowling around her living room, tapping and shaking things, picking them up and turning them over, in a way that seems – to say the least – out of line in a perfect stranger’s house. Maybe Lucy’s watched too many spy movies recently, switches on whatever looks halfway interesting on Netflix and vegs out, but it looks a lot like sweeping for bugs. He takes a small silver thing that looks like a coin out of his pocket and sets it on her bookshelf. “I’m not sure you’d understand.”

“I’m a PhD student,” Lucy says, voice brittle. “I’m pretty sure I’d understand.”

Flynn glances up at her, one eyebrow raised, but doesn’t answer. He presses something on the silver thing, which hums as if to disrupt any nearby listening equipment, and finally seems satisfied that her shithole student flat is in the clear. “So you kept up with history?”

“Yes. And I’m due to submit my dissertation in about two weeks, my supervisor is supposed to email me by Monday with my oral exam date, half the committee is from Harvard, and I just spent thirteen hours reading nineteenth-century handwriting. So you better make this quick.”

Flynn half-grins, seemingly despite himself. “A PhD at – what, twenty-seven,” he says. “That’s very impressive. You’ve worked hard.”

Lucy doesn’t want to accept the praise of a possibly crazy government operative, but it makes her glow, a little. Her mom always wants to know how much more she still has to do, as if keeping a timetable in her head and marking her off, and of course Amy is encouraging, but Lucy has kept her nose to the grindstone so long that she’s barely picked it up to look at the rest of the world. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing, other than that she has to do it. She does love history. She really does. You don’t get this far without it, and you have to enjoy the tedious parts (well, mostly), even if you’re re-reading your draft and shouting at your first-year self because they didn’t put in page numbers, thus obliging you to go grumbling to hunt them down. She is damn and justifiably proud of this accomplishment, and she doesn’t need anyone, much less FBI Freddy here, to tell her that. But still.

“Never mind that,” she says. “Why are you here?”

Flynn regards her for a long moment. Then he says, “Scientia potentia est. You’ve heard that?”

“It’s Latin,” Lucy says, a little shortly. She is not up for having a fright, and her time wasted, for something he could have typed into Google Translate. “It means knowledge is power.”

“Yes, I know that.” Flynn sits across from her, looking too big for her secondhand armchair. “It’s also a motto. Have you seen it anywhere?”

“No.” A phrase as banal as that could be a motto for dozens of private schools. “Mr. Flynn, I’m afraid I can’t – ”

“Very well.” He sits forward, gripping his knees. “Rittenhouse, Lucy. Have you ever heard of that?”

“Rittenhou – David Rittenhouse?” Lucy is vaguely familiar with him, a leading intellectual of the eighteenth century, polymath and professor of astronomy at the University of Pennsylvania, and correspondent and cohort of the Founding Fathers. Has Flynn come here to ask for help with some research project, some kind of sponsorship some historical society is doing to raise awareness of his life? That at least might make more sense. “Is that what we’re talking about?”

The expression on Flynn’s face seems to say that he momentarily isn’t sure. “So he founded it?”

“What?” Lucy gets up, not entirely sure that she isn’t asleep atop a stack of books back at her carrel, drooling on her notes. “Founded what?”

“The society in his name. Rittenhouse. Scientia potentia est. That’s their motto.”

“There is no society in his name. Unless you mean the astronomy club?”

“I don’t mean the astronomy club. The other one.”

“Is this a – ” Lucy isn’t sure what it would be, some extended performance-art practical joke, perhaps, but he doesn’t look like he’s trying to prank her. Besides, why would an eighteenth-century astronomer have anything to do with why Flynn wanted to sweep her apartment for bugs? “I work more on the nineteenth century than late colonial-early federal America, but if you have some kind of question about him, I can recommend someone in the department to – ”

“I’m not asking anyone else,” Flynn says brusquely. “I’m asking you.”

“Well then. You’re in the wrong place, I can’t help. I don’t have time.” Lucy gets up, pacing toward the kitchen. Flynn remains seated, but she can feel his eyes following her. She runs a glass under the tap and takes a drink, then returns to the living room, as if this will somehow have fixed the problem. “What do you want to know about him for? There’s Wikipedia, there’s whatever else, there’s – ”

“Nothing of what I want is available online.” He says this with the tone of somebody who’s looked – and NSA Nicky probably has. “You, though – I thought there was a chance you might. Given who your father is – ”

“What?” Lucy’s father died almost nine years ago. Lung cancer. The reason she won’t take up smoking either, that and the way her mother’s been coughing a lot and she’s urged her to get it checked out. She feels slapped. “My father’s dead.”

“Henry Wallace?” Flynn shakes his head. “No, not him. I meant your biological father.”

“What?”

He pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket and holds it out to her, but Lucy does not budge to take it. In a savage whisper, she says, “You need to leave.”

Flynn belatedly seems to realize that it might not have been the best time to bring this up. He opens his hand and lets the paper flutter onto the floor, but doesn’t move to retrieve it. He gets to his feet instead, eyes never wavering from hers. He is just so damn intense in everything he does, it makes Lucy feel like she’s on the inside of a forge, burning, burning. “Very well.”

With that, he starts across the floor, but seems reluctant to go entirely. Any other person would apologize for the intrusion, or tell her to be careful, but he doesn’t. “Ask your mother about your father,” he says. She can’t tell if his eyes are green or brown – in some lights they look one, in some lights the other. He looks at her challengingly. “Ask him if he is who you thought.”

Lucy’s about to respond, but just then, headlights waver on the ceiling through her half-closed curtains, and she looks down to see a car pulling into the parking lot. It’s the sort of nondescript black sedan that screams shady government business, and she might have thought it was Flynn’s ride, but after he strides to the window and looks out, his mouth goes very thin. He jerks the curtains shut, reaches into his jacket, and remembers he’s left his gun off in a bid not to alarm her. He swears in something that sounds Slavic; Lucy can’t be sure exactly what. It fits with the accent and appearance, but he had a U.S. badge – unless that was some kind of forgery and –

Flynn whirls back to the silver gizmo he has, switches it off, and pulls something else out of his jacket that kills the lights. Then he takes hold of Lucy – it feels much too forward, even as she remembers him pulling her out of the water – and tugs her flat on the floor. “Don’t open the door,” he hisses. “You’re not home.”

Lucy is about to struggle, to ask questions, but the look he gives her is so searing that she bites her tongue instead. She can hear footsteps on the stairs, then a knock on her door. “Miss Preston?” a voice calls. “It’s FedEx.”

She’s pretty sure it isn’t FedEx. She and Flynn lie close together on the floor, his arms still around her, the lights off and the apartment dark. Are they going to go look at the library next, or just assume she’s out having a life like an ordinary twenty-seven-year old woman would on Friday night? She tries to concentrate, to slow her breathing, as if they could hear it. The thump of Flynn’s heart seems distractingly loud, though her ear is pressed directly against his chest. He is so tall that if they were standing, her head would tuck easily under his chin. What is it about him and appearing out of nowhere to get her out of – or into – life-threatening situations?

The faux FedEx man knocks again. They don’t budge. Lucy has to admit, it is more than a little freaky that this has happened right after Flynn has turned up talking about secret societies and – whatever else, and it unwillingly makes her think that there might be something to his story. Oddest of all, however, is the fact that it almost feels familiar to lie next to him, not just because he saved her life. Like it’s something else, and she just has to remember what.

After a long pause and one last knock, the fake deliveryman departs. Flynn doesn’t let go of Lucy until several minutes after they’ve heard the car pull out, he’s looked through the window to make sure, and swears again. “That is the last time I leave my gun at home.”

Lucy sits up slowly, rattled. “Are you going to tell me that was Rittenhouse?”

“Might be.” Flynn speaks distractedly, eyes still on the parking lot. “I don’t suppose you carry?”

“I’m a history student.” Lucy has never wanted to touch a gun in her life, especially since she plans on being a professor. “No.”

“Of course.” His brow remains furrowed, as if he’s judging the advisability of leaving her alone long enough to go back and get his own. Finally he says, “I think it’s better for me to stay here tonight.”

Lucy opens her mouth to tell him that he can’t invite himself to stay the night, but the words get stuck. Despite herself, she is scared. Nonstop dissertation anxiety and crushing uncertainty about the academic job market almost seem preferable. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Flynn turns slowly, the dim light from outside etching the sharp features of his face. “They could have guessed something about what I knew, or. . . I’m not sure. It could blow over, but I’d feel better about it to stay. Just for tonight.”

“And then what?” Lucy demands. “I can’t go into witness protection, just because of whatever stupid thing you got me into! I have to finish my dissertation!”

“You can do that, Lucy.” He looks at her frankly. “I’ll protect you.”

Whatever she is about to say withers on her tongue. After all, isn’t that what he did – the first time, and then now? She doesn’t know what’s going on, he has been an enigma in a bomber jacket ever since she met him – seven years ago, technically, does it count to have known him for seven years, if it’s only been one night and this one? That did freak her out. As strange and unwise as it might be, she would in fact feel better if he stayed. Not that her sagging yellow-plaid couch, older than her, which she picked up at a garage sale for $12, is exactly comfortable to sleep on. She can’t believe she’s thinking about this, but –

Flynn, still clearly ruing his lack of a firearm, makes another check around her apartment, then sits back down on the couch. It’s about half as long as he is, and his legs will clearly be dangling over the end. Lucy has no obligation of hospitality, and in fact is sorely wishing she left the library at her normal time of eleven o’clock PM. Then she wouldn’t have run into him (unless he let himself in to wait for her) and this would not be happening. It’s not that late, and ordinarily she might get into bed and watch something on her laptop, but her concentration is shot. She heads into her bedroom, shuts the door, and changes into her pajamas, then goes to the bathroom and washes her face several times, staring at herself in the mirror. She still appears to be real. Somehow, this is happening. Maybe it will stop doing that.

Lucy brushes her teeth and hair, and mulls a long bath, but it feels awkward with a NSA (she thinks he’s NSA, at any rate) agent sitting in her living room, even one ostensibly there to protect rather than spy on her. She goes out and climbs into bed, tugs the covers up, and lies there for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Every time a car pulls into the parking lot, she tenses. Keeps listening for footsteps on the stairs, a knock on the door, but nothing.

Lucy eventually drifts off, has scattered and turbulent dreams, and wakes with a start sometime past midnight. She gets up in search of a drink of water, and when she peers into the living room, sees that Flynn has dozed off on the couch, still dressed and sitting up. Something wrenches in her heart, she can’t even explain what, and she pads out. Taps on his shoulder, and he wakes instantly, snapping to awareness, in what must be a long-honed reflex. When he sees it’s her, he relaxes, if only slightly. “Is something wrong, Lucy?”

Her name sounds softer in his mouth than it did earlier. Less as if it’s coming from a stranger, and Lucy shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. It’s. . . you just didn’t look very comfortable.”

“I’m all right.” He grimaces, though he tries not to let her see. “It’s not the worst place I’ve slept.”

“Thank you,” Lucy says simply. “For staying.”

He starts to say something, then forgets or stops halfway through. Their eyes meet with a frisson that Lucy is fairly sure both of them feel. There is a touch of destiny about the idea that they’ve run into each other seven years apart almost to the day, that he saved her life the first time and is making sure he does again. Trying to be unobtrusive, she glances down at his left hand. He isn’t wearing a wedding band, but she doesn’t know if there’s someone else in his life anyway. Not that this is remotely her business. She’s not interested in dating him. For Pete’s sake.

(She isn’t altogether sure, however, that she isn’t interested in something else.)

She considers a moment longer. Then she decides that he can take it however he wants, and says, “Come on.”

Flynn looks almost comically startled as she beckons him to his feet. He hangs back, then follows her into the dark bedroom, her covers still tousled and warm with the imprint of her, her sheets glowing soft white in the murk. It’s clear he’s wondering if he’s supposed to climb in with her, and it is equally clear that he isn’t sure if he’ll refuse. “Lucy – ”

“Look, just. . .” This isn’t her style. Lucy Good Girl Preston. She has never had sex on a first date, this does not even qualify as a first date, and similarly, she likes nice men. Genuinely nice ones, that is, the smart and thoughtful ones with a grown-up job who she can talk to and feel supported. Whatever Flynn is, he is not nice. “It’s a queen bed. There’s room.”

Flynn continues to hesitate. Finally, he shucks his shoes, jacket, and belt, and gets on top of the covers next to her. The bedsprings creak under his weight, and even here, his feet extend a few inches past the end of the mattress. Lucy lies there with her eyes closed, well aware that she knew she wasn’t going to get back to sleep with this unfamiliar masculine presence on her bed, fighting herself back and forth. She thought he was here to possibly throw her into the trunk of a car or whatever else, it is – to say the least – concerning that she is now considering, well, the opposite. Her mouth is dry. It has been two years since Noah and as noted, she doesn’t do one-night stands. She doesn’t think Flynn is horrified or repelled by her. Oh God, this is stupid.

After fifteen minutes of increasingly excruciating feigned-sleep, Lucy gives up the ghost. Sits up fast enough to startle him, and she feels guilty, as if she’s somehow the one jerking him around by all this. They stare at each other, faces close in the dark. She can feel the whisper of his breath on her cheek. In this light, his eyes look almost hazel. His tongue darts out to touch his lips, almost unconsciously, and he shifts as if to ease the fit of his trousers. “Lucy – ”

Slowly, lightly, timidly, Lucy raises her hand and brushes her fingers across his chest, to the unbuttoned neck of his shirt. A shudder runs through him – well, no, he doesn’t look repulsed. It seems to take a great deal of self-control for him not to reach up and grab her hand, but not because he doesn’t want her to touch him. Just that this is a man used to controlling everything, to setting parameters, establishing boundaries. Sweeping for bugs. Making sure it’s clear. He takes the lead by temperament and occupation. That’s just who he is. And yet –

Lucy’s fingers settle in the hollow of his throat. She can feel his pulse bumping against them like a jackhammer, the way both of them have forgotten how to breathe, noses almost brushing. If she kissed him right now, if she actually did that – it would be one way to relieve her stress, an unhelpful little voice whispers in her brain. And then possibly cause any number of other things, but still. If he’s meant to be here somehow, if they’ve been led together again for some greater plan. . . Lucy isn’t religious, exactly, but she finds herself believing in some sort of unity, some kind of intention. Maybe it comes from being a historian. Looking at how everything has fitted together and interlocked, built upon each other like a flowering vine, gone forward and backward. The big picture. That’s how she always looks at it.

This feels like that, but different. Something like design, maybe. If she wants to call it that. But really, a whole lot more like desire.

Flynn doesn’t try to pull away from her, but Lucy can’t tell if that’s just because he’s stunned that she’s the one making a move on him, after the way the night started out. She shifts her weight, absurdly self-conscious, feeling like a nervous, bespectacled seventeen-year-old all over again. Lifts her hand and lays it alongside his face, strokes a thumb over the groove alongside his mouth. Then, when he still doesn’t stop her, she leans closer.

Flynn recovers from his paralysis just enough to lean in himself, and they knock noses painfully, forcing them away with muffled exclamations. It seems to jerk them back to their senses, both of them apologizing at the same moment. Lucy’s cheeks start to flame. “I – we should – shouldn’t.”

If Flynn was feeling as dickish as she gets the sense he might usually be, he could easily point out that she was the one who thought they should. He, however, doesn’t. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, even though they didn’t actually kiss. “I’ll go back out.”

Lucy supposes that, strictly speaking, is a good plan. She doesn’t need to keep making this mistake, having been saved from it the first time around. Her voice is breathy and choked. “Ok – okay.”

Flynn glances back at her, then shifts himself off the bed, standing up and collecting his jacket and shoes. It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell him not to go, but if he stays here on the bed, something else is going to happen, and on the most brutally practical level, Lucy doesn’t have any condoms. They’re not something you need when you’ve been single for two years because your current relationship is with Abraham Lincoln (and in a less weird-cat-lady-way than that sounds). She wishes for once that she wasn’t so confoundedly rational. But still.

Once the door shuts behind him, she falls back on her pillows, flushed and breathing much harder than she should. All that, and she didn’t even get actually kissed for it. This night has been a total bitch.

(Dissertation, she reminds herself. Tomorrow is Saturday, and she needs to go grocery shopping and clean the house, but she can still do a little work.)

(Dissertation.)

Flynn’s face floats in front of hers. She has a hard time thinking that she’ll forget it again.

Out in the living room, the couch creaks as Flynn must sit back down to resume his lonely vigil, and Lucy clenches her fists, reminding herself that she is absolutely under no circumstances going to go out there instead. She rolls over into a more comfortable position, reaches for her phone to check the time – it’s 3:32 AM – and closes her eyes determinedly. Maybe he will be gone when she wakes up, and she will successfully convince herself that it was all a dream.

Finally, slowly, badly, she sleeps.

[gretchensinister]

Prospie

I was slammed with the compulsion to write an NDU story after rewatching Rise of the Guardians on Easter. In this one, Pitch and Pitchiner (and Proto, because he lives in their apartment) are seniors who host a prospective student. They think about what it means that they’re graduating and show that maybe, just maybe, they’ve grown and changed for good at college.

This continues my take that I started in Getting to Know You, which makes this not strictly a realistic college AU.

The prospective student makes this a crossover, but I want it to be a bit of a surprise. But honestly? Who are we thinking of these days when we think Nightmare + Dork? The incoming freshman class is going to be mighty interesting...

***

“Pitchiner!” Pitch storms in from the kitchen, waving a piece of paper at him. “What. Is. This?”

Pitchiner turns to him but doesn’t get up from his seat on the couch, giving him an exasperated look. “You really went deep in your bubble this time, didn’t you? I told you like, nine hundred times that we’re going to host a prospective honors program student on their, you know, interview and visit weekend.”

“Aren’t prospective honors program students only supposed to be hosted by other honors program students?” Pitch snipes.

At this, Pitchiner does stand up. He takes two long steps closer to Pitch until he’s looming over him, his massive arms folded in front of his chest. “Dear,” he says coldly. “I am in the honors program. I’ve been in the honors program the whole time. You think I’d put up with half the shit you say to me if I didn’t know it was bullshit?”

Pitch stammers, but some deep-seated survival instinct stops him from saying anything else coherent.

Pitchiner can’t help but smirk. “Did you really think I was here on a lacrosse scholarship? God! Mr. Black, of the Massachusetts Blacks, my school did not have a lacrosse team. My scholarships are all academic.”

Pitch looks like he’s had a bucket of ice water dumped over him. “But—but—you don’t work!”

Pitchiner steps back a little from Pitch and runs his hand through his hair, sighing. “I don’t work like you do. Because I don’t think it’s healthy.”

Pitch grimaces at him. “You’ve never…” He becomes very interested in a corner of the room. “You’ve never bragged about it.”

Now Pitchiner pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s because I’m not Piki, and Piki’s behavior towards you is fucked up, re: you guys’ accomplishments.”

Pitch has started to crumple the letter in one hand. Pitchiner watches him claim conscious control over one finger at a time until he’s holding the paper normally again, watches him tamp down whatever else might need to be said between them. “Regardless,” he says, focusing on Pitchiner again, “did the hosting committee even see our apartment before approving you as a host? Did they meet Proto? We cannot host an academically promising high school senior here. It’s unseemly.”

“I applied, and I’ll clean,” Pitchiner says. “The prospie doesn’t need to see whatever the fuck is going on in Proto’s room, or ours. He’ll sleep on the couch bed, and if I have to stay up all night to protect him from a taxidermy ferret surprise, I’ll do it.”

Pitch looks down at the unevenly faded blue couch. “I didn’t even know this was a sofa bed.” He sounds oddly distant and defeated, somehow. “I suppose you already have sheets for it.”

Pitchiner shrugs. “Nah, I was going to grab some from the superstore when I went for groceries later. You know I don’t exactly handle things like a general planning an invasion.”

“And yet you do still handle them.” Pitch still sounds weird, like if he was a flavor he’d be a warhead candy with the sour powder washed off. “But of course, you handled me having a seizure, for God’s sake, and I—I.” His fingers are twitching on the paper again.

Pitchiner places his hand on Pitch’s shoulder. “Let me know if you want to crack all this open some other time, all right? You barging in reminded me that I actually do have to start on cleaning, including fighting with Proto about whatever he’s trying to ferment on top of the fridge, because we both know he was lying when he said it was kombucha.” He lets go. “Or, hey, if you don’t want to ever crack it open, well, we’ve only got a couple more months before we graduate.”

He hadn’t really been thinking about what that meant before he said it, but now that he has said it, he and Pitch lock eyes, and Pitchiner thinks Pitch is feeling the same shock he is. Graduation. Leaving this apartment. No longer being forced into physical proximity with each other. If they wanted whatever they had with each other to continue, it couldn’t continue effortlessly or thoughtlessly. If they wanted whatever they had to continue, a lot of unspoken things would need to be said. Otherwise it wasn’t going to last longer than a futon frame propped against a dumpster on move-out day, something that had served them okay at NDU, but not something to bring away from it.

Pitchiner saw the tightness in Pitch’s jaw that usually meant he was thinking about Piki. He didn’t understand all the family baggage that Pitch and his twin carried, but he knew Piki thought of him as an unsuitable partner for Pitch, and a lot of what Pitch did he did in reaction to Piki. But now, even as he expects that tightness to lock Pitch’s jaw for good, it vanishes. “I do think we should talk,” he says. He smiles, and a little of the sour powder is back. “I really do. But maybe after the prospie is gone.”

“Yeah,” Pitchiner says. “For sure.” He grins. “Now are you gonna let me get on with being Mr. Clean or what?”

“The Brawny Man is much hotter,” Pitch fires back, but he still seems a little uneasy. “Pitchiner, our conversation for later is going to be…well, we will not be the first people to have such a conversation. But there are other things that we’ve never talked about. That, at the time, we agreed never to talk about, at least among those of us who were there. Because it wasn’t always all of us, but sometimes, enough times, it was. You know who I mean by us, don’t you?”

Pitchiner nods. “Me. You. Proto. Jack. Piki. You think we need to talk about…that stuff, too?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Pitch says. “It’s always seemed, well, risky to me to speak about even the nightmares. But as we move closer to graduation, it feels to me as if…as if they’re, I mean, as if it’s retreating somehow. Ebbing.”

“We beat it,” Pitchiner says, though he almost said ‘them,’ like Pitch.

“No,” says Pitch, “not yet. Maybe not ever, for me. But I could believe it for you.” He says this last in a rush, as if embarrassed by the feeling hidden beneath that statement. “The point is, there’s something still there. About us. Around us. We know it. And other people can tell. It was my true first thought when I saw a prospective student would be staying with us.”

“Well…” Pitchiner doesn’t like to think about the things Pitch is alluding to, for a lot of different reasons, not least that he can’t be sure if he feels relief or loss at the idea that whatever it is (whatever they are) that focused on them might be leaving them soon. Because what is there to lose? Nightmares, a bunch of shit that has to have been (has to have been) sleep paralysis, too much other stuff that you probably couldn’t take a picture of or hit with a lacrosse stick, and…more than zero things that couldn’t be explained at all. And the sense that whatever tied all these things together, he, Pitchiner, was the perfect shape for it to fill, if he wanted it. And then instead of all these things happening to him, he would happen to other people. “I guess…if the vibes get bad, let’s just agree to not waste time denying that they’re there. But if they’re really going, I think there’s a good chance the prospie might not even notice. I mean, what, his name’s Jonathan. He’s probably like, aggressively normal, or at least only weird in a smart-kid way.”

Pitch nods slowly. “If he’s supposed to hang out with us in his downtime, though…let’s not invite Jack. Just to…reduce the number of reactive elements.”

“Oh, for sure.”

***

           “My, what atrocious vibes that young man had,” Proto remarks as they wave Jon off to his car on Sunday afternoon. “But I do have the feeling that he got all his questions about NDU answered this weekend.”

           Pitchiner and Pitch glance at each other. “Yes,” Pitch says. “I…think we can be confident about that.”

           “He does make me wonder what it’s like to work in the Admissions Department,” Proto says, “but I don’t think I’ll apply. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go follow a lead for a new mold.”

           “I haven’t invited you home because he’s really the best of my relatives,” Pitch says suddenly. “Not because I don’t care.”

           “Everyone’s got relatives,” Pitchiner says vaguely. “Look, when we were just hanging out Saturday night, I kept wanting to bring up that time with the cave. And that story makes me look like I’ve lost my marbles or need an exorcism or something. I have never wanted to bring it up, ever. I don’t even want to allude to it now.”

           “For me it was that time with my shadow,” Pitch says. “But what was weirder was how pissed off I felt about wanting to talk about it. And he didn’t even ask anything that could have remotely led to that topic of conversation.”

           They lean on the railing of the steps outside their apartment and watch a few more prospective students head out, carrying orange and black folders and key chains and pens, all the promotional detritus of NDU. They look pretty normal. And why not? They are normal, right? The only slight oddity is a pair of twins, but when Pitchiner looks again he sees that the girls look nothing alike, and actually don’t even seem to know each other. He’s gotten too jumpy about doubles in his four years here. Just seeing things.

           But then, he has seen a lot of things. And so has Pitch. And Proto. And Jack. And Piki.

           “I was pissed, too,” Pitchiner says. “Not anymore, though. It left when he left. Along with the urge to spill my guts.”

           “Do you think that we…” Pitch begins, and trails off.

           “Not like that,” Pitchiner says. “Or…well, maybe.” He laughs once. “But not anymore, I think.”

           “I wonder why. Are we no longer…I hate to frame it this way, but, worthy?”

           Pitchiner gives him a funny look. “You want to be worthy of nightmares you don’t even want to talk about?”

           “When you put it that way…but I think you know what I mean.”

           Pitchiner looks across the street and over to the campus again. “I guess I do. I kinda wish I didn’t. But I gotta…I gotta be strong enough, smart enough, whatever, to recognize that it’s not good. If I want to be chosen by something weird and special, I think…I know I can do a lot better than a nightmare. You get what I’m saying?”

           “I…I hope I do,” Pitch says, soft and surprised.

           Pitchiner clears his throat. “Anyway, we don’t really know anything about any of that spooky shit. If it’s backing off, hell, maybe it’s just doing so ‘cause we’re graduating. Makes about as much sense as anything else.”

           Pitch laughs briefly. “Good thing none of us is going into academia, then.” He pauses. “Jon said his goal was to go into archival work, didn’t he?”

           Pitchiner nods.

           “Hmm. You need a graduate degree for that.”

           The spring breeze picks up for a moment, sending some autumn leaves that hadn’t been raked before it snowed scuttling down the street.

           “I think I’m glad that we’re graduating this year,” Pitchiner says.

[bakubros]

Tagged by @artsytodoroki, @minaaashido, @pilotpig! This was so much fun to fill out, guys! Thanks for tagging me. 💞

Rules: Answer 11 questions, Create 11 of your own, and Tag 11 people!

I’ll tag: @pinkcupofcherrytea, @dekudorks, @lupizora, @enonmia,  @shulksfeels, @mysonisthesun, @a-erith, anddddd.... just about anyone else who’s interested in doing this c; (i’m a lazy tagger, rip.) amy, shy, piggie, i’d love to see your answers as well if you have some free time! 

(questions are at the veryyyyyy bottom of this read more, lol)

Amy’s Questions:

If you were a character in the BNHA universe, what quirk would you want to have? *nervous sweating* I actually have a really detailed OC I made for Hero Aca and now that I have the opportunity to show her off to the world, I’m getting nervous? LOL. I’ll just say that the quirk’s name is tentatively “flying fish” and then leave it at that for now... Until I find the courage to brag about it in depth... (I am actually in love with the idea and character I came up with, I’m just ??? Suddenly nervous for no reason?? LMAO)

Do you know your MBTI? If you do, what is it? INFP!

Are you somebody who thinks before you act or do you act before you think? It honestly depends on the context of the situation. When I’m with friends or people I’m comfortable with or when I’m tired, I act before I think. When I’m skeptical of others or anxious about how I’m being perceived, I think before I act.

What’s your current obsession? Mmm, tough! I’ve been really into watching movies recently, particularly the Oscar-nominated films. I’m sad because I side with the New Academy on a lot of their picks but know that the Old Academy still dominates so rip ;;;

If you ever wanted to change your name, what would it be? I used to hate my name and thought about changing it to “Willow Kathryn” instead of “Jessica Kathryn.” I don’t know what I was thinking when I was younger; I just know that, now that I’m older, I would never go through with such a change. LMAO

Least and favorite subjects in school? Favorite was literature, least favorite was (and will always be) math.

Describe yourself in one or two words. Passionate, Empathetic

How tall are you? 157 cm (though I like to think I’ve grown a bit ;;;;)

Do you have a phobia? I don’t think that any of my fears are strong enough to constitute a phobia? Though I will admit to an awful abhorrence of bugs.

Would you prefer to go where there’s less people or more people? I’m assuming you mean live? And if that’s the case, then less people. If it’s late at night or something though (like now!), I prefer to be around more people.

Do you believe that the world is divided into good and bad people or is everybody the same? if so, why? To assume that the world is Manichean feels like an antiquated, small-minded notion; to assume that everyone in the world is the same feels ignorant and dehumanizing. I believe that all “divisions” within our culture (I’m throwing morality into this category for the purpose of this question) are man-made constructs--in that sense, there’s no right or wrong answer. In my case, it’s just fundamental disagreement with the notion, lol. On the question of morality, however, I will say that I believe that all individuals exist on a spectrum and cannot be definitively good nor definitively bad; to label someone in a single category like that limits future perception of them and implies an inability for human change/growth.

Shy’s Questions:

[pre-school teacher voice] What do you want to be when you grow up? I wanted to be a teacher, and then a pediatrician, and then a writer, and then a professor. And now I’m back to teacher. We’ve come full circle. LOL.

What did you do today? GOT SOME OF MY SHIT TOGETHER!! Double-checked my degree audit with my advisers, met with the dean of my college to ensure that I’m on-track to meet the criteria for graduating summa cum laude with the dean’s medal in December, and discussed scholarship funding with some of my current sponsors. I thought that I was going to owe my school money after the summer, but it’s looking like they’re going to be paying me instead. 😎

What’s the last really good fanfic or meta you’ve read? I’ve... honestly been slacking really hard in the reading department for the fandom. I’ve been reading a lot of wips recently (which obviously haven’t been posted), but the last one that comes to mind is cherry chapstick on the tip of your tongue by oliviyay on ao3! 

Do you prefer saying “y’all” or “you guys?” You guys!

What is the last thing you watched? A video of Die Mannschaft’s coach talking about how proud he is of His Boys™️.

How are you feeling? I just really want the semester to be over because I’m tired of the workload? But at the same time I’m really antsy about that because it means graduation is just that much closer?? And idk if I’m fully ready for that?? Like, I know that I am but like... I still don’t feel like an adult lekrjwlekrri

Favorite sitcom? Parks and Recreation, hands down. I binged the entire series when I was going through a bad breakup, and whenever I can’t sleep or need a pick-me-up, the show always has my back. I’m p sure that if Netflix ever removes it I will die.

Anime or manga or neither? I’ve always been partial to manga!

Favorite kind of smoothie? The Beach Bum at the Tropical Smoothie Cafe! I like it because I’m a sucker for chocolate, but the ingredients in the smoothie still make me feel like I’m healthy.

Got any allergies? I’m mildly allergic to dust and pollen. For some reason I’m severely allergic to a certain species of grass. (And, because I have the best of luck, it’s the species of grass that is native to Florida. It’s everywhere I go and I just want to be able to sit in the park without breaking out into hives. ;;;)

What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever purchased? I just recently paid $800+ for VIP tickets for my parents and I to go see Elton John in concert. But, like, I know it’ll be worth it so I’m not even mad LMFAO

Piggie’s Questions:

What is your favorite soap scent? Ooooh, this is a really tough one! I can’t think of anything specific, but I’m a fan of scents with floral undertones!

What is the talent of yours that you are most proud of? Please go on and on and on about it!! (and don’t say you have no talents because I know all of you well enough to know that’s not true >:’D) Mmmmm, this is tough! This is more of a personality trait, I suppose, but I’m really stubborn when it comes to getting what I want; if I have a goal in mind, I do absolutely everything that I can to achieve it. So far, this has worked out really for  me, which is why I’m considering it a talent? I’m sure that a lot of it is just good luck though. LMAO. I think that I also have really good memory! I remember seemingly insignificant details really well, which makes for fun writing. c:

What is your favorite book and why? Or TV show/anime/movie if you don’t like books? The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien--this book is honestly what inspired me to become a writer and holds a very special place in my heart. Second favorite would be The Mill on the Floss by George, and every time I’m reminded that it’s considered one of the worst books in classic lit I cry a little harder.

Which fictional character do you relate to the most? (And why, if you want?) Bakugou Katsuki, in terms of backstory (being praised when young and letting it go to my head), passion/ambition, and tendency for cursing. I’ve never been outspoken or antagonistic though, so that’s where our biggest difference is, lol. (He is still my Child though and I Would still die for him)

Do you have any collections? If so, what do you collect? Books and video games, I suppose! Though right now I’m also starting a magazine habit that I know I’ll regret in the future...

What are your top three best personality traits, and what is one thing about your personality that you want to work on? In no particular order: passion, empathy, and friendliness. I’d like to be more consistent outgoing when it comes to meeting new people and making new friends. I’ve been given many opportunities to form bonds with really awesome people, but I always get shy/awkward or just fudge it up. I’d really like to change that, haha.

Do you have any pets? If so, what is/are their personality/personalities like? I have a dog named Snowie! When she was younger, she was super rambunctious and liked playing in the dirt--wasn’t much of a cuddler. Now that she’s older, she’s a lot calmer. And she really likes cuddling which I really appreciate.

What is your preferred study method? Depends on what I’m doing specifically! If I’m reading lit or crit theory, I need an empty room, some good music, and soft lighting. If I’m preparing for a test or writing something up though, I need to be around other people. When it’s something that I don’t really want to do, constant supervision is necessary to make sure that I actually do it. LMAO.

What is the most adventurous thing you’ve ever done? Impromptu island hopping and cliff diving on my cousin’s boat during my last trip to the Philippines!

What are your life goals? Oh boy. Although I mentioned that I’m a very goal-oriented person, I’m really bad at designing long-term goals? I think that I’ve only ever gotten as far as five or so years in the future. I guess I’ll say that I want to work in a job that I enjoy, surround myself with people I care about, and do something that makes me feel like I’ve left a mark. (Ahhh, this was such a bad answer! Sorry! ;3;)

What is your favorite part of being on Tumblr? Probably the people I’ve met. The nice ones, ofc!

My Questions

What was your first big fandom? How did you get started in it and how did it inspire you?

Was there ever a fandom that you were a part of that you now regret? (catch me in middle school skipping class to watch the early premieres of the twilight movies and getting into intense debates over team edward v team jacob LMFAO)

If you had to pick an artist to create the OST of your life, who would it be? Why?

Tell me three things a person could say/do/believe to instantly taint your friendship/relationship with them.

I suck at cooking. Do you? If you don’t, what’s your favorite thing to make? (hmu with a recipe and i’ll love you for life lmfao)

If you had to name a daughter right now, what would you name them? What if you had a son? (Alternatively, if you have no interest in children, what name would you like to give a female/male character that you create?)

Let’s say you were to die right here, right now. What would be your biggest regret?

Think of one really, really good teacher you had. What made them so great?

What’s your “origin story”? If you had to explain why you are the way you are by only pointing at one event in your life, which one would you choose?

Tumblr is an actual hellhole. But what do you like about it?

How are you? (I’m stealing Shy’s question because I really like it lmao)

[mychemicalrachel]

I started thinking about Adam at college and I accidentally wrote a thing.

Read on ao3. 

Adam had anticipated college to be stressful. The good kind of stress, if such a thing existed. He’d expected the overload of homework and reading, welcomed it readily. But with a full ride scholarship to one of the best schools in the country, for once in his life, Adam didn’t have to worry about where money for his next meal would come from. And that was the kind of stress he would gladly live without.

For the first few months, Adam still saved every penny like it might be his last. He kept a cereal box under his bed stuffed with extra cash, eventually giving in to opening a checking account at Gansey’s insistence. After getting a job at the local mechanic’s shop, Adam slowly came to realize that he didn’t have to scavenge for money anymore. For the first time, Adam had money he could spend on whatever he wanted.

It started to show in small ways at first; Adam splurged the extra two-dollars on the good toilet paper instead of the sand-paper off brand. He ordered coffee instead of water when he spent late hours studying at the campus coffee shop. He was even able to fill up the BMWs gas tank instead of buying gas in ten-dollar increments when it started getting low.

So yes, Adam had anticipated college to be stressful, and it was, but withdrawal from Henrietta was even more so. The first few weeks were the worst. Nightmares were still fresh in his mind, memories of Gansey’s death and Ronan’s almost unmaking. More often than not, he still dreamt of his own hands on Ronan’s throat, squeezing until he could feel the breath stop. Some nights, he simply dreamed of Cabeswater, what it was now that it was nothing.

He called Ronan on those particularly bad nights. On the occasions that Ronan didn’t answer, Opal did. She would talk to him, sometimes in English or Latin or that other language he didn’t understand. Somehow, she knew it didn’t matter what she said. Just to know that she was okay, that her and Ronan were safe, it was enough.

The days were even worse. Something small could set Adam off into a spiral; a girl who, in passing, looked like Blue; a boy whose laugh sounded like Gansey’s; a breeze would close a door and Noah’s name would slip off his tongue before he remembered that Noah was gone. Adam did his best to cope with their absence alone-- he couldn’t very well call his friends every time he missed them. They had lives, and Adam needed to let them be without worrying about him all the time.

The first pack of cigarettes Adam bought was for a friend who didn’t have the cash on him. His friend gratefully handed him a single cigarette from the pack, saying thanks. He left Adam alone, staring at the thin white stick curiously; he’d never smoked before. It had never occurred to him, never been an option or a lure, but staring at it now, it seemed to call to Adam. A pull that he hadn’t felt since the death of Cabeswater. Adam went back into the convenience store and bought a lighter.

He choked on the first drag. It burned his throat more than anything, left his lungs feeling full and deflated at the same time. He took another drag, slower, and exhaled. Staring into the smoke, like searching for shapes in the clouds, Adam felt himself relax.

When he crushed the butt of the cigarette against the pavement, he told himself it was a one time thing. One cigarette didn’t make you an addict.

Adam went back the next day and bought himself another pack.

By the time Adam’s first year of college had officially ended, he realized he might actually miss this place when he goes back to Virginia for the summer. For the past nine months, this dorm room had been his home. Leaving it feels surreal. But the draw of Ronan and Blue and Gansey is even stronger. He packs up the BMW and leaves college behind.

It’s an almost seven hour drive to Virginia, and Adam spends the whole time anxiously tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Blue texts him a few times, reminding him to pull over and rest if he gets too tired, but the pull of home fills him with adrenaline. He can’t wait to be back. Not to the town, or even to the Barns, but to see his friends again.

Everyone is waiting at the Barns when Adam parks the BMW and climbs out. He can see the Pig and his Hondayota parked to one side of the drive. The sun is kissing the horizon, the beginning of dusk leaving everything glowing orange and pink. Magical, as if the Barns could ever be anything but.

He’s not even up the porch steps when the front door crashes open and Blue is charging him. She flings herself at him, and Adam barely manages to grab her and steady them before they both fall down the stairs. He staggers back, laughing, as the familiarity swarms him. Gansey is right behind her, not even waiting for them to part before inserting himself into the hug. Over Gansey’s shoulder, he spots Ronan standing back, watching them. There’s a hint of a smirk tugging the corners of his lips.

Adam disentangles himself as best as he can. He stands at the bottom of the stairs, Ronan at the top, with four steps between them. Adam leans against the railing. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ronan mimics.

“Your hair is longer,” Adam notes. “It looks good.”

Ronan lifts a hand to brush through his hair, like he’s just noticed. Then he shrugs casually. “I figured you might want something to pull.”

Adam grins at him. “That’s presumptuous, Lynch.”

Ronan jumps down to the ground, not bothered to use to the steps. He casts a look toward Blue and Gansey. Blue, seeming to take the unsubtle hint, grabs Gansey’s arm. “We’ll give you two some privacy.” She tugs him back toward the house, leaving Adam and Ronan alone. Without an audience, Ronan seems to soften a bit. He nudges his shoe against Adam’s. “I was serious, what I said about my hair.”

Adam reaches up to pull a few fingers through the hair. He gives it a experimental tug and Ronan’s eyes narrow, either an invitation or a challenge. Adam assumes it’s a mixture of both and he finally leans in to capture Ronan’s lips. The heat that immediately surrounds him, the warmth that seems to come from the inside out, it’s all familiar. It’s addictive and safe and tantalizing, all at once.

And then Ronan pulls back, frowning. “You taste weird.”

“I didn’t brush my teeth,” Adam admits. “And I had onion rings for lunch.”

“No,” Ronan shakes his head. “That’s not it.” He watches Adam for a moment, rubs his thumb along his lower lip in a gesture that seems distinctly Gansey of him. Ronan frowns a little more. “Have you been smoking?”

“Oh,” Adam realizes. “Yeah. A little.”

“How do you smoke a little?” Ronan demands. “Either you’ve been smoking or you haven’t.”

“Okay,” Adam corrects himself. “Yes, I’ve been smoking. What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you so mad all of a sudden?”

“It’s fucking gross,” Ronan snaps. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Since school is stressful, I guess.” Adam shrugs. “What’s the big deal?”

“They’re bad for you--”

“Oh, you’re one to talk about bad habits,” Adam laughs. “You’re the one who used to drink himself into oblivion to avoid dealing with feelings.”

Ronan chooses not to acknowledge that. “What if Gansey and Blue found out?”

“So what?” Adam asks. “I’m a big boy. Gansey is not my father. I can do whatever I want.”

“And you want to kill yourself?” Ronan says. “There are easier ways, man.”

Adam is taken aback. “What the fuck, Ronan?”

Ronan’s nostrils flare. He looks down, shuffling his feet. At his sides, his hands tighten into fists. Ronan turns to walk away, but Adam catches his wrist.

“No, Ronan. Do not just shut me out. What the hell is your problem?”

“I’m self-destructive,” Ronan snaps. “I know that. Sure, you’re right; I drink myself stupid sometimes. But I’ve never fucking smoked because those things kill, Parrish. They fucking kill you. Slowly. And I cannot lose you.”

Ronan drops his gaze, sighs, and Adam can see the way his shoulders deflate. The fight leaves him. For some reason, this Ronan seems harder to deal with than an angry Ronan. Adam says, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Ronan barks out a bitter laugh. “Thank God for that, huh? You’d never listen to me anyway.”

“I didn’t know you would hate it so much.” Adam nudges Ronan’s arm. “I figured it would make me look hot.”

Ronan rolls his eyes.

Adam clears his throat. “If you hate it so much, I can try to stop.”

“I’m not your fucking father,” Ronan says. “I’m not going to make you do anything. I’m not giving you some fucking ultimatum, like if you don’t stop I’ll break up with you.”

“I know,” Adam says. “But you don’t like it. Relationships are about compromise, right? And you grew your hair out just for me.” Adam laces his fingers through the hair and tugs at it again. It makes Ronan smile. “So I’ll try to stop. I’m not making an promises, though.”

“If it’s about stress, I can dream you something,” Ronan says. “There are millions of ways to relieve stress.” He pulls Adam into his arms, mouthing at Adam’s neck, his throat, his jaw. “I can dream you up a sex doll that looks just like me. Sex is shown to be a great stress reliever.”

Adam laughs, shoving at Ronan’s shoulders. “I would love to explain that to my roommate.”

Ronan bites down on his lip and watches Adam carefully, suddenly serious. “Promise me you’ll call if you get too stressed out. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, I will drive your shitty Hondayota all the way to New Jersey if you need me.”

And Adam knew that Ronan would be there for him, was always there for him, but hearing Ronan offer like that… it made something in Adam’s chest swell. “Yeah, I promise.”

“Good.” Ronan laces his fingers with Adam’s. “Now, we should go see the others. Opal missed you…”

Ronan leads him inside, launching into a story about Opal and Chainsaw. Adam smiles as he listens, feeling more settled than he ever had before. For the first time in months, his fingers don’t itch for a cigarette. He doesn’t feel the tension and the stress like a physical weight on his back. He feels calm, relaxed. He feels like he’s home.