just wanted to say i have watched your fucking ytps an unreasonable number of times. best videos on the internet i think

🥰 im so glad my sense of humor is aligning with other peoples this much. my favorite thing ever is to make other people laugh so this is so good to hear. if you check back in like a month or so i might have another for you

Best Road Trip Ever

Sciles Week Day 3: Road Trip

Pairing: Scott/Stiles

Word Count: 4416

‘Come on Scott!’ Stiles yelled up the stairs, resisting the urge to tap his foot in impatience. The jeep was packed, except for Scott’s belongings, and they were meant to be on the road nearly an hour ago.

Of course, that was before Liam had called Scott in a panic about… something. Stiles had his suspicions that nothing had actually been wrong other than Liam’s fear of something happening while Scott and Stiles were gone.

‘Scotty!’ He yelled again, and was about to start up the stairs when he heard footsteps.

‘I’m coming, I’m coming. Geez, calm down.’

Scott came hurrying down the stairs, full bag slung over his shoulder and a wide grin on his face. Stiles answered it with his own grin.

‘Road trip Scotty!’ Stiles greeted with a yell when Scott reached the bottom of the stairs.

‘Road trip!!’ Scott yelled right back, still grinning. Stiles spun on his foot and headed for the front door, Scott following behind. When Scott paused to lock up the house behind him, Stiles took the bag off him, heading to the jeep to stash the bag with his right in the back.

Slightly closer to the front were the bags with snack and drinks for the drive, well the first part of the drive anyway – Stiles wasn’t under the impression this lot of snacks would last all that long with both him and Scott in the car.

Scott hopped into the passenger seat just as Stiles was sliding behind the wheel, turning the keys in the ignition and listening with a smile as Roscoe started up with no fuss.

‘It’s so weird.’ Scott said, looking at him, and Stiles raised an eyebrow in question. ‘Seeing you just start the jeep with no issues every time after so many years of having to fight to start it, and constantly having to check under the hood.’

Stiles nodded, but kept grinning. It had taken a lot of time and money, but once high school had ended, and the threats to their town and their lives had started to die down, Stiles had been able to shift his focus to getting a job and attending college. In the end both Scott and Stiles had chosen to attend the local college, allowing them to stay home and both save money on rent if they’d gone to an expensive city and been around to help out with any supernatural issues that came up.

Scott had increased his hours with Deaton and had initially poured the extra income into helping his mum with getting the house fixed up (although Argent had helped with that too – he wasn’t just handy with multiple weapons, who knew?). Stiles on the other hand had used his new found income to help first with medical bills then finally, finally getting Roscoe a proper mechanic.

Their last year of college they had both been saving for this. The road trip they had talked about for years, that they had originally planned for right after high school but had had to put on the backburner as other things took precedence (and they really lacked the funds for it). But now, four years later they both finally felt it would be safe enough for them to leave for a few weeks and were finally in a position to be able to afford to do it.

The plans for this road trip had been set mostly back when they were pre-teens but they hadn’t changed much since then. They would be gone for a little over five weeks, heading down through California stopping at first at Yosemite, then heading across to the coast to San Francisco and making their way south along the coast until they hit LA. They were spending just over a week in LA then heading into Arizona to see the grand canyon and finally hitting Vegas.

Honestly, Stiles wasn’t sure which part he was most excited about. He knew which part he was least excited about.

‘Are you sure I can’t talk you out of the whole camping in Yosemite thing?’ He asked as they got on the road out of Beacon Hills. Scott just laughed at him.

‘Come on man, it was your idea.’ He reminded Stiles, who just huffed.

‘Yeah, when I was twelve! I think I’m allowed to change my mind.’ He glanced over at Scott who was shaking his head.

‘Well, too bad. I’ve been looking forward to camping in Yosemite for the last ten years and you’re not gonna change my mind.’ Stiles grumbled under his breath, but didn’t continue arguing – he knew Scott was looking forward to being able to spend some time out in nature that wasn’t the preserve with all its history and bad memories. Stiles was also looking forward to it, just not the camping bit.

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

The first night of their road trip, they realised that they had both severely underestimated how cold it would get overnight in Yosemite. Although it wasn’t really an issue for Scott, with his core temperature running higher than an average human’s since the bite, it was definitely an issue for Stiles who still, even after nearly five years after the Nogitsune, had periods of time where he struggled to get warm.

When they had first slipped into the tent and their sleeping bags, Stiles had been ok – it had been a warm day, and they spent nearly two hours exploring Yosemite before setting up camp and making their fire. But now, nearly an hour after lying down to sleep, Stiles was still awake and was starting to shiver. He’d already gotten up to pull on a second pair of socks and a jumper but to no avail.

‘Stiles?’ Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Scott’s voice – he’d been so sure he was asleep. As he rolled over, Scott flicked on one of their torches.

‘Um, yeah?’ He responded, trying to be casual about it, hoping Scott hadn’t noticed the shaking.

‘You’re freezing, aren’t you?’ Scott asked, right to the point. Stiles briefly considered lying to him, but then he knew Scott would be able to tell. Even before becoming a werewolf Scott had almost always been able to tell when Stiles was lying.

‘Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up or – ’

‘Shut up, Stiles. Ok, just unzip your sleeping bag.’ Scott told him, already crawling out of his own sleeping bag and opening it up. Stiles stared at him for a moment then moved to do the same. When he was done, Scott simply held out his hand for it, so Stiles passed it over. It took him a few tries, but eventually Scott got the sleeping bags zipped together, grinning triumphantly at Stiles, who just stared at him.

‘Come on, in you get.’ Stiles sighed and moved across to where Scott held up the sleeping bag. He crawled in quickly, and curled up on one side to leave room for Scott, who crawled in behind him then flicked the torch back off.

Stiles tried to keep himself curled up on one side of the sleeping bag, but after a few minutes and more shivering, Scott just let out a huff and slid up behind Stiles, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in close.

‘Just, stop being stupid. You need to get warm, and I want to sleep so no complaining.’ Scott told him, and Stiles sighed, then let his body relax. As the shivers started to subside and Stiles felt himself start to warm, he gave in and actively snuggled back into Scott’s warmth, felt Scott tighten his hold and shift slightly to a more comfortable position.

‘Thanks Scott.’ He whispered and he swore he could feel Scott’s eye roll.

‘Any time Stiles. Get some sleep, we’ve got a lot of hiking to do tomorrow.’

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

The next two nights in the tent were spent the same way – Stiles had tried to separate the sleeping bags before bed on the second night before Scott came in, took one look at the scene and just stared at Stiles until he stopped.

They both changed into their comfy sleep clothes – Stiles even left off the second pair of socks and jumper as the first night had ended with him waking up sweating from the combination of the layers and Scott’s body heat.

Again, Stiles crawled into the sleeping bag first, followed by Scott. Instead of turning the torches straight off, however, Scott left them on, poking Stiles on the shoulder till he rolled over.

‘So, we hit the giant sequoias today, you still up for Yosemite Valley in the morning?’ Scott asked, and Stiles nodded.

‘Yeah, of course. It’s really nice – reminds me of when we were really into camping back in elementary school.’ Stiles said, thinking back. Of course, most of their camping had happened in their backyards, but Stiles’ dad had taken them hiking a few times in the preserve and a few other areas just outside of Beacon Hills.

‘I love it here.’ Scott admitted. ‘It’s nice to just walk through the forest and not be waiting for something to jump out or remembering that’s where the hunters almost got me, or that’s where I was bitten.’

‘I get it. And I mean, I totally have my limits on how long I could spend out here, but it’s nice being here. I’m really glad you insisted on keeping Yosemite on the road trip.’ Stiles admitted.

‘Even with the camping?’ Scott asked teasingly, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

‘Even with the camping. It’s… not as bad as I thought it would be.’ Stiles averted his gaze as he said this, and Scott was about to shoot out a teasing remark when something about Stiles’ face had him hesitating. Stiles was rarely shy or hesitant around him – in fact, the only time Stiles wasn’t completely up front with him was if he was embarrassed by something, and that something usually had something to do with Scott himself.

The last time he’d been like this had been… when he’d admitted to Scott he was bisexual, their first year of college. Not that Scott had been completely surprised (there were only so many comments or jokes Stiles could make before Scott started thinking there was something behind them). But that hadn’t been the cause of the embarrassment – it had been the fact that he had, at one point, had a crush on Scott. Now, given Stiles’ hesitation in sharing the sleeping bags last night and again tonight…

The possibility had Scott pausing, and a fluttering sensation occurring in his stomach. Over the last year of college Scott had started to realise that he might not necessarily be quite as straight as he’d always thought, although he’d never really found a guy that did more than just catch his eye in a fleeting, he’s cute kind of way. Thinking about Stiles that way, for the first time, well that was different. That was more than a fleeting kind of feeling. But it was one that he wasn’t going to just act on rashly – more than anything, Stiles was his best friend and Scott was never going to do anything to put that in jeopardy, so this would take some consideration.

‘Well I’m glad that my need to – how did you put it? Commune with nature? – isn’t ruining the road trip for you.’ He said softly, giving Stiles a small smile when he finally looked back up. Stiles smiled in return, and rolled his eyes.

‘Yeah, yeah. I still say that you’ll be agreeing with me when we hit San Francisco and a real bed in a nice, warm hotel with indoor plumbing and a roof.’ Stiles told him, and Scott laughed.

‘Big baby.’ Scott teased and Stiles huffed and rolled over to show Scott his back. Scott just laughed, reached out to flick off the torches then settled in, reaching out an arm to wrap around Stiles’ waist and pulling him in close to keep him warm.

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

Two days later, they reached San Francisco in the early afternoon and Stiles was incredibly thankful he’d had Roscoe fixed up properly because the Roscoe of high school would neverhave survived the hills.

‘So, it’s too early to check in to the hotel, and we’re booked for Alcatraz tomorrow, any preference for what we do today?’ Stiles asked as he tried to navigate his way into the city.

‘Let’s go see the Golden Gate Bridge and the Presidio.’ Scott said, looking at their list of places on his phone. He knew that Stiles was desperate to see the Yoda fountain and the other Star Wars stuff that was supposed to be in the nearby building, plus it was a great day for seeing the bridge weather wise.

‘You sure?’ Stiles asked, but Scott could already see that he was practically vibrating with excitement. Their top two places to visit – Alcatraz and the Presidio – were Stiles’ choices and after Yosemite Scott was more than willing to let Stiles lead this part of the trip.

‘Yeah. Come on, I’m sure you like memorised the best way to get there and where to park so let’s go.’ Stiles shot him a grin, double checked what street they were on and, as he continued to drive, started humming the Star Wars theme under his breath. Scott rolled his eyes at the lack of subtlety but smiled.

When they finally made it to the Presidio, the first thing they did, of course, was head straight for the Yoda fountain, Stiles practically dragging Scott along in his enthusiasm.

‘Oh my god Scott!! There it is, look at it.’ Scott tried to hide his wince at the high pitched tone of Stiles’ voice caused by his excitement.

‘It sure is buddy.’ He responded.

‘Ok, can you try to show at least a little more enthusiasm and respect for the awesomeness that is the Yoda fountain?’ Stiles asked, giving Scott a small glare. ‘I know you fail to appreciate the amazing work of George Lucas and the brilliance of this franchise but I will not have you disrespecting Yoda like that.’

‘Woah, ok calm down. No disrespect, I promise. Hey, you’re getting a photo with the fountain right?’ Scott asked and smiled when the diversion tactic worked. Stiles nodded and as soon as a family moved away from the fountain he bounded over, turning to face Scott with a massive grin on his face. Scott took a couple of photos, and was about to put his phone away when Stiles held out his hand to stop him.

‘Excuse me, do you mind taking a photo of us?’ He asked a couple who looked to be waiting to take photos themselves. The girl nodded and Stiles smiled, gesturing for Scott to hand over the phone, then come and stand next to him.

‘Come on Scotty, I know you don’t care but I need proof you were here too. Kira will never believe me.’ Stiles told him and Scott just shook his head, handing over his phone and making his way over to Stiles.

Stiles threw his arm around his shoulder, shuffling them when the girl indicated they were in front of the fountain. Scott just let Stiles move him around, grinning at him the whole time.

‘You two make a really cute couple.’ The girl told him when she handed back his phone. Scott felt a blush rise up his cheeks and he shifted his gaze quickly over towards Stiles to see if he’d heard. Stiles and her boyfriend were currently standing at the fountain geeking out at it, and Stiles seemed completely oblivious to the comment.

‘Uh, thanks. And thanks for the photos.’ He said, and she just smiled at him, giving him a nod.

‘Sally! Come on, our turn!’ Scott and the girl turned at the voice, and Scott saw Sally’s boyfriend gesturing for her as Stiles made his way over to Scott. He held out a phone to Scott who took it with a questioning look.

‘I told Jake we’d take their photos for them, but you’re usually better so you do it.’ Stiles said with a shrug, so Scott pocketed his phone and then took their photos for them.

Once they were done, Scott handed back the camera and after another round of thanks they went their separate ways. As they walked, Stiles chatting on about Star Wars trivia and the fountain, Scott wondered why he hadn’t corrected Sally when she’d referred to them as a couple. When she’d said it, he’d had a fleeting moment of panic then a warm feeling in his chest. He looked over at Stiles who was waving his hands as he spoke and Scott reached out to pull Stiles close to him just before he walked into a bench.

‘What… oh, thanks dude.’ Stiles said, smiling at Scott before continuing his one-sided discussion. Scott continued listening as they walked, keeping his eye on their path and

occasionally reaching out to steer Stiles out of the way of obstacles until they reached the area of the Presidio that provided them with an amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

He wanted to talk to Stiles about the assumption the girl had made, the moment in the tent the other night, but he needed to sort through his own feelings and thoughts first to make sure he wouldn’t end up doing something that hurt Stiles or damaged their friendship.

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

Nearly a week later the boys were once again on the road, heading down the coast towards LA. They had spent three days exploring San Francisco, followed by a couple of lazy days in a small coastal town with nice beaches. Scott had had a great time in San Francisco, mostly just letting Stiles take the lead, letting his happiness and enthusiasm buoy Scott’s spirits. And the beach had been amazing – it was a quiet town without many tourists so the boys had been able to enjoy the beach without have to fight with crowds of people.

His thoughts kept slipping back to Sally’s comment and thoughts of him and Stiles however, and now that they were in the car, just the two of them for a few hours, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop Stiles from noticing something was up.

Sure enough, nearly an hour into the drive, Stiles pulled over to a rest stop, turned off the engine and shifted to look at Scott.

‘Ok, what’s up?’ Stiles asked, straight to the point.

‘What do you mean?’ Scott asked trying to deflect – from the narrowing of Stiles’ eyes it didn’t work.

‘You’ve been acting weird since the day we got to San Francisco. I figured you’d talk when you were ready but it’s been like three days already so what gives?’

‘I… you know in freshman year of college, when you told me you were bi?’ Scott started, watched as Stiles’ face became wary. He nodded slowly.

‘Yeah.’

‘Well… The second night in the tent in Yosemite I was thinking about that, when you said you… that you had feelings for me at some point – ’

‘Yeah, but you know that I wasn’t like faking being cold or anything to just get you to share – ’

‘No, Stiles of course I know that! That’s not what I meant. I mean – ’ Scott cut himself off, took a deep breath and then let it out. ‘Ok. So, that night I wasn’t thinking about what you’d told me in a bad way, I was thinking about it like, like I was thinkingabout it. And then when we were at the fountain, the Yoda fountain, that girl, Sally, she told me we were a cute couple and I couldn’t – I couldn’t stop thinking about it.’

‘Couldn’t stop thinking about…’ Stiles trailed off, looking at him.

‘About us. As a couple.’ They sat in silence for nearly two minutes after that statement, just staring at each other.

‘And what have you been thinking? I mean, Scott, you’re straight. Aren’t you? ’

‘I don’t… I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve never been really attracted to a guy before but I’m starting to think that’s because I was looking in the wrong places.’ Scott said softly.

‘And now?’ Stiles asked, just as soft.

‘Now, I know I’m definitely not one hundred percent straight. There’s one guy in particular that’s finally caught my eye and I think… I think it’s taken me long enough to realise it.’ Scott told him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he reached out a hand to Stiles.

Stiles looked at it, then back up at Scott and after his own momentary hesitation he reached out with his own hand to take it.

‘Are you… are you serious about this, Scott? Cause I can’t – ’

‘That’s why I’ve been, how did you put it? Weird. I’ve been thinking about it, just trying to make sure that what I was feeling was real, that I was really sure about it before I said anything.’ Scott told him, giving his hand a squeeze.

‘So are you? Sure?’ Stiles asked, sounding like he was afraid to hear the answer. Scott looked down at their joined hands, thought for a moment and then looked back up.

‘Yeah, yeah I am sure. I want this Stiles. Us. And I’m sorry if it’s – ’ Whatever Scott was about to say was cut off as Stiles leant across the centre console and pressed his lips against Scott’s.

Scott was shocked for about five seconds, then responded. And he had to admit, there may have been a tiny bit of him still in doubt before, but now, kissing Stiles – he knew this is what he wanted. Nothing had felt this right, and no kiss had ever gone straight to his head (or other areas) like that.

When Stiles pulled back, Scott just smiled at him.

‘Still one hundred percent sure.’ Scott told him, and Stiles grinned back.

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

Four days later they stood in the middle of a crowd, looking for the most likely suspect to take their photo for them. Then, Stiles spotted someone.

‘Oh my god, Jake!’ He called out, waving his hand in the air frantically and Scott looked around, laughing when he spotted Sally and Jake.

‘Stiles?’ Jake called out, pulling Sally in their direction. ‘Man, what are the chances?’

‘I know, right? Man I can’t believe the star wars area isn’t open yet, it’s gonna be so cool! But we did Star Tours and the Jedi Training – I wish Space Mountain was still themed’ Stiles said, and Scott smiled and rolled his eyes, catching Sally’s eye and laughing with her.

‘Well this could take a while.’ She said, nodding at their boyfriends – and wow, that was amazing to think.

‘Yeah. Stiles is still not over the fact that I didn’t find the movies as amazing as he does when he finally got me to sit down at watch them.’

‘Jake’s the same – I honestly did wonder early on if Jake was going to break it off with me because of it.’

‘Stiles has threatened to end our friendship I don’t even know how many times because of Star Wars.’

‘Your friendship? I thought you two – oh my god, I’m sorry!’ Sally said, looking horrified and Scott laughed.

‘No, no – I mean, when you said we were a cute couple last week at the Presidio, we weren’t, but now – actually, if you hadn’t said that we might not have talked about it so, thank you.’ Scott told her, and she looked at him, puzzled, then smiled.

‘Wow. I mean, you’re welcome? You really do make a cute couple.’ She repeated.

‘We do, don’t we?’ Stiles said, coming up behind them with Jake, nearly making Sally jump in surprise. ‘Scotty, guess what? Jake said a cast member told him Chewbacca is gonna be out for a meet and greet in like an hour, we have to go. Oh, and they’re going to comic con too!’

Scott grinned at his boyfriend, then shared a smile of exasperated fondness with Sally. The rest of their day was spent with Sally and Jake – after their obligatory couple shots in front of the castle, and a group shot once Sally spotted a nice looking lady who agreed to take some photos for them all.

After the evening fireworks, they went their separate ways as they headed back to their hotels, promising to meet up at comic con in a few days since Sally and Jake were on their last day at Disneyland.

Scott and Stiles walked back up to their hotel – it was about a twenty minute walk, but Scott enjoyed it, semi-quiet after the noise of Disneyland all day.

‘I can’t believe we just ran into them again like that.’ Stiles commented, leaning his head on Scott’s shoulder for a second as they walked.

‘Yeah, it was pretty unlikely. But hey, you got to talk Star Wars with Jake, and we’ll see them again in a few days. And I was talking to Sally – I thanked her.’ Scott said, and Stiles looked at him.

‘Thanked her?’ He asked, and Scott nodded.

‘Yeah. If it wasn’t for her mistaking us for a couple, I might have let things go as just me being, I don’t know, caught up in the moment – I wouldn’t have been overthinking things and you wouldn’t have pushed me to talk. I mean, it still might have happened eventually, but her comment is why it happened now. So…’

‘So, you thanked her.’ Stiles repeated, and Scott nodded again. ‘I’m really glad she called us a couple then.’

‘Me too.’ Scott said, then pulled Stiles in for a kiss. He wondered if the amazed feeling he got from doing that would ever wear off – he hoped it wouldn’t.

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

A few weeks later, they were headed home. They’d seen Alcatraz, Disneyland, the Hollywood sign, the Grand Canyon, the strip in Vegas and still – when people asked them what the best part of the trip was, their favourite spot they both answered with ‘I-5, heading south.’

It got them some strange looks, but they would just share a look and smile. And when asked about how the road trip went, they would sometimes give lots of details about what they did, who they met, what they saw.

But most often? They would just smile and say ‘best road trip ever.’

under the stars (just you and i)   🌌

pairings:

hailey upton x jay halstead 

prompted by tumblr post by @snowwhite013​ and post by @upstellaride (on twitter)

| masterlist |

Chicago was chaotic by nature. The Intelligence unit had been completely and utterly slammed for months now. With increased gang activity not only in the 21st District but all over the city, everybody was being stretched to their absolute limits in every way possible. Jay and Hailey — whose romance had been placed on the backburner when the surge began — were no exception to this; they were both equally as overworked and exhausted as one other. Their apparent inability to pass up a case was costing them not just their precious beauty sleep, but quality time to spend together as a couple, leaving them both frustrated every time the phone rang. 

“You and me, Bartoli’s.” Hailey glanced up from the paperwork in her hand at the sound of her boyfriend’s voice. He was sitting across from her on his side of the desk that had slowly but surely become their communal desk over the years, his feet up on the edge of the surface as he stared at the blonde haired woman, awaiting a response. “When?”  The question was simple, but it was one that hung in the air for longer than either of them would have liked. It was a simple question that in theory required a simple answer, but with the unpredictability of work as of late, both Jay and Hailey were unwilling to offer up a time or day without proper thought being put into it. “What about after shift tonight?” Jay offered, hesitation evident in his voice as Hailey’s eyes flickered to the rest of the unit — it was relatively empty. At least, the emptiest it had been in a while. “It’s been kind of mellow today, right? I mean, the fact that we have time to be here doing paperwork is usually a good sign.” “Tonight. After shift. . .” Hailey considered it for a moment, humming lightly to herself in thought. “Sure. Tonight after shift sounds good.” Jay couldn’t help but grin as he hid his face in his coffee — caffeine was the only thing keeping him going at this point — he had been dying for a night out with his girl. It had been far too long since the two of them had been able to just talk, and his Hailey withdrawal symptoms were coming in fast and hard with no place to go. Sure, they worked together every day — but with how spread out the Intelligence unit had been, they were lucky if they even got to say hello to each other. All of these reasons put together were contributing factors to his particularly pissy mood when Voight made his way back upstairs and informed everybody that they wouldn’t be going home until they could pull up a lead on the drug-bust-turned-triple-homicide they were working out in Jefferson Park. “Guess this means we’re cancelling. Again.” Hailey sighed deeply as she stood beside Jay, the pair of them watching as Kim placed the victims photos up on the board. “This is what — the fourth time now?”

“It’s not my fault, Hailey,” Jay mumbled under his breath. “Don’t blame me. Blame the guy who shot three people for his fix.” Hailey’s eyes snapped over to him, the blue of her irises darkening as she made it very obvious she wasn’t about to put up with his bullshit for another long night shift when they were both exhausted. “I know it’s not your fault Jay. Did you hear me say it was? Because I sure don’t remember those words coming out of my mouth.” Jay mumbled again, although this time it was a practically silent sorry that Hailey’s Vulcan hearing only just managed to pick up on. She could feel his frustration and despite knowing it wasn’t intentionally being directed at her, she also wasn’t about to let her get pushed around to make him feel better, even if he was her boyfriend.  That’s how the next week or so went. Both Jay and Hailey were snapping at each other left and right, and although they both were mature enough not to hold a grudge against the other for longer than a few minutes, neither of them were exactly enjoying themselves. Their triple-homicide came and went, and before they knew it they had been thrown into an arson case — they couldn’t catch a break, no matter how hard they tried.  Jay had walked into the locker room one evening after Hailey had disappeared for a while, his search for the woman coming to an end quickly as he spied her sitting on the bench with her head in her hands. Just when he thought he’d give her some time alone, (he figured she was probably trying to gather her thoughts or something) the sound of almost silent cries coming from the blonde caused his heart to ache painfully. At first, he wasn’t sure — but when the sight of her back rising and falling sharply with each cry, Jay practically bolted over to her in panic. “Hails." Jay sat down on the bench beside his girlfriend, his voice soft as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hails, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?" Hailey shrugged his hand off of her shoulder — not in a cold way, just in a 'I don't want you to see me like this' kind of way. Nonetheless, Jay persisted as he wrapped his arm around the woman's torso, pulling her closer to him until her head was resting in the crook of his neck. Hailey tried to wipe away her tears roughly, the woman clearly worked up as Jay ran his fingers through her hair in a feeble attempt to offer up some comfort. "Hailey?" "I'm fine, Jay." Hailey's response was much too quick for Jay's liking. Even if she hadn't been crying, her response alone would have provoked concern from the man. He only frowned down at his girlfriend sadly, his heart aching; Hailey wasn't one to show her emotions to anybody. Any time Jay saw Hailey this way, he felt his entire body tearing apart in some inexplicable way — he had the overwhelming urge to find a way to fix it. Because seeing Hailey upset was the absolute worst thing he could ever see. It was so heartbreaking and tore him apart so severely that it could (and would) keep him at night. "You're not fine," Jay's voice was gentle and unthreatening, but he still balanced on the line of pushing as she took a deep breath against him. "You don't have to be fine. But I think it'd help if you talked to me — you're the one who taught me that, remember?" Hailey stayed silent, not daring to utter a sound. Instead, she fixed her gaze upon one of the lockers standing in front of her, studying it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world before she found her breath getting caught up in her throat all over again. Before she knew it, tears were pouring down her cheeks all over again, half of them sad and half of them angry, partly because she had no idea what the hell she was crying for. "Please tell me what's going on," Jay practically begged his girlfriend this time as he rubbed circles on her back, his brows shaped in a concerned V. "Please tell me so that I can — I don't know." "I'm just so tired," Hailey breathed, her sentence being interrupted by a hiccup as she ran her palms down her cheeks. "I haven't slept a full night in days, Jay — neither have you. I'm tired of fighting you and arguing every time we're in the same room together for no other reason other than the fact that we're both exhausted, I'm tired of the lumpy couch and sleeping without you. I miss you, Jay. I miss you so goddamn much it's physically painful right now and I genuinely just don't know how to deal." Jay was sure he could feel his heart breaking into two right there and then, his grip tightening upon Hailey as he held her close. Hailey only sunk into his hold in response to the gesture before sniffling softly, barely moving as the pair froze in time for a short while. It was Jay who broke the silence a few minutes later, his hand still circling her back as his words were muffled slightly by her head. "I'll tell Voight we're both coming down with something." "Jay —" "I'll get Platt to cover for us." "But —" "No buts. We're working something out right here, right now so that you don't have to spend another minute here in pain because if you're in pain. . . I'm ready to kill, maim or otherwise seriously injure whoever's responsible." Hailey let out a small snort of amusement despite her mood. After all — how could she not? It was Jay. Cracking-jokes-at-the-most-inappropriate-of-times Jay. Her Jay.  And despite the fact that she was still weeping silently in frustration and all of the other emotions that had decided to make themselves at home without her go ahead, her Jay was always able to put a smile on her face. "Let's just finish this shift." Hailey exhaled deeply, using a few fingers to wipe away her tears once more. "I'll be okay, Jay." Jay didn't seem all too convinced. "Are you sure?" "I'm sure," Hailey nodded as she wrapped an arm around her boyfriend and rested her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating beneath his skin; the sound was oddly calming. "I just had to have a little cry." Although Jay was still hesitant to let Hailey go (mostly because he loved having her close and she was so, so warm) he knew that his girlfriend was one of the most headstrong women to ever walk the earth; once she said they were finishing the shift, they were finishing the shift. As soon as six o'clock came around, Jay and Hailey were out of the 21st district and packing into Jay's truck, switching their phones off so that they could have plausible deniability if they were called back in for a case. Yes, the detectives were dedicated to their job and by extension, the city of Chicago, but tonight was a night for them. A night where they could breathe a little bit. God knows they needed it. Hailey had no idea where they were going once Jay passed the turnoff for not just his house but her's too, but quite frankly, she didn't care. She didn't even question it when she saw the "Thank you for visiting Chicago" sign, she and Jay sitting in silence until they arrived in an empty field. It was dark by then, the sky being lit up by nothing than the moon and stars above them. "Come with me." Jay wore a lopsided smile on his features as he spoke, heading around to Hailey's side of the truck as he opened the door up for her and helped the woman out with an extended hand that she gratefully took. Hailey couldn't help the suspicious (and slightly concerned) expression she wore on her features, just as Jay couldn't help laughing at the very same expression.  His lopsided smile turned into a grin as he pulled Hailey along, almost giddy as he pulled down the back part of his truck so that it laid flat. She wasn't sure how she hadn't noticed it before, but now that her attention had been bought to the back tray, she could see the pile of blankets of pillows that had been packed in there along with a 6 pack of beers calling her name from the back corner. Hailey's look of concern brightened into one of love and affection almost immediately, her eyes softening as she snapped her head up to meet Jay's. "You did this?" "I did." Jay was clearly very happy with himself. "You like it?" "It's absolutely sickening." Hailey's sarcasm didn't go unnoticed by Jay who grinned smugly as he watched his girlfriend clamber up into the back of his truck. Its height momentarily posed a challenge for the woman, but it was just another challenge that she overcame as she vaulted herself inside and practically pulled him in after her.  With the mountain of blankets pulled over each of them, Hailey and Jay sat side by side as Jay held two beers in his hand, handing one off to the blonde who took a sip as soon as it was made available. Neither of them had the words to verbalise it, but they both knew this was what they needed. They both knew this was perfect. As the night grew older, Hailey found herself laying with her head on Jay's chest and a hand comfortably resting on his thigh; his hands were running through her blonde locks absentmindedly — he had always found Hailey's hair remarkably soft. The pair of them were still sipping on their beers, but the conversation had shifted to a much calmer and heartfelt topic. "I love you," Hailey had declared suddenly, though, it wasn't the first time she had uttered the three words to her boyfriend and partner. "I love you and your grand gestures, and your smile, and your laugh." "I love you. I love you and your eyes, and the way you scrunch up your nose when you find something funny, the way you're impossibly stubborn but yet incredibly reasonable." "I love you and how you make me feel okay, and how you can understand what I'm trying to say without me ever having to say it, and how you hold me at night and when I'm upset. I love you and how you showed me a million shades of colour that I had never experienced before." Jay's lips curled up into a warm smile, though his eyes showed it more. It was hard to distinguish whether or not it was the way the corners of his eyes creased or if it was the sparkle among the green that did it, but she didn't mind the not knowing. When she was with Jay, she didn't need to know anything except that she loved him and that he loved her — that was enough. It had always been enough. An exhale escaped Hailey's lips as she gazed up at the sky above them, the twinkling orbs that were even brighter away from city lights filling her vision as she studied them closely. They twinkled and shimmered beautifully — almost entrancing — Hailey could barely peel her eyes or focus away from them for more than half a second. "They're amazing, aren't they?" Hailey wasn't expecting a response, but she wasn't shocked either when she received one. "The stars?" "Yeah," she nodded her head against Jay's chest lightly. "They remind me of you, in a way." Jay chuckled with a puzzled look on his face. "They remind you of me? How?" "They're pretty. They're perfect. . They're also everywhere, just like your freckles are. Not to mention that half of them are on the brink of exploding, just like you." He poked her in the side playfully as Hailey laughed heartily in response. "It was so sweet, and then you decided to make fun of me." "Making fun of you is my only hobby, Halstead. How else am I meant to fill my time?" "I don't know! There's a whole world out there — you could take up boxing, or knitting!" "You see me sitting still for long enough to knit?" "No, that was a stupid suggestion. I should have known." Jay's chest rose and fell beneath Hailey's head as he laughed. "Since you're you, I guess I'll let you get away with it. You're both far too dangerous and far too attractive to stay mad at." Hailey only smirked as she turned her head, finally tearing her eyes away from the night sky and gazing into Jay's impossibly green eyes. "Oh yeah? Far too attractive?" "Well—" Jay shifted slightly as his hand brushed up against Hailey's bare arm beneath the blankets. "— maybe — maybe you'll have to remind me just how attractive." "Oh, I can do that." 

🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌

aaaa okay i hope this was good! i don’t know if i did it justice lmao

Darren Criss acts as playwright when he writes songs. He’s far more confident, and certainly more vulnerable, when he allows himself to play the part. In such a way, songwriting opens up a whole new world that pulses with untapped potential. So much of what he has accomplished in 15 years resides in his willingness to expose himself to what his imagination and intuition have in store. He steps into a playwright’s shoes with considerable ease (just look at his resume), and always one to put on plenty of bravado, especially during our Zoom face-to-face, it’s the natural order of things.

“As I get older and write more and more songs, I really recognize that I’ve always preferred to write for another context other than my own,” Criss tells American Songwriter. He speaks with a cool intensity, gesturing emphatically to accentuate a sentence, and when you let him go, he’s like the Energizer Bunny 一 “I can tell by just how quiet you already are that you’re fucked,” he jokes at the start of our video chat. But he remains just as engaged and focused when listening.

He soaks in the world, taking astute notes about behavior and emotional traits he can later use in song. His storytelling, though, arrives already in character, fully formed portraits he can then relay to the world. It’s not that he can’t be vulnerable, like such greats as Randy Newman, Tom Waits, and Rufus Wainwright, who have all embroidered their work with deeply personal observations, it just doesn’t feel as comfortable. “I’ve always really admired the great songwriters of the world who are extremely introspective and can put their heart and soul on the chopping block,” he muses. “That’s a vulnerability that I think is so majestic. I’ve never had access to it. I’m not mad about it. It’s just good to know what your deal is.”

Criss’ strengths lie in his ability to braid his own experiences, as charmed as they might be, into wild, goofy fantasies. In the case of his new series “Royalties,” now streaming on Quibi, he walks a fine line between pointed commentary on the music industry, from menial songwriting sessions to constantly chasing down the next smash, and oddball comedy that is unequivocally fun. Plotted with long-standing friends and collaborators Matt and Nick Lang, co-founders of Team StarKid, created during their University of Michigan days (circa 2009), the show’s conceptual nucleus dates back more than a decade.

If “Royalties” (starring Criss and Kether Donohue) feels familiar, that’s because it is. The 10-episode show ─ boasting a smorgasbord of delightful guest stars, including Mark Hammill, Georgia King, Julianna Hough, Sabrina Carpenter, and Lil Rel Howery ─ captures the very essence of a little known web series called “Little White Lie.” Mid-summer 2009, Team StarKid uploaded the shoddy, low budget production onto YouTube, and its scrappy tale of amateur musicians seeking fame and fortune quickly found its audience, coming on the heels of “A Very Potter Musical,” co-written with and starring Criss. Little did the trio know, those initial endeavors laid the groundwork for a lifetime of creative genius.

“It’s a full circle moment,” says Criss, 33, zooming from his Los Angeles home, which he shares with his wife Mia. He’s fresh-faced and zestful in talking about the new project. 11 years separate the two series, but their connective thematic tissues remain striking. “Royalties” is far more polished, the obvious natural progression in so much time, and where “Little White Lie” soaked in soapy melodrama, the former analyzes the ins and outs of the music world through more thoughtful writing, better defined (and performed) characters, and hookier original tunes.

“Royalties” follows Sara (Donohue) and Pierce (Criss), two struggling songwriters in Los Angeles, through various career exploits and pursuits. The pilot, titled “Just That Good,” features an outlandish performance from Rufus Wainwright as a major player in dance-pop music, kickstarting the absurdity of Criss’ perfectly-heightened reality. As our two main characters stumble their way between songwriting sessions, finally uncovering hit single potential while eating a hot dog, Criss offers a glimpse into the oft-unappreciated art of songwriting.

In his own songwriting career ─ from 2010’s self-released Human EP and a deal with Columbia Records (with whom a project never materialized) to 2017’s Homework EP and Computer Games’ debut, Lost Boys Life, (a collaboration with his brother Chuck) ─ he’s learned a thing or two about the process. Something about sitting in a room with someone you’ve never met before always rang a little funny to him.

“You meet a stranger, and you have to be creative, vulnerable, and open. It’s speed-dating, essentially. It’s a different episode every time you pull it off or not. All the big songwriters will tell you all these crazy war stories. Everyone has a wacky story from songwriting,” he says. “I slowly realized I may ─ I can’t flatter myself, there are tons of creative people who are songwriters ─ have prerequisites to just put the two together [TV and music]. I’ve worked enough in television as an actor and creator. I can connect the dots. I had dual citizenship where I felt like it was really time for me to go forth with this show.”

But a packed professional life pushed the idea to the backburner.

Between six seasons of “Glee” (playing Blaine Anderson, a Warbler and lover to Chris Colfer’s Kurt Hummel), starring in “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” on Broadway, and creating Elsie Fest, a one-day outdoor festival celebrating songs of the stage and screen, he never had the time. “I was lucky enough to be busy,” he says. “As Team StarKid’s star was continuing to rise with me being separate from it, I was trying to think of a way to get involved again with songwriting.”

At one point, “Glee” had officially wrapped and his Broadway run was finished. It appeared “Royalties” may finally get its day in the sun. “I went to Chicago for a work pilgrimage with the Langs. We had a few days, and we put all our ideas on the map: every musical, feature film, show, graphic novel, and animated series we’ve ever thought of,” he says. “A lot of them were from the Langs; they were just things I was interested in as a producer or actor. We looked at all of them and made a top three.”

“Royalties” obviously made the cut.

Fast forward several years, Gail Berman’s SideCar, a production company under FOX Entertainment, was looking to produce a music show. Those early conversations, beginning at an otherwise random LA party, showed great promise in airlifting the concept from novel idea to discernible reality. Things quickly stalled, however, as they often do in Hollywood, but Criss had at least spoken his dreams into the universe.

“I finally had an outlet to put it into gear. It wasn’t until two to three years after that that things really locked in. We eventually made shorts and made a pilot presentation. We showed it to people, and it wasn’t until Quibi started making their presence known that making something seemed really appealing,” he says. “As a creator, they’re very creator-centric. They’re not a studio. They’re a platform. They are licensing IP much like when a label licenses an indie band’s album after the fact.”

Quibi has drawn severe ire over the last few months, perhaps because there is a “Wild Westness” to it, Criss says. “I think that makes some people nervous. Being my first foray into something of this kind, Quibi felt like a natural partner for us. If this had been a network or cable show, we would’ve molded it to be whatever it was.”

Format-wise, “Royalties” works best as bite-sized vignettes, charming hijinks through the boardroom and beyond, and serves as a direct response to a sea of music shows, from “Nashville” and “Empire” to “Smash.” “Those shows were bigger, more melodramatic looks at the inside base of our world. I’ve always been a goofball, and I just wanted to take the piss out of it,” he says. “This show isn’t about songwriting. It’s about songwriters… but a very wacky look at them.”

“30 Rock,” a scripted comedy loosely based around “Saturday Night Live,” in which the focus predominantly resides around the characters, rather than the business itself, was also on his mind. “It’s about the interconnectivity of the people and characters. As much of the insider knowledge that I wanted to put into our show, at the end of the day, you just want to make a fun, funny show that’s relatable to people who know nothing about songwriting and who shouldn’t have to know anything.”

Throughout 10 episodes, Criss culls the “musicality, fun, and humor” of Fountains of Wayne’s Adam Schlesinger and Max Martin, two of his biggest songwriting heroes, and covers as many genres as possible, from K-Pop to rap-caviar and classic country. While zip-lining between formats, the songs fully rely on a sturdy storytelling foundation ─ only then can Criss drape the music around the characters and their respective trajectories. “I wanted to do something where I could use all the muscles I like to flex at once, instead of compartmentalizing them,” he says. “I really love writing songs for a narrative, not necessarily for myself. I thrive a little more when I have parameters, characters, and a story to tell.”

Bonnie McKee, one of today’s greatest pop architects, takes centerstage, too, with an episode called “Kick Your Shoes Off,” in which she plays a bizarro version of herself. “She has her own story, and I’ve always been fascinated by it,” says Criss, who took her out to lunch one day to tell her about it. Initially, the singer-songwriter, known for penning hits for Katy Perry, Taio Cruz, and Britney Spears, would anchor the entire show, but it soon became apparent she would simply star in her own gloriously zany episode.

In one of the show’s standout scenes, Pierce and Sara sit in on a label meeting with McKee’s character and are tasked with writing a future hit. But they quickly learn how many cooks are in the kitchen at any given moment. Everyone from senior level executives to publicists and contracted consultants have an opinion about the artist’s music. One individual urges her to experiment, while another begs not to alienate her loyal fanbase, and then a third advises her to chronicle the entire history of music itself ─ all within three minutes or so. It’s absurd, and that’s the point. “Everyone’s been in that meeting, whether you’re in marketing or any creative discussion that has to be made on a corporate level by committee. It’s the inevitable, comedic contradictions and dissociations from not only rationality but feasibility.”

Criss also draws upon his own major label days, having signed with Sony/Columbia right off the set of “Glee,” as well as second-hand accounts from close friends. “There are so many artists, particularly young artists, who famously get chewed up and spat out by the label system,” he says. “There’s a lot of sour tastes in a lot of people’s mouths from being ‘mistreated’ by a label. I have a lot of friends who’ve had very unfortunate experiences.”

“I was really lucky. I didn’t have that. I have nothing but wonderful things to say,” he quickly adds.“It wasn’t a full-on drop or anything. I was acting, and I was spreading myself really thin. It’s a record label’s job to make product, and I was doing it piecemeal here and there. I would shoot a season [of ‘Glee’] and then do a play. I was doing too many things. I didn’t have it in me at the time to do music. I had written a few songs I thought were… fine.”

Both Criss and the label came to the same conclusion: perhaps this professional relationship just wasn’t a good fit. They parted ways, and he harbors no ill-will. In fact, he remains close friends with many folks from that time. So, it seems, a show like “Royalties” satisfies his deep hunger to make music and write songs ─ and do it totally on his own terms.

“I still say I want to put out music, and fans have been very vocal about that. I feel very fortunate they’re still interested at all,” he says. “That passion for making music really does come out in stuff like [this show].”

“Royalties” is Darren Criss at his most playful, daring, and offbeat. It’s the culmination of everything he has tirelessly worked toward over the last decade and a half. Under pressure with a limited filming schedule, he hits on all cylinders with a soundtrack, released on Republic Records, that sticks in the brain like all good pop music should do. And it would not have been the same had he, alongside Matt and Nick Lang, not formed Team StarKid 11 years ago.

Truth be told, it all began with a “Little White Lie.”

If I may one last director's cut: And the Nightmare Collapses? 👁️

Ask as many as you want i dont mind.

Oh my monster au, what to say? I had this in the backburner for a few months now. Originally i was going to make a series of one shots from different characters perspectives.

So first it was going to be Jon waking up from the coma and realizing that everyone were monsters but him sort of like a walking dead scenario. I had the clear picture of him seeing Georgie in her hald deaf state being like, what the fuck happened???

Now the entire idea came to mind with how pissed off i was at everyone in season four acting like Jon was the worst for no discernable reason. Like, Melanie, Basira and Georgie, all treated him in different levels rather cruely. Georgie wasnt so mean, but she was playing blind eye to the whole thing being fucked.

So Jon is the only one who remains human because he tries so hard to keep his humanity despite everything. While everyone else becomes more monstruos, Basira and Melanie in particularly were much more affected, i had a clear vision of a slaughter Mel. But had to keep it brief since Georgie wouldnt want to dwell on her becoming a monster, since now she had no way to deny it. Daisy gets a pass because while on the coffin she regains her humanity by her regret of what she became, its why her changes are minimal in the text.

The other one shots were supposed to be from Elias and Peter perspective with the last being them reuniting.

Now my original idea had no reasoning as to why they were monsters all out sudden. Its not until i realized the potential of the entities just dropping in a world similar enough where they already existed and they end up overcharging, while still carrying the vestigies of the apocalipse that i went like-

Hoy fuck.

Ultimately i am happy with the one shot the way it came out, with Elias being able to see, he was capable of tying up those little threads i wanted to make and make the reference to having an anchor. Anchors tie you to humanity, people are fundamentaly capable of good if they wish too, kindness even in the face of despair, destroys the horrors of the world.

The world wont fix itself, but you adapt and grown and try to make it better.

Now as for the story itself? I just wanted to go buck wild with the scenery of reality fracturing itself and Elias just losing it while perceiving the horrors and understanding far more than possible.

I like eldritch horror i just dont use it enough, or horror shorts in general, maybe i should put up the small ones i made in tumblr they are like a paragraph long each.

For realsies, I really like the idea of monster Elias for several reasons and i wanted to go with it. I have another different take on this verse of how things pan out too, but i will see eventually if i want to write it. There is... also the horny aspec of Peter being, as the fic implies, a monster fucker, not really he just loves Elias whatever shape he comes even if its some weird owl spider thing. If i ever feel brave enough to go thought it in an extra will shall see.

Anyways Jonah goes through life replacing people while manipulating them and toying with their sanity like he did to the ogElias in his interview. Despite being beholding, as per the soup theory, at this point he also represents the stranger, web and spiral fairly well. I have a soft soft for him losing the ability to recognize himself after a while. Because as i pointed out? He kept sort of a more or less stable life, sure, but it must be jarring having to go from one face to another, to have to pretend to be someone else, at least enough that its not glaringly obvious that something is wrong.

So he loses it. The fears overcharge and it all stacks up on him, causing his transformation to be so strong, it ends up consuming him. Not only that but he is vain too, so to be changed into something so horryifing it breaks something else in him, it gives him the idea that no one could want him now, he cant make people do as he says like this, he doesnt know himself and now no one would want to know him anyways. The more he changes the more he loses his sense of self, its not only him, he was so many people it feels weird to be just him, it doesnt fit anymore, so through the story he starts to use they until its what he mainly uses at the end, because he grows and its happy with it by the very end.

His body changes when he doubts himself, the more time it passes the more he forgets. Now the main reason he didnt become a puddle of ink and die, was because as i mentioned he thought about being alone, and it made him think of Peter, that was his last connection, the last thread to a humanity he wasnt sure he still had. When he thinks that he loves him, even if a little, its enough to let him move.

That small lifeline is what actually saved him and what kept him more or less stable for longer that he would have otherwise. Same goes to Peter whos last action before becoming one with his siblings was pick up the phone, the same though went through him, its why even if he was already at the brink of being melded he kept himself alive for longer.

Then there was the idea of copies.

Because, eyes? just the eyes?? I know it works with supernatural energy but, the doubt, the idea or posibility that Jonah Magnus actually died the moment he transplanted his eyes the first time and that Beholding merely put the copied memories of Jonah that it reatained into the new body was such a good concept, i have a special love for it, to not be sure if you are you, but ultimately chosing to live your life despite knowing that you may not be the real one.

I like to point out at the end that he does, that he is the original and that he is not a copy but... its not really proof, Jonah wants to believe it is. Wether is true or not? Thats up to anyone.

Also his monster concept, i toyed with a few options, and ended up adding it somewhat in the final product, originally he was going to be sort of an owl monster sort of mixed with a cat, no not for the joke, i saw really nice fanart of owlcats and i was in love. But as it is i went with something similar to his body in the afterlife beach party.

Instead of tar it was the ink of the letters he wrote, the static remains because he doesnt know his face anymore and he wont again. The fur... i just wanted something nice for later when Peter made his appearence, less sticky more fluffy. 8 arms like a spider, more eyes because of beholding- you get it.

Speaking of Peter!!

Here is the deal, i know or at least believe that the curruption? Is the oposite of the lonely and viceversa. Wanting to be alone vs being consumed by what you love? Perfect.

So the Lukases become amalgamations of fog trapped in a hive mind that they cant escape from. Forced to be together and then to be alone once someone manages to impose themselves like Nathaniel did. Peter could have theorically left his siblings become him, after Elias saw them, but in this, the closenes they shared was enought that he could not do it. <3<3

I wanted to play with the fact that being stuck with so many people, mainly his sisters while slowly melding into one, made him switch from pronouns feeling comfortable in all of them. Lydia, Judith and Clara were all nice and accidentaly he wanted to feel that nice, so he switches more often to her. It too, because at one point he was litreally nothing since the rest were rather happy being one.

Reality check comes and they all realize that, oh shit we fucked him up. Hence the road trip, unfortunately the melding was inevitable, either they became one or someone took charge. Still it gives them time to bond too, which adds to the decision to let them stay with him despite everything. Peter plays into a similar idea, but from a different perspective, you lose yoursef but become a different person. Luka is all of them being at peace with being one, being happy and wanting the same thing, but still mantaining some way to be apart. If i was being sappy i would liken it to a fusion in Steven Universe.

It wasnt as such at first, but later once Peter is the main body they can do it with less fear of dissapearing. It is also true that his feelings bleed out onto them and likewise to him. Its hard being a single being while simultaniously be 5 people in one.

They do love Elias, except for Clara who is mostly just enjoying the company while judging everyones tastes. It is also true that if this hadnt happened they would never have tried it. But life works oddly. Plus they are happy.

The world cant be fixed, but life sort of goes on and people adjust as they can.

Final note? I really, reeeeally wanted to have JME corpses just drop and have everyone freak out. There was a brief idea of having them alive and react to what they did to the world, but i did not want to deal with that many explanations. So yeah, they are dead.

AGAIN SORRY FOR GOING OFF!!! I NEED TO BE STOPPED.

D:

If you want to ask something in particular go ahead i have the ideas still fresh for this one in my head.

we are too fragile just to guess

AO3 link

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

and we end the week’s hiatus with bringing back this series which took the backburner for a little while. thank you to the lovely anon who sent a prompt with ‘anne looking after kat while jane is away’ which gave me the idea for how to jump back into this series. I love anne being a big sister so much, she cares so much in her own chaotic way and she’ll defend kat to the death. tagging @second--butthole bc yazi asked to be tagged in any and all beheaded cousins content so here you go love

It was a running joke among the queens that someone was going to fall over during the megasix one day. Between the heels they wore, the exhaustion of the final performance of a two day show on the last day of the week, and the confetti that littered the stage during the final number, they all joked about the inevitable fact that someone was going to fall over. A few of them had even placed silly wagers on who would be the first, with most betting that Anne would go down first or possibly Cathy if she’d forgotten to sleep the night before.

What no-one had predicted was for Kat to take a sudden fall about 10 seconds before the end of a show. And to make matters worse, of course it happened while Jane was away for a press trip.

She was barely down for a second before she was scrabbling back to her feet to stand in her final position, but her smile was frozen as she realised her ankle was ablaze with agony. She still danced around with the other queens after the megasix ended, grinning into the phone camera that Cathy shoved into her face and ignoring the concerned looks of the swing who’d been next to her when she fell. If she didn’t acknowledge how much she was hurting then she’d be able to make it to the end of the show without falling victim to her ankle again.

That was all she managed though, as she moment she was behind the curtain her leg gave way and she collapsed over sideways again. Her heart hammered in her chest as she pulled out her in-ears with one hand and clutched her foot with the other, eyes squeezed shut as she groaned aloud.

“Kat? Kat!” sounded several worried voices, and Kat flinched as there were suddenly hands laid on her shoulders and her knee and her foot. She knew the other queens were all trying to comfort her but it was a little too soon after her solo and the touch was only adding to her discomfort in that moment. Tears pricked in her eyes as she wished Jane was there.

“Oi you lot, give her some breathing room!”

Kat opened her eyes at Anne’s authoritative voice, watching her shoo the rest of the queens away a little as she crouched down beside her cousin. “Hey Kitkat,” she said, grinning brightly in the face of Kat’s unshed tears. “You ok to let someone carry you upstairs?”

After just blinking for a moment as Anne’s question registered in her mind, Kat nodded and let Anna pick her up bridal-style and carry her up the ‘stairs of death’. Once in her dressing room she motioned for Anna to put her down in her chair, squeezing Anna’s hand in thanks as she, Aragon, and the swing left to give them some space in the smaller room.

Anne held Kat’s hand as Cathy very carefully eased her boot off, and they all winced at the purple bruise already blooming beneath her fishnets. “Think you might need to get checked over babes,” Anne said quietly, meeting Cathy’s serious expression as she gently felt the swelling around Kat’s ankle.

“I don’t want to go to hospital,” Kat said quietly in a voice that was so audibly vulnerable she almost cringed at herself. It cracked embarrassingly when she added “Not without Jane here.”

As she ducked her head against the tears threatening to fall again she felt Anne’s hand hovering lightly over her shoulder. “Hey hey, I’m gonna come with you,” she said, fingers grazing Kat’s skin as she waited for permission before rubbing Kat’s arm comfortingly. “It’s just to make sure it isn’t broken and see how long you’ll need to rest it for. You’ll be back home ‘nd tucked up in bed in a few hours, alright?” The encouraging look on Anne’s face was hard to doubt, and Kat found herself nodding even while unconvinced.

“Do you want me to come too?” Cathy asked, glancing between them both though the question looked more directed at Anne.

Shaking her head, Anne replied “Nah it’s alright, I’ve got a day off tomorrow so I don’t need to go to bed early like the rest of you do. I’ll love you forever if you drive us there though?”

Kat giggled quietly at that request; Anne had recently failed her driving test for the fourth time, this one due to driving directly over a mini-roundabout less than five minutes after leaving the test centre. “Shut up Kitkat,” she teased lightly, flicking Kat’s ear when she continued to laugh.

Once Cathy and Anne had carefully helped Kat into her own clothes before changing out of their own costumes, the three of them were in the car heading over to the hospital. Kat was only glad that they’d chosen to drive to the theatre that day rather than taking public transport since she didn’t think she could make it down the stairs in the underground station on one leg only. After making them promise to keep her updated with any developments, Cathy left them by the door of the Accident & Emergency department to head home and let the other queens know why they’d been abandoned at the theatre.

“You good?” Anne said, bringing Kat round from where her mind had started to wander.

Kat hesitated before she nodded, letting Anne pull her arm over her shoulder so she could help her hobble into the waiting room. “Yeah,” she said in a hollow voice, smiling faintly at Anne as they started walking.

Checking in didn’t take very long since Anne did most of the talking to take the pressure off an increasingly anxious Kat, then they set up camp in the corner of the waiting room to wait for the assessment. Anne dragged another chair over for Kat to prop her leg up on, the two of them sitting mostly in silence until they were called into a consult room not long later. It was quickly decided that she’d need an x-ray to make sure there were no fractures in any of the bones of her ankle, and after being given some painkillers they were sent back out to wait for the x-ray.

The chairs they’d arranged were still where they left them, so Anne helped Kat to prop her leg back up before sitting down herself. “You gotta take these now,” Anne prompted, tapping Kat’s closed hand which held the tablets.

Kat hummed in acknowledgement, instinctively reaching over towards the water machine next to them for a paper cup. Her ankle twisted slightly as she moved and she had to grit her teeth to stop her from crying out in pain, stifling it to just a quiet noise as she winced heavily.

“Woah, be careful there. I’ve got it,” Anne said, waiting with arms outstretched as Kat moved her leg back into a more comfortable position before she hopped up to get her some water. 

“Thanks,” muttered Kat as she downed the tablets. She couldn’t look at Anne as she took the cup from her, couldn’t look at the caring sympathy on her face as she smiled encouragingly at her. Not when, despite how much she loved her cousin, it wasn’t the face she wanted to see.

Anne’s hand squeezing hers was a clear cue that she’d noticed Kat’s behaviour. “Hey, what’s up?” she asked, moving from her chair to kneel in front of Kat with her forearms resting on her lap.

Kat shook her head, embarrassed by the tears which fell down her cheeks. “Can’t tell you, you’ll be mad at me,” she whispered, still refusing to meet Anne’s gaze.

“Try me?”

She still didn’t want to say, but something about the lack of judgement in Anne’s words prompted her to gush out “I wish Jane was here.”

The put-out response she’d been expecting never came, instead Anne just gave an quiet sigh. “Course you do kiddo. She’s everyone’s mum, yours more than the rest of us. Y’don’t have to worry I’m gonna be angry at you for wanting her here.”

Kat smiled tearfully at Anne. “Thanks Annie,” she said, holding out her arms as Anne stood and pulled her into a hug.

They stayed like that with Kat leaning into Anne’s side until they were called into x-ray, with Anne taking as much of Kat’s weight as she could as they stumbled down the corridor. Anne was forced to wait outside while Kat’s ankle was x-rayed despite how much she protested, and Kat just about managed to keep herself from panicking as she sat alone beneath the scanner.

Once she was done she was given a wheelchair to get back into the waiting room; Kat should have known from the way Anne’s eyes lit up when she rolled out of the x-ray room that there would be chaos, and she was quickly proven right when Anne was charging down the corridor pushing a giggling Kat in front of her. A stern look from a nurse hardly dented Anne’s grin but somehow they managed to get back into the waiting room without having the chair confiscated or Anne evicted from the hospital.

A voice calling out “Miss Howard” interrupted their quiet giggling, and Anne managed to exhibit some restraint this time as she wheeled Kat into another consult room.

It was quickly confirmed that Kat’s ankle was only badly sprained rather than broken much to their relief, and after being given some stronger painkillers on prescription and physio exercises to do while she healed Kat was sent home on a pair of crutches. Anne managed to juggle all the tablet boxes and physio leaflets as Kat hopped out the door, somehow pulling her phone out of her pocket without dropping anything so they could order a lift home. They’d only been in the hospital for a couple of hours but it was still midnight and she didn’t want to drag one of the other queens out of bed when they had to do two shows the next day.

Anne’s offer to piggyback Kat up to her bedroom was quickly reconsidered when they both imagined the look on Jane’s face at the idea, so Kat opted to sit down and shuffle up the stairs backwards so she wouldn’t risk tripping on her crutches. They both got changed into their pyjamas before Anne went to fetch her laptop and a bag of frozen peas to ice Kat’s ankle with, letting Kat get comfy while she found something silly to watch to take her mind off the pain.

“Thanks for coming with me Annie,” Kat murmured sleepily, her back propped up by several pillows and cushions while her head rested on Anne’s shoulder. The painkillers the hospital gave her had worked brilliantly on her ankle but had the side-effect of making her drowsy too, so it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep focus on what Anne’s laptop was playing.

Anne’s voice sounded tired as well as she replied “No worries Kitkat.” Ordinarily Kat would have felt bad that Anne was keeping herself awake to look after her, but in the moment she was too grateful for her cousin’s presence to comment on in.

It wasn’t long later before Kat was asleep, and Anne let out a quiet sigh of relief as she somehow manoeuvred her shoulder out from under Kat’s head without waking her up. Her phone lit up dimly with a text from Cathy in the next room asking if everything was ok, and Anne sent a quick text to her as well as Anna and Aragon for them to wake up to that Kat was fine and there was nothing to worry about. She shut her laptop down and went to leave for her own room, then glanced back at Kat sleeping soundly and decided she could stay there for tonight.

Kat’s bed wasn’t a full sized double so it was a bit of a squeeze but Anne managed to curl up close enough to her cousin that she didn’t think she was at risk of falling off the bed. “Night,” she whispered to the silent room, before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Morning came with a click of the front door as Jane let herself into the house, tired but happy to be home after being away for a long couple of days. Aragon filling her in on what had happened to Kat the night before caused a spike of worry in her chest, hardly lessened when she just told Jane to go upstairs and look in Kat’s room if she wanted to know who’d looked after her. Confused but accepting, Jane quietly opened Kat’s door and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the rosy-coloured gloom from the sun behind her curtains.

Kat was fast asleep with her foot on a stack of pillows, head tilted in a way that was sure to hurt when she woke up, but she wasn’t the only one there. Anne was crashed out and snoring lightly in a heap on the floor, which gave the impression she’d rolled out of bed during the night and somehow hadn’t woken up in the process.

Jane smiled fondly at the pair of them, moving forwards to scoop Anne up and place her back beside Kat on the bed. Then she kissed both of their foreheads and left them to get some well needed rest herself. If Kat woke and asked for her or if she heard the telltale thud of Anne falling out of bed again she’d be there, but she could rest easy knowing she’d left her darling Kat in very good hands.

I Found | Sweet Pea x Aurora Jones (oc)

All Chapters Here

Chapter: Twelve

Warnings: Language, violence, brief smut, mentions of underage sex

READ IT ON AO3

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm so sorry that it has been so long. I had to put my dog down, who I've had since I was 8 (I'm now almost 22), a few weeks ago. I had to put this on the backburner for a bit, but I'm back now! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! PLEASE let me know what you think!

   “Here comes trouble,” a voice rang through the air, causing a couple of Serpents to look up at Sweet Pea as he entered the HQ. Victoria Peabody, an insufferable twenty-four-year-old woman, stood from her seat. She sauntered in his direction, giving her best ‘sex-eyes,’ which he ignored. She flirted with all the Serpent guys, but she only had a ‘history’ with him. “Where have you been, jailbait?” She purred in his ear as she latched onto him. He rolled his eyes and tried to pull away from her, but she only tightened her grip on his arm and molded against him. The smell of cigarettes, whiskey, and cheap perfume invaded his senses.

   “I’ve been busy. Listen, I don’t know who let you in, but you’re not allowed to be here. You’re not a Serpent, and you sure as hell weren’t invited,” He grumbled. He watched the poker game that some of the gang members were playing across the room to avoid eye contact with her. “Get off of me.”

   “Don’t play hard to get, sweet thing. You know I always get what I want in the end.” She giggled. He exhaled with a deep-rooted annoyance. She was right. He’d end up give in and lay her against the sink in the bathroom to shut her up.

   “You do realize that the Serpents have been deputized now, right? You’re exhibiting some pretty predatory behavior, Vicky, preying on a seventeen-year-old boy.” He half-threatened.

   “Seventeen is legal in some states.”

   “Not this one.”

   “Oh, please. You wouldn’t say anything. Otherwise, ol’ Sheriff Jones would find out about your addictive ways.”

   “You shut your fucking mouth,” Sweet Pea hissed, pinning her slender frame against the wall. She smirked up at him, a devilish glint in her eye. “I haven’t gotten drunk in almost two weeks.” He lowered his voice now, feeling eyes on them.

   “Would he believe you if he searched your trailer?”

   “You’ve never even seen my trailer, you hag.” Sweet Pea fumed. She gripped his jaw tightly following his jab at her.

   “Watch your mouth, kid. I’ve got a lot of dirt on you. Now how about we go to another room and I’ll try to relax you a bit?” It was obvious in her tone that she was trying to be seductive, but he wanted to laugh in her face. She knew that she was only something to pass the time for him, something – someone – to do when he got bored. As far as he is concerned, she felt the same way. His brain seemed to be on autopilot because once he refocused, they were in the bathroom. His jeans were around his ankles. She knelt in front of him, taking his member into her mouth and sucked harshly. He winced and attempted to push her away, but her hands pushed his hips back until they were against the wall. “Relax, good lookin’. You seem tense.”

   He wondered what Rory’s lips would feel like wrapped around his cock. Her soft lips. Her wet mouth. Her tongue… He shook the thought out of his head and took a fistful of Vicky’s hair, shoving more of his length down her throat. She gagged and moaned in approval as he began thrusting his hips into her mouth. Her hands running up and down the backs of his thighs. He yanked her up by her wrist and spun her around, pressing her against the sink and pushing her tight miniskirt up. She wasn’t wearing underwear. Of course, she wasn’t.

   “Make me forget.” Sweet Pea mumbled.

   “Hm?” She hummed inquisitively, pushing back onto him. He let out a contented sigh. “Babe, I’ll make you forget whatever you want.” An echo of Rory calling him the same pet name rang through his memory, which made him scrunch his nose up.

   “Don’t call me that.” He replied gruffly. He began to relentlessly pound into her to get the brown-eyed brunette out of his head. She moaned, and Sweet Pea felt incredibly disgusted with himself. She isn’t her. She could never be.

________________________________________________________________

   “Okay Rory, all you have to do is make sure to keep your feet planted just like I showed you. And don’t –”

   “Archie, I’m very knowledgeable when it comes to punching someone in the face.” She cocked her brow challengingly. Archie raised his hands in surrender and grinned at her in return, then moved to stand behind the punching bag to hold it in place.

   “Why are you doing this?” He asked tentatively.

   “You know why.” She went rigid, then tried to shake her thoughts out of her head through her entire body.

   “He’s dead, Rory.”

   “That’s what they said last time.” She sighed, tightening the wraps on her knuckles.

   “I can guarantee you that he is. I saw it myself. You have nothing to worry about anymore.” He smiled reassuringly.

   “Oh, please. It’s Riverdale.” Rory snorted, and he knew she was right.

   “Here. Jab with your left twice, and then cross with your right. We need to correct your technique so you don’t break your wrist while you’re throwing a punch. You need to put power behind it,” Archie instructed. “Focus. Thinking of something that makes me angry usually helps me.”

   “Can it be more than one thing?” She joked. He chuckled and nodded his head at her to throw a few swings. She inhaled deeply through her nose, planting her feet firmly on the ground and bending her knees slightly. Jab. Jab. Cross.

   “Faster.”

   Jab, jab. Cross.

   “Good. Faster and harder,” He encouraged. She cocked a brow at him flirtatiously, and his face reddened. He bit his lip to suppress his laughter. “Come on, Rory. I’m serious.”

   Jab jab cross.

   “Oh, trust me, I know,” She winked. He shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips. Before she was about to throw another punch, she stopped herself, which caught Archie’s attention. “Do you ever think about it?” Now is not the time, Rory.

   “What, us?” He asked, letting go of the punching bag and taking a step back.

   “Can I be honest about something?” Archie’s face scrunched up as he prepared himself for the secret that he was about to reveal to the beautiful brunette he’s known almost his entire life.

   “Go for it, Red.”

   “I have had the biggest crush on you ever since we were kids in the second grade.” He chuckled, covering his face with his hands. She blinked at him. There was no way that she heard him right.

   “Are you only saying this because Veronica broke up with you?” She asked, half-jokingly. He placed his hand over his heart, feigning pain.

   “Ouch. Low blow, Jones,” He chuckled. “Maybe it’s the beer making me be more open. Who knows?”

   “You and I both know that you’re not even drunk. Nice try at the cop-out, though,” Rory grinned, taking another sip from her bottle. They were lucky that Mr. Andrews wasn’t home, because if he saw them drinking, he would have flipped his lid. Archie shrugged with a tight-lipped smirk. “Do you really mean that, though?” He hesitated before nodding slowly.

   “Look, I know you and Reggie have a thing sometimes, so I’m not expecting you to –” Rory cut him off by crawling to his end of the couch. Her lips hovered over his.

   “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” His lips latched onto hers. He pulled her onto his lap before lifting her as he stood, making his way toward the stairs up to his room.

   Rory shrugged with a sigh, tugging at her hair. He strode over to her and wrapped her in a tight hug. She gazed up at him, her eyes meeting his beautiful copper irises. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek. A calloused thumb gently grazed over the soft skin. “Rory… I can’t. I’m with Veronica now.” Her eyes fluttered closed and she nodded. Rejection. Again. But she truly did understand. “Well, kind of. She still has to break up with Reggie and –”

   “Wait a minute,” Rory furrowed her eyebrows. “She started dating Reggie again and then she suddenly changed her mind?” She honestly felt bad for her former on-again-off-again boyfriend. Though it pained her to admit it, she knew how enamored with Veronica that Reggie was – that all her romantic interests were, frankly. Archie sighed, his head fell forward and gently rested against the top of her own. Her heart ached. She was so confused.

   “I love you, Rory,” Archie rasped, pulling back to look into her eyes to make sure she understood. “But I can’t love you like that. Not right now.”

   “I understand. Really, I do. Are we okay?” Rory smiled at him weakly. He leaned in to kiss the top of her head.

   “Always. But hey, Reggie’s going to be single pretty soon.” Archie suggested jokingly.

   “Don’t even go there, Andrews.” She rolled her eyes.

   “Alright, come on. Hands up. Let’s get back to work.”

________________________________________________________________

   Aside from the rejection from Archie, Rory was feeling great. Training hard after shutting herself up in her room for several days proved to have done her well. After showering and changing the bandages on her neck, she heard some commotion from upstairs and decided to investigate.

   “You’re… Reggie, right?” Mambo shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Rory hadn’t filled him in on their complicated relationship over the past couple of years, so he wasn’t sure how he should feel about him. At the sound of his name alone, the color drained from Rory’s face. How did he even know I was staying here?

   “Yeah… You’re Rory’s kid brother?” Reggie’s voice alone sounded incredibly awkward. She could imagine the discomfort etched into his handsome features. Then… silence. She decided to save her brother.

   “Reginald.”

   “Aurora.” His jaw tightened and his eyes burned through her. It seemed as if every fight and intimate moment they shared together simultaneously rushed into his pupils, playing out before her as she gazed into them, and he only barely softened. She followed suit. He maintained the intense fire in his gaze, however. Silence.

   “And that’s my cue to leave.” Mambo broke the silence, grabbing the keys to Rory’s car from the hook by the door. Usually, Rory would protest, but she was consumed in an intense, silent staring contest with her ex-lover. With the snap of the front door closing, Rory managed to find the strength to tear her eyes away from his.

   “You look good, Cupid.” He smiled softly, fighting to maintain eye-contact. Rory’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t called her the pet-name since the very beginning of their relationship in their sophomore year.

   “You have shot me with your arrow, Cupid. I’m in deep with you.” Reggie grinned. He pulled Rory into him by the belt loops of her jeans to plant a sweet kiss on her upturned lips.

   He noticed her frown and shifted uncomfortably.

   “Back at you, Angel Eyes,” she recovered smoothly. The corners of his mouth turned upwards before returning to their former position, a straight line. The pet-name took on a whole new meaning after she showed him the ABBA song with the same title the first time they got back together. “How did you know I was here?”

   “I talked to Archie. He told me you were staying here,” Reggie cleared his throat. “He told me what happened, too.”

   “Which thing?” Rory snorted just thinking about all of the crazy shit that had happened to her since the last time they called it quits. Reggie’s eyes fell to the fresh bandage on her neck, which answered her question. “Oh. Yeah,” Silence again. The warm summer air blew a few strands of her hair back from her face as a particularly forceful gust pushed through the open window. “Why were you and Archie talking about me?” Rory changed the subject. Yet her own topic choice made her panic. Did he tell Reggie about our conversation? Had he told him that we hooked up in the first place?

   “I came to clear the air with him after Veronica broke up with me,” he chuckled awkwardly. “He made me realize that I should come to talk to you.”

   “What for?” She snorted.

   “The more I’m around these couples, the healthy ones… Our own friends… I realize that I was awful to you, Rory. I was a terrible boyfriend, even in the beginning. All of the lying, the cheating… Everything,” His head fell forward as he ran his hands over his face, seeming to be having a difficult time getting out the exact words he wanted to say. She listened to him patiently, doing her best to keep a neutral expression. “I’ve seen how a boyfriend is supposed to be. It took me dating Veronica to see how I’m supposed to treat a girlfriend.”

   “Can we not talk about Veronica?” Rory sighed. She was so tired of the girl being brought up in conversations with her love interests.

   “Right… Sorry,” Reggie smiled softly. “I realized that I was never good enough for you. I didn’t deserve you in the slightest.”

   “I know you didn’t.” Rory said slowly, careful not to lose her hold on her emotions.

   “I just… I wanted to come and ask you – no, beg you – for just one final chance. One that I can promise won’t be like the rest. I will treat you how you deserve to be treated. I will be faithful. I won’t lie, unless it’s about what I got you for your birthday or for Christmas. Just one final go around. Please.” She stared at him in complete silence as she searched his face for any sign of ill-intent. He was being completely genuine and vulnerable. Yet, something was… off.

   “Did Archie put you up to this?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, thinking back to his suggestion in the boxing gym earlier.

   “No. I mean, he did tell me I should go for it –”

   “So now that Veronica dumped you, I’m second best again? Like I have always been?” She could feel her blood begin to boil.

   “Rory…” Before the logical side of her brain could stop her, she said the one thing that she knew would destroy his giant ego.

   “Archie and I fucked.” Oh boy.

   The color drained from his face completely before a vein in his forehead started to throb.

   “You fucked one of my best friends? Are you serious?” He began to pace.

   “I sure am.” Rory dug her fingernails into her palms. Breathe.

   “While we were dating?” He asked. His face began to redden.

   “What? Of course not. I’m not you. How can you even ask me that?” She snapped. She couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to even come here – to ask her that. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair roughly, messing up its well-kept, gelled shape.

   “Jesus, how many of my girls is he going to take?” He chuckled bitterly to himself as he looked up to the ceiling.

   “How many girls are going to leave you for him, you mean.” Sweet Pea’s voice boomed with obvious amusement as he stood tall in the open doorway. She didn’t know how long he had been there. She didn’t even hear the door open. What she did know, however, was that he had heard their entire conversation, due to the open window by the front door. She hadn’t seen the boy since their last day of junior year a week ago when they turned in their Hamlet analysis. She remembered not being able to look at their English teacher in the eyes. Since learning that the woman preyed on a fourteen-year-old Sweet Pea and took his virginity, she probably would never be able to again.

   “What are you –” Rory began to question before Reggie cut her off.

   “What the hell are you doing here?”

   “Looking for the slightly less annoying Jones.” Sweet Pea replied, referring to Jughead, as he smirked in Rory’s direction. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

   “Well he isn’t here,” Reggie stated firmly before looking to Rory to confirm. She nodded at him.

   “I’ll wait for him, then.” He grinned as he walked past the threshold and into the living room, closer to where they were standing. Reggie’s forehead vein began to throb even more. Rory shot him a warning glare, which he ignored.

   “Why the fuck are you actually here, man?” Reggie demanded.

   “Other than to watch you get rejected? Serpent business, brother.” Sweet Pea grinned as he mockingly landed on the word “brother.” Suddenly, he was up against the wall being secured by the collar. His satisfied smirk never left his face as he watched the slightly shorter boy fume, until Reggie’s fist connected with his jaw.

   Sweet Pea’s head recoiled to the side, but it immediately snapped back as he charged at him with his fist ready. It didn’t take much for him to tackle Reggie to the ground. He made quick, tight swings at the other boy’s chiseled jaw as he climbed on top of him, holding him down by his thin white t-shirt. They rolled around in a power struggle as Rory screamed her protests. She could feel her throat begin to raw. Reggie’s foot knocked against an end table in the struggle, causing the lamp to fall and shatter into pieces on the hardwood.

   The front door flew open, revealing Mambo and Jughead's panicked expressions. They bolted toward the brawl taking place in the middle of the living room. Mambo pulled Reggie backward, sliding him from underneath the Serpent. Jughead gripped and tugged Sweet Pea upward by the neck of his jean vest. Reggie’s face was the deepest shade of red that Rory had ever seen it, but his nemesis’s devilish grin was as wide as it could be, a fire burning in his eyes. Rory, on the other hand, was more irate than Reggie could ever dream of being.

Okay you know what I am gonna talk shit in a proper well-thought-out manner because I’m salty and stressed and I may as well channel it into something fun like yelling about anime in an over the top display of angery as befitting this cesspool of a social media platform. This being said I’m gonna do it under a read-more ‘cause most of ya’ll ain’t got time for no negative nonsense and some of you genuinely enjoy Tri, and you know what, I respect you, you’re valid.

Okay so to explain how much I want to throw Bandai into a dumpster, we first need to go back and explain Adventure and the fiasco that was 02.

Digimon Adventure came out in 1999 (March 6th in japan and August 14th in the states, which coincidentally means this show came out exactly on my sixth birthday!) and lasted for about a year, with 54 episodes. The plot was simple; seven punkass grade schoolers turned out to have been chosen by fate to defend the Digital World, an alternate plane of reality created by various forms of digital information (the wee baby internet of the era, for example), mostly to kind of justify Bandai’s V-Pet (Tamogatchis but they’re gross and can FIGHT) and sell toys. So like, Transformers but with more human characters and kickass monsters and sometimes a lesson about the Power Of Friendship. Later, they find out they were chosen because they saw their neighborhood get wrecked by two monsters and Inexplicably Forgot This, as well as the fact there’s actually a missing member of their group (which less than surprisingly turned out to be the leader character’s little sister, who had already been seen in a prior episode and had also been involved in that early monster attack). It was hokey, the english dub generally bordered on that of a proto-abridged series if not aggressively sanitizing things (turning sake into green chili sauce, for example) and it was just good dumb fun and in the end everyone was crying anyway because dammit, while it was dumb fun you still cared about these characters and loved how they grew up. And then came 02.

Hoo boy. Digimon 02 came out in 2000 (April 2nd in japan and August 19th in the states) and lasted for another year or so. While sometimes listed as a second season, in truth it was a sequel series and it had...some interesting ideas, lets say. And I mean that sincerely! They did have some good ideas! But it was pretty clear from the lack of direction and the constant roller coaster of serious and stupid that it was being a sequel for the sake of being a sequel. For example, a whole new super secret crest turned up out of nowhere, which brings up a lot of questions in the lore but is mostly used to prove Ken isn’t irredeemable because he’s a Chosen Child ,as well as the questions about how this Crest is still present and useable and then literally gets no use. No Ultimate Form Wormmon for you, folks, NORMAL digivolution is out! I think I and @yunisverse have made our opinion on how to use that crest better clear while we’re being salty over Wizardmon, ha People have said that it’s big draw was that it had a heavier focus on character development and...yes and no? On the one hand, Ken and Cody’s arcs were genuinely enjoyable, Kindness shenanigans aside, as was occasionally exploring TK and Kari’s trauma, something often brushed over in the original series. On the other hand, more or less the whole of Adventure centered AROUND character growth where in 02 it’s...sporadic. Sometimes even random. However the main two reasons everyone was mad at 02 were these;

The original digidestined that were not Kari or TK got shunted onto the backburner, usually using excuses as they had given up their crest powers sometime between Our War Game and the present (despite that A) this is otherwise disregarding the fact they were supposedly not able to enter the digital world again until 02 and B) the power is literally inside them as part of their core, not something the digiworld actually gave to them, and while it could be diminished it could never actually be removed) or that it was the New Kids turn, often with wildly out of character personality developments. (Looking at you, Sora’s new docileness and Mimi’s lack of involvement in most of the plot period.)

The epilogue, which not only gave everyone really weird future jobs (why is Matt an astronaut?!) but also seemed pretty much out to be as aggressively Happily Ever After without actually stopping to think about any implications or actual lead-ups.

02 usually gets a pass from riding on the Adventure coattails, but everyone still tended to be at least disappointed in what had occurred. Also, more serious takes on Digimon, such as Tamers and some of the games, had been growing in popularity.

Thus Bandai, in it’s infinite wisdom, decided to cash back in on Nostalgia by focusing on the Adventure kids, making them closer to 02 so they’re older and they can therefore do more serious mature takes like Tamers, while also trying to rectify how they would even begin to come around to their epilogue jobs. They do this by killing the 02 cast in the first two minutes.

Welcome to Tri folks! Okay, so the 02 cast isn’t actually dead, but we don’t know where they are for six movies. Six movies!! The most we know for a few years is Ken, for some reason, has reverted to evil! And he has Imperialdramon, which implies Davis is brainwashed too!

He is basically doing this most of the series (which was initially going to be a mini-series before becoming a series of movies which then proceed to often be cut up into episodes, which that alone should tell you the problems BEHIND the scenes much less on screen) and we find out what he is (not actually Ken but an evil Gennai clone which is also out of nowhere) and what he’s doing (apparently bringing Yggdrasil, long time lore big bad of various digimon continuities and also god, into the Adventure storyline) not by efforts of the kids. Oh no. They’re too busy playing with their new friend Mei!

God I wish I was joking. The original squad literally shows no concern for where the 02 gang is until halfway through, and it’s a handwave at best and quickly moved on from. Hell, they barely react to “Ken” and CHEER on defeating Imperialdramon! More gravitas was given to having to kill the plot coupon of the day, Meicoonmon, than someone they actually know and should be upset about. Also making Tai NOT want to rush into a fight (what?), Turns Out Homeostatis Is Also Evil Or At Least Amoral (why), a reveal one of the backstory five original digidestined went mad with grief (no), and also I guess for some reason the kids and digimon were separated again given their reactions despite 02′s ending? That’s. That’s not even keeping your own continuity. Why are you like this. Also connecting to the epilogue just seem to be on a whim (not metaphor, Matt decides to be an astronaut on a whim), the general lack of gravitas in most moments followed by moments of SEVERE gravitas (which is the 02 problem but Worse), and bad jokes. I don’t mean Good Bad Jokes like Adventure, just really not funny jokes. And the real bitch of the matter? It had a few things that should’ve made it AWESOME! Like listen, I miss these idiot kids a lot, and the concept of a virus forcing a reboot on the digiworld and thus having to explore, finally, the digimon as characters and what they would be like without the kids? That’s cool! The idea of undoing all the Perma Digideaths (like WIZARDMON goddammit, and in this own show friggin’ Leomon again) with said reboot and thus having a pretty legitimate reason to allow it? Also cool! Worldbuilding about the previous five digidestined? Neat! And lets be real, you all cried at the cast version of Butter-Fly. You know you did. But the thing is they didn’t DO anything with most of this, or did it in a sloppy way. Example; the virus was basically a means to an end for waking up Yggdrasil (I’m not calling him King Drasil, that’s stupid), right? Why? When the Adventure-verse, often to it’s own detriment, is actively tied to the Milleniumon mythos, you could just pull in that eldritch horror and finally have Ryo make sense everywhere not japan. Or heck, the Dark Ocean! Remember the Dark Ocean? Where literally cthulu is and also Daemon now? Apparently neither do the script writers since that would’ve been a golden opportunity.  Of course, this would be asking for continuity, which Tri has issues with within its own narrative. Remember when I said the reboot should’ve undone all permadeaths? Yeah, Wizardmon still shows up as a ghost later to lead Kari out of trouble. No lines or anything, just pops up facing away from the audience and leads her out, and then vanishes, despite the fact that according to the rules they made up for the reboot, he should be a cute little Mokumon in Primary Village at the moment who remembers nothing. Also it kind of low-key has the vibe that growing up is terrible and results in having to make awful decisions? Which I’m not sure is what they meant to do, but it does pretty much have that end result. And that sucks! Even Tamers didn’t do that! Growing up is HARD, sure, but there are GOOD things about it too, and being Adventure one would think that would be the main focus! Nope. I just. This should have been good and when it was announced I was super excited and now I’m pretty much exasperated by its mere existence. And now we’re getting a sequel after ANOTHER timeskip.

Bandai if this is how you give us a nostalgia feels trip, do us a favor and let Adventure die. You’re just making the sugary memories of childhood have a bitter aftertaste. Or, if you must, just do a proper reboot. Tie up things that actually WERE wrong with the original series and do some clean ups but otherwise leave it untouched. We all know you’re trying to capture the magic twice, guys, you’re not even trying to hide it now. TL;DR, The only parts I like about Tri are Butter-Fly (cast version) and the fact Tai and Matt are gayer than ever

I’m beginning to think that one of the most lauded qualities of a writer is not taking care of yourself.

I can already hear the responses to this. Some of you might say that this is a load of BS, that of course this isn’t an ideal, even if it’s (sometimes) a reality. And some of you might nod along, but also say that it’s not going to change. Writers, artists, and people in other creative fields of work tend to put caring for themselves on the backburner, and that’s just the way it is.

I also don’t claim some sort of self-care high ground. I am just as guilty as most of us in putting my work before my health. I remember spending most of the summer when I was fourteen staying up until five in the morning working on my second novel. I wrote around 4000 words a day then, and finished my 150,000-word book in less than two months.

I also screwed up my sleep schedule so thoroughly that, for that entire summer, I found myself completely unable to fall sleep until the sun was up. There were days when I didn’t pass out until eight in the morning.

Now, I can’t blame all of this on my writing, but I also can’t discount it: it was far from the first time I had sacrificed sleep for the sake of my craft, and it would be far from the last. And to be fair, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with an occasional sleepless night if you happened to be filled with inspiration, and I know that many creative people are night owls, but are forced to live in a world built for morning people. But there’s a difference between occasional sleepless nights and intentionally living in a constant state of sleep-deprivation just to get more writing done.

That’s the first, but far from the only, symptom that I’ve seen popping up among writers, sometimes as a complaint, sometimes as a joke, and occasionally even with a sense of pride. Sleepness nights are common, but so is drinking a ridiculous amount of coffee (or another caffeinated beverage of choice) and surviving on junk food. I also see writers pushing themselves to write full-time even when it doesn’t provide enough income to live on, thinking that financial strain is better than “giving up” by getting a part-time or full-time day job.

Then, of course, there’s the tendency for writers to joke about their own suffering, talking about their own depression, anxiety, and/or addiction—especially alcoholism—like it’s “just part of being a writer.” And though it’s true that depression is more common among writers, and a number of famous writers struggled with alcoholism—though I can confirm, as a writer who has had maybe five sips of alcohol ever, that not all writers drink to excess—the fact that this is taken as “just the way things are,” and often made light of, is more than a little concerning. It’s even more worrying when writers talk about this suffering as beneficial to their writing, saying that experiencing pain is the best way for them to write their characters’ pain more accurately. Though I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a writer suggest that you should intentionally make yourself suffer, or fail to seek help, “for the sake of your writing,” it’s not a huge leap, and I know that I’ve felt on more than one occasion that there was no point seeking help when I was hurting, because, even if I was in pain, my writing would be all the better for it in the future.

I didn’t think a lot about this for most of my life, even though I’ve known I wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. I knew, at least on some level, that I didn’t want my life to be full of suffering, and I didn’t want to be a “starving artist.” But for years, I often talked about my past and present experiences with mental illness not as an unfortunate fact, but as something that helped me be a better writer. I also refused to think much about a backup/day job because I thought that meant I would never be a full-time writer—or that, if I wasn’t a full-time writer, that meant that I had “failed.”

I was lucky. I had a very supportive family that made sure that I got help for my mental health issues and supported me financially before I could do so myself. I did eventually realize that if I wanted to have any sort of independence, especially financially, that I would need to have a different job for the moment—even for years—while I built up my writing career, and with my family’s help, I found a career that made me happy and kept me financially steady. But even with this support, I still thought that I wouldn’t have “reached my goal,” so to speak, until my writing could support me—and that being a full-time writer had to be my end goal, no matter how much money I ended up bringing in.

I subconsciously continued a lot of other unhealthy habits as well. Just last year, I signed up to do NaNoWriMo—and no, I don’t think NaNoWriMo is inherently unhealthy, by any means. But I also got hired for my first full-time job in a new career on October 30, with an hour-long commute. Despite my family’s repeated suggestions that I either postpone or cancel my NaNoWriMo participation, I insisted that I had to go through with it. And so I did, sacrificing every single one of my lunch breaks and a good chunk of my evenings so that I could hit my daily wordcount goal, and the stress of that combined with the insanity of my new job led me to develop severe, almost debilitating insomnia by the middle of the month. Not exactly a healthy choice. I won NaNoWriMo, but in hindsight, I’m not particularly proud of it.

As of December 1, though, I don’t think I regretted my decision, because a good amount of writing had come from it, and I might have gone on with these unhealthy beliefs for years, if no one had challenged them. But later that month, over my long commute, I discovered the audiobook of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic.

This isn’t a review of the book (though I hope to do one in the future, once I’ve read it again), and I’m not going to go into the wide variety of topics discussed in it. In short, it’s a fantastic book and I think all creatives—and I think all humans are creative, so everyone, really—should read it. But it was one part in particular that made me rethink so much of what I’d come to believe about being a writer.

Be a trickster, not a martyr.

I admit, the second part of this made a lot more sense than the first, at least on initial reading. I don’t think I had ever consciously thought of myself, or other writers, as “martyrs.” After all, we’re not throwing ourselves in front of buses to save a bunch of people—we’re just making art, right?

But being a martyr doesn’t necessarily mean sacrificing yourself for other people, at least in the traditional sense. We might be sacrificing ourselves—our mental or physical health—in the belief that our art is worth more than we are, in the hope that our work will be making a difference long after we’re gone, or just to the idea that “good” writers sacrifice themselves for their craft. Even if we wouldn’t call ourselves martyrs, we might have at least a bit of a self-sacrificial mindset.

The second part of the statement, being a “trickster,” is something I’m still trying to fully understand, and it’s a philosophy that applies to far more than just writing, or creativity in general. The way Elizabeth Gilbert puts it, it is approaching “the chaos of the universe lightly.” Tricksters trust that things will work and sneak around, doing their work playfully. I’ve never really thought of myself as a trickster before, and even with this definition, I still don’t think I’ve come close. But it’s a goal that sounds more than worthwhile: being able to stay playful even when dealing with the challenges inherit in writing and publication. Being able to trust that things will work out, even when they seem to be going horribly. Treating art as a game instead of focusing on the difficult parts.

Of course, as attractive as this kind of life sounds, that doesn’t mean it’s at all easy to achieve—and I don’t want to imply that individuals are necessarily at fault for living like a martyr. Some problems come from society, and some problems are probably going to be there no matter what we do to improve the world. Mental illness can result from life experiences, genes, or a combination of the two, and no one should ever be blamed for having them—and sadly, at least in America, health care for these illnesses still kind of sucks. A lot of creatives also struggle financially, and that, too, isn’t the fault of the individual. The world of creative professionals is harsh and making a living in it takes immense amounts of time and effort, and even more dumb luck.

But there’s a difference between not blaming yourself for your suffering and embracing that suffering as “just part of being a writer.”

And that’s what hurts me to see in the writing community, and what I still see pop up occasionally in myself: the idea that suffering makes you a better writer, a real writer, and instead of getting help, you keep on suffering “for the sake of your craft.”

I’m not going to present some grand theory about where this comes from. Maybe writers just saw other famous writers suffering and wanted to emulate their idols. Maybe it sprung out of the greater culture that self-sacrifice is always a good thing, that it’s virtuous and a sign of strength, instead of something that can destroy you. Maybe we really do think that suffering ourselves is the best way to write the suffering of our characters more accurately. Or maybe we see more value in our work than in ourselves, and are willing to sacrifice our own health and comfort during our short time alive in the hopes that our work will be good enough to survive long after we’re gone.

But whatever the reason—and even if our individual reasons are different—the fact remains that many of us are living as martyrs, at least in some sense. And even if you don’t think you can embrace being a trickster, I feel sure that being a martyr isn’t going to help anyone. Yes, you may produce truly fantastic work, and maybe that work will live on far longer than you do. But I don’t think that’s worth your life. Your work has value, but your work isn’t alive. Your work doesn’t have physical or mental health that needs caring for.

I know that just me saying this isn’t going to convince you. If you’re absolutely stuck on the idea that your work is more important than you are, very little I say is going to change your mind. But if you’re on the fence, if you’ve been doing this without fully realizing it, then I hope you’ll consider the idea that you don’t have to keep doing it. Being a martyr doesn’t equate with being a good writer, and doing so might actually keep you from being healthy or long-lived enough to create much work. If you want your work to help people, in some way or another, then please remember that you are a person, too, and your happiness and wellbeing matters no less than any of the people you hope to reach.

I can’t give you a nice clean formula for self-care. It looks different for everyone, especially if all of our reasons for neglecting self-care are different. Everyone has different needs and it’s a lifelong journey to figure out what they are and how best to meet them. But here are a few things to start that will apply to almost everyone:

Get as much sleep as you can given your life situation (job schedule, whether you have dependents, etc.). If you find yourself unable to get good sleep, try to find help in fixing that.

Even if you can’t eat healthy all the time, try to include as much healthy food in your diet as you can.

Stay hydrated - as in, drink actual water, not just coffee.

If you find yourself suffering from depression, or if you have suicidal thoughts, look into what mental health options are available to you. Even if you can’t afford traditional therapy, there might be support groups or other resources either in your area or online. If you can’t find something at first, please keep trying. You are worth it.

Same goes with anxiety or other mental health issues.

If it truly makes you happy to be a hermit, that’s up to you. But most human beings need contact with other human beings, even if you feel awkward, have social anxiety, or have difficulty making friends. Try to reach out and find like-minded people, whether that’s other writers or just people who you get along with. This isn’t always easy or fast, but it’s worth it.

If your location and climate permit it, try to get outside a little every day. We might feel like vampires, but I swear sunlight is actually good for you.

It’s okay to not write for a while, whether that means taking a few hours off or a few months. You aren’t a failure as a writer for not writing every single day. Life happens, and sometimes you just need a break.

If you are struggling financially as a writer and see another job that you don’t mind working, will pay the bills, and will still allow you the time you want for your craft, then don’t brush it aside because you think it will make you somehow less as a writer. Being a starving artist isn’t an ideal. It’s a sad fact some of the time, but if you have a chance to get paid decently and not be miserable, then please don’t starve just so you can be a “real writer.” (You already are one.)

Remember that no matter how popular your work is, you are always more important.

Whatever you do to take care of yourself, remember to do something. Listen to yourself—not just the criticizing voice in your head—and figure out what you can do to take care of you: the human being, not just the writer.

It’s not quick, it’s not easy, and the problem is not going to go away anytime soon, but it’s always worth trying.

Original post on my website.

Birthday Drabble 2019 

I’ve been away cuz we had a death in my immediate family and was also doing stuff for other fandoms because I was feeling them more 

Wanted her to do some self love so she’s alone like last year but its in a positive way (also i know its late now and idc its for me)

She crossed her feet on the numerous pillows and scrolled through her phone. The heat of June made the room swelter despite her fan’s efforts. It stood blowing hot air onto her face; rattling when she buried her face in the sheets and flailed. She groaned like a child threatening a tantrum. The ding of her message notifications continued ceaseless as a wave at tide. 

“I get it I get it you’re all very busy this year. Lady Luck has abandoned you, and there’s no way I can broker anything so suddenly.”

She flipped on her back to scrunch her face at the ceiling as if it ought to know a piece of her mind. It calmed into a parade of several funny expressions that came at random. After a time she laughed but most importantly she turned herself to contemplation. Eli would webcam her by evening over three thousand kilometers away in her grandmother’s spare bedroom. The other seven in their divided, hectic collective had, partially influenced by their shame, vowed to leave their lines of communication open. Extra emphasis had been given to spam her congratulations in the meanwhile. 

There were research papers due, some overdue, work to remain on to make rent, hay fever. Each felt given to expressing their regret unprompted until it drove her blistering mad by the flush darkening her face. She furiously typed replies on her keyboard and that was the end of it. For a pause of untold length she stared into space. Absentmindedly she groped for a pillow and cradled it, unable to fixate on any singular want. By the swift calculations of her brilliant mind she took comfort in above all else the assurance of companionship. 

It remained an odd concept to grasp that caught her examining its reality in spontaneous bursts. Though not always physical she could speak at anytime, shout into a void if she chose; an answer would be sent back. All at once she felt power surge within her. What a privilege, a delight social contact was, a gift few knew to know friends. Though years had passed since her emergence from the alien otherness of isolation its grip remained imprinted vividly. She sighed as frustration ebbed away from her. The others had not shunned her, had remained and would remain regardless of form. A word floated to the surface in her thoughts, stability. 

It had an air of the forbidden to consider herself approximate to the concept. For over a decade prior there’d been only wandering and loss, wandering and loss, indifference building in between. There was stability of status and it’s brotherhood but what then was left for the equally important self? This idea split her tangent in two and opened a new door. She made to get properly dressed then found herself gladly away. 

The intimate lighting, packed seating, and embedded scent of grilled meats was everything she’d hoped for. Patrons crowded around their tables centered by table grills and conversation. She examined them all with her curious eyes; salarymen attended their bosses with regret mounting beneath their over-enthusiasm, friends told jokes with years of layers, another birthday or two was being raucously celebrated. A smile came over her as her mouth watered spying the glistening meats served in passing. 

Without delay she was seated and handed a menu. An array of sliced beef in dazzling variety opened before her. The haze of smoking meat flooded her nose in renewed force. Her stomach growled in obnoxious protest. A beat passed before she remembered her surroundings and the saintly patience of the waitress. She blushed in embarrassment. At a glance she spied the prices and set the menu down.

“I’ll have everything you can bring me until I’ve finished.”

The waitress gave her a sharp look as her eyes widened. She appeared suddenly as if she’d swallowed a bee; in seconds her professionalism returned. Nozomi refrained from giggling.

“We are currently experiencing some delay due to rush hour. We’re sorry if this causes any inconvenience but we’ll serve you as best we can. Anything to drink?”

“Melon soda please.”

“To be refilled?”

“Yes.” Nozomi said with a grin.

She was left alone to wait. Ever restless her hands fiddled with the table grill’s heat level. She made a game of counting the speed at which she could eye something else, then snap to the red coals. When her drink was set beside her she thrust her hands on her lap; they remained their until her prize arrived.

A long plate of thin sliced raw beef piled generously was served. Hungrily she licked her lips to the nervous onlooking of the waitress. The moment she rushed to attend other guests Nozomi wasted no time lining the grill. She drummed her fingers as the beef cooked and not a smidgen of coals could be seen beneath. In this routine she passed the hour oblivious to that which did not concern stuffing her mouth. 

She took simple joy in every detail. There was magic in the meat crisping golden brown, in the fuzzy drinks; most of all she was too busy to feel alone. When at last she meandered onto the street full and carefree she stretched. Her attending waitress had watched her leave in awe and shook her head. The day continued into late noon. 

Her gait was slow though she hadn’t a worry. With her stomach sorted her mind now hungered for new excitement. She checked her phone, replied to her messages with a lightened heart, and began to whistle. The sun reflected off each skyscraper grander than the last. It made her suddenly want to skip without abandon as she framed one using her hands. Strangers threw cautionary stares her way; they failed when her newfound optimism deflected them all. A destination appeared in her mind’s eye as she spun then walked giddy. 

The arcade was lit brighter than day itself on ranks of machines. Some were bulky, others massively wide, a few slim. Some had stood where they were since the nineties. The wear and tear marking them hid subtly beneath well kept surfaces. She felt them put her at ease because they were things like her; because they were welcome distractions. Curious she wandered the floors eyeing everything like a kid in a candy store. What little restraint she still possessed came only out of courtesy until she settled on a taiko game. 

Before she could boot up a level a boy of twelve slunk near. He eyed everything he passed with a mix of scrutiny and inquiry. His hands were in his blue jacket pockets and his bag bent on his slouched back. A red baseball cap with ‘Get Smoked’ emblazoned across the forehead shadowed his face. He stopped beside her, examined the screen, then spoke flatly; his stare looked on as if he were seeing past her. It reminded her in an intimate way of herself at his age and her chest tightened.

“Hey sister I’ll bet you a thousand yen you can’t beat me at this one.”

“...Why?” She asked with her face knitting in confusion.

“‘Cuz you’re new blood here that’s all there is to it. You in?”

She stared him down critically sizing his appearance and shrugged. A thousand just once wouldn’t hurt on her birthday. A strange tingle in the back of her neck gave her premonition to keep caution on the backburner. Slowly she nodded and he registered as Player Two with the speed of familiarity. That detail made her stomach flip as if to steel herself against what was to come. There was however no time for regret as the screen changed.

“You can pick the song.” He said.

His borderline monotonous tone at this was another sign that made her regard him with suspicion. She chose something of medium level that would by her judgement confuse a child. No one ever said she had to play fair with money at stake, after-all. Today was a day she could afford a cheat. He said nothing though she swore she caught a smirk out the corner of her eye. 

They were thrown into the rhythm head first with a steady opener. Though she’d almost never played anything rhythmic extensively she nailed the first notes with a natural focus. That method had never failed her before, and she found little reason to doubt it now. In fact it inflated her confidence. When a short break appeared she grinned at the boy but his eyes were glued to the game. She heard the notes miss before she saw them, quickly recomposing herself. 

The notes ramped up speed and began to double layer. Her wrists burned in the struggle until at last they cleared. She groaned seeing the score tallied. The boy stuck out a hand, his expression largely blank.

“‘Fess up the cash I beat you fair and square.”

She made to reach for her wallet then stopped. 

“I’ll tell you what. Today’s my birthday so I’m feeling playful. Instead of paying you now how about you try beating me at every game here first?”

“Psh, no fuckin way. You’re just sore cuz you lost.”

His eyes widened just barely at his own words. He glanced away and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. It made her eye him with a curious look.

“Sorry I cursed. Still you totally lost and we never said anything about playing a bunch of stuff.”

“That’s true but how about this. Think of it as a game within a game. It looked to me like winning so easily made you bored. It’s not really winning if it doesn’t feel earned right?”

At last a look of surprise however faint brought life to him. She danced giddy in her thoughts; she’d guessed him right. The boy stood thoughtful in his silence. When he was ready to speak he no longer slouched and wore focused eyes. It was the most she’d seen from him since they’d played.

“You’re on.”

They carved a path marked by a few surprised onlookers through each new floor. They passed giddy onto each game in the manic focus children posses best. For every cluster he won at she’d break his streak by the next. She refrained from teasing at his losses. His eyes would narrow and his face scrunch severe; at times he sucked his teeth. In the heat of moments a barrage of curses would fly from his mouth; every outburst soon signed with an apology. 

Within the myriad labyrinth that comprised the arcade they lost time. It became a measurement felt only in their gradual tiring. The blur of their play quieted into a final contest at a shooting game. Neither said so out-loud however. When a noticeable crowd surrounded them her eyes widened. She looked to him and his expression was focused as ever. A low buzz of gossip circled around them from all directions.

“That’s him!”

“The Arcade King...”

“Didn’t he leave for that other place?”

“What’s he doing playing against a noob?”

She frowned and pressed harder on the trigger, aimed faster. The outside voices dimmed into white noise. Time passed like an abstract concept hinted at only by the increased sweat on their hands. Onscreen a zombie shambled towards her with grasping arms. One shot struck it clean through the head for an enthusiastic hundred point gain. Pride swelled her chest like an inflated balloon; she hissed a ‘Yes!’ through her teeth. More mounted up the pressure and for each she downed her grin grew. From the corner of her eye his effort intensified; head shots appeared in quick succession. 

Before she fully comprehended it the level faded into a clear screen. The information at a glance made her shoulders sag. She heard him sigh and felt an electricity through her when it was contented. The crowd gossiped a half minute longer then dispersed; she heard none of it. He reached out a fist in invitation and with a slow look down she bumped back. She watched him crack his first smile that carried innocence and when viewed beheld the innocence of seeing a rainbow for the first time. She sensed with painful clarity that indeed they had common ground. 

“Keep the money. That was the most fun I’ve had in a while. Mom usually can’t take me anywhere so I like hanging here alone. I normally come after school- if you’re ever around sometime we can play again.”

It was the most he’d spoken so that for a pause she stared incredulously. Without hesitation then she nodded. Her smile was easy, earnest.

“Sure. That’d be very nice.”

“See you around then, later.”

As abrupt and meandering as he’d first appeared he walked away. Soon he melded into the packed corridors. There was every chance they’d never meet again. She let that thought slip as her phone jingled. She smiled at the screen before leaving through the doors; her heart several degrees lighter. 

LOCATION: Palmetto Dorms, Vixen Den  DATE: November 10th TIME: 7:30 AM TRIGGERS: addiction, homophobia, gender stereotypes MENTIONS: @cadxmitchell CLOSED 

          Ripley awoke the next morning after the game in one of his friend’s dorm rooms with no idea that Cade wouldn’t be there all weekend. He left the game in a rush to go hang out with some of his friends from his Calculus class. They’d talked him, somehow, into attending another party and this time he actually decided to drink something. Ripley hadn’t drank enough to get a headache, but from the groans of his friend, they weren’t so lucky. For a moment he sat there, trying to find some reason to get out of bed early on a Saturday, but struggling to find some reason. He ignored his phone, which somehow was still alive, as it vibrated on his friend’s desk.

         “For fuck’s sake, Ripley. Get your phone,” they groaned, covering their head with their pillow.

         “Sorry,” he replied and reached up to grab it.

         5 voicemails. 25 new text messages.

         What the actual fuck?

         Ripley managed to say goodbye to his friend before promising to catch up later and then headed out of the room. The second he closed the door, he pressed play on one of the voicemails.

VOICEMAIL FROM UNKNOWN NUMBER: Hey, Ripley. It’s me, your dad. I know our last conversation didn’t go very well and I’m sorry about that. I wanted to reach out and hopefu…

         He didn’t give his father a second to finish, deleting the voicemail before hearing anymore. Ripley was not in any mood to forgive his father. If the man truly wanted forgiveness, he would have come back a long time ago and not insulted Ripley’s interests to his face the second he showed up. Ripley didn’t want to hear the older man’s bullshit, no matter if he was trying to apologize.

VOICEMAIL FROM MOMMA: Ripley? Why aren’t you picking up? We always talk after the game. If you get this, give me a call. I want you to know I’m very proud of you. I know you’re going through a lot and it’s difficult, but you’re doing such a great job and I love you very much. I watched the game and GO FOXES! I still don’t understand Exy, but you mom and I are learning. Anyway, call me when you get a chance. There’s something I want to talk to you about. I love you so much. Bye.

         Ripley felt so guilty sometimes after talking to his moms. He somehow always managed to fool them into thinking he was alright when he was really struggling. They didn’t deserve that, but he knew that if they knew he was struggling, they wouldn’t hesitate to move to Palmetto to be closer to him. He didn’t know what he did to deserve such a great set of parents. He just didn’t want them to continue to uproot their lives for him.

VOICEMAIL FROM UNKNOWN NUMBER: Ripley. It’s me again. I…

         He pressed the delete button the moment he heard his dad’s voice. He was starting to get angry. Who gave his father the right to contact him? And also, where did he get the number? Ripley hadn’t given it to him when they’d seen each other last. His number had changed several times and only a few people had this current number. A few friends from Blowing Rock, his friends at Palmetto, and his siblings and moms. That was about it. Ripley wondered how his dad had managed to get this number.

VOICEMAIL FROM PIP: Hey little bro. Moms said that you had a game, so I figured I’d call you late. Don’t know what you’re up to, but sorry if I’m interrupting your celebration or something. I was calling to let you know that dad managed to get ahold of me somehow. We talked for a very long time and I ended up inviting him to Thanksgiving, I hope that’s okay. He seemed to think that you don’t want to talk to him and I don’t know if that’s true or not. I gave him your cell phone number, so he’s probably going to call you. I don’t know what happened Rip, but he’s changed. He wants…

         Ripley deleted the voicemail before it finished and couldn’t help the anger. Out of all of his siblings, he figured Kora would be the one stupid enough to let dad in. She barely remembered him and had no real reason to hate him. Ripley barely remembered his dad leaving, but Pip had always managed to put a sour taste in his mouth whenever he talked about their dad. It was Pip that made him hate his father and feel anger towards the man that just abandoned him. It was Pip that told him that Marshall Van Sant had sworn he’d never come back, when he’d promised Ripley he’d be back. It was Pip that had become a father figure to Ripley. Pip was the one that introduced Ripley to The X-Files, cryptids, and helped him figure out his love for science. Pip was the first to know Ripley’s sexuality. Pip was the one Ripley went to the first time he’d gotten drunk. Pip was the one that came to every single family visit when he was in rehab. Pip was the sibling Ripley had always looked up to in every situation. But all of that was on the backburner because right now it was Pip that had betrayed him.

VOICEMAIL FROM MOMMA: Ripley. Please call me. Where are you?

         His fingers dialed a number. Waiting for the person on the other side to pick up.

         “Hello?” the groggy voice at the other end of the phone answered.

         “How could you?” Ripley yelled.

         “What? Ripley?”

         “I can’t believe you gave Marshall my number and invited him to Thanksgiving. Do you know what shit I had to deal with when he came to visit me at Palmetto earlier this year? Did you even think to ask me what happened before you just gave him my number?”

         “Ripley… wait… what happened?”

         “He’s homophobic, you fucking idiot!”

         “Well we knew that.”

         “And you think it’s a good idea to let him into the house with moms? With me? With Etta? No, Pip. It’s not. He knows I’m pansexual. God, Etta’s partner is non-binary. How could you even invite him?”

         “Moms already said he could come.”

         “They did what now?” Ripley couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice.

         “Yeah. Listen Rip…”

         Ripley didn’t give Pip the chance to answer. He hung up the phone and he dialed his mom’s number. He knew they were probably awake even if it was early for a Saturday. He didn’t wait long before he heard one of his moms pick up the house phone.

         “Tell me Pip is lying and you didn’t say yes to Marshall coming to Thanksgiving.”

         “He wasn’t supposed to tell you that. We were going to tell you.”

         “Mom, please tell me you’re joking. This is some kind of practical joke.”

         “Look, I’m not going to say your father is a good guy. He’s far from that, but can’t you give him a chance?”

         “I did! He found me here at Palmetto. During parent’s weekend. And you know within the first five minutes of our conversation, he said some really disgusting things about how I’m conducting my life and how you and momma ruined me.”

         “Ripley.”

         “No. I don’t want to hear excuses. I want him gone. If he comes to Thanksgiving. I won’t. End of story. I’m not giving him a third chance.”

         There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before Ripley heard his mom sigh, “I’m sorry.”

         “Have fun without me,” he scoffed and hung up the phone.

         Ripley had one more phone call to make. He looked at the missed calls on his phone and found the one his father had called from. He dialed the number and it went straight to voicemail. Typical. He should have figured Marshall would still be asleep, but that wasn’t going to stop Ripley from leaving a voicemail.

         “Call this number again and I’m going to block it. But if I hear one bad thing about some fucked up thing you did at Thanksgiving. I won’t hesitate to track you down…” and do what? It wasn’t like Ripley could do anything to hurt him. “You know what… I don’t care. Don’t call me again.”

         His mom had already tried to call him back, but Ripley wasn’t in the mood to deal with this anymore. Instead, he turned off his phone and walked back to the Vixen Den, trying to keep his anger at bay. So he was all alone now. Fine. But he could really use a friend. Maybe now he was done avoiding Cade. Ripley needed someone. He walked slowly back to the Den and made his way to his room, which he’d barely slept in all week. He looked to Cade’s side of the room and sighed before figuring his roommate would be back to the room soon enough, which was the thought going through his mind when he spotted the note on his bed. He hadn’t been here since waking up at 6 AM on Friday morning. Ripley quickly read the note and let out a sigh. He’d have to wait. But he turned on his phone to send one text message.

TO CADE: Can we talk when you get back? I need a friend.

Victor and Adam: NaNoWriMo Day 28

***

The next morning at breakfast Victor waited for Adam to say something about the night before. But he went about his day as if nothing had happened. Victor wasn’t sure if he was relieved by this or not. When he’d finished eating he folded up his paper and stood up. ‘Oh before I forget Dr Ramaker’s coming round for lunch.’ Justine swallowed a half chewed piece of toast. How she didn’t choke he had no idea. ‘You aren’t still friends with Ratmaker.’ Adam frowned at her. ‘That’s not a very nice thing to call him.’ He scolded. ‘Adam.’ Victor warned. Then he turned to Justine. ‘He recently got back in touch with me with a, business proposal. I turned him down and well he thought he’d use the visit as a chance to extend an olive branch regardless.’ Justine scoffed. ‘After what he did he’d need to extend the whole tree if it was me. And even then I’d have to be in a really, really good mood.’ ‘What did he do?’ Adam asked. He looked to Justine who looked at Victor with her I’m not telling them face. Victor sighed. ‘When we were younger, about Justine’s age. The two of us went to college together. Both studying science. Anyway we did a lot of experiments together. But I also liked to do things apart. For some reason Ramaker couldn’t accept that. One day he snuck into the lab got out my experiment and tried to, improve it.’ He said the last part through gritted teeth. ‘What was the experiment?’ Adam asked. Victor shook his head. ‘I was trying to see if I could splice mushroom DNA into other plants so they’d grow at the same rate.’ Adam nodded and for a moment Victor could have sworn he looked impressed. ‘So what happened? After Dr Ramaker intervened.’ ‘I’m not sure what he did but the next day someone found the science room covered in mushrooms. The whole room, including several other experiments were completely ruined. Of course I got the blame because it was my experiment. I confronted Ramaker and he confessed but wouldn’t admit it to the professors. And since I had no proof beyond a private conversation there was no way they’d believe me. I ended up getting a temporary suspension, meaning I could replay the next year.’ ‘But you never did.’ Justine cut in. ‘You ran off and hid yourself away in this old castle.’ ‘And I’ve achieved more in this castle then I would ever have at that place.’ ‘Yeah I suppose you did.’ Justine agreed looking at Adam who didn’t seem to notice.

***

Ramaker arrived at 11:45 a little earlier than planned. ‘Victor! How lovely to invite me. Oh and is this little Justine. My she has grown.’ He held his hand out which she took begrudgingly. Then Ramaker turned to Adam. ‘Adam my boy. How are you? I heard about your arm terrible thing to happen. Here.’ He reached into his bag and pulled out a gift bag. ‘A little get well present from me. It’s not much but well it’s the thought that counts.’ Adam took the bag in his good hand. ‘Well shall we go somewhere where you can open it?’ Ramaker asked. ‘We can sit in the living room until lunch is ready.’ Victor replied. The living room was not a room Victor frequented. It was a rather dark room, with it’s dark red walls, dark wood floor and small windows. The sofas which, were a dark grey leather, sat in a u shape so no matter where you sat you could see the tv. The chandelier hung so low Adam had to duck under it on his way across the room. He sat on the sofa at the far end of the room. Ramaker sat close to him while Victor and Justine sat in the sofa facing him. Setting the bag down Adam reached in and pulled out a comic book. ‘It’s about a girl who’s an inventor. Who invents a new way to travel through space. But something goes wrong and she ends up getting trapped in another universe.’ Ramaker explained. Adam nodded. ‘Thank you.’ He said as he began to flip through the pages. ‘Why are there so many pictures?’ he asked. ‘It’s a comic.’ Justine replied. ‘They tell their stories mostly thorough pictures and dialog.’ Adam nodded and continued to flick through. ‘So how have you been Justine, didn’t know you were visiting?’ ‘I’m staying here for a few months. Until I go off to college.’ Ramaker raised an eyebrow. ‘Never had you down as a college girl.’ He commented. ‘Well I’ve applied to two of the top three colleges in the country. And before you get snarky I did it on teacher recommendation.’ ‘So what are you studying?’ he asked. ‘Law.’ This stopped Ramaker in his tracks and even Victor had to do a double take. ‘I’m going to be a lawyer. Not entirely sure what kind. Maybe Criminal or Medical Mal Practice. I’ll have to see what grabs me as I study.’ ‘And if you don’t get in?’ Victor asked. ‘Well I’ve applied for some smaller colleges just in case. And if it turns out to not be for me well I have a couple of things on the backburner. But I doubt I’ll need them.’ Victor stared at his little sister not sure what to say. Everyone used to joke she was the black sheep of the family. A wild child whose best chance of success would be by being a model. And here she was talking about being a lawyer of all things. Victor was about to say something when Igor came in. ‘Lunch is served sirs and mam.’ They made their way to the dinning room where Igor had set out plates of sandwiches, and bowls of salad and pasta. ‘It looks amazing Igor.’ Justine commented as she sat down. ‘Yes you’ve really done a good job.’ Ramaker agreed. Igor gave them both a small nod though Victor could tell he was more pleased than he was letting on. He set about pouring everyone their drinks as they all helped themselves to the food. Adam took up his usual role as the one who kept the conversation going asking Justine about the colleges she’d applied for. When that topic had run dry Ramaker spoke. ‘So what about you Adam? Are you going to college? When you finish school?’ Adam frowned and looked over to Victor for an answer. ‘I wanted to see how he did at school before we started talking about such things. But I would like Adam to go to a college.’ Dr Ramaker nodded. ‘Any idea what you’d like to study if you do?’ he asked Adam. ‘I’m not sure.’ ‘Well what do you like to do?’ Justine asked. ‘That’s a good place to start. Or what kind of job could you see yourself doing in the future?’ Adam shrugged. ‘I like inventing. But I don’t think they do courses in that.’ Victor shook his head. ‘No but you could study engineering, or business. Both would help. But as I said you’ve got to finish school first so let’s not worry.’ Then there’s the matter of where he goes, he thought. If he went somewhere local he could stay living at home, which depending on his development may be necessary. ‘Victor didn’t choose his degree until the day he sent his application.’ Justine explained. ‘He knew he wanted to do science but couldn’t pick which kind.’ ***

After they’d finished their dessert, Igor had baked a coffee cake, The three adults went to the drawing room for tea. Adam asked if he could be excused, which Victor agreed to. Without him though a dark cloud seemed to form in the air. Justine made no effort to be pleasant to Justine and while she didn’t insult him she did glower at him and refuse to speak. Ramaker seemed unfazed by this. Choosing to talk to Victor and completely ignore her. An arrangement that they may have both been fine with but left Victor in a rather awkward position of being stuck in a one on one on two on one conversation which proved to be very difficult to get his head around. At one point Ramaker asked if he could use the bathroom. In his absence Victor almost begged Justine to just try and be civil. It wasn’t like Victor had a lot of friends to pick from. But he knew there was no point, she was as stubborn as they came. When the time came for Ramaker to leave to say he was relieved would have been understatement. He bid goodbye to Justine who returned the statement in a curt manner. Victor flashed her a warning look before leaving to look for Adam. The two men found him in the living room poking around the fireplace for some reason. Victor wanted to ask what he was doing but Ramaker cut in before he could speak. After they’d said their farewells Victor took Ramaker to the front door. ‘Thank you so much for having me.’ He said as he pulled on his dark blue jacket. ‘I hope Adam enjoys the books.’ Victor nodded. ‘I’m sure he will.’ As soon as Ramaker was walking down the front steps he shut the door and made his way to his office. There he made his way over to the whiteboards where he began to write. The conversation over breakfast had given him an idea. So lost in his work it would be several days before he noticed the drawer of his desk was unlocked.

Adam

Inventing with one arm, Adam decided, wasn’t easy. In fact at times it seemed near impossible. Several times he had to hold something in his mouth resulting in sore gums and in one case black teeth. This got him in a fair bit of trouble from Igor who lectured him on the possibility of poisoning himself. Eventually he realised he would have to give up on finishing his invention for Dr Ramaker for the foreseeable future. This put him in a bad mood which everyone seemed to pick up on. ‘Maybe someone could help you?’ Maram had suggested. She and Oscar had started time with Adam, Chelsea and Nate in school. Outside of school it was still mostly just the three of them and Shreya split her time between them and her other friends. ‘I could do it.’ Nate volunteered. Adam shook his head. ‘Maybe for other things but not this. This is private.’ Chelsea raised an eyebrow. ‘Like we’d be able to tell what it is. Okay maybe Marie and Pierre over there would but the rest of us wouldn’t have a clue.’ Oscar shook his head. ‘Doubt it. I’m useless at mechanics.’ Maram nodded. ‘He really is. I have to fix his bike every time it breaks.’ ‘You good with bikes?’ Nate asked. ‘Cause mine’s bust.’ Maram nodded. ‘Bikes, boards, cars. My parents run a garage. Mum also buys old bangers to sell and insists I help her fix them up.’

I went from reluctant leader to ACTM officer!

Kind of a late update but after what seemed like an endless discernment period and an unforgivably rigorous application process (on my part), I’m officially the Ateneo Association for Communications Technology Management’s Associate Vice President for Documentations! And yes, I’m aware that’s a mouthful so from this point on, I am referring to myself as ACTM’s AVP for Docs.

I honestly did not see this coming though: Freshman Angel stuck out like a sore thumb in her home org. In addition to finding all upperclassmen intimidating as I do with anyone born at least a day before me, I felt like I was just… not feeling it most of the time. All I lacked was a button that read “I really wish I weren’t here right now!” pinned to my shirt. It was only when I was a sophomore, familiar with the organization’s events and able to see them up close that I realized that I didn’t remember going through most of them myself. Although I’m pretty sure I was present because it was mandatory for all new members, I don’t recall going to a general assembly, being briefed on the different departments within the org, and especially being taught what our core competency was. I was very content with doing the bare minimum as a Docs Head: going to meetings to take minutes and do registration, nagging at the project heads and point people to submit the necessary requirements for post-documentations, and smiling shyly and saying “I’m ok!” when people asked me how I was.

Although I was much more active in my second year, I never realized I wanted to increase my level of involvement until I went to LEAP, the three-day leadership training seminar in Zambales I raved about in my first semester recap blog post. It was there when I noticed the home aspect that ACTM prides itself on: everybody—regardless of batch and predetermined social circle—bonding in more ways than one, both with and without the influence of alcohol, just having a great time and joking around like they’ve been friends forever. I saw just how much ACTM was investing in me to help me realize that maybe I could be an officer too. Maybe I could contribute to the great culture that makes us so much of a family. But of course, that thought quickly found its way to the backburner the minute we boarded the bus back to Manila.

I never really saw myself as leader material after several failed stints in my old school: I was the secretary who forgot to ask the teacher to sign the attendance sheet, or the vice president that ran out of the classroom first during earthquake drills when I was supposed to be last in line to check if all appliances were off. (In my defense, it was an act of self-preservation.) I didn’t realize it then while I was busy wreaking havoc in every homeroom class I found myself in but when I finally grew up, for the lack of a better term, I came to the conclusion that being put in charge of a group of people would only bring disastrous consequences and I didn’t want anyone involved in that.

Fast forward to several months later: I had an individual consultation with my boss Chelsea, the previous holder of my current position, to help with her plans in running for vice president of our department. Somewhere along the way, she tapped me to fill her shoes—a request that was met with a high-pitched “WEH?” that probably shocked everyone on the third floor of MVP that day. I had been diligently doing my work for two years, she said, just as long as she has so I knew enough about the processes. Back then, I was very preoccupied with two other extracurricular commitments and had plans of joining three more the next school year. My goals and ambitions were all over the place and I guess it reflected in the way I skirted around the topic because she just patted my knee (throwback to the time when physical contact was still acceptable) and told me to think about it. Real hard.

I guess this lockdown period also served as the time for discernment I needed: I weighed the pros and cons, made the necessary trade-offs, and got the insights of those I trusted, mostly by pestering them with uppercase keyboard smashes. I’d think I had a final decision one day then wake up the next, completely changing my stance. It’s not like I didn’t want to serve—I guess I just wasn’t giving myself permission to believe I could. I can’t really pinpoint when it happened but one day, my brain went: “What the heck. What could possibly go wrong?”

—

After making the decision to run, I felt at peace, no longer overthinking about every single thinking that could possibly go wrong, just eager for the day application season would formally start. Well, that is until I received the actual notification from the Ateneo ACTM page that said a Facebook group for all AVP aspirants had been made. I tossed my laptop aside and started yelling, much to the dismay of my mother who was on the receiving end of all this panic. Over the next few days, I would watch the electoral talk that followed, a webinar of sorts that basically gave a rundown of the process we would have to go through should we want to take on the challenge. 

One of my requirements was a long-ass form complete with questions about myself, my leadership skills, the department, and the organization. I remember looking through the platforms of the Executive Board applicants during the first wave of elections and saying to myself, “Wow, I hope I don’t have to fill up something that long. I would cry my ass off!” only to find out that I would have to submit almost an exact replica of that and truly enough, cry my ass off. While Noelle, our EVP, was glossing over everything, I took these pictures on my laptop’s photo booth to express my frustration and sent them to my friend Julia, who was also watching via Zoom. I was actually very paranoid that I had my video on during the call and would end up exposing my contorted facial expressions to all 70 people watching the livestream. Thankfully, the universe was merciful enough to be on my side at the time.

Believe me, I wanted to get started with the work the minute the virtual meeting ended: I felt like I needed to so everything wouldn’t pile up and paralyze me on the day of the deadline. But even early on, I was already pretty overwhelmed and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything. So I lay down on my bed for the rest of the night and played Ribs by Lorde on repeat. It was an effective coping mechanism then but I instantly regret it the next day once I realized just how much time I had wasted doing nothing when there was so much to be accomplished.

I answered the introspective questions pretty quickly: thanks to my sense of self-awareness, I was able to identify my strengths and weaknesses well. What I really struggled with was the platform. I couldn’t generate any original ideas that I felt could solve the problems I spotted—I had wondered if I could just copy paste Chelsea’s platform and add comments such as “Same” or “RT” on the side and call it a day. Thankfully, this is what individual consultations were for. I contacted Elise, a co-Docs Head from the previous school year, and Gella, my boss back in freshman year and both were kind enough to bounce ideas off me and give me reassurance that the working drafts I had in my mind were actually worth executing. With their insight (and a lot of ice cream), I was able to finish my application form days before I expected to.

I also wrapped up shooting my platform presentation ahead of schedule. I couldn’t find any decent background at home besides this one cabinet but I failed to notice that part of its door was actually faded until I was already done filming. In an attempt to hide it in a way that still appeared on-brand, I slapped some star and cloud stickers on the video and claimed that it matched my own name. The only obstacle I had to overcome was practicing for my panels.

The fact that my question and answer session with the Executive Board was to held be online instead of in-person given our circumstances was supposed to comfort me somehow. But either way, not knowing which answers were going to be expected of me gave me a great deal of anxiety. To stave off this irrational fear, I prepared a Quizlet with 27 potential questions or points for clarification on one side, and my response on the other, which I rehearsed with just the right amount of uh’s and um’s interspersed to make it look as spontaneous as possible. Maybe my greatest sacrifice though was boycotting any TV shows or movies until I was done presenting because even the most mindless programming could take away precious brain cells needed to retain more important information.

On the day of my actual interview, I was feeling pretty confident. I had gone the extra mile by preparing an hour early and recording videos of myself answering my imaginary questions on my laptop camera. This way, I felt like I was simulating the actual experience. But not even this form of planning could have prepared me for the real deal. I wish I could tell you more about how it went but I was so nervous that I blacked out. I vaguely remember puckering my lips and flashing a peace sign every time I didn’t know the answer to something and had to respond with, “I will look into that if I ever get the position.” I also remember that not a single one out of the 27 questions I had committed to memory was asked.

As expected, I was the most relieved when it was over, I didn’t even feel embarrassed until much later on. I got out of my smart casual attire, slipped into some pajamas, watched a movie, and finished the tub of Coffee Crumble waiting in the freezer as a reward. Two days later, I had received a message from Chelsea asking if she could call me. My friend Iverson had said that results are announced to all applicants via phone call before being released to the public at night. It’s not a clear indicator that I was the one they chose, which was horrifying because who wants to be rejected over the phone? My younger self hated Joe Jonas and what he did to Taylor Swift for precisely this reason!

Thankfully, I was only met with good news. Chelsea had told me that I had been chosen by the Executive Board and I was ACTM’s new AVP for Docs. I hadn’t eaten breakfast at the time despite the fact that it was 10 minutes to noon at the time so it took a while for my nutrient-deprived brain to generate the appropriate reaction. The joy kicked in eventually: I jumped up and down and yelled I’M SO HAPPY so many times once the call ended that the words have started to lose meaning.

Since then, I’ve spent my time familiarizing myself with my roles and responsibilities while getting to know everyone else on the team. I’ve had a video call via Google Meets with the people in my department where we leveled off, got to know one another better, and set our goals for the year as we watched Chelsea eat pasta. Very wholesome! EC Wars was also pretty fun: all eight departments of the organization were head-to-head in different challenges. It kinda reminded me of high school intramurals but with less broken friendships. We had to auction one another a la Unsubtle Syota Searching, make a Tiktok introducing our department, its relevance and the roles of each member (which officially launched my career as the org’s official Kris Aquino impersonator), and had a chaotic game of Bring Me through Facebook Messenger. Yes, it’s possible but not if you’re a PLDT subscriber! I also got put in a group with other members of the EC for an activity where we had to make an IMC campaign for a chosen advocacy. As the Mind Readers (named as such because of the multiple instances we sent the exact same message at the same time), we were assigned to tackle sustainable fashion and I have to say that our finished product was, as Dani Rosales herself would call it, “hot”.

This week, we’re on to the more serious stuff: revising internal procedures, refining platform points, etc etc. The fear caused by my self-doubt is further compounded by our current situation, which is keeping us from performing our tasks the way we envisioned we would. But I am a hundred percent confident that since I’m with the right people and we’re all doing the very best we can, it’s going to be one crazy fulfilling year ahead for all of us. I’m endlessly grateful to ACTM for taking a chance on me! Shoutout, of course, to: (1) Chelsea for serving as the final push I needed to decide that serving this organization is what I wanted to do; (2) all my friends who told me I had nothing to worry about while I was being neurotic and who were the first to congratulate me and say that they told me so; and (3) my parents who listened to my rants even if they were 90% org-related jargon.

Wishing you all love and light,

Angel

The Charlotte Chapters- Part 5

When Elliott arrived at my parents’ house, we idled for a few minutes in silence. But unlike so many of our silences, this one wasn’t comfortable. There were so many unspoken words between us that probably wouldn’t ever be said.

“I love him,” I said.

“No, you don’t,” Elliott said. “You’re afraid of being alone so you’re settling. He’s not good for you, Charlotte. Hell, I was more there for you than he ever was, and you called him your boyfriend.”

I shook my head. “No, Ross is good. He just… he got confused. I’ll just explain to him. He’s a good guy, Elliott.”

“Don’t do this, Charlotte, please,” Elliott begged me, and I swear I saw tears in his eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” I said, trying for a smile. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

When I got out of that car, for a fleeting moment I thought maybe I was making a big mistake, but I shook it off as quickly as it came on, and I headed for the door.

Part Three: Blissfully Unaware

Things sort of went way too fast with Ross once we got to talking again. My parents had been skeptical, but after we chatted for a bit they concluded they just wanted me to be happy, so if that’s what I thought would make me happy, go for it.

I met with Ross for coffee that afternoon, and I tried to look my best, carefully choosing a new shirt and nicely fitted jeans, even a splash of makeup. I sprayed maybe a little too much perfume. I stared at myself in the mirror and thought, I can do this.

Ross looked just about the same as he did three months ago, except he was also wearing a new shirt. When he saw me, he waved, but his face was pretty neutral. I felt happy to see him. A flood of good memories came back into my mind, and I became a little bit obsessed again, like when we had first met.

He was quite handsome, even without his nice smile. He was already seated at the coffee shop, sipping on a hot chocolate because he never liked coffee. Once again, I was becoming lost with the feeling of lust, the feeling of infatuation, completely forgetting all of the red flags I’d seen when I had distance.

“Let me just order a drink,” I said, my voice slightly shaking. It had been three months, which isn’t a long time if you think about it. But I was still scared, like I was on a blind date with someone that was “out of my league”. I just felt inferior, intimidated, but my body wanted to chase that feeling. Why did I think Ross was so special?

I ordered a double double, and grasping the paper cup with sweaty palms, I took a seat across from him. He looked at me with big, blue eyes.

The silence wasn’t long, because I knew Ross couldn’t stand long silences; he didn’t think there was such a thing as “comfortable silence”.

“I miss you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” I said automatically. “How are you? How has life been?”

Ross sighed, took a sip of his hot chocolate. “To be honest, not that great. I just… well, I don’t want to sound too creepy or emotional.”

“No no, go on,” I urged. At that time, I needed to hear what he had to say. I just had to be fed all the bullshit. Maybe I liked the attention. After all, it’s glorious to feel wanted. To feel needed.

“These past three months have been hell,” he admitted. “I was a wreck. I was depressed. I mean, I tried to move on, I really did, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I tried to go on dates… some were nice, I even really hit it off with a couple of people, but it just wasn’t the same.”

In the back of my mind, something was screaming at me to remember how he treated me, to remember that he was never there for me when I needed him, and that he probably never would be. Something was trying to shout that this was a trap… that I wouldn’t ever be truly happy this way. But I pushed the thoughts aside and they started to fade out…

“Things haven’t been great for me, either,” I said, “at all. I didn’t know what to do without you. I couldn’t sleep, I drank too much… I even tried weed, which is not like me at all. I just wasn’t the same.”

I made myself cringe. I sounded like a fourteen year old girl with her first “real” boyfriend, back in high school when there was no real understanding of what love meant. Was I really still that naive in my twenties?

We talked for an hour or two and caught up. We laughed a lot, exchanged new stories and reminisced on old times. Recalled inside jokes that gave us a false sense of warmth. But somewhere, there was still that lingering problem between us. I knew what Ross would want- for me to drop Elliott as a friend. And for some reason I felt guilty, like I had to, to “clear my conscience”.

We ended up sitting in Ross’ car so we could chat privately. He said he had a few things we “needed to discuss” in order to “work things out”. Elliott was in the back of my mind, reminding me that this was probably a bad idea… but once again, I put that on the backburner and nodded along.

“I have a few conditions I’d like to go over, if we’re to have a relationship again,” Ross said carefully, almost threateningly. He made stern eye contact with me.

My stomach churned. Conditions? I didn’t like the sound of that. But I urged him to go on anyways. I was going through with this.

“The first one is, and this is probably going to be an obvious one, I don’t want you to be in contact with Elliott anymore. I just think it’s a terrible idea, and I’m not comfortable with it at all. So if you want to be with me again, we have to be on the same page with that.”

I thought I’d try to be honest. “I didn’t do anything with him that night,” I told him. “You made that story up.”

Ross raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? There must have been some intent there. Come on.”

I thought about it. Up until Ross started interrogating me about that night, I had never thought of Elliott as more than a good friend. Ever. But Ross had a way of making me question my sanity. Maybe there was intent? After all, how do you prove intent? It was so long ago… I couldn’t remember.

“Maybe,” I said shakily, “I don’t remember that well.”

“See?” he said. “And you probably don’t remember because you were drinking, and because you want to forget that you did a horrible thing. You really messed me up, Charlotte.”

What did I do? I thought, desperately going through that night over and over in my head, play by play. I was getting all muddled up. My thoughts were graying and blurring and I couldn’t distinguish what was real or fake, what was right or wrong.

“Maybe… I don’t know,” I said.

“And I don’t understand why you would be anxious if you weren’t guilty,” Ross went on. “If you have nothing to hide, why are you so nervous?! Is there anything you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. My mind was racing.

“Why can’t you answer anything with certainty? Why is it always I don’t know with you?”

I started to cry. “Okay, maybe there was some intent there. I don’t know why. I don’t know, okay? I won’t talk to him anymore.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said quietly. Then more loudly, “I don’t even want so much as to hear his name, okay?”

I nodded robotically. He went into the other “conditions”, one of them being I needed to take my medication every single day, at the same time every day, or this would result in an “immediate break up”. He continued to use that term- “immediate break up”. This really scared me, at the time I felt like I would do anything to make sure that didn’t happen.

And as quickly as we had broken up three months ago, we were back together.

***

I sent Elliott one final text message that I would no longer be in contact with him, and that it was for the best. I had a guilty conscience I needed to clear; I had sins that probably couldn’t ever be forgiven. What those sins were, I don’t know.

Elliott tried to bring me to my senses, but I wasn’t listening. I was long past listening to reason. He texted me several times, and when I think about them now they make a lot of sense, but my brain couldn’t distinguish what made sense and what didn’t. My brain was telling me that Elliott was bad, and talking to him was criminal. I needed to get away.

I blocked him on every social media platform I could think of. I went out of my way to “keep the bad away” and “prevent myself from sinning”... I blocked even his family, some of his close friends, too. Just in case. I did this robotically, without a second thought. I had to do it for Ross. I loved him, after all. You make sacrifices for those you love.

Ross was quite satisfied with this, and Elliott was a forgotten piece of the past. Ross and I were getting along quite well; it felt like our relationship was starting anew, like we were in the “honeymoon” phase again. Nothing else seemed to matter.

Only a couple of weeks into our newfound “happiness”, Ross reminded me that he would be finishing his college program soon.

“I will most likely need to move to the city to find a decent job,” he said.

The city. Ugh. Somewhere I enjoyed exploring, but I didn’t want to live. There were far too many people and it just made me extremely anxious.

“If I move away for work… I don’t know what this means for us,” he went on.

“It’s only an hour and a half away,” I tried to reason. “You drive- you can come visit on weekends, right?”

He gave me a look. “That’s just a bit inconvenient, don’t you think?”

I started to panic. So what was he saying, then? Why start all of this up again if he was just going to tear it down in a matter of weeks?

That’s when I had a brilliant idea.

“Take me with you.”

Ross laughed, then he looked at me seriously. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course,” I said without hesitation. Again, sacrifices.

“Well, maybe… maybe this could work. And it might make more sense financially. I can save some of my money this way. And of course, we’d be living together, so that’d be nice.”

It was a big step, even for “normal” couples that had a steady, healthy relationship. Add the fact that we had just been broken up for three months to the mix and you get a really big leap into what was probably going to end in a disaster.

But I kept my nodding my head like I was some sort of bobblehead. There was no question about it; you gotta do what needs to be done.

Even if it means leaving your entire sense of identity behind.

***

Our big move to the city was not an easy task- moving is never easy, nevermind moving an apartment’s worth of furniture nearly two hours away. We rented two trucks, and Ross’ parents helped us; my parents were quite hesitant to provide the assistance. After I’d told them about my drastic plans, they were a little distant with me. I think they were sad, and maybe disappointed. My father even seemed a little bit angry. But what were we supposed to do, break up?

Ross drove the first truck with me in the passenger seat, and his dad drove the second one with his mom tagging along. His parents were lovely people, but his mother was a bit on the controlling side- I can remember when we were dating in college, his mom would have Ross always text her on his whereabouts. When he was leaving somewhere, when he got somewhere, who he was with, what he was doing… I always found it a bit odd, but those kinds of things mothers grow out of, right?

Not Ross’ mother. She was freaking out about her son leaving the nest for the first time. I mean, he was twenty-one now; she’d have to face this at some point in her life. My mother was not nearly as emotional- that being said, I’d already moved out on my own before, but even the first time she was only a little upset. Who knows, maybe some mothers are better at hiding it.

We chose a basement apartment in a town just outside the city, because the places were cheaper and Ross could just drive the rest of the way in maybe fifteen minutes. There was nothing there for me… well, except for Ross, of course. It was a town of factories and warehouses- what was I supposed to do with that?

The house was nothing to ogle over- it was a pretty standard bungalow, if not less than standard. The lawn was uncut, the front screen door was broken and the roof was falling apart. But hey, it was a roof over our heads.

When we stepped out of the truck, Ross’ parents were arguing.

“I told you, you were going way too fast,” she was rambling on, “this is why I don’t like being in a car with you. Who taught you how to drive?”

“I was driving the speed limit,” Ross’ father protested. “You’re just a nervous passenger.”

Great, so both of them were in a mood for the big day. That is just what we needed when we’d be having a stressful few hours trying to fit large pieces of furniture through doorways and down stairs.

“Thank you so much for helping us, guys,” I offered, trying to keep the peace.

Ross’ mom rolled her eyes, not doing a great job at hiding her annoyance. Since neither of them were willing to be civil for the time being, we waited for our new landlord in awkward silence. He ended up arriving twenty minutes late.

Our landlord was a tall, slender man in his late forties, of some sort of Asian descent, with a casual, sporty look to him. He wore an American Eagle T-shirt that would better suit a young adult; beige cargo shorts; and sunglasses not over his eyes but resting on his head, as if it were just a fashion statement. He was probably the type of dad that all the kids thought was “cool”, but only up until about age eight, then he was simply lame.

He looked a bit flustered as he approached us, extending a hand. “Hello, everyone. I am so sorry I’m late,” he said with a Chinese accent. “Ross, Charlotte. Hi. And these are… your parents?”

“My parents, yes,” Ross spoke up, firmly shaking his hand. “Mom, Dad, this is our landlord, Sean.”

His parents, disgruntled, introduced themselves. Sean didn’t seem too bothered by their attitudes, but perhaps he was trying to remain polite. He pulled out two sets of keys from the pocket of his cargo shorts, and handed them to us.

“I hope you enjoy your new home,” he said warmly. “If you need anything I am a quick call away on my cell phone. I don’t live too far from here.”

“Thank you,” Ross said; he did all the talking.

And just like that, Sean drove off and left us on our own to get settled. Except it wasn’t that settling; it was quite stressful with his parents being the way that they were.

“Cal, you need to tilt it a little!” Ross’ mom shouted as Ross and his dad attempted to get an armchair through the side door. “Are you deaf? I said that already.”

Cal sighed. “Tara, I’m trying, okay? Can you relax a little?”

“Oh, don’t tell me to relax, Cal. You know I hate it when you say that.”

Ross rolled his eyes, and Tara was quick to pick up on it.

“What was that, smartass? You have something you want to add?”

“No, Mom.”

“Maybe you should be a little more grateful for all the help we’re giving you two. We didn’t have to do any of this- we’re taking the time off work, we’re driving back and forth… you two have barely been back together a month! So you’re welcome, Ross.”

I mean, she had a point, but that didn’t make it any less awkward. I stood just outside the doorway, unsure what to do with myself. So they didn’t exactly “approve” of us, either. Was I surprised?

Finally, they managed to get the armchair through the doorway. I could only imagine the struggle it would be getting the goddamn couch through there…

***

When Cal and Tara finally left, it was dark out. Far past supper time, but his parents were too stubborn and upset to eat dinner with us.

We didn’t have much unpacked so we just ordered a pizza and drank Coke straight out of the two litre bottle. To make things more fun, the doorway didn’t allow us to fit the couch through so we ate our pizza on some upside down boxes, because Ross insisted we eat in front of the TV.

It had been an awful day, but at least we had each other. And that’s about all I had at that point. After eating we decided we’d get some sleep.

The bed frame wouldn’t get through the door, so we slept on a mattress on the floor.