i love the idea of chat noir being an avid reader just because this boy is always bouncing off the walls and i just think seeing him be. still. and quiet for a few hours. would be funny.

it would freak the fuck out of ladybug tho. i feel like chat noir being quiet would make the balance of their dynamic feel weird and so she would then be the one to let all her chaotic energy out

To be a Seer pt. 1

In which there is a monster on the loose in Hogwarts, reader is a very confused fledgling Seer, and Tom fits in there somewhere. (Messing with the timeline because I can - Tom opens the Chamber in his sixth year not his fifth.) This is also basically the fic version of:

Tag List: @jinxqsu​ @naps-and-lemons​ @riddles-wifey​ @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute

As you manoeuvre your way out of the classroom, you catch Riddle’s impassive stare. His expression is clear, carefully blank, save for a small furrow in his brow. He steps aside wordlessly for you, and you pretend you don’t feel his gaze on your back as you exit the room.

“I’m not saying that Blevins has no insightful commentary on the 1923 strikes, I’m just saying I find it suspicious that his sudden reversal on his previous position comes at a time when it undoubtedly would suit his own personal profits,” Lizzie says as you walk towards the eastern wing of the castle. She hitches her bag higher on her shoulder and you duck your head to hide your grin. You’d both read his column in the Prophet this morning and had promptly entered into a heated discussion about the 1923 potions strikes and the holes of Blevins’ longwinded argument that unions should have no place in wizarding society.

“I do find it interesting that he left out that his own personal stakeholder position in the Potters’ potions company,” You agree with a roll of your eyes. “You’d almost think that he has something to hide.”

“Do you think we’re going to end up doing tealeaves again?” Lizzie asks as you enter the Divination classroom together. “Merlin, I hope not. I can’t stand tea without milk.” You simply shrug a shoulder in response and take your usual seat in the corner of the room.

“Such a pointless class,” Lizzie mutters as Levintus swings into the classroom and with a wave of his wand teacups and teapots appear on the small table that you share. “I really wish I’d opted for Arithmancy.”

“You hate numbers,” You remind her and begin to pour. “And it’s not pointless. It’s about as close as the wizarding world gets to psychology.” Of all the classes offered at Hogwarts, Divination is the one you look forward to the most. Not, you suspect, for the same reasons that your cohort have. For them, it’s a chance to chat with their friends without worrying about Professor Levenitus handing out detentions, for you… for you, it's a chance to practise your skill without anyone truly suspecting that you’re Seeing anything. You don’t say any of this to Lizzie, of course, even to you, your abilities are confusing and there is something about the thought of revealing that the fog in the crystal balls clears for you sometimes that scares you.

“Hmmm, I think I’d take Freud over tea leaves.” She’s about to say more but at that point, there’s a shriek from the opposite side of the classroom and you both whip your heads around to see what the commotion is. Loretta Fawley has knocked her and her partner’s teacup over in her haste to get away from the table, she’s flapping her hands around and you can see that they’re red and shiny, as though she’s stuck them in a fire and let them burn. “What the fuck?” Lizzie murmurs, her pale blue eyes are wide with shock.

You wish you could share her surprise, but your gaze is already shifting to the back of the room. As you suspected, Simeon Avery is tucking his wand back into his robes, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. You’d seen it in the smoke three nights prior. Not this particular scenario exactly, but you’d watched as the smoke had curled and shifted in the night sky, splitting itself unnaturally until two figures had formed and the cherry of your cigarette had sparked brightly. You’d known without knowing why or when or how that Loretta would be hurt and now… Now you wish tried to do something about it before.

“Mr Riddle, take Miss Fawley to the hospital wing,” Levintus’ clear voice cuts through the relative hysteria of the class, his eyes are hard and cold and you know that he suspects one of the Slytherins. You also know that he won’t ever be able to prove it. Slytherin’s look after their own, after all, and Loretta is a muggleborn.

From his seat next to Avery, Tom Riddle stands up smoothly, his expression is one of polite concern. You stand before you can convince yourself not to. You hate drawing attention to yourself unless you have to, but you cannot stand the thought of Riddle escorting Loretta alone. He might not have been the one to cast the spell, and he might be a muggleborn but he’d also not done anything to stop Avery. “Please, Professor,” You say, pushing past Riddle to take Loretta by her shoulders, “I’ll escort Miss Fawley. I’m her house Prefect after all; she’s my responsibility.” Levintus raises a questioning eyebrow but Loretta is starting to cry and he shrugs a shoulder a little helplessly, gesturing for you both to leave.

As you manoeuvre your way out of the classroom, you catch Riddle’s impassive stare. His expression is clear, carefully blank, save for a small furrow in his brow. He steps aside wordlessly for you, and you pretend you don’t feel his gaze on your back as you exit the room.

***

You slump further into your seat, resting your head on Lucas’ shoulder as you push peas around your plate. The events from Divination has left you shaken and with little appetite. “You should eat something,” Lucas says with a small smile, his own plate has been emptied twice since you all sat down. “It’s mad what happened though, and you don’t know who hexed her?” Lizzie shakes her head and you shrug a shoulder. You know, of course, but what good would it do in saying anything? Asides from anything else, Riddle had been sitting next to Avery and his standing among the professors is such that it would be your word against his. You’re not going to kid yourself that your prefect badge will do anything to sway the professors to your view. Maybe Dumbledore would believe you seeing as it’s no secret that he doesn’t seem particularly fond of Riddle, but then again, the looks the Transfiguration professor gives you when he thinks your not looking makes you feel like he doesn’t exactly think all that much of you either.

“I just hope it doesn’t happen again,” You murmur, though you know in all likelihood it will. “Loretta is the third muggleborn this year to be on the receiving end of something like that.” Lizzie shoots you a questioning look, her brow crinkles and she prods at her pudding thoughtfully.

“You think it’s got something to do with blood status? It could just as easily be someone’s twisted idea of showing off the new spells they’ve learnt.”

“If they were just showing off, they’d wait until Defence. I don’t know… I just… have a feeling, I suppose.” You don’t mention that this feeling is based in smoke and cracked mirrors, in tea leaves and dowsing rods. Lucas wraps his arm around you and squeezes you tightly and you grin into his shoulder. Your friends are used to your more sombre moods now and they know when to relent and when to push you into talking through the muddled thoughts that run rings around your head. “Subject change?” You ask at last, “I heard that Hillary Messers is going to stage a protest over the lack of Valentine’s Day activities this year.” This statement quickly launches you all into a long conversation of the merits of Valentine’s Day with Lizzie declaring that if a single boy asked her out for it she will curse their future bloodlines. Next to her, a boy in the year below you shifts away and you laugh brightly.

Across the hall, Tom Riddle watches you.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

It ain’t Me - Part II 

Featuring: KUROO Tetsurou x you ; AKAASHI Keiji x you 

Genre: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 1,090

Warning: mentions of alcohol and drinking 

Now Playing:  It Ain’t Me by Kygo & Selena Gomez

✎ Preview: You and Kuroo were high school sweethearts, you thought your love was as strong as whiskey, burning and sweet. Kuroo is sorry for hurting you, but it might just be a little too late. 

Ch. I

Ch. II

Ch. III

Ch. IV

Ch. V

Epilogue

a/n: no underage drinking please, don’t hinder your brain growth

Kuroo stood frozen in place, the lingering alcohol clouded his brain, making it all too hard to process what had just happened. He wanted to chase after you, to tell you he’s sorry and he won’t do it again, but his stomach felt nauseous at the mere thought of running. 

He sat down and notices the single pack of Viennese coffee on the kitchen island next to the mug you had gotten him. Kuroo sighs as his mind wanders back to the day you came back from Austria. 

♫I had a dream We were back to seventeen Summer nights and The Libertines Never growing up ♫

Kuroo looks down at the time on his phone and counted down the minutes. He checks the bright screen above, “AUS 1453 landed at 2:30 pm”, you should be through the gates at anytime. 

He scanned the crowd, before spotting that head of yours. Kuroo thought you looked beautiful even in your sweatpants and his Nekoma hoodie, hair tied up into a messy ponytail, eyes tired from the long flight. 

He called out to you and mentally captures the way your tired eyes twinkled as soon as you spotted him. 

“TETSU!” you ran towards him at full speed, crushing the red roses he got for you. 

“Y/N! you’re gonna crush the roses!” 

The two of you walked hand-in-hand back to his car, chatting the whole time about your time abroad. He smiles as you tell him how you’ve gotten fat from all the Wiener schnitzels you’ve been eating and how Austrian guys were cute but not nearly as cute as him. 

As you both got situated, you suddenly pulled a mug out from your backpack. 

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, “you carried around a mug this whole time?” 

“not just a mug, YOUR mug. It’s for you.” 

He looks down at the string of foreign words.

“der beste Freud der Welt”, you explained proudly, “the best boyfriend in the world”. 

Kuroo felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, even after all these years, he knew his heart would only beat for you. 

“thank you, did you get a corresponding one for yourself?” 

“no, because you have to get me one.” “of course baby and that's a promise”. 

Kuroo’s eyes widens at the forgotten promise, he never got you a “world’s best girlfriend mug”. 

He hops onto Google and quickly locates a bookstore in Tokyo that sells mugs like this.  Kuroo practically ran to the station. He wanted to get the mug and head over to yours as soon as possible. Your last words echoed in his brain, you would never actually leave him...right? 

He rang your doorbell nervously, when there was no answer, he resorted to desperate measures. He knew where you hid the spare key and opened the door himself. 

“Y/n?” He could hear your quiet sniffling and oddly, the sound of another’s voice.

Kuroo recognizes the voice. 

“Y/n!” He calls out louder this time as you came into view, wrapped under a blanket on the sofa. 

Kuroo completely ignores the man sitting next to you as he falls on his knees. 

“I'm so sorry babe. You were right. The clubs were bad for me and I wouldn’t listen to you. Please don’t give me, don’t give us up.” 

At his words, you started to cry louder. 

Kuroo felt more awake than ever, it was as if he was in a trance this past few months. The other women could never compare to you. 

“Please Y/N, I'm so so sorry. I don’t know what I was doing. Please believe me when I say they all meant nothing”, desperation laced in his voice. 

You finally looked up to meet his eyes. 

“I promise you I will never, ever hurt you again. Look, look at this”, he shoves his hand into the paper bag and pulls out the mug, “remember when you came back from Austria and I promise I'd get you the best girlfriend in the world mug?” 

You nodded slightly. 

“I'm sorry I’m so late on this promise. But I promise I'll keep all our promises from now on. No more tardiness.” 

You look down at the mug and smiled at the irony. Did Kuroo only realize you were the best girlfriend after being with all those other women? 

Kuroo saw the way your eyes softened and knew you might just give him another chance. 

“I’ll make it up to you. I’ll never go to the club again. I love you Y/N, I really really love you.” 

You looked down, eyes watering again, before looking up at him.

“no.” 

Kuroo’s mouth felt dry, “what?” 

You sat up taller, large tears running down your eyes, “I said no because I don’t know how we can ever recover from this. I look at you and all I can see are the images of you and the woman from this morning.” 

“babe, please don’t say that! We’ve gotten through high school and college together, we can get through anything. Please please please don’t say that. Don’t throw us away”. By this point, he was crying as well. 

“How can I throw us away?” 

Kuroo looks up at you. 

“When you’ve already done that a long time ago? I never gave up on us, Kuroo. You did the moment you brought another woman home.”

He couldn’t say anything. 

The man sitting next to you finally broke his silence. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” 

Kuroo allowed himself to be led out the door. 

“You really are a piece of trash Kuroo.” Akaashi Keiji said as he closes the door, leaving a shell-shocked Kuroo outside. 

♫ Who's gonna walk you Through the dark side of the morning?  It ain’t me ♫

Akaashi returns to the living room, sighing internally at the sight of his best friend. 

“He’s not worth your tears.” His heart full of rage as he imagines the way Kuroo’s body pressed up against another while you wait for him at home. 

“you wouldn’t understand Keij, you’ve been single since high school. Kuroo is my best friend, aside from you. I’ve never even imagined life without him...”

Keiji sighs as he pulls you into a hug, feeling your body vibrate with sobs. 

Akaashi was an attractive man. Women often approach him asking him for his number. Yet, Keiji turned them away each time with an apologetic smile, mumbling some excuse about “not really looking for a relationship” or “I'm too busy”. But deep down Akaashi knew the real reason he has been single all this time, and the reason is you. 

Taglist: @minnieminnie00-got7​

© ceci-chan 2021 all rights reserved. Please do not copy / repost my work on other platforms. 

can you do Laszlo Kreizler x Moore!reader

They bump to each other, Laszlo never expect that John Moore had a sister, they even have good time chatting on engagement ball.

HC Laszlo Kreizler x Moore reader, bumping into each other and chatting at the engagement ball.

AN: again, it's short but I hope you'll like it :)

Head empty just :

Meeting you was unexpected to say the least. Laszlo walked around the engagement party, a cup of champagne in hand, trying to find the best place to stay distant from the crowd without entirely disappearing. It was after all his best friends engagement party.

After a few minutes of striding up the stairs, greeting guests, he finally found an alcove almost hidden on the second floor. Putting down his glass on the stone bench he loosened the grip of his collar around his neck.

"Very crowded isn't it?"

The voice startled him. It took a glance to his right to notice you, sitting on the bench, a book in hand and eyes scanning him. You looked familiar, perhaps he had met you already. The dark hair should have tipped him off but no.

"Indeed" he simply answered.

You smirked at his awkward smile.

"Would you like to sit with me Dr Kriezler?"

You wanted to chuckle at the little frown on his features. Of course you knew him. You had never met him, but your brother had many many times, went on rants about his best friend the alienist. You had always been curious to meet him. You were fascinated by the human mind and although it was hard for a woman to study in these times, your brother always indulged you, giving you books and sometimes a private teacher.

"You know me?" He inquired.

"Who doesn't?" You chuckled with a bright smile.

You were odd. Your hair wasn't tied up, your dress wasn't perfect. You looked… careless in a good way. Laszlo was intrigued, and sat down next to you after picking up his cup.

"May I ask what are you reading?"

"You may." You smiled. He huffed, with a smile.

"And what are you reading?"

"Machiavelli"

He looked taken aback, from the rise of his brows.

"Do you like it?"

"What? Machiavelli, or the book?"

"Both perhaps?"

"Perhaps…"

A soft smile was shared between the both of you. The conversation settled easily between you two, topics fleeting from engagement parties to the latest paper from Freud. You were absolutely lost in conversation, enjoying the way Laszlo spoke to you as equals unlike other men. Laszlo was just as amazed, not only by how clever and curious you were, but also by your eloquence, the way you seemed so easy to debate with. How open minded you were.

When a little silence finally settled, your mind went back to your initial worries. So you dared to ask.

"Dr Kriezler.."

"Laszlo. Please."

You smiled "Laszlo…" the name rolled off your tongue as you looked at him.

"Yes?"

"What do you think of Violet?"

He frowned.

"She seems like a very nice lady. Perhaps a bit eccentric."

You laughed a bit.

"Really? Was it the madame de Pompadour costume that gave it away?"

"Quite yes"

You both laughed at it. He seemed to freeze for a minute before cornering you with the question:

"Do you… hold feelings for John?"

Your eyes widened. Oh was he wrong. You chuckled.

"Oh no! Not like that! I'm his sister!"

You wanted to laugh even harder at Laszlo's shocked expression.

"His … sister?"

You nodded.

"My apologies, he has never spoken of you…"

You were a bit offended but not shocked. Way too many times you had heard John say that if he could avoid both of you ever meeting he would.

"I don't doubt it. It's quite rude of him. Don't you think?"

"How should we remedy that?" He asked.

"May I be your date For the remaining tonight?"

It was obviously uncommon for a lady to ask such a thing but Laszlo, after a few seconds of pondering, nodded.

"I have many things to debate with you. And I'd like your insight one a case."

You were absolutely thrilled at his request. More than happy to help.

You both stood up, and he handed you his left arm for you to wrap yours around. The book against your chest, you let Laszlo walk you around the reception hall. And when your eyes caught John's face you were sure to wink at him as he swallowed hard.

---

Tada

Blame @sullypants for this one since weird dreams are a common theme lately:

“Hey, Jug.”

Shaken by some unknown force, Jughead groaned and nestled further into his arms.  

“C’mon, wake up,” Archie said, his voice coming from a universe away.  

Sleep was a dense fog that settled in behind Jughead’s eyelids and he couldn’t muster the energy to push it away.  He’d fallen asleep in school again, that much he could discern from the hard table beneath him.  But at least the desk was a lot more comfortable than the janitor’s closet had been.

“Dude, let’s go,” Reggie said.  

With a hard tug, Jughead was snapped awake.  With a wide yawn he stretched out, his back giving a satisfyingly loud crack.

“What’s up?”

“School’s over, Rip Van Jones,” Reggie said.  With a roll of his eyes, he ran a hand through his already slicked back hair.  “The girls are waiting for us at Pop’s.  Apparently we have to have a set list for Sunday and they wanted to go over it after school.  Or at least we were supposed to before this knucklehead got us detention from Grundy again.”

Jughead blinked, convinced he’d heard Reggie wrong.  Grundy was dead, murdered by the Black Hood.  Even if she had come back to life, what was she doing around high schoolers?

“How was I supposed to know she meant a rhyme scheme from Donna Sweet and not Saweetie,” Archie muttered.  “Besides, if we leave right now we still might make it before they ditch us.”

Wait, sweater vest.  Why was Archie wearing a sweater vest?  And was was Reggie acting so cordial?  

Certain that this was another weird dream, Jughead reached for his Serpent’s jacket and found that the back of his chair was empty.  Serpent’s jacket?  

“I still think that we should ditch Jingle Jangle,” Reggie said as he headed out the door.

“What?  It’s my best work,” Archie said as he followed him out.  

With another yawn, Jughead picked up his books and followed them out into the cool autumn air.  With a start, he realized that it was just a dream, a really weird dream to be exact.  There was no biker gang that gave out jackets to kids like candy.  He and Archie and Reggie had always been a strange sort of friends; and Grundy was never anything more than a septuagenarian determined to drive herself into an early grade by teaching high brow literature to idiot high schoolers.

On the way to Pop’s, Jughead ignored Archie and Reggie’s argument over some girl the next town over and worked to piece together the dream.  It had all been so real that it wasn’t a wonder he’d been confused.  Everything in Riverdale had been the same as it was now, except it was all off just enough to cast a dark shadow across their sleepy little town.  

Hiram Lodge, a well known philanthropist and entrepreneur who tolerated his daughter’s friends was not a corrupt Wall-Street con-man looking to rule the world.  The Coopers, an All American family, was not rife with dark secrets that would eventually tear them apart.  The Blossom’s, while certainly devious and conniving in their own ways, were not ripped from the pages of a gothic horror novel.

And the Jones…

Jughead shuddered at the thought.  Sure, they weren’t the perfect family.  But they loved each other, took care of each other, and were as normal as they could be.  That image of his family brought up a wave of guilt about how his subconscious had portrayed his parents.

(He couldn’t help but grin, however, at the idea that baby Jellybean could not only hold her own, but was a fan of Led Zeppelin.  It was a nice touch.  Maybe he’d roundup his mother’s old records tonight and he’d teach her to appreciate the finer things in life.)

But it wasn’t until they’d walked into Pop’s to find the girls seated at their regular booth that the realization that this Betty - sweet, caring, lovely Betty - wasn’t his that he felt a pang of longing for his dream world.  Despite how horrific that dream had been, Betty was the golden lining in that dark world, a comfort meant only for him.

The feeling passed quickly when Betty’s eyes locked on Archie.  Jughead couldn’t help but wonder, though, what if things had been different?

For the rest of the afternoon, the members of The Archie’s debated and argued over the set list, while Jughead did what he did best.  While Archie was arguing for the merits of Sugar, Sugar, Jughead polished off three baskets of fries and a milkshake.  When Veronica demanded to sing Bang-Shang-A-Lang solo, Jughead ate two and a half cheeseburgers and drank half a pot of coffee.  As Reggie was arguing for… well, whatever it was he wanted, Jughead nursed a chocolate milkshake and a basket of fries (extra chili cheese, heavy on the onions and cheese, add bacon).

Occasionally he inserted his own opinion - no he would not let Reggie ruin another drum set just so he could show off to Ginger Lopez, nor was it feasible for Veronica to burst out, and ruin, his kick drum at the start of the show.  But even as he played at normalcy, his mind kept coming back to that dream.  Detention with Grundy could never be long enough to contain an entirely parallel universe, and yet it was the most realistic dream he’d ever had.

“Earth to Juggie,” Betty said as she waved her hand in front of his face.  He blinked, his gaze centering on her, and she giggled.   “Anything you’d like to share with the class?”

He glanced around and found that despite his attempts to stay present, he and Betty were the only two left.

“Veronica roped Archie into installing shelves for her,” Betty explained with an over exaggerated pout.  She then pointed over to where Reggie was chatting a short, dark haired teen.  “And Midge came in without Moose, so you know Reggie’s not going to miss that opportunity.”

Midge.

The world around Jughead spun and he felt lightheaded when he stood.  He walked over to where the pair stood at the counter, and when Midge turned to him Jughead wrapped her in a tight hug, tears threatening to pour from his eyes.

“You alright there, needle nose?” Reggie asked, his eyes filled with concern.  

Apparently Jughead hadn’t been able to play as normal as he’d thought.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, loosening his hold.  He stared at Midge, still trying to comprehend why he felt so relieved that it was all just a dream. “I’m just… happy to see you is all.”

“I’m always happy to see you, Jughead,” Midge said.  She placed the back of her hand across his forehead, the corners of her lips pinched.  “But maybe you should let Betty take you home?”

Jughead nodded as the surreal threatened to overwhelm him.  When he turned, he found Betty behind him, her arms full of their schoolbooks.  She set a hand on his arm and gave an encouraging, if worried, smile.  It was easy enough to let her lead him out of the diner.  That way he could remind himself that the world where Midge had been slaughtered wasn’t real.

“Penny for your thoughts?  Or maybe I should offer a nickel?” Betty asked.  When he didn’t respond, she bumped her hip into his.

The contact, friendly, playing, concerned, burned his side.  It brought up just how touchy they were in his dream world, along with false memories of things he’d never paid any attention to before (especially not about her).  He shivered and quickened his step.  Betty, ever the Teflon personality, matched his stride and slipped her arm through his.  

“Just a strange dream,” he muttered, far too distracted by how much heat she gave out to come up with a good lie.

“Sounds like a pretty intense dream if you’re still thinking about it this much.”

And with that simple statement, the entire thing tumbled out of him.  Nothing was left out, though Jughead did edit some of the more intimate moments they’d spent together in his dream.  He was so wrapped up in making sure to include all the details - the corruption, the ever-burning ember of hope, the rocket - that he almost missed the fact that Betty had guided them through the town square three times as he divulged the dirty laundry about the underground boxing rings and Maple Club.

By the time they’d reached his house it was twilight and he was telling her about the prep school murders and fake FBI stings.  His mother (his real mother, thankfully, and not the drug running mom that had run out on him) brought them out dinner just as he got to his own faked death.  

And for the first time in his life, Jughead’s entire focus wasn’t on getting seconds (and thirds).

When he was finally done with his tale, Betty let out a long whistle.  She pushed around the remaining bits of pie on her plate, lost in thought.  Now that his head was empty of that bizarre dream, Jughead’s appetite came back with a vengeance. He leaned over and snatched the rest of her pie crust and popped it into his mouth.

“Well?” he prompted, curious to get her take on his dream.  

“Do you think the fish Ms. Beezley served today was off?”

He rolled his eyes and grinned at her ability to lighten the mood.   Jughead leaned back and set his elbows against the porch step behind him to look up at the sky.  Betty set her plate down and sat down next to him, primly smoothing out her skirt before she spoke.

“Do you really think we …” she paused.  “My mother?  And your dad?”

Jughead groaned and ran a hand down his face.  “I’d hate to think what Freud would say.”

“Well, he’d definitely agree it wasn’t a pipe,” she snickered.  “Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something?”

“Convince Archie that Jingle-Jangle is a terrible song to play to middle schoolers?”

She shrugged.  “Maybe.  Maybe not.”

As the world turned around them, they sat in companionable silence.  As curious as Jughead was to know what Betty really thought, it was these quiet moments with her that he felt truly at peace.  Perhaps that’s what the dream had signified.  With all the clamor and turmoil over senior year and applying for colleges, maybe his brain was trying to tell him to slow down and enjoy these little moments more.

Or maybe it was just a sign he shouldn’t shotgun a whole liter of soda before Grundy’s lecture on Dashiell Hammet.

“Walk me home?” Betty asked suddenly.

Without waiting for an answer, she hopped up and pulled Jughead to his feet, the same as they’d done a million times before.  Only this time Betty tugged a little too hard and Jughead stumbled into her.  He was about to apologize when he noticed the twinkle of mischief in her eyes.  To hide his smile, he bent over and tucked his shoulder into her stomach.  Betty shrieked as he lifted her up over her shoulder, precariously balancing the two of them as he picked up her books.

“Put me down Jones,” she said through her laughter, “or I’m telling Ethyl that you’d love to play D&D with her.”

“Dirty pool, Cooper,” he shot back as he casually sauntered down the block to her house.  He ignored the faint whisper of the peaches and cream lotion she used on her skin and the breathless lilt of her voice.  Because no matter how right it felt in the dream, they were only friends here. “And it’s G&G, remember?”

Once back on solid ground, Betty slipped her arm through his and they strolled along under the streetlights.  Just another night in the neighborhood without a care in the world.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad,” she said almost absentmindedly.  When she didn’t elaborate, Jughead’s heart gave a heavy, painful thump.  “I could always use more help with the B&G.”

He snorted and reached up to scratch his forehead to ignore the sudden disappointment.  “Toni does have some strong opinions about the gym’s new paint job.”

Betty stuck her tongue out at him, her face scrunched.  Jughead almost tripped trying not to kiss the tip of her nose.

His mood darkened when they reached her house.  Archie was on the front porch, napping, and the small seed of possibility withered into dust.  But instead of running towards Archie, Betty paused next to him.  Her teeth worked across her lip and she stared, unfocused at him.  Her hand on Jughead’s arm tightened and she shifted almost imperceptibly towards him.

With a small nod, Betty stood up on her toes and kissed Jughead on the cheek.  He flushed as the sun exploded in his chest.  

“Meet me at Pop’s tomorrow after school.  There’s a new French movie at the Bijou, and I’d hate it if Veronica saw it before me.”

He knew the smile on his face was just as goofy as the one’s he made fun of Archie for, but Jughead couldn’t help but wonder at this strange new turn.  For once, he was excited to spend time alone with a girl.  (He was always excited to spend time with Betty Cooper, but this time she wasn’t just Betty.)

His smile lasted all the way home and continued until he settled into bed.  Just as he was falling asleep, his phone rang with a text from Betty.

‘Some of your dream sounded nice enough to try out in real life, don’t you think?’

To say that Jughead had trouble falling asleep for the first time was an understatement.

Welcome to the back (Part 16)

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Shoutout to @loosescrewslefty for coming up with a wonderful name for Cat!Felix! It sounds great!

- - -

Felix’ heart was racing as they ran down the abandoned corridors. Everyone else must have escaped already, or at least found a safe place to hide because they hadn’t seen a soul on the entire floor. It was dead silent, except for their exhausted panting and the distant rattle of chains.

“In here!”, Marinette commanded and threw open the door to a janitors closet. With her other hand, she ripped off one of her flats and threw it down the hallway. Before he could ask what the hell she was thinking, she pushed him into the small room and closed the door behind her. The rattling of metal links came closer and they held their breaths. There were small slits on the bottom of the door, to let the air circulate. Felix dropped to the floor, trying to see what was going on.

Cathexis shadow was visible first, followed by its caster. His chains carried him through the hallway like servants their prince, their clatter and the creaking of his armor far too loud in Felix’ ears. Was it his imagination or were there... less chains than before? Some looked shorter than the others, for sure.

The Akuma looked around.

“Marinette~!”, he called in a playful singsong. “Come on, show yourself!”

The metal snakes swirled through the air, ready to pounce at the slightest movement.

“I’m not mad, I promise!”, the delusional boy continued. “You won’t be in trouble if you come out now.”

One chain came particularly close to the door and he could feel Marinette tense. His own heart seemed to hammer in his chest, so loud he wondered how Cathexis didn’t hear it. If he found them now... they were lost.

Luckily, it was this moment that Cathexis noticed the shoe further down the hall. Immediately, he went to investigate.

“Aw, did the princess lose her shoe? I should bring it back to her, don’t I?”

With that, he disappeared around a corner. They sighed, the pressure on his lungs lifting like fog. They were safe, for now.

“Clever.”, he commented as they walked out of the closet. “The shoe trick, I mean.”

“Thanks.”, she replied, looking around the corner to make sure he was gone. “He’s obsessed with his fairy tale happy ending, so I figured drawing on popular tropes might distract him.”

She took his hand - he was grateful for that, even though he wouldn’t admit it - and guided him towards the stairs.

“We need to get out of here. Maybe we should split up-“

“Absolutely not! I won’t let you out of my sight until Ladybug arrives.”

Marinette twitched, but didn’t fight him. He could’ve sworn he heard her muttering “Oh boy” under her breath, but right now, he didn’t care. There was No Way he’d leave this reckless mess of selflessness to herself!

“This way.”, she directed him to a glass door. The elevators were obviously a bad idea - trapped in a small space during an akuma attack? No thank you! - so the stairs were there only option.

“I don’t get it. Why Cathexis?”, she murmured to herself. “I mean, it’s probably a Cat-pun, but the rest is nonsense. And why chains? Is Hawkmoth running out of ideas?”

He shrugged, remembering all the books about Psychology he’d read before starting school. For once, his encyclopedic knowledge of random topics seemed to be useful.

“Cathexis is a fancy word for neurotic hyperfixations.”, he explained. “Freud’s original term was “Besetzung”, Possession in English. It describes the investment of emotional or mental energy in a person or object.”

He remembered what Cathexis had done with his glowing chain, and how Lila had looked after being infused with his light.

“Maybe that’s what he did to Rossi. He did call it an investment, didn’t he?”

“It might also be a pun.”, Marinette mused. “Cat-hex-is, because he... well, hexed her.”

“Now I’m kind of jealous.”, he murmured grumpily. “Hawkmoth gave him a deep, psychological phenomena as inspiration, and with me? He named me Sentiquill and called it a day! Favoritism at its finest.”

Marinette giggled.

“If it makes you happy, I liked your costume more. Black suits you.”

Her eyes sparkled mysteriously at that, as if she knew something he didn’t. He would’ve asked if he hadn’t been so busy hiding his red cheeks.

“Let’s hurry up.”, he said to distract her. “We still have twenty floors to go, and-“

“Wait!”, she hissed and he froze. There were footsteps audible from further down, lighter than Cathexis’s and without the metallic sound that always accompanied him. He held onto Marinette a little tighter when the person leaned over the railing of the stairs to look up at them.

“Chloé?”, Marinette asked and relaxed immediately, sighing in relief. “You’re okay! I thought Cathexis caught you.”

The blonde girl grinned untypically widely and Felix tensed.

“Marinette!”, she chirped and raised her hands to her mouth. “There you are.”

She took a deep breath, then started to shout.

“I FOUND HER!”, Chloé yelled loud enough to shake the doors, making Felix jump.

“She’s under his control!”, he realized. “That’s why there were less chains than before!”

The one he’d used on Lila had disappeared as well! He startled when a door two floors above them flew open. Cathexis maniacal cackling echoed through the staircase.

“Run!”

Marinette didn’t need to be told twice. She ripped open the door closest to them and raced through, Felix followed suit. They dashed down the corridors and halls, Cathexis laughter close behind them. Every second Felix expected to be knocked off his feet, every step made him fear it might be his last. But Marinette seemed to know where she was going, and Cathexis wasn’t as familiar with the building as she was. Soon, the rattle of chains grew farther and farther, until they finally collapsed behind a corner.

“We need a Plan B!”, he stated the obvious, his breath erratic and panting. “We’ll never make it out of here without him intercepting us.”

Marinette, just as exhausted as he was, looked on the verge of panic.

“Chloé’s out of commission!”, she whispered in shock. “And if she is, then so are Alya and Nino!”

Pulling at her hair, she groaned.

“My plan has failed before it even begun! That’s so typical for me.”

He shook his head, confused.

“What are you talking about?”

Slowly, she let go of her Pigtails and straightened. When she looked at him, it was almost apologetic.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”, she said calmly. “This time, I wanted it to be different. No pressure or emergency, just... different.”

She shook her head, eerily serious as she took out the pendant she wore around her neck.

“We don’t have time for explanations, I have to go.”, she stated with no room for discussion. Her hand was steady when she placed the pendant in his hand, closing his fingers around it. “You need to keep this safe for me, okay?”

He blinked, not understanding what she was up to. But she stood up before he could ask a single question.

“You don’t have to use it.”, she announced and looked a bit sheepish for a moment. “I don’t even have a fancy box for it, and I have no speech prepared either. But... you are smart, and loyal, and exactly what I need. Trust me.”

She inhaled slowly.

“You... you are perfect. I can feel it.”

Her smile was so fond, so convinced and trusting he had to gulp before speaking.

“Marinette, What-“

A crash interrupted him. Cathexis was closing in, judging by the sound of his chains, and Marinette looked up.

“Go and hide.”, she ordered him with an authority he’d never expected of her. “This isn’t destiny or fate or something, okay? It’s a choice. You decide whether to accept or decline, and I won’t push you to do anything. But now that Adrien knows I have it, I can’t keep it on me anymore. Just... keep it safe.”

She smiled.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Wait. Why did this sound like a goodbye?!

“Marinette,” he whispered, fear stifling his voice, “don’t you dare-“

Once again, he didn’t get to finish. Cathexis came crashing through the wall behind them like a bulldozer, his chains breaking through with ease.

“Marinette!”, Felix screamed, but a wave of debris tore him away from her and onto the ground. With one last look at him, she turned around and ran.

“Come and catch me if you can!”, he heard her taunt as she dodged the swipe of a chain, then disappeared into the next corridor.

Cathexis didn’t waste a second with Felix. Growling, he started his hunt and followed Marinette, leaving him behind.

Felix’ head was spinning from his fall and he barely managed to get up, let alone follow them.

“No...”, he wailed, horrified. Crashes and shouts came from the direction they had run off to, and this time, Marinette was alone with the Akuma. “No, no, no!”

He got to his feet, accidentally dropping what Marinette had given him. The clear, clanging sound of something light rolling over the ground made him pause. He looked down, picking the thing up.

It was the Chat-Noir-merchandise Marinette had shown him, but now that he could take a closer look... it was warm in his fingers. It felt heavier than it looked, and he could swear he heard a pulse.

His blood drained from his face and he went pale. It... It couldn’t be, right? Where should Marinette have acquired the real Miraculous of Destruction?! And why would she wear it on a string of goddamn yarn instead of... of... putting it in a safe or something? Or using it? Unless she... she already had...?

Another crash made him start. They weren’t far from him, if he hurried, he could reach them.

But what was he supposed to do? Throw pens at the akuma?! Make a knot in his chains? He was just a teenager, he wouldn’t be of any help. His gaze fell back to the ring in his hands. The warm, heavy, pulsing and authentic looking ring.

Oh, goddamn it!

Without further analysis, he slipped it on his ring finger. For a second, nothing happened and he chastised himself for thinking something this ridiculous. Then an otherworldly glow covered the metal and he stumbled back. Sparks flew around his hand and a green light shot out of the ring, turning it silver and circling him before fading into a tiny, black creature. It had triangular ears and a feline tail that waved through the air.

Felix was frozen in shock as the... the thing yawned.

“Oh geez, that was quick.”, it complained in a high, nasal voice. “They can never give me time to nap, can they?”

It’s inhumanly green eyes turned to him and it grinned, revealing sharp, white fangs.

“Hey, it’s the cold blondie!”, it - he? - cheered. “Not ideal, but better than mean or dense blondie. I can work with that.”

”Who are you?”, Felix finally regained his voice. The floating cat flicked its tail and combed back its fur.

“Plagg’s the name, rookie. I’m a Kwami! Incredibly powerful, good looking, and - as Tikki would say - “high maintenance”. Got any cheese?”

“A Kwami?”, Felix asked, ignoring the last part. “What’s that supposed to be?”

Another crash came from a distance and he shook his head, reminding himself of Marinette.

“Okay, scratch that. Do something so I can help Marinette!”

Plagg sighed deeply.

“Oh geez, another loverboy.”, he grumbled. “Fine! Say “Plagg, claws out!” and you’ll get cataclysmic superpowers, and a much needed make-over.”

He glared at Felix’ clothes.

“Is that a tie?! What are you, an insurance lackey?!”

“It’s called style, you- Argh, I don’t have time for this.”, he snarled, raising his hand. It didn’t matter where she had gotten this from, or why she wasn’t using it herself. She had given it to him for a reason, and he wouldn’t disappoint her.

“Plagg, claws out!”

-

Transforming had been easier than thought. She’d simply slipped around a corner, said the magic words and waited until Cathexis followed her to punch him into the ceiling. She’d caught him by surprise, and so it wasn’t hard to deliver a kick hard enough to send him into the wall behind him. He groaned and shook his head as she scanned him. Where was the akuma, where was the akuma, where was- his bracelet! It’s shape looked just like her lucky charm, though bleached beyond recognition. He pulled his arm away when she tried to grab it, his chains hurling her away from him and down the hallway.

“My Lady!”, he cooed happily, already forgetting he’d been chasing Marinette. Hyperfixation, she remembered Felix’ words. He could only ever concentrate on one thing at the same time. “There you are!”

She had landed on her feet - practice made perfect - and adopted her fighting stance.

“Let’s make this quick!”, she hissed and Cathexis pouted.

“Oh, My Lady! Don’t you recognize me? Your loyal partner?”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Loyal?”

He had the decency to look ashamed. Nervous, he scratched his head.

“You are... still mad at me, aren’t you?”

“For what? Sacrificing Rose, abandoning me or attempting to kill me?”

He raised his hands in defense.

“It was an accident! You know I could never hurt you, don’t you? I love you!”

He sunk on one knee, stretching out his hand as if pleading.

“Allow me to prove it to you, Ladybug! You’ll see, we’re meant for each other.”

She was so tired of this. Without a warning, her yo-yo wrapped around his outstretched hand.

“You can prove it by giving me that bracelet!”, she suggested and pulled. He lost his balance and fell over, but his chains caught him easily. They wrapped around her yo-yo to prevent her from escaping, but she didn’t intent to. With a battle cry, she launched herself at him. He didn’t see her coming, and before he could fully straighten himself, she slammed him into the wall again. But she had underestimated the speed of his chains. Just when she wanted to take the possessed object, one of them wrapped around her waist and threw her to the floor. She grinned in pain and tried to dodge, but now they were coming from every angle. Her yo-yo was carelessly dropped to the side when Cathexis stood up, wrapping the chain holding her around his wrist to pull her in.

“Why won’t you even give me a chance?!”, he raged. “I asked you so nicely, and you just attacked me! How could you?!”

“It’s my job, idiot!”, she snarled and tried to wriggle out of her restraints. “And it used to be your job as well! We beat up and purify Akuma’s, remember?”

She laughed bitterly, eyes burning into his.

“Or, that’s what I did at least. To you, this was only ever some kind of game, wasn’t it?”

He hissed.

“Just ‘cause I’m not as stuck-up as you doesn’t mean I’m not a good superhero! We won every time, didn’t we?”

“Because I had to save the day! How often were you even conscious and yourself for the final battle? Most of the time, I had to save you as well!”

“Argh!”, he roared. “Only because I sacrificed myself for you! Without me, you would’ve lost a long time ago!”

She bared her teeth and growled.

“Without you, I wouldn’t have had to worry that every battle might be my last, just because you decided to ditch me in a flashy attempt at self-promotion! You weren’t heroic, you were reckless! And unpredictable!”

He opened his mouth to shout back, but the purple butterfly outline returned to his face and distracted him. When it disappeared, Cathexis simply huffed and crossed his arms.

“You’ll see it my way soon enough.”, he said and wrapped the chain around his wrist once more, to get a better grip. “Soon, you’ll see everything my way.”

The root of the chain began to fill with his cold white light and Ladybug started to panic. Her yo-yo was out of reach, no way to summon a Lucky Charm. She couldn’t move, the chain was too tight. Her toes slid over the floor without finding foothold and her arms were pressed to her sides uselessly as the light came closer and closer and-

“Cataclysm!”

Both she and Cathexis startled when a black-gloved hand grabbed the chain. Rust spread over the links, dissolving them and eating its way towards Cathexis’ wrist - towards his bracelet!

The akuma gasped and shook his hand, getting rid of the chain and detaching it from its armor just before it could infect his bracelet. It coiled in on itself as it disintegrated, setting her free. Immediately, she grabbed her weapon, jumped back and landed at a safe distance with her savior next to her.

“Thanks!”, she grinned at him as she checked out his new suit. Felix nodded stiffly. Doubtlessly wondering why Ladybug was here all of a sudden, and Marinette wasn’t. If he’d put one and one together, he didn’t say anything.

“You’re welcome.”, he replied and took out his batons. He kept them separated and crossed on his back, which wasn’t the only difference from his predecessor. His hair was longer, wilder, and his iris was more blueish than green. The bell was missing from his collar, and he had an additional, smaller belt on that was equipped with trackers and other gadgets. His tail was longer, but seemed to move on its own accord. And his boots made no sound when he changed his stance to face Cathexis, which might come in handy for stealth. Overall, his costume was less... shiny. Less reflective, more of a spandex-like fabric than leather.

“No...”, Cathexis whispered, eyes wide with horror. “No! NO! I’m Chat Noir, not you! You’re just a cheap replacement!”

Felix blinked in surprise - he hadn’t known Chat’s identity, she remembered - but recovered quickly.

“Actually,” the new black cat hummed. “I don’t think I’ll go by Chat Noir anyway. Too many bad connotations, thanks to you.”

He grinned and raised his chin.

“You can call me Chatvalier instead. Because unlike you” - he raised his baton - “I won’t run from a fight.”

Cathexis roared with wrath.

“This can’t be- You can’t be- GIVE ME THE RING!”

His voice was erratic and his expression completely unhinged when he charged at them, chains wildly striking through the air. Their movements were devoid of their previous elegance and precision, it was all instinct and anger and hurt.

“You can still back out, you know?”, she asked her newly dubbed Chatvalier. “It’s a heavy duty, and you’re not forced by any cosmic will or something. If you don’t want this, I can handle him by myself.”

Her partner looked at her with narrowed eyes, as if reminded of something. Then he smiled.

“I don’t doubt that.”

He readied his claws and gave her a look so soft she felt her heart flutter.

“But... it can be nice to know someone has your back.”

He smirked.

“Remember?”

Oh yes, she did. When she faced Cathexis storming towards them, her smile was confident and unwavering. They were in this together.

“Ready?”

Her yo-yo swung through the air and he laughed.

“Guess we’re about to find out.”

- - -

If you don’t know what to make of this last “have your back” exchange, you might want to take another look at chapter 4 (their first real conversation). I love giving phrases more meaning than they should have, because DRAMA!

Sick Kids

gotspoons: [A chatroom/forum situation for teens with invisible illnesses/disabilities, a resource that is recommended when you can't go to IRL groups for your health/they aren't in your area etc] gotspoons: Ticked one whole thing off my to-do list today, feeling like a champ 💪 also feeling like a 2-hour long nap, who here relates? 🥱 tigerbalm: 🖐 took my nap earlier & yet 😴💤 brainpain: 💕🛏 brainpain: long lasting relationship with my memory foam mattress gotspoons: There is NO limit on the number of naps necessary to make it through the day tigerbalm: or the number of abandoned to-do lists, what was your 1 thing? gotspoons: 🚿 looks like breakfast will have to wait tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: @brainpain I have so many memory foam pillows in every room of my house I'm basically a shareholder 🙌 brainpain: @tooexhaustedtolivevicariously same but I've got my fave, I call him Edgar tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👏🙏 thank you for your service, Edgar tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: must name mine, only named the chariot 🦼 Charlton gotspoons: [ihatemyguts has entered the chat] gotspoons: A newbie, welcome! tigerbalm: 👋 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: love the username, what ails ya? tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: because this is the only place it's acceptable to ask 'what's WRONG with you?' but not the only place you encounter it, right brainpain: but you don't have to answer cos it's also somewhere where you're encouraged to 'express yourself' translation: be an arsehole if you want brainpain: if you don't go hardcore enough to get blocked brainpain: @fibrofog LMAO tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: the normies get to be rude as their default, and it is NOT encouraged to hit people with your cane, let me tell you ihatemyguts: Hi, everyone ihatemyguts: I'll do my best not to be an arsehole, even if my problem only lie directly above said orifice, which makes it a struggle not to be at times ihatemyguts: UC, first flare totally fucked over the family holiday 😬 sorry to that hotel toilet and my long-suffering parents and brother brainpain: newbie got jokes AND comedy timing ihatemyguts: 🚽 humour isn't all I have, I swear, though my life now does revolve entirely around the porcelain throne so it's no surprise I'm anally expulsive, thanks to Freud for that read tigerbalm: Freud's the perv, am I right? ihatemyguts: Totally ihatemyguts: and a big believer in the cocaine cure-all, which my Doctor just wasn't going for, shame tigerbalm: sounds like my sleazy uncle in every way tigerbalm: why does everybody get one? gotspoons: 😂 This chat is worth keeping my eyes open for gotspoons: every family is a play, and we're destined to be the 'sick kid' part gotspoons: other players react accordingly, from the 'can't look at you without crying' to the 'thinks you're making it up for some reason' brainpain: I vote we all go off script like @fibrofog 🤬🚨👿❗️ ihatemyguts: I guess I'm lucky in the sense that if anyone doubts the legitimacy of my illness, I can offer to show them the contents of my stomach/toilet bowl ihatemyguts: that shuts them up relatively fast, not had to go full 🐒 and throw it at anyone yet ihatemyguts: though I'm intrigued by the infamous @fibrofog, who are they, where, and why the infamy? Fill a girl in brainpain: the myth, the legend brainpain: so angry cos I turned 'em down for a romantic rendezvous ihatemyguts: No way! ihatemyguts: I'm glad that napping isn't the only action the memory foam is getting ihatemyguts: we're just like any other teens, right guys? 💁 tigerbalm: @brainpain you know the rules, fedora pics or it didn't happen! tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: you know what they say about disabled chicks, grateful 😉 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: #dontkillmeladies #iamnotasleazyuncle tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: don't think Mr. Fog was even a legit 🥄 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: total predator tigerbalm: if it was my uncle I'm SO sorry 😂 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: family who piggyback are THE worst tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: no, MY disability doesn't make YOU automatically WOKE for not drowning me in the tub or throwing me off the nearest high place I can access ihatemyguts: Honestly, I've never felt as simultaneously popular and unpopular in my life ihatemyguts: people 💬 a big acceptance game on the socials ihatemyguts: but no one wants to actually hang with the girl who can't eat shit and will spend half her time in the 🚽 gotspoons: Everyone's supportive until your disability gets in the way of THEIR perfect life even slightly gotspoons: imagine if they were one of us 👽 brainpain: speak for yourselves, my slurred speech makes me a hit with all my hard partying peers brainpain: get weird without a 🍹 ihatemyguts: hey man, don't let us drag you down 😎 ihatemyguts: if @fibrofog was feeling you, you're WAY too cool for this chat right now brainpain: never have, never will, baby 😉 brainpain: [inandout has entered the chat] gotspoons: OH MY GOD, that's a whole different story...my parents = you need to socialize more, live life! my parents = I don't know if this group is good for you, we think you're being encouraged to display and give in to even more problems gotspoons: thanks guys, you're literally making me more disabled with your disabledness 😂 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: It is a cult, well-known fact, leave your productiveness to society at the door and let's all lie here and feel sorry for ourselves, doesn't that sound like fun, kids? 😈 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and 👋 sup, inandout, not seen you in a while tigerbalm: my parents act like y'all are catching too! Would you like to cage me like a legit 🐅 or? inandout: baited breath inandout: out living that life like @gotspoons parents want tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: It'll be the Olympics next tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 🥇 Hero status with the normies, inspirational, dude inandout: if it'll make adults I've never met proud of me ihatemyguts: I can't believe I've not checked if I'm disabled enough for the paras, oh my God ihatemyguts: are there enough of us for a basketball team? brainpain: if ONLY my former lover were here brainpain: he's gotta be so tall ihatemyguts: Pining for @fibrofog is productive, yeah? ihatemyguts: can pine from my throne just fine brainpain: hands off newbie! I will throw mine brainpain: LOL imagine gotspoons: This group has always had a bias towards too many girls gotspoons: it's almost as if even disabled boys don't wanna talk about their feelings gotspoons: what say you @tooexhaustedtolivevicariously and @inandout? 🤔🤴🤴 inandout: I'd bring friends but you know us CF kids aren't allowed to congregate inandout: and what could I possibly have in common with someone who doesn't share my disease ihatemyguts: So, what is the deal with that, are some of us catching? ihatemyguts: 🐅 parents might have legit concerns inandout: cross infectious but only if you've got what's got me inandout: none of you do so you'll need another reason to turn down hanging out in person tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: my fedora is in the wash? inandout: Fibro could easily say it's my jewishness brainpain: but it's your hunkiness, babe 💪😉 inandout: I'd whistle back at you, Lauren but.... inandout: let's just say you leave me breathless tigerbalm: No names, Zach tigerbalm: it's like a rule ihatemyguts: uh-oh ihatemyguts: if you had a name, Tiger, in theory, like ihatemyguts: 🧐 tigerbalm: Robyn ihatemyguts: Pretty, you others may as well just come out with it now ihatemyguts: even if I'm a massive perv with mad hacking and tracking skills, I pinky promise I won't be able to find you from your given name alone brainpain: give us yours, newbie ihatemyguts: I will, but you'll think I'm giving you a fake one ihatemyguts: it's the gift and curse bestowed upon me at birth, along with potentially dodgy genetics brainpain: your life is 💩 brainpain: but still ihatemyguts: Zelda ihatemyguts: a reference I'm sure you won't get, 'cos you're so 😎 brainpain: I game, the stream was fibros fave hunting ground brainpain: no 💩 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Turns out being a nerd is way easy from the relative (barely but beats death, yeah?) comfort of the memory foam tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and Rich 👍 only in name, destitute until my next pittance comes in tigerbalm: she's not supposed to 🎮 -headaches -dizziness -light & sound sensitivity but she's a REBEL brainpain: 👌 MOM maybe I'd love a seizure, what do you know? ihatemyguts: I respect it ihatemyguts: gonna be fondly reminiscing over all those dirty, evil trigger foods when they're resecting my bowel 🖕🚔 brainpain: I had a life before I had a TBI, no offense to 👶 Zach inandout: none taken gotspoons: You're all being bad and I cannot support it 🤐😜 gotspoons: and I'm Rosie, I will just 😴 out on you all the time and yes, it's a fantastic excuse for when you don't wanna respond ihatemyguts: I'll commit all of those to memory in a normal, non-creepy manner ihatemyguts: but whilst I'm allowed to be a n00b, what do you all do for school? brainpain: I was nearly done before 🤯 which got me my pity pass ihatemyguts: pity with a point, at least, alright tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I'm waiting to start uni, absolutely no thanks to my school and their totally ableist refusal to make reasonable adjustments for accessibility tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: but fedora or not, I can be a real arsehole, a loud, persistent one at that tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: take my applause now brainpain: 😍 brainpain: take my 💘 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: as long as it's not heavy, m'lady brainpain: you could 💔 brainpain: hold the pieces tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 🧠 just isn't poetic enough brainpain: you know me gotspoons: you guys are so cute 🥰 and your broken brain is beautiful, Lauren gotspoons: me though, I'm barely struggling through school still, so many sick days, so much catching up to do 🥱 just thinking about it and therein lies the problem tigerbalm: my parents are trying to get online classes set up but my headteacher is like a million years old inandout: is he a demon? inandout: that was some scary fiction brainpain: or was it? brainpain: cue up those sound effects tigerbalm: if we're gonna talk about hypnosis, I'm out ihatemyguts: that was some serious creepy uncle vibes ihatemyguts: why did he need that level of control ihatemyguts: 🐘 in the room tigerbalm: I have a hippie cousin too, alternative therapy talk is so triggering ihatemyguts: I need a memoir re. your family sitch immediately 😂 ihatemyguts: you get the food purists coming @ me as if I just eat the right thing I'd be 'cured' tigerbalm: I'm working on a screenplay but I've never written a script before, I did find an online class for that easily though ihatemyguts: that's actually 😎 ihatemyguts: soz, Lauren brainpain: she's our lil busy 🐝 brainpain: step your game up, Zachary brainpain: supposed to be you, bro inandout: let Robbie have it, she has more sick days to fill up ihatemyguts: always have your 🥇 inandout: I can pin it on like a star when I got to school with the masses inandout: let them know I'm not what normal looks like ihatemyguts: only the others like you need to have the scoop on that though ihatemyguts: really fucks with the segregation in a big way inandout: “I feel like someone breathed new air into my lungs. I am not Abnegation. I am not Dauntless. I am Divergent.” ihatemyguts: Tattoo idea inandout: if I make it to 18, I'll do it ihatemyguts: how long you given yourself there? inandout: I turned 14 in may, the party was a full blown rager inandout: 🏥🎂 ihatemyguts: you like ruining events too? ihatemyguts: what a coincidence, don't just do family holidays inandout: if I can't blow up 🎈 nobody can ihatemyguts: 🥳 smug bastard inandout: I find that party blower offensive inandout: Rosie! That's a strike for the new girl ihatemyguts: Come to me when it's as culturally iconic as 💩 ihatemyguts: my next (first) tattoo right there inandout: how long are you waiting for that masterpiece? ihatemyguts: was 14 in March ihatemyguts: if we both make it, it's a date inandout: cool inandout: way I'm going that'll be my first one brainpain: now I feel like a pervy OLD uncle brainpain: thank you 👶s ihatemyguts: Lemme guess? ihatemyguts: I'm thinking 19 brainpain: spooky brainpain: I'm an Aquarius if anyone cares ihatemyguts: our 🌟s aligning might be too close to alternative for comfort tigerbalm: I'm a cancer, which is awkward tigerbalm: not my diagnosis ihatemyguts: at least it's memorable ihatemyguts: literally tacked on at the end, who's remembering 🎣 tigerbalm: I hope my 16th will be, for the right reasons tigerbalm: I've still got 5 months left to plan ihatemyguts: 🤞🤞🤞 tigerbalm: I'll add your name, the others know they're all invited ihatemyguts: that's so nice ihatemyguts: considering this introduction has given away nothing if not I am a terrible guest brainpain: another chat about online safety, Robyn, REALLY? 😏 brainpain: did my failed romance teach you nothing? ihatemyguts: if that isn't a challenge to send a photo and make you feel really weird ihatemyguts: why are we anon anyway, to stop us uprising? ihatemyguts: metaphorically if not literally, no offense xoxo brainpain: f it brainpain: I need you all to sign up to my stream to pay my bills anyways brainpain: [a selfie] ihatemyguts: @fibrofog, I get it brainpain: don't flock to tell me how sexy I am, that'd make it weird brainpain: plus, I know tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I picked an awkward time to check back in tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Rosie falls asleep and anarchy reigns? tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I'm proud brainpain: 💔 YOU haven't showered me with compliments, but hey tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: if I made it that easy you'd never be 💘 brainpain: 😩 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: to save any of the rest of you following such a hard act tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: [pic] tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: it's old but still a rough estimation of what I look like on a good day brainpain: 😍 brainpain: You're up, girl Z ihatemyguts: if you're all good looking though, I'm so mad ihatemyguts: [a selfie] ihatemyguts: 💩 inandout: I'm not good looking, I'll go next inandout: besides, Robbie would never bow to peer pressure and Rosie is out for the count inandout: [a selfie] tigerbalm: I am 🙀 tigerbalm: but everyone else has tigerbalm: [the shyest selfie of all time] ihatemyguts: 😻😻😻 ihatemyguts: seriously ihatemyguts: representation done us dirty on so many levels now ihatemyguts: when we're not invisible, why we not so gorgeous tigerbalm: there should be a blushing 😸 tigerbalm: that's the representation I need ihatemyguts: Call me out all you need but I was convinced this whole thing would be a lot more tragic than it has been inandout: tragic Tuesdays are a thing brainpain: no they are f-ing not brainpain: Zachary, just cos the new girl's in your age bracket + shares your 1st initial brainpain: she is not corruptible to you inandout: check us on our date, Lauren inandout: but watch your profanity brainpain: watch me give you a DIY lung transplant gotspoons: Excuse me gotspoons: what is going on here brainpain: nothing babe, it's all a dream gotspoons: 😖 gotspoons: if it was, none of you would be here gotspoons: sorry to say brainpain: we love you too brainpain: hit us with that sleepy selfie gotspoons: You know we aren't meant to give out personal info in the public forum gotspoons: if you choose to privately, that's okay though gotspoons: also I don't look any better for my shower now 🥴🤫 brainpain: you're a hottie gotspoons: 😘 gotspoons: well, my blog IS going to be featured on [insert disability awareness news moment] next month, so it isn't as if you couldn't find 🖼 if you really wanted gotspoons: [photo] tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Congrats, Ro tigerbalm: a genuine 👏👏👏 tigerbalm: I love your blog gotspoons: Ty, ty 🙇 gotspoons: it's the same as my username, if you wanna check it out, newbie 😄 brainpain: but have you been on the news for being the victim of a violent crime? 😏 just me LOL inandout: Lauren's trading on her fame again inandout: let Rosie have her moment ihatemyguts: pass along all relevant info and I'll 🤓 right up brainpain: @inandout 🍒😃💩👅 brainpain: enjoy the profanity, bro inandout: today's highlight tigerbalm: Zelda could take offence at that, Zach tigerbalm: I think it was nice to meet her ihatemyguts: Not at all ihatemyguts: though it's cultural appropriation to use that emoji without my permission, I'll let it slide 😉 ihatemyguts: nice meeting you all too tigerbalm: I really am gonna have to tell you about my family now ihatemyguts: All I wanted, tbh tigerbalm: everyone else knows this but my parents are white Americans & they adopted me and my brothers who are Native and African American respectively tigerbalm: & you saw me, the Korean girl so ihatemyguts: Ohh tigerbalm: it sounds like a show that should air on ABC family, right? tigerbalm: hella awkward ihatemyguts: I'm brainstorming (p. sure we're not meant to say that, soz) titles rn ihatemyguts: inappropriate question alert, verbal smackdowns appreciated if needed ihatemyguts: did they adopt you knowing you were disabled or is that a new development? tigerbalm: I was gonna call it building bridges but we can't really say that the USA has wronged Korea like the other nations tigerbalm: though they did adopt me knowing so maybe it still works 😄 ihatemyguts: it's got legs tigerbalm: 🦿 ihatemyguts: Ugh, must dash ihatemyguts: 🩸💉s tigerbalm: best of luck ihatemyguts: 💕 total pro by now 💪 brainpain: if I don't 👀 you on my stream I'll 🔎 you here in the forums inandout: a threatening goodbye inandout: can't compete tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👋 Hope to see you back here, Zelda tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: though you wouldn't be the first person to 👻 after dropping in, so no pressure, @Lauren gotspoons: but actually, we're always here, some of us more than others, but you'll always find someone to chat to about the things you can't with non-spoonies ihatemyguts: ✌

Bart Chat 3/9/2020

Hello all, What a crazy week. On Friday SXSW was told to shut down by the city of Austin. Below is an excerpt from a piece that will be in Theatre Jones with my thoughts on the matter.

SXSW has been leading culture for a long time (about as long as the Dallas video fest) and on Friday, the festival did something that I think will have as great an effect on culture as the music film and technology they have championed. They shut it down for fear of spreading Covid19.

For the last week I have been struggling with the dilemma. Should I stay, or should I go? I have been to every SXSW film festival since it started and attended the music festival before there was even a film fest. For me, it is a ritual that demarcates the cold of winter turning into the hope of spring, and getting to new work, new artists, and taking in all the inspiration. I’ve been talking to many people about it and very few were wishy-washy. It was a pretty even split. Many people in my life were strongly advocating for me to forgo the festival. I’m in the target demographic (old people), and I do get lots of colds. Others were saying that this is all media hype, which to some extent it is, but I also have a sense of duty. I was supposed to be on the jury for short films, and Christopher Llewellyn Reed and I were scheduled to do several interviews for the Fog of Truth podcast, and I didn’t want to let people down. Yesterday, I took to Facebook asking for the collective wisdom and the moment I posted my query, SXSW announced they were going to pull the plug. Yesterday there was also a Zoom conference for the Film Festival Alliance--yes there is such a thing. Usually, on their Zooms there are 8 or so people, we have over 40 people from festivals all over, small and large, talking about how they might approach the coming new reality. There was talk about online versions of festivals--insurance, what other cultural organizations are doing, lots of good thinking but no real answers.  So, what does this mean? Obviously, there is so much money to be lost, by the SXSW organization (a for-profit festival), the city of Austin, so many vendors and workers, and many filmmakers, musicians and tech companies. And then there are all these artists who are hoping to break out and have their moment. Now, they can say they were selected for SXSW, but it’s not the same as meeting people and gaining momentum.  I sent an email suggesting that we judge the films online so we could still have a winner without having the in-person fest. Maybe that will happen. Maybe there will be an online version of SXSW. At this point, anything could happen. On one hand, canceling it is a no brainer. Many people will be descending into Austin by plane and some of those are unknowingly carrying the virus, if not when they left, perhaps on the plane. Once in Austin, there are so many large crowds it’s hard to track where people are going and who they encountered. It’s a mass of humanity, living, breathing, and coughing. And as much as we might try to remember that we shouldn’t, some of us will shake hands. It’s bound to happen. And really in the time, it takes you to read this, have you touched your face? 

One could make the case that the world would be less safe after this event. Could one make the case that it is safer or just as safe? I guess if it had gone on and nothing got worse it would make the case that other events could/should happen.

But what does this mean for culture in general? Will people stop going to the opera or the symphony? Are larger events more prone to cancelation then smaller ones?  What should people who are planning festivals and conferences do?  It’s not as if the governments’ response has inspired faith that this will be over anytime soon.  At UTA where I teach, an email was sent out suggesting faculty get familiar with online teaching in case it gets to that point.  The Dallas VideoFest is going forward with its Alternative Fictions Festival for the first weekend in April (April 3-5) with a smaller festival and mostly organic home-grown work. Looking at the broader picture, I think this will hasten the universe of people staying home and watching work on their phone, their tablet, their computer or their TV. So much of this is happening already. Indeed, it’s hard to get people to leave their homes to go out to anything. The culture of social distancing is great for introverts and horrible for extraverts. Now it will be harder to get people to show up.  Perhaps many of us cultural warriors will put our work on branded and perhaps paywall sites that can be up for a limited amount of time.  Several of these have been tried but I think that might be a way forward. If something is always available, you often won’t get around to seeing it until it is too late. If a video performance of a dance or play were streaming for a limited time that might work. So, in the end, would I have gone or stayed, I honestly don’t know. Now, are movie theaters safe? I hope so. What is worth seeing out there? At The Texas Theater the new LGBTQ series PSA (Pleasure, Style, and Attitude) is showing La Cienaga in 35mm. Tickets are either one dollar or pay what you can.  There are two screenings of Swallow the closing film of Best of Fests last week, a director’s cut of The Exorcist, #RIP Max (hmm, wonder what will be different) and a restoration of a film I have not seen called Come and See.

The big thing at the Texas is not this week, but next week. Jem Cohen, yes, the Jem Cohen, the poet of American cinema, will be here to show his most popular film Fugazi’s Instrument. So, check that out. The Alamo has 12 Monkeys on Saturday at 10:00. The Angelika is showing the 2018 film The Times of Bill Cunningham and Lucien Freud: A Self-Portrait, as well as A Portrait of a Lady on Fire.   For those making films, check out the info on EarthX competition below. Bart Weiss, Artistic Director

Sweet Dreams Chapter One

Lucid dreaming: The process of being aware that one is dreaming. Some researchers believe that in lucid dreaming, the individual may be able to change the outcome of the dream or control their degree of participation in the imaginary (dream) environment.

Description: Lee Eunbyul has been plagued with hellish nightmares since she was a child. Not the sort of nightmares you may be familiar with. There are no monsters to evade, no serial killers to outrun, no auditoriums of classmates in front of whom to stand naked. Instead there is just...darkness. Endless darkness. With professional help, the dreams come less frequently. But after moving away from home to live with her sister, Eunbyul’s nightmare returns, only this time it’s different. This time...she’s not alone.

What would you do if you had the chance to change the outcome of not only your dreams, but your life?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn

Pairing: Namjoon x (f) OC

Word Count: 8.0k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Producer!Namjoon, Bookstore Clerk!Seokjin, Potter!Jimin, Producer!Yoongi, Dancer!Hoseok

Warnings: Frequent mentions of mental illness, infrequent swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Hey guys! Here we are at the start of a new series! Ahhhh I can’t believe it. I’m so so excited about this one, so I really hope you guys like it. I hope I can continue it with your support! I tried uploading yesterday, but it didn’t get much traction, so I’m trying again today! Hopefully this time it works out. Regardless, I’m really enthusiastic about this plot so I’m excited to hear your thoughts! Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them! Links will be added later, so for now check my masterlist to find previous chapters!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all! 

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Eunbyul

Some people say dreams don’t mean anything. That we assign a story to them when we wake up to make sense of all those disjointed electrical impulses, to glean meaning from the random energy. I always kinda liked that theory. Something about it is a little charming: finding the reason in the chaos. I read somewhere that dreams might serve as a form of psychotherapy, letting us deal with difficult issues without bringing them into waking life. I don’t like this theory as much. I also read somewhere that Sigmund Freud thought dreams give us an insight into our unconscious.

I really don’t like that one.

The air was quiet, half-dead after most of the customers had taken their leave, and smelled of instant coffee and old books. Rows of bookshelves lined the scuffed wood floor, endless greenery swaying in hanging baskets or draping over the tops of shelves. Distantly, I heard the sound of the old coffeemaker straining. Sunset rapidly approached on the horizon, encroaching on the city like a curtain. With a sigh, I let my eyes slide from the tabletop beneath my fingers to the window beside me, overlooking the broken outline of stout buildings, green hillsides, and ocean beyond. My eyes ached a little from straining them for hours and I took a moment to give them a rub with my palms, jimmying my glasses up my nose so they pressed into my forehead.

“Need some coffee?”

I jumped, my glasses clattering onto the old table, and I squinted up toward the voice. Chagrined, my cheeks flamed and I scrambled to grab my glasses once more, placing them carefully on the bridge of my nose so I could see him properly. There he stood, terribly handsome with wide eyes and full lips half-parted, brows raised as he looked down at me like a peculiar creature to study. Kim Seokjin.

When I took a moment to really look at him, there wasn’t a single thing I didn’t like. From the caramel top of his head to the bits of smooth forehead that showed through his hair to his playful round eyes to his lopsided half-smile.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning down at the waist to examine me.

My back went rigid and I coughed a little, slamming my book shut and standing to my feet. “I…I was about to leave,” I said without looking directly at him. If I did, I might embarrass myself again.

He chuckled and watched me shove my things into my satchel haphazardly, edges of paper sticking out at odd angles and several book corners straining against the canvas fabric. With a bow, I walked past him in the narrow aisle, careful not to touch him.

“Take care!” he called, whistling as he wandered back toward the register in the corner. He greeted the customer waiting there with a smile.

I watched from the doorway for a moment, scanning him in profile. Even his shapeless maroon bookstore smock looked handsome on him. He nodded gently as the customer made idle conversation, the two of them chatting easily. He placed her books into a paper bag and slid them across the counter, resting his chin in his hand and raising his eyes to offer his full attention. The customer, a young girl maybe a few years my senior, flushed just a little and a nervous smile spread across her face, eyes flitting around as she avoided his gaze.

I sighed and pushed the front door open, exiting to the sound of the overhead bell.

“You smell like bad coffee,” remarked Gaeul as I fell onto the plush living room couch.

She sat in front of the TV on the floor, criss-crossed, nursing a can of lukewarm beer as reruns of Produce 48 droned on. “Went to the bookstore,” I mumbled into a pillow, laying face-down on my stomach with my legs bent against the arm of the couch.

She reached back and gave my arm a smack before returning her attention to the screen. “Stupid,” she said.

I sighed and nodded, reaching out my fingers toward her. Without saying a word, she handed me her can and I took a greedy sip, wincing as the stuff slid down my throat. I bumped the can against her shoulder once I was finished and silently she retrieved it. I let my arm dangle, fingers brushing the plastic-covered floor, and shut my eyes.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Mhm.”

“What’d you say?” she asked.

I opened one eye. “Something dumb.”

She nodded, gaze glued to the television. “Predictable,” she said.

I inhaled slowly, glancing toward the new mural she was working on. A nature scene, the wall behind the TV was now dedicated to a half-finished paint project Gaeul had started the week after I moved in. Green pine trees were poking through grayish fog that ended abruptly where the unpainted white wall began. She’d been following a Bob Ross tutorial after seeing a video of someone else doing it online, but lacked the followthrough to see it to completion. The floor was still covered in plastic tarps from the living room to the kitchen, and each step crinkled, but it made cleaning easier. Consider cleaning your rent, Gaeul had said when she agreed to take me in, At least until you get a job.

“Wanna order in?” she asked, eyes affixed to the television.

We’d ordered in more times in the last few weeks here than we ever had at our parents’ house, mostly because of me. Chinese food containers formed skyscrapers in the recycling bin and not one of Gaeul’s nice ceramic plates had seen use since I moved in.

I sighed, shutting my eyes once more, and gave a defeated nod. “Yeah,” I said.

I washed my hands in the quiet restroom at Hyejin’s Books, trying not to look too long at my gaunt reflection in the mirror. Since moving, my skin had gone lackluster from lack of time outside and my once-long hair was now chopped short, curling from the beach town humidity, sticking up around my shoulders. Why’d you cut it? Gaeul had asked upon my arrival at her apartment. I hadn’t answered, only shrugged. After all, how was I supposed to explain to my sister that cutting it off felt like the only thing I could do? The only thing that made me feel like I was moving forward, even a little?

I adjusted my round rims on my nose bridge and patted my flushed cheeks, nodding once as I turned on my heel toward the exit. But as my fingers clasped around the doorknob, I heard a distinctive sniffle coming from the farthest stall. My back stiffened. Was someone crying? I swallowed hard, body like firm glass, and waited with bated breath for the sound to come again. Had I been preening in that bathroom while this stranger cried? All along?

I peeked over my shoulder, just a little, and bent enough to see the ground beneath the stalls. Indeed, a pair of sneakered feet rested on the polished linoleum, and a person sitting on the ground attached to them. I swallowed hard and lingered in the doorway, awaiting another sniffle, another sign of distress.

But none came. Just silence.

And despite my misgivings, I simply exhaled and absolved myself of guilt. Whoever they were, they didn’t want to be bothered or they’d be making themselves known. I didn’t want to risk upsetting them further, or earning someone’s anger. I pushed the door open and made my way out into the narrow hallway, my mind hanging back in that bathroom.

Gently, I repositioned my meager belongings — wallet, glasses case, memo pad — back into my bag with a sigh. Seokjin wasn’t working, and while he wasn’t the only reason to come to a lazy bookstore and kill time, a place where I knew I wouldn’t be in anybody’s way, he was a big part of why I braved the two-block walk along a busy main street nearly every day. How pathetic. I stared down at the tan skin of my hands, still poised to shove a book or two in my bag, and sighed. What use were hands if they were idle?

I shook my head. A flash of that endless darkness crossed my mind. If I thought too much about my disappointments I’d have the bad dream.

But as I turned on my heel and stepped into the walkway, I heard the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching. Perhaps if I’d have been more alert, the sound would have made me pause, but my mind still lingered on that sniffle. I was making something out of nothing, right? It wasn’t even my business, really. If they wanted to cry in a bookstore, they had that right, didn’t they? Who was I to pry anyway? And what if asking if they were okay made them mad at me?

My body collided with someone else’s. Someone solid, with more flesh and height than I had.

“Ah!” exclaimed a voice from in front of me, too loud for the mellow bookstore.

Another bookstore employee, the girl was holding a beautiful potted plant in her gentle hands, and as if in slow motion, she was swaying back on her heels from the force of our collision. With long, pin-straight black hair and a crooked smile, she was the goofy sort of pretty that made you feel at ease. Or at least, it should make you feel at ease. Unfortunately, looking at her now as she peered down at me with wide, chestnut eyes and lips forming a surprised ‘O’ I felt nothing short of panicked. She swung her hand out, seeking purchase, and clasped hard onto the strap of my satchel.

“Ah, sor-,” I began, voice weak, but before I could continue I heard the distinctive rrrriiiiip of fabric tearing apart.

Too late.

I didn’t even have time to mourn the torn-open satchel because with her pulling so hard in one direction and me still walking in the other, when the tether between us snapped she ended up yanking me down with her. Arms flailing as they scrambled to cushion my fall, my knuckles brushed something hard and another upsetting noise ripped through the quiet store, like someone had thrust open the emergency exit on a plane.

Crash!

I sat on my hands and knees, eyes wide and watering and focused on the ground in front of me to avoid looking at the ground beside me where I knew the carnage lie. Out of my peripheral, however, I saw the unmistakable array of broken pottery, mingling with moist soil and prematurely torn leaves. It seems my momentum had been strong enough to cause a casualty, and I’d grabbed the beautiful potted plant she’d been trying to protect on the way down.

“Oh no!” she cried, horror etched into her gentle features.

The two of us lie in a heap, limbs tangled, belongings strewn about in all directions. My heart was racing, face hot. I eyed the broken pot as it lay splayed out on the ground beside my fingertips. The shock and embarrassment had rendered me immobile, sitting slack-jawed on all fours, eyes wide. Why had I done that? Why hadn’t I contained my fall? Why couldn’t I keep from being in somebody’s way?

“Shoot…,” she mumbled as she scrambled toward the wreckage on her knees. She began collecting the jagged clay pieces, but before she could handle too many I jumped and clasped her hands to stop her. “Huh?” she asked, eyes round as she turned to me.

“You’ll cut yourself,” I said, eyes on the pieces.

I pursed my lips and turned the remains of my satchel upside down, wrapping my hands in the canvas as my belongings rolled around the floor, adding to the mess. I collected the pieces in my covered palm, holding the bigger chunks between my index finger and thumb.

“Thanks,” said the girl, her voice low as she used her smock to help. “I’m sorry for grabbing you on the way down.”

I shook my head, letting my mind focus on the pieces instead of the palpitations of my heart, the sweat gathering in my palms. Doctor Kim said when I felt it coming, I could circumvent it with enough focus. Just…focus on something else. So I did, watching with an almost catatonic gaze as my hands worked on their own accord, independent of my will.

“This thing was kinda expensive…,” she mumbled, sighing as I deposited the pieces I’d collected into the hamper she’d made of her smock. “I bet they’ll take it outta my pay.”

I swallowed hard and nodded, struggling to track her words as they left her mouth. Folks around the shop were staring now, spectating. It was hard to find something else to focus on when all I could think of was disappearing right then and there.

“Anyway, thanks for helping,” she said with a soft smile.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, nodding and pushing to my feet.

“I really am sorry,” she said, helping gather my things from around the floor.

I swallowed hard. “It’s okay.” I kept my eyes on the ground, eager to disappear from that book store and find a new place to spend my endless days.

I collected my things and carried them awkwardly in front of my stomach. I glanced around and found that every patron had paused their individual activities to watch the show. My throat constricted and my breaths became slightly more shallow. Before I could think too hard, I rushed out the door and down the stairs.

I sat by myself on a swing, all alone in a big, sprawling park. I’d only just turned seven, and the world seemed all at once too big and too small for me. Gaeul told me to wait for her there, wait until she was done with soccer practice so we could walk home together. But as sunset began to bleed across the sky in red and purple, the shadows started to look too long, the trees rustling too loud in the breeze. Picking at the skin around my fingernails, I slouched over my knees, eyes on the sand below that my toes couldn’t quite reach. My throat felt a little tight, and swallowing didn’t fix it any.

“Byul!” called Gaeul as she ran down the sidewalk toward me, waving her arms above her head with a gummy grin.

Upon seeing her, I smiled and slid off the swing. I ran to meet her halfway. “How was practice?” I asked, slurring a little with my missing front tooth.

She whistled and rested both hands on her hips with the smile of a champion, cleats tied and slung over her shoulder, kneepads slid down to her ankles. She was skinny, like a waif, knobby knees emerging from beneath too-big gym shorts. But to me, she looked like a superhero with the sun silhouetting her. My big sister, here to save me.

I hadn’t learned yet that there were things even she couldn’t save me from.

“Nevermind that,” she said, waving a hand with a loud laugh that crashed and echoed against the trees. “Jaehyun’s mom gave me some money for helping out with her lawn. Let’s go get some snacks at Auntie’s!”

My eyes went wide at the mention of food and I beamed up at her. Her round face was flushed, hair a mess, eyes nearly invisible with the force of her smile. And I knew that, if I had her around, I’d be okay.

“Let’s go through the woods!” said Gaeul, sliding past me on the playground path and pointing with one spindly arm towards the line of trees ringing the west side.

I stared into the rapidly darkening forest, squinting into its depths. It seemed the longer I looked, the deeper the woods became, and despite having played in those woods enough to know them like the back of my hand, something about it felt a little ominous that day.

I should’ve listened to my instincts.

“Let’s go!” called Gaeul as she jogged toward the tree line, leaving me to toddle cautiously in her wake.

I awoke with a start and stared at the analog clock on my wall. Squinting against the barely breaking morning outside my window, I saw the time. 4:03. My fingers found the empty bridge of my nose and squeezed. I grabbed for my glasses and slid them on, rubbing my jaw. There was no hope of falling asleep again, not after a dream like that.

At least it wasn’t the bad dream.

I stretched in bed and gave my fleshy thighs a squeeze, massaging the tension out of them with my fingers. My body had a tendency to seize up during dreams. Doctor Kim said it was because of my fitful sleeping habits, and that seemed to make enough sense. But it had certainly been a while since I’d felt these cramps.

I sighed, pushing myself out of bed and padding in my socks toward my yet unpacked luggage. I rifled through the clothes I’d been cycling for weeks, some of them washed and some not, and settled on an old Nirvana shirt Dad gave me before I left and a pair of shorts that allowed the warm air to unknot the cramps in my legs. Tiptoeing out onto the tarp-covered living room floor, I made my way to the front door and slipped on a pair of tennis shoes, not bothering to tie them, and slid a baseball cap on my head.

With a glance over my shoulder at the still, quiet apartment, I stepped out into the hallway and made my way to the stairwell.

Walking helped the muscles loosen up, and after thirty minutes of wandering the dawn-drenched alleyways and sidewalks around Gaeul’s apartment, my body felt relaxed again. Dawn was a nice time of day. Nobody was out yet, the businesspeople still tucked in bed, the late night wanderers making their ways home. It was just me, the lilac morning, the sleeping city, and the ground beneath my untied shoes.

Well, and the sound of jazzy lofi.

As I rounded the corner toward the arts district, about a block from Hyejin’s, I heard the muffled sound of music bumping quietly from an open window on the first floor of a narrow shop, nestled between two tall, windowed buildings. The storefront looked a little out of place in such a modern area. In fact, it probably suited the beachfront more with its brown shutters and faded turquoise paint. I approached it slowly, rubbing my bleary eyes to get a proper look at it. Who was up and working at this hour?

Park’s Pottery.

The sign was old, weathered, propped out over the sidewalk to attract attention from passers by. Well, it certainly attracted my attention. I wandered closer to the open window and peeked inside. I scanned the dim shop with a squint. It was small, but crammed with vases and teapots and bowls. Floor to ceiling were metal racks housing all manner of trinkets. The walls were adorned with tapestries, paintings, and posters from all over the place, and the floor was home to several elegant rugs, all splattered with dried clay. To the right of the front window was a cash register and to the left was an alcove with a bright, yellow warehouse light. That was the source of the music.

I crept a little closer, placing my hands on the windowpane, and craned my neck to see better. In that alcove was a spinning table and, with his back hunched over it, a young man with a bandana holding his hair off his shiny forehead. I raised my brows as I got a better look at him in profile. Dark hair and focused, serious eyes, he had cherubic cheeks and pouty lips as he worked his hands over the clay, smoothing it as it spun in rapid circles. His fingers looked capable, certain as they molded the material, occasionally dipping into a bowl of sludgy water and returning with biceps straining. It was almost like a dance. The hypnotic motions had me in a trance. He seemed so sure of himself, so confident. In control.

I didn’t even notice when the music stopped.

But he did.

He turned his head sharply toward the desk behind him and stared at his cell phone with a sigh. He sure was pretty. But before I could admire the stranger properly, his smart, dark eyes were upon me, sweeping naturally from his phone back to his clay. I stiffened in the windowsill and, as he opened his mouth and widened his eyes, I jumped and ran down the sidewalk, pumping my arms.

What was I, a criminal?

I sprinted quickly, squeezing my eyes shut as embarrassment turned my skin into hot leather. Great, I thought, another place I have to avoid.

“Wait!” called a high, gentle voice from behind me.

I turned to glance at the stranger as he exited the building, leaving the front door swinging behind him. He took off in a jog after me, fists clenched and still dripping with wet clay. I flushed and ran faster, desperate to avoid this awkward confrontation. My throat was closing, and not from the running. Each time I glanced over my shoulder, the stranger was right there, just a few paces behind me.

As I forced myself to run faster, I felt something tug at my ankle and before I could react, the untied lace from my right shoe was trapped beneath my left foot and I went sailing through the air. I flew for a foot or two before skidding to a stop on my bare knees, crying out in pain as my palms collided with the rough concrete. Wincing, I examined my hands and let out a strangled yelp as I found the skin had begun to peel away, revealing a layer of blood.

“Shit! You okay?” asked the same voice from behind me.

Heart hammering, I kept my head low, face obscured by my baseball cap, and nodded my head. “Mhm.”

I felt him approaching as he squatted beside me, glancing over my shoulder. “Ah,” he exhaled with a sigh. “Come back with me. I’ve got a first aid kit.”

I made no move to leave my spot, sitting on my skinned knees. But the young man was persistent and, upon seeing my reluctance, huffed and grabbed me by the crook of my elbow, leaving fingerprints of clay on my skin. Without a word, he led the way back to his pottery shop and I followed like a scolded child.

Well, at least the city was still asleep.

The young man kept his serious dark eyes trained on my hands as he applied several large bandages to them. He’d already taken care of my knees, and had demanded I sit in front of the pottery wheel while he took his time dressing my wounds. After what felt like an eternity in that dark shop, he finally spoke.

“Why’d you run away?” he asked.

I stiffened. Why had I? “I…,” I began, then shook my head. My heart rate had slowly returned to normal with the passage of time, and despite this man being a stranger I felt at ease around him. Probably because he hadn’t properly looked me in the eye. “I got nervous.”

He chuckled and patted my palm, glancing toward his half-finished work on the wheel behind me. “Nervous?” he asked.

“I was watching you through your window,” I said with a sigh. “Kinda creepy.”

He glanced at me for only a moment before shutting his eyes and offering a shrug and an easy smile. “I like having an audience,” he said.

I eyed him, his soft face, his slim shoulders and the dirty smock he had draped over them. He didn’t look like a potter. “Are you an employee?” I asked.

He opened his eyes and raised his brows. “Me?” he asked, then laughed and waved his freshly cleaned hands. “No, I own this place.”

I felt my eyes go wide, but tried to manage my expression. “You’re…you’re pretty young to own a pottery shop.”

He smiled. “Twenty-four,” he said with a nod. “It’s a family business, but my dad retired and handed the place down to me.”

I hummed as I glanced around. It sure was rustic. But charming nonetheless. Like a relic lost to time. “Your pieces are pretty,” I remarked as I scanned the racks.

He hummed, patting his thighs with a nod. “Well, after so long learning I’d sure hope my wares are good.”

“You get a lot of customers?” I asked, peeking at him out the corner of my eye. This was the longest conversation I’d had with anyone since moving out here, and for some reason I was reluctant to cut it short.

He chuckled and rubbed his jaw. “Mhm,” he said. “Why else would I be out here so early?”

“You work all day?”

“Nearly.”

“Every day?”

He smiled and met my eyes. “Nearly.”

“Wow,” I mumbled as I took in the shop from this new angle. I sighed. “Must be nice.”

“Hm?”

“Having something to do.”

I felt his eyes on me as my own eyes wandered, catching on little details all throughout the shop. A painting of Venus beside the door, a bare lightbulb, unlit, dangling from the ceiling beside the checkout counter, the frayed edge of a red and purple rug. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, wasn’t even sure what I was thinking, but wordlessly I felt him shift as he sat on a crate in front of me.

“You wanna take something with you?” he asked quietly, lilting voice barely above a whisper in the silent shop.

I raised my brows. “Can you do that?”

He shrugged. “My shop.”

I chuckled and nodded. “I guess that’s true,” I said, sighing as I pushed myself to my feet. The young man joined me and gestured with one swooping hand toward the racks.

“Choose whatever you want,” he said, walking beside me as he weaved his way through the aisles. My gaze landed on a particularly beautiful flower pot sitting at eye level, just beside the throwing table. “Teapots are over here. Bowls are over there. Got a few-,”

“I want this,” I said, reaching for the pot with two careful hands.

He blinked a few times and met my eyes from the other side of the rack. “Oh,” he said, then nodded. “Alright.”

I ran my fingers over the flower pot. It had been intricately carved with swirling roses and twisting vines, leaves floating everywhere. It was definitely prettier than the one I broke, that much was certain. It looked about the right size. Hopefully they hadn’t already bought a new one.

Well, if they did I could just keep the thing for myself.

I offered the young man a tight-lipped smile and bowed my head, excusing myself to the exit. He followed beside me, eyeing the pot in my hands with a curious expression. Once in the doorway, I turned to him and gave one more bow.

“I’m sorry for spying on you,” I said, meeting his eyes carefully.

He smiled and, lucky for me, his eyes nearly disappeared. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Stop by again sometime. Maybe you can buy something.”

I nodded and smiled at the flower pot. “I will.”

“I’m Jimin, by the way. Park Jimin,” he said, holding out a hand for me to shake.

I hoisted the flower pot up on my hip and took his warm hand, shaking twice. “Nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Lee Eunbyul.”

He smiled again. “Pleasure,” he said, waving as I slipped out the front door. “Hope to see you again soon, Eunbyul.”

I slipped through the front door of Hyejin’s Bookstore, still holding the flower pot close. I’d waited an hour for the shop to open and, allowing the morning staff a ten minute grace period to set up shop, was the first patron to enter. The shop housed two stories of books and, navigating the stacks expertly like a covert agent, I maneuvered my way to the second floor unbeknownst to the two opening employees. I hadn’t had the time to figure out which ones they were, but from the broad back and chestnut hair of the man standing at the coffee maker I was pretty sure I could guess at least one.

God, of course. During my most important stealth mission, my Kryptonite shows up.

Nonetheless, I tiptoed toward the register and, using the sides of my fingers as cushions, set the flower pot down beside the register with a wince. By then, several other patrons had begun filing in, braving the steep stairs to the second floor and lining up beside the ancient coffee machine. I kept an eye on everyone, but mostly Seokjin as he restocked the paper cups and coffee stirrers. Once I was certain the pot was placed perfectly, I took a half-step back and glanced over my shoulder at Seokjin, still unaware of my presence.

His hair was quaffed out of his face today, styled to reveal his forehead, and his skin was practically glowing. I wasn’t sure if I was more jealous or in love with the guy. Sighing, I wandered lazily toward my favorite spot by the window, resting my hands palms-down on the tabletop. A few moments passed in silence before I heard someone speak.

“Oh…,” breathed a voice from the register.

To my dismay, there stood the same girl from the day before, eyes wide as she stared at the intricate, detailed flower pot with wonder-filled eyes. She turned it around a few times, appraising it, before smiling softly and scoffing once. She swept her gaze around the bookstore and I let my head fall downwards, heart racing. If she spotted me, I was cooked. She’d know for certain who had left it there.

“Jin!” she called with a disbelieving laugh.

Seokjin jogged over toward his coworker at the register and, rolling up the cuffs of his white button-down, glanced down toward the pot. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, grinning. “Someone left it here?”

“Seems like it,” replied the girl, smiling stupefied at the gift. “I was just about to buy a new one after work.”

I had to admit to a little swell of pride at that expression. It felt good to do good, that’s what Dad always said. And even though the pot was just repayment for the broken one, I felt a little piece inside me slip back into place. Like cogs in a clock.

“Huh,” said Seokjin, and without warning his eyes found me.

I stiffened, ready to make a run for it, but was stunned into stillness as our gazes locked and his handsome face broke into a small, knowing smile. “Seems like someone’s looking out for you,” he said gently, still smiling my way.

I cleared my throat and glanced out the window at the pastel morning sky, resting my burning cheek in my hand and allowing my mind to wander to the faraway clouds that ringed the horizon.

I’m dreaming, I thought to myself as I examined my hands, the fuzzy edges where my brain tried and failed to remember the finer details. Last thing I remembered was falling asleep in bed. What had Doctor Kim said? If you know it’s a dream, you can wake yourself up if you try hard enough. I tried hard to feel my body, the mattress beneath it, the covers I’d kicked off of it in the middle of the night. I tried to reason myself back into a physical space, out of this dark, cold, colorless void. But the more I struggled, the more suffocating the darkness felt. I squeezed my eyes shut, but like when I was young I could find no solace in the pitch-dark backs of my eyelids.

“Alright, alright,” I said aloud with a nod, shaking out my hands. I glanced around the void for a moment, eyes scanning the depths. “Detail, detail,” I said. I managed my breathing. “Doctor Kim said to find a detail.”

I scanned the darkness, searching for something, anything, that stood out. Something that clued me in to this being a dream. Something I could use to shake my brain out of sleep. I took a tentative step forward, or rather what might have been a step, and felt the same cool air I always felt in this void. My throat was constricting the longer I spent in here.

“Detail,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. I begged for it. I longed for it so hard I wondered if I could simply will it into existence. “A tear,” I began. “Or a fray.” I scoffed as determined tears marched down my cheeks. “A fucking shoelace!” I shouted into the nothing.

Frustrated, I fell backwards onto my bottom and submitted to the sobs that began wracking my frame. The chill bit my exposed skin and raised goosebumps on my arms. “Jesus,” I said aloud, rubbing them down through tears. “For a dream, this shit is too realistic.”

I sniffled and stared around me at the darkness. When I was young, I used to search for the end of it. I walked for what felt like miles in one direction each night, wandering endlessly until eventually I woke up.

I never did find the end.

“Because there is no end,” I mumbled to myself, kicking my toe into the nothing beneath my cold bare feet.

“Yes there is.”

I screamed and jumped upright, scrambling backwards away from the voice behind me. Gasping for breath with my heart hammering, I peeled my eyes open and saw to my horror and immense relief…

A young man.

Standing about six feet tall with kind, dark brown eyes and a dimpled smile, the man seemed…inexplicably gentle. He stood dressed in plaid pajama pants and an old t-shirt, no shoes like me, honey-blonde hair sitting like a mop atop his head, standing in all directions. He yawned and scratched his jaw, eyes half-shut. Had my brain conjured another person to keep me company?

For the first time, I wasn’t alone in here…

I adjusted my posture, staring at him for what felt like a long, desperate moment. And, without meaning to, I rushed toward him and wrapped trembling fingers around his arm. Despite my expectations, he was real. Tangible. My fingers clamped down on actual flesh. They didn’t pass through. A fresh wave of emotion swept me up and carried me away and wordlessly, hot tears rolled like raindrops down my cheeks. Still holding on to his arm, I dipped my head, leaning it against his firm chest, and sobbed.

Startled, he tried to step away from me, but I was putting too much weight on him. He coughed a little before, almost reluctantly, he raised a hand and patted my shoulder.

“Ah…um…it’s okay…?” he said, trailing off.

I sniffled. “I can’t believe it.”

“Hm?”

“Detail,” I mumbled, wiping my messy eyes on his white shirt.

“Ah!” he shouted as I leaned away and he saw the wet spots. “Oh shoot.” He freed his arm from my grasp so he could pat the stains with the pads of his fingers.

I sniffled and stared up at him, juxtaposed against the unfathomable darkness, eyes downturned to focus on his shirt. “You’re not real, are you?” I asked slowly, edging away. My brain wasn’t tidy enough to worry about a stained shirt…

So whatever he was, he couldn’t be from me.

His eyes flashed back toward me, sweet, heavy-lidded, pupils huge in the dark. “I…yes? Are you?” he asked, then squinted at me with those sweet eyes. “Have you been crying for a while? You’re very red.”

I blinked at him and took a half-step back, not trusting myself to speak again. I glanced down at my bare legs, covered only by frumpy panties and a big shirt, and tried to subtly guide the hemline down the skin of my thighs.

“You…you’re really a real person? Really?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Really really.”

I furrowed my brow and examined him from where I stood several inches shorter. His cheeks went pink under my scrutiny, but it was incomprehensible to me. “I’ve been having these dreams since I was seven and I’ve never seen another person,” I said.

He raised his brows. “Seven?” he asked. “Huh.” He peered down at me. “How old are you now?”

“Does that matter?”

“I’m just trying to make sense of it too,” he said, watching me carefully.

I sighed. “Twenty-two,” I said.

“I’m twenty-four…,” he said with a hum, rubbing his jaw with his right hand. Something about him was oddly intellectual, like he had answers to any question I could conjure. But my heart was still racing, my palms still slick with sweat. No matter how forthcoming he was, he was still a stranger in my dream. “Guess it doesn’t have to do with age. Maybe time?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, frustrated.

He glanced at me before squinting into the darkness. “Well I started having these dreams at age nine,” he began, eyeing me. “Same time you did. I was just two years older.”

“So?”

“Maybe it’s connected?” he asked with a shrug.

“Doctor Kim said-,” I began, then stopped myself short, clamping my mouth shut. I crossed my arms and sighed. “It’s trauma-based. This whole thing.”

“Is it?”

I glanced at him. “Isn’t it?”

He smiled. “I’m not so sure,” he said, then sighed and took a step forward. “Why’s it so dark here?”

“You’ve been having these dreams since you were nine and you don’t know it’s gonna be dark?” I asked, cocking a brow as I sat down on the nothing beneath me.

He blinked at me. “Wait, it’s always like this for you?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Is there anything else it could be?”

He scoffed and crossed his arms, disbelief etched into his features. “Well,” he began, glancing around. “It can be anything, really.”

“Huh?”

Before I could interrogate him further, the blackness around began to give way to something else. Like spilling paint across a canvas, vibrant colors began to bleed from behind the stranger’s back, extending forward toward me. A frightened cry escaped me and I leapt to my feet, scuttling away from the colors as they spread like a drink tipped over. At first, the colors seemed shapeless but as they grew the image began to clear up, revealing soft edges and patterns and before I knew it I was standing on a beach, golden sand between my bare toes, purplish ocean rising and falling behind the man’s back as an invisible tide drew waves against the shore.

Tears pricked my eyes as I stumbled back once again, only this time I felt the warm sand beneath me, cushioning my fall. Gaping, I sat with my legs bent awkwardly on the shoreline’s slope, staring at the endless ocean and the cliffside forming a ring around the beach.

“W-w-what the hell is this?!” I screamed, and my voice didn’t echo, it just seeped through the landscape, swallowed by the sound of the waves. My tears returned, trailing hot down my face.

The stranger approached and crouched beside me, eyes wide. “Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you or anything! It’s just-,”

“Wh-what the fuck are you?” I asked, hands trembling violently. “I-I-I’ve never s-seen it do that.”

He blinked at me, genuine worry in his soft eyes, and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I thought you could do it too.”

“Do what?”

“Control it.”

“Control what?”

“The dream.”

I swiped a hand across my face, wiping my tears, and glanced around the beach. The longer I looked, the more beautiful it was. Like a snapshot in time. The sky was drenched in shades of lilac and amber and the sun seemed to live perpetually against the horizon line, never dipping below. A never-ending sunset. When I inhaled, I could even smell the salty seawater and fresh summertime air.

“What’s your name?” asked the stranger, coming to an uneasy crouch beside me.

I turned my wild eyes toward him and blinked. “Eunbyul,” I said weekly. “Lee Eunbyul.”

He smiled gently and held out his hands for me to shake. I was struck by the memory of Jimin from earlier that morning. Was this perhaps all he was? A manifestation of my memories of the day? “Kim Namjoon,” he said as he clasped his hand around my bandaged palm. “This is a first for me too, you know,” he said as he fell onto his bottom by my thigh.

I glanced at him. “What?”

“Having someone else here,” he said with a chuckle. “Not that I think you’re real.”

“I’m not real?” I asked, eyes wide, as I pointed a finger toward my chest.

He raised his brows. “Well how could you be? It’s not like this is a different dimension. It’s just my dream, right?”

“It’s my dream,” I said. “Listen, you’re really freaking me out.”

He turned to me with a furrowed brow. “Then you’re real? Are you sure?” He then rolled his eyes and rested his chin in his hand. “Stupid question. If you’re something I made up then of course you’re gonna say you’re real.”

“I’m a real person, Namjoon,” I said seriously, meeting his eyes. “I have a sister named Gaeul and a mom named Iseul and a dad named Doyeon. I’m from Sangdo-dong-,”

“You’re from Sangdo-dong?” he asked, eyes wide.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, timid pinned underneath his incriminating gaze.

He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms. “Huh.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can I prove it?” I asked.

He eyed me. “I don’t know.”

I swallowed hard. “Do I really seem like just character you dreamed up?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. “Do you really think your brain is that powerful?”

At this he chuckled and a little bit of the tension I’d been holding in my gut dissolved. I glanced at him, bathed in gentle dying sunlight, and found my proof. There was no way my mind could conjure someone like him. Something magnificent like this scene. I wasn’t equipped like he was.

“How did you do it?” I asked quietly, still scanning his fine features, his honeyed skin.

He raised his brows. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just kind of…do it,” he said with a nod.

I blinked. “That’s super unhelpful.”

He laughed. “Well…I guess the best I can do is say…think of a vivid memory, something really sensory, and try to put yourself there.”

“So you’ve been here before?” I asked, glancing around.

He smiled. “It’s a beach in the town where I live,” he said softly. “I came here when I graduated high school. All alone. And I just watched the waves until night came.”

“And what if I want to go to…I don’t know, Barbados?” I asked.

He laughed, a vibrant, bellowing sound, and his eyes squeezed shut. He hooked his elbows around his knees and grinned at the skyline. “Then I’d say study up.”

“Have you ever done it? Created a place you’ve never been to?” I asked, my curiosity forcing my inhibitions to rest.

He hummed. “Once or twice, but it’s harder. Gotta know what you want to see like the back of your hand for it to work.”

“And you do this every time?”

“Mhm,” he said with an easy smile. “A lucid dream is defined as a dream during which dreamers, while dreaming, are aware they are dreaming,” he said, sounding like an encyclopedia. Like he had it memorized. “That’s what specialists say.”

“So this is just a lucid dream to you?”

“Is it not a lucid dream to you?” he asked, raising his brows.

I blinked, mouth agape, and returned my eyes to the sea. “I never thought of it that way,” I said quietly, picking at the skin around my nails. “I guess since I couldn’t control them…”

He smiled. “But you can,” he said. “It’s your dream after all.”

I turned to him, brows furrowed, and exhaled slowly. “It’s my dream…,” I repeated with a nod. I turned to glance at the ocean. “I think I figured out a way to prove I’m real.”

“Mm?”

“If I can show you something you’ve never seen…that would be enough, right?” I asked, watching the waves lapping the shore.

He smiled. “I suppose.”

I nodded and squeezed my eyes shut. I focused on all my senses. The scent of old wood, pancakes cooking in the kitchen, far away. The feeling of Mom’s quilt beneath my fingertips, the cool air-conditioning blowing strands of hair around my face. The sound of muffled conversation through the walls, footsteps falling through the wood-floored hallways. The way my bed looked, tucked in a corner beside the window, white sheer curtains blowing with the breeze that Mom scolded me for letting in, the dresser in the corner, the narrow door, my box of toys half-open by the bed. I saw and felt it all so vividly I was certain that when I opened my eyes-

There it was.

I blinked at the dark wood paneling of my childhood bedroom, the beams criss-crossing overhead, the shiny floor. A few scoffing breaths escaped my lips in uneasy puffs, but before I could say a single thing, a voice retrieved me from my reverie.

“Wow,” said Namjoon from beside me.

And with that, the illusion crumbled and my bedroom faded away like sand through my fingertips. The image slipped in the blink of an eye, leaving behind only the black emptiness of nothing, all around us. I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the blackness for a few tense seconds. It had been there. My room had really, truly been there right before my eyes. I could feel it, smell it, touch it. Like I was right there.

I glanced at Namjoon and found him smirking at me. “Well,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve certainly never seen that before.”

Before I could reply, I felt a vague tugging sensation in my chest, like I was being yanked from the inside. “Oh,” I breathed.

He glanced down at his own chest and nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“W-wait!” I called, resisting the pull and reaching my desperate, clinging hands out to him once more. I grabbed his forearm in my hands and stared up at him, pleading. “I…I don’t wanna go yet,” I said, shaking my head. “I have so much to ask you.”

He smiled gently and gave my hand a pat. “It was nice to meet you, Eunbyul,” he said, taking a step away from me and breaking the tether of my grip. My hands fell to my sides and the pull became too strong to fight.

“Namjoon!” I called, but my voice was fading and so was he. “I’ll come back! I swear!”

“Maybe we’ll see each other again,” he said with an echoing laugh. “Maybe even in real life.”

I felt like I might cry again. So much had happened in one night. The fear I’d always harbored for this dark nightmare was all but gone. In its wake, anticipation so great it threatened to sweep me away like the inescapable force of a tide.

I awoke panting, sweat beading along my hairline. I swallowed hard past the dryness in my throat and reached for my water bottle, removing my glasses from the bridge of my nose and slipping them onto the table. I usually didn’t sleep with those things on. I drank greedily, shutting my eyes, and ran a hand through my hair before collapsing once more against the cushion of my bed. 4:03.

I huffed and set the bottle aside, lying still on my back and staring at the fuzzy outline of the ceiling, unable to see it properly with my glasses.

Again, I was awake before the sun.

Only this time, I couldn’t remember what sort of dream had woken me up.

Stan Lee University (Part 14)

Prompt: What would the Avengers be like in college, more importantly, what would they be like if Y/N existed around them?

Word Count: 1903

Warnings: drama, language, welcome to fluff town

Notes: This is based on a HC from @carryonmyswansong. They helped brainstorm and write part of this series. In this AU, no one will have powers, everyone is a normal human. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So we’re going to chat on Discord every day, right?” you questioned, pushing your finger into his chest as you stood at the airport.

“If I find time. You know, all those nurses, so little time,” he teased, looking off into the distance.

“Strange, if you aren’t on that chat at exactly--”

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll be there. We will video chat as often as we can,” he assured.

“Good. You got everything? I know you had to pack pretty fast.”

In fact, you know he had to pack in a panic because you had helped him pack his things for the trip. You two made a list and went over it three times.

“We should. If I don’t, worst comes to worst, I have to buy it there.”

“Right… And you get back on the--”

“Tenth, of January.”

A half smile pulled at your lips, it was painted with sorrow. That would be about a month apart and you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

“Well, you better get going,” you noted, glancing to the group of abroad students he would be traveling with.

He sighed. “Yeah, they can’t function without me.”

“I know I can’t,” you muttered.

He put his finger under your chin and lifted it to face him. “Hey, yes you can. You’re going to enjoy your winter break, be with your family, and we will talk every day. This will go by before we know it.”

“I hope so.”

“It will.” He leaned down and gave you a firm kiss, making your stomach flutter. “Alright, I gotta get going. I love you. Thank you for taking me up here.”

“Sure thing. Any way to make sure your ass gets out of the country, far away from me,” you joked with a smile.

“Always nice to have a free chauffeur.” He winked at you and grabbed his bags before joining his group.

You couldn’t bear to watch him leave so you left and went to the car. As soon as the door closed, the tears trickled down.

----------------------------------------

It was only a few days after Stephen left, but you both needed to register for Spring classes, so you decided to do it together.

“Okay, so, I still need social psych,” you explained.

“Yes, Freud, we know. I’ll need biochem.”

“Do you need Physics 2?” you asked.

“Of course.”

“Okay, we’ll take that. What about your electives, got any room on that?”

“Yeah, I do. What were you thinking?”

“Computer science class? We could take it with Peter,” you offered.

“Oh, yeah, good idea. Put me down for that. So what’s left then?”

“Well, I still need some foreign language. You want to do that with me?”

“Sure.”

“What language?”

“Latin seems to make the most sense with us going to medical school,” he offered, shrugging through the video cam.

“Right. Okay, so we only have one class each next semester that we won’t be together. That’s not too bad!” you noted, looking at the time slots.

“Ugh, I’ll be around you that much?”

“Bitch, you’re lucky you get me this much.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

You glared at the camera. “I will be a delight...until you piss me off. This can go one of two ways, Strange. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I don’t fuck things up. As you will recall from me being the perfect lab partner.”

“Perfect-- Perfect lab partner? Is the water tainted over there? You’re a self-involved, arrogant dickwad.”

“Well this dickwad loves you and I’m looking forward to a full schedule with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled. “I’m sending you the codes now for the classes. You better register, right now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a slight laugh.

--------------------------------

“It’s only been two weeks, but Y/N, I swear, I’m learning so much,” Stephen said through the screen on the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like how I definitely don’t want to be a cardiologist.”

A laugh rolled out of you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. But the good news is, I do think I’ve taken an interest in neurosurgery,” he mentioned.

“Really? That’s fantastic. So that’s what you want to specialize in?”

“We’ll see, but for right now, yeah. It’s complicated, always progressing, but the field really needs some talented doctors in it right now.”

“Yeah, it does. Wow. That’s great.”

“What about you? You still stuck on working with crazy people?”

“I work with you every day, Strange, and you’re getting better.”

He couldn’t help but laugh and you snickered as you walked toward the kitchen, still on video chat.

“That was just hateful,” he commented.

“Is that him?” your mom suddenly shouted from the kitchen. You were walking through the living room when she heard you. “Let me say hi!” she called out and you blushed.

“Okay, Mom. One sec,” you said, your heart hammering. “My mom wants to say hi,” you informed with a face of worry.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her all the naughty things you send me.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “What a relief, because I don’t send you naughty things. Must be your British girlfriend.” You stuck your tongue out as you walked to the kitchen. “Mom, this is Stephen, Stephen Strange. Stephen, this my Mom, Andrea.”

You turned the phone and showed her. She took the phone and your eyes went wide.

“Oh my gosh. Hi there! Well I’m Y/N’s mom! It’s so good to finally put a face to the name! We hear about you nonstop! I swear.”

You chuckled lightly, your ears and face turning as red as a tomato.

“Oh, wow, Y/N, he’s quite a looker, isn’t he?” she said, eyeing the phone.

You gave her a painful smile. “Yes, Mom, he is.”

“We hear about you all the time. Y/N tells us you’re very bright.”

“I hope so. But actually, if it weren’t for her, I don’t know if I would’ve made it through physics on my own.”

“Aww, and he’s sweet too,” she gushed. “Well, I’ll hand you back over. I’m making some dinner so…”

“Oh, what’s on the menu?” he asked.

“Jambalaya. Do you cook?”

“I cook, but you’ll have to ask Y/N if it’s any good.”

Your mom glanced to you. “Yeah, he’s really good.”

“If I may make a suggestion? I always throw in bay leaves with my jambalaya, seems to marry the flavors.”

“Oh, I never thought of that, I’ll try that,” she noted. “Thank you!”

“Is that Y/N’s new boyfriend?” your dad asked, coming in from the garage. “Let me see him.”

Your mom passed your phone to your dad.

“Hello, sir,” Stephen said with a pleasant tone.

“Why hasn’t Y/N brought you over yet?” your dad asked Stephen.

“I’m not sure, really. You’ll have to ask her. I’ve asked to meet you all before,” he stated.

Oh, that son of a bitch was trying to get you into trouble.

“No, that…” You took a deep breath. “Yes, he has, but we were at school. Then he decided to galavant all the way over to Europe.” You glared at the phone even though he couldn’t see you. “So, here we are.”

“So how is London this time of year, Stephen?” your dad asked, walking out of the kitchen with your phone.

“Very brisk, sir. Thankfully, my work is all done indoors, or I’d be dead by now.”

Your dad laughed. “I hear that, I hear that. Well here, I’ll give you back to Y/N. Glad to hear you’re doing good work over there. Keep it up.”

“Will do, sir. Thank you.”

Your dad went to hand it back to you but suddenly your older sister came into the living room too. “Are we talking to Y/N’s boy toy now? Finally. I thought he didn’t exist,” she noted.

“Thank you, Claire, for that,” you said, the blush on your cheeks just getting hotter and hotter.

After grabbing the phone, her eyes went wide. “Holy shit, Y/N. He’s hot as hell. Good job. Here you go.” She tossed the phone at you and you caught it, fumbling a bit.

Leaving the living room and retreating back to your bedroom you glanced down to the screen. “Sorry about that. I’m gonna go die now.”

He immediately started to laugh loudly.

“It’s not that bad,” he noted. “So, you talk about me... a lot?” he teased.

“Yeah? What of it, asshole?” you shot back, trying to diffuse your embarrassment.

“Nothing, just kind of sappy, that’s all,” he accused.

“Okay, well first off, fuck you. And fuck you again for trying to lie and say I didn’t invite you over. I’ve tried to get you here before, you dick.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I like them. They seem very nice. I can’t wait to meet them in real life. My family wouldn’t notice if I brought in the playboy mansion.”

A sympathetic smile tugged at your lips. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, it is. One day, you’ll see exactly what I mean.”

“Oh, so I’m invited to meet your family?”

“Whenever I’m sure you won’t leave based on that decision, yes, you’re invited to meet them.”

“I feel like this is a huge step for us, is this a huge step for us?” you teased sarcastically.

“Alright, if you’re going to act like an idiot, I’m hanging up,” he tease-threatened.

“Actually, you probably should. It’s like midnight there, isn’t it?”

“Ah, shit. You’re right. I should probably get some sleep. We’ve got early rounds in the morning.”

“Yeah, don’t want to go in asleep. You’re already a half-assed student wide-awake.”

“I’m too tired to think of anything clever to say. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Only if I feel like it,” you remarked with a coy grin.

“Oh, you’ll feel like it. You always do.” He winked at you, making you laugh. “Good night. I love you.”

“Love you, miss you. Sweet dreams.”

And the two of you hung up.

So far, you had gotten through this. At first, it was really difficult. Especially trying to figure out each other’s schedules on when you could and couldn’t talk. But once you got that down, it all seemed like smooth sailing.

Your mom probably wasn’t exaggerating when she said you talked about him all the time. The only thing was, you hadn’t realized you did. It just came natural to share his accomplishments, to talk him up. You didn’t share how humiliated you were with Loki, but you did tell them that Stephen was there for you and made you feel so much better.

So far, your family seemed fine with him. You assured him he was mature, had his head on straight, that he had goals and was working really hard toward them. They never tried to control your romantic life, but you could tell your dad got less and less fond of Bucky as your boyfriend. When he came over as a friend, your dad was okay. As the years went on and you two got more unhealthy for each other though, and Bucky seemed to fall behind you in the dedication department, things were strained.

But now, your family seemed to be really supportive of you and Stephen. Of course, meeting him, actually spending the day with him will be another thing all together, but for right now, everyone seemed happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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A Real Doll

By: Amy Michael Homes

The story starts on a gentle note with the boy declaring that he’s dating Barbie three afternoons a week while his sister Jennifer is at dance class. He chats amiably about how he brings Barbie out on their first date to the back-yard. There, he discovers that she’s a Tropical Barbie and that she squeaks when she talks. Captivated, he describes her eyes as ‘sparkling blue like the ocean on a good day’; she has ‘an entire galaxy, clouds, stars, a sun, the sea’ painted on her face.

It is only when he goes inside to fetch Barbie a Diet Coke that we realize we have been deceived and that Homes has lulled us into a false sense of complacency. The boy takes a couple of Valium from the bathroom medicine cabinet, breaks one into the Coke and swallows one himself; we are presented with a teenager self-medicating with prescription drugs and feeding them to his ‘date’ to eradicate inhibitions. This is a far cry from the seemingly innocent, romantic role-play that opens the story.

His reasoning behind the medication is simple, ‘I figured if I could be calm and collected, she’d realize I wasn’t going to hurt her’. He repeats this justification a little later, ‘I figured if we could be calm and collected together, she’d be able to trust me even sooner’. However, he also admits that he is ‘falling in love in a way that had nothing to do with love’. He may be young, but he is self-aware enough to know that what he’s feeling for Barbie is not love. He wants something else entirely from her and what he wants will require trust, or at least the illusion of it. There is a world of difference between the base urges of lust and the romantic notion of love – and with this one sentence he reveals that his intentions have no basis in the latter.

After this point (i.e. after he has fallen ‘in love’) the relationship between the boy and Barbie becomes an exploration of the power he exerts over her. At the end of their first date together, he puts her head into his mouth, like a ‘lion and tamer, God and Godzilla’. Comparing himself to these figures, he is associating with representations of ultimate power. The tamer subjugates nature’s monarch; the lion, God, and Godzilla exert their supremacy through slaughter, creation, and annihilation. The lion and tamer relationship is inverted here as the tamer often puts his head inside the mouth of the lion to demonstrate complete control. In this scenario, Barbie should be the tamer, yet it is the boy (here, he is the lion) who forces her head into his mouth.

There is an animalistic quality to their relationship, a coalescence of pleasure and pain. The boy bites her neck, licks her face, and sucks her feet, until eventually he progresses to masturbating with her in his bedroom. He thinks about how he is ‘forever crossing a line’ between ‘good guys and bad, between men and animals’. When he climaxes, he describes it as the ‘most horrifying experience’ he has ever had. He can’t even look at Barbie afterwards, even though she begs him not to stop. However, in a moment of clarity, he admits that ‘maybe I just think she said that because I read it somewhere. I don’t know anymore’. The fantasy world is starting to crack and shame is creeping in.

When he goes to the toy-store to buy Barbie a present, he is surrounded by rows upon rows of Barbie doll replicas. He imagines himself becoming a slave to Barbie, having to sexually service each doll before discarding it onto a growing pile in the corner of his room. In response to this overwhelming image, he feels faint. We get a sense that the boy is starting to realize he’s losing control of his own fantasy.

One day, he sees that his sister has swapped Ken and Barbie’s heads. He accidentally knocks Barbie’s head to the floor when picking up the doll and sees that his sister has used red pins as earrings for Barbie. The pins go right through her head. When he tries to explain this to Barbie, (who thinks she is supposed to get used to the resulting headaches) she can’t understand him. He admits that he is ‘starting to hate her’. However, in contrast, he becomes increasingly aroused by the Ken doll.

After his sexual experience with Ken, he worries about his future life as ‘queerbait’. However, soon afterwards, he decides that he wants to play with Ken and that he might take him out instead of Barbie. They could play ball together; ‘it was a boy thing, we were boys together’. He then smashes Barbie’s head ‘back on her own damn neck’. He has started to turn away from the object of his obsession, seeking male companionship – even if it is in the form of another doll.

In an attempt to win back his affections, Barbie pleads with him to have sex with her and he wonders if Jennifer knows that her toy is a nymphomaniac. While the image of a nymphomaniac Barbie draws a sly grin, there is also the possibility here that Homes is commenting on society’s judgment of sexually forward women. Everything is fine while the boy is the one making advances, but when Barbie attempts to do so, he retreats from her. He responds to her increasingly desperate advances by saying, “You don’t belong with little girls”. For him, Barbie is a sexual object and thus no longer fit for associating with children. This is a neat illustration of Freud’s Madonna-whore complex where women are artificially divided into two categories: saintly mother-carers and debased, prostitute-like personalities.

Eventually giving into Barbie’s demands, he rips her clothes off, but discovers that Jennifer has sliced Barbie’s skin and drawn on her. He asks Barbie why she lets Jennifer do such things to her. She responds by saying simply, “Jennifer owns me”.  In reaction to this, he becomes ‘crazy’ with jealousy, realizing that the relationship between Jennifer and Barbie is ‘one of those relationships that could only exist between women’. Jennifer didn’t ‘want’ Barbie, as she already ‘had her’. This is an unvarnished admission that he sees Barbie as a possession; he wants to control her yet he cannot do so completely because Jennifer remains the prevailing owner. The sexual relationship he has with Barbie is of lesser importance because her ties to Jennifer will always override her ties to him.

This holds true even when Jennifer goes so far as to disfigure Barbie. The things that Jennifer has done to her sicken him, but he cannot do anything to stop the mutilation because Barbie belongs to her. He is powerless to act without openly admitting that Barbie means something to him – and he will never do so.

When he sees Barbie in her final, destroyed state, instead of acting like the amorous lover of earlier, he examines her in detail, ‘like a scientist’, like a ‘medical examiner’. Transformed from the thing of beauty she was when they first met, Barbie is now scarred and hacked apart. ‘She was smiling, and she was burned. She was smiling, and she was ruined.’ She is no longer desirable, and he walks away, ignoring her when she asks in the last line, “Hey, aren’t we going to play?” The object of his lust and obsession is now merely a defaced toy that belongs to someone else.

A real doll is about curiosity. People that in the stage of curiosity should open up it to their family or someone they are close so that they will be given an advice to guide them and avoid them from harm because curiosity really lead people to the dark one, guidance from elders is really needed when young people is in the stage of curiosity of puberty. This kind of thing he did. He makes the temper of his lust get higher and resulting a negative effect on him. We should be attentive of what we gonna do. Curiosity tend to brings us to another experience that beyond in our limitations. Let us know how to control and manage our curiosity and know what should be the difference between love and lust.

- Queennie M. Gascon

Glenn Dominic L. Garay

Is Sandy Bell a victim?

Is Sandy Bell a victim? She says she is not, though feminists such as Irina Ilisei say the question is more complicated than it seems.Yes, its very much like the girlfriend experience. But that also depends on what the webcam model is like and also what the person paying is like because everyone wants something different.Inside the building, Studio 20 occupies the first and second floors. Forty rooms open off pristine, white corridors, their walls adorned with pictures of women in states of glamorous undress. A closed door means business. Inside that room a woman is live and direct via webcam with international clients - and as long as she is alone in the room, it is entirely legal. In this world of virtual relationships and cybersex, those in front of the camera are "models" and the men who watch are "members". A lot of their clients are really freaking mean for no reason. The downside to raking in that sweet cash is that a lot of people can be really mean for no reason. She says a lot of guys can't even sit there and watch her without saying mean things to her, and many of them don't tip either. Granted, that happens in minimum-wage jobs too, but I'm guessing what guys say to her is probably way worse than what people say to fast-food employees.

The whole thing is an amazing facade. You think these girls are camming from their rooms when they have free time, but no; they come to the studio at 8 AM and sit there until 6 PM. They work 40 hour weeks and often pay the studio 50 percent of their income. In exchange, the studio provides them with a built-in audience, a technical infrastructure, a hair and makeup person, a wardrobe—they even have people that train them on what clients tend to like and how to keep people in a quiet room with you.The curvy 21-year-old from Queensland says 'you can't just sit there, look pretty and take your clothes off,' – that customers want someone who is real, who they can form a relationship with. But if you don't have this luxury — like a lot of girls across the world — you'll likely work for a "studio". That's basically a euphemism for another person's computer (probably a man), in front of which you'll perform on a tight schedule. You're still working through, say, MyFreeCams, but instead of only giving MFC a cut of your take, the studio owner takes a piece as well. Often a large one. If you don't stick to your mandatory hours, you'll be fired. You'll also be potentially living with strangers in conditions beneath the grimiest motel.Another camgirl, Heidi, 23, has bright blue hair and once sat on a kitchen bench and painted herself while more than 40 men – paying customers - tuned in to watch.

But there's really nothing exotic about Anna. She's occasionally lazy and often messy, spending most of her days, as far as I can tell, puttering around her Bucharest apartment in pajamas, playing with her cats, drinking enormous plastic bottles of soda, working on coding an iOS game, and taking occasional trips out to pick up fried chicken and buy new underwear. She claims to have almost no "real" friends off of the internet, but is consistently cheery, and enormously talkative. While video chatting, she always asks if I mind before she smokes. Anna complains about having to take time away from Diablo 3 for her cam sessions, where she chats with regulars, masturbates, mouths along to pop songs, and waits, waits, waits for someone to send her money. And when it comes, it comes. Anna's a MyFreeCam loyalist, earning $US6 a minute via "tokens" — a clever way to obscure how much her customers actually spend. It's a lot easier to fork over 900 tokens than thinking about the $US75 you just spent in minutes. This is Anna's sole income, and what took her out of rural Romanian poverty and the whims of other men.Sites do virtually nothing to curb or discourage this kind of treatment."I teach them about fetishes - what a fetish is, why a person has one… We study Freud and a lot of psychology. And we study a book of gestures because women must be sensual, smart and beautiful.At times, it's hard to believe Mila even enjoys the work. I stopped by one of her more recent shows, and she sat, almost motionless, with her top unbuttoned, literally wincing. She seemed to be mumbling to herself, narrowing her eyes and ignoring her customers. Mila told the hundreds of slobbering men in her chatroom that they'd need to deposit thousands of tokens before she'd take her shirt off entirely. Money trickled in. She says the last three weeks have been "the slowest in three years...very bad. Still, she's a rich woman in an industry of destitution. CONTINUED BELOW...

One-way friends (This story is just prose, so many things are kind of unrelated)

We have heard of many important factors of a friend, and surely, I should not be baby feeding people the importance of friendships correct? We always have some friends; believe or not, we often talk to a lot of people, but we are only doing so to wait for our turn to speak instead of listening to them. This is just immoral to just talk without listening. However, a true friend would always talk never much but the need to listen.

(Sorry, I sounded like condemning people for a second there I just wished a strong opening) 

One night, I was also on a Uber with my parents(note I said also because of the Skunk was also writing about the Uber, and her article indeed inspired me to do this article). I was intimidated by the atmosphere: the lights were gloomy; the forest was covered in black mist that sheers my heart; the windows were reflecting my greatest fear but it presented it with a “void of understanding”. Lightings effect of a theatre were undeniable as dark, yet the car driver remained a rather controversial look on the facial expression that he has. Accordingly, a look like such is as if surprised, but it was more complicated than simply surprised wouldn’t it? Freud would agree with me that the latent content is what I am truly looking for this driver is out of my mind and even beyond my expectations. He was cold, physically that is, and greeted us with a credible phrase that is very American such as “How you doing?” when he just expected a simple answer like “good”. 

However, this driver is so special that I could not forget about him today. So out of ordinary and exceeded the limit between “I just met you today”. I could feel the deep and matured friendship between us strangely growing. I rode the shotgun, which a normal sane man would do as I am the only one from the family who actually speak English, took out my destination, in addition to my phone number, to confirm with him that I am the true client. He then smiled at me, menacingly. As if he was about to kill me, but that was merely my hallucination of dreadfulness. I am, in fact, a very sensitive person to do work. It was indeed a disadvantage, it makes me start to feel things that I should not even imagine. My philosophy, in contrast, became much more complex because of such personality- as if I can always consider the inconsiderable at a young age. The driver was merely just smiling innocently. He started a chat with the most awkward way possible “ How are you?”

I expected nothing less than this. As the taxi drivers in China are either graduates who cannot find jobs or people who never know how to speak in an interview. I replied, he started talking about his life around the states and his dream of traveling. At first, I thought he was merely joking or it is his “American Dream”. However, I noticed his financial income by observing the car itself - the windows and the engine of the car was clean and nice. No clouds of dust or scratches, this shows me that either he loves to wash cars and is talented at driving or he spends money on them. He has a very weird photo stuck between the top and the air conditioner. This photo shows that he is renting with some friends in a very comfortable environment. On top of that, he is wearing cloth that is unusual - it is Champion with self-serving annotations on the cloth. I can tell from the smell of him is not any homeless non-hygienic dirt, but soft sweet-smelling fabric. Therefore, he must at least be a high mannered person. And where I usually learn manners from? Expensive schooling and rich friends who learned their manners. And indeed, he was a high earning working class. He works for the press and makes publish; an editorial role for the company. he is a part-time worker for Uber. He loved to get extra money in his income. His financial position is totally able to travel around the world. Because he has the money already saved up to do so, but he needs a vacation. He still did not find the love of his life yet and no children for him. He is a man of 30s, a strongly yet educated. He could be deceiving me the whole time just to get more respect from his customers, whereas behind our eyes he is also one of the “Honest Kings”. However, the friendship between us was weird; I called for the wrong destination at first. At this point, he would use the Uber system and he will benefit from my mistake by earning an extra 15 US dollar. However, he instead offered me an alternative path to the hotel for 10 dollars without the promise of Uber. As an insane man, I incredibly trusted him. On the final way to my hotel, he revised me something that I have learned from a universal philosopher adored religion, as it was never the reason of conflict but to resolve one instead, it is also one of the most ancient ones as well - Buddism. Since I was little my master always reminded the old sayings of it. “Everything is nothing, nothing is everything”. What a fool I am not realizing such an important term, unbelievably more ignorants kept on neglecting this simple yet controversial term is the true meaning of life. He told me a story about himself traveling to New York, he expected really nothing at all - never even booked a hotel. In contrast, he managed to spend his 10 days in New York happily without one complaint. Honestly, I would already feel dubious about the hygiene of the toilet. To him, it was the start of understanding such a term. Living is without belief to think, to praise silence is to forgive violence, not to hate it. Hate was the cause of all the noise and violence, we can use more violence to suppress violence, or we can just simply accept that we always have violent thought, but the forgiveness was the hardest part. This Uber driver reminded me of many Buddist religion morals that were reminded into my ears.

However, I compromised myself with such knowledge in hand, and I would try not to forget about him. Yet, remember him was very hard as time, like a knife, tortures me as it moves around my neck. Even if I really forget him it is ok, because I forgive the violence within me. This violence was brought by time, but time is always giving me the “present”. My wrath can be converted to do something else that helps others. This is why you will always see me picking up trashes that was not thrown by me at all. Because I realized that if I learn how to change certain things into something else - the world would be peaceful and violence will be forgiven but never forgotten. This driver truly showed me things even till the end of our friendship: he showed me the meaning from the movie “fight club” “One-way friend”’s the true meaning. One way friend makes your travel interesting, but however you try to think of him unless he is you, you will always forget him. Nevertheless, forget is never forgive, vice versa. I forgive my violence, but did I ever forgot violence? Never, not on a day of me alive. Violence existed everywhere, the best I can do is not to provoke it and try to make other people understand that this is not something that we should forget but to understand. We need to know the sources of violence - noise. Noise creates more and more violence. Eventually to a point where humans bear no more and emotions took control over your reason. Then that is when we animal. 

Remember this my friends “Violence is everywhere, forgive, not to forget.”

It is illegal in Romania

It is illegal in Romania for a man and woman to webcam together, but it is impossible to say how commonly the law is flouted in the way Oana describes. She went on to work as a prostitute in Germany, until she found the courage to return to Bucharest and a new life. Now she works in sex work prevention - talking to young women about her experiences, and trying to persuade them of the danger of video chat."That or exotic places," says Andrea. "This is not only a sex business as some people think - models have to speak with a member as if they are in a normal, online relationship. Being able to discuss many subjects brings comfort to both parties."No one ever comes up to them on the street and says, "Hey, I saw you naked." While it's totally possible they do recognize her and just don't run up to her for autographs, she says she's never been recognized on the street. She says that if she ever was, she'd just "ask then [sic] how hard they came and if i'll be seeing them as one of my regulars," which is just good business sense.But despite fulfilling all my internet male expectations, Anna's impossible to really pin down. On both IM and video chat, she's prone to mannerisms and quips that make you want to pay for her time. A lot of it. She's beautiful without surfeit, an honest form that's pleasing even over a low-resolution video stream. Her English is fantastic, her personality disarming. She'll sit casually, like a girl the morning after a sleepover, musing about her cats and future. When she first "performed" for me on camera, discarding her herd of cats and cigarette for a bottle of baby oil, a few alarmed neurons felt like I should rush to Bucharest and wrap a blanket around her. Her innocence is a cool switch. The tokens evaporated.

"I teach them about fetishes - what a fetish is, why a person has one… We study Freud and a lot of psychology. And we study a book of gestures because women must be sensual, smart and beautiful."The young woman proudly boasts a menu when she is online – in the form of a whiteboard which shows her viewers what she will do and how much it will cost them. Model, producer and co-creator of YouTube channel ComeCurious, Reed is essentially the physical embodiment of sex positivity, which she defines as trying to make people feel like what they’re doing and what they’re into isn’t wrong, it’s normal and it’s absolutely fine.” She’s a huge advocate for removing stigma and taboos around sex, and we caught up with her to learn more about webcamming, a line of sex work that is seldom talked about. "There's a lot of burnout in this industry," Domino tells me over the phone from one of the three houses she owns in Wisconsin — one of them a lakefront property outside of Madison. She says it with a serious voice that sounds a little tired.

Mila Milan is as close as camming gets to producing a celebrity: a renaissance woman boasting ownership of a private resort in Thailand (below), a Porsche, an industrial design firm, nine cats, eight dogs, an impending book deal, a small child, and what she says was "one of the biggest tips ever in cam history — 260,000 tokens, which meant $US13,000 for me."Sometimes self-­regulation regarding finances is the best option for some people: I’ve been treated better and more fairly as a Cam Girl and nude model than I was in my last retail job where I, no word of a lie, got fired for ‘looking sad’. Yet despite how much control one can have over their career as a Cam Girl there are certainly discrepancies within the industry, including safety issues and issues of future employability, as well as what is considered a fair payment and no guarantee on a basic minimum wage for hours put in. It leaves a lot up to chance.A little research at mega-message boards like Stripper Web is fruitful — you'll pick up "Best Way to Recieve Money from Guys" muse in "Are you always beautious on cam?" And, of course, share war stories. One user started a thread spilling the most obnoxious, bigoted lines she'd recently been fed by "customers":They work a lot less often than most Americans with minimum-wage, full-time jobs. When asked how many cam shows she'd have to do to make roughly minimum wage at 40 hours a week, she said, "assuming I work with a figure of $10 an hour @ 40hrs/week, this would work out at roughly 4 shows for me." Granted, minimum wage in America is $7.25 per hour, which is a far cry from $10, but that's still a hell of a lot better than a 40-hour work week.

We Gather (Capital) To Scatter (Our Members): on #lonsileaks and #sociospeaks

The last week has been a mess with a nice scoop of ice cream on top for the University of the Philippines. That scoop of ice cream, of course, is the University’s first chance at the men’s basketball championship in 32 years.

But I’m not here to talk about that. I want the mess, because that’s more interesting than screaming at dudes throwing balls.

On the 14th of November, a frankly pathetic brawl caught on CCTV followed by a shooting incident occurred within campus grounds between Alpha Phi Beta and Upsilon Sigma Phi. After a lull in any kind of reporting about it, clashing accounts from eyewitnesses and the fraternities involved (of course), and basically nothing else done regarding campus security apart from the momentary closing of the school gate near the gun fire, the issue was (barely) tackled briefly in a statement by the University of the Philippines-Diliman’s Chancellor Mike Tan. In it, he lightly acknowledges the fraternity-related violence that occurred, glazing over all other ideas of condemnation by saying that on the same day of the gun incident, the UP men’s basketball team won a game, which “would not have been possible without the widespread support of … an alumni group where Upsilon Sigma Phi, Alpha Phi Beta and all the other fraternities … have been key players”.  

A week later, on the 21st of November, a rogue—well, someone—took to Twitter with the aid of a Google Drive to release the entirety of a Facebook group chat from Batch 2017 of Upsilon that consists of over 40,000 messages. This event is what is now known as #LonsiLeaks—which I guess is made to sound like Watergate but with college boys instead. The messages in this group chat contained comments, “jokes”, and other kinds of uses of words of the most horrid, disgusting, inhumane thoughts and beliefs.

Misogyny? Check.

Homophobia and LGBT+ harassment? Check.

Belittling of the social sciences? Check.

Marcos apologism? Check.

Racism? Check.

Islamophobia? Check.

Support of massacres and genocide? Check.

Threats of violence and harm? Check.

Flaunting of control of seats of power and authority? Check.

You name it, Upsilon’s got it.

The backlash was, understandably, immense. Nearly every day since the exposé, a new statement from a different university organization, college student council, or department is released. Calls ranged from the unanimous hashtag #EndFRV; to general sentiments on ending impunity; to the more fearless demands for the President of the UP System, Danilo Concepcion, and the Executive Vice President, Ted Herbosa, to resign. The aforementioned men occupying the highest positions of the most notorious University are, unfortunately, members of Upsilon.

The best and most constructive responses have come from the faculties of departments that have been staunchly against the presence of elitism, violence and misogyny especially in the community. My personal favorite—and my obvious bias as a graduate of it—is that of the Department of Sociology, which was directly lambasted in the group chat of Upsilon. The Department has started a series of teach-ins called Fraternities and Society, discussing the social causes and consequences of fraternity violence. The speakers are all members of the faculty, experts on education, Marxism, social organization, gender, feminism, and even, most fittingly, fraternities.

Here was a small community of professors, intellectuals, researchers, and activists making a stand against a group of snotty rich boys protected by snobby powerful men, vicious and arrogant and disrespectful of women, LGBT+, indigenous peoples, non-Catholic religions and anything else that isn’t like them. And they were making a stand the way they knew best—through in-depth, open, informal, non-hierarchic education that uses sharp structural analysis.

The 29th of November saw the first of these sessions. I sat with other students and professors on the floor of our college’s spacious lobby, greeting friends and former teachers while I caught my breath from running straight out of work. With nothing else but a Facebook event page on such short notice, the teach-in attracted more than 40 people sitting or standing on that cold tiled floor, listening to Gerry Lanuza cite Freud, Engels and Deleuze and Guattari off the top of his head to explain misogyny and the capitalist heteropatriarchy.

But I’ll have to gloss over all that to jump to the most interesting concept I learned that night. It came from Andoy Evangelista as he talked about the nuances of the “backwards vs. modern” debate in conversations of progress and development. He mentioned it merely in passing, but he explained that homonationalism is the Empire’s (or the West’s) use of LGBT+ rights and women’s rights as a measure or standard of modernism. In my understanding, it was sort of a liberal-democratic thing, where you include people as tokens of identity politics rather than actually incorporating the necessary and contextually-appropriate changes in fundamental ways of living and organizing life and society to recognize, acknowledge, and respect the diversity of human life.

It was such a good point to discuss in the context of fraternities, the patriarchy, and the Classic Woke Ass Non-Upsilonian U.P. Student, as homonationalism is a slippery slope a truly radical and progressive person would have to be mindful of if they wanted to genuinely change things. It’s a reminder that there are historical, cultural, and colonial nuances that need to be kept in mind when we talk about radical change in a country as steeped in colonial mentality and fake measures of progress like the Philippines. Maybe we can start by checking the words we use when we argue for LGBT+ and women’s rights, by being wary of the comparisons we do and the benchmarks we set for ourselves in achieving culturally- and contextually-appropriate development. The West isn’t the one and only example of progress, unlike what white feminism wants us to believe.

Another thing to watch out for is homonationalism’s unfortunate use as a false sign of alllyship by people who aren’t really allies.  For one, most organizations’ responses to the #LonsiLeaks issue was to disavow the blatant misogyny, LGBT+phobia, Islamophobia, racism, and many other things wrong with that one group chat. And there’s nothing wrong with that, especially if values protecting diversity are what they really stand for. But Upsilon and its members started doing the same thing, crafting and posting statements claiming to simultaneously Wake Up Furious upon seeing the leaked messages. The fraternity and its many mouthpieces all said that everything in the chat was not in line with what they believe in and fight for, claiming to have worked hard to build safe spaces for the abovementioned sectors in the University.

I call bullshit on that.

I call bullshit on Upsilon’s statement because these stupid privileged boys could have only had the courage and platform to say the vilest things in an environment that made them see, feel, think, and believe that saying the vilest things does not have repercussions—and even if it did, there was someone to save you from the consequences anyway.

I call bullshit because Upsilon has existed for 100 years and you can’t tell me that in those 100 years, a group comprised exclusively of well-off men has not and has never produced and reproduced a culture of belittling and disrespect, of misogyny and violence, of secrecy and non-accountability.

I call bullshit because I have been privy to men’s conversations—men who aren’t even in fraternities—and the things they say in the comfort and confidence of people they know they can trust (i.e. Will not judge them, will laugh along with them, will not question them, will not point out that this is wrong, wrong, wrong) is nothing short of hair-raising, stomach-churning, nausea-inducing.

My friend told me that he has a theory about Upsilon, and frats in general. Upsilon’s motto is we gather light to scatter, and he told me that he believes that fraternities serve no other purpose than to keep pooling and collecting capital. For Upsilon, he says that light means the capital that they collect: money, power, connections.

He didn’t at first get to make the necessary connection as to what they were scattering, so I answered for him: “Their members.”

Upsilon, and all fraternities by extension, scatters its members. It plants them like seeds so it can further its control and capital, broaden itself and find an in for any industry and aspect of society that can be influenced.

Frankly, I don’t see them serving any other purpose myself.

Honestly, any way I look at it, fraternities are just unnecessary as a social organization. The only thing they offer people is upwards mobility for middle-upper class men, one foot in the door of wealth and power in the form of this “brotherhood”—a network of people who have become embedded in the various seats of power in the country.

I’m still trying to understand the reasons many have used to justify the existence and utilization of frats.

Belongingness and community? Colleges and universities have orgs that address all sorts of interests and advocacies. Or literally any other kinship ties.

Brotherhood? Literally, friends—and friends won’t make you dehumanize yourself or run to and fro just to prove you’re “loyal” to them. And inb4 “Iba kasi ang brotherhood ng frat (The brotherhood of fraternities is different)!”: if you’re looking for That Kind of Brotherhood™, you’re probably already incubating toxic notions and ideas of masculinity.

To help others? But there are so many other means to do that without needing to join frats. I really don’t get this.

A rite of passage? I actually don’t know what for, and what kind of difference going through the rite of passage of joining a frat would make.

Personal development? Jesus, I’m pretty sure you can get this in any other aspect of your life from any kind of organization or responsibility.

I really cannot think of anything else fraternities can offer aside from wealth, power and opportunities. I’m not an expert on fraternities, so I won’t deny I may be missing some things here, but personally as someone who has more than just dabbled with the topics of institutions and organizations for research, and as someone who has a handful of great, trustworthy, dependable, ambitious men in my circles who have no involvements with fraternities at all, I see fraternities only as a necessity in a country so corrupt and backwards that we still need to rely on the padrino system to get anywhere at all.

So maybe let me rephrase what I said a while ago: any way I look at it, in a society that aspires to be progressive, equal, and truly radical, fraternities are just unnecessary as a social organization.

-Adrienne Onday

Buster & Rio

Buster: Cheers for ruining my birthday, like Rio: What are you on about? Buster: I'm not typing with my voice so I know I didn't slur on that Rio: Yeah, but you're chatting shit Buster: Am I fuck Buster: What did you come for? Rio: Your sister invited me Rio: as it's her birthday too Buster: She ain't even fucking invited Buster: It's my party not hers Rio: You're unreal Rio: neither of us wants to be at your shitty party Rio: which was lame before I got here and we'll be gone as soon as we can so calm down Buster: Then get out Buster: Neither of you are wanted here Rio: 😥 Rio: Like I said, go when we're ready Rio: Ignore us and have a fabulous evening Buster: Like I said, you're ruining it Rio: I don't really care Rio: I'm here to make sure Nancy has a good time, not you Buster: Yeah 'cause she's really gonna have a good time here Buster: You're unreal Rio: Are you thick? Rio: YOU stole her guestlist so she HAS to be here 'til your parents are satisfied Rio: you only have yourself to blame so don't cry at me Buster: Are you thick? My parents aren't. They know Nance ain't got no mates & what's happening here Rio: Take it up with them then Rio: Literally not my problem Buster: I'm taking it up with you Buster: 'Cause you & her being here are my problem Rio: She's your fucking sister Buster: Exactly Rio: You can't just pretend she doesn't exist Buster: What I can't have is one night where I don't have to beat up some cunt for trying to straighten her out, apparently Buster: Whether it's my birthday or not Rio: Sorry she's not hideous and your friends have no self-control Rio: not really an us problem though so Buster: Your nice act has vanished totally by now then, yeah? Rio: I'm not going to be nice to you when you're being a spoilt baby Buster: Literally has never stopped you before Rio: No saint Rio: sometimes it's easier to ignore, when you're not being a total twat Buster: That'll be why you're dressed like such a whore Buster: Did you want me to ignore that? Rio: Obviously Rio: Not for you or this shitshow is it Buster: It's for my sister then? Buster: Cute Rio: You're so fucking messed up Buster: It's a party Buster: That's the point Rio: Mm enjoy Buster: Do you want a line before you fuck off? Rio: Seriously? Buster: What can I say? Host with the most Rio: Fuck off Rio: I'd sooner die than be drug buddies with you after how you've just spoken to me and about your sister Buster: I didn't offer it off my body, calm down Rio: Regardless, I don't want to go anywhere with you Rio: if I want some, I'll get my own Buster: I weren't offering to hold your hand, babe Buster: You're a big girl now Buster: It's there if you want it, end of discussion Rio: Yeah, just hand it over in front of your 'rents Rio: fucking genius Buster: My bathroom's set up already you fucking amateur Buster: You know the way Rio: Bye Buster: For now Rio: Easy enough to avoid until we're gone Buster: You've had years of practice but there's still no calling it that Rio: How many lines of you had Rio: the shit you're spewing rn Rio: take a break Buster: Catch up Buster: It'd be more fun Rio: There's no chance of having fun here Rio: tah Buster: Maybe you'd at least be able to keep up if you caught up though that'd be fun for me Rio: I told you Rio: I don't care if you have a shit time Rio: sorry 'bout it Buster: Tell yourself how much you don't care a few more times Rio: I'm telling you Rio: fucking spoilt brat, don't see no actual 👑 and fuck you anyway even if there was, golden boy Buster: I don't believe you Buster: You don't believe you Rio: As thrilling as talking in circles with you is Buster: Fuck me was the only part that was real there, babe Buster: That's your circle Buster: We always come back to it Rio: YOU do Rio: your favourite topic of conversation Buster: What do you wanna talk about? My sister some more Buster: Jesus Rio: We don't need to talk at all Rio: sure my name was in the card from the fam, yeah Buster: & yet we are & we do Rio: You started it Buster: Yeah Buster: I own that Rio: Nothing to be proud Rio: of Buster: I've got plenty more shit I can be Buster: It's alright Rio: Where Buster: I'll show you Buster: Come here Rio: Yeah, that's happening Buster: Then don't ask stupid questions Rio: Not stupid just because you don't have a better answer than that Buster: I don't need a better answer than that Buster: Not for you Rio: Love that cop-out Rio: so convenient Buster: I know you do Rio: 😂 Buster: Just go Rio: Stop talking to me Buster: Stop showing up at my birthday parties Rio: Awh diddums Buster: I'm serious Rio: Ooh Buster: She invited you, you didn't have to come Rio: I like Nancy Rio: she's family Rio: why wouldn't I Buster: Then meet her somewhere else Buster: Wherever the fuck you're meant to be going Rio: Than her house? Rio: You ain't special Rio: where do you think I'm gonna stay, hotel by myself Buster: Her room isn't next to mine like yours is next to whichever one of your siblings drew that straw Buster: I don't have to see you then Buster: I'm only seeing you now 'cause you want me to Rio: Oh my God Rio: actually dellusional Rio: Halloween came first, kid Rio: or you really out here thinking the world is celebrating Buster: One day maybe Buster: For now, nah Rio: 🙄 Rio: Then get a grip and get over it Buster: Get a grip on what & get over what? Buster: That you still love me or my sister don't Rio: Jesus Rio: you got the nerve when you uninvited her from her own birthday Rio: you know she don't even wanna be here so it was an empty gesture and you still couldn't be nice about it Buster: I didn't say it weren't mutual Buster: She's weak & that ain't my problem or my fault Rio: Oh, I didn't know I was speaking to the fucking ubermensch here Rio: nothing like some german philosophy to bring out the cunt in a white boy, cool Buster: 😂 Rio: Seriously, quote some Rand at me so I can just write you off the christmas card list now Buster: 'The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me.' Rio: Thanks Rio: now we can give up this pretense once and for all Buster: I aim to please, babe Buster: Never let it be said you don't get what you want Rio: No one's ever said that Rio: 'cos you ain't the only person in the world who matters, Bateman Buster: That'd be so much more impressive if you meant it, Golden girl Rio: You're ridiculous Buster: So are you Rio: At least I'm not you Buster: If that'd make me you in this scenario then I'm glad too, like Rio: Everyone knows how glad you are to be you Rio: no need to go over that again Buster: & Everyone knows you want them to think you love yourself almost as much Buster: Shame you don't Rio: You're gonna psychoanalyze me now? Rio: glad the sessions are going well for you but that's a really annoying rookie habit Buster: I don't need to, you're obvious to even a casual fucking observer, like Buster: Give up that pretense if you're bothering to leave any behind Rio: Oh yeah, I'm whoring it up 'cos I'm desperate for validation and esteem from any cunt who'll give it Rio: Good one, Freud, such a hot take Buster: Not what I said Rio: Exactly what you meant Rio: worry 'bout yourself, I'm doing just fine Buster: I don't reckon you've ever had any idea exactly what I mean Buster: Probably don't try & start now Rio: That galaxy brain, whoever could compete Rio: I'm not trying, you're boring Buster: It ain't even that, you wanna deliberately misunderstand Rio: Yeah, love that Rio: blame me when you literally called me it Rio: gaslight some other bitch Buster: One day you're gonna stop fighting this if not me Buster: But yeah, there are plenty of other girls til then Rio: Fighting what Buster: Not today then, is it? Buster: Alright Rio: Wouldn't want to ruin your big day more than I already have Rio: how rude Buster: You've already shown up uninvited without a gift, taking all my spotlight, how much more out of order are you trying to be? Rio: Yeah, knew you loved it Rio: but protest some more, right Buster: What am I meant to love? Rio: Me ruining your life, apparently Buster: If that's apparent to you, you're fucked in more ways than I can start to try & analyze babe Rio: Again, you said it Rio: the drama is real Buster: & you said I was chatting shit Buster: So which is it? Rio: You are but you can believe and love the bullshit still Rio: hasn't stopped you before Buster: You wish Buster: But you don't get one, it's all me Rio: Thought you didn't need them Buster: I don't Buster: Maybe I want it Buster: Part of wanting everything, like Rio: Mhmm Buster: What do you want? Rio: I don't get one Buster: Doesn't mean you can't still want one Rio: You know you have to keep it secret or it don't come true, yeah Rio: that's wish law #1 Buster: What are you the fucking wish police? Buster: Come on Rio: Why do you wanna know Rio: got no ideas for when its time to blow out the candles or Buster: Christ, forget I fucking asked the question if you're gonna be such a pussy about it Rio: I will Rio: Nosy Buster: Better than boring Buster: Or scared Buster: If you don't ask, you don't get Rio: and sometimes, you still won't get Rio: there's a gift for you Buster: Cheers Buster: I'll wrap that bullshit back up for Nance, she'll take it wholeheartedly Buster: I always get what I want though Rio: Obviously not Buster: Where? Rio: Where to start Rio: [time to be properly chatting to that lad] Buster: [Oh good, time to be 😒 but also on the girl that you're meant to be about] Rio: [least you gotta go now so Nancy doesn't kill you, in a bit lads] Buster: [Leave him kissing & dancing & drinking & drunk taking] Buster: [drug* what] Rio: [idk what they're doing, maybe I'll look but let's assume it's cool] Buster: [lowkey anything's better than this] Rio: [soz rich kid party is not a mood] Buster: [it's really not & we all know it, him included even this early on] Buster: [later obvs] Buster: Where's Nance? Rio: She wanted to go bed and chill Rio: I'm not tired yet so Buster: Didn't ask for an update on your mood Rio: Not a mood but alright Rio: you got your answer as well Buster: & you got my point so calm the fuck down Rio: I'm chilling Buster: Good for you Rio: I'm not in your way so leave it Buster: You are in my way so leave though Rio: How am I Buster: How aren't you? Buster: We've been over it Rio: You're still getting attention, you're fine Buster: Fuck fine Buster: You're out of excuses, it ain't about giving my sister a good time anymore, so go, like Rio: I'm not going Rio: like him that much I'll go get a drink and you can slip back in, alright Buster: Shut up Rio: Exactly, you're being stupid Rio: you don't need everyone's undivided do you Rio: just hers, like Buster: You don't need to be here Buster: But you are Rio: 'cos I can Rio: I'm not hiding in your sister's room 'cos you're in a mood for some reason Buster: Some reason Buster: You know what the reason is Rio: Of course, I've 'ruined' your birthday Buster: You're still trying to Buster: Put my fucking mates down, yeah? Rio: Nah Rio: I'm over here trying to have a conversation Rio: not about you Buster: & you don't reckon he's gonna have a convo with me about it when you're done Buster: I don't wanna hear it Rio: Tell him to shut up Rio: What do you want me to tell you Buster: I'm telling you to shut up Buster: Before I have to tell him Rio: You don't tell me what to do or not Rio: if you reckon you got that kinda power over your friends go ahead Buster: Then tell yourself not to do it Buster: Fucking hell Rio: What Rio: Oh my God Buster: [is just fuming bitch like he's gotta go hit something probably excuse him] Rio: [just chatting to this lad oh girl] Buster: [when that girl he's with has probably gone to find him, oh girl x 2] Rio: [awkward, how this party going from bad to worse] Buster: [#hisinfluence] Buster: [When he probably shouted at her or told her to fuck off or something in private so then they gotta make up & everyone's gotta see it ew teens] Rio: [when you're lowkey disgusted] Buster: [aren't we all babe, at least she'd be cuter than most of the girls because one he was most bothered about/could have had something if he wasn't such a fake bitch] ] Rio: [take this lad to the garden for a hot sec 'cos don't need to be seeing this] Buster: [you brought that on yourself boy] Rio: [not gonna make you lose your v in the garden though bit rude, least they'd have guest rooms] Buster: [& a hot tub just saying] Rio: [potential] Rio: [boy should post a selfie rn 'cos duh you'd wanna brag] Buster: [that's so real] Buster: [Let's say Buster comes to have a word with said lad like just gonna pull him away and be like can you not bitch] Rio: Really Buster: Really Rio: Are you trying to be my dad Rio: what the hell Buster: You told me to have a word Buster: Just giving you what you want again, babe Rio: I thought you had some sense Rio: and enough pride to not Rio: fucking hell Buster: Back at you, Cavante Rio: What Rio: he's cute Rio: and the least annoying person at this party Rio: you should know, he's your friend Buster: Whatever you say Rio: Thanks for realizing that Buster: That you're full of shit Buster: Yeah, I did ages ago Rio: How am I Buster: Get some standards & get out of my party, like Rio: Easy Rio: [hit up that hot tub] Buster: [oh joy, I love that for us all] Rio: [when you're wearing a swimsuit basically so you good] Buster: [almost like she planned it] Rio: [at least it's died down enough you ain't gonna be the biggest spectacle ever] Buster: [don't need people filming you thanks] Rio: [chloe would sneaky rat] Buster: [girl you are the worst] Rio: [at least you gonna be looking good n doing but rude] Buster: [and at least it weren't the lad who filmed it & he's actually alright] Rio: [been a hater since day 1 i lol] Buster: [you put a baby in that boy, have a word with yourself] Rio: [yikes] Rio: [how we getting rid of this boy though 'cos he's gonna wanna stay and they ain't sleeping sleeping together 'cos too intimate not for you soz and also baze would find you in the morning and you'd be in the deepest of shit so?] Buster: [Maybe Chloe posts the vid & of course it gets to him really fast & when he sees it he's like THE PARTY'S OVER and kicks everyone out but he can't kick Rio out obvs] Rio: [sounds real, when you're just there like oh fuck] Buster: [when you go to your room in a huff slammed door and all like excuse you for not doing a Chris Ramsey drunk clean up tbh] Rio: Do you know who posted it Buster: Some girl Buster: Ask Nance Buster: [Because I feel like Chlo would have got one of her friends to do her dirty work cos sneaky rat who don't wanna get in trouble /get backlash cos she already likes Buster lbr] Rio: I'll just get it taken down Rio: doesn't matter really Buster: Good luck Rio: It's illegal, no one will want their name attached to that Rio: no one with any sense, I'll just remind them Buster: If they had any sense they wouldn't have posted it Buster: Clearly Rio: Yeah well Buster: Yeah well it's already been sent around everywhere anyway Rio: So what? Buster: So like I said, good luck erasing that Rio: I was just asking if you knew Buster: & I already told you Rio: Yeah thanks Rio: big help Buster: You didn't help yourself, that ain't my fault Rio: I'm not asking for your opinion Rio: it's your party, you should know who it was Buster: You wanted Nance to be included, let her figure it out Rio: She's sleeping Rio: and I'd rather not Buster: She's online Buster: So I doubt that Rio: Well I don't want to talk to her Buster: Well I don't wanna talk to you Buster: & I also don't care if you wanna talk to her or not Rio: I'm not trying to talk just find out Rio: how hard can it be Buster: Easy Buster: So easy that you don't need my help Rio: They're your cunty friends Buster: So's your new boyfriend Buster: Ask him Rio: Oh yeah, that'd be fun Rio: fuck sake Buster: Not my problem Rio: I hate you Buster: So what? Rio: So what I said Buster: Hate me then Buster: I'm not about to lose sleep over it Rio: I do Buster: You're not talking to Nance, I can read Buster: No need to repeat yourself, like Rio: Why can't you do this one thing Rio: I'm not asking you to care Buster: Why should I? Buster: I told you to leave my mates alone & you wouldn't Rio: So I deserved that to happen? Buster: If you're stupid enough not to fuck behind a locked door then yeah Rio: Fine Buster: Goodnight Rio: Right Buster: [time skip to the next day when everyone's talking about the vid & his mate is loving the attention or at least pretending to] Rio: Give me your postcode Rio: need to call a cab Buster: [Does] Rio: Tah Rio: If you're parents ask, I've gone home already Buster: Not me they'd ask Buster: I didn't invite you here Rio: Whatever Rio: You know the story now Buster: Whatever Buster: I'm inundated with loads of stories already, I ain't got time for yours Rio: 💔 Rio: Truly Rio: poor boy Buster: 'Course you are Rio: Nah Rio: I'm over it Rio: you should try it Buster: You should try not telling me what to do Rio: You should try not being so boring Buster: Says you Rio: That's the word you're using this morning Rio: makes a change Rio: just when I'd got used to my old title Buster: Get over that too Rio: S'alright Rio: don't need you when there's plenty other people dying for the chance to call me it Buster: 💔 truly Buster: Poor you Rio: Do I sound bothered? Rio: Keep up Rio: but don't, you aren't invited Buster: I'm not listening Buster: Keep up Rio: Too busy with the other stories? Rio: Cute Buster: It ain't cute Buster: None of it Rio: Leave your review in the comments Buster: Fuck off Rio: Go on Rio: give us something to laugh about Buster: Go on & fuck off Buster: How else do you want me to say it? Rio: Going, aren't I Rio: so touchy Buster: For someone who hates me, you're so chatty Rio: I told you, you're funny Rio: Hilarious, even Buster: I've told you, I aim to please Buster: Enjoy yourself Rio: Not the only one Buster: The only one who's funny though Rio: Not going to talk to him Rio: so I'm not too 💔 Buster: Lucky you Rio: Know you like him Rio: not exclusive and I'll be gone soon so don't be too jealous Buster: Shut up Buster: He's a cunt with a big mouth who I have to see every weekday until we graduate Buster: So cheers Rio: Lucky you Buster: Yeah Buster: I'm going out, try not to fuck anyone else & have it filmed before you leave Buster: Unless I don't know them Rio: Make no promises Rio: least of all to you Buster: I'm not too 💔 don't worry Buster: Doubt you could keep one Rio: Yeah right Buster: Right Buster: Don't hurry back, I won't have another birthday for you to ruin for ages now Rio: You still think this was in any way about you? Buster: For me, it's about me Buster: My birthday was fucked Rio: I don't feel sorry for you Buster: I don't give a shit Buster: & I also didn't ask Rio: That's ALL you're doing Rio: boohoo Rio: I'm glad it was ruined Rio: happy accident Buster: Be glad then Rio: Awh thanks Rio: so sweet Buster: So welcome Rio: 💕 Rio: Oh, you won't speak to your sister will you? Know you usually don't bother Buster: Do you not think before you type? Rio: Don't think before I do anything Rio: Obviously Rio: don't tell her where I've gone, she'll actually give a shit and I don't need that Buster: Obviously Rio: Thanks Rio: got some use Buster: Not doing it for you Buster: But yeah, go ahead & reap the benefits Rio: You think she hasn't seen it? Rio: Or actually tried to help already Rio: She's the decent one, remember Buster: I never said it was for her either Buster: I don't want to talk to her, it's that simple Rio: Can always rely on you to be simple Buster: Hilarious Rio: I already said you were, babe Buster: I was saying you are Buster: Except I wasn't Buster: Simple, yeah? Rio: More bullshit from you Rio: not so much simple as expected Buster: What can I say? You had enough disappointment in the hot tub Buster: No need for me to add to it Rio: That ain't what you saw, or heard Buster: What do you care, you're over it Rio: Changing bullshit for outright lying Rio: You're better than that Buster: Who says? Rio: You, constantly Rio: usually Buster: & You say I'm chatting shit Rio: You're the best, aren't you? Rio: Or that's another lie Buster: Obviously Rio: To which bit Buster: Take it however you like Rio: Suddenly being generous Buster: That don't count as generosity unless you count ending this convo as that Rio: Nah Rio: Entertain me 'til I get there Buster: That wouldn't be generosity either Rio: Host with the most, you said Buster: That was last night Buster: & you didn't take me up on it then Rio: I am now Buster: Well it's not an offer I'm extending now Buster: Unlucky Rio: Come on Buster: Nah Rio: Pussy Buster: That's the best you can do? Rio: You said you don't wanna find out Buster: Now you're choosing to care about what I want Buster: Bullshit Rio: Not gonna do it just because I want to Rio: not that bitch Buster: & You're calling me a pussy Rio: You want me to jump you? Rio: The kind of preference that needs a safeword and you don't wanna talk so Buster: 😂 Rio: Such a joker today Buster: Laugh or cry, yeah? Rio: Nothing to cry about Rio: still got to make your wish, yeah Buster: Still according to you, I am Rio: Why else Buster: What? Rio: Why else wouldn't you take me up on it Buster: Why would I take you up on anything? Rio: You can't pretend this with me Buster: You ain't special, babe Buster: & I can do anything Rio: Bullshit Buster: Which part are you wishing weren't true? Rio: Didn't get a wish, don't need one Buster: Don't stop you wanting one though, does it? Rio: You're the only one who's gonna regret it Rio: like I said, pussy Buster: Like I said, nah Rio: And I told you, you can't lie to me Buster: I'm not Rio: Whatever Rio: I'm here so you can go bore someone else Rio: great chat Buster: Nice try on the sarcasm Buster: I thought you weren't gonna bother Rio: Obviously what you're into Buster: Cute Buster: But it'd take more than that for me to be into you Rio: You're so bad at this Buster: Stop trying to prolong it then Rio: Someone's got to teach you Rio: like old times Buster: You didn't teach me fuck all Rio: 😂 Buster: The only thing that I've ever learned from being around you is that I shouldn't drink brandy Rio: Yeah, and it's been how long since you ignored that lesson Rio: Hopeless Buster: Good thing I don't need hope then Rio: You know what you need Rio: so do I Buster: & You think I'm bad at this Rio: If you ever wanna stop being boring and bored, let me know Buster: If you're ever capable of being the solution to my boredom, I will Rio: Awh, but you don't need solutions to your perfect life, yeah golden boy? Buster: Being bored doesn't take the shine off my life, babe Buster: Name someone our age who isn't Rio: You're always gonna be bored Buster: & If I am, you won't be the solution Rio: You ain't looking Rio: wanna be prom king forever Rio: ain't fun and it ain't real but what's that matter to you Buster: What's it matter to you? Rio: I give a shit Rio: I can own it Buster: No you don't Rio: Do though Buster: Bullshit Buster: If you gave a single fuck about me you wouldn't fuck my friend at my birthday & make me see & hear about it Rio: I didn't think you would Buster: Even if there wasn't a video he was always gonna brag about it Buster: Come on Rio: That wasn't why I did it Buster: I don't care why you did it Rio: You can't say I don't care based on that Rio: is all I'm saying Buster: Yeah I can Rio: Alright but it's not true Buster: It is Rio: You wish it was Buster: Why would I wish for that? Rio: Easier Buster: Fuck that Rio: I'm sorry Rio: alright Buster: No, it ain't, 'cause you being sorry or saying it don't change anything Rio: They'll stop talking about it soon Buster: & Then it'll be like it didn't happen, yeah? Buster: Shut up Rio: Yeah, basically Buster: Nah, basically he was the least cunty of my friends & now he ain't anymore Buster: So cheers Rio: You can still be mates Rio: he'll get over it too Buster: I can't fucking look at him Buster: Try again Rio: You too Rio: come on Buster: Come on, what? Get some new mates so you can fuck them as well Rio: No like Rio: just forget about it Rio: don't think about it Buster: Yeah sure Rio: I said sorry Rio: it doesn't need to be this big thing Buster: It can be whatever the fuck you want, for you Rio: I'm Rio: just trying to help Buster: Don't Rio: I'm going, alright Rio: I can't do any more for you than that then, yeah? Rio: You hate me so just keep telling everyone that and they'll know you don't care Buster: I said, don't Buster: Even if I needed your advice, which let's face it I never fucking will, I ain't asking Rio: Let me do something Buster: Too late to start asking for my permission, babe Rio: Buster Buster: You can't use my name against me either, you ain't my mum Rio: I'm not trying to Buster: I know what you're trying to do Rio: I just wanna put it right Buster: How shit for you that you can't then Buster: You'll have to just want Rio: Fine Rio: spite yourself Buster: You think this is my loss? Nah Rio: Nah, you don't get to chat that when I ruined your birthday and took your bestest mate Rio: you don't get to have it both ways so how do you want it Buster: I get to have it any way I want, how haven't you figured that out yet, like Buster: I'll have another birthday in a year & some new mates you can fuck by then too probably Buster: Have another go then if you fancy it Rio: Because it's not true Rio: How fucking fragile is your throne if all it takes is one person who doesn't buy into your bullshit to come in and it's all gone Rio: you've got fuck all and it's sad and I do feel bad for you, really bad Buster: Cute Rio: Not even a little bit Buster: You said it Buster: Go whore around your own postcode for a while & we'll reconvene at the next family gathering I get dragged to Rio: Get some help Rio: Seriously Buster: Go work for the Samaritan's or some shit, you've really found a calling, like Rio: Thanks Buster: I'll catch you on the other end of a phone line then Buster: Clearly Rio: That's not funny Buster: I ain't laughing Rio: Stop it Buster: But if I keep going, I can offer you an apology and we'll be even, yeah? Rio: Say what you like about me Rio: you always have Rio: I don't need one Buster: Good Buster: I'd hate to keep you waiting on it Rio: This isn't about me Buster: Well it ain't about me Buster: You don't fucking know me Rio: They do, do they Buster: Irrelevant Rio: Do you enjoy it Buster: Obviously Buster: Can't you tell? Rio: You don't want me to tell you what I can tell Rio: not repeating myself, am I Buster: Doesn't normally stop you Rio: Well, I'm trying Rio: not afraid to admit it either Buster: Good for you Rio: What happened Buster: Do you wanna be any less vague? Rio: To you Buster: Really cleared things up, cheers Rio: You know what I mean Rio: and you probably have ideas too Rio: you can tell me Buster: Why would or should I though? Rio: What do you have to lose Buster: What the fuck is there to gain? Rio: Find out Buster: Nice try Rio: What do I gain Buster: Answers Buster: That's generally what people want when they ask a question Rio: Nah Buster: Then stop asking Rio: No Buster: Good talk, babe Buster: Cheers Rio: One day Rio: You'll actually do it and you'll actually mean it Buster: Yeah but not with or for you Rio: I don't care who it's with Buster: One day you'll actually mean that Rio: More likely than you finding anyone here to talk to Buster: I don't want to talk to anyone here Rio: I know Buster: Don't worry about my odds then Rio: I will Rio: because you need to Buster: I don't Rio: Yes you do Buster: Stop chatting shit at me Buster: You call me out for it enough Rio: You know why Buster: Do I? Rio: Yes Buster: No Rio: You do but we don't have to talk about that now Buster: You haven't shut up about anything else Buster: Might as well Rio: You know it ain't the right time Buster: Like a right time exists Rio: Maybe not Buster: A maybe is ridiculous, even for you Rio: Probably Rio: oh well Buster: Are we done? Buster: I'm not pissing about with your one word answers Rio: Defensive 'cos you're not giving even that Rio: but sure, if you want Buster: I can be offensive if you'd rather Rio: How you usually do Rio: Not going to bring up your stamina right now but well Buster: Understandable, like I said, not gonna rub it in your face about the hot tub disappointment Rio: Is it helpful to reckon it was shit Rio: Genuinely Buster: It's honest Buster: But if you wanna pretend otherwise, go ahead, like Rio: Why are we talking about it? Buster: It's the right time for it Rio: Okay Rio: let's talk about it then Buster: I've said everything I've got to say Rio: Seriously? Rio: You can do better Buster: I'm flattered that you feel the need to say so, again Rio: Come on Rio: Already said, no apology needed Rio: so go for it Buster: Okay now it makes sense, you get off on it Rio: Yeah Rio: That'll be it Buster: Why you keep trying to make me angry, yeah Rio: Yeah Rio: was the plan all along Buster: It's the plan now regardless Rio: Okay Buster: Okay for you Rio: More than okay Rio: apparently Buster: It would be if I'd play along properly Buster: Sadly, I'm not aiming to please that hard Rio: Shame Buster: Again, for you, yeah Rio: I know Rio: but I don't care about you, do I? Buster: Not enough, no Rio: Just wanna make you angry Buster: Apparently Rio: Yep Rio: so angry Buster: Don't worry, it ain't too difficult Buster: Even someone as nice & polite as you can manage Rio: Yeah Rio: I ain't special, am I Buster: Not to me Rio: Say it Buster: What? Rio: Say I'm not special to you Buster: It's already there in black & white Buster: You're not my sister either, you can read Rio: Please Buster: Why? Rio: Because it gets me off, right Rio: why else Buster: 'Cause I'm not interested in doing that Buster: Try again Rio: Why? Rio: however I get you to say it, end results the same Buster: No it's not Buster: Whatever I say, you know how I fucking feel Rio: If you say it enough we might both believe it Buster: That's the lie of the day Buster: Well done Rio: Try my best Buster: Try harder & do better Rio: I can't Buster: Bullshit Rio: Not today Buster: Why not? It's a day same as any other, yeah? Rio: No Rio: I saw you Rio: that's different Buster: Barely Buster: & you barely saw me last night either Rio: It was still Rio: different Rio: still true Buster: I'm not gonna be your excuse for why you feel shit Rio: You know that's not what I'm saying Buster: That's what not trying is & you said you can't 'cause of me Buster: So that is what you're saying Rio: it's not an excuse, I know what I did Rio: but it still hurts it's still shit Buster: I'm not gonna feel sorry for you either Rio: I know Rio: that's the worst bit Buster: How the fuck did you think this was gonna play out? Rio: I didn't think Rio: and I didn't think someone would film it and make sure everyone saw Buster: You obviously did think Buster: You made a choice Rio: What, the choice to get with some cute lad at a party Rio: plenty of people were doing the same, you were Buster: It wasn't a random party or a random lad Buster: You can say it wasn't about me as much as you want but Buster: You made a choice that you knew would affect me Rio: And I've been making choices all morning to try and do anything to make it alright Rio: why do they could for shit and that one is everything Buster: 'Cause you can't unfuck him Buster: I can't unsee or unhear everything I have since Rio: then you have to stop Rio: you know Rio: it has to be you, if I can't do anything now, if I've made my choice Buster: Alright Rio: Okay? Buster: Easy Rio: I hope it is Rio: for you Buster: Everything's easy for me, babe Buster: Remember Rio: No Rio: but good Buster: Anything else? Rio: I'm actually going home now so you don't have to lie to your fam about it Buster: I wasn't planning to Rio: Alright Rio: Bye Buster: See you around when there's no other choice Rio: Not as hard to avoid each other still as we pretended before Rio: plenty been doing it just fine for years Buster: It's never been hard to avoid you, I just didn't wanna Rio: I know Buster: Unknow it Buster: Or at least pretend, like Rio: I told you Rio: I'll try Buster: You tell me loads of things Buster: 99% of 'em bullshit Rio: That's us Buster: There ain't an us, that's the point Rio: Was, then Buster: Fuck the past, it's gone Rio: Yeah Buster: Consider that kid dead & buried Rio: You can't make me Buster: Watch me Rio: No, I can't Buster: Don't be a pussy Rio: I can't watch this Rio: but that suits you fine too Buster: It only hurts if you let it Buster: That suits me fine too Rio: I don't have a choice in that Buster: Yeah you do Rio: No Buster: Seriously Rio: Seriously, I don't Rio: I meant it Rio: you have to stop it Rio: I can't do this Buster: I already said I will Buster: Consider it done Rio: Thank you Buster: Don't Buster: We ain't doing each other favours Buster: Whatever I do or don't is for me Rio: It helps me regardless so just take it alright Buster: I won't Rio: Buster Rio: Please stop replying now Buster: [does because ultimately always gonna give her what he thinks she wants]