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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Blue Neighborhood Series: TALK ME DOWN (Group) - Mac

AN: A million thanks to Meggie who I would simply die without. Thanks to her for beta-ing and being a star. Thanks to the people that always leave comments, it really warms my heart! Seriously. So thank you!

This chapter is a LOT longer than the others, but I hope you like it anyway. Much love!

Summary: Heidi’s boyfriend cheats on her and the neighborhood comes together to get revenge.

This was not the way Heidi envisioned this afternoon going.

She had expected to be sitting in her regular spot in the overcrowded bleachers cheering and screaming like a crazy woman. She would be wearing his jersey, his number and last name printed neatly on her back, declaring to everyone that she had worth. She was dating a guy on the football team, goddamn it. She mattered.

She hadn’t expected to be sobbing on her floor with a bottle of expired rosé and eleven girls looking at her with concern.

Crystal had called them, Heidi was sure of it. She was the only one Heidi had told originally, after Widow and Dahlia of course. She hadn’t really meant to tell them, but they had overheard the fight that started it all.

Heidi had been minding her business. Making her way down to the art room, rather than her calculus class, as was her routine at this point because fuck math. Nothing Heidi wanted or would do in the future had anything to do with math. She had made that promise to herself a long time ago. Right after she had sworn that the first thing she would do in college would be to buy a jar of peanut butter and eat the entire container for breakfast.

That was beside the point. Heidi didn’t need math, and she definitely didn’t need calculus; she still wasn’t entirely convinced that anyone needed calculus. For all she knew it could be a damn government conspiracy. It sure sounded like it.

As she was wandering toward the art room, trying to reason out if calculus was indeed a scam created by the government, her attention was pulled by the sound of a familiar voice.

She thought she had imagined it at first because there was no sign of anyone else in the hallway, but a moment later she heard the voice again. It seemed to be coming from the janitor’s closet. She heard a decidedly female giggle a few moments later, and her curiosity got the better of her. Heidi was nosey, she admitted that openly, and she inched closer to the door, straining her ear for the voices.

She pressed her ear to the door after another loud chuckle could be heard through the strong wood. It was a boy and a girl, that much was clear, and if Heidi knew her peers, she knew what was about to go down.

As she pulled her ear away, something in the male’s voice caught her attention. There was that familiar upward lilt, and she could practically hear the smile in his words.

Heidi’s body made the connection before her mind did, because she had the sudden feeling she was going to be sick.

She threw the janitor’s closet door open to reveal her boyfriend of three months with a random girl in his lap.

Heidi didn’t give them a second to breathe before she started yelling. And she didn’t remember when or where they came from, but before Heidi could blink, Widow and Dahlia were on either side of her yelling at him too.

Jacob gave lame excuses and begged her to stay, but Heidi ignored his impassioned pleas and went to storm off. Instead, she found her face wet with tears and two strong bodies leading her down the hall.

Widow made sure the coast was clear before pulling Heidi into the bathroom. Dahlia started talking calmly to her, trying to get her to stop crying, while Widow dabbed at Heidi’s eyes with paper towels.

It only occurred to Heidi that she hadn’t properly spoken to either girl in nearly four years of high school.

She held up a hand to stop Widow, words coming out between sniffles. “Why y’all being so nice?”

Widow smiled lightly, knowingly, and shrugged. “We’ve all been there, sis.”

“Men fucking suck,” Dahlia chimed in.

Widow rolled her eyes. “Just cause you in love with someone else’s boyfriend doesn’t mean all men suck.”

“I didn’t mean Joe, you bitch.” Dahlia elbowed her friend in the side. “And I’m not in love with him.”

“Mhmm, sure you ain’t.” Widow shot a look at Heidi as if to say she totally is.

It made Heidi laugh. Louder than she meant to, sooner than she thought she would. Widow and Dahlia just smiled encouragingly at her and went back to helping her clean up and calm down.

Dahlia ran to her locker to grab her makeup bag and the three girls spent half an hour touching up their makeup, or in Heidi’s case, redoing it.

As the bell for lunch rang, Dahlia and Widow both gave hugs to Heidi and walked her over to the art room. Jackie and Crystal were talking quietly and abruptly stopped when the three girls entered.

Dahlia murmured something to Widow about needing to go and the two gave one last reassuring look to Heidi, as well as their phone numbers before leaving.

Crystal was all over her in seconds. “What happened? Are you okay? What’s going on? Have you been crying?”

Heidi just shook her head and said something about Jacob being an asshole and them breaking up. She didn’t want to get into the whole thing, embarrassed enough as it was. Jackie nodded her head sympathetically, but Crystal looked at her hard like she could tell there was more to the story.

Nicky entered a few moments later and the looks of concern and warning stopped her in her tracks.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Boy troubles,” Jackie answered simply.

Nicky walked over to Heidi and gave her a quick hug, before pulling back and addressing Jackie and Crystal. “Who do I need to kill?”

“Yeah, where did you say he lived again?” Jackie asked.

Crystal chimed in. “Drop the pin, girl, we just wanna talk.”

Heidi chuckled lightly and brushed off their concerns with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“If I have anything to say about it, you’re damn right he will,” Nicky said, concerningly serious.

Heidi had no intention of telling anyone what really happened, but Crystal followed her after lunch and cornered her at her locker under the guise of making sure she was okay. Heidi told her the whole sordid story and how she had been suspicious for a little while but hadn’t wanted to say anything.

Crystal hugged her close and with a familiar sadness in her eyes, she assured Heidi that everything would be okay.

So now here Heidi was, with the entire neighborhood staring at her, unsure of what the next move was. If Heidi could stop crying enough to see, she would see the variety of people that had come to show their support. It was a verifiable breakfast club moment, with each school archetype represented in some capacity.

It was weird as all hell and the tension in the room only ratched up a notch when Crystal cleared her throat. “Okay so, umm, how about everybody sits down and we can talk about the plan.”

The group of girls lingered for a moment, before shuffling to find a place in Heidi’s small bedroom to sit or lay or stand.

“There’s a plan?” Widow asked, settling down on the bed next to Heidi and Jackie.

Crystal nodded firmly. “Yes, there’s a plan.”

“That’s news to me.” Widow turned to look down at Jan, who sat on the floor. She just shrugged. “Did you know there was a plan?”

“What kind of plan?” Gigi piped up.

“Is it illegal?” Rock asked nervously.

“Wait hold up what?” Jaida exclaimed. “Who said anything about illegal? I thought we were just havin’ a girl’s night.”

“Okay, everyone shut up!” Crystal called out over the many voices. The group of girls quieted down, and Crystal gave them a small grin before she turned to Nicky. “Can you bring that whiteboard over here?” She motioned to the portable whiteboard she had brought from home.

“She brought a whiteboard?” Jackie whispered to Aiden who rolled her eyes.

The girls gathered around, scooting forward to see Crystal in all her glory.

“Okay, so, thank you all for coming.” Crystal smiled politely at the group. She turned to the whiteboard and winced when the marker screeched out as she wrote. “Welcome to operation Jac-ass. I—”

“Wait when did we decide on that name?” Jan called out.

Brita seconded her. “Was there a vote? Did we miss the vote?”

“Why can’t we just call it Operation Revenge?” Jackie asked.

Jan shook her head. “That’s so boring.”

“Guys! Pay attention!” Crystal reprimanded. She took a deep breath in and out before continuing.“As you all know, that dipshit Jacob hurt our dear friend Heidi. He’s a cheating scumbag and he needs to pay.”

“I love a good revenge killing,” Nicky spoke quietly.

Jaida’s jaw dropped in shock. “Hold up, who said anything about killing?”

“Wait, you want us to murder him?” Rock asked incredulously.

“No! Guys! Pay attention!” Crystal sighed. “We’re going to pull some good old fashioned pranks on him. We’ll split up into smaller groups to cover more ground. Quite a few pranks I planned take place in his house so we need someone to distract him at the football game.”

Everyone turned to look at Dahlia.

“Oh, so I’m the bait?” Dahlia raised an eyebrow at the other girl’s looks. After a moment she shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Crystal smiled appreciatively, but Dahlia ignored her and started picking at her nail beds.

“So, we need a group to deface Jacob’s jersey in the school gym, a group to vandalize his car, a group to steal all but two remotes in his house, and a group to stay back with Heidi and work on destroying his character on social media.” Crystal smiled wickedly. “Then we’re all gonna egg his house.”

A few of the girls looked at Crystal in surprise, and while a few of them cheered, Jaida just looked around at them with concern.

“Hold up, you guys are just totally fine with this? Half of this shit is illegal.”

“It’s not that illegal,” Aiden defended.

“She fucking wrote ‘vandalize his car’ on the whiteboard,” Jaida argued.

“I think it serves him right,” Jan chimed in. “I’ll do the jersey one.”

Jaida rolled her eyes. “I guess that’s the least problematic one.”

Crystal nodded. “Okay, then Jan and Jaida you guys can go deface his jersey in the gym—”

“Wait, why only two of them?” Gigi interrupted.

For the first time that night, Crystal looked at Gigi. The tension in the room seemed to skyrocket the longer the two girls looked at each other.

“You can join them if you really want,” Crystal said, voice devoid of emotion.

Gigi nodded.

Crystal looked away and Heidi could tell she was mentally trying to regroup. “Ummm, Winona, you and Brita—”

“I’m good at the petty blocking and social media stuff,” Widow cut her off.

“Okay,” Crystal looked back at the group of girls, her groupings having been thrown off. “Brita, Jackie, and… Aiden, I guess, you guys can do the inside jobs.”

The three girls looked at each other strangely but nodded.

“Then that leaves Nicky and me to vandalize his car,” Crystal said, looking up at the group.

The nervous energy seemed to spike in the small bedroom as the silence took over. Each girl acutely aware that the present company was unusual for her, and yet none of them were as uncomfortable as they should be, all things considered.

“Alright team, let’s move.”

…

Jackie smiled hesitantly at her group.

It was strange.

Jackie only ever really hung out with one friend group at a time, so having them merge like this was… strange.

She and Aiden had a completely different relationship dynamic than she and Brita. Neither was more or less intense than the other, they were just different.

That was made evident when both Brita and Aiden tried to sit in her passenger seat.

They awkwardly offered it to each other for ten minutes until Aiden sat in the back.

Jackie waved to Nicky and Crystal as they passed before getting in and starting her own car. Heidi had told her where the spare key was and that was it. Jacob’s parents were out of town and Jackie, Brita, and Aiden were supposed to go into his house and steal some television remotes and get out.

The plan was for everyone to do their own separate tasks and meet back up at Jacob’s house to egg it. To do that, they needed eggs. Since Jackie’s group was already going to be at the house, they had the most time to run to the store. So as Jackie’s car hummed to life, she mentally mapped out the path to the nearest grocery store and waited for the other groups to head out.

Halfway into their journey, Aiden mentioned that they ought to do more.

“Listen, I’m just saying. He’s a shit head. He deserves a lot worse than a few missing remotes.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Jackie asked.

Aiden shrugged. “Nair in his shampoo.”

“Jesus, Aiden,” Jackie exhaled harshly. “That’s insane.”

“No, I agree,” Brita chimed in.

“Brita!”

The cheerleader just shrugged. “Go big or go home, right?”

Jackie shook her head fiercely. “That could do like, permanent damage.”

“Oh, c’mon, it’ll just make his scalp itchy for a while, it won’t burn him irrevocably,” Aiden said.

“No! We aren’t doing that.”

Despite her protests, ten minutes later, Jackie found herself in the beauty aisle holding a carton of eggs in one hand and a bottle of Nair in the other. Aiden and Brita had disappeared in the store, fueling each other’s weirdly specific revenge fantasies.

The three girls met back up at the checkout line. Aiden and Brita each had three cartons of eggs, additionally, Aiden had a bag of Jolly Ranchers and a box of instant mashed potatoes.

Jackie didn’t ask.

The house was silent and dark when they approached. It looked normal. Completely and utterly boring and normal. Not like the scum of the earth lived there.

Jackie cut into the other two girls chatting animatedly in the backseat to point out that they did in fact have something to do and weren’t on a joyride. Brita’s cheeks heated up after the admonishment, but Aiden only rolled her eyes.

The three girls piled out of the car and walked up to the front door cautiously. Jackie worried her lip between her teeth as she lifted up the potted plant to find the spare key.

The house was empty, just as Heidi promised. It felt eerie with all the lights out, but Jackie pushed forward, scoping out the living room. Aiden and Brita followed in after her, whispering back and forth. Jackie heard something about shorting out the electricity and she stopped, whipping around to confront her teammates.

“Okay, so what the hell are you guys doing?”

Brita looked at Aiden for confirmation in the form of a nod. As soon as she got it, she launched into a rambly explanation about how she had watched this video on youtube about putting instant mashed potatoes in a yard and then spraying them with a hose. Apparently it was impossible to clean up. The same video also said something about licking and sticking Jolly Ranchers onto windows so that they shattered when you tried to pull them off.

Jackie’s stomach dropped. “You guys are talking about serious property damage here!” she almost yelled.

Brita nodded, oblivious as to why that would be an issue.

Aiden sighed. “Listen, he deserves it.”

“But his parents also live here.”

“They should have raised him better,” Aiden countered.

Jackie shook her head.“We don’t know all the facts.”

“We know enough.”

Jackie looked at her hard. “Why are you so hell-bent on this? Why are you so angry?”

Aiden blinked twice, clearly not expecting Jackie to have paid much attention to her. But Jackie knew. Aiden liked to pride herself on being a quiet observer, picking up on things most people would miss, but Jackie had learned a thing or two over the years. Aiden was pissed. She wasn’t showing it outwardly, but her hands had been clenching and unclenching into fists since she heard the story.

“It’s Heidi,” Aiden said simply. “I can’t stand the bitch most days, but…”

“You care about her,” Brita filled in the rest of her sentence.

Aiden nodded once, firmly, before looking both girls in the eye. “But if you tell her that, I’ll kill you both.”

Jackie shook her head, smiling. Brita just chuckled.

“Alright, fine. He sucks, Let’s fuck his shit up.”

…

Nicky smiled patiently as Crystal shoved her planning materials back into her bag, a strand of her red hair falling into her eyes as she bent over.

“You ready?” Crystal asked, turning to Nicky with a determined look.

Nicky just nodded and followed her outside. They each gave Heidi a hug as they headed to the door and Crystal whispered something that Nicky couldn’t make out before they left. It must have been important because Heidi held fast to her hands and whispered a response. Crystal just shook her head with a sad smile and turned back to Nicky.

They ran into the other girls in the driveway, Jackie and her group were bickering about something or other, but briefly waved before piling into Crystal’s tiny two-seater car.

Nicky would usually complain about how small the car was and how ridiculous she felt having to bend her model-like frame in half to fit inside, but she sensed Crystal’s nerves and bit her tongue on a smart remark.

Crystal started driving; they were the first ones headed out from the house and they drove in silence for all of about three seconds before Crystal snapped her head over to look at Nicky.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? It’s so quiet in here, should we listen to some music? You can put on some music so it’s not so quiet in here—”

“Crystal?” Nicky cut her off.

“Yeah?” Crystal exhaled.

“You haven’t ever done anything like this before,” Nicky said. There was no question in her words.

“No, and I’m kinda freaking out if you couldn’t tell.”

Nicky chuckled. “Oh, I could tell.”

“Well…” Crystal hinted, nervous energy in her voice causing a smile to spread across Nicky’s face.

“Well, what?”

“Say something encouraging! Or distract me! I’m freaking out here, I’ve never done anything illegal before,” Crystal worried.

Nicky smiled widely. “You’re cute when you’re stressed.”

It was dark, but Nicky could make out Crystal’s flush reaching her hairline.

“Did that help?” she asked teasingly.

“I-I… don’t know.”

Nicky chuckled and Crystal looked over to her with a smile on her face. “You gave us the easiest job,” Nicky said reassuringly. “All we have to do is slash his tires and spray paint a few bad words on his car. What could go wrong?”

“Don’t say that!” Crystal exclaimed. “You’re gonna jinx us!”

Nicky rolled her eyes. “It’s gonna be fine, you’ll see.”

They arrived at the school parking lot which, despite the team’s losing record, was heavily crowded. Only their school could lose every game and still draw such a crowd. Nicky counted them lucky though at that moment, seeing as the football team was so bad, the cheerleaders never had to attend any of their games. Which made this whole revenge plot a lot easier.

Nicky pulled out her phone and opened the group chat Crystal had made for all the girls. Heidi had sent a picture of what his car looked like, and the two girls spent a while going up and down the rows of cars before finding the vehicle in question.

Crystal parked her car and they hopped out. Nicky followed Crystal’s lead as she went around to open the trunk, pulling out a hefty looking duffle bag full of spray paint.

“I’m an art kid,” Crystal said by way of an explanation.

Nicky held up her hands. “I wasn’t gonna ask.”

Crystal threw the bag over her shoulder, a look of realization passed over her features as she moved to close the trunk. “Oh fuck.”

“What?”

Crystal’s hand went to worry her forehead. “I don’t have anything sharp to pop the tires with.”

Nicky held up a finger and rummaged around in her pockets for a few moments before coming back with a switchblade.

Crystal looked at her, mouth hanging open. “Nic, what the fuck?”

“What? It’s for self-defense.”

Crystal stared at her wide-eyed. “Have you done this before?”

“Oh, ma belle, too many times to count.”

Crystal just raised an eyebrow. “Lots of cheaters in France?”

“Lots of men in France.”

Crystal laughed, poorly concealing her nerves. Nicky reached over and squeezed her hand once for reassurance, ignoring the sudden increase in heart rate in favor of comforting her friend.

The two walked over to the car and Crystal paused. “So… should we—”

Nicky cut her off by pulling out the blade and stabbing it forcefully into one of the tires.

“Nicky!”

“You were taking too long!” she exclaimed.

Crystal just shook her head and started uncapping the spray paint. The hissing sound of the tires and the paint cans filled the anxious silence.

The whole ordeal took only about ten minutes. Nicky popped three of the four tires because apparently insurance only covered the damage for four. The words ‘cheater’ and ‘pig’ as well as a few other choice adjectives covered Jacob’s shiny new Lexus.

Crystal’s hands shook the entire time, and Nicky teased her lightly but ultimately ended up spray painting the rest of the vehicle. The two ran back to Crystal’s car, not that they needed to as the whole school was still focused on the game, but the adrenaline flowed hot through their veins and made them both giggle as they collapsed back into Crystal’s car.

Only after catching her breath did Nicky notice how close Crystal was. She admired the way the younger girl’s lips quirked up at the sides of her mouth and her eyes creased at the edges. Nicky could practically feel Crystal’s breaths against her cheek, and they were suddenly coming faster.

Crystal seemed to realize this at the same moment because she looked away and fumbled around for something. “I should probably text the group.”

Crystal pulled out her phone with shaky hands. Nicky didn’t back away, content to breathe in Crystal’s presence for as long as she could before the younger girl pulled away.

“Why didn’t you pair yourself up with Gigi?” Nicky asked before she could think better of it.

Crystal nearly dropped her phone. “Oh, y-you know. Can’t make it too obvious.”

Nicky raised one eyebrow skeptically. “Right.”

Crystal looked back down at her phone and bit her lip.

Nicky knew she had hit on something. The younger girl always seemed to get weirdly tense when she mentioned her crush on the cheerleader. And not in the embarrassed, nervous sort of way that she got when Nicky flirted with her. Crystal got… sad almost.

“Gigi was being so weird when Jan and Jaida paired up,” Nicky threw out, seeing if she could get Crystal to bite.

“Yeah, I guess,” Crystal shrugged, a bit too eager to change the subject.

Nicky pushed on.“Since that picture of them came out I thought it made sense for them to go together.” Crystal didn’t say anything, staring hard at her blank phone screen. “Are Jan and Jaida trying to keep on the down-low?”

“I don’t know!” Crystal snapped.

Nicky balked at this. “Sorry. Didn’t know it mattered that much to you.”

“No, I’m sorry. I just…” Crystal sighed. “Let’s not talk about them right now.”

Nicky nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Crystal turned the key and the car hummed to life. “The jersey group is done so we can head over to Jacob’s place now.”

“Cool.”

The sudden silence in the car was deafening.

…

Gigi breathed in and out slowly as she looked between Jan and Jaida.

This was fine. Everything was totally fine.

It’s just that the whole school was under the impression that Jan and Jaida were sleeping together when they weren’t, but Gigi couldn’t really come out and say that because that would expose the fact that Gigi was actually the one sleeping with Jaida.

But Jaida and Jan weren’t exactly trying to get rid of the rumors, having been seen hanging out during school hours. Not to mention during practice.

Jan had come back to school after a few days, pretended like everything was fine, her usual bubbly self back in full force. No one seemed to question it. And no one seemed to notice the extra attention given to the women’s varsity basketball team captain. Except for Gigi.

“So, um, do either of you have like, spray paint or something?” Jaida asked.

Jan perked up immediately and mentioned something about some prom committee mockups and how she had a whole bunch of paint left over.

“You would have a closet full of paint,” Jaida chuckled, sounding oddly comfortable in Jan’s presence.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the younger girl exclaimed.

“Oh, nothin’ Miss President.” Jaida shook her head with a smile.

Jan rolled her eyes fondly and bit at the corner of her mouth to hide her own smile, even going so far as to look down at the floor to avoid eye contact.

Gigi watched this whole interaction with a raised eyebrow.

“Cool, so we can just hop over to yours and head to school,” Gigi cut in.

Jan looked up quickly, almost like she had forgotten Gigi was there. “Yeah, sure.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jaida nodded.

The three girls said their goodbyes to Heidi and weaved through the other groups before walking the short distance across the street to Jan’s house. The student body president told them she’d only be a minute as she disappeared into the house.

Gigi turned to face Jaida who had her arms crossed and was looking anywhere but at her. The tension only grew when Gigi went to speak.

“Jaida—”

The older girl shook her head. “Nah, Princess. Not tonight,” Jaida wouldn’t even look at her, the pavement beneath their feet holding her attention.

Gigi scoffed. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

Jaida raised her gaze and the look in her eyes made the few feet between them suddenly feel like miles. Jaida blinked at her once, twice, and shook her head. “Don’t need to.”

“Jaida—” Gigi cursed her voice for coming out desperate and clingy, though she knew it was the truth.

The basketball player just shook her head. “We talked about this, Princess.”

They hadn’t. Not really. Jaida had texted her the day after the picture leaked, said they should talk, but so much had happened since. They just hadn’t found time.

So no, they hadn’t talked, apart from the previous conversations where they promised not to fool around anymore, only to go back on that promise a few hours later.

Gigi wanted to say more, wanted to yell or scream, make herself heard. But she didn’t. She just looked at her feet.

And that was it. They waited in uncomfortable silence for another thirty seconds before Jan emerged, smiling proudly with three cans of spray paint.

Jaida led them over to her truck, opening the door and offering a hand to help each of the girls up. Gigi tried not to read too much into the fact that Jan was sitting in the passenger seat, while Gigi had been pushed to the back.

The car ride was relatively silent, at least on Gigi’s part. Jan and Jaida made comfortable small talk and laughed like old friends. Gigi did her best to ignore them, focusing instead on counting the streetlamps they passed.

The school building was dark, illuminated only by the stadium lights in the distance. Jaida pulled into her usual spot and hopped out to offer her hand again to help the girls down, this time, Gigi didn’t take it.

There was a flash of hurt on Jaida’s face, but it disappeared as soon as it came.

Jan seemed oblivious to their interaction as she approached the school, scoping out the building for any way inside. They were lucky the art room door was propped open, making their entrance to the school relatively easy. The dark, empty hallways filled Gigi’s chest with a weird feeling that she couldn’t altogether name. It was strange, seeing this place she had spent four years practically living out of, abandoned. She felt a weird sort of nostalgia take root in her stomach and she shook her head.

This night was bringing out all these… feelings in her that she’d rather not admit.

The three girls came to a stop in the middle of the gym, scanning the walls for Jacob’s last name.

Jan spotted it first, pointing to the far wall. “That’s his.”

The glass-enclosed jersey was high up on the wall, higher than Gigi had expected. There was no way, even with all their cheerleading prowess, and Jaida’s long legs, for them to deface the jersey from the ground. They needed something more.

“There’s a ladder outside the theatre,” Jan offered. “They’re doing some construction stuff with the stage I think.”

“I’ll go grab that.” Jaida said firmly, heading toward the gym doors. Gigi couldn’t help but think that she had volunteered in order to put as much distance between them as possible.

“Holler if you need help,” Jan called after her.

Jaida spun around and gave her a wink. “Will do, Miss President.”

Gigi waited until the sound of Jaida’s footsteps faded out before turning to look hard at Jan.

The older girl looked right back, before sighing. “What?”

Gigi did her best to school her features, only allowing one eyebrow to raise in suspicion.“What the fuck is going on with you two?”

“Nothing, we’ve just been talking,” Jan said unconvincingly.

“Mhmm, yeah that looks like just talking.” Gigi couldn’t help the bitterness from seeping into her words.

Jan’s head snapped up to meet Gigi’s eyes, something burned in her dark brown orbs, and Gigi almost gasped aloud at the sight. The sight of her friend truly angry was a rare occurrence.

“What the hell do you care?” Jan snapped. Regret flashed in her eyes a second later, but she stood firm in her words.

Gigi sighed, imploring Jan to listen. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Something in her tone must have tipped Jan off because the older girl took a step back in shock. “W-we’re just friends. It’s not like that.”

Gigi knew. Of course, she knew. Jaida wasn’t like that. No matter how much she liked to portray herself as the cocky player type, she never could commit all the way. The prime example being how she always texted Gigi after they fucked to make sure she was okay. Jaida tried to be arrogant and cocky, but her eyes always gave her away.

“I know. Just… Be careful with her, okay?” God, why did her voice nearly break just then? Gigi needed to get it together, needed to get all these emotions clogging up her lungs to stop. She needed to be able to breathe again.

“Gigi, what—”

Jan was cut off by Jaida returning, ladder held tightly to her chest. Gigi didn’t notice the way Jaida’s muscles bulged out around the metal rungs of the ladder. Not at all.

They decided that Gigi should be the one to actually do the defacing, which was fine by her. Jaida and Jan held the ladder firmly in place as she ascended the steps. She did her best not to look down and focus only on the next step in front of her.

Gigi’s legs still shook.

She wrote ‘cheater’ in big letters over where his last name was and did her best rendition of a hand flipping the bird. Jan and Jaida teased her about messing up the number of fingers on a hand and Gigi let herself laugh a bit, the tension in her gut dissipating with each heave of her shoulders.

As Gigi descended the ladder still shaking, they heard footsteps. They exchanged a wide-eyed glance before booking it toward the gym doors that lead outside.

They heard the footsteps increase their pace, but didn’t look back until they had sprinted out to the parking lot.

They ducked behind Jaida’s truck just as the gym doors slammed open on their hinges. The footsteps resumed and began to walk up and down the rows of cars. Instinctively, Gigi reached her hand out towards Jaida. When her brain caught up with her, Gigi went to lower her hand, but Jaida grabbed it, squeezing it twice in reassurance.

Gigi’s heart jumped wildly in her chest at the gesture, and she didn’t have it in her to scold it.

The person following them must have given up, because the footsteps retreated a moment later. The three girls breathed out a collective sigh of relief, and if Jan noticed Gigi and Jaida’s fingers intertwined, she didn’t mention it.

They made sure the coast was clear before piling back into Jaida’s truck and texting the group chat. The sound of Jaida’s tires peeling out of the parking lot rang in Gigi’s head.

…

The moment everyone left the house, Heidi started crying. She couldn’t stop the tears and the sobs that wracked her small frame.

She felt a solid pair of arms wrap around her shoulders and hold her tightly. She buried her face into the mass of Rock’s cotton candy pink hair, sniffling as she heard whispered words of encouragement. Widow patted her back soothingly and typed away on her phone.

After an immeasurable amount of time, Rock pulled back to wipe Heidi’s tears away with the pads of her fingers. The older girl gave her a weak smile, which only made Heidi want to cry more.

Widow, sensing this, cut in and spoke in a calm but firm voice. “No, no more of that, we ain’t crying over no stupid boy.”

Heidi looked up at her through bleary eyes. Widow gave her a reassuring smile and took her hand. “Come with me.”

“What are we doing?” Heidi questioned.

Widow sat Heidi down at her mirror and started surveying her makeup products. “We…” She motioned Rock over. “Are doing a good ole fashion makeover.”

Rock squealed excitedly beside her, and however much Heidi was not in the mood for this, she sighed. What could it hurt?

Widow made to start picking up products, but after two minutes, Rock shooed her away, claiming that she could take care of this part. Widow backed off and sat on Heidi’s bed, connecting her phone to a portable speaker and blasting some feel-good music at the highest volume setting.

Rock hummed under her breath and Widow chimed in every five or so minutes with a compliment on how great Heidi looked. It was almost comfortable.

But something in Heidi was still nagging at her. Crystal’s words as she had exited the house, she had said, “I know from personal experience.” Heidi knew for a fact the only person Crystal had ever dated was Gigi. It suddenly made sense as to why she was taking this whole revenge planning so seriously.

Rock, oblivious to the cogs turning in Heidi’s head, smiled at her sadly as a single tear escaped the side of Heidi’s eye. She brushed it away quickly and kissed the top of her forehead before continuing on her blush. Heidi felt her heart take root in her chest and ache at the tenderness.

She needed to distract herself or she would start crying for a completely different reason. She turned to look at Widow who was looking down at her phone and typing wildly.

“What are you doing?” Heidi asked.

Widow looked up, a mischievous smile on her face. “Just signing Jacob up for the Scientology email subscription service. As well as about sixty others.” Heidi’s eyes went wide as Widow continued talking. “And I’ve hit up all his friends on the football team, called in a few of Dahlia’s favors, they’ll be waiting for him after the game tonight. They aren’t fond of cheaters.” It was Rock’s turn to look at Widow shocked. “Oh, and I may have set you up with seven or so different guys to rebound with, you can pick your favorite from the list.”

Heidi just stared at Widow, mouth hanging open in shock.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

Rock shook her head and chuckled before going back to add the finishing touches on Heidi’s makeup.

“Now we’ve got to pick out an outfit…” Widow said hopping off the bed.

Widow blew through her closet like a hurricane, throwing out dresses and skirts and shirts and pants and accessories. Rock, bless her, was scrambling about, picking up all the thrown clothing articles and putting them back in their proper place.

Widow finally stopped when she came to a pastel blue sundress. It was off the shoulder, covered in ruffles, with neat brown buttons lined up nicely down the middle of the dress. She held it up to Heidi’s confused glance, before sighing and throwing the dress at her.

“Let’s go, bitch, we got a photoshoot to do!” Widow exclaimed. “We gotta show him what he’s missin’” she said by way of an explanation.

Widow rushed Rock and Heidi, saying something about the lighting being off if they waited much longer. It was dark outside, so Heidi had no idea what she was on about, but she hurried anyway.

They piled into Widow’s car and sped off down the road.

It was then that Heidi noticed the massive camera bag in the passenger seat.

Widow admitted sheepishly that she was a bit of a photography geek, and would have joined the school newspaper if they hadn’t all been lame weirdos.

They stopped outside a local coffee shop. Then a grocery store. Then an elementary school. Then a gas station. Somehow, with only a camera and Rock’s phone flashlight, Widow managed to get hundreds of photos. She directed Heidi’s poses and bossed Rock around to get the best lighting angle. It ended up being a long endeavor and Heidi’s body ached after all the strange angles she had to hold. But in the same breath, she couldn’t help but smile at the lunacy of all of it. At one point she was sitting in a tipped-over shopping cart and looking directly up at the sky above her.

This was not at all how she envisioned her night going.

When Widow finally flipped the camera around to show Heidi the results, she nearly choked. Each and every photo looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine. The high-quality image and the positioning of Heidi’s body had turned out looking downright professional.

Heidi just stared at the photos with wide eyes.

The longer she said nothing, the more Widow fidgeted. “These are just the raw ones, I can edit them to be whatever you want.”

Heidi just kept looking through them.

Widow’s voice tinged on anxious as she spoke next. “Sorry if I got a little carried away, I just thought about what would help me most if I were in your situation and I—”

“Thank you,” Heidi cut her off. She looked up to meet Widow’s eyes. “You got no idea how much this means.”

The anxiety faded from her face as Widow let a smile take over. “Yeah, ‘course.”

They were interrupted by Rock calling out their names. Heidi turned to see Rock holding her phone above her head. “It’s go time, ladies!”

…

As Widow’s car pulled up to the oh so familiar house, Heidi felt her stomach twist. This time it wasn’t in anger or guilt or fear. The sight of three other cars outside, as well as the crowd of girls gathering on the sidewalk in front of the house, filled Heidi’s chest with joy.

Widow put the car in park and Rock squeezed her hand, then before Heidi could blink, they were on the sidewalk in front of Jacob’s house. Had she not been surrounded on all sides by her friends she might have broken down, cried and screamed and yelled about how it wasn’t fair and how she had given everything to him.

But she wasn’t alone.

Jackie placed a gentle hand on her back and held out a carton of eggs. Heidi looked up at her and gave a smile. But before she did anything else, she pulled Crystal, who was watching her intensely, into a giant hug.

“Thank you,” Heidi whispered into her shoulder, attempting to convey her every emotion into those two syllables.

Crystal just nodded and squeezed her harder. “No problem.”

Heidi exhaled and turned back around to Jackie. She grabbed an egg, its smooth hard surface feeling firm in her hand.

She inhaled the past. Jacob’s sweet words, his dopey smile, the way he said her name, how he kissed her.

She exhaled.

And threw.

Before she knew it, eggs were breaking apart against the hard brick of the house from every direction. There were whoops and hollers and a general sense of catharsis.

Heidi looked on either side of her to see all the girls in her neighborhood getting in on the action, even quiet mannered Rock was chucking eggs like a sprinkler. Heidi couldn’t help but laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh.

God, she was so fucking sad just a few hours ago, sure that her life as she knew it would be over, and now, surrounded on all sides by girls, most of whom she hadn’t spoken to in years, she had never felt more loved.

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the-gunslock · 4 years

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Hiver 3 - North, part 1

This is the first on a 3-part story on how Amanda and I got together, and how I met two very nice settlements in North America.

Devrim Kay squinted and put his fingers on his chin, reaching inside his memories for an answer to the eager Warlock sitting across him, holding open a page from the past Dawning’s book, written by Eva Levante herself. His gaze pierced the page, trying to gather a mental image.

“A sour fruit, with white flesh… I’m sorry, Hiver, I don’t believe we grow it on the Farm. Maybe by going north of the City, towards the Panama Canal, you’ll find yourself someone who has it, or perhaps a place where they grow.”

Hiver nods and takes a sip from her tea. It provided some peaceful warmth inside the mossy, damp church that Devrim used as his sniper’s perch in the European Dead Zone.

“And be able to bring a good gift home to your partner.”

Then she chokes on it.

“She isn’t my partner. Or Crimson Bond, or whatever term people choose to use.” She manages to respond, between coughs.

Devrim chuckles. “You’ve got the look, though. Your heart is on your sleeve. Trust me, I’ve been there.” He says, smiling, before closing the book and sipping his own tea. “If you need any advice for dealing with the feeling, I’ll be happy to help you.”

He hands back the book. Hiver puts it inside her Duster’s bag and nervously pouts at him.

“Devrim, I’ll bring you cocoa powder and a brand new sniper rifle if you keep quiet about this.” She bargains, drawing another stifled laugh from the old man.

“Alright, a counterproposal.” He says as he gathers the dishes and stores them away for cleaning later.

“I’m listening.”

“I’ll keep quiet about this anyway. But, when this works, promise me I’ll be the first to know.”

“That’s a deal.” Hiver says, getting up to leave. “Thanks for the tea, Devrim. And for the help. And... for keeping this safe. I’ll see you soon!”

He makes a “mouth zipped” gesture, pressing his lips together, then closed his hand into a fist and then extended his fingers with the flick of a wrist. Her secret was safe, as amused as he was by the whole ordeal. As Hiver turned to leave, Trinity popped out of transmat.

“I told you women are her biggest weakness.”

The Ghost and Devrim have a laugh together and then she disappears back into the embarrassed Warlock’s backpack.

Back into her jumpship, Hiver is happy to finally have a lead on where to look for this fruit. She had gone to the Cryptarchs, the Vanguard, Hawthorne, Tess, Louis -- No one knew any solid fact regarding Amanda’s prickly, childhood fruit. Not even Eva. But she knew where to look for it now.

“Trinity, can you trace a course to old American Empire frontier?”

“Aye aye, Cap’n.”

Just had to be careful of Fallen and the Vanguard’s quarantine zones. She was still not sure where most of them were, so, in case of doubt, leave.

“Why here, though?”

Hiver sighs, as if touching on forbidden knowledge.

“In the metadata for the Chaperone, it’s said that Amanda’s mom came from desert people, right? There are only a handful of deserts from where one would have to depart from, cross the Panama Ravine, and get to the City. That, and the aesthetic from the Chaperone itself.”

“Makes sense.”

Upon touching down on the area formerly known as ‘Texas’, Hiver immediately summoned her ‘Approaching Infinity’ Sparrow to look for vegetation, refugee settlements, or both. Whichever came first.

It was really cloudy, which set the mood for a really long and lonely journey, racing through the destroyed and overgrown streets of old Texas. She’d see broken cars, Fallen banners, machinery and rusted street signs everywhere. The greyness of everything made the whole trip monotonous, and it felt like an eternity until she found any sign of life. Still no fruit trees or cacti, and, subsequently, no fruit for her to analyze. Even if it was the wrong one.

“Hiver, I have detected some heat waves coming from this area inside the city. Probably a campfire.”

“Thanks, Trinity. Let’s go.”

Hiver takes a sharp turn at one of the avenues and does her best to navigate the now-empty streets. Except, unfortunately, by the unholy amount of debris that covered them, forcing her to do some risky maneuvers in order not to crash. But she was focused, racing through the dead city.

“Why are you going so far for this fruit?” Trinity inquired. She knew the motive, partly due to the neural symbiosis, and partly due to Hiver’s interactions with and about Amanda. But verbalizing an answer always makes it more real, so she wanted to hear it.

“I want to give it to Amanda, as I said.”

Trinity sighed. “Yeah, but why? You don’t really have an obligation to do this.”

“It would make her happy.”

“It matters a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

“The fruit?”

“Her happiness, dum-dum.”

Hiver lowered her head, looking at the dashboard of her sparrow. She recalls the image of the Shipwright and her smile brighter than a Dawnblade. The warlock has been fighting the feeling for little less than a year now, pushing it down through the course of the Red War. For the first time, it doesn’t feel sheepish, reluctant or nervous anymore. On the contrary, it felt serene. A shining hope. A goal that she could work towards.

And she sure would.

“Yes. Yes, it does.”

Trinity lets out a cheerful “Hm”. It definitely sounded like she was smiling.

Eventually Hiver reaches an area with an inflow of people and supply carts, transmatting her helmet and Sparrow away. The children are playing and laughing. The adults are either socializing or doing their jobs around the open spaces of the village, such as cooking or making weapons. Soon she is approached by a bearded man with his head wrapped in cloth. He looks friendly and welcomes her with open arms.

“A Guardian? Ahahahaha! It’s so rare to see one of you ‘round these parts.”

He claps his hands together after a slight bow. Hiver starts walking towards the village’s ‘market’, the man accompanying her.

“So, what brings you out here, Warlock? Vanguard business?”

“No… no. I’m looking for a fruit, actually.”

“You came all the way over this settlement for… a fruit?”

“Labor of love, my friend.” She answered with a smile and a shrug.

“Heh, I get whatcha mean. What is this fruit like?”

“Prickly... white on the inside.” She tries to make its shape with her hands. “Tastes sour.”

“I see, I see... One second.”

The man leaves her to walk towards the village’s vendors. She sees them making pensive expressions, examine their relatively empty crates, and then shake their heads sadly. Hiver knew this was reason to expect bad news and unconsciously puts on a nervous face. The bearded man nods at the vendor and starts walking back to her.

“Got good news and bad news for you, Guardian.”

“Bad first.”

“If I’m being honest… we can’t spare much food. Hell, we barely have enough for ourselves. The fruit you’re looking for exists in settlements around the region, but the suppliers can’t cross the frontier without being scavenged by Fallen. Over time, they just stopped trying, and we can’t wait that long for our own food to grow.”

“What about the good news?”

The man raises his fingers to emphasize his phrasing. “Good news is that you and I can trade favors. You chase off those Fallen, secure the supply line, and we can ask for your precious fruit upon the next delivery, in a few weeks’ time. Sounds good?”

“Deal.”

Trinity pops out of Hiver’s backpack. “We need to know where your suppliers go through. We follow that route, we find the Fallen, and we kick their asses.”

“I’ll fetch you a map and trace the directions. We’re counting on you, Guardian.”

“Right back at you.” Hiver replies.

Map in display, Trinity guides Hiver through the delivery route, but they encounter very few Fallen on the way. They guess they want to remain hidden or invisible until another scavengeable transport comes around. But at this pace, they won’t be able to track their lair, and they would continue to terrorize these settlements.

This requires a change of ideas.

“I have a plan, Hiver. Get to the next village.”

They take a couple hours to get there, but as soon as they do, they instantly notice a different atmosphere; the gates are closed and there are guards making a perimeter around the outer wall. They give her suspicious looks, but don’t raise their weapons yet. Rather, one of them calls out to her.

“Why are you here, Guardian?”

Trinity transmats the map into the man’s hand.

“We are looking around this city for a specific fruit,” Hiver states, “but this man with a turbant of sorts we met in the previous village said your food deliveries are being thwarted by Fallen in this area.”

“That is correct.” The guard confirms.

“We couldn’t, however, find any of them on our way here.” Hiver concludes.

“However,” Trinity continues, “I had an idea that could help get your operations back on track. We just need to talk to whoever manages them.”

“Give me a minute.” The guard pulls out a portable radio and calls for a ‘Ms. Gallagher’ person. Minutes after, he gets confirmation for the Guardian to enter. So he opens the door and says Sarah will be expecting her. Hiver thanks him and proceeds through the gates.

This community is definitely vaster than the one before; their houses are more solid, built in cobblestone and brick, and in the distance she can see the orchards and terraces where their vegetables and fruits come from. Soon after Hiver took in the scenery, a woman that appeared to be in her middle age, wearing a robe-like garment, called to her.

“Sarah Gallagher?”

“Yes, that’s me. I’m Sarah Gallagher. My pleasure, Guardian.” She extends her hand and Hiver gives her a firm handshake. “I heard Quinn asked you for help.”

“He did. We are here to help secure your delivery routes.”

“Follow me.” Sarah said, starting to go towards what seemed to be some sort of garage. Trinity materializes once more.

“We couldn’t trace these Fallen’s origin as we came, but I want to propose an idea to whoever runs this place. I’m assuming… that’s you.”

They reach the garage where transports are kept. Some of them are in dire need of repair as the Fallen took parts off of them. Some of the parking spaces are empty; Not everyone gets to come back from a scavenging. People are running up and down with machinery and tools to get them up and running, but most of the intact ones are in standby, not knowing when it would be safe to trade their food again. Sarah sits at a nearby desk. Hiver leans over it while Trinity floats.

“So… we need a transport of yours to go make a delivery. We escort you and get rid of the Fallen that come your way, and if they scurry off, we can find their leader. You deliver the food, the Fallen won’t bother Quinn’s settlement OR yours, and we get the thing we’re looking for. Everyone’s a winner.” Trinity says, with half a mind that Sarah won’t accept her idea.

“That sounds reasonable. However, too many good people have died trying to cross this deathly frontier, Guardian, and you’re about to use my citizens as bait.” She replies, hands intertwined and supporting her chin. “Can you guarantee no lives will be lost during this plan of yours?”

Trinity trades looks with Hiver, who looks at the desk, trying to look for an answer for Sarah. She doesn’t know what to say.

“I can’t, ma’am.”

Sarah closes her eyes and lets out a quiet groan.

“However, I came all the way here from the City to get that fruit. Instead, I found people that need help. As such… it is my duty to help. And if trusting me to do this means no one can die, I shall do everything in my power to keep these people alive. And believe me when I say…”

Hiver raises her palm and a ball of crackling arc energy materializes in her hand.

“I have a lot of power.”

Sarah eyes the ball of violent lightning in the Awoken’s hand and silently but quickly nods a few times.

“Your honesty is appreciated. I’ll see what I can do about the transports. You can stay around until I come to an agreement with the drivers.” The human woman says, getting up from the desk and walking towards the workers at the garage.

“Thank you, Ms. Gallagher.” Hiver says before she walks out and sits on a bench with legs crossed, hands on her lap, the quietness and pure air of the place causing her to close her eyes and whistle until she dozed off.

“...dian? Guardian, get up.” Hiver hears half-consciously, feeling someone tap her face.

“Whaaaat….” She yawns and lifts her head, massaging her neck. “Ms. Gallagher? Hey. What do you need?”

She extends a hand at Hiver, who uses it to get up from the bench. “The drivers agreed to that plan of yours. Took me a couple hours to convince them you knew what you were doing. Also, to repair the transports, kinda rundown from the lack of movement. We are ready to leave at your convenience.”

“Sure. Sure. We leave in… five minutes. I need to wake up first.”

Sarah smiles at her earnestness, communicates the lease to her drivers, and bids the Awoken farewell and good luck. Hiver checks her hand cannons for ammo, and transmats her helmet on. She had given her word, now it was time to act up to it.

The transport is some sort of agricultural convoy. It runs on large, treaded tires and has a relatively high speed, pulling many wagons behind it. The first wagon was an open one, for personnel transportation, and the rest have closed trunks with crates full of food. It looked like a kind of train.

Hiver grabbed onto the handle bar of the personnel wagon, hanging outside it looking for any sign of Fallen activity. Inside were many civilians and guards in case she needed cover; She was, however, adamant on taking the Fallen matter into her own hands. If this failed, all of this mission would be for nothing.

“Hiver, I hear movement.” Trinity warns.

“FALLEN!” The Warlock yells.

The driver engages full speed. Guards ready their weapons and the civilians hide the best they can. She climbs the wagon to scout from above the food crates. Soon enough, crude, battered brown-vehicles piloted by Dregs appear behind the transport and start firing at the convoy. Hiver runs to the back of the wagon, ready to draw.

“It’s high noon, dipshits.”

She starts picking them off one by one, making their Pikes flip over and their bodies tumble on the ground.

She detects movement behind her while she kills the Dreg riders. Invisible Marauders leap on the convoy from the trees, either climbing up the side of the crates and using their wrist blades to damage the metal, or landing on the personnel wagon and trying to kill its occupants with Shock Blades. Hiver uses her Arcbolt Grenade to dispatch those on the roof of the wagon, and kicks or shoots away those that climb up the sides.

“Hiver! Get me a body of one of these Fallen! I can pinpoint their origin from there.”

Hiver runs to the personnel wagon and kills a Marauder with a force push, grabbing it by the foot as it falls. Throwing it on top of the convoy’s food wagons, Trinity gets to scanning its body while she dispatches the rest of the enemies; resistance is getting lighter, fear washing over the bandits, causing them to retreat.

“I’ve got it!” Trinity says. “I’ll warn the driver that we’re leaving them for now. Should be smooth sailing from here.”

Trinity transmats to the convoy driver’s cabin and he gives her confirmation that they should be fine. Broadcasting this to Hiver, she jumps off the wagon and summons her sparrow in order to follow the waypoint Trinity set with the information pulled from the Marauder’s corpse. It leads to an artificially-made cave in the outskirts of an old metropolitan-ish city, almost all of it destroyed by now. The Fallen Banners helped her locate the place, and the patrolling grunts are quickly killed in a thunderous mess.

Stepping inside the sewer-like installation, cannon at the ready, she dispatches Sniper Vandals as she takes care not to slip on the humid stone of the place’s floor. Fighting through hordes of enemies and floating above the currents provenient from the area’s rainy season, she eventually reaches the end of the sewer into a room filled with machinery and scavenged material. There she locates the leader of this terrorizing group: A tall Eliksni, by the name of “Traksis, Pelted Captain.”

As he roared at her and engaged his Arc shield, she spotted one a different banner on his armor, bearing a dark blue color and a vaguely snout-like symbol; The emblem of the extinct House of Wolves. She infers he must have been one of those who escaped the Reef’s onslaught and affiliated himself with House of Dusk, but somehow was allowed to retain Wolf imagery. It meant his presence is dangerous. It could lead to another uprising.

As he aimed his Scorch Cannon and fired an erring projectile, she leapt in the air and lighted her Chaos Reach super ability. “Time to go, Wolf,” She said, as her beam of crackling electrical potential vaporized the Captain and anything near him. Under her helm, she smiled as the Wolf banner smoldered along with its former owners, and she knew her work was over.

She felt puzzled, but was satisfied nevertheless. This should be the end of the Fallen threat in the vicinity. She had to let the villagers know.

The inhabitants of the first village Hiver found were in glee for seeing the convoy arriving (mostly) safe and sound, celebrating as they refilled their settlement’s food storage, and clapped just as hard upon seeing Hiver return in her sparrow, smiling. Quinn comes to greet her, clapping with the crowd.

“Quinn. The threat is over. I tracked and killed the Captain. The Fallen should not bother you anymore.”

“And you saved all of these people who depended on that food!” He states, letting out a hearty laughter. “I would ask how we can repay you, but we already have our answer. And, guess what?”

“What?”

Quinn turns to one of the vendors and motions “come here”. They appear with a medium jute bag, and out of it, curious objects peek:

Pink fruits, with green prickly appendages. She took one, and pried it open with her hands; The flesh was, indeed, white. It smelled sour, definitely. They called it “Dragon Fruit”.

This was the fruit (she hoped) she came for. The one that would remind Amanda of Lucia, her small friend. Her parents. Her first time making the light garlands that decorated her small refuge, back when she was traveling to the City. And that she now makes to decorate her workshop.

Amanda’s first Dawning.

She hugged Quinn in thanks and bid her farewells to the village’s people. Soon enough, her unsecured/OUTCRY ship flew by and she got transmatted into it, storing the bag in a compartment. She plotted a course for the City.

“Hiver, when you talked to Quinn… what did you answer him about the fruit?”

“I think I said… labor of love? Why?”

“This is the first time you’ve admitted to loving her. They didn’t know who she is, but I still count that as progress.”

Wide-eyed, Hiver thought about it for a second. It was more casual than she imagined, but saying it out loud made it feel more real. It took her aback, making her blush, creating purplish spots on her skin, but it also yielded a shy smile from her. She guesses it took some time to admit it to herself as well. But now that she did -- there was no way she wouldn’t move forward.

“Trinity, send a message to Amanda.” She asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Amanda. You and I, our spot, as soon as you can. There is something I want to show you.”

The Shipwright stretched her free arm as she heard Hiver’s message on her holo-tablet. It put a smile on her face as she couldn’t wait to see what kind of archaeological knick-knack or brand new hand cannon her Warlock friend would bring for her to see. She starts recording a video message.

“Got it, girl. Will do it as soon as I’m done with my services today. Should be soon. See you there!” She ends it with a wink and a grin, returning to her services.

Hiver should be here soon.

For some reason, the Shipwright found her own heart pacing about it.

#destiny 2 #destiny warlock #destiny fic #destiny oc #amanda holliday #hiver the gunslock

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librationpoint · 5 years

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Kinktober ‘19 - Glory Hole

Day 29 - Glory Hole 1589 words, Ray/Brad, Ray/Many, Ray/Surprise Guest In which Ray spend Superbowl Sunday on his knees. Definitely NSFW this time.

Ray wasn't really sure how Brad had organized this. The physical part was easy enough. A small section of the garage was partitioned off by a couple of plywood sheets held up by a few two-by-fours, easily thrown together in an hour. There was a padded adjustable bench, the sort for gardeners that could be used to kneel or sit on, and a surplus cot to lay down. Several gallon jugs of water, a couple empties to relieve himself in, assortment of snack bars, small little reading lamp, iPad and portable TV: everything you could possibly need to spend a long afternoon in your very own personal glory hole. That and a comfy t-shirt, exercise shorts, and jock; no need to dress to impress here.

The social part, though. How did someone even do it? You couldn't exactly send out an email to everyone at your command saying, "Hey, guys, anyone want to come to my Superbowl party? There will be chips, dip, and also anonymous blowjobs."

Brad had better be saving some of that dip.

It was probably better that Ray didn't know anyway. The chances that anyone at the other end would even know Ray existed was slim to none; Brad kept his personal life private and the number of people on purely on his side who knew Ray was anything but a friend could be counted on two hands and most of those were family. Presumably none of them would be coming within a hundred miles of the house.

Ray could hear vehicles pulling up the drive. He used his iPad to check on his lipstick; he thought it was a nice touch for the no-homo types and the shade looked great on him anyways. He was assured of this. He went back to playing Angry Birds as he waited for someone to work up the nerve and come out to enjoy himself.

It took a while but finally the door from the garage to mudroom swung open, briefly spilling light through the room as a man walked in. Ray switched his lamp off, got on his knees, and peered through the hole. It was dim in the garage, with only a couple small LED night lights plugged in near the doors to keep people from tripping over a motorcycle part and smashing their heads open on the concrete. And privacy of course, couldn't forget that. There was too much shadow to see his face, but there was plenty Ray could still make out. Thirty-something, thick build but not overly chiseled, tank and cargo shorts, dubiously generic tribal tat on his right arm, cocky strut. Definitely some flavor of marine or soldier, probably had at least one ex-wife and a $50,000 truck with crippling loan interest.

He knew what he was doing, though. He opened his fly, tugged his boxers under his balls, and after a couple strokes put his hardening cock through the hole. Average size, maybe on the plump size, dark, uncut but clean: definitely a nice started piece. Ray went down and started sucking without any foreplay or teasing, he seemed like the sort there to get his rocks off fast. That proved correct. After a few minutes he shot a nice, salty load into Ray's mouth, zipped up, and left. Ray made a tally mark on the whiteboard next to the hole and went back to waiting.

Maybe another ten minutes passed before the door opened again. This guy was tall, not Brad-height but maybe LT sized, shaped kind of like a stork, all long limbs and angles. Probably another marine, the haircut was depressingly similar to what Ray had worn while he was in, but the hesitance and general bookish look suggested some sort of POG, or fobbit, or whatever the fuck they were called these days. Maybe Brad was trying to put some hair on the guy's chest.

He hesitated about a foot away. He unbuttoned his jeans and tugged him and his boxer-briefs down to about mid-thigh and just stood there, cock still soft amid a ginger bush.

"So, uh... do I just put it in, or should I jerk it a little first, or?"

Ray wanted to say, "shut up, your stupid dickweasel, this is a complete violation of glory hole etiquette." Instead he kept his trap shut and stuck his index finger through to gesture for him to stick it in. The guy did, and while it took a minute to get him hard, Ray could forgive a newbie a lot of sins when he had a nice long one to suck on. He had some staying power, too, not just from nerves. If Ray were the sort to fuck random POGs he'd definitely be on the list.

Things started to slowly pick up after that. Ray could practically predict when guys would start showing up by how things were going in the game; the moment a time-out was called someone was bound to come by and drop a load. He spent the whole of half-time on his knees servicing a non-stop line of cocks, to the point that his jaw felt like it might lock open by the time play started again. Mostly guys seemed to be observing the cumdump equivalent of urinal rules, staying outside the garage where they didn't have to see a guy get his dick sucked, but also clearly waiting right outside during the rush from the speed they came in as soon as another left. The exception were a trio of marines so clearly boots that it hurt, with identical buzz cuts and polo shirts, who came in together and got a little noisy as they watched each other shove their cocks into a hole with about as much enthusiasm and roughness as you'd expect from that sort. Ray didn't think he'd ever been so eager to please gunny that he'd have come over to give his kinky girl a nice throat fuck but then again at their age he'd still have been on the receiving end.

The evening was basically an X-rated Dr. Suess story about cocks. Big cocks, small cocks, fat cocks, skinny cocks. White cocks, black cocks, hairy cocks, shaved cocks. Ray was in cock heaven. The one constant was it was all clean cocks; clearly they had been screened for familiarity with the concept of soap. That was more than could be said about the last time Ray had tried this for more than one or two guys in a row, back after he'd gotten back from Afghanistan. Right before he'd started his thing with Brad, actually, which he didn't think was a coincidence. Brad liked his mouth only metaphorically diseased.

Near the end of the night, Ray caught a flash of sandy hair and a familiar gait. The man was hesitant, slowly making his way over, which gave Ray time to decide to give his mouth a rest. He pulled down his shorts and drizzled some lube on his fingers so he could quickly open himself up. His visitor put his cock through the hole and with a grunt Ray backed his ass right onto his.

"Shit," the guy said from the other side. "You fucked-up horny hick."

Ray braced himself against the other wall as his fellow redneck did what any redneck did when finding his cock up a slick hole and started fucking him. The angle was awkward and the plywood barrier made it impossible for him to properly deep-dick Ray, but getting some backdoor action after working his throat raw felt great. He freed his own much-neglected cock from his jock and started jerking in time to the thrusts. He was already dripping from the hours of cock overexposure. It didn't take much for him to shoot all over the concrete floor, biting his arm to keep quiet. His mystery fucker came shortly after, leaving a thin trail of cum dripping down Ray's taint after pulling out. Ray turned and managed to fit his first through to give him a big thumbs up.

He got a, "You are so fucking weird," in reply.

Things died down fairly quickly an hour or so after the game was over. Brad had firm ideas about people going home once a party hit the end point listed on the invites. Ray sent him a text to let him know he was thoroughly wrecked and to put a closed sign on the door. After a while there was no further noise from the house. Ray was about to curl up and take a nap when some Viking-looking motherfucker came in. Ray did his best to give the man's oversized donkey cock the love it deserved but frankly his lips were about to fall off and he ended up mostly jerking him off until he came all over Ray's face.

"Get out of there and help me clean up," Brad ordered.

"You better have saved me dinner," Ray said, opening the makeshift door and wobbling to his feet. He followed Brad back through the mudroom and into the kitchen. "I'm fucking starving."

"You've been eating all day."

"They're not literal protein shakes, jesus." A soft snoring noise distracted Ray from his quest for something new to stuff his mouth with, and a peek over the back of their biggest couch revealed an adorable rosy-cheeked redneck marine curled drunkenly around a pillow. Ray gave Brad a 'what part of anonymous did you misunderstand' look.

"He didn't have a designated driver," Brad said with a shrug.

"You big fucking softy."

#kinktober #generation kill

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faveficarchive · 5 years

Text

Mayonnaise and Its Discontents

(The tres exciting third part of a "White Trash" trilogy)

By Vivian Darkbloom

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Zina and Gabrielle head out on a road trip, and trip up on Zina’s exes along the way.

1. Precious and Few are the Moments We Two Can Share

The firefighter filled out the broken-down plaid couch with her long body. A walkman lay against her muscular stomach, and a wire traipsed seductively over a swelling breast, galloped down into the valley of muscle, skin, and tendons around the neck and shoulder, blended into dark tresses, and climbed over the crevices of the ears, where it was attached to an earpiece blaring out beautiful musical dissonance: Black hole sun, woncha come, and wash away the raaaaaaaain….

Her eyes were closed tightly against the world. It had been a long, horrible day. Three fires in one day. Flames, dirt, near-death. She came right home after the third one, exhausted, took a bath, and flung herself on the couch. She craved the oblivion of loud music, so she put on her walkman, since she knew Gabrielle was upstairs studying.

And she calls me insensitive, Zina thought grumpily. I can be kinda sorta sensitive when I want to be. She had drifted off into a light sleep when she felt a familiar weight straddle her lap. The weight wriggled around suggestively. She smiled and opened her eyes.

"Hey stud," Gabrielle said. Her beautiful girlfriend wore a t-shirt that said FIREFIGHTERS DO IT WITH RUBBER HOSES (better than the last such shirt she saw, which said FIREFIGHTERS DO IT WITH DALMATIANS) and a pair of Daisy Dukes—the shortest of blue jean shorts. It's like she's takin' fashion tips from Callie or somethin', thought Zina. (Not that she minded that much.) Gabrielle held a dirty slip of paper in one hand. "I found this attached to the bottom of your work boot."

Zina peered at it. "Uh…looks like my pay stub."

"Thought so. You want it?"

Zina gave her a Look. Then she shoved the earphones back in her ears.

Gabrielle wriggled again. Zina opened her eyes again, and plucked the 'phones out of her ears…again. "What?" A thin line of patience was threatening to snap.

"Zina, do you ever look at these things?"

"Why should I? I know how much I get paid. Plus I really don't want to know how much money the goddamn government is stealing from me." Maybe I should join the Militia…her eyes darkened at the thought. Sure, they were all a bunch of fat wads who could barely pull a trigger, but give her two weeks, she'd whip those pussies into shape, and soon, they'd be chanting her name as they took over the county courthouse…

A slap stung her thigh. "Zina! Stop having daydreams about the Militia!" Gabrielle barked.

The firefighter sulked. Of course, I'm kinda whipped myself.

"Now listen to me. There's this column on your pay stub, says 'Vacation'…"

"Uh huh."

"And under it is a number: 1,055."

"Yeah."

Gabrielle blinked in astonishment. "So…you have over a thousand days of vacation coming to you?"

"No."

"Oh." The little poet hid her disappointment.

"It means I have over a thousand hours of vacation." With this, Zina placed the phones back in her ears, and her head started thrashing in a very Beavis-and-Butthead-like fashion to "Spoonman."

"Holy shit! Over a thousand hours of vacation???" shrieked Gabrielle. Alas, her beloved could not hear her joy. She wriggled again, but got no response from Zina. Then she yanked the earphones out of the lovely ears all by her own self.

She was rewarded with a glare worthy of the most disturbed serial killer.

"Sorry, baby, but I'm trying to talk to you. " Gabrielle replied patiently. Love means never having to expect social skills above a third-grade level, the poet realized.

Zina's black bangs flew as she released an air of exasperation. "All right," she growled.

"Since you have so much time coming to you, why don't we have a vacation?"

The blue eyes blinked at her in utter incomprehension.

"Oh, wow," Gabrielle breathed with awe. "You've never had a vacation. Have you?"

"Vacations are for wimps, Gabrielle," muttered Zina.

"Bull. Every summer, my parents took us on a vacation. Sure, it was usually camping, or Graceland, or something like that…but we always went, every year." And every year it was hell. Her parents always argued, they always got lost, and Lila always won every back-seat slugfest they had. But Zina doesn't need to know that.

"I guess that sounds nice. But my mother's idea of a vacation was following around the Grateful Dead." Zina winced, trying to quash the memories that flooded back: greasy smelly hippie guys pawing at her, portable toilets that—mystifyingly enough—smelled better than the guys did, spilled beer going rancid in the harsh sun, pot, acid tabs, and more pot, and those goddamned fifteen-minute drum solos.

Hmmm, Gabrielle thought. It sounds like we've both had sucky vacation experiences. "Hey, I've been thinking. Like, as a vacation, maybe we could go visit Effie and those guys. Whaddya say?"

"I've been to Memphis, though."

"And so has Lyle Lovett, baby doll. Well, they aren't in Memphis right now. They're out in the country, recording their second album, at some studio in Tennessee. It’s real pretty, Effie says."

"That sounds cool."

"Yeah, it would be fun, baby. I'm dying to see Effie. I miss her so much. And you—well, Hank would be there…"

"And we could go fishing!" Zina perked up.

"Yeah!" Gabrielle loved to see her happy.

"And then we could play horseshoes! And golf! And basketball! And football! And I'll beat him every goddamned time!!!!" shouted the firefighter triumphantly.

"Honey, I love you, but you are a fuckin' maniac."

Zina beamed at what she perceived to be a great compliment.

***

"Hey, what the hell you doin' on my Harley?"

—Serge Gainsbourg, "Harley David Son of a Bitch"

They simply could not agree on what vehicle to take. Gabrielle thought it too dangerous to ride a cycle all the way there, and Zina said that it would only be over her dead body that they would take the Escort.

"I can't be seen in an Escort. 'Sides, we'd be lucky to make it to the county line in that thing."

"Well, I'm not riding a Harley all the way there. We won't have room to take anything. And my ass will be numb and fall off by the time we reach the county line." Gabrielle rubbed her perfect posterior for emphasis.

The firefighter scowled, deep in thought. "I have an idea." She stood up. "Come on, we're going to Ed's."

***

Ed stood in his bedroom, thoughtfully examining the two bras that he held, one in each hand. He loved the black one, but the material was so scratchy, on the other hand, the red one was a little too red, but it felt so silky…

A banging on his door caused the entire house to shake. Only two people he knew were capable of that: Hank, who was not in town…and Zina.

A squeak of distress came from his lips. Frantically, he stuffed the bras under his mattress and ran downstairs.

Indeed, the sullen beauty stood at his door, wearing her trademark outfit: black shitkickers, a black t-shirt, and faded Levis. This time the t-shirt showed a mutilated cartoon figure and the caption I KILLED KENNY. Well, I wouldn't put it past her, Ed thought. But he sighed with relief when he saw Gabrielle peeking out mischievously from behind the tall firefighter; the thought of a tete-a-tete with Zina was simply too much.

"Hi Ed!" Gabrielle chirped.

"Hey, Gabrielle…hey, Z."

Zina raised an eyebrow. Her knew her well enough to know that this was her way of requesting entry into his home.

"Sure, come on in, guys." The happy couple sauntered in. Zina flopped down in his recliner. She raised another eyebrow. "Beer?" he stammered. She nodded. "Gabrielle?"

"No thanks," replied the poet. "Got anything to eat?"

He ran into the kitchen, grabbed a can of Bud and a bag of pretzels.

Gabrielle tore open the bag. "Got any mustard?" she asked.

He ran into the kitchen and came back with a jar of French's.

"No Grey Poupon?"

"What the hell's that?" Ed said, face pulled into distaste. Why anyone would want to put something gray on a perfectly innocent pretzel was beyond him.

"Never mind." Gabrielle cast a look at her soulmate, who was chugging Bud. "Shall I?" she asked. Zina nodded. She began. "Okay, Ed, it's like this. Remember when you hit the cow?"

He winced. "Oh…yeah."

"Well, you know, Farmer Draco came by the other day…"

"Shit!" Ed blurted.

"Yeah, and he was asking us if we knew who killed his little Bessie Sue…" Gabrielle shook her head sadly. "It just about broke my heart, to see a big ol' grown man like that cry." And it did, although on Zina’s part, the firefighter had giggled at the way the huge, dramatic feathers in Draco's cowboy hat bobbed up and down as he sobbed. "Right, Zina?" The big firefighter nodded dutifully. "And he cursed, and he cried, and he said, 'If I ever found out who killed Bessie Sue, I'll de-ball the fucker with my own teeth!' "

Ed blanched. His vision dimmed and he felt woozy. I won’t faint! I won’t!

"And do you know what we told him?"

Ed bit his lip in fear and agony.

"We said we didn't know. And you know why we said that, don't you, Ed?"

Ed nodded.

"Because you're our friend, and we don't want to see you de-balled. Right, Zina?"

Zina burped in the affirmative. She did concede to herself, however, that she wouldn't mind seeing Ed de-balled...it might be kinda fun, actually.

"And that's what friends do for each other. They take care of each other. They support each other—"

"They cover each other's stupid hairy asses after drinking half the county," Zina interjected.

"That's right," Gabrielle said soothingly. "So! That brings us to why we're here…"

"Whatever you want, take it!" he cried.

Zina bared her teeth in a feral grin. "We want the Impala."

Agony. He knew, someday, that she would ask. Years ago, he, Hank, and Zina had pooled their paltry financial resources and bought a decrepit 1968 Impala. Together they had rebuilt it into a gleaming icon of big, American simplicity. By the sheer good luck of having a garage, he was Keeper of the Impala. Hank was far too reverent of the vehicle to actually drive it, and would only come over and gaze wistfully at it every once in a while. Zina, however, had been "shut off" from the Impala after a particularly strenuous "test drive" that resulted in the tragic death of several chickens (property of the unlucky Framer Draco). But that was two years ago, and Hank had since declared his best friend fit to drive the beloved vehicle, if she chose to do so. And Ed knew that, one day, she would come around and ask to use the car that both he and Hank were too chickenshit to even drive to the Uni-Mart. She was that kind of woman. Fearless. Confident. Powerful. Perhaps a bit of a sociopath.

He sighed, and headed for the garage. The women followed him silently. When Ed flung up the garage door, he whispered reverently, "There she is."

The 1968 Impala, a dark, royal blue, glinted as afternoon sunlight hit its hood. It sat regally, patiently awaiting their ecstatic worship.

"Isn't she...magnificent?" Ed prompted, using one of the biggest words he knew. His eyes misted over.

"Oh…yes!" Zina gasped, delirious with joy.

Gabrielle shrugged. "It's cute," she said flatly, jealous that something other than she could make Zina gasp with delight. It was another annoyance; she already had to battle the Harley for superiority in the firefighter's affections: "Look, missy, what would rather have between your legs—that cycle or me?" she had demanded of her lover one fine afternoon.

The firefighter had frowned and contemplated the question for a long time.

"Let me put it another way," Gabrielle had interrupted the laborious mental process, "can that Harley give you an orgasm?"

Zina nodded vigorously. "It depends on how fast I'm going, and how bumpy the road is."

And now, she frowned at the harmless Impala. This thing probably does her so good she smokes a pack of Lucky Strikes afterwards, Gabrielle thought in a most discouraging way, while two pairs of horrified blue eyes stared at her.

"Cute?" roared the firefighter. "Gabrielle, this is, like, the Super Bowl of cars!"

"Yeah!" Ed cried. "I rebuilt this thing three times—"

Zina turned on him. "My ass! The second time Hank helped you, and the third time I practically did it myself!"

"No, you didn't!"

"Yes, I did!"

The poet rolled her eyes. She leaned against the car.

"Get off the car!" shouted the firefighters in unison.

2. The Ex Files

After procuring the Impala for their impending trip, they went to the grocery store.

It was not Zina's favorite place to be. The fluorescent lights gave her a headache, as did the canned music (currently warbling "I'd Really Love to See You Tonight" by England Dan and John Ford Coley), and Gabrielle wouldn't let her pop wheelies with the cart. So she leaned against the shopping cart while Gabrielle tossed box after box of Pop Tarts into the metal receptacle. "Blueberry, brown sugar, fudge, cherry…" she rattled off each flavor as they landed in the cart.

The firefighter sighed, and looked to the end of the aisle. What she saw there caused her blue eyes to narrow into such hardened blocks of ice that not even Sharon Stone in her Basic Instinct incarnation—armed with her trusty little icepick—could have cracked them.

Gabrielle was not totally oblivious, in her Pop Tart delirium, to notice her girlfriend's change of mood. "Zina…what's wrong?" she asked as Zina stormed past her, toward a display in the frozen food section. Pulling the cart behind her, she followed Zina to the end of the aisle.

Many plastic containers of a strangely colored liquid formed a small pyramid, which paid homage to an arrogant-looking young woman featured in the cardboard poster that loomed over the plastic cups. The poster read thus: "Julie Caesar, Olympus County's very own Martha Stewart and host of WAR-TV's 'Conquering with Cooking,' presents the latest delicacy from her kitchen: Barbecue-Salsa Mayonnaise!"

"Ya want some, Zina?" the poet asked.

The firefighter regarded her with eyes of rage and incomprehension. "Do I want some?" she hissed violently at her small companion. "Do I want some!!" she repeated incredulously.

"Baby, chill out, okay? If you don't want to try it, don't sweat it."

"Gabrielle, you don't understand," growled Zina, waving at the display, knuckles pounding the cardboard image of the smirking yuppie goddess, "this BITCH stole my recipe!!!"

The little poet blinked in disbelief. The only culinary effort she had witnessed her girlfriend perform had been to mix Rolling Rock, Heineken, and tabasco sauce together and declare it a "cocktail."

"She stole my idea! She betrayed me!" wailed Zina.

"Oh no…" Gabrielle moaned. "Don't tell me…another ex-lover, right?" How many were there? On top of Artie (loser!), Hank (can’t fault Zina here, the man is flawless), Ed (doesn't really count)…there was Callie (bitch!), Midge from the gas station (who kept calling Gabrielle "little lady," whenever she got gas—bitch!), Nancy, who managed the automotive section at the Wal-Mart and still gave Zina "discounts" not to mention lingering, lovestruck glances (bitch!)….

And then there was Lao Ma.

Lao Ma, the beautiful woman who ran the Green Dragon, the Chinese take-out restaurant, whose Hong Kong movie career did not take ("Don't even say the name Michelle Yeoh to me," she once murmured in her calm, menacing way to a customer who dared to ask), who always gave Zina vaguely obscene fortune cookies ("Lick a pearl every night to refine your oral skills") and who offered Gabrielle cryptic commentary whenever she would pick up their order ("Noodles are soft, but who could withstand the raging lo mein?").

Gabrielle sighed and seethed, hands on hips. "Well?"

I'm not talkin' about movin’ in...

Zina rubbed the back of her neck in that way she did when she was uncomfortable.

...and I don't want to change your life...

"Look, Zina, just tell me. Did ya lay her or not?"

...but there's a warm wind blowing and...

"Aw, shit, Gabrielle." Translation: Yes.

...blah blah blah blah...

"Jesus H. CHRIST in a frigging HAYSTACK, ZINA!!! How many are there? Will the REST OF MY LIFE be plagued by the PERIODIC UNCOVERING OF SOME PIECE OF ASS YOU SCREWED WHILE YOU WERE THE BIGGEST HO IN THE COUNTY?"

...and I'd really love to see you tonight...

"Uh, yeah, quite possibly," mumbled Zina.

***

"Oh, man," Cyrene moaned, burying her graying head in her hands. "Zina said I'd tell you everything about her and Julie Caesar?"

"Yeah, Cyrene, she's way too pissed to talk about it. We kinda fought about it." Gabrielle was in the farmhouse kitchen with Cyrene, Zina's mother, who sat at the kitchen table while Gabrielle put away groceries.

"'Kinda?'" Cyrene echoed sarcastically. When she had arrived on the scene Zina was tearing off on the Harley while Gabrielle was screaming after her, "You suck! And I don't mean in a good way either!" from the porch.

"Okay, you saw it. We fought. But just before she left she said you could explain everything." She tried to mask the nervousness in her voice. What would the raging Zina do? Would she get thrown out of "Hooters" again? Would more of Farmer Draco's errant livestock suffer at her murderous wheels? She needed the full story, so that she could help her lover rein in those sociopath tendencies. Not to mention her own jealousy.

"I need my bong," the older woman muttered, digging through her purse. With expert hands, she loaded the bong with pot contained in a little black plastic film canister. She lit up, and offered it to Gabrielle.

"No thanks, I only smoke when I study now." Gabrielle had decided to cut back on the pot-smoking for a while, ever since making the declaration in her Film Aesthetics course that Baseketball was "A Citizen Kane for the 90s."

"Okay," Cyrene sighed, "here we go. It all happened, oh, about 10 years ago. Or maybe it was 8. Or 5…."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, it was when Zina was still Bad." The way Cyrene said it, one automatically knew that "bad" began with a capital B.

"Oh…" replied the poet. While her voice retained a forced tone of neutrality, she squirmed in delight. Ooooh…bad = sexy. Sexy sexy sexy. Hello, my name is Gabrielle and I'm addicted to Bad Girls. I realize I am powerless over my addiction to sullen brunettes…

"Yeah, honey, she was Bad. What I'm about to tell you won't be pretty. But we Amphipolittis—like most Italians—have always been a honest, proud family, unashamed of our mistakes."

Gabrielle frowned. "I thought you guys were Greek."

"Whatever." Cyrene waved a bejeweled hand.

3. The Obligatory Flashback

As the Harley tore down the street, Zina was comforted by the cool .45 nestled against her trim waist. Ever since the last time she got out of jail, she had stopped carrying the gun all the time, just in case she got busted again, but whenever she saw her parole officer she brought it along. It was very effective to let the sweaty bastard catch a glimpse of the steel. It kept him off her back.

She pulled into the parking lot of the municipal building, where the his office was. She parked the bike and started to swagger toward the main entrance when an altercation near a white Volvo caught her attention. A grungy young man was trying to divest a yuppie-ish young woman of her ownership of said Scandinavian vehicle of marvel.

"C'mon, lady, hand over the goddamn keys. I got a gun." The dude had his back to Zina, who crept over to them, unnoticed.

The woman had a stylishly messy, Beatlesque haircut, and wore a blue rain slicker, chinos, and those very preppy LL Bean kinda shoes. Hey, is she a dyke or what? Zina thought, as she watched the woman arch an imperious eyebrow at her would-be assailant.

"I'm sorry," she replied in oily, unctuous tones, "but I'm unable to comply with your...rude request. You see, I just had my car cleaned, and I don't allow vermin inside."

"Vermin? What the hell are you talkin' about, lady? I ain't a deer!"

"Let me amend that. Stupid vermin."

The man gave a growl of rage, and as he reared back an arm to hit her, he found his limb ensnared in Zina's powerful grip.

"Hey, ya need this?" growled Zina, squeezing and twisting the arm painfully. With her other hand she pulled out the .45 and grazed it against his sweaty cheek. "I dunno if you have a gun, but I sure do, so I think you should get your sorry ass outta here right now."

Perhaps she only imagined it, perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Zina later thought that, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a rather fascinated—and pleased—look on the woman's face. Almost like she was turned on.

"Okay! Okay! Lemme go!!" he cried.

"No, no, wait a minute. First, you gotta squeal, like a pig."

"What? You outta your damn mind?"

She pressed the barrel into his cheek.

"Weeeee! Weeee! Soooo-EEEEEEE!!!"

Zina unleashed a demonic laugh. She released the sad man, this victim of her recent screening of Deliverance, and gave him a boot in the ass as he stumbled, then ran away. She was still laughing as she turned her attention to the woman who, despite the fact she wasn't blonde, was still kinda cute.

The woman examined her from head to toe, with no discernible emotion on her face except a detached yet intent curiosity. "Hmmm, I suppose I must thank you for your assistance," she murmured regretfully, as if she hated the thought of being indebted to anyone.

Zina transformed her smirk into a dazzling grin, as she decided to do the "aw shucks" routine, which usually charmed the pants off these suburban mom-potential-lesbo types. "Weren't nothin', ma'am. Glad to help."

The woman was not instantly charmed. She continued to look at Zina in that same dour, supercilious manner. "You're...interesting, for someone of your class."

"Class? I'm not in high school anymore, ma'am. But when I was, I would usually cut 'em."

"What's your name?"

"Zina."

"How intriguing. Like that strange alcoholic drink they market nowadays."

"Don't start with that." Zina dropped the cute act. She'd had enough Zima/Zina jokes to last a lifetime.

"I won't," the woman responded coolly.

Zina skulked a little. This wasn't going her way at all. "So, uh, what's your name?" she mumbled, striving for politeness.

The woman looked shocked. She smirked. "You mean you don't know who I am?" she asked, tone dripping with condescension.

Zina frowned. "No. Should I?"

"You should. For someday, the world of TV will be mine."

Zina wanted to roll her eyes. She'd heard this on a regular basis from Artie since his religion kick started.

"Tell me," the woman continued, "do you like steak au poivre?"

"Huh?"

The woman sighed. "Steak. Do you like steak?"

"Shit, lady, who doesn't?"

A business card was pulled from silver holder within the jacket. The card was handed to Zina. "Come to dinner this evening. We'll become aquainted." she nodded. "Until then." Then she was in the Volvo and driving away. Zina looked at the card. JULIE CAESAR. CHEF. CATERING. INTERIOR DECORATING. LIFE CHANGES.

The sexy felon gave a confident roll of her shoulders. "Damn, I still got the touch," she drawled to herself.

***

Usually she was reluctant to drive through the more affluent towns because she got hassled a lot by the local gendarmes. But she felt secure as she drove down a winding road in the scarily perfect village of Port Rome; she had a feeling that the business card nestled in her leather jacket would make any pig back off. This suspicion was confirmed when she pulled into the driveway of Julie Caesar's large, mock-Tudor home. She stopped the bike in front of the garage door, next to the Volvo parked there, and no sooner had she hopped off than she heard the furious barking of dogs.

Two large Dobermans rounded the corner of the house. The dogs paused and regarded her in the same supercilious manner that their owner had earlier in the day. Then, as if a light bulb went off over their collective little canine heads, they charged toward her.

Zina barely had a moment to jump, with unerring grace, on top of the Volvo. The dogs were deterred by this; they seemed reluctant to jump on the car, probably because she trained them not to, guessed the worried con. But they jumped and bounced around the vehicle unceasingly, barking, their jaws snapping. A vicious line of dog drool splattered angrily against one of her boots. Shit, I wish I brought my gun!

"Pompey! Crassus!" A woman's voice boomed from the walkway along the side of the house. Julie appeared, wearing a denim apron, frowning with disapproval at the beasts. "Heel!" she commanded.

Immediately the dogs were transformed into meek, whining creatures. They both sat down obediently, awaiting their mistress's next order.

Julie pointed toward the backyard. "Go!"

Tails between legs, the dogs galloped away.

Zina took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart. "Jesus, that's a real suburban kinda greeting."

"I'm sorry about that. They're angry that the steak I'm making is for you, not them." Julie smiled. Zina blinked. No, wait, she really smiled.

"Yeah, I guess they were just doing their job."

"They were. They don't get much excitement out here. They haven't attacked anyone in long time, poor dears." Julie sighed, and stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should go back to catching live rabbits for them...."

Zina's baby blues went wide with horror. "Rabbits?" Bunnies? Little fluffy bunnies? And people think I'm some bad-ass psycho?

"Yes," drawled Julie. "And once they kill them, I can make a lovely rabbit stew. Now do come inside."

"Okay." The con did not budge.

"Zina."

"Huh?"

"That means you have to get off my car. Please."

Once inside, Zina was sitting on the immaculate counter in the well-equipped kitchen, the kind she had only seen in magazines, where copper pots and pans hung from ceilings, where little chopping machines were neatly lined up like sentries, where there was a dishwasher...where everything gleamed. She fully expected her new friend to yell at her to get off the counter, but Julie merely smiled indulgently and handed her a cold bottle of beer. "Want a glass?" the hostess asked.

Zina's eyebrows furrowed. "For what?"

"Never mind."

Shrugging, Zina tried to read the label of the bottle she'd been handed. Except it was in French or something. "What the hell's this?"

"It's a pilsner."

"A what?" I thought she said it was beer.

"It's a kind of beer, my dear Zina. Try some. It's actually quite good."

"I will." She looked at Julie. "So, uh, you cook for a living?"

"Not exactly. I do many things. I cook. I entertain. I show people how to make their miserable lives worth living. I think it's useful."

Zina snorted. "Sounds like you got all the bases covered."

Julie raised a triumphant eyebrow. "I do. It's all one big marketplace when you look at it, but if you break it down, it's quite easy to conquer. Just remember, Zina: divide and conquer."

"Whatever." Zina sniffed the bottle suspiciously, and took a tiny sip. "Mmmm...not bad," she said with grudging surprise.

"I'm glad you like it. Now come into the living room."

Does she talk to everybody the way she talks to her dogs? wondered Zina as she followed Julie into the huge, rustic-looking living room. A fire blazed. The con stood and surveyed the living room with the same awe she did the kitchen. "Wow. Nice."

Julie indicated the couch next to the fireplace with a wave of her arm. "Sit."

"Uh, I'm okay standing."

"Really?" Another arching of the eyebrow.

I gotta learn to start doing that, it's kinda cool. "Yeah."

She wasn't prepared for the playful shove from the domestic dominatrix. "I said...sit." Zina landed on the couch with an oomph. Through much skill and experience, she managed not to spill the beer.

But Julie had a skill all her own. Before Zina knew it, her belt was unbuckled, then her jeans were unbuttoned, unzipped, and flying at half mast, around her knees.

Her body contracted in delight at her hostess's firm ministrations. I'm drinking beer and getting head all at once. I think I'm in heaven. If only the TV were on....Her eyes flickered to the remote sitting on the coffee table, just out of reach. She stretched out an arm in vain.

***

Gabrielle nearly choked on her fourth Pop Tart. "Ugh, Cyrene, she really told you...about the sex stuff?"

Cyrene had propped her weary head in one hand. "Yeah, honey, she did. Like, during that whole time period we both gave dysfunctional a bad name, you know? And she was so taken with Julie, so...she just couldn't help herself. I think she really dug the power trip Julie was on. She always liked chicks—and guys—like that: Powerful. So it's kinda surprising she fell for you."

Gabrielle scowled.

"No offense, honey. You know I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to her."

The poet was assuaged for the time being. "Thanks, Cyrene. But, uh, I was wondering—"

"What, Gabrielle?"

"Um. Well, Zina doesn't, you know, still tell you, uh, intimate details, does she? You know, like about her and me?"

Cyrene laughed and waved a hand. "Oh, no way, honey. We don't do that anymore."

"Heh." Gabrielle chuckled with relief. "That's good."

"I mean, she doesn't have to."

"What?" Gabrielle asked uneasily.

The older woman snorted. "Hell, honey, the fact that you have her limping and bowlegged about every week speaks volumes, doesn't it?"

Gabrielle buried her face in hands. Shit, I bet no one buys that "I hit a really bad pothole on my cycle" story....

There was a knock at the kitchen door. From the window both women could see red flashing lights. "Uh-oh," Cyrene mumbled, shoving her marijuana and all its accouterments in her purse, and making a mad dash for the upstairs. Gabrielle waited patiently for the older woman to make her getaway, then answered the door.

Zina stood scowling, arms folded, with a tall female police officer behind her, who was grinning under the penumbra of her big state trooper hat.

Gabrielle sighed. "Hi, Officer Minya."

"Hi, Gabby!" responded the cop enthusiastically. "I believe this big bundle of joy is yours." She tapped Zina’s arm with a nightstick. The firefighter snarled at her.

"Yeah," Gabrielle groaned, "it sure is. What was it this time?"

"Not drunk. Just disorderly conduct. Punched out some dude at the Saddle who said Sammy Sosa sucked."

"I’m tellin’ ya, McGwire is nothing but steroids!" roared Zina.

"Yeah, yeah, put a lid on it, smart ass. So whaddya wanna exchange for her this time, Gabby?" Two months ago, after a similar incident when Zina was accompanied home by Officer Minya, the policewoman delicately suggested that she would be willing not to let Zina sit in jail for a night if she could have something in exchange. Gabrielle had given her a chicken salad sandwich. Then another time it was left-over pizza. The poet frowned. This could not go on, she decided. Zina needed to be taught a lesson. "Okay, Minya. How about a whip?"

The cop’s eyes lit up. "Awesome!" she gurgled.

"No!" Zina wailed. "Not my whip!"

"Yes, missy, your whip!" Gabrielle cried triumphantly. "And if that don’t teach you to behave yourself and stop getting into fights, I’ll give Officer Minya your Harley next goddamned time!" With that, the poet stomped up to the bedroom, got the whip, and delivered it to Minya, who thanked her profusely and left.

Zina sulked at the kitchen table. "You just gave away my, my…pride and joy. My womanhood. My, uh…"

It always amused Gabrielle when her companion tried to get deep. "Lay off it, baby. You can always get another whip. Look, I know you’re pissed about this Julie chick, but let’s just try to think about this thing. Maybe we can get her to come around to our way of thinking." She grinned.

4. The Bimbo Bard

"I decided to be what crime made of me."—Jean Genet

"Consequences, schmonsequences. As long as I’m rich."—Daffy Duck

The usual suspects swarmed outside the studio where "Conquering with Cooking" was filmed every week. Julie eyed them with disdain: women, housewives old and young, mindlessly following her every dictate. She sighed with the burden of it all. When, she thought, will I see a fresh face, someone interesting, someone...

Her eyes fixed on someone near the end of the line. Like that. A young beauty. Strawberry blonde. Sucking a bottle of Nestle Quik through a straw. Young. Coquettish. Ah, my Lolita! thought Julie, as she surveyed the young woman, who was dressed like white trash, no doubt about it: green halter top, scandalously short shorts, little hiking boots from which gray and red tube socks peeked out mischievously. But her beauty easily defeated all those shortcomings. As her crimson lips wrapped around the straw yet again, her lovely gray-green eyes met Julie's.

With studied nonchalance Julie sauntered past the crowd, past the calls for her attention and the hands that tried to grab at her, to this nubile little goddess. "Hello," she greeted smoothly. "thank you for coming to the taping."

The girl nodded. "You're welcome."

"I don't think I've ever seen you here before."

"No, this is my first time," she replied with a charming giggle.

"Really?" Julie grew inquisitive. "Tell me why." Gently, she linked arms with the young woman and guided her away from the crowd. They turned the corner of the studio hallway, headed toward Julie's dressing room.

As soon as they cleared the crowd the woman had extracted her arm from Julie's. "I've become interested in you," she said to Julie, eyelashes fluttering like shadows of leaves against a sun-dappled window. Then she slowed to a halt and leaned against the wall, and resumed sipping her chocolate milk.

"I'm glad you've become interested in me, whatever the reason." Julie leaned with predatory possessiveness over the girl. She dragged a finger over the girl's taut abdomen, which rippled like a pond.

"You don't want to know why?" the girl asked, pouting slightly.

This should be interesting. She probably did my horoscope, and determined we were fated to meet. "Tell me."

"We have a mutual friend."

Julie raised her eyebrows: one in amusement, one in disbelief. Who could this waif possibly know among her acquaintances?

"You remember Zina, don't you?" The girl slurped at the drink again.

Julie's eyes narrowed and her spleen made a grinding noise, as if her intestines were mashing coffee beans. "Yes, I remember her very well. An exquisite lay, as I recall."

Gabrielle smirked. "Yes she is, isn't she?"

Julie sighed and straightened. "Now it all makes sense. All right, o concubine of Zina, what do you want?"

"I have a message from Zina: she wants half the profits from the mayonnaise deal, or she reveals your real name to the press."

Julie's nostrils flared. "She wouldn't dare," she rumbled.

Gabrielle smiled the smile of the triumphant. "Oh, wouldn't she, Hermoine Kaputnik?"

***

Zina's efforts at napping were futile. She lay stretched out in bed, staring at the ceiling, possessed by worrying. I never shoulda let Gabrielle go to Julie by herself. That crazy bitch probably cut her up and served her to those damn dogs…complete with a sprig of mint. Or would Gabrielle taste better with parsley? What the hell am I thinking?

She sat up expectantly when she heard the familiar death rattle of the Escort. A car door slammed. Silence. Then the front door opened, and Gabrielle's beloved bellow: "ZINA!"

"Up here," she called down to the poet. Then she heard Gabrielle galloping up the steps. And then she was there, in the doorway, grinning at her.

She melted. She always did, at that smile. Always would. Ever since I saw her across a crowded, smelly bar…and she smiled at me, without even knowing me. How the hell could I not love…that?

"I got good news and bad news," Gabrielle was saying.

"Bad first," the firefighter quickly replied.

"Okay. The bad news is that Barbecue-Salsa Mayonnaise is going under. They're discontinuing it 'cause of poor sales."

"Well, I ain't surprised," Zina snorted. "She probably didn't make it right!" Damn Julie. She musta put in too much salsa….

Gabrielle decided it was best not to go there. She continued: "But the good news is this."

She pulled a wad of cash out of the pocket of her Levi’s jacket. "Payoff. Your half of what she already made."

"How much?"

"Nine hundred." She walked over to the bed, and tossed the money, all 10s and 20s (Julie had gotten the cash from an ATM), into the air. As the bills fell and scattered like leaves, Gabrielle jumped onto her lover. They fell back on the bed in an embrace.

"Blackmailing is fun, baby. No wonder you love being bad," Gabrielle said, after a long and breathless kiss.

"Don't enjoy it too much, Gabrielle. I don't want you ending up in jail."

"I won't. I'm just kidding." The poet indulged in nibbling the firefighter's firm neck. "So can we go on vacation now?"

"Sure…with money like this, hell, we could afford a Holiday Inn."

"Hey, " she said, surveying the money-covered bed, "this is just like that movie…Indecent Proposal." She regarded Zina with lust-glazed eyes. "Which is pretty cool, stud…'cause I got a very indecent proposal for you…."

"Gabrielle, the way you walk down the street is an indecent proposal all by itself…."

"You always say the sweetest things to me!"

***

"Mom, get the fuck off the car." Zina tossed a duffelbag into the open trunk of the Impala. Cyrene was lying on the hood of the car, taking in the early morning sun and meditating…or falling asleep, depending on one's religious beliefs or lack thereof.

"Oh come on, man," the older woman grumbled, not moving.

"Let her go, Zina. She's not doing anything." Gabrielle said from the car’s interior, where she had been sitting for an hour: She was that excited. The passenger door was opened and her legs were stretched out. A curled, worn paperback copy of On the Roadlay in her lap. "Are we ready yet?" she asked her beloved for the millionth time.

Zina slammed shut the trunk. "Yeah, I think so." She walked over to the hood, where Cyrene, sun warming her face, had drifted off into half-sleep, half-sixties flashback: heeeeere comes…the Suuuuun Kiiiiiiing….But her daughter's gruff voice cut into her paisley and psychedelic subconscious: "Okay you, listen up," grunted Zina. She dropped a set of house keys on Cyrene's stomach. "Water Gabrielle's plants everyday."

"And don't forget the plant food," added the poet.

Incense and peppermint…da da da da…

"Right," continued Zina. "And make sure there's food on the back porch for the cats. And give them fresh water every day. Oh, and call the gas company about checking the meter. Cancel my fly-fishing trip with Ed. And cancel my dentist appointment too. Call Tommy Ray at the fire department and tell him that if anyone uses my ax while I'm gone, they're dead. And make sure you call Lila and tell her that Gabrielle can't babysit for her on Thursday."

Cyrene smiled beatifically.

"You got all that, Mom?"

Cyrene opened her eyes, blinking. Whether blinded by the sun or a hashish brownie, she realized that she was talking to Grace Slick, and it was 1967. But why was Grace calling her "Mom"? Oh, it was all so confusing sometimes…poor Grace, fucked up again. Just humor her, Cyrene. So she crossed her fingers for good luck. "Consider it done."

Zina stared at her dazed and confused mother. "Gabrielle, your plants are gonna die."

Cyrene sat up, and slid off the Impala. "Okay, time to get ready for the Filmore."

"Oh boy," Zina sighed, and quickly hugged her mother. "See you in a week, Mom."

Gabrielle stood up and did likewise, in addition planting a kiss on Cyrene's cheek. "Yeah, Cyrene, see ya."

Cyrene stared at Gabrielle. "And Julie Christie too?" she muttered, wandering back to the farmhouse.

"You think she'll be okay?" wondered the poet.

"Yeah, she'll sleep it off." Zina slid an arm around her lover's shoulders. "Ready?"

Gabrielle turned to face her. "Yeah. This is so awesome, baby. A road trip. Just like Kerouac and those guys." She looked at her book. "A trip into the heart of darkness. The heart of America. A voyage into self-discovery." She stuffed the book down her jeans, then took Zina's face in her hands. "I am Kerouac, and you are my Neal Cassady," she intoned solemnly. "Dig?"

The beautiful blue eyes were a tabula rasa. "Yeah."

"You don't know what the hell I'm talking about, do you?"

"No."

Gabrielle kissed her. "I love you anyway." Reluctantly she let her hands slide from Zina's face, and the firefighter walked over to the driver's side of the car.

"But you know," Gabrielle continued, "Kerouac, writing in his diary, called himself 'the buckeye bard.' I'd like to have a title like that, someday."

Zina eyed Gabrielle's tight halter top and skimpy shorts. "How about 'the bimbo bard'?"

As she sprinted away from the car, with Gabrielle close at her heels and threatening serious tickling, she thought, once again, damn, I am so whipped.

5. The Heart of Darkness

"American black hole…

Life’s too sweet to eat like candy"

—Girls Against Boys, "Black Hole"

It was like being in the Twilight Zone: Every rest stop was the same, except perhaps that this one had a Burger King, and that one had a Hardee's, and yet another one had a Sbarro's…Gabrielle fought her disgusted way out of the all-too-moist bathroom (everything seemed wet: floors, counters, toilet seats…) and into the parking lot.

Zina was leaning against the Impala, mirrored sunglasses firmly in place, growling at anyone who got too close to the car.

"Okay, let's go." Gabrielle tossed her purse in through the open window.

They both climbed into the car. The firefighter sat in front of the wheel, unmoving.

"Baby, you okay?" Gabrielle asked, touching her beloved's leg.

"Gabrielle, I want you to know…we're entering dangerous territory here."

The poet frowned. "Dangerous how?"

Zina took a deep breath. "We're in Tennessee now."

"Well, yeah, so what?"

Zina turned in her seat, and took Gabrielle's hand. "You've noticed the radio signals are getting weaker."

"Yeah…so?"

"Gabrielle, very soon…" The taciturn firefighter simply didn't know how else to put it. "Very soon we may be stuck with nothing but country music stations."

Her fair-haired companion, however, set her jaw in determination. "I thought so, Zina. I know it'll be tough, but…I think we can handle it."

6. Postcards from America: An Excerpt from Gabrielle's On-the-Road Journal

At first it was even kinda fun. We just kept making fun of the songs they played. Like on two-shot Tuesday they were playing Bonnie Tyler, and I made up lyrics to her songs: "I Need a Hero" became "I Need a Homo" and "Total Eclipse of the Heart" became "Total Eclipse of the Brain." Zina laughed and that was good. But as the day dragged on it got harder and harder.

And today was the second day without real music. If I hear another Clint Black song I'll kill someone. I hate country music for making me want to listen to Hanson again.

I'm writing this at a diner. Zina and I aren't really speaking right now, 'cause she did something really horrible. Earlier she had to make an "emergency stop" so she pulled over along some road and ran into the woods like a jackrabbit. While I sat there I decided to read a little of On the Road again and started looking for it. but I couldn't find it. It wasn't on the floor, wasn't in the back, or in the glove compartment. I was totally confused until Zina came back. By this time I was standing outside the car. As she walked toward me I noticed something sticking out of her back pocket: It was my book!

I'm not so naive as to think she really wanted something to read while doing number 2. So I said, "Why do you have my book?"

She looked nervous and just shrugged. "I dunno," she said. She is the worse liar ever.

I snatched it out of her pocket, and immediately noticed that a big chunk of the book was gone...then it dawned on me.

She didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.

7. If You're Feeling Sinister

"So if you're feeling sinister

Go off and see a minister

He'll try in vain to take away the pain of being a hopeless unbeliever..."

—Belle and Sebastian, "If You're Feeling Sinister"

Zina parked in the furthest recesses of the lot. "I don't wanna risk the car getting scratched," she said to her sulky companion.

They were at a mall. A mall that had a Barnes & Noble. Zina knew that this was the only way she could get her girlfriend to start talking to her again: If she took Gabrielle to a bookstore and bought her a brand-spanking-new copy of On the Road.

But Gabrielle sat, arms crossed, unmoving.

"Come on, baby," Zina cajoled gently. "It'll be a nice new copy...I know the old one had your notes in it..."

Gabrielle glared at her.

"...And a love sonnet addressed to me..." the firefighter admitted guiltily.

The poet sighed melodramatically.

"Yeah, I know, I'm totally unworthy of you, but I am sorry, and I'll buy you whatever you want."

Gabrielle was out of the car and jogging toward the bookstore.

Feeling relieved, Zina locked up the Impala and sauntered toward the entrance. However, her satisfaction did not last long. A Barnes & Noble minion handed her a flyer as she entered the superstore, and normally she would not have even read it except for the photo of a certain grinning blonde psychopath: "Reverend Callie de Ash reads from her first book, I Didn't Find God But He Sure Did Find Me, today, at 3 pm."

A clock on the wall indicated that it was twenty till 3.

Zina cursed softly. Although not so softly that the underpaid lackey did not hear her say, "Son of a goddamn fucking bitch."

Quickly she paced through the maze of the monolithic store, looking for Gabrielle. She had wandered in the huge but desolate Art section when she felt a hand snag her arm and, with surprising force, pull her down. She flopped into an overstuffed chair. Why is this whole place like someone's goddamn living room, she thought irritably, as she looked up...into Callie's face. The blonde, wearing a dark brown skirt and matching suit jacket, grinned down at her. "Will wonders ever cease," she sighed. "Thank you, Lord!" she cried with a heavenward glance.

"Callie."

"Hello, precious!" Callie crooned, once again settling her eyes on her prey. The mad minister straddled Zina's lap. "It's so nice to see you again...even though the last time we met you tried to crush my foot." She caressed Zina's chiseled cheek with a finger.

"Stop it, Callie. It was an accident," replied the firefighter through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, yeah, just like burning down my house was an accident. But my time with the Lord has shown me forgiveness, and I do forgive you, Zina. Verrry much," she purred, grinding against a taut thigh.

"That's great...Callie," Zina whispered. Oh boy, if Gabrielle sees this I am in big trouble...not even all the books in the world would get me out of this jam. "Please...let me go."

"What? You're not gonna stay for my reading?"

"I, uh, Gabrielle and I are on vacation..."

Callie stopped lap dancing for a moment. "You mean...oh, of course the little tart would be along. Honestly, Zina, I don't know what you see in her. But I bet I could show you something much better..."

Even through her industrial strength Levi's, Zina could feel the heat of her desire, so much so that..."Callie?"

"Yes, my raven-haired wonder?"

"Are…you…wearing underwear?"

Callie giggled. "Panties are the devil's diapers, my pretty."

I just had to ask.

Suddenly, from the next aisle, they heard a man's voice: "Callie?"

"Oh great, it's my agent," Callie whispered. "He's coming this way." She looked at Zina. "Don't say anything, just play along." She clamped her hands to Zina's face much like one of those little monster spawn from the Alien movies. The firefighter’s head was immobile, thus, she could not turn to see his approach. "The power of Christ compels you!" Callie shouted as he rounded the corner.

"Callie, what are you doing?" demanded a male voice.

"Sweet baby Jesus, Bob, can't you see I'm in the middle of a healing?" she snapped, glaring at him. Then she turned her eyes to Zina once again. "Sister, let the Lord take away your torment and pain—I cast thee out, demons! Beelzebub! Mephistopheles! You are no match for me!"

"So, like, what's wrong with her?" Bob interrupted again.

"Brain tumor."

"Oh." Bob sounded disappointed, perhaps expecting something more exciting, like paralysis or leprosy.

Zina grew desperate. Callie's sweaty palms were suctioned to her head, and she had to find Gabrielle and get the hell out of this crazy place. "I feel it, I feel it!" she shouted.

"You do?" cried Callie, wrapped up in make-believe.

"Yes, I do, Callie! Praise God! I AM HEALED!" By sheer force of will, she catapulted herself out of the chair and Callie tumbled to the floor, legs up in the air, skirt revealing her valley of heaven.

"Oh wow..." Bob murmured appreciatively, as Zina galloped away.

She sprinted down to the first floor of the store, and spotted Gabrielle sitting, with a bag of books, slurping some fine overpriced coffee drink from the espresso bar. She smiled at Zina's rapid approach. "Hi, I just got done, and you know, these flappacinos aren't half bad..."

Zina snatched the large bag of books, grabbed Gabrielle's hand, and pulled her toward the door.

"Baby, I know you hate shopping, but don't you think this is kinda extreme?"

"Not now, Gabrielle, I tell you once we get to the car."

"Zina, what's that wet stain on your leg?"

8. Chuck Connors, Here We Come

The highway was endless. The driver was edgy.

"Zina, relax. We only got two more exits to go."

The firefighter sighed heavily. They were already doing 70, but it felt like 40. With the tiniest contraction of her foot, the speedometer approached 75. It made her feel better. Until she looked in the rear-view mirror, and saw the flashing red lights. "Shit!" she yelled.

Gabrielle looked up from her copy of The Dharma Bums. "Huh?" She turned around. "Uh-oh. Well what do you expect, Zina? You're speeding."

"Goddamnit, if they find out I have a record, I'll get hassled to no end..."

"Don't worry, honey, they won't," Gabrielle assured her as they pulled over.

Zina pounded her head against the steering wheel. "How do you know?" she wailed uncharacteristically, as the large patrolman lumbered toward the Impala. I swore I would never go back to jail….This would be just like one of those old Chuck Connors movies, Escape from Macon County or whatever. They'll lock her up on trumped-up charges, she'll get raped by the inbred deputy, Gabrielle will get sent to the mental institution and they’ll give her a lobotomy and/or electro-shock therapy, and…and…they’ll trash the Impala!

The state trooper's pink face was framed in the driver's side window. "Y'all speeding," he mumbled, eyes unseen behind the mirrored sunglasses.

Zina's own sunglasses mirrored his own mirrored visage. Her jaw clenched.

"Can ah see your license?"

She dug through her Levi's and produced her license.

"Huh," he snorted softly.

Gabrielle scooted closer to her lover. A little too close, Zina thought. Oh shit...what is she up to?

"Where you going in such a hurry, ma'am?" the officer asked.

"Just visiting friends," muttered Zina.

"And whut friends would those be, ma'am?"

"Is there a problem, officer?" Gabrielle drawled. She leaned forward a little, so that he could hear her clearly and see her cleavage. She wiggled provocatively.

"Not yet, miss." Hey, how come I get called ma'am and she gets called miss? wondered the perpetually pissed-off firefighter. "I'm just tryin’ to ascertain here, what the situation is," he said in ominous doublespeak.

"Aw, officer, we ain't doing nothing wrong, we didn't mean to speed," Gabrielle pouted. Oh, I get it. She’s just flirting with him, so he’ll go easy on us. Lessen the fine. "We can't help it. We're just excited."

"Excited by what, may I ask?"

Suddenly Gabrielle flung her arms around Zina's neck, and pressed her curvaceous form close to her beloved. "Why officer, me and sweet pea are gettin' married in Memphis!"

The closeness of her sunglasses prevented Zina's eyes from totally bugging out of her head. Okay, now I have no idea what she’s doing. Chuck Connors, here we come.

The patrolman sputtered. "Whut in Sam Hill you talkin' about? You're both girls! You—you—can’t get married!"

Gabrielle gave her best wide-eyed innocent look. "But officer, didn't you know? Tennessee now allows same-sex marriages!" she nuzzled Zina's hair. "Isn't that right, sugar booger?"

"Uh...huh," Zina mumbled the reply, wondering if there was some quick way she could simply kill the patrolman and be done with it.

"Aw, come on now, lady!"

"No, it’s true! Don’t you read your newspaper?" Gabrielle chastised.

He frowned. No, just the sports page, he admitted.

"See?"

"I'll be damned! This whole country's goin' to hell in a handbasket, I swear!" the trooper spat.

I know...whip off his glasses and stab him in the neck, just like the one guy did to the other in the Godfather Part III. Zina allowed her hand to stray out the window…

"Now, sir, that's no way to speak to a lady on her weddin' day!" Gabrielle pouted anew.

The power of the pout was one of the poet's greatest weapons. Duly chastised, the trooper apologized. "Look miss, no offense, but...I just don't get it."

"Don't get what?" Gabrielle asked.

He threw his arms up in frustration. "Y'all are both girls!"

Finally, Zina spoke. "Look, buddy," she said to him, arms around the flawless midriff of Gabrielle, "let me put it this way. If you were me, wouldn't you want to marry her too?"

"I...I..." he stammered, hypnotized by the green eyes of the beautiful poet. "Never mind. Just fergit it. Just fergit the whole damn thing. Have a nice honeymoon."

"Thanks, officer!" Gabrielle chirped happily. She lurched into the back seat, and brought forth a bag of Krispy Kremes. "Wanna doughnut?"

Well, he thought, warily accepting a powdered jelly doughnut, maybe homos aren’t so bad after all.

9. The Twinkie Defense

Several hours later, the Impala was creeping along a dirt road in scenic, rural Tennessee, in search of the elusive recording studio where Effie and the Amazons were holed up, recording their second CD.

The radio had been abandoned. Zina was so desperate for half-decent music that she permitted Gabrielle to sing every song she knew from Meatloaf’s "Bat Out of Hell" album. The musically challenged poet was currently winding her way through "Paradise By the Dashboard Light": "I gotta know right now, do you love me, will you love me forever—hey, Zina, doesn’t that guy up there look like Elvis?" Off in the distance was a figure standing on the left side of the road.

"Told you not to eat all those doughnuts, Gabrielle."

"No, look!"

Sure enough, standing innocently at the side of the isolated, back-country road, as if he were nothing more exotic than a sparrow, was an Elvis. He resembled 1970s Elvis: chubby, with the spingle-spangle-shiny white suit, lots of jewelry, an unnaturally jet-black pompadour, and big fat shades.

The Impala rolled to a halt beside him.

"Howyoudoin’, ladies," he murmured, index finger and thumb cocked, like a gun.

"Fine, Elvis, how are you?" Gabrielle responded politely.

Zina gave her a Look. Then she addressed Elvis. "Hey, uh, you wouldn’t happen to know where Jimmy Joe Bob Hightower’s studio is?" Jimmy Joe Bob was the Amazons’ producer.

"Youbetcha, ladies. Down this here road just another mile. First turn on the right. Can’t miss it."

"Thanks," Zina said with a nod.

"No, thankyou. Thankyouverymuch." With one fluid motion he flung the white scarf around his neck through the car window, where it landed on Zina’s lap. The firefighter bit the inside of her cheek in an effort not to scream in pure disgust. She let it slide off her legs, onto the floor.

"Bye, Elvis!" Gabrielle waved.

Zina put the car back into drive and they continued down the road. They were quiet for at least a minute.

"Maybe we’ve both had too much sugar," Zina conceded.

"Yeah. Maybe we should lay off the sweet stuff for awhile and just eat potato chips."

***

The sight of Effie waving frantically from the balcony of the large wood house almost sent both women into tears of relief. Zina allowed herself to collapse over the wheel—after the car was stopped and parked, of course.

Then the squealing began. Effie had sprinted down the stairs and ran outside to greet Gabrielle, who jumped out of the passenger side. Soon they were jumping up and down like rabbits on crack, shrieking with joy at the sight of one another. Pony and Sally had wandered outside as well, and contributed to the cacophony of camaraderie.

Zina, eyes closed, head pressed against the steering wheel, weary from driving 8 hours straight, moaned. And this is a goddamn vacation? She tried to block out the jabber of voices and relax for a moment.

She had almost succeeded, when a voice a scant three inches from her eardrum shouted: "HEY YOU DAMN OLD GOOFY-ASSED MOTHER!"

Her head snapped back and her eyes popped open.

Hank was leaning in the window, grinning at her. "Heh, got ya," he chuckled. He pulled away just in time to avoid the furious swipe of her hand. "Hey now, Z, take it easy." She was out of the Impala in a nanosecond. "Car looks great. How’d it drive?" he asked, trying to change the subject. But he knew, seeing the wicked grin on her face, that it was too late.

"Start running, you sonofabitch," she growled pleasantly.

And, with a whoop of joy, he did.

10. The Best Freaky Trip Ever

Sally placed a hamburger in front of Zina, who sat at the picnic table in the backyard. The friends were having a barbecue. Pony and Hank were at the grill, and Sally was serving while Effie made potato salad in the kitchen. "So, did ya see my uncle Pete out there?"

"Huh?" Zina was sufficiently distracted by the question that it afforded Gabrielle the opportunity to swipe the burger from under her lover’s nose. "Hey, you pig!"

"Is that any way to talk to the love of your life?" Gabrielle sniffled with mock tears.

"Yeah, when she eats all my food."

Gabrielle grinned. "So what’s this about Uncle Pete?"

"Did you happen to see Elvis on your way here?"

"Holy shit! Yes!" cried Gabrielle.

Sally smiled proudly. "Well, that was my Uncle Pete. Best Elvis impersonator this side a’ this Mississippi. I sent him out earlier to look for you guys, in case you got lost."

"Wow, it’s nice to know I wasn’t hallucinating," Zina said, who had earlier wondered if, due to her mother’s drug proclivities, she was genetically predisposed to spontaneous freaky trips.

"No, you weren’t," Sally laughed. "I just had to keep him occupied. He’s been driving us crazy, keeps doing his lounge act for us every night, wants to marry us all—"

"Marry?" blurted Gabrielle.

"Yeah, he’s a minister too. He wanted to get Hank and Effie hitched, then he even said he marry me and Pony." Sally rolled her eyes.

"Crazy dude," affirmed Zina, with a swig of beer; bored, she wandered over to the grill to hassle Hank and Pony. It was then that Sally noticed that Gabrielle looked as if she had been hit by a lightning bolt.

***

Zina was firmly pinned to the bed by Gabrielle’s weight. Her wrists were ensnared by the poet’s hands and pressed into the mattress. Gold hair tumbled in her face, and Gabrielle’s scent was sweet, intoxicating…

"Come on, Zina," purred the poet.

"Hmmm?"

"Make an honest woman out of me."

"You’re already an honest woman, Gabrielle."

"Don’t avoid the question."

"Who’s avoiding?"

"You are, bitch."

"It don’t prove anything. It’s not legal."

"I know, I know. But it’s symbolic, ya know? Like showing your love…"

"I love you."

"Prove it."

"Why do I have to?" A challenging arch of a black eyebrow. "Don’t ya believe me?"

Gabrielle paused. Well, that’s a good point. She touched her lover’s face. Oh, I do believe you. And I don’t need to hear a Celine Dion song to know it either. She smiled. Then she nodded slowly. She relaxed her predatory crouch and stretched along the length of Zina’s body, resting her head against a strong shoulder. So, it doesn’t really matter. But…what the hell? It might be fun.

***

Hank wrapped an empty can of Bud in one of Elvis’s disposable white scarves, placed it on the ground, and jumped on it. Up and down. Several times. "Mazeltov!" he roared.

Effie laughed. "You’re not Jewish, you!"

Hank smiled. "Come on, honey, you gotta get in the spirit of the thing."

She grabbed his arm and squeezed it. "I think…there’s been way too much spirit—or spirits—already, Hank," she commented wryly, surveying the twilight backyard.

The tape deck blared as Sally and Pony danced around, and Elvis—a.k.a. Uncle Pete—approached the newlyweds: Gabrielle sat in Zina’s lap, while the firefighter’s head lolled back on the lounge chair, as the two six-packs she drank before the ceremony were really kicking in and seriously impairing her ability to move.

"Congratulations," said Uncle Pete. "I’m sure y’all will be very happy."

"Thank you, Elvis," replied Gabrielle solemnly. "It was a beautiful ceremony."

"Yes ma’am, it was. The weather was perfect, and, you know, I don’t perform that special love medley for just any couple."

"Oh, I know, I know. It was just…great. I’m sorry Zina fell down during it."

"That’s all right, little lady. Y’all take care, now." And he went back into the house.

A pithy one-liner fought its way through twelve Rolling Rocks to Zina’s conscious mind. "Ladies and gentleman, Elvis has left the backyard!" she slurred. She peered at Gabrielle. Who had flowers in her hair. "Did I tell you how pretty you are?"

"About a million times. But keep telling me."

"And I said ‘I love you’ and ‘I do’ and all that stuff?"

"Yeah, Zina."

"So I got it all right?"

"You sure did, baby. Now I’d like you to sober up a bit so our wedding night is not a total bust."

"So we’re…married?" Zina gazed at Gabrielle in pure wonder.

"Yeah. Kinda."

"But not…really." Trying to wrap her drunken mind along the elusive concept was too much.

"Right."

"So we’re both married and not married."

"Gotta love this country, huh?"

"Yeah, but…Gabrielle?"

"Huh?"

"It’s not so bad, is it?"

Gabrielle looked around her. Her friends were happy, and their laughter rang out through the yard. The setting sun slanted and tinged the fading blue sky with gold.

Blue skies, blue eyes. "No," she replied softly. "It’s not bad at all."

In fact, it was pretty damn good.

THE END

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #author: vivian darkbloom #mature #femslash #fanfiction

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igumdrop · 5 years

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:OO WELCOME EVERYONE!!

okay okay, I know what you guys are thinking -- Jaime, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?! HOW CAN YOU MAKE THE SUB-BLOG GO PUBLIC?!?! WHAT HAPPENED TO *THAT* LIST... THE *YOU KNOW WHAT* LIST...

and my response is... I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never had such a list.

okay, real talk though, I decided to let my sub-blog go public for multiple reasons:

♡ no one wants to enter a password that I change constantly

♡ most of what I say I would love to share with my regular viewers who can’t afford to sub, and this is my main source of updating you guys on a more personal basis for those who follow me more on social media and not my stream

♡ I’m incorporating a lot more sub-only things into the community, so I figured I could let one go!

we’ll see how it goes and if it does start to feel uncomfortable, we can always bring it back :) but there’s little to nothing that I can think of that would make this weird because I don’t overshare that much... I think... HAHA we’ll see

ANYWAYS, REALLY GOOD NEWS! for the past few months I’ve had a little team of subs working on our community Minecraft server! (SO MUCH THANKS TO GOLDEYE, WATTEHMS, MATTY, MAXWELL, BRADLEY, JOSTER <3) I’ll try to log on everyday and just have a habit of keeping it online. I think it’d be cute to be able to log onto something and see everyone in the same world!

if you’re a sub, please fill out the form that I linked in the discord! it’s also the same form you use to join the gummie gang stream team, and also for me to know what your discord usernames are (a lot of times when you guys message me, your discord username is different from your twitch and I have no idea LOL) there’s also a little response section where you can give me any suggestions you want! (stream ideas, sub emotes, etc) ~ HAVE FUN!

AND EVEENNNN MORE GOOD NEWS!!!

WE’LL BE ON FRONT PAGE OF TWITCH THIS THURSDAY!! WEEE!!

I’ll probably be doing a sit-down cooking stream into a mukbang :) TIME IS TO BE ANNOUNCED BUT IT SHOULD BE AROUND THE TIME FRAME OF 12PM - 2PM OR 2PM - 4PM! I’ll let you guys know as soon as possible on discord. I’ll also be streaming tomorrow/Tuesday and Wednesday so I’ll let you guys know on stream too!

OK THAT’S IT FOR ANNOUNCEMENTS!~ here are my own personal lil updates

BENJI HAS GROWN SOOO MUCH! okay not gonna lie, he was kinda dying for a bit during the winter, I don’t think he really did well in the cold... his leaves would fall off sometimes and yellow at the ends. I was getting really scared and to be honest I’m so attached to this god damn plant that it was taking a sad mental toll on me. LMFAO. WHY AM I LIKE THIS. anyway, I gave him some fertilizer and stayed consistent with him, watered him whenever I needed to and tried to keep him in warm yet sunny areas of my house. and YAY, SPRING ROLLS AROUND AND HE’S GROWN BIGGER THAN I HAVE EVER SEEN HIM GROW!!!

before (when I first got him) and now! I’m so proud... only I can write a paragraph raving about my pet plant... jeez it’ll be crazy once I get an actual cat or something...

there was a really busy week in march where I spent all my leftover time planning Aria’s birthday. it was honestly the cutest thing ever seeing all her friends get together and work on stuff for her. I remember being insanely tired during it but once I saw her reaction for her surprise party, my heart melted and I just told myself wow that was soooo worth it LOL. here’s some pictures from my end <3

we got these GIANT balloons that spelled out ARIA and it took forever to get into the car and out LMAO... excuse my janky no makeup face but it was so funny seeing us struggle so hard with the balloons T_T LOL

we spent hours late at night working on her scrapbook and baking stuff for her. I was working on strawberry cheesecake shoots and I remember cutting 10+ strawberries and thinking, “wow, it would suck if I dropped these,” and then guess what happened...

I dropped them lmao

anyways it turned out so wholesome and cute <3

I found the airbnb on this website called peerspace and when I saw it, it SCREAMED ARIA...

you’re welcome for me blessing your eyes

we seriously worked our *aesthetic* muscle for this because we knew aria would appreciate the heck out of it

OKAY ANYWAYS MOVING ON!! yesterday I went to h-mart and got a shit ton of groceries. and I realized it’s STRAWBERRY SEASON!!! there’s still a lot of stuff that I want to buy that isn’t available here though, so my mom tries to send me all that she can :D

I love her so much I miss her so much wahhh I can’t even talk about my parents because I’ll just start crying because I miss them so much ... ok also I was supposed to stream yesterday but I took a nap... and... didn’t... haha... jaimewhatswrongwithyou.exe.... here’s a post-nap selfie though...

I looked heckin janky but snow saved my ass

ANYWAY I spent the rest of the night just reading and I finished my monthly book read! here are my two recommendations for you guys :)

I absolutely love love love this book! it will really help if you’re an overthinker like me. tl;dr, it talks about the inside voice in your head that constantly battles with itself and refers to it as an “annoying roommate.” with consistent reading (a chapter or two before sleeping at night) it really helped me clear my mind and become super aware of how the voice in my head could be more harmful than helfpul. if you’re new to reading it is quite a bit to read though so if you want something easier then I suggest this:

gosh, my life became so simple when I read this book consistently. it basically shares four simple agreements that you should always be conscious of in life. this book just really helped me not take things as personally, to not make assumptions, and it just gave me a much more simple and clear perspective on things and issues. SUPER SUPER EASY TO READ!!! downfall is, it kinda talks about religion a lot at the end, which might make it uncomfortable for some of you guys. I couldn’t really enjoy the last bits of it that much because of that sole reason but it’s still a great read and taught me lots of fundamentals I never knew I needed for my own mindset :)

I went to LCS the day before yesterday and it was really fun because I brought a portable cut-out of scarra LMAOOOOOO the thread is really funny so you guys should go read it: https://twitter.com/iGumdrop/status/1114687260434124801

I also did my taxes yesterday (well I finished up what was left of it) during the games LOL and then I went to annie’s place afterwards because her mom is an accountant and she helped me file them. I’m soooo happy I got them over with because I feel so free now!

hm ok ending these are always hard because it always seem so abrupt, mainly because even my 200 WPM fingers get tired of typing. I guess all I have to say is, hello new readers of my sub-blog, I hope you enjoy your time here! and thank you so much to everybody who supports me. it really means the world to me and I never go one day without insanely appreciating you guys. this month I’ma hit you guys with that dudududuududud GOOD CONTENT! <3

and alas, a few of my favorite cute lil drawings this month from chibird~

(+ my community)

WELL, FAREWELL FRIENDS! TILL NEXT TIME <3

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jercythesiscrying · 5 years

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Five Flavours | Poly first-years, T, 1.3k

NaNoWriMo Day 30: Free Day Combo Shuffle Challenge, Social Media, and Dialogue-only fic.

Summary: Yet another collection of ficlets/drabbles featuring my favourite first years.

Rules: 1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like. 2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle. 3. Write a ficlet/drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it’s over. No lingering afterwards! 4. Do ten of these, and then post them.

TW: Canon-typical anxiety.

Read on Ao3

A/N: Decided to go with another Shuffle Challenge because I will single-handedly resurrect this meme. Apparently, I will also fill the first-years OT5 tag loooool. Un-beta’d once again and it very much shows /o\

Gold Rays – Vinyl Pinups

They go to the beach the first chance they all get. Summer heat beats down on everything, water glinting under the sunlight.

Hitoka brings swimming tubes for her and Tobio because neither of them can swim. Kei teases Tobio endlessly about it but helps him out nonetheless when the three of them decide to go swimming.

Shouyou and Tadashi stay on the beach to build a giant sandcastle. The craftsmanship is clearly Tadashi’s doing, but Shouyou vehemently insists that he helped with the shovel work.

At the end of the day, Shouyou posts a photo on his account:

littlegiant.10 • 3 minutes ago perfect!!!

(Image: Shouyou, Tobio, Tadashi, and Kei surrounding a large sandcastle. Hitoka sits at the centre with her legs crossed. All of them beam wide at the camera.)

55 likes

Cough Syrup – Young the Giant

Kei catches the flu because his partners are awful and spread the infection to him. He stays home from classes one day because his head cold is so bad he can’t see straight.

He lies in bed for the majority of the day, sleeping underneath his bedsheets sweaty and uncomfortable, but what other choice does he have? He can barely sit up straight, much less move around like he’d much rather be doing. Akiteru would probably drag him back to bed if he tried anyway.

He stirs up from his nap at some point, awakening to see four pairs of eyes blinking down at him. Their faces are hidden by medical masks, so their eyes are really all he sees in his fever induced haze.

“Kei-kun?” a sweet voice says. “Are you okay?”

He coughs, which seems to be answer enough for all of them.

“We brought cough syrup, Tsukki!”

“It’s on the bedside.”

“Sorry for getting you sick, I guess.”

Kei can’t distinguish the voices from each other, but he returns to sleep with the familiar, comforting sounds of his favourite people in the world.

Boy Without A Heart – Jojo

Kei is much colder than Hitoka ever realized.

Everyone warns her, that she missed the awful time when they all first began playing together and Kei was the most infuriating person they’d ever met, that by the time she came around he dialled down his angst and snark. Tadashi tries to defend him, of course, but eventually even his protests are silenced by the others.

“Yachi,” Tobio says gravely, “are you sure you want to date him too?”

“Yeah, we’re happy with Yamaguchi already,” Shouyou says.

Kei rolls his eyes, walking out the room. Hitoka takes this as her cue to follow him. She walks out the door, sprinting to catch up to Kei.

“Kei-kun!” she calls out. “Kei-kun, wait!”

He doesn’t listen, continuing to walk away. When he turns the corner without a word, Hitoka stops, slightly shocked. He’s never ignored her before.

“Told you,” Tobio says behind her, and she turns around to she see both her boyfriends catching up to her.

“He just...” Tadashi begins, struggling. “Needs time.”

Hitoka bites her lip, unable to help herself when she stares back down the path where Kei disappeared.

Love Story – Taylor Swift

Their love isn’t forbidden like in fairy tales, or romance dramas, or the cheesy light novels they all know Kei likes to read sometimes.

The five of them grappled with their feelings for a long time before they ever came to any sort of understanding, even longer until they achieved the comfortable relationship they have now. First, there were boundaries. Then, there was the fact that Kei, Shouyou and Tobio usually wanted to tear each other’s heads off if they had the chance. And, of course, Hitoka and Tadashi had their anxiety to deal with. It was a huge mess until they sorted everything out.

They couldn’t even consider the larger picture about how everyone else would feel about them, too caught up in their emotions about each other to care about what society would say. But they each knew they wanted this, were willing to put up with whatever came their way as long as they got to do it together.

The day their landlord handed them the keys to their own place—a huge apartment that could fit all five of them, their first ever home—they celebrated with a quiet night in.

Reading Letters – P.S. I Love You Soundtrack

Hitoka opens her old high school notebooks, reading letters she both wrote and received.

Bittersweet nostalgia hits her like a wave, and she smiles through her tears when she finally reaches the last page:

A photograph of all five of them.

Pretend (Reprise) – Lights

Some days, the anxiety wins.

They each handle those days differently. Shouyou and Tadashi prefer to have the others doting on them with sympathy. Tobio and Kei prefer to seclude themselves so they could sort through their feelings first, careful because they don’t want to hurt their partners in their angst. Hitoka prefers a little bit of both.

At the end of the day though, all of them want their lovers close by so they could welcome a better tomorrow together.

BG Låten [8-bit Remix] – Spelling Phailer

Shouyou naively announces having a video game competition, so Kei easily hands the other boys’ asses to them. They all knew that Kei was better than Tadashi, and infinitely better than both Tobio and Shouyou.

Hitoka was a true dark horse.

“I, um,” she squeaks, cheeks flushed red when she sees everyone’s jaws hanging, “I like to play on my phone sometimes? And I’m comfortable with consoles since I do computer stuff a lot.”

“You beat me.” Kei’s tone easily conveys his shock.

“AMAZING, YACCHAN!” Shouyou yells, jumping onto her.

The others follow him, piling on top of their girlfriend in a giant heap. She giggles, delighted to accept their congratulations.

Sour Candy – Carly Rae Jepsen ft. Josh Ramsay

Kiyoko loved Hitoka.

Hitoka was passionate and eager, anxious but headstrong. After she first recruited Hitoka, the younger girl hung onto Kiyoko’s every word like she hung the stars. Kiyoko loved watching her grow and appreciate the sport, fall in love with the team and their camaraderie.

She didn’t expect that Hitoka falls for the team in a romantic sense too.

She and Hitoka tried to make things work after Kiyoko’s graduation, but they both knew the distance was too hard for them. Their relationship ended amicably, and though it hurt Kiyoko so much more than she could have ever anticipated, she knew that Hitoka was in good hands.

She watches in the distance when the five of them pass by—hands and arms happily clasped onto one another—and smiles.

Otter Pop – Shawn Wasabi

“Here you go: popsicles! Blue for Tobio, orange for Shouyou, lemon for Hitoka, strawberry for Tsukki.”

“Thanks, Tadashi-kun!”

“F’ank yhew!”

“Thanks.”

“Mm.”

“Ah, so refreshing!”

(grin)

“Tadashi-kun, are you gonna eat yours?”

“Oh, yes!”

“What flavour did you get?”

“Melon.”

“Aw, lemme try!”

“Okay, just don’t get your slobber over it.”

“I won’t!”

“He will.”

“Shut up, Tobio!”

“Guys, can we just enjoy ourselves, please?”

(sigh)

“Apparently not without a fight.”

Best Starships Ever (Nicki Minaj vs 1D) – Remix by Mikolo Mashups

They go to the beach after graduation, inviting the entire volleyball team to celebrate the end of the year as well as wishing the third-years goodbye.

Shouyou and Tobio are in charge of games and music, Tadashi and Kei in charge of food and drinks, and Hitoka covers all planning and decorating. The first- and second-years offer to pitch in with the prep but the five of them insist on doing this for the rest of the team.

They have a wonderful time by the sea, getting sunburnt under the sky, salt and sand lingering on their skin after playing in the water. They stay until well into the night, lighting up a bonfire at Shouyou’s request.

Portable speakers blast the best pop songs of the year, and they dance around the flames with laughter and smiles on their lips.

(More notes on Ao3.)

#kagehina #tsukkiyama #yamayachi #kagehinatsukkiyamayachi #kagehinatsukkiyama #haikyuu!!#hq!!#haikyuu #karasuno #nanowrimo 2018 #week 5 #writing convention #songfic #ipod shuffle #shuffle challenge #gen #slash #femslash #jercy's fic tag

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tricia-swritingcorner · 6 years

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A Helping Hand (Virgil Sanders)

~Alya Brant's POV~

'Yay another day in Hell, how exciting.' Slipping on my satchel strap I was oh so excited to go through another day of torment, yeah school was practically a literal spawn of Satan in my eyes. The student body was made up of idiots who hated what they either didn't understand or couldn't control, a lot of the regular teachers were glorified children given authority, and the staff was made up of entitled pompous cunts. Granted there were a few teachers who were nice but more often than not they get chased off by parents who are just as bad as their kids. Honestly, I knew why my parents sent me here and that was because they wanted me at a school that might teach me "discipline" even though I wasn't a bad kid. They thought my love for musical theater was a virus and if they didn't pull me away from my little sister, the star athlete of the family, I would be her downfall...and they called me a drama queen.

Locking up my duplex I couldn't help but overhear a rather loud conversation as four boys stood outside the duplex next to mine, seemingly in their own little world. Ignoring them quite easily I headed out to the sidewalk, noticing how they seemed to be waiting for one more. Knowing full well that they were new to the area when I spotted the last one I was a little surprised to see him in dark purple with his hood up and his headphones on. 'I guess when they moved that one took it the hardest.' Heading towards the high school I attended I was actually glad that my parents let me choose where I lived since it let me choose a duplex complex less than half a mile from the school they were sending me to. Placing my headphones over my ears I let myself get lost in my music as I walked to school, namely to distract me from what might happen today. You see the vice principal at my school decided to have me show a few new students around since I guess she thinks it's time that I get at least one new friend after having little social interaction for the past two years.

Silently walking into the school, I was going to go to the library since school didn't start for another twenty minutes however I spotted a familiar group of popular kids just standing in right in front of the library entrance. It's typically known that I study every morning in the library so that was probably why they were there, just so they could mess with me even earlier in the day. Taking a deep breath, I turned around to go to Student Services but of course one person noticed me despite the fifteen-yard distance. "There she is, Alya!" Stopping in my tracks I tried to take one more step but since the popular kids kind of consisted of football players and cheerleaders one of them managed to wrap their arm around my shoulders before I could leave. Getting spun around I didn't even bother to make it seem like I was happy to see any of them, especially since they were probably going to try to get me to do their homework which I constantly refuse time after time.

"Hey Alya, how's it going? What's with that bitch face? We just want to hang out with our class valedictorian." Raising an eyebrow at the "queen bee" of the school I knew where she was going with this, she wanted me to “help” her out on an assignment. Removing the one jock's arm from my shoulders I gave her a dead pan, as a way to silently say, "bitch I'm not stupid." Still giving me her shitty ass grin I decided not to give them another weak excuse and instead simply left, hearing the sound of their snickers as I walked away.

'You fooled me once by doing that, now it's just annoying.' Slipping into the Student Services office I was not surprised to see the group of five that were at my duplex earlier. Giving a silent wave to the woman at the front desk who I think didn't really pay much attention my way I went right to Ms. Olivier's office which, other than the woman, was empty like usual.

"Ah Ms. Brant, I assume you are here to meet the boys you will be showing around. Come with me they're right outside." Keeping the door open for her to exit I allowed Ms. Olivier to exit first while I trailed behind her. As soon as she entered the main area of Student Services four out of the five boys stood up while the last one just slouched even more into his seat. "Boys, this is Alya Brant. She is your class' valedictorian and will show you all to your classes. Ms. Brant these are the Sanders. The eldest is Thomas, then Logan, next is Roman, then Patton, and finally the one still sitting is Virgil. I believe each of you has at least one class with Ms. Brant, now off you go." Noticing how each boy had their own hand greeting when their name was spoken I nodded at Ms. Olivier and walked past the boys holding the door open. Making sure each of them passed me their schedule Ms. Olivier was right when she said we each had one class together however all six of us had lunch together.

"Okay so Logan, you and I have the same first period. Roman for first period you have English 4, Thomas you have US Government first, Patton you have AP Psychology, and Virgil you have Digital Design. Follow me and I'll show you guys around, welcome to Cook High School." Taking the time to show the Saunders brothers where each of their classrooms were the bell rang and we all went our separate ways. Since Logan and I had the same first period and I had Calculus I could honestly say that was the only time I was able to be left alone. Taking my seat right as class started and Logan was introduced to the class my teacher noticed that there was an empty seat...right next to me. Before he even sat down, I slipped over my notebook for him to look over.

"Umm is this your notebook?" Nodding my head when Logan tried to give it back to me I help up my hand as a way to say I didn't need it.

"You're going to need it. This teacher doesn't actually teach the subject, he just goes off on tangents about his life every day so I've been teaching myself how to do Calculus. If I were you, I would scan a copy of the notebook and give it back." Nodding his head Logan slipped the notebook into his messenger bag. Taking his seat Logan, along with everyone else in the class, quickly losing interest in what the teacher was spewing out of his mouth. Plugging my own headphones in, I worked on an assignment that I had in my third period Dual Enrollment English class, which I shared with Patton surprisingly enough. Feeling the fifty-five-minute class period fly by when the bell rang everyone shot out of their seats, including Logan whose arm I grabbed as a warning. Waiting thirty seconds the class room looked like a ghost town and I released Logan's arm, grabbing my own bag and walking past him. “Wait thirty seconds, that way you don't get trampled on your way out. You have US Government now, same teacher Thomas had. I'd hurry up if I were you, that teacher locks her door right when the bell rings.” Once again nodding his head I headed out to the Portables where I had AP Psychology which I shared with Roman.

This pattern repeated itself every time I went to class and by lunch I honestly got used to it, besides the jerks in my classes left me alone because they didn’t want to hit any of the new boys. Grabbing my typical lunch of a pb&j and a carton of milk, I went to my seat located outside in the tree I often sat in and I noticed the quintuplets come outside with the gloomy one being the first one to spot me. Bringing over his brothers I raised an eyebrow at their actions before I could ask Thomas answered my unspoken question. “We figured since we don't really know anyone here we wanted to sit with you. How did you get up there anyway?” Shrugging my shoulders I kept eating my sandwich while four of them sat in front of the tree, Virgil easily figured out how to climb up to the branch I typically hanged out on so he came up and sat beside me. For a while they just talked about how their day was and all the tips I gave each of them throughout the day until a very familiar group came around.

“Hiya, I heard we had five new students but I never would have thought they’d be quintuplets. My name is Emilia, nice to meet’cha.” Giving them her always clear fake smile I turned to Virgil and shook my head, she was nothing but trouble. Noticing what I did Emilia gave me smirk before aiming her torment towards me, how wonderful. “Hey there Alya, how are you?” Rolling my eyes at her sickly-sweet tone I glared daggers at her, honestly nothing would give her more joy unless I dropped dead in front of her.

“Oh I’m fine, just lost my appetite so if you want my sandwich have some.” Tossing the pb & j onto the ground at Emilia‘s feet I could tell that pissed her off but she wanted to look good in front of the new kids. Shrugging it off she kicked some dirt over it, still being the happy go lucky she always appeared to be.

“So, would you guys like to come to the pre-Homecoming party? It’s going to be at my place this Friday, you guys interested?” Watching the small group of four look to each other and then at Virgil I could tell very easily that none of them wanted to go anywhere with this bitch. Thomas was the one who spoke up which honestly surprised me a little bit since he was as quiet as a church mouse in Acting.

“I don’t think we’d be interested in that, sorry Emilia.” Watching Emilia‘s face get so red I was honestly expecting her to threaten the group, which would cause me to intervene. Thankfully she just shrugged it off, making my job a whole lot easier but I still had my guard up since I knew Emilia would throw some punches.

“Oh that's okay, there's going to be a lot more parties and it is your first week here, no biggie. I hope you guys come to at least one party. See you guys later.” Waving goodbye to the four boys on the ground when they stopped paying attention to her she gave me a quick glare before turning around and walking towards her little click. Thankfully I don’t have a seventh period so when the bell rings I can go home, I’m not sure about the boys though. Turning to Virgil I gestured for his schedule and saw that he too had no seventh period, which honestly surprised me.

“Hey Virgil how come you don’t have a seventh period?” Taking a closer look at his schedule I was even more surprised to see the acronym OJT, which meant on the job training. The fact that it said that meant that Virgil already had a job even though they just moved here.

“The guidance counselor said that since I get paid to edit Thomas' YouTube channel that counts as a job. The others also have seventh period off as well. By the way did that girl glare at you as she was leaving?" Nodding my head before I could explain why the bell rang before I could open my mouth. Jumping down from the branch with my messenger bag strapped on the boys were a little spooked but were otherwise okay.

"Wonderful entrance dear Alya." Silently thanking Roman for the compliment I made sure everything I needed was in my bag before I gestured for the boys to follow me, since I’m quite certain we lived in the same duplex just on different sides. Grabbing all of their stuff we all headed out of school, and unsurprisingly Mrs. Olivier was waiting at the school entrance most likely to ask the boys how their day was.

"Ah just the group I was looking for, how was your first day of school boys?" Seeing a genuine smile on the principal's face it was a nice change from Emilia's fake smile. With each boy giving the principal their own answer she then turned her attention to me for some reason. "Ms. Bryant, you didn’t by chance toss a half-eaten sandwich at Ms. Foster during lunch, did you?" Rolling my eyes, I shook my head, it was just like Emilia to over exaggerate the details of a non-violent confrontation.

"Of course not Mrs. Olivier, I missed the trash can right next to her and the sandwich landed by her feet. None of the sandwich landed on her person, just on the ground." Raising an eyebrow, she just shook her head and dismissed the matter at hand, thankfully she was used to dealing with Emilia's antics by now. Bowing her head Mrs. Olivier walked past us, returning to the school behind us. Sending her a soft smile I continued walking with the five boys following me close. As they had their own conversations I silently plugged my headphones in and started humming along with "Villain I appear to be" by Connor Spiotto. Enjoying my music, it wasn't until I felt a light tap on my shoulder that I even remembered that the five boys were walking with me. Looking back as I took out my headphones it was Virgil who was trying to get my attention.

"Was that Villain I appear to be by Connor Spiotto?" Nodding my head I was surprised that someone recognized the song just by me humming it.

"Yeah, you recognized it just from my humming? You've got a good ear." Giving me probably the first small smile he's probably given anyone today, he shrugged his shoulders.

"I really don't, I just like that song." Noticing the light blush in his cheeks I laughed lightly and continued walking with Virgil by my side. The others seemed to be talking about what kind of video they were going to make so I didn't really pay attention to their conversation as Virgil and I started talking about the kinds of music that we liked. It didn't take long for us to reach our duplexes and as I was unlocking the door to mine the boys continued talking to each other as four of them entered their own duplex, ready to get to work. However, when I was right about to enter my own home I still felt like someone was right behind me and when I turned around Virgil was still there, fidgeting. Raising an eyebrow I could tell he was uncomfortable in asking if we could continue our conversation in my home so I took the step.

"Would you like come in? I've got some cool games on the Ps4 and I could help you with homework." Seeing a little bit of excitement race through his eyes before he could say anything Patton came out, with a big smile on his face.

"Come on Virgil, we need your help in planning the next video." Grabbing Virgil's arm, Patton practically dragged the poor boy into the house and Virgil couldn't even look at me to give me a silent sorry before the door slammed shut. Sighing softly I entered my own house, despite how quiet and lonesome it typically feels, and simply went to the dining table to get started on homework.

'I'll give it three days, by then everything should go back to normal...joy.' I mentally laughed at myself for thinking maybe I could have some friends, even one would be a leap from my current situation. However, unlike Virgil many of the Sanders seemed to forget that I was there and since that only took less than a day I doubt they'll even remember my name after two days.

~Time skip three days later~

'Three days have passed...and I was completely right, how great.' Exiting my duplex, it was as if the five boys didn't live next door since all I could hear was silence. Granted I was heading out at six in the morning but for the last two days all of them were up and out of their house by the time I was leaving. Thomas met some people in his acting class and three of the four others quickly bonded with his new friends, while the last Sanders just kept close by his brothers. It took no more than two days for things to return to normal and this morning I had this eerie suspicion that Emilia was planning something with her goons. Tucking my key away into my backpack I made sure that my phone and my wallet were in a secret pocket I had sown into my bag before heading towards school. In complete honesty it doesn’t even feel like I ever met the Saunders, which I should be used to by now but I thought I got along with them relatively okay.

Pushing the thought to the back of my mind I noticed a very familiar red car pull up beside with the driver honking their horn, trying to get some kind of reaction from me. When I didn’t give that to them they started revving their engine, which was annoying but I knew who it was so I didn’t care. I wasn't even walking that fast so the fact that this person was keeping up with only meant trouble and I was not in the mood. Finally, the driver rolled down her window and of course it was Emilia, who threw a half full cup of hot coffee at me. Clenching my teeth, I mentally applauded myself for bringing an extra pair of clothes that I kept in my bag in case of a situation like this one. “Oops, sorry Alya. I thought you were a walking dumpster, guess I was right. See you at school~.” Giving me a wink, the bitch sped off towards school, despite being relatively early for a girl like her. Shrugging it off I continued walking and unsurprisingly the outer shell of the school looked normal, though my instincts told me otherwise.

'*sigh* You can do this Alya, you've dealt with everything else they've thrown at you so there is no reason you shouldn't be able to push through whatever they have planned.' Mentally bracing myself I stepped onto school grounds and made my way to my locker...which was covered in red sharpie that spelt out, in very large letters, cunt. Rolling my eyes, I opened it, finding all of my textbooks shredded, and grabbed the special bleach I always keep in my locker should it be defaced. Cleaning up the red marker I thought about changing my shirt but I figured Emilia would probably ruin that one as well. Deciding to simply go sit under the tree I frequent I was stunned when I was met with a defaced piece of wood that was covered in graffiti and trash, along with one piece of paper stapled to the middle. Rushing up to my tree I ripped the note off, seeing a staple still being left in the tree.

"It's funny how you thought we wouldn't deface something you care about if it was on school grounds, you are trash and everything you care about is the same. Hope the cleanup is worth it ^w^." Crumbling up the piece of paper for once I believed that Emilia went too far, I don't care if she goes after me but by trashing the tree she's tried to destroy my one safe zone. Hearing someone giggle behind me I turned around, looking the bitch and her crew with a dead pan face I could see a few of them flinch while Emilia just gave me that arrogant smile she always gave me.

"What? Did I hurt your feelings? It's just a tree, maybe you should give the same care you gave to that piece of bark to a person like a normal human being." Feeling my eye twitch in anger I just silently stared at the group, plotting in my mind what I might do. Emilia didn't seem to like this so she came up to me, seemingly as a way to provoke me even more so than she already had. Once she was in arms reach I grabbed her collar and swung around, slamming her into the trunk of the tree. This caused her to gasp in pain but I didn't care, I was done with her bullshit and I was going to make it known. Her goonies tried to run to her aid however I gave them one fierce look and they instantly cowered in fear of my anger. Turning my attention back to Emilia I could see the fear in her eyes since this was the first time I've ever shown off my strength to anyone, I was a bit of an athlete back in my youth and at the time I enjoyed throwing shit a great distance.

"Okay Emilia, this has to stop. Ever since I arrived at this school all you have done is harass me and destroy the things I either own in my possession or care about and I am sick of it. I don’t want to harm you but if this continues I will not hesitate to do worse than I’ve already done, do you understand me?" Keeping a terrifyingly calm voice all the girl did was nod her head but I wanted her to say that she understood my terms. Grabbing her collar once more I lifted her into the air, her back against the tree. "I want to hear you say it, do you understand me?" Once again nodding her head fervently it looked like she was trying to regain her voice.

"I... I understand, please don't hurt, please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Letting her go as quickly as I picked her up I tossed the note she left on the tree at her before taking my leave. There was no doubt in my mind that by the end of the day I will be called into the Principal's office but in complete honesty I didn't care anymore, having no friends and losing my one safe space would definitely cause a person to snap. Hearing people start to pour into the school I headed to class, spotting Logan already in his seat as he joked with our classmates. He already returned my notebook so I haven’t had to talk with him about anything else. Taking my seat, I could already tell people were talking about Emilia’s visit to the nurse’s office, of course none of them knew it was me who did that to her. As class started the PA system sparked to life, followed by none other than Mrs. Olivier’s voice.

“It has come to my attention that after a tree on campus was defaced somebody attacked the ones responsible and I want it known that whoever did this will be reprimanded justly. If you give yourself up without question I promise you will not be punished harshly, that is all.” Mentally laughing at Mrs. Olivier, I knew she already could tell that it was me, no doubt in my mind. Deciding that I would go to her office after class I kept feeling Logan stare at me, he must have noticed the coffee stains on my shirt. Tapping me he showed me his note book where he had written down a note so our teacher wouldn’t notice anything suspicious.

‘What’s that on your shirt? It looks like coffee.’ Nodding my head to signify that it was I acted like I was taking notes but in truth I was just writing down what Emilia did early this morning, leaving out the tree incident.

‘Emilia tossed her coffee onto me this morning, I haven’t gotten around to changing my shirt but I honestly think she might toss something onto my other shirt.’ Not bothering to look at whatever expression was on his face the period seem to fly by as I explained to Logan what’s been happening to me ever since I came to this school. Hearing the bell ring through the class room I got up from my seat, slowly taking my time to pack up my things. Logan probably noticed this and chose to wait for me for some odd reason, maybe I was a bit hasty in my thinking that the Saunders boys would forget I even existed. Walking alongside me as I exited the room I went to go towards the office which surprised Logan, causing him to be inquisitive.

“I thought you had AP Psychology with Roman, why are you going towards the exit?” Sighing softly I smirked and looked back at him with a sincere look in my eye.

“If I give myself up to Mrs. Olivier I will be punished kinder than if she had to come grab me, you heard the announcement. See you later Logan, maybe I’ll see your brothers later in the day.” Watching both confusion and shock race through his eyes I went to the office where as soon as I entered I spotted Emilia as she cowered in terror of me. The person at the desk quickly took note of that and went to Mrs. Olivier’s office, most likely to tell her that I’ve arrived. Coming out of her office she gave me a look that resembled one of disappointment but also one with relief, as if she hoped I would turn myself in.

“It’s nice to know that you have some sense of guilt Ms. Brant, come inside.” Nodding my head I followed her into her office, where I was most likely going to be given OSS for attacking another student.

‘Worth it.’

~Time skip to lunch & swap to Virgil’s POV~

‘I wonder why Alya wasn’t in Government, she doesn’t seem like the one to skip class.’ Grabbing lunch from the cafeteria when I went out to where Thomas and the others often sit I noticed everything that was still being cleaned off the tree I sat in with Alya on my first day here. Walking up to the tree I heard someone behind me gasp and when I looked back it was Emilia who was staring at the tree in fright, as if something happened to her at the tree. Going back to my brothers they seemed to be talking about something that was in relation to Alya so I sat down silently beside them.

“Apparently this morning while Alya was walking to school Emilia drove by and tossed her coffee onto Alya. When I saw her in class she still had that same shirt on and I asked her if she had a spare or needed one, all she said was that she didn’t want Emilia to ruin another shirt. Then as we left class she headed towards the front office and I asked what she was doing, all she said she believed Mrs. Olivier would give her a lesser punishment if she gave herself up instead of forcing her to seek her out.” Shocked at what Logan was saying that would explain why Emilia would looked at the tree in terror but why would Alya do that? Looking back to Emilia there was no other way to get answers and in all honesty I don’t care what might have happened since all I want to know is the facts. Getting up from my seat I went to the table where the girl was shivering in both fear and pain, Alya must’ve done a number on her. Emilia’s friends noticed me and were none too pleased that I was coming over to talk with the girl who looks like a ghost.

“What do you want Virgil? Can’t you see poor Emilia is traumatized?” Rolling my eyes I gave them a look that pretty much told them to cut the crap.

“Look all I want to know is what you did to make Alya snap like that, nobody does something like traumatize someone else unless they had it coming. Now spill.” Using my deep voice trick Emilia met my eyes, almost as if I reminded her of what happened.

“I-it was a harmless prank I swear, b-but when she saw what we did Alya snapped. She…she grabbed me and slammed me into the trunk of the tree, f-for a drama nerd she’s pretty strong. She made me swear to leave her alone and I will I swear, please don’t hurt me.” Covering her head, I could tell that Alya, even though she didn’t do much, psychologically destroyed Emilia, almost like the girl had tried to do to her. Hearing a gasp, I turned around and spotted Alya coming out of the cafeteria with a lunch tray, headphones in her ears. Seeing no coffee stains on her shirt I could only think that she changed between leaving the principal's office and coming here. Going right to her tree she climbed up to the branch she typically sat on and just sat there in silence. Everyone was surprised to see her and Emilia even fled back into the school, her friends closely following. Walking up to her she sent a glare my way before realizing that it was me and giving me enough space to sit beside her in the tree. Climbing up with ease I sat in front of her, in silence for the first few minutes until Alya got sick of me staring at her and ripped out her headphones.

“Is there something you need Virgil? You’ve been staring at me for a while now.” Taking a deep breath I nodded my head, I needed to know what happened.

“What caused you to snap this morning? I’ve gotten Emilia’s side of the story and now I want yours.” Watching her as she took a deep breath and pocketed her headphones Alya sat up, almost like she was trying to be serious.

“You really want to know why I snapped this morning? It’s because I am sick and tired of people making fun of me for being different. My parents sent me here so I wouldn’t “corrupt” my little sister with my “theater bug”, the pricks at this school didn’t understand that I enjoyed being left alone, and nobody takes a second to question the constant abuse a fellow student is suffering in front of them! I’ve been holding in this anger for three years and that is why I snapped, there’s your answer. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going home, I’m going to need a bit of rest for when tomorrow comes because I’m pretty sure Emilia’s parents are going to try to sue me when they find out what happened this morning.” Slipping her bag over her shoulder Alya hopped off the branch, in a very similar fashion to how she hopped off on Monday. Landing with ease she plugged in her headphones again and headed off to the school’s exit. I honestly felt bad for what’s happened to her, her own family expelled her from their house just because she liked theater and her own peers have treated her like an outcast for the past three years for the exact reason of her enjoying solitude. Personally, I understood how she felt and I wanted to help her but I don’t know how.

‘Maybe I can get the others to help me help her out.’ Hopping down from the tree right as the bell rang I jogged over to where my brothers were sitting with Thomas’ friends they all seemed to be ready to go but they still waited for me. Grabbing my bag we all started walking back to our duplex and for a while they were talking about their classes before I brought up what I really wanted to do.

“Hey guys, what do you think about Alya?” Stopping in their tracks I saw a bit of confusion run through their eyes before Logan was the first one to open his mouth.

“Well I think she is a passionate young woman who has had to deal with many hardships, why do you ask Virgil?” Sighing softly I fidgeted with my hands before thinking up a good answer.

“I just…I want to help her out, she’s not that different from me back when I shut myself off from the world. You guys helped me so why don't we help her?" Hoping the others liked my idea it took them a couple of seconds before agreeing with me, talking amongst themselves to try to find a way to get through to Alya. Remembering back on the first day we met I recalled how she mentioned video games, maybe that might work. Continuing our walk home when we reached our duplex I noticed that the curtain in front of the dining room window was pulled back, giving anyone a chance to look into Alya's home. Spotting her at the table she looked to be very serious, working on something on her computer. Patton, coming outside to pull me in, noticed that I was just staring at her in silence even though a clap of thunder rumbled through the air. Sighing softly he put a hand on my shoulder, effectively breaking me out of my trance.

"You care about her, don't you? That's why you want to help her so badly." Blushing heavily I shook my head, trying to make it seem like he was wrong.

"N-no, I just don't want her to turn out like I did before you guys helped me. That's all this is." Brushing past him I entered the house, going right to the games that we've bought for our PS4. Noting that about three of them were multiplayer I made a mental note of that and then checked the fridge for any snacks, thankfully there were several different snacks. Knowing that I should wait a day before doing anything I grabbed my Government homework and went to my copier, Alya probably doesn't know about the work she missed today in class. Once that was done I went downstairs and out to her front door, not bothering to tell the others what I was doing. Knocking on the door there was a couple of seconds of silence before I could hear someone moving around inside and come to the door, swinging it open with a tad bit of disregard. Seeing Alya standing there in her pajamas I blushed softly before going to hand her the work I had copied for her, trying to keep my mind on track.

"I...I thought you might need this, it’s today’s assignment from gov.” Handing her the papers she silently thanked me before going to close the door to which I couldn’t think of a reason for her to keep it open. Bidding me good night I did the same and went back to my duplex, too embarrassed to tell my brothers what happened. Going straight to my room I rested my back against the door as my anger started to set in, I am such an idiot. Feeling the urge to punch something relatively solid I turned and threw a right hook at the wall beside me. Watching my fist as it went through the wall I yanked it out and stomped around my room before someone came up and entered the room on the other side of the wall,

“Hey! Who the hell is making holes in the wall?!” Shocked to hear her voice there was a sudden banging as I think she ran up the stairs into the room next to mine.

“Oh, it’s you Virgil. I hope you know that I’m going to make you fix the wall.” Seeing Alya on the other side of the hole I felt so embarrassed and gave her a nod of my head, I could not be any more idiotic. Hearing her sigh, I didn’t hear her leave the room, I only heard her flop onto a soft surface and when I looked through the hole I was shocked to see that I had punched a hole into Alya’s bedroom. Blushing heavily, I felt so bad for what I had just done and just flopped onto my own bed, face first. Wallowing in my own self-pity I started hearing someone start strumming a guitar, trying to figure out how to tune it. Looking through the hole I was a little surprised to see Alya with a rather surprising electric guitar, one that I’ve been wanting to get for myself. Keeping my mouth shut for a little bit as I watched her struggle right before she practically tossed the wonderful instrument I raised my voice.

“H-hey do you need help tuning that guitar?” Noticing how surprised she was when I spoke up we had a bit of a staring contest before she shrugged her shoulders and gestured for me to come over. Quickly heading downstairs I didn’t bother to tell my brothers what was happening before I went out the door and went straight to Alya’s front door. Opening the door for me to enter she had already brought down her guitar for me to help her tune it and in all honesty I wasn’t even thinking about the fact I had been kinda spying on her through the hole in the wall I accidentally created. Noticing how she took a seat on the couch I sat across from her and silently asked for her to hand the instrument. Tuning it like I always did with my old acoustic I was relieved to see that it was the same style (please don’t kill me if I’m wrong, I don’t own a guitar) Handing the now tuned guitar back to her she smiled brightly when she struck a cord and found that it was perfectly in tune.

“Wow Virgil, you really know your way around a guitar. Thanks for coming over and helping me out, I’m sorry I was a little bitchy towards you earlier. It’s been a rough day.” Nodding my head, I knew exactly what she meant, before my brothers and I made amends almost every day was a bad day for me.

“I know what you mean, I just thought you might’ve needed a helping hand. Oh, and I’ll fix the hole in the wall tomorrow.” Laughing at what I said she just nodded her head and for once I think she feels happy and relaxed, thank goodness I can do some good.

Realizing the time I saw that it was 11 o’clock at night I decided that it was time for us to head to bed, which was made quite evident when Alya started yawning. Getting up I bid her goodnight and headed back to my duplex where the others met me all with smirks on their faces. Rolling my eyes I walked past them and headed upstairs to my room, where Alya was covering the hole with a sort of tapestry. Holding in my laughter I made a mental point to grab something to fix the hole tomorrow before laying in my bed. Just staring up at my ceiling I must’ve been like that for a while before I heard a voice on the other side of the wall. “Hey Virgil, are you still awake?”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you are.” Still staring at the ceiling we just laid in silence before Alya spoke up again.

“Do you think I’m a bitch?” A little taken back by her question I shook my head, almost forgetting that she couldn't really see what I was doing.

"No, I think you're someone life likes to shit on. Why do you ask?" Listening as she sighed I could tell something was bothering her and thankfully I didn't have to ask what was wrong.

"Everyone tends to think one of two things of me, the first being that I'm a cold-hearted bitch and the second is that I'm the girl who hates everyone else. To be honest most people just forget I'm even there and at first, I thought you guys were going to be like everyone else. But then Logan noticed the coffee stains on my shirt this morning and you copied today's homework for me so I'm a little confused. I wanted to know what y'all thought of me but I thought you might just tell me you were being nice and things would've gone back to normal. I guess to answer your question, I wanted to know what you thought about me." A little surprised by her answer I honestly didn't know how to respond to her answer, I felt so bad for her. Earlier when she went on a rant she told me how her parents sent her away because she didn't want to be what they wanted, her peers and her family have treated her like shit so why wouldn't she feel like she is shit?

"I... I'm so sorry, that sounds horrible." Hearing her chuckle lightly I could tell that she knew how bad her situation sounded but she didn't let it take hold of her life.

"It probably does but it's nice to finally have someone to talk to about it." Realizing what she was saying I couldn't help but smile, she knows I want to help her. Bidding her good night, I finally went under my covers before slowly falling asleep.

'Maybe I can lend her a helping hand.'

~THE END~

#virgil sanders #sanders sides #virgil x reader #one shot #reader insert #fanfiction

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theyarebangtan · 7 years

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K-Pop Group BTS Reveals Its Biggest Beauty Secrets for Glowing Skin

Last month, BTS, a K-Pop group from Seoul, cemented itself in American pop culture by winning the Top Social Artist Award at the Billboard Music Awards. The second the boy band hit the magenta red carpet, thousands were exposed to the wonders of K-Pop. Since then, people have been quick to call BTS, which is short for Bangtan Sonyeondan (or Bulletproof Boy Scouts in English), the One Direction of South Korea. However, that's just an easy way to give them some context. In reality, BTS is actually completely different. Why? The seven-piece group's performances are complete with flawless choreography, expert rapping, high-fashion looks, and insanely catchy vocals. Oh yeah, and they look damn good while doing so.

No matter where BTS is, their skin is forever smooth and has an enviable glow to it. Their eyes are typically adorned with a subtle smoky eye look, which both Jin and Jimin told me is their favorite part of wearing makeup. Their lips always have that popsicle-stained look that everyone's been craving lately. Their hair colors are constantly changing, too. In 2017 alone, Jimin's hair has been bubblegum pink, platinum blonde, sandy blonde, and caramel brown. If they had to choose just one shade, though, Rap Monster tells Allure that he prefers "ash gray and ash blue because these complement my skin tone well." Agreed. Also, Suga added that his favorite hair color is blonde because "I just need to de-color and that’s it."

The beauty aspect of BTS's fame alone separates them from the likes of One Direction, the Jonas Brothers, and the Backstreet Boys. And their legions of fans, lovingly called A.R.M.Y., live for it. YouTube is filled with makeup tutorials inspired by looks from BTS's music videos. A whole Tumblr account called Dewy Bangtan is even devoted to tracking down the beauty products BTS uses based on screenshots from behind-the-scenes videos.

If the names I mentioned above didn't ring any bells, let me give you a quick summary of each of the seven members of BTS.

Jin

At 24, Jin is the oldest member of BTS, but he doesn't act like it. He has a very specific skin care-related reason for that. In a recent video, he said, "I have a motto of my life, 'If you behave young, your face becomes young, too.'" Noted. His good looks went viral after the Billboard Awards. On Twitter, he was called the "third one from the left", accompanied by dozens of heart-eye emojis. His response? He's "worldwide handsome."

Suga

Many will identify with Suga, one of the group's rappers, on a spiritual level, as I do. When he isn't working his ass off producing, writing, and composing songs, he just likes to lay. Same. Just as his hair color preference suggests, he's the most low-maintenance of the Bangtan Boys as far as beauty routines goes. He's basically a granddad trapped in a 24-year-old's body.

V's interests lie in the finer things in life like Gucci, Van Gogh, and photography. The 21-year-old also makes some of the most hilarious facial expressions and has the most velvety voice in BTS. Some consider him to be the most handsome in the group, but I'll let you decide.

Jimin

Jimin is the king of selfies. BTS's Twitter is filled with evidence of this statement. In their music videos, you can pick him out by his sharp dance moves. In a group photos, you can pick him out by his seriously adorable baby face. Don't let it fool you — he's not the youngest. He's 21. And if anyone was wondering, he's what K-Pop fans call my "bias," aka my favorite. His pink hair sealed the deal for me.

Jungkook

Ok, now it's time to talk about the youngest member of BTS. Jungkook, 19, is a classic, hard-working millennial. He can do everything, including sing (in English), dance, and rap, and do it all incredibly well. When not suited-up in a dress shirt or velvet bomber jacket on stage, you can catch him wearing a white T-shirt and Timberlands.

Rap Monster

Meet the leader of the group. BTS was literally built around the 22-year-old. As you probably could have guessed, Rap Monster, well, raps. He's also BTS's mouthpiece. Fluent in English, he usually takes the lead in stateside interviews. (Watching Friends helped him learn the language.) He has a habit of winking in photo shoot and making people across the world melt. Cringe-worthy hairstyles from BTS's debut in 2013 aside, Rap Monster has some of the best looks of BTS.

J-Hope

I'm convinced J-Hope's ever-positive personality is the true secret behind his glowing skin. (More on his actual secrets later.) Also 22, he's like BTS's portable charger, giving them (and fans) energy and encouragement. Watching him dance will give you strength, too. Trust. He's s-o g-o-o-d.

Now that we're all on the same page, here's the best part: BTS took a break from their massive world tour, which has made stops in the US, Australia, and Brazil, to chat with me about their skin care routines. Yup, you're about to find out some of their secrets.

Why is it important to you to take good care of your skin?

Jin: "Skin is what completes my appearance. I value my looks very much, so it’s equally important to take good care of my skin — that’s a pivotal part of my face."

J-Hope: "Taking good care of your skin is the No.1 rule for all celebs. I get to meet a lot of fans face-to-face at fan meetings and similar events, and I’d like to look my best for them."

What’s your biggest skin concern?

Rap Monster: "My skin is dry most of the time, and my biggest concern is keeping it [moisturized]. I get zits from time to time and that concerns me as well."

Jungkook: "I get pimples sometimes, and it’s very stressful."

You guys travel a lot. Do you do any skin-care treatments while you’re on the plane to keep your skin from freaking out?

V: "On the plane, I dampen cotton pads with toner and put on lotion twice as much."

Jimin: "I don’t really do anything extra special for my skin on the plane, but I try to drink as much water as possible."

What are some of your favorite beauty products?

V: "I’ve been looking for my absolute favorite beauty product for a long time because my skin becomes dry and oily relatively fast. I haven’t found the right one, but I’m not giving up! Any recommendations?"

What is your skin routine like?

J-Hope: "[In the morning, I use] toner and face cream. [At night, the steps are] toner, essence, acne care, lotion, cream."

Jungkook: "Toner and cream for night and morning routine."

A lot of people find skin care routines to be a form of self care. Do you agree?

Rap Monster: "I totally agree. My favorite brand is Mediheal, and it has a variety of sheet masks you can choose from after a long day of work."

Jimin: "I do agree because I try to clear my mind by cleansing my face after performances."

Do you have any bad skin care habits?

Suga: "My bad habit is that I don’t take care of my skin."

V: "I don’t particularly have a bad habit, but I’m worried about my skin having lack of elasticity. How can I prevent this?"

Are there any Korean beauty trends that you particularly love?

Jin: "I love sheet masks. I try to put them on whenever I feel my skin is dry and exposed too much to the sun. They help me make up for lost moisture and brighten my skin."

Do you have any go-to skin care tips for clear, glowing skin?

J-Hope: "I try to go to the dermatologist when I have some free time after work."

Jungkook: "I wish I had one! Let me know, and I’ll try."

Excuse me while I send Jungkook my list. If I learned anything from the Bangtan Boys, it's staying diligent with toner, using it day and night (and on the plane). If you need a recc or two, Allure editors are loving the Kopari Coconut Rose Toner and the Milk Makeup Matcha Toner right now.

cr: allure

#bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #interview #skin care #allure

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4lyeskas · 7 years

Text

inadvertent connections

read it on: AO3 SERIES: Yuri!!! On Ice PAIRING: Victor Nikiforov x Katsuki Yuuri RATING: T TAGS: uni!AU; pre-relationship

based off an au thread i did about victor discovering someone’s dorm wifi is named 3Lu3Lo and like the giant figure skating nerd he is, he’s got to know who it belongs to

The portable wifi isn't working, and Victor is going to freak.

He has a lit paper due in two days that he hasn't exactly read the source material for, let alone started, and he desperately needs an internet connection to quickly Google the Sparknotes or whatever of Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby so he can pull something out of his ass. Restarting the tiny device doesn't work, and neither does shaking it a few times, or tapping it against the wall. In an act of desperation, he shakes Chris awake from his sacred afternoon nap.

"Chris," Victor hisses, jostling his roommate's shoulder. "Chris, the wifi is broken."

"Mmph?" Chris blinks awake infuriatingly slow, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Victor knows his friend is coming off maybe six hours of sleep in the last two days but he's too agitated to be sympathetic.

"The portable wifi isn't working," Victor reiterates through gritted teeth. "Help me."

"Did you--" Chris cuts himself off with a yawn, and Victor maybe wants to strangle him. "Did you reload it?"

Victor opens his mouth, then closes it; tries to remember. He'd had that exam on Monday, a report on Tuesday, and between dance training and reviewing and Tequila Thursday with Stephane--

"Shit." Victor rubs a hand over his face and thinks. He could use his data as a mobile hotspot, but that would rack his bill up to heights he likely can't afford. He could run out to reload the wifi, but it's ten in the evening and freezing out, and he'd have to walk. He could wait until tomorrow, but that would mean starting after training and Victor really doesn't want to lose any more sleep--

He stands up abruptly (and Chris, who's already more awake than asleep, is almost upended in bed), making a mad dash back for his laptop. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"Someone else in this dorm has got to have wifi."

"What--" Chris sits up, looking at Victor in disbelief. "Victor, you can't use someone else's wifi--"

"Desperate times, Christophe!!" Victor retorts, clicking the wifi icon and checking the available connections. There are three, all locked. One is called Wifi Is Coming, another is just no ("oh we'll see," Victor mutters), but the third--

"Oh my god," Victor says again, but this time in delight. "Chris!"

His roommate grumbles in response.

"Chris, someone's wifi is named 3Lo3Lu."

That gets Chris's attention. "No kidding?" his friend asks, getting up and coming over to look. One of the things Victor likes best about Chris is that he's just as big a figure skating fanboy; he hadn't expected anyone else here to be the same. This is interesting.

"Whose do you think this is?" he asks, clicking it excitedly.

"There are fifty students in this dorm, Vitya, it could be any-- are you actually trying to connect?"

Victor looks up in the middle of where he's typing tripleaxel into the password box, nonplussed. "Well yeah, I still need wifi."

Chris looks at him incredulously for a moment before remembering his roommate is Victor Nikiforov, and then sighs. "Try quadsalchow," he says, pulling up a chair beside Victor.

Several minutes and unsuccessful login attempts later, yuzuruhanyu gets them in. Victor doesn't know if he should be happy or if he should worry that this person's wifi is so unsecure. Still, he sends a silent thank you as he quickly Googles the great gatsby literary analysis and opens the first five links he sees. Chris pats him on the shoulder and goes to get a snack.

An hour later, after Victor's made some headway and pulled some 800 words out of his ass, he decides it's time for bed (or at least, a few hours scrolling through social media). But because he's curious as all hell, and he can't help himself, he makes a teeny tiny change before he signs out of the Wifi he'd just "borrowed".

3Lo3Lu is now I'M IN RM322 AND ALSO LOVE SKATING. Victor smiles in satisfaction. Chris is unimpressed.

"Really," he says dryly.

"I wanna know who he is!!"

"Perhaps reconsider your strategy," Chris suggests, although he knows it's a lost cause.

"It'll work," Victor insists, and goes to brush his teeth.

Chris wakes up to his phone buzzing way too early in the morning and Victor snoring loudly across the room. He groans, rolls over, and checks his notifications.

To his surprise, there's a text message from Phichit, the cute exchange student from the linguistics department.

≥ u room w nikiforov in 322 right

Chris glances over at his blissfully snoozing roommate and sighs, wondering what he's done this time.

≤ yeah?

≥ whichever of u guys changed the wifi pls stop ur scaring yuuri

Chris actually snorts.

≤ the 3Lu3Lo is yours?

≥ my roomie

≤ victor wants to meet him

≥ not if he keeps scaring yuuri by trying to flirt over the WIFI NAME

Chris laughs and chucks his pillow at Victor, who startles awake with an ungraceful grunt. "What--"

"Wifi boy's name is Yuuri," Chris says without preamble, leaning over his bed to find a shirt from the pile on the floor. It takes a few moments for the information to get through Victor's sleep-fuzzy brain, but when it does, he punches the air and nearly topples over.

"I told you it would work!" he says triumphantly.

"Yeah, no." Chris pulls on a shirt and picks up his phone. "Anyway I'll tell his roommate to introduce us."

Victor grins at him widely. Chris rolls his eyes but smiles back as he leaves to take a shower.

Meanwhile, in Room 222 below:

Phichit pokes Yuuri awake with a huge grin on his face, waving his phone in front of his roommate's face when Yuuri stirs and squints at him blearily.

"Apparently it's Victor Nikiforov changing our wifi name," he says perkily. Yuuri shoots up and stares at him in horror.

"What?"

"Also he wants to meet you," Phichit continues airily, ignoring that his friend is very distressed.

"Tell him I don't exist," Yuuri says very fast.

"What?" Phichit looks up from his screen with a frown. "But you have a crush on him."

"That's exactly why." Yuuri looks at his friend imploringly. Phichit just blinks back, then returns his attention to his phone, utterly unsympathetic.

"Too bad. We're meeting with them for coffee later."

Yuuri looks terrified. Phichit smiles and pats his knee.

(Upstairs, unaware, Victor hums as he picks an outfit for their date.)

#victuuri #vicyuu #victor nikiforov #katsuki yuuri #yuri on ice #yuri!!! on ice #yoi #yoi fanfic #my fanfic #my writing #viktuuri #viktor nikiforov #otp: winner winner katsudon dinner #compilation #long post -

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bts-jimin16 · 7 years

Text

K-Pop Group BTS Reveals Its Biggest Beauty Secrets for Glowing Skin (Interview)

No matter where BTS is, their skin is forever smooth and has an enviable glow to it. Their eyes are typically adorned with a subtle smoky eye look, which both Jin and Jimin told me is their favorite part of wearing makeup. Their lips always have that popsicle-stained look that everyone's been craving lately. Their hair colors are constantly changing, too. In 2017 alone, Jimin's hair has been bubblegum pink, silver, platinum blonde, sandy blonde, and caramel brown. If they had to choose just one shade, though, Rap Monster tells Allure that he prefers "ash gray and ash blue because these complement my skin tone well." Agreed. Also, Suga added that his favorite hair color is blonde because "I just need to de-color and that’s it."

If the names I mentioned above didn't ring any bells, let me give you a quick summary of each of the seven members of BTS.

Jin

Suga

Jimin

Jungkook

Rap Monster

J-Hope

I'm convinced J-Hope's ever-positive personality is the true secret behind his glowing skin. (More on his actual secrets later.) Also 22, he's like BTS's portable charger, giving them (and fans) the energy and encouragement. Watching him dance will give you strength, too. Trust. He's s-o g-o-o-d.

Why is it important to you to take good care of your skin?

Jin: "Skin is what completes my appearance. I value my looks very much, so it’s equally important to take good care of my skin — that’s a pivotal part of my face."

J-Hope: "Taking good care of your skin is the No.1 rule for all celebs. I get to meet a lot of fans face-to-face at fan meetings and similar events, and I’d like to look my best for them."

What’s your biggest skin concern?

Rap Monster: "My skin is dry most of the time, and my biggest concern is keeping it [moisturized]. I get zits from time to time and that concerns me as well."

Jungkook: "I get pimples sometimes, and it’s very stressful."

You guys travel a lot. Do you do any skin-care treatments while you’re on the plane to keep your skin from freaking out?

V: "On the plane, I dampen cotton pads with toner and put on lotion twice as much."

Jimin: "I don’t really do anything extra special for my skin on the plane, but I try to drink as much water as possible."

What are some of your favorite beauty products?

What is your skin routine like?

J-Hope: "[In the morning, I use] toner and face cream. [At night, the steps are] toner, essence, acne care, lotion, cream."

Jungkook: "Toner and cream for night and morning routine."

A lot of people find skin care routines to be a form of self care. Do you agree?

Rap Monster: "I totally agree. My favorite brand is Mediheal, and it has a variety of sheet masks you can choose from after a long day of work."

Jimin: "I do agree because I try to clear my mind by cleansing my face after performances."

Do you have any bad skin care habits?

Suga: "My bad habit is that I don’t take care of my skin."

V: "I don’t particularly have a bad habit, but I’m worried about my skin having lack of elasticity. How can I prevent this?"

Are there any Korean beauty trends that you particularly love?

Jin: "I love sheet masks. I try to put them on whenever I feel my skin is dry and exposed too much to the sun. They help me make up for lost moisture and brighten my skin."

Do you have any go-to skin care tips for clear, glowing skin?

J-Hope: "I try to go to the dermatologist when I have some free time after work."

Jungkook: "I wish I had one! Let me know, and I’ll try."

BY: Devon Ableman @Abelwoman June 21, 2017 - ALLURE

#bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bts interview #allure #article #interview

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a-friendinthedark · 7 years

Text

and three, two, one, go!!1!

as asked by my bff, fellow God of our oc world, @sakamotorei

5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

Emily –

Cash/change/cards/keys

Compact mirror/lipstick/lip-gloss/misc makeup stuff (she checks and redoes her makeup frequently)

Breath mints (in case she needs to kiss anyone lol)

Phone/portable phone charger (never leaves the house without them)

Sunglasses (there’s always a pair of sunglasses somewhere in her bag)

Pepper spray

Pads

Sometimes, jewelry she took off when she’s out

Occasionally, bubblegum (she likes to chew them and blow bubbles, also this is a way to make her look mysterious in insta pics lol)

6. Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

Jacob –

Can’t think of any for this

7. Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

Jacob –

When he was around 7 all the way till maybe 12 he used to have dreams where he went to school, but he wet his pants, and everyone laughed at him. He would be hugging his soft toy and feeling horrible

Another dream he had all the way till he was a preteen/around 12 was a dream where he would be out with Yvonne in a foreign country but then they got separated and he couldn’t find her. He would spend the whole dream looking for her in grimy, threatening places where people leered at him

I feel like being lost in a crowd is a genuinely terrifying fear he had when he was younger. He would clutch Yvonne’s hand very tightly when they were in crowded places and press quite closely to her.

4. Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

Jacob –

So, as a follow-up from the previous question, he probably did get lost once. It was probably when he was a kid. He was with Yvonne in a crowded place. They got separated by accident, and he couldn’t find her. He was very, very scared, and I don’t think he remembers how it ended. He only remembers that it felt like a nightmare.

Yvonne was honestly horrified/horror-struck when she realized that she lost him. She would have fiercely/frantically went to retrace their steps, but quickly decided that a faster and more efficient way was to just to go to the information counter to ask them to announce it.

It scared him badly enough that he has nightmares about it.

Nova –

If you’re looking for some deep, dark secrets……the answer’s gonna be no

I can’t think of any life-changing moments. I can see smaller moments; she was an avid reader when she was a teen. She read classics, history books, critical thinking books, all kinds of books. It started because she read a novel for school that made her think, and opened up her world-view. She was fascinated by all this information.

The other incident that affected her was when her family moved to the US in her midteens.

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

Jacob –

That time when he got separated from Yvonne.

Emily –

She has had one or two experiences walking home at night when she almost got mugged. She was both furious and also terrified. It’s why she carries pepper spray everywhere.

Also, it’s likely one of the many guys who liked her tried to harass her. Though I don’t think she was scared. Maybe a little. But mostly mad.

Nova –

If someone she loves was in danger. She would be terrified but furious.

12. In what situation was your character the most calm/comfortable they’ve ever been?

Jacob –

At night when he is at home, and Yvonne is also at home. It’s his safe place. Maybe he reads a book or watches TV with Yvonne. He’s peaceful and content.

Nova –

She is calm nearly 80% of the time (the other 20%, she is angry).

She is most calm and comfortable when she is spending time with people she loves (her family, Emily).

Emily –

When she’s doing something engrossing and no one is interrupting. E.g. when she does her makeup, she hums cheerfully/energetically to herself.

She is most comfortable when she’s

13. Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?

Jacob & Nova & Emily –

Around the same tolerance for all of them tbh, in other words, it depends on how much blood.

None of them are bothered by a bit of blood. E.g. if you get a papercut or a scratch.

If they see test-tubes of blood or blood in packets, they are also not very bothered by it. Jacob will be uneasy and grossed out if he can taste or smell blood.

If there’s a lot of blood, then naturally they are all anxious/concerned/worried. Nova keeps her cool best, and starts giving orders. Emily might start panicking. Older!Jacob can keep a cool head, and will quietly/urgently try to staunch the blood.

19. What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

Emily –

Depends on which age the question refers to.

When Emily was younger, one relationship that was ruined was teen!Wemily. Because of her fun family and siblings, she had a pretty good time at home, so she was very cheerful in a way that’s breezy. Think kid!Judy Hopps. She was happy about everything, and she liked everything. She didn’t really stop to appreciate or think of the meaning something might have had to her. That kind of ruined her relationship with Wendie.

When she’s 20+, she appreciates people more and spontaneously shows affection. She’s quite easy-going about most things…maybe her temper? When she lets her temper get the better of her and she says blunt things? E.g. Ana calling Elsa out: “There it is, the door you love to slam in my face.” (Sagittarius lol) She doesn’t mean it maliciously, she just calls it as she sees it. Her temper blows over quickly, so after she vents it, she’s fine.

Nova –

When she was younger, she kept to herself a lot, and showed outsiders a cool, composed, and controlled front. That guarded facade stopped others from getting close to her/her from getting close to others. Also, she was more rigid and controlling.

Now that she’s 20+… It depends. She doesn’t proactively share about herself/she’s quite taciturn, so that could be a problem…but she voluntarily shares information about herself if the conversation is on that topic. She just doesn’t volunteer information out of the blue. So, I’d probably pick her detachment/indifference. When she is closer to a person, she does show more warmth. Hasn’t ruined any relationships yet.

20. In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

Emily –

In the timeline without her siblings, she used to compare to validate herself when she was a teenager. She would frequently compare herself with others who were ‘uglier’ than her, or of lower social status, and she would dismiss/reduce them, so it affirms how she’s the queen bee.

With her siblings around, she tends to look down on people less. She tends to find people cool more often, and look up to these people. So…encouraging/positive self-criticism?

Nova –

During her teenage years: in school, she tended to compare to others who were not as successful as she is, and feel validated. She would also compare to other students more successful than her and feel begrudging/resentful/jealous/insecure. It was because she felt that she was superior, so she should be the most successful/superior.

But she also aspired to be like her father, or to live up to him.

When she grew a little older, she also started to aspire to be like certain public figures who caught her attention.

Jacob –

He doesn’t compare to validate himself, but he doesn’t really compare for self-criticism either. Because he doesn’t really….he doesn’t really take other people’s achievements personally? I guess? Even if he saw people successful, he thinks “That’s nice", but he never thinks of it in relation to himself. He rarely wants to be like other people.

Even if he met someone who was good at something he likes, he asks the person for help, but doesn’t feel insecure about it. I can see him starting to compare in a self-criticizing way when people around him start to deride him while praising the other person. He starts to feel bad about himself, and he wants to be like that other person. But he doesn’t really want to be that person, he just wants the acceptance that the other person is accorded.

22. What does your character like in other people?

Nova –

She tends to like people who know what they want. She also likes people with opinions, especially if they are unconventional. She might not agree, but she is interested in hearing their reasons and she thinks it shows that the person has depth, coz it means they think about things. (Unless it’s someone like Theo who is deliberately provocative and has no real reason for things except just coz he can). She also appreciates expressive and social/friendly people coz she is not good at small talk.

A dealbreaker for her is sloppiness. She is very irked by disorganization and bad habits, like leaving things on the floor, not tidying up after yourself, dumping everything everywhere…

Emily –

She likes people who know how to have fun. She also likes people who can match her pace and introduce her to new things; and she likes people who are unique and bold.

A dealbreaker for her is someone who is a wet blanket. Debbie Downers, and people who are pessimistic and bleak. It makes her feel really constricted/restricted, and she really hates that.

(I’m seeing even more why Nemily works out).

Jacob –

He likes people who don’t make him feel threatened and unsafe, e.g. loud, obnoxious, invasive, rude (think Theo). He doesn’t like things to be sprung on him, and he likes people who are reliable, trustworthy, and consistent.

23. What does your character dislike in other people?

Emily –

When it seems (to her) like you’re purposely being an ass. E.g. Theo. Someone who is very antagonistic and hostile to anything she says, tries to turn every friendly overture she makes into something to attack her with. She starts frowning a lot, and after a while, she sharply calls you out and then goes off in a huff to talk to someone else

When you talk shit about people in a way that uses personal attacks and makes it very ugly, especially if it’s someone she likes. She bitches about people too, but it’s more of a vent/expression of her frustration and irritation, and less of a personal attack. So, if you do this around her, she starts to frown. She finds it unreasonable and she doesn’t like it. She will try to redirect the conversation, but if she can’t, she will just leave lol

When you try to tell her what to do. When you condescend to her, tell her what choices/decisions she should make, how she should feel, tell her what to do, judge her, control her… She’s pretty fine with it if you don’t like things she does. She’s not okay with it when you try to change her

37. Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

Nova –

Dignity and honor are most important to her. But how she chooses to act depends on what’s at stake in each situation. In some cases, she would swallow her dignity and pride and protect her status instead, because she thinks it’s more important to the long run. In others, she chooses to defend her honor.

Emily –

I feel like honor = status to her? So defending one is defending the other?

41. Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?

Jacob –

He doesn’t have inferiority issues, so, not really.

But I think he feels better working/earning for what he gets/wants. Coz if he got everything he wanted without any kind of effort, I feel like he feels uneasy about how lucky he is.

44. How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

Nova –

Doesn’t say it unless she means it. She always says what she means and means what she says.

It is a little difficult for her to say it. She expresses her love in other ways, and tends not to say it (forgets to, if that’s possible) except when she’s feeling really affectionate.

Emily –

Says it quite easily and casually. Someone does a favor for her, she’s like, “Thank you so much!! I love you!!”

I don’t think she can say it without meaning it coz she doesn’t lie, she’s very guileless to the point of bluntness on occasion. But she’s already very casual about saying ILYs, so it’s really people she doesn’t like that she can’t say this to.

Jacob –

He is self-conscious, because Yvonne brings him up and she doesn’t express her love for him in this way. It’s probably coz of Day that he is comfortable with it at all. When he is older, he is comfortable with it.

He can’t say it without meaning it. He would just keep quiet in that Jacob-way HAHA. He only ever says ILY to Day lol.

Thanks for asking! That was really long and I tried to keep it as organized as possible. Hope it was entertaining and easy to read.

#emily info #jacob info #nova info #ask #long post

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textales · 7 years

Text

“Country Code 33.”

It was well below zero that early morning in December when I got the call. “Go to a pay phone and call me back at this number,” he said. This way, we’d be able to talk for free instead of paying some ridiculously high long-distance charges. Even though AT&T had just broken up, spawning a surge of competition among American long-distance phone companies fighting for pennies from customers like me, this was an international call that would cost unknown dozens of dollars. I was a broke college student after all – plus I wouldn’t even know how to call someone in another country without specific instructions.

“Can’t I call you later? It’s like five in the morning,” I whined. He insisted we needed to do this right then, since he was at a pay phone in Paris and would be going out to dinner soon somewhere near the Eifel tower. I conceded, and after bundling up with a scarf and winter parka I managed to drag my sleepy hungover ass the five blocks to the closest available payphone. It was across the street from Jesse Hall, a dormitory on campus at the University of Montana in Missoula. We talked for a good 45 minutes or so until my boogers froze and I couldn’t take the cold anymore.

Ross was the first person to introduce me to the concept of a “comfort zone,” and he was always challenging me to go just one notch beyond mine. He loved doing stuff like this – and it was so efficient that in this one call he could stroke his ego by: waking me up in the middle-of-the-damn night, sending me to a payphone, and forcing me to go that one notch beyond my “comfort zone” while simultaneously and not-so-subtly bragging about being in France.

Being bold and impressing people was so very Ross. And clearly he made an impression on me with this phone call, since I’m still thinking about it over thirty years later. Oh Ross, you fucker.

“Cruel to be Kind”

I first met Ross in 7th grade in the cafeteria of Paris Gibson Junior High School. He was carrying a lunch tray – the plastic kind with compartments to keep the Salisbury steak separate from the mashed potato mixture, served by old ladies with floppy upper arms. He seemed a bit lost, looking for a space at the table – any table – that would take him. There’d been a storm, and he was a wayward ship looking for the first available port. Somehow I could see the desperation in his eyes, so I moved over a couple inches to indicate that I was making way for his lost soul seeking refuge.

Ross intimidated me. He was stunningly pretty with deep blue eyes and Scandinavian skin that could tan in the dark. His blond hair had shimmer and would glisten with the slightest hint of sunshine. According to locker room folklore, he was very well endowed down under….extremely, actually – which is probably why the jocks left him alone: they secretly wanted to be like him. And he was witty and articulate and came from a prominent family known by all the right people. He was different enough to attract the attention of bullies, but thankfully they picked on lower-profile kids not likely to make a stink.

He was mysterious and magical and loud and enticing. I knew from the get-go that being around him would draw attention, but I wanted to live quietly and “under the radar” so I kept my distance for years. I didn’t recognize I was gay at that young age in junior high – I was just a clueless teenager desperately wanting to hide. But later in high school, as I started to question my sexuality, I feared there would be guilt by association with this social standout who, at six foot one, was also physically striking. Ross was a big deal swimmer – an Olympic hopeful. He spent one high school summer swimming in the same pool used by Greg Louganis. Ross had lived in Southern California?! How cool is that? I hadn’t even been to Butte.

I was nervous when he cornered me once to inquire about my report card. He was envious because I got straight A’s that quarter and he didn’t. What he didn’t know is how those straight A’s came at a high cost: I had walled-off myself emotionally from even my closest friends, and buried myself in the books to keep the toxic thoughts of homosexuality from overcoming my conscience. At that moment at my locker, fearing just being seen talking to him might be as much as admitting I was gay, I blurted “I gotta get out of here,” and ran to my next class before the bell rang. Whew, that was close.

I was always polite but standoffish – I didn’t dare let him get too close. Ross never gave up…every so often he would reach out…he just wanted a buddy to hang out with. He had the purest of intentions – he was light. Even in broad daylight, I was dark.

By our senior year I was lonely as fuck. Sure, I seemed like I had my poop in a group. I was an aspiring DJ on the big country radio station and had lots of friends, but honestly I was a ship lost at sea, and I figured Ross was – pardon the pun – in the same boat. I spoke on the air in the middle of the night…a one-way transmission, constantly wondering if anyone was listening. All the while, Ross was right there in front of my eyes in the flesh and for real and listening and communicating….why couldn’t I take what was given instead of constantly looking for something or someone else in the ionosphere?

“Let’s Hear it For the Boy”

I remember a Saturday in March of my senior year in high school when Ross and Dan Pugh showed up at seven in the morning to invite me for breakfast with the promise of flying kites afterwards. “Kites?! That’s so nerdy and faggy, no thanks,” I thought to myself. But Ross was insistent, and my father thought it was good for me to get out of the house. My parents had separated two weeks prior and my dad and I had just moved into a small rental house near the big trailer park – the fancy one with a swimming pool. Ross was the first person to visit me in this new situation and I really didn’t have a choice in the matter – damn he was persuasive – we were going to 4Bs for breakfast and that was that.

Accepting his invitation for breakfast meant I would meet Ross at my emotional barrier – a wall erected to contain my homophobia. It was every bit as strong as cast iron, yet delicate enough to be cracked with the slightest tap of the right tool.

Oh Ross was a tool alright. We was funny and sarcastic and worldly and completely worthy of my awe and respect. He was always bold, never ordinary. I loved living vicariously through him, although there were times when I just wanted to duck and hide. Like when we were buying a sundae on a Sunday at the new Dairy Queen on Tenth Avenue South.

Ross: “Stormy…is that really your name?”

Stormy: “Yes, are you really that rude?”

Wow. That one cut like a knife and sterilized at the same time. He found his match that day. I wanted to melt.

After years of flirting and courtship I finally let my guard down. Fuck it. We are graduating in a few months. What do I have to lose? This guy has been trying to be my friend forever – since Junior High for criminy sakes. He really is cool and beautiful and I’m done giving a damn about whatever people think.

“What’s Love Got to Do with It”

We spent every spare moment together in those few months before graduation. There were many sleepovers at his house when we’d stay up late talking about music and dreams and numerology. He loved Eurythmics and Tears for Fears. We talked about architecture and our visions for what kind of homes we would have after making our respective first million each in the next couple years.

I loved his house and staying there. It was such an architectural jewel – uber-modern yet warm. I was so impressed with his story about how the architect interviewed him and the rest of the family before it was designed and built. I remember it had a commercial toilet in the guest bathroom…an odd thing to remember I suppose, but a distinctive detail that stuck in my mind. I also recall how his parents made their bed together - I was impressed by that, and it is a habit I continue with my partner to this day.

The parent’s bedroom had no doors and no privacy as it was an open loft that floated above the living room. Having no privacy meant there would be no hocus-pocus or hanky-panky at our sleepovers. Lead me not into temptation?

Actually, there wasn’t much temptation….our relationship wasn’t the least bit sexual. Hell, I’d buried my sexuality so far underground I was practically sexless. I was never really attracted to Ross because I wouldn’t let myself be. This was what today would be labeled a “Bromance,” and truth told, it’s a good thing we never had sex – I would have fallen in love with him and things would have gotten sappy and complicated. It was best we just kept this as “just friends.”

“Missing You”

Once the pomp and circumstance of graduation was over, we moved to our respective college towns and communication became spotty at best. Oh sure, I’d get an occasional note or phone call and I would hear through mutual friends about how he was doing and where he’d been, but at times I felt like he was giving me the same cold shoulder I’d given him all those years. Was this payback for when I was trying to keep my distance? I knew not put pressure on him nor to rely on him for maintaining our relationship…we were going in different directions and I got that.

To say he lived with flair and liked to brag about it was a bit of an understatement. He was always doing something glamorous and fabulous. Whether it was seeing the Olympics in Los Angeles or writing words in the sand on the beaches of Nevis in the Caribbean, Ross was a magical mythical traveling unicorn. His travel stories were awesome. He made the best of everything and every experience was epic and incredible. Hell, he made Moscow, Idaho sound exotic.

It seemed so easy for him to travel. He had been all over Europe. I worked. I was envious of his portability. He gave me shit about my boat anchor cars. He had freedom and a passport. I had a job and a car payment.

“Emotions”

There had been a years-long gap since we’d written or talked to each other. I heard from a mutual friend who said Ross had not only HIV but full blown AIDS. I was trying to remember the timing of it all so I dug up some old journals – here are some notes:

2/6/85: Visit Ross in Moscow, ID

12/16/86: Ross called from France.

10/1/87: Ross called from New York last night. Seems a bit lost - it’s a big town. I love him and kinda wish we could do sex just once but know it would be disastrous.

8/28/88: Ross is in Glacier Park will be back in New York soon - he’s getting rather serious with some guy.

10/4/88: (Mutual friend) says Ross is thinking of me and that he came out to his parents and introduced his boyfriend to them. My God! I can’t wait to hear from him.

12/4/88: We talked for an hour and a half tonight - he did tell (his parents) he broke up with his boyfriend of one year, wants to move back on campus.

4/2/91: Ross has AIDS.

Oh my. Reviewing that journal was a bit jarring….I guess I had suppressed a lot of memories from that time. Funny how the mind works.

“The Promise of a New Day”

Around Labor Day of 1991 I was headed to Maui to work on a project for the Dr. Pepper Company. I had nothing to lose and time on my hands so I wrote a letter to Ross during the eight hour plane ride from DFW to Honolulu. I remember explaining how my roommate had been recently diagnosed with HIV and how I’d spent dozens of hours in lines at Parkland Hospital in Dallas, interpreting for Robert who was deaf and in a subsidized program to help fight his infection.

I babbled on to Ross about how I missed our friendship that blossomed during the spring of our senior year and how I felt like he’d stopped communicating with me because he feared I couldn’t handle the truth. In the last paragraph of that thirteen-page handwritten letter I finally got the guts to ask: “So, do you have AIDS?”

When I got back to town a week later there was a simple 4”x 6” white card waiting in my mailbox. It had a New York postmark on one side, and on the other, in handwriting I immediately recognized, was just one word: “Yes.”

Finally, the silence was broken.

Next thing we’re on the phone and in two minutes caught up on three years. We no longer had the luxury of time…Ross was on the clock and we knew we needed to be efficient. We agreed he would escape from New York for a visit to see me in the Southwest…sometime soon.

“End of the Road”

The last time I saw Ross was around Thanksgiving of 1992. As an expert traveler and one who knew how to do things on the cheap, he found a frequent flyer voucher for America West Airlines and caught a flight from New York to Phoenix. I met him at Sky Harbor – there he was looking like Mr. Clean with a shiny shaven head and carrying just a gym bag. He didn’t look sick at all.

He swam in my pool, met my boyfriend, and we talked about architecture and love and life, just like we did as high school kids in those months just before graduation. But this time, we were brutally honest. Even though we had all our clothes on, we were finally naked.

This trip was like a farewell tour. A mutual friend from Great Falls who had moved to Phoenix met us for lunch in Scottsdale. She brought a handsome young guy friend of hers who looked like a Greek god…he was tall and pretty enough to be a model, and he and Ross had an instant connection just like Margaret thought they would. As I looked at these two new friends interacting I couldn’t help but feel a bit of validation. That’s the type of person Ross should be with - someone exotic, not a regular guy like me. I knew my place and felt like I got verification that our status as “just friends” was just right. Ross went back to New York and I said goodbye for the last time.

“I Will Always Love You”

We knew the timer was ticking. And sure enough, in four months I got the call from a mutual friend who told me Ross had passed. I was so grateful to have reconnected with him, and I wanted to pay my respects by attending one of the two services that would be held. Since New York was a big unknown, I figured I would go to the funeral in our hometown. There was one big problem: money. Because I had just moved from Phoenix to San Francisco I was absolutely broke.

It was a sign from above when I got a commission payment weeks earlier than expected, and three days before the funeral I was able to fork-out over $1,500 for a last-minute flight from SFO to GTF on Delta Airlines. I remember going to the ticket office in downtown San Francisco, and because the dollar amount was so huge I had to pay with a cashier’s check.

I made the trek to Montana for the Great Falls funeral. You couldn’t fit one more human in that church – hundreds of people were in the house to pay respects for this kid whose life was stolen at the young age of 26. Ross would have been impressed by the massive turnout.

He had a fascination with numbers and numerology. We talked about that in those late night chats.

He died March 13th, 1993. I’m not really sure if it happened at 3:33 in the morning, but it would be just like Ross to have timed it that way, for dramatic effect. His favorite number was three. The international calling code for France is 33…well, that’s just a coincidence. Or is it?

I know one thing…. had I insisted on sleeping-in that windy morning on the third month of 1984 I would not have experienced what developed into a “best friendship” that ultimately changed my entire outlook on life. Thanks, Ross. I miss you man.

#loveyouRoss

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