#bagels ESPECIALLY cause he’s in nyc

[spideyhexx]

@vineridden and I talked about bucky’s favorite food being pancakes and I wanted to put that out there and ALSO say he’s a fiend for breakfast foods in general. He will only eat breakfast foods some days.

#bucky barnes #im open to hearing more #bucky thoughts #bagels ESPECIALLY cause he’s in nyc #omelettes #pastries #BREAKFAST POTATOES

[copias-thrall]

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his  casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

#mary goore #longfic #gender neutral insert #aurelio voltaire

[lilhawkeye3]

This Ohio discourse has got me dying to create discourse about every other state now hehe so I officially present:

Hawk’s review of 36/50 US states!

In alphabetical order because that fuckin song “50 nifty United States” has been stuck in my head since fourth grade.

Arizona: Phoenix is hot. Can’t believe y’all choose to live in a place that gets haboobs. Saw Sen. John McCain in the airport. I feel that sums up the state well. 4/10

California: as a resident of the state of Oregon, I’m legally required to say fuck California😌 unless anyone else talking shit about Cali and then we got your back😤 SoCal vs San Fran vs Northern Cal are totally different worlds though. 7/10

Colorado: damn idk how y’all breathe there, them air is thin. But really pretty out there! 7/10

Connecticut: oh my god fuck New Haven. And Stamford, and Hartford, and— Yknow what? Let’s just toss the whole state into the Sound. For real, traffic is the WORST here and I’m so sorry that y’all gotta live like that. 3/10

Delaware: I cannot believe this is considered a state. There’s no difference between Delaware and Maryland/Pennsylvania. 1/10 should not be a state

Florida: “the only hills in Florida are the highway ramps and the Matterhorn!” —the shuttle driver at Disney World. He was right. Shit is flat as fuck here. And hot. And humid. The Gulf Coast is nice? But tbh it’s just all very touristy which is kind of a bummer. 5/10

Georgia: ...I can’t with the humidity or thinly veiled racism. But y’all got nice peaches! Also Black Panther filmed there so thank you for blessing us with that. 6/10 for fruits

Hawaii: okay pineapple farms are cool. Tbh I just feel really bad for how much mainlander/tourist bs all the islanders put up with. Ik price of living is v high and keeps going up. That said I did love Hawaii... although I was stung by a jellyfish. Hate those little bastards. 8/10 for wonderful people and nature

Idaho: as an Oregonian I’m required to also say fuck Idaho 😝 you da hoes. Okay for real tho southern Idaho has become v white white and kinda scary tbh. The northern part of the state is pretty chill tho. Also Oreida kettle chips are partly made in Idaho so I gotta give you half credit for that. 4/10

Illinois: at least you’re not Indiana. 4/10.

Indiana: I never want to step foot in Gary, Indiana again in my life. (Passed a Mack truck hauling a race car to Indy 500 though so that was cool.) 2/10

Iowa: I almost moved here. I’m so glad I didn’t. Why are the Quad Cities actually a group of five towns? I hate that. Also the roads were all cement, felt like driving on a sidewalk. Was also interesting because the second we got out of the city proper, it was just... corn fields everywhere. 2/10 y’all raising children of the corn.

Kentucky: I really don’t have anything to say about Kentucky. I thought the trees were pretty? 5/10 yeah idk

Maine: my relative has totaled two cars by hitting moose in Maine. Maine scares me. Or rather, the moose do. Also the lobster roll hype is real. And the coast truly is beautiful. 8/10 but an extra point for the moose bc I hate that relative so 9/10

Maryland: oh god Baltimore. Also I’m blaming you for the DC traffic because it’s on the land you gifted them. 3/10

Massachusetts: Patriots fans are the worst NFL fans (the racism is real, especially after fans burned the jerseys of Black players who knelt for the anthem). Liking Dunkin’ Donuts is not a personality trait. The North End in Boston is truly the best place to get pizza in the entire country. Western Mass is not the same state. And the Cape Cod bridges give me nightmares. 5/10 but cause I had to pay taxes two years and it really is Taxachusetts, knocking it down to 4/10

Michigan: it’s a lot bigger than I initially thought. 5/10

Minnesota: it’s Canada but in the US. Pretty driving through the southern part. Cops suck tho. 5/10

Montana: okay Montana is downright gorgeous. (Except Billings. Sorry, Billings.) I must include a photo. I wanna get a cabin here and just exist. 8/10

New Hampshire: can’t decide if it hates Massachusetts or wants to be Massachusetts. All it knows is that it’s better than Vermont. Which... y’know, valid. (If you wanna see NH culture watch North Woods Law tbh). 4/10

New Jersey: why are there so many goddamn highways in this state? Also there are more places to weekend trip than the Shore or the Poconos. Although you do have people pump gas for you just like Oregon, so... that’s valid. Things my friends have added: Newark airport is cursed (valid), the jughandles are nightmares (true), pork roll/Taylor Ham is good and so are bagels and New Jersey pizza (allergic so idk), and everyone is split on whether the shore is actually decent or not 😂 I give it a 3.5/10 out of spite

New York: NYC is fun, Upstate is MASSIVE but really beautiful. Long Island is... yeah I don’t have anything nice to say about Long Island. 8/10 For NYC, 6/10 for Upstate, -2/10 for Long Island, gives us an average of 6/10

North Carolina: very good peaches. Isn’t South Carolina. Keep it up👍🏽 6/10

Ohio: I already told y’all how I feel about this flat ass boring state. I feel no need to slander it any more lmao. 3/10

Oregon: she flies with her own wings, mi amor🥰 to list all the reasons I like Oregon (and the issues too bc it ain’t perfect), I would need a whole other post. I’ll just leave you with this picture I took of Mt. Hood, the queen of our Cascades. 11/10

Pennsylvania: so apparently PN is three states hiding in a trench coat like NY. There’s upstate, philly and Pittsburg. Personally I think they’re just trying too hard and wanna get the same recognition as NY. Meh. 5/10

Rhode Island: THIS FUCKIN SHAM OF A STATE Just merge it with Connecticut and be done with it!! It’s tiny. Providence sucks. There’s nothing unique about this state that you can’t find in Southern Mass (except MA has cheaper taxes so y’all come to work and shop in MA anyways smh). Also the fingers are really annoying to drive down to get to some beach areas haha. 2/10 you’re barely better than Delaware.

South Carolina: my Black father was invited to a party celebrating General Robert E Lee’s birthday. So... 0/10

South Dakota: very gorgeous, didn’t realize the Missouri River went this far west, but VERY LARGE. I mean it looks big on a map but then you get there and... yeah. No speed limit on highways is a great time though. And the Badlands have mountain goats! 6/10 bc while pretty, living there seems really hard. (Picture is me in the Badlands).

Texas: gave us Juneteenth and Beyoncé and JJ Watts. Thank you Texas. But is very big, got independence from Mexico to keep slavery (yikes), is like 97% private land (yikes) and is like the second or third largest state. Very big. That said, everyone I’ve ever met from Texas is lovely. 6/10.

Utah: Other than Idaho, this is the whitest state I’ve been to. Or it feels that way. Like a, the people crossed to the other side of the street and held their bags because I’m brown, state. And I don’t ski so I can’t even say that’s a good thing (I fell off the ski lift the one time I went, long story). Yeah 0/10.

Vermont: wants to be New Hampshire or Canada and can’t decide which. So it’s just kinda there. Pretty hills though. 3/10

Virginia: let’s be real we all forget that Virginia exists west of Richmond. Nova is a beauracratic and traffic nightmare and half our neighbors had to pass security clearance checks. Hampton Roads and beach area is a tourist and mosquito nightmare. But there were dolphins and I made snowmen on the beach. Good times. 6.7/10

Washington: again, legally required as an Oregon resident to say fuck Washington because it’s all your fault we now are getting a toll on the I-5 border. But you’re better than California. And the Sound is really cool for fishing, love Wicked Tuna. And the fish market. Best salmon I’ve had. Eastern Washington... y’all got Spokane but the rest is kinda sparse. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 8/10

Wisconsin: cheese is actually good. Again, pretty state, much larger than I initially thought. 7/10

Wyoming: this was the ONLY STATE I lost cell service in when diriving cross country. Kinda surprised it wasn’t Montana, but no, it was Wyoming. Views are gorgeous though so I was distracted either way. 4/10

Thank you for joining me on this cross-country edition of Tea Time with Hawk. Please respond with any reactions, corrections, addendums about any and all of the states mentioned. And thank you for taking part in this wholesome Clone Wars fandom discourse with me 🥰💕

DISCLAIMER: THESE RATINGS ARE ALL A JOKE PLEASE DO NOT ACTUALLY GET MAD ABOUT IT

#ohio discourse #50 states reviews #oregon #midwest #california #texas #New York #massachusetts #deep south #midatlantic #New England #united states #the clone wars #DISCOURSE COMMENCE

[ochard-fics]

Bad Ideas - A Spider-man Story

Chapter Index: 1, 2, 3

Pronouns used: they/them

Genre: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, young love

Warnings: Mild parental abuse

Word count: 10.4k+

Summary: Though you moved across the country about half a year ago, you are still trying to find your footing in the strange streets of New York. On top of that, you are desperately trying to balance your demanding school life at Midtown School of Science and Technology, where you like everyone but you was much more talented and smarter than you could ever imagine to be. Among those students is the one whom you loathe the most: Peter Benjamin Parker, the boy who’s success both in school and in Stark Industries is constantly shoved in your face. The only person who helps you escape those troubles is Spider-man, the hero of Queens and your crush.

A/N: Hello friends! First I would like to apologize for the delay of the third chapter. Several personal issues kept pilling on during these past few weeks which made it difficult for me to get the motivation to write. Hopefully this won’t happen again, as I was planning on getting a chapter out every 2-3 weeks. With that all said, please enjoy this latest installment! Likes, reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated!

Chapter 3: Pride, Prejudice, and Boba

When MJ and Ned arrived at school the following day, they were completely unprepared for the pettiness their two best friends were about to display towards the other. Both you and Peter refused to acknowledge the other’s existence, and when there were moments in the day that your eyes met they only showed daggers. The tension was suffocating for MJ and Ned, who were trying their hardest to advert their friend’s anger but it was to no avail. The both of you were sure that they didn’t do anything wrong, and that the other is the one to blame for their childish attitude. At one point MJ and Ned just had to give up, and they just had to sit back and watch as you and Peter seethed at each other throughout the day.

On Friday you awoke, groggy and disgruntled. The alarm had interrupted your much needed rest as you were working until 12 a.m. Additionally, you received an email from Ms. Lee, asking that you meet up with Peter again for your tutoring session. The e-mail left a sour taste in your mouth, which you could still feel as you recalled the message whilst getting dressed. Hopefully, the taste could go away with a nice breakfast.

As you headed downstairs, you noticed that your dad was at the dining table by the window, drinking his black cup of coffee while typing away on his laptop. You don’t say anything as you make your way to the fridge, grabbing the tub of cream cheese then snatching a bagel from the bread box on the counter beside it. You began to fix yourself a cream cheese bagel sandwich when your dad spoke up,

“What did you get on your chemistry quiz?” The butter knife you were using to cut the bagel froze in your hand, and you felt the sense of dread weigh over your shoulders again.

“I don’t know,” you lie, resuming your bagel cutting. There is silence, though you could feel his gaze on you, hoping to catch you off guard. In the past, whenever you failed an exam, you would’ve done everything to avoid telling your parents your true grade. It wasn’t an honest tactic, but you feared the wrath of your father if he were to know about your grades. And when he did find out, you had to hide in your room while he yelled insults behind the door. Thankfully, because of your fight regarding your wish to be less dependent on him, it’s been easier to evade his interrogation. Well, almost. You heard him let out a low grumble.

“I was told by your mom that Peter Parker is going to tutor you,” he speaks, “Your councilor called her to let her know.” You continued with your silence and focused on spreading the cream cheese on the bagel in a haste. You knew where he was going with this, and you wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible. 

“It’s tragic that he has to be the one tutoring you,” he says with a sarcastic sigh, “If only you weren’t such a lazy brat it could’ve been the other way around. Yet you chose to waste your time fooling around when you should be studying to get to the top. I raised you better than that.” A lump formed in your throat and you tried to swallow it, despite the pain it caused. Instead of saying goodbye to him you instead grabbed the bagel and headed towards the front door, avoiding eye contact with him. When you grabbed your bag and headed out the door, you made sure to shut it with a slam.

 The school day came and went with nothing interesting happening, though you and Peter were still giving each other the cold shoulder treatment. The e-mail Ms. Lee sent was still on your mind, though you were hoping that Peter wouldn’t fall through with her demands. This was not the case, though. As you were grabbing your sketchbook from your locker after your last period of the day, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket and take it out only to find a text message from Peter. 

Meet me at the library. It read. This made you let out an obnoxiously haughty scoff. There was absolutely no way in hell that you were going to see that stupid boy’s face. You knew if you had to see him again the first thing you’d do was swing a fist as his dumb rectangular face. Then, an idea lit up in your mind, making you smirk mischievously. Why should you have to listen to him? All he did was cause you trouble, and you didn’t need any more of that today. So instead of heading towards the locker, you turn your heals towards the entrance of the school. Making sure to look around for any sign of Peter or Ms. Lee, you blended into the crowd of students pouring out of the school, and made your way towards the nearest subway station.

-

You trudged your way up the exit of the musty-smelling subway station, where you found yourself stepping into NYC’s colorful Chinatown district. This was one of your favorite places to go in Manhattan. Every time you come here (which was very often), you get mesmerized by the aroma from the restaurants, large, bright signs written in Cantonese or Mandarin, and the soundtrack of shop owners offering their wares to anyone passing by them. Despite your parents wanting to actively avoid the area, you absolutely loved it. Plus, it was the home of the best boba tea in NYC.

Weaving through the bustling market area, where sellers were shouting deals in their native tongues as well as English, you made your way to your favorite boba tea joint in the district. It was tucked into a small, secretive courtyard away from the craziness of the main street, where it was inhabited by humble mom-and-pop shops that were nestled under apartment buildings. Just as you entered the alleyway, your phone vibrated. Pulling it out of your green sweatshirt pocket, you saw another test message from Parker, though this one was much more passive-aggressive than the one he had sent you before. You rolled your eyes and angrily shoved your cracked phone back in the pocket, adamant about ignoring your responsibilities today. 

You finally made it to Hi-Tea, the boba shop that you have been frequenting ever since you moved to New York. It was a small hole-in-the-wall establishment that you had found on a whim while you and your mom were exploring Chinatown upon your first week arriving in the state. Your mom found the place tacky, but you thought that it’s pastel color palette was quite charming. The glass doors leading you into the shop would always be painted every week to promote the flavor of the week, which you thought was really smart on their end. You practically came here once a week, sometimes twice if you were having an especially bad day. So, because of your frequent visits, you became friendly towards the staff that worked there, in particular Grace and Frankie. 

Both of them were in college, though Grace was older than Frankie by a year. Grace was much more outgoing and bubbly than Frankie, who was more reserved and soft spoken. Though you were also pretty shy around strangers, especially college kids, your recurring presence and Grace’s naturally charming personality allowed you to warm up to the two young adults. To your pleasure, you saw from the store’s front window that both of them were occupying the shop today. You excitingly scamper to the door, where upon opening it, the petite golden bells tied to the top alerting the two employees of your presence. They turn to look up and when they both spot you, Grace breaks out into a smile.

“Hey there (Y/N)!” Grace cheerfully greets you as she’s adjusting her cat themed enamel pins on her pastel green apron, “It’s so good to see you! Are you here for your usual? Brown sugar bubble tea with oat milk?” Yeah, you knew that boba was called bubble tea here on the East coast, but because you were an arrogant Angeleno you still referred to the tasty tapioca balls as boba, much to the annoyance of your fellow MSST classmates. You scrunch up your face in thought comically and stroked your chin, earning a giggle from Grace. Upon briefly scanning the menu that was placed on the counter with your eyes, you say “Could I have a jasmine milk tea today?” 

“Of course!” she cheerfully exclaims. As she gets to placing your order, her expression changes as if something occurred to her. She looks up at you and asks,

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at work today?” 

“I can’t work on Fridays anymore,” you reply in a huff.

“Huh? Why not?” she asks, a curious expression upon her face. You began to tell her all that had happened the past few days; meeting with your counselor, her forcing you to be tutored by the one person you despise, and you getting into a very heated verbal fight with said person. Then you told her that because of the circumstances revolving around the tutoring, you were forced to cut your Friday work hours to accommodate to your councilors demands, much to your chagrin. Frankie, who was listening in on the conversation as he was cleaning up the drink assembly station, looks to you and asks,

 “Wait, then aren’t you supposed to be at school right now?” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but I decided, fuck it!” you cried and shrugged with raised arms, “I had a shitty past two days! I should treat myself!” Grace and Frankie look over at each other, exchanging expressions of concern and disapproval. 

“So,” Grace looks back at you, raising a brow, “you ditched your tutor?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t give a shit,” you reply, waving your hand dismissively, “It’s what he gets for being a prick.” 

“Still, don’t you think that’s kind of rude?” Frankie questions as he walks to the counter to join in on the conversation, “I mean, I know you guys fought, but can’t you come to some sort of truce?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Frankie’s absurd suggestion.

“Please, I’d rather jump off the Empire State than apologize to that shitbag,” you brashly say, rummaging through your backpack as you looked for your wallet, “No way would I say sorry to someone who constantly makes my life a living hell.” Grace and Frankie looked at each other, unsure of what to say. 

“But...what if he catches you ditching?” Grace asks as she looks back at you, dismayed. 

“There’s no way he can catch me,” you reply with a cheeky smirk, handing over the due amount for the boba to Winnie, “And even if he did, what’s he going to do? Drag me back to school?” To this you let out a short laugh, though Frankie and Grace didn’t seem to find this amusing. Frankie gives you one last judgemental look but says nothing, then goes to work on your order. Winnie opened her mouth to say something but then closed it, deciding it was pointless to get you to see the wrong in your doing. She takes the amount and gives you back the change, though you drop it in the tip jar for them. You moved to wait patiently by the pick-up section of the store, and in just about two minutes Frankie presented you with your drink. You took it excitingly and bid goodbye to the two young adults before heading back outside into the courtyard. A vibration from your phone rumbled in your jacket pocket, so you took it out again to see yet another text from penis Parker.

    Where are you? It read, You need to get here now or else. You narrowed your eyes at the text as you read it again, then let out a pretentious scoff. What the hell, was he trying to threaten you now? Little shit was getting a bit too confident! You shoved your phone back into your pocket and focused back on your chilled treat. Just as you were about to stab the plastic cover with the straw, something from above grabbed at the drink and yanked it right out of your hand. Bewildered, you looked at your hand then around your surroundings. 

“Shouldn’t you be at school right now?” a voice called out to you. You looked around until your eyes wandered up then widened. Spider-man was casually sitting on the edge of a fire escape, looking down at you with your boba tea in his hand

“You can’t drink that without the straw, you know,” you say loudly, holding up the straw. Suddenly, a web sling shoots at your hand and recoils back to its sender, who thanks you with a nod.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says, stabbing the top of your drink with the straw, “You’re supposed to be at school right now, right?” 

“N-no,” you said, looking away from him.

“Really?” he holds up your beverage and looks at it, “Because Delmar told me you moved your Friday shifts to Thursday since you had a study date with Peter Parker today.” Gosh damn Delmar and his blabbermouth, now you were caught in the act! You shoved your hands in your jacket pocket and continued to look at everything around you but him.

“Care to tell me why you’re near the Lower East Side instead?” he asks, looking down at you. His tone sounded much less playful than usual, making you feel uneasy.

“I-,” you were flustered, unsure of what excuse to come up with on the spot. Then, you looked up at him, brows furrowed and ask,

“W-why are you so concerned?”

“I’m concerned because you ditched someone, which, by the way, is a pretty shit thing to do.” he replies cooly. You then watch as he lifts his mask up to his nose and takes a sip of your drink. At this moment you realized that this was the first time you had ever seen any part of Spider-man unveiled. Though you wished that he wasn’t high up, as the angle made it a bit hard for you to see much of his features. “Mmm, is this jasmine tea? I like the aftertaste. Very floral.”

“Did you steal my boba so you could lecture me?” You loudly ask him and you put your hands on your hips. 

“Not necessarily,” he says with a shrug, taking another sip of your drink, “Though the bubble tea is a nice bonus treat.”

 “Why does my personal life concern you?” you said, crossing your arms, “This is between me and that dumbfuck. And that dumbfuck deserves to get his ass ditched.” 

“That ‘dumbfuck’ is willing to help you out,” he simply says, then takes another sip, “By the way, I think you’re being a little harsh with those insults of yours.”

“Not my fault I tell it like it is,” you snap back, “He’s just wasting my time and his! I don’t need his help, or anyone’s! Plus, he has no idea how to tutor anyone! You should’ve seen how irritable he was!”

“Well, it’s his first time tutoring, right?” he asks you, “Maybe you need to cut him some slack. He means well.” To this you let out a short, cynical laugh.

“So what? He’s supposed to be the smartest kid in our grade!” you cry “It isn’t rocket science; it should be easy for him! Just like everything else is!”

“Have you ever tutored someone before?” he inquires, looking down at you. You didn’t respond. Instead, you ask him,

“What’s your deal with defending him, anyway?” 

“Because you’re being unfair to someone who’s trying to help you,” he replies, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous claim.

“Help me?!” you shout out passively, “He does nothing but make my life miserable! I don’t want his help!”

“You need it whether you like it or not,” he says sternly, which you found was very out of character for him, “Just like that time I saved you from getting hit by that taxi.” The anger that was boiling inside of you was reaching its peak. All rational thoughts were replaced with the need to defend your ego. And when your ego got involved, it brought out the worst in you

“I didn’t ask for your help!” you spat back out of anger. 

“So what should I have done?!” he angrily shouts back, “Let you get killed?!”

“Maybe!” you roar back, your voice echoing within the courtyard. A heavy silence hung in the air, as the two of you glared at each other, a familiar setting to Wednesday. Your fists were clenched so tightly you could feel your shoulders strain. Finally, the masked hero lets out an irritated scoff.

“Fine, if you don’t like my help,” he stands up from the railing of the balcony, “Don’t ever expect it again.” You felt your heart drop into your stomach, regret immediately sweeping into your senses. You just fucked up big time. You wanted to shout back an apology, but before you could he shoots a web sling at a nearby building and begins to swing. You ran after him, calling out to him in anguish, but he was much too fast. Soon you found yourself back in the middle of Chinatown, desperately looking around for Spider-man as he disappeared into the city, leaving you guilt-ridden and ashamed.

    -

Misery plagued your emotions for the rest of your Friday through Sunday. All you could do was wallow in your sorrow over pissing off your crush. You couldn’t feel more humiliated!

You wondered, though if you were being as unreasonable as Spider-man claimed. Of course not! you think countering yourself. That little twerp always acts like he’s the best at everything and constantly rubs it in your face! Well, not literally, but it happens when he gets the highest exam scores, when he wins first prize at the school’s annual science fair, and when he boasts about how he’s working for Stark! Ugh, he just pisses you off!

It annoyed you how enamored your parents were by his success. Why couldn’t they set the bar lower, like comparing you to Flash! You’d at least beat him! But no, it’s always Peter. “If you studied harder, you’d be at the same level as Peter!”, “I bet Peter gets straight A’s in all of his classes!”, “You should pick a more practical major, like Peter!”. The constant praise they give him in contrast to the scolding you received only fueled your hatred for him. And Spider-man knew this! You had expressed your dismay with your classmate several times since you met him so it only made you more upset that he decided to defend Peter!

Yet you still felt guilty about snapping at him so harshly. Not only did you ruin your friendship with him, but all chance of finding out who his true identity was! Now you were never going to see him again! It took all the willpower you had in you to resist slamming your head against a wall. This regret was consuming you alive, so in order to relieve yourself of it, you turned to MJ for advice.

On Sunday you related to her the past two days as well as your emotional roller coaster while watching Pride and Prejudice through facetime together (the 2005 version, though MJ was very vocal about the historical inaccuracies of the costumes, but you didn’t care because Kiera Knightly was so damn good looking in this). She listened to you intently as she watched you explain everything, and as you wrapped up she leaned back onto her bed frame, taking all of this in.

“Well, that’s...something,” she finally says after a long pause, “You managed to piss off Spider-man...that’s pretty incredible.” 

“Now isn’t the time to be sarcastic, MJ!” you cry out as you hang your head in shame. MJ was the only person you had confined to about your friendship with the blue and red hero of Queens, as well as your harboring feelings for him. MJ teases you about it every now and then, but she overall has kept her word of secrecy on the matter, which you greatly appreciated. 

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she continues, “But I think he had a point about Peter. Listen, I love to poke fun at that little white boy, but you take it to a whole other level.” This makes you frown in response.

“He deserves it,” you mumble back, but just loud enough for her to hear. Now it was her turn to frown.

“Does he?” she asks you, “I can’t believe I’m taking his side, but Peter’s hasn’t done anything wrong. I think your jealousy is taking things out of context.”

“I’m not jealous of him!” you claim, “Why should I be!? I don’t want to be a stupid science nerd like him.”

“I’m a science nerd,” MJ points out, “So is Ned. Are we stupid?” 

“You’re different,” you retort back if a huff, “You’re cool and weird but in a good way.”

“As I should be,” she replies with a shrug, “But I still think that you have been a bit too hard on him. Which is kind of funny, because I remember that you had a crush on him.”

“T-That was in the beginning of the year!” you hastily quip back, feeling your cheeks flush up out of embarrassment, “That was before he started getting on my nerves!” It’s true, the first time you had met Peter, you were at a game shop with your mom buying a console. It was the first week since you moved from Los Angeles to Queens, and the both of you were still trying to navigate the city. To make you feel better about the move, your mom promised to buy you a console that had just been released which you had your eye on ever since it was announced. 

When you were in the game shop, you noticed him with Ned, who was accompanying him. The two of them were gushing over the release of a new Star Wars video game which had just been released recently. His smile was the first thing that attracted you. It really lit up his whole face so nicely that you couldn’t help but blush. Then you remembered the horror you felt when your overly extroverted mother approached them and started sparking up a conversation with them (her excuse was that they seemed to be about your age, which she wasn’t wrong about, but it seemed a bit unnecessary!). Peter then noticed you, awkwardly standing a few feet behind your mom with a bag of cupcakes that she had gotten from the city’s famous cupcake shop. He and Ned introduced themselves to you, and the kind smile he gave to you made your heart jump. 

The memory made you frown. Now you just felt embarrassed for having a crush on him. Yet again, you didn’t expect that you would be attending the same school, where you found out just how incredibly talented he was. It impressed you in the beginning, as soon as your parents got wind of the bright young boy with the Stark internship, it all blew up in your face. Watching you reminisce upon this, MJ asks you, 

“You sure you still don’t have a crush on him?” You answer with a profound and loud no, which MJ interprets as a good time to drop the subject. So decided to get back on track.

 “You’re going to hate me for suggesting this,” MJ says, then takes a bite at a pretzel stick from the bowl she had beside her, “But I think you should apologize to Peter.”

“WHAT?” you shout so loud that the crows in the tree out in the backyard were startled.

“Here me out,” MJ begins, her hands held up in defense, “You feel guilty about yelling at Spider-man, right?” You reply with a nod.

“Well, wasn’t the reason why he was upset with you was because you ditched Peter? Maybe if you apologize to Peter, Spider-man could forgive you.” 

“I don’t need to apologize to him!” you retort, crossing your arms in a huff.

“Even if you don’t want to, you should,” she replies, taking another bite of a pretzel stick, “It’s that or you never see your Spider-boyfriend again.” This makes you frown out of dissatisfaction, and you ask her,

“How would Spider-man even know that I apologized to him?!”

“Doesn’t Peter work at Stark? I remember him mentioning that he and Spider-man were buds. You could ask Peter if you could talk to Spider-man.” she answers. Though you doubted the possibility of this happening, MJ might not be wrong. If what she’s saying is true then that means if you apologized to Peter then you could make up with Spider-man! 

“How do I make up with Peter?” you ask her with a determined look on your face. MJ smirks in satisfaction, pleased to have gotten to you. She tells you,

“First you admit what a big dingus you’ve been towards him.” This makes your frown, much to the amusement of your friend. She continues,

“Then you should get to know him better, not as who you think he is, but for who he really is.” You frown in thought.

“Look at Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s relationship, for example,” she suggests, “At first she judges him based on her assumptions about him. She thinks he’s stuck up, cold, rude, and selfish, which leads her to probably one of the best roasts in literary history. Though it turns out that he’s just very socially awkward and that she was misled by false information about him.”

“What’chya getting at?” you ask her, suspicious of her ramblings

“Well, maybe like Elizabeth, you’re letting your pride misjudge Peter.” she proposes.

“Maybe my pride is correct.” you say firmly. 

“God, you are so stubborn!” MJ groans, “Do you want to see Spider-man or not?!” This makes you shut your mouth, and you allow her to continue.

“Okay,” she lets out a huff, “Whether you’re right or wrong, taking the time to get to know Peter will benefit you. You could learn a lot about him. And who knows? Maybe you can find out something about Spider-man, too?” This peaks your interest. Could she be right about that? You had no idea how close Spider-man and Peter were, but the tutoring lessons could be helpful in trying to use Peter to figure out who the masked hero was. It sounded sleazy, but it felt like good motivation to make up with him.

“Tomorrow, as soon as you get to school, talk to him privately and apologize to him,” she tells you, “And sound like you mean it, even if you don’t.” You let out a groan. It was annoying that you had to make up with him, but with MJ’s suggestion (and your grade on the line) you knew you were out of options. It was either suck it up and go with it or fail your classes and lose the potential freedom from your parents. As you and MJ continued to watch the movie, you could yourself ponder over your first feelings towards Peter again.

-

The next day at school you arrived early in order to locate Peter. The weather had chilled considerably, so today you dawned your red down coat that was perfect for the cool, overcast morning. You hustled yourself quickly to the lockers, hoping to catch Ned and Peter. Instead, you spotted Ms. Lee by your locker, staring down at you from across the hallway. His made you immediately stop you in your tracks, a cold sweat rushing throughout your body. She beckoned you to come towards her, to which you sheepishly complied. By the sour look on her face, you could tell you were in deep shit. She greets you with a cross-sounding “Good morning”, which you meekly wished her one as well. 

“Mr. Fill informed me that you didn’t show up to meet with Peter on Friday,” she tells you, “I was also told that you two also made quite the scene on Wednesday. Would you care to tell me what happened?”  You gulped. There was no way you could fabricate a response believable enough for her to take right now. She was visibly upset with you, and you could feel it weigh you down. The right thing to do was to tell the truth, but you were horrified by what would come out of that (see: your parent’s reaction). As you struggled to come up with a response, you didn’t notice that someone was approaching the two of you. 

“Hey (Y/N)!” a familiar voice called out to you. You turned about to see who it belonged to and were very shocked to see a cheery Peter Parker walking up to you.

“You left this at my place on Friday,” he hands you a blue spiral bound notebook, which you take with utter confusion. Ms. Lee shared your perplexed expression as well, looking at the teen boy with a raised brow. 

“Good morning Mr. Parker,” she greets him, regaining her authoritative aura, “I was just asking (Y/N) about your study session on Friday. Mr. Fill told me that while you were at the library on Friday, (Y/N) was nowhere to be seen. Did this have something to do with your bickering on Wednesday?” You looked over at Peter, wide-eyed with terror at what he would say. Knowing him, he was probably going to use this to his advantage and throw you under the bus-

“Oh, right!” he snaps his fingers as if he remembered something, then turns to Ms. Lee, “(Y/N) texted me the day before and said that the library was too distracting for them. So we agreed that we would study at my place from now on. For some reason I forgot about that and was waiting for them until I remembered! It’s my bad, Ms. Lee.”

…Huh?   

There was no way you were hearing this right now. Was Peter covering for you? Was this a prank? It had to be, right?! You sneaked a pinch on yourself and surely enough, this was all happening in real time. While you were busy being confused by your current reality, Ms. Lee and Peter continued conversing.

“I see,” she says, though she sounded suspicious, “And I presume you two made up?” 

“Of course!” he replies gleefully, giving you a nudge to help him sell the lie. You snap out of your confusion and give her a hasty nod.

“Well, I’m glad you were able to work things out,” she says with a pleased smile, then turns to you, “I do think it’s better for you to work in a more personal setting than a public one. And if it works, then who am I to complain.” She then bids you two a good day, where you and Peter both watch her walk down the hall. Just as she was out of earshot, you decided that this would be the perfect chance to apologize to him. 

“Peter,” you quickly turned to him, “I-”

“Meet me at the football bleachers during break,” he cuts you off coolly, still looking towards the hall, “We need to talk.” The first warning bell chimes throughout the school, and the hall begins to bustle with high schoolers desperate to make it to their first period on time. So he leaves you alone, perplexed with all that just occurred and anxious for what’s to come during break.

-

As soon as biology wrapped up, you sprinted past some students towards MSST’s football field. The chilled air hit you as soon as you opened the doors to the field , tickling your cheeks. You jogged across the football field, where students were spending their break tossing playing catch, jogging around the field, or just sitting on the grass and chatting. Halfway into your jog you spotted Peter, who was sitting in the mid-section of the bleachers. You hurried yourself towards his direction quickly, the anticipation clenching your stomach. He notices you and gives you a surprised look. 

Guess he didn’t expect me to show up, you think to yourself as you trudge up the metal bleachers. You finally reached him and sat beside him (leaving space between the two of you, of course) in a huff. There was silence at first, besides the sounds of the schoolyard. You wondered if you should speak up first, but for some reason you couldn’t think of anything to say. The cold air made you shove your hands in your pockets, and you look towards him, where he continued to look out to the field, a very serious expression plastered across his face. This was the first time you had ever seen the awkwardly goofy Peter Parker look so stern, and though you would usually find pleasure in seeing him so pissed, it actually scared you a little. After what felt like an eternity, Peter finally spoke up,

“You have a real shit attitude, you know.” The cool bluntness takes you by surprise. In all of the months you have bullied Peter, this was the first time he has ever cussed at you. You wondered how long he’s been waiting to do that. He exhales a long, controlled breath and continues to talk,

“I would love to know what I did for you to hate me so much. Because last time I checked, I’ve been nothing but nice to you since you moved here. Was it something I said? Something I did?!” He turns to you, his glare piercing through your soul as he waits for a response. You opened your mouth, but words evaded you. For the first time Peter has left you speechless. The cockiness you usually had towards him was nowhere to be found. No snarky comeback, no rolling of the eyes, all you could do was gape at him. Peter, seeing that you weren’t answering, turns back to look at the field and continue speaking,

“I’ll be honest, I don’t think this is going to work out. Us working together. I’m going to talk to Ms. Lee and see if she can set you up with someone else.” Shit, this wasn’t good! You were going to lose your chance at apologizing to Spider-man! You had to do something, quick!

“No!” you reply with a shout, grabbing his arm out of impulse. The shout was a little too loud as it echoes throughout the field, catching the attention of everyone there. He looks at you, startled by both the shout and the grip. Noticing the eyes turned to you and Peter, a blush flushing your cheeks. You immediately retreat your hand as students went back to minding their own business, then take a breath to control yourself. 

 “I-I mean,” you looked at him, sheepishly. Come on, (Y/N), it’s now or never!

“I’m sorry.” you say.

To say Peter was shocked was an understatement. He gave you the most puzzled you have ever seen anyone give you, and who could blame him? An apology from you wasn’t what he was expecting from you. He thought the most you would do was scoff and walk away, unbothered, so now he was caught off guard.

“I’m sorry for being such a huge asshole on Wednesday” you continue, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes, “And for ditching you on Friday. It was uncalled for. I should’ve talked to you instead of ignoring you.” 

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat, “I still want to work with you. Please forgive me.” There was silence yet again, and you could see that Peter was still processing your apology. You look at him, concerned and wondering if he was malfunctioning because he hadn’t said a word. He finally lets out an exhale, and you felt relieved that you hadn’t short circuited him. Finally, he says,

“Okay, I forgive you.” he says. You blink in surprise.

“What?” you say.

“I forgive you,” he repeats, amused by your reaction. Though today was just full of unexpected surprises, you felt a sense of relief from his words. However, a sense of guilt sat in your stomach, remembering that you were doing this for your own personal gain. 

As long as he doesn’t find out, you have nothing to worry about, you convince yourself, though the feeling didn’t go away. 

“Though if we’re going to continue working together, I suggest we make my lie a reality.” he says.

“What do you mean?” you ask him quizzically.

“I mean that you actually come over and study at my place.” he says. You widen your eyes in surprise. Was he being serious?! It was impressive that he wanted to be so committed to his fabricated tale, but didn’t this seem like a little much? 

“A-are you sure?” you ask, perplexed by the idea. He nods.

“I am,” he says, “My aunt wouldn’t mind. She likes the company, anyway.” You take a minute to think this through. Going to Peter’s place would mean you were going to spend much more time with him, considering the travel time from Midtown to Queens. And there would be no doubt that Flash would catch you two together and relentlessly tease you for being with his rival. However, being at his place means that you could get one step closer to finding out more about Spider-man. This was an opportunity you couldn’t refuse. You decided to take up his proposal.

“I’m in.” you finally tell him.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing his hands, “Because if Ms. Lee found out I lied to her we’re dead meat.”  

“Let’s shake on it,” you tell him, then hold your hand out towards him. You wait for him to take it, but instead he says,

“I want you to promise that you’re not going to ditch me again,” he says, “I’m doing this to help you pass.” This pinches you in the gut. The guilt you had felt before returned, making you second guess the sincerity of your actions. Why is he taking this so seriously, you wondered, does he really care about whether or not you pass? What benefit is he getting out of this. You didn’t have time to ponder this, so you shook off the thoughts and sincerely say,

“I promise.” Peter watches you, looking for any signs of feigning, but you held yourself up long enough for him to finally take your hand. You give each other a firm shake, settling on your agreement. As you pull your hands away from each other, you remember something.

“Oh, I should give this back to you.” you say to him as you grab your backpack. He watches as you rummage through it, your eyes lighting up when you finally locate it. You pull out the blue spiral-bound notebook he had given you in the morning. 

“I think you’ll need this,” you say, holding out the notebook to him.

“Oh, thanks, I need this,” he says, taking it from your hands, “U-um, so do you want to meet up Wednesday after school?” 

“Sure.” you say, giving him an awkward smile, to which he returns. Good, now your plan can kick off. All you had to do now was get through studying with Peter. Maybe MJ is right, it might not be all that bad. As the bell rang the two of you headed to your next class together, though the both of you were unaware that a folded slip of paper from Peter’s notebook was not sitting at the bottom of your backpack.

-

On Wednesday, you were waiting at the school’s front gate, as you promised. The chilled weather made you bury yourself into your coat, and you just hoped Peter would get out soon. He told you via text that he had to grab something from the chemistry room, and though you offered to wait for him by the classroom he insisted you waited for him outside. Watching students pass by, you began to wonder about Peter’s aunt. You had never seen her before, but MJ told you that she was very pretty and was very protective of her nephew. You then realized that Peter has definitely talked to her about you, and now you were beginning to grow anxious. You wouldn’t blame her for wanting to take you down for being a shithead to her nephew, but you obviously didn’t want to deal with her wrath. You could only hope that she wouldn’t be at home so you could be spared.

A tap on your shoulder breaks you from your thoughts and you look to see who touched you, only to be facing Peter.

“Ready to head out?” he asks you, motioning his head towards the closest subway station entrance. You nod, so the two of you begin to make your way towards Queens.

The two of you didn’t talk as you headed down to the subway station, and upon entering the car you grimaced over how it was practically full of people. The next train wouldn’t be until twenty minutes though, so the both of you squeezed your way into the crowd. The both of you were practically shoulder to shoulder, with you gripping the nearest stabilizing pole and Peter keeping himself up with the rail above him. Being so close to him made you feel so uncomfortable from the awkwardness, and you tried your best to avoid eye contact with him as you guys rode. That would only last so long, though. Halfway through the ride you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Foolishly, you let go of the pole to retrieve it, but you didn’t realize that you were reaching another stop. The cart began to halt, the force of it all making you lose your footing. You tried to re-stabilize yourself but you felt your body fall backward, making you let out a scared yelp. Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your waist, stopping you from falling on top of the surrounding passengers. You turn and see it was Peter who had caught you. He pulls you back up and tugs you near him, making you even closer to him than before. 

“Are you okay?” he asks you, sounding genuinely concerned. Still dazed from the catch, you nod back and straighten yourself up. You realized that this is the closest you have ever been to Peter, and he seemed to recognize this revelation two and the two of you were stuck in this position for what felt like eternity. He suddenly realizes that he’s still got his arm around your waist, and he immediately retracts it, and you noticed that his cheeks were a slight tint of pink. You took a small step away from him to grab the pole again, and for the remainder of the ride the two of you avoided eye contact.

Soon the stop to Queens approached, and the two of you hopped out of the train car. You followed Peter closely as he navigated through the bustling Queens and eventually got to his apartment complex. Like all the buildings in the area, it was much smaller in size compared to the giants in Manhattan (though you didn’t mind; tall buildings weren’t your favorite thing). After he buzzed in, he let you inside of the complex, and like a duckling you followed him up two flights of stairs and into the second story hallway. Soon you were watching him as he approached a eggshell-\colored door with the numbers 205 plated in bronze above the peephole. He grabs his keys and puts them into the worn door handle, and with a twist and a click he pushes the door open and enters his apartment, where you slowly but carefully enter in suit.

While taking off your shoes you gazed around the space, which was small but it didn’t feel cramped. Peter leads you to the dining area, which was connected to both the kitchen and the living room. Upon the table were several papers and letters, to which Peter apologizes for and quickly gathers up the mess to make space for both of your study materials. Once it was clear of it’s chaos, you slink yourself into the bench situating your bag to left as he sits himself on the right side of the table.

“My aunt May told me she’ll be working late today, so don’t worry about any distractions,” he tells you, pulling his backpack beside him. This makes you internally exhale in relief. He goes into good host mode, offering you snacks and water but you declined it politely since you felt weirded out by your rival trying to be nice to you. The both of you shift uncomfortably in your seats, waiting for the other to speak up so the tension could be broken. Peter, always trying his best, decides to start,

“O-okay! Let’s get started! Um…” He looks at you as he begins to fiddle with his hands nervously, “We can work on inter-molecular forces! Or maybe we should go back to the basics and review atoms and ions? O-or look over the periodic table?”  You could tell by his body language that he was trying to be careful with your words, considering how you reacted last time. Though you were slightly amused by how hard he was trying, it did make you feel a bit bad for your reaction last week. You were starting to reconsider what Spider-man had said. You realized that you should probably respond before he throws out more suggestions, so you say, 

“Can we work on the quiz from last week? I mean, we got it back today, so maybe it’ll be good to look over it.” Peter was quite surprised by your input, and immediately you feared that you had said something wrong. Expecting to receive some sort of snarky comment, you were amazed when he smiles and agrees,

“Y-yeah! S-sounds good!”

It was quite embarrassing for you to see him look at the 19% grade that was scribbled in bright red on your quiz, while he gloated a proud 100%. Without thinking you made a stank face, until Peter pointed it out while he was looking over your quiz answers. You immediately dropped it, feeling embarrassed at getting caught, though you could help but stare at his perfect grade. For you, it was rare to see those triple digits on your assignments and tests, and when you were gifted with that lucky gem you felt invincible. Is that what Peter feels whenever he gets his scores back, or is it so common for him that he just shrugs it off? Before you could sink into your thoughts even more, Peter flips the quiz back to the front page and looks up at you.

“You didn’t finish the quiz?” he asks you, a brow raised, “Did something happen?” Immediately you felt ashamed, but you tried to hold your ground, not wanting to expose it to Peter. Instead, you say with attitude,

“Why’s that a problem? I just didn’t finish it. Happens to the best of us.” Peter gives you a look, not being fooled by your act.

“Did you run out of time?” he asks you. You didn’t respond, but instead looked away from him, which gave him confirmation.

“I noticed you got stuck on question three, and I get it, I had a though time with that one, too.” he tells you, looking back at the question.

“Don’t try to humble yourself.” you quip back.

“I’m not!” he cries, “Really!” You look at him as you’re not convinced, making Peter sigh in defeat.

“Look, why don’t we just go over this question and the ones you didn’t answer? Then I can get a better read on what’s troubling you with this subject.” You made a small groan, but reluctantly agreed to the proposal, and for the next two hours the two of you went through the quiz. Unlike last time, where he was just talking you ear off, Peter instructed you to write down notes and even re-do the questions, which actually turned out to be much more helpful to you. A few times Peter had to coax questions out of you, which was probably the hardest thing for you to do since you feared ridicule over what you asked. However, Peter didn’t find them ridiculous at all, and would even provide a simpler, straight to the point answer that was much easier to comprehend than Mr. Cobwell’s complex ones. After what felt like forever, the both of you were beginning to exhibit signs of burnout. Peter caught onto this after he watched you stare at your notebook in a daze.

“Let’s call it a day,” he suggests, stretching his arms out to relieve the tension built in them.

“Yes, please,” you mumble, blinking hard as your eyes were tiring out, “I think my brain is going to fry up if I look at another molecular equation.” While you were packing your stuff up, you looked out the window beside you and noticed that it’s already getting dark outside. You wondered if you’ll be back home in time for dinner. Not that you were anticipating it, anyway. The sound of keys being inserted into the apartment alarm the two of you. You and Peter look at the door, which opens to reveal a very beautiful middle aged woman, and you could help but gape at her aura.   

“Hiya Pete!” she happily exclaims as she takes off her jacket and hands it up on the hooks next to the door, “So sorry for being late, the manager had me sweep before I clocked out.” Realization hits you like a brick. She’s Peter's aunt?! Well, MJ wasn’t wrong about her looks, but you were not expecting her to be this attractive. It seems like she could feel your eyes on her, because she immediately takes notice of you.

“Pete, who is this?” she asks, pointing to you. You feel your body freeze, remembering that you were most likely going to meet your maker when she finds out who you are.

 “Oh, this is (Y/N),” Peter says, pointing his thumb to you, “The classmate I’m tutoring, remember? They moved from California last summer?” Out of fear you forced yourself to stand up straight and gave her a small, shy wave.    

“I-it’s nice to meet you, M-ms. Parker!” you stutter sheepishly. May took a second to remember your name, and when she recognizes her eyes light up in surprise. She looks over at you, then to Peter. May raises her brows at Peter as asks him,

“Are they…?” To which Peter nods in response. You watched anxiously  have their silent conversation, trying to decipher what on earth they were talking about. Was it about the bullying? Crud, you were going to be in deep shit! You glanced at the door, thinking that you should just book it, until May’s expression melts and is replaced with a bright, welcoming smile.

“Oh! You’re (Y/N)!” his aunt exclaimed with delight, then immediately makes a b line up to you, “You’re the one that works at Delmar’s, right?! Peter has told me so much about you!” 

“R-really?!” you expressed with confusion.

“Oh don’t worry, nothing bad,” she assures you, waving her hand dismissively, “Actually, quite the opposite!” This makes you turn to Peter, where you give him the most perplexed look you could give a person. Did Peter not tell his aunt about how you’ve treated him? If not, why would he withhold this information from her? Peter reads your expression, but instead of saying anything he looks the other way and rubs the back of his neck. Okay, you needed to ask him about this another time.  

“I was just about to invite Peter out for some Thai food!” she tells you, “Would you like to come with us?” Though you were flattered by the invitation, you felt like it wouldn’t be a good idea to tag along, so you say

“I think I should head home. I don’t want to overstay my wel-'' Before you could finish, an incredibly loud gargle emitted from your stomach. You blushed, horrified and betrayed by your own stomach, as Peter stifled a laugh. You give him a glare, making him shut up, which May finds very amusing. 

-

It seems like every other day the world kept challenging your expectations. 

Who would’ve guessed that you would be spending your Wednesday evening dining with your rival and his aunt at their favorite Thai restaurant located five minutes away from them? MJ was going to have a field day when you tell her this tomorrow. Well, at least this was better than eating at home, you thought to yourself. You and Peter were seated beside each other, while his aunt sat across from her nephew. The three of you were helping yourselves with servings of the sour and spicy tom yum soup, the sweet but flaming yellow curry, and juicy larb lettuce wraps (Peter’s favorite, or so his aunt claims). 

“I’m so glad your mother agreed to let me take you out for dinner, dear,” May says with a smile, “I can finally get to know you a little better!” 

“U-um, yeah. I’m kind of surprised she let me come.” you admit to her, then take a sip of your serving of soup.

“Why is that?” she asks you. It would be awkward to admit to her that you kind of expected your mom to make you come home to eat, which would have saved you from this very odd situation you got yourself into. On the other hand, it did save you from having to spend dinner with your parents. It was a strange blessing in disguise.

“My mom is usually strict about me going out with people she hasn’t met before.” you tell her, which was true. Your mom has always been adamant about meeting people you hang out with, though you usually tried to avoid such as she is pretty judgemental about other people. Thankfully, you have been able to save MJ from her unfair shrewdness. It also explains why you never mentioned to her about your acquaintance with Spider-man, as you knew she’d have a handful of shit to say about him. To you, the more you had your parents out of your personal life, the more at peace you were. 

“I can understand why,” May says after she swallows her bite of yellow curry, “Especially since you guys are still new to the area. New York is full of wacky characters, after all. Wouldn’t want you to get mixed up with the wrong kinds of people.” You take a glance at Peter, who hasn’t said much during the conversation, instead carefully watching the two of you as he munches down some larb. 

“So Peter told me you work at Delmar’s,” she says, “Why is someone as young as you working for him? Especially during junior year?” 

“Oh, I wanted to earn some extra cash,” you explain to her, “I want to be more financially independent, you know? So I was looking at other service and retail jobs, however the ones that had openings were full time or had a strict part time arrangement, which wouldn’t work out for school. But Delmar was nice enough to be compliant with my school schedule, so he took me in.” 

“Wow, lucky you!” she exclaims with a smile, “Then you must like working there, huh?” 

“I mean, it’s a bit boring at times, but it has its perks.” you tell, thinking about a certain someone. This makes your heart heavy again, making you look down at your food. 

“Has Delmar told you about what happened to that place last year?” she asks you.

“Oh, you mean the explosion caused by those bank robbers?” you say, perking your head up, “Yeah, he mentions it every once in a while. He always talks about how Spider-man saved him and Murph from the wreckage.” 

“Really?” May asks, an amused smile creeping upon her face as she looks over at Peter, who you noticed had froze up mid-bite.

“Yeah,” you say, raising your brow at your classmate’s odd behavior. You turn back to her and tell her, “Actually, Spider-man was one of the reasons I got hired by Delmar.”

“Is that so?” she asks with a delighted tone, her eyes watching her nephew as his eyes shift from her to you. This was just like their weird silent conversation at the apartment! Were they always like this? Maybe this is where Peter gets his uncanny behavior from. You had to pretend to not be bothered by it, so you continue,

“Yeah...he actually introduced me to Delmar a few weeks into my move. I was trying to get to know the Queens area a little more so I took the bus to this area. However about two hours into exploring I got completely lost, and on top of that I had left my house in a rush so I didn’t check how much battery life my phone had, so it had died. I tried to ask around for help but no one bothered, and I pretty much thought I was screwed.” You paused for a moment, feeling like you were saying too much, only to notice d that Peter and May were listening to you intently. Realizing you could continue, you say,

“But by sheer luck, Spider-man was in the area, and he found me by chance. I told him my situation and he offered to take me to a bodega that was selling portable chargers, and since he was the only other person I knew at the time I went with him. And that bodega was Delmar’s! He introduced me to him, and told him about my situation. Since Delmar was such a fan of Spider-man, he actually allowed me to charge my phone in the outlet behind the counter, but I didn’t have a charging cable so Spider-man offered to pay for one. 

“While I was waiting for my phone to charge Delmar was telling Spider-man that he was looking for a part-time employee, as his son who used to help him out was off to college in New Jersey. I mentioned that I was looking for work, but Delmar was hesitant about taking me in. For some reason Spider-man vouched for me, and because Delmar is a Spider-man fanboy he agreed to consider me. Next week I got a call from Delmar asking if I’d like to take on the job and I said yes.”

As you wrap up your tale, May was still watching you, seemingly fascinated by it. Peter, on the other hand, had resumed eating, but his expression had changed into a serious one.    

“Now that I think about it, I never paid him back for the charger,” you say without thinking. 

“Well, Pete here knows Spider-man,” May informs you, making Peter choke on the larb he was currently chewing on. 

“Y-yes, I am aware of this,” you say with a forced smile, “Everyone in our school knows about that.”

“Well, maybe Peter can help you out with paying him back, if you want,” she suggests. This makes your eyes perk up in hope. Maybe your initial mission will be finished sooner than you thought! You were just about to express your willingness for this, but Peter jumps into the conversation,

“I-I think Spider-man doesn’t care if you paid him back or not,” he says, still recovering from his sudden choking, “He was just happy to help you out. A-also he’s been really busy lately, so it’s been hard for me to get into contact with him.” Damn it! You hiss internally. You try your best to hide your disappointment, but May seemed to have caught onto it.

“Well, maybe next time you run into him!” May reassures you, but you highly doubt this. For a moment you thought you were going to be ten steps ahead, and now you felt like you were all the way back to the start. For the remainder of dinner, May carried on with talking, while both you and Peter continued to silently eat your food.  

-

 After the three of you finished up dinner, May offered that she drive you home, but you politely declined and said that you’d just walk to your bus stop. So then she offered that her and Peter escort you to your stop and see you off safely. Once all of you reached it, you turned to her and Peter, pulling your backpack strap higher to your shoulder and said,

“Thank you for taking me out for dinner. And for walking me here. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, no problem, dear!” May exclaims as she takes your hand and clasps it between hers, “I’m just so happy I finally got to meet you!” You give her a shy smile, still taken aback by her kindness but appreciative of it. You turn to Peter, who met your eyes as he was fiddling with his hands uncomfortably.

“Um…thanks for today,” you say to him, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“U-uh, yeah,” he nods, “Get home safely.” You nod in response, and luckily just in time your bus pulls into the stop, freeing you from this delicate air.

“Please text Peter when you are home, okay dear?” May asks you as you make your way to the bus. 

“I will, ma’am!” you assure her, and then hop onto the vehicle, making yourself comfortable as you head for home. As May and Peter watch your bus drive off, she comments,

“(Y/N) is just how you described them to me. Definitely a shy clam, but they seem like a good kid.”

“Yeah.” Peter responds, his eyes still watching the bus disappear into traffic.

“Are you ever going to tell them?” she asks, looking down at her nephew

“I don’t know,”    he admits, frowning, “Honestly, I’m afraid of what will happen when they find out.”

----

Grace is based off of Chinese pop idol FeiFei Zhong

Frankie is based off of American actor Ian Alexander

#peter parker X reader #peter parker reader insert #spider-man x reader #spider-man reader insert #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #spiderverse #spider-man fics #tom holland #peter parker x y/n #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #bad ideas fic

[unbealevable]

IF MY BODY HAD A SAY, I WOULDN’T TURN AWAY ➝ BECHLOE.

TAGGING ➝ Chloe Beale, Beca Mitchell.

LOCATION ➝ Apartment, Prospect Park, dance studio, apartment again.

TIME FRAME ➝ 2/14, afternoon onward.

WARNINGS ➝ None.

NOTES ➝ Beca and Chloe spend a not at all gay Valentine’s Day together. Emotional!Beca. Sad!Chloe. Exotic Dancer!Chloe. Super platonic napping together!Bechloe.

BECA MITCHELL

Beca shuffled through the apartment door around noon on Sunday as she normally did after Jesse weekend visits--clutching a cardboard cup carrier with 3 large coffees and a bag of bagels with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. She felt bad leaving Chloe for two nights with the kittens alone, but she couldn’t just leave Jesse to himself after he spent money on airfare for what turned out to be a very different, way more permanent weekend visit. 

Her mind spun after he’d broken the news to her during their Friday night date, and she’d sort of been dissociating throughout the rest of the weekend, lost in a fog in his shoebox apartment he was super proud of. Having Jesse living in NYC would completely change a long distance dynamic she’d grown used to and comfortable with for the past two years. They could see each other all the time. Hell, she’d probably be expected to move in with him. 

And yet… as she closed the door behind her and lay eyes on Chloe, her heart cracked in her chest. She didn’t want to leave their tiny, shitty apartment. She didn’t want to leave Chloe. And what that meant… Beca wasn’t sure she was ready to face that, even though Jesse put her in a position now to face the music. 

“Hey, Dr. B,” she greeted with a smile that pulled a bit strained at the edges, setting her bag down before extending the coffee cup to Chloe. Then she shrugged off her coat, unwound her scarf, and peeled off her slouchy beanie, hanging them all up on the coat rack by the door. “How’re you doing? Get enough sleep? I’ll take over kitten duty today so you can take a really long nap if you need one.”

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe really didn’t know exactly what it was about Jesse that she didn’t like. He was fine, he was a nice guy, and he obviously made Beca happy enough, considering how long they’d been together. He had never done anything wrong to her, but she just...didn’t like him. So, weekends like this one, with Beca out of the apartment and spending time alone with Jesse always dampened Chloe’s mood, even if she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

Fortunately, she had the kittens this weekend to keep her busy, and they certainly did a good job at that. Even sleeping, which was something Chloe always found incredibly hard without Beca beside her these days, came a little more easily to her, since she was so exhausted. But Chloe didn’t mind; she liked having somebody to care for, five little kittens who needed her, so she wasn’t complaining.

By the time Beca returned, Chloe was sure that exhaustion was written clear as day all over her tired face, but she still pushed a bright grin to her lips, eyes shining as they shot to the coffee cups. She was busy by the sink, cleaning the milk syringes while the kittens slept, but paused to float across the room, eager to accept a drink.

“Hi!” Making grabby hands at the coffee cup, Chloe pulled it tightly to her chest, letting out a contented hum at the very smell. She eyed Beca as she finally took a sip, head shaking in response. “No, it’s okay. It was a good weekend, they all ate a lot and did a bunch of sleeping. Their eyes all open now. I mean, they don’t really stay all the way open, but they’re getting better at it.” Chloe smiled triumphantly. “I’m teaching tonight, though. So are you going to be okay with them for a couple hours then?”

BECA MITCHELL

Cheeks still flushed from her long walk through the cold, Beca carried her large coffee to Chloe’s side of the bed and sat down, grinning at the kittens. “Hey, little goblins! I missed you guys!” She reached into their makeshift bed and stroked their fur, gasping in an over dramatic fashion. “Whaaat? No way! You guys are all opening your eyes? Even you, Purple Princess? And I missed it?? I’ll forgive you but that’s amazing!” 

Her head turned back toward Chloe when she mentioned she was teaching tonight, nodding. “Yeah, no sweat. I’ll even make dinner, too. Any requests?”

CHLOE BEALE

Despite the fact that she was around animal lovers all day at both school and her internship, all people who fawned over them and spoke in baby voices whenever they so much as saw an animal, Chloe was almost positive she was never going to not smile at the way Beca acted around the kittens. There was just something overly adorable about her scrappy best friend turning into mush, it made Chloe’s heart flutter.

Plopping down onto Beca’s side of the bed, Chloe laid back against the pillows, resting her drink on her stomach with her fingers wrapped around the cup. “You spoil me,” she teased, glancing toward the ceiling. “I don’t know yet, I’ll think about it.” Mostly to be polite, she added with a small hum, “How was your weekend?”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca had always complained about their apartment, but it had become home in the way the Bellas' house had back at Barden. Not necessarily because of the space itself, but because of her roommates. Her best friends. The thought of leaving someday soon to move in with Jesse… it should’ve been exciting, but it wasn’t.

She carefully scooped up her little Green guy, twisting to lie on Chloe’s pillow in a half-reclining position. Setting the coffee aside, she situated the baby kitten atop her chest (higher up, so as to not brush against her still sore nips). “Good,” she said with a slight shrug. It was easier to keep her focus on the kitten, carding her fingers through his fuzzy fur atop his head. “Jesse moved here.” Saying it aloud made it more real, and anxiety surged in her gut. She knew she should’ve smiled or something, but she remained weirdly emotionally distant instead. Like she was keeping that packaged and set aside to maybe poke at and pick through later. 

CHLOE BEALE

Jesse moved here.

For some reason, Chloe’s heart dropped.

It wasn’t a bad thing—it would be awesome for both Beca and Jesse; Chloe had always thought long distance must suck, so she knew she should be happy for them. It didn’t take a genius, however, to figure out what Beca’s long-term boyfriend moving to their city would mean. She’d known that this wouldn’t be forever, this cramped set up in their tiny apartment with their shared pull-out bed, but the thought didn’t make Chloe any less sad.

She had no right to be, though, so instead of saying so, she tilted her head to glance up at Beca. “Oh?” she questioned, offering Beca the most sincere smile she could manage. “That’s really exciting, Bec.” So why didn’t Beca seem excited? Chloe studied her expression for a moment, before adding softly, “Right?”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca had always been a shitty liar. She had no poker face and she knew it. Especially around someone like Chloe, who could read her better than she could read herself. So she knew her smile pulled more like a wince, strained at its edges and completely unconvincing. She didn’t bother meeting Chloe’s eyes, knowing she’d see the swirling conflicting emotions there--sadness, worry, fear. Guilt. So much guilt.

“Yeah, it’s exciting. I had no idea he was planning this, but…” She puffed out a chuckle more strained than her smile, her laughter ringing hollow. “He’s all about the grand romantic movie-type surprises. What a nerd, right?” 

CHLOE BEALE

Maybe it was just because Chloe had never had something like this before. After high school, she’d never had a serious boyfriend or girlfriend, so maybe she was just yearning a bit. Yeah, she decided, that had to be it. She should be happy for Beca; Beca was her best friend, she deserved to be so, so happy, and she deserved a best friend who was just as happy for her. So, Chloe pushed back her own feelings, and forced a brighter smile to her face.

“Super nerdy,” she agreed with a small nod of her head. “Definitely kind of romantic, though, right?” She made herself busy with her coffee cup, pushing herself upward a bit to take another sip. Her next question came before she could even stop herself, and with her gaze deliberately away from Beca. “So, you’re moving out?” To ask so aloud caused her heart to twist uncomfortably.

BECA MITCHELL

Beca had never really questioned her relationship. Jesse was an acapella boy, she was an acapella girl. They just… worked. It was easy. He was a great boyfriend, right? Loyal, funny, sweet. What more could she want?

The question stirred up a whole host of anxiety when she realized the answer was more. God, how greedy could she be? Jesse had to be enough for her. Hell, she barely even deserved him as it was. 

“Oh! Um--probably eventually, but not yet,” Beca said, finally gathering herself enough to cut a glance at Chloe. “I’d never leave you guys hanging with rent like that. Plus, I mean--I promised I’d help with these little guys and I wanna see that through. So you’re stuck with me a little while longer, Beale. Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Her lips twisted into a smirk despite the sad glint in her eye.

CHLOE BEALE

Although she mentally prepared herself for Beca to throw at her that she was leaving over the next couple days—because why wait, right?—the response that came broke her heart almost as much as the expected one would’ve. ‘Eventually’ would come sooner rather than later. Chloe didn’t mean to let her smile fall the way it did, but caught herself after only a quick pause, pushing it dutifully back into place. “Living with your boyfriend makes sense,” she said with a small shrug, suddenly very much aware of the fact that she needed to not be directly beside Beca right now.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she shuffled toward the kitchen, ignoring the uncomfortable swirl in her stomach. “Is it still cold outside?” she asked as she began fidgeting with the syringes again. They were already clean, but Chloe started the whole process over, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot. A walk sounded good right now.

BECA MITCHELL

Chloe wasn’t wrong. Living with her boyfriend definitely made sense. It should be exciting, not having to be long distance after spending two years dealing with Facetimes and only managing visits every other month or so.

So why did she feel so… not excited?

Especially when Chloe got up, putting distance between them. Taking in a shaky breath and focusing back on the kitten now curled up on her chest, Beca nodded. “Yeah. Freezing. Are you, um--going somewhere now?” Beca kinda hoped they could hang out. After a weekend away from Chloe, she kinda missed her… weird as that was. 

CHLOE BEALE 

Why she so adamantly needed to put a little distance between herself and Beca right now, Chloe wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d just gotten too dependent on her company, and realized she needed to get used to not being in it so much. The idea of actually leaving, though, after a whole weekend apart, really wasn’t the most appealing, so Beca’s response was apparently enough for her to talk herself out of it.

“Oh, okay,” she nodded, shoulder shrugging once again. “No. I was going to go for a walk maybe, but not if it’s still cold.” She could at least put the tiny apartment’s worth of distance between them, so Chloe hopped up onto the small counter, eyes down on the syringes she’d begun to dry.

BECA MITCHELL

“I could walk,” Beca blurted before she could really help it. “If you want company? I mean, it’s cold but we could bundle up. I just…” She blew out a puff of air. “I feel like I need to get out and move around all of a sudden.” Anything but being trapped in that apartment with Chloe and her shitty thoughts. She frowned at the box of kittens. “Unless--do they need me to stay? We can leave ‘em for like, half an hour or so, right? Do a lap around the park trail or something?” Chloe had just washed the syringes, which hopefully meant they were all fed and could spend a little time without their watchful eyes.

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe didn’t necessarily want to walk. Like Beca had said, it was freezing out, and she’d get plenty of exercise when she taught her exotic dancing class this evening. She just wanted to clear her mind, because Chloe might not know much of anything else right now, but she knew she was certainly not supposed to be feeling this sad about her best friend taking a normal next step with her boyfriend. Her gaze drifted toward Beca then, though, with Chloe tilting her head. “You want to walk with me?” she questioned, glancing briefly toward the dreary weather out the window. “They’re okay on their own for a little bit. They’re just sleeping right now, anyway.” She shot Beca a small smile, not her usual bright, excited one. “We can walk.”

BECA MITCHELL

While Beca bottled her emotions as best as she possibly could, Chloe wore hers on her sleeve. So even oblivious Beca sensed the shift in her mood--which Beca of course chalked up to the sadness at talking about Beca moving out in the near future. Beca was sad, too. Maybe a little too sad, but she’d always been bad at handling life transitions anyway. 

“Cool. Gimme a couple minutes.” Beca carefully settled Green Goblin back into his bed with his siblings before pushing out of bed. Then she made sure to dress in her warmest clothes, layering up shirts and socks with her puffy black coat, turquoise beanie, scarf, and mittens, and her combat boots laced up high.

Ten minutes later, Beca walked beside Chloe in comfortable silence as they headed toward Prospect Park. Thanks to the recent winter storm, the park trail was clear but a beautiful blanket of bright white snow reflected the sunlight overhead on the grassy grounds around them. Snow lined the branches of the leafless trees lining the path. (It kinda felt like a Kinkade painting, Beca mused in her head.) A stinging chill lingered in the air but at least it wasn’t actively snowing anymore. “So what’s your topic covering in class tonight?” Beca asked, half curious and half teasing as she forced a playful sort of smirk in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Does it involve a pole?”

CHLOE BEALE

Already wearing thick inner lined leggings and a sweater, Chloe shuffled around in near silence, only humming quietly to herself every now and then, as she dressed for their impromptu walk. She almost wished she’d taken Beca up on that nap offer instead, but soon she was dressed in a thick red coat, scarf, gloves and boots, and after checking on the sleeping kittens once more, she headed out into the cold by Beca’s side, grateful for the fresh air.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket—Tinder people were way more desperate on Valentine’s Day—but Chloe ignored it, instead just taking in the snow-covered surroundings. She lifted her head at the sound of Beca’s voice. “There’s always a pole involved,” Chloe grinned, clasping her gloved hands together as they walked. “Special Valentine’s class, though. Lots of sensual music… I’m basically going to be getting people worked up and then sending them home to their partners to finish Valentine’s Day the right way, huh?” Her nose wrinkled. “Shouldn’t you be spending the day with Jesse?”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca snorted. “That’s super generous of you. I hope you get some good tips or whatever.” She wasn’t sure why, but she really didn��t like talking about Chloe’s side gig. No offense to exotic dancers or anything--Beca wasn’t judging them. It just made Beca feel weird thinking about Chloe doing that in front of people. Some of whom might be creepy weirdos.

At the mention of Valentine’s Day, Beca shook her head. “We basically considered yesterday Valentine’s Day since I always come home on Sunday. Told him I had work to do before I go back to the office tomorrow.” Which… wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t really the full truth? She didn’t have a pressing deadline, but she always had work she could be doing. 

Beca waited until they reached the snow-dusted Lullwater Bridge, standing in the center and turning to look out over the frozen water below. Hands in her pockets, her frozen breath escaped in a visible cloud. “I don’t know why I’m not stoked,” she muttered after a minute or so, barely audible.

CHLOE BEALE

“Always happy to help them,” Chloe winked. Someone might as well enjoy a wild Valentine’s night on her account; it wasn’t like Chloe was going to get one. At least she wasn’t alone, though. As much as she’d wanted to escape Beca’s presence before, she found that she was grateful for it now. The park looked super pretty, like something from a painting, and having her best friend by her side made it even better somehow.

As much as she didn’t want to think about how Beca and Jesse had spent their day-before-Valentine’s together—because nobody wanted to think about their best friend doing that, right?—a part of her was kind of curious. Especially after what Stacie had told her… Of course, she wasn’t going to bring that up, so Chloe only nodded. “Well, I’m sorry to Jesse, but I’m glad you’ll be my Valentine’s date. The kittens are super cute, but the conversation is always kind of one-sided.”

Naturally pausing at the same time, Chloe shuffled toward the wall of the bridge, peering down into the ice, then instinctively began to run her glove covered finger through the built up snow. It was very peaceful, in spite of the cold, and Beca’s volume seemed to be in keeping with the calmness around them, despite the actual words. Chloe glanced toward her, softened eyes studying her expression. “About Jesse?”

BECA MITCHELL

Lips pulled inward as she kept her eyes trained on the serene scene before her, her head jerked upward and bobbed a few times. Maybe she’d been second guessing her relationship for a while. Maybe a little longer than she cared to admit. But voicing it--dealing with it--Beca didn’t think she was strong enough to do that. 

Chloe never judged her. Even in Beca’s darkest moments, her best friend remained a constant source of support. Beca knew she wouldn’t judge her now. Not ever. 

She didn’t deserve Chloe.

Just like she didn’t deserve Jesse. 

Removing her hands from her pockets, she crossed her arms over her chest, clenching her jaw against the wave of emotion lodged in her throat. Beca didn’t realize a single tear had slipped free until a breeze picked up and it stung her cheek, and she hurried to brush it away with her mitten-covered knuckle. 

CHLOE BEALE

It wasn’t like Chloe was under the delusion that Beca and Jesse’s relationship was perfect. Again, Stacie had let a few things slip recently that would hint at the exact opposite, but Chloe didn’t fully understand Beca’s reaction.

She only watched her, continuing to study her expression, and in doing so watched as her eyes began to gloss over with a shine that completely tore Chloe’s heart in two. Back-stepping from the wall to move closer to Beca, Chloe reached out a gloved hand to settle comfortingly against her upper arm. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said in a softer voice, concern lacing her tone. “Bec, it’s a really big step, you know? You’ve been living really far apart for the last two years, I bet it has to be kind of scary that that’s going to change.” It wasn’t like Beca would even be able to feel it through her puffy coat, but Chloe gently ran her fingertips against her arm, hoping to soothe her somehow. “You’re allowed to be scared.”

BECA MITCHELL

“Shit. Sorry,” Beca croaked, willing herself to get her shit together. She didn’t want to lose it--not ever, really--but definitely not in front of anyone. Even Chloe. “I’m not scared.” Not of what Chloe was suggesting, at least. 

Despite herself and her innate desire to bolt, Beca leaned into Chloe instead, craving warmth and maybe a bit of comfort. Clearing her throat, she swallowed hard. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she muttered, blowing out another hard, decompressing breath. Gathering her courage, she glanced back to Chloe and forced a watery smile. “I’m fine. I’m really stressed, y’know? Work’s been a huge pain lately and I haven’t really been sleeping super great… but I’m fine.” The last thing she wanted was Chloe worrying about her. 

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe’s confusing feelings, her apparent devastation over something as silly as her best friend eventually moving out of their tiny apartment, paled significantly in comparison to Beca’s. Seeing Beca sad was a rarity, especially like this, and the protective part of her immediately pushed its way to the forefront, wanting to offer her any kind of comfort she could. “It’s okay,” she promised in the same soft voice, “Nobody should ever apologize for feeling.”

Stress sucked, Chloe knew what it could do to a person, but this just felt different somehow. Although she nodded along with Beca’s explanation, her hand slipped from Beca’s arm, until she could instead wrap her small frame in a one-armed hug. She expected Beca to push her off, of course, but whatever she could do to help, she’d try. In spite of herself, of wanting to agree and let Beca voice her feelings, Chloe let out a small sigh, head shaking gently this time. “I don’t think you’re fine, Bec.”

BECA MITCHELL

It honestly felt different than regular stress to Beca, too--but stress was as close as she could come to describing the sensations wracking her body. Like she wanted to run away for a while. (And Beca hated running, so that meant it was pretty serious.) She leaned into Chloe instead, trusting that gut instinct to not be alone right now. “Maybe I’m not,” she allowed, again knowing Chloe would figure out Beca’s feelings before Beca would based on their track record. But she really didn’t think she was ready to unpack anything right now. (Not that she’d ever be.) After a beat, she puffed out another strained chuckle. “Wow, I’m a pretty shitty Valentine’s date, huh?” 

CHLOE BEALE

Although she wasn’t going to push, Chloe also wasn’t going to let Beca battle her feelings alone. She waited patiently for Beca to think them through, arm tightening to hold her a little closer. Two grown women huddled together in the middle of the park probably looked weird to anybody passing by, but Chloe always found it easy to lose herself in their small bubble, so it didn’t matter to her. She nodded when Beca agreed, though let out a soft chuckle then. “I don’t know, you’re the best Valentine’s date I’ve had this year,” she tried, squeezing a little tighter, before letting go, hand once more settling against Beca’s arm. “Want me to get Charlotte to cover for me tonight? I don’t think she’ll mind. We can cuddle up with the kittens and watch a movie.” A mischievous smile stretched onto her lips. “A super cheesy one.”

BECA MITCHELL

One perk about the frigid temperature was the relative emptiness of a typically busy as hell park. Beca didn’t really care if anyone thought they were weird, anyway. (Plus, it was really hard to flip someone off while wearing mittens.) Regardless, she appreciated Chloe’s sensitivity and not pushing her to talk more. She shook her head when Chloe offered to cancel her class. “No, no. I’ll be fine, I promise. You go do your sexy dancer thing.” Beca took Chloe’s arm and tucked it through the crook of hers, urging her to keep on along the bridge. “C’mon. Let’s hit up the hot chocolate cart on the way back. My treat.” Least she could do for getting all emotional during what was supposed to be a chill walk.

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe loved all of the things that kept her busy, even her part-time job, but she mentally cursed herself for it today. Leaving Beca alone really did not sit well with her, even if she could probably use the space. “Fine, fine,” she relented with a wrinkle of her nose, though she brightened at her next idea. “Oh! Why don’t you come with me? You could just watch, or you could even try it yourself.” Her eyes widened with excitement at the very thought. “I bet Amy would be okay with watching the kittens for a couple hours while we’re gone.” Easily looping her arm through Beca’s, she allowed her to guide her along the bridge. “Oh, hot chocolate sounds really good right now,” Chloe said dreamily, instinctively tightening her arm.

BECA MITCHELL

Beca’s eyes popped wide at Chloe’s suggestion. “Come with you?” A nervous sort of chuckle escaped and she shook her head. “No thanks. I don’t even--I don’t think that’s my thing?” Part of her had been curious, ever since Chloe had mentioned this gig, what it was like. She had to admit, the idea of watching Chloe teaching exotic dancing might prove a little too tempting to ignore. (If only to make fun of her about it later, of course!) “I’ll think about it,” she conceded, knowing Chloe would likely keep on her until she relented anyway.

*

*

*

CHLOE BEALE

Despite Beca’s initial response to joining her for an evening of exotic dancing, a small part of Chloe really wasn’t too surprised when she eventually relented. For some reason ‘no’ never really meant no with Beca, and Chloe wondered if that was specific to her or not. Regardless, the idea of bringing her along to tonight’s class was exciting, and Chloe also felt much more comfortable doing so than leaving her to mope around the apartment when it was obvious that Beca was very much not fine.

Being the teacher, Chloe always made sure to arrive early so she could set up before everybody else showed, and she beamed proudly as she led Beca into the currently empty dance studio, flicking on the light switch to reveal enough floor to ceiling poles set up for each member of the small class.

“I think you’re gonna love this,” Chloe mused as she set down her large bag on the shiny hardwood floor, then instantly got to work on peeling off her thick winter layers, which would eventually leave her in a much less winter appropriate outfit. Pole dancing was tiring work; the colder weather really didn’t matter, everybody would be sweating soon. As she undressed, she motioned toward a chair positioned off to the side. “You wanna go put that in the back and you can sit there? If you sit up front, there’s going to be a lot of people watching you… and people make some pretty intense faces while they do this,” she said with a wrinkle of her nose.

Other than her coat, which she laid down neatly on top, everything else was stuffed into the bag, before Chloe lowered to the floor to begin fastening her heels into place. She glanced toward Beca, then to the nearest pole, brows lifting and lowering playfully. “Do you want to try it before everybody gets here? I can show you some super easy moves.”

BECA MITCHELL

Since they first met, Chloe had this weird superhuman ability to coax Beca out of her carefully constructed shell. That power didn't seem to fade, in fact it only grew stronger throughout their friendship. 

That's how Beca found herself in an exotic dance studio that Sunday night. Clad in her typical plaid shirt and dark skinny jeans with boots, she dropped into the chair Chloe motioned to. "I'm good. Thanks though," Beca said with an amused smile. Beca could dance just fine, but she knew she had no shot at doing this type of dancing with any sort of believability. 

As soon as Chloe began stripping down, Beca's eyes dropped to her fingernails on instinct. She needed to repaint them. "Are you sure your, uh--students won't think I'm a creep for sitting here?" Even in the back, she'd be able to see everyone through the wall to wall mirror in the front. 

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe only shrugged, eyes down toward her feet as she concentrated on fastening the straps of her black high heels. People wore some crazy not-quite-outfits to these classes, but as the person leading them, Chloe liked to dress a bit more uniformly. “No, they won’t care,” she poked out her tongue in concentration. “I think people kind of like having an audience.” She glanced upward then, smirk tugging at her lips. “It might surprise you, but I don’t think the people who take these classes really mind attention.”

Carefully pushing herself to her feet, Chloe headed for the nearest pole, fingers wrapping around the cold metal. “Come on, let me show you,” she urged, despite Beca’s prior response. She pushed her lips out into a pout. “Please? Something super super easy.”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca snorted, chuckling as her eyes finally lifted to Chloe. Holy shit, that outfit… was really intense. Intense, yeah. Also like… hot and sexy or whatever, but Chloe always had been so that was no surprise.

It took another beat for her brain to reboot, her stomach flip-flopping at Chloe's pout. Puffing out an annoyed sigh, Beca rolled her eyes as she stood and strode over toward Chloe with her arms crossed over her chest. "I'm in jeans," she reminded her best friend. As though she couldn't see that for herself.

CHLOE BEALE

The natural grin to widen across her lips as Beca rose from the chair was not at all a smug one, and Chloe giggled as she swept her gaze over Beca’s very Beca outfit. “I can see that. That’s okay, you only need your hand on the pole for this one,” she explained, lifting her arm higher to grip onto the pole in the right place. “So, you’re gonna take a step with this foot,” Chloe began, slowly stretching her leg to step around the pole, free arm stretching outward as she swung her body around it. “Then lift this foot.”

Chloe repeated the move again, then took a small step back. “Now you try.”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca sucked in a sharp breath through her nostrils as she watched Chloe so gracefully and sensually moved around that pole. In fact, she forgot she was supposed to be paying attention to the actual choreography and doubles down on her focused the next time. 

"This won't look a fraction of how good it looks when you do it," Beca muttered, stepping up to the pole and mimicking the move. In boots, she managed to land the technical aspects of the choreo, though she knew she was a bit hesitant and stiff. Not unlike she usually was when first learning new dance moves. "There. Happy?" Her arms recrossed over her chest as she waited for Chloe's evaluation.

CHLOE BEALE 

Chloe’s hands planted on her hips as she watched Beca replicate the simple move, pride immediately swelling within her. She couldn’t help but let her mind drift to the thought of Beca doing that in something a little more revealing… But that was normal, right? This was an exotic dancing class, after all. Regardless, she quickly shook off the thought. “Perfect,” she grinned, offering a small clap of her hands.

The door swung open behind her, the sound of her assistant’s voice echoing around the room. “That’s Charlotte,” Chloe explained, whirling around to offer her a bright smile. “This is Beca, she’s gonna watch the class.”

“Right, Beca,” Charlotte nodded, sending Beca a small wave. “The one you share a bed with.”

“Mhm,” Chloe beamed, motioning Beca toward the chair again as people began to filter into the room. “Are you sure you’re not gonna join in? You really could just do it in your underwear. Other people do.”

BECA MITCHELL

"Hey, cool meeting you." Beca cast a smile at Charlotte, grateful Chloe's assistant hadn't seen her first (and only) attempt at a pole dancing move. Then… her jaw fell slack, cheeks flushing. "Oh, it's not like that!" Beca interjected, casting a look at Chloe because why would she tell people they share a bed? 

Her eyes rolled once again. "I'm good, thanks though. Have a good class, Beale." Beca dropped back into the chair and kept herself as still and small as possible, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She sort of generally enjoyed people watching, so it was difficult to not take in each participant as they filed in wearing similar tight and barely there dancing outfits with impossibly high heels and stepped up to an open pole. 

Almost as difficult as it was to keep her eyes off Chloe once she began her lesson.

CHLOE BEALE 

Chloe’s brows tugged together at Beca’s reaction. Who’d said it was like that? She only shot Beca a confused glance in response, though ultimately shrugged it off, before turning back to Charlotte to go over their plan for the evening.

As always, once everybody was situated by their poles, Chloe started off with warm up stretches, before diving back into the routine they’d been working on for the past couple sessions—a dance to a slowed down, sultry version of Beyonce’s Crazy In Love. Although she couldn’t really converse with Beca throughout the class, Chloe continuously shot glances her way.

Following a final run through of the whole performance, she made sure to let everybody know that they’d done a great job and wished everyone a happy Valentine’s Day, before approaching Beca with a much more flushed face as people began to pack up and head out. “So, what’d you think?” she questioned hopefully, halfway tugging on her shirt. “Good?”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca assumed Kommissar had been a fluke. Like--she was tall and gorgeous and flawless and whatever but like, the whole attraction situation wasn’t real, right? Beca was just… super stressed with everything that year, and she’d been pulled under some sort of German witchcraft spell. 

Yeah, no. Fine. Beca knew somewhere deep down she wasn’t totally straight. But there was no point in pulling that fact out of the depths of her subconscious to poke around and stress over it because she had a boyfriend. A really great boyfriend who was super awesome and now living in New York City. So what if she was bi or whatever? It didn’t actually matter. 

But sitting there frozen on that chair, leaning into her locked arms as she gripped the curling lip of the seat on either side of her knees, watching the dancers? A simmering heat ignited and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from them.

No, not them.

Chloe.

It felt like that same sort of magic pulling her focus, sparking down her spine and making her shiver every single time Chloe’s eyes found hers during that routine. Beca’s breathing shallowed and her lower lip caught between her teeth; at one point, she almost bit down too hard and drew blood. 

The spell broke when the music faded out. (Music had that effect on Beca in general, but this? Okay, holy shit. Um…) When Chloe approached, Beca sat up and a different sort of chill--the cold sweat type--rushed through her body because this was very, very wrong. Chloe was her best friend, for fuck’s sake. It was super wrong to think of her like that.

Still, Beca did her best to summon her best tight-lipped grin and offered a dorky thumbs up. “Yup. That was dope. Good thing you’ve got a backup career lined up in case you decide against the vet thing for some reason.” Suddenly eye contact proved really hard. Near impossible, even. Beca gathered her bag and pulled her coat back on, focusing on her breathing. It was just stuffy in there, right? That was definitely it. 

CHLOE BEALE

It didn’t pass Chloe by, the fact that her eyes would lock with Beca’s each time she’d glance toward her. Neither did the way she kind of liked the fact that Beca was watching her, even if she did worry that her stare was simply in response to Charlotte’s earlier comment that had seemed to piss Beca off somehow. She didn’t think their living arrangement was a secret, but maybe she wasn’t supposed to tell people. If she thought about it, it did come up pretty often, though… (“I fell asleep on Beca last night.” “Beca and I just took a really nice spoon nap.”) She made a mental note not to bring it up as often.

Her grin widened at Beca’s response. “Thanks!” she chirped, straightening out the hem of her sweater, before bouncing toward her bag to grab her leggings. “I kind of wish we had a pole at home, it’d make it way easier to practice,” Chloe mused, unfastening her heels, then stepping into the pants.

“You should join in next time,” Charlotte added to Beca, pushing a reciprocated kiss to Chloe’s cheek, before announcing her departure, then heading out of the room.

As she shrugged on her winter coat, Chloe glanced toward Beca, brows knitting at the way she seemed to be a little flustered. “Are you okay?” she asked, head tilting as she studied Beca’s expression. “You look like you could use some air.” This was supposed to help distract her from her sad thoughts about Jesse, but Chloe had a feeling it hadn’t been as helpful as she’d hoped.

BECA MITCHELL

Beca puffed out a strained chuckle. “Thanks, but I can’t move quite like you guys do.” She realized after a beat that she’d barely even watched Charlotte or anyone else throughout the class, and guilt tightened like vines around her heart for more than one reason. 

“Me? Yeah. I’m cool. Air sounds good. Got a little stuffy in there,” she muttered as she hyper focused on pulling on her mittens. The brisk walk back would surely help clear her head, she figured. Make her feel normal-ish again. 

CHLOE BEALE

“Yeah, the AC doesn’t really help much,” Chloe frowned, pulling her gloves into place. There was something strange about Beca, about the way she was acting, but Chloe really wasn’t entirely sure what it was. She figured it probably had something to do with her feelings from earlier, but Chloe forced herself not to look at her too sympathetically. Even if she did really want to wrap her into a protective hug.

Although she did not quite go the hug route, once properly dressed and wrapped up to face the biting evening air, Chloe shrugged her large bag over her shoulder, then shuffled toward Beca with an outstretched hand, offering it for her to take. “We should go relieve Amy of kitten duty, huh?”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca knew she was acting super off today. She couldn’t really help it. Maybe she could just chalk it all up to stress--both her weirdness right now and the emotional blip during their walk in the park earlier. “Yeah, probably. Poor things are probably being forced to listen to Fat Amy Winehouse practice.” 

She hesitated before taking Chloe’s hand, always calling her a weirdo when she offered and usually just taking it to make Chloe smile. (At least she wouldn’t have to worry about a clammy or sweaty palm this time, with gloves on.) “She seems cool,” Beca said once they stepped outside. “Charlotte? How long has she been your assistant or whatever?”

CHLOE BEALE

“Probably,” Chloe grimaced. Their third roommate really was on her own whole other level. “It was nice of her to watch them for us, though. I wonder if she’ll get as attached to your Green Goblin as you have.” Although she tried to bite back her smirk, she knew the amusement was shining in her eyes.

Chloe was used to Beca making a comment whenever she would extend her hand, so although it was nice that she didn’t this time, it only confirmed Chloe’s suspicions that Beca really wasn’t doing so good, so she wasn’t going to feel too smug about it. Gripping comfortably onto Beca’s hand, she flicked off the light switch, then led her outside and to the cooler air of the city.

“Oh, yeah, she’s awesome,” Chloe agreed, grateful for the wind against her rosy cheeks. Dancing always had her working up a sweat, so she didn’t mind the short walk home. “We took classes together, so she’s been with me right from the start. She didn’t want her own class though, so she just helps out. She reminds me of you a little bit, in fact. Maybe a little louder than you, but she definitely has a Beca vibe. I like her a lot.”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca usually complained about the cold, but in this case it helped regulate her wacky body temperature situation. At least while walking she could focus on the journey, trying to avoid thinking of Chloe dancing like that as they strolled hand in hand. 

Chloe’s words pulled her attention and Beca cast her a side look, quirking a brow. “A Beca vibe?” She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Explain.” 

CHLOE BEALE

An amused grin pulled at Chloe’s lips in response to the look she could see Beca shooting her from the corner of her eye. ���Yeah, a Beca vibe,” she nodded. “Kind of broody and mysterious at first, but she’s actually a total softy.” She turned her head to shoot a smirk toward Beca, gloved hand squeezing gently onto hers. “Like my Beca.” Her gaze drifted toward Beca’s chest, before lifting back toward her face. “She has her nipples pierced, too. Maybe you’re secretly twins.”

BECA MITCHELL

“Psh, whatever,” Beca grumbled, shooting Chloe a heatless glare before turning her attention back to the street. My Beca. That phrase made her stomach flip and a sudden rush of nausea flood her core before thankfully receding a moment later. Thankfully, Chloe’s dig served as a good enough distraction, pulling a scoff from Beca. “Seriously? I’m never living these piercings down, am I?” 

CHLOE BEALE

“Nope!” Chloe smirked, giving Beca’s hand another gentle squeeze, before relaxing her fingers. They remained looped comfortably with Beca’s all the while, though.

Fortunately, Chloe’s work was not too far from their building, so as much as she’d appreciated the blast of cold air at first, she was happy to get back inside, and only released Beca’s hand once they were safely tucked away in their shoebox apartment. The strange pang of loss she felt upon letting go was something she pushed away quickly—she was pretty touch-starved these days, it probably made sense.

Dumping her bag down at the foot of their bed, Chloe immediately swept toward the kitten box, lips twisting into a smirk at the sight of it empty, with light leaking from beneath Amy’s bedroom door. “Do you think she’s napping with them?” Chloe asked, voice lowering to a whisper. “Bec, that’s such a cute thought.”

BECA MITCHELL

As soon as they stepped back into their apartment, Beca unwound her scarf and shrugged off her coat, hanging both on the rack. She frowned when she followed Chloe’s gaze to the empty kitten box. “I mean, she’s either napping with them or she kitten-napped them, so hopefully it’s the first one.” Toeing off her boots, Beca moved to her dresser to pluck out a pair of pajama bottoms and a soft sleep tee, nodding to Amy’s door. “Peek at your own risk.” While Chloe tended to that, Beca made a quick change into cozy clothes because she was pretty desperate for a nap.

CHLOE BEALE

Chloe shot Beca a playful glare; she was going to bask in her adorable idea of the image of Amy napping with the five babies, and proceeded to peel off her scarf and gloves as she tiptoed toward Amy’s door, pushing it open gently. Just as she’d suspected, Amy laid in the middle of her bed, the one she got all to herself, surrounded by five sleeping kittens. They were probably due to be fed soon, unless Amy had seen to that, but Chloe didn’t want to disturb them yet, so only giggled quietly to herself as she carefully closed the door.

“They’re all knocked out, including Amy,” she announced, hanging up her removed clothing items, then got to work on shrugging off her coat and boots, too. “Getting ready for bed?” she asked, lifting her gaze toward Beca as she approached the bed. In spite of herself, Chloe lowered down onto her side with a small yawn. “We didn’t even eat dinner yet.”

BECA MITCHELL

Beca crawled beneath the covers, waving her hand dismissively. “Promised I’d cook and I’m not gonna punk out on that. Just wanna take a little nap first, if that’s cool?” She wrinkled her nose as she tugged her hair tie out of her ponytail and used her fingertips to shake out the stiffness on her scalp. “Unless you’re really hungry?” She could forego the nap to cook sooner if Chloe wanted. 

CHLOE BEALE

They both had their reasons to be in need of a nap; Beca had had an emotional day, and Chloe had just taught a whole pole dancing class, so although she could go for food at some point, and was definitely looking forward to whatever Beca cooked, she figured a nap couldn’t hurt first. “Mm, no, I can wait,” she shrugged, slipping off her leggings to leave her in her sweater and the bottom half of the outfit she’d worn for the class. They’d have another night of broken sleep tonight feeding the kittens, so Chloe shuffled under the covers too, pulling them comfortably up toward her chest as her head rested back into the pillows. “I’m glad you came to the class with me, it was fun having you there,” she hummed, twisting onto her side to face Beca.

BECA MITCHELL

Not anticipating Chloe wanting a nap at the same time, Beca’s body stiffened momentarily while Chloe crawled into bed with her before relaxing. It truly made no sense, why Beca was being so weird with her all of a sudden--but she couldn’t really help it? 

Chalking it up to anxiety over what would likely be an imminent move to Jesse’s new place, Beca dismissed her weird feelings and turned on her side to face Chloe. “Looked like a hell of a workout,” Beca said with a tired smirk. “You’re a pretty good dance teacher, nerdface.” Not that Beca actually paid any attention to the students in the class, she realized with slightly burning cheeks. 

CHLOE BEALE

Beca would be leaving soon. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but with Jesse here now, she was going to be leaving soon, and Chloe wanted to feel happy for her, she didn’t want to feel the sad twist in her stomach that came with simply laying side by side and immediately thinking about how they weren’t going to get this anymore. Those feelings were stupid, though; best friends didn’t do this, so Chloe bit them back as best as she could, offering Beca small smile instead. “Thanks,” she nodded, lazily studying Beca’s expression.

Her nose wrinkled as she thought for a moment, voice quieting slightly. “Are you still sad?”

BECA MITCHELL

She never dwelled on their living situation much. It was what it was. But Jesse’s surprise suddenly made Beca more in-tune with her current circumstance. Like how she probably wouldn’t have these close, deep talks with Chloe anymore. Those before bed chats about anything and nothing. Talks she didn’t realize she cherished until now. Not when she inevitably moved in with Jesse.

Chloe’s question would ordinarily make Beca shrug off her concern insisting she’s fine. But with everything today, she didn’t really feel like putting on that brave face. Not when Chloe could see right through it. Instead, she went with honesty, staring back into those bright blue eyes. “I dunno if it’s sadness, really. I don’t really know what it is.” 

CHLOE BEALE

This whole thing was conflicting, because Chloe wanted to help in some way. It didn’t matter how she was feeling, she wanted to help Beca, to make her feel better. If even Beca couldn’t pinpoint her own feelings, though, then how could Chloe? She’d always been able to read her pretty well, but apparently not right now. So, she just sent another small smile her way, head nodding along gently.

“It’s just a big step,” she reiterated her earlier response, sticking her arm out of the covers to cocoon herself a little better. Her other hand rested beneath her cheek, gaze still glued to Beca. “I’m kind of sad,” she eventually admitted, mouth twisting a bit. “I mean, I’m really happy for you, Bec. And I don’t mean to be selfish, but I’m gonna be sad when you leave.”

BECA MITCHELL

If. If I leave. Those correcting words sat on the back of Beca’s tongue, sour and bitter as she swallowed them back. Just because Jesse moved here to surprise her, that didn’t mean she needed to move out soon, right? They hadn’t talked about it. What if she wasn’t ready? (What if she’d never be ready?)

“Me too,” she muttered instead, reaching out to cover Chloe’s hand with her own before she thought much about it. Sure, Chloe initiated physical contact like 96% of the time, but Beca did when it felt like it mattered, too. Like right now. “But it’s not gonna happen tomorrow or anytime super soon, okay? So don’t be sad yet.” As if it was that easy. A smile pulled a bit shaky at the corners. “Let’s get some sleep before the kittens start crying for dinner.”

CHLOE BEALE

If either of them was going to initiate physical contact, it was generally going to be Chloe. A part of her felt like she should keep to herself right now, though, so when Beca’s hand settled over her own, Chloe glanced down at it briefly, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. It was instinct for her to part her fingers, slotting them between Beca’s. “Okay,” she nodded, figuring it’s not that easy probably wasn’t the best response. “I’ll just save it for when you do go. Maybe I’ll have to start sharing a bed with Amy…” Chloe’s nose wrinkled. “Sleeping on my own is weird now.” Of course, it wasn’t exactly sharing a bed that helped to settle her, it was who she was sharing it with.

Sleep was a good idea, that was what they were supposed to be doing right now, anyway. Maybe she would magically wake up feeling a little better afterwards. So, with a small squeeze to Beca’s hand, Chloe finally let go, twisting onto her back for the briefest moment, before turning with her back toward Beca. It was with the thought that she kind of just wanted to be close to her right now that she shuffled closer, eventually curling into Beca’s body.

BECA MITCHELL

“Everything you do is weird ‘cause you’re weird,” Beca fired back, though her heartstrings tugged at the thought of not sleeping beside Chloe anymore. She should be excited at the prospect of finally living with her boyfriend of five years… but she figured that excitement would kick in once the shock wore off. That made sense, right?

When Chloe scooted back against her, Beca’s arm naturally slung around her middle. She truly was exhausted, mostly because of the emotions wracking her body all damn day--a not-date Valentine’s Day she’d spent with her best friend… whom she’d miss like hell soon enough. As her body relaxed into nap mode and she willed slumber to drag her down, Beca’s eyes locked on the loose ginger wisps at the nape of Chloe’s neck escaping her hair tie. Flashes from their day together drifted into the forefront of her mind--Chloe accepting the proffered coffee with a bright, tired smile. Chloe hugging her close when she got emotional on the park bridge. Chloe’s burning intensity in her eyes while dancing like that--and the terrifying yet exhilarating way it made Beca feel. 

Maybe it was stupidity. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was desperation or a combination of all three. But Beca didn’t think about much of anything else in that moment when she quietly leaned in and brushed the softest, most feather-light kiss to the back of Chloe’s neck. Bare enough that Chloe might not even notice. Innocent enough that Beca might be able to pass it off as a gesture of friendship. 

But anxiety crept in a beat later because she knew--Beca knew it wasn’t just that. Guilt swirled in her core once again and she willed herself to close her eyes and fall asleep, to forget what she’d done and chalk it up as a dumb idea resulting from chronic lack of sleep lately. 

It was fine. Chloe was probably sleeping and didn’t notice, anyway. 

CHLOE BEALE

Even if things could feel strange and complicated sometimes—like the way Chloe felt so devastated at the thought of Beca leaving to be with her boyfriend like any normal person in a long-term relationship would—everything was always just so easy with Beca, too. Chloe’s sadness, her apprehension surrounding everything, it all instantly melted away once Beca’s arm flung over her middle, and Chloe’s whole body relaxed into its curled position against her best friend.

She really was tired, but her mind apparently wouldn’t shut up. Their day today, the way her heart had torn in two at the sight of Beca’s tears up on the bridge, all of their nights curled up tightly together (usually because Chloe had pulled Beca into her as they’d been drifting off to sleep) replayed on a strangely comfortable loop in her tired mind, and while Chloe’s lids fluttered shut, she was sure she wasn’t going to actually get much sleep.

Even less so as she felt Beca shuffle closer, felt the delicate way her lips brushed to the warm skin at the back of her neck, sending the most welcome shiver through Chloe’s spine.

Her bottom lip tugged in between her teeth as she reached out to fumble for Beca’s hand, fingers sliding between the gaps in hers, until she could wordlessly lift their connected hands up to her mouth, with Chloe pressing a soft kiss to Beca’s fingers. Maybe best friends didn’t do that. Maybe best friends didn’t do a lot of the things they did, in fact. But the thought did not scare her. In fact, as the pad of her thumb brushed across the back of Beca’s knuckles, lips hovering over her fingers, it only made her feel strangely safe.

BECA MITCHELL

When Chloe’s lips grazed Beca’s fingers in turn, Beca’s jaw clenched so hard her teeth damn near crumpled to dust, her heart thundering so loud she was certain Chloe would hear it. She had no idea what it meant--was it a conciliatory gesture, or a bolder one? Was Chloe just as confused as Beca? If so, what would it mean for her relationship with Jesse? Her friendship with Chloe? The best friendship she’d ever had… Beca couldn’t fuck that up, no matter the cost.

But words lodged in Beca’s throat and she swallowed them back down, her eyelids screwing tighter despite a traitorous tear slipping free from the corner of her eye--a single damp droplet on her pillowcase. 

She inwardly pleaded for sleep to take her before her mind could piece together her predicament.

Thankfully, it did.

#char: beca. #f2f: beca. #f2f (4) beca. #thesickestbeats

[bywhatilove]

The Friend Trap: Starring KT and Eddie

Eddie stepped outside the taxi cab and stretched his arms out towards the horizon. 

“Welcome to the greatest city in the world! You’ve got everything from the best bagels to the best pizza and the best hoagies…” Eddie trailed off. His mind found a sweet vision of being surrounded by his favorite foods. But, much to his despise, his vision was interrupted by Fabian’s less than enthusiastic response.

“All I smell is garbage and sewer.” Fabian’s nose scrunched up as it took in this overload of new smells. 

Maybe it was because Eddie was used to the horrid smell of his bedroom, but all he could smell was the pizza shop a block away. “Hmm, really? It smells amazing to me.”

“Of course it does..” Fabian mumbled under his breath before stepping back to get their luggage out of the taxi’s trunk and to pay the taxi driver. Getting both his and Eddie's and his suitcases was a bit of a struggle though because, let's face it, even after playing deadly hopscotch, lifting hundred pound beams over endless chasms and becoming the best web walker in England, Fabian still wasn’t the most athletic type. 

“So, where are we meeting K.T?” he asked as he handed Eddie his suitcase. 

“Some coffee shop a couple blocks away.” He pulled out his phone and used google maps to begin mapping them to it. And just like that, Eddie’s sweet, sweet dreams of food came crashing down. Their real mission here, unknown to Fabian, was about to begin and Eddie was incredibly nervous. Sure, he was nervous to see how Nina and Fabian would react when they found out they had just been parent trapped, but he was also nervous to see Nina himself. Although they had sent some emails back and forth before senior year, he hadn’t kept in contact with her since. It was the kind of nervousness that came with seeing an old friend for the first time in a while- when you weren’t sure if you would be able to reconnect like no time had passed or if the bond had been broken forever. But, then again, Nina wasn’t just any old friend. She was the chosen one to his osirian and the original leader of sibuna. She would never be any old friend to him, and that was something he had to keep reminding himself of. 

As the pair finally made their way to their destination and pushed open the doors inside, Eddie realized he still needed to tell Fabian something. “Oh yeah…” Eddie began as if it was just a passing thought, “K.T’s roommate is going to be here too.”

“Cool. Have you met her yet?” Fabian questioned as he went to order a the largest coffee size they had (jet lag really was no fun). 

Eddie hated lying to Fabian, but this was the last lie he would have to tell him before the truth finally came out. So, he simply shook his head as he went after Fabian and ordered his own coffee. Eddie tried to play it cool as his anxiety began to build up. Nina and K.T should be here any minute now. He didn't want to be so nervous to see two of his best friends. He had handled much more bigger problems than this as the osirian- saving the world from certain doom anyone? So why was he so nervous? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Are you okay?" Nina asked K.T. "You've been awful quiet today. Very un-K.T of you."

K.T nervously laughed. She thought she had been doing a good job at keeping her nerves under control, but the ever so observant Nina had been paying attention. "Uh, really? I hadn't noticed." She stammered out. 

Not buying it but also not being one to push, Nina carefully eyes K.T. "I'm not going to push it because you obviously don't want to talk about it. But, you are a terrible liar, K.T and that's coming from me- someone who can't lie to save their life." 

K.T continued to laugh nervously as they opened the door to the coffee shop where they were meeting Eddie and Fabian. Her and Nina must have spotted them at the same time, though, as Nina stopped like a deer in headlights and turned to face K.T, her eyes wide and frantic. "Okay so don't look over there but we have to go somewhere else. Two of my friends from boarding school are here and can't see them. Not like this and not right now."

She gently began pushing K.T out the door but before K.T had the chance to respond, Eddie beat her to it. "K.T!" He called over, waving his hand in their direction. "Nina!" He called again, his voice noticeably nervous and quieter than it had been when he called K.T's name. 

"K.T? What is going on? How do you know them?" Nina frantically asked her roommate as her voice began to waver. It's not like she wanted to go her entire life without ever seeing any of the anubis gang again. She missed them so much. All of them. But she hadn't expected it to be so soon or like this. She had always envisioned it would be at like a reunion or something in ten or twenty years when they were all adults and their wounds from her leaving so suddenly and unexpectedly had healed. Because seeing them only made her remember of what she had missed on her senior year- of being surrounded by an amazing found family, friends that quite trusted her with their life and perhaps what she missed the most, a chance to finally have a good, real relationship with the first boy she had ever loved. With that thought, she allowed herself to steal a glance at Fabian. His raven hair had been cut recently so it wasn't has shaggy as it was the last time she had seen him. Plus, he had lost that young boyish look he had once possessed. He looked grown up, like someone who was too young to have seen the horrors he had. But, he also looked happy and that was what Nina was happiest to see. That was all she had ever wanted for him, even if it meant he was happy without her. Although, in this moment, he didn't look too happy. A similar look of surprise and nerves mirrored the look on his face as the one on her own. 

She followed K.T over to the table where Fabian and Eddie were seating. Suddenly, her mind flashed back to what K.T had said a couple days ago. "Edison and Fabo." Nina had laughed at their silly names and how much they reminded her of Eddie and Fabian and K.T had just laughed along with her. When really, she had been speaking of them all along. Nina didn't know how K.T knew who Fabian and Eddie were, but she couldn't help but feel betrayed. Nina had spoken of them, of everyone at Anubis, especially of Fabian,  all the time and K.T had just listened and offered advice like she had no idea who Nina was speaking of. And yet, all this time, she had known exactly who Nina was talking about. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------< Fabian had just took a sip of his coffee when two girls walked in. Immediately he had recognized one as K.T and the other as this mysterious roommate. Fabian couldn't help but notice that the roommate looked like Nina. Although he had only seen the back of her, there was defiantly a resemblance there. But, as the girl turned around, Fabian realized that this girl didn't share a resemblance with Nina, it was Nina. But....that couldn't be. K.T knew who Nina was. She was told all about the American girl who had came and turned all their lives upside by being the chosen one- who had also been the girl who shattered Fabian's heart. Why hadn't K.T told them that by some strange twist of fate, her and Nina had become roommates? He was about to confide in Eddie when he called out to the girls.

"K.T!" He called over, waving his hand in their direction. "Nina!" He called again, his voice noticeably nervous and quieter than it had been when he called K.T's name. 

Although there was some nerves in his voice, he obviously had been expecting to see Nina. Her appearance as being K.T's roommate wasn't a surprise. Which meant that not only had K.T been keeping this a secret, but so had Eddie. The boy who was his best friend, his college and old boarding school roommate and right-hand man had been keeping this a secret from him. He knew that they were going to be seeing Nina for the first time in two years today. He knew the heartbreak that Nina had caused him and yet, he still hadn't cared to tell him the truth. 

"Eddie. What's going on? Did you know we would be seeing Nina today?" Fabian whispered to Eddie.

Eddie seemed regretful when he whispered back, "I'll explain everything soon, okay? Just be happy that you're finally going to see Nina again."

Fabian was about to argue back when Nina and K.T walked over and stood in front of their table. Fabian was worried the entire cafe could hear the sound of his rapidly beating heart as he took in the sight of Nina. She had cut her hair recently, where it hung just below her shoulder and was parted in the middle. Her style had changed and blended in with the nature of NYC while still managing to make her stand out. Amber would be proud, he couldn't help but think. In the two years since he had seen Nina, she had definitely grown up. She looked older and more mature, while still possessing that optimistic, headstrong aura that Fabian had fallen in love with in the first place. Yet, Fabian's heart sunk when he noticed how tired she looked. Maybe it was such a small detail that someone who didn't know her wouldn't notice. But Fabian knew her- perhaps the best than anyone knew her. She looked much too tired to be an eighteen year old, college freshman. Someone who had faced the horrors of the world far, far too young and felt as if the weight of all their problems rested solely on their shoulders. 

"Let me guess," Nina said as she approached the table. "Edison and Fabo," she pointed at both the boys respectively when saying their fake, K.T created names. 

Confused looked came over the boy's faces. "Huh?" Eddie voiced their confusion.

K.T gently rocked on her heels. She flicked her hand and brushed past the question. "I needed fake names. No big deal."

"And that's the best you could come up with? Edison and Fabo? Really, K.T?" Eddie rolled his eyes at the girl. A small laughter overcame the group and just for a moment, everyone was able to forget the awkwardness that was hung over them like a dark cloud. That was until Nina cleared her throat and got right to the point.

"So, anyone want to explain what's going on here?" Nervous glances were shared between K.T and Eddie as they debated who should start and where they should even begin.

"I would like to know that myself," Fabian said. And for what was probably the first time since they saw each other again, Nina and Fabian allowed themselves to share eye contact. A thousand unsaid words hung between them. That was until K.T began talking and both their eyes flitted away.

"That year that you didn't come back to Anubis house...I actually went. My grandfather said that I had to go- that I had to stop some great evil. So, with some old moon key that I had no idea what opened, I went to Anubis house. Well, when I got there, Eddie kept on bombarding me with personal questions. He seriously wouldn't leave me alone. It was kind of annoying." K.T rolled her eyes as Eddie laughed. "It took me a while to trust him but, after I did, we figured some stuff out. He had been having creepy visions of me. So, I was introduced to the mysterious world of sibuna and all the creepy history that comes with it."

Nina put her hand out in front of her. "Wait, what great evil? What happened with sibuna?"

"I promise we will tell you everything later, Nina." Eddie cut in and picked up where K.T left off. "After sibuna did its thing and saved the world for, you know, the gazillionth time, we graduated. Then, around August, K.T started messaging me about her roommate named Nina Martin."

"I had heard all about you at Anubis, so when I found out you were my roommate, all it took was one photo text to Eddie and I made the connection in my head." K.T explained to Nina.

Fabian turned to face Eddie. "And you never thought to tell me this because?"

"You just seemed so hurt when Nina left. I didn't want to make you relive open wounds." Fabian's cheeks turned red as Eddie explained this and he shared a sheepish glance with Nina before she started talking again.

"So what are we doing here? Why didn't the two of you tell us about what was actually going to happen today?"

K.T shrugged her shoulders. "Eddie and I had planned on him coming for a visit for months now. Then, we had the bright idea, that Fabian should come along too so you two could reconnect. And has to why I didn't tell you about me going to Anubis and knowing who you were, I just didn't want to make it awkward between the two of us."

"Uhmm correction," Eddie pointed his finger out. "This was all K.T's idea. I was dragged into it."

K.T scoffed. "Yeah, whatever. Liar."

K.T and Eddie shared a laugh, but it was noticeable that neither Nina or Fabian found any of this funny. If anything, they felt betrayed.

"I'm sorry but I just need a moment to digest all this." Nina got up from the table and left the shop. Glances were shared between the three Anubis alumni left as they wondered who, if anyone, should go after her.

K.T began to get up. "I guess I'll go since I am the one who lied to her the most."

"Actually," Fabian began as he stood up, "I'll go talk to her."

#i love writing this #so i hope you all are enjoying it #house of anubis #fabina #nina martin #Fabian Rutter #Eddie Miller #kt rush #sibuna #fanfiction

[blue-eyes-and-auburn-hairr]

Second Chances Chp. 4

Disclaimer: Okay, I got more notes than I thought I ever would, so while the world is quarantined...I wrote another part.

Warning: Mention of death, fluff, I don’t want to mislead anyone this will very much be a slowburn

Summary: Can you imagine being widowed at such a young age to a man you thought you’d have forever with? On the anniversary of his death, on top of a mountain, Thea and Chris begin their new journey together.

(I want to experiment with a different perspective if its trash I’ll redo this chp. )

Thea had no idea why it was so hard to ghost this guy. It should be easy, they hung out for half a day a week ago. He should already have her out of his head, but no he still continues to call. 

“Ms. Mulligan I finished reading the chapter what should I do now?” Thea’s 3rd period reading support class was currently working on finishing their novel. She would typically read to them but her mind had been scattered all week. 

“Kay, why don’t you draw a picture of your favorite chapter so far on the smartboard?” Thea prompts, knowing that Kay loves to draw and she really is interested in the novel...even if she won’t admit it. 

“Can I listen to music, puhleaseee?” She spins around with a great big smile on her face. 

“As long as you don’t blast it and its not that Billie Eye Lash person,” Thea rolls her eyes with a smirk knowing what would follow. 

“Mully, you’re embarrassing yourself you know her name is Billie Eilish because I’ve stalked your Spotify playlist, right Kai?” Kai, who was too busy reading the next chapter to even look up when she responds, “Yeah Mully, we are currently working on one of those mixtapes for you so be prepared.” 

The nickname Thea fought for a good three months but finally caved when her co-workers started using it as well. As for the Spotify stalking, not surprised more impressed and she was now looking forward to the next mixtape they give her. 

Last semester, Thea assigned the class a project that required them to find a song to coincide with each chapter of their novel. The students also had to write one paragraph explaining why they choose each song. That was when the revolting started for about 20 minutes until Andrew, in the back of the class, had enough and shouted, “She is legit letting us listen to music all class period and write like 10 paragraphs for a week. The other students have to write an essay on like literary devices or something and they had to read the book all by themselves.” 

“Legit?” Kay announced shocked.

“Legit Kay, legit,” Thea sighs, “Also we have like 78 words on the word wall can we work on using one of those instead of ‘legit’?” 

“Bet.” Kai says with her hand in the air and at that point, Thea just puts her head down silently laughing. 

Her phone buzzed on her desk again, this time it was just a CNN update but the missed call was still staring her in the face. All Thea has felt since that night was guilt. She felt like she was cheating on Jamie and all they did was hug before getting in their own cars and driving away. The bubble burst though on the drive home when the waterworks wouldn’t stop and she had to pull over on the side of the road almost three times. 

And then Sunday morning, her phone rings and she watches as it goes to voicemail and then it vibrates again with a voicemail. She stares at her phone for a few more minutes before playing the message. 

Hey Thea, I just wanted to call and check in on you. You never messaged me when you got home last night and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Leaving West Point now and you were right I think I definitely made the guard’s day.  I’m sure you are busy getting ready for the school day tomorrow but if you have a second to talk I’m around. Okay, take care now. 

He called one more time that evening but no message. It was now Friday and Thea had five missed calls and two messages in total. She did not know how to process all of this and she had been burying herself in work trying to stay busy avoiding the topic. She did that with most things and she knew it wasn’t going to end well and that she was being selfish. So she picked up her phone and tried to type out a text, but then the bell rang and the class started to pack up. 

“Okay, guys I’ll see most of you in 7th and 8th for Math, make sure to have your homework notebook, hint, hint hint,” Thea says with a wink. She knew their anxiety would soar if they walked in not knowing about a homework check so she always made sure she casually mentioned something to them. Her co-teacher was not a fan of this, but her kids, her decision. 

Thea now had a prep period and then lunch to try and sort out all of her thoughts. She even had time to call Chris back, but she did not trust herself to keep her emotions in check, especially while at work. 

Hey Chris, Sorry for the disappearing act. I’m still just trying to process everything and work has kept me occupied. Can we talk tonight? Text, call or even facetime if that’s easier.  Sorry again. 

Chris’ phone finally vibrated in his pocket as he was walking out of a bagel shop in New York City. He was supposed to make his way to Boston to see his family after his trip upstate but that was sidetracked by some work stuff. 

His new movie, “Captain America: Civil War was being released in a few weeks and he had a few talk shows and then the Lower Manhattan premiere was on May 4th. He knew he was going to be in town for some time now and wanted to see Thea again. 

She just didn’t want to see him. 

He had no idea what he did wrong and wanted a chance to see her and explain that. So when she finally answered him back he wasn’t sure how to respond. He would prefer to talk in person but did not want to upset her or whatever else he may have done. He tried to call his brother for some advice but that call went to voicemail as well, but his mom picked up on the first ring. 

“Chris, honey you okay?” 

“Yeah Ma, I just needed a little advice and Scott didn’t answer,” he admits to his mother.

“Well, why would you call him before me? Does he give better advice or somethin’?” This was a rabbit hole Chris would very much like to avoid. 

“It’s about a girl Ma, he already knows most of the back story,” Chris sighs through the phone.

“Ahh, so this is about the girl you met on the hike, well more like Dodger found, who you had to call your brother about in the bathroom while on a date with her?” 

“Wait what? We weren’t on a date and wow did he really tell you everything?” Chris says in complete shock. “And let the record show that I called him when SHE was in the bathroom.”

“Of course he did, I’m his mother, he tells me everything” cue the eye roll. 

“Okay Ma, and yes I called Scott, obviously that was a mistake,” Chris chuckles “He apparently blabbed everything.” Chris still wasn’t sure why he called his brother when Thea went to the bathroom, he just was so happy for the first time in a while that he needed to tell someone.

“So this is the girl that you’re going to marry, huh?” His mother bluntly states, causing Chris to almost drop his phone. 

“What the fuck did Scott say? Who said anything about marriage? We talked for like four hours and she has been avoiding me all week.”

“Scott said you were going on and on about how you finally ‘found her’ which is why he called me 20 seconds after hanging up with you.” Thank goodness for the ballcap and the glasses or all of NYC would see the flushed cheeks of Christopher Evans. 

“Okay, can we circle back to that whole topic later? Or maybe after I have a word with my kid brother. How do I ask her to meet up with me tonight when she only wanted to talk on the phone? Is that too forward? Should I just say yes to the phone call?” Chris continued to ramble to his mother. 

“It can’t hurt to ask,” such a simple response and yet it was perfect. “Just mind your manners, you were raised better Christopher.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Chris says finally smiling because he has a plan. 

“And if you need to call anyone on this date, call me not your brother,” she chuckles on the phone. “Love you and let me know how it goes.”

“Love you too”

Hey Thea, a phone call would be perfect unless you would want to meet up in person? I’m still in New York and would really like to see you again. If you wanted to meet in the city or someplace by you...whatever is easier. 

Thea wanted to act like she was shocked by the message but she understood. Jamie and her relationship started out as long-distance, so when you have the opportunity to see someone in person you jump. 

She didn’t know if she was ready for all of this, but she also knew it wasn’t fair to Chris. They needed to talk and put all of their cards on the table.

I would like to see you again too, but whatever is easier for you.

Long Beach is about an hour train ride to the city, but not sure would be better for you with people and stuff. 

You could also come here and we could get some ice cream and take a walk on the boardwalk? If that doesn’t sound too cliche...

The bell is going to ring so no rush we can figure this out after school. 

Thea finally stopped blowing up his phone by her overthinking and put her phone in her bag for the rest of the school day. 

The afternoon went by in a flash, Thea waited until she got into her car after school to look at her phone. 

Not cliche at all, that sounds perfect. I can be to you by 7, just send me the address of the ice cream shop 

Thea forwarded the address and then made her way home. She had a few hours to kill before she would see Chris so she tried to busy herself with things to do to prevent the overthinking. 

Chris on the other head couldn’t stop the overthinking and the worst-case scenarios that played out in his head. He has so many things to worry about with the movie and all the press but he cannot get her beautiful smile out of his head. 

He just didn’t know what it was about her, everything about Thea just seemed authentic. She had been dealt such a tough hand that would make any person cold and distant, but she still wears her heart on her sleeve.  Even Dodger could see her genuine soul and stepped in to defend her when we were on the mountain. Chris just wanted to get to know her better, he thought he might miss out on something unbelievable if he just walked away. He also understood that she was still so hurt and wanted to help her in any way that he could. 

Chris thought about that while driving down to the ice cream shop and pulling into the parking lot a few minutes early. He spotted Thea as she was laying down a blanket in the trunk of her Jeep. He could only see the back of her and he was glad she was wearing something comfy and casual. It made him feel better about his jeans and t-shirt that took him an hour to finally commit too. He parked his car and made his way over to her, he closed his truck door loudly and called her name so he didn’t startle her. She didn’t turn around, she was too busy struggling with her own nerves. She had been fixing this blanket for a good 10 minutes and trying to decide whether or not it was lame and if she should scrap the whole idea. She didn’t even have a clue that Chris was behind her for a few minutes before she actually turned around with a jump. 

“Sorry, I was trying so hard not to scare you but you didn’t respond when I called your name a few times,” stumbled with his words. 

Thea kept a hand over her heart trying to steady her breathing and when it was finally calmed she looked up to see Chris’ concerned expression. 

Thea couldn’t help but laugh, “Well you looked like the last time we met too, only I had a knife in my hand and yet you look more scared now.” 

And just like that the tension that had worried them both had broken as Thea walked over to give Chris a big hug. They make there way over to the line and ordered two sundaes and then head back to her car. 

“I figured we could sit here while we ate our ice cream and then head to the boardwalk, its a few minutes away but I didn’t want the sundaes to melt” 

Chris continues staring at his ice cream trying to find a way to ask the question that had been driving him crazy all week. He didn’t know how to phrase it without making the situation worse. 

Thea scoots back into the car and sits like a pretzel, “So let’s talk about it before the elephant in the room gets any bigger.” Thea used to be all about beating around the bush but after everything that happened, time is one thing you can never get back. 

“Did I do something to upset you? I have been trying to figure out why you didn’t answer and I am coming up short” Chris admits finally looking away from his ice cream. 

“You did nothing wrong and I don’t want to sound like an asshole when I say that this had nothing to do with you,” Thea says while running her fingers through her hair. Chris sits patiently giving her a second to collect her thoughts. 

“I want to explain this right, so please take everything I say with a grain of salt because I am bound to put my foot in my mouth” Thea sets the stage with a disclaimer because she is absolutely terrified of the direction this could go. 

“You know that feeling when you are exercising or playing a sport and your breaths are coming shorter and the tightness in your chest is growing? You can still breath but it’s a struggle and you cannot wait for it to subside? And then finally you stop and you catch your breath and the air in your lungs fills again and you know you are going to be okay?” Chris nods along to Thea’s analogy trying to see where she was going with this. 

Thea takes a second to collect her words again, “Chris, I have been trying to catch my breath for three years now and no outlet, no resource, nothing was helping. The panic attacks while I was awake and even when I was sleeping, I just couldn’t...” Thea tries to collect herself shaking the tears from eyes refusing to let them spill. “And then I ask Jamie for a sign that it’s okay for me to stop running and I turn around and there you were” Thea clears her throat again.

“And Chris, I finally started breathing again.”

“Then we hugged and I got in my car and started to drive away and all at once it was gone and my lungs were aching and I was terrified and lost all over again” Chris is not sure at what point he reached for her hand but he was gently squeezing it as Thea continued to shake her head. 

“Out of nowhere, I was angry at myself that I let this happen and how I was a fool for thinking I could be normal again.” Thea pulled her hand away, “I woke up to the text you sent me and then the guilt set in. I felt guilty being happy with you and wanting to answer you and then guilty because I was not being fair to you and then guilty because we only knew each other for a few hours and I was giving so much power to something that wasn’t real.”  She swirls the melting ice cream in her lap, “and now I am just sad because sitting here with you right now with all these emotions I am breathing just fine.”

“And I am scared of what will happen next.” 

Chris had no idea how to react to all of this, she had so many layers and so much going on and unintentionally he hurt her. Thea was right though this wasn’t about him but the fact that he was helping and hurting her at the same time was making his head spin. Nothing was sitting right with him and maybe ice cream wasn’t the best choice because his stomach was churning. 

“I don’t know what to say, the thought that I am causing you pain, it makes me sick. Why would you say this isn’t real though?”

“Chris,” Thea sighs “I don’t know, you’re you and I’m me and I am talking this Chris not that other guy so don’t jump to conclusions. I am filled with scars and a heart that may never work again. You are so sweet and caring and could be anywhere right now and yet you are here with me eating ice cream in my trunk. We only talked for one evening, it just doesn’t make sense.” 

“Isn’t that how all great stories start though, with a great evening that leads to many more?”

“Chris, the only thing I can offer you is a hand to hold and friendship, I don’t think I can handle much more and that’s not fair to you.”

“Deal, sold, I’ll take it. Now let’s head to the boardwalk before it gets too chilly” Chris says while taking the melted ice cream and tossing it. 

“Wait what?” Thea says completely taken back. 

“I am not done getting to know you and I have a feeling this will all be worth it,” Chris says with a smirk. 

“Chris, I really don’t…” Chris cut Thea off, “I’m an optimist so let’s just enjoy each other’s company, okay?” 

Thea nods and recommends that Chris should follow her back to her apartment building to leave his truck so that they can just walk from there to the boardwalk, parking was bound to be crazy on this warm spring night. When they finally park and head to the boardwalk, Chris, optimistically, grabs Thea’s hand and they start their walk with the breeze from the open pushing them along. 

Chris decides while looking at her windblown hair, that he is going to help her no matter what. She deserves so much happiness in this life, Chris made a silent promise to her that all of her hardest days were behind her.  

Giving her hand an extra squeeze, Chris looks out into the distance and makes the same promise to the night sky that was watching over her.

@chi00072 @capstopavenger​

#avengers #chris evans #chris evans x original female character #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel masterlist #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x female reader #captain america x ofc #original female character #marvel #military #dodger

[jq37]

i know you posted your thoughts on the big arguing scene in “we need to talk about pete” but i was wondering if you were going to post a full breakdown? that episode was a lot and i love hearing your thoughts on eps. ignore this if you have done a breakdown and i’m dumb and just missed it lol

**spoilers for the war of bugs and rats and we need to talk about pete**

What’s up denizens of Magic NYC? Now, I unfortunately live in normal NYC where I have to pay bills and stuff so I’ve been MIA with recaps for the past few eps but, no sweat. We’re gonna do a double feature of the above two eps and then I’ll group in the last battle episode with the upcoming episode. So lets catch up on what’s been going on in The Unsleeping City There’s a LOT to get through so vámanos y'all.

First up, we have our big bug fight in Queens, which Sophie enters with a camelback full of box wine because Emily is Emily.

“I’ve heard of gentrification but this is crazy!”

Brennan enjoys making those gross, chittering, bug noises way too much.

Have we talked about Pete’s cowboy hat? Because, for real, what is up with Pete’s cowboy hat? It seems absolutely apropos of nothing. Was he just like, “Sick,” and he decided to wear it everywhere? That seems to be how he makes all of his decisions.

“Butthole 2: Electric Boogaloo.”

Emily clocks the cat *immediately*. Like to the point where I’m almost thinking, “Did this cat exist before Emily mentioned looking for one?” And I want to say yes because La Gran Gata seems very fleshed out, specific, and intentional. But folks, we are living in a post-Avanash world so idk what to think. (Edit: The cat does have a mini now that I’ve gotten to that but idk, that insert shot could have been shot post ep so like, who knows?)

Anyway, Emily’s entire mission objective immediately becomes saving this cat she’s vaguely aware of.  

“5E you crazy.”

The Cast, Knowing Emily just rolled a 25 and still has a 1d8 Bless in Her Back Pocket if She Needs It: Brennan, Just Ask.

The horror on Emily’s face when she realizes that she just called an attack on the cat cocoon.

So Emily goes off on a very Emily side quest to rescue a random cat but happens to unlock a very cool NPC–La Gran Gata–who is like the spirit of all the bodega cats out there. Sophie immediately calls upon the entirety of her limited Spanish skills to try and make friends with the cat, and succeeds.

The, “To arms, to arms my brothers!” thing kills me every time. Are all rats just Like That? Is that what they’re like when they’re out and about too?

Kingston rolling a nat 20 to literally walk across the store is wild.

Oh also, Pete failed a wild magic surge roll which just lets him fly. So far, those wild magic surges have really been working out for him.

Anyway, Bug Boss Becky turns Ricky into a “buff-ass” dog.

Zac playing dog-Ricky with almost exactly the same self-awareness (or lack thereof) as normal-Ricky is so funny. He’s an Akita and I was expecting Dalmatian but that makes sense too. Ricky, the very good boy, attacks Becky and–as a Sentinel–stops her in her tracks.

Emily does a ton of damage and Brennan, about to describe her attack, is like, “Are you still drunk?” Emily shuts down the opportunity to look cooler and is like, “I am a messy, drunk bitch. Describe that.” Emily isn’t here to be cool. Emily is here to roleplay.

I had never heard the word brindled before now and Brennan uses it to describe two separate animals in this ep.

Siobhan rolls a nat 20 to dispel magic on Ricky which is objectively good but also I would have loved for him to be a dog a little longer. Also, this moment makes me really, really want to get some backstory on Misty. Like, clearly there are some serious Fae Shenanigans going on with her and I need specifics yesterday.

Also, Ricky comes back with pointier ears and wolfier senses and I’m just picturing Channing Tatum in Jupiter Ascending.

Before I forget, Sophie, Pete, and Misty yoink magical items from the magic bodega within the bodega La Gran Gata opened up. Sophie’s is a magic ring that amps up her punches. Misty took a mirror and Pete took a grill (like for your teeth). Not sure what those do yet.

The fact that this whole fight wasn’t under the Umbral Arcana and there are people out there that remember is a little concerning for me. I can’t quite tell if it’s the sort of thing that will come back or more of a warning of what can happen if the U.A. goes down again.

Post-fight, Sophie asks La Gran Gata for mismatched David Bowie eyes like the cat has. Siobahn goes, “That’s what you’re gonna ask? You drunk bitch.” But Sophie has her wish granted. I’m sure that won’t raise any questions with people who have known her her entire life. 

“She’s gonna fuck that cat.”

So the fight’s over and they realize that the Key to the City is missing which I can’t imagine is a good thing.

This brings us to the RP ep, We Need to Talk About Pete, which picks up directly where the previous ep ended.

Ally and Emily go for the exact same joke of getting Guinness’s post-fight. Kingston–as a medical professional, Vox Populi, and sanest adult of this troupe–loudly objects (smacking the beers out of Pete’s hands multiple times) and wants to know what the hell is going on with the bugs they just fought.

Sidenote: Sophie took a level in Warlock with La Gran Gata as her patron because of *course* she did. I wonder if this was the plan from the beginning or if Emily was watching all her friends spellcasting and started getting the jitters from magic user withdrawal.

Murph’s “What?” face when Emily says, “I’ll be waiting, but not in an impatient, desperate way,” is gold.

They search the bodega and find a thing of 1000 Hour Energy and Kugrash gives it to Ricky over Pete’s objections. They also find Holy Grail Laundry Detergent (Kingston pays for it), The Grill I mentioned earlier (Kingston hates this), and this bagel. 

All the magic users show up. Alejandro wants an explanation pronto and everyone points a finger at Pete who explains everything in his typical, nonchalant, vague, kinda spaced out way which Alejandro is not digging at all. He starts to go off on the enormity of the situation and Pete starts dropping acid.

I’m gonna stop here for a sec to talk about how Ally is playing Pete. There are moments when I feel like Ally is doing something as a comedian for a bit. And there’s kind of a sense of, is this funny? Obviously. But what are the in game implications of this move? Like the running joke of Pete constantly being high on something is funny, out of game. But,  in game, it’s massively concerning. And I’m really curious about where Ally is choosing to draw the line between doing the funny thing and doing the prudent thing. I almost said the in-character thing but Ally made a character so consistently bonkers that whatever he does could plausibly be the in-character thing. Pete is kind of a massive disaster.

Anyway, Alejandro drives home the point that Pete’s actions have consequences and have caused actual deaths at this point. Pete’s magic is internally going wonky as he gets more distressed (I really wanted to see a wild magic surge fail here but alas). But he’s still outwardly like a 4 on the giving a damn scale when the situation is a 13 out of 10. Pete is only half listening to this because he’s halfway out the door, smoking. Alejandro plans with Kingston to discuss Pete later.

Misty, always sowing seeds of chaos, suggests Alejandro stock up on Juul pods before they stop selling them completely. Kingston hates this (this is basically his mood for the episode).  

Outside, Pete gets a text from Priya which ends with them planning a meet up for later after leaving her on read for a while. Pete dips without saying anything to anyone but Kingston who ignores him (and also Sophie who Emily hilariously guilts Ally into including out of character). Dipping on the conversation about how to fix YOUR mess isn’t the wisest move but Pete isn’t the wisest guy.  

In the meantime, Ricky does the Twilight Bark to summon a dalmatian (yes!) to help him find the stolen key to the city. Kugrash turns into a busted ass dalmatian who has trouble keeping up.

Ricky doesn’t have the plate mail armor that usually makes a Paladin so unstealthy but he is so hot as to have the same lack of stealthiness which is one of my favorite adaptations of the game for this setting. Anyway, Ricky does the superhero thing of running through the city, helping everyone with a problem along the way, and loses the key in the Financial District which smells like death (feels about right).

Siobahn playing Misty as, “Oh, I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was Emma Lazarus,” when, in reality, she was the first person who made the connection was great. S/o to ppl who separate player and character knowledge. Misty partied w/ Emma of course because she partied with every historical figure that’s passed through NYC since she showed up.

Post adventure, people need to go to their day jobs. Misty has a +10 to performance but rolling a 3 is rolling a 3. It’s not her best work. Later, her assistant brings her holly, silver, and assorted other stuff which sounds like Fae BS if I’ve ever heard it. Misty cuts her off before she can elaborate more. I know we’re getting a secret spilling episode next time so I’m really hoping we get some Misty lore because she is being frustratingly cagey. She talks so much but says so little that means anything.

Kugrash sneaks into his son David’s house (while Emily learns a rat fact she clearly didn’t want to know) and Murph  and Brennan tag team go for the proverbial emotional jugular.

Murph rolls a nat 20 on his investigate and so he gets a lot of his old files and puts together that Robert is Robert Moses–a famous historical figure in NY who I actually heard about for the first time very recently. Or maybe I should say infamous. He did a lot with NY infrastructure–especially highways–(Emily connects this to the Highway Hex immediately) and he wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type. His bread and butter was working the system. There’s a Pulitzer winning book called The Power Broker about how he was able to amass power and influence. I don’t know enough about NY history to run my mouth off about the guy but the little I do know is in character with his T.U.S. incarnation. Also, just FYI, irl this dude died in the 80s. So, you know. That’s interesting.

Brennan, I guess: Why invent new bad guys when history is full of terrible people I just have to give magic to?

Brennan, continuing his tradition of letting people get emotionally destroyed by nat 20s, has Murph find a crushing letter from David to Kug which was never mailed.

Note: So, as I was writing this, my video timed out right at the line, “I don’t expect this letter to find you before my funeral,” which is kinda good bc idk if this is what I need at 1 AM. Anyway, back to the pain.

The letter reveals that David has devoted his life to stopping crooks like him (Kug) and that he’s mostly upset about how his leaving has affected the younger, more fragile Wally.

“I leave the letter because I’ll remember it.” Yeah I bet you will.

It looks like Kug is gonna confront Wally next ep which I am now even more excited to see.

So let’s move onto the SECOND big gut-punch of the episode. Kingston goes down to the station to give a statement about the Santa Incident. He sees a shit elemental in a lineup which isn’t super relevant to the main events but I can’t not mention something like that.

Anyway, guess what? Kingston’s ex (Liz) isn’t dead! She’s an attorney for the justice system of The Unsleeping City and she’s pissed the hell off. During their interview, he stops the tape recorder to cuss out Kingston for going on a “date” with Misty and for getting her involved in all the magical junk which means she has to do things like fingerprint shit elementals instead of being on track to be D.A. like she originally was. The way she described it made it sound like she was press ganged into it which seems like it shouldn’t be how this works, you know? Is there no blue pill option here? Also, not to be all grass is greener but I actually am a lawyer in NY (closer to Kug’s job, minus the crime) and I would swap with Liz in a heartbeat.

The fact that anything Kingston says as Vox is per se admissible is a cool detail. 

Sophie fights an old man (Jackson) in a CVS and joins a monastery which sounds like a shitpost but it isn’t. With La Gran Gata’s blessing she is now a member of the Order of the Concrete Fist.

I saw the Staten Island joke coming the second Brennan started talking but it was still hysterical when it landed.

At the same time, Pete is getting knuckle tats because, sure. And he also goes to see Priya who I am baffled was with him for any length of time. Maybe it’s the artist thing?

Also, Sophie keeps postponing her meeting with Mario which is concerning to me. The story is still happening when you’re not interacting with it. Brennan specifically said when she texted him that she got no response which doesn’t make me feel good about what’s going on with him.

Ricky has three super jacked, fratty firefighter bros, all named John who are like woke as hell. I wish I could follow the dude around for a day because every single facet of his life is wild.

Well, this episode promised we were gonna talk about Pete so let’s talk about Pete.

The gang, sans Pete, meet up with the magical powers that be to discus the destruction the newest Vox his leaving in his wake.

Sidenote, wild that Sophie has been magic for like 15 minutes and got to go to this meeting.

Alejandro wants to know what the plan is for if Pete’s powers go off the rails again. Kingston, who has clearly seen Old Yeller, offers the most drastic solution immediately: if it comes to it, we take him out. (Cut to Ally’s “Yikes” face). Kug, Sophie, and Ricky push back on that.

Misty, hilariously (and also suspiciously), is mainly concerned about NY because she needs theater to keep happening. This woman is chaotic something and I’m not convinced it’s chaotic good yet.

Anyway, I already did my big write-up on this part of the episode, but I’ll say it again: Kingston is right. He’s harsh but he’s right. This is some Phoenix Force BS that’s happening and do you know how that arc ends (the OG one, not the million other Phoenix Sagas that have happened since)? It ends with Jean Grey killing herself so she doesn’t lose control and eat another planet. Ricky is too dangerous for his own good and he doesn’t seem to have the emotional maturity to care (or at least to care at the correct level). Like, he was a drug dealer when this started which is already not ideal. He caused a huge mess and then just bounced without trying to help fix it. He thought that a week was enough time for human casualties to be water under the bridge. Frankly, not considering the nuclear option and just having to figure out if killing him is something the group is willing to do on the fly would be the more irresponsible option.

And not including Pete in the discussion would bother me more if he hadn’t openly blown off every serious discussion people have tried to have with him so far. If he’s not going to take things seriously, it makes sense they don’t invite him to the serious discussions.

The version of this story where Pete accidentally gets a bunch of people killed, finds out what he did, cries about it for a full day, and then finds out they’re talking about possibly killing him is a story where Pete is more sympathetic imo. But still, finding out that people talked about killing you under any circumstances has got to be rough.

IMO, the order of things that should be done right now are (1) putting magical training wheels on Pete, (2a) getting Pete trained or his powers transferred if it’s possible/he wants out, (2b) either way, getting Pete into therapy (like, he needed therapy before he got magic. now it’s just a matter of life and death–besides just his own), (3) talking to Pete again about the stakes and telling him point blank but not in while heated that there’s the possibility of a scenario where his powers go out of control and you have to understand that at that point it’s a matter of saving as many lives as possible. Like, Kingston can say, with conviction, “If I go rogue, you should do the same to me.” They’re in the same boat. Kingston’s just been rowing longer. Well, similar boats anyway. I imagine the Vox Populi powers are less inherently chaotic. And maybe the knowledge that a nuclear option is on the table would make Pete not want the job or want him to have his powers muted or something. Cool. Then you have that discussion at that point. Just, these are the conversations that need to happen. And maybe his own mortality will be the thing that helps get Pete’s head in the game. 

What jewel did Ale take out of his pocket during this conversation? Taking note of that. (Juul, not jewel. Duh. Thx thethief )

Pete gets in touch w/ Alejandro’s granddaughters who tell him that Alejandro’s still pretty pissed (which is surprising to Pete but like, bro. People died). Then, Robert shows up to sweet talk Pete and show him the video (that he somehow has) of Kingston talking at the Pete Meeting. When I was watching this the first time I was like, “How long before this blows up in their face–oh, almost immediately. Cool.”

He takes Pete to his vampire nightclub and hits him with Pete’s own “I didn’t create the demand” line that you just know Brennan put a pin in to hit Pete with that Uno Reverse card.

Robert tries to get Pete to summon Nod and then just does it forcibly with some kind of blood magic when Pete is hesitant. Pete wild magic surges, kills a bunch of vamps, and Nod (super injured by being in the waking world) teleports them both to the subway.

The group (including Alejandro) meets them there so they can catch the L train to Nod but Epona shows up. And you already know from Fantasy High that Brennan is on the ACAB train (or is that AFCAB?). Epona is now wearing a crooked badge–crooked badge for a crooked cop. She wants Nod. No can do. The gang gets ready to–to quote Mr. Cubby-make some bacon while Alejandro tries to cast a spell to summon a train to Nod (the place not the person).

So I’ll see y’all next time (whenever that is) for some subway fighting and some backstory unlocking! 

#asks #bbistrashbutwhatevs #dimension 20 #the unsleeping city #d20

[copperbadge]

tienriu replied to your post “Almost got my ass kicked on an airplane”

Sam, you pulled an adult on some kid. And forgot that you're an actual facts adults. Also I bet you are now being immortalised in a 'this one time -' story a bunch of the people around you are telling.

LOL I’m not even sure if anyone else heard me, you know how airplane accoustics are, but he definitely did. :D I swear I just meant to think it to myself.

I don’t think I ever really internalized that I’m an actual facts adult myself -- it took me realizing that this kid was probably 15-20 years younger than me to realize that I actually appear to have authority.  

winds-wanderer replied to your photo “Man, you guys, the Guggenheim is EVEN UGLIER IN PERSON. Nothing...”

Funny stories re the Guggenheim (from former prof who used to work there as an art handler). 1. The walls are a bitch for hanging art. Many drill bits were required. 2. The incline of each floor was too steep for driving small vehicles carrying art work. As for me, the distance between the wall and the rail is too narrow, preventing proper viewing of big art works. So Guggenheim = great architecture, shitty space for displaying art.

Yeah, I did a bit of reading on it and Frank Lloyd Wright never seems to be really interested in the ultimate use of the piece -- I think he was really a frustrated installation artist before they existed (hence the frustration). His architecture was art applied to structure, but he seemed heavily disinterested in what that structure was surrounding. 

jeanninedupree replied to your photo “Some photos I didn’t get to post today! Lanterns in a park in south...”

Sam, I don't know if you ever ran across the work of Rex Stout's sister Ruth, but it's well worth your time. She's mainly known as a gardening writer (author of "How to Have a Green Thumb Without an Aching Back") but her book "If You Would Be Happy" is good general philosophy of life.

Oh neat! I wasn’t aware of her, thank you. I’ll add it to my reading queue! 

jaythenerdkid-official replied to your photo “Some photos I didn’t get to post today! Lanterns in a park in south...”

I always read that the address of wolfe's brownstone (which changed quite a bit in the books, just like the name of wolfe's lawyer - IS IT NATHANIEL OR IS IT HENRY GEORGE,, REX) would put his house somewhere in the river. that plaque is so cool, though! wolfe is one of my favourite detectives. he and goodwin are my favourite bickering old married couple to go and visit when I'm feeling down.

Yeah, he shared with Conan Doyle a certain lack of concern with the finer details of his stories, but then I think he thought of them as fun little pulps -- he made them as literary as possible and he had some social commentary to make especially in the later ones, but I don’t think he ever thought they’d be seriously studied by people. 

There were definitely a lot of addresses I found when I decided I’d go searching for the brownstone (there aren’t any brownstones in that area anymore) but once I happened on the fact that there was a plaque, I decided to take the Wolfe Pack’s word for it :D 

sphinxyvic replied to your photo “Some photos I didn’t get to post today! Lanterns in a park in south...”

Gotta show this to Parhelion! We’ll have to look for it next time we’re in NYC!

It’s at 454 West 35th Street -- though I have to warn you there is no brownstone attached to it, it’s just a very nice kind of vintagey-designed apartment block. 

thetimesinbetween replied to your photo “Found hipster foodie Steve’s favorite coffee joint. (It is in...”

pause, i live here (in brooklyn)—where is this???

It’s called The Flat BKSpeed Coffee -- I guess it’s kind of a sales point for a coffee micro-roastery in the area? 

luthorchickv2 replied to your photo “Well I found something to top yesterday’s Vermeer.”

Was in a cab going up first when i was this post and managed to look out the window at exactly the right moment to see it.

Aw yay, how serendipitous! I actually quite like it, it’s weird and I’m not sure where it’s going but it’s having fun on the way there. According to news coverage, it’s meant to be a welcoming, whimsical first sight on the way to the new children’s hospital that’s going up nearby. 

persian-slipper replied to your photo “Well I found something to top yesterday’s Vermeer.”

Who is the artist? It isn't S. Johnson, is it?

No, although there is a Seward Johnson nearby, apparently, I passed close to it on the bus ride back from the doggo. It’s by Donald Lipiski. 

laughingacademy replied to your photo “Well I found something to top yesterday’s Vermeer.”

Too bad it wasn't raining, that causes the windshield wipers to turn on.

I HEARD. I was so mad too because it rained later that day! 

myotherblogisatardis replied to your post “The little statues are in the 14th St/8th Avenue stop, not 34th. St.”

Ohhhh... Those.... I *hate* those guys!

I have to admit the first ones I saw I was like “Oh, how cute!” and the second one I saw next to it I was like “Well that’s funny!” and then the more I saw the more creeped out I got. 

bobcatmoran replied to your photo “Okay kids, you said Ess-A-Bagel so here I am, and bagels aside, the...”

Midwesterner who lived in NY for a few years - I think the thing about NYC bagels isn't necessarily that the best NYC bagels are on a different plane than the best bagels in, say, Chicago. It's that the average NYC bagel is so, SO much better than the average bagel in a Midwestern city, even one as big as Chicago. And they're so ubiquitous.

That makes sense, and the ubiquity I will acknowledge -- the ease of getting a really good bagel in New York is undeniable. If I lived in a city where I could get bagels that good that easily, I’d have a bit of civic pride about it too.  

This does, however, reinforce my belief that people who hear the question “Hey where can I get good bagels in XYZ city” and respond “You can’t, go to New York” are being assholes. It’s not helpful, it just generates noise, and it’s worse now! Because it’s SO EASY to find good bagels in New York! New Yorkers should be sympathetic to the plights of those trying to find good bagels elsewhere. It’s the pettiest of punching-down maneuvers.   

truly-a-gryffindork replied to your photo “Okay kids, you said Ess-A-Bagel so here I am, and bagels aside, the...”

If you want a side of religious experience with your bagels you’ll have to go to Montreal

I am willing to test this hypothesis the next time I find myself in Montreal! 

lh7 replied to your post “Sam I have an important Chicago question: just north of the DuSable...”

hey @copperbadge​ this post on my blog was flagged

Thank you! Even Tumblr knows how atrocious Seward Johnson’s art is. I’ve had it unflagged. 

fanmouse replied to your photo “IT HAS BEEN A VERY EXCITING DAY. I went to Tal’s bagels for breakfast...”

I want to know if one of the silver pitchers in the Met collection belonged to Vermeer (or the model). Wishing you safe travels.

I actually backtracked yesterday morning to the public-access storage room and went through the rack of silver pitchers looking for one that matched, but alas, none had the right shape and spout. 

melinda-t-charville replied to your photo “Funnily enough mum used to complain that people randomly followed her...”

Thank you! I was able to find it now - you must have got a good deal bc they're selling it for $20 on Amazon!

Oh lord, you can definitely find it cheaper than that -- I saw it for like $8 using Google Shopping. Good luck in your quest! 

#melinda-t-charville #fanmouse #lh7 #truly-a-gryffindork #bobcatmoran #myotherblogisatardis #laughingacademy #persian-slipper #thetimesinbetween #luthorchickv2 #sphinxy-vic #jaythenerdkid-official #jeanninedupree #winds-wanderer #tien-riu

[thebowerypresents]

Vampire Weekend Celebrate New Album with Epic Show at Webster Hall

Vampire Weekend – Webster Hall – May 5, 2019

Bagels and pizza and more than six hours with Vampire Weekend, oh my! If there’s a better way to spend a Sunday morning and afternoon, it’s probably illegal. Hot on the heels of the release of Father of the Bride—out this past Friday—their first new album in six years, Vampire Weekend played three sets beginning at 11 a.m. on Sunday morning at the newly renovated and reopened Webster Hall. The only uncooperative factor was the weather, a cold and drizzly day that might cause you to look outside and want to stay home. “This is going to be the longest show we've ever done. We just want you to know what you’re in for,” said singer Ezra Koenig just a few songs into their first set, which began, aptly, with a cover of the Velvet Underground’s “Sunday Morning” then moving into a jammy version of “Obvious Bicycle” that detoured its way in and out of a “Son of a Preacher Man” cover before returning back to the song’s melody. Somewhere in the midst of this came a masterful Grateful Dead–like guitar jam, with the seven-piece band firing on all cylinders. Good morning to you, too, Vampire Weekend. 

The first set came heavy with covers. If there was a theme among them it was slightly lesser known ’80s songs from favorite artists of the ’70s, starting with “I’m Goin’ Down” by Bruce Springsteen and “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac. “For the record, there are two Vampire Weekend songs that sound like Paul Simon songs, only two. I won’t say which two. But this next song also sounds like a Paul Simon song," said Koenig in jest, kicking off their rendition of Simon’s “Late in the Evening.” The band then returned to their own originals, having the audience sing the M.I.A. sample to kick off “Diplomat’s Son,” playing through some more hits and then ending the first set with their final overlooked ’80s song from a musical legend, “Jokerman” by Bob Dylan.

For the middle set, Vampire Weekend played through the entirety of Father of the Bride, with some support from Haim singer-guitarist Danielle Haim. Perhaps only the most devoted Vampire Weekend fans sign up for a daylong performance, but it was remarkable just how many in the audience seemed to know every word of an album released just a couple of days earlier. The two other Haim sisters—Alana and Este—joined in on the sunny, sing-along friendly “This Life,” already well on its way to becoming a Vampire Weekend classic. “Sunflower” had the group going full-out jam band, fleshing out the silly-at-first song into a complete noisy guitar-jam freak-out. “Flower Moon” featured Koenig on the talk box, giving Peter Frampton a run for his money. The set closed out with the live debuts of the new album’s final four songs and some more Danielle Haim appearances, ending with the somber “Jerusalem, New York, Berlin” and a reminder to head downstairs for pizza.

“It’s been a long, beautiful day,” said Koenig returning for set three, noting that he knew sometime in the first set that this would be the best show they’d ever played. The final set pulled out all of the remaining hits, with their first album especially well represented. It also featured a handful of surprises, including a cover of SBTRKT’s “New Dorp. New York.” The original features Koenig's vocals, but Sunday’s cover played it reimagined as a Vampire Weekend song, complete with an absolute blistering guitar solo from guitarist Brian Robert Jones. A recent addition to the band, Jones is an imposing figure onstage with a big presence and an even bigger head of hair. The band also covered the catchy little ditty “Sister of Pearl,” from Chris Baio’s solo work.

There might be no better way to stave off the Sunday scaries than screaming out at the top of your lungs, “If I can’t trust you then damn it, Hannah!” on “Hannah Hunt,” a song that sits at a slow boil before exploding into its chorus. Other bands take note: You can still play a concert literally all day long and fans in the audience will still eagerly shout out requests as if you’re going to leave a major hit off the table. Noting that they still had a lot of songs left to go, Koenig said, “We’re reaching that point where we have a lot of songs, it feels good!” Nearing the 50-track mark, Vampire Weekend stormed through any other hits that had yet to be played, “Diane Young” into “Cousins” into “A-Punk” into “Campus” into “Oxford Comma” into “I Think Ur a Contra.” And yes, there was an encore, which started off with a cover of Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys are Back in Town,” allowing Koenig to then reveal himself as a Thin Lizzy fanboy afterward. There was even still room for one more surprise guest appearance, with New York City’s own Dev Hynes (of Blood Orange) joining for the final song of the day, “Ya Hey.”

“A lot’s happened on this weird little island,” reminisced Koenig, noting how the band members found each other and formed Vampire Weekend while living in Manhattan. It’s at this point that they’re now thinking about their legacy. Not many bands can pull off an all-day show. And as far as legendary New York City acts go, they may always be a bit of an outlier. They’ve produced some joyful, uncynical music over the years in a city not known for its cheeriness—and in times not known for optimism. Are there any other NYC musical legends with a similar story? Forgive the comparison Ezra Koenig, but maybe only Paul Simon. —Dan Rickershauser | @D4nRicks

Photos courtesy of DeShaun Craddock | dac.photography

@deshaunicus

#Alana Haim #Bob Dylan #Blood Orange #Bruce Springsteen #Chris Baio #Chris Tomson #Dan Rickershauser #DeShaun Craddock #Dev Hynes #East Village #Este Haim #Ezra Koenig #Father of the Bride #Grateful Dead #Live Music #M.I.A. #Music #New York City #Paul Simon #Peter Frampton #Photos #Review #SBTRKT #Thin Lizzy #Velvet Underground

[therightprometheanfire]

Tag Game

I got tagged by @nerdygingerandproud, y’all!

1. Relationship status:  Single

2. Lipstick or chapstick: Definitely lipstick. I have one in a light pleasant pink and another in a dark red and that last one especially is one of my favorite things.

3. Three favorite foods:  Hmmmm. Burgers (particularly this burger joint back home in VT is just... fucking incredible, my dudes), strawberries, aaaaand I’m gonna go with the steak that my brother makes, because when I was still at home and he was working at the grocery store and tired all the time, he learned what the cheapest cuts of meat in the store that still tasted good were, so he’d bring home five dollar cuts of meat that he’s so good at cooking, and idk, I’ve been missing it a lot lately

4. Song stuck in your head:  this is a weird pull, but when I went home last weekend my brother and I rewatched the Simpsons episode “Homer’s Barbershop Quartet”, and there’s this bit where Jasper’s singing to the tune of “Theme from a Summer Place” but instead of the lyrics he sings “it’s the theeeeeeme from a suuuuummer plaaaaace, from a summer plaaaace, it’s the theeeeme from a suuuummer plaaaace”, and on and off ever since it has been going in a goddamn loop in my brain

5. Last movie you watched: if documentaries count, an American Masters on Edgar Allen Poe. It was only okay: they were bending over backwards to excuse how Poe was kind of a dick (although he’s not a dick in all the ways we commonly believe him to be, which the documentary was pushing pretty hard, he still married his thirteen year old cousin, so)

6. Top three shows— Classic: I always went more hardcore on classic movies than classic TV shows and my brain is a garbage fire in general, so these will probably be the ones that I remember (some of these I haven’t even seen in ages but remember loving dearly), BUT: Monty Python, most of the early SNL stuff, and The Twilight Zone. I haven’t watched enough Star Trek OTS to call it a favorite, but I’ve seen enough that I like and appreciate it a bunch.  Recent: The Good Place, Brooklyn Nine Nine, and American Experience. Really, any PBS documentary is good with me.

7. Books I’m currently reading:  I haven’t been reading as much as I have been listening to audiobooks, so for audiobooks I’m working on The Radium Girls: The Dark Story of America’s Shining Women by Kate Moore and Five Came Back: A Story of Hollywood and the Second World War by Mark Harris. The physical book I’m trying to finish is Queer City: Gay London from the Romans to the Present Day by Peter Ackroyd. Queer City is very well written, and pretty interesting, but it advertises as being a history including gays, lesbians, transgender folk, and that it is not very good at it. It’s mostly a history of gay men, and also some lesbians, and a very small amount of trans folk. As a gay male history of London, it’s exceptional, but as far being an all encompassing queer history book, it definitely falls way short of the mark.

8. Last thing I googled:  "queer city book”, because I couldn’t remember the full title or author, and it’s on my bookshelf but I do not have the vision necessary to read the author from here and my comforter is very warm.

9. Time: 5:52 pm

10. Dream trip: God, dudes, I want to travel so bad. I think I answered one of these recently talking about how my next trip I wanted to be to NYC, and that is still true, but as far as dream trip, fuck, man. I would love to do a road trip across the US because I’ve always wanted to do a road trip, but for one thing that costs money, and for another a loudmouthed queer woman traveling on her own across the country is... probably not a good thing to be doing at the moment. But I also really wanna go to Britain. I’m really interested in English and Irish history and would love to travel to see historical landmarks (yes, I would be that tourist), I’ve been a Shakespeare nerd since I was about seven or eight and I’ve always wanted to see a production at the Globe, I have friends in Britain I’d love to see (looking at you, @dont-offend-the-bees and @lavellington).

11. Anything you want:  Gosh. Well, okay. I’d like for the world to not be such a fucking nightmare, and if the US weathers Trump, I would really like for liberals and the left to not dust off their hands and go “yay, we fixed it!”, because getting rid of Trump will not mean “we fixed all the problems that led us here”, and we still have a lot of work to do with racism and misogyny and transphobia and homophobia. Getting rid of the asshole at the top of the system does not mean we have fixed the problems inherent in the system.

That, obviously, is the big one. On a smaller scale,  I’d like to be able to set up a both at craft shows, for one thing, I love crochet and I’d love to be able to showcase it to a bunch of people and have a bunch of people buy my stuff (and definitely validate my yarn habit). I would love to get a book published- I have a couple long term book plots churning, but I think an anthology of poetry and short stories would be good for me. I want to lose some weight cause even though I actually really like being fat, I have arthritis, and the less weighing on my joints, the less I’ll be in pain. Kind of foiling that last wish, I really want a plain untoasted bagel with a smoked salmon schmear from the cafe about eight minutes from me.

All right, I’ve definitely fuckin talked enough, let’s get tagging. I’m supposed to tag fifteen people, but I always struggle with hitting the exact number, so I’m gonna do my best and if y’all feel like doing it, go for it.

@dont-offend-the-bees, @klaudiart, @princessparadoxical, @punkpuppydragon, @singlemaltantiseptics, @lavellington, @elijahwoodnot

#kate talks #about me #tag games

[canaryatlaw]

it’s late, obviously, but this shouldn’t take too long. I woke up a little before noon I think, came downstairs and talked to our cleaning lady (she’s just my mom’s friend, we don’t have like a maid or anything fancy like that) and had a bagel, then got to work rolling out the dough for the gingerbread cookies I made the night before, which is always super annoying work I do not enjoy but I like gingerbread cookies so oh well. they came out pretty good and I did that for a while. a little while after that I got changed into workout clothes and went on the treadmill for an hour which was my plan to do every day over break, at least since I’m not walking my regular 1-2 miles a day like I would in Chicago, but I’ve been preoccupied by getting the rest of my work for the school year done up to this point so it was the first time I could actually focus and do it. I watched the mid-season finale of Riverdale while on the treadmill, which was actually a surprisingly good episode, because I haven’t been crazy about them this season. I like, I want to like Veronica and Archie as a couple, but like, they’re just so meh?? like the idea of them is better than they actually are. And I really did not like the whole black hood being obsessed with Betty plot, that was creepy, but I did enjoy the Betty and Archie taking him down storyline in this episode, I thought they played that really well. idk what the hell they’re doing with Jughead, and after that cut off scene with the implied tattoo removal I was just severely flinching and grabbing my arm because WHAT THE HELL????? that sounds like a great way to accidentally cause someone to bleed out. but anyway. when that was over I just watched some Batman till the hour on the treadmill was over. I was pretty tired after that, but a little while later I had some dinner (I had pizza) and then I had to decide if I wanted to start on the second set of cookies I had wanted to make today or if I wanted to start icing my gingerbread cookies, and I decided to go with icing them. I was going to make actual royal icing this year because I actually found meringue powder, and I had a little squeeze bottle and everything and I was gonna do so well this year. well....initially, things did NOT go well and suffice to say there were major issues, because when it comes to decorating shit it’s never as easy as I think it will be, especially because I have no hand coordination that would assist in any visually artistic skills whatsoever. BUT! I rallied and adjusted a few things, made a thinner version of the icing and put the second cap onto a smaller bottle we had, and then did the whole outlining/flooding thing you’re supposed to do for royal icing (it’s where you outline the cookie with the thicker icing and then put the thinner icing inside the outline to “flood” it) and it took a little while but eventually I got a good system going and got some nicely iced cookies. we apparently did not have any red food coloring (which is weird, but whatever) so I left some on the side to use the red on once I get red food coloring and make more icing (I just did white and green ones tonight). so overall I was fairly pleased with how it all turned out. I hung out for a while and sat on my laptop while my parents watched HGTV like they do every night (because they are Those People™) and then when my mom went upstairs I asked my dad if he wanted to finish watching the crossover, which he did. by the time Leo and The Ray showed up and started kissing he was definitely over his fill of gay content which I just found fairly amusing tbh, there’s no point even trying to have that discuss but at least I can find humor in his discomfort lol. Seeing Stein die again was AWFUL and I definitely cried. I did pick up on a few more lines here and there that I missed the first time around, like how they actually did mention more than once how this Eobard was actually earth-1 Eobard, but I maintain that that makes no fucking sense???? like his entire involvement in the crossover was just....odd and out of place, really. but yeah, I didn’t really have any too different feelings than the first time around, which I believe I covered rather extensively on here when it happened. I was interested to see what my dad would think about the nazi plot because he’s a baby boomer, literally born in 1946, just one year after WWII ended and after his father came home from the war, but he seemed to be alright with using them as villains (which I guess makes sense to him, because he liked Captain America and all that stuff when it comes to fighting nazis). After the two episodes were over, we ended up staying up and talking for a good amount of time, which generally always happens when I’m home like this at least once, about anything and everything. he does bring up some good points on different things sometimes, but others he’s going on about where I know there’s no use trying to challenge him on even if I don’t agree (like he’s never going to accept the concept of white privilege because he was born to a dirt poor immigrant family who lived in the projects of NYC and literally built everything he has on his own, which *I* understand doesn’t disprove the concept, but he does not). But overall it was a good discussion of course so that is good. then I came upstairs and started getting ready for bed and it’s like 2:45 am now so I should probably be getting some sleep. I’m going to my dad’s office’s christmas party tomorrow, so that should be fun, but it means I’ll have to get up at least a little earlier than normal, so sleep would be a good thing to have. Goodnight my friends. Hope you had a lovely day.

#daily journal #December 2017

[queenbabyqueenbaby]

IF YOU WEREN’T DRIVING

MARTYR’S VINEYARD I turn around at the franchise and there you are Turns out it’s easy to get out of one’s comfort zone - you just have to sit down for 10 hours with temperamental phone reception (I was starting to think of your body as USB rechargeable) Sentences starting with “your mom” lay groundwork for something derogatory, your mom’s so ugly, so lazy, so broke, so fat (I remember getting sent a news link from a journalist friend about somebody wearing a fat suit to, quote “see what it’s like to be your mom”) but that’s not the intention here At all She likes to bring up difficult subjects while we’re eating. There was alcoholic bleeding-out during pad Thai, benzodiazepine addiction over chicken, then her illegal abortion and ensuing sepsis with the scrambled eggs you made. And what is an abortion if not a kind of scrambled egg? She says “this is what we’re going to have to go back to” and she’s right and we all think about Alabama; having to look for a man holding an upside down newspaper who will, for the right price, put you in stirrups in his kitchen and pack you with too much gauze Holding the luxury-aggression of #metoo and an archaic provincial law in the brain at once is tough. If you want to dehumanise something, make it into a verb Your mother took ballet and was prescribed speed. Your mother’s romantic biography smells like garlic (she says you’re a garlic man just like your father). You have pheasants coating the inside of your room, but you’ve never seen a pheasant. I guess that’s no different to my thing with aliens I think you think I’ve come to assess your bower. Its tones are muted, and I wonder whether you know the colour brown is my favourite for courtship or whether that’s just bucolic happenstance. I give you a painting for the display arena because I more or less build a bower for myself every day except Wednesdays and I have parts to spare I sit on the porch in the rain, I take a bath, I show you the spoils of alt-right celibacy, you ask whether it has something to do with Fleetwood Mac, I say maybe. I wake every morning to my head’s questions: why are there so many trees and why am I naked? Then I answer my own question We look at flowers in the arboretum and I ruin a lot of them for you with my weakness for the abject. I just got hit on writing this by a man who said Capricorns rule the material world - maybe that’s why I can make you see toilet paper in a calla lilly You leave your keys in the ignition while we eat lobster and women tourists sing from the sound of music, failing on three counts of harmony, and I wonder whether this is what my music sounds like to you My jawline acne clears up nonetheless, you drive me around and map out the island via teenage anecdotes which is something google ought to look into doing more of Some place names are pulled straight from my country (oh, my country) and others read like typos of words which never made it through border control There are basically three types of rock: the ones we find on the beach and are now in my luggage, the clay which built the island when a glacier happened, and the songs I play you in the car going through Connecticut when I wasn’t sure of your feelings about capers Any time the place borders on quaint I hear your speaking voice and realise it’s not that simple The gingerbread houses in Oak Bluffs make me feel sick, but not homesick. It’s what would’ve happened if the 8 year old me was given a chisel and some rocking chairs, before I started fooling my metabolism and feeling the cold a lot Some of that architecture looks edible, but that’s not the kind of thing I would eat I try to explain to you and your mother how perfect the Peter Pan bus we rode to the ferry was, because in truth I wanted to be 8 forever, with or without the chisel I see your father look in your direction half lit by his online newsfeed and instead of seeing you he seems to see the last parts of himself. He makes similar noises to you after eating, except more violent and whilst eating. Your parents cause your face to make sense I collect us some bagels to eat in the car we almost didn’t rent which has the air of our 3 hypothetical young children - except I get water and Coca Cola too and I miscarry the lunch across the parking lot and then you have an aux cable ready to go so I can play the songs I hope you associate me with rather than Gilmore Girls Connecticut, to me, just looks like a huge freeway but I know that often you have to sacrifice beauty for convenience. There is a town called Mystic I like, and imagine you driving through there in a Honda when enough is enough NYC / NEARLY YOUR CAR If you weren’t driving I’d tell you that when I try to replicate some of this serenity in the city it’s a waste of time, especially when a man jerks off onto a tree and you’re worried about my “all mouth no trousers” idiom and a 12 year old boy shrugs near me saying “well, I certainly cant afford a lawyer at this stage” I remember frank o’hara on the subway when somebody says “I’m so tired and it’s brunch” and that you had that yoghurt for way too long coming from Spain and I had to ask you to throw it out when your mother declined it the way I did and your wife calls on the ferry. 3 women is enough without dairy products to think about I send you the Coke poem even though it concerns love between two men because it’s too good not to - I would’ve gone to the Frick and everything if you weren’t driving. Hell, if you weren’t driving I’d be forcing you to read the magazine with my article in, I’d ask you between paragraphs whether that makes you uncomfortable and you’d say no I’m driving If you weren’t driving I’d be driving - though with stick that’s gonna look bad when we both die in the car concertina’d like a metal accordion nuzzling the back of a Defender with a license plate reading “MY BAD” I wonder which magazines would write that up It would feel so damn incongruous with the Met Orchestra asking us to turn our pages and open our cough drops QUIETLY (cough drop ought to be a track on your next record but I won’t ask you to do this directly) especially when we see a violinist rollerblading through a red light Neither of us know much about mezzo-sopranos because we are both tobacco-baritones If I quit would you want me to bawl like that in phonetic French? To me it sounds like a fake orgasm, but perhaps to you it’s beautiful. If you weren’t driving I’d be satirising it until iced coffee runs out your nose. I’d do some kind of medley with that and the woman who followed us singing happy birthday from the bar on Sunday You get to your first art opening late when the room is empty and they switch the lights back on so you can look at Me In 2007, then you have to carry my book around like an angsty bible which is the verbal equivalent of Me in 2007. Gotta level the playing field because there’s so much of You in 2007 on the web viewable to anybody who heard Oxygen whilst on ecstasy and wanted to put a face to a name (I did this by accident with Vegas and it hurt like a slap) And to think it could’ve been a mobile phone ad, an Amazon ad, an ad-derall(?) The phrase “Gentleman of the Road” is so disgusting I almost choke on my cough drop which is also levelling since romance to me is two people making each other expel stuff from unorthodox passages. Dirty, sure, but I mainly mean soda. That way, your hand on my back means both affection and medical assistance (the two were forever fused together when I was a kid) My dealer supervises and to some extent caters your strange America-Ireland divorce summit in the corner of the Greek restaurant and you tell me it was about socialism but you’re forgetting I know you both You assure me you are a lap dog / porpoise and we look at how thin the buildings uptown have gotten. I have to be careful with the phallic now of course. But care is also, I think, bringing up the very thing you shouldn’t bring up. “Shit”, I think, “maybe I have to rephrase ‘bringing-up’ now” Still, I hope you prefer our dumb jokes to the couple behind us in Times Square with the girl saying “it’s weird cause it’s like it’s sunny and like also not sunny right now”. Was she talking about the LEDs? Can she play a D-chord below an overhead railroad of recording equipment being shipped around? Can I? That was embarrassing If you weren’t driving I’d show you the man on Avenue A sitting next to his own skeleton and we’d notice how comfortable he seems in its company, then how comfortable we seem in each other’s company and then ask whether that makes us uncomfortable, whether we’ve just signed up to months of discomfort I turn around at the franchise and you’re gone, if you weren’t driving I’d make you feel bad about that