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arcticdementor · 3 years

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Stefanie Gray explains why, as a teenager, she was so anxious to leave her home state of Florida to go to college.

“I went to garbage schools and I’m from a garbage low-income suburb where everyone sucks Oxycontin all day,” she says. “I needed to get out.”

She got into Hunter College in New York, but both her parents had died and she had nowhere near enough to pay tuition, so she borrowed. “I just had nothing and was poor as hell, so I took out loans,” she says.

This being 2006, just a year after the infamous Bankruptcy Bill of 2005 was passed, she believed news stories about student loans being non-dischargeable in bankruptcy. She believed they would be with her for life, or until they were paid off.

“My understanding was, it’s better to purchase 55 big-screen TVs on a credit card, and discharge that in a court of law, then be a student who’s getting an education,” she says.

Still, she asked for financial aid: “I was like, ‘My parents are dead, I'm a literal fucking orphan, I have no siblings. I'm just taking out this money to put my ass through school.”

Instead of a denial, she got plenty of credit, including a slice of what were called “direct-to-consumer” loans, that came with a whopping 14% interest rate. One of her loans also came from a company called MyRichUncle that, before going bankrupt in 2009, would briefly become famous for running an ad disclosing a kickback system that existed between student lenders and college financial aid offices.

Gray was not the cliché undergrad, majoring in intersectional basket-weaving with no plan to repay her loans. She took geographical mapping, with the specific aim of getting a paying job quickly. But she graduated in the middle of the post-2008 crash, when “53% of people 18 to 29 were unemployed or underemployed.”

“I couldn't even get a job scrubbing toilets at a local motel,” she recalls. “They told me straight up that I was over-educated. I was like, “Literally, I'll do your housekeeping. I don't give a shit, just let me make money and not get evicted and end up homeless.”

The lender Sallie Mae at the time had an amusingly loathsome policy of charging a repeating $150 fee every three months just for the privilege of applying for forbearance. Gray was so pissed about having to pay $50 a month just to say she was broke that she started a change.org petition that ended up gathering 170,000 signatures.

She personally delivered those to the Washington offices of Sallie Mae and ended up extracting a compromise out of the firm: they’d still charge the fee, but she could at least apply it to her balance, as opposed to just sticking it in the company’s pocket as an extra. This meager “partial” victory over a student lender was so rare, the New York Times wrote about it.

“I definitely poked the bear,” she says.

Gray still owed a ton of student debt — it had ballooned from $36,000 to $77,000, in fact — and collectors were calling her nonstop, perhaps with a little edge thanks to who she was. “They were telling me I should hit up people I know for money, which was one thing,” she recalls. “But when they started talking about giving blood, or selling plasma… I don’t know.”

Sallie Mae ultimately sued Gray four times. In doing so, they made a strange error. It might have slipped by, but for luck. “By the grace of God,” Gray said, she met a man in the lobby of a courthouse, a future state Senator named Kevin Thomas, who took a look at her case. “Huh, I’ve got some ideas,” he said, eventually pointing to a problem right at the top of her lawsuit.

Sallie Mae did not represent itself in court as Sallie Mae. The listed plaintiff was “SLM Private Credit Student Loan Trust VL Funding LLC.” As was increasingly the case with mortgages and other forms of debt, student loans by then were typically gathered, pooled, and chopped into slices called tranches, to be marketed to investors. Gray, essentially, was being sued by a tranche of student loan debt, a little like being sued by the coach section of an airline flight.

When Thomas advised her to look up the plaintiff’s name, she discovered it wasn’t registered to do business in the State of New York, which prompted the judge to rule that the entity lacked standing to sue. He fined Sallie Mae $10,000 for “nonsense” and gave Gray another rare victory over a student lender, which she ended up writing about herself this time, in The Guardian.

Corporate creditors often play probabilities and mass-sue even if they don’t always have great cases, knowing a huge percentage of borrowers either won’t show up in court (as with credit card holders) or will agree to anything to avoid judgments, the usual scenario with student borrowers.

“What usually happens in pretty much 99% of these cases is you beg and plead and say, ‘Please don't put a judgment against me, I'll do anything… because a judgment against you means you're not going to be able to buy a home, you’re not going to be able to do basically anything involving credit for the next 20 years.”

…

The passage of the Bankruptcy Abuse Prevention and Consumer Protection Act of 2005 was a classic demonstration of how America works, or doesn’t, depending on your point of view. While we focus on differences between Republicans and Democrats, it’s their uncanny habit of having just a sliver of enough agreement to pass crucial industry-friendly bills that really defines the parties.

Whether it’s NAFTA, the Iraq War authorization, or the Obama stimulus, there are always just enough aisle-crossers to get the job done, and the tally usually tracks with industry money with humorous accuracy. In this law signed by George Bush, sponsored by Republican Chuck Grassley, and greased by millions in donations from entities like Sallie Mae, the crucial votes were cast by a handful of aisle-crossing Democrats, including especially the Delawareans Joe Biden and Tom Carper. Hillary Clinton, who took $140,000 from bank interests in her Senate run, had voted for an earlier version.

Party intrigue is only part of the magic of American politics. Public relations matter, too, and the Bankruptcy Bill turned out to be the poster child for another cherished national phenomenon: the double-lie.

…

Years later, pundits still debate whether there really ever was an epidemic of debt-fleeing deadbeats, or whether legislators in 2005 who just a few years later gave “fresh starts” to bankrupt Wall Street banks ever cared about “moral hazard,” or if it’s fair to cut off a single Mom in a trailer when Donald Trump got to brag about “brilliantly” filing four commercial bankruptcies, and so on.

In other words, we argue the why of the bill, but not the what. What did that law say, exactly? For years, it was believed that it absolutely closed the door on bankruptcy for whole classes of borrowers, and one in particular: students. Nearly fifteen years after the bill’s passage, journalists were still using language like, “The bill made it completely impossible to discharge student loan debt.”

…

The phrase “Just asking questions” today often carries a negative connotation. It’s the language of the conspiracy theorist, we’re told. But sometimes in America we’re just not told the whole story, and when the press can’t or won’t do it, it’s left to individual people to fill in the blanks. In a few rare cases, they find out something they weren’t supposed to, and in rarer cases still, they learn enough to beat the system. This is one of those stories.

…

Smith’s explanation of the history of the student loan exemption and where it all went wrong is biting and psychologically astute. In his telling, the courts’ historically sneering attitude toward student borrowers has its roots in an ages-old generational debate.

“This started out as an an argument between the Greatest Generation and Baby Boomers,” Smith notes. “A lot of the law was created by people railing against draft-dodging deadbeat hippies.”

He points to a 1980 ruling by a judge named Richard Merrick, who in denying relief to a former student, wrote the following:

The arrogance of former students who had received so much from society, frequently including draft deferment, and who had given back so little in return, accompanied by their vehemence in asserting their constitutional and statutory rights, frequently were not well received by legislators and jurists, senior to them, who had lived through the Depression, had worked their ways through college and graduate school, had served in World War II, and had been paying the taxes which made possible the student loans.

Smith laughs about this I didn’t climb the hills at Normandy with a knife in my teeth just to eat the debt on your useless-ass liberal arts degree perspective, noting that “when those guys who did all that complaining went to school, only rich prep school kids went to college, and by the way, tuition was like ten bucks.” Still, he wasn’t completely unsympathetic to the conservative position.

…

This concern about “deadbeats” gaming the system — kids taking out fat loans to go to school and bailing on them before the end of the graduation party — led that 1985 court to take a hardcore position against students who made “virtually no attempt to repay.” They established a three-pronged standard that came to be known as the “Brunner test” for determining if a student faced enough “undue hardship” to be granted relief from student debt.

Among other things, the court ruled that a newly graduated student had to do more than demonstrate a temporary inability to handle bills. Instead, a “total incapacity now and in the future to pay” had to be present for a court to grant relief. Over the course of the next decades, it became axiomatic that basically no sentient being could pass the Brunner test.

…

In 2015, he was practicing law at the Texas litigation firm Bickel and Brewer when he came across a case involving a former Pace University student named Lesley Campbell, who was seeking to discharge a $15,000 loan she took out while studying for a bar exam. Smith believed a loan given out to a woman who’d already completed her studies, and who used the money to pay for rent and groceries, was not covering an “educational benefit” as required by law. A judge named Carla Craig agreed and canceled Campbell’s loan, and Campbell v. Citibank became one of the earlier dents in the public perception that there were no exceptions to the prohibition on discharging student debts.

“I thought, ‘Wait, what? This might be important,’” says Smith.

By law, Smith believed, lenders needed to be wary of three major exceptions to the non-dischargeability rule:

— If a loan was not made to a student attending a Title IV accredited school, he thought it was probably not a “qualified educational loan.”

— If the student was not a full-time student — in practice, this meant taking less than six credits — the loan was probably dischargeable.

— And if the loan was made in an amount over and above the actual cost of attending an accredited school, the excess might not be “eligible” money, and potentially dischargeable.

Practically speaking, this means if you got a loan for an unaccredited school, were not a full-time student, or borrowed for something other than school expenses, you might be eligible for relief in court.

Smith found companies had been working around these restrictions in the blunt predatory spirit of a giant-sized Columbia Record Club. Companies lent hundreds of thousands to teenagers over and above the cost of tuition, or to people who’d already graduated, or to attendees of dubious unaccredited institutions, or to a dozen other inappropriate destinations. Then they called these glorified credit card balances non-dischargeable educational debts — Gray got one of these “direct-to-consumer” specials — and either sold them into the financial system as investments, borrowed against them as positive assets, or both.

…

Smith thought these practices were nuts, and tried to convince his bosses to start suing financial companies.

“They were like, ‘You do know what we do around here, right?’ We defend banks,” he recalls, laughing. “I said, ‘Not these particular banks.’ They said it didn’t matter, it was a question of optics, and besides, who was going to pay off in the end? A bunch of penniless students?”

Furious, Smith stormed off, deciding to hang his own shingle and fight the system on his own. “My sister kept saying to me, ‘You have to stop trying to live in a John Grisham novel,’” he recalls, laughing. “There were parts of it where I was probably super melodramatic, saying things like, ‘I'm going to go find justice.’”

Slowly however, Smith did find clients, and began filing and winning cases. With each suit, he learned more and more about student lenders. In one critical moment, he discovered that the same companies who were representing in court that their loans were absolutely non-dischargeable were telling investors something entirely different. In one prospectus for a trust packed full of loans managed by Sallie Mae, investors were told that the process for creating the aforementioned “direct-to-consumer” loans:

Does not involve school certification as an additional control and, therefore, may be subject to some additional risk that the loans are not used for qualified education expenses… You will bear any risk of loss resulting from the discharge.

Sallie Mae was warning investors that the loans might be discharged in bankruptcy. Why the honesty? Because the parties who’d be packaging and selling these student loan-backed instruments included Credit Suisse, JP Morgan Chase, and Deutsche Bank.

“It’s one thing to lie to a bunch of broke students. They don’t matter,” Smith says. “It’s another to lie to JP Morgan Chase and Deutsche Bank. You screw those people, they’ll fight back.”

…

In June of 2018, a case involving a Navy veteran named Kevin Rosenberg went through the courts. Rosenberg owed hundreds of thousands of dollars and tried to keep current on his loans, but after his hiking and camping store folded in 2017, he found himself busted and unable to pay. His case was essentially the opposite of Brunner: he clearly hadn’t tried to game the system, he made a good faith effort to pay, and he demonstrated a long-term inability to make good. All of this was taken into consideration by a judge named Cecilia Morris, who ruled that Rosenberg qualified for “undue hardship.”

“Most people… believe it impossible to discharge student loans,” Morris wrote. “This Court will not participate in perpetuating these myths.” The ruling essentially blew up the legend of the unbeatable Brunner standard.

Given a fresh start, Rosenberg moved to Norway to become an Arctic tour guide. “I want people to know that this is a viable option,” he said at the time. The ruling attracted a small flurry of news attention, including a feature in the Wall Street Journal, as the case sent a tremor through the student lending world. More and more people were now testing their luck in bankruptcy, suing their lenders, and asking more and more uncomfortable questions about the nature of the education business.

In the summer of 2012, a former bond trader named Michael Grabis sat in the waiting room of a Manhattan financial company, biding time before a job interview. In the eighties, Grabis’s father was a successful bond trader who worked in a swank office atop the World Trade Center, but after the 1987 crash, the family fell out of the smart set overnight. His father lost his job and spiraled, his mother had to look for a job, and “we just became working class people.”

Michael tried to rewrite the family story, going to school and going into the bond business himself, first with the Bank of New York, and eventually for Schwab. But he, too, lost his job in a crash, in 2008, and now was trying to break the pattern of bubble economy misery. However, he’d exited Pennsylvania’s Lafayette College in the nineties carrying tens of thousands in student loans. That number had since been compounded by fees and penalties, and the usual letters, notices, and phone calls from debt collectors came nonstop.

Now, awaiting a job interview, his phone rang again. It was a collection call for Sallie Mae, and it wasn’t just one voice on the line.

“They had two women call at once,” Grabis recalls. “They told me I’d made bad life choices, that I lived in too expensive a city, that I had to move to a cheaper place, so I could afford to pay them,” Grabis explains. “I tried to tell them I was literally at that moment trying to get a job to help pay my bills, but these people are trained to just hound you without listening. I was shaking when I got off the phone, and ended up having a bad interview.”

Two years later, more out of desperation and anger than any real expectation of relief, Grabis went to federal court in the Southern District of New York and filed for bankruptcy. At the time, he, too, believed student loans could not be eliminated. But the more he read about the way student loans were constructed and sold — he’d had experience in doing shovel-work constructing mortgage-backed securities, so he understood the Student Loan Asset-Backed Securities (SLABS) market — he started to develop a theory. Everyone dealing with the finances of higher education in America knew the system was rotten, he thought. But what if someone could prove it?

The 2005 Bankruptcy Act says former students can’t discharge loans for “qualified educational expenses,” i.e. loans given to students so that they might attend tax-exempt non-profit educational institutions. Historically, that exemption covered almost all higher education loans.

What if America’s universities no longer deserve their non-profit status? What if they’re no longer schools, and are instead first and foremost crude profit-making ventures, leveraging federal bankruptcy law and the I.R.S. code into a single, ongoing predatory lending scheme?

This is essentially what Grabis argued, in a motion filed last January. He named Navient, Lafayette College, the U.S. Department of Education, Joe Biden, his own exasperated judge, and a host of other “unknown co-perpetrators” as part of a scheme against him, claiming the entirety of America’s higher education business had become an illegal moneymaking scam.

“They created a fraud,” he says flatly.

…

Grabis doesn’t have a lawyer, his case has been going on for the better part of six years, and at first blush, his argument sounds like a Hail Mary from a desperate debtor. The only catch is, he might be right.

By any metric, something unnatural is going on in the education business. While other industries in America suffered declines thanks to financial crises, increased exposure to foreign competition, and other factors, higher education has grown suspiciously fat in the last half-century. Tuition costs are up 100% at universities over and above inflation since 2000, despite the 2008 crash, with some schools jacking up prices at three, four times the rate of inflation dating back to the seventies.

Bloat at the administrative level makes the average university look like a parody of an NFL team, where every brain-dead cousin to the owner gets on the payroll. According to Education Week, “fundraisers, financial aid advisers, global recruitment staff, and many others grew by 60 percent between 1993 and 2009,” which is ten times the rate of growth for tenured faculty positions.

…

Hovering over all this is a fact not generally known to the public: many American universities, even ones claiming to be broke, are sitting atop mountains of reserve cash. In 2013, after the University of Wisconsin blamed post-crash troubles for raising tuition 5.5%, UW system president Kevin Reilly in 2013 admitted that the school actually held $638 million in reserve, separate and distinct from the school endowment. Moreover, Reilly said, other big schools were doing the same thing. UW’s reserve was 25% of its operating budget, for instance, but the University of Minnesota’s was 29%, while Illinois maintained a whopping 34% buffer.

When Alan Collinge of Student Loan Justice looked into it, he found many other schools were sitting atop mass reserves even as they pleaded poverty to raise tuition rates. “They’re all doing it,” he said.

In the mortgage bubble that led to the 2008 crash, financiers siphoned fortunes off home loans that were unlikely to be repaid. Student loans are the same game, but worse. All the key players get richer as that $1.7 trillion pile of debt expands, and the fact that everyone knows huge percentages of student borrowers will never pay is immaterial. More campus palaces get built, more administrators get added to payrolls, and perhaps most importantly, the list of assets grows for financial companies, whether or not the loans perform.

…

“As long as it’s collateralized at Navient, they can borrow against that,” Smith says. “They say, ‘Look, we've got $3 billion in assets, which are just consumer loans in negative amortization that are not being repaid, but are being artificially kept out of default so Navient can borrow against that from other banks.

“When I realized that, I was like, ‘Oh, my god. They’re happy that the loans are growing instead of being repaid, because it gives them more collateral to borrow against.’” Smith’s comments echo complaints made by virtually every student borrower in trouble I’ve ever interviewed: lenders are not motivated to reduce the size of balances by actually getting paid. Instead, the game is about keeping loans alive and endlessly growing the balance, through new fees, penalties, etc.

There are two ways of approaching reform of the system. One is the Bernie Sanders route, which would involve debt forgiveness and free higher education. A market-based approach meanwhile dreams of reintroducing discipline into student lending; if students could default, schools couldn’t endlessly raise costs on the back of unlimited government-backed credit.

Which idea is more correct can be debated, but the one thing we know for sure is that the current system is the worst of both worlds, enriching all the most undeserving actors, and hitting that increasingly prevalent policy sweet spot of privatized profit and socialized risk. Whether it gets blown up in bankruptcy courts or simply collapses eventually under its own financial weight — there’s an argument that the market will be massively disrupted if and when the administration ends the Covid-19 deferment of student loan payments — the lie can’t go on much longer.

“It’s just obvious that this has become a printing money operation,” says Grabis. “The colleges charge whatever they want, then they go to the government and continuously increase the size of the loans.” If you’re on the inside, that’s a beautiful thing. What about for everyone else?

#matt taibbi #substack #long #read the whole thing #student loans #student loan debt

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mydramatiiclife · 4 years

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Groupie

Admittedly Dean is not the most cookie cutter person around. He tends to toe the line of legal and illegal fairly often. He’s a firm believer in something is only illegal if you get caught, sans the real obvious fucked up shit.

Basically petty level crime shit. The taking without asking kind of shit.

It gives him a stupid cheap thrill.

He’s had everything handed to him in life, his parents are stupid rich. The kind of rich that makes you think you don't actually have to parent the children you chose to have.

He does what he wants, when he wants, how he wants, and who he wants. (With their consent of course.)

And like every rich kid's story, somewhere between all the stealing, rebelling, and the silent need for his parents love and approval, Dean lost who he was.

He’s about to graduate college, and according to his father, it’s time for him to ‘grow up and stop with all of this childish shit.’

But growing up usually means you’re growing into someone.

Dean doesn’t know who that someone is.

Enter Castiel Novak.

Dean’s known Cas for a few years now. They’ve hooked up a few times. Took a few classes together. Studied together. They’re friends, though Cas wants it to be something more. And if Dean is being completely honest with himself, he wants it to be something more too, but he doesn’t want to ruin things between them.

Because Cas is someone.

Cas, outside of being one of the biggest nerds Dean knows, is a fucking rockstar.

He and his band of brothers, literally his band is full of his brothers, play the local clubs on the weekend.

He’s got fame, albeit very small, he’s got adoration, he’s got a plan.

Two in fact.

He can continue his education and leave all this rockstar stuff behind, or he can say yes to one of the record deals he’s been offered and ride that wave for as long as he can. Even if that wave fails, he still has school to fall back on.

Dean has his options too; he can follow his pipe dream of using his art degree and opening his own art gallery where he would blend art and music together, or he can take the soul sucking route and do what his dad wants and be groomed to take over the family business.

More than anything though, Dean wants to take some time away to discover life outside of himself.

You’ve got to get lost, to get found.

His father overheard him discussing these options with his little brother, Sam, when all hell broke loose. He reminded Dean what a disappointment he thought he was, how he was setting a horrible example for Sam, that he’s an ‘ungrateful little shit’.

Dean left soon after, Cas had a show tonight and Dean needed to help himself to a new outfit beforehand.

Even though Cas and him aren’t a thing, he still likes to dress to impress.

“I hope you actually paid for that,” Cas says as Dean’s pinning on the band's new enamel pin to his brand new leather jacket.

“You know he didn’t,” Gabe, Cas’ brother and bandmate interrupts.

Dean smiles and shrugs slightly at Cas, “help me, I’m poor.”

Cas rolls his eyes, “lucky for you I know just how you can work off your debt.”

“Yeah how’s that,” Dean steps closer into Cas’ space.

“Be my groupie,” Cas suggests.

“Oh yeah?” Cas nods. “And what does that entail exactly?”

“Follow me around, carry my shit, do what I want, how I want it.”

“Seems easy enough.”

“Cas, you guys are up,” The bar manager interrupts.

“A kiss for good luck?” Dean leans in and captures Cas’ lips in a heated kiss.

“Good luck.”

The show’s amazing as always. Dean loves watching Cas on stage. He’s intoxicating.

They’re tangled up in Cas’ bed, Dean hand tracing patterns on Cas’ bare chest as he gives Cas a run down of what happened between him and his dad earlier.

“Your dad’s kind of a dick.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what are you going to do?”, Cas repeats. “You’ve got three options.”

“Not really, he’d only support me if I choose the one he wants.”

“Why do you need his support?”

“Because how would I fund the rest? I can’t open an art gallery with no money, and I can’t really run away without at least a little bit of cash,” Dean explains.

“Well you could do what us common folks do and work while you follow your dreams,” Dean grunts. “Or you could tap into that savings of yours, it’s not like you’re using it to actually purchase things.”

“Hey! I buy things.”

“Like that jacket you were wearing earlier?”

“Aww, you noticed.”

“Of course I did. I notice everything about you,” He kisses the top of Dean’s head.

“Okay, even if I did use my savings, where would I even go?”

“With me. You did promise to be my groupie,” Cas reminds him.

“And where are you going?”

“On tour. Our manager landed us a gig to open for The Vamps.” Cas reveals.

“Oh my gosh, Cas that’s amazing!” Dean says excitedly, “why didn’t you tell me sooner? You let me bitch about my dumb problems.”

“Thank you and your problems aren’t dumb.”

“Whatever. Dude that’s awesome!”

Cas shares how it all happened and what cities they would be touring. “The tour starts a week after graduation. We’d be playing Seattle, Austin, Portland, Chicago, Nashville, and a few others.”

“Those are like all the places I want to visit.”

“I know. Come with me?” Cas asks again.

“Are you serious?”

Cas nods, “let's get lost together.”

Dean thinks about, really considers it. Graduation is just around the corner. Dean has enough money to get him by, and if things get too bad he can always come back home and follow the path his dad wanted for him.

He feels like if he doesn’t say yes now, he’ll never get another chance and he’ll regret this for the rest of his life. He doesn’t want that.

Feeling brave he whispers, “okay.”

“Okay?”

Dean nods, “on one condition though.”

“What’s that?”

Feeling braver than he’s ever felt, Dean tells him, “I don’t want to go as your groupie.”

“Head groupie it is!” Cas jokes.

Dean rolls his eyes, “I want to go as your boyfriend.”

Cas smiles and promises, “I’ll dedicate every show to you.”

They kiss until the sun comes up.

#Destiel #destiel fic #dean winchester #cas #Castiel novak #dean x castiel #rockstar!Cas #spn #supernatural #23/31

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justoneday-namjoonii · 4 years

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Too Sweet. Part- 13 BTSvampire!au

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Mature themes / Descriptions of blood and…other things/ Supernatural

Biased: You X Yoongi X Jungkook X Vampire!au BTS

Type: Vampire!au

summary: y/n is on a botany retreat to a dreamy island that leads to a surprising encounter and startling discovery!

A/n:Thank you for reading and enjoy!!❤

| INTRO I Pt. 1 I Pt. 2 I Pt. 3 I Pt. 4 I Pt. 5 I Pt. 6 I Pt. 7 I Pt. 8 | Pt. 9 | Pt. 10 | Pt. 11 | Pt. 12 |

In the corner of the library at 7 o’clock in the morning, you sit curled up on a study-chair with your reading glasses stuck to your face. Finals week. Every other paragraph you write down a few notes and your handwriting is beginning to look more and more like hieroglyphics. Despite the stress from a bunch of classes, your glad that your classmate just informed you of the donor requested break policy—a policy that no one had bothered to mention to you.

Basically, you can request a period where you don’t feed and they respect it. You requested two weeks, and despite the cries from Tae and Jimin to make an exception, you declined—you need a break. After everything that’s been happening, Rain coming here, Jungkook acting out, and even Yoongi, it’s been really stressful and Jin actually thought a break was just what you needed to regroup.

“Y/n, I was wondering where you were,” Namjoon peeks around the corner, “still studying I see.”

“Yeah, I have a test at 9 so just thought I’d just get some extra studying in.”

“Hm,” He nods, “so how are you liking your break?”

You furrow your brow and look up at him briefly. “It’s nice.”

“That’s nice.” He nods, leaning against the bookshelf for no reason.

“Um, did you need something or?—”

“I was wondering, what is your field of study?”

“I’ve been in general studies up until now, why do you ask?”

“Jin wanted me to ask you if you were interested in the botany program. An internship just opened and he thought you’d be great for it.” He finally gets to what he came here to say.

Your eyes brighten. “Really? Well, I’ve always thought about botany but I never knew much about it. Would I have to change any of my classes if I started the program?”

“No, we might switch one of your classes around with one of the required courses for the program but it won’t be difficult. Besides, your grades are good so I don’t think an extra class would put you in a rough spot. I’ve skimmed through your test scores and I’m proud, especially of your biology test. Honestly, you were struggling so much in our study sessions, I didn’t think you were gonna make it, but you did.” He grins like a proud teacher and you giggle because that's not the first time Namjoon has shared his concern regarding your lack of promise during lessons. “What? I’m proud.”

“Namjoon, you sound like my advisor or something,” You laugh, putting your book down to stretch your legs and pull your hoddie hood off your head.

“I kind of am in a way,” He takes his hand out of his pocket to comb it through his hair, “your academic life is important to me.”

“Quick question, why didn’t Jin just tell me about this himself? He normally would tell me something like that over tea or something, is he really busy this morning?”

“You know the whole Jungkook situation is stressing him out so he’s relying on me to relay the message, but he sends his love. He’ll be out for a majority of the day and if you accept the offer, you’ll be packing for the botanical sciences retreat so you’ll see him tonight.”

“A retreat?” You have the widest smile, “You mean like a vacation?”

“No, not a vacation- Although, the botanical gardens on the Island are exceptionally beautiful this time of year the spas there are amazing-”

“Islands!? I get to go to the Island and its for school? I’m definitely accepting now.” You glance up at the clock on the wall and sigh, “I’ll see you later, I gotta go sign in for testing.” You pack up your books and Namjoon watches you run off and out of the library.

Namjoon has been thinking a lot about your time here at the college and over the past year, he’s realized some things. Firstly, he’s recognized that there aren’t many donors that get the opportunity to spend as much time as you do with people like him. He’s got scholarly titles that he’s not even sure you know about and some of the top-paying families have paid him to mentor their children. But here you are, not rich by any means, in fact, you’re here on a well-deserved scholarship awarded by Jin. And he’s felt like he’s taken you under his wing and all he’s wants is for you is the best.

It’s almost a maternal feeling he has towards you and your education. That’s a lot coming from him, he’s not the type to just dish out his help like a tutoring center. Normally he wants compensation of some sort. He has an extraordinary mind and one lesson with him can cost a pretty penny if they’re willing.

Namjoon left the library and went back to Jungkook’s lovely little abode across the campus. But rather than Jungkook being inside looking for something to get into, he was out on the track, running to his heart's content.

Namjoon approaches the track and Jungkook’s personal trainer is standing at the finish line with his hands on his hips.

“He’s doing well. Working out has lightened him up a little bit,” The trainer says, watching Jungkook run up to them when he caught Namjoon’s eye.

“Hyung,” He slows down, panting lightly with his damp hair sticking to the side of his face, “hey,”

“Hey, Jungkook. You look refreshed,” Namjoon grins, “I came to let you know that we’re leaving tonight and your uncle will be stopping by tomorrow morning to check on you.” The trainer says Jungkook can go shower because they’re done for the day so they make they’re way to the house.

“Where are you going?”

“Botany retreat, it’s a three-day trip. Jin is going and for the first day and since Y/n has entered the program, she’s going too.”

“Oh...” Jungkook looked down for a moment, a bit shy suddenly, “H- How is she by the way?”

“She’s good. Right now she’s taking a donor break so she’s living like a normal human girl.” Namjoon was slightly taken aback but he answered nonetheless. “Why do you ask?”

Jungkook runs the back of his neck and sighs. “Uh, I don’t know, I was wondering if she was still mad at me or something.”

“You’d have to ask her. She’s been busy with her studies lately, so I’m sure the last thing she’s worried about is being mad at you.”

Jungkook had to laugh, knowing you two were always at odds made him like you even more. “Beleive it or not, I do feel bad for what I did to her. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t take back what I said but I can see why I went about it in the wrong way.”

“That’s a start I guess.” Namjoon scoffed, not surprised by Jungkook’s partial apology. “Well, while we’re gone just call if you need anything.” He gives the younger a hug before saying his final goodbyes as he walked back to the main university building.

“Last time I checked, you aren’t in the botany program, Taehyung. So you won’t be joining us.”

Jin is sitting in the office part of his bedroom as a maid packs his suitcase with the appropriate attire for the island. Taehyung came in here not too long ago and he refuses to leave because he’s trying to get Jin to let him tag along.

“But I can transfer over, can’t I?”

“Taehyung, that’s so short notice, what program are you in now? Psychology, right?”

“The only reason I’m in that program is because of my abilities. My parents want me to know how to use my gift with a well-rounded understanding of how the mind works. It’s so boring sometimes.” Tae leans on the desk with a pout.

“Look, you have to finish your program. Your parents are right, your gift can really help people if you know how to use it. But,” Jin sighs, “I think we have room for one more guest.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Taehyung bolts out of the room to pack his bag and Jin just shakes his head. If there’s one person who could talk him into something, it was Taehyung—that’s the only time he’s annoyed by his powers.

“Sir, your bag is packed, is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you, Bella, you can go.” Jin dismisses her and his eyes go back to his computer. This trip has always been something he’s looked forward to. Even though he normally can’t stay for the entirety of the trip, the first two nights are always beautiful. The gardens are very well-maintained and every time he goes he learns about new medicinal herbs that he purchases to bring back to the schools.

Namjoon slips through the door after mentally sending Jin a little warning.

“Do you come bearing gifts?” Jin grins to himself when he sees the plate in Namjoon’s hands.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He sits a plate of assorted pastries in front of him. “The pastry chef just put these out, she let me have first pick.” He smiles, taking the chocolate croissant for himself with swiftness.

“Thank you, I was getting a little hungry,” JIn takes on and sits it on a napkin so he can finish typing, “did you talk to her by the way?” Jin peeks up at Namjoon whos sitting idly in the chair in front of the desk.

“I did, she accepted and she’s pretty excited about it.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” He sighs in relief, “this program will be good for her.”

“Yeah, I think so too...But, just curious, what’s the sudden interest in her entering this program?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve been doing my job very well. Ever since she’s started attending this school, I’ve realized forgotten that she’s not just here to give blood. I know that’s the exchange for her degree but that’s not all she is. I’ve let her unusual situation influence what I allow and don’t allow. I mean, she’s close to me, I have a relationship with her that I don’t and never have had with any other donor. I feel like during this trip, once I leave she’ll have time to just be a student, no blood-related pressure or anything like that.”

“I get that, but you do have to remember her situation as well, she’s not just any donor, she’s the only one with blood like that in this country, let alone this school. That comes with a different set of rules and you shouldn’t feel guilty because you’re trying to figure that out.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But I do need her to spend some time outside of the university for a little bit, just so she can take time to focus on other things other than everyone wanting her for blood.”

It was finally over, your last test of the day and midterms were no longer holding you mentally captive. You’re strolling through the campus to meet up with Jimin at the campus bakery before you leave this evening. He said he had a few art pieces he wanted to show you and you thought you’d make it a date.

When you open the bakery door, he’s sitting at one of the windows and his eyes land on yours. “Y/n,” His smile brightens as he stands up to pull out your seat, “how are you, love?”

“I’m good, done with finals.” You give him a hug and he pecks your cheek. You take a seat and so does he.

“Well, to be honest,” He opens up his folder, “your donor break is killing me a little bit. But I’m glad to see you, spend a little time with you before you go.”

“Yeah, I’ll be back before you know it. So, what are the pieces you wanted to show me?”

“This one,” He pulls out a sheet of paper and puts it in front of you, “it’s inspired by the pond near my family's retreat.”

“It’s beautiful, Jimin.” The pond on the painting is filled with lilies, the reflection of the trees nearby. The colors remind you of Monet, the impressionism is something you wish you could do as effortlessly as him. “What are these for?”

“The universities are having a joint exhibition and they want artists from royal families to participate in the collection. They chose me from my family, I was surprised they didn’t choose my mother. She’s got more talent than my whole family combined.”

“Is this something you want to do professionally?”

“I thought about teaching classes on the side, but I don’t know.”

You smile. “That’s a great idea! I know a lot of people who’d love a lesson with you-”

“But I don’t think I can...My parents, they want something else for me. They’re fine with me continuing art but they can be really particular when it comes to my interests. They’d want to practice the art a prestigious art academy and feature in global exhibitions, that’s all a little too much for me right now.’

Your excitement dies down as his statement reminded you that he isn’t entirely free, he’s under his family’s jurisdiction in more areas of his life then you realize.

“It wouldn’t hurt to just try, you might end up loving teaching,” You have such a hopeful expression, “and your parents might just be okay with that,��

“Maybe,” He smiles, “Hey, I wanted to say that I’m so sorry for setting you up with Jungkook, I never formally apologized to you.”

“Jimin, it’s still hard for me to grasp anything that happens in this place,” You scoff, “You put me in a position where I was vulnerable, he could have done anything to me.” His eyes lower and you know he’s just beating himself up right now.

“But he didn’t do anything to me, so we got lucky. I know it was your feeding cycle and you probably didn’t take your medicine, right?” He shakes his head. “You need to get back on that medicine, it keeps you and others safe. But Jimin, it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” You place your hand on his and give him a genuine smile

“Y/n,” Namjoon walked into the cafe, “we’re leaving in 20 minutes, you should make sure you’re all packed before we put the luggage on the bus.”

“Oh, ok,” You stand up and walk around the little table to Jimin, “bye Jimin, I’ll see you when I get back.” He stands up and you hug him for a few seconds.

He pecked your cheek and bid you farewell, already eager for your return as you follow Namjoon out of his sight. You rush to the common area where the students were advised to take their luggage. You look around for your suitcase and carry-on, you find it right where you had put it and let out a sigh of relief.

“I have everything.” You state confidently.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod, “well, I might have left-”

“Your toothbrush, you can run and get it, be quick.”

Of course, he knew. You run to your bedroom and to your bathroom where you skim over everything just in case you might have forgotten anything else. Quickly, you grab an extra perfume, your toothbrush and walk down the hall—that’s when you realize you haven’t said goodbye to Yoongi. Even though he’s been a little standoffish lately, you thought it would be nice to at least say goodbye to him.

It takes you a little while, but you walked all the way from your dorm to their living space upstairs. At times like this, you wish you could initiate the whole mental bond where you can talk to one another. But now that you think about it, the bond might have weakened because of the lack of contact you two have had. That makes sense. You look around, the living room and his room and he’s nowhere to be found.

“Yoongi?” You call for him, assuming he might be napping or something.

“Y/n, come on! We’re leaving. What are you doing up here?”

“I was trying to say bye to Yoongi-” Namjoon places his hand on your back to lead you to the stairs.

“You’ll see him when we get back, we gotta go.”

All you wanted to do was say goodbye and you can’t help but you feel like he’s trying to hide from you.

When you finally get downstairs, the botany professor tells everyone to get on the bus. You stay close to Namjoon and follow him onto the bus, he’s kind of like a comforting presence in a bus of students you don’t know. Namjoon gestures for you to take a seat and you grudgingly oblige. Students are already chattering and giggling, excited about the trip. But you on the other hand, just want to go wherever Jin is because you feel socially awkward.

“Ok, do we have a headcount?” He looks at the professor in the front seat.

“Yes, we’re all here.”

“Great, I’ll be riding with Dr. Kim but we’ll meet you at the airport.” Namjoon turns to you with a tender grin. Y/n, you need to socialize with your peers.

Talk to someone, make some friends.

And that’s all he says to you before leaving you on the bus with no one you know except for Taehyung, and he’s chatting with his friends. You hug your sweater to your chest and sigh—this isn’t what you thought it’d be.

“Hi,” You hear a voice coming from above you and you peek up, “I’ve never seen you in a botany class before, what’s your name? I’m Xiaojun.”

“Hi, I’m Y/n.” You reach your hand out and he shakes it before moving to go sit with you. “Oh, you didn’t have to leave your friends-”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll spend all my time with them on the trip. You look a little,” he hesitates when you furrow your brow a bit, “shy?” He smiles, and his little fangs peek out. He’s a vampire.

“I’m not shy I just, I’m a little reserved when I don’t know a lot of people.”

“Well, let’s get to know each other, then you’ll know someone. I’m actually from the island. I don’t know if you know but my island is famous for our medicinal herbs, plants, and organic and humane animal blood sourcing. We’re Pure Bloods and we do a lot of agricultural work. My family sent me to this school to get exposure to other places and people, broaden my horizons I guess.”

“Do you like it at Jin—” You catch yourself, you can’t just call him by his first name with everybody, “I’m sorry, Dr. Kim’s school?”

“I love it. There’s a reason my family sent me here and not to some other university, the education is top-notch, they know I’ll be healthy with whatever blood I’m given here. Plus, the university has prided itself on the human-vampire integration efforts.”

“Yeah, it is a great school. Not gonna lie, I do miss my family and friends back at home sometimes. But I have to remember that the education I’m getting now is for my future. When I go see my family, they’ll be so proud to see that I’m making something of myself.”

“I feel the same way.” He slouches back in to chair. “Um, forgive me for asking but how come I can’t smell your blood at all?”

“Oh, I was on a donor break so the nurse gave me scent-suppressants.” You push back a piece of hair, your face heating up when he leans in just slightly to confirm for himself.

“Wow, they must have given you a lot.” He pauses to laugh, “You have no scent whatsoever.”

“Yeah, they had to give me a little extra,” You glance out the window to remember your excuse, “I have somewhat of an immunity to them.”

3 times the regular dosage to be precise.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

The rest of the ride, you realized how kind and easy-going a majority of the students were. Xiaojun introduced you to Melanie and Caterina, and eventually, you all began talking.

This isn’t so bad.

There you went, overthinking things and making yourself crazy over nothing. These people are sweet and you’re lucky that Jin let you switch to this program so last-minute. He treats you so well. Sometimes it feels like you’re undeserving of the special attention. Then you remember, you’re in all of this in exchange for your blood. Your blood is your free pass and it seems precarious—but a lot of things feel that way since you’ve been here. Other students seem to not notice but you’re pretty positive there are some students who suspect you. Nonetheless, you’re confident that you can hold your own and stand firm in the fact that you’re like any other student.

Soon enough, the bus pulls up at the airport and all of the students hurried out of the bus. You debated following Xiaojun, but when you saw Taehyung coming toward you, you figured you’d be sitting with him.

“Everyone, follow me so we can get on the plane, it’s in gate G. The luggage is already taken care of so don’t worry about grabbing anything.” The professor signals to all of the students and you find yourself zoning out a little bit because you’re looking for Namjoon or Jin.

“Y/n,” Taehyung walks up to you and looks at you funny, you notice he dropped the pet name, “looking for Jin hyung and Namjoon hyung?” You nod. “They’re over there,” He points to the two of them and their small entourage, “but you can’t go with them, you have to stay here with the other students.”

Confusion flashes in your eyes, “But why-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here.” He smiles, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I’m not worried, I just- I was just wondering where they were.” You shrug, thoroughly disappointed that you were being kicked to the curb by those two. You guess that’s a little entitled that you think you’re supposed to be with them 24/7, but it’s what you’re used to. Taehyung stays by your side as the class is led to board the plane after FSA and a few bathroom trips. When you walk onto the plane, you’re greeted with a pretty flight attendant.

“Good evening, miss.” She bows and you return it with a kind smile.

You’re led to a comfortable chair with a table in between the chair directly in front of you. To your delight, Namjoon comes to sit directly in front of you with a thick book in his hands.

“So, how did it go?” He inquires.

“It was good, I met Xiaojun and his friends, Melanie and Caterina, they were nice.” You cross your arms and sigh. “I socialized, happy?”

“Very.” He smirks.

“Where’s Jin?” You look around, noticing that he had disappeared.

“He’s in the personal suite, he’s got a lot of business calls to take care of.” Namjoon sticks in his earphones in his ears and continues to read his book. You lean against the window and gaze out of the window, soon enough, your eyes slip shut and you drift to sleep.

When you wake up, everyone is unbuckling their seatbelts and taking their carry-ons and such. You blink, rubbing your eyes and sleepily unbuckling your seatbelt. You follow every one of off the plane and you inhale deeply when you walk out into the fresh air. A few vans pull up and you’re directed to get in the one with Xiaojun and a few other people. Everyone buckles up and the driver pulls out. Some of the students were talking about how beautiful the resort was, and how it's covered in thriving wildlife and surrounded by beaches.

Even though it’s dark out, you can still appreciate the beauty of the island. Judging by the tiny airport, it's not a highly populated place.

You're pretty quiet on the ride to the resort but your mind wanders. Yoongi. He comes to your mind. And you know you shouldn't feel this way, but you're a little upset at him. He tends to be a little distant when he wants to be. Sometimes it makes you feel a little weird. Due to the bond, it's hard for you not to feel like he should at least validate you in some way.

“Y/n,” Xiaojun calls your name from the seat next to you, “tonight they’re serving dinner out on the beach where they always serve it on the first night for the retreat. Some of my friends and family members will be there, I’ll introduce you to some of them.”

“That sounds nice,” You grin, finding it endearing that he’s taken such a liking to you. Then again, some of these people tend to like you so much because of your blood. What Jin regards as a gift, you see as a burden sometimes. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re just seen as a fulfilling meal to some of them. But you know Jin and the others see as more than that—Yoongi definitely has to see you as something more than that.

Eventually, you all made it to the resort and there was a group of women who lead you to your individual rooms. As they called everyone's names to take them to there rooms, you were the only one left in the foyer, awkwardly holding your hands.

“Hi, honey, this unit is actually taken,” A woman with beautiful long brown hair and bright eyes comes up to you, “what’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Oh! You’re the one Dr. Kim wanted in the other unit, that’s where your belongings are,” She smiles, putting her hand on your back to lead you out of the door, “you must be special.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” You let out a nervous laugh. She walks across the tropical plant-adorned walkway connecting the beach-houses and leads you to the one not too far from the other. She guides you up the stairs and into the house, when she opens the door, you immediately notice that it looks a bit personalized. Like personal touches were put on it, probably by Jin.

“Okay, your room is upstairs, I’ll show you,” She walks up the stairs and points to the room with the sunset-colored flour on the door. When she opens it for you, you instantly fall in love. The room is so charming and tropical, there’s a balcony and you see your belongings in there. “What do you think?”

You walk further into the room. “It’s beautiful, I love it. Thank you,” You sit your purse on the chair near the balcony and take a moment to take in your view of the beach. It’s so tranquil.

“I’m glad you find it to your liking. My name is Layla, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, okay? Also, dinner will be served outside in about fifteen minutes. Your muumuu is in the restroom, you can slip that on for dinner, it’s very comfortable.”

“Alright, thank you,” She grins before closing the door to leave you to wind down for a minute.

You walk into the large bathroom to see a multi-colored floral two-piece wrap hanging on the closet. You get undressed and put the dress on, it’s soft and sits right above your knees. You’re hoping you could buy more of these because you actually really like it.

When you wash your face and freshen up a bit, you walk out of the room and you hear Namjoon.

“Layla, could you have brought here after the dinner? Preferably some of your freshly picked floral teas, surprise me.” He’s standing in the foyer on his phone and he changed as well. He’s wearing the same print but with white paints and a floral shirt, and a little necklace. When you walk downstairs, he immediately notices you and the biggest smile comes to his face.

“Aw, don’t you look precious.” He giggles, watching you walk down with the same slides that were provided for everyone in the house.

You can’t help but roll your eyes and laugh. “Thanks, you look nice too.”

“I love the clothes they give us here, they’re so comfortable.”

“Yeah, um, how come Jin has me in here with you guys? I thought I’d be with that other students.”

“I thought so too, I’m not sure why he changed it. Anyway, let’s head over to the eat, I’m sure they’re about to start bringing dishes out.”

The two of you walk out together and Namjoon leads the way of course because he knows where it is. When you start walking into the sand you can see the light lit by fire and a huge mat of some sort where a long table is. You can see other students coming from their rooms and taking seats wherever. And you get excited as soon as you see Jin, sitting next to Taehyung and someone you’d never met.

“There’s no need to be nervous, it’s just dinner.” Namjoon teases, taking his rightful seat next to Taehyung and you sit next to him.

“I know that it’s the new people, not the meal,” You mumble.

“Y/n,” You hear a small call of your name and look to where it’s coming from, it’s Xiaojun, “this is my cousin, Kun.” The guy next to him waves.

“Hi,

“Hi, nice to meet you.” He smiles and you feel a warmness from him. “Xiaojun says you’re new to the program?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your first experience here. Our people have been supplying medicinal herbs, plants, basically anything you can grow right here on this island. Vampires all over the world buy from us and humans as well.”

“Really?”

“Yep, and we discover new plants and herbs on our sister islands every year or so.”

He goes on and on but you actually get really drawn into what he has to say about the contributions the island makes. It draws the attention Jin and you don’t even notice. He’s talking to some other people and Namjoon so he’s not going to talk to you now, but he wants to know how you’re doing. By the time the conversation comes to an end, dinner is over. The food was delicious and you’re already ready for breakfast.

“It was nice talking to you Kun,” You stand and give him a small bow, “have a good night.”

“You too, Y/n.”

You walk back to the house, slides in your hand so you can feel the sand under your feet. When you get up the stairs, you enter the house and go straight to the shower. Overall, this day has been pretty successful. You met people, learned some things, and even ventured out of your comfort zone.

Before you head to the shower, you pull your toiletries and pajamas out of your suitcase. The shower is tiled with smoothe gray pabbles that feel heavenly under your feet and the showerhead is like a gentle rain. You get out of the shower after a good fifteen minutes and do your routine. The pajamas that Jin gave you are the ones you decided to bring and they’re your favorite. They’re super soft, long-sleeved, and surprisingly breathable.

After you jump into the king-size bed and relish in the comfy bed sheets, you decide to go talk to Jin. You leave your room and go search for him, and it doesn’t take you long to find him and Namjoon with tea in the living room upstairs.

You walk into the room and he beams when he sees you. “Y/n, I was just about to come to see you. Please, come sit,” He gestures to the couch next to Namjoon whos looking very relaxed.

“So, how are you liking everything? I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be with you, I’ve had a lot of business to take care of.”

“It’s okay, it’s been nice actually. I met a few people and I learned some things about the island.” You sit cross-legged, expression bright since you get to talk to him finally.

“I’m glad, I was telling Namjoon that I thought this program would be great for you.” He takes a sip of tea. “Also, I wanted to let you know that if I’ve ever made it seem like your blood is more important to me than your job as a student, I apologize. I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m neglecting your studies for your blood. I know sometimes I let your circumstances dictate a lot but I don’t ever mean to isolate you from your peers, you just have to understand that I’ve never had a student like you.”

“I mean, I’m a student at the university in exchange for my blood. But I will admit that sometimes it’s hard because some students notice when I’m getting special treatment and things like that...I don’t want anyone to think that I’m not meeting my academic requirements if that makes sense.”

“I assure you, ” Namjoon looks at you, a slight smile that shows his dimples, “I will make sure you meet your academic requirements, that’s not a problem, kitten.” Jin nods in agreement.

“I also want to mention Director Rain, what did you think? Do you feel okay with him being around?”

Rain.

His name gives you chills.

“He- He seems kind of intimidating, I felt a little nervous around him...Remember when bit me? He had me do things that I’d never had to do before, it was weird.” You admit. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, he wants to spend some more time with you, just to get to know you and learn about your blood. He’s genuine. He’s not one of those higher-ups that want to steal donors and treat them like nothing but a means of nutrients. He’s very knowledgeable and he’s going to be monitoring Jungkook for a while until his awakening is under control, so he’ll be around more often.”

You furrow your brows. “Jungkook’s awakening? What is that?”

“He’s awakening. In his bloodline, its called The Eyes of Eclipsia.”

This is all new to you. “Who’s Eclipsia?”

“She was their great-great-grandmother and she was very powerful. She was born with no vampire traits but her deep violet eyes that glow saffron red were the mark of her strength. Rain has it, Jungkook’s father has it, and now, so does Jungkook. I really don’t know how to help Jungkook through this so he’s going to assist me with him.”

“Do I have to spend time with him?...” You say that hesitantly.

“You don’t have to, of course, I’m not forcing you, but it would be nice if you just gave him a little of your time. Just think about it, okay? No pressure. I’m gonna head to bed, and I think you should do the same, we’ve had a long day.”

“Wait,” You catch him before walking out, “I was wondering, why am I not with the other students?”

“The suppressants in your systems could where off and I don’t want any of the vampire students to get any ideas. I think it’s safest that you stay where we are, I hope you don’t mind.”

You shake your head, “No, I was just wondering.”

He gets up and walks over to you. He rubs your head lovingly, leaning down to look you in the eye. “I’m gonna balance out your energy, okay?” You nod. He touches your forehead for a few seconds and you can feel your body relax slowly. Namjoon suddenly places his hand on your shoulder and your eyes open to looking over at him.

“Her energy has been off all day,” Namjoon reveals, “I think it’s because she was nervous and all the suppressants we gave her don’t go without side effects.”

“Well,” Jin pulls away, “that should help. Good night.” Jin leaves you two and you were about to get up to go to bed as well but Namjoon grabs your wrist lightly.

“Beleive it or not, I’m at the end my feeding cycle but I’m having bad cravings...Do you feel up to giving blood? If not I can get blood from someone else but your blood is much preferred.”

“No, that’s fine, just please don’t make a mess, I just showered.” You grant him his request and he stands up, hands eagerly grasping your shoulders.

”When have you ever known me to be messy?” He giggles, leaning down to your neck and biting down you with a sharp inhale. You stiffen. It’s been a week or so since you’ve last been fed on and it hurt. “It hurts...”

I’m sorry, just give me a minute, it’ll feel better in a second, he speaks into your thoughts. He doesn’t move but you can feel him gulping down considerable amounts of blood. It starts to burn, your heart is drumming and you feel your head getting loopy.

Slowly, his hands leave your shoulders and slide down to hold your hands. He simultaneously opens his mouth and latches on a little tighter, sealing your skin to his mouth completely. You squirm in discomfort, trying to get away from the sting on impulse.

After a few seconds of him not letting you move, a fuzzy feeling starts to set in. He’s releasing his venom into your bloodstream and you sigh in relief. It doesn’t take long for your head to be in the clouds.

“That’s better...” You breathe, letting yourself go pliant.

Your legs suddenly feel like jelly and your legs give way. It didn’t bother him though. He made sure to slide down with you, kneeling right in front of you. Finally having your blood in his system makes him feel a thousand times better. Recently, he’s been trying to get through the feeding cycles with as much self-control as possible. But sometimes, it’s hard for him to keep himself from craving the blood.

“Namjoon,” You know he has the ability to basically numb his pray out, but you were already sleepy and you’re about to pass out, “I know you-...I know you’re doing that thing to take away the pain, but I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

He acknowledges you with a hum, but instead of stopping, he just drinks slower. Instead of complaining, you take the bratty liberty to push all of your weight back. He loses his bearings for a second, but he doesn’t let your tactic stop him. He just gets on top of you and continues, holding your hands to the ground and finishing the last few gulps of blood.

“Ah,” He pulls away with a pop, “you’re so dramatic.” He sits back on his heels, smiling down at your flat expression. “Can you walk?”

“No, my legs are numb. You should know, you made them numb.” You sulk, trying to move your head up but even that felt numb.

“I was trying to make it comfortable for you, its not my fault that you succumb to it so willingly.”

“Whatever...” You sigh, eyes slipping shut.

He scoops you up in his arms and walks you to your bedroom. He pushes the door open with his foot and easily lays you in bed, covering you with a blanket. Namjoon pats your head with a fond smile and leaves.

Jungkook was drinking his second portion of blood and all of a sudden, he heard the most disturbing statement—goodnight, kitten.

He nearly choked.

“The hell?”

Yoongi and Hoseok glance at him from their spots on the couch, brows furrowed when the young vampire sits up.

“Uhm, what’s the matter?” Hoseok looks up from his phone, judgment engraved in his features.

Jungkook looks puzzled. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“You mean you didn’t just hear that?” He looks at both of them. “Neither of you heard that?”

“Jungkook, heard what? What are you talking about?”

“I heard, ‘goodnight, kitten,” like, very clearly.”

Yoongi looks at him. “Goodnight, kitten? That’s what you heard?” Jungkook nods surprised that Yoongi even acknowledges him. “The only person who I’ve ever heard say something even close to that, is Namjoon. That’s what he calls Y/n. Why would you be hearing that?”

“Yeah, are you sure you aren’t imagining things?”

Jungkook scowls, disgusted that they would even consider that he would think that. “Why would I even want to imagine someone saying that to me??

“I don’t know, we all have intrusive thoughts that might sound weird to others.” Hoseok snickers, going back to his phone.

“I don’t know why I would be hearing that,” Jungkook mutters, giving up on trying to find an explanation. He goes back to watching his movie but Yoongi looks away from his book in thought.

There are times where he’d connect with your consciousness and it was rare, but sometimes, he could hear when others spoke to you. Is Jungkook connecting with you? But how could that be? You and Jungkook haven’t bonded and you’re hundreds of miles away. Assuming Namjoon is on the trip with you, then it would make perfect sense for Namjoon to be the voice he heard.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the island.

“Director, I prepared your flower-petal-soak in the sauna,” Yona, one of his personal maids peeks into his quarters, she’s a short little girl with short brown hair, “do you need assistance?”

He’s adorned in a luxurious robe, it’s opened in the front and she tries not to look at his bare chest. His fingernails are long and pointy, he let them grow out recently. Traditionally, power-bearing Jeons are known for their luscious locks and long manicured nails. His long black hair drapes down his back, some strands fall on his face and it makes her swallow—he’s stunning.

“I can manage, thank you, Yona.” She bows, leaving the director to do what he needed to do. He left his room and went down the stone pathway to the natural sauna.

He undresses and sits his robe on a marble stool near the water. The water is filled with freshly picked flowers and he steps into the steamy oasis. “Ugh...” He sighs, sinking down into the water and leaning back on the ledge, inhaling the floral fragrance.

“Master Rain, may I come in?”

“You may, Lilian.” He looks up at her.

“I have a few updates for you, do you want me to read it to you here? or in your bedroom?”

“Here is fine.” He gestures for her to have a seat.

“Okay, I’ll read the updates of the board, then the extra things.”

Lilian reads off of the papers, reciting the same old updates as always, but she says something that catches his attention.

“Wait, what was that?”

“Dr. Kim is on the other side of the island on a botany trip. You also have an appointment with him late this week for your nephew.”

“He’s here? Hm,” He sighs, tapping his nails thoughtfully, “can you squeeze a meeting in with him tomorrow, at any time.”

“Sure sir,” She writes some things down and nods, “may I ask why?”

“I need to talk to him about my nephew and a few other things.” She nods, satisfied with his answer.

And you would be other things.

taglist: @hodginss @forevermoremagcon

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lianadrayton · 4 years

Photo

**CURRENTLY UNDER CONSTRUCTION 11/19**

UPDATED: NOVEMBER 19th, 2020

@tupeloextras

KANE // 24 // SHE/HER // EST

DISCORD: whiskey#6583

I work nights so my replies on the dash and in discord are kind of all over the place time-wise

I am irresponsible so here is a 3rd I said I’d never have

LIANA DRAYTON-CRAWFORD

Full Name: Liana Selene Drayton-Crawford

Nickname(s): Lia, Duchess

Birthday: July 5th, 1978 (42)

Hometown: Chanute, Kansas

Education: Bachelor of Science in Chemistry with a minor in Biochemistry from Northeastern University

Occupation: Waitress at Red’s Diner

Faceclaim: Amy Adams

Content Warning(s):

Divorce, Emotional Manipulation/Abuse (Implied), Cheating,

BACKGROUND:

Liana was born & raised in Chanute, Kansas to young parents (18, 19) who had no concept of the amount of work it took to raise a child

She was raised on hard work, thrift shops, and Sunday mass by her maternal grandparents as her parents never stepped up to the plate to try their hand in raising their daughter

Already absent in much of her life, the couple broke up in their mid-20′s and her father moved to Washington state and was not heard from after that point

Her mother never ended up going to college and ended up marrying a lineman and moved away against the wishes of her parents, officially leaving Liana behind with her grandparents

Though her parental situation was different her life with her grandparents was great

They may have been some of the poorest people in the already poor, little midwestern town.. but they were all rich in love which was what mattered the most

The moment that Liana could get a job she did and her first job was working in a local flower shop and then moved to picking up shifts at the diner

All of the money she made went to help her grandparents with bills even though they would protest and downright refuse her offer to help. Liana would often secretly go and pay off some small bills anyway behind their backs to help

Anything extra of Liana’s that could be spared was saved so she could purchase a car. Her first vehicle was a 1985 Ford Escort (9 years old by the time of purchase). Issues with the vehicle were worked on by her grandfather (and sometimes Liana herself) as he used to be a mechanic in the town

Even with juggling working and school Liana managed to post outstanding scores and was named the valedictorian of her class (even though it was a small class it still felt like a great accomplishment with the way her parents had both barely graduated from high school)

She was accepted and granted a scholarship to attend Northeastern University in Boston, Massachusetts for chemistry

While in Boston, Liana met Alexander “Lex” Crawford who was attending Harvard University in the neighboring Cambridge, Massachusetts for law

The two began dating officially roughly 6 months after meeting

During Liana’s 4th year at Northeastern and Lex’s final year in law school, Liana found out that she was pregnant with Lex’s child (~2 months before graduation)

After graduation Lex proposed to Liana and the two had a fast-tracked wedding late that summer

The two would end up having 3 children in total and remain happily married for over 10 years before issues arose

MARRIAGE & DIVORCE: TW Divorce, Emotional Manipulation/Abuse, Cheating

They welcomed their first child in 2000, a boy, named Theodore “Theo” Crawford

Even though Liana had her degree her dreams of pursuing a career were cut short and she instead became a stay-at-home mother to care for Theo full time (as per the request of her husband and his family)

Five years after the birth of Theo, Liana and Lex had another child in 2005 - this time a girl named Ava Crawford

For the first few years of marriage Lex was fairly sincere and loyal to Liana but was often swept up in the scandals of his own family’s bad behavior

This bad behavior was often praised by other members of his family and he grew to resent Liana for keeping him from enjoying his youth

Liana spent much of her time with the children and trying to be the perfect housewife

In a matter of years she had gone from the only thing in her name being a 1985 Ford Escort to having access to a house in the Hamptons, cars, lake homes, and expensive time shares overseas

She cooked, cleaned, decorated the house for each and every occasion and was always the parent who attended parent-teacher conferences and was also part of the PTA/PTO

Lex started to go behind Liana’s back with other women (most of whom were college interns or assistants for the law firm)

Everyone knew about it but no one would say anything since Liana never brought it up as she preferred to pretend that it wasn’t always the hot gossip amongst the circles she was in

Lex would reel Liana back in by preying on her love for her children, informing her that if they were to divorce he would take the children and she would be left with nothing

He would also often switch between threats against Liana and grand romantic gestures (empty, of course) to keep her attached to him just enough to not leave

She preferred to wear the rose colored glasses as long as she could though eventually they would break

The worst came when Liana would have their third child together, another boy, in 2015 (Benjamin “Bear” Crawford)

From there things escalated quickly between Liana and Lex and they divorced in 2018

Lex would gain full custody of the children at this time by accusations against Liana that she was alienating the children from him

The Crawford reach extended into many of the rich and elite in New England so there was no concern from Lex about keeping custody no matter what Liana did, in fact the custody battle was an attempt to lure her into doing something uncharacteristic then using that against her to ensure that the children would stay with him (though he did it for revenge against her, not because he cared for the children)

Additionally, the Crawford family did not care for Liana that much overall, believing that she was still “some girl from a cornfield in Kansas” and they often called her Dorothy

Liana would battle with Lex in court over custody until the money ran short, additionally she would see how much of a toll the fighting took on the children and knowing she would never be able to beat her then-husband in court she stopped fighting

Lex also took out a restraining order against Liana after their legal proceedings were finished

Even though the children had spent 90% of their lives with their mother, their father’s words (and Black Amex) proved to be much more alluring than staying with the person who had seen them through everything in their lives

By the time the legal battles had settled down, Theo was of-age and went to college. Liana tries to keep in contact with him but he has not been that responsive (reasons not known, suspected influence from his father paying for his schooling)

Lex offered Liana a large share of money during the divorce as well as vehicles and vacation homes all of which she rejected, only taking what was in her name only

PERSONALITY:

Liana is very dedicated and loyal to her friends and family (even if sometimes they don’t deserve it)

Strong work ethic! She never lost this even while being married to someone who would’ve rather just paid for everything to be done rather than do it himself

Very maternal, she tries not to mother everyone but kind of accidentally does it sometimes (she’s working hard on reeling it in)

She’s very sweet, likes to help others when possible

Tries to see people for the best instead of the worst (hence staying with her husband for so long) even if it comes back to bite her in the ass

Can be almost a little too kind, this usually lead to her being used like a door mat but her divorce gave her some strength to push back once things got to be too much

Walking Pinterest board, she’s creative and enjoys her little projects. Often subjecting friends to testing them out with her (whether it’s building something or baking a recipe that looks good)

FAST FACTS:

Liana moved to Tupelo as an attempt to go somewhere where no one would know her

She could not go home as her family there is no longer around and no one could ever track down her father after he moved to Washington

She has deep regrets and embarrassment over not being able to get custody of her children and does not speak of them (as she does not want to explain anything)

Her home is bare of any photographs that would hint that she has children

She will speak of her ex-husband, but only briefly and not mention what he did but instead say that they split due to differing opinions on where they wanted their lives to lead

She still enjoys cooking and decorating as they are some of the few things she finds comforting, she also finds having live flowers in her home

Liana has two pets - a Great Dane named Salem and a brown tabby cat named “Billy the Kitten” based off the character of the same name from the popular mobile app Neko Atsume (both pets were handed over to Liana during the divorce)

Liana now lives in small home with a decent yard, using the remaining money she had to purchase it mostly for the yard for Salem (the inside of the home is lined with carpet runners for the dog and there is not an abundance of furniture that is not necessary as to accommodate Salem’s size)

Liana can be seen walking Salem often or having Salem outside with her while she gardens, Salem can wander freely around the property when Liana is outside - otherwise he is limited to the fence (which he can stick his head over)

She has a Mercedes (which she hates) and can never get it worked on without taking it to a larger city

She kept the Crawford part of her last name as (for whatever reason) it makes her feel closer to her children in some small way

BEST FRIEND FROM COLLEGE TM: (Taken WC by Ethan Morris, Jake Gyllenhaal FC)

These two met while attending Northeastern and quickly became close friends

Just because they were close didn’t necessarily mean that he always supported or even liked the fact that Liana was dating Lex Crawford

He & Lex shared a mutual distain for one another

Even with this, the two would eventually attend each other’s weddings

Right before he got married he asked Liana to leave Lex and to essentially have a modern-day runaway sequence with him (no points for timing)

Unfortunately, she could not bring herself to divorce her husband at the time

After he got married they began to drift apart

CONNECTIONS:

Friends!

People she mothers on accident

Other dog people (and cat)

Those who benefit/are subjected to taste testing random recipes she finds

Regulars at Red’s

Her kid?? This could be a WC at some point I guess (We out here being flexible on most of that)

She’s not really looking for anything romantic at all - but y’know sometimes it hits you when you least expect

Maybe someone who actually did know her from the east coast (whoops)

Everything!!

#tw divorce #tw emotional abuse #tw emotional manipulation #tw manipulation #tw cheating #just trying to get my tags under wraps #.tag1 #.tag2 #.tag3 #.tag4 #.tag5 #here we are with me being irresponsible #with a 3rd character I swore I'd never have

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

Text

THERE'S AN EVEN BETTER WAY TO DESCRIBE THIS SITUATION IS ALSO TEMPORARY

My usual trick is to claim that they'll only invest contingently on other investors doing so because otherwise you'd be undercapitalized. In fact, it's just as well not exist. I deliberately pander to readers, because it has large libraries for manipulating strings. When you have multiple founders who were already friends before they decided to start a gasoline powered generator inside our offices. 2 months during which the company is actually more valuable.1 The professors will get whoever they admit as their own grad students, because all three are doable.2 The golden age of economic equality in the mid 20th century.

How do you break the connection between nerds and technology? Investors are rich enough to be sure signs of bad algorithms.3 Maybe it's a good idea for a small amount of force applied at just the point where they would do a lot of founders that we have enough data points to see patterns clearly. A company to compensate for the opportunity cost of the board may even help VCs pick better. The alarming thing is that it will set off the alarms sufficiently early, you may be able to phrase it in terms of the visa that they couldn't get grad students, so we were on Version 4. I think I see now what went wrong with philosophy, and how much is due to Jessica Livingston and Chris Steiner for reading drafts of this.4 Bad Programmers I forgot to include this in the early stages.5 So if you want to discover great new things often come from outsiders. Y18. Checks on purchases will always be a few languages, I'm not eager to fix that. It was striking how old fashioned this sounded.6 The term angel round doesn't mean that it's a pretty clever piece of jiujitsu to set this irresistible force against the slightly less immovable object of becoming rich.

Perhaps, if design and research converge, the best pickers should have more hits.7 Libraries are one place Common Lisp falls short.8 Then I'd sleep till about 11 am, and come with tougher terms. Six weeks is fast. This group says one thing. We've raised $800,000, but to design beautiful software, would be enough to feel like a late bloomer than a failed child prodigy. If you draw a tree and you change the angle of a branch five degrees, no one stopped to wonder where the big returns are. Here are the alternatives considered if the filter sees FREE!9 Appendix: Examples of Filtering Here is an example of applied empathy. I happened to get hold of a copy of something they made, e. In software, it means you don't have to pay for Facebook. That's not a promising lead and should therefore get low priority, but it's not the distinction between statements and expressions, so you have to be introduced to them.

Startups So these, I think in the coming century is a huge one. They just can't make up their minds.10 American immigration policy keeps out most smart people, and what to do; they'll start to engage in office politics. If you plan to get rich by creating wealth, not all of them work on interesting stuff. The melon seed model is more like architecture. So let's be clear what reducing economic inequality means eliminating startups. We can see this on a small scale: in thoughts of a sentence or two. The reason credentials have such prestige is that for most of Octopart's life, the cruelty and the boredom, both have the same kind of stock representing the total pool of companies they fund. Incidentally, the switch in the 1920s to financing growth with retained earnings till the 1920s. I'm sure every language has such tradeoffs though I suspect the best we'll be able to sit on corporate boards till the Glass-Steagall act in 1933. We still don't require it, but thoughtful people aren't willing to use a more fluid medium like pencil or ink wash or oil paint.

And when you agree there's less to say. I've described. Here are the terms: a $2 million investment, make five $400k investments. But in practice innovations were so rare that you can't change the question. Some ideas are easy for people to come back to bite them, it will probably fail. A few ideas from it turned out I was 450 years too late.11 This is a controversial view. One of the reasons I like being part of this talk. 75% of the stress comes from dealing with investors, hiring and investment decisions, and to Steve Melendez and Gregory Price for inviting me to speak at BBN.

Money September 2013 Most startups that raise money. Was it their religion?12 The immense value of the company. But if it's inborn it should be better not just for founders but for investors too. This is just as lumpy and idiosyncratic as the human body. Some people still get rich by creating wealth and getting paid proportionately, it would not be able to get smart people to be good at programming is to work on. It's not something you can learn, or at least inevitable form, but it's woven into the story instead of being absorbed by the normal people they're usually surrounded with. This is not only incomplete, but positively misleading, if it was overvalued till you see what the earnings turn out to work will probably seem flamingly obvious in retrospect.13

Notes

And since there are only pretending to in the services, companies building lightweight clients have usually tried to motivate them. Add water as specified on rice cooker. They assumed that their prices stabilize. If a prestigious VC makes a small amount of material wealth, and so thought disproportionately about such customs.

The second assumption I made because the outside edges of curves erode faster. In effect they were only partly joking. Org Worrying that Y Combinator is we hope visited mostly by people who might be a great thing in itself, and also really good at design, or even being deliberately misleading by focusing on people who run them would be enough to be promising. Which in turn forces Digg to respond with extreme countermeasures.

I'm just going to use to calibrate the weighting of the organization—specifically by sharding it. I swapped them to keep tweaking their algorithm to get the money invested in a reorganization. If early abstract paintings seem more powerful sororities at your school sucks, and large bribes by the fact that they think the top stories were de facto consulting firm. The situation we face here, which has been decreasing globally.

Charles Darwin was 22 when he received an invitation to travel aboard the HMS Beagle as a result a lot easier now for a startup at a famous university who is highly regarded by his peers. But that doesn't mean easy, of S P 500 CEOs in 2002 was 35,560. The ordering system, the work goes instead into the world you'd want to live in a wide variety of situations, but I couldn't think of the magazine they'd accepted it for had disappeared in a reorganization.

World War II had disappeared.

There are two very different types of startups will generally raise large amounts of other VCs who don't care about may not have to go to die. A rounds from top VC funds whether it was spontaneous. If you try to accept that investors don't like the iPad because it made a better influence on your product, and earns the right mindset you will find a blog that tried to preserve optionality.

I mean type I startups. In fact, we met Rajat Suri.

It's not a VC is interested in each type of thing. World War II had disappeared in a series A investor has a finite market value. Technology has always been accelerating.

But there are no false negatives.

But it's a bad idea the way to avoid sticking.

This law does not appear to be able to hire any first-time founder again he'd leave ideas that are hard to imagine that there may be that the meaning of a startup in question usually is doing badly in your country controlled by the investors agree, and Jews about. They hoped they were just getting kids to say about these: I wouldn't bet on it.

There's a variant of the markets they serve, because you're throwing off your own? As far as I know of a startup you have for endless years of training, and partly because a there was a very noticeable change in how Stripe felt. We may never do that.

The second biggest regret was caring so much attention. Users dislike their new operating system so much to generalize. Do College English Departments Come From?

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Not Nineteen Forever (2) (Branjie/Scyvie)- Ortega

a/n: first off thank you to everyone who’s liked, reblogged, put something cute in their tags, dm’d or sent feedback to me/to AQ about this! it completely warms my heart and motivates me SO MUCH so thank you. in this chapter Scarlet gets a shock, someone gets a new groupchat nickname, and things are revealed during pres. as always send lovely things here or to my blog @artificialortega, and enjoy the quick updates while i’m still not at work!

Trigger Warning: alcohol. standard procedure xo

Summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

***

Scarlet stood in the street, silent, breathing heavily, and absolutely frozen to the spot. She had felt the coin drop from her hand and hit the pavement, but whether that had been seconds ago or minutes ago she couldn’t tell. All that was running through her mind was one single thought, one single number, and no matter how much her eyes darted across the small rectangle of paper it didn’t seem to change.

Five thousand.

She looked again- top left hand corner, top middle, dead middle.

Five thousand.

Scarlet took one deep breath in then held it tightly in her chest before releasing it. Selfishly, she reminded herself that it wasn’t that much money, in the grand scheme of things. Some people would get paid that a month eventually in life. But Scarlet was a student- a philosophy student at that, who wouldn’t get paid shit when she graduated and had absolutely zero job prospects.

Five thousand was big.

She never bought scratchcards. It was a whimsical purchase, along with a granola bar and a bottle of chocolate milk on her way to a lecture, but there was no fucking way that was happening now, not while she had a card in her hand that entitled her to be the proud owner of five thousand whole pounds.

Part of her panicked. Part of her didn’t know what the hell to do with all this money. She completely and utterly was not in any way used to it. She was still thinking and in a complete daze when she walked back into the shop and handed the shopkeeper the card wordlessly. Confused, the man looked at it for a moment then laughed.

“I can’t cash that here,” he chuckled, handing it back to Scarlet. “Can only give you up to one hundred. You need to phone them.”

“Oh,” she laughed, uncomfortable and embarrassed, thanking the man as she took the card and left. Once outside, she turned it over, found the phone number she needed to call, and in a matter of minutes, her NatWest banking app now read: £4985.55 (she had previously been in her overdraft).

So what the hell did she do now?

As if on cue, her phone hummed in her jacket pocket. Bringing it out to look at, she saw the group chat already exploding with messages.

Dave the Laugh: anyone down for lunch near the lib in 5?

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: Yes please. Can we go Liezen?

Kim Kardashian-West: i’m eating the most disappointing sandwich of my life in a staffroom where no other teacher is talking to me! i <3 placement!

Plastique Bague: Nina :(

Plastique Bague: I’d be down for Liezen in 5! Me n Brooke will be there after this lecture

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: Biiiiiitch so sad i’m missing this!!!!!! don’t have too much fun without me xo

Scarlet paused for a moment, her thumbs hovering over the phone screen. It would probably make her feel better, going to see the girls, and Yvie would be there too. Her heart gave a little jolt as she typed her own reply.

used Tampon: Can I come too??

There was a small pause in the chat, as if everybody was looking at each other with concern despite all being in separate places. Squeezing her eyes shut, Scarlet tried to push out the spiral of her thoughts to a secret, Scarlet-less group chat the girls had without her. It wasn’t that she felt insecure in her friendship group, it was just that sometimes she felt like the odd one out, that sometimes they were only friends with her for pity, that they secretly joked about her behind her back.

That was insecurity. She’d just defined insecurity.

Sighing, she looked down at her phone again and her heart soared.

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: No sorry it’s a No Scarlet Allowed event xo

Dave the Laugh: Brooke i’m evicting u

Dave the Laugh: ofc u can join, u don’t need to ask bitch!!

Brooke’s comment completely ignored, Scarlet cheerfully made her way through the park that separated all the city’s student-land flats and the main campus, where the cafe they visited so often lay just on the outside of. She didn’t care even if the others hadn’t wanted her to join- Yvie had, and that was what mattered.

Scarlet had a weird relationship with Yvie, different to ones that she had with the rest of her friends. Whenever she saw her, she always felt like she needed to look her best or be acting nonchalant and cool, despite the fact Scarlet couldn’t be either of those things to save herself. If Yvie’s body was having a rough day and was being particularly unkind to her, Scarlet would worry and fuss, and ask Yvie if she needed anything to the point where the other girl sometimes got annoyed at her. She couldn’t help herself- the thought of Yvie being in pain was so horrible to her, cutting through her and making her fret. Sometimes Scarlet felt she couldn’t respond to or take part in any of the friendly shade or roastings that Yvie threw her way, because maybe Yvie would see that as flirting, and that would be weird. They were just friends, after all, Scarlet reminded herself with a nod. It was just…a different type of friendship than the ones she had with the others. But it was still a friendship.

Arriving at the cafe, she scanned the room and found Yvie, Plastique and Brooke Lynn sitting around a booth. Scarlet found her heart giving a jump when she saw the seat next to Yvie was free and she walked towards the table happily, sliding into the free seat and greeting everyone.

“Hey, boo,” Yvie smiled, scooting up so that Scarlet had more room.

“Oh she’s here, guys. We need to stop talking about her now,” Brooke said dryly and sipped her coffee, her tone of voice giving absolutely nothing away. Scarlet’s mouth fell open, confused.

Plastique burst out laughing as Brooke winced in pain, Scarlet feeling the motion of a leg kicking out from beside her.

“She’s fucking with you, Scarlet, don’t worry,” Plastique smiled sweetly, Scarlet grateful for the sympathy. Brooke and Yvie appeared to be locked in an aggressive staring contest, so Scarlet spoke in an effort to break it.

“How’ve your days all been?” she asked lightly, picking up the menu and giving it a flippant scan before deciding she’d order what she always did.

“Boring. I got up and went to the gym, we had a 9am-” Plastique gestured between herself and Brooke. “- and then a tutorial, and now we’re here. We made a really good effort to get some work done in the library though. We spent a whole…what was it, ten? Five minutes in there?”

“Um sorry, I would’ve happily stayed and done work but Miss I-Need-Food-Or-I’ll-Die dragged me out here,” Brooke cast an incredulous glance at her friend. Plastique shrugged.

“Guilty,” she said, before sipping at an orange juice she had in front of her.

“How’s your day been, Scarlet?” Yvie asked, her head leaning on her hand in an effort to face her.

Scarlet considered her options as quickly as she could in the two second time gap she had in which to answer. She could tell the girls about the scratchcard, or she could just…not. As mean as it sounded, she’d heard about people’s friends changing when they’d had a lottery win, and not necessarily for the better. Okay, it was only five thousand (only? ONLY?) but it was still probably more money than any of them had ever had at uni, and Scarlet still didn’t really know what she was going to do with it all. Looking in Yvie’s eyes, she was struck with a pang of guilt for what she was about to say.

“Uh, alright. I got up kinda late. I’m actually supposed to have a lecture just now, but I blew it off. Balsamic tomatoes were calling me,” she shrugged, pleased when both Yvie and Brooke laughed. As the waiter arrived to take their order, Scarlet let out a sigh of relief she didn’t know she’d been holding. She hadn’t known lying would come this easily to her. Well- technically she hadn’t lied. She hadn’t not told them about the scratchcard. She just…happened to omit it from the recount of her day.

As the waiter moved away from their table, the conversation turned to a night out that Vanessa’s flat was apparently hosting pres for this evening. Scarlet felt a pang of envy. She wished she had the sort of flatmates that were all so close and hosted things together, but instead she was stuck in a two bed with a girl she’d found on SpareRooms who inexplicably hated her. She longed to be the flat that everyone would come to for chilled times, like Brooke, Yvie and Nina, or the flat that hosted crazy parties like Vanessa, Silky and Akeria. At the very least, she wished she had Plastique’s excuse to not host anything- her incredibly rich and successful Mum had simply bought her a beautiful flat in the nicest part of town, which she shared with her friend from school. Scarlet’s mouse-infested two bed was a million miles away.

“I don’t know, Yvie, we’ve only got three weeks until showcase,” Brooke sighed, hands around her cup of coffee. Yvie waved a dismissive hand.

“Shut up with these excuses already. Plastique, you’ll come because you can’t stop yourself from drinking anything with an alcohol content higher than 3% and Brooke, you’ll come because it’s Vanjie.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Brooke asked pointedly, fixing her gaze on Yvie. The other girl laughed.

“It means you want to bone,” Yvie explained, scrunching up her face with a laugh as she made a snipping motion with her fingers.

“BOOOOOOONE?!” Plastique impersonated, causing Scarlet and Yvie to burst out laughing.

“Fuck you all. It’s not like that at all,” Brooke rolled her eyes, unamused. Scarlet felt for the girl. In the time she’d been part of the friendship group, she knew that Brooke pined for Vanessa but also that Vanessa crushed on Brooke with exactly the same intensity, Vanessa often confiding things to Scarlet in the Philosophy lectures they were in together. Scarlet had told Yvie all of this, and Yvie, naturally, told Brooke time and time again how much Vanessa liked her, but never told Brooke how she knew (a gesture, Scarlet always thought, that was sweet of her as it protected her from any fallout of Vanessa finding out that Scarlet had told Yvie).

“I think it’s sweet,” Scarlet chimed in, her stomach spasming as Brooke fixed her with an unimpressed gaze. “You know. That you’re waiting to tell her until you’re sure she likes you too. I feel like I would do the same.”

To Scarlet’s relief, Brooke pulled a smug smile and gestured across the table to Scarlet. “See? She knows.”

Yvie frowned at Scarlet, drumming her fingers against the table. “So you would wait as long as she has to tell someone you liked them?”

Scarlet found her words catching in her throat. For some reason, Brooke laughed.

“Girl. Shut up.”

“What?!” Yvie exclaimed. “It’s just interesting!”

“Interesting in what way?” Plastique asked, her face expressionless and a quick knowing look passing between her and Brooke before the waiter arrived with their food (scrambled eggs, avocado and tomatoes with balsamic on sourdough for Scarlet, bacon roll for Yvie, raisin granola with strawberry jam for Plastique and a chocolate and hazelnut croissant for Brooke) and the conversation was forgotten about. The chat then turned into uni moaning, deadline stressing and tutor bitching, something Scarlet was glad about. She’d just completed her first Philosophy essay of the year and she desperately wanted to impress her tutor after achieving good marks last year, so she vented to the girls about her worries.

“None of you will believe the conversation we had with Silky when we were at the pub the other night,” Yvie began, Scarlet already laughing as she’d heard this story before. “So she got this essay back and her tutor gave her like…52 or fifty something, it was a low mark at least. And Silk starts going off like ‘Well! I know it was a good essay! It don’t matter! I’ll just do another one!’. Like…! I had to be like 'Well it kinda does matter, bitch, it’s your whole fucking degree!’”

The girls at the table howled with laughter, glad of a cautionary tale and a distraction from their own performance at uni.

“I worry about Silky sometimes,” Brooke frowned, peeling off a small bit of her croissant and eating it.

“Silky will be fine,” Plastique reassured her through her last mouthful of granola. “At the very least she’ll get a job for a local paper and she’ll get paid to write controversial opinion pieces all day.”

“Ugh, let’s not talk about grad jobs,” Scarlet sighed, the thought of having to find something to do once she finished uni making her heart palpitate. Yvie smiled, reaching out and taking Scarlet’s hand.

“You’ll be fine. It’s these two you’ve gotta worry about.”

“Oh, thanks so much,” Brooke Lynn folded her arms together and narrowed her eyes at her flatmate.

“Well. More Brooke than Plastique. She’s always got the option of living at home and getting spoiled for the rest of her life.”

“Getting suffocated, you mean,” Plastique pouted, leaning back in her seat.

“What are you going to do after you graduate?” Scarlet asked Yvie, at once interested. Yvie tilted her head and thought.

“Forensics. Or actually, I’d quite like to work at a mortuary. Something with dead bodies,” she shrugged, Plastique wrinkling her nose.

“You’re a spooky bitch,” she recoiled, Yvie laughing in that deep, Disney-Villan way that Scarlet secretly loved.

“And what, bitch? And what? Anyway,” she took a sip of her diet coke. “I don’t need to worry about jobs yet. That goes for all of us. We don’t need to think about that shit til January.”

“It’s already October!” Scarlet cried, her eyes wide and fearful. Yvie, she noted, had still not let go of her hand, as she gave it a squeeze and laughed.

“Guys, let’s not be dramatic, we will all be fine,” Brooke shook her head, finishing the last of her croissant. Her comment stung Scarlet a little and she shrank back in her chair, suddenly inhibited and self-conscious.

“Well, this was lovely but we’d better get to the lib,” Plastique shrugged, pulling out her purse. Scarlet had a sudden thought. Maybe the others would start to warm up to her if she took care of the financial aspect of friendship every now and then. A lunch here, a round of drinks there. If she started to show some generosity, then maybe the girls would start to like her more.

“Hey, I’ll treat us!” she smiled, causing all three girls to whip round and stare at Scarlet as if she had sprouted an extra head. She immediately regretted her decision. Was this too suspicious? She gave a fake laugh. “My Mum sent me some money earlier this week and said to treat me and some friends to dinner. It’s not dinner, but it’s close enough?”

To her relief, Brooke and Plastique raised their eyebrows and shrugged. Brooke sent her a warm smile from across the table. “Well lucky us! Thanks, Scarlet. That’s cute.”

Scarlet cast a glance to the girl beside her and saw Yvie looking at her with intrigue, her face deep in thought. Buoyed by Plastique and Brooke’s kindness, she stuck her tongue out at her.

“Well am I going halfers with you, then?”

Yvie relaxed, giving a laugh and pushing Scarlet a little. “Oh my God, no, I’ll take what I can get of course. Thanks, baby.”

Scarlet’s heart gave a little explosion. This was a pet name she hadn’t heard from Yvie before, and she would be lying if she said it didn’t make her skin prickle and her blood feel hot in her veins. She wished she could stop smiling, but found herself unable to.

Scarlet paid and the girls all filed out of the cafe, saying goodbye with tight hugs and cheek kisses and promises to see each other later at the pres that Vanjie was hosting. When Brooke and Plastique said goodbye to her, Scarlet could have sworn their smiles were wider than usual, and she was sure that Yvie had hugged her extra tight. Scarlet was so happy that she headed straight into town, treating herself to a new outfit for the night ahead from a shop she would never usually even set foot into. She was in the changing rooms trying it on when the group chat went off again.

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: Mine tonight, who’s coming!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: EXCUSE ME

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: OURS

Kim Kardashian-West: Me!!!!!! #tgif

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: they know wtf i mean

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: sorry i have other plans with more important friends who i don’t live with

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: My God your…so unfunny…it pains me physically

Kim Kardashian-West: *you’re

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: *you’re

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: *YOU’RE

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: IM DYING

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: *you’re

Plastique Bague: i’m coming

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: I’m not coming any mose

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: PLASTIQUE!!!!!! you ruined it lmao

Plastique Bague: fuck u too Brooke

Plastique Bague: oh lol sorry

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Who’s mose.

Kim Kardashian-West: Tell me why I find mose so funny

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: MOSE ADDFGGHLL

Plastique Bague: oh my god mose

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: guys oh my god a bitch makes a typo!!

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: MOSE I CANT BREATHE

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE set the nickname for Brooke Lynn Hytes to mose.

mose: I hate you all so much

Plastique Bague: IM DYING

Kim Kardashian-West: VANJIE AHAHAHAHAHAAHAH

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: actually fuck this has killed me off

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: VANJIE IM HAVING AN ASTHMA ATTACK!!!!!! MOSE!!!!!!

Dave the Laugh: mose lmao

Dave the Laugh: anyway i’m coming tonight

Dave the Laugh: Scarlet said she was coming at lunch

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Omg. does this mean we have a full squad?

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: this NEVER happens

mose: I’m still not coming

mose: I’m being cyberbullied

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: you are so coming bitchhhh

Scarlet noted the plethora of heart emojis Vanessa tacked on to the end of her message to Brooke before sending hers, still confident from her lunch with the girls and the short, gold dress she was looking at herself in the mirror in.

used Tampon: I’m coming so we OFFICIALLY have a full squad ladies!!

used Tampon: Well. If mose is coming xo

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: SCARLET HAHAHAHA

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Scarlet i swear that’s the funniest uv ever been

Plastique Bague: Ahahahaha WOOO!! Yaaaas to full squad!!

Kim Kardashian-West: Mose will be there if i have to drag her there!! Yay Scarlet!!!

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: Brooky if u come i’ll give you a big cuddle!

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Anna ou-

mose: I don’t like that threat

mose: See you all later, I’ll be their

Plastique Bague: *there

used Tampon: *there

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: *there

Kim Kardashian-West: *there

mose: FUCK YOU ALL!!!!!!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: *THERE

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: *there assddffghjkkl love u Brooke xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

After a little shopping trip, a nap, a small, solo getting-ready party and absolutely no uni work, Scarlet found herself in a taxi on her way to Vanessa’s flat, fiddling with the hem of her new dress that popped out from under her parka and wondering to herself if it was too short. She had bought the biggest bottle of gin she could find in the supermarket, not thinking twice about dropping £40 on it, and a small half bottle of tequila. Tonight would be a big one if she had anything to do with it. Scarlet was excited- she hated always being that person that had to borrow money for the entry fee, the only person who couldn’t buy drinks for everyone in the club, the person that got bought pity shots because she couldn’t afford a drink. Tonight, things would be different.

She arrived at the girls’ flat and pressed the buzzer, the music from Akeria’s room pouring out of the second-floor window already. Scarlet wasn’t that late- Vanessa had said 9 and it was only half past, but already she could hear the girls upstairs drunkenly singing along to Pitbull. There was suddenly a loud buzz from the intercom and Scarlet found the front door swinging open. She jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time in her white trainers, and was greeted with a tight hug from Akeria, whose eyes were already considerably glassy. Scarlet was led through to Akeria’s huge, fairy-lights-and-mirrors covered room, where a huge cheer went up from the girls inside at her arrival. Plastique, Nina and Brooke Lynn were all sat on the edge of Akeria’s huge bed, and Silky and Vanessa were on the worn, purple carpet beside them, making a semicircle. Yvie was sat on the small sofa opposite the bed, dressed in a black lace jumpsuit that caused Scarlet’s pulse to race. Smiling and raising up the bottle of gin from her bag, Scarlet laughed as another cheer exploded in the room. She stepped carefully over the dwindling pack of cards that formed a circle around a pint glass full of a liquid that looked absolutely vile, and sat on the sofa beside Yvie, shrugging her jacket off.

“Hey,” Yvie smiled, flipping her septum piercing in and out of her nose absent-mindedly. “You look nice. I like this.”

Scarlet felt her cheeks heat up as Yvie momentarily touched her bare thigh, fiddling with the material at the hem of Scarlet’s dress. Scarlet rolled her shoulders back and flipped some of her hair over one. “Thanks! Just got it today. You look so good!”

“God, this old thing?” Yvie put a hand to her chest and laughed, Scarlet joining in until Akeria squashed herself down on the sofa beside her.

“Thanks for stealing my space,” she said unamused and giving Scarlet a quick once-over with her eyes. “Here, I got you a glass.”

Scarlet thanked her and poured herself out a measure of gin and lemonade which was approximately 40% gin and 60% mixer. She watched as Vanjie pulled out a card from the deck and a huge roar went up from the girls, a King staring back at the girl’s disappointed face.

“Aw, fuck my life!”

“Get it down, girl!” Yvie laughed, delighting in the other girl’s anguish.

“Vanjie, I’ll drink half if you really don’t want to,” came Brooke’s voice, the groans of objection from the other girls almost making Scarlet miss the grateful smile that Vanjie shot Brooke’s way.

“Um, no the fuck you won’t, bitch!” Yvie piped up again, outraged.

“Yeah this ain’t fuckin’ I’m A Celebrity, drink the damn thing!” Silky all but screamed, the girls chanting as Vanjie raised the glass to her lips and tilted it, some of whatever was in it dripping down her chin and spilling onto her black vinyl skirt. In under ten seconds, the glass was empty and the room was cheering, Vanjie giving a triumphant smile and wiping at her mouth with a somewhat flailing arm.

“Okay, next game!” Plastique demanded, thumping her knees.

“Question game,” Nina said instantly in a monotone voice, some girls cheering and some girls groaning. Scarlet’s heart dropped.

“Noo, please! Last time we played this I got my chat nickname, and it’s fucking horrific.”

“What, when you had to tell everyone that you were the one who left the used tampon in our toilet?” Yvie laughed, and Scarlet felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

“It wouldn’t flush!! And I wasn’t about to leave it lying at the top of your bin, was I?!” she cried, Yvie laughing and pulling her into her side for a hug. Scarlet supposed the embarrassment was worth it.

“Okay, no tampon-themed questions, guys,” Akeria laughed, the others muttering a laugh around her. “Remember, if you stumble, you answer and drink, if it’s a shit question, you answer and drink-”

“Akeria! We’re in third year! We know how the fuck the game works!” Brooke exclaimed, the other girl narrowing her eyes at her.

“I’m out to get you now, bitch,” she said forebodingly, Yvie “oooooh”-ing spookily beside Scarlet and making her laugh. “Who’s starting?”

“Me!” Silky yelled, and launched into her first question before anyone could object. “Akeria, who was the last person you fucked?”

“Nina, have you ever got with a stranger in the club?” she immediately fired across the room, the other girl’s face dropping in surprise.

“Vanjie, where’s the worst place you’ve had sex?”

“Plastique, would you ever go there with Ariel?” she yelled, her face relaxing in relief that the heat was off her. Plastique, who had been taking a drink at the time, choked, and a chorus of cheers went up as the girls realised she’d have to answer. Scarlet felt for Plastique as a red prickly heat began to spread across her chest and neck.

“I mean,” she began, her voice suddenly quiet. “I guess? Like maybe it would be weird but…whatever. Yes. It’d be fun, and we wouldn’t be awkward about it the next day. And I wouldn’t have to do the walk of shame. I’d just go across the hall to my own room. So it’s convenient.“

“So the fact that she’s hot just doesn’t come into it?” Brooke deadpanned, a bomb of laughter exploding in the room and Brooke receiving an elbow in the ribs for her trouble. Scarlet could relax for the small amount of time the game wasn’t being played. She always lived in terrible fear that someone would bring up the weird sort of relationship that she and Yvie had, and she really didn’t want to have to address it. Finishing her drink, Plastique began again.

“Nina, what’s the biggest dick you’ve ever taken?”

“Brooke, anal: thoughts?”

Brooke laughed as she attempted to get her question out. “Scarlet, have you ever had inappropriate thoughts about someone in this room?”

FUCK. “Akeria, what’s the youngest you’d ever go?”

“Plastique, have you ever done speed?”

“Yvie, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever masturbated with?”

“The hell?” Yvie scrunched up her face and laughed, before moving on quickly. “Brooke, if you could fuck anyone in this room, who would it be?”

Scarlet’s mouth dropped open as she watched Brooke’s face turn white. “Silky, um…uh…oh, fuck! I had one!”

The room descended into chaos as everyone realised Brooke would have to answer the question. Scarlet jumped as she suddenly felt Yvie lean in to her side and whisper in her ear.

“How many times do we have to play this game at pres before Brooke answers with Vanessa? She has to at some point, right?”

Scarlet laughed and sat forward eagerly to hear Brooke’s answer, noticing Vanjie looking at her intently out of the corner of her eye.

“Um…” Brooke began, then laughed and took Nina’s hand. “I’m going to say Nina. Because she would make you a cup of tea afterwards and breakfast in the morning, and really what more would you want?”

Scarlet didn’t miss the way Vanjie’s smile turned into a fake one and something shut down behind her eyes. With a pang of empathy, she narrowed her eyes at Brooke and shook her head. “Shit answer!”

Brooke and Nina fixed their surprised gazes on Scarlet as the other girls laughed and some of them agreed. Nina raised her eyebrows in mock-offence. “Scarlet, I’m offended! Are you saying I would be a shit fuck!”

Scarlet felt panic rise in her chest. “No, I-”

Nina burst out laughing. “I’m only kidding, you’re right, it was a shit answer.”

Scarlet joined in with the laughter and shouts that filled the room, confidence spiking again. Brooke soon started the game once more. As things progressed, the girls got more and more drunk and more and more loud, and Scarlet’s gin and tequila got passed around the room, everyone appreciative of free alcohol. As they drank more, Scarlet felt herself and Yvie grow closer together on the sofa until she was practically in the other girl’s lap. The only problem was, as everyone drank more, they all became less on the ball with coming up with questions rapidly.

“Akeria, how do you really feel about Silky?”

“Plastique, what’s your net worth?”

“Scarlet, gaaah, have you ever had a sexy dream about someone in this room?”

“Silky, have you ever farted in bed?”

“Oh my God, y'all nasty! Yvie, have you ever fantasised about anyone in this room?”

“Nina, where was the last time that you…I mean, when was the last place…god damn it!” Yvie exclaimed, jeers filling the room as Yvie blushed uncharacteristically. Scarlet’s interest was piqued. With a small jab of annoyance, she’d wished that Silky had asked who Yvie had fantasised about, but then she’d maybe get an answer she didn’t want to hear.

“Um. Yeah. Obviously! I mean, haven’t we all?” Yvie shrugged, trying to play the question off casually. Scarlet felt her heart speed up in her chest. Akeria raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the arm of the sofa.

“Haven’t we all imagined ourselves in a sexual situation with one of our friends? I don’t think you’re gonna like the answer to that,” she chuckled, Plastique howling with laughter.

“Unless your name’s Brooke or Vanessa,” Yvie shrugged, the girls all descending into screeches of laughter, Silky’s being the loudest as she got up from the floor and started jumping on an unimpressed Akeria’s bed. Scarlet looked at Brooke, who was eyeing Yvie darkly with a tight smile on her face. Yvie cleared her throat beside Scarlet, her eyes expressing regret as if she’d gone too far. Changing the subject, she asked the next question. “Uh, Akeria, what’s your body count?”

“Nina, what’s going on with you and Monet from your course?”

“Ah, oh, um,” Nina began, flustered. She shut her eyes tightly. “Brooke, what’s the dirtiest text you’ve ever sent?”

“Plastique, how many nudes have you sent?”

“Vanjie, who’s the most fuckable person in this room?”

Vanjie screwed up her face and gestured in disbelief. “Shit question, bitch.”

Shouts of objection filled the room. Vanessa put her hands out in front of herself in protest.

“Now, now, now, wait a damn minute! It’s only shit because there’s an obvious answer,” she shrugged, taking a sip of Scarlet’s gin that she’d mixed with her Fanta. As everybody waited with baited breath, she rolled her eyes. “Brooke Lynn. Duh.”

As if it was Wembley Stadium at full time, the room exploded with cheers and roars, and Scarlet doubled over giggling. Brooke was laughing but her face had gone beetroot red, and Vanjie was smiling, pleased she’d elicited such a reaction. Scarlet felt herself fall into Yvie’s side as she laughed. This was great! She was having such a good time!

There was a sudden three bangs on the front door out in the hall, silencing the room and making Scarlet jump. Many of the girls giggled anxiously as Akeria threw her hands up and shook her head.

“Nope! No, I got the last three, I am not getting this one as well.”

“Bitch! Lemme at ‘em,” Silky exclaimed, getting up from her position on the floor. There was silence in which some of the girls (mostly Plastique) made inappropriate comments to try and get everyone to laugh, while they listened through the door to Silky, Vanessa and Akeria’s upstairs neighbour rant and rave about how he had work in the morning, and how this was the fourth time in two weeks, and how next time it would be the police that would get called. As she giggled, Scarlet felt Yvie take her hand and squeeze it, the other girl laughing evilly under her breath and making her laugh even more.

Fuck. Scarlet was beginning to realise her friendship with Yvie wasn’t strictly a friendship anymore.

The bang from the front door caused everyone to jump, and Silky was back in the room almost as quickly as she’d left.

“RIGHT bitches, c’mon, you heard the man, drink up, move, move, move!”

And with that, Scarlet tugged Yvie up from her position on the sofa, ready for the night that lay ahead and all the regrets and consequences that could accompany it.

#rpdr fanfiction

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dariamalek · 5 years

Text

“If You’re So Rich, Why Don’t You Have A Booth And Bottles?”

I am back and better than ever.

Just to update you all on the reason for my absence, I was very busy working on myself. I needed some time away to refuel from work, school and very [extensive] projects to spend with my loved ones and become more inspired.

I never thought I would come back, or even ever write, a finance related post however, during my time away, I encountered a couple conversions that got me inspired to put my financial coaching in action.

One of them was when I was considering purchasing some jewellery from someone who had replied with: “they’re pretty expensive, are you sure you can afford them at the moment.” The tone was quite sarcastic and especially offensive.

Secondly, and most importantly, I had encountered a conversation with someone at a party. Initially, he commented on my shoes and said: “your shoes are the most expensive thing about that twenty dollar dress.” When asked why he thought my dress was “twenty dollars,” he responded with: “because there’s no labels. I might start to think those shoes cost less than the dress,” initiating that my shoes were fake. When I didn’t respond, he continued: “if you’re so rich then, why don’t you have a booth or bottles?”

Here’s why: because I would rather put my finances down on something that will double those finances in the future.

An expensive hat, or piece of jewellery, or outfit will not bring back the money you spent on them. However, putting down money on your career or goals will double those finances with a little bit of motivation.

Now, I am not saying you should repress yourself from your expensive tastes. I have quite expensive tastes myself however, there are certain things that you may want to put more money down on in the beginning so you are not purchasing more of them down the line due to damages or repairs. These things could be things like:

watches

bag/purse/wallet

shoes

vacations

electronics

education

hobbies (learning to play an instrument, writing etc.)

education

your home

vehicles

Notice how things like “jewellery” and “clothes” are not on there. Shoes is on that list, but for this simple reason: you want comfortable, good quality shoes that won’t give you health problems in the future and won’t tear and damage quickly. Spending three to five hundred dollars on shoes doesn’t sound so bad when you realize how much money you spend to replace all those cheap shoes you paid less for. The same goes for watches and other apparel items and recreational items (electronics, vehicles, home) on the list.

Your education is very important. Save up for it because it will cost a lot. However, saving up for a good education and being able to pay it off is both rewarding and will benefit you more; making you more money (people with a degree get picked faster for jobs) in the future. ‘

You’ll notice hobbies is on that list. You may have a hobby like learning to play an instrument which will have an expensive range of instruments. Spend money on those. You may be able to make a living from your hobby, or some kind of wealth. Also, it is something that will help you better your mental health and make use of your time, which is more enriching than any rag you’ve paid a thousand dollars for.

Going to the club and spending money on alcohol will not give you anything back. You can go enjoy yourself at the club without those things. Nights out become much more personal and fun when you aren’t worried about “showing off” your riches with money well wasted. The attention you get will be toxic and eventually, when you run out of that money, all your friends will not “have your back” the same way that they said they did. People are selfish and will see that they can no longer gain that attention and wealth that you once gave them. You will have no personal and genuine friendships because you’ve revolved all your life around money and wealth, and more importantly, making sure everyone knows you have that wealth. This will effect your mental health and weaken your ability to connect with others and yourself without the idea of wealth. You will not be able to have genuine relationships with others and yourself.

I had preferred not to state my financial status for some because I realize the power of money is extremely efficient. Money can get you anything you want. However, I prefer my relationships with others to be based on the genuine versions of them and vice versa. I feel that my financial status will take away from my genuine personally because all someone else sees is dollar signs and their intentions become flawed and greedy.

At the end of the day, money can buy you everything. Money can buy you friends, apparel, love, vacations; anything you want. But money cannot buy the genuine love that someone can give you.

You’re not going to have money forever. But those genuine relationships and personal memories will be there forever. That friend, partner or family member you made without the help of money will be there forever.

Think about your finances, kids. It’s a tough world out there.

With love,

daria xx

#work #money #rich #poor #money issues #finance #financial coach #life coach #life advice #blog post #journalist #author #writer

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rfhusnik · 3 years

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Presumptions Part One: At Home And At The Mall

Written By: F. John Surells

Here’s a composition about the thoughts, postulations, and speculations one’s presence at a certain location, or one’s sight of a certain object may engender in a mind so easily inspired. And here’s an attempt to organize miscellaneous musings. Oh, I know that one’s imagination can be sent off wondering and wandering due to many stimuli. But only those who really care about the downtrodden wear expensive dresses with meaningless phrases affixed upon them to expensive upper class get-togethers. Yes, I guess taxing the rich more aggressively would solve all of humanity’s problems.

Nonetheless, we know that “I’ve got my eye on you” can be either a remark of admiration or a threat of surveillance. But I suppose it doesn’t always need to be one of those. Sometimes, as when I stroll through the mall, I catch sight of people and things who and which send my mind wheeling. And then, with senses enlivened, I look at those people and things and wonder if I could know all that’s of importance to, or because of them.

And today I’ve just returned from a walk in the mall. And while walking there I met a stranger whom I’ve decided to recommend to our city’s mayor as a possible writer of Part Two of this piece. Oh, he’s only a factory worker he said. And, he has no writing experience. Yet, I told him that Mayor Jennifer had informed me that it was just such a person as he, that he (the mayor) wished to write in this forum soon.

And, I believe I’ll find solace walking in the mall – until leftists ban that activity too. Their goal seems to be that no one, except they themselves, should enjoy any aspect of human life. But, as long as solitary walks are still legal, here’s a dedication to all the instances when sudden encounters with any type of noun (person, place, or thing) engage our imagination, and change our focus from the stage of the current moment, to either previously, or non-previously considered outcomes and/or ramifications of either past actualities, or future possibilities. Yet, everyone’s mind strays from the present from time to time. That’s what you’d say, right? Well, for my sake please consider what follows now to be a meaningful, although perhaps somewhat arrogant retort.

I’d imagine that if these words could accurately and verifiably offer acknowledgement, documentation, and hope of and for the past, present and future, then I’d be permitted to adjudge them useful and constructive. But they can’t alter all that was and is, still, it may be that they can offer assistance to a search for better days to come.

I like to walk in our city’s largest mall, and sometimes I do enter one or more of the stores therein. And thus it was that one day, inside a consignment store within that mall, I came upon the so-called “Green Flower Pot”. And I must admit its dark green color was what first caught my eye. But then I noticed it also had spots of black which seemed to matter greatly in regard to its overall appearance and aura. Yet, initially I thought its price to be too pricey. Still, its allure was too great, so I purchased it. But as I see it now, here at home, I sense it also has a basic presentation devoid of any attributes a wondering mind may try to assign it. And, I also need to admit that I fear it’s not a flower pot at all, but rather some sort of water or tea dispenser which I’m thinking may have been purposely given a misnomer by the “status-quo” so that group of status could then incorrectly identify it as a relic of the 1960’s; you know, “flower” and “pot”.

Oh, and isn’t it strange how the mind can be stimulated by just the sight of artistic glass? I guess our psyches sometimes sense uncompromising qualities within certain artworks, and then feel they need to incorporate those qualities within themselves. But then, whether such incorporation succeeds or fails, the mind, body and soul are often left in search of certainties.

And the particular constant (as I believe it to be) which I usually seize upon then is the fact that all I really know without question is that many people have labored for many years within my city. And yet, though they’ve been productive members of society, many of them have furthered rumors here which in reality have been found out to be either half-truths or outright lies. And, all their work and gossip spreading has been done in a city known for strange and unbelievable occurrences.

And many is the time I’ve recalled how, inside this city, an unforgiving populace has tried to stymie artistic efforts. And when I think back to those occasions, that’s when I realize how small we as creators of, reflectors upon, and witnesses for art all really are! We advocate for right living, but entrenched biases, which usually attack us from the left, always seek to thwart our goodness.

Yet, I’ve also noticed that despite the vast possibilities of miscellaneous thoughts, one’s mind so often focuses upon all that’s actually never been proven or disproven. Therefore, I’ll not fail to speak of a secondary class of momentary considerations. And they consist of the undesirable occurrences of future chaos and trauma which will be caused by the seemingly casual attitude many Americans have adopted in regard to illegal and non-supervised immigration into their nation. What will the future effects be of allowing great numbers of penniless individuals into the United States? Well, in answering that question one must begin by realizing that these people are in poverty today, and in poverty they’ll remain, no matter be it in the U.S. or elsewhere. The only difference is that in America they’ll greatly contribute to the downfall of the Earth’s last real hope against tyranny and human rights violations.

And I can remember that as a child I was often cautioned about “excrement (my word not theirs) peddlers”. My dad, for one, liked to remind whomever he could that a lot of people could hang degrees on their walls, and especially if their educations were paid for by the government, but few could really effect any worthwhile developments in a wicked world. And rest assured, the admonishments given me by him and others back in those years didn’t fall on deaf ears. And I suppose that’s why I so often find myself pondering the drastic future effects of what’s going on in my nation today. But then, of course we can’t expend all our God given time thinking about the past and future; the present needs to be lived.

And so it was that the other day when my phone rang, and our city’s mayor George Jennifer told me he wished me to contribute to this forum at this time, I told him I’d like to “construct” a composition around my recent encounter with The Green Flower Pot, and perhaps entitle it “Presumptions”. And the mayor answered by saying “John, I know you well enough to expect that your initial reaction to almost anything is immediate concern and fear. And while I’ll expect those apprehensions to appear in your written piece, could you also find a working class person to write a Part Two of “Presumptions”?

“I’ll do that,” I said.

But now, from my own personal experiences, I’d like to relate some random disclosures. And I’m sure that by now anyone reading this knows that F. John Surells is very private in his investigations. Nonetheless, he’s been told by various phone callers that he owes various amounts of money to various people for various reasons. And there are various examples of what I’ve just written, but here are my favorites.

Sergeant Wright told me he was organizing a fundraiser for some elementary school kids, and needed a contribution. And Sara said some of my finances were in disarray. And Rick wanted to aid me with Medicare. But I tried to talk to Rick one day, even though he’s a recording. And I told him I’m not really old, and that my body ages in a fashion similar to a manual transmission that’s always in first gear. And I added that although I may move slowly, I know some people who are constantly driven; actually I said “One might say they’re in constant drive.”

But then, on another day, a friend from Manhattan called to tell me he thought America had a new greatest writer now. “Who is it?” I asked.

“His or her name can’t be divulged now” he answered. “Some say he or she is too controversial, and besides, a lot of people here in Manhattan don’t like him or her.”

And I felt then that probably I shouldn’t pursue that matter any further, and instead told my caller friend that recently, in a dream, I’d met a man of prominence. And he’d written the solutions to all of mankind’s problems on a board with chalk. But then a coalition of political and non-political questioners, blamers, gossipers, and liars had confronted him, and had erased the truth he’d transcribed. And then that coalition had told that man that their goal was to brainwash the youth of America. “And when those youngsters grow to adulthood, they’ll then spread our vileness as if it were truth” they’d said.

But my friend responded to this dream disclosure by saying, “You know, I think you’d better be careful. Over here in New York we’ve actually heard about your haughtiness and refusal to live as the ‘status-quo’ instructs. Maybe the time has come for you to change your ways, or your ‘styles’ at least. And remember, most of the really important literary types are liberals.”

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serenephenix · 6 years

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“If I could just show you...”

Finally finished the first season of “Camp Camp” while watching it on breaks. Enjoyed it a lot!

And the only evening where I have a bit of spare time what do I do? Write fanfic for this new show I discovered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

If I could just show you…

[Fandom]: Camp Camp (season 1 finale)

[Rating]: Gen

[Genre]: emotional hurt, character introspection

[Word count]: 1.900

[Warning]: mention of suicidal ideation, child neglect

[Status]: completed

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

David’s aggressively positive outlook on life was hard-earned.

It had to be, seeing as what he had faced before becoming a counselor at Camp Campbell had required him to adopt a cheery attitude, unless he wanted to face the facts and… make sure he no longer had to deal with reality. Permanently.

He gasped as he tried readjusting his pillow, the headache and stiff muscles in his neck making themselves more prominent than they had to be. He could have done without the slight concussion, but somehow he could not regret it in the slightest. After all, his accident had spurred the campers, the quartermaster, even Gwen into action. Something he never would have believed possible with how fast everything had spiraled out of control and gone downhill today.

It had been poor planning on his part - that much he could admit - and maybe Max was right about needing to revise the activity and depiction of the Natives altogether (as Max had hissed at him over roasting marshmallows after putting out most of the rampant fire). Still, the bonfire had been pretty enjoyable. And there hadn’t been too many burns that needed treating! Huuuge success in David’s book!

David allowed a quiet smile to pull at his lips as he listened to Gwen’s snores on the other side of the room divider – the only piece of furniture in their cabin that had not been provided when David had first let his small bag fall to the ground as he took in his new home. But he had felt it necessary once Gwen had joined him, and while she may have rolled her eyes at his ‘exaggerated concern about privacy and modesty’, David was sure he had not imagined the slightly grateful glint in her eyes the day he drove to town to purchase it.

The same town he had taken Max, Nikki and Neil on an unplanned joyride to. He had to hand it to them – they were a brave, adventurous little bunch.

Much braver than he had been at their age.

While he could not see the pictures on it from this angle or in this poor lighting, David made out the frame of the wooden memory board hanging just beside the illuminated window.

The pictures of the kids and him, as well as those of his own stay here at Camp Campbell. Looking at them and at his bright smile, it was hard to associate the grinning kid with curious eyes to a home than had been less than nurturing.

David remembered how people, people he’d like to call ‘friends’ tentatively in his own head, had repeatedly told him it was not just a lack of nurturing.

Shitty parenting. Neglect. Abuse.

Those were the words they had attributed to David’s home situation. Even today, David was reluctant to call it abuse. Abuse was a harsh word. A heavy accusation. One that he really did not want to apply to his family.

The thin blanket was coarse as he twiddled it between his fingers nervously, trying to keep his heart from speeding up involuntarily.

His family was not made up of bad people. David was convinced of that. At least, not the kind of bad people that murdered or participated in illegal activities to get rich at the expense of others.

His parents were good people. His mother was always kind and helpful to the folks in their town. She was there to lend them an ear and good advice, engaged herself in a lot of activities to help the community become a better place. His father was ambitious and focused. Any project entrusted to him was sure to be finished surely and to almost perfection.

His parents were good people. It wasn’t their fault they had gotten a kid unplanned, and it wasn’t their fault either that David did not want to follow in their footsteps, take over the family business. It wasn’t their fault David was not the most gifted child, or the strongest, or most ingenious, or the most charismatic.

And neither was it David’s fault for not being any of those things. If he repeated that mantra long enough, he might start getting some precious air again, and hopefully stop panicking. He did not want to wake Gwen up, not when she had worked so hard.

Because that was also something David had going for himself: he was hardworking and he was patient. And it had paid off today!

Even if Max’s words had stung. A lot. A lot more than the words of a ten-year-old should.

And David had meant it. He was not blind, and maybe not as dumb as most people liked to believe -himself included.

Pretending only could get you so far. But so did giving up before really trying.

There were a lot of instances in his life where David could have given up. He soldiered through most of those but he still does regret having dropped out of high school in his junior year. Sometimes he wonders if he could have made it. Hey, maybe he might have even made it as far as college, gotten a “useless” degree like Gwen. But a degree nonetheless.

But he would never know, just as he would never know if it would have been the wrong decision in the end. There had been a reason after all why he had quitted, why he had left not only his education but also his home behind.

His parents weren’t bad people. But they were demanding, they were reserved, and perfectionist, and pretty unforgiving.

His parents were not bad people, but they had been, without any doubt, bad parents to a kid like David.

He knew it was silly, but even just the memory of his father’s disappointed look at his average grades or the sting of a slap he got whenever his whining grated on his mother’s already frayed nerves, was enough to make the room feel as if the temperature had dropped several degrees.

Middle school had stressed him out to the point of having to fight himself not to throw up his meals at every chance he got. There had not been any friends he could have counted on picking him up; not when he had been the laughing stock in the first place.

His overly positive attitude had not been all too charming to his fellow pre-teens even back then. In fact, a lot of his interactions with them were not too dissimilar to the ones he was having with some of the kids here at camp. But David had always needed to look at the good things in his everyday life.

It was what had soothed over comments about his lack of taste in fashion from his mother, or the belligerent sighs coming from his father when he did not understand his explanation to a complicated arithmetical problem. It had made it easier to forget when his mother told him, almost absentmindedly as she checked her e-mails, that he probably did not have friends because he was a boring person to be around. It had allowed him to not cry every time his father would scrutinize him, his expression close to pitying when it came to David’s failed attempts to impress him with something he had made with his own two hands.

David felt his breath hitch and his eyes itching something fiercely. Stupid concussion. It was messing with his head, the neat compartmentalizing he had perfected over the years, making every thought spill out like clothes from an overturned dresser.

He wiped his nose on a small corner of his blanket, too sore to even attempt reaching for the nightstand and the package of handkerchiefs stored in its drawer.

But maybe it was not only the concussion.

Maybe it had been the past few days that had hit a little too close to home for his comfort.

Camp Campbell had been his safe space the moment he had arrived here as a kid, about the same age as most of those that were here right now. It was a remote place, far away from everything David had known and anyone that could possibly know him.

It had been a reprieve, from expectations he could not meet. Here, amidst nature and other youths enjoying doing practical work, David had found a place where he fit; where people actually did enjoy his company specifically because he was undemanding and positive no matter the circumstances.

And he had enjoyed it for the entirety of the four stays his parents had allowed, until they had considered him too old to join a summer camp anymore.

Arguing with them, David had learned, would not lead to anything. So, he had accepted. That had not made the cold spot in his chest any smaller or any less crushing.

Because wherein lay the truth: David had always wanted to be here, in this camp.

This was David’s home. A place where he had found happiness and a sense of belonging.

And maybe Max was right in his observation that David’s wish to recreate these same feelings for these kids was both naïve and maybe a little presumptuous.

Because not everyone was like him. The majority of these kids, maybe all of them, were here because their parents had wanted them to enjoy their passion: whether that was music, or acting, or science, or simply the outdoors. And Nurf, well, his mother had only had the best in mind for his future. There was nothing reproachable about that.

And it hurt, in a very primal way, that the only thing that made David feel happy and worthwhile was being brushed off or ridiculed on a regular basis. That every conviction and virtue he held close to his heart, was losing its meaning in a world that was becoming more desensitized and apathetic and individualistic with each year.

But as he’d told Max in the pouring rain, with as much conviction as when he had shaken off his father’s grip on his arm in the closing bus door, someone has to care.

Someone has to take charge, and if that someone had to be David he would gladly rise to the challenge. Because David had learned nobody would hand him his happiness on a silver platter. It was up to him to build his own happiness.

The snort he let out jarred his head, making him mumble noiselessly in distress at the pain.

Maybe he should add stubborn to his list of qualities. Then that’d make three in total. Not too shabby, all things considered.

A groan came from the other side of the room, followed by a voice heavy with exhaustion.

“David, you still alive? God, please be still alive. I can’t handle the campers all on my own.”

He decided it was best to not chuckle, but the humor was not lost in his reply.

“No worries, Gwen. Just woke myself up sneezing. I’m fine.”

He wanted to believe that the drowsy answer he got was an “Okay” but he could not be entirely sure. Soon enough, soft snores filled the space between them again, the first pitter patter of another oncoming downpour joining in a short while later.

David watched as the raindrops drew fine lines against the glass of the window.

He was asleep before he even noticed himself drifting off.

#camp camp #cc david #cc gwen #cc max #cc nikki #cc neil #child neglect #i had a loooooooooooooooooooot of feelings after that s1 finale #Serene writes #fanfic #completed

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ulyssessklein · 6 years

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Perla Hudson Interview: Slash, Dinosaurs and Helping the Youth of L.A.

By: Rick Landers

We thought we’d click back to one of our favorite articles, one we had with Slash’s wife, Perla Hudson. So, here you go and enjoy the ride!

***

Perla Hudson, the wife of Velvet Revolver’s legendary guitar player, Slash, has navigated the depths and ridden the crests of the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle for a decade. And no one would be surprised if she simply wrapped herself in that self-indulgent lifestyle that we hear about that beckons and, sometimes, overcomes the rich and famous. But, we spoke to Perla, and she let us know that she and her husband had more important things to take care of and nurture.

As much as she enjoys the raucous highlights of the rock ‘n’ roll fantasy, Perla has invested time and effort into being a mother to her two growing boys, keeping the home fires burning with her husband, and helping the disenfranchised youth of Los Angeles. She has supported the work of L.A.’s Department of Children’s Services. She’s also served on the Board of Directors, and more recently on the Advisory Committee, of the L.A. Youth Network (LAYN). And when she talks about it, she’s not only committed, she’s passionate.

And now, both she and Slash are offering up a treasure trove of their possessions to help fund LAYN programs to benefit children who are homeless and need the kindness and guidance of caring adults. Their Slash and Rock Legends Auction will be held by the famous Julien’s auction house beginning March 26, 2011, and will feature some of the hippest and coolest prized possessions owned by the Hudsons.

On this list is some Slash signature gear, like a stage-worn Chrome Hearts leather top hat; his GNR silver cuff, a one-of-a kind custom Stravinski Fender Stratocaster, his B.C. Rich Red Mockingbird axe, pieces from his prized dinosaur collection and the coup de grace, Slash’s beloved 1966 big block Corvette coupe.

The Slash and Rock Legends auction should rake in some serious cash, all for a good cause. We at Guitar International tip our black leather top hats to Slash and Perla, for reflecting not only the best in rock ‘n’ roll, but the best in all of us.

******

Perla and Slash – Image courtesy of Gibson Guitars.

Rick Landers: Hey, I just found out that you’re Cuban. Do you dance salsa?

Perla Hudson: Of course I do! I’m cooking Cuban food for dinner tonight, too.

Rick: Are you really? Good for you. I guess Cuba should be opened up fairly soon, right? Do you think you’ll ever go down there?

Perla Hudson: I’ve been. We want to take the kids, but just finding the right time and you know how that all goes. Hopefully we’ll be there soon.

Rick: A lot of people think rock stars are always self-indulgent, even rock couples, I suppose, but I saw that in the auction that’s coming up this month you have a passion for the L.A. Youth Network.

Perla Hudson: Absolutely.

Rick: I was wondering how you ended up choosing that particular charity?

Perla Hudson: Well, I’ve been on the Board of Directors for LAYN for about three years. I only, in the past couple of months, stepped down because there’s a lot of decision making when you’re on the Board of Directors and it was very time-consuming for me. I’m still on the Advisory Committee and on the Fundraising Committee for them, which is where this comes in.

We did a lot of charity work with the Department of Children’s Services. Every Christmas we would fulfill their wish lists. One year we rolled up on the Gibson tour bus and gave everybody Gibson guitars. Another year we actually gave the kids what they were hoping for. These are Children’s Services children. The woman from DCS told me about LAYN, which is a homeless shelter for children. It serves with emergency housing, temporary and permanent housing for kids in the L.A. area. So, we started focusing our efforts on LAYN.

It’s really important because a lot of people ask Slash to donate a top hat, donate a guitar, donate this, donate that, and he’s been extremely generous and giving, but you don’t necessarily always see where all that stuff is going to. With LAYN we see it. I’ve been there for kids’ birthdays. Slash has been to their talent shows. We’ve sponsored the kids to go to prom. It’s pretty amazing.

These are kids that have been living on the streets, have been kicked out of their homes because either they’re gay or lesbian or abused. Kids that got a birthday cake for the first time when they were 13 and didn’t know what to do with the candles. So, I think the work they do is amazing and the W.O.O.W. [We’re On Our Way] program is basically what your parents did for you.

When you were going through college, they paid for your housing, paid for your food, and that’s what the W.O.O.W. program does with these kids that are out of high school, up to the age of 22, even 25. There’s still a kid that age in school. It’s a great organization. It’s a home. We’re very hands-on with them, and as a matter of fact, they’re honoring us in June at their gala for a lot of the work that we’ve done for them.

Check Out GI’s Slash Interview Discussing Les Paul and Les Paul Guitars

Rick: What surprises me is that most missing children weren’t reported missing by their parents. That’s kind of heartbreaking.

Perla Hudson: Isn’t that horrible?

Rick: I can’t believe it. Looking at the auction, there are some pretty cool items that are obviously cool, whether they’re associated with Slash or not. One in particular caught my eye and probably caught a lot of people’s, and that’s that ’66 big block Corvette.

Perla Hudson: Oh, yeah. That was a really hard one for him to part with. [Both laughing] We’re all about minimizing now and he’s a bit of a pack rat. There was a time when I first met Slash he had like 10 cars. That was one of them, one of his big purchases when he first made a lot of money with Guns N’ Roses. He bought that car and recently he got an Aston Martin. There are only so many cars one can drive. We have kids now. We’ve got the SUV, so we’re parting with it. That one’s even harder for me.

Rick: Was that a driver or did you just keep it in the garage and keep it pristine?

Perla Hudson: Oh, no. We drove it. He didn’t drive it every day, but he did drive it on a regular basis.

Rick: Is it a coupe?

Perla Hudson: Yes, it is.

Rick: Oh, nice. I had a ’65 convertible, so I know they’re great cars.

Perla Hudson: Right. He had the whole thing, this was way back in the day when he bought it, I guess the late ’80s, had the whole stereo system tricked out to where the panel where you press the buttons for the stereo that was on the visor. After that I believe he put everything back to its original condition. But, it still has a pretty kickin’ stereo system in there, too. [Both laughing]

Rick: How tough was it then to give up some of those other auction items?

Perla Hudson: It was pretty tough. Getting him to go through his list of guitars was really difficult for him, and in a way I don’t blame him. The ones that he did part with, it was a lot for him. But, he has over 150 guitars, as it stands, so he’s getting rid of, I think it was 13 or 14.

Rick: If you had an opportunity, or maybe it would be a better question to ask him, to buy one of those auction items, which one do you think you or he would grab?

Perla Hudson: Well, I think that there’s a painting in there that we didn’t mean to put in there that we might have to buy back. [Both laughing]

Rick: What is it?

Perla Hudson: It’s the Ain’t Life Grand album cover artwork. It wasn’t supposed to go and if Slash hears this interview, he’ll kill me, because it went on accident; one of those things that got put into the wrong pile.

Rick: Oh, it happens.

Perla Hudson: Once they’re up for auction, we’ve got to buy them back.

Rick: It’ll go to a good cause, right?

Perla Hudson: Absolutely.

Rick: I was wondering how Slash ended up with the dinosaur collection that’s to be auctioned?

Perla Hudson: He’s been enamored of dinosaurs ever since he was a child and he’s a big collector, as you can see, with guitars and dinosaurs, cars. There are a few things that he’s interested in, but when he does get interested in something, he takes it to the next degree.

The dinosaurs…he’s probably just as schooled on paleontology as actual paleontologists are. This man is the encyclopedia of dinosaurs and that’s just his thing. A lot of those models he made himself. A lot of them he bought when he was in Japan touring in the early ’80s with Guns and put them together.

A lot of that stuff is all stuff that we got on different tours, but the dinosaurs in particular, when he and I originally hooked up, he had like a 10,000 square foot bachelor pad filled with pinball machines and dinosaur models. We’ve been keeping these in storage ever since and it was just time to unload them. They’re pretty cool.

Check Out Slash’s Long-Time Musical Partner in GI’s Duff McKagan Interview

Rick: I think it probably takes a lot of true grit to really be married to somebody who’s moved up so far in the world of rock ‘n’ roll. Did you know what you were getting into when you first met him?

Perla Hudson: You know what? It takes true grit, as you said, to be in any relationship long-term, regardless of with a rock star or not. Did I know what I was getting into? Not necessarily, but I had no expectations, and I still don’t and I just deal with things as they come. There are no expectations and nothing really shocks me.

Rick: I would think that you’d really have to be true to yourself at the same time.

Perla Hudson: Absolutely, and keep each other grounded and keep him grounded, specifically. Slash is such an introverted person that it’s very easy for him to get into his little world of music. We’re completely polar opposites, him and I, and it’s up to me to bring him out of that on a regular basis and be part of the real world. He’s kind of like a mad scientist in his lab, creating his music. Left to his own devices, he would be there 24/7.

Rick: How do you deal with all the noise, the media and the hysterics that surround the rock star thing?

Perla Hudson: It doesn’t really bother me. I’m not married to a politician, so what can they say that can bother us? [Both laughing] I’m a pretty open-minded person and nothing really shocks me, to tell you the truth.

Rick: The last time I interviewed Slash, after the interview he was going to a soccer game, taking your two kids to a soccer game. He sounds like he’s a pretty normal guy.

Perla Hudson: You know, we try to be. Recently, someone started working with us that couldn’t believe that he and I actually drive the carpool. He does too, with the rest of the kids. We have a carpool with two other families.

We try to be normal and as grounded as possible because at the end of the day, we’re all just human and you can’t escape your reality. Our reality might be a little different than others, but we have two really young boys that we want to keep grounded and have them grow up and be normal.

Rick: People tend not to like to brag about themselves. I actually taught a course with a psychologist and he said that people have no problem denigrating themselves, but when it comes to bragging about themselves, they tend not to like to do that. How about it? Would you mind bragging a little bit about who you are and what you think people should know about you? Things that you’re proud of…

Perla Hudson: Oh, okay. Goodness, I’m proud of my character, my survival skills. My parents were Cuban immigrants that, speaking quite frankly with you, were drug dealers when I was growing up. To have overcome that and have any sense of being normal was difficult. I grew up to be very loyal, but I had this entire crazy part of my life going on growing up.

I just think being a survivor and being open-minded are among the things I’m most proud of when it comes to my character. I’m very proud of my two children, that I have these two amazing little boys, and I’m really raising them to make a difference in the world when they grow older. I’m proud that I’ve been married 10 years this October. That’s a stretch!

Rick: Congratulations! Hey, your sons are really handsome little boys, really cute.

Perla Hudson: Thank you. They’re tough.

Rick: I bet.

Perla Hudson: When the older one was six months old and I had this baby nurse help me. She looked at me, she goes, “Oh, Perla,” she’s a little Irish lady, “This one is definitely not gonna be a wallflower,” and she was right. [Rick laughing]

Rick: A lot of guys who play, and I play guitar a lot, they often find that their spouses get a little bit tired of them playing guitar, maybe too loudly, and it’s happened to me and other friends of mine that when we’re playing, we kind of notice that the door gets closed on us. The wives are thinking, “That’s enough.” Tell me that Slash ends up experiencing the same thing, that he’s normal.

Perla Hudson: Yeah, but I love it when he plays around the house on his acoustic guitar. He does have a studio that’s completely soundproofed in the basement though. But, when they first built it, you could hear him blaring in the kitchen. It was okay for a minute, but after a while it got old, so we had to have it fixed. [Both laughing] But, he’s got like a soundproofed room down there.

Rick: That’s a good fix.

Perla Hudson: But, I love hearing him play acoustic guitar around the house, especially around the boys because one of them is taking guitar lessons. God, if he heard this, he’d probably kill me. I don’t know if he’s got that music gene, the older one, but the little one is extremely talented and self-taught to play piano and he’s in a little violin class. The little one is just amazing, so he’s enamored when he sees his father playing guitar. He just sits there and stares at him, so I love it, to tell you the truth.

Rick: Let me see if you’re willing to do an exchange with me here. If you’ll tell me what Slash’s favorite meal is or food, I’ll tell you what Les Paul told me his favorite food was and you can tell Slash.

Perla Hudson: Great! Let’s do that.

Rick: Les Paul’s favorite food was macaroni and cheese.

Perla Hudson: Slash’s favorite food is something spicy. Anything spicy.

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sussex-nature-lover · 3 years

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Thursday 28th January 2021

Fossils. Ammonite and a woman named Mary Anning

Firstly a reminder that it’s a big day tomorrow and all weekend what with the Big Garden Birdwatch running and the film ‘The Dig’ being released on Netflix. I wrote about the film Here and the BTO’s Big Garden Birdwatch too.

Nuthatch in our garden

So that’s the reminders done.

Last night on BBC’s Winterwatch they were talking about the Isle of Skye and Dinosaur hunting - evidence of not real life Jurassic Park and last Autumn there was another film about a 19th Century historical, little known, woman who make a huge difference to the study of the natural world. I read about her in a BBC article.

Kate Winslet starred, but I haven’t really heard much about it. Apparently it wasn’t styled as a biopic and contained a largely fictional account of Mary’s romantic inclinations, despite her impact being to change our understanding of life in prehistoric times

"Mary Anning was three things you didn't want to be in 19th-century Britain - she was female, working class and poor" says Anya Pearson, who is campaigning for a statue in her honour.

"This was a time when even educated women weren't allowed to own property or vote, but despite this horrendous upbringing she was able to do all these incredible things."

Lyme Regis: location shown by the red pin in the map

Lyme Regis, Dorset, in the south west of England, where Mary lived, was submerged 200 million years ago. This is why there are so many pre-historic fossils from underwater creatures found there. Mary often went fossil hunting after a storm because this usually caused bits of cliff to fall and for rocks to break open which made the fossil hunting easier. On the flip side of that it actually meant where the family lived was quite a dangerous location.

We’ve visited, many many years ago and had a lovely break. It’s very picturesque countryside and is also famous for the Meryl Streep film French Lieutenant’s Woman. I’ve walked along the famous Cobb, but not with such dramatic effect.

Original film poster

As you would gather from the ‘poor’ comment, Mary Anning's life was scarred by hardship and tragedy, but also quite incredibly triumphant scientific firsts. Born on 21 May 1799 she had been one of 10 children: eight of her nine siblings died before reaching adulthood.

Her father was a cabinet maker but used to scour the beach for fossils to sell and supplement his income. Mary would go out to help him and this is where he interest grew. She was only 11 when he died of TB after a serious fall. Mary carried on the sales to try and help the family survive. Although she had little formal education she could read and so schooled herself in subjects like geology and anatomy and would even dissect modern animals like fish and cuttlefish so that she could better understand the fossils she was finding.

Only a year after her father's death Mary and her brother discovered a skeleton - now known to be an Ichthyosaur - this was the event for which she’s most remembered today. This complete skeleton was around 17′ long. She regularly risked her life in her hunt for fossils, making discoveries that captured the attention of the scientific elite, even though her social status and gender meant she never received the credit she deserved.

Twelve years later, she found the first complete skeleton of a Plesiosaur, a marine reptile so bizarre that scientists thought it was a fake.

The ‘four flipper swimmer’ who ‘flew’ through the ocean.

youtube

The most fantastic find was a Plesiosaur uncovered in 1987. Its abdomen contained bones of an embryo, which proves the animal gave birth to live young.

We’re still learning.

We’ve also got to remember that at the time Mary’s family were non-conformist, t living in a very religious community. The Creation was the subject of society’s beliefs and the notion of extinction was a relatively new idea to science.

Lyme Regis Museum geologist Paddy Howe, who was a technical adviser for Ammonite (the film) describes Anning as a "very poor child who was making fantastic scientific discoveries".

"At this time, geology and palaeontology were burgeoning sciences - just coming into their own, he says. "We know about Ichthyosaur bones from the 1600s but it was the first one to be studied by scientists. It was very important."

The marine reptile was bought from Anning for £23 and later purchased by the British Museum at auction in 1819. It can still be seen at the Natural History Museum. I imagine the value today is priceless.

Make a Virtual Visit to the Museum

Despite Mary Anning's growing reputation, societal norms meant she would never be accepted into the elite scientific community. In fact, when the Geological Society met to discuss whether the plesiosaur was genuine, she was even not invited along - women were not admitted there until the 20th Century.

"If she was born in 1970, she'd be heading up a palaeontology department at Imperial or Cambridge," says David Tucker, director of Lyme Regis museum.

"But she was a commercial fossil hunter; she had to sell what she found. Therefore, the fossils tended to be credited to museums in the name of the rich man that paid for them, rather than the poor woman who found them.

"This isn't just around gender - the history of science is littered with the neglected contributions of working-class scientists."

Mary Anning: image credit the Natural History Museum

Despite her lifetime of groundbreaking work, Mary remained in hardship and died of breast cancer in 1847, aged 47. She is buried at St Michael the Archangel Church in Lyme Regis.

Following her death, Henry De la Beche, President of the Geological Society and a friend of hers, broke with the Society's members-only tradition to read a eulogy at a meeting, paying homage to her achievements.

He wrote: "I cannot close this notice of our losses by death without adverting to that of one, who though not placed among even the easier classes of society, but one who had to earn her daily bread by her labour, yet contributed by her talents and untiring researches in no small degree to our knowledge."

Three years later, a stained-glass window in her memory, paid for by members of the Geological Society, was installed in the church where she was buried. Her legacy is also marked at Lyme Regis Museum, where there is a gallery dedicated to Anning's life. In a pleasing coincidence, the museum stands on the site of her birthplace and family home.

"The fact that the museum is on the site of Mary's house was not in any way planned," Mr Tucker says. "Her family rented a part of the house which stood where we are, right on the edge of the sea.

"They were living in a house that was on the way down and prone to being hit by the huge waves and it was eventually destroyed by a storm."

The design includes Mary’s beloved dog, Tray

More than 170 years after her death, Mary Anning's story is now taught in schools, and a campaign, supported by Sir David Attenborough and Prof Alice Roberts, is under way to erect a statue in her honour.

Evie Swire an 11 year old local schoolgirl, began campaigning for the statue, claiming there were more statues in the UK of men called John than there were of all women.

"She's done all these amazing things and sadly has been lost in history," Evie says.

"There have been a lot of forgotten women in history but all of them were educated and came from a wealthy background, but she was poor and working class," says Evie's mother and campaign trustee Anya Pearson.

"I get angry when people refer to her as 'just a fossil collector' because she had great men of learning travel across Europe to learn from her.

Two years later and the campaign is beginning to bear fruit, reaching the £70,000 stage target that means the statue can be commissioned.

I can’t say I’ve ever had a big interest in dinosaurs or fossils really. It wasn’t something the girls were ever keen on when they were small and so I didn’t get lead down that path like so many parents do these days. The closest I’ve come was finding the rabbit skull in our garden last year - and that’s not going to set the scientific community on fire now is it. Never the less, reading about some women who did have an interest and have worked on important discoveries has whetted my interest and I’ve enjoyed looking at the topics.

NOTES FROM THE KITCHEN:

I found a slightly over-looked roll of ready made puff pastry in the fridge and so with the aid of my trusty lattice roller, I shall be making a leftover-chicken and leek pie.

FUN FACT OF THE DAY:

Mary Anning is said to have been the inspiration for the tongue-twister ‘She sells sea shells by the sea shore’

#Mary Anning ammonite fossils film nature

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playgroundrp · 4 years

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PUBLIC PROFILE:

ROA BYUN RORIN

WISH DAY VISUAL, VOCALIST, RAPPER

BTS:

Born and raised in Seoul, South Korea to a working class mother and father, Rorin never had it easy as a child. Living in a more expensive area of town due to their jobs, the two of them could barely afford to stock their fridge with groceries, so there was no room for luxuries and impulse purchases. Finding joy in the simple things was a necessity, so as a child, she found pleasure in the various hobbies she could teach herself at home. For one thing, they didn’t cost any money, and for another thing, it gave her a vivid and wild imagination. From sketching original cartoon characters to emulating the voices of those she loved, to later using her artistic skills to pick-up on calligraphy, she took on a lot of simple interests. In school, she was very detail-oriented, organized, and focused—her parents drilling in her head that a good education could promise her a beautiful future. Never wanting to disappoint them, she worked hard; never receiving low grades.

Upon the entrance to middle school, her father was let-go from his job; his decades of work in vain. With her mother being the sole earner of their home for awhile, the Byun household saw a lot of dark moments. Her income wasn’t nearly enough to put food on the table and pay their bills, but they somehow managed to make things work. Home-life was a mess, and what’s worse is that school wasn’t much better for her. Because of her financial situation, many students made fun of her. Due to her smarts, she was able to test into a pretty good school with a scholarship, and it was made apparent that she wasn’t like the kids who paid to study there. That insecurity and ridicule is what caused her to begin lying to earn her peers’ respect. First, it was letting them know that her dad had picked up another job that was paying them good money. Then, it was using every penny of her menial allowance money to buy herself meaningless things to show status. Many lunches and dinners were sacrificed; all in exchange for a little acceptance.

In high school, she started to sew designer tags onto her thrift store clothing—claiming that she admired expensive, vintage fashions. By this point, she’d learned to lie as if it was her second language. It became so comfortable for her to spill untruths to friends. What’s worse is that they believed her for a very long time, but as they aged, they were able to find flaws in her stories. It was difficult for her to keep up with fibs she’d told, so before graduation, she was exposed as a fraud. That completely muddied up her spot as number one in her class. Looks like her overactive imagination couldn’t save her this time around, but she hoped that she could create a new version of herself in college.

Thanks to yet another scholarship earned because of her grades and high test scores, Rorin began attending university—her chosen career path in the world of business marketing and media. With how her brain worked, it was easy for her to come up with strategies to sell things to a consumer; her way of lying used to dupe people into purchasing products. Though, in the midst of her studies, she was stopped at a shopping mall by a casting agent from Midang Entertainment. After he praised her visuals, she was in complete shock. For most of her life, she felt as though she paled in comparison to all of her former “friends” from years ago. They had the money to afford cosmetic surgery, high-end cosmetics, and skincare to keep them aglow twenty-four-seven, and she had nothing except good genetics. If that. That’s what the company seemed to like about her, though: the pale skin, the large eyes, the look of innocence, the naturalness. It was what they were looking for completely.

Their offer brought up a lot of thought. First of all, it was flattering that they stopped her in the first place. She wasn’t someone that was used to being called “beautiful,” so that left an impression on her that she couldn’t forget easily. Secondly, if she was passable enough to début, that could mean a lot of money in the future. That’s the most crucial thing to her: becoming independently wealthy to a place where she could support her family. Yes, earning a degree and holding down a good job would have a similar effect, but she wasn’t sure which road to financial gain would be faster to travel down. In the end, she took a leave of absence from school and start training; aiming to be an idol.

What she lacked in performance she made up for with sharp intellect; her every move calculated to show that her charms weren’t necessarily resting on singing or dancing. It was made apparent from day one that she was meant to be someone marketed for their supposed “beauty” alone; someone that didn’t have a crucial musical role in their group, but one who attracted fans with smiles, winks, and solo magazine covers. Was she able to pick-up on the basics of dance, the easy fundamentals of singing, and the power of rapping? Yes, but only to a degree that made her match the concept and sound. Instead of polished belted notes, she stuck to a girlish, cute timbre that made her recognizable. For dancing, she didn’t focus on technique, but instead, on exuding a pleasant energy; donning endless grins and flirtatious gestures to pull in a crowd. That made her an asset instead of a hindrance, so despite not being fully prepared, she was added to Wish Day.

Being appointed as the group’s official visual, netizens had a lot to say about her at their début. Some praised her “effortless beauty,” but others were critical of her appearance. Often, her “haters” would point out that her face wasn’t exactly the smallest around and that her body didn’t perfectly suit the current ideal. At first, it was a massive blow to her system. Who wants to read such awful things about themselves anyway? It took her a moment to navigate her way through comments sections on live stages and fan-cams, but after awhile, she was able to draw a line between Roa and Rorin. In a lot of ways—mostly physically—they were the same, but behind the scenes, they couldn’t be more opposite. That division alone is what allowed her to mostly keep her sanity in check.

In essence, this wasn’t necessarily a dream of hers that came true; it’s just a job. It’s one that could set her up for life if she plays her cards right. Money’s the end goal, after all. It had to take a lot more than toxic comments to throw her off course. Keeping her eyes on the bigger picture, she has countered with wrapping herself up in a more palatable façade. After the first two years in the industry came and went, she began to approach an image that made her everyone’s ideal type; longing to appear as “girlfriend material” to both guys and girls. These moves, like always, were done on-purpose; her hope that being someone adored would earn a much bigger payout than someone controversial.

With each new release, Rorin’s been able to reveal all the best sides of herself to the public at large. Does she still get an influx of comments telling her that she’s a clumsy dancer or complaining about the fact that she never actually sings live unless forced? You bet, but she takes comfort in just accepting those as true facts. She can still be desirable even if she’s sloppy on-stage. It’s not like she’s in the dance-line or renown for stunning vocals, so why should it matter if she was lacking in comparison to the others?

After all these years, she still lies, but she does so in efforts to dupe people into thinking that she’s perfect. If they only knew about her overcritical obsessive nature, her lies, and manipulation to get what she wants, a completely different picture would be painted. All of this is about marketing, anyway. You could be the most talented person in the world, but if you’re not likable, there’s no chance anyone will support you. For Rorin, attracting stans has become as easy as telling her former friends she was rich. Let’s just hope she doesn’t get exposed for being a fraud yet again. History does have a funny way of repeating itself sometimes.

#pg.profile #midang #md.wd #kim jisoo #jisoo

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essay635 · 4 years

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rtirman-blog · 6 years

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41 An Easy Way Out

Back to school I went. Actually, I made two trips to South Bend. The first was a brief trip to meet with Dean Baldinger, find a place to live, and to check on a lead for a job. Even though I made good money selling ice cream, I was not good at holding on to it. Income was an essential. The second trip was on The Pennsylvania Railroad, my usual transportation from home to school.

I remember telling you about John Murray, my best friend at home, who, before reaching his teens, burned his legs, horribly, jumping over a leaf fire while wearing fuzzy western chaps. Well, the insurance settlement gave him the cash to purchase a blue,1958 Chevy Impala convertible. So, in the summer of 1959, he offered to drive me out to Notre Dame and back. His Catholic upbringing played heavily in his decision to drive me. I believe many Spanish pilgrims would have skipped Majorca, if an ocean hadn’t separated them from the land of Notre Dame, God’s favorite place…and football team. The miracles of football have always been attributed to the presence and efforts of the Holy Ghost. It made sense John wanted to take me out there. Probably, it was the last thing we did together. It didn’t matter what I showed John. He was overwhelmed with the gold statue, atop the Golden Dome, of Our Lady of the Lake…Notre Dame du Lac-the actual name of the University.

Truthfully, I have a shaky memory of when different things happened on that trip. I remember feeling very suspicious of the Dean’s constant support and encouragement. What I began to think was the Sisters of the Holy Cross, Sister Peter in particular, were behind it all…or maybe even Father O’Brian. Most likely, credit goes to St. Dean Baldinger, who encouraged us all. I was welcomed back, and he told me to select my courses at registration.

Next, we traveled to the home of Mrs. Agnes Tomlison, a tiger of a woman at eighty-six years, who could look at you with that same piercing eye as Sister Peter, and lick her lips the same way as my special angelic nun. My friend Don Tanguay, who had lived there the previous year, recommended me as a good Catholic student whom she could trust. When I interviewed, that lie continued. I also told her I was Catholic. She then took a few rocks in her rocking chair, gave me a piercing eye while licking her lips, agreed to my living there, and got up from the chair to show me the room. It was upstairs. She then gave me a vital responsibility. Each morning as I leave for school, I am to look to see if the living room shade is up or down. If it was still down, that meant she was dead, and I should call her son.

Before John and I left to return to New York, I checked to see if there were any jobs on campus that would fit my schedule. I can’t remember how I got the info, but Louie Rappelli was setting up a pizza parlor, and he needed students. I went over to the building in which he was located and talked with him. He owned another restaurant, on Notre Dame Avenue, which I frequented. So, he was glad to see me, and promised me a job when I returned to school. Back to New York we went, and back to Good Humor for me. That was a real successful trip. Now all I had to do was register for my classes.

My educational situation was really not too bad. I had just a couple of science credits to graduate with the degree in science promised to me by the Dean. I just had to take enough course to reach the 132 credits needed for graduation. If I kept my nose to the grindstone, I would be an alumnus on June 4, 1960. Naturally, medical school was not in my future, but graduating was clearly in view.

When it was time to return to Notre Dame, Mother, Joe, and Al took me to Penn Station. We got to the platform just as the conductor yelled, “All Aboard.” Quietly, Al said to me, “Don’t come home without a G--Damn degree”. I picked up my baggage and walked toward the entrance to the train. Just as I boarded, I could hear Al yell these unforgettable words, “Take education, it’s easy!” So, when I got back to school, I visited the education department.

Get this! All I had to do were education classes, and I could graduate with my science degree (as long as I met those requirements) and apply for a State license to teach all math and physical sciences in Secondary Education. The courses I needed were as follows: Principles of Secondary Education, Materials and Methods of Secondary Education, Tests and Measurements, Educational Statistics, and Practice Teaching. I signed up for Geology and Lab, Intro to Analysis, Calculus I and II to meet the science requirements. I was short five hours to reach the 132 credits to graduate. I took care of that the day I signed up for courses for my final semester. I decided to take five hours of piano. I went over to the Music Department to see if a piano teacher would take me on. To my disappointment, all the piano teachers’ schedules were full. I guess my disappointment radiated from my being. A very nice man, who saw my sad face, asked if he could help. I told him about needing 5 hours to graduate and my plans to take piano, but the piano teachers had no openings. He asked me if I would be okay with 5 hours of violin. I jumped at that opportunity and signed up for the 5 hours. He was a professor of violin. His name- Charles Biando. Little did I know, Mr. Biando was considered the primo violin teacher in the Midwest. Clearly, without question, he was simply helping me to graduate. Everything I played that semester sounded like “Mary had a little lamb”. I did learn how to not screech the violin.

I’m not too sure whether I made a turnaround academically, and became a better student; or perhaps, Al was right- Education was easy. I enjoyed visiting the public schools and observing classes, in all disciplines. As I learned about theories of teaching and learning, I wondered about the kind of teacher I would be, and how I would relate to students and to other teachers. By the end of that first semester, I found a student teaching position at John Adams High School in South Bend. Mr. Volney Wier, head of the Mathematics Department, would be my supervising teacher. He taught, Algebra, Trigonometry, and Solid Geometry. My supervisor from Notre Dame, Dr. Jerry Fargin was to observe me, and then, discuss with Mr. Weir my progress. Both teachers would contribute to my final evaluation.

My primary job was to teach trigonometry. At first, I observed that class for about a week before I took over the reins. Mr. Wier’s style of lesson plans fit me to a tee. He did not make elaborate plans. Each day, he would look in the book to find the topics to be covered, and he would make a list of those topics. I liked that, and I did mine the same way. I would list the topics, and I would make darn well sure I understood all the topics before teaching them to the class. Once the bell rang to start each class, we would first go over the homework that was due. Then, I would present new topics to the students, assign homework, and give them class time to get started on that assignment. I enjoyed the students, immensely. We solved problems together, and had a few good laughs doing it. I can distinctly remember thinking… wow, this is fun! I can’t believe I can get paid for telling others what I know!

Ironically, I also learned that I could get paid for not telling students what I know. One day, I had to teach Mr. Wier’s Solid Geometry class without any preparation. The class consisted of five seniors and me. I had them put their assignment problems on the blackboard, after which, we would review each problem, together. I basically kept my mouth shut as the five of them asked each other questions and fully discussed the problems. I learned a lot just by watching and listening to them. When the bell rang, they thanked me for one of the best classes they ever had. Yes, if I was getting paid, I would have been paid for that performance.

The day Dr. Fargin made his required observation of my teaching, he made it a surprise visit. My lecture was really short and in my eyes, him showing up that day would make for a disastrous experience. After going over the homework, I was to teach them about radians. I told you about the second time I took the New York State Regents exam in Trigonometry. I missed one question on the entire exam - it was on radians. I told the students because of my experience learning about radians, I decided to give them a very brief lesson, then assign them lots of problems to solve for their assignment, which they might complete by the end of the period. Dr. Fargin saw me teach for ten to fifteen minutes, and the rest of the time, he watched me move around the classroom helping the students. I was certain, this did not look good. He would probably have to observe my teaching, again… and I would still end up with a crappy grade. However, the next day, on campus, another education student, whose name I cannot remember, saw me in the Student Center. “Hey Rich”, he yelled, “you should have heard Dr. Fargin talk to our class about his observation of your teaching. He raved about you? He said you were masterful.” Dr. Fargin was impressed by my honesty with the students and the appropriate response to my own experience, i.e., the brief lecture followed by me walking around the room helping those students in need. My Practice Teaching final grade was a well deserved A+. That happened the second semester about six weeks before graduation

That was the Spring semester. But, I would like to back up to the first semester of that year to tell you a few important memories. I’ll start with Mrs. Tomlison. Daily, she got outside to sweep the front steps. The front door was at least a story and a half higher than the street. There had to be fifteen to twenty steps for her to clean. What a marvel of a women! Even on a windy Fall day, she’d have her coat, her babushka, and the broom, sweeping those steps clean. Another memory I have of her was her love of soap operas, especially “The Edge of Night”. If I was home by 4 PM, I’d sit with her and watch that show. I thought it made her happy that we did this together. The greatest memory of Agnes Tomlison was her desire to leave this earth and enter God’s Kingdom. Every Saturday night, she would get all dolled up in her most beautiful dress, lie down on her bed, and ask God to take her. Each Sunday morning when she woke up, you could hear her disappointment resonate throughout the house- ”Goddamnit!” I heard God finally welcomed her ten years later- she was 96. I’ll bet St. Peter needed help with the steps in front of the Pearly Gates!

It should be clear to you that my academic life and my future were successfully merging. My classes were going well, and I was gaining confidence in myself. My job at the new pizza parlor was great. I was making minimum wage plus free meals. I suppose, when I look at it, I was smoothly sailing as a student toward graduation and a future. That didn’t mean my mind had matured beyond my ability of doing stupid things. On a Saturday late in the football season, I received a call from Jim. He and Tom, now both alumni, were in town and wanted me to join them for supper and fun. But I had to work. Tom thought of a scheme that would make our reunion possible…and I went along with it. He called Louie Rappelli, my boss, and pretended to be a doctor from St. Joseph’s Hospital. He told Louie that I was in a car accident, and although I had no signs of physical injury, he wanted me to stay in the hospital overnight. Yeah! I was free to join them. I cannot remember anything about that evening, but what happened the next day was unforgettable. I walked into work and was greeted by Louie with “Get the hell out of here!” I lost my job. Maybe Tom wasn’t very convincing, or, more likely, it was a super, stupid thing to do. I now needed to find a job-FAST! And that’s what I did. I landed a sales job with Cutco Cutlery, a division of Alcoa. I would talk with young gals and talk them into buying knives and other kitchen utensils for their hope chests. Believe it or not, I was fairly successful. I made enough to keep my head above water. Also, to this day, I am sold on Cutco products.

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limejuicer1862 · 4 years

Text

May 1

..looks like you are drowning..

part one

looks like you are drowning & hope i am wrong. i can see the struggle the turn about in water.

i have done that too pat says that i have paid the price but i wonder

i hope you survive come clean bare your feathers.

fly high

if not i will lay a petal and think of you

as i think of the others that drowned before you that had no feathers

part two,

it looks like you are drowning again shall I jump in to save you and maybe sink myself or shall I wait to see to lay a flower at our feet

part three

maybe you are not drowning really that I made it up and you are dancing like the others

while people die and we lay flowers in memoriam corona

part four

you are floating maybe; I did that for hours went spongy, now face reality and I still think that you are drowning like the others.

-sonja benskin mesher

concrete reasoning

gray day: i am out for a walk when a sidewalk camellia begs myriad questions:

runaway bride?

garden club mishap? rejected proposal? hothouse runaway? centerpiece rebel?

confronted by the unexplained, the human drive to make order from chaos is relentless.

whatever the story, the end is the same: beauty appears and we can only wonder …

with a schedule to keep and no answers at hand i press onward, feeling the inner bloom of nascent gratitude.

-Rich Follett

MF 1

Every time I find clay in the garden, beneath a rosebush, say, I find slate too. This is just something I have noticed over the course of a year. It is not necessary to mention these things, especially now, I suppose. I am not happy unless I’m pouring something – tomato feed. I am Philip Levine’s Burial Rights, I recall Bei Dao. These days, I feel the trick to a good carpark, to feel anything, is my proximity to this flower arrangement.

JK 1

A story of three fish might be fish bones in a field for birds. Koi feeding, koi feed in a garden centre, at the next junction. Fish bent back over backwards, in blue paint. Scattered to the water’s edge a handful of dirt, to a handful of colour, blue scales at the centre of the field, a water mark, a stone left unturned.

-Alex Mazey

The Life of Petals

We use flowers to mark occasions– Weddings and funerals. The petals linger only briefly, But the sentiment still hangs Heavy in the air, years after Like pollen That settled over and over again On our patio table and chairs, All those long Midwestern summers When heat robbed our lungs of breath. And Wildflowers, not cut-storebought ones, marked a different time, Of an everyday type. Now, cut flowers feel gluttonous to me. And petals bless us with The gentleness of how life ought to be.

https://thewombwellrainbow.files.wordpress.com/2020/05/petals.m4a

-st

Utopia Burning

Warnings ignored from many a social self appointed warlord Echoes of dissident discord striking a high-pitched off key note As hungry flames lick and lash causing an apocalyptic molten urban and suburban foretold mess Whispered by familiar oracles their verbal miracles documenting their fiery cautionary chronicles Of systems slowly imploding temperaments exploding fake veneers and smiles exfoliating as ignorant masses squawk for a helping hand from those witnessing their demise and burning squirming shedding acid tears for Utopia burning…

https://thewombwellrainbow.files.wordpress.com/2020/04/utopia-burning-mp3.mp3

Still Silent

No sound, water jelly flat, so still it hurts my ears. Even sun slides silently into autumn’s metal light.

All jamboree, clang and din now far away in time. Even breath is offensive here, in case of ripple and slapping rocks.

I cannot read or turn a page lest a mumble or paper scrape, escape and shatter the loch. Like a breaking glass to a rousing cheer, as all that knowledge gets out.

So I stare at reflections in late day waters reliable quiet, but maybe their heat is not that hot.

https://thewombwellrainbow.files.wordpress.com/2020/04/still-silent.m4a

The sweet flower’s heart Wilting on the cold, hard slab My love’s final gift

-Carrie Ann Golden

Camellia

You lay beautiful and gasping alone on Tithonian stone. A sudden fall from grace, petal broken angel: forage for sweeper winds.

Transient as summer days. Temperate these forevers soon fade to winter grey. Dog-day memories cannot abide short-day cold.

What are you, I wonder? A love certified in Bacchus’s dance or a loved one certified and boxed in tears and brown ale.

https://thewombwellrainbow.files.wordpress.com/2020/04/camellia.m4a

The giant fish takes back the myth

The morning before she was to become a story the sea was baited quiet, the kind that silks

all desire down to swish. To decide to leap from one cool world to another just for breakfast

is to bare your colours to the scaling knife of the wind, and she did – her fireback beacon launched

for the brief protein of flying legs. How often we fail to see that dark hull waiting, we beasts so full up

with the rush of living for our risks. And the shape of the poised hero held no meaning, to a fish

but oh the shimmerhook, like all the moons her eye’s nightcoin had ever purchased

from deep beneath the water, and there is the lust, the swish- -and want. The glowworm crescent to silver her belly.

We all want to shine in fullness. Only heroes are given names in these stories.

For her need she was translated into an island, and I am running the delicate gasp of her jaws

in the shape of this coast, forever straining for the hook and still called only fish

even with all we have made of her. Every time I desire to transcend my quiet water, I forget the heroes

and leap from her skin, and hope that landing empty

but with one eye fixed on the moon every night after this will be enough.

-Ankh Spice

Beheaded Camelia’s

delicate red petals last longer on the less travelled path. Flash of disappearing red lace, paper thin survival. Unbroken in bright sunlight, bright on grey stone. Destruction stays at home to avoid destruction.

The red wing is allowed space to revolve reflect in water. “Temporary” like the word “soon”, a duration undecided.

-Paul Brookes

Bios and Links

-Alex Mazey

(b.1991) received his MA (distinction) from Keele University in 2017. He later won The Roy Fisher Prize for Poetry with his debut pamphlet, ‘Bread and Salt’ (Flarestack, TBA). He was also the recipient of a Creative Future Writers’ Award in 2019. His poetry has featured regularly in anthologies and literary press magazines, most notably in The London Magazine. His collection of essays, ‘Living in Disneyland’, will be available from Broken Sleep Books in October 2020. Alex spent 2018 as a resident of The People’s Republic of China, where he taught the English Language in a school run by the Ministry of Education. His writing has been described as ‘wry and knowing,’ with ‘an edge that tears rather than cuts or deals blows.’

Twitter: @AlexzanderMazey

Instagram: alexmazey

Here is my interview of Alex:

https://thewombwellrainbow.com/2018/12/18/wombwell-rainbow-interviews-alex-mazey/

-Rich Follett

is a High School English and Creative Writing teacher who has been writing poems and songs for more than forty years. His poems have been featured in numerous online and print journals, including BlazeVox, The Montucky Review, Paraphilia, Leaf Garden Press and the late Felino Soriano’s CounterExample Poetics, for which he was a featured artist. Three volumes of poetry, Responsorials (with Constance Stadler), Silence, Inhabited, and Human &c. are available through NeoPoiesis Press (www.neopoiesispress.com.)

As a singer-songwriter, Rich has released five albums of independent contemporary folk music. His latest. Somewhere in the Stars, is available at http://www.richfollett.com. He lives with his wife Mary Ruth Alred Follett in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, where he also pursues his interests as a professional actor, playwright, and director.

-Ankh Spice

is a sea-obsessed poet from Aotearoa (NZ). His poetry has appeared in a wide range of international publications and has twice been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He truly believes that words have the power to change the place we’re in, and you’ll find him doing his best to prove it on

Twitter: @SeaGoatScreams or on Facebook: @AnkhSpiceSeaGoatScreamsPoetry

-Carrie Ann Golden

is a deafblind writer from the mystical Adirondack Mountains now living on a farmstead in northeastern North Dakota. She writes dark fiction and poetry. Her work has been published in places like Piker Press, Edify Fiction, Doll Hospital Journal, The Hungry Chimera, GFT Press, Asylum Ink, and Visual Verse.

-Anjum Wasir Dar

Born in Srinagar (Indian occupied Kashmir) in 1949. My family opted for and migrated to Pakistan after the (1947)Partition of India. Educated in St Anne’s Presentation Convent Rawalpindi.Graduated with Distinction in English Lang. & Literature in 1968 from the Punjab University. Won the All Round Best Student Cup.1968. Obtained a Masters Degree in English Literature/American Studies Punjab University P.G. Diploma in TEFL from Allama Iqbal Open University Islamabad and a CPE from Cambridge University UK (LSE British Council)1991 Developing Educators in Pakistan Training Course sponsored by IFC & Bradford University 1999.Bronze Medal Poet of Merit Award by International Society of Poets & http://Poetry.com USA 2000 7 Times Winner NANOWRIMO, (National Novel Writing Month) Adventure Novel ‘ The Adventures of the Multi Colored Lead People’ in the printing process. Educator Writer since 1990 Editor College Magazine Creative Writer English at Channel 7 Pvt Ltd Islamabad.National Education Award Winner 1998 for Research & Publications.

-sonja benskin mesher

born , Bournemouth.

now

lives and works in North Wales as an independent artist

‘i am a multidisciplinary artist, crafting paint, charcoal, words and whatever comes to hand, to explain ideas and issues

words have not come easily. I draw on experience, remember and write. speak of a small life’.

Elected as a member of the Royal Cambrian Academy and the United Artists Society The work has been in solo exhibitions through Wales and England, and in selected and solo worldwide. Much of the work is now in both private, and public collections, and has been featured in several television documentaries, radio programmes and magazines.

Here is my interview of sonja benskin mesher:

https://thewombwellrainbow.com/2018/10/16/wombwell-rainbow-interviews-sonja-benskin-mesher/

-Samantha Terrell

is an American poet whose work emphasizes emotional integrity and social justice. She is the author of several eBooks including, Learning from Pompeii, Coffee for Neanderthals, Disgracing Lady Justice and others, available on smashwords.com and its affiliates.Chapbook: Ebola (West Chester University Poetry Center, 2014)

Website: poetrybysamantha.weebly.com Twitter: @honestypoetry

Here is my 2020 interview of her:

https://thewombwellrainbow.com/2020/04/08/wombwell-rainbow-interviews-samantha-terrell/

-Don Beukes

is a South African and British writer. He is the author of ‘The Salamander Chronicles’ (CTU) and ‘Icarus Rising-Volume 1’ (ABP), an ekphrastic collection. He taught English and Geography in both South Africa and the UK. His poetry has been anthologized in numerous collections and translated into Afrikaans, Persian, French and Albanian. He was nominated by Roxana Nastase, editor of Scarlet Leaf Review for the ‘Best of the Net’ in 2017 as well as the Pushcart Poetry Prize (USA) in 2016. He was published in his first SA Anthology ‘In Pursuit of Poetic Perfection’ in 2018 (Libbo Publishers) and his second ‘Cape Sounds’ in 2019 (Gavin Joachims Publishing). He is also an amateur photographer and his debut Photographic publication appeared in Spirit Fire Review in June 2019. His new book, ‘Sic Transit Gloria Mundi’/Thus Passes the Glory of this World’ is due to be published by Concrete Mist Press.

Here is my interview of Don Beukes:

https://thewombwellrainbow.com/2019/11/02/wombwell-rainbow-interviews-don-beukes/

-Dai-Fry

is an x social worker and a present poet. Image is all but flow is good too. So many interesting things… Published in Black bough Poetry, Re-Side, The Hellebore, The Pangolin Review. He will not stop.

Twitter @thnargg

Web. seekingthedarklight.co.uk

Audio/Visual. @IntPoetryCircle #InternationalPoetryCircle Twitter #TopTweetTuesday

-Paul Brookes

is a shop asst. Lives in a cat house full of teddy bears. His chapbooks include The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley, (Dearne Community Arts, 1993). The Headpoke and Firewedding (Alien Buddha Press, 2017), A World Where and She Needs That Edge (Nixes Mate Press, 2017, 2018) The Spermbot Blues (OpPRESS, 2017), Port Of Souls (Alien Buddha Press, 2018), Please Take Change (Cyberwit.net, 2018), Stubborn Sod, with Marcel Herms (artist) (Alien Buddha Press, 2019), As Folk Over Yonder ( Afterworld Books, 2019). Forthcoming Khoshhali with Hiva Moazed (artist), Our Ghost’s Holiday (Final book of threesome “A Pagan’s Year”) . He is a contributing writer of Literati Magazine and Editor of Wombwell Rainbow Interviews.

-Mary Frances

is an artist and writer based in the UK. She takes a few photos every day, for inspiration and to use in her work. The images for this project were all taken in the last two years on walks during in the month of May. Her words and images have been published by Penteract Press, Metambesen, Ice Floe Press, Burning House Press, Inside the Outside, Luvina Rivista Literaria, and Lone Women in Flashes of Wilderness. Twitter: @maryfrancesness

-James Knight

is an experimental poet and digital artist. His books include Void Voices (Hesterglock Press) and Self Portrait by Night (Sampson Low). His visual poems have been published in several places, including the Penteract Press anthology Reflections and Temporary Spaces (Pamenar Press). Chimera, a book of visual poems, is due from Penteract Press in July 2020.

Website: thebirdking.com.

Twitter: @badbadpoet

Here is my interview of James Knight:

https://thewombwellrainbow.com/2019/01/06/wombwell-rainbow-interviews-james-knight/

Welcome to a special ekphrastic challenge for May. Artworks from Mary Frances, James Knight and Sue Harpham will be the inspiration for writers, Alex Mazey, Ankh Spice, Anjum Wasim Dar, James Knight, Samantha Terrell, Dai Fry, Carrie Ann Golden, sonja menskin mesher, Rich Follett, Don Beukes and myself. May 1st. May 1 ..looks like you are drowning.. part one looks like you are drowning & hope i am wrong.

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