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suituuup · 3 years

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pieces - chapter fourteen

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn't expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rating: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

“A bit higher.”

Beca pushed the small mountain-shaped shelf an inch higher, looking over her shoulder as she held it. “Like that?”

Chloe nodded, smiling. “Perfect.” She walked over and handed Beca the drill, watching as she skillfully made a hole into the wall and inserted a dowel. “I didn’t know you were handy with tools.”

Beca snickered. “Basic things only.” She twisted the screw in and hung the shelf, taking a few steps back to observe her work. “That looks cute.”

Chloe glanced around the room, nodding as she absent-mindedly rubbed her belly. She had just reached thirty weeks, and Bean’s arrival was scarily close. The nursery was coming along nicely, the crib having just been delivered today, while the rest was pretty much done.

The closet was full of onesies, tops, pants and a few dresses, swaddles, blankets, and loveys, and the dark oak changing table (matching the yet to be assembled crib) was stocked up with diapers, wipes, bodysuits, and a variety of creams and oils.

Chloe had channeled her stress into reading as much as she could about newborns, what to do and not do, and while she had experience with babies from back when she was a teenager, she was relieved not to be doing this on her own.

“It does,” Chloe agreed, loving the subtle woodland theme she went for and all the love they poured into making this safe place for Bean. “It’s really cozy.”

“Alright, now onto the big project,” Beca said, nodding towards the large package laying on the floor. “You’ll get to see how limited my knowledge of tools really is.”

Chloe laughed and helped take the different parts of the cribs out of the box, then headed into the kitchen to get them some refreshments.

The last six weeks had been really good. The Bellas welcoming her back with open arms had definitely helped with Chloe’s recovery, and her talk with Beca, that promise that she would wait for her to be ready filled Chloe with a renewed sense of self-worth and made her fall in love with Beca a little bit more.

Chloe was now just over six months sober. The nagging for booze and snow sat somewhere at the back of the brain, and she doubted it would ever go away, but she was getting better at not listening to it.

She stifled a laugh at the sight of Beca looking awfully perplexed by the instructions when she walked back into the room. “You good?”

Beca chuckled. “Yeah. Just trying to make sense of this.” She glanced up to Chloe, accepting the glass of homemade lemonade with a smile and setting it beside her.

“They sent us two baby monitors?” Chloe asked as she sat on the floor, noticing the two exact same boxes. They had ordered a bunch of stuff from the same website, and quite a few boxes had come with the crib while Chloe was at her NA meeting, and Beca had put everything in the nursery. “We only ordered one.”

“No, um, I figured one more would be handy,” Beca said as she picked up one of the crib ends and two of the four legs, along with four bolts. “So I hear Bean when she cries at night, too.”

Chloe shook her head. “I can take care of nights. I don’t want your whole sleeping rhythm to be thrown off because of Bean, you’ve got work, too.”

“I know, but I’m concerned the lack of sleep might mess up with your recovery if you handle it on your own. I’ve read some horror stories about some babies waking up every few hours and that for six months.” Her focus shifted from the crib assembling to Chloe. “I meant what I said when I told you you wouldn’t be on your own with this. But I don’t want to overstep either, so I want you to tell me if you need me to back up a little. I promise I won’t be upset.”

Chloe’s heart swelled with more love. She didn’t know why she kept being surprised every time Beca showed her how dedicated to the both of them she was. Still, she felt a little guilty for disrupting Beca’s routine, but she knew Beca was right.

“You’re not overstepping,” Chloe assured her, softly. “And I want you guys to bond, so I think you taking care of her without me might be a great way to do that.”

“Okay,” Beca murmured, smiling as she went back to her task at hand. “The label already knows I’m taking two months off once she’s born, so I’m around to help out. Maybe she’ll sleep through the night by the time I have to head back.”

Chloe chuckled. “We can always dream.” She cleared her throat. “I was also thinking about Bean’s guardians, in case something happens to me, and I’d like for you to be one of them.”

Beca paused mid-screwing in a bolt and met Chloe’s gaze. It was clear she was moved, and it made Chloe smile. “Of course. I’d be honored.”

“Aubrey will be the other guardian, just so you know. So if I die, you’ll be seeing a lot more of her.”

Beca’s nose wrinkled. “Is it too late to backtrack?” She asked with a soft laugh. Chloe knew she was just joking, as she and Aubrey got on really well, now. “I think Aubrey is a great pick. At least I know I won’t have to be the bad cop. But let’s hope she and I never have to be Bean’s guardians. I’m good with just being the cool aunt.”

The crib was easier to put together than they had originally thought. It only took Beca forty-five minutes, and once it was all done, Chloe grabbed the mattress and set it inside.

“It’s just missing one thing,” Beca said, casting Chloe a smile before she left the room, coming back a minute later. “Close your eyes.”

Chloe did so, and it sounded like Beca was fumbling with something by the crib.

“Okay, open them now.”

Chloe let out a soft gasp at the sight of the animal mobile set up above the crib. A fox surrounded by mountains and clouds. “Beca…”

“I wanted to get Bean a gift, and you mentioned an animal mobile, so I had this custom made with a friend of a friend.”

“It’s perfect,” Chloe whispered, blinking back the tears pricking behind her eyes. She was used to crying over the smallest of things by now that she wasn’t embarrassed anymore. Wrapping an arm around Beca’s waist, she leaned her head over her shoulder, basking in the warmth and peace being in close proximity with Beca brought her.

“I think so, too,” Beca murmured, her own arm coming up to wrap around Chloe’s back as she brushed a soft kiss to her forehead.

Summer chilled to fall over the following week. Chloe was thankful for the cooler temperatures, as her body felt like a furnace on its own, she didn’t need any additional heat. Now thirty-one weeks, she had started to waddle, much to Beca’s amusement, it seemed, even if she only claimed to find it adorable. She also got winded after walking up a single flight of stairs and was insanely grateful for the elevator in Beca’s building.

Hanging a left when it reached the right floor, Chloe headed down the hallway, pulling her keys out of her jacket pocket and sliding them into the lock.

“SURPRISE!”

Chloe jolted slightly, her hand shooting up to her chest in shock. Most of the Bellas stood in Beca’s decorated living-room, beaming at her. Above them hung a cute oh baby banner and a table was laid out with various snacks and a cake.

“Oh my gosh, you guys!” She exclaimed as soon as she regained her composure, stepping further inside to hug each one of her friends tightly. “Did you do all this?” She asked when she got to Beca, awe leaking in her tone.

“Aubrey helped,” Beca said, nodding towards the blonde standing to her right.

“Thank you,” Chloe murmured as she pulled away, embracing Aubrey next. It had taken some time for them to find their way back to how they used to be after so many years apart, and Chloe was so grateful Aubrey gave her a second chance. “Love you, Bree.”

“Love you, too.”

The afternoon was filled with fun activities such as onesie decorating, a Name that Tune game with songs that had the word baby in it, and a cupcake decorating contest. Towards the end of the day, Chloe was coaxed into opening the girls’ present, starting with the one Jessica set in her lap.

“This is from all of us,” she said, smiling as Chloe peered into the bag.

She fished the item out, her heart bursting in her chest as she unfolded the blue and gold onesie which bore the Barden Bella B. “Oh… I love it. Thank you.”

The girls definitely spoiled Bean, gifting Chloe with a bunch of adorable onesies, animal stuffies, mittens, swaddles, a bear winter jumpsuit for those freezing days ahead of them, and an expensive-looking electric swing.

“This is too much,” she croaked out once she had unwrapped the large box, shaking her head in disbelief as the girls simply waved her concern off.

“Oh, that’s from your parents,” Beca chimed in as Chloe reached for the second-to-last present.

Tears pooled in her eyes (she had honestly lost track of how many times she’d cried in the last couple of hours) as she took the familiar item out of the bag. “It’s my baby blanket,” she told the girls as she unfolded the mustard blanket her mom had knitted while she was pregnant with her. She traced the name she had picked for her baby girl, which her mom had added in white lettering in a corner. Chloe smiled as she brought it to her nose; it smelled like home.

The last gift was a pampering kit for Chloe, as well as a few items she would need for after labor.

“I learned some stuff about childbirth that I wish I’d never known while looking for items to add to this,” Amy said with a grimace, drawing a giggle from Chloe. “I didn’t know things could tear like that down below.”

Chloe winced along with the rest of the Bellas, her chuckle coming out strained. “Thanks, Amy.”

Beca ordered pizzas for everyone, and the girls stuck around until nine pm, helping to clean up the living-room before they left. Chloe changed into her pajamas and made herself some herbal tea for her and Beca, joining her on the couch.

“You okay?” Beca asked as she took one of the mugs from Chloe.

“Yeah,” Chloe breathed out, curling up on the opposite end of the couch. “Thank you for today. It was so nice to see the girls again. I’m really lucky.”

“You’re welcome, Chlo.” She motioned towards her lap. “C’mon, hand me those feet.”

Chloe giggled, setting her feet on Beca’s thighs and biting back a moan as she started kneading the sole of her right foot. It had become a sort of a ritual these past few weeks, for Beca to give Chloe a foot rub while they chilled on the couch after dinner. “Am I going to lose those privileges once I’m no longer pregnant?” She teased.

Beca smirked. “We’ll see.”

“I heard back from my old vet school, this morning,” Chloe said, following a few minutes of comfortable silence. She had been communicating back and forth with the advisor over there, who finally heard back from the head of the department. “Since I did two years of vet school already, I’d only have to do one more year to become a vet tech. They offered for me to jump into the school year in January, but that feels a little too soon after Bean gets here, so I think I’ll wait until September next year,” she explained as she rubbed her bump. “But I definitely plan on getting a part-time job waitressing or something by next spring, as soon as Bean is old enough go to daycare.”

Finding a good daycare with availability had been a headache, but Chloe had luckily found a spot at the one she had set her eyes on in the neighborhood.

“That’s great news,” Beca mused aloud, smiling. “I’m proud of you.”

“I wouldn’t be where I am without you, Bec,” Chloe murmured, returning her smile. A groan flitted past her lips a second later. “Ugh, I need to pee again.”

Beca chuckled as Chloe heaved herself to her feet and waddled to the bathroom. She had just shut the door behind her when a sharp pain in her lower belly made her double over, her hand shooting out to grip the counter while the other one cradled her bump.

Panic gripped her insides as she slowly straightened when her head stopped spinning, letting go of her stomach to dip her hand past the waistband of her sweatpants. Her fingers met something warm and sticky, and Chloe’s heart lurched to her throat when she pulled them out, eyes zeroing on the blood.

“No, no, no,” she muttered to herself, forcing down the lump forming in her throat with a hard swallow. She called Beca’s name, her voice wavering as tears rose to her eyes.

“What’s wrong??” Beca rushed out as she rounded the corner, the sight before her answering her own question. Her eyes widened, and she paled, freezing for a couple of seconds before setting into motion. “I’m taking you to the ER. I’ll grab your shoes and coat.”

Chloe gave a faint nod even though she wasn’t sure she registered Beca’s words. Her feet seemed rooted to the floor while Beca’s hurried steps faded. She couldn’t move. She kept staring at her bloodied hand as the most dreaded, terrible, gut-wrenching feeling seized her entire being.

“I can’t--” she found herself saying when Beca appeared in her line of vision. The air got stuck in her throat before it could reach her lungs, just as her words died before it reached her tongue. She couldn’t lose her baby. “Bec.”

“I know,” Beca murmured as she helped Chloe slip her jacket on. Her own hands were shaking. She bent down to guide Chloe’s feet into her sneakers, one by one, then grabbed a towel from the cupboard under the sink.

Another cramp made Chloe cry out, and she felt more blood seeping out of her, in a greater amount this time around. She felt it dripping down her legs and choked on a sob, clutching at her stomach.

The elevator ride and walk to the car was a blur, and Chloe found herself blankly staring out the window as Beca rushed to the hospital, hoping with all her might that her baby would be okay.

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #period piece

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

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Watch What Happens - Chapter 14

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Swearing

Words: 2,673

After breakfast and some passionate necking in the doorway, Arthur had left. As he’d disappeared into the elevator, he gave a playful but modest wave and smiled. Coincidentally, the next door neighbor had popped out to get her paper. When Y/N had greeted her, the woman had kept her eyes averted, muttered a quick, "Morning," then hurriedly went back inside.

At first Y/N had found it odd, but then it’d dawned on her. Maybe she needed to learn to keep her voice down.

Chuckling, she’d gone back into the apartment and the bedroom, considering changing the sheets. But, blushing happily, she’d left them alone. He would be over again that night; she’d been sure they'd wind up between them. Then she’d checked the sofa. She hated trying to launder upholstery and wasn't particularly good at it. Luckily, she hadn't seen anything that would have given away their activities - her robe had been in the way.

From the moment he was gone, she knew she was head over heels. Her eighty-seven percent certainty had increased to ninety-six over the course of their morning. He hadn't said much after they'd gotten up, but his actions touched her. After a little prompting, he'd poured coffee for them, then asked how she liked hers. He'd made it with one sugar and a shot of milk. (Seemingly nervous that he'd make it too white, he'd kept asking, "Is that enough?") Then he'd hovered next to her while she cooked. It'd already felt like he belonged there.

The speed with which the comfort of routine had developed between them was startling. In her past relationships, she'd taken things slowly. Jeff, her ex-husband, was someone she'd met as a sophomore in high school. He'd been a college freshman, studying pre-law. It had taken five months before they started dating. He was a good man - they exchanged Christmas cards every year, letting each other know they were still alive. But they'd gotten married only a month after she'd graduated, before she’d had a chance to develop her own identity.

Y/N decided the biggest distinction between then and the present was that she'd grown-up. Taking care of her father had forced her to mature quickly. She hadn't had time for other people's bullshit and had to figure out how to clearly say yes and no, something she'd struggled with until her late-twenties. She'd had to learn what she did and did not want.

Arthur, even the Arthur who'd been trembling and biting his nails on the couch with his Gotham Department of Health notebook, was what she wanted. It was surprisingly easy to like and love him, not only because he was handsome, kind, and most of what she’d experienced of him had been great. But also because she now knew herself.

Picturing him, while sitting at her desk and trying to work, made the corners of her lips turn up. Nervous excitement and plain happiness caused her to laugh quietly. She felt foolish. She hadn’t giggled like that since she’d been a teenager, lip-syncing badly to the radio with her sister.

She truly was trying to act professionally that morning. But at their usual mid-week meeting with Matt, Patricia passed her a note with the words, “You can’t stop smiling!” written on it. Y/N gave it back, feeling like a girl trying not to get caught by the teacher, with a heart, followed by two questions marks and an exclamation point.

Once the meeting ended, Patricia arched a brow at her. Y/N put her palm to her face, groaning. The note had been terribly out of character. “I just wanted to know what it was like to be girly. Once.” Her embarrassment had quickly faded, though, and she said, “I promise I’ll tell you everything tonight.”

The rest of work went by uneventfully, with her back to preparing the firm's family cases. They were a gallery of dysfunction. There had been a rise in children being taken from their parents due to substance abuse disorder after budget cuts had stopped their treatment. And there was a stack of protection from abuse orders, including pictures of bruises and other injuries. The occasional petty divorce filings were a nice break. She would sometimes reread the best complaints when she needed a chuckle. Though the work wasn’t difficult, by early afternoon she was exhausted and trying not to nod off at her desk.

She left early, then, and made her way to the Gotham Bureau of Corporations to try to find more information on Renew Corp. It turned out it had been registered as a limited liability corporation. As a result, their annual reports and registered agents were openly available. The photocopies she made cost her $2.35 at five cents a page. Sitting on the floor at her coffee table, she reviewed the reports. Most of them were about profits and projects, which didn't interest her. She already knew the addresses they were after. The list of registered agents intrigued her, though. She'd have to go over her plan with Patricia.

But first she had to figure out how to explain what she thought was happening in a way that didn't make her sound crazy. Who would believe that Gotham's largest philanthropic organization was responsible for a third-party harassing poor people instead of helping them? She'd find it hard to believe herself if she hadn't taken a closer look. But she was at a loss as to what other conclusion could be drawn.

~~~~~

When Y/N told Patricia her general theory, she'd been skeptical. But once the shoe boxes of letters tenants were getting were pulled out, Patricia's eyes widened. "You coming over here with the file was a risk," Y/N told her, putting the folder on the table. "It means a lot. I don't want you to do anything else that could get you in trouble."

Patricia shook her head. "I've been there forever. Matt won't ask questions. The only reason you got caught was your big mouth and bad luck."

Taking out a plate for the scones she’d picked up, Y/N smirked in response.

Patricia grabbed one of the pastries and took a bite. "Before we start work, I need to know what on earth is going on with you and this guy you're dating." Despite the exasperation in her voice, she looked amused. "You're glowing."

After putting on the kettle, Y/N boosted herself up on the counter next to the stove. She crossed her ankles. "His name's Arthur Fleck. He's a performer - he's sometimes a clown at the children's hospital. He’s an aspiring stand-up. I think he's a little older than me. Early to mid-forties?"

"This is the-" Patricia made air quotes "'-good looking pie guy,' right?" she asked. "How did you meet?"

Grinning, Y/N went into how they'd kept meeting serendipitously. That he was gentle with her, something she hadn't experienced much in her life. (Given her assertive personality, most people appeared to think she never wanted or needed it.) She flushed at the memories. "I think he's the last gentleman in Gotham. He holds the door open for me. He helps me with my coat." She wished he was there, right now, with his arm slung about her waist, hearing all the compliments she was giving him.

"We talk on the phone every night," Y/N continued, "and I look forward to those few minutes the whole day. He tells me jokes. Even when they're terrible, I love them." Shaking her head, she said, "He sometimes misunderstands what I say and doesn't know how to respond.” Her eyes fluttered shut as she breathed the rest. “He seems a little left footed with the world. But I’ve fallen in love with him, anyways."

It took a few seconds before Patricia spoke. "Already?"

Y/N folded her arms over her chest. "How long did it take before you knew you loved Robert?"

"I knew Robert and I were going to get married after our first date thirty years ago." Patricia stood and stretched her arms. "But sometimes I regret accepting his second invitation."

That prompted a snort from Y/N. "On our second date, I got wine-drunk and had a mini-breakdown on the sofa. Arthur didn't try to take advantage or leave. He just listened and tried to make me feel better."

The tea kettle started whistling, interrupting her train of thought. She hopped off the counter and started filling their cups. "I think the biggest thing we have in common is taking care of ailing parents - he cares for his mother." After sitting at the table, she dunked the teabag a few times. "It's rare to find someone who understands how hard that can be." A smile appeared on her face. "He gets it. He gets me. And I think I get him."

"Tell me three negative things about him," Patricia said.

Y/N cocked her head. "He smokes like a chimney - I don't know how he hasn't gotten cancer already. He's too unsure of himself." She scrunched up her face, remembering how he'd told her to leave after his mother had wounded him. "And he's too self-reliant. He thinks I don't notice, but I do."

Before asking her next question, Patricia took a long sip. "Have you slept with him?"

"Last night,” Y/N answered without hesitation. “This morning," She smirked. "I’m bone-tired, but hopefully tonight."

Patricia stared at her, then burst out laughing. "Jesus, Y/N."

Y/N cracked-up at her reaction, playfully smacking her arm. "Hey, I'm turning forty in April. If I see something I want, I'm going to grab it." She pointed at Patricia to emphasize what she said next. "And I can tell you, in his own words, he did not mind."

"Does he know how you feel?"

Y/N put down her teacup. "It's hard for me to open myself up. I'd shut that off for so long.” A sigh left her as she leaned back against the chair. “I know it doesn't make sense, but going to bed with him is easier than saying anything."

"He sounds like a decent man," Patricia said. "There aren't many in Gotham."

"There aren't many anywhere." After some silence, Y/N furrowed her brow. "He’s wonderful. But I can tell he has difficulties. Or at least he has in the past."

Patricia's eyebrows knit together. "Legal trouble?"

"No, nothing like that." Y/N adjusted her legs. How much information could she share without crossing a line? Maybe disclosing his affliction would be all right - he did have laminated cards he handed out. "He has a neurological condition that makes him laugh. It doesn't happen often, but I've seen it when he's nervous. It's been hard for him." She studied her tea, thinking of his notebook and all his medication.

And she felt shame, remembering how she'd shut him down like a coward when it'd seemed he was going to tell her everything.

"Do you want me to do a background check on him?" Patricia spoke quietly, her concern obvious.

Y/N waved the idea away. "No. There’s no reason.” Then she blushed. “I don’t even know why I told you. But," she smiled, "I appreciate you caring enough to ask." Pointing at the nearby folder, she said, “Now let’s get this over with so I can call him.”

They started on the file, then, sorting through the motions, writing down the day each one was filed with the court. Opening all the letters was a pain in the ass - Y/N was relieved she only got a couple of paper cuts. The dates on those were analyzed, too, and put onto a parallel list next to those of the filings. When they were finished, an hour or so later, they were able to confirm the motions and letters had started during the same time period.

Patricia sipped her tea, shrugging. "It could be a coincidence."

"Of course it could. That's why I got the list of registered agents with Renew Corp." Y/N got up and grabbed the reports she'd copied from the counter next to the stove. "I'm supposed to have the Wayne Foundation tax returns on Friday. I'll see if Renew Corp. is listed anywhere on there."

"Actually, I have a better idea." Patricia crossed her legs and indicated the reports with her pen. "The tax filings will have all the Wayne Foundation employees listed on one of the schedules. You can see if any of the names match the agents on the Renew reports."

Y/N leaned back against the counter. "I can't believe I didn't think of that." Frowning, she mentally went over the dates they’d written. “Did I see that a new motion was filed on Monday? Do you have it?”

“Yeah, we got our copy today. Why?” Patricia dug through the file until finding it, then handed it to her.

“When I looked through the file, nothing indicated a new motion was needed.” She started to scan it. It was a motion to amend the original filing, which meant addresses could either be added or taken off. This one added a few in order to, according to the summary, allow the building of an additional medical clinic wing. She didn’t recognize most of them: a residential building on Cortelyou Road, an empty lot on Sutter Avenue, a commercial area on Rockaway Boulevard. An apartment complex at 225a Anderson Avenue.

Her breath halted. 225a Anderson Avenue.

It made sense. Despite the heaviness forming in her stomach, and her inability to take in any air, it was perfectly logical. Ms. McPhee’s building was on the same block as Arthur’s, on a perpendicular street. Y/N closed her eyes, reaching back to grasp the counter.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Heat rose from Y/N’s shoulders, through her neck, to her face. “Arthur… Arthur’s address is included.” She held out the paper to Patricia. “How am I supposed to tell him?”

Standing, Patricia put her hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “This is going to take months and months. And you’re trying to stop it.”

“I know, but-” Y/N started.

“Does he know the details of what you’re working on?” After Y/N shook her head, Patricia continued. “It’s not going to do any good to say anything.”

“I just told you I love him. How can I-”

The blaring sound of the phone interrupted her. After another couple rings, she went to grab the beige receiver from the wall next to the kitchen entrance. "Hello?"

"Hi. It's Arthur."

Y/N checked the clock - it was after seven. He'd probably expected her to call by now. Pointing at the receiver, she turned around and looked at Patricia. "Arthur, I'm sorry I haven't called yet. I was just talking about you." She took a breath, trying to keep her voice from reflecting the anger simmering inside her. "Why don't you come over now? You can meet Patricia before she-"

His voice was strained when he interrupted her. "No. I can't. Is there anyway you can come to the hospital?"

That was unexpected. She felt worry cross her face. "Are you all right?"

"It's my mother. We just got here. I don't know what's wrong. There was an ambulance when I got home from..." His tone lowered, sounding a little embarrassed. "Can you please come? I don't understand all the paperwork." A pause, then. “I don’t mean to bother you.”

"You’re never a bother. I'll be right there. Which hospital?" Y/N watched as Patricia rose from her chair and started packing up the file she'd brought.

"Gotham General. In the emergency room," he answered.

"I'm on my way." She grabbed her coat and purse as she hung up. "Arthur's mother's in the ER. I gotta grab a cab."

Patricia took her jacket. "I brought my car. I'll take you."

Y/N gave Patricia a good, long hug, something she rarely did. "I owe you. Thank you for helping me."

"Anytime. Arthur's not the only one who's too self-reliant."

Y/N rolled her eyes at Patricia and squeezed her arm as she lead them both into the hallway, then locked the door.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @clowndaddyfleck @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @invisiblewispofwhimsey @let-the-stars-fall-in-the-abyss

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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elsb-hrngtons · 4 years

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I Can Get You High (If You Want To Climb) Chapter 2

Barb/ Carol.. You’re welcome

links to AO3 in notes.

Gym class is arguably Barb’s worst class, straight A student in all other lessons, gym being the only one she’s barely scraping by with a C and it’s not hard to see why. There’s nothing worse than having to run laps around the track, ill fitting sports bar doing absolutely nothing to keep the girls in check, she gets out of breath just looking at the track let alone when she actually has to do laps, barley breaking into a sprint, sweating buckets chest heaving and almost giving herself a concussion with every stride. She’s long passed caring about her grade enough to actually put in 100 percent, only participates so she doesn’t get failed altogether, can’t have a fail, that would screw her plans for college up entirely.

Of course the physical excretion is nothing compared to the mandatory gym kit Hawkins high provides, a pale grey t-shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the tidal wave of sweat gathering across the entirety of her torso, she’s always soaked through by the time the hours up, and of course those awful little shorts. She always wonders if the uniform was designed by some creepy man, who gets off watching young teenage girls in the shortest shorts possible, barely enough fabric to cover even the smallest girl’s butt cheeks, let alone Barb’s, with her hulking thighs that really test the limits of the shorts seams. Barb has always been slightly self conscious, gym class makes it worse, all she wants to do is get the class over and done with, sit on the bleachers and wait patiently while all the girls filter through and get showered and changed, before she can go in a change herself. Thank god it's the last class of the day, otherwise she'll have to weigh the pros and cons of being late to another class.

Today was dodgeball and god did Barb loathe dodgeball above all other things, firstly she’s easy pickings and all the other girls take advantage of that, even the girls supposedly in her team, secondly her aim is shit especially because it is not worth the risk to wear her glasses, having learnt that lesson the hard way freshman year, with a broken pair or brand new glasses and a rather dramatic trip to the nurses office to make sure she didn’t get glass in her eye. It’s not like Barb couldn’t see anything, more like everything was more hazy, all the girls running about in a blur of green and gray, the balls whizzing past in a flurry of angry orange, it also messed with her depth perception like crazy, which meant unfortunately she tripped over her feat, a lot more than she usually would, causing her classmates to snicker cruelly from all angles, it just wasn’t fair that she was subjected to this, why couldn’t she just scrap this class altogether?

She prepares herself to be pelted by the balls and to be eliminated at her earliest convenience, the less time she spends on the court the better, but today’s different, as the opposite team line up balls in hands ready to take aim, she braces herself for the inevitable sting of rubber slapping against flesh, except this time it never comes. She’s startled by a growl and a blur of auburn locks rushing up in front of her, Its Carol Perkins of all people, an impressive force of tiny fury, catching each ball mid air and launching them back with acute precision at the other team, within minutes she’s already eliminated half of the opposition and is showing no signs of slowing down, Barb is in absolute awe as she stands in astonishment, admiring how flawless Carol looks channeling all that aggression into the game. Unfortunately for Barb she’s dragged out from her stupor by a ball landing squarely in her stomach, knocking the wind right out of her, she doubles over in pain for a second before having to compose herself as quickly as possible and makes her way to the sidelines to watch what’s left of the game, or risk getting hit again. Carol continues her assault, seemingly spurred on even further by Barb being knocked out, unsurprisingly Carol is the last woman standing, expression alternating between angry scowl and smug grin as she gloats in her victory to the rest of the class. Barb thinks she see’s Carol spare a glance at her, offering her a small apologetic smile, but it’s so brief Barb concludes she must be hallucinating.

###

The locker rooms are literal hell for Barb, reluctant to get changed herself in front of the other girls, always paranoid she’ll get ridiculed for her weight, but honestly? That’s not even her biggest problem, no the thing she hates most about being surrounded by a class full of beautiful girls in various states of undress, is that she doesn’t hate it at all. She feels like such a peeping tom, surrounded by all this silky skin, firm breasts and while she tries to avert her eyes as much as she can she always catches herself lost in thought staring a little too intensely and a little too south than she is comfortable with, has to shake herself from her sinful thoughts, shove her head further into her locker a pray that this will all be over soon, or god himself will strike her down and put her out of her misery. She wishes things could be easy for her, that she wasn’t repulsed by the very idea of men, that she didn’t crave the touch of a soft delicate woman instead of being manhandled by the rough calloused hands of a man. Her only saving grace is as all her classmates file out, chattering away about their weekend plans, if none of them seem to notice her, or her longing gaze, she’s safe for now, left in the peaceful silence of an empty locker room.

With a heavy sigh of relief she makes her way to the showers towel in hand and shimmies her way out of her gym kit, ecstatic that she’s free of it for at least another 3 days at least, she turns on the spray lets the water get to temperature as she fights her way out of the constraints of her sweaty sports bra and panties, discards them in a heap on the tile out of reach from the running water. She steps into the spray, lets out a satisfied grown as the warm stream runs now her back soothing aching muscles as she stretches and cracks her stiff joints. She lets that small pleasure wash over her for a while, she’s in no rush to hurry out today, no plans on this ordinary Friday afternoon, or for the entirety of the weekend to be fair, maybe except her regularly scheduled phone call with Nancy on Sunday evening.

She gets lost in the quiet, only the sounds of the spray filling the room, finally free to daydream about creamy thighs and the curve of womanly hips, all alone in her own little bubble, which is why she’s startled by the sudden appearance of Carol, leaning casually against the entrance to the showers, still fully clothed in her gym gear and bright blue orbs starting with a laser focus directly into Barb’s soul. Carol has a dangerous smirk on her lips, the kind that makes Barb squirm with the paranoia that Carol can read minds and knows exactly what Barb was thinking about only seconds ago. Her paranoia is not calming down as Carol begins to stalk towards Barb, never breaking eye contact even as she lifts her gym shirt over her head, and steps out of her tiny shorts. Carol completely skips past her own shower head, instead stepping under Barb’s stream, all hunger and determination pouring out of her as she stalks forward like a predator and Barb’s her prey. Barb has nowhere to go but backwards, cornered into the wall, shivering at the loss of warmth for the shower, and burning all too hot from the press of Carol’s skin on hers. Barb is at least 9 inches taller than Carol, height not giving her any advantage as Carol cages her in, Carol even has to stand on her tiptoes just to place a chaste yet hungry kiss to Barb’s collar bone, ripping a full body shudder from her, completely incapable of controlling the flush creeping across her face and spreading eagerly down to her chest.

“Wha.. what are you doing Carol?” Barb stammers out. She’s a storm of confusion and panic and it really doesn’t help that Carol is currently burying her face in her cleavage, leaving little kisses in her wake, until she rests her chin on the shelf of Barb’s breasts and looks up eyes all faux innocence as she says

“What’s the matter Teddy Bear? Don’t you want me?” Carol actually pouts, feigning hurt and Barb melts, it’s like an instinct, the inexplicable need to comfort a pretty girl. With shaky arms Barb brings her hands to rest on Carol’s shoulders, leans her weight in fear of her legs giving way any minute, she’s overwhelmed with a conflict of emotions, she’s not stupid, she knows exactly what this means, what Carol is trying to do; heard all bout her little romp with Nancy, she just can’t figure out why Carol has any interest in her.

“That’s not it.”

“Then what?” Carol asks. Still pouting and Barb is overcome with the need to kiss that put away.

“Why me?” Barb’s actually curious, why her? When Carol could have absolutely anyone she wants, she’s gorgeous and Barb has been told all her life, with the exception of maybe Nancy and her parents that she isn’t worth a second glance from anyone.

“Isn’t it obvious Teddy Bear?” that pet name does something to Barb, she should be annoyed, instead she finds herself quite fond of it, never wanting Carol to stop calling her it. Barb shakes her head, she really is at a loss. “You’re beautiful baby” Carol purrs and she runs her hands across the expanse of Barb’s sides, brings them round to rest her palms against the small of Barb’s back, uses the new angle as leverage to pull them closer together, as she begins peppering kisses all over Barb’s chest. “So pretty, gorgeous” Barb can’t help but scoff at that, no one has ever called her beautiful before. “It’s true! Let me show you just how beautiful I think you are baby?”

If Barb were not being held up by Carol’s knee bullying its way between Barb’s thighs she would have been a puddle on the floor because of Carol’s words alone, how could she possibly deny a beautiful girl showering her in compliments an affection, it’s not like she doesn’t function like everybody else on this godforsaken planet, she needs the validation just as much as the next person, and surprisingly to her she kinda gets off on it too, and if Carol’s actions are anything to go by, she gets off on giving them too. Carol leans up trying to reach Barb’s lips has to almost climb the length of Barb’s body to get even a little bit close, Barb gets with the picture and bends at the knees to meet her half way, their lips smash together clumsily, teeth clacking together in a desperate bid to brush against each other, its awkward but not awful and soon they find their rhythm, Carol deepening the kiss by licking her way into Barb’s mouth, sucking at her bottom lip and catching it with her teeth, it’s obscene and it lights Barb’s whole body on fire with desire and need, what she needs she doesn’t really know, but Carol seems to know what she’s doing, asserting her dominance with practised finesse as she uses her mouth to explore every inch of Barb’s skin, lips sliding across her across the shoulders and down her chest, until Carol sinks to her knees and gently paws at Barb’s thighs pushing them open to allow access.

Before Barb can even process what’s happening Carol’s nose is nuzzling its way through the course reddish hair that grows unruly atop Barb’s mound, she seems to revel in the sent and she uses her nails to lightly scratch at the backs of Barb’s thighs, inhaling deeply and sighing as if its the sweetest sent she’s ever smelt, maybe it is Barb really wouldn’t know, too ashamed to even touch herself down there.

Just when Barb thinks she can’t take the anticipation any more Carol dives in, goes straight for the gold and swipes her tongue across and around Barb’s clit with what Barb can only assume is practised precision. Barb yelps out at the sudden jolts of pleasure that shoot all through her veins, like sparks of electricity about to light a tinder box completely aflame. Carol’s tongue continues its exploration, licking through Barb’s folds, darting out and teasing her hole, she can feel herself gush and it’s embarrassing but Carol moans lewdly as her tongue laps up the evidence of Barb’s excitement. Her tongue peaks its way back up to Barb’s hood, lightly grazing against Barb’s bundle of nerves, causing her to twitch and her hips it involuntarily thrust, Carol’s hands creep their way up to Barb’s hips and press her flush to to the wall as she continues ministrations. Barb has to scramble for purchase to keep herself right, one hand desperately clinging to the top of Carol’s head to keep her balance the other flying to her mouth to muffle frankly pornographic noises she’s making without her consent. She can feel everything building, like a glass of water getting filled bit by bit and she’s so close to spilling over it’s almost painful, all it takes is for a well timed suckle of her clit from Carol and Barb is screaming out, hand doing absolutely nothing to silence the sounds of her pleasure now her orgasm is wreaking havoc on her body, she’s shaking all over, wave after wave of intense feeling crashing over she’s sure she’ll black out, before she can catch herself she sinks to the ground, still reeling from the aftershocks of the most mind blowing thing to ever happen to her. Carol catches Barb on her way down, cradles her as she leans against Carol’s shoulder, almost sobbing from being so overwhelmed. Carol pets through her hair, massaging and scratching lightly at her scalp and cooing quietly in her ear between a spattering of kisses across her cheek.

“You were so good Teddy Bear, so good for me”

Barb feels sleepy, could drift off right here she’s in such a daze, doesn't really register as Carol props her against the wall and reaches up form the soap, only jumps slightly in surprise as glides its across her body to clean her, it’s oddly gentle and far more intimate than what just transpired, Barb has completely lost the use of all her limbs so just sits there quietly as Carol washes her thoroughly and oh so sweetly all the while murmuring pretty little words and praises about how good Barb was. Once Carol is done cleaning the both of them she helps Barb to her feet and leans up to plant one last kiss to Barb’s cheek.

“That was fun Teddy Bear, can’t wait to do that again.” and with that she’s spins around and struts out of the showers grabbing a towel on her way out, leaving Barb completely speechless, her head spinning with all the possibilities of what again really means.

#Barb Holland x Carol Perkins #Barb x Carol #Barb Holland #Carol Perkins #Stranger Things #WLW fic #Fic #My fic #wlw

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xicarcalii · 6 years

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friends? billy hargrove x reader (part one)

pairing: billy hargrove x (female) reader

summary: billy’s year in hawkins is numbered. him and the reader are neighbor's, slowly forming a bond billy gets FRIENDZONED!

note: inspired by ‘when harry met sally’. there are only two months at a time only because i started this bitch at 7:00 am in the morning and it is now 3:20 pm. oh and this ones a long one folks, actually they all are going to be long so expect a lot in like the next 3 parts ;) i only re-read this once, i’ll check spelling and errors later.

warning: slight cursing...that’s about it so far.

september 16, 1984

(y/n)'s POV

i wasn't about to wait another minute, jason was late and i wasn't going to have it. this would be the third time skipping out on me and i was not ready for him to fill my head with false excuses i never wanted to hear about in the first place. i sat on my porch with my elbows rested on my knees ready to give up on my love life. i plopped my head down to stare at the ground, just when i think i'll go inside i hear footsteps. the approaching of heavy; and i do mean heavy footsteps being dragged along the sidewalk right up to my driveway only to be coming in my direction.

someone clearly wasn't taught how to walk quietly, only to rely on the verges to muffle their steps.

as the noise came to a halt i shot my head up only to see my new found neighbor.

billy hargrove.

"hi princess." billy flashed his signature smug smile.

i rolled my eyes at the nickname that he decided to give to me since day one. i yelled at him, telling him i had something called ‘a name’ but he told me 'princess' suited me better.

how charming right? after a while i just shut up and let it go because he wasn't going to stop calling me that anytime soon.

"hi billy."

our eyes caught a glimpse of each other for a quick second before i dropped my head again to watch the ground again.

pretty sure he heard the disappointment in my voice.

billy and i were not friends and i put so much emphasis on the word friend. i considered us more like acquaintances. we said hi to each other at school, if we saw one another at the drive-in or the diner. we'd give each other a quick wave or a slight nod, our families took a liking to each other so there was that too, which consulted with my family having dinner with his family once and a blue moon.

so yes, we were acquaintances.

we never hung out but he could stand being around me and i had to admit he wasn't all that bad. well once you got to know "soft billy" as i would call him.

which he hated by the way.

he'd let his guard down with me but with everyone else, he put up a wall and would act like a complete and total ass-butt. i'm going to go out on a limb here and say we only got along because we were neighbor's, we had the same taste in music, our favorite movie was the shinning, he lived in california and i've always wanted to go. so i mean, i guess the little things we bonded over made us some-what comfortable with around each other.

"so wilson’s a no show again, huh?"

i sighed nodding my head as a response.

"how about i take you out? my treat."

my head shot up at his request, causing my face to tense and my eyes to squint.

was he serious?

"are you serious?"

"yeah." said billy, shrugging his shoulders throwing his hands up in a 'why not' motion.

"you don't want that perfectly good outfit going to waste, now do you?" he raised a brow giving me a smirk.

smart man. i did look pretty hot.

"fine."

i got up inching closer to him, pointing my finger in his face.

"but this is not a date hargrove. okay?" i said, giving him a half smile.

"got it. not a date." throwing his hands up in surrender, he nodded.

he grabbed my arm to link it to his as he guided me to his precious blue camero.

we sat down in a booth in the back of the diner. one of my favorite spots just because it was secluded and quite. we both took our time looking over the menu, but i'm not sure why i did though, i already knew what i wanted. lost in my thoughts, they were cut off by billy's voice.

"have you done it?" asked billy trying to decipher the menu. he frowned at it before looking up at me.

"hmmm?" i asked, making sure i heard him right.

"have you done it before?"

"i'm not going to tell you that."

"fine, don't tell me." he shrugged it off looking back down at the menu.

there was a silence, finally broken by me answering his ridiculous question.

"walter bradberry, and it was great." i said, sitting up, pleased with my small accomplishment.

he looked up from the menu closing it and placing it gently on the table before he spoke, keeping all his attention on me as he lent forward.

"walt-walter?"

i nodded.

"hmm-mmm"

"n-no, you did not have 'great sex' with walter." said billy, his face was expressionless as he slouched back in the booth.

"i did too."

"no you didn't."

i turned my head away from him trying to make a point that i was done with the conversation. i mean i wasn't lying.

what did i have to prove to him?

but he didn't get the hint.

"a walter can be your creepy 65 year old neighbor down the street, if you need someone to fix the toilet, walter's your man. i hate to break it to ya princess but humping and pumping is not walter bradberry..."

billy trailed off leaving me speechless. eyes wide and mouth open.

"you see, i just can't imagine a girl who is, keep in mind, mid-orgasm...” he stopped mid sentence letting out a chuckle before continuing. “screaming in mid-orgasm saying, 'do it to me...walt-er, you're an animal..walt-er, ride me big..walt-er.'“ he trailed off shrugging his shoulders continuing to laugh. “see? doesn't work.”

he shot me that stupid smile again only for me to roll my eyes and scoff.

thank god the waitress came over because my foot was about to meet his groan.

"what can i get you kids today?"

"i'll have the number three, no onions and extra cheese." said billy, giving the waitress the menu.

"and you sweetheart?" she turned to me.

i cleared my throat, hoping she was writing this down.

"i'd like the chef salad please with the oil vinaigrette on the side and the apple pie a la mode." i finished with a smile.

"ok..chef and apple a la mode." she muttered to herself, writing it on her notepad.

but oh no, i wasn't done. she glanced up at me when i began speaking again. i could already tell she was getting annoyed.

"but i'd like the pie heated and i don't want the ice cream on top, i would like it on the side, and i'd like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it; if not no ice cream just whipped cream but only if it's real, but if it's out of a can then nothing."

i could see billy from the corner of my eye, he glanced upward at the waitress then back down to me. his eyebrows furrowed, mouth pursed but slightly open and loose as he blinked profusely almost as if he was trying to refocus his eyesight.

"not even the pie?" the waitress asked. clearly done with my picky ass but i wasn't sorry. i'm picky about almost everything, especially when it came to food.

i look back up at her.

i flashed her billy's infamous grin.

"no just the pie but then not heated." i look away, placing my napkin on the floral dress i borrowed from tina.

"uhhh-huh." she tilted her head to the side, slipping the pen behind her ear before rolling her eyes and walking away.

i look back up at billy who was just staring at me like a weirdo, like he never saw a person before which kind of creeped me out because the only other person who ever starred at me like was steve harrington back in 2nd grade when i let him have my juice box at lunch because tommy h. took his.

which lead to him liking me for 3 years.

"what?" i asked, brows furrowed and face tense.

"nothing."

he shook he head quickly giving me a genuine smile this time which caught me by surprise making me give a small smile in return.

he cleared his throat and folding his hands as we both just looked around the half empty diner waiting for our food. making the situation more awkward then it already was.

october 28th, 1984

billy's POV it had been 6 weeks since (y/n) and i first hung out at the diner.

soon after that we sorta made it a weekly thing.

i usually hated sunday's only because they were followed by monday's which meant going back to school.

i'd spend countless hours listening to tommy talk off my right ear. kissing my ass 24/7, listen to carol whine to tommy about how he had felt up amber in the girls bathroom during 4th or how he made out with vicki at one of tina's parties. something that was really annoying was always having a random group of chicks either following me around or shoot googly eyes at me until i gave them the time of day. i mean don't get me wrong, i love sex as much as the next 17 year old teenage boy...shit, maybe even more but ever since i took the 'king' title away from harrington i had to do what i had to do.

yes, it had it's perks but most of the time it got old.

but anyway, back to what i was saying before.

every sunday at 9:00 we'd meet here and have breakfast at benny’s, then after we’d drive back to (y/n)'s place and just hang out in her room for the rest of the day and listen to music. well that or drive around which i preferred doing. (y/n) didn't only because 1.) she didn't smoke, so when i'd light one, i'd have to roll down the windows, and 2.) after me doing that, she would complain how the wind was messing up her hair.

she was cute. okay no, scratch that. she was hot. but god she was a real piece of work.

so here i was at benny's waiting for (y/n) in our usual spot.

in the back.

i asked her why she always wanted to sit in the back and she told me because it was 'secluded and quite'. i rolled my eyes making her think she sounded ridiculous but in reality i thought it was actually kind of cute.

there was a rosiness to the leaves today that wasn't there only a week ago. I couldn't actually tell if the sky was covered with the grey clouds from yesterday, but regardless it was kind of relaxing, even if it was raining outside. which i kind of thought was nice but i'd never say that out loud.

well, i mean i could maybe talk about how nice the leaves looked in the fall but i could only say all this shit to (y/n), but i didn't want her to think i was a pussy. so no. fuck that. i'll keep that one to myself for now, however, i did open up to her over the past few weeks when we did hang out about other stuff. i told her about california, how blue the water was at the beach, how warm the sun felt on your skin, and how free i felt there.

her (y/e/c) eyes always lit up a bit every time i would talk about it.

shit, i even told her about my mom passing away and how hard it was for me to leave my old friends. i told her about how i'm leaving this rinky dink town after graduation to go back home to california.

and of course she brought up my dad.

she asked why i got so tense around him. so quiet.

i wanted to avoid talking about him but i didn't want her to know about the shit he puts me through.

i just brushed it off telling her he was just a grade-a asshole who, at the end of the day, didn’t understand.

i didn't want to bring up the abuse. the abuse i told no one about.

but i trusted her even if we just met.

she considered me her friend and i considered her mine. we both respected that...

even if i wanted it to be something more.

even if she was slowly putting me in the friendzone.

my thoughts were cut off as she walked up to the booth with a small smile.

"what's new hargrove?" she said, plopping down across from me.

"nothing much princess. " i said, crossing my arms in front of my chest, sinking back into the booth giving her a coy smile and a wink.

(y/n) did what she always did when i flirted with her. she rolled her eyes and chuckled, shaking her head.

she took her napkin and placed it on her lap.

something i noticed though was that she places it diagonal. she doesn't just throw it onto her lap, then she smooths it out exactly 4 times and sighs after like she had just accomplished something.

i am so infatuated with this girl it’s going to kill me.

i lean forward, placing on elbow on the table to lean on it and stare at her in awe.

her gaze lifted from her lap to a confused expression.

"what..? do i have something in my teeth?" she said, turning around only to, yes, pick at her teeth.

i chucked.

"no, no it's not that. you're just a very very beautiful." i tried to sound as genuine as possible but anybody who knew me knew it wasn’t too far fetch, me saying anything a girl wanted to hear just to get into their pants.

i mean they were right 99% of the time but this was not one of those times.

scouts honor, okay?

"oh, well...thanks i guess?"

"tina and carol never said how beautiful you were." i said, shaking my head. i made sure my gaze didn't leave her.

"well, maybe they don't think i'm beautiful." (y/n) said, fixing her posture to fold her hands on the table.

"yea well, i don't think it's up for a matter of opinion or argument." i trailed off.

"needless to say, you're beautiful."

"billy.stop."

"i wasn't doing anything?"

i kind of was.

“you’re coming on to me!” she said, leaning forward to whisper a little louder than she had lead on.

"can't a guy say a girl is beautiful without it being a 'come on'?"

she said nothing, her shaking her head was all i got out of her.

i sat up. nodding, throwing my hands in surrender.

"ok let's just say for the sake of the argument it was indeed...a 'come-on' princess."

throwing my hands up in the 'why me' position I drop them back on the table. my eyes caught her gaze, her face not moving an inch. the only thing that moved on her face was her eyes and you all can guess what that was.

her signature eye roll.

"what do you want me to do? huh?"

still nothing.

"okay fine, fine. i take it back."

"nooo! you can't take it back!" she spat out.

"why not?" i let out a chuckle, gliding my tongue along my bottom lip.

was she serious?

"because it's already out there billy!"

"ohhhhhhh jeez, what are we supposed to do? call the cops, it's already out there!"

my voice got a tad louder. i was getting annoyed, i didn’t want her to see it but she did. yes i was kind of being a dick not respecting her boundaries when it came to me flirting with her even if it was as innocent as this but i was starting to get pissed off.

she didn't like me like the way i liked her.

me raising my voice at (y/n) caused everyone's heads to turn to our table, only for (y/n) to sink in the booth to hide her face.

"just...let.it.lie...okay?" she mumbled sternly into the sleeves of her sweater.

i rolled my eyes and looked down at the menu.

"great, let it lie. that's my policy. that's what i always say...let.it.lie." i said under my breath.

i look up at (y/n) only to find her still with her face in her sleeves.

being this vulnerable around someone, especially someone like (y/n) would take sometime. i knew i couldn't just snap at her like i did with other girls because she wasn't like any other girl and i didn't want her to run away.

i didn't want to scare her away.

"wanna spend the night in a hotel?"

her head shot up before i could even finish the sentence.

"see what i did there? that time i didn't let it lie." i said, raising a eyebrow giving her a playful grin.

(y/n)'s mouth twitched, and I was pretty sure she was fighting a smile. i felt a little better knowing she knew i was trying to lighten up the mood. i was more than the hot-headed bad boy everyone either hated, was scared too look at, even hang around.

"billy..." she cocked her head to the side.

"i said i would and i didn't-"

"billy..."

"i went the other way-"

"billy..!" (y/n) said, grabbing both my hands into hers.

"what...?" i whispered, giving her a playful smile whilst squinting my eyes.

"we are just going to be friends...okay?"

"yes, i know! friends!" i said, nodding my head.

“okay...”

this time she gave me a real smile. a smile she hadn't given me in the 6 weeks i've known her, even the few weeks prior to that. 'smile' wasn't the right word for it-her top row teeth were showing, and there was a faint curve to her lips, but there was also no crease below the eyes, no movement of the cheeks. On anyone else, it would be a grimace, at best. but on her face, it was almost symmetrical, delicate. and i took it all in.

tagged: @emilia-grosso @dacremontgomerylover

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagines #billy hargrove #imtrashforbillyhargrove #sorry not sorry

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katbot · 5 years

Text

Jessie’s Girl

This week’s Thirsty Thursday is a back-to-back feature after a two month hiatus. It consists of two men with the same name and polar opposite experiences.

“I can't work out tomorrow— or the rest of the week. I’ve got back to back dates."

I’m at impromptu gym sesh with my friend Dom before we head to our weekly pub meetup.

“Okay no problem? Switch machines?"

"Yeah. But wait-- get this…” I pause for dramatic effect

“Both guys— are named Jesse.”  

“You’re kidding.”

  “Nope... and I gotta admit...” I slide onto the seat and adjust the machine for my short legs.

  “What?”  

“My mum’s name is Jessie.”

xxx

It’s Wednesday, and I’m making my way to Hell’s Kitchen.

Tonight is Jesse 2— the self-proclaimed Miller lite alcoholic.  I’m judging slightly but let’s be honest, I’ll take any kind of alcoholic.   

It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date. I did a two-month stint with K, which was more awkward than fun.

  It ended amicably. Sometimes someone falls asleep during a screening of THE HOLY MOUNTAIN, and you just know not they're not the one.

 Also, fuck the outdoors. 

I’m meeting J2 at On the Rocks, an intimate bourbon bar with great lighting. 

He arrives a minute after me, in fact I’m pretty sure he was right behind me on the sidewalk.

 He’s cute— very nerd chic. But extremely nervous.  

He orders an IPA, I get a Hendricks double. 

He’s so shy. We’re twenty minutes in and he can barely look me in the eye.

I feel like a zoo keeper, prodding for conversation.  

Where are you from? 

Colorado. 

How long have you been here? 

Two years.

What do you do?

 Film.

J2 finally seems to relax around his third beer, he's going on about the difference between hardcore and punk music  .

It’s a scene I’ve dipped my foot into, but never really cared for. It’s a relief that he’s finally passionate about a topic.

He pays the entire tab when I’m in the bathroom

I’m aching to end my dry spell, so I’m contemplating fucking him when he suddenly suggest going to another bar.

This time I pick a semi fratty pub around the corner. We grab a booth with a Ms.PacMan arcade table.

I’m entering tipsy when J2 is basically drunk.  

He refuses to believe that I’ve never been shy or insecure.

I’m rolling my eyes when he tries to “catch me in a lie.”  

J2: My worst fear is public speaking. What’s yours?  

TV: Fire.  

J2: No way. I don’t believe that

What’s up will all these insecure guys? 

TV: Okay. Fire and my parents dying soon.

  He’s trying to argue with me when I cut him off.

“Listen I get the whole anxiety thing but not everyone is built like that. I acknowledge and recognize you. But personally, I just don’t get it.”  

He seems to accept it after two more minutes of back and forth.

Finally.  

We tumble into video games and he seems to relax again.  

Mid-Chrono Trigger spiel, he asks “Would you like to go home with me?”

  “Yeah sure. Why not. Are you good for it though?”   I’m referring to his pint of water sitting next to my Brooklyn Lager.

“Yeah! I promise!”

The train ride is unbearable and when he asks if I’m a PDA person I wonder if I made a mistake. It’s nice that he asked but so very Post #Metoo.  .

  His apartment is old but cute. His room is a bit bizarre. It’s looks as if he’s just moved in, but he’s been in New York for 2 years.

He’s making out with me like a teenager boy, and when he frantically starts taking of hiss clothes I ask, “When was the last time you had sex?”

He doesn’t even need to open his mouth to answer, he’s blush does it for him.

  He begins to go down on me and after 3 minutes I sternly hiss-whisper, “Will you just fuck me??”  It last about four seconds when he suddenly says he can’t

…..  Who does whisky dick hurt?  Everyone.  

He’s apologizing the whole time as I get dressed.

  “It’s not you. You’re not the prob-“   I scoff before he can finish the word.

“Yeah, of course I’m not. Listen...”  I’m slipping my boots on telling him it’s normal.

“Whiskydickhappenstoeveryone.It’s nothingtobeashamedabout.Don’tworry.”

It comes out in one entire breath like a memorized speech, I’ve entered my sex educator mode also I seriously don’t care

I’m mapping my way back home while he seems to be having a mental dick breakdown on his couch

I don't have time for this.

“Yeah... I’m just gonna... gooooooo.. sooooo” I let myself out and hit the sidewalk laughing.

  Good god. What a waste of a condom.  

Lessons learned:

Pull out my condoms on the second round to avoid waste.

Anyone that only drinks light beer probably isn’t for me

Encounter Rating: 4/10

App: Tinder

xxx

Jesse1’s opening line hits 2/5 of my check boxes.

Bumping into natives on any dating app is a mutual fresh breath of air.

An oasis in the transplant dessert.

We spit a few bars about hockey, growing up in Queens, and the scripted dates we've had with newbie New Yorkers.

"I'm so tired of having the same damn conversations about their so not unique experiences"

Good god. That hits too close to home. Lately, I've been dating so many foreigners.

It's Groundhog Day with different accents.

I decide to pull the trigger and invite him out to the first Islanders/Rangers game of the season. He picks a Rangers bar by my office, saying he'll meet me at puck drop.

***

I'm barside in front of BIGGEST tv I have ever watched hockey on. It's incredible to be able to see the puck without squinting.

The Islanders are tied with the Rangers when someone comes up behind me.

“Tessie?”

He's cute, blonde, and channeling a very lumberjack look.

It isn't until intermission that I actually get involved -- in fact I'm kind of annoyed he's doing more talking than watching.

At the end of the first period, I flag down the bartender to refill my gin. As I put my finger up, J1 cuts me off with a "Can you put that on my tab please?"

I AM SHOCKED.

Through intermission, we find out that we have a lot in common.

We’re both alumni’s of the catholic school circuit.

When he tells me he knows my school AND his sister attended both my alma maters...I absolutely lose my shit.

We swap stories about fucked up school experiences, and about each other’s school reputation.

“Do you remember when they banned skirts?”

“Yes!!!! It just made everything worse. Girls tailored their pants to show off every curve of their butt!!”

Being able to make references to old bars, obscure landmarks only relevant to natives, and deep Queens bus lines is refreshing. It’s like talking to an old neighbour.

We’re squealing and laughing straight through the last ten minutes of the third period.

Meanwhile, the Islanders have been murdering the Rangers.

“Fuck. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You want to go drink that off?”

***

Weather Up is busier than expected despite the snow piling up outside.

We grab a table in the back and he tries to guess what cocktail I’ll get. A challenge my friends like to play a lot. We get the same drink with different spirits.

Me gin.

Him vodka.

The conversation continues to flow naturally and when the waiter comes back and I’m laughing too hard to order— I know I’m drunk.

How did this happen?!

“Ooh! Oh gosh.” I finally get a breath out between bounds of laughter “I’m having such a great time. I would love to see you again if you’re down.”

He agrees, “I’m just talking so much. I want to hear more about Tessie next time!”

We’re smiling at each other like idiots when the waiter comes back with our check.

“I would love to see you again too...I’m going to my friend’s show on Sunday. It’s in Gowanus, would y—“

I cut him off before my brain can process all the details “YES!”

It isn’t until he ask me if I’m sure that I truly realise what I’ve agreed to. “Are you sure? That’s a long commute for you.”

The fact that he knows that and ask to confirm makes me extra sure.

“Yessss. It’ll be fun. I’d love to go.”

We fight over the bill and who will walk whom to the train. I eventually win because his walk grants us more time together.

The wind is so intense, J1 links arms with me keep me from falling over.

When we make it to his station, the warm lights from my office building paint the street like a spotlight.

“I didn’t expect that have so much fun tonight.”

“Yeah. Me too...like that was great.”

We’re staring into each other’s eyes AND I’m Still surprised when he pulls my scarf away from mouth and leans down to kiss me.

I don’t know how much time passes when I finally pull away.

I DO have to be here in less that 6 hours.

“Text me when you’re home.”

He descends down the stairs and I’m swooning.

Nobody ever ASKS ME to do THAT!

At 1am, I’m tucked into bed and shoot a I’m home text. He surprises me, texting back immediately.

Thank you! I had a great time, glad you got home safe.

It’s three am when I can finally will my giddiness away. My eyes are just about to close when the reality sets in.

Holy shit, I’m going out on a Sunday….TO GOWANUS.

Lessons Learned: N/A Encounter rating: 9.8/10 🏆 Trophies earned:

First Queens Native

First Subway Station kiss

First time a 2nd date was planned during the first.

#kdd #new york city dating #nyc dating #sex diaries #the cut

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thesinglesjukebox · 7 years

Video

youtube

THE KILLERS - THE MAN [6.08] Officially better than "Somebody Told Me"...

Alex Clifton: I've loved seeing the Killers' evolution with every album; I appreciate their constant musical expansion, rather than cloning Hot Fuss four times (which, admittedly, I would've bought). "The Man" feels like a natural fit for the band: it's '80s Bowie and a funky bassline and Las Vegas glitz and thrillingly un-self-conscious. (I wouldn't buy "USDA certified lean" from any other band, but Brandon Flowers delivers that line with believable swagger.) Moreover, it's just plain fun and goofy. Yes, the chorus is a pile of cliches -- "I've got gas in the tank/I've got money in the bank" -- but the whole thing is so damn sweeping that I don't even care. After Battle Born, which was too serious for my liking, it's nice to hear the Killers take joy in their music. [9]

Alfred Soto: Still rueing the fact that God didn't make him gay, Flowers remembers Neil Tennant's career advice: "you got looks and some brains and you've made lots of money, plus you're a songwriter of modest talent and a singer with a mediocre parched voice fronting dudes with a cloppety idea of disco." I'm assuming Flowers has listened to Queen's "Body Language" a couple times, furiously licking himself as he sings this track's ridiculous hook over what he thinks is a sexy dance beat. It's about time a handsome male example of polyurethane design said fuck it and blew a kiss at his legion of gay fans. I mean, this is an actual couplet, folks: "You see what I mean?/USDA certified lean." That "The Man" isn't better is tied to Flowers' sense of shame. [5]

Austin Brown: What made the Killers so distinctive on Hot Fuss and Sam's Town was their distinctly chintzy, near-slacker take on glam: on "Mr. Brightside" and "When You Were Young," to name the obvious best of each, Brandon Flowers exploited his vocal limitations and took Strokes-style cosmopolitan cool supernova. By now, though, his ambitions (in vocal range and not much else) have gotten the best of him, manifesting on his solo albums in lovable Bowie pastiche, but here making him the histrionic weak link in an otherwise well-oiled synth-funk machine. [5]

Ryo Miyauchi: It's a wonder how it took so long for The Killers to merge with Arcade Fire. That chorus, though, sets them apart by a vast gap. Win Butler would never pull off such a thing with success. And really, who knew I wanted Brandon Flowers to sing, shamelessly, "I got news for you, baby: you're looking at the man"? [5]

Maxwell Cavaseno: You know, it feels absurd that someone as flamboyant as Brandon Flowers wouldn't do something along the lines of "campy disco-style track with The Darkness-type falsetto bits and meat jokes about himself and his body," so any initial shock and confusion goes away as soon as you register the first pun. However, this sounds something closer to Maroon 5 than I bet your average Killers fan would like to admit. There's a lot of clever ideas, but it ultimately falls as flat as the purposefully upchucked 'mahn' on the end of the chorus. [5]

Katie Gill: I like this because it sounds like Hot Fuss as interpreted by the Scissor Sisters but run through a layer of Duran Duran. And that sentence right there is why I've got a feeling a lot of more diehard Killers fans are going to HATE this song. [7]

Thomas Inskeep: They wanna be Duran Duran so bad, but unfortunately they're nailing being Duran Duran circa the late '90s, and that's not a good look. That wasn't even a good look for Duran Duran. [3]

Nortey Dowuona: This has great synthesizers and nothing else. [5]

Scott Mildenhall: When has Brandon Flowers ever been so invulnerably swaggering? There's a sense of power in something like "Andy, You're A Star", for instance, but it's bound in all kinds of tension. This time there's no doubt, anxiety, melancholy, regret or resignation, and it's so unusual that it seems entirely unserious. That conflict of being exceedingly lithe yet emotionally jagged holds such an appeal that losing the latter part feels very much like a loss. On the other hand, the music is lither than ever, and beyond the emotion the jaggedness is still up front. It is, too, a lot of fun; a lot of potentially participatory, performative fun. It just doesn't completely feel like these are the people to be performing it. [7]

Will Adams: I can't think of a worse fit for Brandon Flowers' limited voice than this piece of dick-swinging machismo, and yet there he goes, claiming to be the man with a plan while showing he's instead the man with the voice crack. [5]

Stephen Eisermann: The Killers come back swinging with disco-rock, oozing with proclamations of their success. Brandon Flowers sounds especially confident in his delivery. It's raunchy, muddy, and dirty, all while being extremely polished in the chorus. It's, frankly, a fucking blast. I just... yeah, I can't take it seriously. Flowers is one of the best male vocalists of our generation, by my ear, so it's hard to hear him singing songs this pedestrian, regardless of how fun. I'm praying this is some big joke about how those with the most white privilege often celebrate it as if it's some sort of huge accomplishment that they've succeeded, but I'm positive that's my mind spinning it so I can enjoy it without guilt. If I'm proven wrong, oh well. I'll just dance with my fellow oppressed to the music of our oppressors. [7]

Claire Biddles: Your flight touched down last Monday, but you still haven't gotten used to this heat. You can see it rise from the concrete like it does in films. You've finally managed to sneak out from the early morning shift Natalie hooked you up with at the motel and take a smoke, your first glimpse of the day's white-hot sun framed by high-rise blocks. You're about to crush the end of your spent cigarette to the ground when you see a car pull up. Everything's oversized in Vegas -- buildings and billboards standing on their tip toes to outsize each other -- but there's something about this mid-century car, and its Stetson-wearing driver, that feels even more towering than its surroundings. The driver gets out, takes off his hat and -- wait. You recognise that face. Something peripheral from ten, fifteen years ago? You were a teenager then, still living back East. What are the chances of someone from that shithole winding up here too? He walks towards you -- actually, who are you kidding; he walks towards the casino entrance that you're standing beside, you must seem invisible to someone as handsome as him, older than you and a little weathered around the temple, sure, but with a face like a kick to the gut. A face you've seen before. Then it hits you, and your body feels like it's shooting upwards and falling through the ground at the same time. It must have been 2004, your last year in high school. It was all over the local papers and some of the national ones too: 'Jealous Lover Kills Football Star's Sweetheart', 'Local Girl Slain In Gay Affair Scandal'. The girl -- Jenny something, you can't remember -- was in your English Literature class for two years, but you didn't speak. Blonde, beautiful, dated a guy on the football team. Andy something. There'd always been rumours about Andy and this other guy, but nothing concrete until he was taken in for questioning when Jenny's body was found washed up on the beach the next town over. He was never charged, but everyone thought he did it -- 'he's sure pretty but there's something about his smile that I don't trust' your mom once said over dinner, thumbing the 12 page report in the paper with the innocent accused splashed across the front page. And now he's in Vegas, with the same sly smile on his face but the rest all changed: his tan deep and his teeth done and his boots and hat just the right side of costume shop. He counts through a wad of hundreds flashily as he disappears inside. Nobody knows him here. Probably think he's some big shot. You wonder what will happen when they find out. [10]

Katherine St Asaph: First thought: "blowhard syndrome" in song form. But really, what the hell in the canon isn't? [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#The Killers #The Man #USDA certified lean

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newssplashy · 6 years

Link

WASHINGTON — Some of them met on Instagram. Others coordinated during lunchtime phone conferences. Most of them haven’t even graduated from high school.

The teenagers behind Zero Hour — an environmentally focused, creatively minded and technologically savvy nationwide coalition — are trying to build a youth-led movement to sound the alarm and call for action on climate change and environmental justice.

For the past year, a core group spanning both coasts has been organizing on social media. The teenagers kicked off their campaign with a protest Saturday at the National Mall in Washington, along with sister marches across the country.

As sea levels rise, ice caps melt and erratic weather affects communities across the globe, they say time is running out to address climate change. The core organizing group of about 20 met with almost 40 federal lawmakers about their platforms Thursday, and hope to inspire other teenagers to step up and demand change.

“The march is a launch. It isn’t, ‘That’s it, we’re done,'” said Jamie Margolin, founder of Zero Hour. “It means it doesn’t give them an excuse to be like, ‘I don’t know what the kids want.’ It’s like, ‘Yes, you do.'”

They are trying to prove the adults wrong, to show that people their age are taking heed of what they see as the greatest crisis threatening their generation.

“In our generation when we talk about climate change, they’re like: ‘Ha ha, that’s so funny. It’s not something we’ll have to deal with,'” said Nadia Nazar, Zero Hour’s art director. “'Oh, yeah, the polar bears will just die, the seas will just rise.’ They don’t understand the actual caliber of the destruction.”

The group is building off the momentum of other recent youth-led movements, such as the nationwide March for Our Lives rallies against gun violence.

“No one gives you an organizing guide of how to raise thousands of dollars, how to get people on board, how to mobilize,” Margolin said. “There was no help. It was just me floundering around with Dory-like determination, like, ‘Just keep swimming,'” she said, referring to the Disney movie “Finding Nemo.”

At the Sierra Club’s Washington headquarters Wednesday, as Zero Hour members continued to make preparations, six of the coalition’s leaders and founding members discussed how they became involved with the group, and why they think it’s one of young people’s best shots at creating a healthy, sustainable environment.

— ‘We are on the verge of something amazing’

Jamie Margolin, 16, Seattle

“I’ve always planned my future in ifs,” Margolin said. If climate change hasn’t destroyed this, if the environment hasn’t become that.

So for the last few years, Margolin has worked to raise awareness about climate justice issues. A passionate writer, she went through an “op-ed phase,” submitting essays to publications, like one titled “An Open Letter to Climate Change Deniers” published in the monthly magazine Teen Ink.

Still, Margolin thought she and other young people could — and should — be doing more.

“I had had this idea building up since January, since the Women’s March” last year, Margolin said. “The kind of idea that was nagging me and you try to ignore, but it’s an idea poking you.”

At a Princeton University summer program last year, she met other teenagers interested in taking action on climate change and created Zero Hour. They began to plan a huge protest in the nation’s capital. On social media, Margolin espoused factoids and reached out to other young activists.

A professed climate justice advocate, Margolin has kept the movement inclusive, putting the stories and concerns of those most directly affected by environmental issues at the heart of Zero Hour’s mission. Youths from in and around the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation spoke Saturday, and others repeatedly called attention to those killed during Hurricane Maria and threatened by rising sea levels in the Marshall Islands.

Since starting Zero Hour, Margolin said she had been overwhelmed by the response from people of all ages. Dozens of environmental advocacy groups and nonprofits have approached the coalition, looking to donate to or sponsor it.

“We flipped the scenario as the underdog. We’ve proven ourselves,” she said. “We are on the verge of something amazing. We’re going to change history.”

— Showing a movement’s artistic side

Kallan Benson, 14, Crownsville, Maryland

When Benson was planning a trip to the Peoples Climate March last year with her family, she knew she wanted to make a statement.

Benson doesn’t consider herself an artist. But a 24-foot-wide play parachute that she covered in a gigantic monarch butterfly design and hundreds of signatures from children in her community became a canvas for her to display the dire future she and coming generations may face, and express optimism that they will overcome it.

A chance encounter with the son of the founder of the nonprofit Mother Earth Project led Benson to encourage children around the world to create parachutes of their own made of recycled bedsheets (to be “environmentally conscious,” of course).

Inspired by the AIDS Memorial Quilt that has been unfurled on the National Mall in years past, some of those parachutes, sent from every continent except Antarctica, were laid out on the grass during Saturday’s march.

“The original idea was, ‘We got to get them on the National Mall,’ but then we thought that, ‘Well that shouldn’t be our first exhibit; it’s a little ambitious,'” Benson said.

“Then we talked to Zero Hour and they were like, ‘Hey, why don’t you bring them out?'” she continued. “I never imagined it would get this far.”

— Where business and the environment meet

Madelaine Tew, 15, Teaneck, New Jersey

As Zero Hour’s director of finance, Tew has had to get creative about securing funds and grants.

On the day of a deadline for a major grant — $16,000 from the Common Sense Fund — Tew’s school was hosting an event where seniors gave presentations about their internships. But she knew the grant would be a huge boost for Zero Hour.

“So I went to the nurse and was like: ‘Oh, I have cramps. Can I lie down with my computer?'” she said. “Then I just went in and wrote the whole grant.”

Her stunt paid off. Zero Hour secured the grant, and now Tew’s finance team, made up of students just like her, has raised about $70,000 for the coalition.

Tew, who attends a magnet high school where she takes classes in business and finance, has been involved in clubs to get the school and local businesses to adopt more renewable practices. But before meeting Margolin at the Princeton summer program last year, she thought those local efforts were “as far as you can go” for someone her age.

"It shifted from youth being a limitation to ‘it doesn’t matter,'” Tew said.

Though the practices of big corporations can sometimes anger environmentalists, for Tew, combining “my love for business and my care, my concern for climate” just makes sense.

"In many cases you can see how the environmental movement can be rooted in the way we do business,” she said.

That could take the form of encouraging companies to divest from fossil fuel industries or having local communities build their own solar or wind grids.

“We’re not just talking about building more cooperative farms,” Tew said, but also figuring out how to integrate ethical and sustainable environmental policies into business so “we can continue the American economy’s future.”

— ‘Repping the younger generation’

Iris Fen Gillingham, 18, Livingston Manor, New York

When three floods in the mid- to late 2000s swept through the vegetable farm Gillingham’s family owned in the Catskill Mountains, the topsoil was washed away and their equipment was submerged, eliminating their main source of income.

The floods devastated Gillingham’s family, which has always lived “very consciously with the land and with nature,” she said. Even her name, Iris Fen, like the flower and marshy wetland behind her house, alludes to that attachment.

“I have a pair of mittens that are made out of one of our Icelandic sheep, Rosalie,” Gillingham said. “My brother named her, I remember her being born and I’ve seen her grow up and my mom sheering her and spinning the wool.”

So when landsmen came to explore the possibility of hydraulic fracturing — a technique of oil and gas extraction also known as fracking — in their neighborhood when she was about 10, Gillingham joined her father, an environmental activist, in speaking out at local meetings, often as the youngest in the room.

“It was always myself repping the younger generation,” Gillingham said. “Part of that was my brother and I saying, ‘We don’t want to play on contaminated soil,'” (The Environmental Protection Agency has concluded that fracking can contaminate drinking water in some circumstances.)

But part of it was also knowing firsthand how essential a sustainable lifestyle — growing food at home, conscious spending, building greener homes — will be for her generation.

“We’re setting aside our differences and we are building a family and a community using our skills and our creativity,” Gillingham said of the movement. “We’re having fun, we’re laughing with each other, but we’re also talking about some pretty serious issues and injustices happening in this country.”

— Linking animal rights and environmentalism

Nadia Nazar, 16, Baltimore

Before joining Zero Hour, Nazar considered herself mostly an animal-rights activist. When she was 12, she saw a PETA video on slaughterhouses and immediately became a vegetarian.

“I had just gotten a cat,” Nazar said. “What if my cat was that cow?”

She got her start as an activist by trying to persuade people in her neighborhood not to go to SeaWorld, which has been criticized over its treatment of animals. (“I was slightly successful in that.”)

Then she dug deeper into the root causes of animal suffering and death.

“I found out how so many species are endangered by climate change, and how many are dying and going towards extinction that we caused ourselves,” Nazar said.

During a class, she stumbled upon Margolin’s Teen Ink essay and followed her on Instagram. And a little over a year ago, when Nazar saw a post by Margolin calling for action, she knew it was her chance to put her artistic skills to use. As art director, she helped organize a smaller art festival on Friday, and created the majority of the graphic elements for the coalition.

“Her story said: ‘I’m going to do it. Who wants to join me?” Nazar said. She immediately messaged Margolin. She was in.

— Working together toward a bigger goal

Zanagee Artis, 18, Clinton, Connecticut

Artis’ journey as an environmentalist began in the same place many other budding activists get their start — in a high school club.

During his junior year, he had big ambitions for his school: the building facilities department would finally start recycling white paper, students would start composting their food waste and the lunchroom would be free of plastic foam trays.

“I’m going to accomplish all these things and I’m going to go to the administration and tell them, ‘Stuff needs to change,'” Artis said.

But, he said, “nothing ever happened.” Artis said the problem was clear: Without engaging other students who might be interested, change was unlikely to happen.

So he started a sustainability committee within the school’s National Honor Society, and the results spoke for themselves. The group was able to buy the school an aquaponic system — a tank-based farming system that combines hydroponics (water-based planting) and aquaculture (fish cultivation) — and raise $700 to install water bottle refilling stations.

"So we accomplished all these things because we worked together as a community, and that’s how I feel about the climate movement,” he said.

Still, Artis said he “really didn’t think I could do much” beyond his local community until he met Margolin and Tew last summer at Princeton. Inspired by Margolin’s enthusiasm to do “a big, big thing,” Artis became Zero Hour’s logistics director, in charge of submitting permits for Saturday’s march, estimating attendance numbers, checking for counterprotests and helping sister marches with logistical issues.

“I was like, ‘Yes!'” he said with a satisfying clap. “'Let’s do it.'”

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

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wecluelesswanderers-blog · 7 years

Text

I always like to ask people to describe themselves in five words. Why? I like to get the home fires burning and the brain neurons firing. It’s sometimes hard for a person to box themselves into five little adjectives, but Erin does not disappoint. She describes herself as Ambitious, Curious, Adventurous, Driven, and a Nemophilist. I had to look that last word up and here’s what I discovered:

Erin Hyde is also one of the Ambassadors for the Facebook group Adventure Some Women. It was started as a community for like-minded women to find others to adventure with, get tips and advice, post events, and just share stories. Not only does Erin find inspiration from doing this, she also inspires others to get outside and maybe, even become nemophilists themselves.

Hello world,

My name is Erin and I am addicted to adventuring. I was born and raised in Southern Pennsylvania where I lived for most of my life until I started my own adventure about two years ago and made a career and lifestyle choice to move to beautiful central Oregon. I am a single lady who fuels her fun by working as a research pharmaceutical chemist. My curiosity for the outside world has always been instilled in my soul since I was a child. My mother would have to drag me inside from playing outside when I was growing up because it was getting dark, or dinnertime. Ugh.

As a teenager I would watch the winter Olympics and it was then I wanted to learn how to do a snow sport. I joined our ski club in high school, started working at our local ski shop and became very interested in snowboarding. That sport has taken me around the country and Europe. It has given me the best friends someone could ask for and it genuinely made me happy and still does!

I then expanded my horizons, I started kayaking, mountain biking, hiking, a little bit of climbing and even joined roller derby. I would like to say I am not really stellar at all of my activities, but I get out there and I enjoy what I do.

Aside from her using .50 cent words to educate the rest of us, Erin is a pretty simple person. “I love being outside whether it be on a bike, sliding in the snow or just simply on my own two feet walking around. I would say there is always more time I could commit to going outside, but sometimes life gets in the way. My biggest passion is snowboarding, which is limited by when the mountain is open. But I hope to get more in to backcountry riding so the limit of the resort will be a non-issue!”

Sooooo, do you like your job?

I really do enjoy my job. I don’t let it encompass my life and the company I work for really understands the importance of a work/life balance. Just today I decided to take a walk on my lunch break and enjoy the beautiful weather and gorgeous mountain views. Working in the PNW where people value being outside has been a wonderful change to the rat race of the mid Atlantic. My work has led me to working on big name client pharmaceuticals that need pediatric dosing and formulation work. It’s my job to test potency, purity and dissolution of drugs that will meet FDA and client needs. It’s rewarding being part of the drug development team to help people in the long run.

What can you do today that you could not do a year ago?

Up and moving from everything you know to a new place where you don’t know a soul has definitely taught me to stand up for myself a little more. If I want to go out and do something, I just go. I have stopped letting myself talk me out of things I want to do, and that’s a big deal.

What would you regret not doing?

Travel. Hands down. I have always had the travel bug. I love seeing new places, even if it’s a town an hour down the road. There is always something new to see and learn. I eat the culture stuff right up!

When was the last time you traveled somewhere new?

I just recently went on a mini road trip to eastern Oregon, to explore Steens mountain and the Alvord desert with my main curiosity being the hot springs out there. A group of us left Bend early on a Saturday morning and headed east through the sage brush and gnarly juniper trees, quintessential high desert. After getting in to the foot hills of the Steens, our under maintained road turned to gravel and we scooted another 20 miles with the mountains on our right and the desert on our left. We pulled up to our campsite where the woman in charge told us we have the place to ourselves aside for the hunters coming and going. We set up camp on bluff overlooking the desert which gave us the best seat for a chilly mid-November sunrise. The hot springs were rustic to say the least. Two concrete poured pools, one protected from the desert wind by some old bullet holed metal and the other open to the elements. They steamed as we approached the shack. They were refreshing as we sat on old dryer drums and reminisced about our day. Such a fun weekend trip!

Have you done anything lately worth remembering?

Yes, I booked an amazing hiking trip in Peru with my best friend. It will be one of the biggest hikes I’ve ever done regarding the elevation gain. So right now I guess my memorable events have been taking the steps to get ready for that hike.

What does success mean to you?

Happiness. If you are surrounded by positive engaging people, have your health (as mom would say) and have a solid career that allows you to fund your fun and live the life you want to live. I’d say you’ve made it.

What are you doing to pursue your dreams right now?

I think taking the step to move to a place that has endless adventure was a big step in making my dreams come true.

What are you most scared of?

I have always been scared of not being able to explore. The travel bug is not something I plan on losing and if anything were to happen to stop my travel, I would be heart broken.

What are you most proud of?

I’m proud of who I have become. A no nonsense gal enjoying her life here on this earth. Coming from a small town in Pennsylvania I was raised to see no boundaries, I have always been encouraged to go after what I want. You betcha, that’s what I do!

Where would you like to live?

Right where I am. It was a tough decision to move but very worth it. Sometimes jumping out of our comfort zone opens up a whole new door we never could have imagined. I feel like no matter where I go or end up I will always make the most of it.

What bad habits do you want to break?

Bad eating. Food has been my vice and it has slowed me down when it comes to doing the things I love. I need to learn how to balance my love of dessert and how hard I want to ride on the mountain.

If you were someone’s life coach, what would you tell them?

So cheesy, but you can do it. I am really a master of none. I enjoy so many things but I’m not necessarily really good at any of them, I just enjoy the experiences. So I would urge those to always try something new. I can’t tell you how many times I have people tell me I do so many fun things. Well, what is stopping you? Don’t live vicariously through others, get out there! You’ll realize all of the anxious energy will disappear!

Fun and furious questions:

If you could do it all over again, would you change anything? No regrets.

How old would you be, if you didn’t know how old you are? 23

What activity makes you lose track of time? Snowboarding

Best cheat indulgence? Gimme all the sweets!

If you could only speak one word today, what would it be? Hope!

Thank you Mo for your inspiration and being my most favorite adventuring buddy. I love you.

Erin, I always have you in mind whenever I question an adventure. I can always imagine you saying YES, which spurs on my spirit. I love you, too.

To stalk Erin Hyde, you better be nice or I’ll cut you, check out her links:

Facebook

Instagram

Much love and Aloha,

your Erin and I like to be weird clueless wanderer

Have you ever met a nemophilist? Well, meet Erin Hyde. I always like to ask people to describe themselves in five words. Why? I like to get the home fires burning and the brain neurons firing.

#bend oregon #best friend #inspiration #life #women

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newssplashy · 6 years

Text

World: Meet the teenagers leading a climate change movement

WASHINGTON — Some of them met on Instagram. Others coordinated during lunchtime phone conferences. Most of them haven’t even graduated from high school.

They are trying to prove the adults wrong, to show that people their age are taking heed of what they see as the greatest crisis threatening their generation.

The group is building off the momentum of other recent youth-led movements, such as the nationwide March for Our Lives rallies against gun violence.

— ‘We are on the verge of something amazing’

Jamie Margolin, 16, Seattle

“I’ve always planned my future in ifs,” Margolin said. If climate change hasn’t destroyed this, if the environment hasn’t become that.

Still, Margolin thought she and other young people could — and should — be doing more.

“We flipped the scenario as the underdog. We’ve proven ourselves,” she said. “We are on the verge of something amazing. We’re going to change history.”

— Showing a movement’s artistic side

Kallan Benson, 14, Crownsville, Maryland

When Benson was planning a trip to the Peoples Climate March last year with her family, she knew she wanted to make a statement.

“The original idea was, ‘We got to get them on the National Mall,’ but then we thought that, ‘Well that shouldn’t be our first exhibit; it’s a little ambitious,'” Benson said.

“Then we talked to Zero Hour and they were like, ‘Hey, why don’t you bring them out?'” she continued. “I never imagined it would get this far.”

— Where business and the environment meet

Madelaine Tew, 15, Teaneck, New Jersey

As Zero Hour’s director of finance, Tew has had to get creative about securing funds and grants.

“So I went to the nurse and was like: ‘Oh, I have cramps. Can I lie down with my computer?'” she said. “Then I just went in and wrote the whole grant.”

Her stunt paid off. Zero Hour secured the grant, and now Tew’s finance team, made up of students just like her, has raised about $70,000 for the coalition.

"It shifted from youth being a limitation to ‘it doesn’t matter,'” Tew said.

Though the practices of big corporations can sometimes anger environmentalists, for Tew, combining “my love for business and my care, my concern for climate” just makes sense.

"In many cases you can see how the environmental movement can be rooted in the way we do business,” she said.

That could take the form of encouraging companies to divest from fossil fuel industries or having local communities build their own solar or wind grids.

— ‘Repping the younger generation’

Iris Fen Gillingham, 18, Livingston Manor, New York

But part of it was also knowing firsthand how essential a sustainable lifestyle — growing food at home, conscious spending, building greener homes — will be for her generation.

— Linking animal rights and environmentalism

Nadia Nazar, 16, Baltimore

Before joining Zero Hour, Nazar considered herself mostly an animal-rights activist. When she was 12, she saw a PETA video on slaughterhouses and immediately became a vegetarian.

“I had just gotten a cat,” Nazar said. “What if my cat was that cow?”

Then she dug deeper into the root causes of animal suffering and death.

“I found out how so many species are endangered by climate change, and how many are dying and going towards extinction that we caused ourselves,” Nazar said.

“Her story said: ‘I’m going to do it. Who wants to join me?” Nazar said. She immediately messaged Margolin. She was in.

— Working together toward a bigger goal

Zanagee Artis, 18, Clinton, Connecticut

Artis’ journey as an environmentalist began in the same place many other budding activists get their start — in a high school club.

“I’m going to accomplish all these things and I’m going to go to the administration and tell them, ‘Stuff needs to change,'” Artis said.

But, he said, “nothing ever happened.” Artis said the problem was clear: Without engaging other students who might be interested, change was unlikely to happen.

"So we accomplished all these things because we worked together as a community, and that’s how I feel about the climate movement,” he said.

“I was like, ‘Yes!'” he said with a satisfying clap. “'Let’s do it.'”

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

source https://www.newssplashy.com/2018/07/world-meet-teenagers-leading-climate_22.html

#News

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