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thebluestbluewords · 3 years

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Soulmates Aren’t Just Lovers, You Know (chapter 2!! It’s on ao3 now!! For real!!)

(malvie, ~4000 words, pre-relationship h/c, cw for mental health issues including non-explicit references to suicide and a lot of sad bits before the actual comfort)

When Mal wakes up again, there are a hell of a lot more people in her room.

Oh, fuck no. This is not some-- some kind of family meeting bullshit. She is so not down for that. Sometimes a girl just has to have a breakdown on her own, and it’s not anybody else’s business what she does when she’s in the throes of panic after having what might be the worst day of her entire life up to this point. Maybe the worst day period, if Mal has her way with it.

“Hey, Mal.” Evie says. “Good morning.”

Mal lets her eyes flicker over to the open window.

“Well, uh, it’s more like nighttime, actually.” Evie says. “But it’s the thought that counts. I brought you dinner, if that helps?”

She holds out a box from the dining hall.

Mal doesn’t want to sit up and eat dinner and pretend like she’s a real person. She wants to lay here forever until her bones rot and her flesh melts to the bed and she’s left as a discarded husk of a person.

“It’s those fancy potato pockets?” Evie offers, shaking the box a little bit. “And I think there’s dessert?”

Mal sits up. It feels like there’s a weight where her spine should be, but she manages it. “You think?” she asks. “You don’t even know what you got for me?”

Evie has the decency to flush. “When I said I got you dinner, what I meant is that dinner has been summoned for you, and I helped.” she says arily. “It was not meant to be taken literally.”

Mal reaches out for the box. “So, what you’re saying is, the boys brought me dinner.”

Evie nods, sharp. “Yes.”

“We got you apple cake.” Carlos offers. “But if you want something else we have the door code for the freezer.”

Of course they do. Mal knows that. She was there, she’s pretty sure, when they followed one of the assistant cooks around until they could watch her put the code in and take the knowledge for themselves. She’s definitely been there when they’ve gone into the main freezer before, not just the little student one. They don’t keep the raspberry popsicles in the student freezer. She knows this.

“You are….a menace to society.” Mal says, taking the box. It’s still warm. A little bit damp on the bottom, condensation from the warm food inside. It’s weird, to think that it’s been this easy all along. Just come to Auradon, and you can have all the hot food you want. No bartering, no threatening for it. No knives involved at all for the good little kiddies in princess school. Wouldn’t want them to get hurt, finding food for themselves. Wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to the precious little royal brats.

Anger might not be the right emotion, but it’s something other than empty, so Mal’s going to take what she can get.

Evie is kind enough to wait until Mal has one potato pocket in her mouth and another one in her hand before she speaks.

“So,” Evie starts, and Mal spits her potato thing out so that she can cut her off right there, because no, it doesn’t matter that the boys are in her room, or that Evie went to the effort of tracking them down and making them bring her dinner, this is not a family meeting and Mal is not going to sit here and listen to more people tell her that she’s doing everything wrong.

“No.” Mal snaps, and picks up her only-slightly-damaged dinner again. “We’re not talking about it.”

Evie sighs, dramatically. “No right back at you. We have to talk about this.”

“We don’t!” Mal says, around her mouthful of potato pocket. Fuck, but these things are good. “We can just pretend like it never happened, and I can go back to--”

Evie interrupts her. “To being miserable all the time and not telling us?” she asks. “That’s what you want to happen?”

Ugh.

Mal flings an arm out, gesturing to the room, where her stylish little backpack is hanging up, where her princess-appropriate shoes are resting on their little white rack in the corner, where her-- okay, where her clothes are still in piles all over the floor and her textbooks for her science classes are sitting unopened on the desk but that’s fine. That’s normal. Everyone has weeks where their room is a mess, that’s why they have a cleaning staff to come around and do the things that the students are too busy to do themselves. It’s not Mal being lazy, it’s her adjusting. To this brave new world. Of. Being a spoiled rich brat.

Anyway.

“To coping!” Mal shouts, mad at herself and not-- just, so not ready to touch that one yet. “I’m coping. It’s fine. I’m just having a rough adjustment, that’s all. It’s hard, learning all of this new Auradon--stuff.”

“I don’t think you are,” Evie says, gently. “Coping is what we did months ago, when we were figuring out how to get through classes, and how to find sunscreen, and all of that. This kind of feels like, well.”

Ugh. “What.” Mal demands. “Spit it out.”

“Like you’re struggling.”

Oh. That’s-- yeah. That’s pretty obvious. Adjusting to the restrictions of school, to all of the times where back home Mal could go and do what she wanted and now she has to go to class and turn things in and speak in turn and not use her hands and sit up straight and share her things and--

It’s a lot. She’s been working on it.

“Sure.” Mal says, because it’s pretty fucking obvious that she’s putting in the effort. If she ends every day so tired she could cry and wakes up with sandpaper where her eyelids should be, that just means she’s working really hard at doing everything right. “Coping, struggling, whatever. I’ll get through it. It’s fine.”

“Mal, I don’t think it is fine.” says Evie. She looks--

Mal sticks another potato thing in her mouth instead of thinking about it. Emotions are overrated anyway.

Evie sighs again. “Some of the things you were saying, it feels like you aren’t happy here.”

“I--” Mal stutters. Stop. Breathe. “I--”

She’s not happy. Anyone with eyes to look at her right now, hiding pathetically in the bed of a girl who she wouldn’t even talk to a year and half ago, could see that. Mal’s pretty sure the lack of feeling that swallows her up sometimes isn’t the same thing as being unhappy, though. It’s the absence of happiness, not the presence of unhappiness. It’s fine. Survivable. She’s supposed to feel grateful, she knows that. She can show her best smile for the cameras, usually, and tell anyone within earshot how grateful she is for the chance to leave the island, and it’s not even a lie, most of the time. It’s awful being here, and it was awful being there, but at least it’s been a different kind of awful, and that’s got to be worth something.

Mal can convince herself, most of the time, that it’s better to be here. Better to be warm and dry and fed and miserable, than to be cold and starving and interested in her own life.

It’s just hard to remember that sometimes.

Jay shifts, pushing off of the table he’d been leaning on and then stopping, like he’s not sure where to move. “We’re not saying that you have to be happy all the time, or whatever,” he says “I’m not. Evie’s not. We’re-- yeah.” He hesitates. Even now, there’s things they aren’t talking about. “I don’t know what’s up with you and Ben, but he’s not happy all the time either. That’s how people work.”

Mal will not cry. “Ben hates me is what’s up with him.” she explains calmly, like a rational person who isn’t suddenly on the verge of tears over nothing. “ He wants me to give up magic completely and I can’t do that, I just can’t. It’s a part of me and it-- when I don’t use it, I’m cutting off a part of myself.”

“Have you talked to Fairy Godmother yet about the magical theory classes?” Evie asks softly. “Jane is taking them, and so is Aria. You wouldn’t be alone.”

Mal scoffs. “Magic theory. Like that’s good for anything.”

“It could help--”

The tears are back, suddenly. Prickling hot at the back of Mal’s throat, threatening to choke her again. Making her voice wobble like she’s weak.

“It’s not going to help!” Mal shouts, instead of giving in to her other impulse, which is to start sobbing. “It’s not the same thing! I wouldn’t expect you to understand that, but it’s not something I can just-- wish away if I just try hard enough! I need to use magic, and it’s the only way I can be good enough--”

Oh, gods. Fuck. She wasn’t going to cry again.

Evie’s there again, touching Mal’s hand and then her hair, soft and cool and just right in a way that makes Mal want to cry more and not less. Like, Evie’s here, and she’s saying soft words that Mal can’t hear over the pounding in her own head, but it’s got to be just the right thing because Evie always knows the right thing to say whenever Mal is acting stupid again.

“I don’t--” Mal tries. “I--”

Evie wraps an arm over her shoulders and rocks both of them back and forth like she’s a child again. “It’s okay,” she’s saying, or at least that’s what it seems like she might be saying. It’s hard to tell what with the hysterics and all. “I’ve got you.”

Mal holds her breath until there are spots over her vision, and then lets it out. It’s not easy, but it’s doable, which is more than she could have said just a few hours ago.

Jay shifts forward again and actually makes the move to sit on Mal’s other side this time. His shoulder just barely brushes against hers. It’s nice to just have him there. Grounding, or something.

“Hey. We’re not saying you have to give up magic, okay?” Jay says. “What about, like, we find a way for you to use it somewhere that’s not on your royal boyfriend?”

Oh no.

“He hates--” Mal sniffles. “Hates me anyway. Doesn't matter anymore.”

“Yeah. No. He doesn’t. Trust me on this one, it takes a lot more than one spell to drive us guys away.”

“I’ve done a lot worse than one spell,” says Mal. “It’s more like-- a whole spellbook.”

Jay bumps her shoulder. It knocks her over into Evie a bit, but that’s just fine with Mal. Evie is always a good place to be. “He’s gonna forgive you.” Jay tells her, like it’s already happened. “He never shuts up about you, for real.”

“I don’t know if I want him to forgive me.” Mal whispers, low and terrible and mostly to herself. She doesn’t know--

She loves Ben, she thinks. She could love him. She does love him, maybe, but in the same way that she loves her other friends. There’s room in her heart for at least three people, but when one of them is so much more it’s hard to say if there’s any space left over for people who don’t get it.

It takes a long minute of sitting with that thought before Mal realizes that oh, right, she was saying something.

It feels too late to finish the thought. Limited-time offer, already expired. No more talking about boyfriends who aren’t what she needs right now anyway. Better to think about Evie instead, safe and warm at her back, or her boys, steady and bright and sweet in their own ways that Mal already understands. It’s easy to be with people you’ve known since you were children, even if they think more about stabbing and stealing than about treaties and marriage and life after high school and all of the things that Mal is supposed to be thinking about now.

Evie shoves Mal upright. “Okay,” she says, clapping her hands together. “I think it’s time to do something that’s not moping now!”

Mal wants to mope forever. She doesn’t want to rehydrate and rest and do all of the things that Evie is going to make her do. Mal would happily (hah, as-if) stay flopped out in Evie’s bed, draped over Evie’s shoulder forever if she could. It would be easier than facing her problems. Simpler.

Evie pulls a metal dish out of her bag. “We brought popcorn, if you want to do the honor,” she says, clicking out the handle and waving the pan towards Mal.

It’s an effort just for Mal to be sitting up right now. Fire has always come easily, but the act of reaching out a hand might be too much. Transforming her throat to blow a breath of flame wouldn’t just be an effort physically, but mentally as well. It’s easy enough to change her whole shape at once, but there’s no space for a dragon to curl up in a dorm room and transforming her body in bits and pieces is so far beyond what Mal can manage right now that it might as well be impossible.

Mal shakes her head. Nope. All out of fire juice, can’t do it today.

The do have a microwave with a heating element, and at least three lighters between the four of them, so there’s really no need for Mal’s crew to look so fucking stricken.

Ugh. One hot hand won’t hurt too much, and if it can get them to stop looking at her like that, it’ll be worth the effort. “Fine. Give ‘em here,” Mal says, gesturing for the popcorn tin. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

Evie hands it over. “And I love you,” she says back, easily. “Let’s get some Stage Moms going. Let the boys get it set up while we get all cozy.”

Mal sniffles. The popcorn is heating up on her palm, where she’s sending a steady stream of heat up through to the container. It’ll pop in a minute, so long as she doesn’t do something dumb like forget to regulate the heat and light the whole thing on fire. “You don’t have to do this.”

Evie wraps an arm around her shoulders, jostling her close again. “I know. What are friends for, right?”

Oh, Evil.

Evie takes this new bout of tears in stride, pulling Mal close and rescuing the popcorn before it burns and producing a handkerchief from somewhere for Mal to wipe her nose with as she cries. “I know, I know,” she says soothingly, as Mal sobs into her shoulder. “We’re here for you.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Shh, hey. You do, Mali. You do, and you always will. Nothing you do is gonna drive us away, okay? We’re your family, and you can’t make us leave even if you try.”

There’s a weight behind Mal, and oh, that’s the sound of Stage Moms up on somebody’s laptop, so the boys must be done getting that set up, and then there’s a hesitant hand patting her back, and oh--

“Um, please don’t try.” Carlos says. “We love you and all. But please don’t.”

There’s a jostling, and then the sounds of someone (Evie) whacking someone else (definitely Carlos, then) upside the head.

“If you need us, baby,” Evie says. “Wherever or whenever or anything. We’re here for you and you can’t change that even if you want to.”

“Even if I’m just like my mother?” Mal asks. She doesn’t want to, but she can’t seem to stop herself. It’s an awful compulsion, the constant need to weigh her actions against her mother’s. Following the trajectory of bright young girl to bitter young woman, to becoming more and more entwined with her magic, until finally she can’t resist the need for power anymore, and she snaps and starts cursing people left and right with no mind for the consequences.

Mal can’t look up. She can’t know what’s going on in this terrible silence that’s going to choke her, even though she wants to know, so very very much, what her crew is doing right now. How they’re going to lie to her when they try and reassure her that she’s not her mother and she won’t ever be, even though the roots are already there.

Evie doesn’t lie to her. “Even then.” she says. “We’d still follow you, Mal. Even if you start cursing people with no rhyme or reason. I’ll always get you back.”

Another wave of hot tears somehow trickle out. “I want to go home.” Mal whispers. She wouldn’t have to worry about dragging her crew back with her if they were home. If they’d never left in the first place. Curse Auradon for making her think about things like morality and goodness and what she could have if only she could be a good girl for a little bit longer. Curse them all.

Evie sighs, and Mal can feel her chest rise and fall with it where they’re squished together on the little island of Evie’s bed. “I know, babe,” Evie says. “You keep saying that.”

Goddess help them all. “I want to go home,” Mal tries to explain. “Not, like, to my mother. I just-- I hate it here. I don’t understand any of the rules and I don’t know how to be a princess like you, Eves. I don’t--” Mal breaks off to swipe a hand over her face. She is not going to cry again, not with almost everyone she cares about still here to watch. “I don’t think I can keep up with everything anymore. I just want a break.”

Evie sighs again, and rubs a hand over Mal’s back, gentle-like. “What if we got you one?” she says, so softly that Mal almost misses it.

She doesn’t though, and that’s what matters. “What?” Mal asks. Tries to demand, really, but it doesn’t come out quite right.

Evie’s hand doesn’t break rhythm. “A break. We can do that. Get you some time to regroup.”

“I don’t-- it won’t help--”

“Hm.” Evie says, and it sounds skeptical even though it’s barely a noise at all. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“I-- no!” Mal says, almost tearful again. Fuck, what’s gotten into her, crying at the drop of a brick like this. “You could-- anything, Eves. You can do anything you want, I’m not doubting you.”

Evie conveniently ignores the final emphasis. “Great!”

Oh no.

“No, ” Mal tries to tell her. “I don’t-- Eves.”

“You said I can do anything I want.” Evie challenges, dangerous even under her sparkly lipgloss. Dangerous because of it, maybe. Like a poisonous moth. Something beautiful that you should know better than to touch. “I’m doing it.”

“You did say that.” Jay echoes, watching Mal a little too closely with those stupid bright eyes of his. “Like, just now.”

“I lied.” Mal says immediately. “I’ve never- I would never say a thing like that.”

“Mmm.” says Evie, petting a hand over Mal’s head. It feels not-so-great, so Mal ducks away. She doesn’t need to be reminded of her hair just now. “I don’t think you did. I think you know I’m right, and you’re afraid to think about what it means.”

Oh no. “Can we not psychoanalyze me right now?” Mal begs.

Just like that, Evie backs off. “Sure.” she says breezily. “We can plan your getaway instead. Do you want to see the mountains?”

“I--” Mal tries, but the words stick. “Sure?”

“I think there’s a cabin up there that I can convince, ah,’ Evie barely stutters, but she does wince, and goes on anyway. Great. That’s perfect. “Nobody in particular! To let us borrow!”

“Eves, please no.”

Evie breaks out into a brilliant smile “Oh yes. Do you think two weeks is enough? An extended spring break, so to speak, and then we can talk about a longer-term kind of thing.”

Running away forever sounds like something that might be good, but forever also implies some sort of continued existence, and Mal’s really not sure if she’s down for that just now.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” she says, instead of the full thought. “What if it doesn’t change anything?”

“It’s a great idea,” says Evie. “All of my ideas are great, remember?”

“You’re coming with me, right?” Mal asks, hating how pathetic it comes out. She’s not a child, but she feels silly and childish again, watching her best friend plan out how to fix her life.

Evie pauses. “If you want us to,” she says, hesitant for the first time. “I don’t want to put any more pressure on you.”

Oh. The thought strikes Mal for the first time in this awful, no-good, very bad day that maybe she’s not the only one who doesn’t know what she’s doing here. That maybe Evie is scared too.

“I want you there.” Mal says firmly. This, at least, is something she knows. “I want all of you, but please, Eves, I need you there. Don’t send me away on my own.”

“I think we can do that.”

Mal doesn’t want to show her whole soul here, but it’s too easy to just tip her face up towards Evie’s, like she’s a flower reaching for the bright Auradon sun. “Yeah?” she asks hopefully.

Evie brushes a piece of Mal’s hair out of her face, so gentle that it doesn’t even tug on the tangles. “For sure.” she says. “We can go with you.”

“All of you?” Mal asks again, pathetically. “Just for a week, please.”

There’s an intense conversation happening in eyebrows and facial twitching going on over her head, but Mal isn’t ready to follow that just yet, and eventually it seems to resolve itself and Jay reaches over to pat her head. “Yeah, fine.” he says. “All of us.”

Evie lets out a breath. “It’s settled then. An extended spring break, starting next week. Can you do one more week, Mal? We can always call you out sick.”

Mal can’t imagine leaving her room in the next week, much less leaving campus to go out to another unknown place for an extended period of time. “I can do it.” she says, instead of explaining. Classes are the lesser of the two obstacles right now, and besides, she can’t ask the others to take the time off from the classes that they’re finally doing well in. It wouldn’t be fair to them. She’s already-- oh, Evil. She’s asking Jay to give up the university visit he was going to do over break. Fuck. Maybe he can travel down and back, but he hates driving on his own, and she’s already asking so much of them, coming with her at all, and oh--

“We’ll call out early next week.” Evie whispers to her. “One week with everyone, and then we can have a week just for us if you’re up for it, okay?”

Of course Evie already has it all figured out. “Okay.” Mal whispers back to her. “I’ll be okay.”

“Oh, good.” Evie says, at a more normal volume this time. “If you’re feeling up to it, there is one other thing--” she picks up her phone and tilts the screen over towards Mal.

There’s a whole mess of texts, and at least two missed calls that Mal can see already. From a very particular number. Oh, gods.

“No.” Mal says as firmly as she can manage. “No way.”

Evie doesn’t lower the phone. “He’s been calling me.”

“Then tell him to not!” Mal bursts out. “I can’t talk to him about this now!”

Evie grins at that. A full-out, unladylike, evil grin. “Gladly.” she says sweetly, and taps to immediately dismiss the whole mess.

What.

“Really?” Mal asks incredulously. Evie loves being proper and outwardly kind and not telling people to fuck off to their faces. Evie is a firm believer in the idea that insults stick best when the person has to say ‘thank you’ and ideally won’t even question it until they’re back home that night (where they’re most vulnerable, Evie says. It’s just efficiency to make sure that you’re always hurting people while their guard is down).

“Mal. Baby.” Evie says, shifting so she can talk with her hands without Mal’s sad droopy self in the way. “You don’t know how long I have been waiting to tell this boy to fuck off and let you adjust on your own time. You broke up with Uma like, a month before we came here. That’s not long enough to jump right into another long term relationship, no matter what this Auradon boy thinks. You need time, and space, and I will tell him to give you all of that.”

Mal will not stare with her mouth open like a fish. She’s better than that.

“Wow, okay, Eves.” Jay says, almost laughing. Right.

“Go Evie!” Carlos practically cheers. Of course the boys are still here too. They wouldn’t leave the perfect opportunity for drama behind just because Mal is having a moment.

Evie nods to them, graciously. “Thank you, thank you.” she says. “I do take requests.” she hesitates for a moment. “But, um, Mali, do you want to maybe write him a letter? I can drop it off when I make the call. Make sure he really gets the message.”

“Yeah. I think that-- that would be good. I need space. And time.”

Evie picks up Mal’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Of course.”

“You’ll really do it for me?”

Evie’s eyes are dark and intense and so, so close. “Anything, Mal.” she says. “Just say the word and I’m yours.”

Oh. That’s-- well.

Maybe more than Mal can handle at this exact moment, honestly, but something that is going to be very very important just as soon as she gets her shit together again.

Evie’s face is still very close.

Mal pulls back. “I love you.” she says. It just feels like the right thing to do. “So much, Eves. I love you more than anything.”

Evie’s mouth quirks up at the corner. “More than strawberries?”

“More than strawberries.” Mal echoes back. More than anything, really. “More than chocolate.”

Evie brushes that stupid piece of blonde hair out of her eyes again, and the touch isn’t even a bother this time. “That’s a lot of love,” she says “You’d better be sure about that kind of thing.”

More than anything.

“I’m sure,” Mal tells her. “I love you.”

#descendants #my fic #descendants fic #malvie #mal bertha #evie grimhilde #yes the others are THERE is it also a core four comforting each other fic #descendants fandom #I didn’t include an ao3 link because it won’t show up in the TAGS if I DO THAT #I’ll probably add one when I reblog later #if you’re the sort of person who reads the tags and doesn’t already know #I’m TheBluestBlueBird on ao3!!#there’s a whole first part to this fic over there!

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llnwritings · 3 years

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♫ JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS APPRECIATION WEEK ♫

DAY 2 | Write an AU.

Summary: Turns out Reggie was right, Julie really is a witch!

[[Read on Ao3]]

Family meant everything to the Molina family and Julie was very proud of her family. Not everyone could say that they could trace their family line back 15 generations and that their family regularly produced powerful witches and warlocks.

When Ray had married Rose, he had proudly taken her name, knowing how much it meant to her. It was also a long standing family tradition, the Molina name must live on no matter what. You join the family, you become a Molina.

Growing up, Rose and Victoria had been known in certain circles as the Molina Sisters, both being strong witches. Rose had the main power of telekinesis, something she was incredibly talented using, as well as a strong talent for spell creation. While Victoria had been gifted the power of psychometry; the ability to make accurate associations from an object of unknown history by making physical contact with that object as well as being a low level empath and also she had a natural talent for potion making.

Both sisters used their witch powers to help out unfortunate people, if you had a magical problem, you could contact the sisters and for the right price they would deal with it for you. They always only charged people what they knew they could afford, if someone was down on their luck and couldn’t pay, the sisters happily accepted payment in the form of food, vouchers or from those that insisted that they paid the sisters accepted a form of payment plan, pay what you could, when you could.

If you were rich or tried to swindle the sisters, they happily charged you double if they were feeling nice or triple if you really pissed them off, 3 quarters up front before the job and the other quarter afterwards once the job was done.

It was a good job, something they both enjoyed. They knew which jobs to take and which ones to pass onto someone else in the family that was better equipped than them. Well paying clients also allowed them both to live comfortably and continue pursuing their hobbies. Rose with her music and Victoria with her cooking.

The only time the sisters slowed down was when Rose fell pregnant. It was then Rose felt it would be best to focus on her growing family. She didn’t completely give up taking jobs though, Victoria and her were just more selective on what they picked.

The day Rose brought Julie home from the hospital, the house had been filled with numerous ghostly relatives, all offering their own blessings to the newest witch of the family, love and happiness surrounded the newest little one. Growing up, Julie was taught in many forms of magic by her mamá and her Tia, in hopes of bringing her own power to the surface.

Julie liked making potions with Tía Victoria but she lacked the natural talent her Tía had. Julie instead took after her mama. The little girl loved making spells up with her mamá, Julie had a gift with words, which transferred over nicely when Julie discovered music and began writing lyrics and playing the piano with Rose.

It was discovered that Julie’s power revolved around her music, she had a talent for mixing her magic with her music and making things happen when they heard her play or sing. She could also use sound to defend herself if the need ever rose, not that it had so far. This was something Rose nurtured deeply, wanting Julie to be as in touch with her witch side as she could be.

Then when Carlos was born, the same ghostly relatives visited and offered their blessings again, this time to the newest warlock, the first one born in 3 generations. It was Tia Victoria who noticed that when he was 2, Carlos had the power to affect the emotions of those around him. If he was happy, people in the same room as him felt happy and it was the same for any other strong emotions the 2 year old felt. They also found out that he could feel the emotions of non-living members of the family, as he always seemed to know when great-great-grandmama was around visiting.

Rose nurtured his talents just as much as Julie’s, but took advice from her sister, as Victoria was the empath out of the two of them. Victoria theorised that Carlos would be able to affect more people at once and larger areas as he got older.

Everything was going good for the Molina family, that was until Rose died.

When Rose died from a job gone wrong, it was like the magic and warmth from the Molina household died with her. It also didn't help that no matter how hard they tried, Julie and Carlos were unable to summon their mamá's spirit. So Julie cut herself off from music and her magic, refusing to even step into her mama’s old studio, while Carlos unconsciously dulled his own ability to emotionally connect with others outside of the family.

----

It wasn’t until a year later, when Julie finally entered her mama’s studio and played an old Sunset Curve CD, that she felt her magic reach out connect itself to the chaotic energies surrounding the music itself and she felt herself pull. Somehow Julie managed to pull three dead teens from limbo without much effort.

After the initial shock of the accidental summoning of a group of teen ghosts and playing numerous gigs with her boys, Julie waited patiently for one of them to ask what was so special about her that allowed her to see them. But it never happened. It’s not like Julie intentionally hid a part of herself from her boys, they just weren’t curious enough to ask. They were just happy to be back and to be able to play music while being seen and heard by people.

Not even after her magical hug, that broke Caleb’s hold over them and allowed Julie to touch them, raised questions from her boys. It was only when Caleb returned to enact his revenge plan, that things began to fall into place for the boys.

While possessing Nick’s body, Caleb attacked Julie in the studio on a Wednesday afternoon. He threw her across the room with a wave of one of his hands and used his other hand to hold her boys in place, unable to help her. Julie yelped as her body slid across the floor and stopped when it connected with the steps that lead up to the loft.

“Julie!!” She heard Reggie yell out.

“How the hell did a little lifer like you break my stamp!” Nick’s voice echoed deeply as Caleb twisted his face into an evil sneer, “It shouldn’t even be possible.”

Julie wiped away the blood that slowly began to run down her face with the back of her hand as she slowly pulled herself back to her feet. She groaned as she felt her magic start to build up, just waiting to be released. Having not truly been used in so long, it was itching for release and it thought Caleb was a perfect target. Clenching her hands into fists, Julie breathed deeply and focused, she needed to wait for the right moment, it wouldn't work if she striked to early.

“Leave her alone!” Luke yelled as he struggled to break free from Caleb’s hold, but all he managed to do was anger Caleb enough for him to send jolts of electricity coursing through his body. Luke clutching his chest and gasped in pain as he dropped to his knees.

“You boys are going to watch,” Caleb-as-Nick turned to the boys with a flourish, “Watch while I crush the life out of your little lifer. Once she’s gone, you’ll have no choice but to come play for me and you’ll be mine forever.”

“Get out of him.”

Caleb-as-Nick stopped gloating at the boys and slowly turned to look at Julie with an eyebrow raised, “What did you say to me?” He stalked towards her, electricity dancing along his fingers, "Look at me when to speak to me." Caleb-as-Nick reached out to grab at Julie's face but was shocked when she screamed.

Caleb wouldn't have known, but it was never smart to attack a witch in her own home. Years of living there, with multiple powerful magical beings under the one roof created a pool of magic, just waiting to be unleashed on some unexpecting evil. Unknown to Julie, her magic eagerly tapped into this pool, giving her a hefty power boost.

"I said, get out of him!" Julie’s eyes glowed electric purple as she thrust both her arms forward towards Caleb-as-Nick and released a sonic soundwave. Using everything she had, Julie focused on pushing Caleb out of Nick’s body, never minding the fact that she blew out the windows of the studio.

The soundwave forced Nick’s body to stagger as Caleb’s hold over him wavered. Caleb could feel himself being ripped away from his pawn, it didn’t matter how deep he tried to sink his claws in, Julie was proving to be more powerful than he had realized. He released his hold over the phantoms to pour more power into holding onto Nick, but it was no use.

Caleb could only watch in shock and horror as Julie’s power painfully expelled him from his meat suit. He landed on the floor of the studio near the entrance with a thud, gasping in pain. Once he was removed, Nick’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the floor.

Julie stepped forward, getting in between Nick’s fallen body and Caleb. Her eyes continued to glow as she stood over the man that had hurt her boys.

“You’re going to disappear to wherever the hell you came from and leave us alone. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear about you. You’re going to forget about my boys and them joining your hack of a band. If you don’t,” Julie pulled her phone out her pocket and scrolled through the numbers, “I’m sure my Tia will be very happy to help me banish a ghost, it’s practically her day job, a problem like you shouldn’t be too hard for her. Hell, maybe she can trap you in some jewelry for a few hundred years and we’ll throw you into the ocean, how’s that sound?”

Caleb’s eyes widened in fear at each sentence Julie spat at him, he could only pathetically crawl backwards as he attempted to get away from her. With his last bit of his dwindling power, Caleb forced himself to teleport away from the angry witch to the safety of his club, he could only hope that he could regroup and try again later with a better plan.

Once she was sure that Caleb had really disappeared from the studio, Julie dropped to the floor with a gasp, landing hard on her hands and knees. Slowly, the purple glow faded from her eyes as her magic receded back within herself. Shock hit her as she remembered the boys, eyes widening Julie looked around for her boys. She didn’t have to look far, as the three of them had recovered enough to quickly make their way to her side. All of them trying to reassure themselves that she was okay.

“Are you okay?” Alex hovered to her left, “Do you need us to get anyone?”

“I’ll be fine. Are you guys okay?” Julie smiled at Alex, “He didn’t hurt you guys too much right?”

“We’re dead,” Luke tried to wave off Julie’s concern, “We’ll be good as new in a moment, the pain will fade. Are you sure you’re okay?” He reached out to take her hand.

“Um, are we not going to talk about what just happened?” Reggie cut in, “Julie what are you? You handed Caleb his ass.”

Alex smacked Reggie on the arm, while trying to hush him, “Dude, don’t push!” Alex turned back to Julie and smiled, “You can tell us whenever, it doesn’t have to be today.”

“Whaaat?” Reggie huffed, “I wanna know. Don’t tell me you guys don’t wanna know. That’s just unrealistic.”

“It’s fine Alex,” Julie giggled as she pushed herself to sit up properly, with the help of Luke, “Actually Reggie, you already know what I am. Remember the first night you guys appeared?”

Reggie’s face scrunched up in thought as he tried to remember that first night. It took him a moment, but when the penny dropped Reggie’s eyes lit up, “Witch!” He clicked his fingers at her and Julie smiled in reply, “I totally called it.” He happily nudged Alex in the ribs with his elbow.

“Stop it.” Alex smacked Reggie’s elbow away.

“I’ll tell you all about it later,” Luke helped Julie stand up, “But first I’m going to have to make sure Nick’s okay and then maybe ask Tía to help with a memory spell. We have no clue what Caleb did while in body.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Reggie cheerfully agreed, “I want to know everything.” Reggie froze and gasped, he spun around to face Julie, “Is Ray a witch too?”

“Boys with magic are called warlocks,” Julie explained, “Dad isn’t one,” Reggie frowned sadly at the information, “He married into the family, not a drop of magic in him, but Carlos is and he can see you guys.”

#jatpweek #jatp #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms fic #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #day 2 #llnwrites #jatp alex #luke patterson #jatp reggie #caleb covington

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minthysugamon · 4 years

Text

Barell of a Gun (Hitman! Jimin x Reader)

(Warnings: This one is pretty dark. Please don't read if you feel uncomfortable at the mentions of Paid Murder,Gambling,Uncomfortable Situations and Kidnapping. This doesn't depict Jimin's real personality. It's only a work of fiction. Please don't associate Jimin with this after you read it,he isn't like that in real life. IT IS ONLY A WORK OF FICTION BASED ON A JAMES BOND-AGENT 47 TYPE OF CONDUCTING LINE)

Word count: 2045

As soon as night has fallen,he started to get ready. Pen,check. Knives,check. 9mm,check. Everything was going perfectly. Park Jimin never paid attention to the victim. At least,he never let his emotions rule over the goal he had in front of him. And that goal was the 1,000,000$ he will get after he eliminated the person in the portfolio. It's a well paid price,and until he does the job without being noticed,it's worth it. He never accorded time to his emotions. It's a rational job,find the person,eliminate them,get paid. Nothing really hard. He prefers to say eliminate because killing would make his targets look like victims,whilst most of them are just rotten people.

"Agent 91,welcome. Please type in the password to unlock." His computer displayed the following words. He typed it in once. Doesn't work. The fourth time,same thing happened. "Fuck. Not again. I don't have time for this shit right now." Jimin was starting to get agitated. The fifth time,he just scanned his retina,hoping it would work. And it did. Thankfully. Because if it hadn't,the whole fuck-up would've cost him a lot of money and primarily his life,probably.

While sitting in the car,you had some Depeche Mode song your brother was blasting earlier in his room,stuck on repeat in your head. It was called Barrel of a Gun or something,the guitar riff was kinda cool so it stuck to your neurones. The ride to the casino was accompanied by an awkward silence,your date for the night has chosen some pompous place to dine at and now wanted to go gamble some money away. He was the son of some rich politician at your school,of course he would do something like that. "Did you like the meal?" The guy placed a hand on your knee,not as if you had asked,but for the moment you didn't do anything. "Yes,i liked it,even thought the wine was a little bit dry for my taste." He simply smirked and rolled up the partition in the back of the Limousine before his hand has made its way higher up on your thigh. "Well..if it can comfort you,i know that something won't be as dry as the wine tonight." Breaking point. You took his hand into yours and simply smiled. "Jacques,listen. I appreciate your gestures and all,but please,please,pretty please,don't ever fucking touch me again without me consenting to it." You heard a pop coming from the bone of his hand,not realising you were literally almost breaking it so you had let it go.

Jimin had stepped into the grand hall of the Casino of Monte Carlo,getting the casual verifications done. He stood at the roulette table,and since he had some time to kill,he didn't mind gambling away some thousands. The main point was to blend in,not to be outstanding. "Mesdames,Messieurs,Faites-vos jeux." He had forgotten how wonderful the french language sounds...as wonderful as a cat choking on some plastic wrap. His bet was put on the number 3,his lucky number. Not that he was superstitious,but it always brought him chance,so...why not this time? "Les Jeux sont faits." As soon as the roulette started spinning,he looked around himself and finally saw his target. But it wasn't planned that he will have company.

Sitting besides Jacques while he was playing a hand,needless to say,it was more than just boring. You never wanted to go home as much as you did now. Plus,the high-heels were killing your feet,it was a plus reason for you to just get up and leave. But you didn't. Simply because he was already kind enough to take you on a date,so,you had nothing more to do than just sit beside him and observe. Jacques wasn't good at Poker,even if he liked to think the opposite,and his loss was already over 100,000€. If he were a simple man,he would already be indebted,but it wasn't the case. The game only started to be interesting when another man sat down at the table and joined the party.

"May i?" Jimin asked with a small smile on his lips. He knew his target was beside him,it will be easier to calculate his every moves. But he didn't realise it will be harder since you were in the frame too. As soon as the game started,he saw that the guy wasn't good at playing,only bluffing,so,he took this to his advantage and told himself he will use the "I'm just tryna help you bro" card later. Jimin's eyes were mostly on you though,and he didn't calculate his emotions,but he would've been lying if he said you weren't beautiful.

You were looking at the cards in Jacques's hands. Seeing the 3 others on the table,he was already fucked,but of course,he had to bluff. "50,bet" echoed from the man beside you and everyone folded. Except one. The new player at the table. "Oh...i see you play with big amounts...let me make it more interesting then. Calling 1600." The black haired man's proposition made you jump a little bit. It wasn't only 1600€,but 1,600,000. "So..? What do you think? Reasonable proposition,no? Or...are you scared of losing?" The guy smirked and your partner stood up. "I'm going for a smoke. Pause the game." "Man,it isn't such a bad proposition,but okay...let's say 1,400,000 to save your honor." He followed Jacques to the balcony. Which was a pretty bad idea knowing how he can get when he's angry,you knew how out of hand the situation could get,he was the same at Uni. Anger Issues was his middle name.

Jimin was only trying to provoke the poor guy. Poor...let's not say that. He was the kid of an asshole that got rich by scamming poor people. Let alone,the father was a politician. The only way for Jimin to attain his final target was to hurt him. Not that he had to,but it was more effective this way. "Stop fucking following me. I have enough of your gimmicks. I saw how you were looking at him. You're on a date with me,not him." The hitman simply laughed. "Oh..you thought your little girlfriend came after you? Believe me,she has better things to do. Now,if you excuse me..." Gun cocked. Silencer already on. And fire. The bullet went straight through the younger one's head,in between the eyes. "Bull's eye. Good." As the body of the guy has fallen,Jimin started to wipe his silencer and put the pistol away. Too bad the girl was at the balcony as he did it.

"What the fuck have you done? WHO THE FU-" You screamed at him,but the scream hadn't live to its full potential as the guy from the table had silenced you with a hit to your head. You woke up five hours later,tied to a chair,in a living room in some old ass apartment,still propably in southern France. "Rise and shine babygirl,you're safe now. My name is...you have no buisness knowing it,but call me 91. Or Jay. Whatever suits you." As you looked around you,you saw nothing you could recognise. Only the feeling of the rag on your mouth was prominent,with the bounds around your wrists and legs. "I guess i should take off the gag...but can i trust you to not scream?" You nodded,already planning to get away somehow. As Jay took off the gag you inhaled and tried to scream but he had his hand in front of your mouth. "I should've killed you when i had the chance. I didn't need any kind of witnesses. But here i am,trying to plan out something so you don't talk. Now. Stop screaming or i'll send a bullet flying through your brain. Also..what's your name again?" He knew it of course...but wanted to hear it as he took off his hand of your mouth and looked at you. "Wasn't that your initial plan? And my name is (Y/n)." The sass in your words left him surprised enough to smile and unload his gun. "Wow,getting sassy i see. I like it." "Why did you kill him? Was it because he was involved in some shady buisness?" You talked way more than you should have. And Jimin liked that. More information means more time...which means a better approach towards the target. "What do i look like? A social justice warrior? Honey,i get paid for shit like this. But now,my only problem is you. What should i do with you? You weren't in the frame. And now you are here,bound to a chair...don't get me wrong,i like the view,but you shouldn't have wandered away from that goddamn table yesterday." You simply lowered your head and looked at his hands. He was fidgeting. Unable to decide what he should do. "You should probably kill me then. I mean,if i am too much to handle,and since you know i'll be talking as soon as i get out of here,you should just choke me to death...quick and effective." He smiled and took your chin with two fingers so you were looking into his eyes. "Let me think about it. But i already know i won't kill you...in the end,you're truly innocent so..there would be no fun in that." "So...you're pretty much a social justice warrior then" He let your chin go and stood up to walk around the apartment.

Jimin knew killing you would've made too much mess,plus,cleaning the whole appartment after it would have taken too much time. Plus...he kinda started to like you. You were the type of girl he could settle with. So he went with plan B...or more like,he wanted to go with plan b which was about to let you go and threaten you to not talk. But as soon as he heard footsteps coming towards the apartment,Jimin changed his mind and chose Plan C. "You'll be coming with me. We have to get away. I already lost more than 3 hours with you getting in my way."

You were quickly untied and he secured a gun around your thigh. "You know how to use one? Just in case,to be safe." Why on earth would he give you a gun? "I could kill you right now if i wanted." "Yeah,i know,but you don't want to. That's the positive point. Now open the window and get out." God knows why you obeyed him,but it was almost automatic. Did you like the rush of the situation? Maybe yes. Maybe it was simply because you were scared...maybe it was because you kind of liked the way the whole situation turned out. He was following you as soon as he cleared the area,and unlocked his car. "Get in. I'll be here soon. No more than 2 minutes." "Huh? Where the fuck are you going?" "Getting my shit and then i'll be here." And with that,he was already on his way.

No more than two minutes after,he was back with his suitcase and the briefcase containing some papers,his pc and most importantly,the money. "Buckle the belt. We'll be on the road for 10 to 15 hours..." "Where are we going?" He simply smiled and turned the engine on. "Let that be a surprise..." "So...you're pretty much kidnapping me,right?"

He chuckled and looked into the rear-view mirror. "It's better than the barrel of a gun against your head at least. And...you'll see,it won't be as bad as you think."

Was this really the life you were about to live? Probably. Was it safe? Probably not,but did you have any other choice? No. But...little did you know,it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

(Y'all,i'm sorry if it is bad...i really wanted something different but in the end idk...it doesn't seem good to me...i let you all be the judge)

#bts #bts scenarios #bts au #jimin au #bts jimin #park jimin #jimin #jimin x reader #bts hitman au #hitman au #bts imagines #bts scenario

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lonestarbabe · 4 years

Text

Holding Out For a Hero

Chapter 6: Levitating (AO3)

T.K. feels a little better, but then he feels a little worse

Carlos

The tour had been going well to Carlos’ surprise. Carlos had thought that might cancel it and send T.K. to rehab after the disastrous interview with that bastard Jenkins, but after vowing to never leave his house again in a fit of humiliation and self-hate, T.K. came around and had been adamant about not letting Jenkins drag him down. The story had been all over for weeks, enduring longer than most stories about T.K. did. Judd had been especially anxious. He’d had to make a lot of calls for damage control, and even when the calls were done, Judd still worried about T.K.’s mental health. He insisted T.K. see someone about it and had sent Carlos to hang out with T.K. on several occasions when Judd had business to attend to or Marjan was at work. Marjan had been practically living there. For once, T.K. didn’t seem to mind the hovering.

T.K. hadn’t wanted to face the world, Carlos had decided that T.K. could lock himself in his mansion all he wanted, but he couldn’t lock himself away from the people who cared about him, including Carlos because somewhere along the way, maybe pretty much right away, Carlos had liked T.K. Sometimes, he’d liked him for unfathomable things. Yet, T.K. was one of those people who was fun to be around when he wasn’t getting high and fucking dudes who used him like he was a piece of meat. After a few days of warranted upset, T.K. decided to take charge of his life, and he had Carlos bring him to Judd for an action plan. T.K. had gotten so sick after that meeting; after a night of wallowing, he’d decided that he wasn’t going to touch substances again. He was going to cut them all out cold turkey, and while Carlos was skeptical, T.K. seemed resolved to do it. Maybe too resolved. I know better than anyone that people who seem better aren’t always better. Taylor wasn’t, and he was smiling more than ever.

Taylor was a completely different situation, and Carlos didn’t want to draw parallels where they didn’t belong. I don’t even want to think about Taylor. He didn’t want to project his past issues onto T.K. because that would only prevent him from doing his job, but even so, he didn’t want to let himself get too comfortable. From a young age, when there was little that he could control, he’d learned that the key to having control was being vigilant, not having too much hope, and expecting the worst. It’s a sucky outlook on life, but it’s the only one that I’ve got. I just need to remember that T.K. is not Taylor. He’s just a client, a client that I have soft spot for, but I can’t act like I have any right to get too involved.

They’d only been to five stops so far, but T.K. had been a delight, which had made Carlos feel like he was an episode of the Twilight Zone because Judd had explicitly said that tour T.K. was a nightmare, but the tour T.K. he’d seen was eerily dreamy. Carlos had gone to Judd about it, thinking that maybe T.K. was only acting so strange because it was the beginning of the tour. As was true every time that he went to Judd, Judd had basically patted him on the shoulder and told Carlos that he was doing excellent work. He’d shrugged and said, “Maybe it’s the new therapist,” which was also weird to Carlos. T.K. had accepted Grace’s carefully compiled lists of therapists without even making a snarky comment. He’d said thanks and gave Judd a big smile despite the way his hands been shaking. Sometimes the scariest problems were the ones that you couldn’t see. I can’t protect him from things he doesn’t share no matter how hard I try.

Carlos was hanging out around T.K. in T.K.’s dressing room, and it wasn’t because he needed to be there. He had other security measures that he could tend to, but they had a whole security team who would make sure things were taken care of, and T.K. had asked him to be there. For whatever reason, Carlos couldn’t find it in him to say that he was busy or that he didn’t think it was a good idea to get any more buddy-buddy than they already are. He’d relented when T.K. smiled at him. How pathetic is that? Disarmed by a single smile. Carlos couldn’t help that a happy T.K. was kind of the best person in the world.

Some of T.K.’s friends were there too. Well, Marjan and some of her friends from work who had tagged along to see T.K. at the LA show. They all seemed like cool people. He and Marjan had already gotten to know each other, and she was a good influence on T.K. Paul and Mateo seemed like upright people too. They told a bunch of stories about the calls they got, most of them regarding idiots who got hurt or set accidental fires. Carlos had stories of his own to share, excluding any names of course. He hadn’t had a lot of gigs but any one of them came with a funny story or two.

T.K. quietly listened, looking at ease. He didn’t add any stories of his own, even at Paul’s prodding. “Come on, you’re like the most popular singer in the world right now, and you don’t have any good stories.”

Marjan rolled her eyes. “Don’t get him started. Once T.K. starts talking about himself, he doesn’t stop.”

“Hey,” T.K. replied lightly, “that’s not true.”

Mateo nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t heard him say one thing about himself.” It wasn’t that T.K. had been a silent wallflower, but Carlos had noticed it too. He said a lot without saying much at all. Sometimes, when he was feeling out of his element, T.K. would only give vague details about himself, and maybe it was because he had to be careful about who he told what, but Marjan’s friends were probably safe. If they ever blabbed, Marjan would probably make sure that they never spoke again. They seemed earnest too, and while Carlos couldn’t just look at someone and know that they were okay, he had a pretty good eye for people who just wanted something and those who were sincere. His dad had been the former type, so he knew a thing or two about people who were just nice when they wanted you to do something for them without returning the favor. Dad convinced me to miss my prom to help him with one of his schemes, and then he couldn’t even show up to my high school graduation.

“What can I say? I lead a boring life.” He slung his arm over Carlos’ shoulder. T.K. loved casual touches, and they drove Carlos crazy in an “I need more” kind of way. It would be so easy to get engulfed in the ocean that is T.K. Strand.

“Oh come on, Strand,” Marjan said. “Tell them about the time you spilled tea on the Queen of England.”

“Wait what?” Mateo asked, eyes widening. Carlos had heard that story once when T.K. was high. T.K. had been laughing his ass off and Carlos had just been trying to keep him from doing

Paul added in, “You really let us talk about a dude getting his junk stuck in a piece of wood when you spilled tea on the Queen of England.” He was laughing heartily at the thought.

“That story is a lot better than meeting a rich old lady. I’m pretty boring, believe it or not.” And I’m Swedish royalty. If T.K. was boring, Carlos’ job would have been a lot easier.

“It’s not as funny as that time you tripped going onto the stage at the VMA’s.”

“Marjan, did you really have to bring up my most humiliating moment?” By the way, T.K. was grinning, Carlos didn’t think he was all that humiliated by it.

Carlos nudged T.K. with his elbow, “You nearly fell off the stage Wednesday when you were singing Bitter Honey.”

“That was bad, but that’s not more humiliating than when you puked on stage?”

“I didn’t puke on stage. I went off stage.”

“Everyone could still see you, Strand.”

“I was what? Fifteen? I was doing my best.” Carlos couldn’t imagine being under the public eye at fifteen.

“Ouch. Fifteen is a hard age for everyone,” Mateo said.

“Being fifteen sucks,” Paul commented, a darkness in his eyes.

“It sure does,” T.K. agreed. Carlos nodded. A lot of shit had happened when Carlos was fifteen. A lot of shit happened every other year as well, but at fifteen things have a way of feeling extra shitty. Fifteen had been when Carlos had told his parents that he was gay, and honestly, nothing had changed. They didn’t care about him enough to care that he was gay. T.K. glanced at Carlos, looking nervous.

“I came out when I was fifteen,” Carlos said without thinking. It wasn’t like T.K. didn’t know that Carlos was gay, but they’d never much talked about gayness, so it felt strange to Carlos to talk about it, and maybe that meant that he wasn’t talking about it enough.

“I was eighteen,” T.K. said. Technically, T.K. hadn’t come out, he’d been outed by a thirty-year-old asshole who he’d been “dating,” Carlos used the word lightly because clearly a thirty-year-old with a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old doesn’t feel right. T.K. hadn’t even gotten his GED yet. The news about T.K. being gay had been everywhere. Even Carlos had heard about it, and Michelle always joked about his lack of pop culture awareness. “I don’t know if I could’ve handled being out at fifteen. My career might have plummeted.”

“When I realized I was bi a few years ago, I thought it was the end of the world. I thought that there was no reason to come out, but I’m so grateful that I had a best friend who shook some sense into me.” She gave T.K. a fist bump. “Now, I can’t believe I didn’t know I was sooner.”

“Accepting yourself can be the hardest part. My parents were very accepting of all kinds of people, so I think they would have been okay with me being trans, but even then, coming out felt like the worst thing in the world. My parents died before I told them, so I wish I’d been able to tell them, but it is what it is.” The conversation’s taking a dark tone, but T.K. seemed more interested in this than anything else.

T.K. gave a sympathetic look, face growing weary. “Sorry man, that sucks. It’s hard when you don’t have time to tell people what you need to say. I wish I’d been able to tell my…um… my dad, but sometimes life doesn’t give you that choice, and it never doesn’t suck.”

Marjan looked to Carlos, sagging slightly. She and Carlos are both concerned. They both know that the word dad doesn’t roll off T.K.’s tongue easily, and the feeling in the room shifts because of it. It’s gotten quiet and T.K.’s easy-going demeanor has receded just enough that Carlos is starting to feel anxious. One little thing can easily cause T.K. to spiral, and T.K.’s been okay lately, but he may be living on borrowed happiness. Don’t let this be an incident. Take charge of this before you lose control of the situation, Carlos. T.K. was getting fidgety, and Carlos was scrambling to find a way to calm him.

“Marj, don’t go all quiet on me. A little dead dad talk isn’t going to throw me over the edge.” Except it did last time his dad was mentioned. T.K.’s not angry, not right now, probably because Paul and Mateo were in the room, but his tone was too forced and sounds passive aggressively angry. Basically, everyone knew to dread carefully. I need to defuse this situation before it gets worse. If T.K. catches the uncomfortable glances that Paul and Mateo are sharing, he’ll freak out, so Carlos called T.K.’s name, making T.K. look over to him. T.K.’s eyes snap over, looking frantic.

“I know that,” Marjan answered, but she didn’t sound sure, and with all Marjan’s confidence, when she didn’t sound sure, she wasn’t.

Carlos made a show of looking at his watch. “You need to get ready for the show now. It’s getting late.”

Marjan caught on, and stood up, leaning down to hug T.K. “Teek, I’ll talk to you after the show, okay? Maybe we can meet up at your house or you can come to mine.”

T.K. nodded, calming at the touch of his friend. “Yeah, okay, we can do that.”

Paul gave T.K. a handshake. “Thanks so much for the tickets, man. We’ve all been curious about Marjan’s best friend. You lived up to our expectations.”

Mateo gave a wave. “Yeah, maybe later you can tell us the queen story.”

T.K. put on his fakest smile. “Sure thing, buddy.” Carlos could see that T.K.’s going to another place mentally, so he rushed the guests out, giving T.K. room to breathe.

Marjan lingered just a bit longer, giving Carlos a stern look, “Take care of him.”

“It’s my job,” he said.

“It better be more than that,” Marjan replied. It is. I’m probably in for a world of hurt, but I’d take care of him even if I wasn’t paid to do it. I want him to be happy, and I do my best to make him feel happy.

T.K

T.K. wasn’t as stupid as some people thought he was. He might have played stupid a lot because it was easier to get what you wanted when people thought you’re barely smarter than a pile of bricks. He’d gotten a lot of good info by acting dumb. Judd would tell him to cut it out. Marjan would usually let him get away with it just to see the amusing results that always came. Carlos would give a knowing look, not making a judgment in either direction.

Because he wasn’t a complete idiot, he knew what Carlos was doing as he swiftly moved T.K.’s guests out of his dressing room, and to his surprise, it makes him feel relieved more than annoyed. Maybe I’m a changed man, after all. Or maybe I’m just getting too attached. The new T.K. apparently is into letting people meddling in his life, and he apparently let his bodyguard be more than a nuisance who follows him around, and who could blame him? Carlos actually seemed to care about him. Like, he’d bring pink-frosted doughnuts in the morning just because T.K. liked them, and when Carlos brought them, T.K. liked them even more. It’s like the sprinkle phenomenon. Just like doughnuts tasted better with sprinkles, they tasted better when hot bodyguards hand-delivered them just because they were thinking about you.

It made T.K. feel pathetic that the doughnuts made him so happy. Carlos was just being nice because he was a nice guy, and doing nice things was just what he does. It’s not because I matter to him. He only cares because if something happens to me, he’s out of a job, and from what he’s said, this is the most prestigious job he’s had. I don’t want to ruin his career. He deserves a better client than me, though. Someone who isn’t a fuck up. He was probably just as nice to everyone else. I’m just too self-absorbed to notice that the world doesn’t revolve around me. But the doughnuts made T.K. feel special. Even if Carlos is just being nice. There’s something about little things like remembering someone’s name or bringing someone doughnuts. Those little things made people feel good even if they weren’t that big of a deal.

“I don’t need to start getting ready for thirty-minutes,” T.K. commented just to say something. He hated how he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut. He babbled and yelled and sang just because he didn’t know how to shut up, didn’t know how to sit with the quiet, and not go crazy and therefore didn’t know how to control his mouth. Most of the time, his mouth was autonomous from the rest of him. I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying half the time. I’m just shooting the breeze until there’s no air left for anyone else.

Carlos gave an apologetic look, and it’s so cute. My heart might just melt if I’m around him too long. “Are you mad?”

“No, most people wouldn’t have done that though. They wouldn’t have even noticed that I needed a break.” He’s so nice. How can I be that nice?

“It’s my job to notice what you need without you having to say it.” That wasn’t in his job description, but T.K. wasn’t going to argue it.

“I don’t know why I’m so triggered by my dead dad. It’s been years.”

“There’s not a timeline on grief.” Tell that to his mom, who went back to work in two days and acted like giving T.K. a guitar would make up for not having a dad. Tell that to the psychiatrist who told him that he couldn’t grieve forever or the one who had told him that ten years was too long to still feel so bad. Honestly, everyone who told him to get over it was probably right. It wasn’t healthy to live in that day forever. To think about his father burning to death when it hadn’t even been the flames that had killed Owen. It had been shrapnel. But still, T.K. imagined skin being charred and falling from his dad’s body, and he just wanted the image to go away. He wanted to stop feeling so scared because that’s what he’d felt since 9/11, a hot fear that he converted into anger because he was too old to cry about how terrified he was. He remembered his mother telling him when he was ten that he was too old to cry about nightmares. He refused to cry about them after, even though he had to bite his wrist just to distract from the torment he felt. He learned to bring the feelings inward and to destroy himself for fleeting moments of peace.

“Yeah, but I can’t even say the word dad without feeling sick, and hearing it sends a fresh wave of guilt through me.” T.K had this stupid idea that if he hadn’t been such a brat the evening before 9/11 and kept his parents up until 3 am that his dad would have been better rested and would have been able to do his job better and not die. Logically, he knew that lots of people with kids who weren’t brats died that day. Lots of well-rested, unlucky people, but T.K was never able to shake the idea that his father’s death had something to do with him. He’d never confessed that fear to anyone, and maybe that was why it was killing him, draining him of his ability to keep his head in reality. He’d prefer his mind to float away. He loved the detached feeling of not being at all connected to himself, and as fine as he acted to anyone who glanced at him, he couldn’t stop thinking about oxy. It made him sick with yearning just to think of oxy or E or LSD, or K, or G or whatever other combination of senseless letters would let him out of his head, a prickly, electrified cage that made him feel small and claustrophobic.

“Guilt?” Carlos looked at him, face pinched. T.K. figured Carlos saw him as a puzzle. He wanted to know what T.K. meant because it was interesting in a perverse way. Everyone wanted to know why a man who had everything but a dad couldn’t get his shit together. Some people had less but had somehow managed to hang onto their sanity. They didn’t crave an oxy every time a pang of feeling clawed at their gut.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant sorrow.” T.K. didn’t think that he sounded very convincing, but Carlos wasn’t going to press it. It wasn’t his style. T.K. needed to focus on his show, and bringing up deeply rooted childhood issues wasn’t exactly going to make him feel energized. Though, to be honest, before all of this had happened, he’d been good about being happy. He’d been bubbly and fun and felt almost normal, but then in a snap, that bright, fun to be around self had shut off. It’s like I’m too different people. One who likes the peaks of roller coasters and another who likes the valleys.

“I still miss my dad,” Carlos confessed, and T.K. held his breath. The dead dad’s club is not a fun one to be in.

T.K. felt flushed. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry for your loss.” It sounded so stupid to say. T.K. had always hated when people said that to him because it never made him feel any differently. Them being sorry couldn’t change his loss or even heal it.

“He’s not dead or anything. I just haven’t seen him in five years.” Carlos shrugged. “So, I don’t think he’s dead, but I haven’t talked to him in years, and cutting him off was something I had to do.” T.K. had to take a deep breath not to lash out. If his dad was alive, he wouldn’t ever stop talking to him. Even if he was the worse dad in the world.

“I know it’s not the same, but it sucks.”

“Then, why won’t you talk to him?” T.K. tried to keep his voice calm, but he sounded like an angry kid on the verge of a tantrum.

“Because as much as I love him, he can’t bring me inner peace. He only keeps me around when he needs something, so I decided not to make myself available, but I still miss him sometimes. He was mean and abusive, but he’s not like a villain you see on a TV show. He had good in him, even if it was just a very little bit. He used to take me fishing. I hated it, but I loved the time I got to spend with him. We’d fish, and suddenly, he’d become dad of the year. Then, we’d go home and he’d tell me I couldn’t do anything right.”

“I’m sorry. Sounds, dead or deadbeat, having a dad brings heartbreak.”

“My point is just that you don’t have to stop missing him. You don’t have to stop thinking it’s unfair that you don’t have him here. You don’t have to stop cherishing his memory, but you do have to learn to live with it.”

“Yeah, thanks, Freud.”

“I’m sure your therapist would say it better,” Carlos joked. T.K. felt guilty because he had taken the therapist list Grace had made for him and shredded it after one visit with the first woman on the list. He’d had video visits with her twice before deciding that he didn’t need that anymore. He started to feel better. The withdrawal symptoms had gone. He felt more in control of his life, so he’d decided that he didn’t need anyone doing a deep dive into his brain. He’d figured it all out himself. No professional needed. No AA, NA, or whatever other program was out there. All he needed was his guitar and to stay away from parties. There was a part of T.K. that knew he was being foolish. He’d gotten sober before like this when he just decided to stop and get his life together, but every time, when the going got tough, T.K. usually figured it was time to quit the good habits that made life bearable without the bad habits.

“Yeah, she’d give a bunch of psychobabble.” Dr. Aggarwal actually probably wouldn’t have done that. Despite T.K’s stubbornness, Grace’s search had been thorough and she’d chosen people who wouldn’t give psychobabble. Maybe I did do some research before I shredded the list.

“Are you okay with that?”

T.K. shrugged, “I’m getting used to it. I think this one is actually helping. It’s going to be a journey, but I think this might be something good.” He hated lying to Carlos. I’m such a dumb, jerk. But the truth wasn’t going to make Carlos feel better. It wasn’t going to change the situation. It wasn’t going to do anything but sit there like the biggest know-it-all in a room full of know-it-alls.

Carlos beamed, and T.K. wanted to disappear. I hate myself for being such a weirdo. I’m the worst person alive. Carlos deserves better than me. “That’s great. I’m glad you’re starting to feel better.”

The more T.K. lied about feeling better the worst he felt. “Yeah me too.” He forced a smile. “Me being better is only going to make your job easier.”

Carlos laughed. “I have a feeling that you’ll never make it too easy.” I can’t make anything easy. I always have to take the hardest route as if that will somehow cure all the awful feelings that I have when it does nothing but make me an angry wreck.

“What would be the fun in that?” Carlos laughed again, and T.K. felt himself relax. T.K. thought that if a laugh could save a person that he’d be saved, but laughter couldn’t save him. It would be like using cough medicine for a bullet wound.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fics #my fics #Elise Writes #my writing #tarlos fics #wip #holding out for a hero

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nolitetebastardescarborundorum · 4 years

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What I like and dislike about each Skam Version:

The order is when I watched them. Which is basically the same order when they came out since I watch clip for clip live with every version since the evak cuddle clip 3 years ago. I won't point out things twice if a remake did it exactly the same. For example the blackmailing of Noora. Disliked it in the og, ditto with every other version. Another disclaimer: I don't have a favorite version since no one was perfect from first to last season. Different versions have different favorite seasons for me.

What I loved about the og 🇳🇴: The complete different format of a show with the clips, social media, roughly camera work that made it look like a reality show or documentary. The actors being the age of their characters and not all being thin, beautiful models. The pov and seing the boring aspects of life too. All the casual parties. The music and the whole russbus culture. In general getting to know so much about other cultures that I didn't thought about before for even a minute. Eva standing up for herself and breaking up with Jonas. Penetrator Chris as the comic relief, he may be a fuckboy, but he is isn't sexist or homophobic, his one liners are iconic. A normal reaction to Isak being gay and Evak actually getting an happy ending and a proper love scene like any hetero couple gets. Eskilds gay pride speech, it made me rethink my own mindset, as well as Sanas line about hate doesn't come from religion, it comes from fear and her whole conversation with yousef about religion. The guys helping Isak get back his man and Magnus hilarious questions, but also his helpful advice. Everything in the scene with Eva's 18th birthday. Even singing imagine. The cuddle clip, literally my favorite clip in all the versions, the spiderman kiss and the universe talk. Yousana love shown without any touching. The girls picking up Sana with the los losers bus. The ballon squads YouTube channel. How sweet and protective Elias was about Sana. 5 fine frøkner! Kosegruppa. If I could chose I would want a season for Magnus and Penetrator Chris.

What I disliked: Jonas treating Eva like she's stupid. Everything with William pretty much, starting with his non existent personality to blackmailing Noora, dissing Vilde, not listening after the SA happening etc. Nooras completely change in attitude from feminist to falling for the fuckboy and betraying your friend, also, ik most of the fans love it, her speeches, the one at William and also the one at Nicolai, it was just too long and arrogant to me sorry, I don't thought yes queen, I more thought yeah okay we got it already. The lack of communication with literally everyone. Vilde being so judgemental. Eva 'stealing' Jonas. Even not being able to speak for himself about his MI. The hate against Sonja, yes her saying Even can't love was fucked up, but her outrage and pain was more than understandable for me. The call your gf scene, idk it just makes me uncomfortable and I just felt bad for the girls. The whole show basically revolving around Noora in every season and her amount of screen time. Chris and Emma in the end, a huge wtf that made no sense and came out of nowhere, as well as Jonas and Eva's suddenly reunion.

What I loved about 🇮🇹: Be aware that I'm biased since Italy is my favorite country since childhood. I love everything about it. Landscapes, food, clothes, cars, the men^^ and ofc the language and names. First and foremost the cinematography. Also the music. All the girls being pretty as fuck. I feel like they where more mature too, but that goes for the boys and Eduardo too. Elia being there since season 1. The skating shenanigans. Martino and Eva being the closest version of this friendship (which is why I hope they continue this in the next season and make them close again, not going for the best buds). Their parents being more involved. Edoardo not insulting Silvia. Giovanni constantly cursing and gesturing like the true Italian that he is. Ofc the bromance in s2, that was what the season was all about for me more than the romance (reason in the dislikes), how they all cared for each other, had actual conversations, were with marti everywhere and always supported him. Gio being the best friend ever and constantly checking in on marti. How all the boys and edos rich gang stood up for marti against the homophobes, I never cheered so loud during a clip istg. The man, the myth, the legends Chico roddi :D. Eduardos soft side, when he played creep or cried when Eleonora could tell him herself what happend. The way they merged the squads together and all hang out boys and girls and also Filippo. Filippo and Eleonora being siblings and literally everything that fillipo does, his sassyness is unmatched. Cute Short king luca, carefree elia. Seriously I could write novels about this boy squad. Their parties and how they do them at 9pm during business days. Guardami Martino! 😂 If I could chose I would want a Gio and Fillipo season.

What I disliked: The darkness, especially s2 although it looked romantic a lot of times. The way Gio kisses, listen I love him with all my heart but he looks like he wants to eat faces or lick them like a dog 😂. I couldn't get into Niccolò, he never grew on me, came of kinda cold and the chemistry between the actors compared to the other versions isn't that great imo. It also has the only Sana I don't like and don't care for her season. It's not bc of the controversy about the actress. She just comes of rude in the show and also has way too less scenes to get excited for her pov, Her relationship with Marti is also non existent. The lack of social media and texts. Some of the actors looking way too old.

What I loved about 🇫🇷: The many changes of season 3. The piano scene with literally heart eyes. Eliott being the biggest dork. Eliott being able to express his feelings about his MI. Eliott saying it's not a girl. The rain kiss. Lucas being a major cutie. His relationship with the girls and Manon in particular. How they helped Daphne with the room. That we get an Arthur season, he's my favorite Madhi. How happy they were when Lucas came out and how they cheered everytime they saw Eliott. The elu social media content. Yann apologizing for his behavior and comments in the past. The hedgehog and racoon personas. Imans dad. Alexia and Arthur becoming a thing. The bts and Interviews, especially the attentive Maxel friendship.

What I disliked: The first two seasons being 1:1 copy from the og, I only watched them bc I had a close french friend when it aired. The whole Charles shit in s3&4. The acoustic music often being a bit to on the nose, like the music before a jumpscare in horror movies, for example the common room meeting, it was so obvious they would fall in love. S3 of France is probably my favorite version of this season, but it is like a dramatic romcom movie and felt less realistic compared to the others and the og. Emma is super bland and kinda dumb. Mika being super rude to Lucas. The disrespect against iman. Sofiane actually dating Manon.

What I loved about Druck 🇩🇪: (Also biased since I am german) Jonas sweetness. Hans is hilarious. Jonas and Hannah reunion. Kiki turning into the sweetest. The girl squad being really close. The boy squad being dumbasses. The change of Alex and showing his anxiety. Kiki and Carlos being a wholesome couple. The changes and extra content. Amira and Mohammeds softness. Their sm game.

What I disliked: The dialogue sounds very cringey to me and super scripted. The Mia actress looks like she doesn't like to kiss Alex at all, no chemistry and no love to be seen for me. Mia being arrogant in general. That Amira had only 7 episodes and Mia extra concent for her boring relationship. I never could get into Matteo much, he was to much of a sloth to me, let everything just happen and while that may be realistic, it's for the viewer pretty boring. I also couldn't get into David much, we knew barely nothing about him for most of the time and then he was absent for like 3 weeks straight. Davenzi also came of as more like best friends to me as an couple in love, they were cuter in s4. Unrelated to the plot or show, but the druck stans that feel super entitled and superior.

What I loved about 🇪🇸: The made subtle changes from the start. Lucas coming out to Eva and not being a snake. Jorge being the softest Jonas and not lying about weed. The girl squad being the closest and cutest with another, as well as the boys and them being a mega squad since s1, way less inner group drama and the friendships in this versions are just super wholesome to me and my favorite girl squad. Also my favorite amira, she wants to adopt everyone and they all care and respect her religion and I have high hopes for her season. Their parties. Also the remake with the most sm content and texts. The only P Chris version that comes nearly close to the og, being sassy, charismatic and having hella sexual chemistry with eva. The fact that also my favorite chris got her own season, that they changed it to a wlw plot that was displayed tastefully and not overly sexualized. The portray of having borderline, being shown how it really is. Lucas having an Youtube channel and how supportive his boys reacted and how tender him and Jorge are, I can't stretched enough how much I love and stan attentive, genuine male friendships without toxic masculinity. Hugo being an absolute sweat heart since his first appearance, not being petty or mad with Cris and just being a true friend. If I could chose I would want a season about Lucas and Amira.

What I disliked: Alejandro looks like 14 to me and I'm not keen on seeing this plot for the 8th time. Viri and Cris clothes a lot of times, Ik they dress like teenagers these days do, but it just looks horrendous to me sry. Them stretching out the story between Cris and Joana so much and breaking them up like 5 times.

What I loved about wtfock 🇧🇪: I just started with season 3 live, because I couldn't get into the characters when the first clips of s1 dropped. I later binged s2 and watched some key clips of s1.

They changed many things for the better. First and foremost Senne, him being supportive of Zoë, a good flat mate and encouraging dad friend. Zoë giving him way more of a hard time and making him work for it. Robbe moving into the flatshare and becoming bff with Zoë. Not breaking up Zoenne and making Senne an important character in s3 as not only Zoës boyfriend. Sander! I love his whole art hoe - e boy brand, his music taste, his clothes, hair, how reckless he is, his blant flirting. Robbe being an absolute baby ™ and clingy af. The Willems chemistry is unmatched in the skam universe. Yasmina is so fucking pretty and intelligent. Rosanders date. Milan being sooo cute and Robbe having confidence in him and them being genuinely friends. I could swoon over the found family in the flatshare 24/7 and wish I could live with them. Robbes dad asking if Sander is a vegetarian. Luca & Noor shading Moyo. Noor having a personality besides being naïve and a beard for the Isak. Robbe caring about his mom.

What I disliked: Senne starting of as the worst William with his bracelets and showing around Ambers nudes. Ambers rudeness in general. The boys talking only about girls and totally ignoring Robbe for 6 weeks straight, especially Jens. Moyos sexist and homophobic comments and behavior. Clips and drama with no explanation or follow ups, brushed off or rushed scenes. The gay bashing and robbes slurs, them turning everything into drama for drama sake. For multiple weeks only clips that were either total drama or happy clips with no normal daily life. Exaggerating the robbe and noor make outs. No Sander the first 2 weeks. The lack of answeres from Sander and questions from Robbe, brushed of with one liners. Barely any texts.

#Skam #skam remakes #skam france #skam og #skam italia #Druck #skam espana #wtfock

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bald-tales · 5 years

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Witness Protection at the Bears Den - part 8 and 9

Dan was now studying a case file marked: 359. The client, one Bret Williamson, witness for the District Attorney in the successful prosecution of Carl Gandifino, a high ranking mobster in a world-wide Drug syndicate. Bret had been a drop-out from college and sought his riches by working for Carlo. He poised as a college student in order to infiltrate the college campuses, peddling his drugs. After being picked up by the police, they told him his only chance to escape a lengthy jail term was to tell them everything. Of course he knew his life was in danger – however he was promised money and complete re-location. Dan was sitting at his desk at work, a company called; New Beginnings. He was having such a great day because it looked like he was going to head up the company’s’ witness protection program. His former boss, Jerrod O’Leary, had terminated his employment, effective immediately! Both he and his Barber mate, Ken had seen to it that the new Jerrod, now known as Jerry Hawk, write a resignation letter the night before. After Jerry’s transformation into punk biker, by Ken’s talented hands, he had no desire to return to his former life. Now the company heads were unimpressed the ‘kid’ had left so quickly and mysteriously. They asked Dan to organise an investigation so as not to compromise there security. Dan couldn’t believe how easy it was to get rid of his boss, and with him now heading the investigation into Jerrod’s resignation, it was going to be even simpler to delete all information on Jerrod O’Leary. Dan already had an idea to link the recent security breach where a customer’s new identity had been discovered, and latter – Kidnapped –to Jerrod. Dan picked up the photo of Bret. A good-looking kid, well not a kid -he was 28, but he could pass for a 17 year-old. His hair was blonde and tied into a ponytail. He was clean shaven and seemed to be rather scrawny, like he needed a good feed. He probably was a user himself, Dan thought. Well he’d soon meet him in the flesh, the NCF (National Crime Force) were dropping him off in a hour or so. Dan wasn’t going to waste anytime with ensuring Bret’s safety. He had arranged to take him straight to Ken’s Barbershop straight away – Ken was preparing for them! It was important that Bret’s new identity begin as soon as possible. MEANWHILE AT KEN”S BARBERSHOP Ken had closed his shop for the afternoon in order to prepare for his new client, Dan was bringing round. He had been given no specific information about this guy – Dan thought it safer if Ken knew as little about him as possible. “How yer getting on with the new hired help?” asked Ken when he saw his partner, Bart, enter the back door of the shop. Ken was referring to Jerry, the new improved Biker version of Jerrod, Dan’s ex-boss. They’d put him to work in their bar next door, ‘The Bears Den’, seeing he was staying with them in their upstairs apartment. He was popular with the customers alright, and at the end of a long hard day – he certainly was very eager to let Ken and Bart take turns fucking him – he just seemed to be so eager to satisfy. Ken realised that his programming techniques were better than he could have imagined. First with Luke who became Lucas, and now Jerrod. This could indeed become a very lucrative business given time, he thought to himself. Already he had some patrons asking about Lucas and whether he was for sale. Ken hadn’t thought about that originally, he was just having plain fun turning these Jocks into big macho Bears. “Well his not the hardest worker behind the bar – he spends more time chatting up the customers or touching up his Mohawk”, Bart replied. “So what have you got planned for the new arrival?” “Well I’ll know what to do when I see what he looks like, but according to Dan he thinks I should just keep doing what I’m doing already. Normally his company uses plastic surgeons to alter the witness appearance, but he thinks there are still risks in that. Once they have the new identity their finding it hard and often slip up, contacting friends or family from their previous lives. Dan said over the last 6 months they’ve lost 2 clients to hit men.” “Wow!” Bart exclaimed,” So their safer in your hands of course.” “Let’s hope so, “answered Ken. He hadn’t really thought about the dangers involved, but he knew this part of town was the last place anyone would come looking for a white middle class jock. Suddenly, a knock at the front door startled both of them. “That’ll be the new client Bart, would you like to show him in,” asked Ken. After the pleasantries were exchanged, Bret, Dan and Ken sat down on the waiting area chairs while Bart returned to the bar to check on Luke. Ken noticed that even though Bret was thin he certainly was a looker. He certainly looked a lot younger than his 28 years. Dan hadn’t told his client what they had in store for him – only that his Barber friend was a genius a creating whole new looks. Bret seemed pretty relaxed , obviously unaware of the changes he would undergo. “Okay then Bret, into the chair and let’s see what I can do”, said Ken with a distinct cheerfulness in his voice, “I don’t want anything freaky, like shaving my head,” returned Bret, nodding at Dan’s and Ken’s hairless scalps. Ken responded, “Trust me Bret, we have to make sure nobody finds you, and when I’m finished with you even your own mother wont recognise you.” For the first time since entering the shop, Bret looked worried. As Ken fastened the cape around Bret’s neck, he asked Dan to take a seat and enjoy the show. Soon the sound of vibrating clippers filled the room. As Ken drew them towards Bret’s hairline, Dan could feel his cock growing. Then the hungry teeth of the clippers made direct contact with Bret’s hairline – stripping the guy of his longish bangs. “Hey!” Bret shouted, “What gives, I told you I didn’t want the same look as you Bozo’s have.” Annoyed at this interruption and the Bozo reference, Ken switched off the clippers. Bret continued his ranting, “I’ve got very use to my long blonde locks and I’m only going to let you trim the ends or maybe dye it.” Bret didn’t see what Ken was doing behind him, but Ken touched a switch and two wrist clamps appeared from under the chair arms and locked in place around Bret’s wrists. “Fuck man! What gives, you can’t do this to me….” And before Bret could react any further, Ken was strapping Bret’s feet to the chair, while he tossed another leather strap to Dan. “Would you mind old friend?” “Be a pleasure,” replied Dan “You fat fuck, you can’t do this – I’ll call my lawy……….ahhhh!” cried Bret as Dan slapped him hard across the face. “Now’s the time to start resembling some of your family, Bret.” Said Ken sounding almost sinister. “Listen you weasel. You’re lucky to have Ken. Without his help, you would fall back into the hands of the mob. No lawyer is going to help you now, we’re all you got if you want to stay alive,” spat Dan as he grabbed Bret by the shirt collar. “Yeah,” said Ken as he took something from a drawer. “We’re your new family now.” And before Bret could say anything Ken shoved a rubber ball gag into his mouth – so big there was no need to fasten it. This gave Ken the freedom to work on the kid’s head. Fear had replaced the arrogance. Bret knew these guy’s meant business – he hadn’t really thought the changes he would undergo would be too drastic. Just a haircut, a new name and a different city. Part 9 Dan was surprised how different their new boy was looking already. Ken had been working solidly for the past hour whilst Bret, still strapped to the Barber’s Chair, just stared at the mirror in front of him – eyes red from all the tears he’d shed. He couldn’t believe what was happening to him and he was powerless to stop these maniacs! His hair was almost history, just a light covering of stubble and because he was blonde, his head seemed shaved clean. The Barber working on him, had already applied some thick green goop to his face, he didn’t know what it was but it certainly tingled after a short time. The biggest thing that had frightened Brett was when he was hooked up to some IV bag on a stand. The Barber had inserted a needle in his forearm, and the bag had already emptied it’s contents and they replaced it with a new bag. Nothing made sense to Brett; why were these guys doing to him? Were they going to turn him into a fag like them? Shit! That’s shaving cream his using as the warmth of the lather brought him out of his tangled thoughts. Ken had started removing Bret’s remaining hair. The straight razor, with some resistance at first, began to remove the remaining stubble. As more and more pink skin showed through the thick lather, the razor found less and less drag. Ken continued to run the razor over and over Bret’s head, ensuring no stubble remained. When satisfied with the smoothness, which he checked by running his tongue over the denuded scalp, he took a jar from the counter and applied this heavy white cream to the top of Bret’s newly shaved head, rubbing it in. He was careful to only apply it only where he didn’t want any hair to grow again. Bret could feel a slight tightening of his scalp then it started to sting. “I think an mpb will make you look years older, especially with that baby-face”, smiled Ken in the mirror at Bret. He noticed tears welling up in Bret’s eyes, along with a muffled whimper. Dan couldn’t believe how different the college dropout looked with his long blonde hair gone. Because of the colour of his hair, his shaved head didn’t have a hint of shadow anywhere. “I think a low dip in the back is the best style for you Bret,” Ken said as he continued to apply the depilatory cream to the back of Bret’s head. Bret was horrified to hear he’d never have his long, flowing hair anymore. Why were these fuckers doing this to him? This wasn’t in the deal he’d made with the Feds. If only he’d known, it would have been easier to face his former Bosses’ goons. “So this stuff really stops any hair growth?” Dan asked Ken? “A recent invention on my part,” replied Ken, “I’m hoping to market it.” “Maybe you can line me up with some of that stuff,” Dan smiled running a hand over the three day stubble that was on his head. “Sure thing but you have to be shaved smooth first as it only works by acting on the hair root, the less hair in the way, the better exposed the root ball. In fact, why don’t we do you now? It’ll give us some time for Bret’s initial changes to take place.” Replied Ken, motioning Dan to the neighbouring Barbers Chair. “Now your sure you want this?” asked Ken as he started up his lather machine. “Positive, you know I get lazy with shaving my head.” “Okay, one cue ball for life coming up,” and with that Ken began to lather up the stubble on Dan’s head. Bret couldn’t believe any of what he was seeing. He was starting to feel strange – was it the drugs they were putting into him? Ken started to shave his friend’s scalp for the last time. He took long, deliberate strokes with the straight razor, finally saying, “your gonna miss this aren’t you Dan?” “Yeah! It feels great, but this way I always have a smooth head, with not even a hint of shadow. So now I’ll always wake up with no stubble.” Smiled Dan. After Ken had re-lathered Dan’s head, he carefully shaved against the grain, and as each stroke removed more and more white foam, smooth, clean skin glowed under the bright shop lights. After Ken wiped the scalp dry, he then took the thick paste and spread it all over Dan’s bald pate. “While we’re waiting for the cream to set, why don’t I tighten up that goat and tache of yours,” said Ken not waiting for a reply as he started to lather Dan’s face. Dan was enjoying himself and trusted Ken with all his grooming. It was Ken who had designed his present look. Ken finished the tightening up of Dan’s goatee, trimming his moustache and blending the edges. Next he went back to the hair removal paste on Dan’s scalp; taking a damp towel, he carefully wiped away all the paste. “Now your scalp will feel a little raw for a while- I’ll apply some aloe lotion now and that should help.” Ken said. When he’d finished rubbing the aloe on Dan’s head he held a mirror up so Dan could see the sides and back. “Smooth as!” smiled Dan as he took a hand and felt the new permanent smoothness of his head. “Well, we’d better get back to our client” stated Ken, “I’m sure his been ‘basting’ long enough.” Bret had been watching all this still secured to his chair with leather restraints and ball gag still in his mouth. He didn’t want to be here, he certainly didn’t want to look like these guy’s, but already they were turning him into a ‘ baldy’ like them. Ken and Dan stood beside Bret looking at their captive client. Dan spoke first, “I can’t believe it Ken…I mean it’s only been a short time, and look at his face. That’s a pretty decent beard growth already.” “It’s working better than expected, but then I did increase the stimulants in the Hair Growth formulae. When combined with the growth steroids we’re pumping into him, it’s working overtime,” Ken replied. “And speaking of the steroids we need to replace that bag.” Dan went to retrieve another IV bag, containing a mixture of potent steroids, hormones and chemicals all designed to alter Bret’s body shape as quickly as possible. The quicker the whole transformation process happened, the less chance of anyone finding Bret or indeed the Barbershop and Bar. Dan was well aware they hadn’t caught the culprit at work who’d been leaking information about certain clients. He needed to still be cautious, even here in this part of town. Dan had every reason to be worried – at that very moment in the ‘Bears Den’, Bart had a guy he’d never seen before, enter the still quiet bar.

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lethalprctector-blog · 5 years

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everything you need to know (and everything you don’t want to know) about eddie brock

BASICS. Given / Birth Name : Eduardo Carlos Allan Brock Nickname / Preferred Name : Eddie Alias(es) : Venom Birthdate / Age : January 21, 1990 / 29 Place of Birth : San Francisco, CA Current Location : Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, New York Gender Identity : Cis Male Sexual / Romantic Orientation : Pansexual / Panromantic, but if you ask him he just gives a non-committal shrug because he tries not to think about it Ethnicity / Race / Cultural Heritage: Mexican Marital Status : Single Occupation : Investigative Reporter / Vigilante Religious Beliefs : Roman Catholic

CHARACTERISTICS. Height : 6’3” (Eddie), 7”6” (Venom) Weight : 230 lbs (Eddie), 725 lbs (Venom) Body Type / Build : Eddie is built like a boxer - wide-shoulders, lean hips. Venom is built like a wall - large, looming, unavoidably square. Eye Color : Brown (Eddie), Opalescent White (Venom) Hair Color / Texture : Eddie’s hair is a rich brown that he keeps cropped neatly. It sits thick and he has a tendency to run his hands through it when he’s stressed. Venom is bald and slick. Recognizable Features / Scars : Eddie is pretty unremarkable, but he does have a few noticeable tattoos -- a blue swallow on his chest, near his heart; a rose on his left forearm; a sacred heart on the back of his right arm. Venom healed over his old scar tissue from old battles, erasing them from the surface of his skin. Eddie also has a few small moles scattered across his face. Venom is Really Big and Hard to Miss. Speech Patterns / Accent : Eddie has no discernible accent for the most part, though it could be argued that he sounds very Californian. He tends to drop the last consonant of words, especially verbs and adverbs (i.e., “don’t” becomes “don’” or “saying” becomes “sayin’.”) Languages Spoken : English, Spanish, Spanglish, some ASL Powers / Skills / Abilities : On his own, Eddie is at the top of his game. He’s no genius, but he has very high intelligence and he’s pretty street-smart. He can also lift up to 500 lbs on a good gym day. With help from Venom, Eddie has superhuman strength, stamina, reflexes, and agility. He can also wall-crawl, generate and manipulate his own matter, and in limited cases, shape-shift. The two of them also share a bit of ESP or spider-sense. (Eddie thinks this a dumb name for it.) Overall Health : Health isn’t much of a concern for Eddie now that he has Venom, and now that Venom is no longer trying to eat his organs. He still works out regularly and does his best to eat well, but Venom requires an absurd number of calories and absorbs most of them even when they don’t eat well. (Venom got lucky with a host with a sweet tooth.) Venom also heals any injuries or ailments that befall Eddie.

RELATIONSHIPS. Order of Birth : Second Number of Siblings : 1 Father’s Status + Relationship : Carl Brock - estranged; Carl and Eddie never really saw eye-to-eye. Growing up, all Eddie really wanted was Carl’s approval, but Carl abused Eddie, blaming him for the death of Jamie Brock. After Eddie left for college and became self-sufficient, the two fell out of touch. Eddie has grown comfortable with this for the most part, but still he googles Carl’s name every now and then just in case he’ll find an obituary. Mother’s Status + Relationship : Jamie Saldana Brock - deceased; Jamie died due to complications in childbirth when she had Eddie. Eddie has no memories of her, but cherishes photos of her and stories from others about her. It’s hard to maintain a formal ofrenda for Dia de los Muertos when you travel for work as often as Eddie does, so there’s never anything fancy, but he always buys prayer candles to keep next to his mother’s pictures on a shelf in his living room. Sibling Status + Relationship : Maria Brock + older sister: Maria is eight years older than Eddie. She helped their father raise him, doing much more work than a child should ever be expected to. When they were younger, up until the time Eddie was a teenager, Maria spent a lot of time resenting Eddie, sharing their father’s habit of blaming Eddie for the loss of her mother. Now that they’re both grown and neither really speak to their father, they’ve grown much closer and Eddie calls her every other Sunday to catch up with her. Loyalty / Affiliation : Himself/Venom.

PERSONALITY. MBTI : ISFP Hobbies : binge-watching reruns of How It’s Made, being annoying Bad Habits : compulsive lying, postpones doing dishes longer than he probably should Three Positive Traits : ambitious, charming, curious Three Negative Traits : ambitious, selfish, emotional Moral Alignment : Right on the line of Lawful/Chaotic Neutral

ASSOCIATIONS. One Song : Morph - twenty one pilots One Quote / Piece of Art : “There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.” One Fear : isolation One Strength : uninhibited dancer One Object : his motorcycle One Place : the front yard of his childhood home One Food : chocolate One Scent : fresh-baked bread One Lucky Charm : his mother’s rosary

SOME NOTES:

My Eddie and Venom are a mixed bag of canon variations and headcanons! Please bear with me because I do not know what I am doing, we’re all disasters in our own right.

I’m retconning Marvel’s retcon of Eddie’s sister because the man needs to have some stability and some healthy relationships and if they won’t give that to me I will do it myself!!

Eddie and Venom have been bonded for a few years now -- they actually bonded in New York, and were already bonded for several months by the time they moved out to California. A few months ago, they took down Carlton Drake and the LIFE Foundation. Now they’re both back in New York and ready to take on the world (and take down Spider-Man.)

Eddie is currently working as a reporter at the Daily Bugle. It feels good to be acknowledged as a respected journalist again, and work at a renowned news organization. (Take that, Daily Globe.)

If you ever see Eddie having a face journey, he’s probably just having an internal argument with Venom. The best thing to do sometimes is ignore him.

They’re still figuring out the whole vigilante thing -- they try not to go out regularly, but when they do, they do their damnedest to avoid pro-reg hero-types.

If Eddie had friends, he’d take them to karaoke on weekends. Just a thought.

#united task #united intro #(i'll come up with a fun tagging system later shhhh don't worry about it)

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sammyhale · 6 years

Text

J2M SPN UK 2018 Panel

At the start of the J2M panel, they made Misha introduce J2 and Jensen is laughing at him lol.

They gave Misha a short chair like at SDCC next to Jared (they changed it back right after lol). Jensen: “Ah, it’s the little things.”

Misha “What’s your normal routine up here... do you guys do acrobatics?”

Jared explains to Misha that they play strip question on stage. If you get the question wrong, you have to take off an article of clothing.

Jared: “I guess my dream job has always been no job... but I would have liked to have been a teacher!” Jensen to Jared: “I learn from you daily, you are a teacher!” Jared put his head on Jensen’s shoulder :)

Jensen: “Sometimes I feel like the right answer would be a Chippendales dancer!”

Misha: “I thought I was gonna be a politician when I grew up!”

Wrong answer: Misha strips off his jacket lol.

Jared: “Jet lag has not been nice to Mr. Misha.”

Jensen earlier about J2M trio op: “We’re doing a crossover. Jensen, Jared & Gollum.” Jared to Misha: “Had I known you looked like this, I wouldn’t have taken a shower.”

Jensen: “There’s another crossover photo later. Supernatural and The Walking Dead.”

J2M just got offered food and now they're totally fighting over those gummy bears.

Jared nudging Misha to grab gummy bears from a fan: “Misha, Scooby dooby doo!”

Mishalecki are fighting over Misha’s jacket

Jensen: “Jared keeps translating English to English, but he breaks it up and it’s actually worse!”

Jared got the question wrong so he strips and now Jared’s jacket is off!

Jensen would consider a Supernatural tattoo after the show ends because it’s a huge part of his life.

Jensen and Jared both say they would consider getting an SPN tattoo after the show ends.

Jensen took a picture of Jared stripping.

Misha: I wish I’d worn my good socks today. Jared: I’m surprised you have socks on! Jensen, cracking up: Things are looking up Mish, you left the house with socks on!

J2M trying to stump the fans to get the audience to strip.

Fan asks if when Dean and Cas do intense stares if it’s written in the script. Jensen says yes, that in the script it’ll be like a serious moment and then it will say “eye f-u-c-k.” They explain that in general all staring scenes between characters are written like that lol. They say that there’ll be a scene where everyone is eye-fucking. They mention another example in a recent episode between Rich and a female character (I��m assuming the Gabriel and Rowena scene from the last ep lol).

If they could go back & further explore a storyline? Jensen: Demon Dean & purgatory. Jared: Soulless Sam and Sully. Misha: Human Cas & a new storyline with “cool Cas.”

Misha’s sock is off.

Misha: “I’m wearing one shoe and no sock... this is starting to feel like a walk of shame right now!”

Jensen on his cell phone contact that’s famous and is not from SPN is Corey Taylor. Jared’s is JJ from Kaleo, and Misha’s is the Queen lol.

Misha is happy about his two degrees of separation to Neil Gaiman on Twitter through Kim.

Fan: If your character could swap character arcs who would you swap with? Jared: You know what, I’m gonna say it. I wouldn’t fuckin’ change it. “Sam’s my boy, I wouldn’t change anything.”

Jensen would have swapped with the storyline with Gabriel when he went to Monaco. Jared whispers in Jensen’s ear. Jensen: or Monte Carlo. Jensen loses his overshirt lol.

Misha: I'm hard on Cas. Jared: Woah!!

Jensen Iced Misha (for those who don’t know, Icing someone means the person has to drink a little bottle of Smirnoff Ice - brand of vodka - while kneeling down on one knee lol).

Misha refuses to drink it on stage so he goes backstage and Jared follows, giving a play by play of Misha drinking the Smirnoff with plenty of innuendos, cracking Jensen up who stayed on stage.

Misha: “I'm not agreeing to a trio panel again!”

Fan asks if after seeing Jack use his powers without being evil, do you think it’s changed Sam’s perception of his own powers? Jared says that Sam took Jack under his wing and so far, he thinks it’s been successful that Jack hasn’t turned evil and feels reassured about his own.

Jared took his shoe off. “There, I lost my shoe.”

Jared: “When you sweat in the snow you get used to sweat proof socks!”

Asked about important changes SPN gave them. Jared: I met the mother of my children on the show and a couple of my best friends! Jensen *points to self* Jared nods and puts his head on Jensen’s shoulder and Jensen touches his head <3

Jensen says he has a lot of relationships now and the show made it so he can live and raise a family where he wants.

Misha: Having families. The only reason why my wife has sex with me is because I’m on the show lmao.

Fan asks about the boys going on a hunt in Amsterdam. Jared says he wants to go to Anne Frank’s house and dig up some Nazi ghosts and kill them! Jensen: I killed Hitler.

Jensen says that in Amsterdam Dean would get lost in the red light district, Cas would be stoned in a cafe somewhere, and Sam would be on an architectural tour.

Misha gets called out on his old answer last year & has to take off his belt.

Fan: I have ten princess dresses. Jared, pointing at Jensen: So does he!

Jared: Come on Misha get it right. I don’t want to see you naked. Again. Jensen: Today.

Who would you meet and pay an autograph for? Jared: I paid for Richard Kiel’s autograph. Jensen: Robert Plant. Misha: Bob Garfield. Jared also mentions that he would have loved to meet Carrie Fisher.

Fan: I’ve been watching you since I was two. I’m 16 now. J2M are devastated lol.

Fan: So in your group, is there a mother hen figure who stops you from getting into trouble? J2M in unison: NOPE. Jensen: “The problem is, we don’t have one!”

Jared: "You know when they say the inmates are running the asylum? That's us."

Jared: “I still find a freedom and a source of creativity in what I do.” Jared says you get to learn from the characters you play and the people you work with.

Jared doesn’t care if he never wins an Oscar. He’s motivated by love in the craft of acting. “I know y’all love me and I love y’all back legitimately and I don’t care if I don’t get an Oscar or if I’m on a billboard or anything.”

Jared: When they call “action” I’m free. I still find a freedom of expression in what I do, that’s why I keep doing it. Jared said he’s not an A-list actor. Jensen: I know you.

Jensen says to learn as much about the technical aspect of filming as you can. He also viewed every audition as a final performance because it helped him deal with rejection.

Fan: Sorry I’m really nervous. Jared: Don’t be nervous, you’re surrounded by family.

Jared is removing Misha’s boot when Misha refuses to answer a question about his favorite trenchcoat lol.

Misha talks about how Jensen gave him some hand-me-down shirts that Jensen wore a lot at cons. Jensen says it happened because he was mortified when a fan called him out on wearing the same shirt twice at a couple of different cons. So he asked Misha if he wanted any of his shirts.

Misha said it apparently got fans talking and Jared yells in a high-pitched voice: They slept together! Jared says he wants to see “who wore it better memes” of Jensen and Misha wearing the same clothes.

J2 talk about how Jensen shared underwear with Jared at a con before. Jensen: Where were we? Seattle. Jared: Yeah. Jensen: Did you just not have enough? Jared: Yeah... another time (to tell the story lol). Jensen to the audience: I’m sure you can figure it out! Jensen: Look, I care, I want to make sure my boys are covered! Jared: They say some people give you the shirt off their back, some people give you the *** off their ***. Jensen: The chocolate gonch. Jared whispers and laughs and Jensen falls over.

Jared likes Sam’s red flannel. Maybe because his marker is red, or it makes up 60% of his name :P

Jared: “I think Sam has a fondness for his red flannels!”

Jensen likes his grey flannel.

Jensen removes his belt lol.

Richard Ices J2. They both take a knee and drink on stage.

Rich to Jared: “You know, you saying you’re gonna screw with us is like saying the sun rose!”

Richard apparently turned the lights off on Jensen in the bathroom earlier. When Rich left and Jensen wasn’t done lol.

The guys are all surrounding the poor last question girl and teasing her with the mics. Boys are cracking up.

Jared hopes s14 isn’t the last. Still feels they should go out in a blaze of glory. Jensen’s had several variations of how the show might end and none of them know how it’s going to end. Misha: Cas is gonna sacrifice himself somehow.

Jensen had a dream about the end of the show and when he shared it with Jared and Misha they both teared up.

Jensen has told that dream many times where he’s lost his brother, he’s done with the hunting life and he doesn’t want Baby anymore because he doesn’t have Sam, so he drives off on a stranger’s motorcycle. Audience: NOOOO. Jensen: You can’t control my dreams!

J2M putting their random clothing items back on. Jared helps with Misha’s shoe lol.

At some point earlier in the panel Misha leaned on Jared’s shoulder right in his face and Jared was just like “Hi!” :)

Jared Iced Rob. Jensen tries to Ice Richard, but Richard jumps out of the way successfully.

Panel ends with the usual J2 fist bumps!

Info via: Maisie, Jenn, Kelli, Bubbs, Natasha, Stevie, Sil’s livetweet list

#jared padalecki #jensen ackles #misha collins #spnuk #ukcon #panel sum #long post #j2m #shpost

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apple-pie-totally-worth-it · 5 years

Text

J2M SPN UK 2018 Panel

At the start of the J2M panel, they made Misha introduce J2 and Jensen is laughing at him lol.

They gave Misha a short chair like at SDCC next to Jared (they changed it back right after lol). Jensen: “Ah, it’s the little things.”

Misha “What’s your normal routine up here… do you guys do acrobatics?”

Jared explains to Misha that they play strip question on stage. If you get the question wrong, you have to take off an article of clothing.

Jared: “I guess my dream job has always been no job… but I would have liked to have been a teacher!” Jensen to Jared: “I learn from you daily, you are a teacher!” Jared put his head on Jensen’s shoulder :)

Jensen: “Sometimes I feel like the right answer would be a Chippendales dancer!”

Misha: “I thought I was gonna be a politician when I grew up!”

Wrong answer: Misha strips off his jacket lol.

Jared: “Jet lag has not been nice to Mr. Misha.”

Jensen earlier about J2M trio op: “We’re doing a crossover. Jensen, Jared & Gollum.” Jared to Misha: “Had I known you looked like this, I wouldn’t have taken a shower.”

Jensen: “There’s another crossover photo later. Supernatural and The Walking Dead.”

J2M just got offered food and now they’re totally fighting over those gummy bears.

Jared nudging Misha to grab gummy bears from a fan: “Misha, Scooby dooby doo!”

Mishalecki are fighting over Misha’s jacket

Jensen: “Jared keeps translating English to English, but he breaks it up and it’s actually worse!”

Jared got the question wrong so he strips and now Jared’s jacket is off!

Jensen would consider a Supernatural tattoo after the show ends because it’s a huge part of his life.

Jensen and Jared both say they would consider getting an SPN tattoo after the show ends.

Jensen took a picture of Jared stripping.

Misha: I wish I’d worn my good socks today. Jared: I’m surprised you have socks on! Jensen, cracking up: Things are looking up Mish, you left the house with socks on!

J2M trying to stump the fans to get the audience to strip.

Fan asks if when Dean and Cas do intense stares if it’s written in the script. Jensen says yes, that in the script it’ll be like a serious moment and then it will say “eye f-u-c-k.” They explain that in general all staring scenes between characters are written like that lol. They say that there’ll be a scene where everyone is eye-fucking. They mention another example in a recent episode between Rich and a female character (I’m assuming the Gabriel and Rowena scene from the last ep lol).

If they could go back & further explore a storyline? Jensen: Demon Dean & purgatory. Jared: Soulless Sam and Sully. Misha: Human Cas & a new storyline with “cool Cas.”

Misha’s sock is off.

Misha: “I’m wearing one shoe and no sock… this is starting to feel like a walk of shame right now!”

Jensen on his cell phone contact that’s famous and is not from SPN is Corey Taylor. Jared’s is JJ from Kaleo, and Misha’s is the Queen lol.

Misha is happy about his two degrees of separation to Neil Gaiman on Twitter through Kim.

Jensen would have swapped with the storyline with Gabriel when he went to Monaco. Jared whispers in Jensen’s ear. Jensen: or Monte Carlo. Jensen loses his overshirt lol.

Misha: I’m hard on Cas. Jared: Woah!!

Jensen Iced Misha (for those who don’t know, Icing someone means the person has to drink a little bottle of Smirnoff Ice - a brand of vodka - while kneeling down on one knee lol).

Misha refuses to drink it on stage so he goes backstage and Jared follows, giving a play by play of Misha drinking the Smirnoff with plenty of innuendos, cracking Jensen up who stayed on stage.

Misha: “I’m not agreeing to a trio panel again!”

Jared took his shoe off. “There, I lost my shoe.”

Jared: “When you sweat in the snow you get used to sweat proof socks!”

Jensen says he has a lot of relationships now and the show made it so he can live and raise a family where he wants.

Misha: Having families. The only reason why my wife has sex with me is that I’m on the show lmao.

Fan asks about the boys going on a hunt in Amsterdam. Jared says he wants to go to Anne Frank’s house and dig up some Nazi ghosts and kill them! Jensen: I killed Hitler.

Jensen says that in Amsterdam Dean would get lost in the red light district, Cas would be stoned in a cafe somewhere, and Sam would be on an architectural tour.

Misha gets called out on his old answer last year & has to take off his belt.

Fan: I have ten princess dresses. Jared, pointing at Jensen: So does he!

Jared: Come on Misha get it right. I don’t want to see you naked. Again. Jensen: Today.

Fan: I’ve been watching you since I was two. I’m 16 now. J2M are devastated lol.

Fan: So in your group, is there a mother hen figure who stops you from getting into trouble? J2M in unison: NOPE. Jensen: “The problem is, we don’t have one!”

Jared: “You know when they say the inmates are running the asylum? That’s us."

Jared: “I still find a freedom and a source of creativity in what I do.” Jared says you get to learn from the characters you play and the people you work with.

Jared: When they call “action” I’m free. I still find a freedom of expression in what I do, that’s why I keep doing it. Jared said he’s not an A-list actor. Jensen: I know you.

Jensen says to learn as much about the technical aspect of filming as you can. He also viewed every audition as a final performance because it helped him deal with rejection.

Fan: Sorry I’m really nervous. Jared: Don’t be nervous, you’re surrounded by family.

Jared is removing Misha’s boot when Misha refuses to answer a question about his favorite trenchcoat lol.

J2 talk about how Jensen shared underwear with Jared at a con before. Jensen: Where were we? Seattle. Jared: Yeah. Jensen: Did you just not have enough? Jared: Yeah… another time (to tell the story lol). Jensen to the audience: I’m sure you can figure it out! Jensen: Look, I care, I want to make sure my boys are covered! Jared: They say some people give you the shirt off their back, some people give you the *** off their ***. Jensen: The chocolate gonch. Jared whispers and laughs and Jensen falls over.

Jared likes Sam’s red flannel. Maybe because his marker is red, or it makes up 60% of his name :P

Jared: “I think Sam has a fondness for his red flannels!”

Jensen likes his grey flannel.

Jensen removes his belt lol.

Richard Ices J2. They both take a knee and drink on stage.

Rich to Jared: “You know, you saying you’re gonna screw with us is like saying the sun rose!”

Richard apparently turned the lights off on Jensen in the bathroom earlier. When Rich left and Jensen wasn’t done lol.

The guys are all surrounding the poor last question girl and teasing her with the mics. Boys are cracking up.

Jensen had a dream about the end of the show and when he shared it with Jared and Misha they both teared up.

J2M putting their random clothing items back on. Jared helps with Misha’s shoe lol.

At some point earlier in the panel Misha leaned on Jared’s shoulder right in his face and Jared was just like “Hi!” :)

Jared Iced Rob. Jensen tries to Ice Richard, but Richard jumps out of the way successfully.

Panel ends with the usual J2 fist bumps!

#Supernatural #spn convention #Jensen #Jensen Ackles #Jared #Jared Padalecki #Misha #Misha Collins #J2M SPN UK

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 3 years

Text

Winner’s Curse Ch. 23

“You have got to be kidding me? No, no no way! Jay, get over here!” Jade yelled, unusually excited by a flutter of paper.

Jay tore his gaze away from the sight of the rising sun. A sight that when he was little, he’d pretend he was in the Agrabah Jafar had told him about. How the rising sun burned like the fires of the Jewel of Destiny. The sand gleamed like the golden minarets that were worth two ships of gold. The oasises as colorful and bright as emeralds and rubies.

It all led back to gold. Beauty in riches.

He knew better now than to believe his dad’s golden rule, but at sights like this, he couldn’t help but remember that feeling. Of wonderment, of desperate longing to see it for himself but feeling, knowing that he never would.

But he did know better. He did know better. He wasn’t going to fall for his dad’s sneaky, snaky words. Or for his hypnosis.

Damn it, he was Jayal iban Jafar, prince of thieves, king of lies, captain of tourney and R.O.A.R. He was powerful, fast, strong. He shouldn’t have broken out of the mind control himself!

“Jaaaay,” Jade called again.

“Right, coming.” Jay crouched to where Jade was regally reclining on her pile of cushions, holding the slip of paper aloft like a royal scroll. “One of Celia’s shadows sent this. She and Yzla tried to scry and get a message to King Ben. But they got something so so much better!” Jade explained reading the front side of the paper, “Apparently, the Coven already has some contacts inside Auradon that are helping them with the invasion. And they’re kids of the heroes. Ah!”

“You are way too happy about this.” Jay smirked at his cousin’s delighted squawk.

“Come on! A hero’s kid is helping their parents’ villain?! Oh and those Aks acted like they were so much better than us. It’s so perfect! Anyway, do the names Kyro, Victoria Porter, Morgaine Le Fey or Alexandria ring a bell to you?”

Jay shook his head, “Not really. I guess Morgaine Le Fey is Morgana’s daughter, but I don’t know about the others. I didn’t really hang out outside of my friends.”

“Good choice, who’d want to be friends with those whiny, pampered bitches.” Jade smiled knowingly.

Jay smiled back, “Took the words out of my mouth.” Okay maybe he wouldn’t have used the word, “bitches,” but once upon a time he would have. Now… he hated to admit but some of FG’s lessons had snuck in. He was more hesitant about using vulgar language. It unnerved him to realize that cursing was yet another thing that Auradon had changed in him.

Though he still did it sometimes to shock the princes like Chad who acted like he had murdered a puppy or something when he uttered the word, “Shit.”

But it still wasn’t the same.

Isle Jay hadn’t been so soft, so considerate of others.

Isle Jay wouldn’t have allowed himself to have looked at his fathers staff. He would have made some sort of distraction, talked his dad into letting him go, anything other than stupidly looking into the staff that he knew would make him a pawn.

What’s more Isle Jay wouldn’t have gotten tricked and captured in the first place, allowing his dad a chance to hypnotize him.

No Isle Jay disappeared the moment that he chose goodness over the wand. But what did that leave him with?

He was loyal now, he was the big brother. A big brother that hadn’t protected his friends from anything.

He was no help to Carlos and his nightmares.

He was no help to Mal when she was stressed and shunned by the public media as Ben’s consort.

He couldn’t help Evie against the invisible insecurities that haunted her head from sixteen years of grooming by her mother.

He hadn’t saved Ben from getting captured by pirates last time he was here. He had forgotten how bad the Isle was and forgot about the kids still left here….

He protected no one. He helped no one.

Maybe he was still the son of Jafar, through and through. He had helped no one but himself.

And he hadn’t done a good job of that either as this mission had shown.

He was Auradon Jay in being soft, easily tricked and hypnotized.

He was the worst of both worlds.

“Jaay, seriously are you sure you're not suffering from post hypnosis syndrome or something official like that?” Jade thwacked him on the head.

“I’m fine!” Jay punched her back in the arm.

“You better go tell Uma about this. It sounds important.” Jay pushed her away before she could pounce on him for a headlock. “Come with,” Jade gestured, but Jay shook his head.

“No. Remember, I’m supposed to be a hypnotized slave. Why would you take me around for a “girl’s convo,” he put air quotes around the excuse Jade used to her mother whenever she went to Uma’s room.

“You’re my slave, I can do what I want. Like how Cruella drives Jace and Harry around with her for everything.”

“Fine,” Jay cracked his neck and tensed up into the rigid state of hypno-him. He forced himself to walk robotically, letting his mind wander off into various thoughts, the most troubling recurring one of his father, so it looked like the blankness of a hypnotized pawn.

He hated trying to assume the position even though he knew it was necessary. It gave him the painful cramping, pins and needles feeling even though it was a short walk across the hall.

Jade fluttered the paper gleefully under Uma’s nose before the blue-haired sea witch snatched it out of her hands.

The rest of the group, Calix, Gil, Harry, Aziz, and Jordan crowded around to read the tiny writing until Uma read it aloud for them all. Jordan and Aziz, the only two who actually knew of the people looked shocked. Identical expressions of disbelief and surprise covering their faces, and causing Jade to burst into a not so discreet cackle.

“But- but Victoria Porter is a.. She’s a lady. She’s British for Allah sake! She wants to be a royal guard, why would she join the Coven! She doesn’t even have powers!” Jordan cried.

“And Alexandria cares way too much about her royal reputation to do this. Calix you dated her, isn’t Morgaine a sorceresss? Is she hypnotizing them or something?” Aziz pestered Calix who only opened and closed his mouth wordlessly.

“It doesn’t matter why they’re with the Coven or if they’re under duress. What’s important is that we know they’re working with them. We have to find a way to send a message to King Ben.” “We could use Celia’s shadow creatures,” Jade suggested, “That’s how she sent the message to me in the first place.”

“We’ll try that. And I’ll send a message in a bottle with a genie girl as a backup.” Uma confirmed, “Next, we’ll see if we can get Celia to scry for more information like what entry points this mini Coven is creating for the Coven to enter through.”

“I can help with that,” Calix added, “But what do the-how do I put this delicately, what do the rest of the non powered people do?”

“Harry, Gil, you go back to the crew and see how the fight training is going. Aziz, Jade, Jay, you… go keep your cover.” Uma directed the last one dismissively, leaving no question what she thought of their usefulness.

And it sparked a memory inside Jay. Memories since it happened more than once. Jafar was utterly disinterested in Jay unless he had something to steal. A day he came home with empty hands and a black eye.

“Just go.” “Go find something valuable.” “Get out of my sight!”

Commands he had obeyed without a question. No better than a spineless henchman. Or a brainless pawn.

Well Jay had his own mind. Ever since he left the Isle, he’d been standing up to what he wanted out of his life, not his dad. Just because he was back on the Isle, didn’t mean he was going to go back to obeying others without a question.

“What’s wrong, Shrimpy? Afraid I’m going to upstage you if you let me help?” Jay mocked, striding to Uma.

Like muscle memory, his body tensed for a fight. Clenching an dunclenching his fists, purposely stooping to Uma’s eye level, forcing everyone to acknowledge that he was taller and stronger than her. He flexed his muscles, and separated his legs for better balance. And he smirked. The smirk that made many a thug want to punch his lights out before ending up on the ground on their backs.

Anticipation rushed up his spine and he could taste the memory of blood on his tongue. He missed this adreneline….

Uma glared, not taking a step back as most opponents usually did. That would make a punch more difficult since he wouldn’t be able to get enough leverage, but then again he could always sweep her legs from under her.

“I’m not scared of you upstaging me. I’m not scared of you, period. I’m ordering you back to your post so this mission can continue successfully.” Uma gritted through her teeth, her eyes flashing a stormy teal much like the ocean outside the broken barrier.

That only made Jay’s fury mount. The deliberate calmness in her tone, like she was placating Jay by listening but knew that Jay would obey her anyway.

“You’re not the boss of me.” Jay growled.

“Well your pretty purple dragon “boss” is all the way over in Auradon so she can’t make your decisions anymore. You-”

“I can make my own decisions,” Jay yelled but Uma still didn’t back down, “I’m the only one here who could best all of you in a fight so I think you should be very careful how you speak to me or I’’ll-”

“You’ll be bleeding on the floor with your throat slit, that’s what you’ll be.” Harry finished, caressing the back of Jay’s head with his hook. The cold metal point just barely touching the nape of his neck.

Jay cursed himself for forgetting that others were watching and allowing Harry to get the advantage over him. He was better than this. He used to be better at this. Rule number 3 and 4 on the Isle was to always be aware of your surroundings and always on guard.

Jay snorted, clenched his fist and backed away from Uma. Harry only leaving his back until Jay was reasonable distance away. Jay saw the rest of them staring. Not the usual faces of awe, bloodlust and excitement that would be expressed by the onlookers of Isle tassels. No, these were the looks of tension, fear and concern.

Great, if the rest of the group hadn’t thought he was entirely useless and manipulatable from the hypnotized by Jafar incident, now they would all think was too hot headed to be trusted.

The looks from Jordan and Aziz were not as concerned or shocked as the others They were more neutral as if they expected this behavior.

Yet another example confirming for them that he was just a junior Jafar.

Frustrated with the uneasy feeling of a burnt ego, Jay stalked out, mumbling, “I’ll go back to my post.”

He shouldn’t have left Auradon. He shouldn’t have. He was the worst of both worlds. Too soft for the Isle now, but still a capital V, VK in Auradon.

He missed his friends, and he missed the feeling of a team more than ever.

In tourney, Coach Jenkins emphasized that to make a mission succeed, everyone had to respect each other.

Though there were some exceptions, mainly Chad, Jay believed that wholeheartedly. He trusted Herkie to always have everyone else’s back as backup support and respected how the demigod tried to be mindful of his strength. He trusted Carlos to always come up with the best strategies and be a sneaky wild card, and he respected Carlos as one of his best friends.

Trust and respect, those were the main ingredients for missions and games to work because no matter how the plan went off the rails, at least he could count on the others to pick up slack without feeling like they resented him.

Here, it was all resentment and distrust. Jay had thought he didn’t care about their opinions, and he still didn’t think he did. But it was exhausting to deal with the eye rolls when he suggested an idea or knowing that his every move, his every mistake was scrutinized as confirming their opinions of him.

They were Auradonians, weren’t they supposed to at least pretend to trust him, and believe in him and second chances?

Jay almost slammed the door behind him in Jade’s room but remembered that wouldn’t have fit with his cover as “mindless hypnotized fool” so he settled for closing it gently.

He needed an outlet for his anger that slamming the doors and punching Harry would have given him but the only choice was to punch pillows.

So he did it. It frustrated him at first. The pillows were too soft and could never match the satisfaction of crunching bones and skin but he kept at it. He let his ranger take over as he imagined the faces of Uma, Harry, Jafar, Jordan, Aziz and all the other assholes that had been ordering him around and keeping him in his place as a nothing. Unemployed thief. Jafar junior. Mindless pawn.

Sweat dripped down and plastered his hair to his neck but he kept going. Fluff began to spill from the pillows and his nails dug into his palms but he kept going. He kept going until he reached the bottom of the pillow pile, finding relief in the feel of splintered gravel against his knuckles.

He huffed, sanking to his knees and swiped his sweaty hair off his back, waiting for his pulse and breath to get back to normal. Once his blood stopped rushing in his ears, he heard the sound of slow clap. He whipped around to his feet to see Jade in her ornate sari, her emerald rings gleaming from the gilt edges decorating the room.

“What do you want?” Jay blew out a breath.

“Want to talk about your feelings?”

Jay choked on a laugh. He didn’t know what he expected Jade to say but that definitely wasn’t it. In fact, she sound so unsure and hesitant while asking, it sounded like she was questioning him what feelings were.

“Why-why would you want to know that?”

Jade and he never talked.

Actually no one talked on the Isle. Feelings were a weakness after all. But Jade and he never had a reason to talk. It wasn’t that kind of relationship. They were thieves in arms and…

If Jay was being honest, he hadn’t thought Jade really had feelings.

Sure she got happy and pissed, But the emotional wringers Carlos and Evie went through… the pressure that Mal tried so hard to pretend it didn’t get to her, Jay hadn’t thought Jade ever felt that. Or would want to hear someone else’s sob story.

But Jade, while nervous, was clear eyed and looking at him expectantly.

If there was anyone who’d get what living under the shadow of Jafar was like, Jade would get it.

Still he started with a joke, feeling a shred of embarrassment at his emotion-fueled rage, “Guess I do have post hypnosis syndrome. Heh, it kinda.. I don’t want to be ordered around, you know.” “If it makes you feel better, she treats me like I’m an easily hypnotized idiot too, and I haven’t even met her till now.” Jade settled down on the ottoman, gracefully smoothing her dress around her.

“Yeah, that’s Shrimpy. Bossy sea witch and pain in the ass trying to assert her authority. She still hasn’t gotten over, Mal beating her.” Jay semi-explained. Jade nodded and paused, clearly waiting.

Jay tensed, he never thought talking about his feelings would be this hard. He knew Jade wouldn’t judge him too much but still…

Through clenched teeth Jay said, “It’s just… before I got hypnotized I had realized, I never- I never thought what I’d do if I saw Dad again. I’m not like Mal or the others. I don’t care about his opinion. He doesn’t care about mine. He doesn’t care about me. But I-”

“But you do care.” Jade finished softly.

Jay thought of the first glimpse he had of his dad, returned back to his former glory. The way his pointed robe loomed over him, the snakey slit of his eyes as he grinned with perverse delight of a fate awaiting Jay that he didn’t know about.

The feeling sent a dip in his stomach and shudder in his chest. A feeling that Jay never gave words for until now.

“I was scared.” Jade didn’t say anything and that compelled Jay to continue talking, something to fill the silence that he was afraid was going to be replaced by tears if he didn’t stop himself.

“I was scared because I know I betrayed him and I didn’t know what he’d do with me. But yeah, I also cared about him too. I was scared and.. and guilty. I disappointed him.I hate it. I hate that! I know he’ll never care about me so why can’t I just stop caring about him? Nothing will ever make him care for me.” “That- that also makes it worse. I spent sixteen years of my life doing nothing. I stole and lied and became a master thief for nothing. I let him insult me, and hit him, and ignore me for nothing. I was never going to get the big score, I was never going to be anything but a burden or something he cared about.”

“I still cared for him, and… until he hypnotized me, some stupid part of me thought he cared too. Not a lot but. You know, Dad. He only hypnotizes people he sees as pawns or just idiots.” “And he hypnotized you.” Jade said matter of factly.

“Yeah, he hypnotized me. He could have used me or blackmailed, all conscious and self aware, to do something for him. He knows I’m a good thief, but-”

“He hypnotized you because he’d rather have a controlled pawn than a brilliant master thief of a son.” Jade put in words.

Jay nodded wordlessly, rubbing his face from the tears he felt burn in the back of his eyes but weren’t visible. “I thought I was better than the others, you know.” Jay said, not needing to clarify, “I thought I didn’t care about my dad so I didn’t have nightmares like they did. I was like their big brother.”

He snorted, thinking back to the kids scrounging through the trash cans, “I suck as a big brother but they still think that of me.” “Why do you suck?” Jade asked with genuine curiosity.

“I tell them that if we ever met our parents again, I’d fight for them. I’d pound anyone who hurt them. Villain or royal. But when I faced my dad. An illusion of my dad actually, I froze. Sure, I can say I’ll protect them, but what if when something actually happens, I freeze again? I haven’t done anything to actually help them.”

Jade looked thoughtful, “Well according to Yzla, Yen Sid said that part of helping is just listening and comforting people. And that’s what you do with Mal, Evie and Carlos. You’re a great big brother. As for freezing up. I think you’d fight to defend them. You froze with Jafar because… well it’s harder to fight your family.”

Jay listened, already feeling a weight lift from Jade’s words. Reminding himself that he fought Uma and her crew for his friend’s sake, and he fought Maleficent too back at Coronation. Maybe he wasn’t such an imposter of a big brother as he thought…

“You know, for someone who is getting to Anti Villain Club lessons by letter, you’re pretty good.” Jay nudged her shoulder.

Jade flick a bang back and smiled smugly, “I’m a quick study.”

The settled into comfortable silence, a feeling that was strange to him since he like dbeing as active as possible, but it was also nice. Calm, actually it made him want to fall asleep.

“So what about you? Anything you want to talk about?” Jay asked.

Jade looked like a deer caught in the headlights as the tables flipped to her. She pursed her lips, looked away and then looked back at him, “Nothing much. Just glad we had the chance to talk.” She sounded nonchalant as she answered but Jay could see the little Jade ticks that clued she was lying.

She sounded too carefree which Jay knew Jade never was. She was always looking for an angle.

“What’s in it for you? Why are you so into us talking?” Jay questioned.

“You know, you get it. Living with someone like our parents.” Jade mumbled, playing with the ring on her finger, “Being disappointments. Though I’d rather be hypnotized as punishment than what Mom usually does.”

Jay closed his eyes, the guilty weight came crashing back. He heard the rumors, of course. Nasira’s temper was legendary, and Jade was the best at makeup covering bruises but he hadn’t tied it together. Or at least he did, but shrugged it off since so many of them dealt with the blows given by their parents. There was no need to check on her.

Jade was Jade. She was tough, she was fine.

But the abuse did bother her. Just like everyone else. She lied that she was fine.

And Jay fell for that lie just like everyone else. Hook, line and sinker.

Some prince of lies he was.

“Jade I’m so-”

“Don’t feel guilty about not being a good brother. I never needed you as a brother.” Jade shoved him a bit as if physical distance would separate the emotional boundaries they were crossing.

Jay wanted to ask more, to argue that wasn’t true. That if he could have been there for Mal, Carlos and Evie, he could have been there for her too. But he also knew there was no point. It already happened in the past.

“You’re right. But we’ll talk from now on.”

Jade looked at him, straight in the eye, which would have meant something if they both weren’t skilled at lying with direct eye contact.

Jay slipped a gold seashell he pickpocketed from Uma into her hand. Jade smiled and handed him her emerald ring. It was a deal.

“I know you prefer your friends, but if you ever need to, I can be like your fourth option. When you feel like you can’t be a big brother.” Jade murmured.

“Hmm mm,” Jay hummed, admiring the green glint of the ring. No scratches on it. This was genuine jewelary instead of the costume junk that was usually found on the Isle.

“Though I guess I’m your sixth option if you go to Aladdin’s royal brats before me,” Jade laughed and Jay snorted derisively at such an unlikely scenario.

Though he had grown to be patient with royals, those two were still incredibly annoying. Worse so, since their families were interconnected as enemies. Other classmates always asked if he got along with them or if he was going to visit Agrabah, and he’d mutter something noncommittal and leave. He didn’t want to pick a fight with them and bring back all the anti-VK mobs again. He’d rather leave them alone and they do the same.

Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to visit Agrabah. He wanted to see the storied bazaar of spices and treasures and millions of other items under the blazing sun. Or the golden dome of the palace. Or parkour on the roofs himself.

But then he’d have to accept the invitation to live in the Sultan’s palace and he wasn’t sure he would survive a week with them without majorly offending someone. Or punching someone.

Aziz was okay. He never brought up the Jafar connection, he didn’t make obvious ploys of aggression like Chad. Aziz even invited Jay to Agrabah himself at Aladdin’s behest. But Jay could see it in his eyes that Aziz wanted Jay to say no. The slight sneer when Jay got the penalty box for aggressiveness or see the tell-tale twinkle of a stolen bracelet slip out of Jay’s pockets that said Aziz fully believed Jay to be his father’s son.

Passive aggressive really which annoyed Jay more since that was such a girl thing to do. If Aziz was an actual man he’d screw the nicieties and fight.

Jordan was more upfront, announcing it to the room when he stole something. Eyes cutting to him expectedly when there was news of a brawl. Outright threatening him if he got near her, her lamp or Aziz.

Yeah, they were not his favorite Auradonians.

So unlike the happily ever after stories of his friends of Evie dating Dough or Carlos romping with the 101 dalmations, he was not on the road to reconciliation with his father’s enemies.

So no Agrabah for him.

He didn’t care. Unlike his dad, he truly didn’t care about their opinions. Except for the missed vacation destination.

Besides, even though he wasn’t befriending Aladdin like others expected. He still had Coach Jenkins as a mentor.

Though it wasn’t quite the same. Coach Jenkins made a conscious effort not to favor one of his athletes over the other. And Jay didn’t feel like inviting himself over to Coach’s family dinners. It would be too awkward. And too pathetic.

Well at least he had Jade. Though it would get some getting used to in thinking of her as someone as family even though they literally were. They had both been so used to the “No Team in I” family philosophy. And then Jay had been consumed by his role as big brother, that he hadn’t felt it right to burden his friends. After all, he was fine compared to them.

But that was going to change, and now, he had a new ally on his side to feel less alone.

#jay #jade #uma #winner’s curse #my fanfic #my fanfiction #disney descendants #chapter twenty three

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misssophiachase · 6 years

Text

Champagne Supernova

25 Days of Klaroline + Things

So, this didn't start out this way at all (and to be honest wasn't even planned until a few hours ago) but has become a TO season 5 premiere inspired drabble. After Rebekah asks for Caroline's help with an out-of-control Klaus, she decides to intervene in her own constructive 'Forbes' way to bring him back from the brink.

Someday you will find me, caught beneath the landslide….

Monte Carlo, France

Klaus was supposedly invincible but after waking half dressed, tangled in his white, bed sheets his mouth dry and the headache from hell he was seriously doubting that fact. He'd stumbled to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach, the brief glance in the hotel room mirror on his way illustrating his knotted blonde curls, ashen complexion and just how red rimmed his usually dark, blue eyes were.

Turns out even the most powerful creature on earth wasn't immune to a good, old fashioned hang over. He'd spent the previous night gambling at the Monte Carlo Casino not remembering just how well or how badly he'd fared. Klaus figured that given his state, it was most probably the latter.

After immersing himself in the welcoming, hot shower and placing a towel tightly around his waist, Klaus made his way to the bedroom. Ever since Hope had left his life, Klaus had lost his way and reverted back to the beast he'd once been. He wasn't proud of his actions but without his daughter, or his siblings, his life had spun out of control and there was no one there to catch him.

Klaus had travelled extensively the past eight years, never staying in one place for more than a few days. He considered there was no point given he'd usually tasted the best human offerings and terrorised the worst. Klaus had never really possessed the best attention span and wasn't about to start after more than one thousand years roaming the earth.

He'd ordered his usual eggs over easy and was looking forward to pairing it with whomever delivered his room service. Then he'd be on his way. The bell rang a half hour later, Klaus had changed into a dark pair of jeans that hugged his hips, not bothering with his usual henley because he didn't want to stain it unnecessarily. He licked his lips in anticipation, while opening the door to reveal his prey. The hunt was really all he had left to treat the overwhelming numbness these days.

"Room service," she chirped in a rich, French accent, her red waves pulled back into a neat chignon, her black and white uniform perfectly pressed. He could make out the curves of her creamy neck ready for his touch. The excitement was building, his fangs readying themselves to strike. Before he could she spoke again. "I found this on your doormat." He regarded the envelope curiously, the neat cursive of his name confirming it was indeed his. Klaus snatched it from her grasp, not bothering with pleasantries.

Turning it over, he realised there was no return address. Ripping the flap open in one swift move, he pulled out the insert. The invitation was immaculate. Thick, white card, embossed with gold calligraphy. His only clue, the address of the soiree in one week. In Champagne of all places.

Klaus knew the area well; in fact it was one of his favourite destinations in France. It was also the original hometown of a witch he was desperate to track down. A witch that could give him the answers he needed about getting his daughter back for good and exorcising the Hollow once and for all. It seemed like after all his searching she'd found him and Klaus wasn't willing to take that for granted.

He gave the employee an unexpected smirk, he could barely extend his lips past a frown these days so the news had obviously buoyed him somewhat. Her eyelashes fluttered and her breasts pushing forward for closer inspection. Klaus had long since entertained any lustful thoughts, ever since she'd left his life. Caroline Forbes was the only person that could rouse him and had no intention or interest in any other.

Grabbing the tray and slamming the door shut, he could hear her annoyed mutterings that he hadn't offered a tip. Klaus figured she should feel lucky he didn't eat her for breakfast. Now, all he needed was a new suit for the ball, he wanted to make an impression after all.

Les Crayeres Chateau, Champagne

The cool, Autumn night was still and deliciously fragrant with the aroma of ripe grapes. Even though it was dark, Klaus could make out the vines bordering the long driveway and bathed in silvery moonlight as he approached in the chauffeured vehicle he'd commandeered. Klaus had assumed that the house would be brightly lit and filled with noise and activity. It was a ball after all. Although his host was a mystery, Klaus knew Audrey would be somewhere amongst the guests.

Audrey Marchand had grown up in Champagne, a slave and farm hand on one of the original properties when her powers had manifested themselves. The townsfolk were petrified and her parents had immediately sent her away in shame. As she travelled further from her hometown her power had grown tenfold. Instead of fearing others they came to fear her. It had been a fiery incident in New Orleans decades earlier when she'd come up against the Hollow, a Native American witch with unrivalled powers. Audrey had been the one to challenge and immobilise her at the time. If she could do it once, Klaus was hopeful she could again then free Hope and his siblings from their forced exile.

The Chateau looming ahead was built in 1885 then partially destroyed by the German forces in World War I. In 1940's the Royal Air Force occupied the castle, followed by the American Army and then Count Charles of Colignac. But it looked like the witch that had once toiled the land was back with a vengeance to take back what was her childhood home. Klaus only hoped he could convince her that family and tradition meant just as much to him as it did her.

The car came to a stop, the chauffeur opening his door and tipping his hat as Klaus strode purposefully towards the entrance. It was dark and eerily quiet and obviously not a ball as he'd been led to believe, Klaus should have been alarmed but after all these years he was willing to do whatever it took. He rang the bell by the grand, wooden door waiting impatiently for Audrey to answer.

She didn't, of course. A greying gentleman in black tails appeared, taking his coat and gesturing inside mysteriously. It was dark, the only light emanating from a large and welcoming open fire, the vaulted ceiling making the spacious lounge room look even grander. He took a few tentative steps, her lithe form coming into view as she stared into the crackling fire. From this angle, Klaus had the perfect view of her toned back accentuated by the low cut, emerald, silk dress.

There was no way this was the witch he was looking for given her age but another look at her familiar curves was causing him to stir unexpectedly. There was only one person on earth who could make that happen. But it couldn't be her. It was impossible.

"Took your time," she drawled, turning to face him, her rosy cheeks from the warmth obvious in the fire light. Her blonde waves were pulled back dramatically from her face, highlighting the smooth neck he'd familiarised himself with once upon a time. Suddenly he wanted to do it all over again.

"Well, perhaps if I'd known I was meeting with the ever punctual, and highly strung, Caroline Forbes I might have picked up the pace, sweetheart," he murmured, trying to ignore just how delectable she looked in that gown which he had a sudden urge to rip from her body. He decided to blame it on the fact he'd been celibate for so long and the intense power she had over his senses.

"I resent that," she scowled. Klaus was fairly certain she would look beautiful no matter the expression.

"Says the girl who invited me here on false pretences," he scoffed.

"The invite never said..."

"But your intention was to make me believe I was meeting with Audrey Marchand. I'm curious about two things, love," Klaus mused, making his way towards Caroline, his body trying to betray his resolve but his mind slightly winning the fight thankfully. "How you knew to come her and why you're trying to deceive me? Especially given you're supposed to be teaching my daughter in Mystic Falls."

"Same old Klaus Mikaelson, trying to prove he's the alpha male."

"Oh, I am..."

"Yeah, I know how this predictable, wolf-like, testosterone rant goes," she dismissed, her blue eyes blazing angrily in his direction. "I've witnessed it enough times."

"Why are you here?" He repeated, his frustration threatening to overtake his control. Klaus was either going to throw a long awaited tantrum or kiss those perfect, pink lips and knew either of those options wouldn't end well with Caroline Forbes.

"I have been teaching your daughter for eight years," she barely managed through gritted teeth. "But you know that. And not that you deserve an oral report, Mikaelson, but she's bright, engaged and extremely talented."

"She is?" He grinned proudly, feeling the happiest he had in years. Suddenly all his anxieties for her well being had melted away in a brief moment. He'd never doubted Caroline but his absence from Hope had weighed heavily upon his mind. "Well, of course she's bloody brilliant. She is a Mikaelson after all."

"Nice to see that arrogance has been dialled down a notch."

"Last time I checked you hadn't explained what you're doing here," he pushed, trying to ignore just how adorable she looked biting her lower lip in response.

"I heard you were being kind of an ass," she offered. Klaus was now facing her at the mantle, their proximity closer than it had been in a long while. "And after all these years, I kind of feel a responsibility to your daughter."

"Oh really?"

"Fine, you are being the biggest ass." Klaus chuckled, his laugh coming out in full force. He forgot what it was like to really relax and he'd missed it. As usual it was Caroline Forbes that had brought him back to life, even if he still did have his suspicions.

"I've missed that cute but hostile act," he smiled. "So, who sent you here? Kol, Elijah, Freya..."

"Rebekah."

"I really should have known, she is the most interfering."

"I always assumed she hated me," Caroline admitted. "And then she turned up at the school out of the blue demanding I save you from yourself given our connection but I hardly think we're destined for best friend, heart necklaces just yet."

"Probably safer that way," Klaus advised, beginning to pace back and forth now deep in thought. Yes, his sister was doing her best to make his life difficult but there was so much more to this scenario. "Hang on, save me from myself?"

"I knew you'd love that explanation. Apparently you've been leaving a trail of human, buffet offerings in your wake all over the world and between you and me it's kind of gross, not to mention completely unhygienic."

"I've had a lot on my mind," he muttered defensively, his pacing increasing with every word. Klaus never imagined this being their first conversation in so many years.

"Your daughter should be the most important..."

"Oh, you mean my daughter who I can't ever see ever again?" He huffed, coming to a stop. "All I ever think about is what I would say to her the first time we see each other again and just how overwhelming that embrace would be. Why do you think I'm here? Although given your interference, it seems that I've hit another dead end."

"No need to flatter me Mikaelson," she quipped sarcastically. Even given the drama, Klaus stilled. There were many sides to Caroline Forbes but he'd never get tired of any. "That's why I'm here."

"Excuse me?"

"You want Audrey, right?" Klaus nodded, not sure what was coming next. "I found her."

"How exactly?"

"Okay, not sure if your memories have been wiped during this whole reckless, let's eat everyone and hate everyone phase but I have a knack for solving a good puzzle. Remember that whole Hunter's sword, Aramaic, cryptex, DaVinci Code situation back in the day?"

"I didn't realise you'd mastered Aramaic?"

"You can't help yourself, can you?" She shot back. "Always so damn arrogant even in the most challenging of situations."

"You know me too well, so about Audrey?"

"She's holed up in a townhouse in Bonn, Germany," she explained. "Her movements have been limited for a while to avoid magical tracking but the best chance you have is surprising her there."

"And?"

"Explaining how you have the deeds to the very winery she worked at all those years ago in France. A place she has pined for since she was fifteen.”

“But how did you manage to get those?’

“I can be extremely persuasive.” Klaus knew not to argue given he was in complete agreement. “If those aren’t enough to help break the curse between Hope and your siblings I don't know what is, Klaus. If not, I have plenty of alternative plans on the ready."

"You do?"

"You're talking to Caroline Forbes, do you know how many decade dances, proms, homecomings and presidential elections I excelled in before I even graduated high school? I'm pretty certain I could rule the world even without Aramaic, you know just saying."

"I have no doubt," Klaus smiled knowingly, thinking just how perfect she'd be by his side in New Orleans. "With a resume like that you're destined for royalty, love." He held her gaze as she did his, the fire crackling rythmically in the background.

"How about a toast?" Caroline asked, gesturing to the nearby waiter. Two crystal glasses were filled immediately with the bubbling and sought after liquid from that very region and clinked against each other in toast. "This is our thing, after all."

"You shot me down when I said that all those years ago." Klaus argued, his surprise evident.

"I was still technically underage," she argued. "And I suppose I didn't want you to get too comfortable with me."

"And now?"

"I'm well over the age limit, no need to card me, officer."

"That's not what I meant," he chided.

"I suppose comfort has its benefits, especially in the right setting and at the right time," Caroline admitted. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Deal?"

"You stop being a moping, serial killing ass and I promise to help you find Audrey," Caroline insisted, her eyebrows raised curiously. Klaus wasn't sure he could resist with her blue eyes hypnotising him like that.

"However long it takes?" He managed to utter, unable to help himself. The reddening on her cheeks was enough to tell Klaus he'd made his very obvious point.

"One step at a time," she murmured. "But I do give bonus points for longevity."

On FF on my new However Long It Takes drabbles HERE

#champagne supernova #25daysofklaroline #misssophiachase #howeverlong it takes

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hey-angelle · 4 years

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On the Film: “Bar Boys” by Kip Oebanda

Sometimes in life, you have to choose whether you want to keep going or to stop.

[ NOTE: These are my personal thoughts while I was watching Kip Oebanda’s film entitled “Bar Boys” on YouTube. Safe to say I was very emotional when I was writing this. I hope you enjoy and that this doesn’t change your view of me as much! ]

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of suicide.

Word Count: 2752 words

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Past 9PM. March 23, 2020. Day 9 of the Quarantine. Out of the blue, I decided to watch Kip Oebanda’s film, “Bar Boys” on YouTube. Honestly, the first time I heard the title, the notion of grimy pubs with strobe lights came to mind. I thought the film would be about workers in a bar trying to keep themselves afloat. And of course, I was wrong. The film was about a group of friends who wanted to go to law school. I, for a fact, once had the thought of going to law school and become a lawyer someday, after I graduate accountancy. Yes, I wanted to become a CPA Lawyer when I was in junior high school. I even wanted to graduate with Latin honors… I remember asking my mom how I can graduate with honors in college, and to which, she replies: “Mag-aral ka lang nang mabuti. Kaya mo yun!” (“Study hard! I know you can do it!”) Oh, if only the little 10th grade Angelle knew. Come senior high school, I already started questioning if I really wanted to take up accountancy. Law school then was out of my mind. I ended up taking up accountancy during my first year as a college student. Safe to say, it was hell. I remember getting a letter from the College of Accountancy telling me that I am qualified for admission due to my academic performance. If I recall correctly, only a few were able to receive such letter. I took that as my motivation to not quit; I rationalized: “Pinili ako ng college na ‘to. Papatunayan kong deserving ako na pinili niya ako.” (“This college chose me. I’m going to prove that I am worthy of being chosen.”).

Now, Carlo Aquino’s role spoke out to me during the entire movie. He’s surrounded by well-enough friends who are smart and actually know what they are doing: that even if they don’t exert that much effort, they pass. Yes, I was like Erik Vicencio – the not-so smart guy who has to exert more than 100% but still ends up failing. I also had my parents, who served as my motivation in trying to finish my program; like Erik’s parents, they work hard to send me to college. They are approaching their senior years and I cannot recall the amount of times they’ve told me “tumatanda na kami” (“we’re not getting any younger”) which reminds me that I should not slack off so I can provide for them when they’re in their senior years. Nonetheless, they were supportive of me, and like Erik’s father, they kept telling me to keep fighting… to keep going no matter what. But every time a quiz gets handed back to me and I see failing grades, I feel so ashamed and frustrated. I mean, how dare I get failing marks when my parents work so hard to make sure I am comfortable in my studies? They weren’t even granted such luxury when they studied yet they were able to finish and look where they are now. So, how dare I fail, right? I kept telling myself that all this would pay off someday, that I’d be rich and be able to give my parents the life they deserve. But as the weeks and months passed by, I felt drained… like I didn’t want to fight anymore. I was thinking that maybe this battle just wasn’t for me. Maybe I should just shift programs already, else I’m just jeopardizing my entire future if I push any further. However, I pushed these feelings aside and continued the battle. Finals came for the second semester. Grades were out. And for the first time in my life, I’ve gotten a failing mark. No, this was not just a failing mark on a quiz, but a grade of 5.0. I had no one else to blame but me. I blamed myself for my lapses and shortcomings. That maybe I should’ve tried harder. Maybe I shouldn’t have fallen asleep while reviewing. I failed and it was all because of me. When Erik failed Mr. Cruz’ class, he wanted to redeem himself and would do anything just to pass. I felt the same way too, if only teachers would give out extra credit tasks from where I came from… but they don’t. Even as our grades were released, we had no time for consultation with our professors since it was already the break. And so, I told my parents about this failing grade of mine. Needless to say, their reaction was not quite what I was expecting. I only had my dad with me during this time, since my mom was abroad, enjoying her Europe trip. It was also during this time that I had made the final decision to shift. No, I wasn’t shifting because I had a failing grade. I was shifting because I felt like I deserved more, and I wanted to be doing something I love; me failing was only my “breaking point” or “trigger” since I’ve already had thoughts of shifting prior to second semester. There was this scene where Erik’s now paralyzed dad told him to do things for himself, not for them or for anyone else. Again, this resonated with me because the moment I decided to do things for myself, I made a life-changing decision… and that was to shift programs. That part where Erik’s dad also tells him that he’d do anything to fund his studies takes me back to that time when my mom called me all the way from Europe to comfort me – that she’s okay with me failing and losing the chance to graduate with Latin honors (in our university, it is a policy that once you’ve gotten a grade of 5.0 in any subject, you are barred from graduating with Latin honors). She even told me to stop thinking so much and I knew that was her motherly instincts working, because during our week of final exams, she was already in Europe and during those times (and a few weeks prior to that), I’ve been having recurring thoughts of committing suicide. Just thoughts, not concrete plans on how I’d execute it. I began to withdraw from my friends. I felt like extreme shit and that I was a worthless, good for nothing, and mediocre accounting student. My mind was all over the place. It’s a miracle how I still managed to do good in some of my exams. This is why when I was watching the movie, I’d get anxious every time something bad happens to Erik. I kept thinking, “Hala, paano kapag nagpakamatay siya?” (“Oh no! What if he commits suicide?”) because when I was in his situation, I’d get thoughts of wanting to end my life. Thankfully, he never does. And thankfully, I never did. It actually took everything in me not to break down and cry while my mom was talking to me on the phone because one, it would be embarrassing to cry at my dad’s faculty room and have his colleagues see me, and two, I wanted to remain strong for my mom, whose voice was now slowly starting to break. I told her about my decision to shift and she told me she’s fine with it and that she and my dad would continue to work just so they can help me with my studies, even if I decide to take up my masterals… as long as I stay and continue to fight. Up to this day, I still hold that phone call conversation close to my heart. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how my parents were so doting and caring during those times. I remember how my dad used to ask me if I wanted to come with him when he goes out just so I don’t stay at home and begin to overthink things again. Also, a few weeks back, I had been joking with my mom to get me a pair of sneakers from the Harry Potter Vans Collection, and on the weekend when she came home, she and my dad immediately bought me a pair just to console me (even if deep down I knew I wasn’t deserving of such expensive gift). I then realized how privileged I am to have them, and I will not take advantage of this. Without them, I wouldn’t be where I am now.

Now, let me also talk about how the friendship between Erik, Chris, and Torran struck a nerve in me. As I’ve mentioned earlier, I kept having these thoughts of wanting to end my life since I felt like everything I’ve been doing and will be doing is already pointless. In their senior year, when the three were nearing graduation, Erik has failed a class and will be delayed in graduating. However, despite them breaking out into a fight, Chris and Torran still managed to find a way to make Erik pass. Eventually, he does and is now able to graduate. During those dark times of mine, my friends were there to help me stay afloat. Their mere presence alone was enough, and like Chris and Torran, they did something that I would never forget. It was the last day of the final exams and as I’ve mentioned in an earlier paragraph, I’ve been withdrawing from my friends during those times; what they did was that they surprised me with a compilation of letters that they’ve gathered from my other friends. All these letters were words of encouragement; some were even from people I wasn’t close with, which really touched my heart. Somehow, this ignited the almost dying fire within me. I’m reminded that I am not alone in this battle because I have my friends. Honestly, the amount of support I’ve gotten from my friends in general during those trying times never fails to bring tears to my eyes every time. There’s this scene in the movie where Justice Hernandez (played by Odette Khan) tells Erik that his friends and even her – someone who finds it hard to actually believe in people – has put so much trust and belief in Erik: that he can overcome whatever trials he may come to face… and all that he needs to do now is to believe in himself; this scene reminded me of how many people have my back, no matter what happens, I just need to put some faith in myself. To give myself credit for all the things that I’ve accomplished and are set to accomplish, no matter how big or small.

However, there were also dark sides to this friendship. In the movie, Kean plays the role of their barkada who fails the law school entrance exam and took up modelling instead, his dream career. Somehow, I now see myself in him. As a previous accounting student, I can’t help but feel out of place among my accounting friends. Every time we meet up, all they’d do is talk about their accounting professors, their accounting subjects, law, tax, and the like. While me, being the Behavioral Science major now, cannot contribute anything to the topic except the occasional nod and smile. Like Kean’s character, I used to be a part of the “main” group of characters, now, I am just a side character in the narrative. He even gets to the point where he complains about not being able to see the three anymore because all they do is study. And yes, I’ve done something similar. In fact, there was a time where I got upset and disappointed because every time I ask my friends if we could meet just for a little while to eat, they’d say something along the lines of: “hala, may quiz kasi kami eh.” (“Oh no! We have a quiz!”), or “Sorry, busy kami eh. Rami pinapagawa.” (“Sorry, we’re busy. We have a lot to do.”), or maybe “Quiz week namin eh. Next time na lang.” (“It’s our quiz week. Maybe next time.”). Even our schedules don’t seem to fit in. You know what I’ve realized with this? It’s sad how the people you’ve wanted to reach success with is no longer in the process with you. This might seem selfish at first glance but let me explain it: see, as a first-year accounting student, I’ve expected that I’d be spending the rest of my 4 years with them, to share and relate with their struggles, failures, and victories. But seeing as I’m no longer an accounting student, I can no longer relate to whatever calvary they’re facing. Yes, I can still ask how they’re doing but it’s different when you actually know and have gone through their struggle because then it would give you a better vantage point to what they’re feeling. In Filipino, nararanasan mo mismo yung mga paghihirap nila kaya mas maiintindihan mo. The mere fact alone that I can no longer relate to their talk about accounting signifies that the only thing I can do for them now is to ask how they are doing, how they are holding up so far, etc. without actually getting the whole picture because I haven’t gone through what they’ve experienced. Alam niyo yun? Iba kasi yung feeling na nakaka-relate ka sa paghihirap ng isang tao kasi ikaw mismo, may ganung experience. Yes, I can make new friends in my new program but for some reason, it’s hard because everyone else seems to already have their friend groups and I don’t want to just force myself onto them like that. There’s nothing that can compare to the friendships you’ve already built and felt at home with; having to leave so suddenly absolutely sucks. But fuck it, as long as we’re still together towards the end, then I’ll take what I can get. I don’t want to be the friend who imposes as well. Towards the end of the movie, when all four of them are finally successful in their careers, I long to experience the same with my friends.

Of course, even as a Behavioral Science student who, frankly, at this point is not even sure if she wants to become a human resource manager, a psychologist or a psychiatrist, or even take up law after graduating (in short: I’m confused and undecided), I take into heart what Justice Hernandez has said to the graduating class: “Buhay, Kalayaan, at Pag-asa ang nakataya sa bawat batas at artikulong binabasa niyo o hindi niyo binabasa.” In the event that I want to pursue the psychologist/psychiatrist field in the near future, it is very important to me to pay attention to whatever is being taught to us in class and to read whatever is asked of us. Working in the said field would mean that lives and the well-being of people are at stake, and as a practitioner I’d only want the best for them. More so if I ever decide to become a lawyer (which I highly doubt! I can hardly survive being an accounting student and after seeing the film, I don’t think I’m ready, let alone cut-out for such demanding pursuits). I remember during the first few days of class, some of my classmates were talking about authors of various accounting books (e.g. “Gamit mo ba libro ni Valix?”, “Sabi nila maganda raw yung libro ni Valix eh, kaya yun binili ko.”) and I was like “Who on Earth is this Valix guy?” only to find out that he, indeed, was a renowned author of various books in the accounting field. There was a similar scene in Bar Boys, when Torran photocopied various readings and Erik was surprised by the volume of the photocopies… and those were just for one reading. I don’t know if he actually felt disheartened afterwards because when I saw my classmates reading books before classes even started made me say: “Shit. Maybe I am in the wrong program.” because I was not full of vigor and interest in actually learning the subject.

Maybe one day, when I am already successful in the future, I’ll rewatch the film and reread this write-up, only to smile to myself and be proud that I never gave up. To the Angelle reading this five years from now, I hope you’re happy with what you are doing.

I’m sorry if this little ramble of mine has went beyond the scope of the film. It has just incited in me these feelings I’ve kept suppressed for so long and it was time to let them all out.

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“It doesn't matter where you start, it only matters how you end.”

“So, do you fight, or do you quit?”

#misc #movie #bar boys #kip oebanda #thoughts #filipino films

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crimethinc · 7 years

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UNControllables: The Story of an Anarchist Student Group And How to Organize Your Own

It’s that time of year again, when students head back to school. With the government lurching towards tyranny and fascists killing people on the streets, it has never been more pressing to organize on campuses to promote self-determination and collective defense against oppression. This is especially pressing because from Berkeley to Charlottesville, the far-right has set their sites on campuses as a place to recruit future stormtroopers and suppress critiques of authoritarian power. If you are a student yourself, now is the time to lay your plans—whether that means founding a formal student group, coordinating an informal network, or at least preparing to distribute literature. To do our part, we will be publishing a series of articles exploring different examples of student organizing. In this account, a veteran student organizer relates the story of how an anarchist student organization got off the ground and everything you need to know to do it yourself, from filling out paperwork to organizing a Radical Rush.

In the Beginning

The idea for an anarchist student group ranked pretty low in my ambitions when I was accepted to the University of North Carolina. It wasn’t because I shared the long-term career goals of my classmates, nor their short-term goals of getting fucked up every weekend. The thing is, I had already been an anarchist for over a decade. In terms of my social life and political priorities, I was an anarchist first and a student second. Plus, the radical student groups I had encountered turned me off—they were short-lived carousels focused on intra-university reforms. I wasn’t invested in democratizing the university; I wanted to loot it and redistribute its resources for revolutionary purposes.

“On the other hand,” I told myself, “if I’m going to spend most of my time on campus anyway, I may as well make the most of it.” Besides, we had a good name: The UNControllables.

The UNControllables didn’t start as your typical student group. Three of us had spent a decade doing the DIY traveler thing. We only became students as a kind of late twenties punk retirement, the age at which better grants are available. The fourth person behind our idea was a spiritual omnivore graduate student that we met through Occupy who was doing his dissertation on Christian video games—in other words, a total freak. We didn’t operate with the same goals as other student groups. We weren’t about building campus campaigns or recruiting as many students as possible. We had our eyes on the money. Literally: Student Congress funds.

Before the group was even officially registered, the punks dipped out. It felt like a bad joke—a collective of two? As the last punk left, I felt especially betrayed. Hadn’t we spent the majority of our teens and twenties scamming and stealing? Compared to that, what was filling out a few forms to get our hands on potentially thousands of dollars? Perhaps it wasn’t a sufficiently antagonistic form of wealth redistribution for the punks, or perhaps they had joined the list, thousands long, of punks who really do treat college as a kind of retirement. In any case, then there were two.

Every group has to start somewhere. A traditional introduction to campus organizing would focus on collective practices: outreach, consensus decision-making, vision and strategy. Anarchism has a rich, diverse history regarding the question of organization, but for this account to be honest I have to admit that in the beginning we relied on a different kind of anarchism—the kind that values the initiative, the will, the irreducible self of that taboo subject that haunts anarchist history: the individual!

Click above for a downloadable PDF.

Basic guides to campus organizing presume you have a crew who are all down to collaborate and participate equally with you. If you do, that’s great! Unfortunately, sometimes there’s just one crazy firebrand and maybe their sidekick friend who has an idealistic opinion about Bitcoin and is into the Carlos miniseries on Netflix. Or maybe there are a number of student radicals who identify as anarchists, but choose to dedicate their time and effort to specific campaigns, like sweatshop divestment or gender-non-discriminatory housing, and don’t have the time for another group. DO NOT LET THIS DETER YOU!

The anarchist valorization of the individual was important when there were only two of us. We didn’t allow lack of membership to hold us back from taking action. If participation only serves to legitimize activity that we want to carry out regardless, then the imagined mass of participants is simply another authority we need to bypass in order to act.

This is not to say that the UNControllables always relied on individual efforts. But for a six-month period at the beginning, it sure depended on the work of two of us! If we had decided to give up because there weren’t enough members, we never would have had a third member, and eventually a fourth. And then, eventually, dozens!

The measure of success for any anarchist group shouldn’t be how big it is, but rather how well it equips all of its participants to maximize their individual potential. It’s worth remembering this, even after more people join—lest the group suddenly be reduced to a collective of two again. No need to get all Britta Perry about that shit.

Paperwork

Actually registering our student group was a piece of cake, even with only two members! In our registration we had to write something about why our group was unique and relevant. We researched how many books about anarchism, by anarchists, or from anarchist publishers were in the library as a way to argue that the university had already demonstrated a vested interest in the subject. We also cited professors who had published works touching on anarchism, especially anything published by the university. Lastly, we touched on current events and the resurgence of “anarchist” as a household word. After we got approved, we had to submit our organization’s bylaws and constitution. Literally, all we did was copy the RNC Welcoming Committee’s “points of unity” and some instructions for consensus decision-making from the internet and pasted them into a word document. It was that easy. When any online form included a field for “organization president” or any other office, we simply wrote, “We are a non-hierarchical organization.” This came in handy later when we faced more institutional scrutiny, since one way administrators try to pressure radical groups is by pressuring its officers or the people otherwise most officially associated with the group.

Finding a faculty sponsor was easy for us, as one of the school’s professors was on the board of our local infoshop. However, this is one part of the process that has a lot of potential for problems. Ideally, you want a faculty sponsor to be three things: supportive, hands-off, and tenured. On rare occasions, you might want your faculty sponsor involved in the group itself, but in general they stand to lose more from being associated with a rowdy group of troublemakers than they have to gain. Involving a professor can lead to power imbalances within the group, in which the professional limits on your sponsor guide what the group decides to do or not. This is also why you want your sponsor to be tenured, so it’s less easy for the university to threaten them in order to pressure your group.

In the end, all we really accomplished in our first year was officially registering the group and holding an interest meeting, an anarchist FAQ event, and a Steal Something from Work Day film festival.

Radical Rush

Although we didn’t get a ton done in our first year, we did learn one thing: a little bit of détournement goes a long way on campus. People loved our name. So, for our next big idea we decided to employ more clever wordplay: Radical Rush Week. For those lucky enough to not know what a “rush week” is, it’s a week at the beginning of the semester during which fraternities and sororities recruit new members through ritual hazing, drunken oblivion, and competitive feats of conformity. It’s gross. On the other hand, we liked the idea of an intensive week of activity for new radicals at UNC to get acquainted with the rebel scenes on and off campus, so we dubbed our first big event Radical Rush Week.

Radical Rush Week was the UNControllables’ real debut onto the campus scene. We tried to organize with other student groups, reaching out and offering each a day of the week to fill with a workshop or activity of their choice. This didn’t really work. A lot of the groups were too disorganized to put anything together, but didn’t let us know that until it was time to publish the Radical Rush calendars. The one group that did take on a day—a “student power” communist front-group—didn’t reciprocate with ANY of their members attending our other events. Later on, we heard from a comrade who worked with them that their leadership was “terrified” of our organizing. Radical Rush Week was a success overall, but only in spite of the other student groups we reached out to.

On the other hand, including off-campus anarchist activities like our local Really Really Free Market, a workshop at our local infoshop, a books-to-prisoners packing day, and an off-campus punk show was an unqualified success. Throughout the UNControllables’ existence, drawing from the connections and experience of off-campus anarchists has been crucial. More experienced anarchists helped by suggesting speakers to invite and passed on lessons about organizing. Our off-campus connections also meant we had something unique to offer students, in contrast to groups who claim a radical view of the world but never step out of the university bubble.

When we organized Radical Rush Week the following year, we decided to fill it with events we wanted to see ourselves, rather than trying to make it representative of the campus activist scene as a whole. We were able to host the Stimulator from subMedia, an anarchist-feminist sex worker, anarchist panther Ashanti Alston, and a journalist who documented police surveillance of local anarchists—all on the university’s dime.

Going all anarchist worked out much better for us. By organizing events that we ourselves wanted to see, rather than ones we thought would “bring out the most people,” those of us in the group still felt like we got something out of the events that didn’t have a huge attendance. Since the events were explicitly anarchist, seeing the same faces at multiple events throughout the week meant we were able to build relationships with people on that basis and invite them into the group. The people who were attracted to our group after our second Radical Rush were more enthusiastic about working with us specifically. The previous year, most of the new members split their energy between multiple student groups, leaving just a handful of us to do most of the work—not exactly a collective dynamic.

Click above for a downloadable PDF.

The membership in our second year demonstrated another advantage to having an anarchist presence on campus—we attracted folks from a different social body than other local anarchist groups. In North America, there aren’t a lot of spaces that produce new anarchists. Mostly, folks get into it through subcultural activity or street protests. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. The author of this piece would even go so far as to say that if we recognize that anarchist ideas and practices circulate within particular subcultures, we should put effort into keeping those spaces vibrant and rebellious. On the other hand, the fact that our group was made up of people who don’t fit the stereotype of young anarchists made it really special. All kinds of students flocked to our group: an adult student with a country drawl who fled the US to spend his teens and early 20s in China training in martial arts; the president of the school’s Muslim Student Association who learned about anarchism through a class on neoliberalism; a runaway from a fundamentalist Christian household who was squatting the university (he spent Thanksgiving break sleeping in the philosophy department); various students whose parents migrated to the US fleeing harsh conditions; and a local high school student who took advanced classes at UNC. We were our very own special kind of crew that didn’t fit into the popular culture on campus, but also didn’t fit the anarchist subcultural norm. On the other hand, most of our crew was white, which we eventually had to reckon with.

The DisOrientation Guide

After a few semesters, we learned two important lessons for campus organizing. One, the students’ workload grows as the semester proceeds; this makes it increasingly difficult to get things done. Two, the beginning of the fall semester is the sweet spot for attracting students to your group’s activities.

Consequently, we decided to pack the start of the fall semester with activity and outreach, even participating in boring official incoming student events—since we were, after all, an officially registered student organization. A word of advice: as wretched as official student outreach events are, it’s where a lot of disaffected students who don’t fit into the frat culture will end up. We met a lot of our members and collaborators at these functions. Table these events, get a good spot, be aggressive with your propaganda, sign people up to an email list. The main thing we handed out to students was a zine we compiled every summer called The Disorientation Guide. Seriously, a little wordplay goes a long way on campus.

The Disorientation Guide included the schedule of Radical Rush Week events, a map of town highlighting local DIY spaces and subversive projects, “ads” for local groups that folks could plug into, and—this UNControllable’s favorite part—a full summary of the last year of resistance in our local area. It was a perfect group project, since it involved clear tasks (writing, compiling information about local groups, layout, gathering art and images to use) that could be divided up and completed wherever each contributor spent summer break.

We include here a PDF of one of our Disorientation Guides as a template for other anarchist student groups:

Click above for a downloadable PDF.

The Money

Not all universities offer funding for student groups, but if yours does, GET IT. No offense to the young people reading this, but UNC had literal teenagers in charge of distributing hundreds of thousands of dollars in funding for student activities—it was easy to woo and impress them. Besides student government, there were a lot of other sources of grants and funding: individual departments, a body specifically for funding the activities of graduate students (including student groups they were involved in), the student union’s activity and entertainment board, and smaller funds for specific themes or topics that some of our events happened to fit. Each of these was hidden away on the internet in some nether URL and involved a slew of paperwork or electronic fields to complete, but they usually paid off.

The first semester that we asked for money, we had no idea what we were doing. Surprisingly, even though it was our first time, we did a lot better at correctly navigating the student congress bureaucracy than some groups that had existed for years. We came up with all the barely justifiable expenditures we could imagine within their funding-request fields: office space, office supplies, stipends for speakers, lodging for speakers, gas money, van rentals, printing funds, postage… you name it. We figured we’d make do with whatever money they were willing to give us.

In the end, we requested the second biggest budget of any group that year. Oops. Sorry not sorry.

Aiming high paid off. We got $4000 in funding that semester. Most of that money went toward paying for the visa applications and airfare for anarchists from Brazil to speak about the 2013 uprising there. Afterward, they were able to tour the east coast presenting on anarchism and popular struggles in Brazil. Funding wasn’t the only university resource we were able to support them with, either. Some faculty in the Latin American Studies department wrote up an official letter of invitation, which made it much easier for our comrades to secure visas.

Click above for a downloadable PDF.

But of course, haters gonna hate. Especially when those haters are College Republicans and they receive less funding than your anarchist group. That semester, Student Congress rejected a proposal by the College Republicans to bring a pro-fracking speaker to campus… bringing their approved budget down to a thousand dollars less than the UNControllables! This led to a ridiculous small-scale controversy in which they “protested” the next Student Congress hearing—pretty tamely by anarchist standards, we might add. They kind of just stood together in the far corner of the room, silently. Fox News eventually picked up the story, which allowed the College Republicans to crowdsource the funding for their speaker anyway. But we weren’t going to pass up an opportunity to humiliate whiny rich kids.

The following week, we sent out press releases announcing that, in a surprise turn of events, the UNControllables would be holding a fundraiser for the College Republicans in front of the Old Well, a drinking fountain inside a rotunda that is the symbol of the university. On the big day, we built a PVC “fracking rig” next to the Old Well and announced our scheme: “If the College Republicans want more money from UNC, why don’t we follow their advice and drill baby drill… starting right here at the heart of UNC! Frack the Old Well!” We held signs that said “Who needs clean drinking water anyway?” and handed out tinted, murky “fracked water” so passersby could experience the benefits of fracking first hand.

This stunt may sound dumb. It was definitely silly. But it was fun—and that little bit of fun went a long way for our group dynamics.

Here is our “Frack the Old Well” statement in full:

“Before we reveal our fundraising plan for the Republicans, we want to explain why an anarchist group would do something like this. In case you haven’t followed the ‘funding gate’ controversy, let me break it down for you. The College Republicans could not convince Student Congress that their events were worth more than our anarchist events. Specifically, student congress cut $5,000 for an event of theirs defending fracking, a method of natural gas extraction linked with cancer, polluted water, and climate change. Having had $10,000 cut from our own proposed budget, we felt their pain. It can be humiliating to grovel at the feet of government for a handout, while certain political bodies question whether you deserve access to such resources. The Republicans must truly understand now what it’s like for millions who are forced to turn to welfare to survive. Luckily for them, the College Republicans were quickly able to attract wealthy donors by complaining publicly about ‘funding gate,’ which got them twice what they were originally asking for from Student Congress. We applaud this solution, and encourage the Republicans to share the names and addresses of their rich donors so poor people everywhere can redistribute private wealth until nobody even needs government handouts. Obviously, the Republicans have access to corporate money to bring their pro-fracking speakers to campus anyway, but they would prefer to use money generated from the rest of us, especially if it takes away from radical causes. However, anarchists at UNC have brainstormed a lucrative fundraising scheme for the Republicans that achieves all these goals—frack the Old Well!

“If fracking is such a good idea, why not start right here at UNC with the center of UNC, the Old Well? Supporters of fracking like the College Republicans ignore the consequences of devastated land and polluted watersheds, since they’re not the ones with water coming out of their taps that you can literally set on fire. They emphasize the economic benefits for landowners and small businesses, who can gain a few temporary jobs in exchange for forcing the rest of us to kiss clean drinking water goodbye.

“By bringing hydro-fracking to UNC, we can allow the entire student body to enjoy the benefits of natural gas extraction: poisoned water, fire hazards, accidental spills, free floating carcinogens, and plenty of profit for the rich at the expense of you and me: something Republicans love. The College Republicans complain that Student Congress reveals a liberal bias, but when it comes to sacrificing our health and environment for short-term profit, Democrats and Republicans have put their differences aside to find common ground. The Obama administration has praised fracking, while Democrat governors from Jerry Brown to Earl Ray Tomblin are jockeying to see who can sell out their people and their land for the quickest buck.

“But we’re not just focused on the College Republicans here. If this fundraiser is successful, we’re going to bring a proposal to the Board of Governors that students in the entire UNC system can solve the budget crisis by fracking their own universities. The state legislature is far too busy to help students who will have to drop out if tuition keeps rising. Instead, they’re hard at work closing women’s health services and giving tax breaks to corporations. So let’s do our part by fracking the Old Well right here in Chapel Hill. Hope you’re stocked up on bottled water.

“Honestly though, the true rivalry brought out by ‘funding-gate’ is not between liberals and conservatives. The true rivalry is between the haves and the have-nots. The rich at this school, like the rich throughout the rest of society, are used to getting their way and used to getting our money. But things are changing at UNC the way things are changing in Turkey, in Brazil, in Spain and Greece and northern Africa. That’s why we applied for Student Congress money, to bring participants in these movements to come speak and help us understand how our struggles are connected throughout the world. People everywhere are standing up against exploitation and oppression, and if the College Republicans want to use our money to further advance the interests of the rich, at the expense of our land and our health, they better be prepared for a fight.”

Having Fun

Not only did it feel good to have fun together, but the “Frack the Old Well” event showed that a sense of humor was really healthy for our group overall. We carried out a number of other fun stunts. We organized a “march against bullshit,” we distributed call-and-response sheets to disorient the fundamentalist Christian preacher who would lambast sinners in the middle of campus, we sent loads of silly letters to the school newspaper. Yet the most over-the-top response we ever got was when we decided to troll the student union’s screening of The Purge: Anarchy.

One of the ways the university vainly tries to keep students from getting shit-faced obliterated every weekend is by offering free screenings of recently debuted movies. When we heard that The Purge: Anarchy was coming up, we felt like it was our personal duty to defend the good name of anarchy, or at least the good reasons for it to have a bad reputation. We wrote a letter to the editor announcing our intentions to troll hard and set up a table in the lobby with real anarchist riot porn. The following day, the assistant dean of students started calling the letter’s authors, and continued to do so each day up until the movie. We were getting nervous that the university was going to take this a little too seriously.

Then, another problem arose—we pirated a copy of the movie and it turned out that The Purge: Anarchy is actually pretty fucking good! It’s basically a class war movie where the protagonists side with an underground army of poor black revolutionaries set on overthrowing the oppressive, racist ruling class. Fuck yeah!

So, rather than trolling the movie as hard as we originally planned to, we took a cue from the A for Anarchy project and used the movie to promote our ideas. But we still trolled a little bit. We printed pamphlets with one anarcho-geek’s review of the movie on the inside, and an “audience participation” guide on the back.

When we showed up early to stake out a good spot for handing out flyers, we were surprised to witness a squad of armed police officers with bulletproof vests and a bomb-sniffing dog exiting the theater. The officer with the dog then confirmed with the ticket takers that everything was “clear.” The cops remained in the theater for the rest of the movie. It was so fucking weird. However, it did make for a lot of fun whenever our crew of anarchists and sympathizers, rolling deep by the way, cheered and applauded the “purging” of a government tool in the movie. The letters-to-the-editor section for the following week was filled with back-and-forth letters about whether the police presence was justified or “an unnecessary show of force… threatening violence and courting tragedy.”

And Then It Got Real

We were able to be so silly with The Purge: Anarchyand “Frack the Old Well” responses because they didn’t really matter to any other group. On the other hand, with the rising Black Lives Matter wave of actions in the fall of 2014, we found that we had to put more consideration into how we would interact with the other groups and people who were also invested in responding. At the beginning of the semester, a couple newer UNControllables reached out to some of the black student organizations on campus to put together a “Support Ferguson Resistance Rally.” The various organizations involved had different expectations about how it would go

When the rally turned into an unpermitted march that blocked the main intersection in town, one of the co-organizers from a black poetry group grabbed the crowd’s attention and shouted, “This is not in the spirit of Ferguson! It is a time for healing! We should be mourning!” After a tense moment, folks began to yell back:

“This is how Ferguson is mourning!” one protestor responded.

“In Ferguson they mourned by burning down the QT!” another said.

“This IS how I mourn!”

For the rest of the march, participants respectfully debated with each other about what kinds of responses were needed in the wake of police murders and popular rebellion. Looking back, this probably should have been how the rally began, rather than defaulting to anarchist habit and hurrying to march. Later that fall, at the rallies in response to the non-indictments of the cops who killed Mike Brown and Eric Garner, these discussions took place collectively before people stepped off from the rallying points. In one case, the discussion was limited to people of color. Not rushing to march and first holding an assembly over what to do meant these later marches had considerable more buy-in from participants for the confrontational tactics used at them, including highway blockades and scuffles with the police—way beyond simply blocking an intersection for a few minutes in a small college town.

While the face-to-face discussions towards the end of the Support Ferguson Resistance Rally were respectful and engaging, a Facebook thread of dismissive bickering appeared afterwards and got totally out of control. Both sides of the Facebook argument were left less willing to trust each other moving forward, including between UNControllables members. On the one hand, some UNControllables thought the march was hasty and the defense of it on Facebook disrespectful. On the other hand, one of the people who helped organize the march felt hung out to dry after putting in their best intentions and effort. Worse yet, the two sides of the Facebook argument seemed to run along racial lines, with one side blaming white anarchists for their discomforts with the march, and white anarchists on the other side posting defensive tirades. The division between the two sides ran deep and led to some members not speaking to each other for weeks.

In addition to the internal conflicts, this was the first semester that our group finally came up against the state and university authorities. We found out that the university copyshop where we made all our flyers was handing over copies of our materials to the police. The dean of students was harassing us and asking to speak to us individually. The Durham Police Department released a report after the Black Lives Matter marches blaming out-of-town anarchists for directing all of the illegal activity at the march, mentioning the UNControllables, by name, as part of this supposed cabal.

This signaled an uptick in surveillance. Not to say it was high quality surveillance: when it came to describing what exactly anarchists did at these marches, the Durham PD wrote that, “the anarchist element will commit acts of anarchy.” Ooookay? More frighteningly, a couple of people close to our group were arrested and ended the semester facing charges, although not for UNControllables-related activity.

Concluding / Beginning

We hope that this short history can inspire similar anarchist student groups, so it may seem counterintuitive to end this story on the dour note of repression from above, conflict between us, and bleak prospects ahead. But I want to end on this low point precisely because it wasn’t the end of our group. Through two years of collective organizing and mutual aid, the relationships within the UNControllables had grown to a point that we wanted to learn from our mistakes and improve our efforts together. Rather than abandoning the group when faced with conflict and repression, everyone chose to talk through the disagreements and support each other through the hard times.

In response to the fallout from the Support Ferguson Resistance Rally, we had an hours-long discussion to repair the relationships within our group and discuss how to interact with other groups in future organizing. Let me put that another way: instead of cold-shouldering each other and dismissively bickering over the internet, 21st century teenagers got together, in person, to talk out their disagreements! Also, some of us took away the lesson that if your chief goal with an anarchist student group is to appropriate resources, it’s best not to brand confrontational engagements of questionable legality with your group’s name.

Three years after this low point, the UNControllables is still around. In fact, when Trump won the election, the very same tactic that sparked conflict in the Support Ferguson Resistance Rally—occupying the main intersection in town—was the go-to tactic everyone used to demonstrate resistance against the Trump regime. This time, it lasted for hours. Pushing the envelope is not always popular or easy, but it can open the popular imagination to more ambitious possibilities, in preparation for times when everyone recognizes the importance of challenging the status quo.

Despite the rough patches, not to mention various embarrassing mistakes made in the course of being a young group with young members, the UNControllables was one of the easiest anarchist projects I’ve participated in, and it had direct results. We were able to redistribute resources in support of anarchist struggles all over the world. We attracted new anarchists from social bodies that had little-to-no recent anarchist presence. We opened up other rebel students’ imaginations about what resistance can look like.

We hope that this account will encourage anarchists who find themselves attending universities to do the same.

Appendix: Six Questions with Today’s UNControllables

To follow up on this history, we caught up with current members of the UNControllables and asked them a few questions.

Has the fact that the UNControllables has a five-year history done anything to help or hurt current organizing?

Our history as a student organization in many ways emboldens us to keep acting and keep fighting. We’ve been lucky enough to have past members pass down organizing knowledge while simultaneously acknowledging the ways the UNControllables has changed with different members and adjusting to different contemporary needs.

Speaking as a group that existed for a few years before the Trump era, and continues to exist now, what kind of advice would you give to others who want to start campus anarchist groups?

Know your history. Know the history of the university. Know the history of your town or city. Investigate deeper into what led to the problems we have now and how that relates to your specific context. There’s a lot going on right now, but grounding yourself in your place, diversifying your tactics, and collaborating with other groups can help a lot.

How do you balance your crazy, revolutionary aspirations with the banal, day-to-day rigmarole of accomplishing a university education?

Everyone has a different way of balancing university education and activism, but in general, we try to implement a division of labor where different members “bottomline” different tasks that they have time for, in order to work towards our goals and objectives. Volunteering for the role of bottomliner means holding the primary responsibility for making an event happen, hopefully with the assistance of whoever else is available and interested.

What can non-university, off-campus anarchists do to help spur the growth of anarchist student groups at their local universities?

The distribution of information about anarchism and liberation movements is one of the best way to help spur the growth of radical student organization, by giving students an introduction to radical politics. Beyond this, off-campus anarchists can help by collaborating with student groups on presentations, workshops, and skill-sharing sessions.

What role do you see student groups playing in the anarchist movement as a whole?

Radical student groups can act as an introduction to radical politics for students who haven’t been exposed to theses ideas before, as well as providing education and information to those who want to learn more. At the same time, they act as a catalyst for campus activism and provide an organizational structure for planning other kinds of action.

Being so funding-centered in terms of your organizing, did the money ever cause problems in the group?

Given the nature of our organization, the funding we receive from student government is always precarious. Even with the funding we get, it’s not uncommon for us to have to find ways to scrounge up more to cover all of our events and activities.

Contact: CarolinaUNControllables(at)gmail(dot)com

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