Sunday, June 1, 2014
Life Updates with Bailey
so for 12 years i've been at this school, and 12 years i've been looking forward to going to europe at the end of my senior year and having so much fun with my friends. But not that payment is due, i'm finding out that none of my friends are actually going to europe which means if i went, i'd be alone and wow that would be the most dreadful thing ever. So, ma made me a deal. I wouldnt go to europe, but we'd use that money to go down to Universal for the weekend again and go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter and go to the new Diagon Alley and ride the new Hogwarts Express and go to GRINGOTTS FOR THE NEW RIDE. and i am very amiable with this because wow the wizarding world of harry potter was good before with the castle and hogsmede but now theres a working train and new stores and a new ride so of course i'm dying of excitement! And this time ma said we'll save an extra $100 so we can get me some Gryffindor robes so i can complete my transformation into a Gryffinclaw. Which is a mix of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw because I have no clue what house i'd be in. SO i have my Ravenclaw scarf and pair that up with my Gryffindor robes and bam. Gryffinclaw. Liz is a Ravenpuff? or is it a Huffleclaw, i can't remember. But yeah, so i guess I"m excited.
Violin
So, big news, I've decided to play violin again. I took lessons in like third grade, but with swimming and stuff i dreaded wasting more of my life on practice and i HATED the recitals so i gave it up. But now that i've quit swimming, I've decided to try it again. Ma bought me a new violin and i named her Victoria, and my first lesson is next monday at 7:30. I'm really nervous but also really excited. ma spent a lot of money on my violin and, well, I'm nervous cause something inside me is regretting choosing the violin over guitar but now that she's spent all the money i have no room to regret. But that's okay. I'm excited! I've always dreamed of owning a white violin, and ma said if i get good enough at it, she may consider getting me an electric violin. Like. Wow. Imagine a white electric violin how pretty would that be?
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LOOK AT THIS THING IT"S LIKE THE MOST GORGEOUS THING I"VE EVER SEEN.
One day. Maybe a graduation present. Wow my graduation present list is racking up. I want a car, an xbox one, this violin, a macbook pro, the list goes on i'll have to narrow it down. but that's okay. I have a year it's whatever. But hey. Violins. Pretty.
Revolution
This is the beginning of something new
Our golden haired leader with eyes of blue
Will lead our France victorious
And from the oppression he will free us
Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home
These guns are real between their hands
Beneath their flag and patriotic bands
The bullets will certainly maime and kill
The people have all had their fill
Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home
Their flag is red just like their blood
They fight for what they've deemed good
Spurred onto fight their student's war
They're children playing at men's chore
Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home
The barricade falls at dawn
The pools of blood across the lawn
The boys all dead upon the ground
Their leader shot without a sound
Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home
Our golden haired leader with eyes of blue
Will lead our France victorious
And from the oppression he will free us
Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home
These guns are real between their hands
Beneath their flag and patriotic bands
The bullets will certainly maime and kill
The people have all had their fill
Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home
Their flag is red just like their blood
They fight for what they've deemed good
Spurred onto fight their student's war
They're children playing at men's chore
Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home
The barricade falls at dawn
The pools of blood across the lawn
The boys all dead upon the ground
Their leader shot without a sound
Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home
Lillian
So my little cousin, Lillian, is turning 6 and wow i can't believe it. I actually just came from her birthday party and she's gotten so old. First grade. I can't believe it. What's even more unbelieveable is that her brother is almost 8 and he's going to start second grade in the fall! Jeez i remember holding them when they were born, what is this blasphemy? If theyre getting so old, then I'm freaking ancient and I'm certainly not okay with that thought. I mean hey, I'm almost a senior. I'll vote in the next presidential election. This is crazy stuff here. But yeah, Lillian. I got her a cute little bathing suit for her birthday and a coverup that can easily double as a dress she can totally wear to school because bam I am good like that. And that little dork asked for two things for her birthday: a bike and a lynard skynard cd. Of course she got both but wow. She's six. and a lynard skynard cd? But i love her to death because she is totally one of this family with that weirdness. Hey, at least she fits in. Could be worse...
Done
I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done.I am so done. I am so done.
That's 256 words. That's enough to be a blog. The rules for blogging is that each post has to be 200 words, yeh? Well. It never said anywhere that it had to make sense, and aren't blogs supposed to be an extension of what we're feeling? Well. This is my brain process at the moment. I apologize. We have one day of school left, and it's the end of my junior year no less. This was supposed to be the hardest year yet (it was wow three exams ive done so bad) and it's basically over. So pardon my doneness. Well, see this doesnt even scratch the surface. I'm like, 9000% done, so the appropriate amount of "I am so done"s is far more than I've graced you with. But yes. Bailey out.
That's 256 words. That's enough to be a blog. The rules for blogging is that each post has to be 200 words, yeh? Well. It never said anywhere that it had to make sense, and aren't blogs supposed to be an extension of what we're feeling? Well. This is my brain process at the moment. I apologize. We have one day of school left, and it's the end of my junior year no less. This was supposed to be the hardest year yet (it was wow three exams ive done so bad) and it's basically over. So pardon my doneness. Well, see this doesnt even scratch the surface. I'm like, 9000% done, so the appropriate amount of "I am so done"s is far more than I've graced you with. But yes. Bailey out.
Summer
So it's almost summer. That's super exciting, right? Yeah i guess. I'm kind of nervous cause i'm at that age where i need a job but i'm also really young so people won't hire me and all these college kids are back home and they're taking all the jobs. It's annoying and i dont want to be stuck babysitting all summer cause ugh, one of the kids is nice but the other is an 8 year old boy and how on earth do i take care of an 8 year old boy at the same time that i'm catering to a 3 year old girl? The struggle. Anywho. I forsee a lot of youtube in my future because wow i love Pewdiepie and Achievement Hunter and stuff. AND RTX IN JULY I"M SO EXCITED FOR THAT CON I WANT TO CRY. mother is also very excited. I'm also gonna draw a lot more, i want to get decent at it. At the moment I'm working on a little series like thing that are faces of girls but over their left eye is a different flower, and everything is shaded in pencil so its all grey and white except for the flower which i'm using to practice shading. Ugh. Art is hard. So is blogging. But yeah. Wish me luck on the job hunt cause no matter how many resumes i'm putting out there, it isn't going very well so far....
Animazement 2014
So last weekend was Animazement, right? And it was kind of the greatest thing ever. Three days of cosplays, raves, nerds, and homestucks like, what more could a girl ask for? And of course I cosplayed those three days because cosplay is fun. Mother and I worked nonstop for that entire week leading up to it so that we could finish my cosplays in time. Let's go for a line up here.
So Friday I went as a wingless God Tier Meenah Peixes from homestuck (wingless cause wow those wings are big and I was not walking around that convention center with all those people and those huge wings sticking out running into everything.) and Liz was my Jade
Saturday I went as this dork, Trickster Dirk from homestuck, with Liz as my cohort, Trickster Jane
And Sunday was this cutie right here, Yang Xiao Long from RWBY and Liz was my "little sister" Ruby (the one in the black and red in the middle)
Here have some other pictures like of Liz and stuff
its like the Puffnstuff guy or whatever
the cabbage merchant from Avatar (such a babe)
Liz being Jade Harley cause adorable
Me with that megafoxyawesome Condescension. wow. much pretty. and happens to be Liza's boyfriend's friend. How Dawson. How are you friends with people like that? She's awesome.
So yes, i hope you've enjoyed this look into the secret (not really secret) nerdy life of Liz and I. And yes i had to include Liz because i was not going down this very nerdy road alone. And yes we totally skipped friday school for this and it was worth it.
the cabbage merchant from Avatar (such a babe)
Liz being Jade Harley cause adorable
Me with that megafoxyawesome Condescension. wow. much pretty. and happens to be Liza's boyfriend's friend. How Dawson. How are you friends with people like that? She's awesome.
So yes, i hope you've enjoyed this look into the secret (not really secret) nerdy life of Liz and I. And yes i had to include Liz because i was not going down this very nerdy road alone. And yes we totally skipped friday school for this and it was worth it.
What are Friends For [part 6]
The couch hadn't been comfortable when he was smaller, and nothing had changed about that besides the fact that Daaron was a good deal taller and his feet hung over the edge like a giant in a midgets bed.
"Are you comfortable?"
Daaron shrugs, unsure how to respond. At first he had been glad to see Emmit, they'd been best friends when they were younger and he thought nothing could change that, but he's quickly learning that maybe the relationship was one sided and Emmit no longer saw him in an amiable light.
He has his eyes closed, trying to focus on the fact that he actually has a proper place to sleep and not the fact that he has to leave the next day, so he doesn't notice Emmit come and sit down on the floor beside him.
"Why'd you do it?"
"Pardon?" Daaron's eyes flash open and he turns over onto his side so that he can direct his full attention to the male on the ground.
"You promised you'd pick me up after school and walk me home. You promised my father he wouldn't have to worry about driving to get me. You promised - " He chokes up a bit and waves the rest of the statement away like the memory is too painful to even think about.
"I-I was going to pick you up, but then things happened and I didn't get to say goodbye."
"There's always time for goodbye, Daaron" Emmit's words are acidic and Daaron almost flinches from the force behind them.
"I was going to get us ice cream and tell you I had to leave and that I'd miss you but, well, my father had other plans."
"You can't always blame him, Storm. He didn't make you leave. He searched for you endlessly. Heck, he almost hurt me cause he thought I was harbouring you!"
"He what?"
"No, Storm, not now. You can play fiercely protective friend later, don't turn this off of you."
"Emmit. He almost killed me that day. I wasn't supposed to leave the house, but i defied his wishes saying I'd promised you. Then he told me that you were more important to me than him and that after he was done killing me, he was coming for you. I have only been scared of one thing in my life, and it isn't bullies or broken bones" he pauses to hold up his hand for effect "it's him hurting my friends. And so, I left. If he couldn't find me to kill me, then he couldn't act on the second threat and hurt you. Or so my naive brain told me."
"And did you never stop to think how the rest of us who weren't keyed into your little plan would feel when you were gone for five years?"
Daaron shrugs and starts fidgeting with the hem of the blanket that looks comically small around his waist and legs.
"I figured you'd be happier without poor pitiful Storm. Your father had to have been ecstatic. He always walked on eggshells around me because he always thought I'd blow a fuse one day and become like my father."
"That's not true"
"Then why'd he never let us be alone together. Why was I never allowed to stay the night unless it was because you were helping me? He was scared of me Emmit. Scared of what I could do to you."
"You're not a monster."
"I was raised by one."
Emmit has no retort besides silence, and he heaves out a sigh.
"Goodnight, Daaron."
Daaron's red eyes watch Emmit as he stands up and heads out of the living room, pausing to switch off the light.
"Night, Em."
Emmit pauses, his hand still on the wall where the light switch is as if he has something to say. He opens his mouth a few times, but thinks better of it, and just adds
"Remember, only one night."
"Are you comfortable?"
Daaron shrugs, unsure how to respond. At first he had been glad to see Emmit, they'd been best friends when they were younger and he thought nothing could change that, but he's quickly learning that maybe the relationship was one sided and Emmit no longer saw him in an amiable light.
He has his eyes closed, trying to focus on the fact that he actually has a proper place to sleep and not the fact that he has to leave the next day, so he doesn't notice Emmit come and sit down on the floor beside him.
"Why'd you do it?"
"Pardon?" Daaron's eyes flash open and he turns over onto his side so that he can direct his full attention to the male on the ground.
"You promised you'd pick me up after school and walk me home. You promised my father he wouldn't have to worry about driving to get me. You promised - " He chokes up a bit and waves the rest of the statement away like the memory is too painful to even think about.
"I-I was going to pick you up, but then things happened and I didn't get to say goodbye."
"There's always time for goodbye, Daaron" Emmit's words are acidic and Daaron almost flinches from the force behind them.
"I was going to get us ice cream and tell you I had to leave and that I'd miss you but, well, my father had other plans."
"You can't always blame him, Storm. He didn't make you leave. He searched for you endlessly. Heck, he almost hurt me cause he thought I was harbouring you!"
"He what?"
"No, Storm, not now. You can play fiercely protective friend later, don't turn this off of you."
"Emmit. He almost killed me that day. I wasn't supposed to leave the house, but i defied his wishes saying I'd promised you. Then he told me that you were more important to me than him and that after he was done killing me, he was coming for you. I have only been scared of one thing in my life, and it isn't bullies or broken bones" he pauses to hold up his hand for effect "it's him hurting my friends. And so, I left. If he couldn't find me to kill me, then he couldn't act on the second threat and hurt you. Or so my naive brain told me."
"And did you never stop to think how the rest of us who weren't keyed into your little plan would feel when you were gone for five years?"
Daaron shrugs and starts fidgeting with the hem of the blanket that looks comically small around his waist and legs.
"I figured you'd be happier without poor pitiful Storm. Your father had to have been ecstatic. He always walked on eggshells around me because he always thought I'd blow a fuse one day and become like my father."
"That's not true"
"Then why'd he never let us be alone together. Why was I never allowed to stay the night unless it was because you were helping me? He was scared of me Emmit. Scared of what I could do to you."
"You're not a monster."
"I was raised by one."
Emmit has no retort besides silence, and he heaves out a sigh.
"Goodnight, Daaron."
Daaron's red eyes watch Emmit as he stands up and heads out of the living room, pausing to switch off the light.
"Night, Em."
Emmit pauses, his hand still on the wall where the light switch is as if he has something to say. He opens his mouth a few times, but thinks better of it, and just adds
"Remember, only one night."
What are Friends For [part 5]
Daaron lapses into silence, unsure how to go about a proper apology, so he leaves it unsaid in the air as Emmit slowly pulls out everything he needs. A cold cloth to wipe the blood off his face, ice to help the swelling go down, and lots of ace bandages.
"I figured he'd be a lot meaner. It has been five years, Storm. He probably missed you."
Daaron lets out a discontented hmph deep in his throat, refusing to meet his old friend's eyes.
"Yeah, since all fathers welcome their wayward sons home with a swift fist to the face the moment they walk in the door."
"You hurt him."
"And he hurt me. A lot."
Daaron doesn't notice that the longer he talks, the more Emmit bristles, and as soon as he's done with the very basics of repair on Daaron's hand, he snaps the first aid kit shut and climbs to his feet.
"That's still no reason to do what you did. Go shower." Emmit's finger points for the downstairs shower in the guest room, the one Daaron's all to familiar with as the other's father refused to let him stay in Emmit's room when they were kids. He was kind, but overprotective to say the least.
The hot water feels nice and novel on Daaron's callused and dirty skin. When he steps under it, it's like the years of dirt and grime he's caught up just falls away down the drain. For the first few minutes, the water is dark, but after a little it turns crystal clear. He shampoos his hair, delighted by the sharp smell that emanates from the bottle.
After some precursory cleaning paired with some scouring to get some particularly bad patches of dried blood off, he pushes his back against the far wall and slides down it, bending his head forward so that the water runs over it. He isn't sure how long he's in there for, but his mind wanders to the point where he almost falls asleep, brought back to reality only by three sharp raps on the door.
"You'll shrivel up like an old man if you don't get out. I want to look at your hand again."
Daaron sighs and turns the water off, shaking his hair out like a dog as he wraps a white towel around his waist. His old clothes are disgusting but he picks them up anyway, planning to put them out in the guest room.
Emmit is outside the bathroom door holding a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt.
"They're my dad's, but they'd fit you better than if you tried to squeeze your bulk into my clothes"
It's true. Emmit is a good head shorter than Daaron, and of considerably smaller structure. Where Daaron is muscular and strong, Emmit is dainty and slender.
"Thanks."
"You can sleep on the couch, I'll be up in the master bedroom. Dad's letting me sleep in there since he's hardly ever home."
"Thanks" Daaron repeats, beginning to sound like a broken record "Emmit I-"
"Save it." Emmit holds up his hand and leaves Daaron in the hallway with the pile of clothes in his hands.
"I figured he'd be a lot meaner. It has been five years, Storm. He probably missed you."
Daaron lets out a discontented hmph deep in his throat, refusing to meet his old friend's eyes.
"Yeah, since all fathers welcome their wayward sons home with a swift fist to the face the moment they walk in the door."
"You hurt him."
"And he hurt me. A lot."
Daaron doesn't notice that the longer he talks, the more Emmit bristles, and as soon as he's done with the very basics of repair on Daaron's hand, he snaps the first aid kit shut and climbs to his feet.
"That's still no reason to do what you did. Go shower." Emmit's finger points for the downstairs shower in the guest room, the one Daaron's all to familiar with as the other's father refused to let him stay in Emmit's room when they were kids. He was kind, but overprotective to say the least.
The hot water feels nice and novel on Daaron's callused and dirty skin. When he steps under it, it's like the years of dirt and grime he's caught up just falls away down the drain. For the first few minutes, the water is dark, but after a little it turns crystal clear. He shampoos his hair, delighted by the sharp smell that emanates from the bottle.
After some precursory cleaning paired with some scouring to get some particularly bad patches of dried blood off, he pushes his back against the far wall and slides down it, bending his head forward so that the water runs over it. He isn't sure how long he's in there for, but his mind wanders to the point where he almost falls asleep, brought back to reality only by three sharp raps on the door.
"You'll shrivel up like an old man if you don't get out. I want to look at your hand again."
Daaron sighs and turns the water off, shaking his hair out like a dog as he wraps a white towel around his waist. His old clothes are disgusting but he picks them up anyway, planning to put them out in the guest room.
Emmit is outside the bathroom door holding a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt.
"They're my dad's, but they'd fit you better than if you tried to squeeze your bulk into my clothes"
It's true. Emmit is a good head shorter than Daaron, and of considerably smaller structure. Where Daaron is muscular and strong, Emmit is dainty and slender.
"Thanks."
"You can sleep on the couch, I'll be up in the master bedroom. Dad's letting me sleep in there since he's hardly ever home."
"Thanks" Daaron repeats, beginning to sound like a broken record "Emmit I-"
"Save it." Emmit holds up his hand and leaves Daaron in the hallway with the pile of clothes in his hands.
What are Friends For [part 4]
Emmits house is exactly as Daaron remembers it. Two stories with a stone exterior and a long driveway to arching wooden doors. It looks at its best in the light of the setting sun when the red sky reflects in the tall windows to make the house look alive. Inside hasn't changed much either. The living room still plays host to the same sleek modern furniture and the TV on the wall had only changed in the sense that it'd gotten flatter and larger.
"Couch" Emmit says firmly, pointing to the brown sofa against the far wall. Daaron obediently takes a seat on the very edge of the cushion, trying not to bleed on the dark fabric.
Emmit is gone for a few minutes, allowing Daaron time to look around and reminisce. All his memories from his own house were of pain and hatred, but every one from here was good and kind. He remembers the way Emmit's father would open the door for him with a smile, or pretend he didn't notice that Daaron had snuck into the house in the middle of the night bloody and in need of repair. A smile curls up on his battered lips, and his crimson eyes scan the familiar area with more care than he thought possible.
"How bad is it really?" Emmit's voice is sharp and Daaron looks up to see the short boy walking in with a first aid kit that Daaron knows he at least used to keep under his bed.
Daaron shrugs noncommittally and clasps his hands in his lap.
"Storm"
"Fine fine. It's not that bad. Just a little beat up is all."
"Mmhm a little beat up. Sure. Give me your hand."
Daaron's brow creases and he keeps his hands folded together on his lap.
"Why?"
"Don't question me, Flinn. Give me your hand." For such a small person, Emmit is full of demanding and the ability to hold the worlds longest grudge.
With a heavy sigh, Daaron holds up his right hand, his index finger purple around the bottom and swollen.
"You're an idiot"
"So you keep reminding me."
Emmit kneels down, taking the hand gingerly into his own, turning it over so that it's palm up.
"It's not broken....I don't think" he adds onto the end. Over the years, Emmit's had to acquire some working knowledge of the human body. When Daaron would come to him in the beginning, Emmit would subject him to random attacks of neosporin and gauze, but as they got older, Emmit seemed to grow in knowledge and he'd always produce the proper cure on the first try.
"Well it still really hurts so I'd appreciate if you'd ow stop bending it!"
Emmits green eyes are dull as he looks up at Daaron, making it a point of folding all of his fingers into a tight fist and patting the swollen top of his knuckle, leaving the seemingly invulnerable, strong Daaron, flinching.
"Couch" Emmit says firmly, pointing to the brown sofa against the far wall. Daaron obediently takes a seat on the very edge of the cushion, trying not to bleed on the dark fabric.
Emmit is gone for a few minutes, allowing Daaron time to look around and reminisce. All his memories from his own house were of pain and hatred, but every one from here was good and kind. He remembers the way Emmit's father would open the door for him with a smile, or pretend he didn't notice that Daaron had snuck into the house in the middle of the night bloody and in need of repair. A smile curls up on his battered lips, and his crimson eyes scan the familiar area with more care than he thought possible.
"How bad is it really?" Emmit's voice is sharp and Daaron looks up to see the short boy walking in with a first aid kit that Daaron knows he at least used to keep under his bed.
Daaron shrugs noncommittally and clasps his hands in his lap.
"Storm"
"Fine fine. It's not that bad. Just a little beat up is all."
"Mmhm a little beat up. Sure. Give me your hand."
Daaron's brow creases and he keeps his hands folded together on his lap.
"Why?"
"Don't question me, Flinn. Give me your hand." For such a small person, Emmit is full of demanding and the ability to hold the worlds longest grudge.
With a heavy sigh, Daaron holds up his right hand, his index finger purple around the bottom and swollen.
"You're an idiot"
"So you keep reminding me."
Emmit kneels down, taking the hand gingerly into his own, turning it over so that it's palm up.
"It's not broken....I don't think" he adds onto the end. Over the years, Emmit's had to acquire some working knowledge of the human body. When Daaron would come to him in the beginning, Emmit would subject him to random attacks of neosporin and gauze, but as they got older, Emmit seemed to grow in knowledge and he'd always produce the proper cure on the first try.
"Well it still really hurts so I'd appreciate if you'd ow stop bending it!"
Emmits green eyes are dull as he looks up at Daaron, making it a point of folding all of his fingers into a tight fist and patting the swollen top of his knuckle, leaving the seemingly invulnerable, strong Daaron, flinching.
What are Friends For [part 3]
Daaron's father was an abusive man with just enough money and power to pay off anyone who came sniffing around inquiring about Daaron's well-being when he showed up at school with bruises and broken limbs. The only person who actually knew about Daaron's father and what he did, was Emmit, and since childhood he'd treated Daaron in silence, playing doctor to the stoic silver-headed boy.
The two had been friends since third grade, when Daaron had saved Emmit from a bunch of bullies who where on the verge of beating the small boy up, and they'd become nearly inseparable when suddenly, in 9th grade, Daaron disappeared without so much as a goodbye. His father still lived in the same old house, and it came to light later that Daaron had gone away without his father's permission, because the older man had sent out squads of people looking for him, but every search turned up inconclusive. Daaron was gone.
Now, years later, he's grown much taller and stronger, yet for some reason, he still lets his father get to him, and the result was a years worth of yelling to come home to.
Emmit easily slips back away from his hatred into an easy caretaker sort of role, his compassion for his old friend outweighing the fact that he'd spent several years completely alone, having to move on past the friend he'd been told to assume dead.
"I can't do anything right here. What do you want me to patch you up with, my homework?" His tone brings Daaron away from his thoughts and he looks down with raised eyebrows
"I mean, wouldn't that be a good excuse for not doing it? 'Oh sorry teacher, I had to stop the bleeding on Daaron with my math, that's why it's not done'. I bet your teachers would love that."
"I didn't miss this at all." Emmit grumbles in response, shaking his head. "I thought I told you to shut up." He heaves a heavy sigh like he's deciding to do something against his best wishes. "Look, I can't do anything here. You'll have to come back to my house if you want help. And you can stay there one night until you're better. One. But then you're gone again. Fair?"
Daaron grimaces and hangs his head, but his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Do I have much of a choice?"
"Not really, no."
The two had been friends since third grade, when Daaron had saved Emmit from a bunch of bullies who where on the verge of beating the small boy up, and they'd become nearly inseparable when suddenly, in 9th grade, Daaron disappeared without so much as a goodbye. His father still lived in the same old house, and it came to light later that Daaron had gone away without his father's permission, because the older man had sent out squads of people looking for him, but every search turned up inconclusive. Daaron was gone.
Now, years later, he's grown much taller and stronger, yet for some reason, he still lets his father get to him, and the result was a years worth of yelling to come home to.
Emmit easily slips back away from his hatred into an easy caretaker sort of role, his compassion for his old friend outweighing the fact that he'd spent several years completely alone, having to move on past the friend he'd been told to assume dead.
"I can't do anything right here. What do you want me to patch you up with, my homework?" His tone brings Daaron away from his thoughts and he looks down with raised eyebrows
"I mean, wouldn't that be a good excuse for not doing it? 'Oh sorry teacher, I had to stop the bleeding on Daaron with my math, that's why it's not done'. I bet your teachers would love that."
"I didn't miss this at all." Emmit grumbles in response, shaking his head. "I thought I told you to shut up." He heaves a heavy sigh like he's deciding to do something against his best wishes. "Look, I can't do anything here. You'll have to come back to my house if you want help. And you can stay there one night until you're better. One. But then you're gone again. Fair?"
Daaron grimaces and hangs his head, but his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Do I have much of a choice?"
"Not really, no."
What are Friends For [part 2]
The silence that follows is thick with unresolved tension and years of things that needed to be said but wouldn't come out. Instead, Emmit just stares dumbly at Daaron who, taking his silence as a bad sign, returns to stacking up the books and papers and standing up with them cradled in one arm as his other stretches out to assist Emmit to his feet.
"I'm sorry....about all this" Daaron spits out, groping for words that won't make the other upset.
"N-no. It's fine." Emmit replies, clearing his throat as he stands up on his own and moves to take his books back into his own hands.
"How have you been?"
Emmit shrugs and begins studying the sidewalk intently. The two hadn't parted on the best of terms, so Daaron isn't exactly surprised by the distant treatment he's receiving.
"I've been better. Why are you here?" Emmit's voice takes on an accusatory tone, and he finally turns his eyes up to meet Daaron's, the pain and anger in the emerald irises so intense it makes Daaron take a physical step back.
"I..." he holds up his hands in an unspoken plea of forgiveness, not wanting to cross any lines "I just had to get things from my dad's house. The last few years have been, well, hard."
Emmit snorts, rolling his eyes and shifting his books from one arm to the other. Silence ensues between the two of them until a car drives by, the headlights throwing ghostly light across Daaron's face so Emmit can get a real look at it for the first time since their collision.
For a brief second, every mark on Daaron's face is like a giant neon sign. His bottom lip is split and swollen, and both of his cheeks are already blackening and huge. A line of blood trickles over his left cheekbone from a cut on his temple, and the rest of his face is littered with cuts and marks of different sizes and shapes.
"Storm" Emmit breathes out, and Daaron knows by the tone of his voice he's seen his face, and his hands involuntarily pull his hood back up around his head, casting him into shadows again.
His crimson eyes glow in the darkness like a monsters, and they watch carefully as Emmit sets down his books and reaches up with small, feminine hands to push back his hood one more time.
"Idiot" Emmit grimaces, shaking his dark head accusingly. "After all these years and you still let him do this to you?"
"I don't exactly have a choice. It's not like I go in there and say 'hey dad, I think today is a good day for you to beat me to a pulp. thanks.'"
His sarcasm is rewarded with a sharp wrap on his swollen cheek that causes him to flinch away in pain.
"You go away without so much as a word for almost five years, and I hate you for that, but you need my help right now, so I'll help you, but you're not allowed to talk."
"I'm sorry....about all this" Daaron spits out, groping for words that won't make the other upset.
"N-no. It's fine." Emmit replies, clearing his throat as he stands up on his own and moves to take his books back into his own hands.
"How have you been?"
Emmit shrugs and begins studying the sidewalk intently. The two hadn't parted on the best of terms, so Daaron isn't exactly surprised by the distant treatment he's receiving.
"I've been better. Why are you here?" Emmit's voice takes on an accusatory tone, and he finally turns his eyes up to meet Daaron's, the pain and anger in the emerald irises so intense it makes Daaron take a physical step back.
"I..." he holds up his hands in an unspoken plea of forgiveness, not wanting to cross any lines "I just had to get things from my dad's house. The last few years have been, well, hard."
Emmit snorts, rolling his eyes and shifting his books from one arm to the other. Silence ensues between the two of them until a car drives by, the headlights throwing ghostly light across Daaron's face so Emmit can get a real look at it for the first time since their collision.
For a brief second, every mark on Daaron's face is like a giant neon sign. His bottom lip is split and swollen, and both of his cheeks are already blackening and huge. A line of blood trickles over his left cheekbone from a cut on his temple, and the rest of his face is littered with cuts and marks of different sizes and shapes.
"Storm" Emmit breathes out, and Daaron knows by the tone of his voice he's seen his face, and his hands involuntarily pull his hood back up around his head, casting him into shadows again.
His crimson eyes glow in the darkness like a monsters, and they watch carefully as Emmit sets down his books and reaches up with small, feminine hands to push back his hood one more time.
"Idiot" Emmit grimaces, shaking his dark head accusingly. "After all these years and you still let him do this to you?"
"I don't exactly have a choice. It's not like I go in there and say 'hey dad, I think today is a good day for you to beat me to a pulp. thanks.'"
His sarcasm is rewarded with a sharp wrap on his swollen cheek that causes him to flinch away in pain.
"You go away without so much as a word for almost five years, and I hate you for that, but you need my help right now, so I'll help you, but you're not allowed to talk."
What are Friends For [part 1]
The door shuts with a sharp bang as Daaron Flinn tromps with heavy steps down the stone steps that lead to his house.
"You best get back here, boy!" His father's voice is loud behind him, but he ignores it, pulling the hood of his dark sweatshirt up around his head to hide his face from curious onlookers.
Daaron shoves his hands into his pockets, curling his bruised fingers into fists and ignoring the pain that shoots up through his index finger. It's probably broken, or at least sprained, but he's had worse so the incessant throbbing doesn't phase him.
The moon hangs low and full in the sky, like giving off so much light is taxing on it, making it hardly able to keep itself up above the horizon, and the freshly blooming trees in the park beside his house give off a sweet scent that carries on the gentle breezes that make the night cold. He has absolutely no idea where he's going to go, he just knows that he doesn't care, as long as it's away from that house. He never should've come back. Never shouldve-
Daaron's thoughts are cut short as his tall body collides with someone walking the opposite direction, and both crash to the ground in an ungraceful show of limbs and papers and books.
"Watch where you're going" The other person snaps as he crawls to his knees, hands shaking slightly as he moves to pick up his spilled things.
"I'm sorry" Daaron mumbles in response, his slender artist's fingers joining the others in a futile attempt to help.
In the fall, Daaron's hood had been pushed back, and now it falls about his shoulders, revealing his silvery hair that falls too long into his eyes and around his collar. What people find the most surprising about it isn't the colour of it, but the fact that it's naturally that colour.
"Storm?" The other's voice is incredulous as he sits back on his haunches, using a nickname Daaron hadn't heard in years. The last person to call him Storm was-no. It couldn't be him. There's no way he'd be so lucky to run into
"Emmit?" he says the name tentatively as his crimson eyes flick up to meet the gaze of the male.
In front of him with wide green eyes covered by the bangs of hair so dark it gives a raven's wings a run for its money, sits the boy who used to be his best friend, Emmit Jasick.
"You best get back here, boy!" His father's voice is loud behind him, but he ignores it, pulling the hood of his dark sweatshirt up around his head to hide his face from curious onlookers.
Daaron shoves his hands into his pockets, curling his bruised fingers into fists and ignoring the pain that shoots up through his index finger. It's probably broken, or at least sprained, but he's had worse so the incessant throbbing doesn't phase him.
The moon hangs low and full in the sky, like giving off so much light is taxing on it, making it hardly able to keep itself up above the horizon, and the freshly blooming trees in the park beside his house give off a sweet scent that carries on the gentle breezes that make the night cold. He has absolutely no idea where he's going to go, he just knows that he doesn't care, as long as it's away from that house. He never should've come back. Never shouldve-
Daaron's thoughts are cut short as his tall body collides with someone walking the opposite direction, and both crash to the ground in an ungraceful show of limbs and papers and books.
"Watch where you're going" The other person snaps as he crawls to his knees, hands shaking slightly as he moves to pick up his spilled things.
"I'm sorry" Daaron mumbles in response, his slender artist's fingers joining the others in a futile attempt to help.
In the fall, Daaron's hood had been pushed back, and now it falls about his shoulders, revealing his silvery hair that falls too long into his eyes and around his collar. What people find the most surprising about it isn't the colour of it, but the fact that it's naturally that colour.
"Storm?" The other's voice is incredulous as he sits back on his haunches, using a nickname Daaron hadn't heard in years. The last person to call him Storm was-no. It couldn't be him. There's no way he'd be so lucky to run into
"Emmit?" he says the name tentatively as his crimson eyes flick up to meet the gaze of the male.
In front of him with wide green eyes covered by the bangs of hair so dark it gives a raven's wings a run for its money, sits the boy who used to be his best friend, Emmit Jasick.
my intense feelings and spoiler alerts part 3
**WARNING. MORE SPOILERS AHEAD JEEZ IF YOU HAVENT GOTTEN THAT MESSAGE BY NOW....**
Lets see, Jace and Clary (OTP #2) can't kiss or really get near each other cause of the fire inside Jace, Clary's brother has threatened the life of Clary's parents and Alec's boyfriend unless Clary and Jace give themselves up to what would no doubt be their demise, and wow MAGNUS AND ALEC ARE STILL BROKEN UP I CANT DeAL. also, Jordan Kyle, a werewolf I was particularly fond of, just got stabbed and died, so that's a thing. All i need is for this book to resolve itself in a kind manner. You know, without Jace or Clary or Alec or Magnus dying. I mean, the likely hood of that happening is slim to none, but a girl can dream. I made it only 60 pages into the dang book before my soul shattered for the first time. And this is the kind of series that breaks you down to nothing, then gives you a glimmer of hope before yanking that away and pushing you further into the depths of despair. Why do i do this to myself? I dunno. Its so beautiful and Cassie Clare (I met her, she told people to call her Cassie instead of Cassandra, like, how adorable is that? She looks like a redhead Mrs Robinson, it was cool) is kind of the greatest person ever and I've been emotionally invested in this series since the first, actually nice book in 2007, so theres that. But yes. I apologize for this its just been killing me as of late and Liz refuses to listen entirely cause she wants to read it. Ugh. Pain.
Lets see, Jace and Clary (OTP #2) can't kiss or really get near each other cause of the fire inside Jace, Clary's brother has threatened the life of Clary's parents and Alec's boyfriend unless Clary and Jace give themselves up to what would no doubt be their demise, and wow MAGNUS AND ALEC ARE STILL BROKEN UP I CANT DeAL. also, Jordan Kyle, a werewolf I was particularly fond of, just got stabbed and died, so that's a thing. All i need is for this book to resolve itself in a kind manner. You know, without Jace or Clary or Alec or Magnus dying. I mean, the likely hood of that happening is slim to none, but a girl can dream. I made it only 60 pages into the dang book before my soul shattered for the first time. And this is the kind of series that breaks you down to nothing, then gives you a glimmer of hope before yanking that away and pushing you further into the depths of despair. Why do i do this to myself? I dunno. Its so beautiful and Cassie Clare (I met her, she told people to call her Cassie instead of Cassandra, like, how adorable is that? She looks like a redhead Mrs Robinson, it was cool) is kind of the greatest person ever and I've been emotionally invested in this series since the first, actually nice book in 2007, so theres that. But yes. I apologize for this its just been killing me as of late and Liz refuses to listen entirely cause she wants to read it. Ugh. Pain.
my intense feelings and spoiler alert part 2
**MORE SPOILERS (I'M ONLY DOING THIS CAUSE LIZ WOULD KILL ME IF I SPOILED MORE THAN I ALREADY HAVE)**
But hey, there has been a little bit of good. In one of the spin off series, The Infernal Devices, there's this really sick main character named James "Jem" Carstairs who I was kind of in love with, but in the third and final book of that series, we're led to believe that he dies from the illness that plagued him since childhood. Well, in the later chapters, we find out that he didn't in fact die, but was converted to this series' equivalent to monks, called the Silent Brothers. They keep all the Shadowhunter (the people in the story) records, they take vows of silence, and they live forever, and that was the only way to save Jem, so he became Brother Zachariah and all was good. Except he couldnt be with his fiancee, Tessa, which left her with his best friend, Will and the two got married blah blah blah. Well in the epilogue of Clockwork Princess (Infernal Devices book 3) something happened to make Jem human again and he meets up with Tessa and bam, love. But the question was: how did he become human again? Silent Brothers are forever Silent Brothers. Well in City of Heavenly Fire, we find out how. The main character of the main series (Mortal Instruments) Jace, was stabbed by a heavenly blade and now heavenly fire (irony cause the title hahaha) courses through his veins. When Jem (at the time still Brother Zachariah) tries to heal him, Jem catches on fire and later we find out it burned away all the things in him that made him a Silent Brother, so he was human again, albeit still immortal so he could be with his girl, Tessa. THAT'S ABOUT THE ONLY GOOD THING THAT'S HAPPENED IN THIS ENTIRE BOOK THOUGH AND I"M 400 PaGES IN
But hey, there has been a little bit of good. In one of the spin off series, The Infernal Devices, there's this really sick main character named James "Jem" Carstairs who I was kind of in love with, but in the third and final book of that series, we're led to believe that he dies from the illness that plagued him since childhood. Well, in the later chapters, we find out that he didn't in fact die, but was converted to this series' equivalent to monks, called the Silent Brothers. They keep all the Shadowhunter (the people in the story) records, they take vows of silence, and they live forever, and that was the only way to save Jem, so he became Brother Zachariah and all was good. Except he couldnt be with his fiancee, Tessa, which left her with his best friend, Will and the two got married blah blah blah. Well in the epilogue of Clockwork Princess (Infernal Devices book 3) something happened to make Jem human again and he meets up with Tessa and bam, love. But the question was: how did he become human again? Silent Brothers are forever Silent Brothers. Well in City of Heavenly Fire, we find out how. The main character of the main series (Mortal Instruments) Jace, was stabbed by a heavenly blade and now heavenly fire (irony cause the title hahaha) courses through his veins. When Jem (at the time still Brother Zachariah) tries to heal him, Jem catches on fire and later we find out it burned away all the things in him that made him a Silent Brother, so he was human again, albeit still immortal so he could be with his girl, Tessa. THAT'S ABOUT THE ONLY GOOD THING THAT'S HAPPENED IN THIS ENTIRE BOOK THOUGH AND I"M 400 PaGES IN
My intense feelings and spoiler alerts part 1
**WARNING. SPOILERS AND A DEEP SEA OF PAINFUL FEELINGS AHEAD**
I shall now take a moment to convey my feelings about City of Heavenly Fire.
So, the Mortal Instruments Series is by far my favourite series ever so of course I've been waiting on edge since the beginning for the next books to come out. At first i believed it only to be a trilogy, but Mrs Cassie surprised the entire fandom by announcing two spinoffs and three more books in the series. Well, books four and five were pretty painful to say the least with Jace going bad and Clary's brother, Sebastian, going crazy and whatever, but at the end of City of Lost Souls, book five, my biggest ship ever, Magnus and Alec, broke up because of a stupid decision on Alec's part. They've been head over heels for each other since book one. And now the tension between the two is painful because they both love each other so much but neither will act on it because of pride and issues and now Magnus has been captured and Alec may never see him again cause the warlock might get killed and wow so stressful.
I shall now take a moment to convey my feelings about City of Heavenly Fire.
So, the Mortal Instruments Series is by far my favourite series ever so of course I've been waiting on edge since the beginning for the next books to come out. At first i believed it only to be a trilogy, but Mrs Cassie surprised the entire fandom by announcing two spinoffs and three more books in the series. Well, books four and five were pretty painful to say the least with Jace going bad and Clary's brother, Sebastian, going crazy and whatever, but at the end of City of Lost Souls, book five, my biggest ship ever, Magnus and Alec, broke up because of a stupid decision on Alec's part. They've been head over heels for each other since book one. And now the tension between the two is painful because they both love each other so much but neither will act on it because of pride and issues and now Magnus has been captured and Alec may never see him again cause the warlock might get killed and wow so stressful.
Storm
I got a new cat recently, and wow he is super fluffy. Hes this really pretty grey colour all over and his hair is "medium length" even though theres no such thing so we dont know how that happened, and we named him Storm cause of the way his grey looks like the sky during a storm. Hes four months old and his personality shifts from being the spawn of satan to the sweetest baby ever. Im his momma when its bed time cause hell crawl up next to me on my pillow or in the space between my arms and just flop over, nudge my chin with his nose, and fall asleep. Of course the rest of the time hes mean cause he bites a lot, my arms are covered with scratches from. Amd when hes done sleeping he lets me know cause hes up playing around amd messing up my room. And hes usually done sleeping about 5am so needless to say ive been pretry exhausted lately. But thats okay, hes still my little baby since our other cat, Ryna, hates cuddling and therefore, hates me, so yeah. He makes up for his evilness with his love and adorableness so I can deal with the arm scratches and lack of sleep. Its practically summer anyway, everyones sleep deprived over summer its cool.
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