I may not have a date today, but Henry and Alex do ♥
I talk about this book nonstop on here and I wanted to share some art I made! I was feeling creative and decided to bring some of my favorite moments of the book to life. Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston never fails to put a smile on my face and today I wanted to share something I love.
This was so much fun to create. I’ve never really done anything like this before (I even dabbled in animation for the first time?! The quality went down a bit once I converted it to a video and uploaded it here but it’s my first try so go easy on me!) I hope someone loves this as much as I do...from the note, to the text messages (the Great Turkey Calamity is so funny), to the endless emails, and of course, to ironic road signs and pieces of home. Just felt like sharing some love and happiness today. Happy Valentine’s Day
P.S. yes I drew Henry’s ring with the Hufflepuff house crest fight me
Description: Your best friend whom you have a secret crush on helps you reject a guy who won’t take a hint... by pretending to be your boyfriend.
Warning: cliche-ness
Word Count: 3.5k
Pairing: fem!reader x Han Jisung
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Special thanks to a fellow bear for the inspiration.
“Y/N, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing; I’m fine,” you reply, but your eyes stay glued to your cellular device.
“Y/NNNN.”
“Wha-what?” Your head snaps up, finally aware that your best friend and secret crush is talking to you.
Jisung frowns again after he recovers from your flusteredness. “Is something wrong? You look troubled.”
“It’s nothing… it’s just, there’s this guy--”
Jisung’s heart drops upon hearing you speak about a male. “A-a guy? As in, a boy?”
“Yeah, Kim Jaegeun,” you nod. “You know, the guy whose father’s a huge benefactor of this school and gave out the scholarship you’re on?”
Jisung lets out an “ah” to confirm his recognition.
You continue. “Unfortunately, he’s also been flirting with me non-stop. I’ve been trying to get him to leave me alone, but he hasn’t been taking any hints.”
Your friend lets out a silent sigh of relief after hearing your feelings about him. “How long has this been going on?”
“Two weeks.”
“TWO WEEKS?” he exclaims. “And you didn’t tell me, your bestie best friend?”
“I was hoping he’d leave me alone before he even became an issue,” you grumble.
“So what now?”
With a sigh, you tell him, “I’m meeting him Saturday for coffee.”
“Like a date?” Jisung scoffs with a whisper of jealousy. “I thought you didn’t like this guy.”
“I don’t, but like I said, I’ve been putting him off for two weeks; I’m running out of excuses.”
Jisung thinks for a second. “I’ve got an idea.”
“What?”
“You want him off your back, right? Give me your phone and you’ll see.”
The way he is smirking makes you nervous, but you give it to him anyway. He quickly snatches the device from your hand and swipes his thumb over the screen a few times before handing it back to you triumphantly.
“What did you do?”
“You’ll see,” he giggles.
“I don’t like the sound of that…”
“Come on, Y/N,” he pouts. “Have a little more faith in me; I’m going to get him to stop his advances. Now tell me, when are you meeting him?”
“Tomorrow at four. At Yellow Wood Cafe.”
Jisung throws his school bag over his shoulder. “You’ll see, Sunshine.”
“Sunshine?”
As you make your way to Yellow Wood, you aren’t sure if you are more worried about having to spend the hour with Jaegeun or about the unknown stunt Jisung is going to pull.
The bell chimes as you push open the cafe door. Inside already waiting for you is your date. In front of him is a scone and two coffees.
“Hey Y/N,” he greets as you sit down while resting his head on the back of his hand.
“Hello,” you politely return.
“Why so formal?” he chuckles. “Don’t we know each other enough already? Here, I bought these for you.”
No, you’ve only known him for two weeks, you think to yourself. You stare at the scone he pushed towards you, wondering if you can avoid eating it.
“Why did you call me out here today?” you ask.
“I just wanted to see you. Am I not allowed to do that?”
“Well, if you don’t have anything impor--”
“ You can be the peanut butter to my jelly
You can be the butterflies I feel in my belly
You can be the captain and I can be your first mate
You can be the chills that I feel on our first date.”
Both of you stare wide-eyed at your ringing phone that buzzes on the table. You are confused because 1) that is not your ringtone, 2) who on earth is “My Sunshine♡♡”, and 3) why is Jisung’s kissy face illuminating on your phone?
So this is Jisung’s genius plan? When you finally snap back to your senses, you give Jaegeun a fake grin and excuse yourself. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”
Jaegeun stares opened mouth with coffee spilling out of it as you swipe the green circle inward.
“Hello?” You try your best to sound natural.
“Hi~~” Jisung’s distinguishable voice resonates into your ear. “What are you doing~”
“Just hanging out with a friend,” you answer.
You can hear him cackling on the other side. “So, do you like my plan?”
“No!” you hiss in a low voice. More loudly you sing, “Listen, I’m in the middle of something right now. I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”
“I’m not hanging up without a kiss,” he teases.
You close your eyes to roll them before complying. This plan had better work or Jisung is having a knuckle sandwich for lunch tomorrow. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you later. Mwuah!”
You end the call and place your phone back down with an unnatural smile towards Jaegeun. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You have a boyfriend?” Jaegeun gasps.
“I-I guess you can say that,” you laugh sheepishly while playing with your earlobe.
Jaegeun’s expression suddenly darkens. He lowers his head so that you can’t see his eyes and abruptly stands up.
“We’ll see about that,” he snarls and beelines towards the door.
On the other side of your previous call is Jisung who has not moved a muscle since you’ve hung up. His screen has long since turned black, but he can still hear your kiss repeating over and over in his ear. He did not expect you to actually do that, but he is so glad you did. So there he is, with his jaw dropped open until a message from you breaks his trance.
[☀️]: Oh my goodness.
[Me]: How did it go?
[☀️]: He left. I can’t believe that worked!
[Me]: See? I told you it would work. ;) Now you owe me one.
[☀️]: I don’t owe you anything after the shock you put me through, you dork.
[Me]: “Dork?” You wound me, Sunshine.
[☀️]: I thought YOU are the one who’s “Sunshine”
[Me]: It’s the first thing that came to mind, okay? Gee.
[☀️]: Lol. Alright, alright. Well, thanks for helping me out.
[Me]: Anytime, Sunshine.
[☀️]: Are you going to keep calling me that?
[Me]: >:)
[☀️]: I’m so used to your weirdness that this doesn’t even surprise me. Anyway, thanks again. Hopefully this is the end of this fiasco.
You stare at your screen after sending your last text. “My Sunshine♡♡” it reads. Maybe you’ll keep his contact name like that for a little longer. You wish you could tell him that is exactly what he is to you, but you can’t. Sure, Jisung does things that seem like he’s hinting he has feelings for you too, but he’s always fooling around that you can’t tell if he really means it.
You put away your phone with a sigh. It’s just safer to not risk your friendship than to ask him about it. For now, you only wish for this whole Jaegeun thing to end.
But of course, that isn’t the end of it. The following lunch period, as Jisung chats with you whilst sitting atop your desk, an all-too familiar face storms into your classroom. The two of you are too busy laughing at something Jisung said and do not notice Jaegeun until he is literally right in front of you, thus not giving Jisung ample time to react to the fist that came flying towards his cheek.
Jisung falls off your desk and into the one besides you. You jump up with an exclamation, but Jaegeun gets to Jisung first. He lifts up your limp friend by the collar.
“So you’re Y/N’s boyfriend, huh? How’s someone as weak as you even by her side?”
There’s a crowd forming around the scene. Even students from other classes press their faces against the window of yours.
“Weak?” Jisung scoff. “Are you referring to yourself?”
Jaegeun raises his fist again, but the five-minute warning bell rings right on time. He scowls and drops Jisung. “You, me, today afterschool behind the psychology building.”
“Jisung--”
“Fine.” Jisung tries to smirk but fails as his cheek is swelling.
“No, it is not fine,” you interject. Both boys turn their attention toward you and your glowering tone. You are having enough of them acting like kindergarteners. “Jisung, what on earth do you think you are agreeing to under my watch? And Jaegeun, you can’t take someone’s girlfriend, and you most definitely cannot punch someone in the face!”
“Sure I can.” He leans towards your face. “Do you know who I am, sweetest Y/N? Do you know who my father is? Who is funding Jisung’s education right now?”
You twitch as he is correct; you wouldn’t be sitting next to your best friend in class everyday if not for Jaegeun’s father.
Jaegeun straightens up confidently. “I was such a nice guy to you, Y/N, but if you don’t want me to gallantly fight for your heart, then fine. I’ll give you two choices: go out with me or Jisung will need another way to fund his tuition. I’ll be on the rooftop awaiting your answer after school, Sweetheart.”
He then turns out of the room just as your teacher walks in. The instructor greets him with a disgusting smile and even a little bow. Jisung flops over on his desk.
“What were you thinking, agreeing to a fight?” you hiss. “Do you not see the giant bump on your cheek?”
“To answer your question, no, I cannot.” He then angles his face towards you and you can see streaks of tears streaming down it and clouding his eyes. “I cant shee berry wewl,” he sobs with a giant pout.
“Good riddance, Jisung,” you mutter before asking to have him be excused.
The nurse is out of office, so you are excused too to help patch him up which is how you end up dragging him by the sleeve through the corridors.
"Why are you grinning like that?" you sigh as he walks with a bounce behind you.
He frowns at your tone and overall demeanor. “Are you mad?”
“Things could have gone better.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t have agitated him further.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
You stop at the door of the infirmary and turn to look at him. “No, I should be sorry. I’ve put your enrollment in jeopardy. Maybe I will just go out with that jerk.”
“No,” Jisung states curtly. “You can’t.”
“What other option is there? I’m not letting you leave this school, if that’s what you’re thinking.” You enter the room and direct him to a chair. “Sit there.” You take an ice pack and press it against different spots on his face.
Jisung stares at you as you focus on different spots of his wound, brows knitted together. He loses himself in the depth of your eyes; he can’t possibly lose you to some other guy, especially to a jock like Jeageun.
“I can take his battle,” he says after a moment of silence.
“What? No! Are you not in enough pain already?”
“But if I win, then there’s nothing he can do, right? We’ll make it public so he cannot go back on his words. This way, you won’t have to endure him and I can still stay in school,” he proposes.
“Jisung, that’s too risky; you’d die,” you laugh dryly. “I’ll just date him. It’s the safest and most--”
Jisung grabs the back of your hand that holds the ice and stands up, dragging you along with him. Your breath hitches at your sudden proximity now that your knees are not between you two. You cannot be saying those words again. Everytime he is even reminded of the possibility, Jisung feels knives impaling his stomach.
“You can’t date him, alright? I’ll take any option before that one. Even if I have to work three jobs to pay for schooling, I’ll do it. You just can’t date him; I won’t allow it.”
He slumps back into his chair after his spew. “You can go back to class. I want to rest here for a little longer.”
You nod dumbly and scurry into the hallway, heart still thumping strangely at his action and uncharacteristically serious tone. Why did he do that? Did he bump his head too hard? Is he playing games with your heart again?
You shake your head and slap your cheeks to prevent yourself from believing what your heart wishes were true. For now, you have to focus on your dilemma.
Despite what Jisung said, at the end of the day, the decision still rests on you. You glance at the clock nervously as the end of the school day draws nearer. To make things worse, the desk besides you is still empty, leaving just you alone with your thoughts.
Jisung cannot manage without that scholarship-- this much you know. With enough jobs to pay for tuition, he would not have enough time to study and will be expelled anyway. Fighting Jaegeun is obviously not a sound idea, so there really is only one option left.
What’s the worse that can happen? You will just have to put up with Jaegeun for a few years and then you will be off to college and away from him. Sure, you’d have to give up your feelings for Jisung for a while, but it’s not like they’ll be reciprocated anytime soon. What is Jisung so against anyway?
Thus, when the final bell rings, you slowly pack your belongings and, with a sigh, make your way to the rooftop.
There Jaegeun awaits you with his hair styled and a bouquet of roses, clearly confident in your answer.
“Hello, dearest Y/N. It’s a pleasure for you to join me here today,” he greets.
“Hi.” You stay standing by the doorway, not approaching him.
“So what will it be?” He walks over to you and slides the back of one finger along your cheek. “Spend your days with me or strip your friend of his livelihood?”
“I--”
“I challenge you to a battle!”
Both your heads snap to where the sound came from. From behind, you see Jisung ascending the stairs with a microphone. Wait. What does he need a microphone for? You then notice a commotion from the courtyard beneath you and see a crowd gathering besides two large amplifiers, soaking up every word Jisung is saying.
“What are you doing?” You and Jaegeun say at the same time, though both with different implications.
“Defending my relationship with my girlfriend, of course,” he replies with a goofy grin towards you. Normally, your heart would jump at his endearing words, but now it’s too busy panicking for his safety.
You glare daggers of warning at him.
“Oh really?” scoffs Jaegeun. “You think you can win?”
Jisung’s voice darkens. “Only if you promise to leave her alone if I do.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he laughs.
“Just remember, this whole school bears witness to what you just said.”
“Sure, everyone can know I won Y/N. Why not?”
Jisung frowns. “Hey, she’s not a carnival prize.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Jaegeun rolls up his sleeves. “Ready?”
“Sure,” Jisung shrugs.
“Jisung, please. You don’t--” you try, but he surprises you by pulling out another microphone and handing it to Jaegeun. Your soul leaves your body in relief upon realizing what he is planning. A smile replaces your earlier worries. Jisung notices and gives you a knowing wink.
“Why are you giving this to me?” asks the other male.
“You said you wanted a battle, right?” Jisung tilts his head innocently to the side. A smile he is no longer able to suppress slowly creeps onto his face when a beat sounds from the speakers. “This is the battle. A rap battle.”
Jaegeun fumes, “That’s not--”
“What? You scared? Don’t think you’re able to win?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Give me that! What can a tiny nerd like you rap anyway?”
Jaegeun snatches the microphone from Jisung’s hand and the two of them walk to the edge of the roof for the audience below to see.
“Today’s theme is Y/N,” announces Jisung. “It’s only fitting, don’t you think?”
Jaegeun grunts.
“Alright then, would you do the honors of going first?” your friend invites.
“S-sure.” He clears his throat and begins.
His flow is shaky at best with a simple one syllable per beat tempo. He compares you to roses about five times and slip in a few of his qualities as well. Jaegeun looks over to Jisung when he’s done.
“Alright, alright,” Jisung nods. He then raises his own mic, and you smirk, already knowing what is going to happen.
“Yo,” he begins. “Yo, yo, check this out.
“Y/N’s her name, the reason I came
To beat you, at this game.
Or maybe I’m here with another aim:
Cause I’ll take whatever chance I get to flatter my dame.
See, she’s my sunshine, so fine
She makes all my stars align.
All I think about day and night is her hand in mine.
Not only is she art, she’s funny and smart.
So I see why you’d like some, a la carte
She just keeps shooting arrows through people’s hearts
Uh!
I thank my lucky stars whenever she looks at me
For her I’d cross all seven seas.
My love is truer than one two three
There ain’t no one else for whom I’d get on one knee
But now I think it’s time to close up this rap
Cause don’t you see, chap?
Nothing can make the bond between us snap.
She’s the only treasure on my map.”
The crowd goes up in cheers after his last word. Jaegeun knows he has lost, but he isn’t about to go down that easily, so he speaks with the only thing he knows how to use: his fist. He raises it as you are about to race towards Jisung to congratulate him. You don’t realize what is happening until this hand is right in front of your face. You close your eyes with a squeak, expecting the impact, but it never came. Instead, you hear:
“KIM JAEGEUN! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?”
You open your eyes to see your infamously tough physical education teacher pinning the boy down with his hands behind his back. “AND YOU, HAN JISUNG. WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO USE THE SOUND EQUIPMENT?”
Jisung laughs sheepishly while scratching the back of his head.
“TO THE DEAN’S OFFICE NOW! YOU TOO, L/N Y/N! I WILL DEAL WITH THIS ONE MYSELF.”
“Yes Sir!” you both bow before hustling away.
“Look what you got us into,” you whisper to Jisung with a joking jab to his ribs.
“Hey, I won without a scratch, okay?”
“You idiot,” you snort. “Do you know how worried I was when you showed up? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“Aw, you were worried~”
“Of course I was! You are my best friend!”
“Just that?” he frowns.
“What do you want to be?”
“Nevermind,” he says while ruffling your hair. “Still, I can’t believe you were about to give yourself to him like that! How could you do that after what I said?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. At least you knew me well enough to come save me.”
“Of course. Yet I still have not received my thanks yet,” he pouts.
“Thank you, oh great Han Jisung,” you sing with an eye roll.
He smiles with a roll of his own. “Not enough, Sunshine.”
“What do you want? I’m already going to the dean’s office with you.”
He taps his cheek and puffs it out.
“Oh, come on,” you groan. “The whole school already thinks we’re dating thanks to your plans.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” he frowns again. “Do you not want them to?”
“W-what are you saying?”
Jisung grabs your wrist to stop you from walking and bares his gaze into your eyes. “What if I told you, I meant what I said up there on the roof? All of it. What if I told you it all came from the bottom of my heart?”
Your mouth goes dry from his forwardness. You tilt your head to look at him only to find it lightly bumping against the wall behind you. Your heart is racing like it did earlier in the infirmary. A part of you still fears that this is all a joke, but you find yourself not caring at the moment. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or maybe you’re sick and tired of hiding your emotions. Either way, you feel a wave of courage wash over you. You know it’s now or never.
“If that’s so…” you stand on your toes to be at eye level with him. “If that’s really so, then let’s make their assumptions come true…”
You quickly give him the peck on the cheek he asks for and quickly run down the hall with your face in your hands. Jisung stumbles from how hard you pulled your hand out of his, but stares at your back with the goofiest grin before following you to your hour-long lecture from the dean.
Sometimes I look back on memories of what seemed at the time to be the happiest, most cherished times of my childhood, only to realise in retrospect that I was, in fact, miserable for nearly their entire duration. The starkest example of this phenomenon is that of the numerous trips I made with my Southern Baptist church youth group. Over the course of each year of my adolescence, we traveled to camps and conventions (and one time even to New Orleans, on a mission trip to 'convert the Catholics'). Each event was one I anticipated (and sometimes prepared for) for months.
The most frequent and reliable destination for our travels was a church camp a few hours away. Once in the summer and once in the winter, we made our way there for 4-7 days of sermons, prayer, and camp activities. Our group was assigned one cabin each for the girls and boys (or, occasionally, the girls got one of the 'new cabins', which were more like hotel rooms, with aircon but no bunk beds, and halfway across the campgrounds from pretty much everything of relevance. Bleh.), as well as a color and a meal hour. I'm not sure why, but we were almost always assigned yellow and green (with the accompanying later meal hour), as opposed to the much prettier and time-convenient colors of purple and blue, which I only recall getting once in around nine camp stays.
And so we would go, walking around camp with our yellow arm bands (meant to deter non-campers from sneaking a quick meal, they said, failing to grasp any irony in denying meals to the stranger at a Christian institution), doing camp things and singing camp songs.
One of the songs that still gets stuck in my head to this day was part of a camp game the campers played called 'Big Booty'. Being rather shy (read: terminally embarrassed due to rejection sensitive dysphoria) and also dreadful at rhythm games (no doubt due to lack of practice in childhood, stemming from the same), I mostly watched rather than actually engage in the play. Still, the song was catchy as hell, and could be heard from up to hundreds of feet away at nearly any point when the campers had free time. To play, all players stood in a circle and were assigned a number, counting clockwise from the position of the game's leader, who was referred to as 'Big Booty'. The goal of the game was to move up the ranks and become Big Booty, or, in another variation, to be the last one eliminated by messing up the rhythm.
The game started with a rhythmic chant: "Big Booty! Big Booty, oh, yeah! Big Booty, Big Booty, Big Booty!" All players slapped their thighs in rhythm with the chant, and throughout the whole game, to keep time.
At this point, the game was on. Big Booty would begin play by stating their own designation (Big Booty), and the designation of any other player of their choice (for example, Number Four). The designated player would then state their own designation and then the designation of yet another player. Play would be passed around in this manner until someone failed to say their part in the correct rhythm, at which point the one who failed was moved to the place in the circle with the highest number designation (with all other numbers reassigned as needed), or, in the other version, eliminated from play. It sounded a lot like this:
"Big Booty! Big Booty, oh, yeah! Big Booty, Big Booty, Big Booty!"
"Big Booty, Number Four!"
"Number Four, Number Eight!"
"Number Eight, Number Two!"
"Number Two, Big Booty!"
"Big Booty, Number Six!"
And so on.
God, now it's stuck in my head. Dammit.
In retrospect, this was how I spent a good portion of my camping time regardless of the activity at hand; I was a watcher, not a doer. And when I did, I most often did alone.
Not that I necessarily wanted to be alone. Awkward, adolescent, and very, very autistic, I had no idea 'How to Win Friends and Influence People', as the book says. My thought, logical as it seemed at the time, was that if I told people what I was doing, and then went and did it, they might follow along out of interest. And it seemed to me afterwards quite strange that no one was as interested in these activities as I was.
Of course, I didn't know to take into account the eccentricity of activities such as off-road blackberry picking in the eyes of kids who had mostly grown up in the city, and who later would express doubt that such edible berries even existed. To them, I was a quirky loner; to me, I was desperate and lonely.
Well, no, that's not right. At the time, I didn't even acknowledge that I was lonely, though I spent most every moment at camp attempting to remedy that loneliness. I was just delightfully weird, that was all. That was all.
Even cabin time rarely made for good bonding moments, queer as I knew myself to be. The other girls could playfully flirt with one another, knowing they meant only jest. They could touch each other (they knew how to touch each other) in a friendly way, and not have it misconstrued.
They could touch each other in weird ways. Some of the girls liked to exchange affection (and show off, I guess?) by licking one another's eyeballs in turn. I could only dream of aspiring to that kind of kinship.
No, I didn't touch the other girls. Not until the later years, when one of my close friends finally started coming to camp with me, and then we mostly hit one another, as was our wont. (Incidentally, this behavior never stopped everyone at school from assuming we were a couple. Go figure.)
The closest I ever got to making a friend at camp was making a friend that would later become an enemy. We'll call her Max.
Max was a later addition to the group, not a full time youth-grouper, but one who sometimes made it for trips. She had been brought into the fold by the most popular of popular boys in our group, who she attended school with (and who I had lusted after in my heart since before I even joined the church, possibly before I even knew what lust was).
Max was weird. She read The Lord of the Rings during sermons, instead of taking notes. She talked about Catholicism. She was goth.
She also, as I found out one Winter Retreat, wrote M-rated (and higher!) Rocky Horror Picture Show fanfic.
It would be a startling understatement to say that, at this point in my life, I was painfully naive. I had only recently discovered masturbation and the horrible spiritual agony it left in its wake. I was sure God was pissed because I was abusing the shower head every morning, and REALLY pissed that I sometimes thought of girls while I did. I didn't dare look at or read pornography. That stuff was addictive and homewrecking.
But... I did quite like Max.
We struck up a fledgling friendship as I tried to make her comfortable on one of her first trips with our group. It was the right thing to do. I certainly wasn't doing it because she was attractive and quirky.
And so, upon learning that I was a writer as well, she sought my opinions on some of her writing one evening, as we settled in our cabin.
"It's the least explicit one I have right now that doesn't require knowledge of the canon," Max said, kindly taking my foibles into account. "No sex or anything. Although she is naked. And there's… some… other stuff? Referenced. But not, y'know, explicitly."
Well. As long as it isn't explicit, I figured.
And that, my friends, was my first encounter with the idea of BDSM.
I was fucking shook.
While I already had, and had had since early childhood, a predilection for and interest in sadomasochism and power play, only at that moment did the spark go off in my head that connected these things to sexual arousal. It was like lightning. Things finally made sense!
But they were bad things. I didn't know what to do with that! I sputtered a bit, pointed out a couple of grammatical and syntactic errors, and told her it was good. I don't think she ever found out how dramatically she affected my life with those few crumpled pages torn from a composition book.
Of course, only a day or two later, I couldn't stand the bitch. She told some of my secrets to the guy I had a crush on (basically immediately after I told her?), and the two came up with a plan to use them against me, for no reason I could see but to be mean. My fault for trusting someone I barely knew, but she just had that vibe around her, y'know? And, as I said, I didn't know what I was doing.
Sometimes, I'm pretty sure I still don't. But damn if I didn’t learn a thing or two from her, including that that guy was a dick.
