#Me at rem on a daily basis

[uglypastels]

Hey can you do a coffee shop AU ab Gambit where the reader works at the shop Remy frequents? But one day there’s an attack and her mutation manifests?? Love your writing!

stick with me as I try to figure out how to write his accent lol. it's just a quick and fun lil thang but i hope you like it. [also, is this my first ever coffee shop au?? it might be. don't quote me on that tho]

warnings: slight cursing. supervillain attack.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

‘Will that be the usual, Remy?’ You already pulled out the paper cup to write his name and order on it, looking up expectantly for him to confirm your suspicion.

‘You know it, chere.’ 

‘One cafe au lait, coming up.’ You chirped with a smile, noting it down on the side of the cup. Like the well-oiled machine the two of you have become over the past weeks, he didn’t need to hear the price and just slid a five-dollar bill across the counter and pushed another exact bill through the slit of the little tip jar next to the register.

‘Well, you know,’ and just like any other time, you couldn’t help but comment on his generosity, ‘you really don’t have to do all that. It’s just coffee.’ As much as you appreciated his gesture, a twinge of guilt struck you as he practically paid double for what already was an overpriced beverage.

‘It ain't for the coffee,’ he smirked, which, with a flash of heat, immediately radiated onto your cheeks. It all happened like clockwork, and so you reminded yourself that that’s just who he was.  You were sure he did it with anyone, so you mustn’t let it get to you. To not get too hung up over a customer who made it a habit throughout his day to flirt with his barista.

‘Here ya go,’ you presented him with the drink. 

‘I donno how you do it, belle,’ Remy said after his first sip, a satisfied expression spreading over his face. ‘Perfect. Evry time.’

‘Why, thank you.’ You reciprocated his smile, but really, it was no big deal. You were just doing your job—something that was only easier considering your talents. Practically being a human heat conductor made preparing a perfect cup o’ joe fairly simple. Still, when a charming Cajun walked into your establishment and showered you in compliments on a nearly daily basis, the effect might have been a bit stronger than a one-off comment from a stranger. No matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to deny his allure. 

For a Tuesday morning, the café was surprisingly clear of customers besides a couple of taken tables at the windows, where some early birds had begun their day by reading the paper or getting a headstart on their work. And so, with no line rushing him off behind him, Remy sipped his coffee right by your side. 

‘Say, don’t you have somewhere else to be, Rem?’ you teased as you wiped the counter.

‘With a beautiful lady righ in front of me, there ain't nowhere I rather be.’

‘Oh, shush, you.’ You tried to ignore it, but the steam coming off from the once wet handtowel you used to clean was saying differently. Both of you were about to open your mouths, the snarky banter already dripping from both your lips, but that all faltered as the ground beneath you shook. The soft ambience brought on by the instrumental music playing in the background over the speakers was overrun by the aggressive shaking of all the products and measuring jugs falling to the ground. But soon, even that was silenced by the screams that followed. A stampede of morning commuters was running through the street, eyes wide and pale with fear. 

‘What the–’ you muttered out, carefully making your way to the window. Perhaps not the smartest move, but the curiosity had gotten the better of you. And it sure had; as right as you had reached your lookout point, all your senses were thrown off guard by an explosion. The world around you turned upside down— or was that just you as you were thrown off your feet and across the room following a million pieces of shattered glass? 

You were ready to fall into the puddle of shards, but instead, you were met with the hold of two strong arms, and once you dared to open your eyes, you saw a pair of glowing red ones. 

‘You alright?’ Remy put you down on the ground. 

Still, in shock, all you could respond with was a nod. You watched as Remy made his way across the glass-covered floor, calling out to the fear-stricken people in the café. 

‘Is gonna be all right, everyone.’ He helped a lady get back up on her feet and make her way to the back of the room. ‘Stay inside. Get z’away from the street.’ And even though you wanted to listen to his command, you found yourself walking back towards him. 

‘What are you doing, cher?’ With his hand on your shoulder, he held you back from taking another step. 

‘I wanna help.’ It was clear enough to you that he was about to fight whatever it was that was scaring all those people outside, and there was no way in hell you’d let him go out there on his own. 

‘Do you even know what you’re up against?’ 

‘Do you?’ you hit back, and that response clearly pleased him. The worry on his lips turned up into a smirk. So, the barista had a spark to her. It didn’t surprise him, necessarily. If anything, the excitement from seeing this side of you sparked a rush through his whole body. 

Side by side, you ran out into the street, avoiding the last few incomers who were trying their best to escape whatever it was you were about to greet. And what that was, you soon found out. All you had to do was look up into the sky.

‘Le Bon Dieu.’ Remy cursed under his breath.

‘Damn.’ You gasped at the sight of what you could only describe to be a giant robot floating above the tall buildings. Eyes glowing with a fire that burst in jetstreams of destruction.

Perhaps you were way in over your head, getting into a fight with a steel giant, fighting with a nearly complete stranger, and yet, when you looked up at him, and your eyes met, you had a feeling that you’d be just fine.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[dyingdreams3]

Affirmations and Reality Checks!

The Lucid dreaming techniques I use include both the MILD and WBTB methods. Both methods are simple and easy for beginners!

The MILD technique works best for me personally and is what I use on a daily basis. “MILD (mnemonic induction of lucid dreams) – involves waking up after five hours of sleep and then developing the intention to remember that you are dreaming before returning to sleep, by repeating the phrase: ‘The next time I'm dreaming, I will remember that I'm dreaming.’”

This technique is basically manifesting lucid dreams with affirmations. Every night, before bed, I write in my physical dream journal, “I will have a lucid dream tonight.” This phrase is more straightforward for me to repeat in my head. On certain occasions, when I am unable to recall my dreams, I typically write, “I will remember my dreams.”

Along with the MILD method, I use the “Wake back to bed (WBTB) [which] involves waking up in the middle of the night. See Full Reference and then returning to sleep after a certain amount of time has passed. WBTB is often used in conjunction with the MILD technique.” This method allows me to sleep (for the first time) without worrying about my affirmations. I can focus on relaxing and bringing peace for later in the night. I personally set my alarm for 4:35 am since I do sleep from 10:00 pm to 7:00 am. I am given a 3-hour time frame to manifest a lucid dream. This is typically when I have the most dreams to write down, this is because they are more likely to occur during your rem cycle (which I highly recommend you do some research on it if you are not too educated on sleep cycles).

Also, a very effective “awake” technique that I use is called reality checking. “A Reality Check is a method of deducing whether one is in a dream or in real life. It usually involves an observation of some sort of sensory observation, usually visual. Most induced lucid dreams involve a reality check of some sort. A dream sign is a form of reality check that is more or less unique to the specific dreamer.”

Every time I experienced a lucid dream, I always became aware because I did a reality check with my fingers, mainly by counting them or pushing my fingers through my palm. I perform this method on a daily basi, almost every hour or so. I do it whenever I..

Wake Up

Paint my nails

Get in my car

Talk to my parents

Facetime my friend

Turn on my lights

Enter a class

Walk my dog

Have slow internet

Some of these are dream signs that I have, like entering/driving in a car. While others, like turning on my lights, are simply to create a habit. It I useful to have at least 6, in order to have them appear in you dream.

FYI, these methods work for me, and they may not work for you. That's the importance of trial and error. Maybe later on, I will do a more intermediate version. For now, let me know if these techniques work for you or if you have any recommendations! I am all ears.

[potsmart]

CBD Capsules for a Great Night’s Sleep

Getting a good night’s sleep is, like, super vital for your general health and well-being, bro. Sleep and water if you haven’t been paying attention to all the beauty tik tokers is the secret to beauty and longevity. We all know we should be getting 7-8 hours of sleep a night, but actually getting there is the hard part. For many who find sleep elusive, cannabis is a go to remedy for easy dreamless sleep, but others get a similar effect without the psychoactive effects as well. I’m referring to CBD. Here are a bunch of suggestions for CBD capsules before we get started with the rest of this article.

Melatonin plus CBD

CBD Gel Caps

The green, narrow-leafed plant that you may recognize has many different slang terms, but scientifically, it is called Cannabis sativa. The term “cannabis” is used to refer to any products derived from the plant. Cannabis plants are known to contain numerous chemical compounds, including a group known as “cannabinoids.” While there are over 100 cannabinoids present in the plant, researchers have focused on studying two that have the greatest effect on humans: tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) and cannabidiol (CBD).

As most people know THC gets you high and CBD doesn’t, it is worth mentioning the benefits of CBD. Certainly there is more than sleep, but that’s the scope of what we’re chatting about here.

Research done by The National Center for Biotechnology Information has shown that oral doses of 300 mg of CBD can be taken safely on a daily basis for up to six months, and up to 1,500 mg daily was well-tolerated by participants in one scientific review. Another review confirmed that using 1,500 mg daily for four weeks showed no negative effects. Preliminary research has indicated that it can be helpful for a number of sleep disorders, including insomnia, REM sleep behaviour disorder, and excessive daytime sleepiness disorder. That’s to say, CBD may help improve sleep and reduce anxiety in patients.

This is likely because cannabidiol has a calming effect on the nervous system and can alter mood by affecting the serotonin system. Unlike THC, CBD does not induce a feeling of being “high” and even large doses of CBD do not produce THC-like effects. Additionally, studies have demonstrated that CBD can reduce the psychoactive effects of THC. Short-term use of CBD does not result in withdrawal for patients. It can be a good thing to keep around for those times when you get a little too edible high.

CBD medications and products are generally associated with mild negative effects. For instance, patients who use Epidiolex, a CBD-based drug that is FDA approved, may encounter digestive issues such as diarrhea. Drowsiness is also a common side effect of CBD intake, but that’s kind of the point right?

Insomnia however can be devastating to one’s ability to concentrate on their waking life. People who suffer from insomnia may feel anxious about not getting enough sleep due to their history of poor sleep, which can exacerbate their sleeplessness at night. It’s a feedback loop of unrest.

There is hope that CBD, which has been shown to be effective in treating anxiety, may also help alleviate the anxiety associated with insomnia. A new pilot study is currently underway to investigate the use of CBD and THC in individuals with physician-diagnosed insomnia. The study aims to provide more insight into the effects of CBD on insomnia and its potential benefits. A more personal, less scientific study (with a test group of one) has brought me to the realization that this is indeed true for me.

CBD has the potential to interact with other medications that a person is taking. One of the ways in which it can affect the body is by slowing down the liver’s ability to break down certain drugs. This can result in an increased concentration of these drugs in the body, which could lead to adverse effects.Furthermore, combining CBD with other herbs or supplements can cause excessive drowsiness, which can be dangerous in certain situations or great sleep in others.

That is to say, it is highly recommended that individuals consult with their doctor before using any CBD product with regularity at any serious dose. It is important to inform your doctor of any medications, herbs, or supplements you are currently taking, so that they can assess if CBD may cause any negative interactions. Your doctor will be able to advise you on whether or not CBD is a safe and viable option to help you achieve your health goals way better than some random on youtube or the internet.

In general CBD is among the most regularly used drugs in the world. For most of us the effect is rather benign, neighbouring. However, if sleep is your goal, boring is exactly perfect. Don’t forget to check the links above to CBD and have a great night’s sleep.

Sources:

U.S. Food & Drug Administration. (2021, January 8). Better data for a better understanding of the use and safety profile of cannabidiol (CBD) products., Retrieved April 8, 2021, from https://www.fda.gov/news-events/fda-voices/better-data-better-understanding-use-and-safety-profile-cannabidiol-cbd-products

By Rico Suave, for Potsmart

[shemarmooresfedora]

Can’t Be Your Secret Anymore

Summary: You hardly expected the next time you saw Spencer after your big fight is him coming out of an ambulance on a stretcher.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Nurse!Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: one swear word, arguing, hospitals, fluffy ending!

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: this is an anon request!!! anon, i hope i did your wonderful request justice! my asks are always open for anything (random concepts, full-fleshed ideas, or just random thoughts/questions)

Masterlist

“Sorry, I’m home late, sweetheart. The team wanted to go out for drinks after work and then Savannah wouldn’t let me leave until I did karaoke,” Spencer chuckled, “Luckily, she was drunk enough that I slipped out without ever having to fulfill my promise.”

Spencer’s smile faded once he realized you weren’t smiling too.

“Why did Savannah get to go but I can’t? We have been dating longer than her and Derek,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Baby, it’s not the same thing…” Spencer began to say.

You shot up from the couch, “It is too the same thing, Spencer. I have asked you at least 5 times to meet your team and you always say it’s not the right time. When will it be the right time, Spencer? A year? Ten? I can’t wait around until you decide I’m good enough for your friends,” you began walking around his apartment, collecting your things.

“No, Y/N. Please stay. You can meet them! You can meet them, I swear! Please don’t go,” Spencer desperately begged.

“I never wanted a pity invite,” you sighed, “Goodbye, Spencer. Call me if you would finally like to commit to me for once.”

The gentle closing of his apartment door cracked Spencer’s heart in half. He snuck out early from the bar in hopes of being cuddled up with you but now he was all alone.

-

A week. It had been a week since you walked out of Spencer’s apartment only to be met with radio silence. If you were being honest, you hadn’t really expected Spencer to make no attempt to get back together with you. But if he really didn’t want you back, you needed to start moving on with your life.

“Y/N, we’ve got an incoming ambulance,” Linda, the other on-call ER nurse said, snapping you out of your daze.

You jogged out to the ambulance bay, suiting up with rubber gloves.

The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the entrance as the paramedics unloaded the stretcher.

“White male. Early 30’s. GSW to the neck. Pulse is thready,” the paramedic stated.

The patient’s eyes opened slightly for just a second and they locked with yours.

“Spencer,” you whispered under your breath as his eyes closed again.

You and Linda rolled him up the OR before returning back to the ER floor. You took a seat at the desk and put your head in your hands. You were trying to control your breathing because being in the elevator with your barely alive ex-boyfriend was not how you expected this night to go.

“Do you know Reid?”

Your head snapped up to the muscular man that travelled in the ambulance with him.

“What?” you asked, even though you heard him the first time.

“It sounded like you said ‘Spencer’ when you pulled him out of the ambulance. I was just asking if you knew him,” Derek said.

“Um, kind of. We have a mutual friend so I’ve seen him around but I really don’t know him that well,” you lied.

It pained you to say that you didn’t know Spencer well at all when he was fighting for his life in surgery but then again, did you really? The mutual friend technically wasn’t a lie because you guys were set up by Patricia, a librarian, because you were the only two people under 60 that came into the library regularly.

Derek didn’t seem to be convinced but he nodded and stepped away regardless.

When the head surgeon working on Spencer came out, you purposely pretended to be doing a task close to where his whole team had gathered.

“Dr. Reid is expected to make a full recovery,” you heard, you let out an instant exhale of relief, “He is in Room E105 if you would like to see him now.”

Shit. That was the wing you were in charge of post-op for. The surgeon found you and handed you the clipboard of Spencer’s file before returning back upstairs.

You slowly made your way to the room. Thank god, you could see he was still unconscious through the door. You knocked lightly on the open door to alert the team of your presence.

“Hi, I’m Nurse Y/L/N. I’m in charge of Spenc-I mean Dr. Reid’s post-op. I just need to check his vitals real quick,” you informed them.

A blonde woman with bright bold clothing that you assumed was Penelope, based on what Spencer told you, backed away from Spencer to give you room to work, “Do whatever you need to do, sweetheart.”

That sent a pang through your chest. Spencer always called you ‘sweetheart’ but maybe that was just because he could never bring himself to call you ‘love’.

“He’s all set. I’ll be back in an hour,” you flashed a polite smile before quickly leaving the room that felt like it was suffocating you.

“Thank you!” Penelope called after you.

-

An hour later, you picked up Spencer’s clipboard once again and headed to his room, stopping in your tracks when you saw he was awake.

You made brief eye contact before you whipped around and speed-walked back down the hall.

“Linda, can you take my patient in E105 please?” you pleaded.

“Is it super gross?” she cringed.

“No, it’s just someone I’d rather not talk to right now. It’s just a vital check for a post-op GSW,” you informed her, “I’ll let you take an extra 5 minutes on break and I’ll do all the bedpan changes.”

“Fine,” Linda grabbed the clipboard and headed to Spencer’s room.

Linda decided to take her slightly longer break right after doing Spencer’s post-op. So when his ‘call nurse’ button started rapidly going off, you had no one to turn to.

You sprinted down the hallway to his room and quickly opened the door to see him sitting up, perfectly fine with the remote in his hand.

“Are you dying?” you asked flatly.

“Without you, yes I am,” Spencer replied.

You rolled your eyes and let out a humorless chuckle before heading to the door once again.

“Wait, Y/N!” he urged.

You didn’t turn around until you heard a ripping sound followed by a loud ‘ow’. When you turned around, you saw Spencer had pulled his bandage half off.

“Spencer! Why did you do that? I have other patients to tend to,” you grabbed the roll of gauze on the table.

“Now you have to listen to me as you reapply my gauze,” Spencer explained.

“Where did your team go? Can’t you bother them?” you huffed.

“You met them?”

“Don’t worry. I said I barely knew you through a mutual friend. I know how terrible it would be for you if they found out you were dating me,” you assured him.

“No, no! That’s not what I want. I want to scream from the rooftops that you’re my girlfriend. I just get scared that once we make it official to everyone, it will be even harder when I lose you,” Spencer admitted.

“Why do you think you’re going to lose me?”

“Because you’re way out of my league. Sometimes I still think you’re just a figment of my imagination and this couldn’t possibly be real,” Spencer confessed.

“Spencer, you’re a hot genius FBI agent. If anybody is out of anybody’s league, it’s you.”

“And you’re a hot ER nurse who probably saves more lives than I do on a daily basis and...I love you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, he finally said it. A sign of commitment.

“I love you too,” you spoke softly, gently pressing down the last strip of gauze on his neck.

You heard chattering approaching and the whole team appeared at the door with food and drinks in their hand.

“Alright, Dr. Reid,” you shot up from the edge of the bed, “Your gauze is all set. Press the button again if you have any other complications. Enjoy your dinner. Remember only jell-o or soup,” you headed to the door.

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer grabbed your wrist before you got very far and then interlocked your hand with his, “Guys, this is my beautiful and amazing girlfriend, Y/N, who I love very much.”

“Um-hi,” you waved.

Derek looked between the both of you and grinned.

“We were just going to have some dinner if you would like to join us, Y/N,” Penelope offered.

“Sure! Let me just tell Linda I’m taking my break,” you smiled.

You tried to leave again but Spencer still wouldn’t let your hand go.

“Spence, I’ll be right back,” you promised.

“I need a kiss before you go,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes playfully before leaning down to give him a loving kiss that made up for all the kisses you lost over the past week.

taglist (just ask to be added or removed): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana

[the---hermit]

5 simple daily habits that changed my life

In the past years I have been trying to implement small things, that could help improve my life with little effort. I don't think I have found the superme way to win at life, but these are a few things that did highly improve my days :

Keeping a daily gratitude list

I implemented this habit into my bullet journal almost two years ago. I had been seeing a lot of people doing it, and at the beginning I wasn't so sure about this. I decided to give it a try anyway, and i haven't stopped ever since. I will admit there are days in which I have to select just a few things, because everything wouldn't fit. Other days I have to really think to find something to be grateful for. This exercise is so good for this exact reason, it forces you to find at least one good thing in each day. It's litteraly a way to force yourself to see something positive in each day, and let me tell you, it's such a simple thing that has a huge impact on the long run. Even if you aren't sure about it I would reccomend to give it a try for one month, it takes one minute of your time each day, and you'll see if it could be a good habit for you.

Keeping a daily journal

I used to have a weird relationship with journaling, I might end up doing a separate post on it, but then around a year ago I finally managed to make an habit out of it. I try to journal everyday for at least five minutes. I feel like it's a great outlet, but it doesn't have to be necessarily about what one is feeling. In the past I had developed a bad relationship with the sort of journal I was keeping, partially because I felt a sort of awkwardness linked to it, but also because I associated it with many bad feelings. So anytime I would pick it up it would trigger my anxiety, and other bad feelinngs. This was until I started all over again, and I developped a new habit by using journaling prompts for self reflection, and self discovery. This made me associate my journal with better feelings, and it is now a great way not only to keep memories, or to process things that happen in my life, but also for self discovery, and ranting about anything, and keeping memories. To anyone who wants to start a journaling habit, I highly reccomend to start using prompts found online. I find that following a list of prompts is a good way to stay motivated as the habit is setting. Also I would try to associate this activity to a specific moment in the day, like right before working/studying in the morning, or at the very end of your day.

Reading first thing in the morning

This is the latest habit I have added to my daily routine, and I am enthusiastic about it. I love it so much. What I do is after waking up, I get out of bed, I prepare myself a hot mug of tea and I read for 30 minutes to an hour. This new habit prevents me from using my phone right after waking up, it makes me way more motivate to get up in the morning, and I get so much more reading done that I normally did. It's a great way to get my brain working in the morning, and if I could go back in time I would start doing this sooner. There's no other thing I would reccomend this much, I love this.

Tracking my habits

Again, this is something that you see quite often online on bullet journals, and so on. It's a very simple thing that just helps you to be more mindful about what you want to do on a weekly/monthly basis. I find that having a habit tracker spread in my bullet journal, makes me more motivated to actually do those habits, and it's nice to see at the end of the month how I did with it.

Keeping a huge glass of water right in front of me anything I sit at my desk

If you are as chaotic as myself, you might have this problem too, if I don't have a bottle of water right in front of me I don't drink enough water during the day. How have I approached this problem? By having a huge glass of water right in front of me anytime I sit down at my desk. And when I say anytime, I mean it.This has changed the game for me, I drink enough water everyday. To remind myself that I should get the water I keep a coaster on my desk at all times, so when I am about to sit down I see it has no glass on top of it, and I go get my water.

[lucid-fate-if]

36,40 and 45 for the ROs only or only for the SCs.Take your pick (though this time I'm more interested on the SCs😆)

I'll do the SCs then if you don't mind dear crimson!

If you'd like me to do a RO ver, feel free to ask

Note : unhealthy lifestyle category talks about some sad stuff :(

↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛

36 - unhealthy lifestyle

Kaitlin - she loves sweets and treats, she's always pulling out a type of candy and barely eats any actual food. Barely. Of course this isn't a healthy lifestyle but she does it anyways.

Juno - Living in fear is not healthy for your mental and physical health. Juno literally LIVES with The Tall Man and sees him on a daily basis. It's like living with a ticking time bomb . Imagine not feeling safe in your own home where you're supposed to be shielded away from the cold world.

Nag Walan - Being Isolated from humanity isn't good at all. The peace and quiet is great but there's limits. And Nag Walan has crossed those limits a long, long time ago. Her strange behavior stems heavily from her lack of social interaction. Tragic ain't it?

↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛

40 - breaks the rules

Nag Walan - you should've expected this. She's first on the list. Nag Walan would be the type of parent to encourage their kids to beat anyone up that tries to pick on them. Or anyone they deem worthy of a beating? Would also encourage fraudulent acts because "It's a dogs eat dogs world. Don't be a fuckin wus kid."

Rem - Rem will do anything and everything for a bag of good ol'gold and if he has to break some rules, so be it. If it's a rule with a huge penalty, he'd rather not. He isn't one to endanger himself, no ways. He likes having all 10 of his fingers, thank you very much.

↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛

45 - change outfits every five minutes before going out

The Overseer - Naturally, The Overseer has money and all the luxuries one could ask for. Fashion is one of them of course. His sense of fashion is well spoken by the villagers and nobles. But of course one would openly admit that then the other.

Juno - Juno is a taction. How people treat you depends on how you treat yourself and he wanted respect. So he carefully takes care of his image at a young age and it's fairing off quite well for him!

↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛↛

[stillebesat]

Among the Branches

DECEMBER DRABBLES DAY 5 Sanders Sides: Virgil Sanders Shorts: Remy  Blurb: Getting woken up at the crack of dawn by your landlord can’t be a good thing.  Fic Type: General Overall Fic Warnings: None Taglist in Reblog.

BZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ

Virgil jerked, banging his head against his headboard. “Gah, geez.” He cursed fumbling for his phone in the semi-darkness. Who in the blazes was call--. “WHAT?” He growled, pulling his blanket back over his head. 

“Yo, Treehugger.” 

Virgil stiffened, breath catching in his throat. Of all the people he expected to be calling at the crack of dawn-- “Rems?” He asked, pushing up onto his elbow, rubbing the palm of his hand over an eye. Of all the people he expected to risk his wrath at being woken up before noon, his landlord and quasi-friend would never have made the list. The guy liked his mornings as sleep-filled as he did. Unless--Virgil inhaled sharply. Had he forgotten to pay rent?! Shoot! SHOOT! 

“Gurl, you still interested in getting a kitty cat?” 

Wait--huh? He’d never heard Rems sound so...tense before and the guy dealt with broke college students lying to his face on a daily basis. “Dude, you told me you’re allergic.” He said slowly, wondering if he was still dreaming. That was one of the only firm rules Remy had. No pets. No exceptions. 

“And you told me you climb trees for work.”

What did that have to do with cats and Remy’s extreme allergy to them? “Yah?” 

“Great. My place. Get here. With your gear. Now.” 

“Your pla-”

Click

Virgil lowered his phone, staring at the screen in disbelief. “Seriously?” He dropped his head back on the pillow. “Rems, It’s far too early for this!” He groaned, before rolling out of bed, stumbling over his jeans he’d left on the floor on his way to the bathroom. 

But who was he to ignore his landlord when he demanded a visit? 

Twenty minutes later, Virgil pulled up in his rusty truck to see Remy pacing like a caged tiger in front of his modest home. 

His landlord whirled, pushing his shades onto his head as he stalked to Virgil, yanking the door open with a terse smile and bloodshot eyes. “Yo, darlin.” He greeted, practically pulling Virgil out onto the street. “Gotcha stuff?”

Obviously? He would have thought the ladder sticking out of the bed of his truck would have been a clear enough sign he was prepared. “I-in the bac--Rems what’s going on--” 

Remy practically growled, jerking his free hand over his shoulder to the trees popping up over his roof. “There’s been some freaking yowling demon stuck in the tree outside my place for the last three nights and I can’t get a wink of sleep. Yah got me?”

Oh. Virgil licked his lips, peering at the branches with a critical eye. He knew a thing or two about not being able to sleep because of noise. Though in his case it was a loud tenant in the apartment next door playing the drums at two in the morning instead of a cat. “Sure, man. I can get it down.” He’d done plenty of similar rescues before for his job. “Uh….where is it exactly?” 

Remy threw up his hands. “To blazes if I know! But it’s up there somewhere.” His eyes glinted as he jabbed a finger into Virgil’s chest. “Trust me.” He practically hissed the words. “I know. Just get it down within the hour so I can catch some z’s and the creature is yours. Capiche?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, batting Remy’s hand away. “Yah, yah, whatever. Go get some sleep, Princess. I’ll go rescue you from your little demon.” 

He turned back to the bed of his truck, a small smile playing on his lips at the spluttering sounds coming from his landlord before he heard Remy open and slam the door to his home. 

Virgil let out a sigh as he gathered his rope, harness, and bag of tools. “Okay, kitty cat.” He mumbled, letting himself into the backyard, squinting up into the branches of the tree searching for signs of the creature. “You better be a stray and not have someone looking for you.” 

Of course if the creature was completely feral...it wasn’t like he’d be able to keep it either. 

His eyes narrowed as he thought he saw movement over halfway up the tree where the branches grew too thin to hold a human’s weight. 

But if the cat had a collar on...If he’d been woken up early on his day off and had to do all this work to get the cat down only for it to already have an owner...well, Remy would definitely owe him big. Like free coffee for a month big for getting his hopes up for nothing.

[writer-and-artist27]

Sisterly Hug

Note: Started writing this when I couldn’t fall asleep one night, and I ended up thinking of you, friend. Just you, @partialdignity.

Since it’s not June 30th by the time I post this, eh. I’ll say it anyway.

Happy Birthday, Carim. Just remember, even in the anxiety-filled moments, that I appreciate you and love you platonically, okay? Besides, it’s hard for Be Vy to lie these days. :)

I did my best to write Rem based on your Bonds {Redux} and this image Pan shared a while back. Otherwise, here’s the song I was listening to while writing. Please listen to it while reading, friend. :)

-------------------------------------

It wasn’t the first time Vy found herself quiet. It wouldn’t be the last either, where her voice would be the first thing to leave her from exhaustion. As much as things were slightly easier now that Chaldea had a home again in the Wandering Sea, it didn’t change the main situation at hand.

The Crypters were still at large, the Foreign God was a threat that couldn’t be ignored, and the Lostbelts couldn’t be left alone forever.

It didn’t stop Vy from feeling like someone had hit her over the head with a hammer. Maybe she should’ve taken Robin’s suggestion of napping earlier, just to have more energy for later things, such as cooking practice with Arturia. It would’ve prevented the current situation where she felt like a zombie stumbling throughout Novum Chaldea in an attempt to find somewhere comfy to be. Magic energy drain wasn’t fun, especially when she was starting to get used to it on a daily basis. Mom and Dad would probably be having a heart attack, not to mention Mash and Goredolf.

But instead of resting in bed, Vy found herself barely hanging onto a whiteboard and a dry erase marker, gaze lingering on the only other Master in the Wandering Sea.

Rem didn’t flinch once Vy slowly flopped down to sit next to her on the only bench in the hallway, sparing a small glance from her Chaldea-brand tablet before going back to her screen of what looked like team compositions. “Vy,” Rem started softly, brushing a stray strand of curly blue hair behind her ear, “shouldn’t you be napping?”

Vy weakly raised her left hand to gently poke Rem’s shoulder through the sleeve of her mystic code, making sure Rem had her attention on Vy’s whiteboard before uncapping her dry erase marker to scribble.

Can’t sleep yet, she eventually wrote, showing the words to Rem before taking her whiteboard back to write more. Saw you around and wanted to see how you were doing.

Even without raising her head, Vy could vaguely make out Rem’s fond exasperation through the shade of her long brown hair as a hand proceeded to nudge her shoulder in return. “I’m just planning for the next Lostbelt, Vy, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” A quiet chuckle echoed in the hallway and it took Vy a few seconds too long to realize it was Rem who did it. “Too tired to use your voice?”

Vy took the cap of her dry erase marker, exposing the fuzzy eraser tip to wipe away at her whiteboard before pressing the marker to the surface again. Always get like this when there’s been too much prana use, Vy eventually “said,” weakly shrugging her shoulders. Hard to talk. Original Da Vinci gave me the board and marker. Something about it running without worry on ink refills. Vy stopped, considered, then erased her surface to finish her point with a shakier, Magic? Dr. Roman always smiled whenever I talked to him like this.

“Ah,” Rem said. A small pause followed, then the hand on her shoulder gently pushed again (almost as if saying, hey, no nodding off here, amiga) as Rem added, “What were you farming this time, mija?”

Embers and Blue Skill Gems, Vy wrote, doing her best to fight a particularly heavy blink of her eyes as warmth started to settle into her chest. Rem called her mija again. Maou-san and Nagetora-san needed a lot of them. And then there’s the two Nero-sans…

Writing the actual “dot dot dot” on the whiteboard seemed to have taken Rem out of whatever she was looking at because her shoulders were shaking and Vy could hear laughter even through the blank haze of her brain. “U-Understandable,” Rem said, snickering. “Mija, you seem to have a knack for getting all the Knight classes.”

Maybe? Vy wrote, slowly tilting her head up to look at her friend, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose enough to make Rem’s form appear blurry. From habit, Vy pushed them up to readjust her eyes before writing the next thought to come to mind. Dunno why Maou-san decided to visit and I can’t exactly speak for the Neros when Big Robin wasn’t happy about it, but it happened, so…

“The two Roman Kings could use a few lessons in humility and singing,” Rem agreed with another hastily hidden chuckle, her fingers proceeding to smooth out a wrinkle on the shoulder of Vy’s white dress. “But don’t let them know I said that.”

I won’t, Vy responded, raising her head to give Rem a small smile. I prefer hearing your voice, Daddy’s, or Mash’s instead. Vy did her best not to flush red as she carefully wrote after a second of thought, Maybe Big Robin’s voice too.

Rem paused, flushing a little at Vy’s whiteboard message before glancing at her with a curious look in her eyes. “Your dad sang?”

Enough to make all the girls at his community college like him, Vy “said”, a weak giggle echoing in her throat. English, Vietnamese, he was good at both. Japanese could be here-there, but it didn’t matter. He sang for Mommy at their wedding. “Lady in Red,” I think, from the 80s. Everyone in the family loved it.

“He must’ve been really good, then, if he did that much on their special day,” Rem said softly, a curious smile tugging at her lips. Her attention was nowhere along the tablet’s electronic display now. “But what about you, mija?”

Vy quietly tilted her head at her fellow Master, lowering her dry erase marker.

Rem could thankfully read the question in her eyes and shrugged, the smile widening enough to stretch her cheeks. “Don’t you sing too?”

…Kinda? Vy wrote, raising her free hand to wave it back and forth in the air once the message was fully written on her board. Practiced on my own. Watched Daddy sing a lot, but I'm not gonna do it now, though. For extra emphasis, Vy opened her mouth, and Rem watched as a very hoarse yet quiet “See?” left Vy’s throat. As soon as Vy said her part, she closed her mouth just as quickly, going back to her whiteboard with a faint pout. Talking takes energy, Vy eventually scribbled to Rem. So no singing.

“But you’re talking to me right now, mija,” Rem said teasingly.

Vy allowed herself a single vocalized “Muu” while choosing to scoot over and bump Rem’s shoulder with hers. You’re different, Vy eventually wrote after the tinge of “Ow” subsided from her upper arm. You’re cozy. You’re Chị Rem.

“Vy…” Rem trailed off for a moment, enough time to make Vy duck her head and wonder in a brief period of anxiety if she said something wrong, before a hand rested on top of her hair. “You never did explain what Chị meant in Vietnamese.”

It took almost the rest of Vy’s battery to catch herself from unintentionally dropping her marker. That’s…

Vy looked up at Rem past her hair, and Rem smiled at her. “Hm?”

Vy felt her cheeks flush with heat before she realized it, and in a bit of a flustered panic, she turned back to her whiteboard and willed all of her remaining energy into her marker-holding hand. Her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose from the resulting sweat didn’t even matter anymore.

A moment was all it took. Maybe even a minute or two if estimating.

Chị is a pronoun of sorts in Vietnamese, Vy eventually wrote in small lettering, sliding the whiteboard to Rem once she was done. It’s usually used for a young adult woman and/or someone you consider a sister. And you’ve been with me like a big sister, especially through the Lostbelts and everything else since, so…

Rem didn’t say anything for what felt like a long time, having put her tablet down to instead hold Vy’s whiteboard in her hands. Vy noticed how Rem’s brown eyes had stopped at the “sister” part of the message, lingering on the scrawled letters, and something in her chest tightened.

With the last free corner on the board not covered by Rem’s thumb, Vy gently tugged at it to scribble one last time to her fellow Master.

Could I hug you, Chị Rem?

Rem raised her head from her place having previously ducked her mouth into the dark collar of her Winter Chaldean Mystic Code, brown eyes wide. “Vy?”

With no space on the whiteboard left, Vy carefully opened her mouth again, ignoring the scratchiness of her throat. “P-Please?”

You look like you need one.

Rem closed her eyes, ducking her head to face the bench beneath the two of them in what appeared to be conflicted thought and/or consideration, and Vy tilted her head patiently.

“Chị Rem?” Vy tried faintly, ignoring the urge to blink.

Lines formed between Rem’s eyebrows as she proceeded to raise her head and give Vy an expression caught between what looked like tears and a bright, bright smile. “…A-As long as you get a nap afterwards,” Rem said finally, a tiny crick in her voice too as she reached out with her other arm, draping it over Vy’s shoulders. “Else Robin might have my head.”

Vy reached over with her arms too, wrapping them around Rem’s waist and feeling a sigh leave her lips once her forehead found a resting place in the collar of Rem’s Mystic Code. Warm. “H-He… won’t,” left her weakly as she squeezed. “Wanted to… be here…” It was getting harder to keep her eyes open by each passing second.

Wanted to be with you…

Still, above her head, Vy could feel Rem start to laugh, and she politely chose to ignore the wet droplets starting to soak the top of her hair. “You’re too nice, mija,” Rem murmured, a hand rubbing Vy’s back through her dress. Even in a sleepy haze, it was hard to miss Rem’s warm, “Thank you.”

In spite of all that, Vy wasn’t sure if she said “Aye” or not back.

-------------------------------------

The next thing Vy was vaguely aware of when opening her eyes again was the white ceilings of a Chaldean hallway. Her legs were limp, her arms felt heavy, and there was something vaguely blue and green in front of her…

Wait, was someone carrying her?

“You’re awake, Princess?”

The lack of any prana proved Vy’s voice was still not back in commission yet, and even opening her mouth seemed like a bad idea because a green-gloved hand was then reaching over to gently shush her with one pointer finger. “You pushed yourself too hard, Vy. What did Dr. Roman tell you about daily naps?”

Helps… Rejuvenate energy, Vy mustered with her mental voice.

Even without her glasses (did someone take them off?), it was obvious through the blurriness that Robin was smiling. “Good,” he said, lowering his hand to instead tug at the two mantles sitting atop Vy’s chest, and if not for the lack of prana, Vy felt tempted to squirm a little. When did the Servants get the chance to make a mantle burrito? “At least you remember that.”

Guilt dug into Vy’s heart before she found her voice again. I… missed my naptime, huh?

Nearby, Vy could vaguely hear Achilles start to whistle as a strand of blonde hair tickled her cheek. “You very much did, Princess,” Arturia said in a firm yet gentle voice, making herself known through the words and the steady hands holding Vy up underneath Vy’s shoulders and knees as they all continued to walk… well, wherever. “Rem was the one to alert us.”

Darn… I thought I could stay up a bit longer…

“Please don’t jinx it, little sparrow,” Robin Hood mused lightly, but Vy could sense the concern through their bond as his gloved hand proceeded to tuck Vy further into the blanket/mantle burrito of No Face May King and King Arthur’s cape. “The last thing we need is that red Archer having another aneurysm over you eating Saint Quartz instead of lunch just to keep grinding materials that are hard enough to find as is.”

It… saves Apples, eating Quartz, Vy thought, almost childishly too, as she rested her ear against Arturia’s shoulder. Got all the Embers at least. So Shirou shouldn’t complain… that much.

Vy didn’t even need her glasses to know all three of her Grailed Servant companions were rolling their eyes. “Doesn’t help,” Achilles quipped dryly for all of them. “You’re our Master and Princess, Vy. Start cherishing yourself better. Melted glass isn’t a good meal for anyone, even if it's magic and not going to give you a stomachache anytime soon.”

Muu.

Robin’s gloved hand was then there in her face, and Vy barely moved once a pointer finger was gently poking her forehead. “No cute noises of protest from you.”

Muu, Vy thought anyway.

Once Arturia was giving Vy a look past Robin’s hand, though, Vy amended it with a softer, Gonna try to do better. A second later, Vy turned her head to look up at the King of Knights and opened her mouth again. “Art… san?” left her throat in a weak kind of squeak, but in spite of the volume, it was enough to get the Saber’s attention since Arturia’s stern look had dropped for one of concern and fond wonder, green irises warm in Vy’s direction.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Where’s…” Vy coughed a little, shutting her eyes once her body finally decided to let all the fatigue from the day’s efforts come crashing down. Chị Rem? Still need to bake her another cake… bled through their mental connection instead.

Above her head, Vy could vaguely make out Robin and Achilles sharing some kind of look, but instead of an immediate reply, Arturia simply smiled, a chuckle rumbling through her chest armor as the hands on Vy’s figure shifted, lifting her up enough for a forehead to touch hers.

“You’re too kind for all of us, Princess,” Arturia whispered softly. “And your Chị Rem will be fine. Bake today or another day, I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.”

All Vy could do at that moment was smile back. “Aye,” finally left her mouth in her best attempt to reassure the Saber carrying her. Gonna do my best, she eventually thought to herself, holding onto the sentiments so that the other Servants wouldn’t get worried. Need to… make big sis happy.

It was another promise.

[melissart]

Say One Thing, Mean Another (Kaidou Shun/Saiki Kusuo)

Summary: 

Reading thoughts and reading feelings were two completely different abilities. Most people had a monologue always running in their heads, conveniently narrating their every experience. Call it spotlight effect, call it middle school syndrome, call it romanticization—whatever you called it, Saiki would know, because he could simply read your mind. But some desires were so unconscious that even Saiki couldn’t read them.

No one was more repressed than the self-deluded cram school mama’s boy: Kaidou Shun.

AO3 link: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999770

Read below 

Reading thoughts and reading feelings were two completely different abilities. Most people had a monologue always running in their heads, conveniently narrating their every experience. Call it spotlight effect, call it middle school syndrome, call it romanticization—whatever you called it, Saiki would know, because he could simply read your mind. But some desires were so unconscious that even Saiki couldn’t read them. 

No one was more repressed than the self-deluded cram school mama’s boy: Kaidou Shun. Kaidou thought “first base” was holding hands, and even that thought reduced him into a blushing, stuttering, face-hiding mess. He couldn’t even access objective reality half the time, much less access his deepest feelings. Saiki couldn’t even imagine how Kaidou might handle such overwhelming emotions, given how easily at the slightest of confrontations. He once saw Kaidou cry at a convenience store because he couldn’t decide between two compelling brands of instant noodles (Best around or best in town? Around? In town? Around? In town? Aroundintownaroundintownaroundintown...) Needless to say, Kaidou was the most likely candidate to be hiding a dark secret. 

None of that Dark Reunion fantasy bullshit. Saiki meant a real dark secret, the kind of revelation that could make a mute man gasp. Just because Kaidou cried when someone tried to tell him a “yo mama” joke doesn’t mean he can’t hide his feelings when it mattered the most. Growing up with a strict mother ruined his values for honesty. Kaidou’s lying was almost on a pathological level, with boundless creativity that showed in the character sheet journals hidden under his bed. He was sometimes so good he fooled himself, but glimmers of the truth shone through in unexpected moments. 

It started with a fit of laughter in their lunchtime group. Nendou swore he could handle chopsticks up his nose with enough dexterity to pick up a cherry tomato. Admittedly, he almost succeeded, but Aren flinched away in disgust because he didn’t want to have his lunch contaminated by Nendou’s nose-chopsticks, and the sudden movement accidentally led to Aren’s elbow shoving one of Nendou’s nose-chopsticks too far up, which then caused a ridiculous-looking nosebleed down the chopsticks and into Nendou’s rice. 

Saiki’s first thought was ew, but then he caught a quick glance from Kaidou while he was bursting into tears laughing, and suddenly, he couldn’t stop himself from exercising the stiff muscles around his lips into a smile. Kaidou was checking if Saiki thought it was funny, too, as if he needed permission to continue laughing. Saiki didn’t care about pride and certainly didn’t prescribe to any notions of toxic masculinity, but the thought of being the alpha male with Kaidou gave him a good feeling. A feeling that just felt… good. 

Saiki still couldn’t read feelings well, not even his own, but he had a strong sense for logic. Kaidou was smaller, weaker, with a kind of reckless yet innocent boyish charm that made him hard to look away from at times. Anyone’s instincts would tell them that Kaidou must be protected at all costs and Saiki, with all of his godlike abilities, was obviously the most qualified person to protect him. 

Again, Saiki was bad with unconscious desires. He found himself following that instinct to protect Kaidou in the smallest of moments. Although Saiki protected all of his friends (and humanity) from danger, even Nendou started noticing Saiki’s special treatment of Kaidou. 

“Th-Th-The hellfire th-that the Dark Reunion has c-c-cursed me with a-a-always keeps me w-warm,” Kaidou bluffed, on an especially frigid winter day. 

What he meant was that the puffy pink jacket his mom tried to send him to school with was too embarrassing, so he lied and told her the weather was supposed to be warmer later. Honestly, Saiki didn’t even need his clairvoyance to predict that. He immediately shoved the extra coat he brought to school at Kaidou. Kaidou got sick too easily, especially with the long nights he spent studying and the longer nights he spent writing fanfictions. Saiki even pre-heated the coat with his pyrokinesis. 

“E-Eh? That’s for me, Saiki?” In hindsight, Kaidou was a little too eager to accept Saiki’s coat and he must have definitely sniffed it to see if Saiki’s scent was on it while he thought nobody was looking. “Ah, it’s so warm!” All talk of the Dark Reunion was dropped. Kaidou beamed at Saiki brightly. “Thank you, Saiki!” 

The pure look of elation in Kaidou’s crimson eyes as he smiled at Saiki, just Saiki, specifically Saiki, gave him that good feeling again. 

Nendou glanced between the two. “You brought that extra coat just for him?” 

“That’s just because—” Aren started, but then stopped. “Huh. Nendou’s right. That is very considerate of you, Saiki.” 

Saiki didn’t usually slip up and cause himself unnecessary attention, but he brushed it off and convinced himself he was only acting in self-interest. Seriously, it would be a pain if he had to put up with Kaidou calling him in the middle of the night to complain about his symptoms. Kaidou always called him at odd hours of the night, usually to spew some cryptic warnings about lurking enemies, and every time, Saiki delayed his sweet REM cycle just to placate him. It made no sense to call a mute man. (But it made even less sense that Saiki always picked up.)

“Saiki is always reliable,” Kaidou argued. “That’s why, when the Dark Reunion strikes back—” 

Then, Kaidou proceeded to plagiarize the plot of the Star Wars episode “The Empire Strikes Back”. Saiki was too busy watching the self-insert adventure inside Kaidou’s mind to question the extent of his admiration of Saiki. Out of everyone, Kaidou’s thoughts were the most interesting to read. Kaidou’s imagination came in full technicolor, with exciting camera angles and cinematography professional enough to be entered in film festivals. When there was nothing good on TV, Saiki sometimes tuned into Kaidou’s thoughts for entertainment. Kaidou managed to distract everyone else from Saiki’s strange favor, too. 

Saiki should have realized earlier how powerful Kaidou’s redirection was, effective enough to rival Chouno’s magic tricks. Kaidou was easy to underestimate, but the sheer amount of lies he told on a daily basis was proof of his true manipulative nature. 

No, “manipulative” was overshooting it. Kaidou was just conditioned by his social anxiety to lie in everyday situations to preserve his self-image. Saiki knew that struggle better than anyone else, just in the opposite direction: dedicating his life to feigning normalcy. Yet, even though Saiki was the one who regularly erased memories, time traveled, and rewrote reality to maintain the status quo, Kaidou was still the one who went overboard in comparison. 

Saiki and Kaidou were walking home together one day, just the two of them, because Aren usually took another way home and Nendou had baseball practice. Kaidou was filling Saiki in about the latest addition to the Dark Reunion saga, complete with a mini movie in his mind to accompany his narration: Kaidou had tamed a wild beast that was terrorizing a small village, which later warmed up enough to become his consort, but the beast had been mind-controlled by the Dark Reunion the entire time as a spy to figure out Kaidou’s whereabouts, which then led to Kaidou breaking the beast free from its mind control using his own forbidden knowledge of the dark arts and returning the beast into the wild. 

In reality, the “beast” was a chihuahua that was bothering a kid, but then started following Kaidou home. Kaidou wanted to keep the chihuahua, but his mother said no, because the chihuahua probably belonged to someone else, even though it had no collar. He had to kick the chihuahua out of his house in hopes that the small dog would eventually find its way home. Saiki was sure the entire mind control fabrication was some type of coping mechanism to help Kaidou feel less guilty about kicking the dog out onto the cold streets. 

Then, Kaidou’s knuckles accidentally brushed against Saiki’s and Kaidou’s internal alarm rang loudly in both of their minds: 

Wrong! Bad! Stupid! Just ignore it, just ignore it, just ignore it!

Kaidou was screaming so loudly in his mind that Saiki instinctively covered his ears, even though there was no external sound to cover his ears from. All of Kaidou’s thoughts had instantaneously spiralled into a frenzy of self-loathing, overwhelming to the point that Saiki couldn’t even decipher what exactly Kaidou was ashamed of. The situation caught him so off-guard that he ended up doing what any normal non-psychic person would do—he asked Kaidou what was wrong. With telepathy, of course. It was easy to get away with using telepathy for conversation since Kaidou was too ashamed to look at Saiki at that moment. 

“N-Nothing’s wrong!” Kaidou’s blushing face said otherwise and he knew it. He suddenly stopped in his tracks. “No… I can’t lie to you any longer, Saiki. You deserve better than that. The truth is—” 

And then Kaidou told another lie, this time centering around a growing imbalance between light and dark forces of the universe that, according to an ancient prophecy, only Kaidou could heal with the great power sealed away in his right hand that he still had yet to fully control. He went into full detail about the brutal training he endured, the battles of wit against his enemies, the secrets he had to keep from his loved ones to protect them from evil—all of which ironically described Saiki’s life more than Kaidou’s—and how lonely it was carrying such burdens, as heavy as the world on Atlas’ shoulders. The vivid montage played in Kaidou’s mind, returning his mental space to its usual deluded state. As usual, Kaidou went overboard with preserving his self-image. 

Good grief…

Saiki kept walking and Kaidou had to run to catch up and everything was back to its usual rhythm, with Kaidou’s behavior matching his thoughts again. That was another weakness of Saiki’s. He was so insistent on keeping his boring life boring that he overlooked something important. 

Kaidou never actually admitted what was bothering him. 

Daniel Kahneman said, “When faced with a difficult question, we often answer an easier one instead, usually without noticing the substitution.” Saiki asked Kaidou, “What’s wrong?” but accepted the answer to “What’s your made-up hero’s burden?” without noticing the substitution. Saiki wanted to protect Kaidou, but he couldn’t cross any boundaries. What if Kaidou was put off by Saiki’s insistence and gossiped about how pushy Saiki was? What if Kaidou took it the wrong way and it caused a falling out between them? What if Kaidou just started crying and all the passersby assumed Saiki had just said something awful to his own friend? There were too many risks. If Kaidou refused to think about what was bothering him, then Saiki just wouldn’t know. 

It was better that way. Kaidou had a right to his privacy, which was limited enough by Saiki’s mind reading. Saiki didn’t have a right to any of it—Kaido’s thoughts, Kaido’s secrets, and especially Kaido’s friendship. He was sure Kaido would’ve been better off without a killjoy mute friend that constantly invaded the personal thoughts of everyone around him. The less they knew about each other’s lives, the easier life would be. It was a simple formula that guaranteed success. 

If only life were actually that simple. The only law Saiki’s universe followed was Murphy’s Law. 

Kaidou’s screaming thoughts started coming more frequently and it was always Saiki that set it off. When their eyes met from across the cafeteria, when they were the last ones awake during a late night group study session, when they reached for the same cafeteria item at the same time—screaming. Kaidou was getting better at not letting it show on the outside, but that only made the self-loathing episodes louder and longer. And still, even with psychic powers, Saiki had no idea why exactly Kaidou was in so much anguish when he was near. All he knew was that it was getting worse. 

Saiki was a psychic, not a psychologist. He had to use his logic for situations like this. Kaidou felt awful around him and Saiki didn’t want Kaidou to feel awful, so obviously Saiki just had to avoid Kaidou to resolve the issue. 

So, he did. He didn’t want to. He wanted to share an umbrella with Kaidou when he left his at home on purpose to avoid being made fun of for using his mom’s frilly, pinky parasol with roses, he wanted to answer Kaidou’s phone calls at 2 AM to comfort him after his recurring nightmare of drowning in the ocean, he wanted to proofread Kaidou’s fanfiction for any grammar or plot holes, he wanted to part the clouds and let the golden sunshine follow Kaidou’s every step so he never had to complain about gloomy days, he wanted to be there for Kaidou—of course he did! He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care to know why, because he just did and couldn’t because the most important thing he had to do was to protect Kaidou. He would gladly transfer schools to Siberia if it meant Kaidou could be happy and that’s all that mattered. 

Of course, things never went Saiki’s way for too long. Kaidou came ringing at his front gate not too long after Saiki started avoiding him. Mikoto would say it’s all a balancing act, making up for Saiki’s intervention by having it all come back to bite him in the butt—strangely reminiscent of what Kaidou previously mentioned about the imbalance of light and dark. It made Saiki wonder if there had always been grains of truth in the lies. 

He let Kaidou in and led him to his room. Even now, he could hear the tumultuous chaos in Kaidou’s mind. 

I shouldn’t be here! This is stupid! I’m so awful! 

Saiki internally sighed. Why are you here, then? Good grief. 

Saiki sat on his bed and waited for Kaidou to conjure up whatever nonsense he thought could justify his visit. He was already used to people’s actions not aligning with their thoughts. This was no different. 

I should tell him, already. 

Instead, Kaidou became fixated on the first distraction that caught his eyes. “Geez! It’s so dark in here, Saiki! You’ll get vitamin D deficiency if you just spend all day in the dark, you know.” He opened the blinds. 

I need to stop stalling and tell him, already. 

Opening the blinds ended up spreading dust everywhere. Kaidou sneezed. “When was the last time you cleaned, Saiki? It’s so dusty!” 

Why am I stalling even more! I really need to get it over with and tell him that… Or maybe it’s better not to tell him? 

The suspense was killing Saiki. He knew he wasn’t entitled to Kaidou’s thoughts, but he was so used to knowing everything about everyone that he couldn’t handle the suspense anymore. Why couldn’t Kaidou trust the safety of his own mind to directly think about what he wanted to say? It made no sense! Nothing made sense, anymore! Good grief, tell me WHAT? 

“What?” 

Oops. Saiki accidentally sent that thought telepathically in frustration. 

Tell me what your day was like, I mean. 

“Oh. Um…” Kaidou sat down next to Saiki. But not too close. “Nothing really happened, actually.” 

That’s a first. 

“Can I tell you a story, though?” 

Saiki hoped it wasn’t another plagiarized episode of Star Wars. Go ahead. 

“So, I have this friend, with a problem…” 

Saiki wondered why Kaidou wouldn’t refer to the friend by name, given they had the exact same circle of friends, but Kaidou was too busy admiring the particles of dust glimmering in the rectangles of sunlight filtering through the blinds. He compared the dust particles to the yellow glow of fireflies dancing in a forest, then to the twinkling stars against violet-blue cosmos, then to the grains of sand slipping through an hourglass. He thought of the various colored pieces that made up the image in stained glass windows and the tiny paint dots in Impressionist paintings and the fact that everything was just a collection of the same subatomic particles under a powerful enough microscope. He felt small. Too small to say what he means. 

“... This friend is scared all the time. Maybe he’s just used to being scared because his mom always yells at him for the slightest of mistakes and has high expectations he can never reach. He doesn’t know, and neither do I, but that fear keeps leaking into everything he does. Like an inky black stain, blotting out everything until there’s nothing left. There’s just—so much ink.” 

Kaidou’s fists are clenched at his sides. Saiki knew this story about Kaidou’s friend must pain him to tell, but still, Kaidou’s thoughts betrayed nothing. Kaidou was thinking of how much warmer the room was with the sunlight pouring in. He thought of temperature like mercury, pouring into the room through a crack in the window, silvery-white liquid with shiny ripples that poisoned everything in contact, suffocating them in metallic vapors. 

“But, when this friend is around a certain friend, he feels like everything is bright again. It’s such a precarious feeling though, because getting closer to that brightness also puts the ink closer. It makes him think that him and the ink are the same and that anything good he touches will only get stained.” 

Kaidou blinked away wetness on his lashes. He briefly acknowledged the dull ache of his heart wrenching, but only as a passing thought as he reminisced at the last time he was alone with Saiki in his room, which was after a festival, then went on to recall the fireworks. Crimson bursts of chrysanthemums popped into the night sky, golden sparkles crackling below, then streams of white and orange whistled. The smell of gunpowder and sulfur mixed in with the aroma of fried food from the concessions. 

He remembered how loud the fireworks were, deep booms that resonated into his chest, louder than the pounding of his heart as he stole a glance at Saiki. He loved watching the different colors of light flash onto Saiki’s expression, a rare look of serenity, but the moment was too brief. Saiki could always tell when he was being looked at, even from far away, almost as if he were actually psychic, and every time, Saiki would look him right in the eyes and smile like he knew exactly what Kaidou was thinking, then purposefully look away again so Kaidou could resume staring in peace. That was the beautiful brightness Kaidou was enchanted by. 

Saiki was used to seeing a glamorized distortion of himself in the mind’s eye of people who had a crush on him, complete with shoujo sparkles and iridescent bubbles and blooming roses in the background, but Kaidou’s perspective was unfiltered. Kaidou saw Saiki exactly the way he existed in his life and that was already enough to make his heart skip a beat, no romanticized fantasies needed. 

“My friend’s problem is that he’s selfish. He wants to be with that precious friend, who makes everything fade to white. He wants to ruin everything, just for those few milliseconds of happiness. I guess, what I want to say is…” 

Kaidou’s thoughts suddenly went silent. Saiki wondered if he had lost his powers, somehow. The usual background noise of every thought within a 200 meter radius was hushed, as if he had just slipped on his geranium ring. All he could hear was the rustle of fabric bunching up in Kaidou’s fists and his own pounding heart. 

“What I mean is—do you think it’s worth it? Should he ruin that friendship?” 

Saiki understood everything, now. 

Is he scared?

“Always.” 

Then, I don’t think he should. 

“You’re right...” 

Saiki’s hand brushed against Kaidou’s, except this time, it was on purpose. He clasped his hand over Kaidou’s. 

I’ll ruin it for him. 

Saiki brushed a tear away from Kaidou’s cheek. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling fondly. He usually avoided prolonged eye contact at all times so he could get away with telepathic conversation, but Kaidou had always been hard to look away from. That was a cute expression he had on his face, right now—warmed by a blush, with those shining red eyes peering up at Saiki under his long lashes. 

Saiki met his lips with Kaidou’s, fingers interlaced. It was just a gentle first kiss—sweeter than coffee jelly, warmer than pyrokinesis, softer than Saiki’s bed. Kaidou melted into the kiss and could only think of how the milliseconds passed like centuries, like he was an immortal witnessing several lifetimes of glory. Their friendship was ruined, but their romance had only started. 

They eventually had to part, for air. Saiki looked straight into Kaidou’s gaze. He couldn’t get out of using his real voice, but he didn’t mind.

“What I mean is... I like you.” 

Of course, Kaidou broke into a sobbing mess right then and there. It didn’t take a psychic to predict that. 

“I like you too, Saiki!” 

[daggerzine]

A chat with Kiki of Kiki’s House of Righteous Music in Madison, Wisconsin  (by Eric Eggleson)

A friend and I recently had the pleasure of attending a show at Kiki’s House of Righteous Music. It’s truly amazing what Kiki Schueler has put together in her basement (and in her backyard as well). I had heard about her shows, but I never got the chance to go to one. When Jason Ringenberg was scheduled; I knew I had to go. Think of a bunch of friends gathering together in someone’s basement listening to music you love. There are gig posters all over the walls from many great concert venues in the Midwest. And then, in walks a national recording artist who begins sharing his life and his music. Needless to say, we were amazed. Kiki welcomed us into her home and her love of music is obvious when you meet her. I asked her if she would answer a few questions for Dagger and she agreed.

When did Kiki’s House of Righteous Music start?

Back in 2005, I had just read an article about house concerts when my friend Tim Easton sent an email looking for show ideas in between Chicago and Minneapolis.  I cautiously offered, “you could play here…”  He immediately wrote back, “I was hoping you would say that!”

How do you choose artists?

It has to be someone I love.  I don’t book artists I haven’t seen.  I’ll do a show anytime someone I want to play can play.  Sometimes I contact them; sometimes they find me.

Which artist has played the most?

Jon Dee Graham.  He first played show #3 in 2007 with The Silos and has played a total of 23 times.  Although Robbie Fulks (18) and Jon Langford (21) are threatening for the lead.

What are some of your most memorable artist performances? 

The Baseball Project show after Scott McCaughey had recovered from a stroke.  It was their first show outside the Seattle area, and it is always surreal to have half of REM in my basement.  Robbie Fulks has brought some truly amazing musicians with him, and his shows are always transcendent.  Andre Williams with the GoldStars; he’s still the only artist to have changed his outfit for the encore.  The Figgs have played marathon thirty plus song shows, and no one is ever ready for them to stop.  Jon Langford and John Szymanski playing for a dozen people in the backyard last fall. This was the only live music anyone had seen in months.

Who would you like to perform?

Lou Barlow, Joe Ely, Dave Simonett, MC Taylor, Craig Finn, Bill Kirchen, John Darnielle, the list goes on, some more realistic than others.

How has Covid-19 affected you?

I watched a lot of streaming shows in the last year and a half, and it totally worked for me, so I didn’t miss live music as much as some people did.  I still went to work most days.  I missed doing the shows of course, but I was just as happy reading books and watching movies.  Turns out I might be an introvert, who knew?

How many shows have you lost because of it?

I think I had to cancel about fourteen.  Since I usually do thirty plus shows a year, it’s safe to say I lost at least that many.

What’s your day job?

I work at UW Madison as a researcher in a lab in the Biochemistry department.

You have a great situation happening, what suggestion would you give to help other people to start doing what you do? 

It never hurts to ask.  If there is someone you want to play, just ask. 

A good place to start is with Undertow (https://undertowshows.com/pages/about-undertow). They set up living room shows for a number of artists, and they make it really easy to do your first show by walking you through the how to’s.  Bonus, they take care of tickets.

For the show I went to, Jason said he gets all the ticket sales. Who pays for the sound guy? What’s in it for you?  

I’ve been very lucky to find sound people who volunteer their time in exchange for dinner and a few beers.  And of course, a great show.  For me, I get to see a band I love in my basement.

Have you had any backlash or bad situations with artists/neighbors?

Never anything bad with the artists, everyone has been great and very happy to be here.  Most of my neighbors think what I’m doing is cool.  In the early days, they would see all the cars, but no people inside, so I think they were happy to find out that I was having music in my basement and not something else.  There have been a few complaints about parking, but none about noise.

I loved the Sessions at McPike Park concert you set up in Madison with Chuck Prophet and Bonnie Whitmore. How did that come about? Do you do this kind of thing often because of your connections?

Bob Queen asked if I’d be interested in curating a night of the Sessions back in 2018, though I still don’t know what prompted him to ask me.  I think he was looking for someone with a different perspective.  This year was my third, and every show has been a blast.  I don’t do it often, just the Session once a year; for the most part, the basement is big enough for me.

Top Ten desert island discs? (If you were stuck on a desert island, what 10 albums would you HAVE to have with you?)

There’s only two I have to have- Bob Dylan Blood on the Tracks and Chris Mills The Silver Line, three through ten probably change on a daily basis.

First record or piece of music you bought?

Billy Joel The Stranger

What are some of your favorite concert venues?  

The Hideout in Chicago, Fitzgerald’s in Berwyn, The Turf Club in St Paul and Café Carpe in Ft. Atkinson.            

Favorite live shows? Bob Dylan, Robbie Fulks, Ha Ha Tonka, Dead Man Winter, and Hiss Golden Messenger.

Finish this sentence:  I want to be remembered for…

My band T-shirt collection?  I don’t need to be remembered, I just want everyone to have a good time right now.

That is so true. Kiki’s love of music is something she has to share with other like-minded people. At first I thought it was the joy of finally seeing a live show because of Covid-19 cancelling so many concerts; but watching, fully masked, made me realize it’s the warmth Kiki’s shows brings to the music scene. My friend and I hope to go back soon. We missed Steve Wynn, but maybe we’ll catch him next time around.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/363474586571/

[coco-chip]

Proof that I’m in fact the reincarnation of a gay 80s dad

Listen to air supply, Chicago, REM, and other dad rock bands on a daily basis and typically on repeat

A lot of my shirts are Hawaiian shirts

Whenever I learn a new slang term I keep using it, especially around younger people who think my ironic use of it is cringy

Absolutely adore puns

When I laugh I slap my knee

want to have kids and always imagine a future with some

Always pining for my future husband while never really thinking about dating just skipping right to marriage

Kind of terrible with dealing with emotions but try to be a listening ear and shoulder to cry on

Absolutely adore fishing like unironically I can fish in games for hours

Can’t dance so I do little shimmies and foot tapping when I’m enjoying a song

Pretty good with childcare

Own a bunch of scrunchies that are just useless to me

Think slow dancing together in the comfort of your own home is peak romance

[cottonpadenthusiast]

Sirius Black’s Guide to Flirting

Remus sat on the window seat in the common room, his focus continually shifting from the book in his hands to the party around him. The music was loud and the chatter almost deafening, but Remus was practised at drowning things out. On a daily basis, he drowned out his worries, his insecurities, his werewolf senses.

He was worst at drowning out his love for Sirius Black.

Those emotions were too strong, too real for even Remus’ secretive heart to hide. But he tried, and one day he hoped he would succeed. 

However, victory seemed impossible when Sirius came bounding over, long hair tied in a bun with loose strands falling into his grey eyes. 

“Why aren’t you partying, Moony?” He loomed over Remus, wide grin plastered on his face.

Remus moved so his arm didn’t brush Sirius’ thigh. “I want to finish my book.”

“Always the party-pooper. C’mon Rem, I’m sure there are a few girls who have been dying to chat with you.” Sirius winked teasingly.

Remus snorted. “I’m sure that is not true, and even if it was, I’m not talking to them.”

“Why?”

Because I’m in love with you. Because what’s the point in talking with anyone else when all I want is you. Because you’re everything. “I can’t flirt,” Remus said, not meeting Sirius’ gaze.

“Of course you can! Anyone can flirt.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly to where James’ stood in the corner, trying and failing spectacularly to seduce Lily, before meeting Sirius’ gaze again.

“Oh. Well, almost anyone can flirt.” 

“And I am not included in that category.”

Sirius rolled his eyes before grabbing Remus’ arm and pulling him, despite his protests. 

“Hey! What are you doing?” Remus cried as he was dragged through the common room. He didn’t put up much of a fight though; there was a part of him that wanted to keep Sirius soft, warm grip on his arm for as long as possible.

“I, being the kind-hearted and compassionate soul that I am, am going to teach you, Remus Jennifer Lupin, how to flirt.”

Remus groaned, moving up the staircase. “Please, Merlin, no.”

“Don’t fret, dear student,” Sirius teased, pushing open the door to the dorm and pulling Remus in. “Just relax and enjoy the lesson.”

Remus doubted he would find this enjoyable at all, judging by the pool of dread forming in his stomach. 

In fact, he thought this might be the worst Sirius idea he had ever agreed to.

----------

Remus had been right. Sirius had been “showing him how it’s done” for the past fifteen minutes and Remus was finding it more and more impossible to not shove Sirius against the wall and kiss him senseless.

“Look, Rem. Just watch me,” Sirius said from a few metres away.

Remus merely nodded. He stood with his back against the wall, heart beating erratically as Sirius sauntered over, the smirk that did things to Remus on his lips.

He stopped close, too close, and Remus watched as the grey eyes roamed his body appraisingly, more intimate than Remus had ever imagined a gaze could be. He held back shivers.

He’s pretending, he’s pretending, he’s pretending, Remus repeated like a mantra in his head as Sirius locked his eyes on Remus’ lips before dragging them up to meet his gaze. The lust in Sirius’ eyes made Remus wish it was real, that Sirius would look at him like he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Sirius leaned in, his hot breath fanning over Remus’ cheeks, and Remus stopped breathing. The air around them seemed hot, electric, like magic wasn’t the spells from their wands or the potions from cauldrons. Magic was this.

Magic was them.

Sirius stepped away suddenly, his eyes cast down and the spell broken. Remus breathed out, his cheeks flushed and his mind whirring. How could Sirius seem so unaffected while Remus felt like he was going to faint?

“Ok, Moony. Your turn. Once you get this right, we can move onto the actual speaking bit.” 

Sirius stood in the middle of the room, his eyes burning with something Remus couldn’t place. Remus swallowed.

“Alright,” he said, his voice coming out croaky. He realised he was probably about to embarrass himself immensely and cursed his heart for letting Sirius drag him into this.

He took a step forward. He felt an emotion he had been trying to drown out bubbling up as Sirius stared; want.

He took another step, lust now bubbling to the surface.

With each step closer, every emotion Remus had been trying to hide burned in his heart; desire, appreciation, affection, longing. He gazed at Sirius openly, honestly, the way he had always wanted to.

He took his final step, now only centimetres from Sirius. One feeling pounded in his heart; love.

Remus let his eyes fall on Sirius’ body, the way he had shown him, and noticed how Sirius was completely still, frozen. Remus flicked his gaze to Sirius’ face, his heart squeezing with how beautiful Sirius looked, lips parted and eyes wide. 

Remus leaned forward and heard Sirus’ breath hitch, matching Remus' heart.

“Was that how you do it?” He whispered, eyes falling to Sirius’ lips.

“Yes,” was all Remus got in response before Sirius’ mouth was crashing against his own and his heart was exploding. 

Remus had spent the last year imagining what it would feel like to kiss Sirius Black but he couldn’t have even dreamed this.

The kiss was passionate and hard at first, their lips pressing insistently against each other, but then Sirius was cupping Remus’ face and Remus’ hands were in Sirius’ hair and their tongues were swirling together and the kisses were long and slow. And Remus was beginning to realise that his love for Sirius was endless, that infinite was the only word that could describe what it meant to be in love with Sirius Black.

“I really don’t think you needed that lesson on flirting, Moons,” Sirius said, pulling away and panting heavily. The feelings of Sirius’ fingers holding his face and how swollen Sirius’ lips looked from kissing was almost too much for Remus.

He smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Sirius’ lips. “I’m just a quick learner. But...” Remus said, his lips turning into a smirk. “I do think I need to learn a thing or two about kissing. Could you teach me?”

Sirius grinned. “Of course,” he said, leaning and brushing his lips against Remus’. “I think we should begin with a practical demonstration, don’t you?”

“Definitely,” Remus whispered before kissing Sirius and beginning his lesson.

And, unsurprisingly, that lesson didn’t end for a very long time.

[alwaysdowntohidewithyou]

“Most parents will be familiar with the experience of being ignored by their teenage offspring. Tormented by my daughter's incessant loud singing around the house, I've lost count of the number of times I pleaded: 'For God's sake, Florence, please put a sock in it.'

Of course, she didn't take a blind bit of notice. Just as well, really. My daughter is Florence Welch, of Florence And The Machine.

She is 22, lauded as the next big thing and her debut album Lungs has been sitting at No2 in the charts, behind the late Michael Jackson.

She has won the Critics' Choice Award at the Brits and was this week nominated for a Mercury Music Prize. She's even been on Radio 4's Woman's Hour, for goodness sake, not to mention Jonathan Woss.

This has all happened in the space of a couple of years, and it takes some getting used to.

Florence was born into an Anglo-American middle-class family. Her mother, Evelyn, is an American art historian and I worked in advertising. We lived in South London, we took holidays in Cornwall.

There was music in the house and there were books. There were performers and musicians on both sides of the family. I took Florence and her younger sister Grace to violin lessons (ouch) but it wasn't their passion.

Because of her mother's work, Florence did have an early exposure to Renaissance painting, which may have had an influence on the somewhat visceral world view expressed in her lyrics. As a child, she was particularly fascinated by Mantegna's Circumcision Of Christ, and by various paintings of the martyrdom of St Agatha, who had her breasts cut off.

Florence, always a difficult sleeper, was often as an infant encouraged to nod off by being wheeled around the sitting room in a pushchair to the accompaniment of loud music.

Her earliest subliminal influences include The Smiths (whom she found highly soporific) and Syd Barrett (less so). We also tried works by The Soft Machine, REM, The Go-Gos.

One evening a few years ago when I was passing Florence's bedroom I heard her shouting out: 'That's amazing, I'm having a bloody epiphany.'

I poked my head around the door and saw her sitting on the bed with a huge pair of headphones on. She had, it appeared, just listened for the first time to Jefferson Airplane's White Rabbit.

People have asked whether there was a moment when I realised that Florence had a gift. There was. It happened during a performance of Bugsy Malone at her school, Alleyn's, in Dulwich. Florence was ten or 11 and she was playing the lead female part of Blousey Brown.

At school productions, parents are usually interested only in the efforts of their own offspring, but when Florence sang, the whole audience was suddenly fully engaged. I remember thinking: 'Cripes, she's got a voice - this is serious.'

It wasn't just her perfect pitch - she had the essence of phrasing and timing which makes a good singer great.

On the basis of her phenomenal performance she was co-opted to sing a rather obscure and difficult Gilbert And Sullivan song at my father's memorial service at St Bride's in Fleet Street in 1997.

My father, Colin, was a journalist and satirist who had been deputy editor of the Daily Telegraph and a parliamentary sketchwriter for the Daily Mail, so the great and good of Fleet Street were there. Florence sang brilliantly in front of scores of weeping crumblies.

After this she became something of a fixture at funerals. When I recently gave her a hard time about the dark quality of her lyrics - the first song she wrote was called My Boy Builds Coffins - she said: 'You made me sing at funerals. What do you expect?'

Florence spent her later teenage years in a mysterious group called the Toxic Cockroaches. Her mother and I, by now divorced, probably did not pay enough attention.

Having won a place at Camberwell School Of Art, she sang with a band called Ashok.

On one occasion she called me from Greenwich, angling for a lift home. Her band, she said, weren't there but there were some others around who she might play with. I turned up and watched her sing two songs, which were phenomenal.

No, she said afterwards, she hadn't rehearsed. No, she had had no idea what she was going to sing when she got on stage. This stunned me then and still stuns me now.

Florence and her bandmates were 'spotted' by an old-school music manager and there was talk of a contract. 'Don't sign anything until we've had a chance to have a look at it,' we implored. 'Yeah, yeah,' said Florence - and went ahead and signed it.

That's where it all could have gone off the rails. She was 19 and miserable, in the wrong band, life signed away, career over before it had begun. Despite my misgivings, I became a bit of a rock dad, and phoned a friend who was a music lawyer.

It turned out the contract was only binding on Florence as part of the band, so all she had to do was resign. After that we paid a bit more attention.

Florence engaged her present manager, Mairead Nash, one half of the achingly fashionable Queens Of Noize club night promoters, by trapping her in a club washroom and singing an Etta James song at full volume. Their partnership has worked pretty well so far.

Once established in her own right, and aided and abetted by Mairead and the 'thunderous' Machine, Florence's progress has been swift and spectacular.

Last year I was the one driving Florence and a two-man Machine around Europe in her stepmum's camper van, following in the wake of the MGMT (another popular band) tour bus - all for the princely sum of €75 a gig.

This year it is a professional driver, Florence, a five-piece Machine and a road crew in their own tour bus.

I still go to some gigs, but my small part in this drama is, to a great extent, over. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and my early days as de facto tour manager are a great source of envy to my fifty-something chums who would give their eye teeth for the chance to go 'on the road' with a band, man.

There are, of course, alarming aspects to the whole thing. I have witnessed Florence clambering up the gantry at Glastonbury in 6in heels and I have seen her being passed around the audience at a gig with Pete Doherty.

Indeed, I shared a light ale or two with the rock and roll Rimbaud and found him to be quite charming, if a trifle vague. I must admit, though, a report that he had proposed to Florence earlier in the evening did cause a momentary attack of the vapours.

It is all exciting. But a word of warning to any potential pop stars and their parents: it is also expensive. Florence has received reasonable advances, but had to use them to pay for a lot of the band's running costs.

Florence will, we hope, make some money, but only if she sells a lot of CDs and gets film tie-ins - and after she has repaid her advances.

I may have to wait for quite a while for that bungalow in Weybridge that all rock stars seem to buy for their parents.

The fact that Florence has become public property can invade one's life and conversation. We do have evenings within her extended family where all mention of the 'daffy diva', as I call her sometimes, is forbidden.

Her sister Grace is at Sussex University, and so is able to get away from the all-embracing tsunami that Florence's life has become.

Florence's 15-year-old brother, JJ, thinks it's all pretty cool, and finds the connection with a pop star a good way to develop conversations with girls.

I do occasionally feel a twinge of unease about this whole extraordinary thing, and I remember the first time I felt it. It was more than a year ago and Florence was playing a gig in an inexplicably fashionable joint in Hoxton, Hackney.

Practically every A&R man in London was there. As I watched Florence putting her heart and soul into the performance, I glanced round at the audience.

There were the fans, wild-eyed and transported by the experience. And there were the A&R men, with quiet, thoughtful faces. They weren't here to enjoy themselves, they were taking care of business, and the business was my daughter. That's just the way it is - no worse than any other business, but it was a sobering thought.

It was also at this gig that one of the A&R men who knew that I was Florence's father turned to me with a quizzical expression as she launched into another of her perverse, Gothic tales of death, dismemberment, and bloody revenge.

'I know what you're thinking,' I shouted, 'but I can assure you she had a perfectly normal upbringing.'”

-Nick Welch, 2009 (x)

[skirplyfe]

Reflections

-

This year began with a trip to Portland with the girl.

A few weeks prior, two of my closest friends from High School overdosed and died days apart from each other. I’ve always struggled with depression and anxiety, but at no other time in my collegiate career were these two beasts more prevalent in my everyday life. My days were filled with a sense of dread, emotional instability, crippling panic attacks, and a complete lack of motivation. Getting out of bed was a herculean task at best, as my nights were filled with nightmares and an inability to achieve REM sleep. I was, in short, a complete mess.

All of this, coupled with a myriad of issues that had already plagued the girl and I’s relationship, began to take a toll around this time. There was an unspoken agreement that this trip north was to be our hail Mary attempt at mending whatever issues we had as a couple before she left to work in Southern California.

The first fight of the trip took place two hours into our drive as we crossed the Oregon border. Though the fit was short-lived, the animosity we felt towards one another echoed in the car for the remainder of our drive. I began to drink almost immediately after we arrived in the city, achieving a desired level of intoxication by around 10 that evening. I attempted to hide this from Sabrina.

The next few days followed a cycle of arguments and makeups, both of us attempting to hide our true irritabilities from one another in an effort to both savor the experience of being in a new city and ignore the rapid decay of what we began to realize was never a healthy relationship. The girl hid her emotions under a guise of busywork and tourism, and I, with rigorously scheduled drinking.

As we returned home, there was little conversation in the car. Sabrina slept and I drove, thinking the entire time of how best to approach the conversation I had so masterfully evaded for the last few months.

Through tears, she told me that we could work things out, that if I could just be a man and stop hyper-fixating on the negatives in my life I could be happy. She grew furious that I didn’t cry, asking how someone so emotional could be so cold in a moment like this. I wanted to cry for her, to make her feel better, but I couldn’t. She left early the next morning, making sure to tell me she loved me before departing. I wondered if the absence of feeling could be a feeling.

The spring semester began a few days later, though I paid little attention to anything related to academics. In the days following our return from Portland, it was hard for me to pay attention to anything. Every day felt the same as the last, with minor adjustments of figure and schedule. I scheduled appointments to see a therapist and a psychiatrist.

Each day began the same, with my brain waking before my body, that semi-consciousness that occurs before your eyes open. My mind would assess the state that I had left my body in the night before; dehydrated, sore, lungs filled with tar and liver working overtime. I avoided opening my eyes and letting in the pale morning light, knowing that doing so would allow the entirety of my self-abuse to rear its ugly head. I became apt at grabbing for the bottle of Advil next to my bed and chasing two pills with the water left out the night before. After, a sprint to the bathroom, making sure to turn on the shower and jump right into shock my body into acute consciousness. After a week or so, I was adept at this routine, so long as I could avoid the mirror. I rued the idea of looking into the mirror, as it was my sworn enemy.

I did my best to make it to classes, work, and convince those closest to me that I was fine. For the most part, I think I was pretty successful in the beginning. When people pushed me on certain topics like the breakup or my mental health, I was smart. I’d give them just enough to think I was struggling but maintain a jovial disposition and parry sensitive inquisition with a signature self-deprecating humor. It’s really easy to say how you’re actually feeling to everyone when they think you’re joking. The truth at that point was that I fucking hated myself. I hated that I couldn’t muster up the courage or drive to find anything I found interesting, let alone pursue it. I hated that I was getting fat and not taking care of myself. I hated the lethargy that maintained its presence at the forefront of my psyche. But the thing I hated most was my inability to change the narrative I had written for myself in my own head, that of a self-centered, arrogant, unintelligent bastard. All of this kept up for a couple of months, the weekdays and weekends blurring together in a haze of bad decisions, fueled by a burning desire for self-destruction and a loss of consciousness. I’ve been told I was really fun at parties.

Booze and an assortment of other intoxicating substances became even more of a mainstay then they already had been throughout college. For a short period, I decided that becoming a psychonaut could aid in my quest for redemption. However, I soon found that while mushrooms and LSD are on the safer side of recreational drug use, creating a chasm inside your own mind and hanging out there by yourself may not be the best course of action for a clinically depressed individual.

Eventually, I decided to attempt to sober up, at least a little. Drugs stopped being a mainstay of my group’s consumption, and we all began to invest more of our time into academic pursuits. This was hard for me, as I had completely lacked the motivation to do anything related to school for the last year. Frankly, it’s a miracle I haven’t been put on academic probation. Nevertheless, I did my best to at least attend classes and participate when I could. But then, as things were starting to look a little better, the entire world shut down due to the bitch known as COVID-19, the Novel Coronavirus.

Fuck me was this the worst time for a lockdown to happen. Just as I was beginning to leave my house and change my mindset about both myself and the world around me, it all went to shit. The last two months have been filled with every emotion across the spectrum; rage, depression, anxiety, and uncertainty have permeated through my thoughts on a daily basis. I’m angry at the way leaders and individuals across the country have completely fucked this situation and not given it the credence it deserved. I’m depressed that there’s no time limit to this crisis, and that things that would have light at the end of the tunnel have no concrete date. I’m anxious about school and the fact that I may have to repeat classes due to my inability to light a fire under my ass and do the work on my own volition. And finally, I’m uncertain about everything. Will things change because of this? Will I be able to grow from this experience or be destroyed by it? Will I be able to get a job? Will I be able to keep the job I already have? Is all of this worth it?

All of this being said, the trials and tribulations of the past six months have made me realize something; I have the best fucking group of friends a person could ask for.

I don’t have any close family, and I never really have. Thus, I’ve never really known what being a part of a caring and supportive group is like. The friendships I’ve made over the last three years have changed that entirely though. Never had I been around so many people that make it their priority to lift me up and support me through good times and bad, checking in and supplying me with the strength to carry on day by day. Never have I felt a reason to reciprocate those feelings either, through their emotional generosity I’ve been able to feel capable of empathizing and assisting with their navigation of trauma. As a whole, we’ve grown together throughout this entire experience.

Most of what I’ve written on these three pages may seem as though I’m stuck in a rut, and that my depression and anxiety is getting the best of me. In truth, writing this has really just given me a sense of catharsis, providing me with a checklist of not things that have defeated me in the last 185 days, but traumatic situations and ordeals that I’ve overcome. While I’m far from perfect or even being remotely successful, I’m still here throwing punches at everything life throws my way. I’ll always have bad days, but in turn, I’ll have good ones too. Though it’s hard for me right now to ignore the negatives in my life, it too is hard for me to ignore the positives. That’s progress, and I’ll take it.

[amethyst-noir]

Tag meme!

@brucestephenbucky tagged me, so I guess I’ll ramble a little bit about me. 😉 Tagging @mdcbd, @descaladumidera, @aelaer and @myrxellabaratheon if you want to! If not just ignore it.

Nicknames: Let’s just say Amy and be done with it.

Zodiac: Taurus

Height: My passport says 1,62 cm but I suspect that I’m not quite that... “tall”. Okay, I’m short. I need something to stand on to reach upper shelves or I have to climb. Fuck. Couldn’t I have gotten 1,65?

Time: 23:15

Favorite band/artist: Wolfsheim, Depeche Mode, Lana del Rey, VNV Nation and Bear McCreary

Song stuck in my head now: Lord Huron - Meet Me In The Woods which is a new find thanks to a lovely message and now I listen to it on eternal repeat. Oh, and The Sweet Escape by Poets of the Fall because I listened to that while I wrote and edited “The Way You Hold My Heart”. *hums* Like ghosts in ultraviolet...

Last movie i watched: Spiderman: Far From Home. I’m watching shows right now. But yesterday I got Endgame so I’m preparing myself to see Tony’s and Stephen’s last moment together again. 💔

Last thing i googled: Rose Shadow Collection

Other blogs: @whenthesunburnsout for my bingocards/an oganization tool for myself. Oh, and then there’s @stephenstarkstrange. I don’t even know why I made that one but the name is so nice... *cough*

Do I get asks: Yes, and even if it sometimes takes me an age or two to answer them I cherish each and every one! 💝

Following: 141 (totally the limit I can manage/scroll through every day)

Amount of sleep I get: 6 to 5 hours on a workday (sometimes less), 11 to 14 on my days off. I guess 8 to 9 hours would be a good one on a daily basis but that’s not possible with my work schedule/commute.

Lucky number: I don’t really have one.

what am i wearing: Green shirt from primark with cut outs on the shoulders and leggins.

dream job: A 9 to 5 office job with minimal contact with other people and no costumers. I still hope to make the jump from retail to office in my company but that’s pretty much wishful thinking.

dream trip: Scotland. St. Petersburg. India.

favorite food: Pizza. With spinach among other things on it.

instruments: Haha, no. I have not musical talent whatsoever.

eye color: blue/grey/green, depending on the light. In the last few months they’ve been more greengrey and less blue.

hair color: Some boring brown/brunette mix. As a child I was blonde and it grew darker and darker. By now there is a bit of silver (don’t call it white, that doesn’t sit well) mixed in but I’m too lazy to care and color it.

aesthetics: Galaxy everything. Black and dark purple. Glam make-up and shitty clothes. I can’t care about everything, okay?

language: German and English.

most iconic song: Is also my favorite song ever - The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel (only the orginal for me, please), Everybody Hurts by REM still sends a shiver down my spine and The Farthest Star by VNV Nation makes me yearn for a future yet to come.

random fact: The Enterprise-E is the most beautiful spaceship ever but I love the tiny little NX-01 almost as much. Random enough? 🤣 Oh, something personal? So far I’ve been to every VIECC (there only have been 4 so far) and I’m looking forward to this year’s. Alex Kingston! 😍

[brownie-aunt]

I'm tired, sleep deprived, and procrastinating. So have a new AU: Circus

Thomas is the ringmaster/owner. 

Roman is a lion tamer (simply because Patton’s allergic to cats) and the resident daredevil. Full on jumping five hundred feet onto a damp sponge levels of daredevil. 

Patton is the animal trainer. Dogs, seals, elephants, you name, he can tame it and love it. Virgil jokes that Patton is secretly a shape-shifter an that’s how he understands animals so much. 

Virgil is a trapeze artist. He also does aerial silk dancing and tightrope walking. Because he’s the most flexible, he also stands in as Logan’s assistant. 

Logan is a magician. Magic has to be executed flawlessly and has to have some logical train of thought. He gets incredibly frustrated when Remy and Nate mess with his stuff. 

“REMY!!!!!” “Nah, gurl, it was Nate this time.” “Wow, thanks for throwing me under the bus, Rem.” “I don’t throw you under a bus; that’s Roman’s job.” 

Remy is a hypnotist and has a comedy routine with his brother Christian Nate (Procrastination aka the slo-mo guy) 

Picani works part time as the account manager and does marriage counseling on the side. 

Talyn and Joan are co-owners with Thomas. Joan helps Thomas with new act ideas while Talyn helps with makeup. 

Cause if you have seven disaster gays who are all over the top you need a good makeup artist. Virgil does his own though. 

Lionel (Deceit) is a snake charmer, and has a habit left over from childhood where he always says the opposite of what he means. Virgil is the only consistent one that understands him. (yes he was abused) 

“Virgil, I am begging: never do my makeup. I hate it when you do it.” “Sure. when do you want me to come over to your car?” 

The troop has a train, and therefore, the troop has train cars to live in. 

Room mate situation: Logan and Patton, Roman and Virgil, Remy and Nate, Thomas Joan and Talyn, and then Lionel shares with the various reptiles. 

Whenever Virgil shows up in his makeup and costume for the show, everyone simply has a “holy crap, I’m gay” moment. Except Nate. He has a delayed reaction. 

The troop got really popular because Roman took a video of Virgil dancing to Steven Universe on the tightrope. You know the song. 

“You know, I ought to kill you right now, but you try to kill yourself every day.” -Virgil on a daily basis to Roman. 

One of the troops most popular acts is an adventure where Roman is a prince, Logan is a wizard, Patton is an elf, and they pick one lucky kid from the audience to help them defeat the evil dragon witches, Virgil and Lionel. 

Virgil literally made himself a dragon costume and learned how to breathe fire because he’s almost as ExtraTM as Roman and Logan for that role.

He also has a Toothless onesie. 

Virgil loves scaring ROman by launching himself off the tightrope and grabbing a trapeze in the nick of time. 

“VirGIL HOLY CRAP I’M COMING TO SAVE YOU!!! ... I hate you so much right now.”

 That’s it for now. Feel free to add on/draw this AU. 

Tags: @teacupfulofstarshine @5am-the-foxing-hour @hellyeahfanders @randomslasher @the-pastel-peach