#and i think my nan will be okay she seems to be handling it well. its making all her usual aches and pains so much worse though. :-((

[groupwest]

grrrr i’m sick :-( and my nan has fucking covid >_< and its not fair. and i told my boss this and he still is asking me to come into work on the weekend like are you insane? do you think i’m lying?! grrrrr whatda faark

[boxx-sama]

The Usage of a Rotary Telephone in Ai Nan Desu Yo

This was just something I happened to notice when rewatching the MV!

As pictured here, we can see Mahiru using a rotary telephone to communicate with her boyfriend. It may not be of much significance to some, but there is/could be a deeper meaning to this specific phone being used, rather than a modern one!

This specific one happens to be a vintage telephone. The development of rotary telephones dates back to the late 19th century, which is all the way back in the 1800s!

The concept of a rotary dial for selecting numbers on a telephone was first proposed by inventors and engineers in the 1870s. Almon Strowger, an undertaker from Kansas City, is often credited with inventing the first practical rotary dial telephone system in the late 19th century. His system aimed to eliminate the need for human operators to manually connect calls.

As amazing as the invention itself is, however, it did have flaws, especially considering the time period this was invented in! There wasn't modern technology, so using this phone had some issues.

Error-Prone: Rotary dialing was EXTREMELY susceptible to dialing errors! Users could miscount the number of digits, skip a digit accidentally, or make other mistakes while dialing.

Mechanical Complexity: Rotary phones were mechanical devices with many moving parts, which made them more prone to wear and tear. This complexity also meant that maintenance and repairs could be more challenging compared to modern electronic phones.

Lack of Advanced Features: Rotary telephones were designed primarily for basic voice communication! They lacked many of the advanced features that modern phones offer, such as caller ID, call waiting, voicemail, and speed dial.

Considering some of these, it is rather odd, isn't it? Mahiru is clearly pictured to be taking inspiration from modern blogs and such for her perfect journey of love.

So how is this particularly standout in any way?

Well, it's simple! Rotary telephones had many communication issues. They were difficult to handle, very slow, and had to be used in specific ways. (Dialing certain numbers, etc.)

I think that the usage of a rotary telephone in such a modern world that Ai Nan Desu Yo portrays might just be Mahiru's lack of communication with her boyfriend when it came to more serious matters!

This also may be a stretch on my part, but even the lyrics at this part of the MV kind of add to my small theory here.

Ring ring, I’m calling you in the middle of the night Forcing you to wake up, and I say “Good Morning!” But I fall asleep before you, I really feel bad you know? We can both feel lonely sometimes, but wonder if you’ll get angry soon I’m going to start relying on you if you’re kind to me, so please forgive me, thanks!

It just feels like there's some sort of communication issue here, if that makes sense. Mahiru is being a biiiiit over-reliant and wishing for forgiveness from her boyfriend due to her clear needs, and it's unsure whether they were actually met or not. Daisuki kind of paints a clearer picture on this with the whole cake feeding metaphor, but that may be a theory for another time.

It can also be noted that Mahiru is not happy at all when she uses the telephone, implying that she is also stressed, despite sharing the feeling of love with her boyfriend.

But, to her, it wasn't a big issue at all! Because in the end, all of this is love in of itself. And even if their communication is flimsy, surely love will power through.

Again, using the lyrics to support this:

If you don’t hug me, even our hearts will start drifting apart

This is a claim of responsibility from the two of us with matching love

We fought sometimes, I was happy to get hurt Let’s have matching pain, this sickness is pretty bad?

Mahiru seems to idealize love and the idea of being together to an unhealthy point, believing that if she can experience all of love's ups and downs and remain with her S/O, then everything is all okay in the end! That being said, I do NOT see her as completely naive, and she definitely had some awareness in the situation.

I guess that's all for my little theory! Let me know what you guys thought of it.

[amplifyme]

So, I had a busy weekend~! ;)))

Dark Spirit-- amazing work, Linda Hamilton. Loved Edie, of course; and Joe's really growing on me. Vincent was exquisite-- and I met Narcissa! Vincent backing away from Cathy's vehemence but promising not to leave her during this dark hour was excellent; and Cathy figuring out in the last minute and trying to fight back was excellent as well.

Children's Story-- great story: New York's really messed up Oliver Twist. Love how bold Cathy is now, calling the man's bluff to his face. EDIE! Amazing help, break-in, and distraction. She's magic, indeed. Vincent and Father and the children. I understand Father and the seriousness of their lives down Below, but I can't help but ponder how much weight and responsibility he holds even little children to in this community. It's important and not to be discredited; but it adds to his near inflexible character regarding his opinions on Above and the rules Below.

Impossible Silence-- Laura! She and Joe threw curveballs at me: never would have guessed they were "like" that, for lack of a better word. Her real fear and the villains and Cathy's heavy guilt and Joe's backstory with his father (and the apologies he and Cathy swap) and Vincent's true empathy and compassion and understanding and Father struggling with sign-- all such great storytelling details.

Shades of Gray-- Amazing episode. Winslow (like Laura and Joe, never would have thought of him that way in my head-- interesting to ingest the series backwards), and JAMIE (love her to DEATH and hope I see more of her) and Mouse (he's going to have to grow on me-- that roguish Peter Pan boy-who-plays-by-his-own-rules attitude took me by surprise, though it shouldn't have at all.) Father and Vincent's bond and stories and promises, Father weakening and Vincent protecting, still surprising each other after all these years... magnificent. The ex (forgot his name right now, this moment) is back and seems to want to redeem himself (ELLIOT, that's his name. Fascinating how he will end up in the tunnels post S3, according to Nan); and Cathy's fluctuating handling of him, his motives, and her help from him was great. Loved seeing a greater part of the community; glad that Winslow both annoyed and shone, there's Mary, and I liked how there were straggles that helped Mouse, Cathy, and Jamie before the whole group joined. "It wasn't courage-- it was love."

China Moon-- Loved the characters, Vincent's impassioned speech, Father's reluctant agreement, the manipulation of each generation of the China Town bosses, their unrelenting and merciless pursuit, Cathy and Vincent openly admitting to their happily never after, and Vincent being left no choice. And the tear... it's heartwrenching thinking about how much this will weigh on him, especially after he loses so much more in S3 (heheheheheheee, looking forward to that-- in a morbid, can't-wait-to-meet-Diana way.) I noticed Edie wasn't in this ep... uh oh and could have been... uh oh.

Having a blast powering through! So much to absorb and contemplate and just plain enjoy! :DDDD

Let's take this Below...

Oh, I hate Dark Spirit! Other than the introduction of Narcissa and the image at the end of Vincent crushing the shell in his hand and tossing the dust into the night sky, I really dislike everything else. But I'm glad you liked it!

Children's Story was okay in my book. Nothing really memorable except Vincent's and Father's scenes with Eric. But, yeah, it was definitely Dickensian. Maybe too much.

I understand Father and the seriousness of their lives down Below, but I can't help but ponder how much weight and responsibility he holds even little children to in this community.

Maybe so, but it's understandable. And anyone accepted into the tunnel community has to be made aware of the importance of keeping the secret. I appreciate his conversation with Eric for another reason as well, and it's something you'll see more of in the show. Both Father and Vincent, along with the entire community, really, treat children like small adults, instead of dumb, irresponsible kids. The children may not yet be able to perceive and weigh all the different nuances that adults have learned to do, but they're always treated with respect and spoken to as equals. They're also allowed to participate in community matters, as you may have noticed during the vote on Mouse's punishment of the Silence, in Shades of Gray.

Speaking of that episode, it's one of my favorites. For all the reasons you stated and more. I love Vincent and Father's relationship. It's so integral to what makes each of them who they are, and the person they strive to be. You can't help but notice how much they love each other.

And Cathy's realization of how deep her feelings are for Vincent is a revelation to them both. *happy sigh*

Impossible Silence is another of my favorites. I love Laura and Vincent's friendship and how he pushes her beyond her self-perceived limits because he knows she ready. He's just so solid and so good. ❤️ And Cathy has such a gentle and giving nature. She just wants to help everybody.

Elliott Burch... I love him so. He's my favorite of all the topside reoccurring characters we meet along the way. And other than Vincent, the one who undergoes the most character growth of any of them throughout the series.

China Moon? That's another one I can do without, though it does have a few nice moments. But that can be said of every episode. You just have to look harder to find them in some eps.

I'm so excited that you're into the back half of S1, which is a really good run of episodes leading to the season finale. You'll soon meet Paracelsus, and Devin, and Cullen. And enjoy tender moments and funny moments, and a few that'll break your heart.

You may want to take note of one thing as you get closer to S2. For some reason, Paramount has the first two episodes of S2 switched. The opener should be Chamber Music, followed by Remember Love (aka It's a Wonderful Vincent). The argument between Vincent & Father in Remember Love is one of my favorites scenes in the entire series.

Have fun!

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Dark Shenanigans - Nandor x (f)reader

Summary: It’s Nadja’s something hundredth birthday, with that said, you’re on a mission to make it great.

Warning: fluff, general vampire nonsense

Masterlist

“Yeah being a half vampire half human does have its perks. I mean for one I can do all that cool vampire shit and I can go out in the sunlight...so that helps for when they’re all being really annoying.” You admit with a casual shrug to one of the documentary cameras before turning to an isle of party supplies. “So anyways we’re at this store.”

The camera shifts to the multiple arras of supplies and materials at the local supermarket in Staten Island that you and your vampire lover’s human familiar, Guillermo, currently are. Specifically on the hunt for birthday decorations for Nadja and ghost Nadja who’s possessed a strange looking doll for the time being.

Since the other four actual full vampires can’t shop for themselves at this time of day or really in general, you and Guillermo have been given such an honorable task in making Nadja’s birthday the best one yet. Considering she’s the most well balanced in the head out of the four of them and is the only other lady of the manor.

“Hey Y/N, how’s this look?” Wonders Guillermo as he holds up a bunch of Mardi Gras beads of yellows, purples, and greens. “Comments, questions, concerns?” He adds with a small smile.

Eyeing up the beads, your head shifts over to the other various colors, “Hrmm, G I’m feeling the vibe you’re going for this year and I like it, but let’s go with Nadja colors.”

Guillermo’s dark eyes light up at your positive suggestion, “Right! So the red and black ones then?”

“Yup. She’ll love that shit.” You state with a satisfied nod of approval, “Let’s get some black and gold confetti from over there and oh, those masquerade masks look cool as fuck.”

You pick up and test out various masks in the background as Guillermo adds some bits of dialogue for the documentary crew, “Um yeah she’s really cool isn’t she.” He says with a smile while glancing at you then back to the camera, “Which is kind of odd since Y/N’s been with Nandor since 1793 so you’d think she’d be a little more like them but no, she’s super chill and really nice.” Suddenly his face goes a bit serious as he leans in to whisper, “But she did kill a whole street gang once when they threw a slur at me so I wouldn’t mess with her. For your safety.”

The camera pans back over to an oblivious you who’s put on a masquerade mask and is swinging a plastic light saber around with a whole lot more accuracy and grace then would a normal person. The camera then pans back to Gullimero, “Um, I’m just gonna....make sure she doesn’t smack anyone.”

——

Arms full of groceries of food for you and Gullimero, as well as random party decorations for Nadja’s birthday tomorrow night, you use the bottom of your boot to skillfully open the door as the documentary crew and Guillermo follows suit. Guillermo now on the verge of falling over with the large heart shaped pillow in his arms that’s covering most of his body.

You don’t feel tired in the slightest due to your half vampiric abilities so this is nothing to you, “Alright.” You state, turning on your heel to face the crew and Guillermo, “They’re asleep so we gotta be extra sneaky now, I don’t want Nadja catching us with all this cool spooky birthday shit. Everyone to the attic!” You whisper yell before leading the charge to the attic.

They all follow as quietly and as quickly as they can and then soon enough in no time are you and Guillermo back outside in the sunny garden trying to figure out if you should blow up the giant sea monster pool floaty.

“I mean it would look cool as hell and no doubt out-do whatever the fuck boring thing Lazlo probably has planned.” You quip with a shrug while the two of you stare thoughtfully at the small gloomy dark pond. “He’s got no chance with us. I’ve won best decorator and card maker for two hundred years in a row.”

Guillermo side eyes you in honest amazement, “Wow that’s a lot of years. And cards.”

“I know. I was an artist in the 12th century but my no good terrible good for nothing piece of garbage trash sexist human husband, who I was forced to marry when I was only sixteen, took all the credit for my artwork in that era.” You confirm with a growl, “But it stings less because once I finally grew into my powers and strength at eighteen I simply made his untimely demise look like an accident.” You add with a smirk.

“Oh, wow.” Mutters the intrigued familiar.

“Precisely. The old fool was thrown off his horse because I told Philip, the horse, to throw him off. And he did. Which killed the idiot so I got the house and all of his money.”

“That’s......neat.” Mutters Guillermo as he shoots the camera crew from behind you and him a nervous look. “Uh the suns going down so I should probably help Nandor out of his coffin.”

Raising your head to the sky you immediately see how the sun has begun to paint the clouds in beautiful colors of oranges, reds, light pinks, and darkening purples. “Oh, how bout that. Yeah alright let’s get inside.” You nod to Guillermo before turning to walk towards the manor’s giant mahogany doors.

——

Turning the handle and walking a couple feet into the large main room that holds itself as a sort of crossroads for all the other various connecting hallways and staircases. You don’t make it even three more steps towards the left ascending staircase before you hear the highly recognizable voice of your one and only.

“Y/N! My lovely wife and favorite person still ever so lovely!” Announces Nandor loudly with a grand smile showing off his pearly white fangs, “How I have missed you and your morning kisses. Where have you been off to?” He wonders softly as you smile a big dumb love-struck grin right back up at him, you’d absolutely die to hear that accent one last time.

“I can’t tell you right now it’s a secret!” You whisper yell back, causing his thick dark brows to scrunch up in confusion.

“But I am your lovely strong puff dragon Y/N.” Whines Nandor adorably as you roll your eyes at the cameras before looking back up at him.

“Fine. Come here then.”

In an instant he’s at your side, excitedly awaiting what secretive news you will tell him, “Okay, so we know it’s Nadja’s birthday tomorrow right?”

“Yes. I remember because she hasn’t shut up about it.”

“Right. So me and Gullimero got some fun surprise birthday party decorations and they’re in the attic and we can’t tell Nadja.”

Nandor gives you a knowing look of affirmation as he leans in closer to you, his demeanor suddenly shifting into a more saddened one, “You went shopping without me?” He says quietly.

Leaning up to give him a quick peck on the cheek your hands instantly find his, “Just for a little while, but I still need to find more stuff so....you wanna come?”

Nandor’s big dark eyes light up with joy as you hand him a kind smile, “Yes! Let us go in search of unknown treasures for our lady friend Nadja so she will not be mad at us for terrible dull gifts of friendship.”

Laughing you give his hands a playful squeeze, “Come on I’ll race you to Party City!” You say before leading him past the camera crew and Guillermo who simply watches the two of you leave, glad to have an hour of peace.

“There’s a whole city for partying? Y/N why have we never been to this place?”

——

“Y/N there are no people partying here.” Whines your vampire lover in puzzlement as he follows you from the entrance to a side isle. “You said this was a city for partying.”

“That’s just the name of the store Nans.” You retort with a small chuckle as he looks from right to left at all the color coded party plates and napkins galore.

“Well the title is very misleading.”

“Agreed.”

Turning to the right you guide him towards the decretory pirate themed isle in search of something that will peak his interest. Also you wanted so badly to make it to this spot but Gullimero was a man on a mission so your intention was thwarted for when you had Nandor with you.

Speed walking down the pirate themed isle you quickly halt all movement as Nandor’s large body stops within less than an inch from your back. Smiling brightly you snatch the desired object in front of you and as swift as a cat turn to face him.

“Have you come for a dual my old enemy?” You speak slyly, eyes narrowed as you hold the foam sword right in front of his face. “I sense a nervousness about you. Tell me, are you ready to face your inevitable bloody end?”

Staring at the pointy foam, his dark puppy eyes shift over to you as an adorable fangy grin breaks out across his pale face, “Seems you have come prepared, oh radiant and alluring seductress. Well, so have I!” Shouts Nandor before grabbing two foam swords from off the rack and swinging them in both hands like a mad man.

Taking a cautious step back you hold your pathetic five dollar sword in both hands like a true warrior ready for battle, “Only one shall leave this place alive.” You affirm with a smirk, “And it’s not going to be you.”

“Arrrrrggg.” Bellows your lover as he charges you like the true conqueror that he once was. But all to soon do you swiftly duck under his arms and swat him over his stomach with a confident thwack sound.

He makes a puny little “oww” as you turn around to face him once again, “Y/N you hit me kind of hard.” He complains, looking rather defeated and genuinely hurt that you could have intentionally injured him on purpose.

Bringing the plastic weapon down to your side once again, your face suddenly softens as you walk over to him, “Come here you big baby.” You quip sincerely as he leans down so you can give his cheek a quick kiss.

Rising back to his full height, Nandor almost blushes as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a happy smile, “Actually it didn’t hurt at all I just wanted you to kiss me.” Reveals the vampire with a proud grin as you simply roll your eyes.

“Should have known.” You add before turning and snatching up four more plastic foam pirate swords for the others. “Alright let’s get outta here, follow me my love, to the checkout line we shall purchase our weapons of war and partying on the high seas.” You announce with gusto as Nandor stands proudly at your side, ready to follow you anywhere.

“Yes. To check out.”

——

Kicking open the unlocked door, Nandor bursts into the vampire residence with bags full of goodies for Nadja’s birthday party. You right behind him but less dramatically, “We’re back!” You shout to no one in particular as Colin Robinson suddenly appears from out of nowhere, looking ready to leave with his funny little hat and usual beige jacket.

“Oh hey guys,” He starts with a friendly nod, “I’m just heading out on the town tonight. I guess there’s a fair or something in the park and I wanted to test my skill at the ball toss. I’ve been reading up on the body mechanics and how the game is set up which seems pretty basic all in all. Also I really want to win a stuffed bear this time, it might add a little pizazz to my room. Welp see ya’round.” Adds Colin before walking past the two of you without another word and out into the night he goes with some of the camera crew following close behind.

Nandor turns to you with a look of annoyance, “Jeesh I thought he would never leave. Let’s go to your room I want to kiss you some more now.”

“Why my room?”

“Because since you are half vampire you get to sleep in a bed and because I am a full vampire I sleep in a coffin.” Inquires Nandor while looking at you with those big beautiful dark eyes of his, “And my coffin is too small for cuddles so your room will suffice.”

“Yeah that’s a fair point.” You shrug before following him to your room.

After many cuddles leading to other more rated R type activities that lasted until just about sunrise, you finally got some well needed rest while the sun shone high in the sky until she began her dramatic descend back into oblivion. Opening your eyes you slowly rise from out of your comfy bed, already missing the presence of your obsidian eyed lover.

He gets too nervous about your closed windows for fear that the sun might burn him which would be impossible because you black out the glass. But alas, he’s very cautious about these types of things and won’t risk it for anything, though he feels bad about leaving you in the morning, you understand.

Suddenly it dawns on you that today or perhaps tonight, is Nadja’s birthday and you completely forgot to set up any decorations. Shit, how stupid. Throwing the blankets off of you, your feet move quick as you speedily change yesterday’s outfit for something a bit nicer and more clean.

Racing out of your room and into the dimly lit manor hallway, you make a bee line for the attic but before you’re able to reach the steps, Guillermo runs into you, just about knocking you into a wall of various stolen ancient weapons. Sharp ones at that.

That was close.

“Y/N are you okay!” Worries the familiar as you quickly gather your bearings.

“Guillermo! The decorations! Nadja’s birthday!” You whisper yell as the human man simply smiles. “Why are you smiling, this situation does not call for smiles.”

“Don’t worry. While you were sleeping I set up all the decorations.” He replies with a shrug, “No problem.”

“What? But that must have taken you all day, you could have asked me for help. I would have come.” Your brows furrow as he shakes his head, though you still feel bad for not helping with anything.

“Well I did try, but um,” Gullimero awkwardly clears his throat, giving the camera a quick glance, “Nandor was with you and last time I asked for you while you and him where having alone time he threatened to carve out my eyeballs and force feed them to me.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance you take a deep breath, “Sounds like him. Very creative when he wants to be, alright, well....where’s everyone?”

“Oh, they’re not up yet. I was actually on my way to get you. I made blood popsicles and the pool floaty is all done and in the pond.” He says with a sense of pride for his decorating skills. “I think she’ll like what we’ve come up with this year.”

-

Standing in the living room with your three fellow immortals you search a dresser for her card, “Oh shit where’s my card? I could have sworn I had it yesterday on my dresser but I don’t remember seeing it there in the morning. Maybe it’s in this one?”

“Witches!” Hisses Nadja as you huff in frustration, where the hell did you put that damn card?

“Oh, Y/N my love,” Intervenes Nandor with a gentle tug of your sleeve, “I took it with me when I left your room before sunrise because I wanted to put my name on it too so she would know it’s from us.”

“What?” Replies Lazlo dramatically, “Now hold on just a damn minute, this card competition is individually scored so I won’t be having any of this nonsense. I worked really hard on mine this year.”

“Oh lick a donkey’s arse, look here,” You retort with, quickly holding up the card for Nadja, “there are two separate drawings on ours so either way if one of us wins she gets both our pictures. So you better hope your drawing doesn’t resemble a night clubs bathroom wall.”

“Yeah.” Mutters Nandor, who’s hiding behind you while resting both hands on either one of your shoulders as you glare at Lazlo.

“Fine.” Agrees Lazlo begrudgingly, “And mine will be amazing, this bitch of paper took me a whole six months to plan and produce. Can’t get quality this good anywhere else I guarantee it.” Adds Lazlo with a firm nod of self approval as you glance at the nearby camera.

“Right, okay everyone sit it’s time for presents. I want to know what you all got me.” Beams Nadja excitedly as she smiles a fangy grin in delight, plopping herself down in one of the arm chairs. Lazlo quickly finding the other one while you and Nandor seat yourself on the large couch. Colin and Guillermo finding somewhere to sit close by respectfully.

“Well, all I can say is hold onto your socks my dear cause this is going to blow you away.” Smirks Lazlo as he pulls a small box from out of his jacket pocket.

“If it’s a self made business card that says invitation to sexy town I will puke.” You deadpan while Nandor laughs from beside you, causing Lazlo to lose his smirk as Nadja hides her amusement the best she can manage.

“He he, sexy town, nice one Y/N.” Mutters Nandor with a proud grin as you raise a brow at Lazlo who’s giving you a hard glare.

“Oh, my dear pumpkin pie love, don’t listen to Y/N I will love anything you gift me.” Encourages Nadja with a bright welcoming smile, no doubt immediately boosting Lazlo’s once irked mood.

Rolling your eyes you shift a bit to find yourself leaning into Nandor’s body as Nadja opens up the rest of the vampire residents various gifts. A joyous fangy smile gracing her pale features every single time, revealing this birthday party was a thrilling success.

After much more fun that just about lasts throughout the whole night, and some rare but hilarious attempts at dancing between the five of you vampiric individuals. You’re feeling rather sleepy and you can tell Nandor is ready for a trip to dreamland as well.

Swaying to the lowly playing record instrumental, you hold Nandor tight while simultaneously enjoying the feeling of him so close, him doing just the same as he keeps you firmly pressed against his chest. His long dark hair tickles your face as he presses his head to your cheek, doing his absolute best to keep the flow without tripping up.

Sensing his growing fatigue, you gently squeeze his hand, “My love the sun will be up soon, let’s get you to bed, yes?”

A small lazy smile tugs at the corners of his lips while he looks down to meet your gaze, “But my dark angel I’m not tired. I want to dance with you a little longer.” He whines adorably before failing to conceal a big yawn.

Giggling, you lean back to slowly lead him towards the door, “That yawn says otherwise.”

“That wasn’t a yawn Y/N, I was just smiling really big.” He protests, though he still follows your lead to the door.

“I’ve never seen anyone smile like that.” You add with a raised brow.

“Well maybe that’s just how I smile.”

Letting out a breathy snort, you pull away from him to at last take his one hand, “Come. I can’t have a single ray of that dreaded sun to get a taste of your precious skin. Not on my watch.”

Glancing at the closed front door, Nandor squeezes your hand, “Well um, now since you’ve mentioned the sun...I think I’d like to go to my crypt now.” He says, the flash of worry crossing over his face for only a brief moment.

“You sure? I mean a sunrise is pretty beautiful if I’m being honest and I know you never get to see them...”

“Not funny Y/N. And not fair, you know I can’t because I am full vampire.”

“And you’re missing out.”

“And I’d like to stay alive Y/N.”

“Aren’t you dead?”

“Yes and I am your only husband so I need to stay not burnt to a crisp.”

Chuckling, you follow him down the hallway, “Oh really? Don’t want me finding myself with another vampiric lover? Some new beast to sweep me off my feet and take me away into the night.” You tease.

Side eyeing you, he frowns, “No. Don’t I sweep you off your feet?”

Stepping into his crypt you stop him with your hand against his bicep, “Always.” You whisper sincerely with a quick wink, causing him to break out into a big fangy grin.

“Good. And if anyone would try and whoo you I would make sure there would be no more whooing again!” Exclaims Nandor, making the candles rise in flame for only a short second at his rise in emotion for how much he loves you.

“I don’t doubt they would fall by your blade. Not for a second.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, toy play, forced masturbation, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Again, I’m always grateful to anyone who reads. Take care.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Wayward ho, away we go

💀💀💀

You bent and picked up your phone. The screen protector was cracked and peeling. You lifted it off and checked for any real damage. The stream had ended but it was still operational. You tucked it away as you looked between the bikers and grabbed your jacket.

“Well, thanks for the show,” you headed for the door but found yourself shadowed.

You swung the door out into the cold and that man, Sam, followed you onto the beaten down snow across the sidewalk. He stopped you before you could evade him and cross the street. You turned back and squinted at him.

“You know, I didn’t even get to pay my tab,” you pulled away from him roughly.

“So, do I get a name yet?” he asked.

“You guys are weird,” you grimaced, “no.”

“Come on, I just saved your ass,” he crossed his arms as his breath fogged before him, “I mean, you kinda owe me.”

“Maybe your friends need to learn to control their tempers,” you scoffed and hopped over the snow to cross the street. As you expected, he kept on and as you came to the other side, you turned on him. “Look, dude, you know that whole hard-to-get thing is a myth. I’m not interested.”

He chuckled under his breath and shoved his hands into his coat, “sure,” he smirked, “I can’t let you walk home alone. Not after you go and insult the whole club. Do you really not know the shit that is aimed in your direction right now?”

“Are you talking about yourself or…” you said wryly and spun back to your path, “it’s a small town, I’ll make it home.”

“Oh yeah, it is a small town,” he caught up to you and kept step with you, “you think I don’t already know where you live?”

You ignored him and zipped up your jacket as the cold began to seep in. As he said your name, you stopped short. A chill went through you that wasn’t the winter.

“You’re a creep,” you said.

He laughed again and slung his arm over your shoulder. You tried to wiggle him off but he kept you firmly in place against him. He began to walk, pushing you forward across cracked edges of ice left from diligent shovels.

“Honey, let me tell you something, what I did back there, you’re not just walking away scot-free, you get that? You want me gone? Well, then you can find out what happens without me watching your back,” he said as he squeezed you, “I can go back right now and tell those boys it’s free hunting. You won’t make it past the corner.”

You stiffened and shifted. You were never the brightest, you made dumb decisions, but you knew then this was worse than any before. Your fun time was really a big fucking mistake. How many warnings did you need before you realised how stupid you really were? It wasn’t just a meme, it was like the godfather sent a horse head straight to your door.

“Hmm, don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet,” he mused as his arm slipped and his hand went to the small of your back. He turned you down your street and you glanced around at the familiar houses, “listen, you’re probably scared shitless right now? Or should be if you were smart enough to notice the gun on my buddy’s hip? Or the one on mine?”

“Is this how you always get girls?” you croaked through your dry mouth as you closed in on your nan’s house.

“I’m sure other guys like the whole snarky manic pixie dream girl thing you got going on, but I’m not other guys,” he returned as he stopped you just at the end of your grandmother’s walk, “and you didn’t just fuck around with a couple of bikers tonight, you insulted the whole club. In fact, I’m a little pressed about it myself.”

He reached out and slid two fingers into your jacket pocket. He took your phone out and turned it in his hand.

“No more of this,” he put it in his back jean pocket, “not tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll go over the rest of it but… if I see one TikTok or one meme, I’m going to be knocking on that window just above your bed.”

You blanched and peeked over your shoulder. The curtains moved as you caught your nan’s grey hair disappear behind it. You put on that stubborn pout you always got when things didn’t go your way and narrowed your eyes.

“You know this isn’t normal, right?” you whined.

He snickered and puffed out his chest, “this is Birch. This is how things go.” He reached out and ran his thumb over your chin, “you’re young, you’ll learn.” He winked and looked over at your nan’s house and waved with two fingers. “Tell the old lady I say hi,” he grinned, “but I can always tell her tomorrow.”

You scrunched your lips as felt like folding inward. He turned and strode off back down the street, his shadow fading into those cast by the streetlights. You sighed and headed up the walk and pounded your soles up the stairs. You let yourself in but faced another obstacle in your night.

Your nan sucked on a cigarette as she watched you unzip your coat.

“I thought you quit,” you said as you hung your coat on the rack.

“I thought I told you to stay away from the club,” she sniffed.

“Well… I tried,” you lied poorly.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you did,” she flicked the ash into the carpet without concern, “I’m an old lady now, I can’t help you.”

“He’ll go away. He’s just… you know how guys are,” you knelt to undo your boots.

“I do, do you?” she challenged, “I don’t remember many boyfriends gracing my stoop.”

“He’s not--”

“That man will make himself whatever he wants to be,” she gristled, “that’s how they work.”

“Look,” you stood and rubbed your forehead, “I know I fucked up. Can you just--”

“Oh, I won’t just,” she snapped, “let me tell you something, don’t be afraid to grab a man by the balls and twist. It saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Nan--”

“I’m not saying you should, just giving you options,” she puffed out smoke, “but you gotta be smart and make the shot count.”

“I don’t… get it,” you blinked.

“You will know,” she tilted her head, “women got a sixth sense. You’ll find out soon enough.”

💀

Your nan’s words stuck in your head. Your day off was no longer as exciting. You woke with a knot in your stomach and a dull stone behind your eye. You descended to join your grandmother for coffee, restless as you didn’t have your phone to keep you busy. You fidgeted and drank the bitter brew without a hit of sugar or milk.

There was a lingering shade of dread as the wise widow’s words swirled in your head with the strange man’s promise. He said he’d be back, he didn’t say what time, he didn’t say for what, but he said he would. As much as you rolled your eyes at the club, those men proved they had conviction and Sam had shown himself to be persistent.

You ate porridge with cinnamon and fake sugar. Your grandmother’s daily fare. You left her to her crosswords and her ramblings about the daily news. You told her to change the channel and lighten up before you went. She quipped back at you to “smarten up” and for once, you had no rebuttal; she was right, it was only that it was likely too late.

You sat in bed and watched Netflix. You had your laptop but you didn’t dare look at your TikTok as it just reminded you of the night before. It all began to sink in as you felt the thick arm around your neck and heard the rough gristle of the boss’ voice. You only realised then how close you’d been to biting it and it made your skin crawl.

Hours passed and you began to pace and fuss around with random pens and books. Maybe he forgot, maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe it had all been threats to make you stop. Well, it worked and you would delete your TikTok once you got the nerve to open it.

Then you heard the heavy boots on the stairs and the pounding at your door extinguished the hope disguised as doubt. You cringed and stood in one place as you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You crossed your arms and chewed your lip. 

You were very bad at thinking things through. You didn’t consider that you hardly knew this man, though the fact was plain in your mind. You didn’t consider that you’d rarely been alone with a man. You didn’t consider that you knew exactly what his vulgar looks and suave words meant and that your denial could not erase them and all of these things were obvious and unavoidable.

A tapping came at the window beside the door and he waved to you as the blur in your vision cleared. You bit down on the inside of your lip and made yourself cross to the door. He turned the handle as you did and pushed his way past your reticence. He stepped in as you stumbled back.

You were good at acting cool, at being the quirky friend, the goofball, but when it came down to it, you were just clueless. It was better to seem apathetic and not let on how much of a loner you really were. You always wanted to be one of the cool kids but never really were.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he kicked the snow off his boots and it powdered over the mat, “this is a cute little place you have.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m scared, okay? I’ll delete everything and won’t do it again,” you raised your hands defenselessly, “you made your point--”

“Have I?” he sniffed as he let his leather jacket fall down his arms, “because I’ve been thinking all day. How to punish you. You see, these things, you have to be punished. That’s the rules.”

“I…” you backed away from him slowly as he sat in the wicker chair behind the door and unlaced his boots.

“Not my rules, the club’s,” he said flatly, “now, don’t be lookin’ at me like that because if I’d left you with those other boys, you’d be in the rubble of that garage.”

You gulped and hugged yourself as your eyes rounded. His eyes clung to you and he grinned as he stood.

“Well, I know you’re telling the truth at least,” he said, “you’re scared.”

He neared and walked past you. He circled you and slapped your ass. You flinched and he chuckled. You were startled at how quickly he’d disassembled you. You tried to ready yourself mentally all day for his arrival and yet you could never be prepared for that instance.

He strode along the other side of the bed and pulled out the top drawer of your night stand. He shuffled through your things and slammed it. He turned back and went to your dresser and slid out the slender drawer of necklaces and random receipts. He felt around blindly and you heard the familiar roll against the wooden bottom.

“Ah, jackpot,” he pulled out the silicone vibe and spun it between his fingers as you watched him over your shoulder, “I knew a girl once, kept it hidden under her mattress, another had this vase on her desk… but mostly, no one puts much thought into hiding when no one’s looking.”

“What are--”

“Shhhh,” he hushed you as he put his finger against his lips, “it’s a very simple punishment and if I’m being honest, and let’s be clear I’m being very generous here, it’s not much punishment at all.” He took your hand and pushed the vibe against your palm, “you just gotta use that.”

You furrowed your brows as his warm hand closed yours around the silicone and he squeezed. You trembled and he let you go as he winked.

“Chop, chop,” he clapped his hands, “I can always come up with something else.”

You searched his face as he backed up and leaned on your dresser, arms crossed over his thick chest as his biceps bulged through his long sleeves. You peered down at the toy in your hands and traced the subtle curve with your thumb.

“Get comfortable, honey,” he coaxed, “when you finish, we’re done… for tonight.”

You were breathless as you turned away from him. Your head spun and you recounted all your mistakes as they rushed over you. You were so stupid. You couldn’t blame anyone but yourself but that didn’t make it any easier. 

And you couldn’t do it. Even alone, you were always filled with the sense that everyone knew what you were doing with the vibe. That some lurker would hear you and expose your secret. A guilt atoned only in your pleasure.

“Tick, tock,” he chirped as you heard the wood groan against his weight, “you need help?”

“N-no,” you stuttered and dropped the toy on the bed.

You fumbled with your fly for what felt like forever. Your hands were shaking so bad and stopped as you asked yourself what you were doing. What you had to. You had no doubt in his promises. You were learning the hard way like you always did.

You shimmied your jeans down and slid them to your ankles. You got up on the bed and he tutted. 

“Panties,” he snapped his fingers, “don’t be shy.”

You didn’t look at him as you lifted your ass and tugged down your panties. You kept your legs together as you unhooked them from your ankles and shoved them aside. You cleared your throat and reached for the toy as his figure loomed along the top of your vision. You clicked the button and stared at the buzzing vibrator.

“Almost there, honey,” he purred, “I’m starting to think you’re liking this already.”

You sucked in your breath and pushed your legs apart as you closed your eyes. You put your hand on the bed behind you and leaned back as you shoved the toy against your cunt and hissed as it rolled over your clit. You cupped it with your palm and moved it over your bud as the ripples flowed from your core.

You clamped your lips in your usual habit. You held in the moans that threatened and tried to ignore the soft breath of the man in the room. Your whole body was alight with shame and lust fed by the vibrations. You dropped your head forward and winced as you sensed him come closer.

“Oh, honey, look at you just diving right in,” he taunted, “that’s it… you don’t gotta be quiet with me.”

“St-st-stop,” you rasped out, “I can’t--”

“You are,” he slithered, “now keep going. I see you getting close already.”

You squeezed your eyes tight and gripped the toy between two fingers and swirled the tip around your clit. You wanted it to be over and despite yourself, his voice fed your need for release. You hummed between your teeth and arched your back as you rocked your hips against the vibe hungrily.

“Mm mm mm, honey, I don’t think you could handle a man,” he teased.

You gasped and panted as you felt the pressure pulse and you sped up. Your other arm shook and collapsed as you fell onto your back and writhed as you closed your legs around your hand and the toy. You came with a whimper as your body shook and you turned onto your side as the orgasm echoed through you.

“Very good,” he cooed and you felt a dip in the bed. You opened your eyes as he leaned his knee on the edge, “smile for the camera, honey.” You gaped at the lens of your phone and snickered as he lowered it, “now that… I think that might go viral.”

“Wha-- No,” you sat up and reached out as he stepped back and you nearly toppled over the side of the bed.

“Hmm, I might keep it to myself,” he tapped his fingertip against the back of the phone, “I don’t really like to share…” he faced you again and tucked the phone away, “I usually keep my girls to myself.” You blinked and bent your legs as you tried to cover your bottom half. He pushed his chest out and exhaled, “you are mine, right, honey?”

[merryfortune]

You give me flowers of love

Written for 100ships Challenge on Dreamwidth

Prompt #39 - Pink

Ship: Nodoka/Hinata

Fandom: Healin’ Good PreCure

Word Count: 3,757

Rating: M

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

AN: title comes from Bloodflowers by The Cure and is recommended listening for this fic.

Tags:  Alternate Universe - Hanahaki, Horror, Gore, Emetophobia/Emetophilia, Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Past/Referenced Eriko/Hinata, Minor Blood

   Hinata was not the type of girl who could handle horror stories, urban legends, or anything spookier than a rom-com set against the background of a popular coffee shop. However, there was something about this creepypasta that caught her attention. Maybe she read it to prove that she wasn’t a scaredy-cat or maybe she read it because something about it was almost too real.

   It came across her Curestagram feed, screenshots reposted from another site with long form text functions rather than the optimized for photos aesthetic of Curestagram. It wasn’t late at night, quite the opposite, Hinata had just been scrolling as she was half nibbling on a banana muffin for morning tea. So she was kind of bored and not already unsettled by a vague anxiety sort of mindset so she stopped her scroll to read this totally true story from a friend of a friend that had happened upon her timeline.

   The story involved a sickness. A lovesickness, hooking Hinata immediately since she was a hopeless romantic and leaving her vulnerable to what was hiding down below a few paragraphs after and Hinata realised she was reading a surreal medical horror story.

   Supposedly, some girl from a high school in the next town over had been hospitalized due to damage to her stomach and esophagus but ultimately culminated in her passing away from brain damage due to suffocation. The suffocation that was the outcome of the damage she had taken to her stomach and esophagus had, supposedly, been caused by the growing of flowers inside of her. Doctors couldn’t explain it. They were baffled by the impossibility of it. Yet where they failed to posit theories at all, their patient had her own she desperately desired to reveal. 

   The nameless girl, as weak as she was in her final moments of speech and cognition, was certain with the most crystal clear clarity that she could muster said that reason for the flowers growing inside of her was due to a crush that she had been fostering for quite some time. A crush that was so powerful and deep that it had manifested as literal and impossible distress in the form of tiger lily flowers. Though her claims were dismissed as nonsense, despite the very given evidence that she had been vomiting exotic flowers, except by the narrator who was sharing her story online on her behalf.

   Hinata got to the bottom line of the final screenshot and she dropped her phone on the table. She shivered and flinched as her phone clattered. Nyatoran looked up, alarmed, from the milk that he had been sipping.

   “Heh? Are you okay Hinata?” he asked.

   “Y-Yeah, I just lost my grip.” Hinata replied. It wasn’t a lie.

   “Really? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Nyatoran pointed out.

   Hinata made an expression that was both guilty and embarrassed, “Er, sort of… I read a ghost story online and I haven’t the stomach for them.”

   “Oh, well, no worries then. I’ll keep ya safe from all the ghoulies then.” Nyatoran boasted.

   Hinata laughed, “Thanks, Nyatoran.” she replied.

   And that was more or less enough to keep her mind off what she had read for the rest of the day as she did her Sunday homework and such. At least until well after lights out. 

   Hinata cursed herself. She knew endless walls of text in screenshots never bore good news but it was under her skin now. It wasn’t even that scary, she tried to convince herself. It just so happened to play off something she had been thinking about in ways that cut deep and yes, even scary. 

   Hinata had a crush of her own. One she didn’t think she ought to act on. Or didn’t know how to act on. 

   Hinata had a crush on Nodoka. She was sweet and gentle yet so motivated. Hinata felt like she learned something new about either herself or Nodoka after every time they hung out. Things never felt old between them despite how natural their companionship was between them.

   Catching feelings for Nodoka was inevitable, Hinata felt regarding their dynamic as close friends and their friendship was relatively intense due to their bond as comrades being Pretty Cures but that made Hinata sick to her stomach with fear. This wasn’t her first crush that she had on another girl. 

   In the not so recent past, Hinata had been wrong reading other girls’ opinions and feelings regarding her before. She and Eriko had been so close, childhood friends with a pact that seemed fit to stand the test of time when they had made it, and Hinata didn’t think it was a coincidence that already scarce contact between them after Eriko moved was when Hinata had confessed her feelings to Eriko. 

   The rejection had been crushing and Hinata had never told a soul about it. The wound was older now but it still hurt so, as lovely as Nodoka was, Hinata didn’t want to gamble their friendship due to that prior rejection. Yet her feelings crackled like electricity near a lightning rod whenever she was around Nodoka anyway. She could only hope that Nodoka was oblivious since she was so inexperienced socially due to her childhood spent mostly in the hospital.

    (And that Chiyu never brought up the blatantly obvious which she would hopefully never do since she knew there was a place and a time and it wasn’t her place).

   Thus, for all these different and entangling reasons, that horror story Hinata had read this morning really resonated. The thought of her unrequited feelings becoming literal, even in the form of pretty and seemingly harmless flowers, and suffocating. It was a very real fear to Hinata despite that fantastical execution that it was captured inside.

   All because she was a magical girl infused with the power of light and thunder. She fought villains who caused infections in nature and created monsters. To her, it didn’t seem too far outside of her sphere of tried and true reality that such a floral disease of the body could exist. Heck, maybe it did exist and was tied to the war that she and her friends were fighting in secret on behalf of the Healing Animals. It was entirely possible this flower vomit disease was another agent or power of the Byougens. 

   Hinata groaned and the more she scolded herself for thinking about these horrible possibilities, the more she thought about them. She tossed and turned all night, in the dark and under the covers of her doona. She knew Nyatoran would live up to his boasting over morning tea if she asked but he was totally conked out in his little room. Hinata couldn’t bring herself to wake him, to unnecessarily burden him, so she just hid from her fears as best as she could in her blankets.

   The following morning, Hinata was a wreck. She had bags under her eyes and was generally a drag. She hasn’t slept a wink last night but just like she was hiding from the horror story in her head, she decided to hide from the aftermath too. She touched up her eyes with concealer and finished off her make-up with a nice little kiss of lip balm, too. She chose a nice tropical flavour: pineapple with vanilla undertones and wore nude in practice. With that, she was ready for what was no doubt going to be a long, long day of school.

   A prediction that she was very right in having. Just making it to lunch felt like an eternity and a half on low energy. Worst still, despite the precautions that Hinata had taken, both Chiyu and Nodoka had noticed that she wasn’t exactly her bouncy self today. Even with her favourite lunch box in her lap with fried chicken and a fruit drink, too.

   “Are you okay, Hinata?” Nodoka asked and she batted her long eyelashes in concern.

   Hinata knew she couldn’t lie or deflect around Nodoka, at least for the most part, and deflated, “No…” she moaned. “I slept awfully last night.”

   “I expect that it wasn’t due to over studying?” Chiyu asked, sniping. 

   “No, I just. Couldn’t sleep.” Hinata shrugged.

   “Well, be sure to put yourself early to bed tonight then. There’s nothing worse than being tired.” Nodoka said.

   “Will do.” Hinata sighed.

   “Also?” Nodoka prompted her.

   “Yeah?” Hinata glanced at Nodoka was she tried a spoonful of rice from her side dishes.

   “Your lip balm has a very strong smell today, I can smell it from here.” Nodoka laughed.

   “Oh, joy…” Hinata hung her head in misery. She didn’t think it was so pungent in the tube.

   “I didn’t mean that in a mean way.” Nodoka panicked whilst Chiyu had a discrete giggle at Hinata’s misfortune. “I really like it. I think it smells nice. Like cherries. I love the smell of cherries best.”

   “Huh?” Hinata mumbled and she stared straight at Nodoka in confusion.

   Nodoka stared back. Also in confusion. “Is something the matter?”

   “Er, no,” Hinata awkwardly began and she forced herself to laugh and she flapped a hand about too to disguise her weirdness, “I must have been so tired this morning that I though I used one lip balm and instead used another.”

   “That is a little odd…” Chiyu murmured.

   But Nodoka seemed to buy it, she gasped, “Fwow, you must have been really tired this morning to make such a mistake. Promise me to get a good night’s rest tonight then.” Nodoka fussed for her.

   “I promise, I promise.” Hinata replied.

   Just as Hinata spoke, the end of lunch bell rang. She moaned with the utmost misery as she hadn’t finished her lunch even slightly and roused much sympathy from both Nodoka and Chiyu. So, Hinata crammed what she could into her mouth and swallowed before returning with her friends indoors to their classroom.

   She plopped down in her chair and desk, her stomach growling almost immediately. Were it not for the teacher at the front of the classroom, Hinata would have flopped down and keeled over right there and then. She would have killed for a nap. Not even a luxurious nanna nap at this point, she would take a horrid power nap. Anything would have been better than nothing. Instead, the best she could muster was some daydreaming whilst scribbling in her work book so she could at least pretend to be paying attention.

   Her mind strayed to Nodoka. She couldn’t help it. A silly little pining schoolgirl was exactly what she was after all. She doodled Nodoka’s name in her margins, surrounded with love-hearts, paw prints, and even flowers. It was a little bit childish but Hinata was a lot childish so she didn’t mind, she was more or less on cloud nine since Nodoka had shown her care for her over lunch, fussing for her like that.

   It was such a small act but it was more than enough to launch Hinata’s heart in a million miles an hour race. So much so, she began to taste something at the back of her throat. It was a sweet taste accompanied by a fizzy sensation. Hinata liked it and it seemed to get stronger the more she daydreamed about Nodoka. Even though it was the middle of class, Hinata was letting her mind completely run away from the contents of what the teacher was attempting to educate on them.

   Finally, after what felt like a day of self torment because of reading some stupid horror story about puking flowers, Hinata felt free of that gnawing anxiety. But just as she revelled in this, her stomach wretched. She dry gagged with the searing taste of bile at the back of her throat and her hand automatically clamped over her mouth, pen and all. The prior anxiety might have dissipated but a new one had spiked in its place.

   Hinata frowned. Was it because she hadn’t eaten all her lunch that she suddenly felt nauseous? Or was it something else? She begged that it wasn’t her period, she was still quite irregular so this felt off or early to her.

   Then she gagged again. She swallowed it back down. Hard. Whatever she swallowed was thick and sweet. It wasn’t vomit, Hinata had the startling realisation. She tried hard to keep it down but she failed. She vomited into her hand, or at least something similar. The motions were awful, worse than anything else she had ever had to eject from her body orally before.

   Hinata felt sick to the very bottom of her stomach. Her hands shook as she slowly removed the one over her mouth and… and she couldn’t believe her eyes. They widened in shock as she saw the head of a flower in the palm of her hand. It was a cherry blossom, she realised. The pale pink petals were frayed at the edges, burnt by stomach acid and wet with her saliva; the anthers of its centre drooped and dragged, splayed across the petals. Her skin crawled as she marveled at the insane gravity of the situation. She quickly paled.

   And the teacher noticed, “Hiramitsu, are you okay?” he asked from in front of the chalkboard, looking up concerned from the book he was reciting from.

   “I-I, um, I need to go. To the nurse.” Hinata eked out her words with strained difficulty.

   Her stomach flipped and she could feel another one coming up. It slithered up her throat and she hated the slow, dreadful sensation of it, the way it made her mouth taste of bile and cherries in horrible combination. Hinata bolted to her feet, afraid, alarming the whole class. She hid her mouth behind her hand again, holding tight that first flower that she had vomited.

   “I need to go.” Hinata mumbled and she fled.

   The feeling of her classmates' eyes on her felt like broken glass digging. She knew, deep down, they didn’t mean harm but their gazes only served to amplify the terror she felt as she fled. She was fast at first, escaping from the classroom but her stomach lurched and she vomited another flower and then again but two at once this time.

   Hinata stopped in the hallway, she had to rest her shoulder against the wall just to stand as she looked down into the palm of her hand. The flowers were accumulating against her skin, wet and heavy, and accelerating in pace of production. Already she felt another lurch and this one was dire, Hinata didn’t think she would be so lucky to only vomit one or two this next time.

   She had to get to the sick bay. She wasn’t sure what she would do there but anything had to be better than nothing, so she hobbled on in immense pain. By nothing less than a miracle, Hinata managed to get to the nurse’s suite without collapsing. Or with leaving too many flowers in her meagre wake.

   The school nurse panicked almost immediately when she saw Hinata in this state. Hinata sputtered out a thank you whilst she was put to bed. Hinata curled up under the sheets, her stomach lurching and mangled petals dripped out of her mouth. She had to hide her ailment from the nurse. She just had to. She didn’t know how to explain it or anything else pertaining to it but fortunately, the nurse bought her some time by going to use administration’s phone to let her father know that Hinata was in immediate medical distress.

   Hinata held her scrawny belly with one hand and her mouth the other. No matter how hard she tried, these flowers kept dredging up from inside of her and it was worsening. There was distention building inside of her, it was as if she could feel the bushels of cherry blossom flowers forming inside of her and something else too. It was raw and firm and poking up through her like a stick. Hinata moaned in utter agony as she tasted not just sweetness and bile in her mouth, but the cutting, metallic taste of blood too.

   She whimpered as she tried to swallow it down. Attempting so, just made the nicks and cuts to her throat worsen and the petals to clog. Her lungs ached sharply as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes squeezed tight and she begged every deity she could think of for a saviour.

   The door to the sick bay opened again. Hinata murmured to herself and the curtain was pulled aside, “Hinata?” a sweet voice greeted her.

   “Huh?” Hinata slurred.

   She rolled over, still holding herself but even a simple and slow motion like that was enough to rouse her illness violently. Her grimace was deep on her face as she tried to look at Nodoka, even feebly.

   “A-Are you okay, Hinata?” she asked. “I couldn’t sit by and worry when I saw you ill you were, what’s wrong?”

   Hinata opened her mouth. Mostly to reply, but that’s not what happened. She threw up in front of Nodoka and Nodoka couldn’t believe her eyes. Hinata was throwing up bushels upon bushels of flowers. Cherry blossoms. Nodoka blinked. She couldn’t believe the sights - or the smell. The smell was disconcerting with how almost pleasantly fragrant it was, heightening Nodoka’s realisation that this wasn’t Hinata pulling pranks.

   “H-How on Earth did this happen…?” Nodoka asked.

   She was horrified yet found herself unable to resist the impulse. She picked a blossom out of the pile that Hinata had vomited up. It was soft in her hand, even if it was grotesquely wet.

   “I - I don’t-” Hinata tried to speak but she cut herself off when she felt something jut out of her mouth. An entire branch of cherry blossoms began to spike out of her mouth.

   Her eyes began to roll back on themselves as Nodoka watched, in abject and frozen horror, as Hinata contended with this stick inside of her. It emerged slowly from the depths of her throat and made her chest convulse. Her fingers spasmed as she choked around it, flowers blooming along the thin and coarse branch.

   “H-Help me.” Hinata sputtered out.

   Nodoka nodded. She was scared, her heart was pounding, but she was first and foremost a helper of most empathetic ends. She had been on the receiving end of a strange and bizarre illness that had rendered most her childhood for naught. She couldn’t just let Hinata struggle. Suffocate.

   So, she got onto the bed with Hinata. She straddled her so she could best approach the foreign object inside of Hinata. She focused her eyes and was as ready as she could ever be for an amateur operation quite like this one. Nodoka reached out and pinched the end of the branch delicately. It was entirely unsafe, Nodoka knew that, but she began to pull. She peered into Hinata’s pink mouth was clogged with twigs and petals, and tried her best to dislodge what she could.

   Hinata gagged. Tears in her eyes and she plead, silently and afraid, that Nodoka could handle this. Nodoka’s hands shook but she did, in fact, manage. She tried her hardest and she did succeed even if it felt pyrrhic as Hinata screamed out as the last, and thickest, part of the cherry blossom branch was removed. 

   Nodoka flinched hearing the scream, dropping the cherry blossom branch between them. Hinata spat out blood and petals but the cherry blossom branch had been removed. She caressed her neck and it was raw with what it had been through. Her touches did little to soothe or quell her pain, she looked up at Nodoka with pathetic, red rimmed eyes.

   “What was that?” Nodoka asked, her heart quaking. “How could any of this be possibly real?”

   “I - I don’t know.” Hinata mumbled but that was a lie. She choked on her words all the same as she had choked on those cherry blossoms. Her hands squeezed tight. “No. I’m sorry. I do know.”

   “Pardon?” Nodoka quietly exclaimed.

   “There’s a very rare disease,” Hinata began, hasty, “that causes flowers to grow inside of someone suffering with a crush that they just can’t handle.”

   “That’s horrible…” Nodoka murmured.

   It was now or never, Hinata realised. Or she was going to end up exactly like the girl from the story that she had read yesterday. She knew it. She just knew it.

   “Nodoka, it’s you.” Hinata confessed, half a sob in her voice. “I’m crushing on you.”

   Nodoka was stunned by Hinata’s admission. 

   Hinata panted, her face was going bright red whilst her heart pounded like a hammer at her rib cage. She couldn’t believe it. She had done it. But it felt like a weight off, she had to admit, she didn’t realise her crush had been such a burden until right now. She felt herself lighten with the confession, from the very pit of her stomach, upwards and outwards.

   Nodoka averted her gaze and Hinata was reminded once more why a crush was called a crush. That borderline feel good feeling from before popped. Burst. Nodoka played with her hair, fidgeting, and then managed to speak in a very calm and very quiet voice.

   “I have a crush on you, too, Hinata.” Nodoka replied. “I admire so much how you sparkle and shine. It’s very refreshing to be around. I like you too. A lot.”

   Nodoka reached out to Hinata’s hand and held it. She was so warm and she was still trembling but Nodoka’s caress of it did soothe her. Hinata hazarded a smile, like she couldn’t believe her ears, through her scarlet expression. Nodoka leaned in and kissed Hinata.

   Hinata was unable to kiss back, afraid of her own breath but Nodoka didn’t mind. It was pungent with cherry blossoms and wet but she found the kiss sufficiently sweet, kissing Hinata’s soft, balmy lips. They were tinged with pineapple and vanilla beneath that overwhelming sensation of cherry blossoms.

   “Thank you, Nodoka…” Hinata murmured and somehow, she didn’t know or understand how but she wasn’t going to complain, she was cured, prettily, of her affliction. 

   The cherry blossom flowers on the bed or in her gut, disappeared. All with seemingly little aplomb. Even the branch that had to have been removed from her throat, all with a soft, fizzling noise that Hinata could hardly hear over the sound of her pounding heart. She still had the cuts and scrapes, but she was no longer growing flowers inside of her stomach. Hinata was cured and Nodoka was her blessed, angelic cure.

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (33-36)

In which there is a merry Christmas, a less merry gift exchange, names are worn, kinks are learned, Bryce Marcus is the most absurd person in the world, and Jared loves him.

Series page is here if you want to follow along.

33. Exchange

“Our break’s really short this year, so my mom’s coming here for Christmas,” Bryce says. “And she really likes this kind of thing, so.”

“…Oh,” Jared says, struck once again by how ridiculously sweet Bryce can be. It’s like, almost nauseating, but — in a good way? Can things be almost nauseating in a good way?

If they can Bryce hits that a LOT on the sweetness meter.

“That sounds good,” Jared says, and it actually does. He never expected to actually look forward to brunch with his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s mom, but apparently if moms are all as chill as Elaine — well, not chill, exactly, she is very huggy

Jared remains suspicious of hugs from non-Bryces. He will eventually cave and make that ‘non Marcuses’

His dad is the kind of weirdo who actually appreciates socks for Christmas

Socks for Christmas are bomb, grow up, Jared.

His grandma gets him a sweater and a Calgary Flames calendar like she has since he was a little kid (his dad gets one too, so there’s always one in the kitchen, one in Jared’s room) and — oh god. Bryce is literally in the calendar. March is going to be the best month ever. Deniable pin up of his boyfriend looking hilariously intense above his desk? Check.

Also, now Jared’s wondering if his dad’s going to like, just…skip March. Fuck, he can’t wait.

Jared: hey dad it’s March.

Don: No it is February 42nd.

He wakes up to a merry xmas and a heart from Bryce, a selfie of him and his mom in matching fucking robes, which he can’t handle without coffee.

Jared still can’t handle it after coffee, it turns out. He can’t even manage to chirp Bryce about it, because it’s so fucking cute. What has he become? Bryce Marcus has destroyed his snark.

Just wait. You’re gonna match too. And you’ll HATE it.

34. Gratitude

“Jared!” Elaine says, sounding so excited to see him it’s kind of flattering, then nudges Bryce aside to pull him into a giant hug. For a tiny lady, she hugs pretty fight.

Jared: *endures*

Yolk is where the tasty part of eggs lives. Anything else, why even bother.

I will die with Jared on this hill.

Elaine does most of the talking, about Bryce’s grandparents, aunt, his dad’s sister — Jared knows all this because she always gives Jared, the context, all “Your nan — that’s my mom, Bryce’s father’s mom passed two years ago —”

CANON ERROR ALERT.

“Did your mom just like, the opposite of cock block us?” Jared asks when they get back to Bryce’s. He’s been wondering the whole short walk, but it seems like a dumb thing to say publicly. “Cock enable?”

Elaine is very thoughtful.

“It’s not, like, a contest,” Bryce says. “I just picked up whatever. Like, whenever I saw something and thought of you, I picked it up.”

“So apparently you think about me a lot,” Jared says.

“I mean,” Bryce says. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Bryyyyce.

“I lost the receipts,” Bryce says. “And none of it would fit me anyway. Like, except for the tie, obviously, but I think it’d look better on you. I can’t really do stripes.”

“Lost, or threw out?” Jared asks.

“I can afford it,” Bryce repeats. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

You ain’t getting the receipts.

“Bryce, I can’t wear a necklace with my own initials,” Jared says. “This is like the jewelry equivalent of getting a tattoo of your own name. People are going to wonder if I regularly forget it or something. ”

Jared.

“The chain is okay, though?” Bryce asks. “Or like…not?”

“Yeah, the chain is — I like it,” Jared says.

“I can just return the pendant part then,” Bryce mumbles.

“I thought you didn’t keep any receipts?” Jared asks.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d like it, so,” Bryce says, and fuck, Jared’s hurt his feelings. Great fucking job, Matheson.

BRYCE.

“You don’t have to pretend to,” Bryce says. “It’s okay.”

“I—” Jared says. “I always say the dumbest shit. Please don’t return it?”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” Bryce says, unthreading the necklace from the pendant, not quite looking at Jared.

“Bryce,” Jared says.

JARED YOU HURT HIS SOFT LITTLE HEART.

“I’m really sorry I was a dick about it,” Jared says, which is still hard, then, easier, “I love you.”

“You too,” Bryce says, and Jared tells himself sternly the entire drive home that overanalysing the fact that Bryce kissed him on the cheek instead of the mouth was because Jared was barely reachable through all his presents and not because Bryce has now decided Jared’s an ungrateful asshole it’s not worth being with, and 100% fails not to overanalyse endlessly until Bryce texts him a few hours later with another adorable selfie of him and his mom, and a ‘mom says hi again!’, at which point he lets himself breathe again.

It was a rough few hours.

35. Two Finger Salute

Cue me snickering like a twelve year old.

He can’t make himself buy a Marcus jersey, but he can sure as shit fit a Marcus t-shirt into his budget. He’ll just get a cheaper pair of shoes.

Literally just ask your boyfriend he would JUMP on the chance to give you a jersey with his name on it, the only reason he hasn’t already gifted you with a jersey is because it looks presumptuous.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Bryce says.

“I mean,” Jared says. “It’s mine. Just because it has your name on it—”

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Bryce says.

“Wanna sign it?” Jared asks.

Bryce swallows, and in hindsight, Jared probably should have expected what comes next.

Bryce has just learnt a new kink of his! And it goes both ways (wearing the pendant with Jared’s initials? Big yes from him)

“You know I could have gotten you a jersey if you asked,” Bryce says, stroking a hand down Jared’s back, slow. Jared thinks he might be tracing the shape of the nine, from the vague pattern he feels through the cotton. “I wanted to get you one for Christmas, I just wasn’t sure if you’d think I was like, an arrogant douchebag or something.”

SEE!!

“Oh,” Jared says. “But isn’t that like, pretty gay or something?”

“I mean,” Bryce says. “I kind of am, though.”

Jared grins at him, because that’s like, progress. He didn’t even hesitate.

Progress!!!

“Not now,” Jared says. “Probably something we should like, work up to anyway? I mean, I’ve never taken more than a couple fingers, so.”

“When?” Bryce asks, and the look on his face is less like, ‘hey, did you finger yourself in the shower this morning’ and more ‘who the fuck did you do that with’, which is so ridiculous Jared can’t even with him.

Bryce Justin.

“Bryce, you were literally my first kiss, which you know,” Jared says. “Do I really seem like the kind of dude who’d let someone finger me without at least making out first?”

Jared and I are judging you, Bryce.

“I kind of want to try everything with you,” Bryce says. “I’m just like—”

Self-conscious, Jared can finish for him, because he looks it right now.

My boo. And man, once he gets past the self-consciousness when it comes to sex with Jared, things are — NO COMPLAINTS FROM THE MARCUS MATHESONS.

“Just saying what’s true,” Bryce says, and for that, Jared has to start a wrestling match he inevitably fucking loses. He thinks it was closer this time though. Him managing to cram some time in the weight room alongside everything else in his packed schedule is paying dividends. One day Bryce is going to lose.

You literally only ever win when Bryce wants you to win, Jared.

So he can’t text like, ‘the gay thing’, even though it’d clue Bryce in pretty quick, or like, something a little more explicit in image form, which he probably wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do even if he was eighteen. Jared’s heard enough horror stories about that shit getting leaked.

:( Joey.

“I was sitting across from Burns when you sent me that,” he says. “You got me hard in front of Burns.”

Truly scarring experience. Don’t check your phone when you’re with your coach, lesson learned.

36. Put into Practice

Kind of says a lot that they think as soon as a dude’s gay they’re going to be a creepy fucker about them. Like that they always think they’re way more attractive than they actually are, but also like, that they seem to think it’s normal to be a creepy fucker if you’re into someone. Doesn’t bode well for the girls they like.

Jared being a judgy fucker for Good instead of Evil.

“So hey,” Jared says, when they’re done, because he doesn’t want Bryce to choke on a tomato or something. “I bought lube.”

Turns out Bryce doesn’t even need something in his mouth to visibly choke.

😏

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Bryce says.

Jared laughs a little breathlessly. “Fuck off.”

<333

“Felt, I dunno,” Bryce says. “Mostly weird. But like, it’d feel better with you, probably. Pretty much everything does.”

Jared needs him to stop talking, because Bryce’s earnest is just — it’s too much for him. He can’t cope.

Bryce: you’re beautiful I love you I trust you everything’s better with you.

Jared: shut up shut up shut UP

“I don’t fucking care what I said,” Jared says. “Seriously, you can totally fuck me right now, I’m so pro that.”

“I want to do it right,” Bryce says.

“If you buy candles and rose petals or some shit, I swear to—”

Jared knows his boyfriend.

“Doubt I would have lasted like, more than a minute anyway,” Bryce mumbles, fingers tracing over Jared’s stomach, too slow to be random.

“Did you just finger paint your own fucking name in come?” Jared asks.

“No,” Bryce says, but like, guiltily.

Bryce is absurd and I love him,

“Well, I dunno,” Bryce says. “I’ve had like, crappy orgasms.”

“Crappy orgasms,” Jared repeats. Like, he gets there being a scale or whatever, some are for sure better than others, but they’re all good.

“Not with you!” Bryce says. “But.”

:(

“Now like, can you get me a cloth or you wanna write your last name too?” Jared asks, and while Bryce does obediently get up to go get a wash cloth, when he returns he throws it right at Jared’s head.

I love them.

[dear-mrs-otome]

Aanleggen - Ikevamp (Theo)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: MC x Theo Summary: A short illustrated birthday fic for the birthday boy! The incomparable, amazing, talented and lovely @nan-chi​ and I wanted to do something to commemorate the younger van Gogh, and this is the result! 1500 words of fluff and fantastic art!

~~~~~~

There were few things Theo hated more than secrets.

His own - those were fine. But the secrets of others always unsettled him, even as he recognized the hypocrisy of this. And the secrets of Vincent…

Now that was an irritation of a new sort.

Stewing on this, Theo lifted a bite from the syrup-sogged stack before him and chewed, his eyes never leaving the two heads huddled together at one end of the table.

“Kinda cute, aren’t they?” Arthur slung himself into the seat beside Theo, newspaper slapping atop the table as he gestured in the direction of the two with his coffee cup. “The lovebirds,” he explained to Theo’s arched brow.

“The what?” The bite in his mouth turned suddenly and inexplicably dry. “That’s it. You’ve finally lost what little sense you were born with.”

Arthur, studying his face, let the smirk he’d been fighting finally win. “Don’t believe me?” He leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief and his voice pitched low. “I’ve seen her go into his room at least two nights a week the entire past month.”

“At night?”

Arthur nodded, once. Meaningfully. “Late.”

The only answer he could scrape together was a carefully uninterested grunt, turning his attention back to the plate before him. But the pancakes he’d already eaten congealed heavily in his stomach, like wet concrete, and he busied himself with straightening the napkin laid beside his place setting.

How had he missed that?

He wasn’t sure what bothered him more - the fact that he had? The fact that Vincent had taken a lover? Or the fact that...

...The fact that it was her.

He pulled the feeling out, turning it over and over, before realizing it stung. Like saltwater, lapping over an open wound.

It hurt.

But that was alright. Hurt, he could handle. It was a familiar, old friend. From split knuckles to bruises, from the envy-whittled darts that had struck true before his skin had thickened to the regrets that kept him up some nights. He was no stranger to pain.

This too, would pass.

------

But like a dog with a rabbit in its jaws, Arthur’s words wouldn't let him go.

He stood and stared at the wooden panels of her door, as if the answer lay somewhere in the swirls and whorls of woodgrain, before lifting his hand to knock.

"Hondje? You in there?"

There was no answer for a moment, but he could hear the faint rustling of someone moving around on the other side. "Theo?"

"Yeah, look, I -" He jammed his hands in his pockets, a rush of restlessness washing over him. He wasn't sure he'd ever looked forward to and dreaded a conversation so much. "You got a minute?"

"Oh! I….yes, just…" Her voice was pitched a half-octave higher suddenly, shrill with something like panic that set him on edge - especially when he could hear her bustling around. "Hold on. One second. I'm -"

Her words dissolved into a small shriek, as he heard a heavy thud from the other side, and decorum took a backseat to concern as he pushed the door open in a rush. "Hondje?! You okay?"

His gaze darted about. Same pink frilly room, spotlessly organized. Nothing out of order save for the easel in one corner and a canvas, now face down on the floor and her standing over it, dropcloth still in her wringing hands as she looked up at him guiltily.

He blinked at it a moment, heart twisting like a gibbet in his chest. A painting from Vincent? One he hadn't seen either?

He brushed off the fresh handful of salt on the wound, and plastered a smirk on his face. "Dropped your toy, Hondje."

"No, that's-!" She cried in dismay, as he reached to lift it back onto its easel. "You weren't supposed to see it yet."

He frowned, taking in the way her entire body seemed to droop. If she were a pup in truth, her tail would be hanging between her legs at that moment. 

“Why?” He bit back the bitter words that tried to follow. “Something secret between you and Vincent?”

He forced a chuckle then, although it scraped raw in his throat like sandpaper. “I was kinda hoping you guys would have told me yourselves about this but…” he began, as he lifted the piece back into place on its easel.

And then the rest of his comment died away, as he got a look at the painting. He knew immediately it wasn’t one of Vincent’s works - the brushstrokes were all wrong. Clumsy, perhaps a bit, but Vincent’s influence was there in the texture and colors. 

And it was -

He blinked, bemused. “Is this...King?”

“Yeah. Or well, it’s supposed to be, but I guess it obviously is if you could recognize it. Although I know the anatomy needs some work and the shading - golden fur is hard to get just right, and he wouldn’t hold still. I must have sketched him twenty times, I don't know how people work without photographs for reference." She was babbling, and he recognized the nerves eating at her in the way she worked the cloth between her hands over and over. “You weren’t supposed to see it until tonight though, after your birthday dinner.”

An awful, magnificent understanding dawned on him. “Did Vincent help you with this?”

“Yes, I...used to draw and paint a little back home, just as a hobby you know. And when Vincent reminded me it was your birthday soon, I couldn’t think of what to get you.” He watched with keen interest as a blush rose charmingly on her cheeks, spreading nearly to her neck as she went on. “But I know you love art, and you love King…so I thought maybe you’d forgive bad art if it was a subject you liked so much.”

"This is what you’ve been doing in his room the past few weeks?" A breathless sort of anticipation made itself at home, in the confines of his chest, as he asked the question he hoped he already knew the answer to.

She nodded, opening her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again.

"So you and Vincent aren't lovers."

"What?" She squeaked, her eyes flown wide with dismay. "No! Vincent and I? Why would I...I mean I can see why…" She trailed off, then found her footing again. "But no. Definitely not. I…"

She fumbled to a halt again, her eyes sliding up to meet his before bouncing away, and he wondered if he was imagining the way her blush shaded from crimson to carmine.

"I see." He took a step closer, watching with amusement as she took a wary, answering one back. More rabbit than pup in this moment. He took pity on her, and turned to look over the painting. "Let's see this closer then."

He made a show of pulling his ever-present magnifying lens from a pocket, bending to examine the work up close. His initial assessment had been right - sloppy strokes, the color muddied in a few places, the perspective just faintly off. And yet…

And yet...the warmth squeezing in his heart whispered what he already knew. It was the best painting he'd ever seen, flaws and all. 

Because it was hers.

Because she'd made it for him.

He straightened, clearing the sentimental knot from his throat. "Your composition could use some work. The shading, too. But…" A smile ghosted across his lips, as he reached out to tousle her hair gently. "It's a good painting. You've got some talent, hondje."

"You like it?" Her mouth rounded into a surprised o, and he had to stifle the urge to shout how much he loved it.

"Yeah. It's not bad, not bad at all." He smirked at her. "Although King elevates any scene, right? And you clearly have a good teacher."

“The best,” she agreed. 

His hand was still atop her head, fingers snared in the soft strands of her hair as he looked down at her. Suddenly and acutely aware of the small space between them and the upturned tilt of her face - her pretty mouth just begging to be sampled.

It was his birthday. Maybe he would be forgiven for wanting to give himself one gift.

“I like it. A lot.” He murmured, and that fetching blush rose on her cheeks again. “But I can think of something else I’d like for my birthday too.”

“You can?” She frowned, her lips pursing adorable. “What?”

And that little moue was all the impetus he needed to lean down and cover her lips with his, swallowing down her small sound of surprise. His arms coming around her body as she stiffened, only to feel her melting against him moments later.

“Happy Birthday, Theo,” she managed, when he’d drawn back to take a breath. Her fingers still clutching at his sleeves and her eyes alight with something he flattered himself was happiness. 

“Yeah.” He didn’t bother trying to smother his grin, just before ducking down to steal her lips again, stoking the slow blaze of a fire he knew would take all night - if not a lifetime - to burn itself out. “Yeah. It is now, isn’t it?”

~~~~~~

Thank you once again to @nan-chi​ for being an absolute delight of a person - it was a pleasure and an honor to work with you! <3 I hope you all enjoyed our humble offerings to this sweet man!

[margridarnauds]

a@fallenidol-453 and @any59

YOU ASKED FOR IT. 

So, first off: Let’s start off with a story. I’m in my flat in Ireland, doing....Celtic Studies things. Namely, looking at Quinn’s workbook, flipping between it and Strachan’s paradigms, crying. Okay, not really crying, more “knitting my brows and scribbling furiously, because WHY is this language like this?” 

My housemate comes in with a friend of hers. We have the usual smalltalk, you know “What do you do here?”  “Oh, Celtic Studies.”  “Celtic Studies!” *I tense as I prepare for the inevitable “So, do you have any family.........” question* “Well, we just so happen to be fluent in Irish!”

Now, this is much rarer than a lot of people would think in Ireland, because the Irish education system is.........shit when it comes to teaching Irish. I literally never had someone in Ireland tell me, “Oh, I LOVED studying Irish! It was my favorite class!” And the more someone loves the Irish language, the more that they generally hate how it’s taught. So, I’m like “Oh, cool! Here’s what it looked like a thousand years ago!” and I show off my paradigms, going to the first page, which is the section on definite articles. 

There’s this moment of silence as she looks at it, HER eyebrows knitting just like mine were a few minutes ago. “Is that....Latin? It looks like Latin.” 

Now, there are two options with this story: One is that she was lying through her teeth about knowing Irish fluently in order to impress the naive American. Problem with that is that, of course, you risk being called on it. BUT the second is what I’m going with, namely that the language has changed a lot more than people generally think it has. (There’s about the same period of time between Old Irish and Modern Irish as there is between the creation of Beowulf and the present day. Imagine trying to read Beowulf without knowing ANY Old English and you’ll see the problem straight away.) This is actually a problem, because a lot of the time, people will see foreign-born Celticists writing in Old Irish/Middle Welsh/etc. and instead of thinking of us as professional scholars who are taking advantage of a dead language in order to send what are essentially very niche memes (not necessarily even “meme” in the sense of joke), they think “Oh! The dumb foreigner’s mangling the language! So funny!” 

...and yes. This has happened to multiple people I know, including myself. It’s annoying. 

So, how much has the language changed? There are essentially five stages of the language that we are able to trace: Primitive Irish, Old Irish, Middle Irish, Early Modern Irish, and Gaeilge/Modern Irish + Proto-Celtic which is the sort of shared ancestor between all the Celtic languages and the reason why some of these words are confusingly familiar and my brain needs about twenty minutes to reboot when I’m going in-between Middle Welsh and Old Irish. 

Going back to our friend, the definite article: In the modern language, there are two forms of the definite article, as you’ll learn in your very first lesson on Duolingo: An (singular) and Na (plural). You can see this reflected all over the place, probably most obviously in the names for instutions like “An Post” (the post office) and An Garda Síochána (The Guard of the Peace, the police force). 

In Old Irish? There were multiple forms of the definite article, and they had to agree with the gender, person, and case. In the Middle Irish period, those distinctions gradually fall away, becoming even pronouned in the Early Modern Irish period, leading to the language as we have it in the modern day. 

Some other changes: 

- Loss of deponents. Old Irish used to have a system that was like the deponent verbs of Latin, where you had words that LOOKED passive, but were active in meaning. As time went on, they totally dropped those, taking different approaches to how to deal with the old deponent verbs. (Sometimes they’d use, say, the verbal noun form AS the verb, sometimes they’d apply deponent endings to verbs that hadn’t been deponents before.....it’s a mess.)

-Loss of the neuter gender. Gone entirely, save for a few fossilized examples, though with some efforts to bring it back in some form in the interest of non-binary people. In the time of Old Irish, however, there was a full neuter gender, complete with a neuter article. 

- The loss of declensions. “BUT,” you might say, if you’ve studied Modern Irish, “Modern Irish HAS declensions!” And you’d be right! It does! Five, in fact.  .......Old Irish had thirteen. 

What happens over time is that people look at all those declensions and are like “That is an ASSLOAD of declensions, let’s simplify!” And so they start treating some declensions like they’re another declension, so the number of declensions goes down over time as the others all get sorted into new categories. 

Also, the categorization is different. In the modern language, you just hear that the declensions are decided by the endings, which.....is probably one of the reasons why so many people hate learning Irish, because it seems arbitrary, when, in reality, it isn’t. In Old Irish, we actually go back even FURTHER in time, to Primitive Irish (which ended around the 7th century) and, even further back in time, Proto-Celtic, because that is where the declensions actually come from. Irish used to look quite like Gaulish or Latin, with similar endings - “Fer” was “viros”, which became “viras”, “ingen” was “enigenā”, which became “inigena”, “rígain” was “rígainí” in the Proto-Celtic, “athair” was “ɸatīr” in the PC, “túath” was “toutā”, “Día” was “Dewos”........etc.

That’s why “fer” and “Día” are both o-stems, despite looking almost nothing alike, it’s why they behave the same way - They shared the same endings back in the day. That’s why we call them o-stems in the first place, it isn’t because of what’s IN them, it’s what used to be in them. 

“Ingen” is an a-stem for the same reason. 

“Rígain” is an i-stem. 

“Athair” is a r-stem. 

There’s METHOD to the madness, I promise. 

- There’s a loss of distinction of sounds - Old Irish was very strict on “This is spelled with an A and THIS is spelled with an O and those are TWO DIFFERENT SOUNDS.” Middle Irish was like “Eh? Let’s make it a general “schwa” sound.” So the spellings vary a lot starting in that period, Early Modern Irish only adds to the confusion (a favorite Celticist Hobby is pointing out the sometimes flat-out *weird* Early Modern Irish spellings of Old Irish names because *oh, boy*), and by the time you get to the modern language, a lot of things are spelled quite differently from what you’d think. Some consonants also soften in their sounds - the preposition “Co”, for example, becomes “Go”, “ocus” becomes “agus”, etc. 

- Univerbation. Essentially, Old Irish had a LOT of compound verbs like do-beir, do-gni, at-tá, ad-cí, ro-cluineathar etc. And, in the modern language, “do-beir” becomes “tabhair”, “do´gní” becomes -“á dhéanamh”, etc. Essentially, they took what’s known as the protonic form of the verb, which is the version we would use following a conjunct particle like “ní”, which expresses a negative form of an action, and they made that the regular form of the verb. They were like “Nope, don’t want to handle it, not today, Satan.” And sometimes, those forms would evolve as well, so I could be looking at a verb in Early Modern Irish, go “that looks vaguely familiar” and then realize that it’s a VERY mutated form of an Old Irish word. 

- The ~copula~. So, the copula is....an alternative to the substantive verb used in certain circumstances, indicating a state of being. Which seems really....grammar-y, but all that really means is that it translates out to “is, am, are” in English. If you ever read any medieval Irish texts, you’ll notice a lot of syntax that’s like “Cold is the wind from Norway”, “It is not a good thing you have done”, etc. The reason is because, in the actual Irish, all this would have begun with a form of the copula. It was a VERY popular way of starting off a sentence, instead of the usual Verb-Subject-Object form. In the Old Irish period, the copula was inflected, meaning that, like the definite article, it changed depending on certain factors, namely person, number, and tense. “Am” would be “I am” (”Am rí” - “I am a king”) “At” would be you (sing.) are (“At gataige” - “You are a thief), “Is” would be “he/she/it is” (”Is lóech” - “He/She/It is a warrior”), “ammi” would be “we are” (”Ammi druíd” - “We are druids/magicians”).....etc. Now, once again, starting in the Middle Irish period, you have people going “............that is an ass-load of work, let’s just use the third singular and call it a day.” This is why, in Duolingo, you have to say “Is cailín mé” a thousand times. In the Old Irish period, you would just say “Am ingen”, but, with that loss of distinction of the copula, pronouns become increasingly important to the Irish language. Some of this was already present in Old Irish, with the 3rd sing. copula being used for the sake of emphasis, “It is I who takes Bres to the trash fire, where he belongs”, sometimes with an emphasizing pronoun for added drama, but it eventually gets to the point where the others are consumed entirely. 

- Independent pronouns also come into their own, being uniformly used after the copula, with the infixed pronouns that had been uniform going away. So, for example, if I wanted to say “I kill him” in Modern Irish, I would say “Maráim é” - if I wanted to say it in Old Irish, I would say “Nan-Marbu”, with the no being what’s known as a meaningless conjunct particle (it’s there to say “LOOK! AN INFIXED PARTICLE!”).

- A lot of the verb forms, like the nouns, get smushed together - There were at least three different forms of the preterite (in Modern Irish, known as the “Simple Past”) in Old Irish, in Middle Irish, the S-preterite gradually grows to dominate, to the point where now, there is only the simple past, with endings varying depending on if you’re talking first or second conjugation verbs. Likewise, the future tense goes from having five different categories of future tenses to being divided into first or second conjugation verbs in the present day. 

Overall, there’s more, there’s a lot more, but I think that you can get the gist. When I see primitive Irish, I’m like “Okay, it’s Old Irish - The Latin edition”. It looks WEIRD, but it looks OLD and, for the most part, fairly recognizable. We don’t see it that often, outside of an ogham stone, that’s why we make such a big deal when we do. Old Irish, I’m like “FRIEND....who sometimes scares me”, Middle Irish, I’m like “Okay, this is a bit weird, but I can understand most of it, especially if I’m reading an edition where the editor explains things”, Early Modern Irish looks, to me, like everything’s been tossed into a blender. I KNOW that some of the words look familiar, but it’s HARD and it kind of hurts my brain to stare at it for too long. Modern Irish actually looks better, because it’s streamlined, the spellings are consistent, etc., but it still looks......almost eerie, actually. It also shows in how these things are taught - If you’re in an Old Irish program, you’re taught Old Irish and Middle Irish; if you’re in a Modern Irish program, you’re taught Early Modern Irish and Gaeilge (or you’re expected to know Gaeilge off the bat.) And what should probably be mentioned is that, actually, there was likely only ever a brief period where “Old Irish” was actually spoken or written - Kim McCone pointed out in an article that, actually, in some of our oldest, most sanctified sources for Old Irish, the Wurtzburg Gospels, we’re already seeing traces of Middle Irishicisms. It’s likely that, among the general populace, they were already simplifying their speech, but that the scribes who wrote this stuff down, that literary elite, took a conservative approach to the language, essentially a medieval Irish Academie Francaise, and they tried to preserve the “pure” form, only to lose the battle as time went on and even they started using these forms of the language. It’s also why we put SUCH a massive emphasis on dating....(besides the fact that it’s the closest thing we can come to dating anything, *badum tss*): Scribes, along with copying old texts, would actually sometimes put older forms of the words in newer texts in the hopes of it looking older or more authoritative. There are some bardic poems in the 16th century that are actually EERILY good. Likewise, you have some scribes looking at an older text and being like “Oh, that doesn’t look how it should! I should fix it!”, only to drop a Middle Irishicism on an Old Irish verb. And sometimes a scribe will try to correct the correction and makes it even worse. We have to analyze the whole text, weighing all of it together to see when a text might have actually been composed. 

We talk a lot about how Irish has survived over the years in spite of everything, and that’s IMPORTANT, but I feel like it’s also important to say that it’s changed, it’s reinvented itself. It isn’t static and it’s never really BEEN static, and I think, my ongoing confusion aside, that that’s really important. I can’t translate an 18th century Irish text, at least not EASILY (even though I want to do my PhD on an Early Modern text so RIP me), but someone who got their PhD in 19th century Gaelic Literature also can’t translate Old Irish (and yes.....it has happened where people act like studying Irish literature = being able to “explain” Old Irish materials to me. Because, again, Dumb Foreigners Can’t Know What We’re Talking About) We’ve got to work together to get the fullest possible picture. The language had a past, it has a future. 

[lanonima]

First review of the new year! I also decided that once I hit twenty, I'll start a new graph because this one is getting pretty crowded. There's plenty of open space, but I'm not likely to read stuff in that open space so…

Anyway, my review of Copper Coins:

Romantic - Fucky is not how risque a work is but rather my opinion of the attitude/quality of the main relationship, the way the characters interact with respect to one another. I like a lot of stuff in fiction but if you’re easily made uncomfortable, stay towards the top half.

Easy reading - Plot-heavy is how I personally consider the plot’s intricacy and successful implementation, regardless of the author’s intention.

Copper Coins

Author: Mu Su Li

Quality: 5

Enjoyment: 4

Comments: Oof. I hate, absolutely hate, saying the phrase "show don't tell" about novels because it has to do with screenwriting and doesn't really apply to novels all that much but damn. This book was so surface level. I did not feel a single emotion the entire time. It actually reminded me a little bit of Nan Chan, and retroactively made me like that book better because I would definitely rather reread that than this. Not saying it's a bad book, I'm sure it's fine, and if you liked Nan Chan and want a relationship with a similar dynamic and are less of a bitch than I am, you will probably like this one too. It just doesn't have enough emotional depth to be entertaining to me.

Would I read it again: No, and I won't read anything else by this author either.

The reviews of things I previously read are below the cut.

Mo Dao Zu Shi

Author: MXTX

Quality: 9.5

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: I have a huge emotional connection to this novel. There are some weak parts, the tension isn’t quite even, she’s pretty terrible at erotic scenes and not great at fight scenes…but that being said, I love the characters and some of the plot points really ripped my heart out. This is a novel that’s really driven by the characters so if you’re a character-focused person like me, definitely look into it (as if we all don’t already know it lmao). I really, really love this story. Every single adaptation of it has also been great, but the novel is still my favorite. It was my introduction to xianxia novels too, so you can say it changed my life!

Would I read it again: I’ve already read it twice, and consumed every adaptation (sometimes also multiple times)

Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System

Author: MXTX

Quality: 6

Enjoyment: 5

Comments: I’m not much of one for comedy and, as I discovered, not really into system novels either. Clearly weaker than MXTX’s later work, many of the characters are somewhat bland, she hasn’t quite found her groove yet. It’s not my style but the fandom is hilarious and the fans constantly produce content that I actually do find entertaining so overall I still have some fond feelings for this one, even if not for the source material.

Would I read it again: I found a different translation and am willing to try again in the future, I’m also willing to watch the donghua. But I can’t guarantee I’ll like it any more than previously.

Tian Guan Ci Fu

Author: MXTX

Quality: 10

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: I love this book…but not as much as I love Mo Dao Zu Shi. I think the plot is somewhat typical, however the characters are great once again (though maybe slightly less deep than MDZS), and her use of thematic repetition and foreshadowing are killer. Actually, I liked this book more the second time around because it just hits differently. Definitely the best of MXTX’s couples, they are so soft and sweet. Very long, but worth it.

Would I read it again: I already have, was personally translating the manhua before I hurt my arms, and am eagerly awaiting the donghua this fall!

The Villain’s White Lotus Halo

Author: A Big Roll of Toilet Paper

Quality: 10

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: Fuck, I love this one so much…..even though it’s also a system novel. But that part is in it so rarely that it reads more like pure fantasy. I love the characters, I love the plot, I love the way the relationship is developing. Oh yeah, the translation isn’t even complete but I already purchased not only the original from JJWXC but also the print edition. I’ve even drawn fanart for it, which is so unlike me. Every time a chapter comes out, I’m ruined for the rest of the day, I can’t think about anything else. Good fight scenes, which is uncommon. My favorite danmei novel so far.

Would I read it again: I fully intend to once the translation is complete, and also plan to read it in Chinese later (I’ve already read certain parts in Chinese hahaha but not the whole thing)

2Ha (Husky and his White Cat Shizun)

Author: Meatbun Doesn’t Eat Meat

Quality: 8

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: 2Ha is not for the faint of heart, it’s very horny, and violent, and has a lot of questionable content. However I love it so much. The story and characters are great, Meatbun really has me by the heart. The writing is a little more on the casual side but it hardly matters because the story is so great. Good fight scenes. Chu Wanning is like, the ultimate Me™ character, I hate how much I adore him. If you read this, just go into it knowing that it’s a long emotional journey, the characters are very dynamic and there’s a lot of character development.

Would I read it again: Same as the above, I plan a reread when the translation is done and have read parts in Chinese and might read the whole thing again later. Cautiously eager about the up-coming live action and donghua.

Di Wang Gong Lue

Author: Yu Xiao Lanshan

Quality: 2

Enjoyment: 9

Comments: This is one of the most terribly written things I’ve ever read, but I’m a character girl and the characters and ways they interact fucking kill me. I’m constantly entertained….although I don’t think this is actually supposed to be a comedy. If I were going to treat myself and like, take a bubble bath and read something that made me laugh, this is exactly the sort of trashy romance I would want to read. Technically a political intrigue story but it’s so abrupt and full of holes, are any of us reading it for the actual plot? The donghua is on Youtube, I watched it first and recommend others to do the same. If you can handle that, you can handle the book because it’s exactly the same in quality, just gayer. I do love the main couple a lot, the set-up surrounding the relationship is great, and the side characters are also really fun.

Would I read it again: Probably not, but I’m still having fun with it. I watched the donghua and read a bit of the manhua as well, which has very cute art and is probably my favorite version of the story.

Liu Yao

Author: Priest

Quality: 6

Enjoyment: 7.5

Comments: I really struggled getting into this one, it took me about 25 chapters to get invested. Initially I had rated it a 6 in enjoyment but after careful thought, I realized that even though it was so hard for me, it probably is my favorite Priest novel and I really do love the main couple so much. Her side characters also seem to be slightly stronger than usual in this one. Decent plot, not too much or too little. It seems really chill to me, doesn’t provoke much of an emotional reaction but I do think it’s very sweet, which is nice sometimes too.

Would I read it again: No, but I think (?) it’s supposed to get some kind of tv adaptation (drama or donghua, not sure), and if that happens, I’ll watch it.

Didn’t Know the General was Female

Author: Rong Qing

Quality: 4

Enjoyment: 6

Comments: Not the greatest thing I’ve ever read, but cute. It’s short, and a little lesbian fluff is never a bad thing. Writing is a bit weak and the plot is basic, but the characters are enjoyable and I liked it overall.

Would I read it again: No.

Wrong Way to a Demon Sect Leader

Author: Yi Zhi Dayan

Quality: 4

Enjoyment: 7

Comments: Again, not the greatest in writing or plot, it’s a bit shallow. But I found the idea of it to be entertaining, and actually liked it more than I would have assumed. It’s fairly short and cute, like a good summer beach read.

Would I read it again: Probably not, but possibly, if the stars align.

Female General and Eldest Princess

Author: Please Don’t Laugh

Quality: 7

Enjoyment: 6

Comments: A very good first effort, but the writing is a bit weak. It’s slow to start and I don’t think the political plotline is spectacularly strong. Some things were left unexplained, and her sense of battle tactics and fight-writing were very confusing, definitely room for improvement. I don’t think it’s as good as people say, but she writes with the air of someone who will continue to improve. And also, a lesbian author writing lesbian stories so that’s a plus. Overall I enjoyed the experience, this story is definitely worth a read.

Would I read it again: Maybe, but probably not.

Sha Po Lang

Author: Priest

Quality: 7

Enjoyment: 7

Comments: Originally I rated this one higher, but on later thought I realized that I actually enjoyed Liu Yao more. I personally have issues with the way Priest writes, and this book showed a lot of them. Characters were okay, I did like the main couple, but side characters were weak as usual. The plot is pretty good, though not great, and I think some of the pacing is off. Some descriptions were confusing, but that could be a translation issue. Overall, still a pretty good political drama, but I would say that of the three I read, this was the Priest novel with the least impact on me.

Would I read it again: No. But I will watch the live action if it ever gets made.

Guardian

Author: Priest

Quality: 6

Enjoyment: 5

Comments: I love Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan, thought the plot was interesting, and there were some enjoyable moments. But it has all the problems I usually have with Priest in addition to some choices that offend me as a queer reader. I spent about 75% of the time reading while pissed off. And actually the fact that it had a happy ending kinda bummed me out because I love a good tragedy. Overall, I can only give it an average score. If you like Priest, you’ll like this one too. I’m not a tv person but I binged the hell out of the live action, I really loved it, so I was sort of disappointed that the source material didn’t seem as strong as I had assumed.

Would I read it again: No, but I will happily watch the live action again some day.

Jing Wei Qing Shang

Author: Please Don’t Laugh

Quality: 9.8

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: I have to start off by saying: damn girl. The improvement evident in this book is absolutely insane. A few minor issues prevent me from giving it a 10 out of 10 – her transitions are still extremely abrupt, the ending is slightly weak and some plot points remain unresolved, and her use of narrative repetition is too heavy-handed for my taste. Other than that, this book leaves me almost speechless. Very similar to Female General and Eldest Princess, there are many similar themes and events. But while I thought FGEP was fairly cute, I like this one way better. If you like angst, political intrigue, and lesbians, you should definitely read this book. I have no doubt that Please Don’t Laugh will continue to improve in the future, and I really look forward to following her career.

Would I read it again: 100%, I absolutely intend to read this again sometime in the future. It’s very long and very dense but delightful and ultimately worth it.

Fox Demon Cultivation Manual

Author: Feng Ge Qie Xing

Quality: 8

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: This was a delightful romp. I had expected it to be somewhat silly and was pleasantly surprised. It was heavy enough to be engaging but light enough to be an easy read, with multiple spots that made me literally laugh out loud which does not happen often. This is apparently just one book in a series of same universe novels, and a lighter-hearted one at that. I would be interested to read the others because I found the world pretty engaging, and I do want to know what became of the other characters. Overall I found it very fun and very cute, I read it in four days so that says something. On the downside, the link for chapter 9 is broken. But skipping a chapter doesn’t seem to have affected the experience of the novel as a whole.

Would I read it again: Yeah I think I would be willing to read this again someday. If it gets adapted I would also consume adaptations, in addition to being interested in the other connected works.

Golden Stage

Author: Cang Wu Bin Bai

Quality: 6

Enjoyment: 7

Comments: This one has some Sha Po Lang vibes, but the characters have more depth and chemistry. The word ‘more’ here is extremely relative because it’s still pretty shallow. I honestly liked them both, I liked the relationship and the psuedo-rude way that they flirt entertained me. As for the plot…ehhhh. It tried. There were things that worked, but in general the plot seemed disjointed from the characters and there were a few things that had no business being there and just muddied the waters. It’s not bad necessarily, it’s just not very smooth. There are better political intrigues to read if that’s what you want. But if you just want some sugar-sweet fluff with a backdrop of drama, then this one is perfect. My favorite scene was probably the flashback to the first few times they met, absolutely fantastic.

Would I read it again: Nah.

Nan Chan

Author: Tang Jiuqing

Quality: 8

Enjoyment: 6

Comments: This one is kind of weird because it’s definitely competent, it’s well-written and has a fairly in-depth plot, but I just didn’t really enjoy it all that much? I never got emotionally attached to any of the characters, and I didn’t even really get the relationship buildup. I understand what the author is going for with it of course, but it didn’t necessarily make a lot of sense… Or rather it seems like some bits in the middle were just missing, there’s good buildup in the beginning and in the end but how they got from point A to point B was kind of not explored to my satisfaction. I did really like the flashback to the past, I thought that storyline was all pretty interesting. The big bad was kind of disappointing to me as well though. In general, I think this is a really good book with a lot of skill behind it but it’s just not really my thing.

Would I read it again: No.

[harrys-reverie]

Dog Years // Harry Styles O.U.

Part 3: The Bookstore

a/n: hey everyone! welcome to part 3 of dog years. sorry it took so long on the update -- i just got back to college. i hope you enjoy this chapter!!! i personally consider it harry’s very subtle way of opening up to people (how i’d imagine it) as always like, SHARE, COMMENTS, feedback, all appreciated!!! xoo

STORY PAGE I PART ONE I PART TWO

To be fair I didn’t hear from Jeff or Harry for two whole days. I was starting to feel like they lowkey didn’t want me to be part of their ‘team’ anymore. I couldn’t be bothered even if they didn’t, because at the end of the day I worked for Eve, not them. But at the same time all I could do was sit and recollect about my night with all of them. Everything seemed to go so well, and i really thought they liked me. I liked them.

So since Eve figured my pay was now around the clock, if I wasn’t doing anything that I needed to do be doing something. It was just a bunch of menial tasks like picking up  garbage around the premises, scooping up vile dog shit and what not. Honestly, it kind of sucked. I rather be fetching candles and dropping them off to Harry.

But finally it was Sunday and it was my day off. A part of me wanted to go back to my nans house, stop in and say hi. Then I remembered Sunday’s were her brunch and bingo days and she went out with all her cute old lady friends. I was starting to feel extremely lonely.

So I was left to myself in my little cottage. It was pretty relaxing, but all the time cooped up in here was becoming boring and repetitive. And to think I had 4 months left of this. Just sitting in my bed scrolling through shopping sites putting tons of clothes in a cart I’d never get around to purchasing. Even being payed around the clock wasn’t enough to buy a whole new wardrobe.

So yes, I was starting to get a little antsy that I heard nothing from Harry or Jeff. I sneakily biked by Harry’s cottage multiple times to see if he was still there throughout the two days, and his car was still parked in the driveway each time. I hadn’t seen him even around the premises at all doing anything. Or anyone from his group for that matter. I tried to tell myself by the end of the first day that they were all just super hungover. I knew that was a stretch but it eased my mind. Then yesterday rolled around and I had no comforting excuses for why I hadn’t heard from them.

I expressed my worry to Eve and she insisted that they were probably just getting settled. Okay, I’ll take that. That’s got to be it, right?

As I continued to worry in my head about what may have gone wrong I reached for my phone. Nope, no messages. Fuck. This was quickly becoming a bad habit, constantly checking my phone. Bravely I pressed Jeff’s contact, hovering my thumb over the call option. Should I try to reach out? Eh. Sighing, I locked the phone and tossed it to my side. If they needed me, they would act on it. I didn’t want to be a nuisance and bother any of them.

Focusing my attention back on my laptop I popped open a new tab on my Safari browser. I began typing his name, enter and then search.

Instantly an endless amount of brand new and just days old articles displayed across my screen. Harry Styles this, Harry Styles that. There was one recurring theme throughout all of these article titles though, a girls name - Camille.

“Camille Rowe, ex lover of musician Harry Styles states that he’s ‘overly jealous and begged her to stay when they broke up!’ Oh no, poor H. Read more here.”

“Apparently Harry Styles is a Freak in the Sheets! Ex Girlfriend Camille Rowe recollects on her sex life with the pop star in her new book ’Truth Be Told.’”

“Feeling bad about getting cheated on? Don’t feel bad,Harry Styles has been in your shoes too...his ex girlfriend opens up about the mistakes she made that ultimately led to the lyrics of Harry’s sophomore album, Fine Line.”

I couldn’t help but let out a gasp, all this couldn’t be true, could it? I exited out of the tab quickly, afraid to go on and read more of those terrible headlines. I honestly felt bad if all that was true, and if Harry’s ex girlfriend really did that, then I could only imagine how he might be feeling.

I could tell Harry really valued his privacy, why else would he be out here in the middle of nowhere in complete hiding? I thought back to him telling me how he had a disdain for California, I was now beginning to think she had some sort of connection to it. Poor Harry. Almost instantly I was feeling guilty, like I invaded Harry’s privacy by seeing all of those headlines. Imagining what the whole world most think and know of him right now is extremely unsettling. To bring up how he has sex and his most vulnerable moments and just like everyone know about it, it’s beyond fucked up.

Ting.

The world has a funny way of working making connections sometimes. Deep down in my gut I had a feeling it’d be Harry or Jeff who left me a text, it just had to be. Before I even reached my phone I saw the capital H, I knew it was Harry. Of course, he was texting me now, after I saw all that and felt so fucking bad. If he was any other person I’d ask if he wanted to have a nice chat, bring over some ice cream and wine and help him relax.

I wasn’t slow to swipe up on the message and see what he wrote.

‘Hiiiii Colette. Hope you’re well, it’s Harry. Have a huge favor to ask you whenever you get the chance. X”

Hah, he’s acting me for a favor as if I’m not getting paid to help him with whatever he needs. He’s too nice. I didn’t hesitate to start typing back.

‘Hi, Harry! How are you? I’ve been just well! As for the favor...sure anything :)”

Not even five seconds later my phone was vibrating and ringing at the same time, Harry’s name flashing across the screen. Ah, so he’s one of those people who have to make phone calls for everything. My hands felt like jelly as I went to accept the call. Even though we had a great night, him not talking to me for a couple days made me rethink how great that night might’ve actually been. Maybe I was just super tipsy and thought it was amazing when it was just subpar.

“Hello?” I chimed, placing the phone to my ear.

His deep Americanized-British accent greeted me, “Morning Colette!” He sounded extra chirpy this morning.

“Harry! Haven’t heard from you in a while..” I replied nervously.

There was a small pause. “Sorry ‘bout that just keeping busy and what not. I meant to text but, I was so preoccupied I forgot. ‘M sorry, won’t pull something like that again.”

My heart felt like it was being squeezed, my intention was never to make him feel bad but I could sense that I did. I wondered how stressful it was on him always being so kind to everyone, literally everyone. At all times of the day.  I had a feeling that most of the time he was putting on an act when deep down he was just having real human problems that he had to keep tucked away.

“Don’t apologize,” I rushed. “It’s fine, seriously. What’s up?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” He joked. I could hear his soft chuckle from the other line. “Sunday’s.”

“The most relaxing day,” I noted, it was true.

“Relaxing enough where I feel like I should take some time and start a book.”

Oh, fuck. There wasn’t much enthusiasm in his voice anymore. I had a feeling I knew where all of this was heading, and I didn’t like it.

“Any day is a great day to start a book,” I suggested trying to hide my nerves. The universe really was one giant head fuck.

“Actually the favor I was going to ask you,” Harry drawled, a slight tinge of hesitation is his voice. “I really want this specific book.”

Yep, this was his heading right where I thought it would.

“Ooo which one?” I questioned excitedly, like I didn’t know. I was really hoping he’d take me by surprise and say that new Twilight book or something.

“It’s called Truth Be Told. Actually, bet it’s sold out everywhere. Can’t even Amazon fuckin’ Prime it.” He laughed. Maybe he was taking this a lot lighter than I thought...?

“Y’ know what. I don’t need it. Um, do you have any book recs?” Harry rushed.

“If you want that book I’ll go out in town and look for it, but if not I do have some recommendations,” I offered.

“Okay, how ‘bout this? I’ll lend you my car and could you get me that uh, Truth book or whatever and also, get me a book you recommend for me and I have one I recommend for you.”

“You trust me in your car? I just only started to learn to drive on the opposite side of the road,” I admitted with a smile, not like he could see it.

“If ya crash my car, I wouldn’t even try coming back...avoid the wrath of Harry Styles at all costs,” He countered.

“Uh-oh I’m scared,” I fake gasped.

“Hm, should be. I’m not like the papers say, ‘m actually a real diva.”

I was starting to really like this conversation.

“A lot of work, huh?”

“You think you can handle it?”

It’s like I could hear his smirk through the phone. This conversation went really, might I say flirtatious, really fast. I knew it was just his personality and I shouldn’t over think it. But if there is one thing I loved in life, it was a good flirt. And Harry, he was good at it.

I must have been zoned out for a moment because I heard Harry awkwardly clear his throat when I didn’t reply back to his flirtatious line.

“So ‘m gonna pick you up actually. We’ll go back to mine and then you can head off to get those books? Sound good?” He spoke into the line.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

“See ya soon.”

With a click, the call was finished. As much as I wanted to sit back and recollect on what the fuck went down in that call I knew I needed to get out of bed and make myself presentable. He didn’t give me an ETA so I assumed I didn’t have much time on the clock.

I ran to my overflowing duffle, with all the time on my hands I really needed to get around to unpacking it. Was it bad that I wanted to try to look a little more dressed up than just jeans and a tee?

Yep, it was probably bad because I shouldn’t care how I look in front of him.

“Ugh!” I exclaimed, rummaging through all the wrinkled clothing. I settled on black jeans and a black blouse. It looked a bit funeral-esque, I’m hoping it came off as chic. I’d look like a rag doll next to him anyway, the least I could do was try.

He really wanted to go and get his ex girlfriend’s book, huh? I don’t know why he’d want to do that to himself, either way I was going to play dumb as rocks when he gave me the list of the name and author of the book. It’s not entirely an act though, I just read a few headlines. Correction, I just google searched his name and scrolled throw a bunch of headlines about how you have sex and cry — how terrible that would sound if he knew it was true. I will be taking that one to the grave with me.

I swore not even 5 minutes had passed by and the purring of Harry’s engine was already echoing through my house. He was only up the hill after all, but he gave me absolutely zero time to fix myself up. I just had to suck it up and go out there with my frizzy hair and oily skin and tough it out.

But that wasn’t even my biggest concern, my biggest concern was the fact I, a shit driver in the first place, was now being trusted to drive Harry’s extremely fancy Range Rover to a book store of some sorts somewhere. As soon as we traded off the car my plan was to start Google mapping a place and praying that it was close. The quicker I’m in and out of that vehicle, the better.

My phone pinged.

Harry.

“Should’ve gone to the bathroom before I left. Can I come in for a quick wee? X”

I just couldn’t get a break, my bathroom was cluttered with skincare products and dirty clothes piling on the side. I ran to the bathroom swiping up the dirty clothes and tossing them in an empty drawer in the dresser. He’ll just have to excuse all my beauty products, I didn’t want to keep him waiting too long.

“Come in!!!” I texted him back.

The sound of a car door slam was almost instantly followed by a polite knock at my door. Although the cottages were spread far apart I rushed over to the door, not wanting him to stay outside too long, afraid he might get noticed.

I peered through the peephole and was blessed by the handsome looks of Harry. He was tapping his foot against the cobblestone, the hood of his Nike rain jacket pulled over his head completely, while his hair was covered by a black beanie. Even being so covered up he was still so good looking. I opened the door for him, allowing him inside.

“Hi there,” He grinned as I welcomed him in. I’d love to chat but ‘m actually bout to wee my pants. Give me a moment please.”

Harry then fast walked his way over to the bathroom, obviously familiar with the floor plan. He must’ve stayed in one of the smaller cottages before. The smell of his heavenly cologne suffocated the room instantly. I knew I’d still be smelling it lingering in the air even later on tonight.

All the rushing to get ready and let him in, I wasn’t even focused on my stomach which was knotting like crazy. It felt like it could explode from nerves at just any minute. I don’t remember ever feeling this nervous when I had to see him. Granted I’ve only seen him those two times, but I played it off so cool then. I think I was just working myself up over nothing right now.

I heard the sound of running water and momentarily the steps of his shoes making their way back over to me.

“Can we redo the greeting?” He questioned with a big smile.

“Ok..”

“No, ‘m actually just going to pop outside, knock again and everything,” Harry insisted seriously.

“I’ll pretend like you didn’t just rush to the bathroom like a toddler who hasn’t gone to the bathroom all day,” I agreed, going along with his little act.

“Great.”

Harry popped open the front door, shutting it behind him and going back into the hazy morning air, doing a quick spin before making contact with the door once again.

Knock.

I couldn’t help but giggle as I opened up the door for him the second time.

“Morning Colette, how are ya doing on this fine September morning?” Harry asked me extra cheerily, creeping in for a hug. I embraced him back, the scent of his cologne engulfing my senses once again.

“Doing just fine Mr. Styles. Could I offer you some tea?” I asked in a proper tone, putting on my best imitation of a British accent.

Harry rolled his eyes, breaking the act...”That’s the best you got? You’ve only bloody been staying in England for a whole month.”

“Is it that bad?” I asked appalled.

“Terrible.”

“Better luck next time.” I sighed jokingly.

“Don’t even try. I like your voice just how it is naturally, anyway,” He spoke honestly. The second it left his mouth he too looked taken aback at the compliment he had just thrown at me.

“Want to go get those books?” I suggested awkwardly, dismissing his compliment and changing the topic. Back to business.

Harry seemed surprised by how I brushed it off and maybe even a little embarrassed, his finger began fiddling with his bottom lip. I was starting to pick up that was a little thing he did when he was nervous.

“The books. How could I forget,” He replied dully.

“If i’m being honest I don’t even know where a book store is around here,” I huffed.

“I do,” He smirked.

“Well that’s no help considering I’m going by myself,” I rolled my eyes back at him playfully.

Harry was leaning his body weight on the wooden table by the entrance, a huge smirk painted on his face.

“Guess you’re outta luck then.”

“Would it be bad if I asked for you to come with and guide me?” I asked bravely. I was taking myself by surprise with how upfront I was being towards him. It was just so hard not to be when he was just so normal.

His face dropped a little. I couldn’t tell what sort of reaction he was feeling towards my question but he looked upset. I instantly regretted it because I know my request was about to be rejected.

“As much as I’d love to...” Harry began. “I can’t.”

“Stupid of me to ask,” I replied casually brushing it off. I wanted to change the topic.

“No, it’s not. Maybe I’m better off ordering books online, anyways.”

“I mean, I could still, go get it for you. Something to do.”

Harry brushed it off, shoving his hands in his sweat pockets. “Nope, don’t want you to anymore..the ratings weren’t even that good.”

Oh wow, Harry has some pettiness in him. I couldn’t blame him though. I think anybody else would feel the same way. I wanted to just reach out and tell him I knew why he wanted that book, and that it’s not even worth a bother. I really felt for him. I too had a bad ex, as we typically all do. I can’t say it was as bad as Harry’s past relationship, but mine was bad in it’s own unique way.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled before turning his gaze back towards me. “Let’s go get them books.”

I was surprised, “Really?”

“I hate to do this and act like a macho pop star  but ‘m really gonna have to go incognito. Can’t even step out the car with ya unfortunately, but I’ll drive us.”

My heart warmed at his offer, I knew he was probably going against what his strict hiding rules were in order to go through with this. If he was just driving a heavily tinted car though, was there still a way for paparazzi to notice him? I was excited, I think he could tell because he let out a small giggle, shaking his head.

“Let’s hit the road then!” I exclaimed.

“After you,” He grinned, holding the door open in front of me and leading me to his car.

_________________

The ride with Harry was going well. He had a incognito get up of sunglasses, a beanie and his hood up, making sure there was no way someone could detect it was him. His car smelled like fresh leather and mint, there was an abundance of chewing gum packets stashed in the front compartment of his car along with miscellaneous receipts. Lucky for the both of us, the roads were almost completely clear and there was no traffic heading into town.

Harry was just as attractive looking while driving as I thought he would be. To be fair there was something so enticing about having any guy drive all manly and taking control. But especially Harry driving was a beautiful sight to see. The background music of the radio was humming in the background as the two of us chatted along casually.

“How are you going to recommend me a book if you can’t even come in?” I questioned him.

He turned to me, “Who said I’m not coming in?”

“You did!”

“Might just be your lucky day then,” He smirked. “Do you have a good recommendation in mind for me? Shall we surprise one another?”

I nodded my head, “Sounds like a plan.”

“No soppy romantic books, please,” He scoffed.

“But those are my favorites!”

“Don’t care. I’ve probably read all the best of them anyways,” Harry argued back, a huge smirk painted on his face.

Deep down I knew already which book I was going to pick out for him if it was there. I didn’t care if it was a romantic one or not because I had a feeling he hadn’t read it yet and I had an ever greater feeling that he’d fall in love with it.

The two of us went back and forth chatting to each other another until we began to reach a cobblestone path that led to a small selection of shops. The plaza was secluded and had just a few small buildings overgrown with ivy unevenly placed amongst one another. I’d say there was a max of 5 or 6 cars in the whole parking lot. To be fair, we were pretty far out of town I’d say we had been driving for at least 20 minutes.

“You ready?” He questioned. I could tell there was a hint of nerves in his voice. He was awkwardly fiddling with his wallet and pushing his hood down. He was now just left with his oversized black beanies and sunglasses as his ‘disguise.’

“Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to,” I insisted earnestly. I didn’t want to push him to be in a situation that could get messy really quick.

“I’ll be fine here,” Harry reasoned, turning his gaze to the entrance of a little shop by the name of ‘Greg’s Books and More.’

“If anything goes bad, it wasn’t my fault!”

I didn’t want to be responsible for anything that might ensue, after all Harry was the one who insisted to walk in the shop with me. I had a good feeling that we’d be set though, there was literally nobody around and we were far from any major city with large amounts of people.

The two of us hopped out simultaneously shutting the car doors together. Walking side by side with him in the bright daylight made me more aware of the height difference between us, one I had barely ever noticed before. His single strides were equivalent to almost double mine and his shoulders were just a slight amount higher than my eye level.

“Good morning!” A sweet old man, short and stout greeted us from behind a counter of the shop. Harry and I both waved back.

“Morning sir, how are ya doing today?” Harry asked kindly, stopping short to stand and talk to the man.

“Just having a cuppa, enjoying the Sunday,” The man replied. “Let me know if you two kids have any questions.”

I shot the man another small smile before turning to Harry. “May the best book picker win?” I joked.

“You’ve got 10 minutes.”

“1...2..” I began counting down, but before I could even reach the number three, Harry was already rushing to the rows of books, an agenda already on his mind. He seemed so confident in what he was going to pick that I soon began to re think what I was going to choose for his book.

I hurriedly rushed to the other side of the bookstore, scanning the shelves with my eyes. The shop was small and I could hear Harry rummaging through shelves on the opppsite side. I had 10 minutes to find the book I had in mind, something I loved that I wanted to pass on to Harry.

The thought of trading off books to someone who a very intimate gesture, an invitation to be apart of another’s brain. I still couldn’t believe I was here right now with Harry Styles, a now friend, spending my Sunday out and about the town. I knew it was my day off but I knew when I arrived back to my cottage I’d want to inform Eve.

As my eyes panned over the endless covers and names of authors and titles a familiar bright blue and green cover popped up. Ah, I knew what this was. Before I had even fully removed it from the shelf, the yellow cursive script was already showing.

Love is a Mix Tape.

Given his career in music I knew right away this would be the perfect book for him. I had read it months ago, but the impact it left on me remained the same. A story not specifically circled around romance, but hints at the struggles of love and loss. It was funny and a joy to read.

I looked over the book making sure there were no imperfections, torn pages or bent covers. Luckily there was none, I angled it to my side hiding it just in case he’d pop out of of nowhere.

Walking up to the cash register there was no sign of him, he was probably still amongst the jungle of books so I took this as my invitation to check out.

“Hi,” I chirped to the old man who sat behind the desk, his glasses almost falling off his face as he read through the book in front of him.

“Hello there love, you all set?” He asked, walking over to the vintage-like cash register.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I put the book down between us already beginning to reach in my purse for my wallet. I really hoped Harry hasn’t read this one yet.

“Can I just give you money to cover both my book and the other customers? Like, pass it on..” I spoke handing the man almost triple the amount of my single book. He looked at me inquisitively and then began to smile.

“I’m sure that young man will appreciate it,” He smiles, a glimmer of knowingness in his eyes.  I knew the gesture was small and i knew money was not a problem for him but I had such an urge to just do it anyways.

I thanked the man as he wrapped up the book and placed it in a brown paper bag, graciously taking it from him. Harry was still amongst the jungle of shelves and I didn’t want to prowl or cause attention so I decided to wait outside the store. The air was fresh and crisp, the sound of chirping birds and whistling trees engulfed my senses. I’m almost sure Harry had reached his 10 minute mark, but I wasn’t going to rush him. I had a feeling it was a rare occurrence for him to be able to aimlessly shop around, crowd free.

“Ya ready?” His voice erupted behind me, the bell of the door pinging in the quiet air. I turned to face him, his paper bag tucked underneath his arm.

“Not really,” I joked, it wasn’t a complete lie though. I wouldn’t mind shopping around with him in little hideaways all day. Harry caught up to me and we began the short walk back to his car in quiet. As my hand began to reach the handle he quickly swooped in front of me, opening it himself. I looked at him with a stupid look on my face, in awe of a gentleman.

“Oh thanks,” I spoke sheepishly.

“My pleasure.”

I hopped in and moments later Harry was back in the drivers seat beside me pressing the car on and pumping up the heat.

“Thanks, by the way.” He gestured to the paper bag.

“Oh, not a problem at all! Random acts of kindness or whatever,” I brushed it off.

“Not used to someone covering the bill,” He admitted. “Not like that type of stuff matters to me.”

“Well don’t even worry about it.”

“I’ll get you back next time,” He noted.

Next time. So there’s going to be a next time? A next time of us going to the book store? A next time of us hanging out? A next time of what?

“Should we swap these books or what?” I questioned, changing the topic once again.

“So eager, huh?” Harry laughed.

“Well we’re just sitting here in a empty parking lot, you have any other suggestions?”

“You’re right,” He quipped. “Here you are then.”

The two of us exchanged the bags. He lifted it to his ear, shaking it as if it was a surprise gift and he was trying to guess what it could be.

“Just get on with it!” I exclaimed.

“Hush, hush.” He began opening it, very carefully, soon revealing the book I had chosen for him.

“Lucky for you, I’ve never read this. Thank you,” He seemed very grateful as he looked over the front cover, going back and forth between the pages quickly. “I’m excited.”

“Thank God,” I huffed. “I was nervous you’d have read it before.”

“Nope, never. You did good,” Harry compliments, his eyes falling back to my unopened bag in my hands. “Now it’s your turn.”

Oh, yeah.

“I hate when people watch me open stuff,” I admitted. My hand was toying with the bag as I looked at him nervously. I didn’t like people watching me because I was afraid that I wouldn’t give off the right reaction to whatever they may have given me. It was too much pressure, and especially Harry watching me so intently it made me nervous.

“Want me to turn away?” He offered earnestly. “I know people like that, my sister.”

“Maybe just like causally look out the car or whatever.”

Immediately he began fiddling with his windshield wipers, intently focusing on them as if they were some sort of puzzle. I wanted to tell him not to use them when it wasn’t raining and it’d damage the car, but I’m sure he knew that. I took that as my queue to quickly unpack-age the book, afraid he might cause damage.

When I opened it up it revealed not one but two books. The one on top made my heart sink, I recognized the title right away. It was his ex girlfriends book. Why would he give this one to me? Should I act like I know what it is and what it’s about? No. Play dumb. Underneath it though, was a book by the name of ‘Betting On The Muse’ by Charles Bakowski. Ah, poetry.

“You done yet slowpoke?” Harry interrupted  my thoughts, the two books sat between my lap.

“You can look,” I complied. “Are they both for me?”

“Yes,” He replied simply. “But, I have some stipulations.”

“This wasn’t a part of the deal.”

“I would like if you read the Bukowski book first. It’s poems, I want you to read them and guess which one is my favorite when you’re finished,” He instructed sweetly. Although there was direction in his tone, it came off so kind. “As for the other one..” He paused and then let out a huff.

“I don’t even want you to touch it,” He continued. “Don’t look it up, reviews, synopsis...anything.”

“Okay,” I agreed. I was confused but I didn’t want to let that on.

“One day, if I give you the ‘ok’ I want you to read it. If you want. You don’t have to listen to me by any means, but yeah,” He finished awkwardly.

“So just hold onto it?” I asked, holding up the Truth Be Told book. His eyes glimpsed down to it before quickly shooting back up to meet my gaze. The cover was what I was assuming to be her, his ex. Her hair was messy, lips full, topless with her arms covering her breasts in shades of black and white.

“Yeah, just hold on to it,” He stated.

“You’ve got my word,” I smiled. I could feel the tension in the car and I didn’t want it anymore. This was supposed to be a lighthearted excursion and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Great, well thank you for the books. I’ll start mine right away,” Harry began as he started the car once again. “You ready to take back off?”

I nodded watching him look over the book I had gotten him one last time. He smiled at it before turning to smile towards me. I smiled back. He then brought his hand to the radio, clicked a few things on his iPhone and then turned the notch up loudly. As he began to pull out of the cobblestone parking lot, the beautiful sound of his voice filled the car. This time it was in song.

[punkscowardschampions]

Jude & Ali

Jude: Hey

Jude: can I stay at yours tonight? I need a sec to think

Jude: I don’t know how I’m gonna tell mum & dad or anyone how badly I’ve fucked up

Ali: Of course you can

Ali: but should I expect 🚓/🚑/🚒 to follow closely behind?

Ali: not sure which ranks highest on the bad scale so give me a clue

Jude: it’s not like that, I’d take it over how it is but

Ali: Ah, that kind of fuck up

Ali: You can go to mine now, I’m not in yet but you have your key and god knows how many cats will keep you company whilst you think

Jude: bus ride’s 👍 for it & they’ve probably seen worse

Jude: you can’t really see owt yet to look at me & maybe there won’t be anything to see anyway

Jude: might be it’s a mistake, I did or read it wrong idk

Ali: Oh bus drivers are the masters of seeing and not saying a thing

Ali: Opposite of taxi drivers in that regard, which if you’re after quiet contemplation is welcomed

Ali: If you need a listening ear however

Ali: How many periods have you missed, love?

Jude: 2 but that don't have to mean

Jude: it can mean loads of things & tests can be wrong, right? I only did the one

Ali: False positives are rare but not totally impossible

Ali: You’re not on any medication that could interfere, UTIs, kidney or ovary issues can but again you’d know beforehand

Ali: Chemical and ectopic pregnancies, maybe

Ali: That leaves user error, sometimes when the urine evaporates it leaves a very faint line that can be confused for a positive on a test that shows 2 lines, was that the kind you did? The timing is important but it’s more likely you’d get no result or negative, as you know

Jude: NOT comforting rn nan!

Ali: No, probably not

Ali: I don’t think that kind of lie is comforting for very long if at all either but we can sit in it whilst it is

Jude: it's already not when I know you're right & that means so's this test

Ali: I’m sorry about that

Ali: what would be comforting right now then?

Jude: just tell me what to do

Ali: In the long run or in telling your mum and dad?

Jude: obviously you can't tell me what to do in the long run

Jude: I can't even think that far ahead when this doesn't feel real

Ali: it’s too big for you to get in, what, an hour, less

Ali: it won’t feel real for a while yet, that’s alright

Ali: You can keep this to yourself for as long as you need, I won’t tell anyone, or bring it up again if you don’t want to talk about it after this

Ali: There’s no way telling won’t be scary, and really hard

Ali: but it shows that you care, about them and what they think, the fact you are scared

Ali: and you know they love you

Ali: even if it’s as disorientating for them as it is for you right now, or even a fraction of that, they will come around to supporting you and being there for you

Jude: I can't avoid mum forever & I'd have to for her not to work it out

Jude: she's always sussed any secret I've tried to keep

Jude: it's scary that this happened to me when I'm so careful

Jude: Toby takes the piss about how paranoid I am

Jude: God, how am I gonna tell him?

Ali: It’s unfair

Ali: and rarely talked about how not foolproof contraceptive is, whatever the method

Ali: That’s at least easier, he knows what you’ve been up to

Ali: though I’m sure he’ll feel as baffled and duped as you do

Jude: we're not like Jac & Sav, he's gonna hate me for this

Ali: It’s a very new relationship

Ali: but if he doesn’t want to be with you, do you think he’ll at least support you, in whatever you choose?

Jude: Yeah

Jude: but he can't support me that much, I need mum & dad

Ali: Of course you do

Ali: and you can tell them, whenever you’re ready

Ali: there’s no words but the facts, that’s all you can say

Jude: idk how I'll get my head round this

Jude: I'm not ever gonna be ready to tell them I ruined everything like this

Jude: it's exactly what I said to Jac I wouldn't let happen

Ali: You can’t control these things to that degree

Ali: it was an accident, right?

Ali: nothing needs to be ruined, everything is salvageable

Jude: that's not gonna calm anyone down though

Ali: No

Ali: do you want the truth on how likely a calm response will be?

Ali: their immediate response, anyway, that’s hard

Jude: maybe I'll just get rid of the baby without telling them, Toby won't say anything & you could go with me

Ali: We could do that

Jude: I'll 🗨️ to him but then

Ali: Good idea, once you’ve done that, get back to me

Jude: Don’t worry, I know all about the different types & when they do it, I won’t leave it too long before I speak to him

Ali: Good stuff

Ali: The pills are considered preferable, I’ve been told

Jude: I wanna do it in person but even if I talk myself out of seeing him a few times before I go ahead with it we’ll still have time to get them & do it at yours

Ali: Of course, as long as you’re aware of how long you have, then you can take the time you do have to do it as well as you can, with the minimum amount of stress instead of the absolute max that comes with the blind panic

Jude: Thanks nan

Ali: No need to thank me

Jude: there is, for not having a go like everyone else would’ve if I’d told them

Ali: It seems you already feel bad enough

Ali: and it’s not my place to judge, not to mention I can’t see it would do any good, or not as much good as, hopefully,

helping you will

Jude: I’m not sure if I feel enough of anything but I just found out, I guess

Ali: Shock’s pretty standard, it’ll come

Jude: when?

Ali: that isn’t on the clock

Ali: the more you think on it

Jude: rude, I’d like to still be in shock when I have to talk about this again, if I had any say, like

Ali: good luck 😏

Jude: no stretch to say I've got 0 rn

Ali: You’ll be okay

Jude: will I?

Ali: Yes

Ali: I promise

Ali: Whatever you do and whatever happens, you’ll get through it

Jude: is crying on a bus stage 1 of getting through it or am I fucking this up already?

Ali: If you aren’t crying on a bus at least once in your life you aren’t really living

Ali: but seriously, that’s very much the normal response

Jude: good timing to have really lived before my life's over

Ali: Your life isn’t over

Jude: it might as well be cos it's not gonna go back to normal

Jude: whatever I do

Ali: you feel like that now, you won’t always

Jude: idk nan, that sounds super fake

Ali: I obviously did it one way, but I know people who did it the other

Ali: we’re all alright, pretty much

Jude: okay I'll choose to believe you're not just saying it to make me feel better

Ali: Obviously I would, that’s my job

Ali: but I also mean it so do believe me

Ali: is there anything you need that you won’t be able to find at mine?

Jude: what like the bravery to 🗨️ to my boyfriend & parents or?

Ali: I’m sure I’ve got some alcohol lying about

Ali: but not my recommendation so 🤫 on that or your mum will be really mad at me

Jude: I can't drink

Jude: that's literally the 1st thing they tell you not to

after 🚭

Ali: I was kidding, sweetheart

Ali: poorly timed, perhaps

Jude: YOU might be but I'm not NOT considering it as a 💡

Jude: I'm in the worst trouble so

Ali: you wouldn’t be the first

Jude: I don't mean that it's just

Jude: Toby's got the 1 track mind, why isn't he crying on a bus & having to break the news to me?

Jude: I don't wanna have to do this

Ali: You can’t worry about ruining his peace

Ali: of course you don’t wanna have to do this, but you still

have to, you got into it together, the minimal is getting out of it together too

Jude: I know

Ali: If he’s worth his salt, he’ll give you that and not too much grief, you can share in it

Jude: He is

Ali: Glad to hear it 😌

Jude: can I bring him over when I wanna do it? I don't know where else we'd hang out that I can even hear myself speak

Ali: Yeah, ‘course

Ali: I can make myself as scarce or present as you need/want

Ali: it might be… not nice but what you want, to just be you two, once you’ve got to grips of how it will feel and what will happen, which we can work out beforehand

Jude: you're not gonna be there?

Ali: It’s up to you

Ali: I just need you to tell your parents first if you can

Ali: I don’t think it’d be great for me to go behind their back, as it were

Ali: If you really can’t, I could talk to them for you, but it’ll be best coming from you

Jude: you're right, it's my mess

Jude: I'll do it

Ali: I’ll be on the phone if you need backup

Ali: again, I won’t just turn up with you straight away, but you know I will come if you need if it’s not going well

Jude: it's not gonna go well, but I can't blame them, it's not great news

Ali: yeah

Ali: but you know, worse than you can handle

Jude: Yeah

Ali: you’re doing great so far

Jude: very funny

Ali: I can do better than that if I’m trying, come on

Ali: you are, there’s no better you can do really, given the situation

Jude: I've not done anything but a test & that didn't even go the way I wanted

Jude: nobody is gonna give me a 🏆

Ali: no

Ali: but you can give yourself the 🤏 bit of a break, there’s not anything you can do on that bus right now, so take that time

Jude: but what I said about wanting a sec to think was total bollocks, I don’t, what’s gonna happen next is too scary to think about

Ali: it’s just because it’s unknown, it’ll be a lot less scary when you understand what’s going to happen

Jude: I can’t do it

Jude: it shouldn’t be me making this massive decision

Ali: you can, and you will

Jude: you’ve forgotten how long it took me to pick between school subjects & I’m only really bothered about one of them

Ali: I didn’t say it’d be easy

Ali: you’ll either do it or the 🕑 will decide for you

Jude: how long did it take you?

Ali: Honestly?

Ali: I just did it, I can’t say I gave it much thought

Ali: I just knew

Ali: but I didn’t think about anyone else, honestly, and I’m not going to say that’s right

Jude: I can’t stop thinking about mum & dad

Ali: That’s a good thing

Jude: but then how am I gonna know I’m doing what I want instead of just what I know they want?

Ali: Those two things might look or be the same, if they’re that intertwined

Ali: but when it comes down to it, if you don’t want to do something, you won’t be able to do it

Ali: no one is forcing you, that’s the important thing, even if your parents and other people have ideas, no one will be insisting you do anything, so what you do, will be something you can live with

Jude: you’ve made it sound way simpler than it is but okay

Ali: I don’t fancy making things sound or feel any more complicated for you

Ali: it’s a big decision, one of the biggest, I know

Jude: he’ll help me make it though, like you said & then I’ll talk to mum & dad

Jude: it’s a plan

Ali: It is

Jude: what do you reckon I should do?

Ali: I can’t tell you what to do, what would be best for you, only you can work that out

Jude: yeah but you must have an opinion still

Ali: I don’t think it’s helpful to give it though

Jude: I care what you think, it’s obviously gonna be helpful to hear

Jude: especially cos you have experience of this exact thing

Ali: It’s just, I’m trying to say whatever anyone thinks won’t matter, truly, when it comes down to it

Ali: so all it’d do would be placing expectation or needless guilt

Ali: you’ll do what you have to do and I’ll be there regardless, and I’m happy about that, whatever you end up doing, okay

Ali: that’s all that matters

Jude: okay, okay, don’t tell me

Jude: I love you too

[type-it-outt]

It's strange without you here. I think I've finally accepted that you're gone, but the emotion of that acceptance is too heavy to feel. When I feel it, it doesn't feel like enough. No matter how heavy the sobbing, no matter how painful my chest and stomach feel, it still isn't representative of the actual emotions I feel at your loss. I just can't believe you're gone. And I'm not sure how I'm handling it. I feel too okay, but at the same time I feel devastated and like I didn't have enough time with you, and like I can't remember enough of you.

It seems unfair that you aren't here. It feels wrong. You loved life so much. Maybe not towards the end, because everything you loved and lived for was slowly taken from you. But that only makes it sadder. You were such a happy man, and it breaks my heart that on your last birthday you shed a tear. It breaks my heart that I couldn't see you because of covid. And it makes me angry that Nan couldn't. And you didn't understand why, and now we have to live with that. it kills me that I saw you go, in the living room hooked up to oxygen tanks with their consistent 'ca-thunk, ca-thunk' the only noise for hours whilst we were waiting by your bedside in the living room.

I never expected to see you die. I had nightmares about it for years, and somehow seeing it was still worse than I ever thought it would be. I felt numb for a long time. How long is it supposed to be before you are okay with the grief you carry? Because it seems to come in waves. Intense, crashing and rumbling waves. You were more than a granddad to me. I grew up with you and Nan. Life was hard at home, and I've only recently realised the extent of how bad it was at home.

Coming to your house was a joyous place, a loving place, a place where I could be myself and know what a peaceful household was like. I was there a lot as well. You were more than a granddad because it was you and Nan who I did all the 'growing up' stuff with. It was you I learnt spellings with, you I did homework with, you I played toys with and was creative with and played games with. It was you who gave me the fun and love of childhood, you who mentored and guided me through life whilst home was just arguments and tense-ness and emotional/intimate emptiness. You were a granddad, a father and a best friend all in one. Not a bad bone in your body. And I miss you so much. I wanted you to walk me down the aisle and hold my baby and see my business grow. I wanted to hear more of your stories and see you laugh until you stamp your feet and tears are streaming. I want the real granddad back, I want the version of you back before you got so ill for five years. I want your vigor for life. God, life just feels so futile now.

The fact that someone who worked as hard as you and experienced as much as you and LIVED as much as you and made such a big impression on everyone is just... gone? All of that life, all of that work, what was it for?

I know that sounds bleak, and the other side of me is saying that the point of it was exactly that - to live. To experience, to love, to make an impression and to love life. But I just can't get my head around the fact that you did all of that and were so loveable and important to so many people and now you're just gone. It all seems so empty.

Simultaneously, I've been struggling with the concept of time since you passed. It makes me extremely anxious, to the point that I can't get anything done because I'm worrying about it so much. I am constantly terrified of wasting time, and so I overthink what I am doing in every waking moment and, ironically, that is preventing me from living and causing me to waste time. I'm trying so hard to shake this feeling but I just can't seem to. Nothing seems important, and yet everything seems important. I am constantly stressed.

What do I want to do with my life? How do I get there? Is that a waste of time? Am I filling my time in the right ways? Is that really what I want to do? Maybe I should do something else instead? What is the right choice? Just constant thoughts and doubts and questioning myself whirring round my head. And why aren't you here. Why can't you be here. Why is life so cruel and yet so immensely amazing at the same time.

I miss you. And I know Nan does too. I hope she isn't sad underneath. I dread the day she is gone as well, because then the two most important people to me are gone, and I will be left only with the toxic family in my life. You are so much more than just grandparents to me, you're my source of comfort and safety in a turbulent life. Granddad, I love you.

[13-reasons-ideas]

Can’t Go Back Part 8

A/N: I apologize for the delay on this chapter. I had issues writing their second date. 

Our ice cream date on Wednesday was great. I didn’t realize Monty could be so… fun. He was kind of a goofball when he wasn’t with his friends. It started with a funny look when I asked for a spoon with my ice cream cone. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of an ice cream cone?”

“No, it mostly just makes it easier for me to steal bites of yours.” I teased.

“Oh-ho, I see. This date was all a ploy to get extra ice cream.” He smiled. I shrugged and scooped a bite of my chocolate ice cream. I licked it off my spoon and felt a smile spread across my face.

We walked around for a bit, making our way to the docks, where it was less populated. We aren’t hiding. It’s just easier to not have to explain whatever this is for now. Trying to be discreet when we found a place to sit, I leaned over and scooped a sliver off of his cookie dough ice cream off, quickly sticking it in my mouth. He pretended not to notice. I sat against a tree with my legs stretched out in front of me. I leaned on his shoulder while we watched the ducks in the lake. There was a baby duck that was straggling at the back and the mama duck was not having it. Montgomery laughed quietly when mama swam around to the back and seemed to give the duckling that look every mother gives their kids. With him distracted, I snuck another sliver of ice cream. Once again, he pretended not to notice.

My yellow dress had ridden up slightly and my knee was exposed. He placed his hand on it and squeezed absently. Soon after the duckling was given crap by mama duck, they hopped out of the water. They walked in a single file line around the shoreline. “Awe. They’re so cute.” I said more to myself than to anyone.

“They are. Danger Duck seems to have fallen in line.”

“Danger Duck?”

“Yeah. The one at the end.” Awe. He has a soul. I didn’t acknowledge that he named the duck. Instead, I decided to nick another bit of his ice cream and mix it in with a bit of mine. “My ice cream good Addy?”

“Mhmm.” I answered through my mouthful of ice cream. He laughed again. His laugh is so nice. “Very.” I said after finishing my bite. We had both gotten near the end of the cones, and it had begun to melt. I wasn’t sure if our silence was because we were comfortable or if we just hadn’t figured out what to talk about yet. Growing tired of the quiet, I leaned forward to stretch. I felt his eyes on my back and turned my head to peek back at him. He quickly looked away and pretended he wasn’t looking. I shrugged and turned my head back. Soon after, I could feel his eyes on me again. I turned again, catching him watching me. I stuck my tongue out at him and he smiled. His smile is so nice. I wish he did it more.

Finally, the silence was broken when I leaned back again. “How did your English paper go?” he asked.

“It was okay. I read The Book Thief for fun a couple of summers ago. It made it easier to find the literary devices and things, so I didn’t have to hunt through the book again when I was done reading it while I wrote.”

“Did you get the grade you wanted?”

“Yeah. I could have done better but it wasn’t like I did bad or anything. How was your physics test?”

“It was okay. Mr. Brown tests fairly easily though so that isn’t surprising.”

“I cannot explain how glad I am that I don’t need to take physics. I hated the physics unit in science class. I’m much more of a chemistry or biology person.”

“It’s not really that bad. He can at least make it interesting.”

“I guess. I just don’t really have the brain for it. I’m more of a memorizing things person than a mathematic formulas person.”

“Is that why you’re friends with Zach?”

“No. I happen to like Zach. Sure, he can be kind of an ass sometimes, but he’s not bad when you get to know him. And we aren’t best friends or anything, just see each other sometimes outside of school. I don’t tell him things very often. Having a study partner isn’t a bad thing either.”

“That’s fair. Is that why you keep Foley around?”

“Yeah, he’s my best friend. Justin is the person I talk to about things. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember.”

“You talk to him about everything?” He asked, with a playful wiggle of his brows.

“Depends how it goes. I do stick to basics though. You know, if it was good or not. No specifics.”

“I see. So, you aren’t the virginal queen he makes you seem like. Interesting.”

“No. And I’m not telling you who it was so don’t even bother asking.” He shrugged, as though he would get it out of me eventually.

“Will you talk to him about me?”

“That depends on if I have anything to tell him.”

“You might. How do you feel about movies in the city?” We had begun walking back to our cars by now.

“I don’t do slasher flicks. I think they’re dumb.”

“Not because you’re scared?”

“No. It’s because I can’t justify paying for bad acting like that. If I wanted to watch that bad of acting, I would go on incognito and watch the before sex part of porn.”

“Oh! She’s got jokes too. That’s fair though. If you are scared though, that’s what you have me for. Action?”

“I’m down for that.” I nodded.

“Saturday? Pick you up at four? We can take a drive into the city.”

“Sure. Meet me at the end of my street?”

“You got it Addy. I’ll see you at school.” I nodded and leaned up to kiss him softly.

I arrived home a short time later and found my mom sitting in the kitchen at the desk. “Hey Mom. What are you up to?”

“Just looking at some recipes I can copy onto note cards. I finally decided to go through Nan’s box of cookbooks we brought home from Boston.”

“Sounds fun. Need any help?” I asked, walking towards her and grabbing a pen.

“Sure. You can start with Mastering the Art of French Cooking. You did your homework at the library, right?”

“Yeah. It was mostly just some reading comprehension stuff. What recipes do I do?” I made my way to the island with the large text.

“I tabbed them off. Some will need more than one note card.” I nodded and set to work.

A while later, I had written out five recipes and took a bit of a break to stretch my hand. “While I’m thinking about it, Justin and I are going to a movie in the city on Saturday night.”

“Okay. I’ll let your father know. Maybe we can have a date night or something.”

“You’ll let me know what?” My dad asked, coming downstairs.

“Addison is going to a movie Saturday night.”

“That’s nice.” Was all the response he could muster on the topic. “I’m sure the two of us kids can find something to do for the night.” He said, leaning down to kiss my mom’s temple, lovingly. She beamed up at him like it was the first time she was seeing him. It was really sweet to watch. “You’ll do the dishwasher before bed, right Addison?”

“Yeah.” Satisfied, my dad went to the living room to watch one of his shows. Open concept may look pretty, but it can be distracting.

Once I had called it quits on recipes for the day, I quickly did the dishwasher. I made sure to mark dishwasher packs on the grocery list before I went upstairs to get ready for bed. Upstairs, I checked my phone for the first time since I had gotten home. I saw that I had a few Instagram and Twitter notifications. I cleared those away. I had a couple of texts from Justin and a few from Monty. I opened Justin’s texts first.

Didn’t see you after school. Everything okay? Followed by, Mom is out of it for the night again. just a few minutes ago.

I answered him quickly. Hey sorry, I just checked my phone since getting home. Everything is good. I just had some stuff to do. Are you okay? Do you want to come over?

With that handled until I got a response, I checked the texts from Monty. I got home okay. That’s normal enough. I read the other two quickly. Had a great time today. Followed by How did you lose it by the way?

I rolled my eyes before responding. Sorry. I was helping my mom with some stuff. Glad you got home okay and I had fun too. I assume you know how Monty. I went about my nighttime business while I waited for the boys to respond to me. While I was brushing my teeth, I got a text from Justin. Seth is back. I’ll be over in fifteen.

Window will be open. Unless you want me to let mom and dad know?

Sure. It’ll be easier to come in the front door.

Okay, door will be open. See you in a few. “Mom? Dad?” I called, poking my head out the door.

“Yes?” Dad answered.

“Justin is coming over for the night. His mom isn’t feeling very well and doesn’t want him to get sick.”

“K. Whatever.” I raised my brows and rolled my eyes as I closed my door. I threw on my pyjamas and ran down to unlock the front door. A cup of hot chocolate was then set in the microwave to heat up, along with some leftovers. I knew he probably hadn’t had dinner.

Ten minutes later, Justin knocked on the door and walked in.

“Hey, thanks for letting me come over.” I watched as he placed his gym bag on the floor near the stairs.

“Of course. You know you’re always welcome here.” I watched as he walked over to me in the kitchen. I searched his face to see if Seth had done anything. His face seemed fine and he walked normally. That’s good. The microwave dinged as he got over to me and he jumped a bit. “I put some cocoa in for you. There’s also whatever leftovers we had from today. I wasn’t home for dinner.” He nodded and hugged me. I held him close for a few moments until the microwave beeped again and I heard his stomach rumble. We both laughed quietly. He grabbed his plate and mug and sat at the island.

“You weren’t home today?”

“No. I had stuff to do, like I said Justin. By the way, my parents might ask you about plans on Saturday to go to a movie. Just agree.”

“Um… okay.”

“Enough about me. What’s going on with you and Hannah Baker?”

“I don’t know. She’s pretty cute.”

“Do you like her?” I asked, cheekily.

“Maybe. She seems nice.”

“Okay.” I left it at that.

“Why do you need me to agree with your parents about plans Saturday, Addy?”

“I just have some stuff to take care of Justin. Don’t worry. Nothing really major.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t seem to believe me but didn’t press on. I think he was just tired.

“Ready for bed?” He nodded and placed his dishes in the sink.

We made our way upstairs to get him ready for bed for the night again. His varsity jacket was hung on my door rack and his bag was placed beside my desk. “Did you want me to take the floor tonight or did you want to sleep together?” i asked, as I ushered him into my bathroom.

“Together? It’s been kind of a long day.”

“Of course.” While he got ready for bed, I grabbed his pillow from my closet and switched it out with the one on my bed. I was doing a touch of reading for English when he climbed into bed beside me. He curled up beside me, almost immediately falling asleep, and I kissed his head softly. “Good night Justin.” I whispered into the darkness.

The next morning, I was able to rope Justin into helping me pick an outfit. We settled on a pair of black leggings and a longer red tank top, paired with a light grey cardigan and black flats. Downstairs, we made a quick breakfast of cereal and toast. “Hello Justin.” My dad greeted from his seat.

“Morning Brooks.”

“Morning dad.”

“Morning.” He half grunted to me. Justin glanced at me and I shrugged.

“Good morning Justin. How is your mum feeling?” Mom asked.

“Morning Margot. She’s feeling okay now, I think. Probably another stomach thing.”

Mom eyed me, knowing it wasn’t a stomach bug. I grimaced in response. “Well I hope she feels better soon.”

“Me too Margot. Me too.” He muttered. Surprisingly, they didn’t ask him about our “plans” Saturday. I suppose it wasn’t that surprising though, as I had never really given them a reason not to trust me before.

I drove us to school and we walked to his locker together. “I’m just saying. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to you know, talk to her. She is totally into you.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Really? You’re Justin freaking Foley. You can just say words and she will fall at your feet. She’s already seen you shirtless.”

“That was different.”

“Right, right. Different.” At his locker, he was once again beckoned by Bryce.

“I swung by your place this morning to see if you wanted a ride. Didn’t look like you were home.” I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, I was out last night. It’s fine.” Bryce’s eyes went back and forth between the two of us.

“You smell like strawberries.” Monty added. I tried to hide my blush and bit back a giggle.

“Do I?” He sniffed himself. “You said it wouldn’t be that strong Addy.”

“Yeah, it’s not. If you use a normal amount. You used more shampoo than I do. I wasn’t going to say anything about it though.” He made a face and I caught Monty’s eye. I smiled politely back at him, trying to keep appearances and all. “I’m sure you could ask Jeff for some of whatever makes him smell like that.” The group of boys looked at me with slightly wide eyes. “You want to deny that he smells good?” A few shrugs and head shakes were the answer. I turned when I heard him laughing with Clay and Leah. “Speak of the saintly devil. Hey Jeff Atkins.”

“Addison Hawthorne, what can I do for you today?”

“Justin smells like girl and apparently that’s a bad thing now.”

“It is when I smell like you.”

“Hey. I smell nice you jerk.”

“I know you do. But I don’t want to smell like you.”

“Ah. You need body spray. Come to my locker and I’ve got you. You coming, Addison?” He’s the only person who uses my full name and doesn’t sound like I’m in trouble. Maybe Monty will sound nice using it.

“Yeah. I’m headed that way for French anyway.” He nodded and the five of us made our way to his locker, Monty’s eyes boring into me as we went.

I was sitting in the library working on some homework during my free period, listening to a playlist on Spotify, when I was interrupted by someone dropping their bag on the table. “Jesus Christ.” I exclaimed. I looked up as my- my what exactly? -Monty sat in the chair across from me. “Oh, it’s just you.” Mystery solved; I went back to my homework.

“Sorry.” He mumbled as he leaned back. He appeared to be making himself comfortable.

“We are at school you know.”

“I noticed that, yeah.”

“People might notice you’re sitting with me.”

“We share classes. You’re friends with someone on the football team. Not going to cause that much of a stir.”

“Alright. Since you’re here and we share classes, did you finish the chemistry assignment?”

“Yeah. Need to copy some answers? Am I rubbing off on you already?”

“No, I just want to make sure I did question seven right.” I heard him hum and then dig around in his bag, looking for his assignment. “Is your bag also where things go to die?”

“Maybe.”

“Is that a boy thing?”

“Definitely. Here you go.” I compared the answers we had and the work we did. Seeing that it looked right, I nodded.

“Did you actually want something or are you just here to look pretty?” I asked after a while of him sitting and watching me.

“Why does Justin smell like you?”

“He spent the night last night and needed to shower this morning. We ran out of his regular soap and I haven’t had a chance to go to the store to replace it.”

“Why?”

“Why did he stay over? Or why does he have no more soap?”

“Both.”

“His mom was sick, and she didn’t want him to catch anything. He has no more soap because he didn’t tell me he was out until he was going to shower this morning.”

“He has soap at your house?”

“Yeah. He showers at my place when he spends the night and doesn’t always want to smell like, and I quote, ‘girly soap with frilly names’.” He hummed in response. It didn’t seem like he was too impressed with my explanation. Oh well. Before he could voice his displeasure, the bell rang. “I’ll see you tomorrow Monty.” I muttered as I gathered my things and walked away, leaving him to brood by himself.

Saturday came around and we had a fantastic time on our movie date. He gave me some playful crap about my movie snack choice. We drove around for a bit afterwards, just listening to the radio and enjoying each other’s company. He had his hand placed on my thigh, as though it was made to fit in his grip. It felt like the natural place for it to sit. We didn’t really want to call it a night just yet. But we also didn’t know what to talk about. Our superficial conversations flowed easily. The issue came when we had deeper things to talk about. It felt like to go any deeper, we had to define what we were first. That didn’t seem like the kind of conversation to have after a movie date, at this time of night. It was past ten when he dropped me off. I crept into the house quietly. My dad was sitting in the living room watching tv. He didn’t even acknowledge that I had gotten in. I didn’t really care anymore, since I was used to him paying little to no mind to me.

Upstairs, I changed into my cat pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt. I was ready for bed shortly after. I cracked my window open some to let in some fresh air and spent some time scrolling through Instagram under my blankets. I liked some of my friends’ posts and commented on others. I lost track of time when I started watching videos and was brought back to reality when I heard what sounded like my name being called quietly outside. Thinking it was Justin coming over unexpectedly, I stood up and opened my window all the way. I motioned for him to climb the ‘decorative’ ladder I had my parents install. It does fit the house better than lattice. I was startled once again, when Monty poked his head up in my window. “Monty? What are you doing here?”

“Hey. I couldn’t sleep. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure. You’re up here now.” He nodded and I watched as he climbed and then fell through my window, extremely ungracefully. The accompanying thud did little to make the situation better. “Fuck Monty. Make some more noise why don’t you? I don’t think the people in Tibet heard you.” I glanced at my door and waited a minute. When no knock came, I let out a breath.

“Sorry. I’m sure I could knock a thing or two off the shelves while I’m here though. Oh, by the way, you should really look before inviting people in through your window. I could have been an axe murderer.”

“Please don’t. I thought you were Justin. He comes over unannounced sometimes.”

“Still.” He sat on my bed and took in his surroundings, now that I had turned on my lamp. “Cute room. Very much what I pictured.” I sat next to him and tried to put myself in his place as I looked around. I examined the cream walls. The black and white furniture. The books piled on my desk neatly. The fresh lilacs on my dresser between pictures of my friends and me. My jewelry holders in the corner of my dresser. The mirror on my closet door. He’s not wrong. It’s what I would have pictured too.

“Not that I’m upset about seeing you again, but what are you doing here Monty?”

“Told you. I couldn’t sleep. I needed to see you.”

“Alright. Uh… were you planning on staying or…?”

“I could stay if you want. Or I can go in a while. It’s your room.”

“If you stay, you have to be gone out the window in the morning.”

“That sounds doable.” He leaned back and made himself comfortable. Okay then. I mean, not opposed to him sleeping in my bed, but it’s a little early for that. I shrugged and crawled in beside him. I felt him pull me closer into his side and rolled over to face him.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a cuddler.”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises.”

“Clearly. The first one was that I make you nervous.” I giggled.

“And why is that surprising?” he smirked back at me.

“Because you don’t seem like the type to get nervous around girls. And don’t say you weren’t nervous.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Bull. But whatever helps you sleep at night.” I smiled. “Are you going to sleep in your jeans?”

“Do you want me to take my jeans off?” he asked, smirking slightly.

“It just seems like it would be uncomfortable to spend the whole night in jeans, is all. Don’t be getting any ideas, you.”  

“I said nothing.” He laughed. I smiled and rolled my eyes at him.

“You thought it. I know you did.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. No rule that says I can’t think that about my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” I squeaked. We hadn’t defined what we were. I wasn’t expecting this conversation to happen for a while yet, if at all.

“Yeah. Did you think I just ask anyone on dates?”

“I mean, I guess not…?”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.” I nodded, before resting my head on his broad chest. After a few beats of silence, I spoke up. “Hey Monty?”

“Yeah Addy?”

“Can… would it… could we keep this between us for now?”

He paused for a minute, “yeah. If that’s what you want, then we can keep it quiet for now.”

“It’s just that I don’t want to deal with people’s opinions or anything, you know?”

“By people’s, do you mean your friends?”

“And other people. You know how the kids we go to school with can be.”

“That’s true. They’ll run with this.”

“Yup.” It was quiet for a time again, while we just listened to each other’s breathing. “Monty?” I whispered.

“Yes?” he whispered back.

“Good night.”

“Good night. I’ll wake you before I leave in the morning.” I kissed his chest softly before drifting off to sleep.

[erikthedead]

entry #1

I have finally acquired Microsoft Word! I really didn’t want to pay a monthly subscription for it, but it is the best writing software out there. Every time I mention myself spending money, a small prayer goes out to all the tax-paying members of the nation, since all my money comes from Universal Credit, which is the United Kingdom’s cute name for a type of welfare money. I much prefer just calling it ‘welfare,’ or even better ‘NEETbux,’ which I discovered used in online forums as a word for the money people receive when they are not in education, employment, or training (N.E.E.T), which has been my status for about two years now. Then ‘bux’ is just ‘bucks,’ obviously. Bucks is just money, obviously. Many people receiving Universal Credit also work as well; they just receive less - enough to supplement their wages if they aren’t getting enough money from their jobs.  

My last job was working in a busy restaurant for just about a year. Before that I was in university, but I dropped out after only completing the first year out of three. Before that, I worked as a carer for elderly people for just under a year. Before that, I was in college for two years, and I actually passed the course. I only passed it because the subject was forensic science, which included lots of writing about psychology, criminology and lab reports. I was never that good in the lab practically. I got flustered and bewildered in such a bright, sanitary environment that required precision and organisation to achieve the desired results. When it came to scrambling together a report to submit the next day though, I was pretty golden. I only dropped out of university because I had a mental break down as a result of poor mental health and just the fact that going outside and interacting with people was and still is incredibly exhausting for me. After a year of doing that consistently it seems, I get fatigued. In the end I got an average grade for the college course because some of the work was difficult, or boring, and that fatigue was hitting me by the second year. However, the grades I was getting on my university assignments for psychology and sociology were anywhere between top marks and good marks (Between 1st – 2:2 in UK student language). I never once read the feedback from the tutors who marked my work. All I needed to know was the mark was okay and moved on to the next assignment, firstly because I was arrogant and secondly, I couldn’t handle criticism. The mental break down itself involved me walking through the campus one day only to find myself slipping into a dissociative state. Nothing had happened immediately prior to trigger this, it just happened. It felt strange, like I wasn’t really real, and neither was anyone else. Everything felt distant and off, both externally and internally. It was frightening and strangely peaceful, as if at any moment someone could come in and blow the building up and I wouldn’t even react to it. That wasn’t normal. The only way to snap out of it was to lock myself in a toilet cubicle and lightly slice my arm with a tiny knife I had on my keys. It worked, but now I was in floods of tears and a state of distress, so I went to the student welfare services to see if they could help me or at least let me sit somewhere nicer than a toilet while I calmed down. It was an open office waiting area at the side of the bottom floor of a building that matched the layout of a prison ward with the stairs and the upper floors creating a square boarder of classrooms, that would have been cells for a prison. More for practical purposes than for aesthetic reasons, I’m sure. Still sobbing, and hiding my self-inflicted cuts, I asked the person behind the desk if I could ‘see someone,’ which is one polite British way of asking for help. After waiting a little while, a plump middle-aged lady appeared and brought me into her own little private office to ask me what had happened. She gave me her sympathy and asked me about my life and my history, and gave me some more sympathy, while relating her own experiences to mine. She was a good counsellor, basically. But having a good counsellor on site wasn’t enough to keep me on the course after that incident. Getting a degree just wasn’t worth it at the time. Being such a depressed and pessimistic person, I was only actually doing the course for ‘fun’ anyway, not for the hope that it will bring me a better future. Until recently, I never saw a future for myself. It wasn’t even a bleak future I imagined; it was just blank. I couldn’t even conceptualise it.

It’s not a mystery where all my misery came from. My childhood was a bit inconsistent to start, and from what I’ve observed, children need consistency more than anything to develop promisingly. I remember reading a study once that found children raised by parents who were consistently abusive to them were in fact more mentally stable than those raised by parents who could be lovely one day and nasty the next. It was not knowing what treatment they were going to get that did them in. It makes sense because if you’re always expecting to face a thrashing or a shouting at every day, you can at least prepare for it and train yourself to deal with it. We’re very adaptable creatures, but we need to be able to recognise patterns around us to do that. If there is no pattern, then how can we possibly make predictions? Without predictions, how can we possibly feel secure about our future? Having said all that, I was never abused in any way growing up, but I was sometimes neglected by my young mother, who was only 16 when she gave birth to me. Of course, it’s understandable now, but from a child’s perspective all you think is ‘why doesn’t my mum want me?’ When she sends you to your room for no reason and tells you not to come down for hours at a time. I asked ‘why’ a lot. Never got a good reason. I’m sure plenty of people who were raised by a drug-addicted parent can relate to this. She herself was a good mother, not amazing, but good. She told me she loved plenty of times, she gave me what she could, including a little sister when I was three years old. I think it was shortly after her birth that mum started taking heroin. It was only during drug education in year five of school (I would have been about 11) that I put the pieces together. She hid her addiction pretty well from us, but I sometimes found pieces of tin foil lying around the living room with lines of black residue on them, and once or twice witnessed her junkie friends ‘nodding off.’ There’s also a clear memory in my mind of being taken along by her and my nan to score some brown out of town and I can picture in my head the massive set of old-fashioned scales this drug dealer had sat on his coffee table right in front of me. I was too young to understand any of their lingo, though. Yes, I mentioned my nan, my mum’s mum. They got smacked up together, and they eventually got clean together. I’ll never know the details of how that came about because neither of them are alive anymore to ask. Mum died when I was 14 by taking an overdose of her methadone, then nan died when was 21 of a heart attack, likely due to the COPD she had developed from years of smoking.

My nan was so full of love for my mum, my sister and me. Some of my favourite childhood memories are being snuggled up in bed listening to her read me stories, which she did with flare and enthusiasm. She would affectionately call us her ‘wobblies,’ and give us more hugs kisses than we ever wanted. My mum definitely inherited her loving nature from her. But love on its own isn’t enough to keep kids clothed and fed and able to go out and do things. This is where the legend that is my grandad comes in. He is still going strong at 66 years old as of writing. God knows where I’d be without him. He’s been my father figure all my life since I never knew who or where my real dad was. He’s hard-working, reliable, responsible and strong. He supported us immensely despite not relating to him biologically. My biological grandfather was a free-spirited busker who liked to smoke and drink a lot, who I only met a hand full of times before he hanged himself when I was 19. His death did not affect me, but my mum’s and nan’s certainly did. I’ll probably have to see my grandad die as well eventually, and I don’t dread anything more.

Although I started off describing my family background by saying it’s obvious where my source of misery comes from, I must emphasise that my family is not the source of my misery. My childhood overall was pretty forgettable. I only have a few memories and they’re fond memories, despite the unfortunate situation I just described. Even getting my face ripped open by the neighbour’s dog when I was six didn’t faze me. It was only when puberty hit me that life started to feel horrible, and it just got worse.

I was an early bloomer, if blooming is what you call it. I call it mutating. I started getting hairy and growing tits when I was 10, and got my period about a year later. Now THAT is a traumatic memory. Waking up and going for a morning wee as usual, sitting down on the toilet and being overcome with horror at the sight of blood covering my pyjamas, realising there’s only one place that could have come from, then investigating the source only to confirm ‘Oh shit, I’m bleeding from between my legs!’ I was living with my nan and grandad at the time and I stayed there (or here, since I’m still living in the same house as of writing) under their guardianship while mum sorted herself out. After the shocking discovery of blood, I immediately ran into nan’s bedroom to wake her up. I vividly remember what and how she responded to me. With a sigh of what seemed like unsettling disappointment she said “Oh, darling, I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’ve got your period.’  I wonder now if she said it like that because she felt guilty for not warning me about this, as she should have. Someone should have. In all fairness I was young, but the other kids in my year at school were soon popping into adolescence alongside me, so I thought that soon enough everyone else would be going through what I was going through, but that wasn’t the case. I was bullied for having chronic acne. I was also a bit of a chubby boffin, but it was mostly the acne that people targeted me for. The girls shaved their legs once they started to get hairy, and I remember thinking ‘Damn, I suppose I’ve got to do that too,’ despite never wearing a skirt. They also seemed to relish in showing off and comparing their bras in the changing rooms, while I hid away as very best as I could. Make-up was a constant battle between students and teachers because they all wanted to look pretty, but it wasn’t allowed in middle school (Year 5-8), so luckily, I had an excuse for not wearing it. I’d regularly complain to my family about hating going to school, and how depressed I was, but it was all put down to teenage blues. ‘You’ll be alright once your hormones settle down,’ I was told more than once.  I remember my nan telling me I would miss going to school when I was older and so far she’s been proven wrong.  

[simkjrs]

fic: see you in the dark

chapter ii: remember to be conPSIentious of your powers!

saiki kusuo no psi nan x worm | saiki kusuo & taylor hebert | 3k

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It turns out that Hebert can look after herself, and bugs are a terrifying weapon. I stopped watching after she started going for the privates. It seems that for all the mythos that surrounds him, Lung is still weak in all the normal places.

It sure takes some guts to aim for the crotch of the most notorious gang member in the city, Hebert. I underestimated you.

The next school day, Hebert shows up barely any worse for wear. Good for her. There she goes back to her locker with her head down. There goes one of the bullies trying to trip her. You know she took down a notorious gang leader this weekend? Just what do you think you’re going to achieve? She could crush you in an instant.

<Endure it, Taylor. Don’t retaliate. You’re better than them.>

... Well, it’s not as funny when I have to hear her thinking like that all day.

She’s so responsible about using her powers it’s honestly depressing. She refuses to use her abilities against any of her bullies because it would be unfair, and it’s wrong to use your powers like that, or something. It’s really not, Hebert. I use my powers for personal gain all the time. You should do something about the “Trio” already so I can stop tying their shoelaces together when they try to approach.

Hebert closes her locker door and raises her head as I’m walking. We make eye contact. Hey. Are you okay? That’s an impressively dead look on your face. Your eyes are almost as dull as mine. — Nevermind, they’ve brightened the tiniest bit. Why.

“Good morning, Saiki.”

Good morning. I nod cordially at her. Social interaction of the day achieved, I continue walking to the next classroom.

— Tch, those annoyances are approaching again.

Not that it’s my business, since Hebert seems determined to handle the situation by herself, but the universe ought to give her a break. She just took down a notorious gang leader. Give her some breathing room. I’ll just backtrack a few steps and tap Hebert on the shoulder.

Hebert blinks at me. “What is it?”

I jerk a thumb over my shoulder, turn, and walk away down the hall. After a moment of hesitation she follows me down the corridor, just in time to avoid Barnes and her cronies spotting us by the lockers.

<That was good timing. If I’d stayed there, Emma would have come to bother me again. — Wait, did Saiki know she was coming? Is that why he called me here?>

Stop being perceptive. I forgot you could keep an eye out on everything with your bugs. Tch, it goes to show I shouldn’t poke my nose in where I’m not needed. Now I have to come up with an excuse.

I turn around to face Hebert.

<His expression is as serious as ever. I can never tell what he’s thinking.> Good, let’s keep it that way. <It seems like he had something to talk about, after all. Guess it was just lucky timing.>

I reach into my pocket and pull out a piece of paper, etching onto it with thoughtography as I do. Hebert unfolds it, eyes flicking across the page.

“You want to study together this weekend?”

<Is he serious?> You don’t have to sound so disbelieving. Just say no if you don’t want to. That would be more convenient for me, too, since this is just a random excuse. <Do we even share any classes besides Parahuman Studies? What’s he getting out of this?> Absolutely nothing, so it’s okay to turn me down. <He doesn’t feel sorry for me, does he?> Anyone normal would feel sorry for you if they saw what a daily ordeal your school life is. Don’t take it so personally. — Actually, feel free to. Hurry up and say no already. <I don’t need his pity. If he feels sorry for me, then he should help me do something about the Trio.> See? There you go.

<But I shouldn’t burn any bridges unnecessarily. He’s the only one to reach out to me after Emma started her bullying campaign.> Wait, no. Stop being reasonable. Go back to the prideful paranoia. You’re not doing me any favors, here. <Besides, it’s possible he just wants a friend, too.> Absolutely not, who do you think I am?

“Okay, that’s fine.” <If he wants to hang out, I guess it couldn’t hurt.> “Where do you want to meet?”

What did I just say.

<Why does he have such a pinched look on his face. Was this a pity thing or a prank after all?>

Good grief.

I indicate with pen on paper that I would like to meet at the public library on Saturday. She asks if 2pm is fine, and if it’s okay for her to leave early, because she has business to take care of. By which she means parahuman business. I really don’t want to hear what bad ideas she’s going to get up to, so let’s just move the conversation along for now.

“Okay,” says Hebert. “What’s your phone number? I’ll call you if anything comes up.” <Like if I have to go out in costume earlier than anticipated.>

Ugh. This is why you shouldn’t have said yes, Hebert. I write on the paper.

“You don’t have a phone?” <Huh. Didn’t think there was anyone in the same boat as me.> “That’s fine. A landline is okay too.”

Damn it.

“You don’t have one of those either?” <What kind of place is he living in…?>

Please don’t start questioning my living conditions. I’ll just write something down to alleviate her concerns.

“Oh, an apartment without a landline?” <And no cellphone on top of that. It must be hard.> No, it’s perfectly fine. I don’t want anyone contacting me. “Then I’ll email you if anything comes up. Is that fine?”

I nod.

“Alright. I have to get to class now, but thanks, Saiki. I’ll see you in Parahuman Studies.”

<It’s strange that he doesn’t have any kind of phone at all, though. Is everything okay financially? His clothes seem fine, but you never know…>

What a pain. Looks like I’ll have to take additional steps to integrate into this world, so I won’t draw suspicion so easily. Acquiring fake IDs was already annoying enough, and now this too?

You may be wondering why I procured myself some ID papers. It’s because I needed it to register for school. But why would an esper like myself bother enrolling in school again, when no one in this universe had to know I existed?

It’s true, I could have had complete freedom of time if I hadn’t committed to school. But you can only read books alone in your house for so long before you start to get bored. It was nice to have a few weeks by myself, but it felt weird not having a school routine.

Going to school keeps me somewhat occupied and reminds me what it’s like to have people around. To be clear, I didn’t register for school because I wanted company. I’m already so different from normal human beings that spending time with humans doesn’t mean anything. It’s like asking if you’d prefer spending time with a monkey in the next room over or not. I’m just here because I’m bored and I like to stick to my habits.

School comes with its own share of annoyances, although they’re much more serious than the gag series I’ve spent most of my life living. It’s none of my business, but if things keep being this bothersome, I might have to do something about it soon.

Hopefully Kuusuke will hurry up and find me soon so I can stop getting dragged into the circumstances of this world.

——

Hebert isn’t in Parahuman Studies. It only takes a quick skim of the minds near me to find out why.

“Oh, Saiki, it looks like Hebert ditched you today. Too bad. She’s such a horrible partner to work with, isn’t she?” Your words wouldn’t be the least bit convincing even if I didn’t know you were the one who made her upset enough to leave campus, Barnes. “If you want, you can sit with us to work.”

She smiles at me in what she thinks is a charming manner. I can’t tell, since right now she just looks to me like a diagram of the human muscular structure you’d find in a medical book. <Take the hint. Taylor isn’t worth your time.> What does that make you. Chopped liver? <I wouldn’t pay attention to him if not for the fact that he’s Taylor’s assigned partner. If I can lure him away from her, she’ll be devastated. We could even keep him in the group afterwards. I mean, once you look past those weird green glasses, even though he seems plain at first glance, he’s got a nice face.> No thanks. <It’d be better if he didn’t have such a blank expression all the time, though.>

Get a full load of my blank expression, then.

<This silence is dragging on too long. Is he.... judging me?>

Took you long enough to notice.

“It’s rude not to respond,” Barnes says.

I stare dispassionately at Barnes until she shifts uncomfortably. <Maybe Sophia was right.> “What, can you not speak or something?”

Sure, let’s go with that setting. I give her a disdainful look. Obviously.

<Why are you looking at me like that?! I’m one of the most popular, pretty girls in the school!> Is that so? I couldn’t tell from how rotten your inner self is. “Sorry, I didn’t realize,” Barnes says faux-apologetically. “How was I supposed to know if you didn’t even make an effort to tell me, though? Can’t you write, at least?”

How annoying.

“Did you just click your tongue at me?”

I’m hurt you would ever accuse me of such a thing. I write in my notebook and slide it across the desk towards her.

“You’re not interested in working with anyone? But you’re working with Hebert.”

Flat stare.

“--Oh, she was assigned to you. Right.”

<Hey, doesn’t that mean this guy is a total loner-type? Come to think of it, he didn’t do anything the other day when we were confronting Taylor, either.> Confronting? Is that what you call it? <All he did was look annoyed when we started talking to him. Ahaha, what a piece of work. He doesn’t care about Taylor at all.> I don’t want to hear that from you. <I don’t even have to do anything and he’ll leave her alone, too. But still…>

“My friends and I can still help you finish your work more quickly, though. Then you’ll have more time to yourself in class.”

<...It’ll be more satisfying if I’m the one behind it.>

How unpleasant. I emphatically tap the word “anyone” written on the page.

“Come on, you can’t go through school without making friends with anyone.” Try me. “It’s better to choose your friends early. You don’t want to get caught up by the wrong crowd.” Somehow, I don’t think your crowd is the right one, either.

Thanks for your concern, I write, but I can take care of myself.

Barnes purses her lips. “Well, if you’re sure,” she says in a tone of voice that clearly says she doesn’t believe me. “But the invitation is open if you ever change your mind, ‘kay?”

She smiles at me before making her way back to her group of friends.

<Let’s see if we can’t arrange for him to learn what this school is like…>

What are you, a delinquent gang leader? I never thought I’d miss the days of PK Academy, but it would be so much less troublesome if the worst personality anyone here had was being a tad too obsessed with romance.

Not that it matters. Whatever Barnes tries, it’s not like there’s anything in this world that could touch me.

——

Because Barnes and her coterie were laughing about it in their heads all period, it’s easy to find the dumpster in the back of the school where they tossed Hebert’s backpack.

It stinks out here, and Hebert’s textbooks are all ripped up. Her art project is smashed to pieces, too. Barnes sure didn’t hold back.

The backpack and textbooks are easy enough to restore to their original state. The art project is a different matter. Checking it with my psychometry, it seems Hebert didn’t finish it until late last night. My restoration ability only reverts an object to its state from twenty four hours before; if I turn back the clock on the art project right now, it’ll be restored to a state from before she completed it. I’ll have to wait to restore it until later tonight.

So here I am, lying on my bed with Hebert’s stuff tossed by all my books. What to do. I could drop it off outside her house, but if I do it anonymously it’ll raise all kinds of questions and if I do it in person I’ll have to explain how I knew where she lives. I could just hand it off to her at school, but…

I have a sudden, horrible vision of Hebert thinking that we’re friends, and immediately reject that path. Absolutely not.

I’ll just put her backpack in her locker so she’ll find it before class. That’ll also raise all kinds of questions, but way less than finding it outside her house.

Now, as for the other problem…

Barnes and her friends are popular, and they’ve got plenty of people who are willing to do them a favor. Annoyingly enough, Barnes’ network has talked about me enough in front of the right people that in a couple days, the ABB members at Winslow will start trying to recruit me. What a pain. And I’ve put in so much effort to fly below their radar, too.

It’d be easy to rebuff any attempt to recruit me, but that would just attract attention. Worse, if I show my skill, that might be even more motivation for them to keep trying. I’ll have to think of a way to avert the recruitment without making myself stand out.

That’s a problem for later, though. Right now, I’m more irritated that Barnes has caused this much of a problem for me, just because she wants to get at Hebert. Since recruitment usually starts off with friendly overtures, all she has to do is swoop in and pretend I’m solidly part of her friend group already to ward off any recruitment attempts, and then they’ll usually leave well enough alone. And then I’ll be so grateful for her help saving me from the big, bad ABB that I’ll actually consider her a friend… Not.

If she’d left me alone, I might not have done anything, but I won’t hold back now that she’s getting me involved.

Time to take her down.

——

The reason Barnes can get away with what she does is because of Shadow Stalker’s influence with the school administration. That means to dismantle the power structure, I have to knock Hess down.

First, let’s use thoughtography to create photos of the worst moments of bullying I’ve seen, with my clairvoyance or otherwise. Here’s one of Hess stomping on Hebert’s backpack. One of her pouring juice on Hebert with Barnes. One of… you know what, describing this is just depressing. The readers don't want to slog through a litany of events that'll make them lose faith in humanity. Just trust that I’ve captured some truly unpleasant moments.

Second, I’ll use my clairvoyance to look around in the school office for the budget records, and copy them down with thoughtography, too. Hm, quite a difference between what they’re actually doing and what they’ve reported. I’m sure the PRT will be delighted to learn this.

Third, I’ll make a map of Hess’ stashes of definitely not approved crossbow ammo, discovered when I used clairvoyance on her the other day. That won’t be enough evidence by itself, but if I attach a list of victims, locations, and times, hopefully the PRT will be competent enough to put the pieces together. It’s not an exhaustive list, just what I learned from using psychometry on the bolts in her stash, but it should be enough.

Fourth, a list of things they should check: Hebert’s stint in the hospital, the communications between Hess’ handler and the school administration, Hess’ phone, and the unpleasant emails that Hebert gets every now and then.

And a note on top: Your Ward is misbehaving. Clean up your mess.

Yep. That is a nice, succinct message that will get my point across with absolutely no problems.

As if.

This is one of the most annoying aspects of this world: the sheer paranoia around parahumans. Back in my original universe, people ignore strange happenings more easily, because they don’t believe in powers. Here, though? Powers are real and a fact of life. If I tried to use my hypnosis or mind control powers here, one of those “Thinker” parahumans would probably notice right away. No matter how I send this packet of information to the PRT, they’ll definitely suspect parahuman involvement, since quite a lot of this information should have been secure. They’ll be paranoid for days. They might even take my note as a threat.

Oh well, it’s not my problem. As long as I deliver it cleverly, they won’t be able to trace anything back to me, and I don’t plan on getting involved with them again after this either. If they spend a few months paranoid about a possible new threat, that has nothing to do with me.

So how to make sure that the PRT properly pays attention to this information when I deliver it? If I send it through the official channels, who knows how long it will take, and if I’m not lucky it’ll get lost or Hess’ handler will manage to bury it before it goes anywhere. On the other hand, I’d rather not deliver it directly to the heroes, either.

Let’s just do it like this then.

Altogether, the worth of these papers is about four dollars. So is this keychain I picked up from the side of the street. I’ll just turn invisible and go to the Boardwalk and toss this keychain over to the PRT headquarters floating in the bay, and then I can use my apport ability to exchange the keychain for the papers so that the papers arrive properly at their front doorstep. It’ll arrive with enough dramatic flair to make sure it doesn’t get written off, and I don’t have to interact with anyone. Perfect.

I toss the keychain across the water, but when I check with my clairvoyance, I see the keychain sinking down in the water instead of safely landed on the doorstep of the PRT like I intended. I didn’t throw with enough force? Damn, I can’t use my telekinesis to retrieve the keychain either, because I can’t use any powers besides telepathy while I’m invisible. I’ll have to look for something nearby.

There, a cheap ring being sold at a street stall. My apologies to the vendor, I’m taking this. Back to the beach. This time, I’ll throw with a little more force—

CRACK. BOOM.

I stare at the fading afterimage of a now-broken forcefield.

Shit.

Nothing for it now. I dash back home as fast as I can, and as soon as my invisibility wears off I exchange the packet of papers with the ring.

The ring appears in my hand, no problem. There, delivery successful. Err. Looking with my clairvoyance, it seems that the papers are half-embedded in the wall of the headquarters where the ring had previously buried itself inches deep. My bad. The forcefield breaking is my fault, so I’ll take responsibility. I’ll just fix it with my restoration ability…

Ah, wait, but restoring an object also restores everything it touches. If I restore the headquarters now, my delivery will go back to being blank pieces of paper, and it’ll all have been for nothing. Damn it, I should’ve fixed the forcefield before apporting my delivery over… although that would have required me to wait for my invisibility to wear off at the Boardwalk. Maybe I can exchange the papers and the ring quickly, restore everything, and then exchange them back? — No good, people are coming to investigate the papers already. If I apport right in front of them it might just make them panic more.

Good grief. I’ve made quite a mess for myself.

I’ll just have to make sure to fix the forcefield tomorrow… I’m sure it’s fine… They can live without their forcefield for twenty-four hours…

Oh, would you look at that, it’s just about time to restore Hebert’s art project. I’ll just go do that and put everything back in her locker.

Well, as long as that works out, hopefully today won’t be a lost cause.