#im always here to comment on clips so if the universe will let me live... i'd love a clip tomorrow a good clip

[alterlovetm]

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[iwadori]

Haikyu boys when they make you insecure PT 1 (Kenma,Kuroo)

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6.

Word Count:3k 

genre: angst, fluff

masterlist

Kenma:

You and Kenma have been in a long distance relationship for a while.

Both of you stream, Kenma doing it seriously for his job and you just playing it for fun,

Sometimes you stream together of course but because of your difference in audiences and games you don’t do it all the time

“Bye guys! Hope you enjoyed todays stream” You wave off to the camera and shut off your PC taking a few sips of water.

Kenma: Hey.. nice stream today Y/N are you going to watch mine?

Y/N: Of course I will 

Kenma: Ok talk to you later

Y/N: okayy <3

Kenma is what inspired you to stream, he also taught you all the ins and outs of streaming making sure you were set and ready. Your gaming style was very relaxed and friendly as you obviously weren’t streaming as a career just for fun and to make friends with your online viewers. The games you played were usually: minecraft, COD, Sims 4, Roblox, Animal crossing and *Insert your favourite game here* the way I literally named all the games I play 

You wait for Kenmas stream to start, kind of excited as you’ve always loved seeing your boyfriend in his ‘element’ when it comes to playing to games. As your boyfriends stream starts you see he’s already chosen what game he is playing today which is to your surprise Call of duty, since that was the game you were playing earlier.

As he gets into the stream you are entertained, as always since Kenma was being his usual self laughing at his own deadpan jokes and interacting with his viewers. He is currently waiting for his capture the flag game to start so as he waits he decides to read some comments in the chat.

You’re used to the usual ‘Kenma where is Y/N I miss your usual streams together’ or ‘kenma please RAIL me’ which always makes you laugh. You were also used to the common hate comments Kenma and You both got on your streams but you were definitely not ready for this..

@ Ihatewomanandiamadick : Hey Kenma did you see your girls stream today she is so dog shit at COD lmaoooo jhdfkjdrhdrr

“Well hello ihatewomenandiamadick” started Kenma “but yes I did see Y/N stream and obviously she is not the best at games and I would definitely NOT ask her to team with me for any serious gaming competitions ... but she’s fun to watch I guess” as he finished speaking about you his game loaded up so he focused his attention on that the words he just spoke going to the back of his mind as they end up at the forefront of yours.

You obviously knew you were no match for Kenma’s gaming expertise but you didn’t expect him to publicly agree with a hate comment let alone add more of his imput on you. Did he really think that about you? ‘She’s fun to watch I guess’ did he not even enjoy your streams that much?

You wanted to distract yourself, and you definitely couldn’t do that watching him so you close off of his stream and get in your bed deciding to watch your favourite show. 

Waking up at 6pm after your sad nap, you see that Kenma has left some messages to you,

Kenma: hey did you watch my stream?

Kenma: do you want to facetime later and play some minecraft..?

Kenma: y/n r u ok??

Y/N: oh hey cnt play minecraft w you rn not really in the mood..

Kenma: oh ok..

Time passed since then a month to be exact and you basically dropped off of the face of the earth, you weren’t in the mood to do anything let alone game and stream, which was a constant reminder of your boyfriend (something you didn’t want at the time.) 

You felt embarrassed over all the things he said about you and all the things you now think he thinks about you and the way you play. Maybe he thinks even worse things about you, beyond just how you game? What if he doesn’t even genuinely like you...or he has someone else...it does make sense, you do both live miles and miles away from eachother AND he’s a big streamer you see the amount of girls in his comments.

You shake your head to erase your protruding thoughts coming in your mind, but it doesn’t really help. You and Kenma haven’t spoken much over this month he tried to constantly reach out to you at first but you assume he got bored over your constant, repetitive dry texts. So you were almost content with you and Kenma not even being in a relationship anymore.

However on Kenma’s side, he was beyond worried about you. Since you haven’t been streaming or barely responded to his texts he thought something happened to you, but he didn’t want to be seen as ‘overstepping boundaries’ if there was nothing wrong at all with you and you simply were just ‘not in the mood.’ 

So here he is, in Kuroo’s apartment trying to get him to help him out on finding out what is wrong with you.

“So kenma can you remember what happened the day when Y/N went ‘ghost’“ asked Kuroo in a mock detective voice

“Y/N didn’t go ‘ghost’ Kuro, and take this seriously” said Kenma “I’m worried bout her”

“Okay fine, but for real what’s the last thing you remember before she started acting all weird.” 

“Umm I think it was around a month ago I did my saturday stream and I think she was on it but she didn’t leave her usual nice comments throughout”

“Ohh that was the stream when you sai-” Kuroo said before pausing his words as the memory of what Kenma said about you on his stream came in his mind, as even Kuroo thought it was a tad bit harsh for Kenma to say all those things “I think I know why Y/N has been so distant kiddo”

“What why?” Asked Kenma

Kuroo pulls out his phone and brings up the clip off what Kenma said and Kenma’s face cringes ‘did he really say all those things about you’ he thinks. 

“Shit.. I didn’t know I said all of that” he said quietly “how do I make it up to her?”

“There’s only one thing you can really do Kenma” said kuroo

You are woken up out of your sleep by a knock on the door. Getting out your bed like a zombie, you trudge to your front door only surprised by what you see. There in his 5′6 glory stood your ‘boyfriend’ Kenma with a controller and a kitten teddy in his hand. You were very tempted to shut the door in his face and get back to your dreamless sleep but you waited on him to speak.

“Hi Y/N” he said quietly “wanna play some minecraft...?”

“Why so you can ridicule me on how shit I am?” You ask bitterly ready to shut the door on him

“No! No not all” he said stopping you from shutting the door entering your place “Y/N i’m really sorry on what I said, I wasn’t thinking AT ALL... I love watching your streams and I think you’re great at playing games...I was just being a dick,”

You take a deep breath before tears pool in your eyes “what you said really hurt me kenma..” you say “ I know people say shitty things on the internet all the time... it’s the internet. But I wasn’t expecting you to agree with the hater and say even more shitty things on top of that.. I don’t think I want to even stream anymore”

Upon hearing that, Kenma’s mouth parts open with shock ‘you dont want to stream anymore’ were his comments that bad? Now he feel even worse as he should and is now more determined to make things right. 

He impulsively drags your arm into your game room, catching your surprise ‘what is he up too?’ you think. He stops for a second seeing your usual pristine gaming set up, collected up with dust. 

“What are you do-” you start 

“Just wait!” He says, as he rushes away turning on all your stuff and logging onto his twitch account as he sees the views go up he starts to speak

 “Hi guys, its me kodzuken and today I’m here on stream with my beautiful girlfriend and today I want to say..” he turns to you “Y/N im so sorry for the horrible things I said to you that day... I was just being a dick and I’m sorry I really am.”

You look at the chat and you see some confusion and some people recalling his words from last month. “It’s fine Kenma, I forgive you” you say giving him a hug”

“Okay Y/N, so what do you say... wanna beat my ass at bed wars?” He says with a smirk 

“When have I ever loss?” you return his smirk

Of course you did beat his ass as bed wars for rounds on rounds never losing proving yourself to actually be a good gamer girl. You enjoyed your time with Kenma, forgetting what he said before about you and moving on. 

Eventually, you guys moved in together and streamed together all the time and yes you still do play for fun but you’ve gotten way better at COD (some may say better then Kenma) but who is better didn’t matter to any of you, as long as you got to play together that’s all you both cared about.

Kuroo:

Kuroo and you have been together since you were in your first year of high school 

You met as friends first when you got him to tutor you in chemistry ( a subject you still aren’t that good at.)

Now you have your upcoming entrance exams for university in a month so your school has you doing mock exams in preparation for them.

20%

You look down at your chemistry paper that your teacher just handed you. 20%. You’re surprised, very surprised since out of all your subjects (that you go 90+% on) you studied on the chemistry test the hardest ensuring Testurou, that you didn’t need his help at all. But I guess it turns out, you did.

This failing mock grade put a blunder on your day, you didn’t interact with anyone and didn’t want to see your boyfriend so you skipped your usual routine of meeting him on the rooftop and went to the library instead ‘might aswell start early on your studying’ you thought.

As you were going over your chemistry topics, you hear an ‘ahem’ next to you and you turn your head only to find your boyfriend and his friends next to you. Kuroo with his usual goofy smile on his face. 

“Hey kitten where were you at lunch?” he asked 

“Needed to go to the library, Chemistry is kicking my ass” you mumbled 

“Oya” he said as he noticed your chemistry test laying under your textbook “20%, well damn Y/N I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t know you were that stupid” he laughed doing his stupid usual hyena-like laugh.

Ouch well that hurt. You slightly flinched at his words, “Really your name, you didn’t know the molecular formula for ethanol, that’s first year work” he said continuing to laugh “I’m pretty sure that’s one of the first things I tutored you on when we first met” 

His overbearing laughter was not good for you, you were already having a bad day and yes you do know your not that good at chemistry but you didn’t need your chemistry-enthusiast boyfriend to make fun of you for failing. Kenma and Yaku stood there awkwardly obviously aware of how bad Kuroo is making you feel but they didn’t really know how to stop his friend in the moment.Whilst he’s still dying of laughter you decide to pack up your stuff and leave the library.

You managed to get your Chemistry tutor to let you retake your mock paper in a week so that means, extra hard studying with no distractions you definitely can’t fail again. Since studying on your own was definitely not a good option, and you couldn’t go to Kuroo (especially after he ridiculed you) you decided to ask the second smartest person you know to tutor you.

Y/N: Hey Yaku! Can I ask you a favour?

Yaku: Hi Y/N what do you need??

Y/N: I have my chemistry retake next week, and as you know from your loud-loud friend I failed my recent test so can you tutor me?? 

Y/N: Pleaseeee

Yaku: Ok Y/N why can’t you ask Kuroo you know that he’d be more than happy to help

Y/N: Yakuu pleasee just help me out 

So there you was, nearly a week done with your study sessions with Yaku and you’re feeling way more confident than before. 

“Y/N what is the functional group of a Carboxylic Acid” Yaku asked

“umm... COO?” 

“Great! that’s correct Y/N” he praises i dont actually know if it’s correct or not

You then hear a knock at Yaku’s front door and hear his mum let the person in, Kuroo then enters Yaku’s bedroom with shock plastered on his face surprised to see you here.

“Y/N...hey?” he says confused “what are you doing here?”

“Oh Mori-chan is just helping me with chemistry for my retake tommorow” you say nochalantly internally smiling at the twinge in Kuroo’s face at the purposeful use of Yaku’s first name.

“So why didn’t you ask me to help you know I’m a chemistry whiz” he asks

“Maybe I’m too stupid to be taught under your tutelage” you mumble “since I seem to forget whatever you teach me, even when it’s 3 years ago... but ok”

“Y/N I-” he starts 

“Oh save it Kuroo, I have studying to do” you say cutting him off

“But I-” he tries

“So Mori-chan COOH is the function group of ethyl ethonate right?” you ask ignoring your boyfriend who is now at a lost for words

“ummm yeah it is” says yaku who is clearly feeling heavily awkward at the tension in his bedroom.

Kuroo leaves and you and yaku finish off the studying for the night, you did feel a little bad for being a bit mean to Kuroo but it’s karma for him being a dick to you. 

You wake up the next day ready for your exam which was first thing in the morning, before you hand in your phone you see a message from Kuroo,

Kuroo: I know you’re still mad at me, but I think you’re going to do so well on this test. You’re not stupid at all, you’re really smart and I love you < 3 

Kuroo: Good luck Y/N

You don’t respond to the message but smile at the sincerity of it and thankful for the boost of confidence it gave you before you start your exam.

Finishing the exam with a smile, you were confident you did well as everything you and Yaku went over was on the paper and you’re almost certain you atleast got more than 75%. You have to wait an hour before your teacher can give you your results, so in the meantime you might aswell reconcile with Kuroo.

When you exit the classroom, standing there was Kuroo who seemed to have been waiting for you for the whole duration of the exam.

“So how was it?” Kuroo asked, apprenhensive as he assumed you would just ignore him like you did at Yaku’s house.

“It was fine, I think it went alright..” you say

“Kuroo”

“Y/N”

You say simultaneously, he pauses for a second to let you speak “I’m sorry I was being so stand offish when we were at Yaku’s I just wanted you to see I could do it on my own, and when you called me stupid I really took that to heart since you and I both know that Chemistry wasn’t ever my best subject” 

“I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, and since it was only a practice test I didn’t think you’d take it to heart but I am sorry I know you aren’t stupid.”

Before you got to say anything else, your Chemistry teacher exited the room with your chemistry paper in hand. Kuroo grabbed your hand anticipating your nerves and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Miss L/N” said your teacher “Well done on your chemistry test” he turned your test around to sure a perfect 100%. Both you and Kuroo gasped, you were elated to say the least you wanted to jump up and down in excitement but a PERFECT 100%.

“I’d also like to add that you have now got the top chemistry score in the school beating the previous title holder Kuroo Testurou” said your teacher, this made Kuroo open his mouth even wider in surprise nearly making you giggle at his response. 

Your teacher took his leave, leaving you and Kuroo in the hallway “ I guess i’m the chemistry whizz now “ you say wiggling your eyebrows just as Kuroo did to you before at Yaku’s this made him chuckle as he came to put his arm around you.

“Y/N don’t get ahead of yourself now, you may have won this battle but I will win the war” he said smiling

In the final exam, you continue your winning streak also getting a near 100% and still beating Kuroo which didn’t matter to either of you, now you’re just like him cracking chemistry puns and jokes all the time which none of your friends appreciated but atleast Kuroo found them SODIUM funny.

AN: Please kill me for the last line of Kuroos, I didn’t really like Kuroo’s since it was a bit self indulgent with my hate for chemistry but what do you guys think?

[duuhrayliegh]

europe - request

pairing: sebastian stan x singer!reader (seb!pov)

summary: singer!reader writes another song, this one is about seb

warnings: suggestive content (*wink wonk*), language, the works ya know

a/n: this took so long bc im not lyrically inclined and there isn’t even that many lyrics in here. i can’t even guys this was a nice break though. i liked the concept, i hope i lived up to your dreams. :)

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are both open loves!

check out my other writing on my full m.list

Sebastian was doing a press interview for his new movie. It was his first on television interview. First time being back in the studio for The Late Late Show with James Corden. First time since you and him had gotten together. He was eager to see what James had in store for him.

He was wearing a bright yellow shirt paired with a red leather jacket. His legs were clad with a different pair that he wanted to wear originally because you couldn’t get quite enough of his thighs. Had he worn the other pair, there would’ve been a prominent wet spot on one leg where you rode him to your own satisfaction. The memory made him bite his lip and adjust his pants to try to quell his oncoming boner.

“Good luck out there tonight, lovey. You’re gonna crush it.” Your voicemail warmed Sebastian’s heart. He missed you a lot, but you were currently on your own press junket. Your new album finally came out and your manager had been running you ragged. Sebastian was so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Hi, Mr. Stan. You’re needed on deck in five minutes.” He nodded at the assistant producer who stuck her head in his dressing room. Sebastian ran his hands through his hair one more time before deciding enough was enough.

“Well, this is as good as it's gonna get.” He murmured to himself as he walked out of the dressing room. He rolled his shoulders, snuggling into the leather jacket encasing his back. Sebastian took a swig of a water bottle from the table backstage. He still got nervous when doing interviews, always worried that he’s going to say the wrong thing.

“And now I would like to introduce our next guest. You’ve seen him as Bucky Barnes in the Marvel Cinematic Universe for the last ten years. He’s played the borderline psychotic Jeff Gillooly in I, Tonya, and the corrupt Sheriff Bodecker from The Devil All The Time. It is my pleasure to introduce the one, the only, Sebastian Stan!”

James stood, clapping as Sebastian made his way to the main set area. He raised his right hand, his left remaining on his stomach. As he approached James, Sebastian switched hands, his left coming up as an offer for James to shake. Afterwards, James held his hand out to the chair beside his desk, waiting for Sebastian to sit down.

“Hi, Sebastian! It’s so good to have you back.” James’ accent broke Sebastian’s name up into three distinct syllables, bringing a smile to Seb’s face.

“It’s good to be back, man.” He grinned big, waiting for James to ask the first question. Once they got into it, the interview went smoothly. Sebastian was able to avoid giving out spoilers for his new project, leaving just enough to the imagination. James was in a fit of laughter after Sebastian had told a crazy story from being on set. James wiped tears away from his lower lashline, calming down just enough to catch his breath.

“Okay, so I want to move onto something else.” Sebastian sobered up quickly, unsure of where James was taking the conversation. “We want all the juicy details about your relationship with Y/N.” Sebastian’s brow raised as he pulled a face at James’ question. He laughed to himself for a minute before answering.

“Ya know, we really have you to thank for that.” Sebastian pointed at James, before bringing that same finger to rub his eye.

“Really?” The man’s voice pitched up, brows hitting his hairline.

“Oh yeah. We were only introduced because of your show.” Sebastian leaned back in his chair, remembering that night with you. The two of you had gone out for drinks, talking for hours at the bar and then even longer in his hotel room. He remembered waking up with you wrapped up in his arms. You didn’t have sex that night, but you definitely did the second night.

And oh god, if  that second night wasn’t just as amazing as the first. The face you made whenever you climaxed danced it’s way to the forefront of Sebastian’s mind. Not good, definitely not good. He had to readjust himself in his pants again, crossing his legs to cover up his rather large problem.

“Yeah, we started dating that same week. Kept it quiet though.” Sebastian held his palm out in the air, bouncing it up and down.

“Right, right. And do you want to tell everyone how you did end up revealing that you and Y/N were an item?” Sebastian looked down at his lap, smirking to himself. “Or should we just play the clip?”

A clip played for the studio audience. It was Y/N doing her makeup for the Vogue Beauty Secrets Youtube video. Sebastian waltzed in the background of the shot. It then cuts to Sebastian kissing Y/N on the cheek, brandishing the hickey’s that she had sucked onto his cheek the night before. Mhm, I remember that night too.

Sebastian had surprised Y/N by coming to see her. He wasn’t doing anything and he missed you, so why waste a perfectly good opportunity. He spent the night there completely ravishing you until you begged him to stop. That night he proudly wore your thighs as earmuffs, burying his face in you. He really needed to stop reminiscing during an interview.

“How adorable. Was that planned at all? Or did you just do that because you could?” Sebastian shook his head, his right hand scratching at the stubble decorating his jaw.

“Oh, no. It definitely wasn’t planned. I honestly don’t remember if I knew Y/N was filming that morning, so I’m just glad I put on pants before I left the bedroom.” James laughed at Sebastian’s comment.

“Okay, so I’ve gotta ask your opinion on something though.” Sebastian made a hum of acknowledgement, signalling for James to continue. James leaned back, pulling out a cardstock of your new album. “So, this is Y/N’s new album, it just came out about three or four weeks ago?” The crowd clapped for you, and Sebastian cheered along with them.

“What do ya want my opinion on? If it’s the album, then I gotta tell ya, I loved it. Every single song on there is absolutely amazing.” James nodded, a smirk forming on his lips making Sebastian think he made a mistake.

“So you’re aware of the song Europe?” Sebastian smirked, nodding his head because he knew where this was going. “Would you like to tell us what that’s about?” James laughed as Sebastian stammered, looking for the right words. “I mean, let’s just read some of the lyrics.” James looked at the cards in his hands as Sebastian drifted into his thoughts again.

You had brought him into the studio before finalizing Europe. He remembers watching you twist your hands at your waist and continuously cracking your knuckles. Sebastian was curious because you hadn’t ever been like that when showing him a song before. Every question he had about your anxiety revolving around the song was thrown away when he heard it.

Europe was an ode to Sebastian, all of Sebastian. He couldn’t help pulling you down onto his lap by your waist as he listened. You were the only two in the studio, so the two of you were free to do whatever you wanted. The funny thing about that night was that there was a new track recording.

“Oh shit, Seb.” The dam broke afterwards, peels of laughter leaving your lips without explanation. Your right hand raised to your mouth, attempting (and failing) to quiet your giggles.

“Babe, why the ‘oh shit’?” You held up a finger to your lips, telling him to be quiet and listen. He strained his ears, waiting for his own ‘oh shit’ moment. Then, his own voice filtered into his ears, making him crease his brow in confusion. “What is that?”

“That’s the audio from when I first played you Europe.” Small giggles passed your lips again. “I was going to ask you if I could use, like, a sound byte from it for either the beginning or the end of the song.” Sebastian nodded, slightly amazed that you were so creative with your work. “But, I forgot to turn off the recording.” Sebastian’s eyes locked on your expression, waiting for him to connect the dots. He pulled a face and then,

“Oh shit.” His eyes widened, a huff of laughter escaping. “Wait, so it caught all of it?” Your lips rolled inwards, holding back laughs as you nodded your head. Sebastian raised a brow, his eyes flicking over your face. “Use it.” He had a few new hickeys after that night too, but not after decorating your body with a few of his own.

“Sebastian, I would like you to read a few lines from the song, please.” James handed Sebastian a card, a snort leaving Sebastian’s body involuntarily. He glanced at the cards, know the lyrics by heart already. He took a big breath, reading the lines that James chose. He threw him a look with his eyes, head tilting slightly toward the British man.

“Uh, okay, here we go.” Sebastian laughed to himself, blowing out a breath through clenched lips. He lifted the card again, “You know,” dropping his hand back to his lap while raising his other hand. “You know, she’s gonna make fun of me for this right?” James laughed, looking into the camera as if he was on The Office, then to the audience with a duh look on his face.

“Sebastian. We’re going to make fun of you.” The crowd didn’t hesitate to join in James’ amusement. Sebastian dropped his head into his hands, groaning loudly. “Do you need a little encouragement?” The audience began cheering and clapping for Sebastian.

“Fine, alright, alright.” He shook his head before starting. “Long nights with hickeys earned like a badge of honor. Teasing kisses, twisted sheets, all signs of true seduction.” Sebastian looked up from his hands, expecting James to say something. All James offered, though, was a wave of his hand for Sebastian to continue. “I never have to worry because all my sins are forgiven when I’m with you.” James held his hand up, stopping Sebastian from continuing.

“Okay, let’s dissect that, Mr. Stan.” James propped his elbow on his interview desk, placing his head at an angle in his palm. “What is this song about?” Sebastian’s lips curled inward, stopping himself from laughter.

“James,” Sebastian leaned forward against the arm of the couch. “I thought this was a family show.” The British man quirked a brow, sweeping both hands in front of his body gesturing to the studio.

“This is the Late Late Show, Sebastian.” He turned back to the audience, addressing them and the cameras. “And that is all the time we have tonight! Thank you to Sebastian for coming on the show with me tonight! And thank all of you for tuning in tonight. We’ll see you next time.” The producer beside the camera signaled that the show ended and Sebastian turned back to James.

“It’s a good song.” Sebastian smiled wide afterwards, saying his goodbyes to the crew. He was back in the safety of his dressing room when his phone started ringing.

“Hello?” He knew that it was you from the personally assigned ringtone you picked out when he wasn’t looking.

“The Internet is going to eat you alive.” Sebastian grinned as your peels of laughter trickled in through the speaker of his phone.

“Oh yeah, could you imagine if I told them that it wasn’t just random sounds at the end?” He could just imagine your smirk at his mention of your little addition to Europe.

“We’re gonna have to do that again.” Sebastian paused, waiting for you to explain. “Although I think next time we should do a visual along with the audio. You pickin’ up what I’m putting down Stan?” Sebastian smirked to himself, thinking about being able to watch himself bring you to the brink over and over again, even when you’re not together. His pants got tighter at the idea.

“I think we might have to look into that, Y/L/N.”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 11: You Don’t Come Around No More]

A/N: I apologize profusely for the long wait. Thank you all so, so, so much for your support. Every single reblog, message, comment, emotional rant, and/or screech of despair makes my day, and I couldn’t do this without you. 💜 Only THREE more chapters left!!!

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “More To Life Than Baseball” by Petey. 

Chapter Warnings: Language, angsttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.

Word Count: 7.5k. 

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​​ @queenlover05​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​ @some-major-ishues​​​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​​​ @youngpastafanmug​​​​ @simonedk​

The Rain

I wish I felt empty.

I’m supposed to feel empty, right? I’m supposed to feel steeped in grey, oceanic misery; I’m supposed to dip in and out of depressive naps all day and sob delicately over creased photos and fading, wistful memories. I always envisioned heartbreak as a soft and inherently feminine sort of affliction: the hems of nightgowns and bathrobes sweeping along hardwood floors, Kleenex boxes and concave couch cushions, weepy phone calls to friends and aunts and mothers, Queen Victoria wearing black for the rest of her life after Prince Albert’s death, Mary Todd Lincoln sinking into dark and hushed obscurity. Women, hollowed out by despair, cross the history of the earth like lines of latitude.

I don’t feel empty at all. I don’t even feel sad. I feel razored by sharp, red, ceaseless anxiety. I am consumed by thoughts of what I did wrong, what I said that started the wheels of doubt spinning in his mind, if he had known how it would end from the start. I dream of white, clawed hands dragging me down through cold waves. I hear words scream to me as I toss at night in my suddenly too-spacious bed, words that now hit me like knuckles to the gut: Shhh, hey, it’s just me, don’t get up, as Joe slipped beneath the Arizonan blankets, wrapped an arm around my waist, kissed my collarbone as I tumbled back into sleep; I love you to death, as his Subaru idled in Charlie’s driveway; Baby Swan, listen to me, nothing is supposed to hurt, okay, so if anything hurts, ever, at all, you tell me and we stop, deal? as we stood in the doorway of our hotel room at the Four Seasons in Chicago. And now...and now...

And now everything fucking hurts.

It doesn’t make any sense; and yet it does. Look at him. Look at me.

The Polaroid photo from Homecoming was still taped to the top of my full-length mirror. I peeled it free like a layer of translucent, friable reptilian skin, tore it straight down the center, burned both halves over a brand new three-wicked, lemon-scented Bath And Body Works candle—a gift from Renee and Paul—and closed my eyes like a child casting a wish over her birthday cake like a spell. I wished for my memories to vanish with the photograph. I wished to get hit by a truck and wake up in the hospital with no recollection of the past two and a half months. I wanted the Lees to dissolve into distant, enigmatic mystery; I wanted to join the rest of Forks in believing that they were nothing more than bewildering and yet harmless freaks, barely worth noticing, one of those glitches of the matrix that were better off ignored like liminal seconds of déjà vu. I wished to carve out every part of myself that they had ever touched.

And Joe’s voice came rushing back from where we stood by that star-lit fountain outside the Church of Saint Lawrence, accompanied by falling raindrops and a crooked grin: I can make wishes come true.

The three tiny flames flickered in the breeze that sighed through my open window. The bright, citrusy scent of the candle reminded me of Lucy. I couldn’t fucking win. What else is new?

I turned back to the mirror. I flinched when my gaze snagged on my reflection: bloodshot-eyed, swollen-faced, utterly unbeautiful, restless like a caged animal. Look at him. Look at me.

I ripped the last memento off the mirror—Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!!—and watched the yellow square of paper catch fire, curl up around the edges, become unrecognizable, turn to ash. And I wished over and over again, like a poem, like a prayer: Let me forget, oh god please let me forget.

Charlie keeps asking if I’m okay. The answer, of course, is no; but I can’t tell him that. So I wear a serene smile like clip-on fangs, a cheap polyester cloak, crimson smudges of lipstick like trails of spilled blood down the side of my neck. Every day is Halloween for me now. I dress up as someone who isn’t haunted, who hasn’t become a ghost.

And when Charlie turns up the World Series or I’d Do Anything For Love on his geriatric, staticky kitchen radio—the same radio he’s had since my mother was the one joining him for daybreak coffee and Pop-Tarts—I choke back tears like dragonfire.

Missing In Action (Revisited)

Joe wasn’t here. Neither was Ben.

Lucy, Rami, and Scarlett were sipping cups of tea at the Lees’ usual table, their eyes downcast, their voices low and murmuring, their pristine lunches neglected. Lucy and Rami were dressed in matching charcoal grey turtleneck sweaters; Scarlett had come from Fencing Club and was wearing royal purple yoga pants and a black tank top, her duffle bag of gear on the floor by her sneakered feet. Her hair was in a long fishtail braid. Archer hadn’t mentioned her since Joe broke up with me. That either meant that it was going blissfully and he didn’t want to injure me further, or that Scarlett had ended things as well.

Since Joe broke up with me. That sounds so fucking pedestrian.

I stared at the three present Lees, almost leered, commanding them to see me, to acknowledge me, to admit that I had once meant something to them, that this hadn’t all been some transitory delusion to fill the cavernous void of losing my home, my life as I knew it in Arizona. They took no notice whatsoever.

Jess kicked me beneath the lunch table. My attention snapped back to her.

“Sorry, what?”

“You want to go shopping with me and Angela tonight?” Jessica’s hands were folded just beneath her chin, her voice gentle, her eyes large and sympathetic and watery. This was her version of being supportive. I appreciated it...in a perpetually tormented and preoccupied sort of way.

“No thanks.” I forked my cold, sauceless spaghetti listlessly. I’d forgotten to pack a lunch. I didn’t have an appetite anyway. I had deleted the GrubHub app from my iPhone and had no intention of using it ever again in my comparatively short and calamitous human life.

“You could come to temple this weekend,” Jessica pressed.

“Uh.” Mingling with a churchful of sociable, wholesome, marriage-obsessed adolescent Mormons sounded like the absolute last thing I’d want to spend my evening doing. “That’s a really generous offer, but I’ll pass.”

“Well you have to do something,” Angela said. “You can’t just sit in your bedroom alone all weekend and stare at the wall and wallow in self-pity.”

We’ll see about that. I turned to Jess. “How’s Vodka Boy from your Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class? Did he ever reappear? What’s his name again, Elmo? Ellington? El Chapo?”

“Ellsworth.” She frowned as she slurped her patron-drink-of-Mormons Sprite. “And no, he definitely failed out or overdosed or something, because he never came back.”

“Tragic,” I noted.

“But I’m pretty sure Mike’s coming over this weekend, so we’ll see if I can get some Netflix and chill action going.”

“Jess,” Angela chastised, widening her eyes and nodding to me subtly (but not quite subtly enough). No talking about getting lucky in front of the heartbroken single loser, that look said.

“I think I can be emotionally supportive without taking a goddamn vow of chastity, Angela!” Jessica hurled back.

“I gotta go.” I stood, threw on my backpack, discarded my nearly untouched lunch.

“You’ve barely eaten anything!” Angela protested. “You’ve barely eaten for a week!”

“I’ll live.” I picked my umbrella up off the slippery tile floor—peppered with muddy shoeprints and pearlescent drops of water fallen from coats and limp, sopping locks of hair—and headed out into the pouring rain. I hated the rain. I hated it. Maybe I had forgotten that for a while, but it all came hurtling back now like a hurricane, like a hand cracking across my face. I ached for the desert, for blatant and unapologetic heat, for palm trees and cacti and naked stars in the night sky. I had been researching marine biology graduate programs in the Southwest. There were good ones at UC San Diego, UC Santa Barbara, Texas A&M, the University of Southern California, UCLA. I would miss Charlie and Archer—and maybe Jessica and Angela on occasion—and absolutely nothing else about Forks. At least, that’s what I promised myself.

This is a no-giving-a-fuck-about-Lee-boys zone, I thought morosely.

Ben was brooding at our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom. It was the first time he’d shown up to Chemistry since that day Joe met me on the beach at La Push, since the place I’d once occupied in his universe had closed like a wound. I took my seat beside Ben. The window was shut today, the downpour outside torrential. Ben recoiled, just enough for me to notice; he was wearing his oversized black hoodie and practicing his Welsh, his handwriting messy and unbalanced.

“You could have warned me,” I said.

Ben didn’t glance up from his notebook. “Would that have made it any easier?”

“No,” I realized in defeat. I guess it wouldn’t have. I pulled my own notebook, my favorite pen, and a can of Diet Coke out of my backpack.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ben said. “You really need to know that. It had nothing to do with you. And none of us are happy with the current situation. None of us.”

None of them. That included Joe. “Interestingly, that didn’t stop him from creating it.”

Ben was thoughtful, debating his next words. “We’re probably going to be moving soon.”

“What?” I startled; my turquoise blue pen dropped out of my grasp and rolled across the table. Ben snatched it up and returned it to me. “Really?”    

“Yeah.”

“And what, just redo this whole college thing?”

Ben shrugged. “We’ll probably start our junior years over again. Gwil will say there was some horrible family tragedy and we needed a few semesters off. I could use the extra time to figure out Calc anyway. Parametric equations make me want to kill myself.”

I just stared at him. It didn’t make any sense. “But...why would the whole family leave Forks? Because of me? One pathetic, aggrieved human? Do you all pack up and relocate every time Joe fucks and dumps someone? That must be exhausting.”

“It’s better for everyone if we get some distance. Put more space between our world and yours.”

“But...” I tried to imagine never seeing any of them again: no Mercy humming merrily as she tossed handfuls of homegrown carrots to the alpacas, no Dr. Lee dabbing away my blood with an ageless sort of patience, no Scarlett or Lucy or Rami, no brief glimpses of Joe as he avoided me in the campus library. It’s exactly what I wanted; and yet it wasn’t. It so, so, so, so wasn’t. It keeps getting worse. How is that possible? My voice was flimsy and quivering, absolutely pitiful. Disgustingly pitiful. “Who will be my lab partner?”

Ben peered over at me with wide, confused green eyes. And then—gingerly, awkwardly, like holding an acquaintance’s baby for the first time—he laid his hand over mine. “I’ll miss you too.”

Professor Belvin lectured about coordinate covalent bonds. I didn’t absorb a word. I conjugated Italian verbs with my turquoise blue pen, sketched disordered whirlpools of ink, tried not to think about whether this was my last-ever Chemistry class with Ben, whether it was my last-ever weekend sharing Forks with the Lees. Those rageful, frantic thoughts were back. What did I do wrong? What didn’t I do right? Why did he have to leave?

My nomadic gaze caught on a flier on the wall next to our misted window. I had assumed it was a leaflet for some club or protest or seasonal dance that I would definitely not attend, but it wasn’t. It was a missing poster.

Have you seen this student? the flier asked in bold, businesslike black font. It was urgent, but not quite despairing; not yet, anyway. I could hear a Dean of Student Affairs cajoling some affluent, strings-of-pearls-adorned mother over the phone: Yes ma’am, you have my full attention and I can assure you that we’re very concerned, but I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding...he’s probably gone backpacking or sailing with some friends and forgotten to call home. You know how college students can be. Beneath a large photo of a grinning blond kid—pink polo, flushed cheeks, clever crop job to nix a can of Natty Light clutched in one fist—was a name: Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin.

Ellsworth, I thought, my stomach plummeting. The guy from Jessica’s Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. He hadn’t failed out. He was missing. Missing like a 20/20 episode or a true crime podcast, missing like the pregnant stillness before a murder is confessed in some glaringly florescent-lit interrogation room, before a distended and bloodless corpse washes up on shore.

I turned to Ben. He noticed me eventually, crinkled his brow, shrugged in that way that seemed so petulant if you didn’t know him well enough to not be offended.

I pointed to the flier and raised my eyebrows. Ben twisted around in his chair to look. Then he sighed, scribbled a sentence in the corner of a piece of notebook paper, tore it free, and slid it across the table.

Ben’s note read, in atrocious penmanship: Are you seriously asking me if I ate that guy?

Maybe, I wrote back after a moment’s hesitation. Maybe that wasn’t exactly what I was asking; maybe I just wondered if he knew anything about it.

In either case, Ben’s reply was swift and resounding, and underlined three times: No.

Sorry, I wrote, abruptly remorseful. I am a jerk. And I added a frowny face for good measure. Ben chuckled when he saw it, shook his head, gave me a drawn little smirk. His words tiptoed around in my skull, leaving searing imprints like footprints in the sand. I’ll miss you too.

I have to forget about them. I drummed my turquoise blue pen against my notebook as Professor Belvin drew families of molecules on the whiteboard with squealing dry erase markers. I have to find a way to make myself forget.

Jessica was waiting for me in the hallway after class. It was part of her convince-Baby-Swan-not-to-jump-off-a-cliff initiative. “Hey.”

“Okay,” I told her with steely resolve. “I’m ready for you to set me up with one of those guys from your church or temple or whatever. I’m ready to be a nice wholesome wife, pop out like six kids, learn how to scrapbook, give up caffeine and horror movies, do the whole white picket fence thing. Sign me up.”

Jessica blinked at me. There were flecks of fallen mascara on her cheekbones like ashes. “What?”

“You’re a Mormon, right?”

“Girl, I’m not a Mormon,” Jessica said, puzzled. “I’m a witch.”

Lucille

I found Joe where he usually was these days: sprawled on the sofa, engulfed in the same blue Snuggie he’d been wearing for thirty-six uninterrupted hours, gazing catatonically at the big-screen tv. A 90 Day Fiancé marathon was on. Some rodentish guy named Colt was apologizing to his gorgeous, aspiring-green-card-holding Brazilian love interest for calling the cops on her during their last screaming match. He was also apologizing for the fact that they lived in a two-bedroom apartment with his mother. I didn’t need clairvoyance to see where their future was headed.

“Hey,” Ben said when he spotted me. He was sitting next to Joe and occasionally tried to shove pieces of popcorn into his mouth, which Joe accepted passively like coins plinked into a gumball machine. Ben had been his shadow for the past week; he was perhaps the best equipped of us to understand this degree of melancholy, of hopelessness.  

“Ciao.” And then, to Joe: “How are you?”

“Terrible,” he replied, not tearing his eyes from the tv.

“I figured.” I squeezed between them on the couch, curled up next to Joe, rested my chin on his shoulder. He ignored me completely. I could hear Mercy tapping at her laptop keyboard out in the dining room; she was browsing through Zillow listings in Portland, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Cleveland. Dear god, please don’t let us end up in fucking Cleveland. “Guess what.”

Joe stared at the tv for a long time before he answered. “What.”

“I had a vision of you. Just now, as I was doing laundry. Crystal clear and very scenic too, I might add.”

“Fascinating,” Joe said flatly.

“What happened in this vision?” Ben asked, far more invested, which I was thankful for.

“It was pretty far away, maybe a year from now. I saw you in the desert at night, under a full moon. There were cacti everywhere. The shadow of the Milky Way was threaded through the sky, and the stars were very bright. I could make out the constellations Pegasus and Cassiopeia. You were filling up a tiny glass bottle with dirt.”

“That’s remarkably helpful,” Joe said.

“It is, a little bit,” I insisted. “It means you get through this. That you have a future. I get nervous when I go too long without a vision of someone in the family. But now I know you’re going to be okay.”

The reflections of the feuding 90 Day Fiancé couples danced in his glassy eyes. “Being alive doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

“That’s dark,” Ben said. “Even I think that’s too dark.” He pushed a handful of popcorn into Joe’s mouth. “Are you gonna hunt at some point or what?”

“No.”

“You’re just gonna sit on this couch and waste away?”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to bring you anything? Grizzly bear? Brown bear? Fuck it, I’ll get you a polar bear if that’s what you want. There’s probably some on the black market. Rami would know.”

“He what?” Mercy called from the kitchen. Her typing had stopped.

“Nothing, Mom!” I shot back.

“I don’t want anything,” Joe said. That was a lie, of course. We all knew what he wanted. Rami couldn’t stand to be around him; the thoughts were relentless, smothering.

I linked my arms around Joe’s neck, laid my head against his chest, sighed deeply and mournfully. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I know that doesn’t fix anything. But I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll help however I can. We all will.”

And I had accepted that Joe wasn’t going to respond at all when he finally whispered: “I just wish I could forget.”

Cato

My rolling suitcase snagged on the cobblestone driveway. The tiny spinning wheels bashed against concrete as I scaled the front steps. As the taxi pulled away, I dug around in my suit pocket for my keys, found them, unlocked the enormous front door, stepped inside the palace as my suitcase trolled along the marble floor.

“Cato’s back!” Charity announced as she breezed down the nearest staircase, beaming and embracing me. She was a lovely, innately warm woman from Pointe-Noire, Congo; she still wore the silver cross necklace her mother had once given her around her neck. “Did you have a nice flight? Wait, let me check.” She pressed the fingertips of her right hand to my cheek. I felt the memories rush up like blood to a flushed face: the bite of sipped champagne against my tongue, the thin semi-transparent newspaper pages gliding between my fingers, the husky voice of the bearded, bearish naval officer who sat in the seat beside me, the misted silhouette of Vladivostok as it rose up out of the Pacific Ocean. “Uneventful, but pleasant enough. You flew commercial?”

“The jets were otherwise occupied, apparently.” Charity could see things with the predictability and precision that Lucy so often lacked, but only the past. I pushed her hand away. “Was that really necessary?”

“You’re not mad,” Charity declared, confident, impish, helping me shed my suit jacket and draping it over her arm. “You’re never mad.”

She was very nearly correct. “Where are the rest of the kids?”

“In the kitchen. Go say hello, they’ve missed you dreadfully.”

“I know the feeling.” I kicked off my Berlutis, ran a palm over the wiry fur of the Irish Wolfhounds that appeared to greet me before they resumed padding watchfully around the palace, and went to the kitchen, my black socks slipping a bit on the marble floors.

I could hear their voices before I reached the door: laughter, teasing, complaints, requests. The scents of pancakes and cold butter and maple syrup were thick in the air. Charity was one of our four newest recruits, and they all still had that energetic lightness of being human, a youthful enthusiasm, a relative normalness. I spent quite a lot of time with them. It was my job—to help with the transition, to keep them happy, to facilitate the welding of their individual parts into the beastly machine that was the Draghi—but oftentimes it felt more like a reprieve. Some would stay close to me as they matured, others would grow in different directions, like ambitious vines climbing the skeleton of a garden trellis. I usually missed them when they ‘grew up,’ so to speak...although there were exceptions. I had never liked Liesl. I had always liked Ben. I opened the door.

“Ah, you are home!” Ksenia cried from where she stood over the stove, a spatula in her right hand, bouncing excitedly in place on her small bare feet.

“Hey!” Max and Austin called together. They were both sitting with their shoes propped up on the unglamorous kitchen table. There was a massive formal dining room that could accommodate up to twenty-five guests, but we rarely used it.

“Good morning,” I said, aware that I was smiling for the first time in days.

Max groaned as he scrolled through his Google search results on a burner phone. “What the fuck. My name is one of the top five dog names again. I think I’m gonna have to change it.”

I ruffled his long blond hair, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate. Max had grown up a trust fund kid in Perth, Australia. His mother was old money; his father was a professional surfer. “Your name is fine.”

“Really, Kato Kaelin? Is it really? How am I supposed to intimidate people when I have a fucking dog name?”

“So make them call you Maximilian,” offered Ksenia in a heavy Ukrainian accent. She’d only been with us for eight months, but her English was coming along swimmingly. She flipped a massive A-shaped pancake on the sizzling griddle. That one was for Austin.

“Seriously?” Max said. “That is just way too many syllables. They’ll be halfway down the block by the time I’m done introducing myself. ‘Hey, come back mate, I haven’t killed ya yet.’”

“At least you aren’t stuck with a basic-white-boy-circa-1992 name for all of eternity,” said Austin Tyler McInerny, originally of Sheboygan, Wisconsin. He was chomping on a multicolored Fruit Roll-Up, which swung from his mouth like a lizard’s tongue. He’d been working at an ailing skatepark when Larkin found him. He still enjoyed showing off his kickflips, and kept insisting that he was going to teach me how to ollie. I didn’t have the faintest idea what an ollie was.

“Do you want a pancake, Cato?” Ksenia asked, passing Austin his plate and wiping her hands on her pink apron. Her black hair was tied in a high ponytail with a matching rose-colored ribbon. She looked so young. She was so young, actually. Nineteen. And she would be forever.

“No, thank you dear. I’m alright.”

“I like Alaric,” Max decided. “First king of the Visigoths. Alaric is a name fit for a vampire. Creepy, yet dignified. Or maybe Silas. Or Draco.”

Austin shook his head as he swirled a river of viscous maple syrup over his A-shaped pancake. “Definitely not Draco.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the Harry Potter connection is unfortunate. People will hear Draco and think of that obnoxious white-haired kid from the evil snake-people house or whatever.”

“Oh, right,” Max sighed. “Like I said. Alaric would work.”

“So many A-shaped pancakes!” Ksenia poured a K on the griddle for herself.

“It’s good for you,” Austin replied, pointing at her with his fork. “We’re practicing English.”

“Alaric Luther,” Max mused, scrolling through his phone. I didn’t think he’d find that on any list of trendy dog names. “Alaric Lothaire...Alaric Lucian...”

“I like your name, Max,” Larkin said from the doorway. None of us had heard him arrive. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing a deep maroon suit and a ring on every finger, grinning hugely. He was exactly as I remembered him: stunning, captivating, terrifying. The kitchen fell quiet. I could smell Ksenia’s pancake beginning to burn.

At last Max chuckled nervously, pushing soggy pancake hunks around on his plate with his fork, averting his gaze. “Guess I’ll keep it then.”

“I thought I heard you come in,” Larkin told me.

“It’s always a pleasure to be home.”

He nodded out towards the hallway. “Come. Regale me with the stories of your travels.” Then his eyes flicked down to my socks, and he grimaced—slightly, briefly—before turning away. “And find your shoes.”

I followed him through the hallway, the living room, the grand front foyer with the crystal chandelier, into the elevator. Larkin did not speak, but he hummed as we ascended: House Of The Rising Sun.

It hadn’t always been like this. It was difficult for me to pick out the details of what had changed—the tone of his voice, the proportion of wonder and gratitude I associated with him versus fear, the way this palace (or the one in Reykjavik, or Juneau, or Ivalo, or Murmansk, or any of the others) felt when I stepped inside it—but I knew something had. It had begun before Ben left. It was much worse now. Older vampires, in my fairly learned opinion, are something like the stars. They mellow as they age, temper their character flaws, grow wise and patient like Nikolai or Honora or Gwilym Lee; or they rage until they burn away every last atom of humanity, until they destroy themselves and take entire solar systems down with them. Increasingly, I harbored fears that Larkin was a vampire of the latter variety. And we were all his planets.

In his study, Larkin dropped into the chair behind his desk, brought a hand to his forehead, surveyed a disarrayed flurry of papers: letters, notices, deeds and titles, meticulously managed accounts of finances and disciplinary actions. Larkin had a laptop and burner phone, of course, as we all did; but he liked to work in paper as much as possible. That’s how he’d done things for centuries, since long before the name of the inventor of the internet (or harnessed electricity, for that matter) was a whisper on his parents’ lips. The sky outside was clouded and seeping soft rain.

“Things have been busy?” I ventured.

He frowned, gesturing to the cluttered desk. “I’m in purgatory.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Can I help?”

“The Lancaster coven says they’ll need an extension for their dues. That’s the second year in a row, now it’s not just an exception, it’s a precedent. If you let one coven bend the rules, others will follow. So something will have to be done. Then there’s Stockholm. Anders’ coven has eaten a few too many locals—including the mayor’s favorite niece—and now the city is launching an investigation. Fucking idiots. They’ll probably all have to relocate. There’s some new territory dispute in Lima between Alejandro’s coven and a group of strangers that just came out of the Andes. We’ll have to make their acquaintance, of course. And as if all that weren’t enough, Rigel accidentally fed on a heroin addict and he’s currently detoxing in a cell in the basement. Would you check on him for me? I’m sure your presence will be a...” He waved his hand distractedly, almost dismissively, searching for the words. “A comfort to him.”

“Of course.”

“How are the Lees?”

“Fine. Typical. Gwil’s putting in a lot of hours at the hospital. Rami’s planning to get another law degree. Ben is, uh, adjusting. Slowly, very slowly. He’s not particularly content. But he hasn’t murdered anyone that I’m aware of.”

“How nice.” Now his eyes darted up to catch mine: focused, luminous, unreadable. “Nothing new at all?”

And instantly, I wanted to tell him everything. I forgot why I had ever planned to blunt the girl’s existence, to conceal her talent entirely; I felt her name rising in my throat. And then I remembered again. I’m doing this for Gwil, for Ben.

I pretended to ponder Larkin’s question, as if it was so difficult to remember, as if there was nothing left to sift through but a trunkful of mundane details from the trip like a grandfather’s tattered correspondence and tarnished war relics. That was something an average family might have squirreled away in their attic, I assumed; I’d never met my own grandfather, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have had anything to leave me if I had. “Joe’s got some new girlfriend, but I don’t think it’s serious. I doubt she’ll be around long. You know how Joe is. Scarlett’s seeing someone too, actually. A Quileute kid.”

“Poor boy.” And Larkin grinned like a shark beneath burning eyes. “He’s in for a lifetime of disappointment. Who will ever be able to hold a candle to those memories?”

Larkin had a moderate preoccupation with Scarlett’s beauty, her...tenacity. Her lack of talent was a great disappointment to him, a somehow more egregious fault than Joe or Gwil or Mercy’s. What a shame, Larkin often said. And I believed I knew what came after in his mind, although never aloud: What a partner she could have been.

He was still grinning at me. His expression was hollow, vacuous. A shiver clawed down my spine. He was waiting for something. No, he was searching. I stared back, and I willed for that intangible, contagious harmony I carried around like a wedding ring to hit him like carbon monoxide or bromine: undetected and yet inexorable, knocking him off his path of inquisition.

What does he suspect? What does he already know?

“Anyway,” Larkin continued abruptly, turning his attention back to his paperwork. “I’m glad there’s nothing to worry about in Forks. Liesl will be back in the next few days, Rigel will be ready to work again, I’ll come up with a plan to handle all this and my mood will improve tremendously.”

And where has Liesl been? I almost asked; and then I didn’t. It was a good sign that she was coming home. I had looked for her once while I was in Forks. When I made up my mind to find someone—when that switch flipped in my skull or in the tangle of nerves of my solar plexus or wherever it lived—it wasn’t like poking around on Google Earth: zooming in here, scrolling over there. A goldish trail lit up on the floor, a ‘Yellow Brick Road’ Honora and I sometimes joked, and I followed it. And I had no way of knowing how far that trail might lead. A route heading dead east from the palace might stop in the next town over or continue across the Pacific Ocean; my search might last one day or a hundred. In Forks—as I perched in a soaring western hemlock tree in the forest outside the Lee residence on a cool October evening—Liesl’s trail had led north. North to Vancouver, to Victoria, to Dawson, to Alaska? Who the fuck knew. I was just relieved it hadn’t led to the tree next to mine.

“Well, as always, I’m happy to assist however I can,” I told Larkin. “Just let me know and I’ll be on the next flight out of Vladivostok.”

“I appreciate that, Cato.” He smiled, paternally this time. And then he spun his chair around to peer out the window into the episodic flares of lightning that illuminated great dark clouds like neurons in a celestial brain. I hate thunderstorms. They remind me of South Carolina. “But I think you’ve earned a rest.”

After checking in on Rigel—irritable, frenetic, pacing, and yet predictably pacified somewhat by my visit—I trotted up the main staircase to the second floor of the palace. I found her in our bedroom: sitting at her easel, a paintbrush held in one graceful hand, an image like a photograph on the canvas. I promptly pried off my Berlutis for the second time today and tossed them into the closet.

“Ciao, amore,” I said.

“Ciao!” Honora replied, beaming. Her curly brunette hair was pinned up and away from her face; wayward tendrils spiraled down to brush her bare shoulder blades, the back of her neck. “Just give me five minutes...I have to finish the shadow of this tree...”

There weren’t many in the Draghi who survived the transition from Nikolai’s leadership to Larkin’s, but Honora had. She was gentle to a fault, a hopeless warrior, turned into an immortal on her forty-fourth birthday when Rome was still an empire; and she was without any talents whatsoever, except for one which was useless in combat. Her paintings, drawings, and sculptures adorned every palace the Draghi owned. Each year, Larkin would ask her to paint all of us together, incorporating any new faces, erasing the memories of those who had proven themselves unworthy. One such portrait, I knew, hung in Gwilym Lee’s home office.

I went to the woman I called my wife, laid my palms on her shoulders, leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Take your time, love.”

“Everything’s alright?” Honora asked, looking hopefully up at me with large, wide-set jade eyes. No, not just hopefully. Trustingly.

“Everything’s alright,” I agreed, not knowing if I believed it.

Shadows And Spells

“He just...just...disappeared?!” Jessica sputtered, scandalized, gaping at me as she held a Styrofoam cup of spiked apple cider in her clasped hands.

We were on a quilt near the outskirts of the sea of beach towels and blankets that circled the bonfire. Women—wearing flowing dresses or robes or tunics or not very much at all—flounced around the flames banging tambourines and reciting chants that I didn’t know the words to. Some carried torches, beacons of heat and light in the darkness. Jessica was wearing a short black shirt, fishnet tights, and a black crop-top turtleneck sweater; I had opted for a bohemian blue dress patterned with stars, an old thrift shop find and the closest thing I owned to Wiccan festivities apparel. I had a cup of hot apple cider as well, enhanced with a generous splash of Captain Morgan, but hadn’t quite conjured up the rebelliousness to drink it yet.

I suddenly recalled Mercy bringing me an endless supply of virgin autumnal sangrias as Joe and I swam in the hot tub on the Lees’ back porch. As soon as you turn twenty-one, you can have the real thing. I frowned, shuddered, took a bitter and burning sip.

“Yeah,” I replied. “He told his roommate he was going to a frat party or something and never showed up and never made it back home either. The parents are blaming the university, the university is insisting he must be off with a girlfriend or on some hipster soul-searching nature adventure or whatever, it’s a mess.”

“Jesus,” she murmured. “What does your dad say?”

“He’s been helping the state police with the investigation. There’s really no evidence of anything. No witnesses, no footprints, no surveillance footage, no handy anonymous tips...”

“No body,” Jessica finished.

“That’s morbid.” I downed the rest of my cider. Was the world already beginning to list like a ship on choppy waves, or was that just my imagination? I guess it would be possible. I’d barely eaten all day.

“You were thinking it.”

“Well, one’s mind does tend to wander towards homicide under such circumstances.”

“It is the season of the dead.” She grinned wickedly, then took my empty cup. “He’s probably fine. I bet he wants to drop out to become a weed farmer and hasn’t worked up the guts to tell his parents yet. You want another?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” Jess rose to balance on black boots with five-inch heels and staggered off to the foldable table piled high with cans and bottles and snacks. I was getting the impression that her Wiccanism was more of a novelty than a spiritual commitment.

The season of the dead. Now that’s VERY morbid.

There were some guys laughing, smoking home-rolled cigarettes, and toasting glasses of red wine on a nearby mandala blanket, bespectacled intellectual types who were probably getting PhDs in Anthropology or Medieval Studies at the University of Washington. One of them—curly-haired, pale-eyed, wearing a sweater vest and a cautious smile—raised his wine glass in my direction. I waved back without much enthusiasm.

“He’s cute, right?” Jessica asked, plopping back down onto our quilt and shoving a full cup of spiked cider into my grasp. She motioned for me to drink. I did. “That’s Sebastian, but he likes to be called Bash. He’s twenty-three and speaks fluent German.”

“Charming.”

“He’s very...uh...gifted. I’m not saying I know from personal experience, but I’ve heard it from a very reliable source. And his parents own a beach house in Monterey. You could go skinny-dipping.”  

“In the ocean?” The world was definitely wobbling now. I was warm all over, numbed, fuzzy; it was becoming difficult to picture Joe’s face, to hear his voice. This was good. I kept drinking. “No thanks. Too many sharks. They have great whites down there.”

Jess tossed her long, loose hair and sighed impatiently. “I’m just saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. So you should pursue that.”

“I’ll totally consider it.” I lied. I would not consider it.

She smiled, sympathetically, fondly. “I can’t believe you thought I was a Mormon.”

“I can’t believe I’m out in the Washington wilderness commemorating the Gaelic festival of Samhain, but here we all are.”

Jess glanced over my shoulder. “Oh my god. He’s coming over here.”

“Ugh.” I craned my neck to see. Sebastian—whoops, my mistake, Bash—was approaching. “Please distract him. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Also I’m pretty sure I’m getting drunk and I don’t want to do anything humiliating, like sob uncontrollably about how much I miss my ex-boyfriend.”

“Don’t worry. I gotchu, Baby Swan.”

“Hey Jess,” Bash said, but he was looking at me. He pitched his cigarette off into the trees. What the fuck, who does that?

“Only you can prevent forest fires,” I told him in a woozy, mock-Smokey Bear voice.

“What?” he asked, baffled.

“Ignore her, she’s drunk,” Jess said quickly. “So what’s up? Come on, sit with me. Keep me toasty. Teach me some German...”

As they chatted and giggled and snuggled closer together—I’m starting to think that Jessica might have been her own reliable source—I studied the forest, watching to make sure the cigarette didn’t begin to smolder in the damp brush. The voices and crackling of the bonfire and sharp ringing of the tambourines faded into one muted, uniform drone. The trees reeled in the haze of the spiked cider; the cool wind moaned through them. And then, for only a second: a glimpse of something impossibly quick, something silvery and reedy and sunless.

What was that?

I blinked. It was gone. I blinked again, staring penetratingly. The swarming heat from the cider evaporated from my skin, my blood. There were goosebumps rising all over me.

What the hell was that?

I remembered how Calawah University students sometimes reacted to Ben: flinching, withdrawing, autonomically fearing him on some primal, evolutionary level. They knew he was a predator. They knew they were prey. It was chillingly similar to what I was feeling now.

I have to get out of here. I have to go home.

I shot to my feet. Oh, wrong move, that was too quick. I swayed, and Jessica reached up to steady me. “Are you—?!”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I gotta go home now.”

“What?! We just got here! Look, chill out, let me get you some vegan samosas or something—”

“No, seriously, I have to go.”

“Okay, okay,” Jessica conceded. “I’ll finish my drink and we’ll call an Uber, alright?”

“Really?” Bash asked, crestfallen.

“I’ll call an Uber,” I told Jess. “You stay, I’ll go.” Maybe she shouldn’t stay, I thought foggily, irrationally. Maybe it’s not safe.

“I can’t let you go alone. I got you drunk and now you’re a mess and if you end up murdered it would be my fault. There are unsolved mysteries going around, you know.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Girl, there’s no way I’m gonna—”

“I’ll call you as soon as I get in the Uber and I’ll stay on until I’m physically inside my house, okay?”

Jessica considered this. Bash leaned in to nibble her ear. I could smell the red wine and nicotine and animalistic lust sweating out of his pores. And unexpectedly, agonizingly: a biting flare, a muscle memory, Joe’s fingertips skimming down the small of my back and his scent like winter nights saturating the capillary beds of my lungs. Stop, stop, stop. “Okay,” Jess agreed at last.

“Awesome.” I was already opening the Uber app on my iPhone.

My driver was a Pacific Northwestern version of Santa Claus: wild grey beard, red flannel, L.L.Bean boots, rambling about his upcoming trip to hunt caribou in British Columbia. I honored my promise to Jessica and kept her on speakerphone for the duration of the twenty-minute drive. I rested my whirling head against the seat, let my eyes dip closed, watched the intermittent streetlights appear and disappear through my eyelids. I let myself into Charlie’s house when I arrived, wished Jessica goodnight (and reminded her not to get pregnant), and meandered clumsily into the kitchen for a glass of water and a cookie dough Pop-Tart to ward off a possible hangover. Charlie was snoring quietly on the living room couch. I watched him for a while, smiling and achingly grateful, before heading upstairs to my bedroom.

My window was wide open; that’s the first thing I noticed. I didn’t remember leaving it that way. I was always neglecting to lock the window, sure—I kept forgetting that there was no one to leave it unlocked for anymore—but I hadn’t left it open when I went to meet Jessica this evening. Icy night air flooded in. The stars were bright and furious in an uncommonly clear sky.

“You trying to give me pneumonia, old man?” I muttered, thinking of Charlie. I tossed my iPhone down onto my bed and crossed the room to close the window. And as it creaked and collided with the sill, I heard my closet door open behind me.

Someone’s here. Someone’s in this room with me.

I turned, very slowly; it felt like it took a lifetime. She was standing in the doorway of my closet, sinuous and white-haired, wearing black leather pants and stiletto heels and a long-sleeved lace blouse the color of blood, the color of her eyes. And she was harrowingly beautiful; not like Lucy or Mercy, not like Scarlett. She was beautiful like a prehistoric jawbone, like a serrated crescent moon, like a blade.

The owl. The goddamn albino owl.

I recognized her immediately. I heard Joe’s words as he introduced each vampire in the immense painting hanging in Dr. Lee’s upstairs office to me, though I desperately didn’t want to: She’s literally Satan, only blonder.

Her name tumbled from my trembling lips. “Liesl.”

“Wonderful, we can skip the introductions.” Her voice was like windchimes, cutting and brisk, with a hint of an Austrian accent like a shadow. Now she was at my bedside and picking up my phone, scrolling through it with lightning-quick and dexterous thumbs. “Hm. No texts from any of the Lees in the past week. So we don’t have to worry about them dropping by, I suppose. Joe got bored with you already, huh?”

“Evidently.” My own voice was brittle, anemic, weak; just like my ineffectual human body.

“That’s quick, even for him. How sad.” She sighed, tucking my iPhone into her red Chanel purse. “There’s a private jet waiting at the Forks Airport. Pack a bag. You have five minutes.”

“Please don’t hurt my dad,” I whispered, scalding tears brimming in my eyes.

“Of course not,” Liesl replied with a savage, saccharine smile. “Not yet, anyway.”

[actualbird]

(wc: 2.2k. more tagalog! more pining michael! babysitting! baking! part 1. part 2. or read everything on ao3 over here.)

To heerefarwhereveryouare

:(((((((

From heerefarwhereveryouare

??? What’s up?

To heerefarwhereveryouare

dude super sorry but i gotta cancel on the star trek marathon emergency thing came up in the form of Responsibility

From heerefarwhereveryouare

Awww. What do you mean?

To heerefarwhereveryouare

a couple of relatives had a thing that led to a thing and they need somebody to take care of a thing that somebody is me that thing im taking care of is a 7 year old aka im babysitting my gremlin cousin today :((( :(((((((((((

From heerefarwhereveryouare

Oh, okay. Can I come over? We can still hang. Plus, you’re kind of terrible with anything that can be defined as a child, so I’m a little worried.

To heerefarwhereveryouare

im not that bad :(((( but yes pls get over here oh my god

From heerefarwhereveryouare

Alright, I’ll be there in a few. Turn that :( upside down (:

-

Michael admits that he finds kids confusing, but he really isn’t that bad with them. He just doesn’t know how to interact with kids, but that’s him with almost everybody. If it’s a non-Jeremy lifeform, chances are he really has to focus to understand anything that’s going on, or just wing everything completely and hope nobody gets injured.

Nikki is definitely a non-Jeremy lifeform.

Nikki is a tiny seven year old terror with at least five colorful clips in her hair at a time. It took at least three family gatherings for her to tolerate Michael within a three meter radius of her, and two more to actually talk to him. Tita says she’s just naturally shy around new people, so Michael tries to relate to her, but most of his attempts are met with head tilts, suspicious squinting, or, when she gets more comfortable around him, derisive comments.

(“It’s broken,” she tells him in Tagalog, waving the Game Boy Color in Michael’s face. “I can’t see anything.”

“It doesn’t have a backlight, so you have to play it somewhere well lit,” he explains.

She frowns, “That’s lame.”

Michael would rather an axe to the face than anybody dissing his Game Boy Color.)

Suffice to say, he’s thankful that at least he won’t be dealing with her alone today.

“Hey, dude,” Michael greets Jeremy at his front door when he arrives. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem,” Jeremy says, stepping in. “Where’s your cousin?”

“Living room,” he answers. “Just a heads up, she doesn’t speak much English. She can understand it, yeah, so you can relax, but she only speaks a little..”

“That’s alright,” Jeremy shrugs, walking into the living room.

Nikki is sprawled out on the couch in the living room with the kind of defiant pettiness all kids under ten seem to have, swiping disinterestedly on her ipad.

“Yo, Nikki, my friend is here,” Michael calls out. Immediately, Nikki jolts, whipping her head to Jeremy before shyly ducking behind a throw pillow like a cave goblin seeing light for the first time. “Say hi.”

Nikki, obviously, does not say hi, but Jeremy isn’t deterred.

Jeremy sits on the opposite end of the couch and says in a soft, gentle voice, “Hi, I’m Jeremy. What’s your name?”

Puzzled, Michael says, “I just told yo—”

“Nikki, po,” she says softly, eyeing Jeremy over the pillow.

Michael blinks.

“Nice to meet you, Nikki. I like your clips.” Jeremy says, and Nikki actually smiles, raising the pillow up higher to hide it.

“Salamat po,” she says, fiddling with one of her clips that has a tiny cupcake on it.

“Uh, she said ‘thank you’,” Michael translates when Jeremy glances at him, slightly dazed at whatever is going on here.

“You’re welcome. Do you like baking?” Jeremy asks, and Michael is pretty sure he just ended up in another universe because Nikki shoves the pillow down and grins brightly. “We can make something today, if you want?”

“Yeah!” She says, turning to Michael. It’s almost terrifying seeing her smile in his direction. “Kuya Mikey, can we? Please?”

“Wh—Uh. Okay. Sure.” Michael says off of Jeremy’s meaningful glancing and eyebrow movements. “Let’s go check if there’s stuff in the kitchen.”

“Yay!” Nikki cheers, hopping off of the couch and running to the kitchen.

What.

“What,” Michael says to Jeremy’s smug looking expression. “What did you do? Oh my god? Are you some magic kid whisperer or something?”

“It’s not magic,” Jeremy rolls his eyes. “Kids just like doing what they like. Have you only ever tried to talk about video games with her?”

“Yeah but—”

“Not everybody likes video games,” Jeremy says, which, duh of course Michael knows. It’s weird, and he can’t really process it but he knows. “Some people like baking, Mikey.”

“Shut it,” Michael grumbles. “Keep it up, though. I haven’t seen her look anything other than bored or unimpressed, so as weirded out as I am, this an improvement.” Michael leans dramatically against Jeremy. “What would I ever do without you, Jeremy Heere?”

“Probably crash and burn,” Jeremy laughs. “Dude, get off.”

They walk into the kitchen where Nikki is standing, blinking up at cupboards she can’t reach, probably figuring out that this is not her house and that she has no idea where anything is. She turns to them expectantly.

“Okay so,” Michael opens a cupboard. And another one. And another. Just when he’s about to give up, he hits jackpot. “Bingo! We’ve got some brownie mix leftover from the last time we, uh—” Jeremy elbows him the side. “—the last time we made totally normal regular brownies.”

“Are you okay with making brownies, Nikki?” Jeremy asks in that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad soft voice of his that’s starting to make Michael dumb and fluttery.

“Yeah,” she nods enthusiastically, looking at Jeremy like he hung the stars. Which, okay, he can relate to.

“Okay. Michael can you get uh,” Jeremy reads the instructions on the box. “A bowl, a whisk, and whatever, you know the rest. Nikki, can you fetch me two eggs? I’ll get the other stuff.”

Nikki practically bolts to the fridge, and Michael can’t help but smile at seeing her so excited. When he returns laden with a bowl, a whisk, and a brownie pan, Nikki is jumping up and down next to Jeremy, an egg in each hand.

“Here,” Michael hands Jeremy the bowl and Jeremy pours the mix in.

“Uy, wala akong makita,” Nikki says, tugging at Jeremy’s jacket.

“Sorry, uh,” Jeremy glances at Michael. “What did she say?”

“She can’t see what you’re doing,” Michael tells him, looking at Nikki whose head just barely peeks past the kitchen counter.

“Oh, well,” Jeremy bends down and lifts Nikki up much to her delight, if her delighted squee is anything to go by, before depositing on the counter. Michael’s heart clenches for some reason. “Better?”

“Yes po,” she smiles. “Salamat, Kuya Jeremy.”

Michael is speechless.

Jeremy tasks Michael with greasing the pan while he cracks one egg into the mix, doing it slowly in front of Nikki so that she can crack the next one, which miraculously ends in only a few shells landing in the mix. Jeremy lets Nikki mix everything together.

“Pwede ko pong i-try?” Nikki says, tongue dangerously close to the whisk.

Jeremy may not understand the words but he does understand that mischievous look Nikki has. He swipes the whisk away from her grubby mitts. “Nope, sorry. It’ll be better later when it’s finished.” He says. Nikki crosses her arms and pouts, which causes Jeremy to laugh, which makes her pout falter.

They pour the batter into the pan, expertly greased, if Michael may say so himself, and pop it in the oven.

“The box says it’ll take around twenty minutes.” Michael says. Nikki is crouching by the oven, staring at the brownies.

“Alright,” Jeremy says, patting his pockets. “Hey, I think I left my phone in your living room. I’ll be right back. Watch over the brownies for me?”

Michael raises an eyebrow, “They’re not gonna walk away—”

“I will, Kuya Jeremy,” Nikki says solemnly, face as serious as if she’s a bodyguard and that she’ll guard these brownies with her life.

“Thanks,” Jeremy smiles, and he leaves the kitchen.

There’s a beat of awkward silence.

Then Nikki says in Filipino, “Do you have a crush on Kuya Jeremy?”

Michael is really glad he isn’t eating anything this time.

“I—I’m sorry what?” He stutters. “What are you talking about?

“You’re always looking at him,” she grins.

“Yeah, well, you’re always looking at him too!”

“Because I like him too,” Nikki whispers.

“What? That’s not allowed. You’ve known him for like, forty minutes.” Michael says, an odd, protective feeling washing over him for Jeremy. Which is ridiculous.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she steps on his foot.

“Ow!”

“And you better not tell him! It’s a secret!”

“I won’t, don’t worry,” Michael sighs. “I haven’t even told him myself.”

Nikki gasps, and fuck. “So you do like him!”

“No, I don’t. Shut up,” he hisses. The glint in Nikki’s eyes should’ve warned him that only trouble was to come, but by the time it dawns on him, she’s running out of the kitchen with her tiny little goblin legs.

“KUYA JEREMY,” Nikki yells, skidding into the living room, fuckity fuck. “Kuya Mikey li—”

Before any traitorous words can be said, Michael does a sick slide on the floor, catches her, and covers her awful demon mouth.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, please,” Michael hisses to Nikki. “Please, I am not kidding, please.”

“Uh,” Jeremy says from the couch, phone in hand. “What’s happening?”

“Noth—Oh my god, ew, did you lick me?” Michael pulls his hand away from Actual Confirmed Gremlin Nikki Mell.

Nikki sticks his tongue out at him, but she looks like she maybe might have an ounce of mercy for Michael.

Maybe.

She points at Michael, “Torpe si Kuya M—.” and he covers her mouth again.

“What now?” Jeremy asks and, fuckity fucking fuck. He glances over to Michael. “What does torpe mean?”

Michael is just about to pull another lie straight out of his ass but Nikki beats him to the punch by biting him, Jesus.

“Dude, not cool.” Michael holds his hand to his chest, hoping to look sad and pitiful so Nikki won’t do anything else that’ll jeopardize Michael’s soul.

It doesn’t work. Nikki stands proud and says in straight English, “It means somebody who is too shy to say how they feel to their crush.”

Michael never thought he’d one day vividly fantasize about launching a seven year old child out a window, but here he is now.

“Okaaaay,” Jeremy says cautiously, picking up on the tension. “So what were you guys talking abo—”

“You!” Nikki says.

“YEAH, YOU AND CHRISTINE,” Michael all but screams. “Haha! We were talking about how you still haven’t told Christine how you feel yet.”

Nikki scrunches her eyebrows, “Christine? Sino yun?”

“Oh, well, I guess that makes sense.” Jeremy, oh so thankfully oblivious Jeremy just smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head. “I really do get shy around her, so yeah, I’m torpe.”

“Yeah, you sure are, dude,” Michael carries a squirming Nikki over to the couch and deposits her next to Jeremy. “Jer, why don’t you tell her more about Christine, yeah? I’ll go check on the brownies.”

Michael goes back to the kitchen and catches his breath. That was a close call. That was several close calls in the span of a very short time. Jeremy and Nikki are still in the living room, so this is not time to have a Jeremy Feelings Crisis. Michael takes a second to rein everything back in, then he goes to fetch an oven mitt.

Once the brownies are safely cooling on the counter, he returns to the living room. Nikki is staring adoringly at Jeremy who seems to be waxing poetic on how great Christine was when she was called to read an excerpt of the book they’re reading in class. Nikki notices Michael, and for a seven year old, she conveys quite a lot of emotion into a slight frown.

It’s a look that he interprets as sorry you like your best friend who likes somebody else. Ugh.

“Yo, the brownies are done,” Michael says, and Nikki is back to her bubbly goblin persona in a second. “But they’re still cooling so—”

Nikki runs past him.

“—so I guess you can just go anyway and burn your mouth on molten fudge, or something.” Michael says to the living room and Jeremy.  “Dude, thanks again.”

“For what?”

“For coming over, for making Nikki happy, for baking brownies with us,” Michael tells him. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s really no problem. She’s fun, and I get to hang out with you,” Jeremy slings an arm of Michael shoulders. “What are gagos for, right?”

Oh geez, Michael thinks, suppressing his laughter. “Absolutely.”

When they get to the kitchen, Nikki is trying and failing to climb onto the counter to get to the brownies. Jeremy lifts her up onto the counter as he slices the brownies, Nikki excitedly swinging her legs back and forth. Michael watches, eyes trained on Jeremy as he happily prattles on about Christine’s really cool socks or something. Nikki meets his eyes a few times looking way too understanding for a tiny monster, and Michael just shrugs at her.

Yeah, he’s torpe as fuck, but it’s fine. Being Jeremy’s friend is enough, and he wouldn’t trade it for a dumb confession.

He’s okay. Really.

( glossary of stuff not defined in fic: tita = aunt po = it doesnt...mean anything/have an english translation. it's something we add in sentences when speaking to somebody older or with more authority. it's a sign of respect. kuya = older brother, but is also an honorific for dudes who arent actually your older brother “Pwede ko pong i-try?” = can i try it? "Sino yun?" = who is that?)

[everythings-koreanpop]

New in Town (Part 1)

Word Count: 1,980

Characters: JB (GOT7) & Ae Chu (OC)

Genre: Fluff

A/N: My bias wrecker is wrecking me more when I’m writing this

MASTERLIST

A new life, a new beginning. Ae Chu wanted to get away from her hometown and have a new start at life. Moving to a bigger city in a new country was always her dream. Ae Chu had been studying the new language for a few months, although she was learning faster than most people, she still needed to learn more of the advanced structures of the language. Hokkaido, Japan was her first choice, not Myeongdong in Seoul, South Korea. But after sometime of comparing college tuition and open jobs and apartments, Ae Chu chose to live in Myeongdong.

With a cardboard box in her arms and a couple duffle bags behind her, Ae Chu stood looking up at her new apartment building. She wanted to be independent, she could have lived on campus for her sophomore year but she’d still need to pay for the boarding.

“Excuse me, miss?” A voice interrupted her thoughts. Turning around to look at the man who had made her heart jump, she looked up at his face hiding underneath the black hat he wore. Dark brown hair, almost jet black, piercings on both ears, his skin a soft tan. “Miss?”

Ah! Fuck, I stared too long!

“I’m sorry, ah, can I help you?” Ae Chu said softly in Korean. Her cheeks began to flush red.

“Actually, I was going to ask if you needed help. Are you staying in this apartment?” The way his voice sounded as it traveled to her ears were like heaven.

“Oh yeah, I’m staying here, fourth floor actually…” She responded, her face beginning to feel hot as she realized she told a complete stranger private information.

“Cool, I live on the same floor. Uh, would you like me to help with your stuff?” He asked.

Ae Chu would have declined the handsome man standing before her but she was already grabbing her duffle bags behind her and started walking to the buildings front doors.

“So, you’re a student at the University near by?”

Ae Chu nodded her head, “Do you go there too?”

“Yeah, I’m in my last year. Majoring in music. You?”

“Oh that’s cool. I’m a sophomore in the food department specializing in baking.”

The man smiled, they finally made their way to the elevator. Ae Chu pressed the fourth floor button and set the box she had in her arms down on the flood. The man followed her inside and set the bags down too, stuffing his hands on his jeans pocket and leaned against the cold mirrored walls. A silence stuck around like a sore thumb.

“Ah! I forgot the introduce myself!” He gasped, taking off his cap and clipping it to the belt hole of his pants. “My name is Im Jaebum, most people call me JB.” He stuck his hand out, his long slender fingers adorned with a few silver rings.

“Seong Ae Chu, nice to meet you Jaebum,” she smiled, letting her hand softly wrap around his. Warm and soft.

Jaebum cleared his throat, Ae Chu could have sworn she saw his cheeks turn pink. Finally the elevator bell rang, Ae Chu and Jaebum grabbed the box and bags, Ae Chu leading out first from the moving room, Jaebum trailing behind her. They reached her room and Jaebum snickered,

“I guess we’re neighbors, I’m right here,” He pointed to room 402.

Ae Chu didn’t know what to say, the fact that she was living next to a handsome guy or the fact that she needs to visit the university today and get a few papers from the school office. She opened her new apartment door and set the box on the open desk near her bed. Jaebum also placed the duffel bags at the foot of her bed.

“So I guess I’ll see you around. If you need anything, you know where to find me,” Jaebum gestured to the right side of her room where the bed was with a smile.

As he was about to exit her apartment, Ae Chu walked up behind him and cleared her throat to get his attention. Jaebum turned to face her, Ae Chu caught the scent of his cologne when he turned around, causing the air to brush the few strands of hair away from her face.

“I was thinking if you could possibly come with me to the university and show me where the faculty room is on campus? I need to go there and pick up a few documents before I enter the semester,” Ae Chu informed, tugging at the ends of her black hair.

“Yeah sure, just give me five minutes, I need to get a few things from my room and give it to one of my professors.”

The two both smiled at each other and Jaebum left her apartment. Ae Chu jumped around her apartment and grabbed her phone to text one of her friends.

“Hey, Byeol! I’m finally in Korea. Sorry I couldn’t text you when I landed, I had so much on my mind. But anyways, we should meet up later this week!”

“Ae Chu! I could have picked you up from the airport!”

“It’s fine! I caught a taxi to the apartment and I met someone that goes to the same university as us.”

“Really?! Who?!”

“I’ll tell you later! He’s pretty cute!”

“HE?!”

Ae Chu closed her phone and quickly cleaned up her makeup in the bathroom, ruffling up her hair. There was a knock on the door and opened it,

“Ready?” Jaebum asked.

“Yeah!”

The both of them headed down the apartment hall and to the elevator. Jaebum walked down with his hands behind his back, he wore his cap backwards now, the cologne more prominent than it was five minutes ago. Ae Chu smiled and looked at his side profile. He really was indeed handsome.

“Since it’s almost lunch, you wanna grab some food after you get your documents?” Jaebum asked, his hand ran over his stomach. “I know a great burger joint near by. My friend can give us a few dollars off.”

“Oh! Yeah, food sounds good right now!” Ae Chu complied, her mind now thinking of more things, getting documents, eating, and hanging out with a possible new friend.

“I don’t mean to be rude or anything but you’re not from Korea, right? You kinda have a faint accent.”

Ae Chu laughed a bit, “You guessed right. I was born in Hawaii, my mother is full Korean, dad’s mixed with Japanese and Chinese.”

“Why’d you decide on Korea, then? I would think that if you were majoring in food the States would have a wider opportunity.”

“Well, I’m more interested in Asian cuisine but mostly in the baking. You see, I only moved to Korea because I wanted to experience something different and have a new start, you know?” Ae Chu informed, following Jaebum alongside the back alleyways, taking short cuts here and there. She hesitated for a bit before saying, “I don’t really plan on staying in Korea though. I’ll probably move to the States after I get my degree.”

There was a small pause before either of them spoke again. They still walked side by side, Ae Chu looked around the alleys she had walked through. The smell of food filled the area, small stores were bustling with customers.

“Maybe you might change your mind and stay a bit longer after you graduate,” Jaebum suggested.

Ae Chu looked up at Jaebum who still pressed forward but his face was turned the other way. She could see the tips of his ears burn show a shade of soft red, Ae Chu playfully slapped his arm.

“Aw come on! It’s going to be a few years before I’ll actually move. Don’t be so emotional, plus, we just met so it’s still a bit awkward, you know?” She said her last words slowly, not sure how her new friend would take her comment.

Jaebum turned back to her, his face grew a small grin and chuckled, “Well, let’s do our best at being friends. I feel like we can become closer!” His hand landed on Ae Chu’s shoulder, giving her a bigger smile than the one he showed a few seconds ago.

Ae Chu and Jaebum continued to stolled for a few more minutes until they reached the university. Jaebum lead her halfway across the campus to the student center where the faculty and staff had their offices.

“Here’s where you’re probably going to need to get those documents,” Jaebum informed as he opened the door for her.

“Hello,” Ae Chu greeted as a few of the professors inside turned to see who was walking in, “I’m here to pick up a few documents from Professor Junho, is he here by any chance?”

“Ah yes! I’m over here!” The teacher waved his hand up high, he sat at his desk, papers nicely stacked upon one another, his cubicle walls adorned with pictures Ae Chu assumed were his family. “So you’re Seong Ae Chu, right?”

She nodded her head, offering her hand to greet him. “Glad to meet you. I was a bit worried that I might have gotten the dates wrong, I’m still a bit jetlagged and thought today was Wednesday.”

Professor Junho smiled, showing his pearly white teeth, “Well, I’m happy to tell you that it’s Thursday and you’re just on time,” He looked over at Jaebum who was standing behind you. “I see you met Im Jaebum, he’s a great student, good in all his classes. If only he could participate in helping me assist a few of my english classes.”

“Hey now, Junho. I offered my help, you just rejected it because you knew the other students would find me more fascinating than learning about American writers and all that.” Jaebum now walked to the professor’s desk and leaned against the edge, picking up a pen and twirling it around his fingers.

“Ah that’s right, the papers.” Professor Junho shuffled around his desk, opening up drawers. Although he seemed to be neat and tidy, it was probably just for show to make an impression upon a new student. “Here it is!” He pulled out a set of papers from an envelope, looking through them to make sure that they were the ones Ae Chu needed to look over and sign. “Now, I hope that the school will be comfortable enough for you. Although Korean is your second language you should know that the pace for the classes you’re taking won’t slow down so if you’re in need of assistance you can always ask me or ask Jaebum, here.” Professor Junho went on about the documents in the packet and it seemed like he would never stop talking.

“Hey, Junho. I think it’s time that we start heading off. It’s still our break until the semester starts in a couple days, so let us have our freedom now.”

The professor scoffed and waved the two of you off, “Alright, alright. You kids go off now, then.”

Ae Chu and Jaebum headed out of the teacher’s office and got off campus. Ae Chu looked over at Jaebum, “So how about that burger joint you were talking about?” finding herself getting hungry.

“Yeah! And maybe while we’re at it maybe we should clean up your Korean,” Jaebum said, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Yah!” Ae Chu slapped his arm playfully, “It’s not that bad is it?!”

Jaebum didn’t say anything and kept walking, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Yah!” Ae Chu ran after him laughing.

<<END of New in Town: Part 1>>

[swearronchanel]

and my commentary continues: series 6, episode 2 (if this is now a thing idk what to title it)

You asked for it, my first class isn’t until noon tomorrow so I can sleep in & so, I complied Also the SAG awards finished at like 10pm so even after doing my night routine it’s still early haha here it goes …

- Oh shit I forgot color - ah I really like the new intro - Penny’s outfit is so cute - “Walk don’t run” stfu Sister Ursula this isn’t elementary school - “Have you lost your marbles bubsy” haha that’s cute - UGH I WANNA FIGHT THIS NUN - LET JULIENNE ARRANGE THE DAMN FLOWERS - This is when sister Ursula presses sister Monica Joan about the bon bons lol - “Unlike your sisters” guessing u don’t think u count - You’re damn right - Sister MJ sly af 😏 wish she was my grandma - Aw penny it’s ok sweetie all will be well - AlRight so where is St Cuthberts, is it closer than the London? Idk just wondering - I don’t care that much tbh - Damn this man gonna go blind how sad - I like knowing what happens when I’m watching bc I can’t take so much I get anxious - But are we not going to mention Patsy’s wig anymore? It’s still ugly, lucky emerald is beautiful anyway - - Ugh my bbys are still so hurt about the thalidomide 💔💔 - IT WAS NOT EITHER OF YOUR FAULTS - YES IT IS A MIRACLE PATRICK, YOU SHOULD’VE MENTIONED IT LAST WEEK but it’s all good - HE’S TOUCHING HER STOMACH AH - AND THEY KISSED Lmaoo I bet this will break Tumblr - UgH SUCH A SWEET MOMENT TO MELT MY COLD HEART - Jk this show has made me such an emotional mess, like I rarely ever used to cry or anything - But it could also be because of university diminishing my sanity - “We should really start telling people” - YEA PLS GIVE US A CUTE SCENE TELLING EVERYONE @ NONNATUS - - Buttt, I’m gonna guess it’s either going to be implied that they told them off screen or they won’t find out till she starts bleeding mid inspection ?? idk I’m just guessing, don’t come at me lmaoo - Patrick’s smirk “he’ll certainly understand” 😂😂 - SHELAGH’S CRINGING FACE I LOVE IT - YOU KNOW IM HERE FOR ALL CRINGEY EXPRESSIONS - Plus that’s my bby - - PHYLLIS SAW PATS AND DELIA - SHE KNOWS & IM GLAD IT WAS HER TO FIRST FIND OUT - - alright so let me be annoying real quick - From that clip from the casebook Valerie is problematic/lowkey racist & no estoy aquí para eso PERO I like her in the moment? - One, her outfit is cute - & B, she gets along well with my shelagh and seems nice.. I’m not gonna forget her comment though lol, so I’m going to stay neutral for now - - Ok the Marsh baby is born next - Lol sorry I love when sister Winifred is being cringey or funny but this was just kinda boring but I know it’ll get better later in the episode - BUT SERIOUSLY I WANNA KNOW SISTER WINIFRED’S REAL NAME - Idk why that was capitalized I don’t feel that strongly but I’m very curious !¡! - - Shelagh being all cute and cheeky giving those vaccinations - Penny is so sweet - - Alright this is so irrelevant but still, Shelagh is outside.. so Why would she throw up in a napkin in her hand? lol, all that open space 😭😂 idk I really hate throwing up and will not let my self throw up. Not even vlad can make me😷 - SHIT THAT EXPLOSION THO - what were they doing exactly? - like a bitch over here a lil confused :/ - MY LIL SUPERHERO SPRINGING TO ACTION YES BBY - shit George’s blind for good now it’s sad - and arthur’s gonna die damn - - look at disheveled Shelagh so damn pretty but I wonder when she got that cut lol - Lmaoo @ Valerie, so she knows the Nonnatuns - - Damn I’m only 17 mins in why do I talk so much shit to myself - Sister MJ sneaking that bread during sister Ursula’s prayer is me 😂 - I swear though if Sister Ursula tries to get rid of Sister MJ I will fight - My eyes roll every time this woman is on my screen - Phyllis chewing angrily is also me - “Travel visas there have been canceled” shit pats it’s too relevant right now - “I’m trifle deaf these days” PHYLLIS U ARE A GEM - Penny wins best dressed patient - - Patrick worrying is precious - SHELAGH TRYING TO HINT WHILE SMILING IS SO FUNNY BUT WHY - Lmao why are they acting like Tim is not literally right there? - Also this boy is 15 why is he not ever with friends - Of course he knew, he’s always around and isn’t dumb at all. He basically grew up around pregnant ladies tbh - “.. Good I don’t want to know any other details” lmao 😂 - I knew he’d be pleased but I lowkey wanted him not to upset or annoyed so he could have a good little story line - It’s not realistic that this 15 year old is so pleasant with his parents all the time - Like I was an angsty fright @ 15 - lol I’m acting like I’m old, I’m going to be 19 & I’m still like that^ with my parents a lot of the time - - Why do British people call bandaids “plasters”? Hm. I just think of plaster of Paris for like walls or whatever it’s used for - “I’m a slow healer” lol Shelagh is so precious - “If the baby’s a girl I’m moving out” I think it’ll be a boy. Actually Idk forget I said that - Don’t be nervous bby, speak up you got this - “That’s my girl” yes Patrick that’s our girl protect her at all freaking cost 😭 - I’ve gotten so far without saying “fuck” I’m proud - - “This is the dark before the dawn, but there is always a dawn” thanks sister I needed that - “I’ve committed a crime"😭😭 - I love sister MJ - also not gonna lie I cried a little the first time watching this - - Some mothers of color in the community centre makes me happy - Who’s the model though? 😏 - Someone find him & tag me - Ugh here comes sister “I ruin everything” - Honestly when is sister Julienne just gonna come out and say “you gotta go”? - No that’s not the way you do things - fuck yea sister J - “We must simply sit it out and wait for Churchill” - I HOPE THATS TRIXIE - BUT also I really want Sister Julienne to be the one who saves the day - Lol yea Babs your wardrobe should step it up but it’s okay - - Shelagh don’t be nervous you’re gonna kill it - Does sister Ursula even do anything? She doesn’t see patients does she? Nah she just makes everyone angry - Get up outta here - Lol I’m so Brooklyn for that - “Mrs Turner you look nice” - UM YES, MY BBY, her new dresses & coats slay - She finally took a break from the damn cardigans & I love it. Not that there’s anything wrong with cardigans but you catch my drift - Nah for real I wanted a fabulous wardrobe for Shelagh bc times are changing & Laura Main is literally gorgeous so she needs pretty outfits & got it I did - so here for it, now we wait for another pair of trousers. lets get it 1962 - this first dress had such jackie kennedy vibes, love it - - “Consequences be DAMMED” YES PATS - Phyllis and Sister J are proud, I really want one of them to press Sister Ursula - Look @ Delia actually being a nurse! - ah penny 💔 - - Shelagh’s so nervous at first but then is like YOU KNOW WHAT ASSHAT JUDGE - “Where is nurse Mount?” , “where she is needed” YES SISTER JULIENNE - love the blue coat Shelagh - “I’m not ill, I’m just tired and angry” same - Don’t cry bby - “Our best is worthless bc it won’t change anything” ugh crush my heart, especially that little hug. I need to hug them all - lol who invited Tom to the hospital - he’s so handsome though so it’s ok - TELL THEM, STAND UP - “We need to fight” yes ! - I was worried penny’s baby wouldn’t live - C'mon Pats be pc - okay patsy opening up, crushes my heart she’s so closed off but I feel - Here comes the wicked bitch of the east [end] - Whoops can I call a fictitious nun a bitch - YES PATS YES DONT TAKE HER SHIT - Aw patsy, you two will okay, I mean look sister Bernadette came back as Shelagh because of letters so you never know - - Shelagh’s baby blue outfit >> - she needs to go out in public more with her hair down and slay everyone’s life - “Not today.” Yes Delia - “You did it Mrs Turner, you made em listen!” - Yes tf she did. I’m so proud - the set makeup artist did a crazy good job with the burns - “We never really out grow our parents, we just think we do” aw I should call my mum and dad - mm maybe later it’s midnight lmao - DELIA SAID I LOVE U - I FEEL LIKE NO IMPORTANT COUPLE on here HAS SAID “I LOVE YOU” to each other ?? - They almost kissed aw - Fred just break the door damn - Reminds me a little of when Jenny left - Aw the Marsh fam - Phyllis you are gold - Phyllis is still learning Spanish, please give her an opportunity to use it! - the only Spanish speaking mother was conchita, wasn’t that the first episode ever? lets get another one - Anyway, this was so sad. - “The pain it costs to love..” PHYLLIS I LOVE You. You deserve everything good - Aw all the other mothers with penny! - Alright Lets hear it Vanessa - Aw Delia Bonus: preview for next week - my other bby Trixie is back !! - hope she loses her shit when she realizes sister Ursula is ruining everything + patsy/sister mary cynthia are gone - My bby Shelagh looks so pretty!💕 - BUT I KNOW NO ONE IS SHUTTING DOWN ANYTHING - I will not have it - Phyllis spilling the ever so obvious and boiling tea, sister Ursula is UNFIT - Pls let Sister Julienne say something crazy to her before she goes - Why is babs crying?? - ugh of course that’s the most of a preview we get - Nothing bad will happen to my bbys I won’t have it. Protect them at all costs or I’ll spontaneously combust - Jk but I might flip my shit or throw my laptop - But for real for Shelagh to miscarry 3 episodes in would be a waste of a storyline - Plus it is a drama, we’ll be shook for a while, then we’ll cry, we’ll laugh & then Vanessa Redgrave says something profound and we go on with the week - The End 🙃🙃 - If you read this far, you’re a champ - I did this for u all

[bestillmybeefyheart]

Health, misinformation and you.

The ads here have taken over. I have at least 1 every 2-5 posts, I cannot block them, I cannot remove them, they are just there. So, out of curiosity, I clicked on one. Im up at 7am, bored, I figured what the hell. So I watched one from a Dr Gundry who made claims of toxic super foods and body health etc. With a big disclaimer below that the FDA hasn't approved this message. LOL. So this Dr is telling me the food Im eating is poison but his statements haven't been evaluated by the FDA, yeah, I'm going to take that guy seriously. Just like those fraudsters who make "50 States legal hemp CBD oil". Snake oil people. Any website who claims to have important medical information for you followed by "The information on this website has not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. These products are not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease" is pretty much like someone holding up a sign that says "car crash ahead, take side exit". You need to take the side exit unless you want to get stuck in possibly hours of traffic. But what he said in the video made me think. So I did some research. I am no stranger to suppliments, super foods etc. And I like to learn. So, I took what he said and looked it up to see if I could find any truth to it. I wanted to be able to backup my slams, like any good human. :D His first claim... Soy is toxic for the body. Why? Well he says it contains chemicals that directly affect the thyroid and thus impact your health. Even the MayoClinic says this is simply not true. And Columbia University says that soy is perfectly fine and only really has a small impact on those who have an iodine deficiency. Dr. Grundy, 0. Facts, 1. Second claim, wheat grass is toxic and the human body cannot process it. his claim was that cows have multiple stomachs to digest grass and then went on to say there's a reason dogs eat grass to throw up. I found lots of sites debunking wheat grass and its benefits, and they did indeed claim that humans could not process it. And I did find proof that "wheat grass" is just grass (yep, you are paying $3-10 a pop for a shot of lawn clippings.) and that since our bodies do not have the enzymes to digest the grass, we cannot effectively get the chlorophyll out. However, I found many studies and lots of information that chlorophyll, in its pure form given to patients directly, can have an impact on the body and its systems. Keep in mind this is processed chlorophyll not lawn clippings. So the hard part, the part your body cant do aka digest it to get out this chlorophyll has already been done for you. So Dr Gundry, 0. Facts, 1. That is 2 wrongs out of 3. And as we all know, when you have 2 out of 3 wrong, that means you dont pass the test. If I tossed 3 basket balls at a hoop and missed 2, that third one would be useless regardless of how it went because I'd have already lost. Next, he claimed that Goji berries are bad for you. And I found that for the most part he was right, or at least in the right area. Goji berries contain toxic compounds and chemicals, and these can affect how your medications work, especially for diabetics. They also can cause digestive issues and in rare cases cause your blood not to clot as efficiently. Note that much of our health is dependent on two things... having a healthy gut and a healthy mouth. I know this for a fact as I have spent the last 2 years fighting disease linked to both. And I've had doctors tell me to work on my oral health and my diet to make my gut happy. I already brush my teeth regularly and floss, so I focused more on the diet and gut health side. Ive had nutrition studies done on me as well as been checked for assorted things I might be missing and I know for a fact that this is important. Your gut is the center for your health. Eat shit, feel shitty. Eat well, feel good. It's not BS, its science. Science I've lived. So on this one, I'm going to give Dr. Grundy a .5 for trying. He means well, so that has to count for something. He mentioned early man being healthy because of their diet, then as they got more modern, they got fat and unhealthy. And this is actually because they switched from healthy foods to less healthy ones as they modernized. Gone were the massive amounts of berries and plants and the low meat input, and the gluten and other things started to dominate. Heard of a paleo diet? There's a reason why it works for people with gluten issues. It focuses on things that dont bring in the bad stuff found in wheat etc, and brings in more of what our ancestors ate. Lets talk about two of the important things about this gut health thing that impacts your whole body... Lectins & polyphenol Lectins - These are a protein found in many foods that can have many negative effects on our bodies. These include damage to our GI tract and organs, metabolism issues and other things. You'll find Lectins in beans, grains, many fruits and veggies and stuff like nuts and seeds. Even dairy has lectins. Do some research and make a list and try some foods that are lower in lectins in place of your standard diet and see how it impacts your health and life. Dont take my word for it or this Dr Gundry. See for yourself. Everyone is different, so its not a "one size fits all" kind of situation. Polyphenol - This important photochemical, found in many anti-oxidant foods, help with diabetes, cancer, and heart problems and blockages in your viens according to sources on the internet. Cloves, Cocoa (Dark chocolate especially), oregano (Mexican), flax seeds, blue berries, green tea, coffee, red wine, some seeds and even margarine, which is fatty so be careful with this one. Also try peppermint, star anise, black elderberries, rosemary, safe, thyme, plums, strawberries and more. The highest items are cloves, peppermint, star anise and cocoa powder with the first two being way up there. Also, Im sure you've heard of Probiotics, the stuff in your gut that helps you digest and deal with the foods you put in? We'll, these probiotics actually use polyphenols, feeding on them and allowing them to interact with them in a way that makes them more powerful and gives them energy more or less to work, improving your gut health. If you've ever taken anti-biotics, your doctor probably (or should have) also recommend a probiotic. I know a little about this, as I've spent the last two years fighting GI problems, most of which were caused by Antibiotics destroying my gut health and causing the probiotics to become less effective. DO some searching on the web, looking for WebMC, the MayoClinic and other reputable sources, ask your doctor, and don't listen to the quack doctors like Dr Axe who make crazy claims to get attention. Listen to your body, your gut, and your doctor. Trust me on this from experience. So while Dr Gundry was right a little, he was also wrong a lot. Just going to show you that having a fancy title and medical history does not mean he or anyone knows what they are doing. As always, your doctor and you know more then anyone else about you and your health. And its your job to investigate these things. Don't just let someone tell you, look into it before you take action. And skip the overpriced grass. You can go out into your yard and cut some grass up and eat it and it will be no different then that $3-10 shot of "wheat grass". This is just my opinion based on my own life, some internet research and talking to my nutritionist and doctor as well as my GI doctor. I am not a doctor, this is not medical advice, and I always suggest you talk to your physician before making any diet changes or doing anything with supplements. Better safe then sorry. Hope this helps some of you and if not, feel free to fire back some of your own experience. Any hateful or angry comments will be ignored. And good luck to you.

[globlenet-blog]

The alternative 2016 sports awards: the years best quotes, gaffes and meltdowns

https://clearwatergolfclub.com/the-alternative-2016-sports-awards-the-years-best-quotes-gaffes-and-meltdowns/

The alternative 2016 sports awards: the years best quotes, gaffes and meltdowns

Your investment medal tables: it had been another big year for sporting soap opera. The quotes, the rows and also the capybaras that made yesteryear 12 several weeks special

Star of the season

Cristiano Ronaldo won a 4th Ballon dOr, launched a variety of CR7 blankets, tossed a microphone into a lake, inspired a tantrum meme, and located the eras defining football press conference, using the press banned from asking them questions. He denied it had been his idea to possess the questions resulting from a Uefa media officer rather: I decide nothing. Also, he made an appearance to goes a magic fully-created Euro 2016 TV graphic during Portugals quarter-final. Perfect.

Ian Finch (@FinchIan)

Not only a skilful player, Ronaldo may also gob out a replay wipe #POLPOR pic.twitter.com/UC44YRv5TA

June 30, 2016

Manager of the season

Claudio Ranieri, using the edge off 2016.Hey, man, dilly-ding, dilly-dong. Seriously! Former Ranieri player Gianfranco Zola revealed the saying was attempted and tested. Hes always stated dilly-ding, dilly-dong. Hes a vibrant guy. Initially when i first heard it’ understood what he meant. He explained it a lot of occasions.

Modern footballer of the season

Lots of contenders, but two Rental property men share the title: club captain Gabby Agbonlahor, relegated on the nitrous oxide legal high 2 yrs after extending his Rental property deal because: I get that very same buzz pulling around the Rental property shirt, and team-mate Joleon Lescott, who livened up last seasons harsh run-in by tweeting a photograph of a sports car following a 6- defeat and telling the press how going lower would be a real weight off the shoulders. He left on the free in August.

Also standing his ground: Poultry midfielder Ozan Tufan upset with media critique throughout the Euros after he was caught on camera doing his hair as Croatias Luka Modric formed as much as score before him. I do not get the way a single moment by which I actually do my locks are considered an error. It damages my confidence.

Best Olympic moment

Recording the atmosphere: Nikki Hamblin and Abbey DAgostino helping one another finish Rios 5,000m after colliding mid-race. Hamblin: After I went lower it had been like: Whats happening? Why shall we be held on the floor? And all of a sudden theres this hands on my small shoulder. That girl may be the Olympic spirit, immediately.

Story from the summer time

Syrian teen Yusra Mardini winning her heat within the 100m butterfly for that Refugee Team in Rio, annually after surviving the capsize of the six-man dinghy transporting 20 refugees towards Lesbos. This is actually awesome there are plenty of tales about me now and lots of people who wish to take my picture: its assisting to spread our message. This doesn’t stop here This isn’t the finish.

Most off-message

1) US womens football star Hope Solo, reflecting on their own Rio quarter-final defeat to Norway: We performed a courageous game but we performed a lot of cowards. The very best team didn’t win, I strongly, firmly think that. They wont allow it to be far. They provided the ultimate. And 2) The uniform golfers delivering their pre-Games causes of not likely to Rio. Rory McIlroy: Though the chance of infection in the Zika virus is recognized as low, it’s a risk nevertheless. Dustin Manley: My concerns concerning the Zika virus can’t be overlooked. Jason Day: The only reason behind my decision may be the danger to future people in our family. And Vijay Singh: I must take part in the Olympic games, however the Zika virus, you realize everything crap.

Best change of direction

Originated from Sepp Blatters substitute at Fifa, Gianni Infantino calling his new pay deal evidence of its emerging anti-avarice culture. Infantino stated his modest contract 1.15m fundamental plus bonuses, vehicle, house, 1,542-a-month expenses and funding for just one-off costs for example 1,100 for any tuxedo and 660 on flowers reflects greater than any word can reflect my strong will to finish recent conduct.

Former Fifa man of the season

Most relaxed because the FBI required a grip: former Concacaf mind Jeffrey Webb, who located a Harlem Renaissance-themed blackjack party in Feb while under house arrest in the Georgia mansion he bought with fraud money. Webb, looking for sentencing next May, required the Concacaf presidency this year pledging to attract a line underneath the organisations shameful Jack Warner era: We must move the clouds, and let the sunshine in.

Interview of the season

Gary and Paul ODonovan, live on RT in August after winning Irelands first rowing gold discussing the craic, Nutella, peeing in cups, how you can row (close your vision and pull just like a dog), and just how sad they believed to stay in Rio simply because they were missing the Rio-themed parties in Skibbereen. Recently these were named RT Sport Team of the season, appeared inside a new documentary Pull Just like a Dog, were interviewed for Graham Nortons New Years Eve BBC1 show, and named as Britains most Googled Irish-related search phrase within the entire 2016. Gary: Its funny the way in which its labored out.

Best commentary moments

Icelands Euro 2016 coverage, which from Irelands Cathal Dennehy and Ronan Duggan, live streaming Aprils Irish Universities Athletics Association womens 4 x 400m dramatic relay final being an outsider billed in the depths of hell to victory. Dennehy accepted later hed achieved a pitch approximately your dog whistle along with a squealing pig All of us lost the brain.

Worst commentary moments

1) Canadas Olympic broadcaster CBC apologising in August after their swimming commentator known as the entire mens 200m individual medley mistaking Michael Phelps for Ryan Lochte and 2) John Virgo, confident he was off-air during BBC1s live coverage of Mark Selby and Marco Fus epic contest at snookers World Championship in April: I wanted to watch a bit of racing this afternoon. Ill be lucky to look at some fucking Match during the day. Spokesman: Hes embarrassed and apologetic.

Pundit of the season

The clip that never grows old. Skys Steve McClaren in June, together with his in-play analysis of Englands reaction to Icelands equaliser: It has been the right response from England. You simply think: Not a problem, begin anew, keep dominating, keep getting pressure around the Iceland back four the only real factor they have got may be the big boy in advance Sigurdsson, nobody Sigthorsson Oh, ohhh

Best attitude

Mike Allardyce negotiating the 400,000 top-up that ended his 67-day England reign. He guaranteed undercover reporters hed deliver their pretend clients keynote speaking, thats what Id do, Im a keynote speaker plus good value not only the keynote speech but additionally within the bar after. I do not are available in like many of them, bang, youre off. What happens I am talking about? Im likely to stand in the bar. Possess a couple of social drinks.

Best protest

Charlton and Coventry fans, staging some pot protest in October against both clubs boards by hurling hundreds of plastic pigs in the pitch. @CAFCofficial, 3.02pm: Play is stopped. Pigs on pitch. 3.03pm: (A fantasy ones).

Social networking awards

Best live tweeting: 1) Danny Willetts brother Pete, watching the Masters in April with tweets including: Without words. I once punched that kid in the head for hurting my pet rat. Now look and: Ive shared a shower having a Masters champion. His Ryder Cup online preview in September which branded US fans pudgy, filthy cretins along with a baying mob of imbeciles didnt go down so well. 2) @hastingsufc, remaining professional from the odds in October: Apologies for insufficient updates / Ive been stung with a wasp. Even game, no significant chances. 3) And Icelands @rvkgrapevine, giving one minute-by-minute evaluation of keeper Hannes Halldorssons summer time performance against Portugal. dinns breath propelled our heroic goalkeeper to swat away that weak-ass header and: Goalkeeper Such As The High cliff FACE AT DYRHOLAEY The Only Real Factor Which Will DESTROY HIM IS CENTURIES OF Seaside EROSION.

Most sincere tweet: Sunderlands Victor Anichebe, copying and pasting an excessive amount of what his PR team sent him after Octobers defeat to West Pork @VictorAnichebe: Are you able to tweet something similar to: Unbelievable support yesterday and great effort through the lads! Hard lead to take! But we go again!

Most confused: Californian Facebook user Petra Fyde, asking her buddies and family in June: At the chance of sounding stupid How come a lot of strange men within my facebook inbox saying WILL GRIGGS Burning, YOUR DEFENSE IS PETRA FYDE?????? What the heck is happening?

And also the best-crafted pledge: @Joey7Barton, 24 May: To be a Ranger would be to sense the sacred trust of upholding everything this type of name means within this shrine of football. 15 Sep: I apologise unreservedly.

Frederick Barton (@Joey7Barton)

To become a Ranger would be to sense the sacred trust of upholding everything this type of name means within this shrine of football. pic.twitter.com/nb5yTKq420

May 24, 2016

Best put-lower

Andy Murray in August, requested by John Inverdale: Youre the very first person to ever win two Olympic tennis golds, thats an remarkable task, is it not? Murray: I believe Venus and Serena have won four each. @jk_rowling: Murray just advised John Inverdale that ladies are people too.

Best analysis

One of the footballers reacting to Brexit in June: @PetrCech:It appears as though the greatest decision within the good reputation for the united states is made with different fake campaign and lies. Italys Giorgio Chiellini:The primary problem is an eventual domino effect. I do not think the straightforward United kingdom exit can alter the equilibrium from the whole European economy, besides the acid reflux everyones feeling. I believe the discontent shouldnt result in disintegration. Jermaine Pennant @pennant83: Now we’re not in Europe whats going to take place using the next euros 2018??? And Nolito: What’s Brexit? I believe its dancing. I might be wrong.

Wisest words

25 November:England coach Eddie Johnson, hailing wing Elliot Daly within the buildup for their game against Argentina: He is doing stuff you dont coach. 26 November:Daly sent off after five minutes.

Sharpest PR

Rio 2016 spokesperson Mario Andrada explaining why organisers couldnt be anticipated to simply fix the eco-friendly water within the pool overnight: Chemistry isn’t an exact science.

Best customer support

In August Englands slow over-rate against Pakistan motivated spectator Alexis Larger to tweet: I would like 10% of my money-back. Wouldnt visit football and discover it ended after 80mins. Alex Hales tweeted back: ok DM me your bank details then transferred 4.10.

Miss of the season

Italys Simone Zaza tiptoeing his way to stardom in the place against Germany in the Euros the summers single greatest non-Ronaldo meme. Among the remixes: Zaza like a seagull rubber stamping for worms, Zaza doing Olympic dressage, and Zaza inside a queue for that toilet. Zaza: Regrettably the ball went excessive. It will likely be beside me throughout my existence.

Single worst moment of 2016

Setting a dark tone for Trump, Brexit, Farage and exactly what adopted Germany coach Joachim Lws distressing televised in-trouser scratch and sniff routine in mid-June. Im sorry for this. When you’re filled with adrenaline, unexpected things happen that you simply dont see. I’ll attempt to behave differently later on.

President of the season

Palermos 74-year-old owner Maurizio Zamparini entered 2016 searching to place his coach-eater image to sleep. Heres the way it unfolded:

10 Jan: Zamparini denies hes already feeling twitchy about his new coach Davide Ballardini. I won’t sack him, despite the fact that I possibly could. 11 Jan: Sacks him and hires Guillermo Barros Schelotto. 11 February:Finds out Schelotto hasn’t got his badges and hires Giovanni Bosi rather. 15 February: Sacks Bosi and rehires Giuseppe Iachini, who he sacked in November. 8 Marly:Calls Iachini a fool that has gone mad and replaces him with Walter Novellino. 12 Apr:Sacks Novellino, rehires Ballardini. People say Ive gone mad, but Im the victim here. 6 Sep: Hires Roberto de Zerbi after Ballardini resigns two games in to the season. 28 November:Denies he already has his doubts about De Zerbi. I’ll keep him. That’s my decision. 30 November: Sacks De Zerbi to be pitiful and hires Eugenio Corini to determine out a hard year. Why Corini? There wasnt much on the market.

Most British moment

In April West Indies needed an unlikely 19 in the final to win the planet T20 and Englands Ben Stokes was the person using the ball in the hands to shut the result. Four balls and 4 Carlos Brathwaite sixes later, it had been over. I send Ben commiserations, stated Brathwaite. Hes a complete legend.

Most unpredicted hero

Marcus Willbomb Willis, world No775 as he stunned Wimbledon and, almost, Roger Federer sticking it to trolls who dubbed him Cartman because of his big bones. His Wimbledon run ended having a cheque for 30,000. It is the greatest pay day Ive ever endured. I’m able to repay a few charge cards now.

Chant of the season

Huh! by Iceland. Also worth a mention: tactics-minded Carlisle fans having a Peter Andre-themed message to manager Keith Curle: Woah-oh-oh-oh, Mysterious Curle, I wanna play 3-5-2.

Best falling lower

2016s best football tumbles: Brazilian players Marcelo Cordeiro and Rossi pretending to have been headbutted by each other in October (Cordeiro: Thats just existence. Thats the sport were in) Toulouse coach Pascal Dupraz feeling upset in November by critique of his response to a paper plane brushing his head: Each one of these critics, theyre so brave and Louis van Gaals Miranda Hart pratfall in Feb, because he designed a serious point.

Best Strictly contenders

a) Everton manager Roberto Martnez, filmed dancing at a Jason Derulo concert in Feb b) Mike Allardyce, spotted in Marbella in May spinning on the spot to Rihannas We Found Love and c) Alan Pardew, marking Castles FA Cup final goal by throwing dad shapes on Wembleys touchline. The 3 of these were sacked within several weeks.

Politicians of the season

Were Icelands Ministry for Foreign Matters, @MFAIceland explaining how their 23-man Euro 2016 squad chose itself by whittling lower their people in this country of 332,529.

MFA Iceland (@MFAIceland)

@pin_upicierno pic.twitter.com/ot0Mq2lsjM

June 27, 2016

Best celebration

Michail Antonios horizontal-running grass-dance in Feb after scoring for West Pork. I saw The Simpsons Movie a few days ago. I believe I pulled them back.

Least foreseeable setback

British cyclist Adam Yates, out while watching primary peloton within the Tour de France in This summer, simply to be flattened whenever a fans belt punctured an inflatable Vittel advertising arch. He still continued to win the white-colored jersey, though.

Best clarification

Skiing star Lindsey Vonn, ambassador for Mind skis and bindings, reacted to some ski detaching mid-race in Feb by posting a video of herself destroying her Mind bindings having a hammer. After talks together with her agent she clarified: It was by no means, shape or form an expression around the performance from the Mind skis and bindings. In my opinion in Mind.

Most distracted

French fencer Enzo Lefort entering the Rio Games declaring: Ive given something to arrive here. Its important to not be distracted then being booed through the crowd after his phone fell out of his pocket mid-bout.

Best pose

Roy Hodgson, recognizing themself around the giant screen as England trailed to Iceland.

Danny Bloodstream (@dannyswfc)

Whenever you place your self on the giant screen and wish individuals to think there is a plan… pic.twitter.com/YLX3Mf6kB0

June 27, 2016

Best comeback

Andy Townsend, back on ITV for that summer time: Thats as blatant a problem as youll ever see. Could it have been certainly within the box? I do not know.

Worst luck

Australian rugby league star Jarryd Hayne, cutting short his presentation to 200 school pupils around the risks of the web when his screen began flashing up porn. Organisers stated the pictures didn’t originate from Jarryds device Hayne: It had been awkward. Wow.

Greatest last laugh

Louise Watson obtaining the second biggest fine in Wimbledon history, 9,040, for racket smashing 1,500 greater than Viktor Troickis acceptable for ranting from the worst ever umpire on the planet. She arrived on the scene ahead, though: winning 50,000 on her mixed doubles victory.

Cheapest blow

Spare a concept for Serb rowers Milos Vasic and Nenad Bedik, who showed up in Rio feeling good after 4 years of beginning training and sank after 1,250m.

Greatest attention seekers

Headlining 12 several weeks of viral animal cameos: a) an unflustered cat supporting play at Januarys Everton v Dagenham game, then losing its poise when keeper Joel Robles shooed it b) a squirrel doing the same at Marchs third T20 between Nigeria and Australia (@samuelfez: Watson in to the attack. Zampa at square leg. Maxwell gully. Squirrel deep point #SAvAUS) c) 20 mongooses storming a green during Novembers European Tours Nedbank Golf Challenge in Nigeria

and d) two pitch-invading dogs one sparking an earlier tea in Novembers second India v England Test, another chasing Gois left-back Juninho throughout a Brazilian Serie B game. Juninho stated he ran since you cant tell with dogs locals told RBS TV the stray, Zulu, is simply soppy If he sees a ball, he goes chasing. Not one of them outshone time top sporting animal, though: Brazils hefty and nonplussed golf course capybaras. Australia captain Ian Baker-Finch: That bloody factor is big. Have you ever seen it? Its half wombat, half dog. US player Matt Kuchar: Its just like a moosehead on the gigantic rat. US director Andy Levinson: It appears as though your dog. A just like a dog-pig.

Plus special mention for: Lorenzo the horse, dancing to Smooth by Santana in Rios individual dressage.

Most thorough

These warning notices stuck over the toilets in Rios Olympic Village, banning a variety of unlicensed toilet activities. US basketball star Elena Delle Donne: Guess I will not be toilet fishing today.

Most depressing fact

For fans of the certain age: in May Burys Callum Styles grew to become the very first footballer born in 2000 to look inside a League game in November fellow millennial Moise Kean switched out for Juventus within the Champions League.

Getting people together

Wales midfielder Joe Ledley: dancing for Europe last summer time. One of the headlines: La drole de danse du Gallois and Ledley enflamme le vestiaire.

Best message

Cricketer Liam Thomas wasnt frustrated in October when his prosthetic leg came off as he dived close to the boundary while fielding for that England Physical Disability team. He jumped following the ball rather and delivered a fierce return. Should there be kids available watching who thought they couldnt take part in the game before week, he stated later, I would like these to know they are able to do anything whatsoever installed their mind to.

Most satisfactory reply

Originated from 15-year-old Wimbledon women singles champion Anastasia Potapova answering press questions regarding her existence after winning the ultimate. I do not have siblings or siblings but I’ve got a duck, Vita. Shes small.

Best swagger

Haitian hurdler Jeffrey Julmis the undisputed star from the 110m hurdles in Rio. Within the selection before his race he gave your camera some textbook Usain Bolt-style attitude, then went mind over heels in the first hurdle.

Most uplifting

Showing the planet isnt totally damaged: Barcelonas under-14s side, lightly consoling their tearful Japanese rivals after beating them within the final of Augusts Junior Soccer World Challenge a mixture of hugs and pep talks.

Plus: most offended

Japanese pole vaulter Hiroki Ogita upset by reports in August that hed knocked the bar off with his penis. Irrrve never expected the foreign media to consider me lower such as this. Its false, and i’m devastated they mock and ridicule me a lot. He later tweeted: Watching again, this really is pretty funny, basically let them know myself. LOL.

Find out more: https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2017/jan/01/alternative-2016-sports-awards-quotes-gaffes-meltdowns