#is my cousin will be doing his GCSEs next year

[gatheryepens]

On today agenda is clearing out all my study stuff, this shall be fun..

[212-apricity]

1999, part one

ok. this is my very first fic and the first time ive done any creative writing that isnt for a gcse english writing exam. this is part one of a mini series called "1999" (inspired by beabadoobee's song). im literally making it up as i go😍🙏.

please lmk what you think: should i scrap it or keep going? anything i should change?

and maybe repost if you feel extra generous :))

warnings: none!

conrad fisher masterlist

masterlist

     ༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

Summer had always been a time Belly, Steven and I had looked forward to. Sure Christmas and Easter were beautiful and memorable, but there was something about spending our summer at Cousins Beach. We'd been doing it ever since we can remember. For a whole three months, the Conklins and the Fishers did everything together. It was like while the rest of our year was shit, summer was always there to turn it around. We watched fireworks together, surfed, barbequed, and pulled all-nighters out in the backyard in tents pretending we were far away from our parents in some other country when in reality they were only a few feet away drinking wine and talking. We spent every waking hour together for those three months. And now that we’re all older, we party together.

After Belly and I turned sixteen we started seeing the boys in a different light. It was like they were the same boys we’ve known all our lives but somehow different. 

Steven would make fun of us for what seemed like years on the car ride to Cousins whenever he heard us giggling and whispering about how Belly and Jeremiah were destined to be since he posted a reel with her favourite song (he can't even remember her favourite colour for the life of him). But whenever she’d ask me about Conrad I’d shake my head and blush trying to convince her I didn’t like him like that.

Conrad was…complicated. He was gorgeous and tall and perfect and way out of my league. Hell, he probably saw me as a sister to him and nothing more. I had seen him go through girls year after next and had slowly started to lose hope of there being an ‘us’ anyway.

My thoughts get interrupted by yet another loud sigh by Steven. I swear if I don't end up strangling him by the time we get there…

“I’m boredddd”, Steven sighs.

“Steven that's your tenth consecutive ‘I’m bored’  in a row, can’t you think of anything else to say?” Belly all but yells at him.

He lets out another sigh before I wack the side of his head from the backseat.

“Hey!” he yells out trying to get me back from the passenger seat while Belly laughs and starts recording the moment on her phone.

“Alright, kids can we dial down on the domestic abuse, please? I’d like to go at least a few hours before having to swallow another paracetamol from your headaches.”, Mom says obviously getting fed up with us.

Instead of arguing back I try and shut Steven up by asking him questions.

“So Stevie,” I start, giggling as he annoyingly groans at the nickname Belly, Taylor and I made up for him, “what are you…most excited for this summer?” I ask making up the question off the top of my head.

Steven thinks for a minute before answering, “Surfing for sure.” He nods.

“Drinking wine with Susannah.”, says Mom smiling at the thought of her best friend.

“Fourth of July.”, says Belly.

“You sure you’re not most excited to see Jere?” I nudge her with my elbow as she squeals and looks away.

“What about you honey, what are you most excited for?” Mom asks, looking at me through her rearview mirror.

“The bonfire.” I say, smiling.

I’ve always loved the bonfire. Everything about it, it's always such a vibe. The kegs, the fire, the songs, the smores. It's always been my favourite part of the summer.

Until this summer, when I brought my boyfriend to Cousins.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

“You guys ready for the bonfire, should we go down?” Conrad asks as he enters the living room. I look up at him from my position with Belly on the couch. God, I’d forgotten how pretty he was.

Conrad comes behind the couch and wraps his arms around my neck giving me a slight hug before pulling away, “I missed you.” he says looking down at me.

Before I can reply Steven speaks up, “Aw Connie, no worries man I’m here now,” he says smiling enthusiastically as he pulls Conrad towards the door by his shoulders while everyone laughs at his misunderstanding.

Conrad looks at me expectantly and takes out a small box from his pocket.

“Let's go, man,” Steven says to Conrad before pulling on him again, “I wanna show you this really cool trick I learned the other day…” He drones on as Conrad’s eyebrows furrow and he looks back at me, “Aren’t you coming?” he asks pointing at me questioningly.

I give him a sad smile before responding, “I’ll join you guys later, I’m gonna wait here for Dean he should be here soon.”

Just when I thought they couldn’t, Conrad’s eyebrows furrowed deeper.

“Who’s Dean?”

“Oh didn’t we tell you?,” Belly responds, “Y/n has a boyfriend.”

Conrad and Jeremiah’s faces were a sight to see. Eyes wide, mouths agape and eyebrows straight up, staring at me as if I had told them I got my eyeballs tattooed.

“Okay, you don't have to be that surprised…ouch.” I wince.

Conrad and Jeremiah straighten up and Jeremiah looks at me and smiles before saying, “No, no that’s…uhm that’s great Y/n.” He looks at Conrad halfway through his sentence as Conrad looks down at his feet and puts the box he was holding, in his pocket before turning to Steven and talking to him about setting the keg up for the bonfire and walking out the door without sparing a glance to me.

“That was weird.” I say to Belly as she leans in to give me a hug,

“Totally. What’s his deal?” she responds.

“Beats me.” I shrug before yelling “Have fun! Use protection!” out behind her and Jeremiah before Belly turns her head around and flips me off which just makes me and Jeremiah laugh harder.

I sigh and turn the tv on. With Mom, Susanna and everyone going out, I was the only one left to wait for Dean. I wonder how long he’ll be, I can’t wait to go to the bonfire. Luckily I got a text from him just as I decided on watching Gilmore Girls.

'hey, i'll be there in five :)'

whew that’s part one done! here’s part two!!

1999, part two

[ignitingwriting]

Igniting Writing ‘Mealtime’ Contest 2024, Submission by Sanvi

The Nostalgia Games

Chapter One: Normal Day. Normal Life. Nothing Out of the Ordinary…

I trudged to the familiar enclosure for juveniles, the one which nobody can bother to drag themselves to… except me. I always believed that one day in the boring endless fate of children’s education there would someday be something unorthodox, something that shook us all up, but in a good way of course. That was what drove me to waking up early on a Monday morning, out of the warmth of my blankets and comfort of the bed.

As I walked through the school gates, I noticed a group of younger kids huddled together, whispering and casting nervous glances around. It was probably more nonsense about the Nostalgia Games. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t entirely dismiss the knot of unease that twisted in my stomach.

I swung open the door to my form room, still frantically jabbing away at my phone screen just to look up and to see, to my utmost horror, my teacher and the rest of the class staring right at me. I took a step forward and paused, thirty intent eyeballs following me all the way.

I finally took a deep breath and spoke up. “What is going on here?”

“Oh Nita, what do you think?” the teacher questioned in a mocking tone, but I doubted it was meant with good intentions.

I didn’t think it was wise to voice what I actually thought at that moment as it was something relating to teachers and world domination.

“I don’t have the faintest idea,” I replied with a sweet smile pasted on my face.

“Nita,” she sighed. “It is the Nostalgia Games today,” she finished.

I couldn’t be more relieved. I thought I had missed something big like the year seven GCSEs – if that actually existed – or the class party.

Lessons whizzed by in a flurry, the air laced with tension of the Nostalgia Games; partly because the children who were taken were never to be heard of again, except for one of the bunch. From the long history of the games, people had gradually figured that there was one winner – the child that came back – but nobody had ever found out what happens on the inside of that sort of business. The most popular theory was that children who felt nostalgia on that day were more likely to be picked – hence the name - and I actually saw the logic behind that one.

After my lessons, I made my way to the food hall, sighing with relief that I had made it through a whole morning of maths while the others sniffed with fright, rubbed their noses, closed their eyes and squealed with fear.

A voice boomed from the speakers at full volume and a pair of twins next to me jumped with shock. “Childrennn,” the headteacher drawled, “bewwware of the nossstalgia gamesss today and ssstay sssafe.”

I really didn’t think this was necessary, as everybody was already making enough tumult and this was like adding petrol to a fire, but I wasn’t in charge so I decided to restrain from voicing my concern this time. I could almost imagine the sleepy complexion of our headteacher, his shaggy brown hair falling down his face, his nose wrinkled in concentration as he spoke.

I got a decent lunch, quite a classic: a sandwich, a packet of crisps and an apple. I heard a familiar voice and froze on the spot.

“Ohhhhhhhh Nita, come have an American fajitaaaaaaa,” the voice almost sang.

It was Peony. And an American fajita. AN AMERICAN FAJITA. It was that moment when I realised why a bully was offering me food; I felt connected to America. Every time I remembered it, a fire was ignited in my heart. The glowing warmth of my cousins, the sun’s scorching heat beating down on all of our backs, the happiness and joy that I found there.

I felt a pang of longingness but I brushed it away; now was definitely not the time to stare at the sky wishing things that were not currently happening. By the time my train of thought had departed, the fajita was a few centimetres away from my nose and I knew I couldn’t hold my breath for long…

Chapter Two: The Games

I gasped and woke up, panting for breath. My eyes were blurry and I had to squint to make out the surroundings. Flustered, I rubbed my eyes again but nothing changed; the hot sun whipped at my skin, cacti sprouted up in a neat circle and thin grains of sand blew in the gentle breeze.

My cousin came running towards me.

“NITAAAAAAAAAA!” she squealed with sheer excitement, a broad smile pasted on her face. I looked at her, bewildered.

“What did they do to my school?!” I asked, gazing upon the wonders of what looked like America.

“Nice joke, Nita, and just so you know we are in America… in front of my house,” she finished, gesturing at the massive structure which I was sitting beside.

My cousin held an American fajita in her hands, signalling for me to take it. I have to admit, the offer was quite tempting, my favourite types of beans protruding out of the slightly burned wrap and different types of sauces trickled down it, bursting with flavours.

As exciting as this was, I knew something was off; I was in school just a moment ago. And now…

“Enjoyed your little experience, Nita?” an anonymous figure asked.

I looked around for the third time in five minutes. I was in a building with 12 other children who looked just as exhausted as I was. A memory rang in the back of my mind; my teacher’s voice. “Nita, it is the Nostalgia Games today,” and it hit me all at once, 13 children on 13th February. I was chosen for the games.

Chapter Three: Drown in Nostalgia

I half expected the figure to still be standing there, staring at me expectantly for an answer, but thankfully they had moved on to stand on the podium in the middle of the room.

“Hello, contestants, and welcome to the Nostalgia Games!” they announced. If they expected applause, I think we disheartened them as we all just continued lifelessly staring up at the podium. “The game you will be competing in today is Drown in Nostalgia, where you each shall choose a weapon to defeat each other with.”

A table with a red cloth draped majestically over it was rolled into the room and the fabric was removed with a flourish to reveal 13 gleaming silver platters. Even though I should have been dreading this, my curiosity gnawed at me.

‘What is in those platters?’

With one wave of the figure’s hand, the platters flew off and inside was… food.

“Ooooh, we get food before the games. That is actually nice of you all,” I said, face bright with eagerness as I saw the American fajita waiting for me on the third plate.

“Nita!” the voice boomed, “how dare you insult the weapons!”

I stifled a laugh; I couldn’t help but think that maybe the Nostalgia Games could be fun after all.

“Can we eat the weapons?” a girl with black hair asked.

“Mei, with the kindest regards, be quiet,” the figure sighed.

We all chuckled. In these circumstances it was great to have a comedian, although I did start the joke, but I decided not to delve into that.

“Your task will be to find a person and make them eat your food to drown them in their own nostalgia. Refusing food is not permitted,” the voice continued.

Mei spoke once again. “Can we have water then please sir, you know, to drown them.”

We burst into laughter. Cheers and cries of support for Mei drowned out the voice of the figure.

Chapter Four: Rise From Nostalgia

“Your task is simple,” the figure’s voice echoed through the chamber. “Use the nostalgia within these foods to force your opponents to relive their deepest memories and emotions. The last one standing will be the victor and return home.”

Each of us picked a platter. I took the American fajita, the comforting taste of which held memories of sunny days and family gatherings. Mei, the only one who’d dared to joke about the game, selected a spicy curry. Others chose various nostalgic foods, each carrying a heavy load of memories. The strategy was clear: trigger powerful memories, overwhelm the senses and watch them falter.

I approached a girl with a sadness in her eyes, holding out the fajita. Her face twisted in surprise and recognition as she took a bite. Memories of family vacations and joyous reunions washed over her and I saw the weight of her emotions drag her down. Tears streamed down her face as she slumped to the floor, overwhelmed.

The figure on the podium’s eyes glittered with approval. “One down. Keep going.”

I moved on, carefully selecting my next target. The spicy curry Mei held was already having its effect. She’d managed to corner a boy who was now struggling against a flood of memories associated with his grandmother’s cooking. He stumbled and fell, clutching his chest as if the nostalgia itself were a physical force.

As the numbers dwindled, the intensity of the game grew. Each bite and each memory seemed to sap the strength from the contestants. The room was filled with sobs, gasps and the muffled sounds of nostalgia-induced breakdowns.

The tension in the room was palpable as the final contestants, Mei and I, faced off with our respective nostalgic foods. Mei held the spicy curry, while I had the American fajita. The figure on the podium watched us with an inscrutable gaze.

Mei and I exchanged determined glances. We each took a deep breath, preparing ourselves for what lay ahead. I took a careful bite of the American fajita, savouring the flavours that reminded me of joyful family gatherings and sunny days in America. Memories of laughter, warmth and love washed over me, but I focused on keeping my emotions in check. I allowed myself to feel the nostalgia, but made sure it didn’t overpower me.

Mei, on the other hand, seemed more vulnerable. She hesitated before taking a bite of the spicy curry. The rich, aromatic spices triggered an intense wave of memories for her – perhaps of her family’s cooking, or the heat of their kitchen. Her eyes widened as the nostalgia hit her. She was overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, her face contorting in distress.

I noticed the change in Mei’s demeanour. The spices and flavours washed over her, devouring her in nostalgia.

“Mei, you okay?” I called out, but my voice seemed to be swallowed by the intensity of the moment.

“Overwhelmed by the nostalgia, Mei,” the figure announced. “You are out.”

The room’s atmosphere shifted and I felt a wave of mixed emotions. Despite the intensity of the memories triggered by the fajita, I managed to stay grounded. I focused on the positive aspects of my nostalgia, drawing strength from the happy memories rather than being submerged by them.

With Mei’s defeat, I was left alone in the centre of the room. The oppressive weight of the nostalgia that had dominated the game began to lift.

The figure on the podium approached me, their gaze now softer. “Congratulations, Nita,” the figure said. “You have managed to control the nostalgia and emerge victorious.”

The walls of the room shimmered and the oppressive atmosphere began to dissolve. The familiar surroundings of the school reappeared, bringing with it the relief of the ordinary world. I stood there, breathing deeply, a mix of triumph and exhaustion washing over me. As I stepped back into the daylight of the school hallway, I felt a renewed sense of appreciation for the mundane and the ordinary, a stark contrast to the intense nostalgia I had just survived.

[nriacc]

The City | NRIACC: Part 3 |

Nothing Revealed In A Common Crisis 

Plot by @imagine-that-100​​ and @ghostlightqueen​​

Written by @imagine-that-100​

Description: | Here |

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: This series contains mature content and themes throughout

A/N: We finally have Mattyyyyyyy!!! So excited to finally get my other boy and my other favourite band in here! I’m super thrilled you’re enjoying the series so far and I really hope you enjoy the new part and all the teenage pining! x

| Series Masterlist | N’s Masterlist | NRIACC Playlists | The Band’s Info | Read on Wattpad | Read on AO3 |

The day after Matt’s party your Mum came home and woke you up from a very deep sleep. She was appalled to find you still in bed at 2pm and you were completely dead to the world.

Nevertheless, she got you up and forced you to pack your clothes that you wanted to take away with you for the summer. You didn’t mind too much but doing it with a bad hangover turned a half an hour job into a 3 hour event.

You got it all done slowly with the help of your best friend, as you both replied to your friend’s group texting every now and again. You let her do most of the texting though because you wanted to save your credit so it would roll over into next month.

Before you left Alex’s the previous night he made you promise again that you would text him over the summer. He even made you pinky swear on it so you couldn’t break a promise.

So to keep that promise you wanted to save as much credit as you could. It was a bitch to have to pay for each text you sent and how long each phone call lasted but it was worth it.

And you were hoping that the feeling you got when you saw Alex’s name pop up on your phone would continue. The bubbling excitement in your stomach and the smile that didn’t leave your face until you put your phone back down waiting for his next text to come though.  

Saving your credit was high on your agenda and so was getting a decent night's sleep. So after your Mum cooked both you and your best friend your tea and you finished it, you politely kicked her out after giving her the biggest hug and saying goodbye.

You went to bed early for the first time in about seven years getting more than 12 hours of sleep so you woke up in a good mood the following day. Thankfully your Mum left you in bed chilling for a while too and you listened to the music channel for the majority of the day after showering.

That was until around 3 p.m. when you got all of your stuff into your Mum’s car and you both made your way over to Manchester.

You really did love your summers up there. It was something you’d done since you were a small child when your Mum used to have to go on business trips abroad.

You always went over to your Mum’s sister to spend some apparently much needed time with your cousin. And you were glad the tradition had continued on throughout your teenage years because you did love having a mini holiday away from home.

Your cousin Adam was one of your favourite people on the planet. He was amazing in so many different ways.

He had a great taste in music which meant that you always had something to bond over. Adam was also really clever in school which you were always envious of.

Two summers ago you were doing your GCSE’s the coming school year and you weren’t doing the best with your science and maths. So Adam being the gem that he was had tutored you, despite him being two years younger than you.

He learnt it as you both went through it and he explained things to you in a way that actually made sense. You loved him loads and he was a big part of the reason why you got good results last summer.

He was a fun cousin, too. Your favourite childhood memories were ones of you and Adam running around your auntie and uncles back garden.

He was creative, like you, but in a more musical way. Adam had been able to play the guitar from a young age and he was really good at it.

Adam could play any song you asked of him if he was given the chords, or he could even sometimes work them out himself. It was like something just clicked in his brain of how to do it.

He was astounding in all the best ways.

So you were excited on your drive over to Wilmslow. You and your Mum were going there early because your auntie was making you and your Mum dinner before your Mum left.

The hour drive wasn’t too bad over there. You caught up with your Mum and how her work had been treating her.

When you got to your aunties house you couldn’t wait to get out of the car, one because your Mum was starting to annoy you with her questions about how your week alone was, and two, she was teasing you about who had left the mark on your neck.

You’d tried your best to cover it up with concealer and foundation but it turns out that you didn’t do a good enough job as she easily saw through the makeup. Thankfully though she wasn’t fuming at you, she just was trying to find out who’d done it.

You ended up telling her that it was just some random boy from the pub the night of the Monkeys gig. You were grateful that she seemed to believe you and she let the subject slide.

You abandoned your bags and rushed up to the front door. You were sure your mum wouldn’t mind bringing your stuff in.

“Hi,” You say excitedly when your auntie answers her front door.

She gives you a big smile before opening her arms to you, offering a hug, “Hey, I’ve missed you.”

��I’ve missed you too,” You say giving her a tight squeeze before releasing her.

You ask her quickly, “Is Adam here?”

“Yep he’s upstairs,” She nods.

As soon as thats confirmed you start to race up the stairs. But you’re shouted again before you can escape.

“Before you run off Y/N,” Your Auntie shouts you and you pause halfway up the stairs.

You look back towards her and she tells you, “I’m having your room decorated at the minute and unfortunately it took a bit longer than expected. So the paint is drying so you’ve got to share a room with Adam for a few days until I get everything set back up for you.”

“Oh okay cool, what colour have you gone for?” You ask curiously.

“I went for the white and grey like you suggested last time. Your creative mind paid off,” You Auntie smiles at you.

You laugh at that. Last year she was saying she wanted to decorate it because it still looked like a child’s playroom like it once was rather than the spare bedroom. So you had suggested a neutral but sophisticated look of white walls with a feature one in grey.

“I’m excited to see it,” You tell her.

As your Mum walks into the house with your bags, your Auntie also proposes, “I was hoping you’d help me decorate it?”

“I’d love to,” You smile down at her.

“Amazing,” She grins, “Now go and find who you really want to talk to.”

You laughed a little before you finished running up the stairs to find your cousin.

You turn the corner and push open the very familiar bedroom door into Adam’s room and find him lay down on his bed. You don’t really care about that though because you just run in and jump over him.

Adam groans loudly when you land on him which makes you laugh. You look up at him from the position you're in and ruffle the mop that was his hair.

He had Rumours by Fleetwood Mac playing on his record player that his Dad had given him and you recognised The Chain playing. You loved that your cousin also had excellent music taste.

“Hey Ad,” You giggle at him pulling a face at you.  

“Y/N,” Adam says nonchalantly as if he wasn’t pleased to see you.

You ignore him and ask, “How’s my fave cousin doing?”

“I’m your only cousin,” Adam points out with furrowed eyebrows.

“Exactly,” You chuckle.

Adam laughs before admitting, “I’m good. Mum’s annoying me but other than that I’m alright.”

“Why’s she annoying you?” You ask getting up off of him.

“She wouldn’t let me go to my mates tonight because she was making us all our tea,” Adam said, picking his phone up from the side of his bed.

You ask him, “She wouldn’t let them come here before we ate?”

“Nope, she made me tidy the house,” Adam pouted and you had to refrain from laughing.

“Sorry about that roomie,” You grin, sitting yourself down on the mattress that was on the floor.

Adam sighs, “Don't remind me.”

“Hey I’m fine to share a room with,” You tell him, faking being offended.

Adam rolls his eyes, “Sure you are.”

“I am, I swear,” You defend yourself.

“Whatever,” He playfully dismissed you.

You laugh a little at what he said before you decided to change the subject, “So when do I get to meet your new mates properly?”

Adam looks to you and proposes, “Matty invited us to his tomorrow afternoon to go swimming, if you’re up for it.”

“Yeah definitely,” You nod, “I’m excited for this fancy swimming pool."

“Yeah, just please don’t tell him that I told you about his Mum and Dad. He’ll probably tell you himself. He can get a bit touchy about it.”

“Don’t worry I won’t say anything,” You assure him.  

“Adam, Y/N!” You both hear your names being shouted, followed by, “Tea’s ready!”

“She better stop shouting up the stairs because I’m gunna lose it,” Adam says in a very agitated tone as he gets up from his bed.

You watch him as he abruptly picks the needle up of the turntable and puts it back in its rest. He then removes the record and puts it back where it belongs on his very organised shelves.

“Did you get anger issues for your fifteenth birthday?” You ask him teasingly as you stand yourself up.

Adam fired back, “Did you get sassiness for your seventeenth?”

“Sixteenth actually. Seventeenth was to grow some balls,” You laughed.

~*~*~*~

“Hann?” Adam could hear his friends shouting from the front door.

He couldn’t be arsed moving yet though so he shouted back, “In the lounge.”

“Yes Hann,” George came in and sat down on the other settee to Adam.

“You alright mate?” Matty asked as he walked into the room

“Hiya mate, sit down my mums making us some food,” Adam tells his Matty, moving the remote from the seat next to him.

“Would do but I came to see your fit cousin, not you,” Matty started the running joke early today.

Adam sighed hearing it mentioned again. Since your first Skype call with Adam and his mates had first got a decent look at you, they had all joked that you were attractive and that they wanted to bed you.

Adam knew you would in no way look at any of them that way and he’d tried telling them in every way that you wouldn’t be interested. But none of them listened.

So here his mates were, months later, still carrying this joke on.

“Please don’t carry this joke on, it’s really not funny,” Adam says just sick of it now.

Matty says with a smirk on his face, “Oh, it really is mate. Imma shag your cousin.”

“Like she’d look at you. You’re well younger than her,” Adam bites back.

Matty was lacking for a response but then George stepped in and said, “That’s right mate, she’d definitely go for me instead.”

“You’re younger than him,” Adam points out, trying not to laugh.

Adam didn’t need to encourage the jokes to continue in any way, shape, or form. He needed it to stop.

Especially now that you were here.  

Matty then thinks of a good enough response to annoy his mate a bit more, “Step aside George, it’s gunna be me that she goes for and we’re gunna fuck on Adam’s bed.”

“Fuck off Matty,” Adam says seriously and Matty knew it was time to stop pushing then.

Matty knew that he was going to slowly have to build up his new mates tolerance for his jokes. He knew he was a handful, but that's why he had three good mates to bounce off who had a similar sense of humour to him.

Maybe the cousin topic was just a tad too touchy, though.

“You know I’m messin’… Where is she anyway?” Matty asked curiously, dropping the joking persona for a second.

Adam notices he’d dropped the facade and he tells Matty the truth, “She's up in my room.”

“George don’t let him leave. Don’t want him to disturb us,” Matty says before he hastily exits.

Matty races out of one of the lounge and up the stairs, hurtling towards his mate's room. He obviously wasn’t going to try and shag you, but he was really excited to meet you.

Adam had told them all a lot about you and your interests and hobbies. And each thing that Matty was told just made him more and more curious about you.

“Hey Y/N!” Matty calls excitedly

Matty pushed the door open a bit more but his eyes went wide when he saw you. He saw that you were completely topless standing in Adam’s room which took Matty aback a bit.

He only saw your bare back as you didnt have a bra on but he could see that you had lovely shoulder length Y/H/C hair.

“Shit, I’m so sorry” Matty says with wide eyes before turning himself around.

You turn around hearing the commotion behind you and immediately you want to dismiss the awkwardness that the room had just set in.

“It’s okay,” You laugh a little to try and avoid the awkwardness of the situation.

“I was just grabbing the strings to tie it anyway, you wouldn’t have seen anything,” You tell him honestly, actually amazed that a younger teenage boy was keeping his eyes averted from you as you changed.

“Still really pervy of me,” Matty says, still looking at the doorway he’d just walked though.

“Just a bikini, nothing you haven’t seen on holiday I’m sure,” You make light of it again.

This is when the curly haired brunette looks towards you. You see his eyes cast down to your chest for a split second before flicking up and meeting your eyes.

“Still, sorry. Bit Norman Bates of me,” Matty says, trying not to look at your boobs that were being held in a red bikini.

You smile at him before you pick up your top that you’d laid out on Adam’s bed. You then laugh, “Ey you know your films. That reference was pretty spot on.”

Matty admits to you as he watches you hide your stunning chest from his view, “I’m a bit of a classic movie watcher.”

“Isn’t Psycho an eighteen? Should you really be watching that,” You ask him, knowing he’s a fair few years younger than you.

Matty throws back in the same manner you threw the last comment at him, “Should you really be leaving doors open in a house that isn’t yours when you’re getting changed?”

“Good point, well made,” You nod.

He may have been younger but he certainly had the comebacks that your friends had. You think you’d get on just fine with him.

“Well you know…” Matty chuckles a little but then he remembers something, “Wait, aren’t you seventeen? If Psycho’s an eighteen, why have you watched it?”

Yeah you would definitely get on with him.

“I’m adventurous like that,” You shrug, knowing it wasn’t really a huge deal.

“You’re Matty right?” You ask the curly haired boy.  

He nods, ”That’s me.”

“It’s good to finally meet you,” You smile and offer him a hug.

He takes the offer and steps into your arms for a quick embrace. You feel the need to say, “Sorry I’m a hugger.”

“S’alright,” Matty smiles as he moves out of your grip, but he doesn’t stray too far away.

“I love your hair, it’s so curly,” You have to tell him as you give it a bit of a ruffle.

You don’t think you’d ever seen hair with such perfect curls. He was adorable.

“Er thanks,” Matty says, not really knowing how to take the compliment.  

You just continue to introduce yourself, “I’m Y/N,” You add with smile, “But I think you already knew that.”

“Yeah we did speak on Skype remember,” Matty points out.

“Yes but your video was breaking up remember,” You recall.

Adam’s webcam wasn’t doing too great that night and it kept on pixelating to the point where you couldn’t even make Adam out, despite knowing what he looks like. So you had no chance of making the other boys out.

“Oh shit yeah,” Matty vaguely remembers.

“You excited to come swimming?” Matty asks you with a smile as you pick up your towel and put it in your bag.  

You smile, “I am… Adam has bigged this pool up a lot.”

Matty grins at that, “It is good to be fair. I’m lucky.”

“You really are,” You tell him as you both head to the bedroom door.

Once it’s open you both walk towards the stairs. When you start walking down though you add, “You still shouldn’t be watching eighteen’s though.”

“It’s not an eighteen,” Matty argues back with a smile and shaking his head.

“What are you two arguing about already?” Adam says, stumbling out of the lounge which takes you back a little.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his actions but tell him anyway, “I think Psycho is a eighteen and Matty doesn’t.”

“It’s a fifteen,” Adam tells the both of you.

Matty then looks at you in a victorious manner. Amusement that you were wrong was clear on his features.

“Told you,” Matty grins.

“No you didn’t,” You shake your head, “But you’re still not old enough to watch it.”

“Bad boy, what else can I say?” Matty grins at you and you can’t help but laugh.

Definitely had some confidence, this kid. You were certain all the girls at his school would be loving him.

Another young boy made his way out of the lounge then. He was another brunette and a rather adorable little one.

“Hey,” He smiled at you and you gave him the biggest smile back.

You couldn’t not. He was the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

“Y/N/N, this is George,” Adam introduces you.

“Heyyy,” You smile brightly at him offering him a hug which he seems to gladly take.

Adam sighs and says, “Sorry she’s a hugger.”

George doesn’t get a change to respond though because you say, “Aren’t you the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“How old are you?” You ask when you release him.

“Thirteen,” George tells you.

Your eyes went a little wide at that. He looked older than 13 for sure but he was obviously still just a kid.  

It certainly explained why he only came up to your chest though. Matty being a year older reached your shoulder. Adam was only a few inches smaller than you now.

“Thirteen that’s mental. You look older,” You tell him honestly.

George smiles at that. He liked that he looked older, he just wished that he’d hurry up and grow a bit. So he tells you this.

“Well, I’m hoping to grow some more before I reach your age,” George tells you and you chuckle.

“I’m sure you will, don’t worry,” You smile.

You then ask another question that springs to mind, “How’d you know each other?”

Adam starts off by telling you, “Well, I know George’s older sister because she’s in my year at school.”

Matty then takes over a little which Adam seemed fine with so you just went with it. Matty spoke quite fast as he told you, “And Hann knew that I could drum so he got his girlfriend to ask if I wanted to join his band, so I told her to get Hann to come talk to me himself and the rest is history.”

You unfortunately couldn’t focus on the story of them meeting though because some information, that you hadn’t heard before, came to light.

“Girlfriend?” You question your cousin with wide eyes.  

“Not anymore,” Adam shakes his head.

Your jaw is still agape even when he says that. You have to know, “Adam why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t tell me about your boyfriend,” Adam shoots back at you.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” You say seriously.

You couldn’t understand why he even thought that. But then it makes sense.

“Your neck suggests otherwise,” Adam smirks knowingly at you.

At that point both Matty and George turn toward you.

You put your hand up to cover the mark that you forgot was there. Thankfully the ones on your boobs were gone but the one on your neck was still very bruised.

“I promise you I don’t have a boyfriend,” You tell him honestly. “It was just some fun at a party. Stop looking at me like that.”

He was looking at you like your best friend and Matt did the night of the party when they spotted it. You hated that look at the moment, he’s looking like he wants to know more information.

“Actually you can stop, I don’t wanna know what you get up to at parties,” Adam says shaking his head at you but the smile never leaves his lips.

You laugh at him then. And you decide to get your own dig in at him.

“I’m sure you lot have some fun at your parties, especially with your girlfriend Adam,” You tease.

But before Adam can reply, you turn to the smallest one of you. You throw your arm around George’s shoulder saying, “Not you though George… You need protecting, you’re too cute.”

“I’m not cute,” George rolls his eyes.

“You really are,” You grin before letting him escape.

You think back to your previous conversation though, about the band, and say a little baffled, “I’m confused though, I thought you were the drummer…” You point to George, “and you were the singer,” you then point to Matty.

“I am now,” Matty tells you, “We got George in because our original singer quit.”

“Ah right okay,” You nod, now understanding.

“And we have Ross as well. He’s meeting us at mine later though. He’s out somewhere with his mum and dad at the minute,” Matty tells you.

“Sweet, I’m excited to meet him,” You smile at the three boys.

You’re about to ask something else about the band but then you hear your auntie shout you all into the kitchen for some food. You all start making your way to the kitchen.

“Hann, are you gunna bring your camera so we can push Ross in the pool?” George asks Adam and he laughs before nodding confirming that he was.

You turn to Matty as you walk and ask, “Why’d you call him Hann?”

“We know a lot of Adams,” Matty tells you. “And by a lot I mean at least twenty.”

“Fucking hell fair enough then,” You say under your breath to him as you all walk into the kitchen.  

An hour later you were splashing about in Matty’s pool with the three boys, still waiting on the arrival of Ross. You were in your red bikini which was one of your favourites.

You’d bought it for when you went away to Spain last year with your Mum in the Easter holidays. You’d been really excited and this bikini was by far the best colour and the comfiest one to wear.

You were messing around on floats that Matty had already blown up, trying to tip each other off it. You were currently on the float and the boys were trying to get you into the water when you heard a phone go off.

It seemed to grab everyone’s attention because the boys abandoned attacking you.

“Adam is that your phone?” You ask curiously.

You couldn’t remember for the life of you what his ringtone sounded like.

But your cousin shook his head, “Nah.”

“It’s mine,” Matty announces before he starts swimming as fast as he can to the side of the pool.

Something then seems to click in Georges mind because he then shouts, “It’s gunna be Ross.”

“Shit yeah,” Matty says as you slip back into the water, off the crocodile float.

“Adam quick get your camera.”

“You pushing him in or am I?” Matty asked George as everyone swam to the side of the pool.

“Y/N you’re gunna be the distraction so just keep him chatting,” Matty instructs you.

You once again felt like you were eight years old and taking orders from other friends creating devious plans in a fake story you were acting out. Your friends in primary school always made up weird scenarios to play out, like children did.

But you don’t think you’d ever pranked someone like this since you were around that age. It was going to be funny, but you also hoped Ross would see the humour in it.

“Hiya mate…” You heard one side of Matty’s conversation as Adam got out of the pool to get his camera ready and George waited near the door. “Yeah just come in, gates unlocked… See you in a sec.”

Matty then abandons his phone and jumps back into the pool near you. You guessed that you all had to make it seem normal somehow.

You think responsible for a moment and tell them, “You need to get his phone off him first before you push him in.”

“Yeah you’re right,” Adam agrees with you.

You’re about to reply before Adam abruptly says, “He’s here.”

You all settle into a weird silence before everyone loudly greets Ross as he walks in. Jesus, they couldn’t be more obvious if they tried.

“Why are you out of the pool?” Ross questions the other two.

Adam recovers quickly though, telling him, “George wanted me to film him doing a front flip.”

“Fair enough,” Ross nodded before he turned back to George.

Before a conversation could start though, Adam grabbed his attention once again by asking, “Oh Ross, whilst I’m out of the pool, can I put my new phone number in your phone?”

“Yeah sure, why’d you change it?” He asks your cousin as he hands his phone over.

Your surprised at how quick witted Adam is when he replies, “SIM card broke.”

“Ah right,” Ross believes him straight away.

“Ross, this is the famous Y/N,” Matty says, throwing an arm around your shoulder.  

You laugh at that, needing to question, “Famous ey?”

“Yeah, to be fair your cousin speaks very highly of you,” Matty tells you and you’re surprised by that.

You don’t get a chance to question Adam on it though because Ross greets you, “Hey Y/N/N, how you liking Wilmslow?”

“It’s great,” You nod, “I’m loving the pool.”

“Yeah it’s sick,” Ross grins. “I’ll just change and get in.”

You sincerely doubted that, but you had to keep a straight face for the sake of the prank.

Just as Ross turns back around from the edge of the pool, George decides to take his chance as he successfully knocks his friend off balance and Ross goes crashing into the water.

The splash gets you and Matty in the face, but you aren’t too fussed because you were both laughing. Adam and George start laughing too, completely buzzing that the plan worked.

It seems that George’s victory ends up with him too jumping into the pool, and you once again get splashed. Laughter fills the whole room until the two heads pop back up.

“What did you do that for?!” Ross shouts towards George when he returns to the surface.

You could see that his once soft face was now red and bubbling with anger.

George laughs a little, thinking his friend was joking, “It was just a joke mate.”

“No, you arsehole that wasn’t funny,” Ross

“Oh, lighten up a bit,” George says dryly, throwing a small pool float at him as he walks out of the door.

That just seemed to piss their friend off more though. Ross looks absolutely fuming when he turns back and picks up the small donut that is meant to be a floating cup holder.

“Wanker,” Ross yells as he throws the small pool float at George with some force.

You try and suppress your laughter because you can see how fuming the poor boy was. But that just got ten times harder when George chuckled and Matty let out an audible laugh too.

Matty swims to the side of the pool as Adam twists the camera back around towards you. Ross had walked back out into the garden again, trying to control his rage.

That didn’t seem to be working well though because the next thing you knew he was shouting again.

“Ugh! Fifteen quid as well you stupid cunt” Ross shouted obviously even more angry after checking his pockets and feeling that the money was now wet.

“What?” George asks not hearing his mate correctly due to the water around you all still sloshing about.

Matty repeats his mate's question, “What?”

Ross appears in the doorway once more before half sighing, half seething, “Fifteen fucking pounds, George.”

Ross turns back around though, not wanting to look at his cocky mates grinning at him.

“What was?” George shouts after him.

“In my pocket,” Ross tells you all pacing back towards the doorway.

“Fifty?” George questions in disbelief obviously not hearing how fuming his mate was.

“Fifteen,” Ross confirms looking sorry for himself as he headed back outside.

George then offers a solution, “It’ll dry, hopefully.”

“Yeah but… It’s just…” Ross begins to trail off, trying to control his anger again.

Bless him, you were starting to feel really bad.

“Money’s fine,” Matty says.

“Yeah money’s fine for you when it’s in your fucking house dry Matty,” Ross shouts back before he then shouts at Adam.

“Turn that fucking camera off,” You hear and the next thing you know Adam is hastily putting his camera back into his bag.

You decide you should probably step in now and get them to wave the white flag.

You look to the boys in the pool just beside you, not wanting to completely direct it at George, “Right I think this all went a bit too far… Maybe someone should just go and apologise and ask him to come in.”

Matty shakes his head and George says, “Nah.”

“Awh come on I wanna meet him properly and you don’t want him to be pissed off at you all day,” You pout in hopes that would work.

“I guess,” George says before he swims to the side of the pool before pulling himself out of it.

You smiled at the youngest of the boys as he did the right thing and headed off to make amends with his friend. You hoped that Ross was alright and that he’d calmed down a little.

The last thing you wanted was for you to get off on the wrong foot with him.

With the peaceful water of most boys being out of the pool, you decide to just take a minute to yourself. You loved being in the water.

You forgot how fun swimming could be and whenever anyone would suggest it back home everyone else would shrug it off saying it as boring. But if you were with your friends, nothing could be boring.

That didn’t also mean that you didn’t like a peaceful moment in the water. You’d done it a few times when you went away with your Mum last Easter.

You just lent your head back and bask in the silence that the water provided. Granted it wasn’t the same as being in Spain, but the tranquil feeling was still there.

Matty watched you as you lent back into the water so only your face was above the surface. And then time just seemed to slow for Matty then.

He didn’t hear the noise outside that caused you to look back up. All he was focused on was how beautiful you looked in such a peaceful state.

He felt like he was watching you in slow-motion when your wet hair, now dark from the water, followed your movements back above the water. There were also small droplets on your eyelashes which just added to how much your Y/E/C eyes stood out.

You just looked at peace and in the moment and that was beautiful to him.

“You’re really pretty,” Matty said before he could stop himself.

Matty rarely knew when to keep his mouth shut but he didn’t want to just come and outright tell you that. He didn’t want to seem creepy so he felt like he’d shot himself in the foot when he said that.

You’d started treading water again but when you heard those words leave the young boy's mouth, you turned to look at him. You thought you’d turn to him and see him recoil and take it back, maybe feeling embarrassed and him shying away.

But no. Matty was looking at you completely sincerely.

“Thank you,” You said, offering him a small smile.

Thankfully for Matty’s sake the three other boys came racing back in and this time all three of them all consensually jumped into the pool, with George doing a front flip in the air.

Laughter once again filled the room and when the brown haired boys all resurfaced you figured now was your time to meet Ross properly.

“Hey, it's nice to meet you properly and at the same height,” You smile at him.

His hair was now stuck to his head as if it had been completely gelled back.

“Yes it’s nice to see you in person instead of a shitty video call,” Ross smiled at you.

“Yes our Adam needs to get a new webcam,” You say splashing a bit of water towards your cousin.

The water went straight into Adam’s face and when he reopened his eyes, he didn’t look too impressed. That was when he splashed you with a lot of water and it also hit Matty, too.

“You bastard,” Matty said to him.

Matty’s splash then got George and before you all knew it a massive water fight broke out. It was truly mental but it was so much fun.

You all went from a water fight to you all messing about on the floors again. Then you were all jumping in and out of the pool rating each other's jumps.

You all spent a good few hours just messing around like kids which seemed to fly by in no time. You’d had such a fun day though and because the days were longer you all hadn’t realised how much time had passed.

It was 6:30 p.m. when Denise, Matty’s Mum, decided to check in on her eldest child and his friends. She knew that they were using the pool and she wanted to check they were all okay, and to see if they were hungry yet.

So she headed out into the garden and crossed it over to the outhouse that contained the swimming pool and a handful of teenagers.

“Hiya Mum,” Matty called from the other side of the pool which caused you to turn around.

“Hey kids how is everyone?” Matty’s Mum said as she looked around the children who were in the other one.

She wasn’t expecting to see a pretty female in the water though.

“Oh hello, I didn’t know we had another guest,” Denise beamed.

You swam over to the side so you could politely greet her, “Hi, I’m Y/N, Adam’s cousin. Matty said it was okay I come. I really hope it is.”

“Oh yes of course, the more the merrier,” She smiles at you. “You’re welcome anytime… I’m Denise.”

“It’s nice to meet you, you have a really lovely house,” You smile as you get out and grab your towel to wrap it around your shoulders so you could be truly polite and say hello.

“Awh thank you darling, it’s my pride and joy along with my boys. Especially having another baby now and it's not just Matty running around.”

“Matty didn’t tell me he had a sibling,” You tell her looking down to Matty in the pool and he just shrugs at the both of you when you look at him.

Denise shakes her head a little, not surprised at her son's lack of contribution to the conversation.

“Yes we have little Louis. He’s two years old now and he’s pottering around the house like he owns the place.”

“Awh he sounds so adorable. I can't wait to meet him.”

Denise asks you, “How old are you dear?”

“Seventeen,” You tell her.

“Oh so you could be an on-call babysitter for the summer then?”

Matty then groans and rolls his eyes, completely embarrassed, “Mum don’t.”

Denise eases her sons worries by saying, “Matty I’m just joking.”

“I honestly wouldn’t mind if you needed me to. I'd be happy to help.” You tell her.

“I might take you up on it,” She grins at you.

Matty is about to complain again but then he realises that it could mean a night in with you at his house. He already liked you a lot so if he could get to know you better that would be amazing.

“Just let me know, it's not like Adam isn’t already trying to kick me out of his house,” You laugh little and Denise joins in.

She asks you where about you were from and different things every parent asked a new child that they met. She was really lovely though and you think she took a liking to you.

After a five minute chat she could see that you’d started to get cold near the open door so she let you get back to playing in the pool. Something which you were very thankful for.

The water was somehow warmer when you got back into it which was a relief to your now cold body. You started swimming about again to try and feel a little warmer.

“Mum,” Matty calls just before she leaves the outhouse.

“Yes darling?” Denise asks, turning back a little.

Matty points over to the side, just by the shelves in the corner of the room, “Could you please take a few polaroids of us all before we get out?”

Denise agrees and Matty then begins to round you all up. You all get close to each other for the picture and you decide to wrap your arms around Adams neck so you can keep yourself above the water.

Denise ended up taking a fair few different ones of you all. You did two smiling normally and then you did three funnier ones where you were posing or pulling faces.  

Matty said each of you could take one home which you thought was really lovely of him. You liked that a kid of that age wanted to take photos to remember fun times as a kid.

Denise left the pictures she’d taken on the shelf on the side and five minutes later you all got out of the pool so you could go inside for some tea. Denise had told you that she was going to put some pizzas in the oven and they wouldn’t take too long so you all wanted to get dry before you went in the house.

You’re one of the first out of the pool and you’re really curious about the polaroids as you’d never actually taken a picture with one or kept a photo. You loved the retro aesthetic of it, with the white frame around the outside of the photo.

You definitely wanted to get one at some point in your life but because the new digital age was coming into the world it made the cameras harder and more expensive to get a hold of. So that would be something you would definitely look into buying when you got started looking for jobs when you got back to Sheffield.

You headed over to the shelf that now held the five pictures and after drying your hands on your towel, you picked them up. The posing ones were actually really funny but the one that you liked the most was the one of you all smiling up at the camera like goofballs.

Your arms were wrapped around Adam and you were both smiling up at the camera with cheesy grins on your faces. Ross was just to the side of Adam and Matty was to the side of you also wearing a grin. George was positioned on the other side smiling too with his arms in the air, looking like he was having the best time.

It was a really lovely picture and one that you intended to keep for a very long time if Matty would let you.

You didn’t just want to take it without double checking that he was serious about you all taking one each. So you decided to ask him if it was okay.

“Matty, would you mind if I had this one?”  

“Nah, not at all. Go for it,” He smiled at you.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” You tell him honestly.

Matty nodded his head at you, still smiling a little before he looked to the picture.

He smiles as he looks at it, saying, “That’s a good one.”

“Yeah,” You smile. “The others are really funny, I'd choose which one your keeping before the others get a chance.”

Matty ended up going for the other one that was all smiles, leaving the other three to take their pick of the fun ones. You all ended up getting changed in the separate little changing area, which thankfully had a toilet, so you had some privacy and didnt have a repeat of how you’d met Matty.

You all then proceeded to have a really fun evening in the presence of Denise and Tim, Matty’s Dad. You also got to meet Louis and he was the cutest little thing you had ever seen.

You actually hope that you’d be asked to babysit because he was such an adorable child. Even at the age of two you could already tell he was going to be the sweetest kid growing up.

You were really thankful that Adam had introduced you to his friends, and for the fact that they all took to you so well. Instantly you had felt like one of their group, despite the age difference, and you hadn’t stopped laughing the entire afternoon.

When you all started watching some Saturday night TV in Matty’s lounge, you couldn’t help but glance at your polaroid picture very now and again. You really loved it.

Especially now it was dated and you’d all signed it.

You looked at the photo again and thought it was perfect. It had captured your joy of seeing your family and meeting some new friends perfectly and you were glad that moment had been caught forever.

The only thing that ruined it, ever so slightly, was the clear and obvious love bite on your neck.

~*~*~*~*~*~

If one more person mentions the mark on my neck I’m going to come home and strangle you x

You send that text off to Alex with a sigh. Since Adam had pointed out the mark on your neck his mates had started joking about it too, which your Auntie and Uncle then heard and also gave you that annoying knowing look.

But it had just been brought up again because the boys asked if there were any raunchy scenes in the Italian horror film that you were all currently watching. You’d told them that you’d chosen a mild one for them to watch because you don’t think you needed to scar poor little George with some raunchy sex scene.

You were watching the 1987 Italian horror Deliria which you had to explain to the boys that in the UK the film’s name had been changed to StageFright. They were actually pretty willing to watch it as you’d briefed them a little what it was about.

They asked you how you knew and why you watched Italian horror films instead of normal ones and you explained that in your love for it because you and all your college friends watched them together. This was true, it started when you all had to watch a different mild one in your English lessons.

You, Matt, Alex and your best friend had decided to all go round to Matt’s house and watch the film the night before your English exam on the film.

“What? So you watch the raunchy ones with your mates?” Matty asks you, laughing a bit.

Nod with a little smile, “Sometimes.”

“Yeah, of course she does, where do you think she got that mark on her neck?” Adam says with a cheeky smile and you immediately wanted to die.

“You’re not funny,” You tell them as you hide yourself into the sofa a bit more.

That was when you typed out the message to Alex before putting your phone down to concentrate on the film.

This film was a pretty bloody one, there were a lot of people being killed and it was quite suspenseful. And you were glad the boys around you seemed to like it.

You were watching one of the murder scenes when your phone went off again. It was about half an hour later when you got a text back.

You felt your heart skip a beat when the alert came through and a hopeful smile found its way onto your face. You really wanted it to be Alex’s reply.

You picked up your phone and you were delighted to see that it was a text back from Alex. You unlocked your phone and went onto your texts.

You click the unread one with Alex’s name in bold and your eyes go wide seeing his reply.

Can’t promise you I won’t like it xx

You felt yourself blush so hard. Your cheeks instantly heated up and you sunk into the settee a bit more trying to contain your squeal and smile.

Never in your life had you reacted like this over a boy texting you. You’d never had a boy flirt with you before either so it was an all round new experience.

You were so excited when the text came through that you didn’t notice that the boys in the room took notice of the noise too. You were so wrapped up in your phone that you didn’t know Adam watched you open it and saw your reaction to it.

You were only brought out of your little moment of weakness by Adam saying, “Come on then.”

You look up at him and note that he was talking to you. You raise your eyebrows trying to urge him to continue.

Although you wish you didn’t when you heard what he asked.

“Tell us about this boy,” Adam teases.

“There’s no boy,” You defend yourself but your voice gives it away.

You were too high pitched at the end of your sentence for you to not be lying.

“You’re literally texting him now,” Adam states pointing to the phone in your hand.

He then sarcastically adds “Or did you just go all shy and flustered because you enjoyed the murder that we just watched.”

You start to stutter over your words thinking of excuses but you can’t find the words. So you just give in and ask, “What do you wanna know?“

George gets in there first and asks, “What’s his name?”

You mumble, “Alex.”

“What’s he like?” Adam pries with a little smirk on his face.

You don’t know what to say so you just embarrassedly say, “He’s really nice.”

Ross chuckles at that but Adam doesn’t care for your embarrassment. He wants details.

“A little more enthusiasm please,” Your cousin pries.

You scoff at him then, “Excuse me for feeling a little embarrassed that I’m talking to my cousin and his mates about a guy I’m speaking to.”

Adam starts prying more information out of you but Matty wasn’t really paying attention. Not to your words anyway, he was just looking at you.

If he hadn’t fancied you the first day he met you, seeing you in that red bikini, he most certainly fancied you now a week into being here. It was a bit overwhelming for Matty.

Upon meeting you he had no intention to actually form a schoolboy crush on you, despite his joking with Adam about it. But he was sorely mistaken, he fancied the fuck out of you.

He was mesmerised by the way that your face looked as you yapped on about some other boy.

Your smile and the way he could tell you were slightly embarrassed by talking about it. He just kept watching your lips and it was mental that even with one of his favourite films playing on the TV, the only thing he wanted to look at was your mouth.

You were also playing with the ends of your hair which to Matty looked really soft. The soft grin that was on your beautiful face also made Matty’s heart rate increase.

He wanted to be the cause of the way you were feeling right now. He truly wanted you to one day be as excited to talk to him as you were about this boy.

Even at something as simple as a text.

So that was when Matty made himself a promise. Matty was going to one day be the cause of your happiness in a romantic sense.

He knew he wouldn’t succeed anytime soon because he could tell that you thought of him as a kid. But Matty wasn’t going to forget about his promise to himself.

He would work at it and try and make you see that he wasn’t the kid you thought he was. He was going to make you fall for him, whether it took five years or ten, he wanted to call you his.

~*~*~*~

A week later the love bite had thankfully faded and was no longer a problem of yours. Despite Alex texting you promising you that he’d give you another one when you got back home, you told him there was no way.

You tried not to think about the very flirty texts you’d been receiving the past fortnight as you were sat in your Aunt and Uncles’ living room listening to the band have a bit of a practice.

They were coming up with a few songs they wanted to cover as they hadn’t started writing their own songs yet. You were sat next to Matty watching him with his guitar and he started strumming away a vaguely familiar tune.

You couldn’t place it though because Matty was just playing the chords but not singing the lyrics as he was listening to Adam and Ross discuss different song possibilities.

“What song are you playing?” You ask Matty quietly not wanting to disrupt the others’ conversation.

Matty grins at you and carries on playing the tune as he asks you, “Do you not recognise it?”

You nod, “I do but I can’t put my finger on it without the lyrics.”

“Aw, what a shame,” Matty says sarcastically.

You scoff a little and say, “Aren’t you meant to be the singer? Sing it.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Matty laughs a little and then he plays through all the chords once more before he starts singing.

You smile as soon as you recognise it to be one of your favourite Backstreet Boys songs, As Long As You Love Me. You couldn’t help but smile at the love song.

Who didn’t love a good love song?

You sat back and listened to Matty sing. He was pretty good and you could tell he sometimes struggled with a few notes but that was nothing for him to be worried about.

Alex was the same. Singing was something that people got better with the more they practiced and you could tell that Matty and all the boys in the room weren’t going to give up on this band for the longest time.

Even the Monkeys at home didn’t have as in depth discussions as these lot were having. So you were really looking to forward to seeing how they all gelled together as a band and you were already excited for the inevitable gigs that you’d be asked to attend.

You grinned at Matty when he finished singing half of the song and you told him, “That was really good. You’re good at singing.”

“You think so?” Matty asked.

You nod, “Yeah, you’ve got a different sound. I like it.”

Matty’s face held a grateful smile and was going to express his gratitude towards you saying that but Ross and Adam stood up quickly. This grabbed yours and Matty’s attention, especially when Ross stood up too.

“Right you don’t all have to leave, I’m not that bad at singing.” Matty furrows his eyebrows at his mates.

That caused the boys to laugh a bit but they all shook their heads.

Adam informed the both of you, “Nah we decided to give it a break for a bit.”

“Gunna go park.” George said with a cute little smile.

“Ah, yes!” Matty said, sounding extremely enthusiastic, before he too stood himself up.

Ross then asked Matty who was putting his guitar back into his case, “Is all our stuff still in your garage?”

“Yeah, should be. So we can chuck the instruments round at mine for our next practice and then get the stuff and head out, yeah?” Matty said and you could almost feel his excitement.

You felt a little out of the loop at this point because you had no idea what Matty was referring to or what needed to be collected from his house to go to the park. You didn’t mind going to the park with them because it was something you still did with your friends.

Granted you don’t think you’d be drinking with 14 year olds in this park but you were still excited to go out with them.

“Come on.” Ross said, offering you his hand to help you up.

You smiled and gladly took it. As he pulled you to your feet, you asked, “So where are we going?”

“Skatepark,” George tells you and your eyes widen as you start following the boys into the kitchen. Evidently you were all leaving through the back door, possibly because you all needed to tell Adam’s Mum and Dad where you were all going.

“What?” You ask, completely dumbfounded.  

“You heard. We’re off to the skatepark.” Adam tells you with a mischievous smirk.

Your Uncle looks to you all congregated at the back door and before you leave, he asks, “Which one are you all going to?”

“Just the one on the park. Think Y/N/N would be a bit overwhelmed if we went straight to the indoor one.” Matty tells you uncle.

You furrow your eyebrows at him and he looks at you with a cheeky mischievous grin. He doesn’t give you any time to argue back because they all scurry off outside and you're already lagging behind.

“But I can’t skate.” You call to the boys in front of you.

George brushes your comment off with, “Don’t worry about that.”

“Well, I am pretty worried.” You say honestly.

Adam turns to look at you and sees that you’re actually being genuine. He’s a little shocked because he thought you’d be up for it, so he just tried to ease your nerves a little.

“Look, you’ve got the summer with us, we can just teach you.” Adam says, not letting you back out of this.

He knew you’d enjoy it once you’d got the hang of it.

Ross nods, giving you an assuring smile as you now walk beside him, “It’s not like there isn’t enough of us to help you out.”

“But I don’t have a skateboard.” You say.

You were really clutching at anything to get out of this situation now.

“I have like three, you can use one of mine,” Matty tells you as you all walk down the road towards Matty’s.

“But-“ You begin to make up an excuse but you were cut off.  

“No buts. We’re going and you’re gunna learn.” Matty persists and you sigh.

You knew you weren’t going to win this one. You were silent for most of the walk to Matty’s house, your nerves getting to you a little bit.

You weren’t that adventurous so you knew you were bound to hurt yourself. You just hoped that they wouldn’t leave you to fend for yourself because you’d be bored out of your mind.

To take your mind off the inevitable looming situation, you asked the boys a question in an effort to distract your mind. “What’s the band called by the way?”

“At the minute we’ve gone for ‘Me and You Versus Them’.” Ross replies and you just contain your confusion at the band name.

However, you couldn’t really say much when your friends back home were in a band called Arctic Monkeys.

Before you knew it you arrived at the local park and your stomach dropped when you saw the concrete ramps with multiple people skating across them. Never in your life were you going to be able to do this.

You looked down to the board that Matty had lent you and you can already feel your heart in your mouth.

Looking back at what, to you, looks like a mountain of concrete, you say to the boys surrounding you, “There’s no way I can go on that.”

“Oh no. Don’t worry, you’re not.” Matty assures you before he points to the caged tennis courts that were empty just to the side of the ramps.

“We’re going in there and starting you off on a flat surface.” Matty tells you before he ushers you forwards towards the abandoned court.

The other three boys went over to the skatepark and got stuck in pretty quickly. So it was just you and your nerves with only Matty to assist you in easing them.

After thinking how to start, Matty took the board he was letting you use from you.

“Right so, stay there.” He said and walked across the court from you. “Now run over here!” He called to you once he’d reached the opposite end of the court

“What?” You laughed.

“Just run over here!” He repeated. You were confused but did so anyway, Matty kept an eye on which foot you started on and chuckled a bit. “Right, you’re goofy footed like Hann. Must run in the family.”

“Rude?” You laughed a bit.

“Nah, it just means you put your right foot out first, Ross does it too. So that means, your right foot is gonna be in the front and your left will be in the back. Right, nose. Left, tail.” Matty explained and set the board he was lending you down. “When you’re on you wanna make sure to have a bit of bend in your knees and keep your balance like here.” He stated and put a hand over his stomach. You nodded as he set his board down as well. “Easiest way to start is to just...” He walked up to his board and just got on like it wasn’t even there. “Just like you’re walking.” He called as he pushed off once more, he turned back around and smiled as he came to a stop in front of you. “When both your feet are on the deck though, you wanna keep ‘em sideways. You only have your right foot pointed forward when you push.”

“Okay.” You chuckled a bit. “So right foot in the front for me yeah?” You asked him and he nodded. “And I just walk?” You confirmed.

“Kinda yeah. Same motion, more pressure to move forward. Then to stop, just put your back foot down on the ground again.” He smiled. You took a deep breath and walked up to the board, it shifted beneath you as soon as your foot put an ounce of pressure on it.

“I’m gonna eat shit.” You laughed.

“Nah, here, I’ve got you.” Matty laughed and walked up, half next to and half in front of  you. He patted his shoulders. You chuckled and put your hands on his shoulders lightly. “Right now just push with your left like you’re walking.” He grinned and you did so, you wobbled as the board slowly rolled forward but Matty steadied you as he walked along with you. “That’s a good start.” He grinned. “George full on slammed his face into the pavement his first time.”

“Aw, poor thing.” You chuckled lightly and pushed off again.

“Ah, he’s a fucking klutz, none of us were surprised.” Matty chuckled, he had let go of you now, noticing you’d found your balance properly. “Now, he does shit like that.” Matty nodded to George in an empty pool, skating around with ease and doing some tricks with the other skaters. “George can do it, you definitely can.” Matty grinned at you again. You skated to the other end of the tennis court and stopped as you reached the fence.

“Hey!” Matty cheered. “Come back so I can tell you how to turn!” He called and you laughed, picking the board up and setting it down properly before just going for it and skating back over to him, picking up a bit more speed than you meant to.

You put your foot down to stop a little too late and ended up taking a few stuttered steps passed Matty as you let out a slightly panicked yell. He laughed a bit as you walked back over to him.

“So you need to work on timing, definitely.” He teased you. You rolled your eyes and lightly punched his shoulder. “There’s two ways to turn.” He stated. “Leaning... Which...” He kicked the board you were using up and caught it, checking the part the wheels were attached to. “Should work on this one, the trucks have enough give and kick turns. For kick turns...” You listened as Matty explained exactly what to do, he got on his board and showed you both types of turns. 

Once you’d gotten your turns, pushing and riding down, you just rode around the empty tennis court for a bit. Matty asked if you wanted to learn a trick as you stopped in front of him.

“Already?” You laughed.

“Yeah, pretty easy one.” He nodded. “If you get two down today, you could probably kick flip pretty well by next week.” He grinned.

“You say that like I know what it is.” You chuckled.

“Ah, don’t worry about it for now.” He said nonchalantly. “I’m gonna show you a flat shove.” He said and showed you the trick a few times as he explained it. You nodded a bit and stood on your board, he walked you through it again. Really a surprising good teacher for a teenager. “Right, you’ve got it!” He grinned as you successfully did the trick a few times.

“You’re kidding, I did not.” You laughed a bit.

“No, I’m not, go on. Do it again.” He encouraged you and you did.

“Holy shit.” You chuckled.

“Now you’re gonna ollie.” He smirked.

“We’re gonna fucking what?” You laughed a bit.

“Watch then I’ll explain.” He smiled and skated away from you, the trick he was talking about put the board in the air beneath him. He landed it with ease and turned around, skating back to you with a grin.

“You’re kidding.” You stated. Matty shook his head and explained it to you. “You’re kidding.” You repeated.

“I’m not.” He laughed and explained it a bit before showing you a few more times. “You can totally do it. You don't have to be moving, you can just stay still at first.”

“If I break anything, you’re making it up to me.” You teased him.

“You won’t break anything.” He laughed. “Just don’t fully straighten your knees and you’ll be fine.”

Ollies were definitely the one that put you on your ass the most. The other guys had migrated over to the tennis courts from the ramps to watch.

“You’re on ollies already?” Adam asked, he seemed proud and amused.

“I’m fucking trying,” You laughed and tried again. And again you landed on your ass. “Ugh!” You groaned as you leaned back.  

“I think she could probably kickflip by next week,” Matty told them.

“That’s ambitious,” Ross laughed.

“Can one of you lot show me a kickflip so I can decide if I even want to learn it?” You laughed.

“Yeah.” They all said together. You started sitting on the pavement of the tennis court, thankful for a bit of a break. You watched each of the guys do the trick Matty was so sure you could learn by next week. “You’re absolutely mad thinking I can do that by next week.” You told him as he skated over to you.

“Ah, ye of little faith.” Adam laughed as he joined you on the pavement.

“Shut up.” You laughed. “Fucking kickflips, you’re all mad.” You shook your head.

The first couple of days, you had to take a bit just to get to grips with the board and where you needed to place your feet to stay balanced and everything again. You got the hang of it with the help of the boys and each day you needed less time before you were trying the easier tricks they were teaching you to prepare for the kickflip.

They each took their turns helping you out whilst the one that was previously with you went and had some fun on the ramps. When you needed a bit of a breather you went over and watched them, and you were completely astounded at what you saw them do.

They were doing tricks left, right, and centre. You were jealous of their skill, but they assured you that with practice you could do all these things too.

After the first week you were skating on the flat ground pretty well and you felt really comfortable doing it. So then because you weren’t ready for a ramp or anything like that just yet you got Matty and the boys to teach you how to do a kickflip.

Something that did take you a lot of practice to get right. But the serotonin that your brain released when you actually did it made you want to do it again and again.

You felt like you could do anything. Even if it was only a little stationary kick flip. After you’d landed your kickflip a few times, George called you and Matty over to the smallest of the ramps. “Come on, Y/N.” He encouraged you to come over to where he was standing in the middle of the ramp, thankfully the other skaters in the park were preoccupied with the higher ones and the empty pools.

“What are we doing now?” You asked as you and Matty joined him.

“Pumping, get you ready for ramps at some point.” George smiled and showed you what exactly pumping was and talked you through how to do it. Matty joined him.

“Okay but you two do the opposite foot of me.” You chuckled.

“Hann!” Matty called with a laugh. Adam about ate shit at Matty’s sudden shout and you held back your laugh, Matty and George laughed loudly.

“What?” He asked as he walked over.

“Come show her how to pump, we aren’t goofy footed.” Matty said.  Adam chuckled.

“Its what they showed you just reverse, Y/N/N.” Adam said as he began to show you. “All you change is your footing, promise.”

“Right, okay.” You nodded and set your board down, you fell into a rhythm with your cousin.

“Alright, Wheels!” Matty encouraged you, he’d just been watching you practice for a bit. You really were doing great for only doing this for about a week.

“Wheels, huh?” You laughed at him and smiled as he gave you a goofy grin and a shrug.

Adam showed you how to get from the middle of the ramp and up to the platform as well as a few other basic ramp things that you would need to eventually do tricks on the ramps. You leaned forward a bit too far on one of your ups, and your board flew out from beneath you but you thankfully caught yourself against the edge before you slammed face first into the edge of the platform above the ramp. The boys all asked if you were alright and you gave them a simple thumbs up  before pulling yourself up to sit on the edge. Matty grabbed your board and joined you. You two joked around as you watched the others skate for a bit.

You were now at the level where you could stake to the park on the board which seemed to be much to the boys' relief. They must have all just been itching to get on their boards and skate away from you the first week.

Now you could actually do it yourself, you wanted to be moving that fast all the time and let the breeze flow through your hair.

You’re all currently skating to the park again and Matty makes a conscious effort to make sure you were alright and were straying too far behind. You were thankful that he was looking out for you but you think you could also sense some ulterior motive.

You weren’t stupid, you could tell when kids had weird crushes on people older than them. It was like how you could somehow see little girls taking a strong liking to boys that were much older than them, even sometimes to their teachers.

It was weird but you just tried to ignore the 14-year-old flirt and laugh what he sometimes said off. Thankfully it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t handle, and you just kept it to yourself.

If anything, it kept you entertained. Not that you would ever go there. The thought repulsed you.

Once you all reached the park you just assumed that it would be Matty teaching you something new in the tennis court again, so you headed straight over there. However, Matty shouted you over to near the actual skatepark.

You assumed that he was going to make you watch him do something again, maybe in an attempt to show off. But you were sorely mistaken.

Matty ran his way up the ramp with his board in hand before he turned back to look at you. You were still on the ground, not knowing what he wanted you to do.

But what he did want was a complete surprise.

“Right, come on up here.” Matty says, gesturing at you to walk towards him.

You move closer, not sure you were hearing him correctly, “What?”

“You heard me, come here.” Matty smiles, already seeing your nerves.

You walk up the concrete ramp and Matty offers you his hand which you take. He helps pull you up onto the top of the ramp and you feel very high up all of a sudden. Despite it being maybe only a meter high.

Regardless, you were missing your flat tennis court right now.  

“Okay, so now you’re going to learn how to drop in.” Matty tells you and your heart drops.

You shake your head, “Absolutely not.”

“Erm yes. Come on,” Matty says, moving you both towards the edge of the ramp.

You’re very hesitant and pull back against him leading you forwards. You argue, “Matty, I can barely skate on a flat surface.”

“Are you joking?” Matty asks with furrowed eyebrows, “We all skated back to Hann’s yesterday and you kept up fine, plus George and I’ve been helping you with pumping the past couple days.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m prepared to do this.” You say looking down at the bar that lines the edge of the ramp.

“Can’t I do a slope or something first, maybe a smaller ramp?” You ask, feeling your heart beat faster.

Matty sees how nervous you are so his face softens. But he doesn’t let what he’s trying to help you complete go, “Y/N/N, this is a mini ramp.” He laughs a bit as he gestures to the higher ramps around you. He smirks, “Would you rather learn fast or just pussy out and never do more than a kickflip?”

“You’re fucking nasty, you.” You told him with furrowed eyebrows.

He knew you’d been practicing your hardest to perfect a kickflip. He was buzzing for you when you’d done it but that was a little nasty of him to now use against you.

“Listen, you’re gunna slam, no doubt about it. But you’ve gotta try it and you’ve gotta learn.” Matty tells you with a grin.

You could already tell that he was going to get a kick out of watching you fail a few times. But at least you could tell that he did just want you to progress onto the next thing.

Matty was just glad you seemed to be enjoying his company though. And every time you looked at him and smiled when you did something right made his little heart beat so much faster.

Every time you caught him looking at you, he felt himself blush and he felt the need to take a few deep breaths. Needless to say, Matty had it bad.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: Really hope you all enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought! x

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[sarasmallmanwrites]

A-Level Playing Field

Nobody wanted my opinion on this, but it’s hard growing up poor. 

1988. It’s that damp kind of evening outside, clouded by condensation on the single glazed windows, and the smoke from my Nan’s Benson and Hedges. We’ve just had tea – this is North, of course – and everything is accompanied by slices of springy bread heavily lacquered in ‘soft spread’. The gold foiled butter is, usually, saved for my grandad, who works at a fibreglass factory. It’s a very long way away (actually 3.7 miles) and he leaves on his bike every evening with three rounds of tinned ham sandwiches in his bag. Tonight, my mum is out until half nine, working in the care home in the next town, picking me up at ten-ish, depending on how fast she walks. My mum is 27. Five years out of a loveless marriage, living in a council house, she has no qualifications but is working for her City and Guilds and her English ‘O-Level’, GCSEs haven’t hit our vocabulary yet, and won’t until my second cousin Mark does his two years later.

Tonight is Thursday. Nan goes out on a Thursday, which means she will leave the house at half seven in a haze of Vitapoint, Elnett and Lily of the Valley, to play Bingo at the local club. I am being looked after by Alan, my mum’s younger brother, living at home, working in the Mill that overlooks the town below like a stern Victorian overseer. He’s always grumpy, stuck in a town that has no opportunities, and no visible exit. The eighties have been cruel to young, working-class men. The vehement cry of ‘get the fuck out’ hasn’t reached our town but will do in eight years time, on a wave of Britpop, New Labour, cigarettes, and alcohol.

My uncle looks to the television for nightly escape. Thursday is Blackadder, it’s Not The Nine O’Clock News, it’s Comic Strip, it’s A Bit of Fry and Laurie, it’s Red Dwarf, it’s shipwrecked and comatose, and me engrossed on the couch, not sipping mango juice, but milky tea (the North!), as my uncle laughs his head off in between cigarettes. My mum returns, smelling like TCP and the outside, with salty, vinegary chips, and we eat them as we walk the newly tarmacked paths under the orange street lights. I ask her what a goldfish shoal is. She tells me to shush.

I decided that weekend that I wanted to be funny. I mean I could make people laugh when I did my Cilla Black impression, so surely that was a start, and thank to Carry On films I was brilliant at ‘Infamy, Infamy!’, I knew this because my grandad (the cleverest man I knew) had told me so. Even though I was only in Junior One, I knew that you had to be taught how to be funny, that there was definitely some kind of class that you would have to take to learn it, because I had never really been a natural at anything; apart from whistling, which I did with gusto in shrill, high- pitched tones wherever I could.

I read a lot, especially the paper – particularly the Daily Mirror, which probably explains why I am always heavily weighted to the left, and not just because of my ineptitude in heels – and found out that Hugh Laurie, who is obviously the funniest man I have ever encountered, went to Cambridge and was in something called ‘The Footlights’. Then was it, I decided. I was going to go to Cambridge and join ‘The Footlights’ and be funny like Victoria Wood and Dawn French. I imagine ‘The Footlights’ to be a rag-tag theatrical group living on their wits, humour, and more importantly, Pot Noodles. I tell my Grandad that I want to go to Cambridge. He tells me not to be daft.

Now, when I think about it, wanting to go to Cambridge was not a preposterous idea for any child at the age of seven; you are at the start of your education journey. There is plenty of time to get better at things, to practice, to be coached, to improve yourself; but for a working-class girl, who would eventually be the first member of her family to go to university, I might as well have said that I wanted to fly to Mars on fairy wings. But, children who attend private schools are told from the age of four that Oxford or Cambridge are the end goals for their education, with any of the higher-performing Russell Group universities being something that they could settle for, at a push. I didn’t even know what a Russell Group University was until about three years ago, and why would I? For me, in my small artsy primary school with forty children across four year groups, a dismissive attitude towards formal English education, and a liberal fancy for devoting the whole of the summer term to the end of year show, this was not something that was even thought about. Oxford and Cambridge were places printed on the back of books, they weren’t places that you went to university. In fact, most of my primary school teachers hadn’t even been to university but received their qualifications at the local teacher training college; the only exception is a brown jumpered gentleman with a penchant for using cupboards as a disciplinary technique. 

We’ll skip forward a few years later, and high school is a vigorous mixing bowl of talents, it takes until at least year nine before anyone even notices who I am amongst the squall of kids churning about in KS3. Dinner is pink sausage meat wrapped in a translucent puff pastry duvet, a treat even on the hottest days when the fat sticks to your lips; and the terms pass in a haze of cheap cider (the kind that tastes like sick), the floral pout of Cherry Lypsyl, and Chris Evans on the Radio One Breakfast Show; who is hastily snoozed every morning before I smell the lukewarm coffee my mum has left by my bed before she goes to work.  At this point my mum is a newly qualified nurse at the hospice two towns over, her fingers raw from hand sanitiser, but with rolls of antiseptic scented micropore tape that I use for a cacophony of projects. She is on nights right now, spooning gravelly granules of instant coffee into a mug, blurry from sleep, I am cobbling together a mask out of old Cornflake packets, stuck together with nursing supplies and painted with nail varnish that went past its best around the same time as the Thompson Twins. It is 1995, and the country feels like it is on the cusp of something.  I don’t know what, but I’m looking forward to the Year 2000 because I will be fully grown. Well, nineteen.

But what about Oxbridge? Well, for starters, if you attend a state school you have to be so immediately impressive to your teachers that they discuss you in the staffroom. It’s not enough to be good at one particular thing, you have to excel across the board. You have to be so amazingly shiny, that even the most jaded teacher in the school cannot fail to be dazzled by your brightness. For state school kids, Oxbridge is not something that they suggest to the average 10 A*-C kids, it’s not something that they even dangle in front of 10 A*-B kids who are pretty good. At state school, you have to be exceptional for your teachers to even consider you as a candidate, and then you have to achieve enough A*s in your GCSEs that you might as well open a Planetarium. Even then, all they can really do is say ‘I think you could go to Oxford or Cambridge, you know’, or flag you up to the local authority careers service as ‘potential Oxbridge’. There is no Oxford Fast Track programme in state schools, even for exceptional kids.

In a recent social media fracas, one lady proclaimed that if you gave kids a level playing field then poor kids would always triumph because they were more resilient - all those Crispy Pancakes, surely? But for children from a working-class background, we’re not even on the playing field yet; we have to borrow trainers with non-marking soles, scrape around for a quid for the bus. By the time we get to the playing field, we have already been running around for half the day trying to get there, we miss the warm-up because we were late and, honestly, by this point, we’re just knackered because we’ve had to work so much harder just to get there in the first place.

The warm-up is a given to those whose parents have been able to pay for their education – they even get complimentary orange slices for afterwards, just for extra pep and vigour. There are Oxbridge prep classes, extracurricular activities slanted towards the Oxbridge admissions interviews, and chances to take unpaid internships during the summer using family connections. It’s not just that though... it’s little things like knowing it’s pronounced ‘Barkshire’, not Berkshire, it’s when you use a napkin, it’s spending a week skiing at Courchevel. It’s olives. 

In 1998, I don’t know any of these things and, even if I did, my accent with its flat vowels and its Lancashire intonation would give me away in a heartbeat, because I sound like I’ve fallen off a pit pony on my way back t’mill. Things change quickly though. My mum has a baby. A screaming, mewling little boy born during The Simpsons on a Friday evening in October. Now there is absolutely no money for luxuries, and when our TV gets nicked, we end up using the small portable from upstairs. My Nan lends me money here and there to get to college, but it only covers the bus fare, and the small endowment that I receive  - supposedly to cover driving lessons - gets swallowed up with everyday things that seventeen-year olds shouldn’t have to pay for. I’m working for 4 hours a week in Woolies too, £3.10 p/h to stand around the toy department in a slippery polyester blouse the colour of synthetic mint ice cream, before skulking off to the bookshop to spend that money on things for college.  Nothing fancy but, by this point, I am well on my way to being a ‘Funny Girl’, studying a raft of ‘arty-farty’ A-Levels and English thrown in for good measure. The Cambridge Footlights hardly crosses my mind anymore, because Oxford and Cambridge are reserved for the kids doing the hard sciences, maths, law, politics, things that you need a calculator for. You don’t get into Oxford with A-Levels in Theatre Studies, Media, and Performing Arts, despite what they tell you about diversity.

Oxford or Cambridge do not offer a typical British university experience, and how can teachers who have never passed through the rigorous and exhausting Oxbridge admissions procedure be expected to offer any kind of advantage to their gifted and talented students? If you are a working-class parent relying on underfunded, underpaid and overworked FE lecturers to help coach your child through this, then you are immediately on the backfoot compared to a child whose parents can afford private tutors, admissions booklets, and interview coaches. This is no reflection on sixth form teachers in FE establishments across the country, who do all they can to nurture the kids with Oxbridge potential, but when some classes haven’t received new textbooks for two years, where students are encouraged to photocopy their own materials to save costs, you can see where the class difference begins to draw attention to itself without the need for neon yellow highlighters.

My UCAS book arrived in September; an impressive, thinly papered tome with a glossy black and white cover, University Colleges and Admission Services stamped across it in orange. It smells like a cross between the Argos catalogue and a phone book, which I feel is rather apt given that it contains the codes of institutions and courses that will break me out of this godforsaken town: a cypher that I etch out on the application form in black biro.

London

Southampton

Buckinghamshire

Preston

Liverpool

Manchester.

I don’t want to go to any of the bottom three, of course, far too close to where I came from to be relevant.  My second cousin Mark’s stint at Sheffield Hallam seemed to be an excuse for his mum to visit his ‘digs’ once a month with catering sized tins of Nescafe, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t quite looking forward to edging the lid off with a knife and stabbing through that ridged foil. My mum writes a cheque out in her secondary modern handwriting, crossing her fingers that they won’t cash it until after payday.

The discrepancies between low-income working-class families and those with a better income also show here too - this can be something as simple as slow internet connection, not having a working laptop and doing work on smartphones, access to transport, costs for travel to visit universities. Things like this are not included when factoring in costs for students from low income. How can you visit all the different university campuses, with all the travel costs and maybe even overnight accommodation, when your parents can barely afford to keep the lights on? There was only one institution that I wanted to go to. London Institute, a glamourous collection of art colleges that included the London College of Fashion, Central St Martins, and, more importantly for me, The London College of Printing.  The competition was fierce, but I was shortlisted for an interview in the capital with a former editor of the Daily Mirror. My house was showered in happy expletives that day. Even in 1999, tickets from Wigan to London were over £50 for a pre-booked return. My mum cashed in all of her Clubcard points for the ticket. But, just for me, because she hadn’t bought enough milk to cover the cost of two tickets. However, I must have impressed Tony Delano in that office in Clerkenwell, because he gave me an amazingly lowball offer meaning that my A-level results became a terribly graded self-fulfilling prophecy.

Oxford is different from usual universities in that there are colleges, thirty-nine in total. You might have seen them on University Challenge – Balliol, Trinity, Emmanuel, Brasenose – or from reading the Wikipedia pages of any of our last three Prime Ministers, including the incumbent Boris Johnson, who graduated with a 2:1 in 1987. That’s the other thing – you don’t study something at Oxford, you read it – you don’t start your studies, you matriculate, for which you need a robe. Now, I have been told by helpful and obstinate alumni via social media that Matriculation Robes are £25, ex-hire. However, I have also been told by a current Oxford student that the robe cost is £50 minimum, and no-one would dare wear a secondhand robe as ‘everyone would know’. It’s immediately singling yourself out as a Weasley in a room filled with Malfoys.

The accommodation costs are comparable to London prices; however, this does not cover the Christmas break, which means everything needs to be packed up and stored. Not only do you pay for the storage, but you pay for the boxes too. Much to my disappointment, no-one nips out for a Pot Noodle either, students are expected to dine ‘in hall’ (again, more cost!) where you can choose between an informal and a formal sitting – where your gown is required. I imagine for a working-class kid attending Oxford or Cambridge is very much like cosplaying on a Harry Potter set, but without the magic of a bottomless purse. There are balls too at the end of each term, formal affairs with ticket prices over £50. Again, said the former alumni, you don’t have to go! It’s not obligatory!

But let me tell you a harsh reality. Nothing ostracises a poor kid more than not being able to join in because they can’t afford it. Nothing. And we might have great friends who would all chip in and pay for our ticket, or lend us the money, but there is something very working-class about not wanting people to know that we can’t afford it. Surely we should not be asking these young adults who have studied and worked against all odds, to have a second class university experience because they know their parents won’t be able to help. You can’t even get a job to supplement your income either; the majority of colleges stipulate this, and as someone who had to work two term-time jobs at a much less prestigious university to live (even with the glorious student overdrafts of pre-austerity Britain), this really hit home at how much I would have struggled financially if I had gone to either of these institutions.

Recently my daughter applied for university. We get in the car and visit a university each week, driving miles up and down and across the country. We fight over choices and analyse each course based on employability, and whether or not she would like it. The process is completed in clicks and feels much more clinical than twenty years earlier, but rather than heading into unchartered waters, I have a map. It might be old and tattered, but I have a much better idea of where we are going now. My daughter believes that the meritocracy is a lie, and she tells me this in sharp, pointed tones as we receive her A-level results on a rainy Thursday morning. She goes to University in September and spends the autumn sending me videos of the Minster, or tutorials on how to swear in Japanese. She is only the second person in our family to continue on to higher education. I don’t just mean in her generation. I mean in total. We are the exception, not the rule.

One of the first questions someone at Oxford was asked by a fellow student last year was ‘private or state’, she replied ‘private’ and was met with a smile. There was no need to ask who the state school entrant was, as she queried the partridge and asparagus served for dinner – ‘this chicken is tough. Is that grass?’- and arrived for the formal sitting with her gown covering a denim skirt and shimmery top underneath. Private school teaches these things, no desperate faux pas for Isobel or Jeremy, whereas state schools do not have the resources or the knowledge to run classes on etiquette for the small number of their students that make it through the intense application procedures. This is not saying that low-income children should be discouraged – not at all – instead, it is saying that there is something inherently wrong with the system. At private school, you are disappointed if you don’t get into Oxbridge, whereas the state school child who gets in is an extraordinary anomaly talked about for years in hushed tones of reverence by the faculty.

And this is the issue with saying that children are on a level playing field, that everyone is measured on their own merit; because it is not true. For children on very low incomes, the odds are unfairly stacked against them, and the issues such as 2020’s disastrous A-Level results just add more bricks to an already near-insurmountable wall.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

You like theatre? You’re from England, right? Have you seen any productions live on stage? (I’m a theatre geek from America so I’m curious to know what stuff is over in the UK!)

Hello! And yes, I love theatre! I did a drama degree at university for three years, and whilst I took it because I’m an actor, there’s also a LOT of written assessment and theatre-based research/learning because it all helps you with being a better actor (supposedly). I also love that you’ve used the British spelling - I don’t know why, but it’s nice when I see British spellings of words online!

As for theatre shows, I haven’t been to see anything for a LONG time. For years my grandmother took me (then my sister, then my cousins too) to see pantomimes at Christmas, which was fun! Apart from that though, the first time I really went to the theatre was to see The Woman in Black, and that was for my 15th birthday (I think). I’d seen the film and read the book before, but oh my goodness the play was amazing! We were right at the very back (last minute tickets), which I thought would make me feel less scared, but in truth was petrified the whole time. What’s amazing about TWIB is that they have maybe two or three actors doing EVERYTHING; they have one person playing Arthur, and then one other man doing every other part, I think. They use set really efficiently too, like they would sit on boxes and then act like they were on a carriage - very minimalistic set, if I remember correctly!

It was about three weeks after this, I saw a musical called Blood Brothers - I did Drama GCSE at school, and we had that trip 5th February (I remember the date because I had just come back from a four day French GCSE immersion trip and also it was Darren Criss’ birthday - that was very important to 15 year old me for some reason). Honestly, Blood Brothers is one of the most incredible things I’ve seen, and it’s pretty much one of like...two musicals I’ve been lucky enough to see onstage live. It’s about these twins who were separated at birth, and one is raised by a rich family whilst the other is raised by their poor mother, and it’s honestly such a funny and heartbreaking play/production because you can see how money/economics effected both of them. Also, the songs are absolutely FANTASTIC, 11/10!

My nan (the one who used to take us to the pantomime) bought tickets for me and my sister one winter to see our local theatre’s production of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. Honestly, I’m a sucker for all things Narnia, and I think she knew how desperately I wanted to go - this was before I managed to get a job, so I had no money of my own, and I think that’s why she offered. My nan was honestly such a wonderful grandmother, and I miss her a lot. As for the play, it was actually really great; they did a really cool fight sequence-dance-thing on-stage, and it was actually funny in a weird way because I realized halfway through that a boy in my drama class at sixth form was part of the ensemble.

When I was at sixth form (Year 12-13, 16-18 years old), I did a Drama and Theatre Studies A-Level and both years involved going to see 10 theatre productions with the class from September to December - we had to take notes during the performances for our exams (both practical and written) but it was still so amazing (and cheaper than normal because the college paid for most of it, though we did have to give a fee to them obviously). There were a few plays I saw twice because they were core texts and so the first year it was more “maybe take some notes for next year” and second year “you must take notes, you need them for the exam”.

I can’t remember all of them, I’m afraid, but here are the ones I do remember:

Our Country’s Good - this was core text for second years. The production in my first year was terrible and boring as hell - plus the acting was really not good (we were laughing during a death scene). The one in my second year was at the National Theatre and MUCH better; more professional, more interesting to watch, better acted. The only disappointment I had with that one was that there were more than 10 actors and no multi-roles - apparently the actors are supposed to multi-role as at least one prisoner and one officer, and there’s gender-swapping because of it.

Tartuffe - another second year core text. It’s actually a truly hilarious play, but the production we saw in my second year modernized it a bit too much and so we could only use certain ideas in our written exams. It was funny and entertaining though.

Rebecca - saw this in my second year, we had to take notes to help us with our self-written play we were performing. It was honestly really good, probably one of the best I’ve seen, and there was one actress especially who was incredible (Katy Owen) because the played this hilarious phone-obsessed teenage boy servant, and it’s based on Daphne du Maurier’s book. It was part of the tour in 2015, so I think you can actually find some videos if you search!

The 39 Steps - I saw this in my first year and it was absolutely hilarious. I wish I could remember more about it but it was honestly so well done and funny, and I loved it.

War Horse - Okay, this one was literally one of the best plays I’ve seen; it’s based on a book by Michael Mopurgo, and it was also turned into a film years ago. The puppetry was honestly fantastic, like at some point you literally forget that this is a puppet and not a real horse even though you can see the puppeteers in plain view and the horses are clearly not real, because it’s just so incredibly well done. I still can’t get over how absolutely incredible the puppeteers worked together to make the horses believable, like tiny little movements like the ears, or making the horses flex legs or whatever else, and the show would not have been half as incredible if not for them.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time - this was INCREDIBLE. I honestly cannot stress enough how absolutely amazing this play was. It’s based on a book of the same name that I actually read at school, and it’s told from the perspective of a 15 year old boy called Christopher who has Aspergers. The performances were stellar, but the stage work was literally incredible - the way they managed to get you to see through his eyes by using stage lighting and other techniques (sound, for example) was absolutely brilliant.

Also, while I was at sixth form, my mum and her friends got tickets for Mamma Mia!, because the wife of one of the ladies she worked with at the time is in the entertainment business (behind the scenes), and I went with them (my sister was unfortunately too sick to go with us, so she stayed with my dad). It was honestly really fun and we had a great time - you can’t beat a bit of ABBA!

Other than this though, the only other stuff I’ve seen has been seeing drama students at university perform - both in class and at actual performances. I wrote a piece that was actually performed at Camden Fringe Festival in August 2018, and it was so amazing to see my piece being performed. Originally it was a 15 minute extract of a screenplay for a film but with some minor tweaks (which I won’t go into detail about because this post is long already) and double casting the roles (the past versions and the present versions), it was turned into a stage piece. It was the second of three pieces the university was putting on, and it was encouraging that my work was considered one of the best three out of a whole class of 15-30. I know that’s not technically counted as theatre because it’s amateur and not widely known (or known at all) but it was still a proud moment for me.

[theparanormalperiodical]

The Paranormal Guide to Glamis Castle

2016 was a hard year. It was a year of unexpected a change, a global sweep of political turmoil, and, like, everyone died.

This year handed a pretty similar fate to Simon Bowes-Lyon: in July he became the 19th Earl of Strathmore and Kinghorne. And although the Earl was used to playing his part in his twisted and deeply-rooted family tree (or is that an overgrown garden of Scottish secrets?), he would take on an even greater inheritance than being a cousin of the Queen: Glamis Castle.

Nestled in the village, Glamis, in Angus, this castle has witnessed 1000 years of history.

And you won’t be reading up on this history in a GCSE textbook. Twists and turns, deaths and wars, births and broken people; it’s no wonder that this is considered one of the most haunted locations in Britain.

Yet beyond the ghosts and ghouls making their way down its passages in the dead of the night, is its cultural value to Scotland. Even now it features on the Royal Bank of Scotland’s £10 notes, and it is categorised as an A-List building.

And no, this doesn’t mean it houses Gwyneth Paltrow for an annual yoga retreat - rather its famous gardens are protected and celebrated for their sheer beauty.

However, it should be made clear that Glamis Castle’s fame is actually down to its messy history and family relations which can’t be pruned: it was the residence of Macbeth (well, according to Shakespeare anyway), the childhood home of the Queen Mother, and the birthplace of Princess Margaret.

And - like most haunted locations - the messy history and family relations was what left behind those that still linger.

Indeed, the fact that its open to the public probably helped carve the path the ghosts take as they trail the castle’s grounds. But the twisted and thorny family tree certainly gave birth to the tales of terror that still haunt this landmark.

And it is Macbeth himself who leaves us one final warning before we embark on our exploration of its haunted halls:

“By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.”

A Brief History Of Glamis Castle

Glamis Castle has been the ancestral seat of the Earls of Strathmore and Kinghorne since 1372; yep, she’s old.

This is an unbroken line of relations who inherit the castle, and as a result of this, it has witnessed significant chunks of Scottish history. And going simply by the Scottish-English relations mangling British history alone, if the walls could talk, they would probably be screaming.

And thus, we enter one of its first moments of recorded history - the 11th century - with a death, and no less, the death of a king.

Yet even before this, and even further back than the 11th century, there are traces of delicate and deep historical value: a Pictish stone – the Picts were a confederate of Scottish people from the Iron Age to the early medieval era – was found in a creek just by a neighbouring village of Eassie, henceforth bestowing its name ‘Eassie Stone’.

But is it’s the Lord of the castle that weave its wonderous history: the title Lord Glamis was created in the 15th century, and this would echo the chaos of the castle, and I suppose politics in general. For example, the wife of the 6th lord of Glamis was accused of treason, followed shortly with a charge for poisoning her husband. She was accused of witchcraft, and met her fate on the pyre.

Following this, James V seized Glamis, and even lived there for a few years, affirming its political position within history. He was one of the many royals to set up shop here, and contribute to its brutal and bludgeoned past.

It’s pretty obvious that death features prominently in, well, all history, but Glamis Castle in particular has witnessed its fair share of wars; during the commonwealth of England, Scotland and Ireland, soldiers were garrisoned here, and it served a military purpose again a few odd centuries later as a military hospital during the First World War, but it was the former era of Scottish history which left its final mark upon the castle. In 1689 the final major restorations took place, and any changes beyond this only included the creation of a Grand Baroque garden.

Thus, the castle itself was undisturbed by the forces of modernity, and the same can be said for its long-term residents.

The Monsters Of Glamis

History might sound complicated, but hauntings tend not to be.

Often, we tend to come across the same tropes of terror: maybe a queen who wanders the grounds looking for her lost crown; a soldier from some long-forgotten war; or perhaps a witch who was burned at the stake for her crimes (but chances are the castle’s owners fabricated the details to sell more tickets in October).

                                   But did you expect monsters?

Indeed, did you expect something actually called the Monster of Glamis?

In the late 19th century, a child was born – Thomas Lyon-Bowes. And Thomas was the rightful heir to the castle. But it is believed that this child was deformed, so deformed in fact that he was described as half-frog, half-man.

This legend would go on to gain ground in the 1960s due to various biographies detailing the later history of the Castle, and all the things that might remain trapped within it. And it is the ‘trapped’ part of the history that follows so many of winding pathways evoked by our imaginations.

The child had no gravestone which clearly supports the claims that he was kept alive, and kept alive somewhere, yet according to funeral customs of the era, this was normal for an infants’ death.

But it was Michael Thornton’s visit to the castle that stirred the secrets of the castle yet again.

As the official biographer of the Queen Mother, Thornton was told by the 16th earl that the entrance of the chamber where Thomas allegedly lived was bricked up following his death. And this was even backed up by Virginia Gabriel who resided at the castle during Thomas’ rumoured existence.

This rumour can even be traced back to 1908, from which the first reference is made:

"in the Castle of Glamis is a secret chamber. In this chamber is confined a monster, who is the rightful heir to the title and property, but who is so unpresentable that it is necessary to keep him out of sight and out of possession"

The family strongly oppose such claims, yet the legends relating to a supposed ‘secret chamber’ branch out much further than a frog-man hybrid decaying within the walls of Glamis Castle.

It was alternatively claimed that in every generation of the family a vampire was born, and locked away in this secret room.

Or, it could be the story of the death of the Ogilvies which evoked such interest: this family sought protection from their enemies, and were walled up in the ‘Room Of Skulls’ to die of starvation.

However, it turns out that this tale is actually true.

The secret rooms don’t stop here, however; Earl Beardie is the next supernatural phenomenon to lay claim to his residence, even if he is a few odd centuries behind on rent.

The 15th century legend states that either the 2nd Lord Glamis or 4th Earl of Crawford had been playing cards. However, it was the Sabbath, and his hosts and the servants refused to play or advised him to stop such sinful activities.  

In a rage he exclaimed that he would play cards until doomsday arrived, or perhaps with the devil himself. The story goes that a strange man arrived soon after this exclamation. 

The stranger joined his game of cards, and then proceeded to take his soul for he was indeed the devil (reminds me of any odd Friday night at Spoons).

His calls for the devil to join his game were thus met, and he was condemned by him to play cards until Doomsday.

A servant even peered in during this contest out of curiosity, and was blinded by a shaft of light shining through the keyhole.

According to the claims of the castle, his shouts and shrieks still echo down its halls today as they did on that fateful night, and he is rumoured to be still contained within a secret room, gambling his final pennies away with the devil himself.

The Ghosts Of Glamis Castle

As a result of the castle’s brutal history, and the legends supposedly trapped within its thick walls, the many reported sightings of ghosts do not go unfounded.

The most common sighting echoes the history that remains chained to the castle: late one evening, an Earl was taking a stroll around the grounds after dinner, and glanced up at his inherited home.

Yet, to his surprise, his saw something rather out of the ordinary.

A woman was gripping the bars of one of the windows and staring up with wild eyes into the Scottish night.

He made his way towards the window, and attempted to speak to her, but she was torn away from the window by some unseen force. She would be seen again.

In fact, she has garnered the title ‘The Woman With No Tongue’.

She is also often seen wandering the grounds, and pointing up at her scarred face.

Her fate is unknown, yet here she stays.

Our next ghost is rather unimaginative. She takes the name of most female ghosts – the Grey Lady – and even though the exact nature of her haunting isn’t discussed much, she is believed to be the ghost of Lady Glamis.

As discussed before, she was burned at the stake in 1537 for being convicted of witchcraft and conspiring against the king.

The final ghost of Glamis Castle remains close to its regal heritage, so close that is, that it sits by the door of the Queen’s room.

Commonly seen as merely a full-bodied apparition, this servant boy stays close to her quarters, and has never been reported beyond the stone seat he is often found to be sitting on.

Between the royalty, and amongst the residents tortured and tangled within her brutal history, Glamis Castle remains a cultural icon among the Scottish. And why wouldn’t it be?

Boasting magnificent gardens, precisely-preserved pieces of history to lead you down the spider’s web of its ancestry, and a few junctures and jolts to indulge in the possibility of the devil and his many delights, it is truly a relic of real history.

Yet, upon closer inspection, the castle’s official website has purged itself of such rumours.

There is scarce mention of vampire children scurrying through the walls, or of ceaseless Texas Hold’em sending cries down its corridors, or even of terrorised women looking out the windows, and seeking their freedom from the castle which keeps them prisoner.

But what really lies beyond the beauty of Glamis Castle?

[girlmood]

so yesterday, after crying about my phone being in the hands of some stubborn, unsophisticated uber driver, my mind kept going back to something i’m a bit obsessed with. i have had these obsessive and compulsive thoughts for around a year and a long bit now, and they make me feel unsafe because they revolve around someone. the thoughts themselves are innocent, yet they’re incessant and i feel that they get in the way of being active and focused on things. 

for a long time now i’ve tried to make sense of these thoughts.

i’ve come to the conclusion that these thoughts are in the way of something.

whenever i am daydreaming this recurring thought, i close my eyes. i reflect and become drowsy. even when i am trying to reject these thoughts i try and use sleep. needless to say that this gets in the way of things like reading and creating. however, i always insist when people ask that i am always busy reading and creating. in effect i am if i am daydreaming something all the time, BUT i am not putting pen to paper, am i? 

i close my eyes to my reality, the outside world. i live in my interior. 

i do this because it is easier.

i have said that i choose to obsess over this thing because it calms and soothes me. i always knew that the facile nature of just thinking something alone and not doing anything with it made me feel freer.

yesterday, however, it was difficult to cry about my phone OR this thing. it felt forced to encourage tears even though i felt a hollowness inside. when i noticed that this uncomfortable moment was taking place, i berated myself for not telling me how i really feel. THAT made me cry. knowing that there are things concealed from myself within myself is a fact that terrorizes me more and more each day i get older, especially because i think “I did psychology! Why don’t I know what is wrong with me?”

if i had been focusing on saturday night, i would have my phone. i was drunk and sleepy so i did not hear the uber driver trying to return it to me (or so he says). i also have no memory of the situation. i just have no phone right now.

if i admit to myself that i feel what i am scared i feel because i don’t know it, in regards to the obsession (though admitting this would no longer make it an obsession -- it would practically free me), then i must open my eyes and focus and take action towards it. it isn’t a bad thing to want what i am daydreaming about. i argue that it doesn’t make sense, but it does. my issue is that i cannot go a day without thinking about it in some form. i want to be able to focus.

i am taking a while to get to my point here but i think that this does further emphasise the importance of what my point is, to be fair.

anyways, i cried when i talked about my lack of focus, and how really, all i want to do is wri--... wri--

i couldn’t say the word “write” because i got choked up by my tears all of a sudden.

when i finally realised that “i’m not letting myself write, or create at all, by my lack of focus” i started sobbing like a child bereaved of ice cream.

i use that obsession, i use alcohol and drugs and social media and films, all to distract myself from what i truly want to do.

I want to write.

i do english. i tell myself it is because the teacher i had a crush on replied to a letter i’d given her; she said she could see me being “the next j.k rowling.” i’m sure that was meant as a compliment back then. there is also the fact that i never intended with continuing on with education past year 11 until we had to by law, but after enjoying my sixth form subjects, i found it incredulous that i had to pick just one for university, and english seems to be the perfect avenue in which to incorporate media, sociology and psychology (i also never got to do philosophy and i never continued on with french after gcses, so i also hoped to approach them in my courses).

but really, i do english because i’ve always been a good writer.

that is a bold claim to make, but in the past years i have made many bold claims. i am a sagittarius! it is our job to make bold claims and when asked to elaborate on that, we say no! like, that meme format was born out of sagittarianism.

for the sake of talking, because us sagittarians also do love the sound of our own voices, i will elaborate THIS ONE TIME.

i wrote many songs when i was younger, and used to perform them with my sister and cousins. there was this song called “girls style” that i still remember the chorus of. i must’ve written it when i was like, 7 or 8 years old? i swear, though, it’s good enough to be on a dolly advert or a song that jojo siwa could get more famous of. i think it must’ve been inspired by bratz too... anyways, that was a good song, is my point. i don’t think i could write it again and it could be as good because, for one, i don’t identify as a girl anymore. 

there was also another song that i wrote, i don’t remember how it goes, but i know once beyoncé came out with “irreplaceable” i was infuriated because the song i wrote had the exact same subject matter and tone as her song (but actually who was i telling “to the left, to the left” at 8 years old? rolling WHO around in the CAR? that I BOUGHT? for WHO?) somehow i swore blind that beyoncé had stole my song, and even though she was my whole life even back then, i had to unstan for a bit because i was mad at her.

imagine. 

i’m writing beyoncé level songs at 8 years old.

okay, i may not be THAT good -- well, actually, most of the songs on b’day aren’t so intangible for an 8 year old. not to say it isn’t a masterpiece, like every other thing beyoncé has done ever since and before and god I LOVE THAT WOMAN, but you know, i was in that ballpark, i guess, maybe...

or maybe not but ANYHOW i also learned to read at quite an early age, think it must’ve been 3 or something (despite how intelligent he is, i can’t imagine my 4 year old cousin being able to read right now, so that must have been a shock to my mother) and i was pretty artistic at a young age too, despite my main interests being in science at that time. 

i remember being in year 3 and writing a poem about ice cream that my teacher would never stop bringing up even after i left his year. i also drew a portrait of my best friend that year, and trust me, it was so good, the whole class was in awe. no joke. 

funnily enough, though, for a while, i used to deny that those things happened. you know, the pride my year 3 teacher felt or the way my best friend looked at me when she saw how well i depicted her at, again, only 8 years old. i forgot about them until now, 13 years later, in my last semester of university. 

my best friend from secondary school and my dad were so obsessed with this journal i used to bring around. my best friend used to write in it from time to time. i was so perplexed as to why she liked it so much that eventually it weirded me out and i stopped bringing the journal to school. (sorry mia, still love you!) i went to jamaica for two weeks when i was 15 and brought that journal with me, and my dad read every entry and seemed so excited by it as well that i just. stopped bringing it to show him. he still asks about it, and if i’m still writing in general. i give him mono-syllabic answers and hopes that he doesn’t ask any further questions (i mean perhaps that is because the moment i visited jamaica was also the moment i realised i really liked this one girl and since then i’ve realised i am a lesbian and since all i was doing was writing about this one girl for three years... i didn’t want to share anything too incriminating with him, a known homophobe, naturally)

in all of these instances, you can see that people enjoy my art. there isn’t an instance in which they’ve protested against it, even when i’ve explicitly named people in that journal or not everyone likes ice cream. but you can also see that i somehow conveniently forget that. like. “people enjoy my art” does not compute in my mind for a long time. it is a sentence that does not make sense, by every word. 

people? 

outside of myself? 

enjoy? 

like, actively consume and are amused? 

my? 

ME? 

art?

that’s BOLD, you believe you create art? ART? 

well, what else would you call it? what else would you say? i’m creating something whimsical here.

i’m currently studying critical aesthetics, and as far as i’ve read for this class, i can perfectly claim that the creations i allow to be consumed as such ARE in fact, poetry, by the basis of many of these conflicting philosophers.

but obviously, before three months ago, i didn’t know much about what aristotle, hume, hegel and such had to say about art and creating. however i always know i want my every endeavour to be artful. i’ve been enamoured with the concept of aesthetic for a long time -- perhaps this was vapourwave’s doing -- and i know i daydream a lot. it’s where the mental illnesses i’m plagued with permeate these naturally creative realms of my mind and distort them and they become unhealthy obsessions that i react compulsively toward. 

i’ve been to therapy and counselling and have heard the same thing. i’ve even heard it from a friend who really inspires me recently -- overthinking is not a bad thing. you just have to know how to control it so that it benefits you. overthinking could not be the bane of my existence because i probably would not be able to create without it. however, it’s dysfunctional because i don’t control it. i always think it’s about not being able to “turn my brain off”, which is impossible apart from braindeath, which i think is what i accidentally purposely try to allude to, but that isn’t what control is. 

control... is a scary word. a hell of an intimidating word for someone who is considered by many to be free-spirited and laid back. but control could have saved me the frustration of a missing phone for two days. control did save me from this obsession from furthering at one point, but after one event i lost control and have not regained it since. it is easy to blame the person in question but she hadn’t done anything wrong. i’m not really doing anything wrong. i just need to control myself.

last year, i meditated a lot. this was perhaps i was smoking weed and normal tobacco, thinking i could find myself in those vices, yet felt so paranoid and low. when you meditate, it isn’t really about controlling your thoughts by blocking them out. rather, meditation is about controlling where your mind is. where you focus. it’s choosing to relax.

strange as it sounds, relaxation is not an easy choice to make.

i often mistake relaxing for being idle. the major difference is in my thoughts. being idle allows for thoughts to intrude upon me and be incessant and unnerving. 

being idle is unfortunately a constant in my life.

it isn’t that i haven’t got anything to do. it’s just easy to be idle.

somewhere in the bible (no, i don’t care enough to go and look it up) it says “idle hands give the devil play”. or it’s a jamaican proverb. my mum says it a lot. anyhow, it rings true in every sense for me. the “devil”, my unconscious “ego”, base impulses, “play” with my mind, they swing my “idle hands”, make them shape their way, clap their way, ball their way. an innocent hand clapping game played until my hands are sore. i’m always throwing my hands at the devil to let him do what he wants.

relaxing is stopping the hand game. i put my hands down and watch the devil wait for me to parttake once again, saying encouraging things. there, i control my passivity. i spectate my own mind. 

right now, i’m relaxing. i am in bed, but also while typing this i am taking my time to focus, be honest and try not to digress. it feels so tranquil. i have written a lot but i want my point to get across so i can feel understood.

i feel like i have misguided my friends about who i am for a long time. or have i? it’s easy to be the messy black lesbian who loves one direction and is “woke” but there is this thing that i notice when i am with them: i am relaxed. well, in most instances. i listen to what they are telling me, because i enjoy listening in general but also because i love them. 

in my teenage years when i decidedly “wasn’t into friendships”, i would still listen to the people i hung around with. i’d complain about them on twitter after, which funnily enough people still joke that i do but i really do not (and CAN not) do it as much as i used to but i know by idly listening to them and not opening up i let all sorts of demons in because they can intrude unlike people you haven’t given the key to. 

now i am choosing to open up because people aren’t so bad, and people mostly like me. even if they didn’t, however, it doesn’t actually matter. 

me existing regardless of anyone else is the point here, despite me being a good writer. i think that’s what makes writing good. i think that is what makes art good. it has the ability to exist and encourage thought. 

i shouldn’t be afraid to write because i think i’m too depressed or messy or something i don’t like will come to fruition because that isn’t what its about. creating is creating. no one else would have written this. i don’t expect this to be winning the nobel book prize any time soon. i want to finally find peace in my honesty. i have been a compulsive liar for too long and it has become monstrous. now i must relax and take the true easy path in the end: the one which terrifies me the most.

i am going to be disciplined, patient, open. honest, forgiving, sensitive. 

i do love to be a mystery but it isn’t fun if it’s causing you pain and you’re a mystery to yourself for such a long time.

one way i’m going to solve the enigma that is myself, as well as the world, is writing.

[ehyeh-joshua]

I feel so tired. Not just physically, that'll be semi replenished in the morning... Where has the time gone?

When I was a child, I sort of had hoped that by my twenties I'd be a husband, maybe a father - I've always wanted to adopt.

Now that I am here... It feels like I have missed a decade. And I don't like it, I don't have decades to lose.

People I grew up with I now see their children in the schools, my cousins are doing their GCSEs and their A-levels, the oldest cousin who is 2 years younger than me has been in two serious relationships, my brother is thinking about marrying his girlfriend, the next youngest cousin has just near straight A* his A-Levels... (an A was his lowest grade) A young couple in my church are just settling into married life now...

And...

I don't know what to do. I'm stuck in a job that I don't like apart from the people, most of them I can't talk to because of the language barrier...

I've tried driving and it didn't go well, which is very far from being the racing driver that I wanted to be...

I don't know what I want, I just know that this was not and is not it. :/ But what can I do? There's not a lot I can do...

Where has the time gone?

[anyasmith]

set task 3: planning

planning: the technical and vocational preparation for your projects as discussed in class or outlined within your (001) presentations (e.g., audience, marketing, tech, booking, contracts, promotions, tie ins, meetings, communications, gannt, swot, staff)

in order to create the podcast, we needed to record using three microphones at the same time. luckily our university has a podcasting room, used with the radio and journalism students, which is perfect for the project. however, none of my group had been inducted into the podcasting room so i asked andrew if he could get into contact with the media school to see if we could be inducted into the room

however, there was some issue with tone radio and rose’s process to join them, so i asked my house mate jordan if he could help us and book the room for us. he happily agreed and helped us set up the room, show us how to use the software and helped us record each episode! we ended up having 2 hours to record the episodes and we wanted to record them all in one session

to prepare for the recording, we had to come up with a little structure guide to help each episode flow. we decided each episode should be focussed on one person’s sector and they lead the topic of conversation for the episode. the plan was for each person’s episode to start with a brief summary of how they got involved with music, what has inspired them, why they are interested in their sector and what are their next steps to journey off into that sector. then each episode will end with a question and answer session. this plan will make it easier for us to record and hopefully make the session flow easier

in order for me to plan my own episode, i decided to make a script so it would be easier for me to remember all the points i want to say:

script:

hiya i’m anya and i specialise in playing percussion and vocals. i first got into music when i was 3 as my older sister played the violin. i used to stand outside the children’s choir room while waiting for my sister to finish her violin lessons at our local music school. i used to sing all the songs outside so one day i was invited into the choir early and i have been singing ever since. i got into percussion at the age of 6 as my cousin was throwing out his old drum kit. so, we decided to take it and i started drumming lessons, but i was rubbish, so i took up percussion instead and fell in love with it. from there i joined several wind bands and performed with the county band. i picked up the tuba in year 3 and played until year 10 when i decided to stop to pursue percussion and singing instead. i have completed grade 5 theory when i was 10 so i struggle with theory now as it’s my 10-year-old self’s brains way of remembering theory! i’ve also completed gcses and a-level music. i also joined a performance arts school at the age of 8 and since have performed in countless of pantomimes and even at theatre royal in london and o2 indigo. i have worked within a performing arts school since 2018 and have fell in love with teaching children. i probably got this from my mother, she is a teacher of the deaf and i used to go to her school and do inset days with her after completing work experience with my mum, i met a woman called phoebe, who is a deaf music teacher.

what i want to talk about: primary school and how i only revised during school using songs only memories at school were with music: djembe drumming, school productions etc working with children and seeing their faces light up with confidence that they’ve completed things music school and how it’s helped me- wind days and performances

we also wanted to come up with a podcast name, logo and jingle to make the podcast sound more professional. coming up with a name was the hardest part. we all went away to think of some ideas (for example, the treble clefs, re-musable, out of tune) but settled on the idea of “the musiverse”. i like this name as it shows how wide the music industry is and how we are exploring the music world. after coming up with the name, i went onto the app canva and made a logo! i wanted to incorporate music into the idea of space, and i was really happy with what i created. josh also went away and created a jingle for us to play at the beginning of our episodes!

[magic-magpie]

Let’s Review Terrible Fanfiction

Specifically, my terrible fanfiction.

Okay, so I started writing fanfics at age eleven, yeah? Thankfully, my sense of spelling and grammar was rather good from a young age, and I was too bashful to even think of writing a kissing scene, let alone a bad sex scene. But that really doesn’t mean I could write well. I posted it on FF.net, it has approximately 27K words, and eleven reviews. I was damn proud of this pile of trash at the time. The reason I’m posting my review of it on here (aside from it being fun as heck to verbally abuse my old writing), is because, well... okay, I myself am guilty of laughing at those absolutely awful, cringey fics, but we’ve all gotta start somewhere, right? And those eleven reviews from honest-to-God strangers on the internet motivated me to write further. All those reviews were nice, and they were helpful. They pointed out what went well in that mess, and what needed work. If they’d commented stuff like ‘omggg this is cringe I'm pissing myself laughing right now’, I’m not 100% sure my tiny eleven-year-old self would’ve continued writing for fear of being mocked again (’cause kids are kinda fragile). But look at my writing now - it’s by no means perfect, but it’s definitely much better, and it managed to gain me quite a few full marks in the Creative Writing portion of the English Language GCSE. So, to go back to my point, I’m also posting this to show you how much a writer can evolve if you just encourage them. Also, as a side note, I owe my entire writing life to the Ace Attorney FF.net fandom back in 2013. Those guys are the best. If I ever publish a book like I want to, I’d be evil not to acknowledge them in some way.

Onto what you’re all here for:

Review of Chapter One of Truths and Falsehoods, written by AA Addict, also known as Magic-Magpie.

“Nick, I’m HUNGRY! What do we have to eat?” Maya moaned at me. I swear, that girl’s appetite is never satisfied!

See, my problem with the majority of this is that the writing just sounds bloody awkward.

One sentence in and I’m cringing.

This is gonna be fun.

"Mr. Nick! Mystic Maya needs her food to train, and she needs to train because she's the master of Kurain! Hey, I rhymed!

Technically you didn’t because it turns out that Kurain it pronounced kur-ine, as in rhyming with sign

I’ll let eleven-year-old me off, though, considering she had no clue how Kurain was pronounced, and I actually only figured it out when AA6 was released and the game said the word.

[“]Trucy, I rhymed! Trucy, could you make Mr. Hat use that rhyme in his act? Pretty please?" Pearls said.

Okay, now here’s the thing - for those of you who don’t know anything about Ace Attorney, Trucy is Phoenix’s adoptive daughter, and Pearl is Maya’s younger cousin. At the end of the third game, Trials and Tribulations, Pearl was ten, and Phoenix was twenty-six.

BUT.

Trucy’s first appearance is in the fourth game, and she’s fifteen years old. But by the time the fourth game starts, seven years have passed since T&T. So Pearl should be seventeen. But no, she’s TEN. And I’m fairly certain I made Nick twenty-six, too.

Jesus help me.

There's a law against child abuse, what about adult abuse?

Nick I’m not sure you getting bitch-slapped by a tiny child who would probably cry if you acted properly hurt warrants a law being passed.

Also, there is. It’s called assault, though.

"Hello, my friends! We meet again! Ah, here's Pearl, my favourite child, who likes her curry mild! Oh, but look who's next to her! It's the dashing young girl Maya, who needs to train because she's the Master of Kurain!" 'Mr. Hat' said, flatteringly. It's actually Trucy talking in a deep voice. I didn't know she was capable of it!

This entire paragraph just cringes me out so much.

Trucy deserves better than this. Unlike me, Trucy actually knows how to create a goddamn entertaining and interactive act.

Also, why doesn’t Nick know she’s capable of it?! It’s only been one of her trademark acts since, like, he bloody well met her!

[”]In court you always win your case, with your hair that looks like a mace!"

Can you tell that I can’t rhyme for shit.

[“]Trucy! I'm your father! You should be polite to me![”]

TrUCy, I aM yOUr fAThER. 

And Nick and Trucy don’t have a strict ‘I am the father of this household so respect me’ relationship. They have a very easygoing sort of relationship, if I remember correctly. And even if he was jokingly saying it (which I think he is), he would definitely not phrase it like that.

[”]Case closed, Your Honour!" I pointed out.

Ahh, back when I had no idea that dialogue could be structured as anything but ‘he said, she said’.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked.

"Well, when you pointed out those facts, you acted like you were in a court proceeding!" she burst out laughing. Pearls started laughing too, as did Trucy and eventually, me. Just to join in! Otherwise, I didn't see what was so funny!

nICK, YOU HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOUR. PUT IT TO GOOD USE AND REALISE THE BADLY-WRITTEN FUNNY MOMENT.

"Well, back to the point. Where are we eating today?" Maya asked, grinning.

You know, this never actually gets answered. They never go out to eat. Which basically means that this entire chapter was P O I N T L E S S.

Well, that’s Chapter One. There’s twenty of these, believe it or not. Like, how. Thankfully, my chapters were fairly short.

[cheezybiouwiou]

a briefing so i don’t have to repeat myself

My parents got divorced when I was one. He ‘went on holiday’ to Switzerland when I was about 6, the only contact I’ve had with him has been like through letters when we’ve tried to change our names in court or something.

I’ve lived in three countries and moved house over 30 times - it sounds weird but there’s always been a good reason.

We were like the famous five kids (my cousins, my sisters and I) for years, but then my aunt’s a little crazy, so long story short we fell out and didn’t see them for like 8 years (side note, saw them this summer and it was weird but nice).

Uncle is batshit crazy and a psychopath, we don’t talk to him. He likes to remind my mum that he could kidnap/murder us every so often which is fun. My grandma has alzheimers (so does my great aunt), and my dad’s side of the family we don’t have contact with. Everyone else just isn’t around or is dead I’m pretty sure (that’s not tragic it’s just old age yk).

Umm, so, mum was determined to send us to private school, so after the divoce although we stayed in private education, she/we sacrificed a lot to get there. We weren’t poor or anything, just life was tight. That at one point led to us moving to Spain for a year (wonderful but crazy experience, I was like 6 at the time and genuinely my heart is in Spain. We have a house there in this tiny village, it’s kinda the only constant I’ve had in my life.

After that we moved back to England and I went to a boarding school (very minimal boarding at first though, so easy). Had an amazing time, yada yada then my mum met my soon-to-be stepfather. Long story short again, he had a bit of money and they got married quick, it seemed great at first but he turned out to be a wackass hoe as well.

A series of unfortunate events involving us moving into my grandma’s to look after her and my batshit uncle threatening to kill our cat and kicking us out of that house led to us moving a bajillion times between holiday rentals for like a year. We then ended up moving to Shanghai, again seems incredible at first until you remember that this is the point at which he started showing his true colours and being super emotionally abusive to my mum. Shanghai also happened to be a really convenient way to isolate a person. Anyways, I got sick of it after a year because the education was shit so ended up going to the UK and going to a super uptight full-time boarding school for the next year.

Went here, homesick as shit and my brain decided it would be a perfect time (when I’m in a super intense academic and conservative environment where the only person I have in the country is my sister) for my ✧・ﾟ:* issues *:・ﾟ✧ to manifest/me to actually understand shit. So yeah, bad year for me. This was also compounded by my mum (yk cut back to China where she’s being emotionally abused and my other sister is having a shit time) having an absolute breakdown. Idk the timing worked out great bc my shit time coencided with hers and she couldn’t cope with that on top of my homesickness and on top of her issues so this, combined with the multiple arguments that I had with her, meant that she told me to stop bothering her and so I did. We didn’t talk for weeks, and now I have ✧・ﾟ:* emotional scars/trust issues and our relationship has never been the same *:・ﾟ✧. 

Anyways, she escaped by some miracle and we ended up back in England all together. This was when we returned to the flexi-boarding school (the one from before China) because it was the only one we could afford to go to. Sooo that place was super negligent and basically all I can say is that they had a really good PR team to stop all those suicide attempts within that school from going public.

Anyways, the first year was iffy, but as I said before, the issues that were becoming more apparently at the last school were kinda becoming more and more apparent (I now know it’s anxiety, depression, and then a possible spicy element of ADHD that we haven’t even got to yet). There was also another issue in that I’m bisexual and I was figuring that whole thing out (this is a side note but I’m probably non-binary but that’s a whole other issue that I’m confused/in denial about), but that led to me becoming friends with basically just the queer kids in my year because all my friends stopped talking to me. At this point I started almost full-boarding again.

Then I started dating one of my friends (Draco, AFAB but confused about their gender identity). Started off sweet, but long story short we dated for a year and a half and I’ve never been more broken (tried to kermit the frogicide 3 times hehe they barely counted as attempts yeet). Uhh there’s a lot to unpack with this one but I’ll try to simplify:

They had abusive parents (physically and emotionally)

They had bipolar

They also were raped by their dad multiple times

They were super manipulative. I wasn’t allowed to be happy about anything because it made them feel bad. 

I wasn’t allowed to feel confident in my body because they had severe body issues. I ended up developing an eating disorder (all I ate was tea, toast after midnight and like milk and digestives).

I started self-harming.

My relationship with my sisters and mum was atrocious. It was definitely a huge part my fault, but not entirely.

As a group we were definitely very toxic. But yeah, on top of all this their best friend committed suicide, and they’d been in emotionally abusive relationships. This led to them being super suicidal. There was I think from November to February where every time they left school to go home, they’d literally try to kill themself. And I’d be stuck while they’re messaging me the whole time saying like “sorry you’re not enough to save me”. Every night. For months I was spending my whole life literally just trying to keep them alive.

Idk if I blame them, because it was definitely their trauma that made them act like it, but some of the stuff they did was manipulative and shit. Lying to me a lot, promising they’re telling the truth when actually lying. Constantly pushing me away, and then being mad when I couldn’t talk to them because they blocked me. Telling lies to my friends to get them to stop talking to me and then stopping me from telling my friends the truth (I wouldn’t tell them just because Draco made it seem like it would hurt Draco, and I was terrified of doing that). That sorta stuff.

I became a therapist for a lot of kids in my year, and so all that pressure of keeping like 20 kids from committing not-alive, on top of my issues just wasn’t a good look for me.

This led to as I said, the eating disorder, and also heavvyyyy dissociation. It also led to alcoholism which was just an unexpected turn. I just didn’t realise how bad all of these problems were at the time. Not a good time, a lot of loneliness, skipping lessons, that sorta thing.

Anyways, mum managed to get me out of the school (after a breakdown and an ambulance having to be called to the school because I drank too much). I did my GCSEs from home by some miracle, and she moved me to the local sixth form. I broke up with the person, and then had a few months over the summer that were life changing.

I moved to a new sixth-form, and it’s been rocky and uphill and super hard but I worked my ass off and I’m in so much better of a place than I was. It was rough at the start, but basically I had a pathetic amount of CBT therapy from the NHS, and the only good thing it did for me was to let me know that 1) I hate CBT, and 2) I already managed to teach myself a lot of the coping skills in the last year.

Then corona rolled around, and my anxiety went through the roof again, depressive episodes came and went and I’m still getting no help. But yeah, it basically made me realise that sure I’ve come a long way but I’m barely holding it together. It most CERTAINLY isn’t helped by the astronomical stress levels I’m getting from my A-levels and just generally existing at the moment is hard. I’m also low-key lonely because people kind of suck (I lost almost all my friends from my old school, don’t get me wrong that was for good reason, but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t suck. But yeah, I also got into a group of people at the start that were kinda shitty and so now it can be kinda lonely because it’s hard to make new friends).

My relationship with my mum has improved but it’s rocky as fuck. She’s very childish and I’m pretty sure hit the jackpot for trauma in every capacity but just pretends that sHe’S fiNe. While I’m writing this, she’s been incredible. Genuinely incredible. But also she can be one of the biggest problems in making me want to cease existing. She can be extremely manipulating and invalidating of my emotions, and generally make me feel like I’m going insane because she knows that I have no power over my life. She’s admitted it’s because she has to be in control of everything, but admitting it doesn’t mean it’s not toxic. It’s one of the hardest things in my life when it gets bad.

So yeah, I think that’s most of it!

Also side note, I may have attachment issues from the constant moving schools/houses/issues with my mum/dad leaving/crazy stepdad/i completely forgot to mention my step-brother who nearly got institutionalised in china because of schizophrenia that i didn’t see after that/constant changing schools.

Also second side note, only figure out recently and I’m probably completely wrong and I can’t remember it properly because I was so young but a kid a few years older than me might have touched me up when I was younger. It wasn’t anything serious, it just made me uncomfortable when I realise. I don’t know if I want to talk about it though because there’s a part of me that wonders if I just invented this trauma to make me feel special or some shit and YES I’m aware that’s the dumbest shit to ever think but oh well. Edit: also I feel like I have no friends/they're constantly changing. Also, childhood Moreton bullying.

[storytellingandgamingfj]

120 Games to play - My Highlights

Generally, when talking about gaming I defer to others, although I have spent many days of my life with controller in my hand. I have mostly played mainstream games or sport games and so my experience does not go too deep with gaming so when we were sent the list of 120 games to play I was intrigued. I was interested to see how many of the games that I have played would make the list and was ready to feel ashamed for not having played a lot of them. This post is going to be my highlights from the list that I grew up playing or have experienced. 

(Disclaimer that I was born in 1998 hence we start quite low in the list already)

Tomb Raider (Eidos Interactive, 1996)

One of my first memories of gaming was playing Tomb Raider on my dads work laptop. As one of my first memories it is pretty limited and only ever remember playing the first level in the caves (probably as I was likely terrible and couldn't get any further). Since playing this game I was always drawn to the character and any property under the tomb raider title and the later version, ‘Tomb Raider: Underworld’ (Eidos Interactive, 2008) was the first game that my brothers got with our PS3.

Tekken 3 (Namco, 1998)

My first fighting game, spent most of my time basically being bullied on this game by my brothers. Favourite character was Jin who I distinctly remember cutting an old pair of socks and drawing on them to look like his gloves pictured above. Special mention to Eddy Gordo for giving me the head start on capoeira which we spent a full school term learning in PE. My fondest Tekken memories however come from Tekken Tag Tournament (Namco, 2000) and its ‘Tekken bowl’ mini game which gave me short relief from being beaten up by my older brothers (in game of course). 

Grand Theft Auto 3 (Rockstar Games, 2001)

Not too much to say about the actual game itself, as a family we preferred ‘Driv3r,’ (Atari, 2004) (a far worse game looking back) which my brother swapped with his friend for GTA 3 for a week. A week that was cut short when my mum discovered and was appalled at her 9,8 and 6 year old sons playing GTA, but was okay with Driv3r which was a very similar concept. 

Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare (Activision, 2007)

My mum may have objected to Grand theft auto for the adult content but she couldn't stop us playing any game about war (thanks to my dad loving them). Having played many world war 2 games including the Medal of Honour series and the previous Call of Duty’s and being taken through them by my dad, Modern Warfare started a new age where I played it on my own and really got to grips with it. It was the first game I played all the way through myself and not with my brothers and I felt badass. 

Assassins Creed II (Ubisoft, 2009)

I used to play the first game every week around my cousins where we spent many hours reloading the castle in Acre and trying to assassinate every guard without alerting anyone in the coolest way possible. It was only when the above trailer came out that I realised what it was and properly got into the franchise. Once I watched the trailer I was hooked as an 11 year old wanting to look cool AF sneaking around in a hood assassinating baddies but ended up following Ezio through his whole journey. For the next 5 years every instalment was my favourite game and the E3 trailers they released was the reason I started watching E3 every year and really paying attention to new releases. Last year I went to Venice for the first time and I had the strangest experience where I recognised everything and felt like I knew my way around but had no idea why until I got to St. Marks Square and remembered that it was because I had explored the city in this game. 

Red Dead Redemption (Rockstar Games, 2010)

Didn’t play this game until 3 years after its release. My brother got it and played it to the death and it was only during summer holidays when I was bored and had run out of things to do that I finally picked up what became my favourite game. Continuing my affinity to games that made me feel like I was the badass character I was controlling (what’s more badass than a western).  I love the free roam ability that makes you feel like you are living the characters life and the story too was so interesting. Not only this but by the time I played this, the greatest DLC ever (for me) was part of the game, Undead Nightmare. As an avid Walking Dead fan I had been longing for a free roam zombie game where I could prove my chops in the post apocalyptic world. This as DLC is still my favourite zombie game as it was free roam and did not lock you into scenarios yet filled with dynamic events that you could always get involved with. 

The Last Of Us (Sony Computer Entertainment, 2013)

*Remastered* My first game with the PS4 I came late and had already seen most of the story through a youtube lets play. However this did not stop me playing it all the way through across 3 evenings and on 3 separate occasions in the years following my cousin and I started it in an afternoon and finished it through the night. In a list of my top 10 favourite stories across all media (films/tv/games/books etc.) this is a locked in choice for that list. It was like watching my favourite movie but I had control. It also had a surprisingly good multiplayer that my friends and I spent our GCSE summer playing.  

Sources:

Core Design. (1996). Tomb Raider. [DISC]. PC. Eidos Interactive. 

Crystal Dynamics. (2008). Tomb Raider: Underworld. [DISC]. PS3. Eidos Interactive. 

IGN. (2009). Assasin’s Creed 2 E3 trailer. [video]. Available at: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xkCPNECud8> [Accessed 2 April 2020].

Infinity Ward. (2007). Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare. [DISC]. PS3. Santa Monica: Activision.

Namco. (1998). Tekken 3. [DISC]. PS2. Tokyo: Namco.

Namco. (2000). Tekken Tag Tournament. [DISC]. PS2. Tokyo: Namco.

Naughty Dog. (2013). The Last Of Us. [DISC]. PS3. California: Sony Computer Entertainment. 

Reflections Interactive. (2004). Driver 3. [DISC]. PS2. California: Atari, Inc. 

Rockstar North. (2001). Grand Theft Auto 3. [DISC]. PS2. Rockstar Games.

Rockstar San Diego. (2010). Red Dead Redemption. [DISC]. PS3. San Diego: Rockstar Games.

Rockstar San Diego. (2010). Undead Nightmare. [DIGITAL DOWNLOAD]. PS3. San Diego: Rockstar Games.

Ubisoft Montreal. (2009). Assasins Creed 2. [DISC]. PS3. Montreal: Ubisoft.

[secret-rendezvous1d]

IMAGINE THE MISSUS BEING THERE WHEN HARRY AUDITIONS FOR THE XFACTOR

WATCH THIS FOR A GOOD CRY.

She stayed the night before his audition because he asked her to. Because Anne gave her the all clear to spend the night and travel with them into Manchester the following day. Because Gemma wanted her to stay for dinner and it worked out. Because he needed her there to get his nerves to settle. Because he needed her there to give him his honest opinion on whether the song he was singing was the right song. Because he couldn’t sleep knowing his fate was in the hands of three people he’d seen on telly before. Tucked up in his bed, wearing one of his old sweatshirts, holding him as he sprawled himself out on the bed beside her and promising him that everything was going to be fine; that he had the best singing voice she’d ever heard, and that wasn’t being biased because he was her boyfriend and she was his girlfriend. That she was still going to love him, regardless, because she’s stuck by him until now and she’ll stick by him until the end.

They speak and stay up until the late hours of the night, when the clock struck midnight, because neither of them could sleep - well, it was more or less Harry that couldn’t sleep with the nerves bubbling around his belly as he tried to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in. Conversations rising about how glad they were to be on the verge of finishing school and how stress-free they were going to be during the summer, making plans to start driving lessons so they could drive anywhere they wanted to go rather than catching the bus or a train to a desired destination, making a plan that, if all things went wrong with his audition, that they would take a trip to the beach with a group of their friends and stay in a hotel room that was on the front to spend time with one another, post-exam season, before college began in the September. But by the time the time ticked past midnight, conversations about his audition and his future struck up; if he was to get big and famous, would he ditch her for another woman or would he have her by his side when he goes off to play songs all over the world? Would he forget all about his home life and up and leave to another city to live and spend the rest of days? But he was adament that she was in his future. Where he gave her the best life he could - “when m’big and famous and I have wads of cash in my wallet, m’going to give yeh the best life I can. It’ll be for you. I’ll do everything for you. And we’ll live in the best house we can find. In the best city we come across. I’m going to marry yeh and we’re going to have the best wedding that everyone wants an invite to, but, we’ll just make it close friends and family members. We’re going to have kids together to fill up our big house. A nice big family with about 4 or 5 kids. And we’re going to by a cat because I’ll be lonely without Dusty around.” - and where they were together to the end of time.

When they arrive at the arena where he’s carrying out his audition, he can feel the butterflies flutter around his belly. Hand slotted into his girlfriend’s where she can feel how sweaty his palm is getting, the closer and closer they got to the desk where he was given his number. His mother and his aunt and Robin following close behind with Gemma and his cousins drifting back a while but still following on course to queuing with the rest of them. He’s humming the song beneath his breath and grinning down at her with the number in his hand; a silent invitation for her to stick it on him, anywhere she fancied, as long as it wasn’t in an area that resided at his behind or his front. Between the waiting time and getting inside to finally do his audition, he’s standing with her and holding her from behind and taking silly photos with her because they need something to remember this day with, chatting with his mum about how nervous he was and how he was gutted his dad couldn’t be there to see him but how excited he was to see where this could take him, blushing shyly when they all complimented him and hiding his face into his missus’ neck when his cheeks became really heated.

When he’s pulled away for a quick televised interview that will air alongside his audition, his girlfriend chooses to bolt off with Gemma to grab a quick coffee and a little something eat before sliding back into the queue and waiting for him as he came back. A tea in her hand that she passed towards him when she saw him scuff his way back across the concrete. 

It’s when Dermot O’Leary comes over that excitement bubbles more. The nerves slightly disappearing when he sees the camera crew following in his path. His palm getting more sweaty as he clenched his fingers around hers in a tighter fashion. Hello’s and greetings being exchanged with hugs and handshakes happening before the formalities begin; questions over experience flooding in, chat about White Eskimo popping up whilst his girlfriend brought up how he’d won Battle Of The Bands at school - which was something he was extremely proud of achieving - and how he wanted to go forward from there. How he wanted to continue the feeling of being thrilled in front of people, by doing what he loved to do. By doing what he was good at, which was something his mother never fell short of telling him. Day in and day out, whenever she heard him humming along to a tune on the radio or when he’d popped in from a White Eskimo rehearsal that took place in the garage and she’d heard the song he was belting out.

“It’s more nerve-wrackin’ now m’inside,” he murmurs, settled in a seat, that had been sat on by many people throughout the day, that was set at a random angle in the space where people were waiting to be called in, “I feel like I’m about to poo my pants.”

“I don’t have a spare change of clothes,” his girlfriend teases, “you can slip on my jeans, if you want?”

“And have you walking ‘round with no trousers on? No way,” he smiles, nudging her arm with his elbow, “I’ll be fine. Just, incredibly nervous. There are so many people out there in that audience who have come to laugh at those who can’t sing and have come to compliment those who can. What if m’neither? What if they never boo and what if they never clap? What if it’s dead air? Silence? No cheers whatsoever? I’ll look like a bloody fool.” 

“Then we’ll all jump on stage and cheer. Get them all started,” Ben grins, punching his knee softly, “they’ll be able to her (YN) and your mum and Gem from behind the scenes anyway. You’ll be the loudest of all of them in there,” he adds, as Anne nods in agreement. 

“Regardless of what happens, we’ll support you no matter what,” Anne smiles, pulling him into her side and kissing his forehead, despite his whines, “you’ll be wanting plenty of kisses one day and I won’t be here to give you any.” 

“You’ll be around for ages, mum,” he smiles, pressing his lips to her cheek, “love you.”

“I love you too,” she coos, pinching his cheek softly, “you’ll be going in soon, I’m sure. Are you getting excited? Nervous? Worried?” 

“All of the above and so much more,” he admits.

When his number and his name is called out, he’s taking slow steps to the scenes behind the stage. Camera crew following his every move until he’s greeted by Dermot at the bottom of the steps, tellies all around that are focused in on different areas of the inside arena; one focused on the judges, one focused on the arena as a whole, one focused in on a specific section and a couple focused on the stage. After more greetings, and more hands being shaken, he’s clapped on the back.

“Listen, good luck out there,” Dermot grins, pointing back to his family, “wish him luck.”

And before Harry can twirl around, his girlfriend plants a good smack on his lips. Pulling away with a cheeky grin and whispering a good luck to him as his cheeks flush pink, his mother coming in for a kiss on his cheek and Ben pulling him back to press a kiss to the crown of his head. Playfully and dramatically trying to pull away before Gemma can get her hands on him to plant a smacker somewhere on his face.

And he struts out on the stage, leaving her view and leaving her behind with worry in her stomach but a smile on her face as she nuzzles into Robin’s arm and lets him cuddle her to his side. A soft “he’ll be great” leaving his lips as his audition begins and the cheers of the audience die down.

With introductions over, and a little talk over his girlfriend being backstage and over his job at the bakery and how popular specific pies were for the customer he has come in regularly for a lunch deal and how he’d just done his GCSEs and worked there as a Saturday job to earn a little money to buy his girlfriend and his family all the presents he could afford, he’s onto singing. With no melody or backing track playing in the background and no instruments assisting him; he goes acapella. How he sings around the house or in the shower or even when he’s at work and the bakery is empty after the lunch rush that came through when everyone took a break from work.

Behind the scenes, his mother is swaying from side to side and his sister is standing there, facing the cameras with a smile on her face. Ella standing beside her as she sings beneath her breath and Ben standing beside his own mother as they clap along to the gentle voice he had playing and echoing around the silent and anticipating crowd in the stalls. Robin standing with (YN) as they watch in awe of just how wonderful he was doing; all of them praying that the judges heard the right thing and agreed to send him through to the next stage, towards Bootcamp.

“You’re 16 years old and you have a beautiful voice,” Nicole smiles, nodding towards him as he blushes rosy red and thanks her softly, a smile on his lips.

But as the negativity came rolling off of Louis Walsh’s tongue, it set (YN)’s heart racing. He wanted a full house of yeses, but, she had a feeling he was coming off of the stage with two yeses and a no that would sit heavy on his heart and push him back a step in feeling confident with himself. Knowing he was feeling bad by the way his face dropped, regardless of the thank you that he gave towards him for the criticism that would help him in the long run. 

And from backstage, his girlfriend can’t help but yell out. 

“Rubbish!”

Which is something that Simon picks up on as something coming from the audience. But, Harry knows… He can tell from the sound of the voice that it’s his girlfriend yelling out in disagreement, how she was dumbfounded by how Louis considered her boyfriend too young and inexperienced. Continuing on with a praise and how, with a bit of vocal coaching, he could sound with some help coming his way with the help of the show. Because he was really good and just needed an extra push in the right direction.

With two yeses and a no, he’s off the stage in a hurry and in the arms of his mother before he could even express how he felt. Her arms winding around his neck as he squeezed her tightly and let her babble excitedly over how proud she was and how good he did up there in front of everyone. How he deserved three yeses from all of them but was even happier with the two he got from those who could tell how much he wanted it and how good he truly was; who saw a future for him, even if he was a bit patchy with his presence. 

“So, how did I do? Did I do good?” He grins, hands cupping his girlfriend’s hips as she rests her arms on his shoulders and runs her fingers through his hair, “think m’gon’a be famous?”

“I know so,” she whispers, leaning up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his lips, “I’m so proud of you. I love you. You did so good.”

“Think we can head off for some early dinner? I’m starving,” he chuckles, cupping her face in his hands, “I fancy a juicy burger. With everything in it. Chips on the side. A nice, big coke to wash it down with. What do you think?” 

“Whatever you fancy, Superstar.” xx

[natalia-km]

Firstly congrats on your fantastic gcse results you should be really proud 😄🙌🏽 As I'm sitting my exams the coming year ( 😭 ) just wanted to ask if you have revision tips for me in regards to the main subjects ( i.e. Maths, English etc ) Please and thank you 😊

Thank you so much!

I’m more than happy to give any advice any time :)

This post is very long so I’m sorry lol. If you can’y read the whole thing I also did a summary at the end. 

Maths:

 Repetition is key, start by doing some past papers given to you by your school and get used to doing three 1 ½ hour papers. Identify your weaknesses and keep practicing. Keep practicing past papers and problem solving booklets you can find online as the new types of questions are heavily based on problem solving and combining units e.g. algebra with graphs. For revision I went through my past papers and looked at the questions I got wrong and what I didn’t understand. Honestly just doing past papers in maths after learning all the units is the best way to revise. I did past papers really from the start of year 11 all the way to the exam.

Some useful websites that I used (I just wrote out the questions you do not need to print everything) 

http://justmaths.co.uk/2015/12/21/9-1-exam-questions-by-topic-higher-tier/

http://www.mathsmadeeasy.co.uk/gcsemathspapers-9-1.htm

Some content on different exam boards may vary but maths is maths and virtually the same on all exam boards. I sat Edexcel and my school offered these books that come in three. I really recommend these as say, for example, pg 51 on inverse functions in the revision books matches pg 51 in the work book. When we had spare time in class or have a spare 10 minutes it is really helpful to complete a page of fractions or something. There is also a book called past papers plus with exam questions in the exam format (if that makes any sense lol) Which is what I used the most. My copy had loads of mistakes but if you buy a new one I think it will be fixed (haha get your act together edexcel) 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/REVISE-Edexcel-Mathematics-Higher-Revision/dp/1447988094

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Revise-Edexcel-Mathematics-Revision-Workbook/dp/1292210885/ref=pd_bxgy_14_img_2?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=KS8EGP0PE8821S279NYQ

https://www.amazon.co.uk/REVISE-Edexcel-Mathematics-Higher-Practice/dp/1292096314/ref=pd_bxgy_14_img_3?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=H1KM6NPHSEEMHT303AVW

If you are aiming for 7/8/9 a really useful site is churchill maths, your school has to be registered and pay a license or something, which my school was, and you can access so many maths papers. I think there are 9 sets of three papers or more. They are really hard and take a while to get on their level as they have multi step problems and problem solving. These are really good as they start at the difficulty of the middle of the regular paper and go up. This is really helpful for the exam as the easy questions will seem really easy and the hard questions will not feel so bad.

When you practice every question write down the equation(s) you are going to use. You do not get a formulae sheet so you just have to learn them off by heart. Every question I did in class and homework I wrote down the relevant formulae and them slotted in the numbers and etc etc etc. By the time of the exam you’ll look at a trig question and know the cosine rule off by heart and it will make your life so much easier.

English lit.

 oh the bane of my life. I have seen each exam vary from exam board to exam board and it does vary with different books you have been given. I studied Great expectations, Macbeth, Blood brothers and conflict anthology on Edexcel, the papers will be different on AQA and OCR and if you study different texts.

A major revision tip is to read the text properly before you start studying it in class. Then I would re read it but only skim through it and properly read the main chapters that have a very important scene at around christmas time and leading up to the exams.

LEARN YOUR QUOTES. Flash cards are great, I categorised quotes by character and theme and just wrote them over and over (but that style works for me and may not work for you). ½/3 word sentences are easy to remember and are concise to slot in where you can. e.g. Macbeth is referred to as a “tyrant”. easy one word quote that you can develop.

For english the time restrictions are ridiculous. Omg it was literal hell. When you do homework like write an essay on the significance of the witches in Macbeth look at the timings you have and try doing the essay in the time. 

And to save your should learn the timings per question it will honestly save you from spending so much time on one essay and leaving none for the next questions. 

In the exam I was quite sneaky and drew the timings on my watch so I could see when I had to change question which was a life saver *prayer hands emojis*

Instead of kind of learning the whole text sub categorise the information in the questions (I know I didn’t explain that well but hear me out). For example in for Macbeth my essay question was the significance of the witches, and in Great expectations it was the importance of location. What I did was categorise Character, Theme and setting. 

I didn’t revise setting and it came up so don’t skip it. Depending on the question it will require 4 or 5 paragraphs so learn 4-5 points for each theme and character. When revising just learn a one sentence point that you can quickly recall and develop in the exam. Flash cards are reallyyyy useful in this. I used mine literally in the car going to school on the exam day.

e.g. The significance of Ambition in Macbeth.

1. Lady Macbeth’s Ambition is the driving force to kill duncan

2. Macbeth realises that ambition is futile without an heir so it leads him to murder Banquo

3. leads Lady Macbeth to her downfall

4. Macbeth murdering Macduff’s family is his ambition to kill Macduff and restore peace. 

These are very short points which can be expanded upon. :)

For the poetry there’s 15 poems. Don’t bother learning 15 I learnt 5 and got by. It is impossible to learn all 15 but read and analyse all of them in class so you get a good general idea of what they are all about and how they use structure and punctuation etc. I linked them together by theme e.g. No problem, half cast and class game all go together. In your categories learn one or two that can be compared to anything. I learnt no problem, belfast confetti, cousin kate, exposure, charge of the light brigade and what were they like. If you’re not doing this exam board or anthology collection these titles may not mean anything to you but you get the jist of it. 

For each learn the structure, rhyme scheme, imagery and punctuation so in the exam you can recall the poem you select to compare to and the main points. 

Finally for english literature learn for each essay question what is needed, some will need context (19th century fiction doesn’t) some want writer’s intention and effect on reader. but putting in context where you can will not hurt.

English language:

I found this really hard so I’m not really an expert as such. For revision learn how many paragraphs are needed for each question and practice with time limits. Practice highlighting text and picking out key information and language, structure and form. Remember to comment on all three of language structure and form for the relevant questions. I think it is really useful to read chapters of 19th century fiction to get used to the language as it’s in paper one. Honestly reading one or two chapters of a the sign of four, pride and prejudice, the woman in black or anything you can find is really helpful. 

Paper 2 i think is non-fiction, you can’t really prepare for the texts but practice planning the question is the best revision for this paper. For the long comparison question practice finding similarities and differences in language structure and theme. I did this over and over again for different combination of texts. 

For imaginative writing just practice writing an opening, one paragraph and an ending for different questions (I got examples from my teacher like write about a time you ere scared or write about a time you had to work hard for something) Learn a few really good vocal to slot in here and there but not too much so you sound like a dictionary. My favourite was Megalomaniac and I kid you not I used it in every possible place I could. 

Science (?) 

I was still on the old system and I’m not sure if it is changing for your year? Free science lessons on youtube was basically my saviour and past papers are your best friend. For biology it is just repetition of vocab and systems, I used a lot of acronyms and silly little jokes here and there. For chemistry keep practicing the maths part because that is where a lot of marks can be gained e.g. calculating moles and titration. For physics I just practiced lots of maths questions? I didn’t do too well in physics but *shrugs*

How I worked is I wrote up the lesson neatly the day after the class, before a test I would review it and during revision I condensed the information onto ¼ of an A4 page (I didn’t find flash cards big enough and hard to draw diagrams and stuff) and repeated condensing of information so it got to a pint where each type of cell had their own ¼ A4 page for themselves.

In summary:

Maths: Repetition, repetition, repetition. Write out equations for absolutely every single question you do. Past papers/specimen papers/9-1 hard questions booklets you can find online.

English lit: Learn how many points per question, examiners love a good introduction and conclusion (2 sentences will do fine) but it’s not the end of the world. Flash cards for each theme, setting and character. Learn the key context, structure and imagery of a handful of poems that can be compared to a number of different poems. Quotes, Quotes, Quotes. Shove them in where you can. One or two words quotes are ideal as you an easily embed them.

English Language: practice planning your essay answers for the longer questions (spend no longer than 3 minutes doing this) when annotating extracts don’t write out full ideas or sentences of the extract it wastes time and that sheet is not marked. Just write down a few words for a point you can use. Imaginative writing plan your answer for no longer than 5 minutes, remember to use punctuation, varied sentence length, vary sentence starters and do not be cliché e.g. and it was all a dream *pukes*. 

Science: Write down every formula you use for every calculation question e.g. moles=mass/RFM, Moles=volume x concentration in chemistry. practice past paper questions. LEARN UNITS THEY CAN GAIN A MARK. e.g. J or Hz. Acronyms are a life saver for remembering complex systems like the kidneys in biology. Silly little things help too. e.g. remembering the blood vessels in the heart I think VAVAVA  (Vena cava, right Atrium, right Ventricle, pulmonary Artery, pulmonary Vein and Aorta.) 

General: Find a system that works, for me it is just writing things over and over again. You may find the leitner system useful (link below) or mind maps. Find what works for you and don’t listen to a teacher telling you to do revision a certain way because “variation helps” which is a complete lie. Just find what works for you. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C20EvKtdJwQ

Also prioritise, subjects you do value as much can wait a day, for me German was not as important as maths so i spent more time on maths than german (as an example) but don’t completely abandon a subject because you will get stressed.

I hope this was of some use to you and maybe you can pick out a few things to help you revise. This year will be tiring but it will pay off on results day, trust me. My main tip is to just keep on top of work and get things done asap. Good luck with your exams this coming year I believe in you! 

- Natalia x

[slothquisitor]

Given how much Mara loves her kids, I wonder how she would react to something like what happened during May's GCSE English exams in England: a paper asked pupils to explain why Tybalt from Romeo and Juliet hated the Capulets.

So I do not have any sort of experience with GCSE exams, since things are different in the states. So, going with what I’m familiar with, this is going to be an Advanced Placement test, which determines college credit for a high school class. Which means the stakes are pretty high. Mara would literally be like...I am a teacher in the last month of school and this is literally the last thing I need right now. And then she’d do her best to fix it, but in my experience, things aren’t always this cut and dry. But it’s fiction, so I get to make things the way I want them to be, even if that’s not always how it works. 1k words, Mara’s POV. 

Bad Tests

Also on AO3.

Mara had been worried about how her AP Literature kids would do on the exam. It had been a normal bit of stress all school year. Had she prepared them well enough? Had she made the right decisions on the literature to study? Had she provided them with enough feedback, enough practice tests? She’d been stressing about it since August, kept pushing it away and telling herself that she was doing all she could. But when the day for the test arrived? She couldn’t find much calm.

The morning of the test she had a waffle breakfast for her kids in her classroom. Cullen had helped her make the waffles while her kids had hung out in her room ahead of the test. She’d wished them luck just as the bell rang, and then spent her empty first hour cleaning up from the breakfast and trying not to worry about how the kids were doing. It wasn’t like she was going to get the results until mid-summer anyway.

Her third hour was just finishing up their reader’s theater style reading of a scene from A Raisin in the Sun and Mara was getting ready to lead the class discussion of the scene when several of her AP students came into her room.

“Can we talk to you Ms. L?” Lisa asked.

She nodded and directed them to the hallway so that her class could finish up the scene undisturbed. It was an important one, and she didn’t want the kids distracted at the end when Walter leaves without saying a word to Ruth.

“What’s up?” she asked. If they were worried about their performance on the test she wasn’t sure if she had many assurances to give them.

“Tybalt in Romeo and Juliet is a Capulet, right?” Lisa asked.

Mara nodded. “Yes. He’s Juliet’s cousin.”

The group of students in the hallway was getting larger while Lisa explained. “The AP test asked why he hated the Capulets, which implies he was a Montague.”

The students in the hallway murmured their agreement with worried eyes. “You’re sure that’s what the question said?”

The kids nodded. “Yes.”

Well, shit. And technically they weren’t really supposed to discuss the content of the test at all. “Let me make some phone calls.”

Lisa looked worried. “Do you think this will affect our scores?”

“If it is mistake it shouldn’t. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure it’s set right.” She wanted to believe that, and that the world was fair and that if they’d gotten something wrong it would get fixed.

Several of her kids didn’t look like they really believed her. So she added. “Go home and rest, and don’t worry about it. I’ll hopefully have some good news tomorrow.”

Her students slowly filtered away as she came back into her classroom, and she felt like she needed to do something immediately. Her students had finished the seen were talking amongst themselves as she came in.

“In your tables I want you to discuss Walter’s leaving and Mama’s reaction? Why does she call him a disgrace to his father’s memory?” she said as she walked over to her phone. The kids turned to their neighbors and were mostly on task as Mara dialed Leliana’s extension. They were going to get it fixed.

***

Mara and Leliana had spent hours and hours on the phone over the next twenty-four hours. Mara had contacted other AP teachers to see if they were aware, and to try to get them organized as a group.

Mara had just gotten off the phone when Cullen walked into her empty classroom. He’d been almost as stressed out over it as she was, especially since the AP History exam was the very next day.

“You need to see this,” Cullen said, handing her his tablet.

“What?” she asked as she took it. It was open to a news story. All about the AP English test. Mara and Leliana had been working through the most official channels to try and get things fixed, but it looked like some teachers in the Marches hadn’t been that patient. They’d gone to the media, and it was an onslaught of negative press.

“It says they’re considering throwing out the question, though it will skew their algorithms,” Cullen explained.

Mara put the tablet down. “That’s exactly what I’ve been arguing for since yesterday.”

“Look at the comments section,” Cullen moved around her desk and scrolled to the bottom of the article. “Already 300 comments, and this thing has only been live for less than an hour.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Well they’re not going to be able to ignore that.”

Mara’s phone rang and she picked it up. “This is Ms. Lavellan.”

It was Leliana on the other line. “Just got a call back from the board, apparently there’s a news story now and they’re going to throw out the question.”

Mara wanted to cheer, and jump up and down, but she was also exhausted. “Note to self: next time go straight to the news media.”

“Clearly. Well at least it’s done,” Leliana replied.

“Thank you for your help,” Mara said.

“Of course.”

Mara hung up the phone and looked up at Cullen. “They’re throwing out the question.”

“You mean they did something that made sense?” Cullen asked around a grin.

Mara nodded. “Apparently, now let’s get out of here.”

“Don’t you have grading?”

Mara stood up and pressed a quick peck to his lips. “Screw it. Let’s go.”

“Teachers in Bloomingtide making bad decisions.” His hands settled on her waist.

“Always.”

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