#ooft I hate my nose

[forest-pan-witch]

Guess who's just getting out of bed and is annoyed at her lazy ass for it?? I look like trash and I just wanna sleep again.

[warpriest-writings]

Red eyes on Grandmother's grave. 

    Sticks broke under her feet, running as fast and hard as she could but it felt like running through jelly, her feet caked in heavy mud. 

“Someone! Help me!!! Please!” She cried out but couldn’t hear her own voice.

Before her was the pair of sharp, red eyes out in the middle distance. She couldn’t make out a face; she wasn’t even sure if the eyes were attached to anythin, just floating there, haunting her. Those hungry, starved eyes that wanted to devour her. The eyes just hung there as she sat there frozen. 

“What do you want!?” she screamed out, but again her words came out silent. 

The sharp, red eyes narrowed, then rushed towards her as a hand reached out at her.

With a difficult, almost pained, inhalation of breath, Patsy woke with a startled jump, accidently knocking her kitty out of bed.

She gasped, “Bean! Come here. Mweh, mweh.” She made kissy noises to her large Maine Coon. Rubbing her fingers together as she did so attempting to soothe Bean and entice her to come back into the bed. Not that Bean needed much convincing; no one in the Desoto household could remember a single night that cat hasn’t slept in Patsy’s bed. By the time she got Bean back in bed and started petting her, Patsy had almost entirely forgotten her nightmare about the...was she running? Regardless, after several minutes of kitty snuggles, she checked her phone, loathing to discover that it was 5:53, merely thirty minutes before her alarm would have gone off anyway.

Of course, she wouldn’t have been lucky enough to wake up from her scary dream at a reasonable 1:17, or even a moderate 3:32. Good, god given times in the early morning a girl could go back to sleep too. Patsy sighed and entered an anxious state of contemplation, debating getting in the shower now and getting that out of her morning routine or laying there, blissfully enjoying the time before she had to get up for real. An absolute miserable time that went on in her head until her alarm went off. Ah, yes, neither productive nor relaxing. Thank you, Anxiety.

Getting out of bed with a less than encouraging groan, Patsy began her morning routine. Feeling emotionally and mentally exhausted by 6:45 AM, Patsy walked briskly down the stairs while putting her long and bouncy kinky hair into a ponytail.

“Morning, Mom!” 

Her mom, Elana, looked back at her as some toast popped out of the toaster, “Hey, Sweetheart!”

Joseph, her dad, poured two cups of coffee before handing one to his wife as she handed him the plate of now buttered toast. “Hey, Pats. Finished your homework last night?” Giving Elana a quick kiss.

“Course, Dad,” she said, silently beaming that her parents were still happily married after nearly sixteen years; it was more than could be said about several of her friends at school.

Her mother was the manager at a local small diner, it was a nice little place, near enough to her school that Patsy would usually walk there at the end of the day and hang out with her friends or finish her homework before her mom’s shift ended at six when the night manager came in. Her father worked from home, and studied. Technically, he was still a student at the University of Illinois, but he worked a lot of sub contracted programming and coding jobs on the side. Once she asked him why he was still in college and his reply was, “Sometimes people are just...nervous about getting out there, and sometimes you just so happen to be very good at filling out grant applications. Your momma has a steady job that takes care of us, and my work on the side makes sure we stay in the green.” 

“Need a ride to school today, Pats?” her dad said, snapping Patsy out of it.

“I’m good; I kinda want some time to just think,” she told him.

“It’d be nothing, it’s getting colder out and I love driving my babygirl to-”

“Joseph,” her mother interrupted.

He backed down, “Alright, alright. Letting Pats be all independent.” 

“Thanks, Dad. I think I’ll have breakfast at school today, I’m going to get going,” Patsy said.

Joseph began reaching into his pocket, “Need money?”

“I’m good, I still have twenty from helping out at the diner.”

“Now hold on, that’s your money. It’s our job to feed you,” he said, and offered her a five, “Take it, and make sure you grab an apple or an orange or something those school food scientist freaks can’t turn into half-baked prison sloop."

Patsy nodded, “Okay, okay.” She took the money, then gave her dad a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, “Love you, mom. Love you, dad.” Then grabbed her backpack from a kitchen table chair and made her way to the door, only partially catching what her dad was saying about Patsy being braver than he was for voluntarily eating school food.

From her house it was roughly a twenty-minute walk to school. Normally, she would have jumped at the opportunity for a quick ride to school, but her mind was still preoccupied by that dream. Most of it was lost, faded just beyond her consciousness’s reach. Those red eyes; Patsy could still see them crystal clearly in her mind. She could almost feel them on her back now. Patsy shuttered at the thought.

As she walked she barely heard the wizzing of bike tires until they were right behind her, lost in her thoughts Patsy made a sound reminiscent of an “Eek!” and jumped off to the grass beside the sidewalk. The biker slowed to a stop, “Miss. Pascala, are you alright?”

He knew her name? Patsy looked at the biker, as she had been largely looking at her moving feet up until that point and the fact that from her perspective the biker was right in front of the morning sun, she had to squint and couldn’t really make out his face, “Uh, yes. I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Hmm?” he took off his helmet, revealing quite the head of curly locks, “Miss. Pascala, a little out of it this morning?”

As her eyes adjusted she suddenly realized, “OH! Mr. Morales, sorry. It was all sunny, and I was kinda lost in my thoughts, and I’ll just stop talking now.”

Her history teacher looked at her with a bit of a raised eyebrow, “I shall see you in the third period, Miss. Pascala, have a pleasant walk. Homework is due by the end of class.” He awkwardly coughed and rode off, quickly moving into the bicycle lane of the road.

Sometime later, after what is by all rights and definitions a poor excuse of a breakfast that would send Mr. DeSoto into a rambling state of disbelief that this was the best that taxpayer money could do for feeding America’s youth, as well as Patsy’s first hour math class (math first period of the day, she was convinced that the school gods hated her) and her second period economics class where they learned..something, Patsy was sure of that. She remembers taking notes and everything. There was a presentation with slides and everything, so they must have learned something...So after econ was her history class with Mr. Morales.

She liked Mr. Morales, more than her math teacher that’s for sure. “Math is the language of the universe.” She was taking English and French and frankly didn’t feel like she had time for a third language course. Mr. Morales was different, he got swept away with the subject sometimes and seemed to have a real love for it.

“We can learn much from history, but the people who made it weren’t trying to teach morals, and they weren’t thinking about just how important that what they were doing took place in 1776, or during the first or second half of the twelfth century. The past is made up of the actions of people who were concerned with living their lives, and if what they were doing was the right thing to do, or the right thing for them.” Mr. Morales said on the first day of school. He was also just a bit odd. His thick curly hair, a trait he described as indicative of his strong greek heritage, was peppered ever so slightly. Otherwise he held onto his youth remarkably well. looking closer to mid twenties rather than late thirties.

After the class ended, Patsy went up to her teacher, “Uh, Sir, excuse me.”

Mr. Morales looked up from his tablet from which he often powered through novels, “Hmm, yes, Miss. Pascala?”

“I was just going over that pop quiz you handed back today and I would have gotten one hundred percent if you didn’t mark my answer for question two wrong.” She said,

He set his tablet down, “That is usually how people do not get full marks. Allow me to double check that.” He held his hand open.

Patsy handed him the paper, “You see, I’m certain the correct answer is B and I’d like to get full credit.”

“Third century B.C. Yes, you are correct. I’ll be sure to update the gradebook and parent portal to reflect this. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Miss. Pascala, I imagine I marked everyone else who answered as you did as incorrect as well.”

He handed her back the quiz after remarking her score and immediately wrote a note he then stuck to his computer monitor.

She excused herself and left with a bright smile, making her way to her next class, and then on and so forth with her day. As she was heading towards her computer typing class after lunch (which was not notably better than the breakfast, it is a wonder that these children survive long enough to eat microwaved ramen in college dorms.) She accidentally bumped into the Principle as she was turning a corner.

“Ooft!” She said, feeling like she walked into a lumpy brick wall.

Principal Robertson cleared his throat and looked down his nose at the young lady, “It is not becoming to run down the hails and blindly around corners.”

He had been the principal at her school for well over fifteen years now, and he seemed to live for it. Participating in school spirit events and playing along with the dress up days, at least he did last year. No one wanted to really mention it but over the summer he lost a lot of weight and his skin got paler...greyer was almost more accurate. Hushed rumors said he was diagnosed with some cancer or another but refused to stop working while on chemo and Patsy wasn’t sure what to think of it all. Looking down at her now she wasn’t feeling very comfortable.

“I, uh, I really need to get to class.” Patsy said

The sickly Principal sighed a heavy breath, “Just slow down.”

“Right, of course. Thank you Mr. I mean, Principal Robertson.” With that she took off, carefully walking not-to-quickly.

Passing around the next corner and with her computer lab in sight Patsy let out her own sigh of relief. The bell ringing just steps away, “Whyyyyyyy?” Patsy said in a hushed, exasperated tone.

She quickly rushed into the room and to her seat, hoping maybe she wouldn’t be marked late. The class lesson began and she got to work with her typing program. 

“Hey, Patsy,” Her friend Abby said, “Think your mom would give me a ride home after her shift at the dinner?”

“Course, Abbs.” She replied, “You getting anywhere with these?”

“Not really, my hands know the keyboard but my words per minute is garbage.” Abby said.

“My words per minute is fine, but I have to force myself to type the way that we��re supposed to. It doesn’t help that at home I always just type with my pointer and middle fingers.”

“You type a lot at home?” She asked, “Are you writing something?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin, “No! of course not...I just look up a lot of random stuff when I’m bored.” She must never know.

Abby raised an eyebrow, “Mhm, right.” 

Over the intercom the school receptionist called out, “Pascala DeSoto to the Principal’s office, Pascala DeSoto to the Principal’s office.

Abby winced, and tried to give her a reassuring smile.

She tried to return it, her thoughts were racing. Surely she wasn’t being called down to the Office for accidentally bumping into the Principal in the hallway was she? Why wouldn’t he just take her there right after she did it then? Maybe it wasn’t about anything she did at all. Oh God...what if her dad accidentally started another grease fire trying to make home fries? What if Mom got into an accident on her way to the dinner? Her mind was a beehive that someone just punted halfway across a football field. 

The receptionist must have noticed the worry on her face and gave her a very sweet smile, “Don’t worry about it too much, Sweetie. Just keep your chin up and remember none of this will matter in ten years.” Reassuring words, either her parents were fine or she was just as unsure why she called down Patsy as she was herself.

Bracing herself mentally, Patsy opened the door and pushed it to the magnetic door stopper that held it open.

“Closer the door behind you, Miss. DeSoto.” Principal Robertson said.

Her stomach did an uncomfortable flip, she wasn’t sure why she was feeling so destressed over this. She hadn’t done anything as far as she could remember or mentally justify. She closed the door, getting a last glimpse of Mrs. O'Riley, the nice receptionist.

Run! Every nerve in her body screamed out but she moved forward to sit in the chair opposite Principal Robertson at his desk anyway. He spoke up; she only saw his lips move, the words not landing correctly in her ears.

“I’m sorry, Sir. Could you say that again?” She asked.

His brow furrowed, “I do not care for repeating myself, Miss. Desoto.”

She sank in the chair. “Sorry.”

“And do not mumble. Speak clearly or not at all!” 

Patsy sat back up in her seat in shock, “Principal Robertson, I don’t think you’re allowed to speak to me like that.”

“Do not speak back to me, you’re the one in trouble here.” He said venomously.

Trembling she stood up, “I need to go.”

He got up as well, “I think not, DeSoto. You’ve been hiding really well, tricked everyone but not me.” He licked his upper lip.

A full body chill ran through her entire being and oddly, in retrospect she felt, Patsy really wanted her kitty Bean there. She said, “Principal Robertson, you can’t be serious right now!? Think….think about your wife!”

Robertson frowned hideously, “That bint isn’t important.” He smiled, which was so much more disturbing to the young lady, “not like you, DeSoto, you have been worth all of my effort and patience.”

He reached out for her when the door opened, “Principal Robertson,” called out an all too reassuring voice, “I was wondering if you had the chance to look over those field trip papers I….” His hand less than two inches away from her, Patsy’s whole body was trembling but she couldn’t make her legs run.

Mr. Morales stood in the open doorway, his eyes moving quickly from Patsy to Robertson. “Miss. Pascala, behind me.” He said putting himself between them.

The Principal scowled in frustration, “I’m not entirely sure what you think you are doing, Linus. You are acting like I am some sort of threat to the girl.”

“This doesn’t look good, James.” Mr. Morales replied.

Robertson scowled deeper, and Patsy in that moment of fear and confusion thought his scowl pulled unnaturally at his skin. 

Mr. Morales raised his hands defensively, “What are you?” Striking a serious tone with his voice that she had never heard from her history teacher before. It was a cold voice that set her skin on edge almost as much as Principal Robertson had.

Before her eyes the late fifties Principal of clear declining health grabbed Mr. Morales  and threw him against a glass case containing various trophies for academic and sports accomplishments. Patsy left out a loud scream and Mrs. O’Riley’s own scream wasn’t far behind. 

Later the police officers that responded to the Receptionist's call would ask Patsy what happened next, and she told them the truth. It all happened so fast she wasn’t sure what exactly happened. Mr. Morales, who had bruised ribs, and some cuts from the glass but was thankfully otherwise alright, shouted something that didn’t make sense to her at Robertson and the Principal ran off. She didn’t get to hear what Mr. Morales told them but they questioned him for a good long while. 

School was cancelled early and parents were furiously calling the school board and the district for answers. There was a warrant issued for Robertson, and some people were threatening to pull their kids altogether. No one wants their kids to go to the school where the principal threatened a fifteen year old girl and assaulted a teacher. 

Superintendent Wilkens sent a parent portal wide email that a warrant was formally filed against Mr. Robertson and the police had opened an investigation. In addition to Resource Officer Thomas three more Iron county police officers would be stationed at the school for security and rest assured that school would be open again Friday.

“No, no...this is ridiculous. My daughter was threatened by that man.” Patsy’s dad said to the Superintendent’s secretary. “Don’t put me on hold! ….Yes, I believe that you do have another call coming in. I….” he sighed heavily, and tossed his cellphone into the living room sofa.

“Sweetheart.” Elana said, putting her hands tenderly on Joseph’s shoulders.

“We worked with that man in the ice cream socal last year, Laney.”

Just out of their sight, sitting against the hallway wall Patsy hugged Bean. Now more than ever the tridactyl kitty gave her some comfort. She kept replaying it over in her mind, Robertson’s face looked so...uncanny valley. Elana had tried to reassure her that it was just her mind playing tricks on her, wanting to think that he was somehow less than human because of how he was acting. 

Her phone buzzed, touching the wall it tapped rapidly and loudly and Patsy reactively tried to grab it before her parents noticed.

“Pats? Babygirl, I thought you were laying down.” Her dad said, walking over to her, flipping the hallway light on. “Well, I thought you were scrolling through your phone, pretending to be laying down.”

She gave Bean a little squeeze like when she was littler, “I tried, but I couldn’t take a nap.”

“It’s okay, Pats. How'bout I make up some of my famous root beer floats?”

She slowly nodded, “That would be good.”

“Come on, Patsy.” Elana said, “We can sit at the table while your father makes us a feel better treat.” 

She got up and walked over to the kitchen table, Bean closely trailing her like always. “Hey, think I could maybe sleep in your guys' bed tonight?”

Elana quickly glanced at her husband, the pair of them sharing a whole conversation in a moment.

“Of course, Pats.” Her dad said, “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”

“It’ll be like when you crawled in my bed when you were little after a nightmare woke you up.” Elana said.

Her father was scooping ice cream into three tall milkshake glasses as Patsy pulled Elana into a hug, “Thank you for being my mom.” she said softly.

Elana returned the hug, remembering the first time Patsy told that to her and felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She was Pascala's mom, there wasn’t any doubt of that. She didn’t give birth to Patsy though. Her birth mom and Joseph’s first wife passed away when she was less than six months old, an oncoming driver didn’t stop at the red light as she was going through the intersection on her way home from work. Elana was her birth mother’s best friend and Patsy’s godmother. After the funeral she just kept helping Joseph out with Patsy, eventually moving in with them. Joseph and Elana married when she was seven, but she had really always been her mom.

As frustrated as he was with the situation, Joseph did his best to cool down and help Patsy feel better, telling his corny dad jokes he spent hours and hours looking up at his computer desk. 

He spent almost a half hour that night checking and double checking that every door and window was locked that night, as well as making sure their security system was armed. Unlike Patsy, who almost couldn’t sleep without Bean snuggled next to her, Elana found the heavy cat overly warm but she gritted her teeth through it for Patsy’s sake.

The next morning, Thursday, the day after her high school Principal threatened her, assaulted a teacher and just disappeared. She woke up to the smell of her dad making eggs, over cooking them. Elana always made them a little runny. Everything seemed to run by a little slowly. Like she had been jerked out of a deep daydream and couldn’t pull herself entirely out of her own head.

Around noon she and her mom were watching a cartoon as Joseph entered the room on the phone, “I see, well, thank you, Linus. Yes? I’ll ask her now, we were planning on going to the diner for lunch anyway.” He pulled the phone slightly away from his face and turned to the pair on the sofa, “Pats, Mr. Morales is out of the hospital. He asked if it would be alright if he met us at the diner today.”

She let out a huge sigh of relief hearing he was out, that meant he was okay, “Yeah, that sounds good!”

Joseph put the phone back to his face, “She’s okay with it. We’ll see you there at one. Yep, bye, it was good hearing from you too. And...thank you, Linus.” he hung up and put his phone into his pocket. “He said the superintendent pushed the school’s opening back to Monday, I guess we angry few can make a difference.”  

Elana pulled her legs onto the sofa and sat cross legged, turning towards him, “That’s great! I think that’s what WIlken’s should have done from the start, but hey. So we’ll be eating with Patsy’s english teacher?”

“History teacher.” Patsy said, correcting her.

“Linus is also one of my work associates, but yes. He just wants to check in with Pats.”

She nodded, “Alright, I’m going to take a quick shower before we go.” 

She gave Joseph a quick kiss on the cheek as she left the room, her husband replacing her spot on the sofa.

Patsy gave her dad a big hug. “So Mr. Morales is alright?”

“Some cuts and bruises but he sounded alright, he didn’t talk about himself much.” Joseph said.

Before long they were sitting down as Margret, one of the servers at the diner, was bringing over a pot of coffee for Joseph and Elana and a Shirley temple for Patsy. “Hey, Patsy.” the retirement age waitress said, “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m okay, Margret.” She said, putting on a cheerful voice.

“That’s the spirit, I’ll be sure to bring you over the biggest slice of cake.” She said

“Yay cake!”

Elana laughed a little, “We’re going to wait to order, Margie. We’re waiting on another person.”

The older waitress nodded her head slightly, “Sounds good, Laney. I’ll be back in two shakes with your refreshments.” With that she was off to serve some of the other customers, or guests as corporate would like they be referred to.

The three of them chatted while they waited for Mr. Morales, while they did Patsy’s thoughts drifted to the bizarre notion that when you see someone you only ever see at school, or school related events that when you see them out and about in everyday life the person is suddenly almost unrecognizable. Like in those children sitcom shows where someone says “Wait, you mean teachers don’t live at school??” or something else mildly insulting to the audience about their perceived intelligence. Still, Patsy wondered if it was going to be super weird seeing Mr. Morales not just outside of school, but on purpose outside of school. He normally dressed in clean but not ironed dress pants and some sort of long sleeved shirt, either a button up or a sweater; would he be wearing a rock and roll band t shirt and shorts? What if he wears his curly hair in a manbun outside of work? The horror.

It was almost a disappointment when Mr. Morales showed up in tan dress pants and a blue sweater, as well as a sling that held his left arm, some bandaging on his cheek with some purplish bruising around its edges.

“Linus,” her dad said, “Glad you could make it.”

“We’re both just so grateful for what you did yesterday.” Elana said as her husband scooted further into the booth, making room for him.

“Oh, I only did what any good samaritan should have in the situation.” Mr. Morales said, sitting down. “Ah!” He smiled at the pot of coffee sitting on the table, “May I? I’m afraid I skipped my usual morning cup...come to think of it, skipped most of my usual morning routine today.” 

“Go ahead, refills are free.” Patsy said.

“Are they?” He asked with a smile, awkwardly pouring himself a hot cup.

Margret returned, prompting her mom to say that they’ll probably need a few minutes for Mr. Morales to decide what he wants.

“Oh, go ahead.” The teacher reassured, “ I know what I want, a short stack of pancakes, and two pieces of bacon on the chewier side.”

“Oh, alright!” Elana said, “Brunch it is then, I guess we’re ready to order. Patsy, you go first.”

Patsy put in her order, a belgian waffle with strawberries and a lemon poppyseed muffin. Her father ordered the same as Mr. Morales, but he wanted his bacon crispy. Elana ordered two sunny side up eggs and some toast to dunk in the yolk. With that Margaret took off again.

“It just seemed so...out of nowhere.” Patsy said, suddenly.

Surprised, Elana reactively gave her a side hug, “No one ever expects these sorts of things to happen, Sweetheart. All that matters is that you’re safe.”

“Principal Robertson wasn’t...normal, right?” She asked, addressing her teacher.

Mr. Morales avoided her gaze, looking down into his coffee.

“Pats, Robertson wasn’t the man we thought he was, or he changed or something messed up.” her dad said.

“You saw his face too, right Mr. Morales, you asked him what he was.”

Her parents, worried for Patsy, then looked to the teacher they invited out.

“Miss. Pascala, I don’t know what had gotten into him, or what had become of him. That certainly wasn’t the man I have worked with for over two years now, but rest assured. He wasn’t some abnormality, he was a man, a man who revealed himself to be quite the monster.” Mr. Morales said finally, just as their food arrived.

To her parent’s relief, Patsy dropped the subject. They ate and her dad asked Mr. Morales how she was doing in his class.

“She is an ideal student” he told them, “Attentive, curious, she has a mind for nuance, and seems to genuinely want to understand why people did what they had done in the history lessons.” Which unfortunately made her quite uncomfortable, like she was in a parent-teacher conference all of all of a sudden.

As Patsy began to withdraw into herself, Elana asked her, “So, Patsy, is there anything else you’d like to do in town today before we head home?” She hoped to bring Patsy back to the surface of her own mind.

“Huh?” Patsy asked, she heard what her mom said, but her brain hadn’t really processed it yet. Something it usually would do about a split second after someone repeated what they said to her. “Oh, uh...well I was hoping we could go swing by grandma’s grave?” She stated her request with the inflection of a question. Her grandma wasn’t buried very far from where they lived. However, she knew that her dad always had a hard time going. He stayed in the car when they visited her grave a couple weeks before school started.

Joseph swallowed hard, but nodded, “Of course, babygirl.”

Mr. Morales raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t realize you had family buried here. I was under the impression that your family moved here from Louisiana.”

“We did, but Joseph is from here originally, we moved back here after his mother got sick.” Elana explained.

Mr. Morales turned his gaze back to his coffee, “I see.” Patsy could see his eyes darting swiftly like he either realized something or was thinking very swiftly. She felt like she could relate. “Miss. Pascala, Joseph, Elana. Please do not take me for overreaching but I’m not sure it is safe for the three of you to go to a location like that right now. If Robertson is following you it would be quite the place for an ambush.”

“Linus, don’t speak like that in front of my daughter.” Joseph said, something of a warning in his voice. 

“No, dad, it’s alright.” Patsy said, “Mr. Morales, do you really think it’s a bad idea to go to the cemetery?”

Mr. Morales looked to Joseph, who wore an expression that clearly said “Be careful how you say things.” He looked back at Patsy, with a small sigh, “I think, perhaps you should at least wait under after school starts up again Monday? Thank you all for this lovely meal, but I think I should be going. This should cover my food.” He swiftly got up and pulled his wallet out and with just his right hand awkwardly pulled out some bills. Leaving forty dollars on the table as he took off.

“I think you scared him.” Elana said simply, pouring herself another cup of coffee.

They ultimately didn’t go to the cemetery, to both the annoyance and relief of her father. In fact they stayed in for the rest of the day. Watching TV, playing a popular kart racing game which Joseph began quite smuggly. Only to lose to his daughter because of an npc driver launching a nuclear option that blasted him back to third place less than half the track away from victory.

Patsy told her parents that she felt comfortable enough to go to bed in her own room that night, and Elana made chicken parm hero sandwiches. All in all the day drifted by quickly after their lunch with the odd Mr. Morales. It was almost 10 at night when she finally told her parents she was going to bed, and they reaffirmed their own tiredness from the day and wouldn’t be up much longer themselves.

Of course, Patsy wasn’t really going to bed.

She stayed up for hours, just to be sure they had actually fallen asleep. Her dad. Patsy disarmed the security system and left the house, heading straight for the cemetery. She had to see her grandmother’s gravestone. Something about how Mr. Morales reacted just didn’t sit right with her. It had to be around 1:20 in the morning now and it was very dark and while it was brisk out during the day her fingers quickly started going numb and she could see her breath.

The ground of the cemetery was hard and bumpy from thawing into wet muddy ground under the sun during the day. Patsy walked through the cemetery at a brisk pace, wanting to get to her grandma's grave and back before her parents could wake up to find out she snuck out of the house...or worse she was taken by Robertson. The made her stomach clench up, and she began regretting this whole idea. There was a rustling in the bushes and she began to sprint, she felt like running home and forgetting all of this but she was painfully aware she was heading right towards the grave.

She came to a quick stop, looking down at the engraved stone. Ellinore DeSoto, 1961 to 2017. She knelt down, tears building in her eyes. Deep down she knew coming here now was a mistake, her grandma wouldn’t want her sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, especially not under the current circumstances.

She sniffled, alright she got to the gravestone and proved exactly nothing. Time to get home as fast as she possibly could and swear off stupid impulsive decsions forever.

The wet smacking of lips that made her skin crawl.

“Pr.principal Robertson?” She tentatively asked, standing up and turning towards the gross sound. Her eyes widened in grotesque terror as she looked at the swollen thing that only scarcely held the appearance of her principal, the purplish grey skin stretched uncomfortably tight as the creature smiled wider than nature as she knew it allowed.

“Pascala Desoto,” It still spoke with Principal Robertson’s voice. “So courteous of you to come to me, now we may continue your...disciplinary measures, young lady.” The creature stuck out it’s purple tongue which extended down past its belly.

Patsy wanted to run, scream, anything, but her legs refused to move. Her body frozen. It walked up closer to her, and it’s foul breath was like a thick miasma that made her lungs clench up and burnt her throat, she couldn’t even tremble in fear.

“Speechless, DeSoto?” It leaned in and inhaled deeply by her hair, it chucked out as it spoke, “Yeeheeehesss. Your flesh will do, your form will do.”

Over the creature’s shoulder Pascala saw another, and the ghoul’s smile turned into a scowl. Apparently it noticed him as well.  It wrapped it’s unnaturally large hands around her, its index finger on her shoulder and its pinky on her waist. Turning to face him it snarled out, “This is my Witch, get your own.”

The man stepped out of the shadows into the moonlight, the beams catching on his glasses, “Let her go, Corpse eater.” He held a revolver in one hand, and an old medieval looking sword in the other. His arm wasn’t in the sling anymore and he didn’t look injured at all.

“Morales, I knew I should have crushed your throat when-”

Her teacher cocked the pistol and aimed it right at his head.

“G...go ahead. I am not something you can kill with a bullet.” The ghoul said smugly.

“In your state it will hurt, it’ll be a whole world of agony.” Morales said, calling the monster’s bluff.

It took a slight step back, balking out a grunt in some fear. “We can split her! I don’t need her blood!”

Patsy’s eyes widened at the suggestion.

“Don’t worry, Miss. Pascala. This thing won’t harm you...and survive.” His voice was cold again, and she couldn’t help but feel an intense fear. Maybe from the slight tremors she felt through the ghoul’s hand, but somehow she knew that this thing that used to be her Principal was terrified.

“I can’t go back to the corpses people bury, they poison them, and every time I feed I whimper in agony for years, only to need to feed again, the cycle is torture! Have mercy!” The ghoul begged.

“You do not want my mercy, Corpse eater. It is at the end of my sword.” He began walking forward.

The ghoul released Patsy and pinched her throat, “Another step and I’ll break her neck!”

Reactively she reached up at the monster’s finger’s “I don’t want to die!” she sobbed, were she in a more clear headed situation she may have realized she can move again.

Mr. Morales paused, scowling back at the hellish beast. 

“That’s right! You...you have a fondness for her, your student, HAH! So long as I have her in my grasp you won’t risk harming her.” The ghoul grinned hideously in it’s little victory.

Her history class teacher inhaled sharply, then said, “If you are going to do something, now would be the time!”

Principal Robertson the ghoul frowned, “What are you playing at?!” 

Out from the bushes a large orange cat ran up much faster than Patsy had ever seen in her life and pounced on the ghoul’s forearm, clawing and tearing at it. The ghoul released her and she dropped, quickly and frantically crawling into an upright sprint several yards away from the monster.

Bean used the ghoul as a springboard and sprinted over to Patsy. The Ghoul was screaming and clutching the wounds the cat had left on it, as Morales lunged forward and with a clean swift strike cleaved the monster’s head from it’s shoulders.

Patsy’s breaths were short, and she pulled Bean into her arms as she tried to calm down. Morales wiped his blade off on the grass before sheathing it and steeping over to his student as he holstered his gun.

“I’m sorry, Miss. Pascala.” He said, “Are you alright?”

“What, what was that!?” She asked, looking at the ghoul’s limp body.

He paused, like he was unsure he could answer, “...Is there any world where you could accept that this was all a bad dream?”

She shook her head, “No, I have nightmares all the time, this is real.” Patsy looked at her teacher and gasped, she tried to step back but only fell backwards. “Those eyes!”

Mr. Morales sighed, and pulled his glasses from his face. His eyes were a hungry deep red. “Please, Miss. Pascala, I mean you no harm. You have my word, my oath as a man who has spent his very long life guiding the minds of the youth, and protecting everyone who I find in need of help.”

She tried to steady her breath, with Bean in her arms she felt much bolder and confident, “Those eyes, I’ve seen them in my nightmares, I trusted you and you’re another one of those things!” She pointed to the ghoul.”

He was taken aback, and gestured at his face, “You’ve seen these eyes in your dreams? Miss. Pascala, I assure you I am not a corpse eater.” He grabbed his lip and pulled it up, revealing a long and sharp fang. “I am a vampire, and amazingly you seemed to have augured my presence in your dreams.”

She stared at the fang with wide, slightly horrified eyes. “...Huh.”

“Huh. That...is a first.” The Vampire said, “I imagine you have questions, and you deserve answers. Especially if you refuse to accept this night was just a bad dream.”

She nodded, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to, trust me I’m trying. Still here, next to my vampire history teacher.”

“Very well, Miss. Pascala. This ghoul was hunting you because you are a Sorceress, and whoever gave you that cat was as well. Seeing as how that animal is a Familiar, your Familiar.” He said, “Monday, come to my class after school, and I will tell you more. For now just go home, you’ll be safe there with the cat. I need to clean this up before anyone comes by and finds it.”

It was be a difficult thing to believe that Patsy would just accept things at that, that she would just go home and enjoy her long weekend with her folks, and she could just scratch Bean behind the ear knowing she was some magical protector her Secret Sorceress Grandma had given to her as a little kitten. That she could be nearly eaten and just go back to bed. All that can be agreed upon is that Patsy got out of bed the next morning around 10:30, that she took a shower and had slightly runny scrambled eggs for breakfast. Another thing that can be certain is that Patsy would never doubt what happened, what she saw and what she heard, and that the story of Pascala DeSoto, The Sorceress of Illinois had only begun. 

End Chapter

PayPal

[jemej3m]

Biker AU? I read one last night and it immediately made me think of you.

oOFT

*

Andrew watched him swing by every Sunday, like clockwork. It was a crisp morning, the sky an untouched swathe of blue ink, disturbed only by a few hesitant puffs of white. 

Palmetto street was always quiet on Sundays. Columbia was a small, religiously minded town: they all gathered for church at ten o’clock, and stay for a communal meal afterwards. Andrew’s family were all there, as usual. And, as usual, Andrew neglects to attend, manning his little bookstore instead. 

Even Kevin took Sundays off. Obsessive Kevin, who spends hours meticulously filing every title within his non-fiction half of the store as he lamented about Andrew’s own organisational habits, or a lack thereof. He stays at home with his wife and his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s boyfriend. The whole Kevin&Thea&Jean&Jeremy situation always seemed a little much for Andrew, especially when the three of them all turned up during their lunch breaks to hassle Kevin during his shift. 

It’s fine. Kevin’s never lonely, which was good, because Andrew remembered what it was like when he was. 

Andrew leaned himself against the doorway of his bookshop with his arms crossed, watching. Because, like clockwork, he’s there. Five-past-ten on a Sunday morning. The object of all Andrew’s attention, and thus, his hatred.

His bike skidded to a stop by the curb: he cut the engine and swung his leg over it. His helmet came off in one smooth pull and his elegantly long neck arched as he shook out his ruby-red curls. Andrew noticed every one of these things, despite having done-so for months, because it never seemed to grow old. 

He always wore old, shredded black jeans and that horrific black leather jacket, the enormous embroidered fox on the back clashing horribly with his auburn hair. His boots were laced up to the ankles and metal-capped: a gift from Andrew for his last birthday. 

And that god-awful smile. 

“Hey,” Neil said, helmet under his arm. 

Andrew hummed, pushing off from the doorway to fall back inside. Neil, of course, followed. 

Neil Josten was Andrew’s very own conundrum. He was a part of a bikie gang, comprised of four others. Andrew only liked one of them, Renee, but she was an avid Christian and spent her Sundays at church. Dan and Matt, married and attached at the hip, went to church too, mostly to see Dan’s adoptive father David Wymack. Allison used to just loiter around her old boyfriend, but he’d gone and overdosed about a year ago, so she followed Renee and terrorised her God-fearing parents with her sleeve tattoos and her maybe girlfriend. 

Neil, like Andrew, had no interest in attending Sunday mass. Seeing as Andrew’s bookstore was the only place open, he always ended up there, sitting on the bay-window seat and sipping on a steaming mug of Earl Grey. 

The thing was that Neil ticked every one of Andrew’s boxes. He was perplexing enough to keep Andrew’s undivided attention, whilst being methodical enough to be unthreatening. He was cautious and understanding and so easy to talk to. Andrew wanted to pin him to a wall and shuck off that stupid leather jacket, so he could trace all the tattoos that covered his scarred torso and arms. 

“Has Kevin worked out your eidetic memory yet?” Neil inquired, walking through the shelves as his fingers brushed over the haphazard spines. “He must have. There’s no way you would be able to find anything otherwise.”

“He’s about as thick-headed as you are,” Andrew muttered, ears still pink from Neil’s smile. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

Neil sipped his tea. Andrew wondered if marriage was actually the constrictive construct he’d always insisted it was. 

They were both sat on the bay window cushion now, Andrew with his chamomile and honey, Neil with his 1 to 100 milk to tea ratio Earl Grey. His tattoos didn’t reach up to his fingers, but the scars did, half-moons across his knuckles and fingerprints. Andrew wanted to kiss them. 

Neil’s gaze was weighted, pressing against Andrew’s temple like he wants to carve himself a space. He always looked at Andrew like that, like Andrew mattered, like they aren’t fundamentally different in every way possible. 

“Renee offered to tattoo my scars,” Andrew said, trying his very best to clear his cotton-padded throat and failing. He hated the way Neil made him feel things. This young biker, with a bandana around his neck and silver rings that represented each member of his found family. The only finger bare was his fourth, on the left. Andrew wanted his there. “I’d have to outsource the design.”

Neil sat up, a glimmer in his eyes. He designed many of the Foxes’ tattoos, including his own. He was a brilliant artist. “Are you asking me for a design?” 

“Maybe,” Andrew conceded, muttering into his mug. 

Neil grinned. “I’d be honoured.” He’d already seen the canvas before, in the lamp light over a bottle of whisky. Andrew remembered that night with both irreverence and mortification: he’d opened up too much, too soon, but Neil had taken it perfectly well and offered his own vulnerabilities to match. 

Andrew hummed, putting his tea aside and casually pulling his sweater off. It was lavender wool: underneath he wore a black blouse with rounded collar edges and no sleeves. Little white daisies were woven into a crown, perched on his hair: he’d worn the silver-wire glasses rather than his usual black frames. He didn’t usually put this much effort into his seemingly pastel-goth aesthetic, but when he knew Neil was coming, well. He felt it was rather appropriate. 

Neil blinked repeatedly, looking from the black armbands to his bared shoulders to the delicate silver buttons that lined the shirt-front. His fingers clenched around his mug tighter, cheeks pinked. 

They had been going at this dance for a while now. Both were too careful, too broken, to simply launch into something so unknown. But, like clockwork, Andrew dressed up a little. Like clockwork, Neil smiled in that way that was only for Andrew. Like clockwork, they shuffled a little closer on the bay window as the sun gleamed overhead, church-bells ringing as the sermon ended in the distance. 

“Can I?” Neil whispered, fingertips warmed by the tea. He had a piercing through his bottom lip, his left nose wing, his right eyebrow. Andrew pieced them together like constellated stars, the freckles and the grey-speckled blue eyes like little galaxies. 

When Andrew nodded, Neil lifted his hand and gently brushed his fingers over the pale skin of Andrew’s shoulder. They drifted upwards, warm and sure, to trace the corner of Andrew’s jaw. 

It made no sense. Neil was a flight-risk, a menace on a motorcycle, and Andrew was a busybody, a bookshop boy. It made no sense in theory, so how did it feel so right in practise?

Neil’s fingertips went from the corner of Andrew’s glasses, to the shell of his ear and the flowers in his hair. He had that look on his face. The one Andrew hated with a burning, all-consuming passion. 

“I need to tell you something,” Neil whispered. “Don’t think it has to change anything. I know that you don’t feel the same.” 

Andrew just looked. And looked. And looked. 

“I think I -” he swallowed, looking down. “The others had always teased me for being so affectionate towards you, but I think - I think they may be right. About how I feel about you.” 

Andrew held his breath.

“I don’t understand it,” Neil murmured then, his fingers slowly lowering to brush over Andrew’s lips when he’d given Neil a terse nod of consent. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

“How can you be sure it’s something you want, then?” Andrew forced out, nearly crushing the teacup in his grip. 

“Just because it’s new doesn’t mean it’s not clear,” Neil retorted. He gently unwound Andrew’s fingers and relieved him of the mug. “I’m sorry if this makes it strange between us, but I wanted - I needed - you to know the truth. This is real for me.” 

Andrew almost couldn’t believe himself. “How could one man be so possibly idiotic and still survive?”

“Beats me,” Neil chuckled. Andrew cupped his hand over Neil’s jaw: the man blinked. 

“Yes or no?” Andrew inquired, his heart fluttered so faintly that he was sure he would go into cardiac arrest. 

“Okay,” Neil whispered, already leaning forward. 

The thing was that Andrew had gone most of his life assuming that he existed purely to be used and thrown away. Thirteen foster homes and thirteen psychologists or psychiatrists meant existing in a constant transitive state. He hadn’t felt stability till he had settled with his family, here in the quaint town of Palmetto. 

But even then, stability wasn’t certainty. 

This, Neil’s lips against his, the jostle of his Harley keys in the pocket of his leather jacket, the lip ring and missing canine tooth: this was certainty. 

Their lips unsealed on a honey-sweet exhale. 

“I’ve got a spare helmet,” Neil whispered. “Shall we go for a ride?”

And if Andrew relished in holding Neil’s waist in a tight vice as they sped around the outskirts of his town, well. 

That was nobody’s business but his own. 

*

teehee

ty for the prompt it was fun!!

[ohgodwhathavewedone]

Best tAHLIA

I WANNA BE A TORTIOSE

‘Hold on I have to go turn on the sausages’

‘Nah when I turn on the sausages they go soft’

‘Huh? Yeah I just turned them on’

‘Well I’m gonna go eat nuts’

‘But if it kills me then I don’t have to do Italian, or Pe’

T: ‘Do you have a sharpener?’

R: ‘I have your body’

pew pew pew

‘Let me clean up my area, before I roll these into balls.’

I wanna draw a giraffe

Can I live in an apple tree?

R: ‘Lmao a what? ‘

T: ‘Does that say lemon grass?’

*Referring to a pimple on nose*

R: Embrace it, you should give him a name.

T: .... Satan.

Does that say Hogwarts? Oh it says dog wash.

*puts hands under chin* I’m a turtle!

Can you just imagine a hysterical little girl running around screaming ‘what is my face’

Oh how the tables have tabled

Noot noot

‘Can you come fetch me’

R: you’re discriminating against your own kind.

T (very seriously): that’s rude.

T*presses rubber to finger* ... that didn’t work.

My tiny fire toes. Their so small *gestures with fingers*

R; you don’t get to read the list only when you’re sad do you get to see the list.

T; I’m always very sad.

I’m crying but it’s okay.

I want to be a fairy

Tiny legs + tiny frame = zoom!

I just got attacked by mayonnaise

How do you get black mailed by Donald trump he hates black people

You’re a boob

R: Fuck.

T: STAHHPP

I need another brown.

T: did you know there’s a t block classroom with computers??

R: *points next door dead faced.*

T: okay you know what.

*tries to get into Rylee’s phone not realising its actually max’s*

R: penis

T: fuck yOu.

Stupid stuff tahlia has done:

i was doing my bio homework on my mirror because my computer charger doesnt reach my desk AND THEN I STARTED WRITING WITH A BROW PENCIL

ooft you can add walking into a door

ohnygod trying to escape my dad and slipping

Monitor22222 monotor222

T: what’s Carry on

R: what are you doingggggg

T: ....

R: it’s a gay love story

T: thought so

WHAT IS CHAP AND NOARE BACKWARDS

PATCH NOOWHEREEE

T: trying to find words in words search(complete wrong spelling)

Kill yourself dazzle

LSD

Btsd

Drug

Buzz buzz bitch

Saggy

Falls over and punches ukulele

hes attractive im sad

Rylee smell my hand

My finger looks like a penis

Also, why are we bold and underlined, rude. Well you're bold, I’m italics and together we are underlined 

[inthe-afterglows]

I posted 5,344 times in 2021

91 posts created (2%)

5253 posts reblogged (98%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 57.7 posts.

I added 191 tags in 2021

#jily - 60 posts

#taylor swift - 27 posts

#yes - 22 posts

#shadow and bone - 19 posts

#omg - 12 posts

#jily fic - 11 posts

#wandavision - 10 posts

#james potter - 10 posts

#folklore - 10 posts

#lily evans - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#the one thing i'll forever hate from the books was that there was never one scene like this between harry/sirius/remus where they just told

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

‘Tis The Damn Season

Chapter 3 is up!!!! 

Excerpt:

When James had realised getting her to stay was a losing battle, he drove her to the airport and they had an obligatory airport snog.

“I changed your ringtone for me,” he told her, leaning back slightly.

“Oh?”

“You’ll know it when you hear it,” he assured her and a smile tugged at her lips as she imagined all the possible songs it could be. She kissed him three more times before sighing.

“I have to go.”

“I know. Call me when you land,” he requested.

“I will. This’ll work, won’t it?” she asked, anxiety seeping in.

ffnet | AO3

46 notes • Posted 2021-03-09 13:19:27 GMT

#4

watching outlander is hilarious like Jamie and Claire promising his sister that they’ll take good care of her son and then literally the very next scene is Claire and Jamie watching their nephew swimming out to some island where treasure was hidden and then the nephew being kidnapped as they watch on from the mainland with pikachu surprise faces

52 notes • Posted 2021-07-29 14:42:29 GMT

#3

me: I should work on my fic

me:...

me: *clicks onto an AO3 link to read someone else's fic*

54 notes • Posted 2021-02-27 14:10:54 GMT

#2

Orchestrated Coincidences

Final part is up now!

Again thank you to everyone who has read this! You’re all amazing!

Excerpt:

She woke in his bed the next morning wearing his shirt and facing views of the ocean with her back pressed into his chest, his arm around her waist. She grinned. She’d been scared it had all been a way too good dream or worse that she’d wake up and not be able to remember most of the night. She shifted slightly and he shifted too, hugging her tighter. Mm, she could get used to this.

She turned in his arms to face him and pressed a kiss to his nose. Then his cheek. Then his neck and he hummed as she kept kissing, his hands pulling her closer.

“Morning,” she said softly as his eyes flickered open and a slow grin spread across his face.

“Mm, hi,” he said sleepily. “I could get use to waking up like that.”

She smiled, pleased as he tucked her hair behind her ear and then because she really needed to pee, “this place have a bathroom?”

“Yeah, middle door in the hallway.”

She started to sit up but her eyes caught on a set of glasses on his bedside table.

“What are these?” she asked, reaching over to pick up the set of black framed glasses. She opened them and slipped them onto her face only for everything to go extremely blurry. “Holy shit, who has the terrible eye sight?”

AO3 | FFNET

55 notes • Posted 2021-07-22 07:54:35 GMT

#1

Orchestrated Coincidences

Please enjoy my latest fixation: a fic based on the movie Ibiza which gave me such huge Jily vibes I just had to write it.

Excerpt:

“Ooft!” Lily huffed as her body collided into someone else’s and her cup tipped and — cold,cold,cold,cold,cold - “Fuck!” she said, drawing out the vowel as she lifted her white singlet away from her body since it was now soaked with whatever had been in her cup - so ice, a smidge of lemonade, and a whole lot of vodka. This is what she got for trying to find Mary.

“Shit! Sorry! Are you all right?”

Lily finally looked up to see the living wall she’d inevitably walked into and froze. Fit. He was so fit. It almost made up for the fact that she was now covered in vodka. And tall. Jesus, why did she always have such a thing for tall guys? His eyes were such a light hazel they almost seemed to glow and his arms were fit and his face was and his hair was — oh god, he was still staring at her. She was staring at him — actually drooling over him may have been a more apt description. She really wanted to run her hands through that hair. Crap, he was waiting for her to respond.

“F-fine, just … wet.” If she were sober, she’d have winced at how dirty it sounded.

Jesus, he made a white t-shirt look like the sexiest god damned thing a guy could wear. How she did not know but it was doing things to her body, to her brain, to her everything.

“Right, sorry I wasn’t — oh, er,” his eyes flicked away from her. No, don’t do that! Lily wanted to shout. “I feel obliged to mention that your shirt is white.”

“Er, thanks?”

“And see through.”

“Oh. Oh!”

AO3 | FFNET

60 notes • Posted 2021-07-15 15:06:54 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[a-tired-bass]

Every 7th question of that huge ask meme :D

Hooo boy here we go. I’m gonna pop this behind a read more cause holy fuck it’s long. Apparently almost 2500 words all up

7 - Your zodiac/horoscope and if you think it fits your personality:

My zodiac is Capricorn. A google tells me that supposedly, Capricorn’s are ambitious, conservative, determined, practical and helpful. I would say I am approximately 2-3.5 of those things at any one time. Given that the average would be slightly above 2.5, I would say it fits me well enough :P

14 - Do you wear contacts/glasses?

No vision correction for me, I have perfect eyesight. Well, so much as ‘perfect eyesight’ is defined for a person. My visual acuity is above the average healthy human eyes.

21 - What’s your sexual orientation?

Heteroromantic. Demisexual.

28 - Where are you from?

Born and raised in Sydney. Lived my entire life in the same city. I’ve travelled a bit and would love to live elsewhere (I don’t count my brief occupancy in the Hunter Valley as living there)

35 - Say 3 facts about your personality:

Oh fuck.... I tend to be quite disparaging of myself, as evidenced by the fact that I couldn’t think of a single thing upon reading this question. Otherwise... I’m a very closed person? I guess? I don’t open up easily, so it’s really nice when I find someone who I can click with immediately. I especially enjoy the company of people who like ot talk a lot, since I really don’t talk that much. I love listening to people’s voices. Finally... God I don’t know. I don’t analyse my own personality that often. Generally it’s other people who are looking at that. I’m just me. That is who I am. I’m not going to change who I am to fit someone else’s expectations. I have to do what is right for me. 

42 - What you want to be when you “get older”

The simplest answer is happy. I want to not have to rely on medication to maintain a semblance of reality. I want to share my life with someone who wants to share theirs with me. I want to travel to places I’ve never been, just to see the beautiful things in the world. I want to not have to worry about working just to maintain a decent level of living. I want to fall asleep every night holding someone I love.

I just want to be happy. I have no other lasting aspirations

49 - Do you have any phobias?

Falling. I’m absolutely terrified by it. Heights don’t bother me in the slightest, but falling, especially free-falling, panics me beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. I find abseiling quite terrifying if I don’t trust the mounting point, something usually only earnt through pushing through it once. When rock-climbing, I can’t stand to be belayed by someone I don’t trust. If I’m bouldering, despite the mere like, 2m drop, I’ll downclimb to at least half way if I have the strength to so I don’t have to jump down. I hate falling. There are only 2 nightmares that have ever stuck with me for more then a few days, and 1 of them is falling. I just can’t do it.

56 - What are three things most people don’t know about you?

Fuck I don’t know. I overshare a bunch a lot of the time. But there are still loads of things I don’t tell people, generally because I don’t see them as worth telling. My story isn’t that interesting, I haven’t done anything marvelous. I’m just... an average person. I have mental health problems. I fall on the ASD spectrum. I have severe body image issues. I have an incredibly high lung capacity, but incredibly bad oxygen transmission. I’ve technically died. I started school early, and was offered the ability to skip grades (Never did, glad of that), as I’d begun to work on early high school level materials in year 2 and 3. I miss my old baritone voice, when I had a range of almost 3 octaves. I’m completely right side dominant, hand, foot, and eye. Stuff, I guess.

63 - A quote you try to live by:

I can never remember quotes. Their essence stays in my head, but never what the actual quote is. Honeslty, while cheesy and obviously influenced by my upbringing, the one that comes to mind most is “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. Yup, nice and churchy. But in seriousness, it’s a good maxim to live by. Everyone deserves politeness and respect until they’ve lost that priviledge.

70 - What is your favorite thing to do?

Another hard one. You truly have bombarded me. In the end, I think it’s play games WITH friends. Oh sure, sometimes I can’t stand being around people. Sometimes I want to play alone. But noting beats playing with friends, achieving progress side by side. It’s... immensely satisfying to me

77 - What is your least favorite word?

Cuckold...

84 - What’s your favourite scent? And on the opposite sex?

Fucked if I know. Scent’s are scents, and my nose is not terribly discerning. I like a lot of flowers or fruit scents. There are some lovely spices. Scents to me are defined as ‘this smells nice’ or ‘this smells bad’. If I had to pick something... Lavendar. It’s simple, but lovely.

91 - Say 2 facts about your favorite things:

I love music, but I tend not to like rap - I like my melody too much. Roleplaying Games - I love to put on another person’s skin, to slide into another persona. 

98 - The best and the worst childhood memories:

Look, I don’t remember much of my childhood. I don’t remember much of anything at all really. I purge a lot of my memories because I find it easier to live that way. I can pull up fragments of absolutely random stuff, but I couldn’t tell you where I learnt it. What I can dredge up says my favourite is one of my teachers. Ms Werner, back in primary. She was a wonderful teacher, and my the world would be improved if there were more people like her. I think the worst would have to be when I realised I had to cut off contact with a very long time friend of mine. We’d known each other for.... I want to say at least 10 years, of which 6 of them were as very close friends. He became someone I didn’t want to associate my life with. Someone I wouldn’t have been surprised if I read their name in an obituary report of some police activity.

105 - Top three places to visit:

Italy, duh. I’ve said so many times before. I would also love to go to Greece again, becasue I would love to meet you in person. Finally, Finland, because I’ve heard wonderful things about it

112 - If your best friend died, what would you do?

Be sad. Attend their funeral. Drink. Forget some. Live on. Be surprised that I’m the one attending theirs and them not attending mine.

119 - Have you ever kissed someone older than you?

Yes, my last ex was older then me by a bit over a year. I’m also assuming family doesn’t count for this question.

126 - Based on past relationships or crushes, describe your perfect boyfriend/girlfriend:

Oh ooft. Well, uniformly my crushes have been on people shorter than me, because I think they’re cute. I’ve always preferred longer hair. They’d have to have a nice voice, that is paramount - I remember one girl who is an incredibly interesting person who I loved to talk to and almost developed a crush on many times online, but lost any interest the moment we spoke again in person because her voice just slightly grated on me. In personality? Kind, caring, accepting, loyal. Someone who desires physical contact as much as I do.

133 - Do you have a crush on anyone?

Yeah, but you already know that. I told you whilst I was drunk 

140 - Have you ever cried over a guy/girl?

Absolutely. I mean, ignoring the fact that this could potentially mean any crying caused by someone else, and only related to those caused because of relationships, I have cried severely over them. I lost my voice for 2 days after my last break up from screaming out into the void

147 - Is there a boy/girl who you would do absolutely everything for?

No. There are lines I will not cross.

154 - What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you?

I’d just really like a hug you know? I’m a closed person, and have always had trouble initiating hugs - I’m not good at judging when other people want physical contact. I’m always happy to recieve a hug, I just don’t give them out very often.

163 - Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat?

Yes. What a despicable question.

170 - Have you ever been cheated on?

Yes. It’s... not an experience I ever wish to repeat, nor is it something I will ever forgive lightly agian.

Realised I got off track on numbers. Leaving those answers though

161 - Is there someone mad because you’re dating/talking to the person you are?

Not that I’m aware of. Would be thoroughly confused if there were though.

168 - The last time you felt jealous, and why?

Near the end of my last relationship. Don’t particularly want to go into detail about it. It involved violations of boundaries.

175 - A description of the person you dislike the most:

I don’t really dislike anyone that much? If I dislike someone, I forget about them. I remember a tall, gangly, greasy black haired mediterranean boy in high school who I despised because he was a bully, and would frequently bully me whenever we got on the train because he happened to get on/off at the same stop or nearby. But I couldn’t tell you any more about him.

182 - What kind of music you like?

Lots! Catchy tunes, glorious symphonies, orchestral works, It’s probably easier to list things I don’t typically like, which are screamo and rap, for typical genres.

189 - A book you want to read/have recently read:

I recently read George Orwell’s 1984. I went to a stage performance of it with a friend of mine and it really captured my mind, so I thought I’d read it to compare. The stage show was much more appropriate to our modern era, but the book still has really interesting concepts in it. Having experienced both though, and were I to only choose one to recommend or re-visit, I would definitely pick the stage production

196 - You’re given $10,000…under one condition: you cannot keep the money for yourself. Who would you give it to?

Easy, Jake. He’d split it with me and buy himself some nice stuff as well. Maybe my parents though, if I weren’t in a personal spending mood

203 - What the last party you went to was… and when the next will be…

God I don’t know. I don’t do parties much. A birthday late last year I think? Oh, Post Concert Parties count I guess? Though that’s generally just meeting at a pub and eating some food, getting a drink, and chatting about stuff after final performance. Next one... I guess i’m going on a trip with some mates later this month, which will probably involve at least a little bit of partying. Should be fun

210 - What are you supposed to be doing right now?

Nothing, my time is my own at the moment! Possibly sleeping, but it is still early. There are productive things I could be doing I guess - I need to clean a bit of the house, or do up a resume, or do some physical activity - but it’s late, i’m occupied with other things, and I’ll probably go to sleep soon. I’d prefer to stay in bed

217 - Do you believe in fate/destiny?

I believe in chance. I’d like fate or destiny to be a thing, even though that means our lives are pre-determined in at least some fashion or other, but honestly.... A set purpose would be nice

224 - How important you think education is?

As important as you make it. A basic education is invaluable. Higher education is... less useful, and shouldn’t be forced on anyone, but should always be offered

231 - Post a photo/draw a picture/write a poem (pick one) of a moment of personal significance:

Oh fuck. Um. Here’s something I wrote long ago, I had to go find it, since i’d forgotten how it goes. I was pretty angry at the time - the man who killed my uncle was cleared of all charges. It’s dramatic and over-the-top and in no way actually representative of anything, but it rhymes nicely

And the fire burns deep insideAs the witness sees the liesThe traitors tongueHis falsehoods sungThe sordid crimes which he deniesThe jury stands, decision madeWhile the chatter of the crowd does fadeThe man who sawNow sees the lawAs nothing more than a false charade“The man goes free” the jury declaresFree to escape back to his lairsHis crimes ignoredEscapes the cordIt seems the world doesn’t really care

238 - What was something you used to enjoy, but was ruined for you? What’s the story behind that?

Boy oh boy could I talk about this one! I don’t want to though. In summary - my university choirs, because of my ex.

245 - What’s something you want to do that you’d be embarrassed to tell other people about?

I can’t really think of something I’d be embarassed about. I guess ask for more hugs would apply though, since it’s something i’d feel weirdly guilty about.

252 - Do you hate anyone?

Yes. Dislike is different from hate. I will not go into detail about this.

259 - Do you care if people talk badly about you?

A little bit, yeah. I don’t really like it when people are dissapointed in me, or label me with things I’m not, or assume my actions or what I say are negative. It’s worse especially when people are vehement about it and don’t try to explain what they’re feeling or actually think about it and why.

266 - Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?

Oh yes. I can’t remember her name though. She was a princess in some novel, and was descendant partially from dryads. It’d be nice to find that book again, that would be some nostalgia

And that’s everything! So many questions!!! Good fun though :D

[fresh-princess-is-here]

Can you do a hurt/comfort that turns into fluff prompt 2 about nalu??

ooft. this is going to be a tricky one.

Prompt 2: Date Me, Don’t Break Me.

Rating: T+ (swearing)

Words: 1,817

Lucy closed her eyes, tears forming stubbornly as the harsh sun annoyingly scorched her skin. She sat on the steps outside of Natsu’s fighting studio, after coming up with the idea to surprise him. 

What she hadn’t expected was a nameless brunette who kissed him playfully and giggled at all his stupid jokes. 

She had watched for only a few minutes but it was enough to cause her heart to throb and burn at the sight of it. 

She knew that Natsu and her weren’t exclusive. It was that simple. They had both agreed to date other people, because at the time, Lucy hadn’t wanted a boy-friend and Natsu just wanted to have fun.

That was over a year ago. 

Now, after spending so much time with Natsu, she realized she had made a mistake. 

She cared about him, more than a friend should have, and never one to beat around the bush, she wanted to confront him and tell him how she felt. She wasn’t particularly confident that he would return it, but at least he would know.

And if he didn’t return it, she could get out knowing she tried and failed. 

But when she had created this plan and ran through the possible scenario’s, it never occurred to her that she’d see one of his other… girls.

She couldn’t be entirely unfair to him, she had dated as well. A few here and there, nothing of substance, nothing that made her feel the way Natsu did. But that was just it, Natsu might have enjoyed her company but it wasn’t enough. 

Lucy would never be enough for a guy like Natsu, so how could she compete with the brunette bomb-shell in there, throwing herself all over him?

“Luce?” Lucy’s spine stilled at the familiar voice and her heart shrunk as she opened her eyes, hurried wiping away the few tears that escaped before standing up slowly.

She didn’t bother to turn around, focusing on taking long, deep breathes as she chirped, “Hi Natsu!”

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

She gulped, her voice coming out with a slight tremor, “Oh, I just came to surprise you. But you were busy, so I was going to head home.”

After having a celebratory pity part for how painful her heart felt, of course.

“Don’t head home. We can go get a bite to each. I’m on my lunch break.” Natsu offered, and she could feel his warm smile. She clenched her hands tightly, before laughing sheepishly.

“I can’t, actually. I have to get back home and write another chapter.”

“You’ve been procrastinating writing that chapter for weeks now Luce, hang out with me and I’ll give you some inspiration.” Natsu teased and she felt tears swim in her eyes.

“I’m sorry Natsu, but not today.” 

Lucy took a deep breath in before stating, “I’ve really got to focus on getting this book done so I won’t be able to hang out with you anymore.” She stopped herself, stifling a sob at the ache in her bones. It was like her body was rejecting her plan to cut things off right now, to not put herself through the whole ‘unrequited love’ thing.

“Lucy?” Natsu questioned, his voice now concerned as she rushed out, “Sorry, but I have to go. And I can’t talk later so please don’t message me.”

Her mind shouted at her, calling her a coward but she ignored it and jogged down the last of the steps and rushing off. 

She didn’t get far down the path towards the town when a warm hand grasped her wrist and stopped her.

“Lucy, what’s wrong? It sounds like you are… I’d say breaking up with me, but we aren’t together.”

“Nothing is wrong. I’m just really busy and can’t afford distractions.” She rambled, as Natsu murmured thoughtfully.

“Distractions…” 

She tugged on her wrist, keeping her face pointed away from his as he stated, “Turn around.”

Her heart stammered at his firm but gentle tone, and she fought against it, “Why?”

“Just do it Luce, please.”

She wiped at her eyes before turning on her heel, surprised at how quickly she caved. Despite having wiped her eyes, she knew what he saw. She was an ugly crier. Something he would have teased her about in any situation other than this one.

Her cheeks turned red, her eyes went blotchy and her nose would even dribble if she had been holding it in for a while.

His dark penetrative gaze searched her face for a moment before his other hand reached up to her face, wiping a thumb against the tear marks.

“Who did this to you?” He asked, brows cinched forward in anger. She almost laughed.

Always so quick to protect me. 

Even from himself.

She tugged on the hand around her wrist but he just tightened his grip, watching her expectantly.

She stammered out an excuse, “I’m fine. Nothing is wrong.”

“Lucy. Tell me what happened? Who made you cry?”

You.

You did.

She sniffled and fought to make her voice strong, “It’s my fault.”

“No it’s not.” He argued and she laughed bitterly.

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“I know you well enough that if it’s not your fault, you’ll blame it on yourself.” He stated and she shook her head, ripping her wrist from his grasp forcefully.

“But it is my fault.” She hissed, becoming easily frustrated at how easy she was to cry. She held onto the anger that suddenly burned through her body as he watched her closely.

“What did you do then?” 

His question made her scoff, and she ran her hands through her hair, a trait she had been trying to rid herself of.

“It’s my fault that I didn’t see how I felt for you before it was too late. I don’t have any right to get upset, even though that brunette was all over you - I can’t get angry or jealous because you aren’t mine and it makes me upset and pissed that I made this stupid rule that we could date other people because I’ve only just realized that I want you. I don’t want to share, I don’t want to act like it doesn’t bother me. And I came here today to tell you how I felt but when I opened that door, all I saw was her. With her stupid pretty hair, and her stupid sparkling smile and now I look like a damn insane person because I noticed those things. And she even laughed at those horrible jokes you seem to think are so funny, which they aren’t at all. But that’s what you do when you are interested in someone, you act like they are the greatest person to be around and I can’t do that because-”

She cut herself off upon seeing the amused smile on his lips, the way his eyes gazed into her soul.

“You like me.” He clarified and she shook her head.

“No, I’m not allowed to like you. God, don’t you listen?” She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest which was tricky considering how endowed she was in the breast area. 

He tilted his head, “Why aren’t you allowed to like me? You are your own person Luce, every-time I tell you, you aren’t allowed to do something, you go and do it. That’s kind of one of your flaws.”

“That is not true.”

“You can’t sit down in the middle of the path.” He told her and she screwed her face up, forgetting the conversation they just had for a few moments.

“Why?”

“You just can’t.”

“Bite me Natsu, I can do whatever the fuck I want.” She dropped herself down and sat crossed legged, glaring at the pavement. She then groaned when she realized he had played her like a damn fiddle.

Tears attacked her from nowhere, sliding down her face as she realized how hopeless she was against him. She ignored him when he sat down opposite her. She kept her gaze glued to the ground.

“Luce, please don’t cry.” He murmured, reaching forward and using his fingers to wipe them away. She didn’t fight him, just closed her eyes and relished in the feel of his warm rough fingertips on her skin.

“I can’t do unrequited love for you Natsu, I can’t.” Her voice broke and he moved closer.

“Hey, I’m not asking you too.” He hushed her, as she struggled to keep her sobs from reaching her throat. He cupped her face, swiping his thumbs over her cheeks and murmured lowly.

“I hate seeing you cry.” 

“It’s not the greatest feeling either, Natsu.” She leaned into his soft touch as he chuckled roughly.

“The girl in the studio?” 

Lucy tensed but nodded quietly.

“If she hadn’t been there, what were you going to say to me?”

Lucy swallowed, “I was going to ask you to be my boyfriend.”

“Just like that?”

“I don’t plan heartfelt speeches out.” She informed him, bringing her hand to wipe at her nose, “Practiced words lack feeling.”

He was quiet before he stated, “It’s shit like that, that makes me glad I fell in love with you.”

“Shit like what?” She wondered, her brain working slowly as he chuckled, “Sometimes you say things, or do things that remind me how much I fucking love you. Just things that show your soul, because I know everything you say, you mean.”

She opened her mouth to agree before what he said finally caught up to her. Her eyes shot up to his and noticed the amused grin on his lips.

“You just said you loved me.” 

“I did.” He rubbed his thumb against her bottom lip and she blinked, “How long have you loved me for?”

“I think it was when I broke my arm and you slapped me over the head and told me to man up.” He told her and she laughed, the noise a little lighter as her heart did a hopeful skip.

“It wasn’t a break. It was a sprained wrist and one torn ligament.” 

“It hurt.” He grinned as she shook her head, leaning forward, “If you love me, does that mean…?”

“Yeah. No more dating other people. Simple as that.”

“Dating each other, exclusively. With pet names.”

“We already have pet names.”

“But now, I don’t have to worry about the brunette also having a pet name, Peach.” Lucy stated, smiling when he laughed at his pet-name that she had appointed him a few months ago.

“I hadn’t realized you were the jealous type, Vanilla.”

“I’m not.” She denied, before pressing her lips to his, “I just don’t like sharing as much as I used too.”

dun. 

let me know what you think!

the other prompts are here:x 

stay fresh!