#so I tried to bring up a common compulsion I have (the bathroom has an ant probelm so I get worried that ants get on the towels)

[lottaham]

Y’know sometimes I forget that it is Not a good idea to talk mental health stuff with my mom because This Is My Mom We’re Talking About 9 times out of ten reasoning with her is like talking to a brick wall

[whump-town]

Beth

I feel like I never see any Hotch/Beth stories so here is my contribution. Beth got done so dirty by the writers and I’ll never forgive them for that. She could have made Hotch happy...

It doesn’t take long for Beth to realize that her perfect man-- come on, how often do they come tall, handsome, sweet, athletic, and as good fathers?-- isn’t all that perfect. He’s strange and it’s just as enchanting as his goofy laugh but there are just elements to him that she can’t understand. She finds herself itching to pick him apart but something tells her she’s messing with Pandora’s box. Is breaking him worth understanding him?

He freezes. 

It’s like a glitch in his hardware. There’s this spot where the kitchen meets the living room of his apartment and it’s the only place the glitch occurs. She’d noticed it about a month into dating him and the first time she’d laughed a little, surprised by the look on his face. It was a shock factor kind of laugh, inappropriate, and wrong enough to make her cheeks flush. He hadn’t noticed. His eyes were glued to the carpet. 

His face was pinched in concentration. Dark brows furrowed and shoulders tightly pulled back. It’s complete unease and tension like she’s never seen before. For a moment, it kind of scares her. He’s got this lost look in his eyes. Wherever he is when he’s looking at that spot in the carpet, he’s not here. He’s not anywhere she can reach him. 

The thing is, no matter how many times she looks at that spot… she can’t see what he sees. There’s a bit of a disturbance in the fibers that form an edge. It looks like someone might have replaced a section of the carpet but it’s nearly impossible to tell or even be certain. 

As curious as she is, she also can’t find the courage to ask. Something… Something tells her she doesn’t want to know.

Still, she can’t help but turn a curious eye to this perfect man. He’s got flaws, like anyone. It’s hard to get past his defenses and it’s a slowly learned lesson forming an understanding of his love. When they argue, he gets desperate. Voice hoarse but he never raises it, not even when she wants to shout. It’s hard to place her importance to him but whenever she starts to doubt his love he swoops back in. It’s a tiring thing, being pushed and pulled away.

He catches her smiling at him and his heart leaps to his throat. It’s hard being Hotch here, with her. So hard to keep the emotions at bay or within his control. “Wh-What?” he asks. His cheeks flush, unsure of what to do under her attention and not used to anyone really looking at him. Not with the love, he thinks he sees in her dark eyes-- but maybe he’s just imagining that. 

She kisses him. Smiling when he works a hand to the back of her head, pulling her closer. 

Another thing she’s noticed… he never takes his shirt off. The sex is amazing. No matter how “rusty” he’d claimed to be. He also never initiates sex. It’s not a subject to talk about or even one they really dwell on. Unless she starts putting on the “moves” nothing happens. She really can’t complain. Men can be pushy and demanding, a huge turnoff and red flag. Not Aaron. 

She smiles into their kiss and playfully runs the back of her finger across the little bit of stomach his shirt has risen up to expose. He reacts as she expects, shirking away with a choked laugh. It’s positive reinforcement. Deepening their kiss, she sneaks her hand the rest of the way under his shirt. Gently, waiting and feeling every bit of his nervous inhale, she places her hand against his fluttering stomach. 

“Okay?” she asks.

He nods. 

She’s not sure what she’s expecting to find. 

“They--They,” his chest keeps it’s panicked rise and fall. Not quite full breathes. “It’s just-- they’re just… I can’t--”

George Foyet. He won’t ever tell her much more than what she has to know. That he hurt Aaron and killed Jack’s mother Haley. She’s seen glimpses of the scars. He’s very good at hiding them. She’s very aware of his medicine cabinet, even if she’s not aware of the scars. 

Clomipramine. She’s aware of the panic attacks and compulsivity he can fall into. The way that he checks the locks four times every night before he can fall asleep. Some nights venturing back out two more times to make sure. Hypervigilance but also if he doesn’t do this, he knows he’ll wake up and they’ll all be gone. Beth. Jack. Dead. She’s seen the nightmares. 

Xanax. A medication that’s supposed to bring relief in 30 minutes but she’s sat on the bathroom floor while he’s sobbed. Choking on the air his lungs struggle to bring in. 30 minutes is a very long time to watch someone you love panic in pain. Convinced of something that you can’t even understand and they can’t explain. The AS NEEDED label had once convinced her it was of less importance. She’s certain that over the course of the last few years she’s nursed him through taking the medication more times than she ever has anything else. 

He’d taken Lexapro for two years. It’d stopped working and that had been an awful thing to watch. She’d sat with him through the detox, trying to convince him to eat and shower when his brain slowly tried to kill him. 

That’s not even the beginning. There’s an entire cocktail of anticoagulants and common over the counter things that he has to take. Some for old wounds and others for his forever skewed blood pressure and damaged vessels and arties. She just knows-- five in the morning with his coffee, three at night before bed. 

But he’s… better. 

He’ll make little jokes about her profiling abilities. The way she’ll steady his hands in her own and softly encourage him to go take a Xanax. Often just pulling him to her chest, stilling his anxious movement until his breathing has slowed and he never gets the chance to panic. 

That’s why she stops. Hands drawing away from his chest, she cups his cheeks. “Aaron,” she whispers holding him close. Keeping calm while his hands move over her back. A motion she understands. He’s trying to reassure himself that she’s real. She’s here. She won’t let him forget that. “I love you,” she whispers.

He pulls back to look at her. Eyes darting between hers so really place what he’s seeing. To pick up on the little cues she exhibits when lying. 

“I love you,” she says again, conviction strong and palm warm against his cheek. 

He averts his eyes but turns his head to her palm. “You sure?” he asks teasingly, tear streaking down his cheek. 

She brushes it away. “Most of the time.”

[0h-you-kn0w]

Random tlh headcanons

The Loud siblings each have their own tiktok and are on different tiktoks, sometimes they'll show up on eachothers fyp and it's sweet because they get so excited for eachother ❤️

Luan knows the basic chords to the guitar and will sometimes play a lil silly song whenever she feels like it (Luan: anyway here's wonderwall-)

Since he's been Lynn's sparring partner/punching bag since he was able to walk, Lincoln's probably the only one out of all their siblings to keep up with her (when he actually tries that is)

Lana makes mudpies in the shape of hearts when someone is sad

Since our mans has 10 sisters, this is bound to happen. Lincoln low key keeps a little compact for makeup in case of a "Makeup Emergency" (he usually carries it around during pageant season)

Lori calls Lincoln "little gamer" whenever he gets anxiety attacks

Speaking of, our boy probably gets diagnosed with general anxiety disorder by Lisa and his only reaction is: "it be like that ✨"

Lynn and Lincoln got into an argument over who would rock a skirt better so they threw a lil fashion show competition and Lincoln won

Luna smoked one (1) cigarette one time at a concert and she cried of how bad it tasted and how it hurt her lungs

That doesn't stop her from smoking weed but aight queen

Leni, Lincoln, Lola, and (surprisingly) Lucy go get manicures every two weeks

The "Treat Yo Self" bit from parks and recs is SO Lori and Leni (Lincoln is the one who dresses like batman)

Every Mother's Day since they became friends, Clyde would bring Lincoln's mom a bouquet of flowers and some chocolates since she's probably the closest thing he has to a mother figure

Lola speaks like Stan Twitter

Lori, Leni, Luan and Lincoln talk like gen z bitches in the tiktok comments

Luan accidentally taught Lily how to say "Periodt ✨"

Lynn has OCD, that's why she's so dead set on her superstitions and routines, this is also why she's obsessed with sports and winning and why she doesn't actually believe that she's that good of a player so she relies on her compulsions (good luck rituals) to adhere to her obsession (winning in sports)

The kids make a bathroom schedule based on how long they spend in there. It goes shortest to longest (shortest being Lana, longest being Leni)

Luan regularly gets detention for pulling pranks on either her peers of the faculty (she even got suspended once or twice)

Lincoln is Pan-romantic, Lynn is Bi-romantic, Luna's bi (obviously), Luan is also Pan, Leni too. Lori's straight lmao

Lucy most definitely put a curse or too on her bullies

Lori would probably have to room with a bunch of people at college because she literally cannot handle living without 4 or more people at a time (gets too quiet for her)

Whenever her sibling's bring their s/o to the house, Lola would go and personally invite them to tea and cookies in her room (where she goes and interrogates them to see if they're worthy), with Lincoln as the butler of course (he does it voluntarily bc he wants in on the interrogation)

Sam and Benny are by far her favourite guests as Lola loves the dramatic flair Benny brings to the tea table, and Sam's vibes are just immaculate.

Lincoln's definitely the best dancer out of the whole clan (Lisa comes in a close second)

Speaking of, Lisa probably swears the most because of how often she listens to rap (she said fuck once and Lori flipped the FUCK out), Lynn comes in second for once, then Luan, and then Lincoln (shocking I know but he's earned it)

I like to think Lincoln is albino (fuck what the writers say, boy has white hair) and most people with albinism have sight problems (mostly trouble processing lots of light at once), so he ends up needing glasses when he enters highschool

He also has a special sunscreen so his skin doesn't hurt in direct sunlight. He also can't tan

Lori has contacts but has a spare pair of glasses that she wears when she's too lazy to put in her contacts (like on the weekends or when she's sick)

Benny is Jewish! He takes his religion very seriously, and is most definitely Kosher. When they get older, Luan considers converting to Judaism (so she can make a bunch of jewish jokes but shh) and they raise their kids with both jewish and catholic teachings

The Louds are Catholic btw, but they only go to church on Christmas and Easter. They're one of those families (like mine lmao)

They have slumber parties whenever there's a long weekend, braid train sessions are very common (Lincoln, Luna, and Lisa are the caboose), they have pillow fights (Lynn yeeted her mattress at Lincoln once), and put all the pillows and blankets on the floor and sleep in a big ole blanket nest together (gotta have some family time bruvs)

Feel free to add on! 👁️👄👁️

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 154

154

Fussing over Lance, Lance sighed for the hundredth time at his boyfriend. He loved Keith. Treasured Keith. Adored Keith. Cherished him with everything he had, but surely their had to be some kind of limit to the amount on guy could fuss over another, especially seeing he’d been fussing over him since early morning. Keith had wanted to cancel their date on account of Lance’s morning sickness. Lance wasn’t having it. He was having his date with Keith and nothing was stopping him. Not nausea. Not lack of sleep. And not Keith fussing over him when he was totally fine-ish.

Keith was taking their date seriously. Lance was seriously kicking himself over the previous day, despite the fact that Keith finally working it out made him stupidly happy. Plus, Keith had enjoyed the evening, even if he had no idea what was happening at the time. His boyfriend had taken this date seriously enough that he’d spent a hefty chunk of time on his phone working out where they were going. Knowing Keith would consider his feelings, he really hoped that Keith had seen how much he wanted to do something with him that his boyfriend enjoyed. Things were better that way. That way they’d both be excited and have more to talk about than just Lance blabbing on and on about his own interests.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve got your hands on your stomach”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Keith, Lance wondered where else his hands would be. The twins were moving, like they were as excited as Lance was for this date

“Keith, it’s kind of the most convenient place for them”

“You’re not in pain?”

Lance gave in to the urge to roll his eyes as he replied

“I’m fine. Like the other hundred and one times you asked. I’m fine and I’m excited, but no pain”

Other than the discomfort of having to pee, and the general achiness of his hips. He’d been anxious about the date, being pregnant and all that, but now he was in disguise... Kind of. He had his jumper on that no longer really hid his bump, but the cap on his head his hair, and the thick sunglasses took up most of his face. Coran has given them the okay to go out, as long as they were careful and Lance took things easy. Around his neck was a blue scarf, that Keith had stunk up for him, so he was as ready as he was ever going to be when it came to slipping back into the general human population.

Huffing, Keith drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the lights to turn green. Lance clueless and loving that he was

“I’m sorry... I know you’re excited”

“I am. And you’re anxious that I’m not going to like the surprise...”

“A bit”

“Babe. It’s not going to be like super different than normal. It’s you and me, seeing something together. It’s about making memories and not stressing”

“I know. I still... want things to go well”

He would have kissed Keith if Keith wasn’t so focused on not killing them

“They will. Just concentrate on not getting us lost”

Keith shot him a scowl, deadpan with his reply

“You’re hilarious”

Another 5 minutes passed before they were pulling into the parking lot and Lance was lighting up. Being landlocked Platt didn’t have a whole lot of water around it. There was an artificial dam of sorts, where people could swim, boat and fish, and for some reason there was also this place. Platt Aquarium and Animals. Their sign boasted about the conservation work they did in the area. It’d been a long time since Lance went there. Probably sometimes around his first year back at college when he’d only just made friends with Pidge and Hunk. He’d brought Mami along, so she could meet them again, and it was one of those places he’d meant to take Keith on a date to before all the craziness had happened.

Cutting the engine, Keith seemed tense. Lance reaching out to place his hand on his boyfriend’s thigh

“This is it, right?”

“I mean... uh... if it’s not too lame”

Probably a little lame, but by Lance’s standards it was a whole lot of unlame

“It’s not lame. Did you know this place has sharks?”

“It said on the website”

“That’s the whole reason isn’t it? You want to see sharks and tell them their traitors for not having two dicks, don’t you?”

Keith’s cheeks reddened. Lance chuckling. His boyfriend was so cute when he blushed

“It’s fine. As long as you don’t get the compulsion to try punch one”

“I’m not going to punch a shark. Not unless it tries to make you lunch”

Lance raised an eyebrow, knowing full well what Keith meant

“I could support a shark making me a sandwich”

Keith groaned. His boyfriend too stressed to be able to take a joke

“Not like that. Why... How would that even work?”

The mental images shouldn’t have been as funny as they were, he couldn’t help the small giggle at the thought

“Carefully. Seriously, if you keep stressing in going to start stressing”

“But is it enough? I wanted to...”

“Babe, you’re overthinking. This is one of the places I wanted to bring you. I think the names changed, but this place is super cool. I thought you’d love taking photos of the fish”

“So... this is better than a shooting range, right?”

“Much. Let’s go already. I want to see all the fish and the animals. I think they even have bats here. You’re not going to get me confused with another bat, are you?”

“As long as you stay human”

“Well I can’t seem to turn into a bat carting around our twins, so I think we’re pretty safe in that department”

“You’ll let me know if you need a break or anything?”

“Yes, dad. Now can we go in?”

Keith paid for their tickets, Lance already losing concentration when it came to the tanks filled tiny neon fish in the reception area. Keith’s eyes had lit up the moment they’d stepped through the doors, Lance smiling at his boyfriend’s excitement that Keith was trying not to let break his cool calm “adult” demeanour. Keith had probably never got to go to an aquarium as a kid. Shiro had to have taken him, or maybe Shiro and Adam had made a family day of it. Lance hoped so. He hoped Keith wasn’t overthinking him having been there before. Having older siblings meant doing this kind of thing when Mami and Papi could afford it. When he’d been a kid there’d been this face painter at an aquarium they’d been to. Lance had his face painted with as many different fish as he could, then refused to take a shower that night because he didn’t want them to come off. Instead most of them scratched off against his pillow and he’d been devastated the following morning.

Sliding their tickets into his wallet, Keith took him by the hand as Lance moved away from the family wanting to get to the ticket counter. His boyfriend putting his wallet in his back pocket, staring at his feet as he did

“You probably know this place better than I do”

Stupid nerves. Lance wanted to kiss away all Keith’s anxieties. Sure, internally he was paranoid and just as fearful of something going wrong, but if he kept to that chain of thought then neither of them would have any fun

“If that’s your way out of us seeing everything, I’ve got news for you”

“I mean... where do we go?”

There were maps, and three different ways to the exit. Keith would know this if he wasn’t so anxious. His boyfriend had no right being so adorable

“You follow the yellow arrows on the floor until you’re past the biggest tank. That’s the one with the sharks in it”

“And is there anything I shouldn’t do?”

Other than punching sharks? And following common sense? Nope. There was only one “rule” that Lance could think of which would ease both their anxieties

“Yep. But the absolute worst thing you can do here is let go of my hand. I want to see everything here with you”

Keith ducked his head as he squeezed Lance’s hand, embarrassed as he mumbled

“I didn’t mean that”

“I know. Still, I want to hold your hand”

“You already are, dumbarse”

“Yep. I’m not letting go either. You’ll wander off and get lost if I do”

“If anything, you’re the one more likely to wander off”

“Why would I? I mean, like, the best part of the date is you, so why would I leave your side?”

Keith groaned at him, Lance bumping him with his hip

“Come on, mullet. Let’s go see some fishes... I wonder if they actually have mullets here... a photo of a mullet in front of a mullet...”

Keith stepped on his toes lightly, Lance shaking his head as he grinned. This was going to be the most awesome date ever. He was going to make sure of it.

*

Lance was a vampire in too deep. He couldn’t help himself and now he was lost as Keith tried to make conversation over the “colony of Nemo’s” in the tank they’d stopped to coo over. He couldn’t help but be distracted, and what was worse was that Keith had noticed his distraction. His boyfriend trying to make more of an effort, though he absolutely didn’t need to. Excusing himself to the bathroom. Lance went through the usual routine, before standing in front of the mirror. He didn’t look like he was having a good time. He didn’t look terribly healthy either. There was a major problem he was having and it was ruining his whole date.

Keith was too cute.

Trying to fix his appearance up in the bathroom, he came out to find his boyfriend sitting on the bench looking dejected. With his elbows on his thighs and his figure hunched forward as he held his head in his hands, Lance felt like a douche. He wasn’t trying not to have a good time. He just kept looking at Keith and getting caught up in the expression on his face. The wonder. The innocence. The way he scrunched his nose and put on a posh accent as he tried to pronounce species names. This date was so perfect that his stupid heart was dying from a Keith overload. They weren’t clumsy teens fawning over each other, they were supposed to be mature adults... but that went out the window each time Keith would smile and Lance would find his own smile growing wider. Keith was stressing out and his boyfriend had no clue. Despite how embarrassing it was going to be, he was going to have to tell him so Keith knew the date was anything but awful.

Sitting down beside his boyfriend, Keith sighed heavily

“I fucked this up again, didn’t I?”

Lance’s heart damn near broke

“No. No... it’s not that”

“I thought you’d be happy...”

“I am”

“So why are you... so sad?”

Resting his head against Keith’s shoulder, Lance let out a shaky breath, trying not to cry over Keith feeling so bad

“It’s...”

“It’s me, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. But not the way you think”

Lance cringed at his own words. Zero reassurance right there. Flinching a little as Keith sat up and he was forced to move back

“I wanted this to go well”

“I... okay. This is kind of embarrassing, but I can’t take my eyes off of you”

Drawing his brow, Keith seemed ready to start yelling or internally implode trying to ask what the heck that meant without having quite the right words or brainpower to figure them out. Right. He could do this. He’d comforted Keith a hundred times before... though if that was true than his boyfriend probably should have more rights when it when it came to fussing

“I mean... You just look so happy and so cute that I keep getting distracted by you. And then I realise I’ve kind of mostly missed everything because I can’t take my eyes off you. I’m not not having a good time. I’m just being... weird... because... you’re really cute”

“What the fuck?”

Finally it was Lance’s chance to groan. What part of what he’d said wasn’t making sense

“You. Look. Cute”

“You’re watching me instead of the fish?”

“I’m watching you watching the fish...”

“I start looking at the fish then I see you and my heart goes weird. I’m having a small panic about what to do though. I like being able to talk to you about your interests, and mine, in this case. But I can’t seem to keep my eyes off you”

Keith opened and closed his mouth, before dramatically sighing and ruffling up his hair

“What am I supposed to say about that?!”

“I don’t know”

“You sound like you love me, or something?”

As if that could be doubted. He wouldn’t be having so much trouble paying attention if he didn’t

“I do. Very much. Have you taken many photos?”

“Yeah... I mean... a few”

Lance had the feeling Keith was trying to cover up that most of those photos were of him from the tightness in his boyfriend’s tone

“We should take some more. I don’t want to forget this day”

Keith dropped his head down to kiss Lance on the shoulder

“Where I made your brain go all stupid?”

“Mhmm. If you think I’m stupid now, you should see me later”

Keith cocked his head

“What do you mean?”

“You see, I have this boyfriend. He’s kind of fucking amazing... and he turns me into this massive mess when we’re in bed together. Can’t think at all about anything important other than him. Zero brain cells remaining”

Keith snorted at him, Lance managing to sound to proud and serious at the same time, ruining it by laughing at the end. Keith deserved to feel good about himself. He was wonderful and everything Lance could want. Other people had stared at Keith as they’d made their way through the complex, but Keith was oblivious to their looks

“Are you sure you had brain cells to begin with?”

“My sources say no. I’m sorry I made you worry. I know you want everything to go well, and it is. I love you”

“I love you, too. Though I do think the fish are much more interesting than I am”

“That’s because you don’t see what I see. Just like elbow me if you catch me staring or phasing out”

Lance tilted his head, leaning down to nuzzle into Keith, Keith wrapping his arms around him as he nuzzled back

“Nah. Having you watching me... it’s nice to know you can’t take your eyes off me”

None of the fish compared to Keith. Not the tiny Neon Tetras, or the rainbow of colours of the fake coral reef that the Gropers swam over. The Black Cardinals reminded him of Shiro and the clownfish of watching Finding Nemo for the first time. He didn’t know what fish suited Keith the best, but he’d buy a whole damn aquarium if he got to see Keith so excited every day of his life. Actually, he wouldn’t. His boyfriend would be sad each time a fish passed and they were both pretty clueless over how much went into running a place like that. What Lance really wished was that he could bottle the happiness he felt when he watched Keith’s eyes tracking the fish in the tanks. The way his eyes would widen, or he’d squint to find the fish in the tank, then widen when he’d found his target. They should have picked up Keith’s proper camera. Next time they’d have to come with the twins and the rest of their family. But that’d be okay because he’d gotten to see all these expressions on Keith’s face that made him fall in love all over again.

[ottostherapy]

Forbidden love

Pansy Parkinson x Slytherin!Reader

summary: 5.th year Slytherin dormroom conversation between Pansy, Daphne and the Reader lead to a weird role-play in the halls until the fellow Slytherins bring firewhiskey. A truth and a dare later Pansy and the Reader find themselves in an awkward position.

Word count: 3368

a/n: Okay. I have been inactive for a few years now, I know. I thought I had deleted this account to be honest, I reckon I haven’t. I am completely obsessed with the Wizarding World at the moment and I had this funny idea about writing a Pansy Parkinson fanfic/imagine (because I only found a few asking auntie google).

„Okay now. Y/N, your turn.” Pansy Parkinson was stretched on her sheets, prone with her head supported by her hands, legs dangling in the air, her feet furiously paddling forth and back. “Let’s go with Vincent Crabbe, Marcus Flint and …”, she frowned.

“Percy Weasley!” Daphne Greengrass, currently right next to me, tugged comfortably under my blankets, feet intertwined, exclaimed, chuckling.

I rolled my eyes. My best friends shot each other a glance, holding in laughter. They, of course, knew all too well I didn’t approve of their choices.

“I’ll most definitely kill Marcus, have you guys ever looked at him?” I shivered. “I might marry Percy of all of them, after all, he was headboy a few years ago and he seems to be quite … decent.” I puckered my lips.

Pansy in her own bed, like the princess she was, snorted. “You’d have to deal with a dozen of the other red-headed Weasleys then!”

“Still better than Vince to be blunt. Imagine having to follow him following Draco all day long.” I snapped the chocolate frog out of Daphne’s hand and beheaded it. She pouted.

“Oh my, my. Wouldn’t that be perfect, Y/N? Maybe you could start a steamy love affair.” Pansy grinned turning to her side. Her hand now ruffled in her dark hair, with that sly smile plastered to her lips, raised an eyebrow at me. Her black pyjama had given in to gravity, entwining around her waist.

“Isn’t he reserved for you, Pans?” I said, trying to swallow the bitter tone, that had settled on the back of my tongue.

“Would you stop talking about Draco?” Daphne shoved the last piece of chocolate into her mouth. “I perfonnally fink he if no-boyfriend material”, she licked the tips of her fingers, “and both of you know that!” Daphne had never been fond of Draco, even though we technically were friends. To some degree at least.

“I don’t even want to be more then whatever we are right now”, I crossed my arms over my torso, expecting Pansy to repeat after me, however she didn’t.

She just shrugged. “I don’t really mind. He has a cute side to him, don’t you think?”

I silently exchanged disgusted look with Daphne.

“No, Pansy. I tend to not think about him ever too often … Actually I tend to not think at all, I heard it endangers my stupidity, so I’m limiting that, maybe you should try it out as well.” It would definitely do her better than frequently thinking about the blonde boy.

“Well Y/N, I am certainly not surprised, I always knew there was something intriguing about you … I just never came around to figure out what it was.” Pansy shot me a smirk and her eyebrow popped again. This girl, Merlin!

“Oh, and I always thought it was my astonishing looks.” I snickered.

“No.” If I didn’t know better, I’d interpret Pansy’s rose cheeks for a blush maybe, for a flirtatious side-effect even, but I knew better. “I admire your boldness however, Miss Y/L/N. Maybe you have been sorted into the wrong house.” She sat up, hovered her bare feet over the stone floor. “We could be living a forbidden romance, imagine.” To my luck she turned the lights off, tapping off to the bathroom.

I, however, felt my cheeks burning, felt flustered, felt excited. How was Pansy so dreadfully playful with people around her. I knew not to dwell on the feeling she had me at right now, she was princess charming, not only with me. Sometimes I felt as though she needed to push every door open, to have any possibility and I wasn’t sure if it was a compulsive behaviour or if she just had fun doing it.

I snapped out of my thoughts when a warm finger brushed against mine. “Don’t you worry about it.” Daphne whispered. “She’ll realise eventually.” The blonde girl wrapped her arms around me and I sighted.

“How did you know?” I had always been careful to tell secrets, but this one, I hadn’t intended for anyone to find out. Not even Daphne after all.

“Come on, Y/N! I’ve known you for 13 years, don’t you think I can read your emotions by now?” Well, I certainly couldn’t read hers …

As the next morning rose, I was still caught up in the events, that happened last night. My gaze was dancing out of the window – the dim morning sky painted clouds all over the horizon – over to Pansy Parkinson. She was in a deep slumber, her face relaxed, even though her eyelids twitched from time to time.

I remembered her lips touching my forehead ever so slightly in the dark room. “We could be an adventure, darling!” She had whispered before turning to go to sleep herself.

Daphne had snuck her arm around my waist, pulling me close to her body. I knew she just wanted to help, but her embrace had made me feel even worse. I longed for the other girls’ touch, for her body to warm me up, for her to give me comfort. But there was no way Pansy would ever be mine.

I exhaled heavily before getting off to the bathroom. At least this way none of us had to fight for the sink and toilet.

As I was almost done, the door opened and in walked a very sleepy Pansy. She rubbed her Puppy eyes, blinking at me.

“Love”, she whispered. “I didn’t expect you here this early in the morning.” She walked over to me. “How did you get in?”

I gave her a look of confusion. “Are you alright, Pansy?” I handed her her green toothbrush.

“Hush, love.” Her eyes widened. “No one has to know.” She breathed, preparing her toothbrush, stuck it into her mouth. “Don’t shoo remember? Our forbibben love!” She found a loose strand of Y/H/C hair to tuck behind my ear. Her delicate hand brushed against my skin, leaving a tray of tickles. What was happening?

For a moment we stood in front of each other, eying the other girl up and down. Pansy, even with the toothbrush in her mouth, with messy hair, in a wrinkled pyjama made my heart beat faster. Made butterflies whirr around my stomach, made my breath hitch.

She gave me a sleek smile. Could she possibly know?

“Eh, Y/L/N! Cut my ingredients for me?” Pansy pointed to the flobberworm in front of her.

“What is she up to?” I mouthed to Daphne.

She shrugged, but gave me a light push.

“Why should I cut your flobblewobble, Pans?” I felt weirdly intrigued.

“Because I want you to.” She snorted. “You don’t want to get on Snape’s bad side, do you?”

“Pansy, I am not a Gryffindor.” I laughed, even though her determined role-play turned me on. Just a tad bit.

“There’s no denying it, Y/L/N” Pansy crept behind me and pushed her arms to the desk on either side of my body. “Do as you’re told”, she commanded, her voice cold and stern, but she added a muffled “Love” right into my ear.

I felt my knees weaken and decided it would probably be best to obey.

And so I found myself between Pansy’s arms over and over again with her head over my shoulder, watching closely. It went thus far, that Snape gave her a detention for distracting me. She just snickered and I could swear to have heard her say “worth it” as I walked back to Daphne.

The weeks flew by quickly, while the new self-proclaimed head-mistress professor Umbride prohibited almost everything, Pansy still found ways to get me all flustered.

She would place her hand on my thigh when sitting next to each other, pulled me in by my waist to mutter words like “love” or “darling” to me. She made the good-night kisses to my forehead a tradition and sometimes she would come so close to me, I felt her heart race in her chest.

I had realised by now that the feeling was mutual, I wasn’t stupid after all, but I enjoyed being the centre of her undivided attention. If it were up to me, you’d keep up that game she was playing. Granted I liked being her toy, I liked, that she had to know I went mad for everything she did to me, for every feeling, for every little touch.

One day I found myself in the Slytherin common room, accompanied by a large group of my friends. I sat next to Daphne at the large table, attempting to ignore my yelling classmates to write an essay for the transfiguration class. Next to Daphne sat her younger sister Astoria, snickering with two other girls of her year.

Right by the fireside, plopped onto one of the couches, lay Pansy. Her head was nestled in Dracos lap, her knees were bent over the armrest. She had her eyes on me, watching my every move.

I tried to blend it out as best as I could, but my thoughts came back to her piercing brown eyes. My ears were pointed towards their conversation, anticipating Pansy to make a move.

“Honestly, I cannot believe the ministry is that stupid.” Blaise Zabini, a tall boy from my year and a dear friend, sneered.

He was sat opposite to the fire place in an emerald, velvety armchair. All I was able to see from my place was his shaved black hair, but I was certain, he was holding the Daily Prophet, since he was invested in politics.

“They were stupid enough to not lock our parents up in Azkaban.” Draco grimaced. “This has been long overdue.”

Pansy shot up. “Draco, you don’t really think You-know-who will make things better”, she glared at him.

He shrugged. “At least the mudbloods would vanish.”

“Yes, they would, and our backbone as well.” She jumped to her feet. “Just because your parents are his pets, doesn’t mean he treats all his followers with mercy!” Angrily she paced around the small table in the middle of the sofas. “I heard him using the Cruciatus Curse on my mother in the summer, because he perceived my parents disloyal.”

You jumped as she kicked the table. Hesitantly you stood up from your chair.

“I am scared, Draco.” She continued then with a thrilling tone. “And you should be, too!” She allowed herself to fall back to her previous place, however she didn’t consider flopping back to his lap. Instead she waved me over imperiously.

I had my eyes plastered to the ground as I sat down between her and Draco. I felt grateful for my parents not being Death Eaters, I felt grateful I didn’t wake up at nights shivering, I didn’t have to shriek in my slumber, but I felt anxious as well. Unlike many other students, I had no point in denying the dark lord was back, for all your fellow students said.

“I have to admit”, Blaise raised his voice after what felt like an eternity of silence, “I am equally averse.” He pondered, folding the paper in his hand. “I just don’t think we’re standing a chance with these idiots making decisions.”

I felt Pansy’s head resting on my shoulder and a shiver ran down my spine.

Draco on my other side uttered profanities. He knew they were right, but he enjoyed being important. He enjoyed it over the cost it took.

“I hate this.” He groaned, bending forward to hide his face in his hands. Maybe Pansy was right, he could be cute sometimes. When he forgot that he actually was a git.

Nobody dared to object. We just sat for a while, a mutual silence wavering over our heads. Even Astoria and her gang had muted their voices. I wanted to shoot a glance to Daphne, but I didn’t dare breaking the moment.

If the Dark Lord was to recruit my friends, what would I do? Stand my ground? Follow them? Maybe I would just pretend to be too stupid to become one of them. Would he kill me, if he thought I was merely a squib? Or would I have the chance to just stay in the background? I didn’t ever want to find out.

The four of us were jolted out of our thoughts by the lovely “Hello, fuckers!” Millicent Bulstrode threw at us as she entered the common room. She was followed by Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who were only ever called by their surnames.

“You will not believe what we managed to sneak in here!” Triumphantly she looked over all of our faces. Crabbe and Goyle grinned stupidly.

Bulstrode shooed Daphne over to where we sat, so our year was almost fully assembled around the small table.

“What is it you have?” Pansy asked, slightly annoyed. She wrapped her hands around my waist, pulling me tighter. She hid her face into the fabric of my grey sweater.

“Firewhiskey!” Bulstrode grinned, taking the brown bottle out of her robe.

“Where’d you get that?” Draco snapped.

“Filch’s office. He had confiscated it from some stupid seventh year Gryffindors, so we confiscated it from him. The pink monster wouldn’t want to find her favourite man drinking, would she?” Bulstrode grunted.

She was a big girl with a big attitude. She stomped over anything in her way and I was lucky enough to have only been once a thorn in her side.

“Well, I am down.” Blaise said. He looked exhausted.

“Yeah, Bullstrode!” Pansy cheered. “That actually is exactly what I need right now.”

“Don’t you think she is going to find out?” Daphne carefully opposed.

Crabbe shook his head. “No one would suspect us, Daphne. We are good students, we behave. She will probably accuse the Weasleys.”

Daphne tilted her head. “Fair point. Let’s play a game then!”

“Truth or Dare!” Pansy decided quickly. Her spirit awakening again. Her head left my shoulder, her hands drawing back to her own body.

I pouted visibly and she gave me a laugh. “Imagine what this game has to offer, love”, she breathed into my ear.

“Okay, I go first!” Goyle exclaimed. He looked challengingly at Bulstrode.

The girl rolled her eyes at him “Dare.” And so she came back 2 minutes later, spilling her entire gathering of sweets to the ground and took a sip, just for the fun. Thus, every one took a sip for fun.

I could feel the alcohol burn its way down my throat. The first few rounds we repeated the procedure, finding out Crabbe had a crush on Hannah Abbott, Blaise had once skinny dipped with Theodore Nott and Daphne certainly did not enjoy giving Draco a lap dance. He didn’t either.

I felt my cheeks burn as my best friend returned to the opposite sofa, crimson-headed. Bulstrode and Goyle laughed malicious laughs at her, handing the bottle over to Pansy.

She took a long sip and handed the bottle over to me. Her cheeks were as red as I imagined mine to be, plus I already felt a tad light-headed, so I passed, handing Draco the bottle. His pale skin had turned a little green, or was that the light? I couldn’t tell.

He as well took a long sip and gulped down the burning liquid. “Dare.” He said, putting the bottle to the middle of the table.

It was Daphne’s turn to set him a task, but she seemed to have lost her voice to her performance, so I quickly chimed in: “I dare you to kiss the cutest person in this room!” Only after I had said my words, I realised he would most likely turn to Pansy for that. Ouch. Why so stupid?

“Out of our round or out of this room?” Blaise enquired. Eyeing to the table where Astoria and her friends were still chatting.

“Room is what I said.” I repeated, hoping Blaise knew something I didn’t.

Draco shook his head. “Can I just drink?” He hissed.

“Nuh-uh.” Pansy had a devilish grin on her face. “You either do the dare or you have to take an article of clothing off … Along with the alcohol, of course.”

Considering the fact, he was only wearing his white shirt, and black school trousers the undressing would be interesting.

Draco glared at Pansy. “I know whom I had to kiss if Y/N had said the most obnoxious person.” He rose from the sofa and walked around the black piece of furniture. He stopped behind Pansy, bowing down to her. His face had changed from green to a light pink.

My fingernails dug into the soft skin of my palms. Of course he was going to kiss Pansy, why didn’t I think beforehand?

Draco’s face came closer to Pansy’s, who had laid her head to her neck. She didn’t even seem to mind.

Right as Draco was to connect their lips, he grimaced. “Ew.” He pulled away.

“You still need to do the dare”, Pansy snickered. Arrogant, as she was, her arm lurked around my shoulder, pulling me into her chest. “You wouldn’t think I’d kiss Draco before you, love, now would you?” I stiffened. Would she? I couldn’t tell. After all this was just a game.

Pansy placed a kiss to my nose, chuckling at me.

While she tried to cuddle me up, Draco walked over to the table. I was sure he had never been so insecure in his whole life. Attentively he tapped her shoulder. We watched as they exchanged a few words.

Suddenly Daphne stood behind him, fuming. “You are not kissing my little sister!” She dragged him back to our table by his wrist. Much to the displeasure of Astoria, who looked after him in her sisters grip dreamily.

Draco and Daphne both seemed relieved as they sat down.

“Pansy. Truth or dare?” Draco immediately shot at the brown-haired girl.

She smirked “Truth.” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Tell us what you dreamt last night”, Draco demanded.

Pansy turned bright red. I turned my face to look her in the eyes, but she avoided mine. Carefully she opened the buttons to her white blouse.

I gasped. What had she dreamt that she would rather take off her shirt than tell us? Also why did Draco know? Why had she told him about it and not me?

Dracos eyes had a devilish shine. “Well I guess since Pansy couldn’t speak the truth, I can challenge another person.”

No one disagreed, Pansy shivered.

She was wearing a black bra, her skin was patchy, whether it was the alcohol or her embarrassment, she tried to hide it. Her arms crossed in front of her bust.

“Goyle has not been truth or dared yet”, Goyle said, but Draco shook his head.

“I was thinking about Y/N.” I snapped. What was he planning?

“Y/N/N, what do you think?” Draco wrapped his arm around me, pulling me to his side.

What had I, everyone wanted to hug me so badly?

“Dare.” I shoved Dracos arm away.

“That’s what I was hoping for.” He stood up. “I think we are all ready for a snogging session between you and Pansy, five minutes at least and make it entertaining.” He squeezed in between Daphne and Goyle.

“Erm.” I looked over to Pansy. She snorted.

“Really Malfoy?”, she spat. “You do us a favour?”

Draco shrugged. “You’re getting on my nerves. She’s all you’re ever talking about.”

Now was my turn to blush. I was all Pansy ever talked about?

I scooped over, sudden courage flooding my veins.

She took my face into her hands, her soft hands, and smiled shyly at me before I closed the gap between our lips.

I could taste the firewhisky on her lips. I closed my eyes. My heart throbbed against her bare chest and I couldn’t stop my hands from touching her.

She was left with goosebumps under my fingertips. I stroke over her waist to which I earned a whimper from her lips. She arched her back to the direction of my body.

It was funny seeing how she had been so demanding and dominant in the last weeks, but was now melting to my every touch. Oh how she was crazy for me, too.

[artificialqueens]

No Strings Attached, Part 3 (Willaska, Bitney) - Albatross, Veronica

AN: New life, new university, new friends…what more could Alaska ask for? Following the end of her relationship with Jinkx, Alaska has decided to pack up and move to a new college…on the other side of the country. Nothing like a bit of space to get over a break up, right? As she settles in for her new life, Alaska must navigate her new surroundings and of course, her new roommates with some very strong personalities of their own. A collab with the amazing @veronicasanders.

All things considered, Alaska was having a pretty decent start to her school year. Sure, the first couple of days had been difficult. And sure, she still had times when she just wanted to crawl under her covers and block out the entire world. But she thought she was adjusting quite well, otherwise.

When she first met Bianca, she was completely thrown by her particular brand of in-your-face, abrasive humor. But over the next few weeks, she began to see Bianca for who she really was – consistent, reliable, organized to the point of compulsiveness, and (though Bianca would never admit it), genuinely caring. She was the one who brought home orange juice and medicine when Alaska got a cold. She was the one who kept the liquor cabinet stocked and the kitchen clean and made a schedule for the bathroom on busy mornings to keep them all from losing their minds.

Alaska had to admit, also, that they had a bit more in common than she first assumed. Even more than the fact that they were both gay transfer students who sometimes felt out of place. They could both appear a little judgey and uptight. But once they trusted you, both of them were ride-or-die loyal. And both, with just a little arm-twisting, could be persuaded to really cut loose, having no problem keeping up with their life-of-the-party roommates.

Alaska had written Courtney off that first day as a vapid, overly familiar busybody. The type of person who sailed through life with a pretty face and shallow charm. But quickly, she realized that Courtney’s sometimes endless questions were just a sign of genuine interest in other people, a desire to get deep – maybe a little too quickly for Alaska’s comfort, but certainly with the best of intentions. Her bubbly personality, rather than annoying Alaska, soon became endearing, and Alaska found herself looking forward to their chats, to getting recaps of her favorite lectures and even to opening up.

And then there was Willam. Alaska still hadn’t quite figured Willam out. She liked her; she knew that much, but she remained a bit of an enigma. For starters, Willam never seemed to crack a book. While the rest of them would be stressing over papers and exams, Willam would be out shopping, partying late into the night and then up at the crack of dawn to go to the gym. Of the four of them, Willam seemed to be the only one who regularly brought home any overnight guests. (As far as Alaska could tell, Bianca’s liaisons were discreet and off-campus. And Courtney, despite being the most flirtatious person Alaska had ever met, seemed to keep her romantic adventures limited to above-the-waist making out at parties.) More than once, Alaska had stumbled out of bed in the morning to find a “friend” of Willam’s being entertained in the kitchen. Usually by Courtney, with Bianca offering them coffee and a complimentary STD test. As for Ms. Belli herself? She’d be at the gym or the mall, content to let her forgotten tryst fend for themselves.

And that was the other thing. So far, every one of her one-night-stands was with a boy. Which was fine, and Alaska was usually the last person to judge someone’s romantic choices. However, Willam had been pretty clear about being bi, so it made Alaska wonder. Why only guys? Was she actually attracted to girls, more than just in theory? And if so…what kind of girl would she like? Alaska tried not to dwell on all the questions, especially the last one, but it was hard. Willam was just such a mystery. One she found more intriguing than any others.

But in spite of that, and the elusive weirdness of how Willam earned her money (thankfully, Alaska still didn’t have more details on that), there was something truly compelling about her. Her wicked sense of humor, her surprisingly soft heart, her ability to make any and every situation fun.

Although occasionally, her need for fun got a bit out of control. Like tonight. Alaska and Courtney were sitting in the living room studying when Willam waltzed in with a healthy buzz and a man on each arm. Tall, dark, identical men, like a pair of Ken dolls.

“Jeremy, that’s Courtney. She’s the one I told you about,” Willam said, then added in a stage whisper, “No gag reflex.”

“Hey Bill,” Courtney said with a wary smile. “What’s going on?”

“Not much. I just thought you’d like my friend Jeremy here. He’s got a nice dick.”

“You haven’t seen my dick,” Jeremy laughed.

“No, but you guys are twins, right?” Willam smirked, then turned back to Courtney, saying, “It’s real nice, trust me.”

“Good to know,” Courtney said, voice just slightly clipped. She might have had a tense, polite smile on her face but Alaska could easily spot the growing irritation in her eyes.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Alaska muttered, gathering up her things. Time to go hide in her bedroom, she figured. Hell, she’d almost rather study in the dorm’s parking lot than stay in the living room for whatever this was.

“You sure?” asked the Not-Jeremy Twin with a wink. “You don’t wanna stay and party?”

“She’s a lesbian,” Willam informed him. “But Lask, if you’re curious-”

“Uh, no thanks. Have fun, kids.” Alaska saluted and hightailed it into her bedroom, shutting and locking the door firmly behind her.

As soon as she had dumped her belongings on her bed, she dug out her headphones and blasted some music in preparation for what she’d likely be hearing later on. The only thing she had wished she’d remembered was to grab a snack from the kitchen. Likely Willam and Courtney would be busy entertaining for the next few hours and the last thing she wanted to do was walk in on something. Especially given how loud she’s already heard Willam being from time to time, even when knowing one of her roommates was still around.

Oh, well. It was only a few hours. Could be worse, she figured. Now to figure out what playlist to use this time.

*******

Hours later, Willam emerged from the bedroom, yawning, hair a mess, expecting to find Courtney and Jeremy on the sofa. Instead, her roommate was curled up beside Bianca with a huge bowl of popcorn, watching some bullshit on Netflix.

A bit miffed, Willam marched around the side of the couch in front of the pair of giggling women and put her hands on her hips. “Uh…hello?” she asked, annoyance tinting her voice.

“Hey,” Courtney replied, neck craning to keep her eyes on the TV.

“Where’s Jeremy?” Willam demanded impatiently.

“Gone,” Courtney replied simply and with a pleasant smile to boot.

“Yeah, I see that. What the fuck, Courtney? You were supposed to keep him entertained!” Willam was getting even more irritated at the way Courtney practically ignored her.

“Yeah, well, for some reason, he was under the impression that I was gonna blow him, so things got real awkward real fast.”

Bianca snickered in the background, then noticed Willam’s angry glare and looked away quickly, shoving some popcorn into her mouth. Still a grin was still present on her lips as she undoubtedly listened with bated breath for what would happen next.

Willam stepped closer towards, arms crossed and asked, “So why didn’t you just blow him?”

Courtney rolled her eyes and said irritably, “I’m not gonna suck a dick just because you tell me to.”

“You should be thanking me!” Willam exclaimed. “You haven’t gotten laid all semester and he was hot. I was doing you a favor.”

“Thanks, Bill. You’re so generous,” Courtney said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Whatever, you’re such a baby!” Willam flounced from the room, beyond annoyed and not wanting to look at Courtney’s stupid face anymore. She just didn’t understand how Courtney could turn down such a hot piece of ass (who was clearly up for anything) in order to just laze around on the couch with Bianca! She thought Courtney would be grateful to her for bringing home such an easy score. God, the nerve of her sending him off! She could have at least given him back to Willam.

******

“Hey…” Alaska nodded to Willam as she approached the coffee maker. She’d obviously just come home from the gym, and per usual, hadn’t gone straight for a shower. Instead, she was sitting at the table, sipping some hideous-smelling vanilla protein shake.

“Morning,” Willam replied.

Alaska poured a generous mug of coffee, blowing on it softly while she leaned against the counter. She looked at Willam again, questions from last night still swirling around in her head.

“You and Courtney still fighting?”

“Huh?” Willam blinked in confusion.

“Bianca said you guys were fighting last night,” Alaska replied slowly and carefully, “Over the whole Jeremy thing?”

Willam’s brow furrowed. “Who’s Jeremy?” she asked, as if she really had no idea who Alaska was talking about.

Alaska’s jaw dropped in amazement. How could Willam not remember this? “The twins!” she exclaimed, “The one you brought home for Courtney?”

“Ohhh.” Willam waved her hand dismissively. “That wasn’t a fight. I just didn’t understand why she’d turn down perfectly good dick. She’s basically been celibate all semester, it’s weird.” Alaska raised an eyebrow, and Willam quickly added, “She doesn’t have a reason, like you.”

“Maybe she just…isn’t interested in dick right now. Even if it’s good,” Alaska offered. Her nails drummed against her coffee mug.

“Pfft. She is, you should have seen her last year. She’s just…I don’t know, punishing herself for something.”

Of course, Alaska had noticed how Courtney hung on Bianca’s every word, laughed gleefully at every joke, eyes sparkling with adoration. She noticed the way Courtney’s touches would linger on Bianca’s skin, the way she leaned into Bianca with every chance, had to force herself to leave Bianca’s side. She thought you’d have to be blind not to notice. And Willam, it appeared, was blind.

“Right. Well…I’m glad you guys are cool.”

“Yeah, we’re always cool,” Willam laughed. “Even when she’s a spoilsport.”

“While we’re on the topic of dick…” Alaska began tentatively, and Willam’s eyes lit up.

“Reconsidering that threesome idea?” she asked. Willam’s stomach flipped in anticipation of the answer.

“Definitely not. No, I was just wondering…” She hesitated, unsure if she really wanted to go down this line of questioning. It was potentially invasive, and she knew that Willam might very well get defensive. Or worse.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Alaska said, wrinkling her nose and taking another sip of her coffee. “It’s probably offensive.”

“I dare you to offend me,” Willam challenged, eyes narrowing slightly, but still shining with joy.

“Well…you’re bi, right?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve only ever seen you with guys though,” Alaska said carefully.

“So?”

“Well…so…are you sure you’re into girls, too?”

“Wow. You’re right. That is offensive,” Willam deadpanned.  

“I just mean…you know, you talk about dick a lot,” Alaska said. “But I’ve never heard you express any…you know what, it’s none of my business.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” Willam stirred her drink violently, lips pursed.

“Okay then.” Alaska began to back out of the room. “Sorry.”

Willam heaved an aggravated sigh. “Alaska.”

Stopping in her tracks, Alaska replied softly, “Yeah?”

It took a few beats before she answered. Her eyes had dropped to her smoothie, suddenly having lost any desire to finish it. Her stomach felt like it was in knots as she debated letting Alaska see this more vulnerable side of herself. There was a reason she didn’t really like to go on about girls. A very good reason. One she doubted Alaska would truly understand. “I guess I just have a harder time with girls. I don’t really know how to read them. Even flirting sometimes just feels…risky.”

“I can’t imagine you ever having a hard time flirting,” Alaska said, a cautious smile curling at the edges of her lips. She took a few steps closer to Willam and cocked her head to the side as an invitation to continue.

“Well. It’s relative,” Willam began to babble, “I mean, guys are so easy. They’re like…simple, basic, dumb creatures. You know? It doesn’t take much. Usually nothing more than a smile.” She looked up for a second, then back at Alaska, eyes clear and bright. “So I don’t have to work hard, or be intuitive, or sensitive. Women are more complicated than that. And…it’s a lot harder to brush it off if they don’t want me. So…” she trailed off. 

Alaska sat down next to her, saying quietly, “That may be true. But…what if it’s worth it? The extra suffering?”

“Good question. I dunno.” Willam chuckled wryly, shrugging.

“Just some food for thought,” Alaska said, giving her a big smile and quick wink.

******

“Come on, please?” Willam pleaded as she shadowed Courtney around the tiny kitchen space. “For $500? It’s such easy money!”

Briskly preparing her tea, Courtney replied firmly, “I said no, Bill!” Irritation was beginning to creep in at the edges of her voice. But Willam was relentless.

“But you’re not even getting naked.” Willam argued with a heavy sigh, causing Bianca and Alaska, sitting at the kitchen’s island to exchange a look of confusion and curiosity with one another. “Just sitting on your bed, reading. You said you had a lot of reading to do.”

Courtney swirled in a dash of almond milk with her tea, clanging the spoon quite deliberately against the sides. “Yeah, I do! And I need to concentrate,” she stressed, raising the cup to her lips. After taking a shallow sip and deciding she needed one last glug of milk, she huffed out, “I don’t need some gross dude heavy breathing at me while I do it.”

Now things are starting to make more sense, Alaska thought to herself. Bianca shared another expressive look with her and returned back to flipping through the study packet in front of her. Taking that as her cue, Alaska pretended to find something much more interesting on her phone. In truth, however, she was listening in quite acutely and she had a guess Bianca was probably doing the same as well.

Groaning in frustration, Willam pointed out, “He’s not that gross.”

“High praise,” Courtney muttered as she rolled her eyes and returned the milk back to the fridge.

Willam watched in bewilderment as Courtney settled in at the island with their roommates. How could Courtney refuse such easy money? It was literally getting paid to just sit somewhere and go about her business.

But she needed Courtney for this appointment! She had her eye on a pair of new Louboutin heels that were supposed to be released in the next month or so and she had to get her preorder in now! They always ran out of her size by the time they actually hit the shelf and who knew how long it would be before they were restocked?

This one appointment, if all went well, would be the last chunk of change she needed in order to confirm her preorder. This client had been a long standing one, scheduling regular sessions every few weeks, especially if Willam could entice another cute co-ed to join her, even if it was just in the background. And when she saw him reaching out at the most absolutely perfect moment, Willam immediately offered pull in a second person. 

Normally, Willam would have simply reached out to Tatianna, a flirty sophomore she met last year at some frat party. Tatianna never had an issue joining Willam’s appointments for a cut of the action and was always up for a quick make out session, on or off camera. She was absolutely perfect for this client but as Willam soon discovered, she was working off-campus today with absolutely no chance to get back in time for the appointment. Even Willam’s second, third, and fourth choice all had plans or simply weren’t interested.

Fuck!

But maybe…she might be able to entice a certain roommate of hers…she hoped.

However, Willam could see that Courtney was absolutely not going for it. Wincing to herself as she made this decision, she offered, “Fine, a thousand.” Good bye, matching sunglasses.

“No!” Courtney squealed out. God, Willam was persistent today. But even Alaska had choked a little as she heard the amount.

Perking back up, (and confirming Alaska’s suspicions she’d been listening with bated breath), Bianca was baffled, “You’re turning down a thousand dollars?”

“Would you do it?” Courtney countered, staring at her with a pointed look in her eyes.

Not even having to think twice, Bianca answered, “Hell yeah.” Turning back to Willam as she gathered up her text book, study packet, phone and pen, she asked, “Right now?”

Seeing some light at the end of the tunnel, Willam’s beaming smile returned and offered up a high five, “Alright, B!” She stuck her tongue out at Courtney for good measure.

Nose wrinkling, Courtney asked with disbelief, “You’re really gonna let some disgusting mouth breather watch you study just to make a few bucks?”

“It’s a thousand dollars,” Bianca pointed out as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. And really, wasn’t it?

Even Alaska had to admit she had not seen this coming. She’d given up all pretext of staring at her phone in order to watch this exchange instead.

But before Bianca could scamper off with her things, Willam piped up with, “Whoa, whoa, whoa…I said I could get her a thousand dollars. I don’t have an offer for you yet.”

Bianca opened her mouth in indignation to begin arguing but Courtney cut her off with a very confused, “She should get more than me. Her tits are bigger.” 

“That’s not exactly how the pricing works,” Willam laughed out. If only Courtney knew the half of it, she thought to herself.

Drumming the fingers of her free hand against the counter, a smooth, rhythmic clicking sound filling the kitchen, Bianca remained thoughtful for a moment before asking, “So how much would I get?”

Even Alaska was curious about the answer. “Probably at least five hundred,” Willam shrugged before unlocking her phone. “Gimme a minute.”

How does that conversation even go? Alaska wondered. But then her thoughts drifted back to Willam’s entire business venture. How did Willam find her appointments, book them…talk to her, um,… clientele. 

Maybe some day she’d ask about that. Maybe even what, ahem, “services” she offered. Willam would probably be more than happy to tell her but somewhere deep in the pit of Alaska’s stomach, a twisting winding knot was starting to form. It often happened when her thoughts trailed towards questioning Willam’s side job and she learned pretty quickly just to let it drop after that. The twisting wasn’t exactly unpleasant but it was more than weird and Alaska just didn’t have the energy most of the time to figure out why.

As she thought about this, Bianca scurried over to Willam, looking over her shoulder and down at her phone. “I’ll do it for a thousand,” she said, trying to read Willam’s tiny ass messages running across her screen, “Why can’t I get a thousand?”

“Well, she’s blonde and she looks 16,” Willam replied simply as she messaged her client and answered his questions. 

Courtney let out an emphatic groan of disgust, “Gross!”

Bianca’s eyes narrowed at the implication Willam was trying to make. Pursing her lips, she asked testily, “Are you saying I’m too old to be a cam girl?”

“No!” Willam said all too quickly, head popping back up. “It’s just…you know, you look…like…early 20s?” There was a slightly apologetic tone to her voice that Bianca didn’t care for.

Annoyance creeped into her answer as she stated, “I am early 20s.”

“Right.”

“Rude,” she huffed out. “I could totally be a cam girl if I wanted to.”

“Of course you could, dearheart.” 

“Fuck you,” Bianca grumbled. “Bet I’d make a better one than you .”

“Look, just chill out, okay?” Willam muttered. Not her best attempt at smoothing things over but that was alright. “I can get you…750? But only if we kiss,” she quickly added in.

Bianca went thoughtful and silent for a few moments, mulling over her options. Courtney and Alaska watched her carefully while Willam returned to typing away on her phone. What’s she gonna do? Alaska mused. Seems like she’s really thinking about it.

Courtney looked to be holding her breath as well but her expression was a bit difficult to decipher. Cloudy, certainly, but not angry. No…maybe even- 

Finally, Bianca broke her silence to ask consideringly, “Would I get the money today?”

“Bianca!” Courtney gasped out.

Ignoring her, Willam answered in her most professional-sounding voice, “Yeah, they send it by Paypal.”

“Okay,” Bianca decided, “but I want the money first.”

“Fine,” Willam muttered, tapping away at her phone again, “Jesus.”

Bianca waltzed off with her belongings towards Willam and Courtney’s bedroom, smirk on her face and lazy thoughts of what she’ll do with the money, but Willam’s voice quickly interrupted her as she called out a strong suggestion of ‘prettying herself up a little’. “They love to think we just lounge around looking perfect all the time, waiting for them to call.”

“Ugh,” Bianca groaned, “This is turning into work.”

“Welcome to my life, bitch!”

******

Two hours later the women emerged from the Willam’s bedroom, laughing their asses off. Bianca was even wiping away the traces of a tear from her eye as they wandered into the living room. Both Courtney and Alaska looked up at them; Courtney from her text book and Alaska from her laptop where she may or may not have been streaming a podcast instead of reviewing her class notes.

“Appointment went well, I’m guessing?” Courtney spoke with a hint of suspicion in her tone. Or was that bitterness, Alaska wondered.

“Definitely,” Bianca assured her with a laugh.

Willam grinned as well and added in smugly, “Told you it was easy money.”

“Now I know why you do it,” Bianca quipped, resting against the arm of the couch nearest Courtney, addressing both of her roommates. “And I already checked; money’s in my account. $850, ” she boasted proudly. “He even tipped, the sleazy little sweetheart.” Then elbowing Courtney lightly in the side, she said with a smirk, “Betcha regret skipping out now, huh?”

“And having to kiss Willam for it?” she replied, her ears beginning to heat up. “Hard pass. I regret nothing.”

Bianca and Willam shared a brief look with one another and broke out laughing once again. Now feeling her cheeks beginning to grow warm, Courtney huffed out, “What? Didn’t you do it? Or was it just a stage kiss, like where you kiss your thumbs?”

At this, the women laughed even harder. Bianca even clutched onto the fabric of the couch as she tried to remain upright. Courtney’s eyes shot over to Alaska but even she had no clue what was so funny. All she could offer up was a very confused shrug after pulling out her ear buds.

“Care to let us in on the joke?” Alaska asked, her voice managing to sound both curious yet uninterested at the same time.

A teasing glint rose to Bianca’s eyes as they narrowed in on Courtney. Her voice was sweet and mocking as she leaned down and cooed, “Why don’t I just show you what we did?”

Courtney’s mind began to short circuit as a myriad of questions ran rampant through her thoughts. Was Bianca going to kiss her? Did she and Willam actually kiss? What did she mean by ‘show her’? Wait, was Bianca leaning in closer?

Every little detail felt like it was magnified by 100 as Bianca’s face slowly crept closer to hers. Then in an instant Bianca was on her feet again, one hand buried deep in Willam’s wavy hair while the other gently tilted her chin up and guided her lips towards Bianca’s. Willam’s own hands were gripping onto Bianca’s hips and pulling her in tight as they closed what little gap remained between them. Almost as soon as their lips touched, a low, drawn out moan echoed deep in Willam’s throat. The hand in Willam’s hair retreated, pulling a few strands along with it, as Bianca moved to carefully cup Willam’s cheek, stroking the skin softly with the pad of her thumb. Her other hand dropped to the curve of Willam’s back and kept her neatly in place; pressed tight against Bianca. Courtney had enough time to witness the subtle flexing of Willam’s fingers before a flurry of emotion swept through her.

All at once it was like a tidal wave had crashed over her as she sat dumbstruck on the couch watching their little show. Each emotion felt like it was clawing its way up through her stomach, trying to make itself known, only to be pulled back down again by another before Courtney could truly figure out what she was feeling. She was just beginning to recognize the growing sense of jealousy when her roommates broke apart, giggling like mad. Even Alaska didn’t seem much better off, her lips slightly parted in shock as she watched Willam and Bianca. She felt a strange burning in her chest. No, not exactly a burn but something heating up, overheating, twisting and knotting, feeling heavy and unmoveable.

“Definitely not stage kiss,” Bianca commented with a little wink for good measure as her hands finally withdrew from Willam’s body.

An awkward laugh escaped from Alaska as she noted, “Good job. Looked pretty real.”

“Thanks,” Bianca chuckled, smoothing out the hem of her shirt before settling in on the couch between Alaska and Courtney. “I’m a great actor, what can I say?” she added in dramatically before her giggling got the best of her. “But really, I did do a little theater work in high school.”

“Don’t recall any high school plays calling for that, ” Courtney remarked stonily.

Bianca rounded on her with a curious expression, as if trying to will Courtney to explain a little more. Even Willam raised a brow at her while she made herself comfortable in the recliner. But as Coutney’s gaze travelled from one pair of eyes to the next, she found herself withdrawing under the scrutiny. A strange sense of irritation was beginning to build in the back of her mind and was certainly not helped when Bianca mocked her with, “Something you wanna say, sweetheart?”

“No,” she grumbled all too quickly, then thinking better of it added in, “I just don’t remember any of my high school plays calling for something that…provocative.”

“‘Provocative’?” Willam repeated in that seal-laugh voice of hers. “The fuck do you mean, ‘provocative’?”

“I just-I don’t see any kissing like that in you know, Grease or Wicked or Our Town-”

“All straight couples,” Willam pointed out in a perfectly demeaning and mocking manner. “I see how it is. I’m sorry our rampant lesbianism offended your sheltered, innocent eyes.”

“Wow, Court,” Bianca added in, dramatically feigning a tone of surprise. “Didn’t take you to be such a prude.”

“I’m not!” Courtney interrupted, high voice climbing in pitch.

Willam pretended not to hear her and directed another “innocent” suggestion to Bianca, “Maybe she really is just homophobic?”

“I am not homophobic!” Courtney protested in a loud squeal. Alaska could see her becoming more and more frazzled but she was still trying her best to sound calm and level-headed.

She might have succeeded had Bianca not piled on with an incredibly disappointed, “Damn, Courtney. Homophobia in this day and age? I gotta say, I expected more from you.”

“Mh-mm,” Willam agreed with a nod of her head. “Cancelled!” she noted in a singsongy voice. 

Alaska picked up on the little smirks on each of the women’s lips but all of it went over Courtney’s head. She simply let out an angry huff and crossed her arms over her chest. “Whatever,” she grumbled moodily, “If you guys wanna be porno actors, go-”

“Oh!” Bianca interrupted with a scandalized gasp. Turning back to Willam with wide, appalled eyes, she said, “Did you hear that? She’s attacking sex workers now!”

“Double cancelled,” Willam stated all too seriously. “Very disappointing.”

Shaking her head sadly, Bianca continued to mock Courtney with a sugary sweet, “You wanna go for a triple? Say something about women of color, too?”

It was here Courtney completely lost it. She sputtered out protest after protest, or rather that was what Alaska imagined those stuttered, half choked off words to be. Courtney didn’t seem to know where to begin, what to say, anything really to defend herself. It was as if her brain had short circuited and every time a thought appeared that she tried to vocalize, in just another second, it would disappear without a trace and she’d have to start again.

Willam and Bianca found the whole thing to be hilarious; they were now outright laughing at her frustration as she tried to speak. Alaska however felt a sense of pity…and just a hint of irritation. Her stomach had grown uneasy as the teasing had built up and now it was just downright annoying. They just didn’t know when to stop and poor Courtney looked like she was nearing tears as she tried to explain herself.

“That’s enough,” Alaska interrupted through the loud laughter. Her voice was steady and clear. Polite yet firm. Leaning past Bianca, she placed a comforting hand on Courtney’s knee and assured her, “We know you’re not homophobic, Court. They just don’t know where to draw the line.”

She cast a pointed look towards both Willam and Bianca. The latter actually received quite a withering glare. Willam might be used to teasing Courtney like this but Bianca really ought to know better, Alaska reasoned.

Before withdrawing back to her seat, she offered a reassuring smile to Courtney. To her relief, Courtney didn’t seem as overwhelmed any more. She was able to return the gesture with a shaky smile of her own but she didn’t seem to trust herself to speak just yet.

Alaska’s glare seemed to have some kind of effect on Bianca, thankfully. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat then offered up a small apology to her roommate.

“It’s fine,” Courtney replied blankly, picking up her textbook again and trying to find where she last left off.

Alaska tried sending another glare down Willam’s way but she only rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. Alaska gave a heavy sigh and shook her head. Lost cause, she figured. But to her surprise, only a second or two after she turned her attention back to her laptop, she heard Willam saying in a shocking bout of sincerity, “Sorry, Court.”

It was reluctant, that much was clear in her voice, but she meant it. Courtney seemed equally as surprised by the apology as Alaska was. Her acceptance sounded rather stunned and amazed, if a bit cautious still. 

When Alaska glanced back towards Willam, she found her roommate staring at her with an odd expression. It was difficult to decipher but it almost looked…embarrassed? No, not quite that. Not ashamed, either.

Contrite.

That’s what it was.

Alaska had actually managed to make her feel guilty for teasing Courtney. A feat that seemed almost impossible to the both of them. And yet here it was.

Willam’s eyes darted away for a moment but once they returned to watch Alaska, the latter gave her roommate an approving nod of her head before returning to her business. If Courtney would accept her apology, then so would Alaska. Though she couldn’t deny there was still some queasiness in her stomach…especially when her thoughts trailed back to Willam and Bianca’s kiss.

But those thoughts didn’t belong in Alaska’s head. Instead she forced herself to think about other things. It didn’t sound as if Courtney had completely forgiven Bianca yet. They actually remained quiet towards one another for another hour, even after Willam turned on the TV and traded loud, sarcastic commentary with everyone else.

But by late afternoon, when Courtney had gotten up to retrieve another drink from the kitchen and Bianca followed, Alaska had the chance to witness their true reconciliation. She was a bit suspicious that Bianca had followed so closely behind but she noticed that again, Willam seemed blind to it. She was so focused on the trashy reality show on the TV, Alaska doubted that even realized anyone had left the couch.

Craning her neck, Alaska was able to subtly watch her roommates talking in the kitchen. She couldn’t hear them but she had a guess as to what they were saying. Bianca looked truly apologetic, even a little upset herself, while Courtney’s gaze was focused solely on her drink. Her eyes seemed a bit sad and dull to Alaska.

She watched anxiously as Courtney lifted her gaze to look Bianca dead in the eyes. Then those magic words played out on Bianca’s lips; “I’m sorry.”

Alaska didn’t need to hear them to know that was what she said nor that she truly meant it. There was a tense pause…then a slow, bittersweet smile rose to Courtney’s lips. She nodded her head just so and said something back that set Bianca’s nerves at ease. Bianca visibly relaxed at what she had heard and pulled Courtney in for a hug. As it was returned, Alaska would swear she saw Bianca’s lips moving once again but what she could be saying, Alaska could only speculate.

Shifting back to the TV, Alaska tuned in again just in time to hear another one of Willam’s hilarious, if slightly ridiculous,  commentaries. She laughed along with Willam, returned a jab of her own at the played up drama, and let herself relax with the newly restored peace.

******

The fear of midterms were now looming on the horizon…well, it was still like a month away but as Alaska found out all too dramatically freshman year, these kinds of things have a way of sneaking up on you. If you weren’t careful that is. 

Bianca was careful. Alaska was careful. Hell, even Courtney was somewhat careful. Willam though…

Alaska had yet to see her crack open a textbook for more than 10 minutes. Often she’d just pull one aside, sometimes open, sometimes not, and leaned over it with her phone in hand. She probably spent more time posting about studying than actually participating in it.

That frustrated Alaska. By now she knew all too well that Willam still had not chosen a major yet. She seemed to feel no pressure to pick out any particular field of study, or even just to study. Her grades seemed decent enough…so what was the problem?

She knew it wasn’t any of her business but she felt some concern for her friend. She wanted Willam to do well. She knew she could, if she had the right motivation. That was why Alaska kept reminding her about midterms, hoping she’d take the hint and finally look at her textbooks. But Willam’s only response was a carefree shrug, maybe a small noise of acknowledgement, and then she’d go right back to staring at her screen. 

All of this would cause Alaska to groan in frustration but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. She kept reminding Willam of the upcoming exams and finally Willam agreed to accompany Alaska to the library. Unsurprisingly, however, she failed to bring a single book or a laptop with her.

While Alaska diligently took notes from her psychology textbook, Willam scrolled through Instagram, chuckling to herself and trying to find the best light for selfies.

Well, at least she got Willam through the door. That was some kind of progress, right?

After about two hours or so of being bent over her textbook, Alaska stood up to stretch, and Willam immediately perked up. “You done?” she asked gleefully, “Wanna go out? It’s two for one margarita night at Twist.”

Alaska shook her head, chuckling.

“I don’t think midweek margaritas are the best choice for me,” she said. As Willam’s expression fell into a pout, she added, “But I could go for some coffee. Wanna walk over to the café?”

“Yeah, I guess that’ll do,” Willam said, standing up and helping her gather her things.

By the time they finally sat down at the cafe with their lattes, Willam was practically dancing in her seat.

“Have you checked Instagram?” she asked giddily, blue eyes sparkling.

“Oh god, what have you posted?” Alaska asked, picking up her phone. She opened Willam’s story, and soon found herself scrolling through multiple selfies, followed by an elaborate, goofy stop motion story of two of her own highlighters going camping under a dictionary. The second to last frame was a shot of Alaska herself looking up from her notes.

‘You’re not taking a picture of me, are you?’ she asked, head tilted. An animated crown gif sat atop her head, the foreground filled with fat adorable bunnies rolling around.

‘Of course not!’ Willam said.

The last shot was Willam, flipping the camera back to herself and giving a mischievous, lopsided grin.

“You’re so dumb,” Alaska laughed, shaking her head.

“So, you liked it?” Willam asked, smile spreading across her face.  

“Yeah, very creative,” Alaska said. 

Willam was beaming by now. A perfectly happy smile that even reached her eyes. It was cute, Alaska realized, Willam was cute. Impulsively, she then leaned forward and planted a kiss on Willam’s mouth. Her finger tucked itself under Willam’s chin for just a moment before pulling back.

The first thing she saw was Willam’s comically widened eyes; she was in a state of complete shock. “What…what do you…I-” she stammered, and Alaska giggled.

“Calm down,” she assured her roommate, “I’m not asking you to marry me.”

Willam let out a braying laugh at that. “Touché, bitch.”

With that goofy grin back on her lips, she leant in for a kiss of her own. Each could feel the other smiling into the kiss. Willam could’ve sworn she must have been drunk or fallen asleep back in the library in order for this to make sense. But every brush of Alaska’s fingertips across her bare arm or the feel of the material of Alaska’s skirt in her hand as it traveled up her thigh told her it was no dream.

Pulling away, just enough to speak, she suggested in a low voice, “Car?”

Alaska’s nod was immediate and in seconds they had grabbed all that they brought and were rushing back to the parking lot. They had the small presence of mind to relocate to the back of the lot, far away from where most cars would usually park, but following that, there was hardly a rational thought left between them. The hook up was messy and quick, neither of them getting any more undressed than necessary. Part of it was fear of being spotted, most of it was simply impatience.

It took very little for either of them to get worked up. Between the frantic, sloppy kisses, the desperate pawing to remove just some of their clothes, and the drunken high of just being able to touch one another…it was all over much too quickly. Their hair and clothes were in an absolute state by the time they managed to separate themselves enough to realize what they had done.

“That…” Alaska began, “That was something.”

“Yeah,” Willam agreed vacantly. Her mind felt elsewhere. She knew there were things to ask, things to be discussed but it was so hard to think right now. Not just because of the after-sex buzz but also because she truly and genuinely happy right now. She didn’t want to shatter that illusion, not yet.

“I had no idea how much I needed that.”

Willam let out a huff of a laugh. “Really?” Alaska nodded. Her lips curled into an almost self-conscious grin. It was kind of adorable, Willam had to admit. Scratching the back of her head, she commented airily, “Well, anytime.”

Alaska’s eyes lit up with cautious consideration. “Yeah?” she inquired.

There was a loaded pause. Willam could hear the blood pounding in her ears. As much as she tried to ignore it, something in her felt giddy and overexcited. She wouldn’t have thought Alaska would consider this to be more than a one time thing and yet…just maybe…“Yeah,” she finally confirmed, keeping her voice level and steady.

That seemed to be all there was to say for the longest time. Each was slowly coming down from their high and trying to sort out the mess that was their hair and makeup. Or at least Alaska was. Willam still felt in too much of a daze to care at this point. 

She remained lost in her thoughts until Alaska ventured, “We…Should we tell the others about this?”

“No-Yes! I mean…eventually, yeah, we have to but for right now, maybe just-”

“Our little secret?” Alaska proposed with a sly grin.

“Definitely,” Willam agreed with relief in her voice, glad to be on the same page. She really wasn’t sure how she could even explain this to their roommates. But that was a problem for another day.

She figured that’d be the end of this, at least for now, but Alaska managed to completely shock her by saying, “I really don’t want this to be the only time though. Is that okay?”

Willam’s heart was racing. She looked at Alaska long and hard trying to find any trace of this being a joke. She couldn’t get her hopes up like only to have them dashed away. But Alaska looked sincere, honest…She really wanted this…As casually as she could, Willam forced out, “Um, sure. Whenever.”

The smile she received shot straight through her soul. She was absolutely fucked and she knew it.

[geekgirles]

Lila is not a sociopath. Stop spreading false information

Are you sure about that, though?

It's true a character's sociopathy will not be openly discussed or addressed in a kids show, the same way it doesn't outright mention the several issues Adrien's developing as a side effect of his father's neglecting parenting. But those are things that can be sensed, and that's when fans who enjoy analyses, such as myself, step in to help.

Leaving aside that I find your accusation of me spreading false information uncalled for, I feel obliged to tell you, in the most respectful way possible, that this is an opinion shared by many and backed by many others through throughout observation.

There is one particular post that explores the possibility of Lila being a sociopath in depth, however, I won't share it nor tag its origins because I don't want to put its OP in a difficult position. But I assure you, if you just type in the search bar something like "ML Lila is a sociopath", it should appear.

With your permission, I'm going to explain why I agree Lila Rossi is indeed a sociopath. This is an analysis on a character, so I won't tag it as hate, please, forgive me if it does look like it at any moment.

The first thing that should be addressed is Lila's knack for lying; very common in sociopaths.

Ever since Volpina, the ML team has made it clear that Lila's most distinctive trait is her compulsive lying. Her possible sociopathy is heavily hinted on this; in every single episode she's been in, she's lied about her past: 

Every single famous person she claims to have met.

 All her travels.

The various selfless actions she's done (such as saving Jagged Stone's kitten).

Being saved and best friends with Ladybug.

Living in Japan (supposedly).

Creating "Freestyle Clash 2".

If that weren't enough, not only does Lila lie with every breath, but she fiercely defends each lie. Proof of this are her reactions whenever one of her lies has been exposed or she meets someone who's aware of her tendencies.

In Volpina, after Ladybug exposed her, her second highest priority besides introducing her alter ego and trying to get rid of Ladybug was going to Adrien as her akumatised self to convince him she wasn't lying.

Then, in Chameleon, she covered up the lie about her wrist saying she'd only caught the napkin because it could've hurt Max, and later, when no one who doesn't know the truth was around to force her to act friendly, she coldly refused Adrien's request of her being more honest and furiously exclaimed the liar was Ladybug, not her. 

And before it's pointed out, she only calmly dismissed Marinette's attempt at exposing her with another lie in Catalyst because, as I implied before, there were too many people present to let her façade drop.

Not to mention the great lengths she goes to to make her lies more believable or avoid getting caught in said lie. In her debut, it was the necklace she bought to convince Adrien of her false superhero heritage. In Catalyst, she took the phone from her mother to prevent her from finding out the truth and talk with Mr. Damocles, as well as claiming he was akumatised too. In Oni-chan, she used every single piece of information Adrien had shared in the car to make her lies convincing enough to be allowed inside the mansion.

Another trait shared by sociopaths that Lila has demonstrated as well is her incapability to acknowledge her own faults, something that can be linked to her being immature.

This particular trait was shown again in Volpina, Catalyst and Chameleon: 

In Volpina, she blamed Ladybug for ruining her chances with Adrien. And while the superheroine played an important part in that, we must remember it'd also been Lila's fault for lying in the first place.

In Catalyst, while Lila was watching the news on her laptop right before Gabriel threw the bomb, she was, ironically, accusing the superhero of everything she had done both as herself and Volpina; lying, cowardice (she used her illusions to do her dirty job for her, instead of actually facing the heroes) and treason (her whole plan as Volpina was gaining their trust to betray them later, so…).

In Chameleon, she still blamed Ladybug for what'd happened at the park, claiming the superheroine had been the one who lied, not her.

Another thing linked to immaturity and sociopathy is not learning from one's mistakes, which, considering Lila keeps getting akumatised (now willingly), lying with every breath and has made no attempt at being more honest of a better person in general, I would honestly associate to her as well.

There's also the fact that sociopaths tend to display a violent behaviour; in Lila's case, although she keeps her mask around many people, whenever she has the chance to show her true colours, she takes advantage of it to the fullest. For starters, as Volpina, though they were actually illusions, she threatened Ladybug a total of three times with very aggressive scenarios; she "trapped" her under the threat of missiles, she pretended to blow down a building and to kidnap and endanger Adrien's life. As herself, though, she cornered Marinette in the bathroom and gave her an ultimatum, she tends to throw away her stuff whenever she's angry, she let her disdain towards  Kagami, Ladybug, Marinette, Chloé and Nino show and, as Chameleon she went and publicly tainted Adrien's reputation as well as proceed and furiously fight Ladybug.

Another aspect of Lila's character that backs this up is the way she reacts to minor offenses; again, Chameleon is the perfect example for this type of behaviour; especially the way she tries to get even from Adrien as Chameleon when the most harm he's done is nicely requesting her to stop lying, something he's in his right to do since Lila's the one trying to become a part of his life, not the other way around.

I also want to take the opportunity to point out something that I've discussed several times before; Lila declared war at Marinette even when she hadn't actually picked a side herself. Just by watching the last minutes of the episode it's easy to notice there's nothing that could be taken as a declaration of war from Marinette's part, she even let Lila's slip up about which one of her ears had the tinnitus slide and didn't interact with her again until the very last minute; when Lila herself made her her arch-rival. So why does Lila hate her with a passion now when she was previously willing to give her a second chance? Easy, because she was jealous Adrien had chosen Marinette over her; again, a minor offense. Especially because it was Adrien's decision, not Marinette's doing.

On the other hand, there's the thing with Lila's belief of being better than everyone else. She clearly says, when comparing Marinette to the others, that she thinks they're dumb. Just like she thinks herself as the best option to become the one closest to Adrien; deeming Chloé of tacky, Marinette of being "a dummy" and even badmouthing Nino; when two of the three aforementioned teens hadn't done anything to her, they hadn't even doubted her claims (in Chloé's case, at least not until she talked about her secret formula to call Ladybug). This is something she also shows when akumatised, she considered Volpina to be the best hero of Paris (going as far as saying she was the only hero the city needed), when Gabriel was putting her persona down compared to Ladybug she reacted strongly (even if Volpina was, indeed, a bad copy of a superhero) and as Chameleon she kept on underestimating Ladybug.

Lila has a knack for isolating people, both personally and using other means to do so. She's done it herself when she went after Marinette when she was in the toilet (I won't disregard the possibility that she might've offered to go instead of Alya or any other classmate in an attempt to win her over as well), she always talks to Adrien when the two are alone, even going as far as looking for a place where it can be just the two of them (the library in Volpina, the locker room in Chameleon, which she used to lock him and get a kiss to transform, or his house in Oni-chan) and she talked to Chloé when only Sabrina was present, who, unfortunately, doesn't have that much of a presence.

And as for the other means, if you think about it that's exactly her goal regarding her issues with Marinette and Adrien; she wants to isolate Marinette to get rid of her, and thus, the only person capable of making her web of lies crumble, and she wants to isolate Adrien to have him all for herself. And on a side note, when she straight up isolates people she does so in a way that the other won't have a chance to escape; she becomes unpredictable.

Something else that should be discussed is her façade itself.

Many sociopaths are known for appearing caring, kind and generous; things Lila pretends to be to win people over, such as promising Nino she'd talk to Steven Spielberg/Besielberg about him, her role in the environmental conference that took place in the Kingdom of Achu or promising Marinette she would help her get closer to Adrien. All the which make her look like an exceptional role model to others, like Caline's amazement on her numerous "feats."

I'd also like to mention that Lila shares another similarity to your average sociopath; she knows how to read people and tells them what they want to hear; something she even admitted herself.

In her debut, she complimented Chat Noir and agreed to Ladybug's change of her plan to defeat Hawk Moth to reduce suspicions on her and make the super heroine look paranoid and jealous. In Chameleon she didn't hesitate to entertain her classmates with more stories about her travels, the celebrities she'd met or her friendship with Ladybug, just like she complimented them all as well for being so kind as to "remember her hearing problem", to bring her her food and the like. In Oni-chan, she even played, or at least tried to, this card with Gabriel, telling him everything he wanted to hear about Adrien's protection and his parenting.

One more thing that I honestly believe Lila possesses is a very aggressive and intimidating, yet cold and distant stare. If you look at her closely, it's easy to notice most of Lila's character is reflected on her eyes and eyebrows, after all, the eyes are the mirror of the soul. She actually has two different types of glare:

Her coldest, most manipulating and most intense stare is one she reserves to people she despises, mainly Ladybug/Marinette.

The other, is less hostile, however, it still gives the impression of a predator watching its prey; of course, this kind of glare is the one she uses on Adrien.

And, lastly but not least, sociopaths are known for guilt-tripping others.

Lila herself has done this while pretending injuries and diseases to get what she wanted from others; the seat next to Adrien, her food…, to make Marinette look bad about not wanting to move to the back, to manipulate Nino into convincing Adrien to study with her, etc.

Lastly, I would like to point out that her possible sociopathy is not what makes her a villain; that's her ability to tell from right or wrong and, still, ignoring the right path. And I must let you know, anon, that I never spread false information. The one time I referred to her as a sociopath that I can think of, I was actually explaining another anon who'd seen that term being used to describe her in Wikipedia that I'd seen it myself on TV Tropes. And just like that, I wasn't the first to think of her as such, I only read some very good, in depth analyses that presented that option and found myself agreeing with them. That's all I did.

May I give you a piece of advice? Try voicing your concerns a bit more nicely, something like "I don't see why Lila is a sociopath. Could you please share your views on the matter?" It'll save you a lot of trouble :)

[gayvalkyrie]

Nicole Haught: S3 Analysis

There is definitely a lot of mystery surrounding Nicole this season. We’re getting a bit more of her backstory, but still not enough to know much about her. There’s just... too many loose ends. But I think we can start tying some of those together if we look closely.

My current theory is that Nicole is a Revenant hybrid, and more importantly, Bulshar’s heir. I’m going to create a masterlist of things I believe point us in that direction, and it’s gonna be a long ass post. So bear with me, everyone! I’m gonna put this all under a ‘Read More’ so people who don’t want to see any spoilers don’t have to!

Note: This theory covers up everything up until S03xE08. I’m sure tonight’s episode is gonna absolutely shit all over this, but I tried my best.

First and foremost, I think there’s a couple things we need to establish before we get into the nitty-gritty of Season 3. We’re gonna jump all the way back to Season 2 for this. I’m going to start back with an important quote from S02xE07:

“It’s not supposed to be possible. Do you know what we’ve done here? We’ve started a new race. We’re the new Adam and Eve.” - Jonas

This line is spoken by Jonas. He is the Revenant who believes he has fathered Wynonna’s child. He believes they have created a new race of Revenant/Human hybrids. This is the first time we hear about the Adam and Eve concept, but the interesting part is that he says they’re the ‘new Adam and Eve’, implying that there was an old Adam and Eve. Yes, I know: “He’s obviously talking about the Adam and Eve that were in the Bible, Stef! They are the original!”. I get that - but here is where it gets interesting. Later on in the same episode:

“What makes you think this kid could be yours?” - Wynonna

“A Revenant breeding with a human - unlikely, yeah, but rumour is it’s happened before.” - Jonas

Maybe the ‘original’ Adam and Eve that had to have come first wasn’t the one depicted in the Bible - but the original ‘Adam and Eve’ that was rumoured to create the first Revenant/Human hybrid.

Now, get this: at this moment, the camera angle changes to Waverly (who, at that time, we all believed was the original Revenant/Human hybrid Jonas was referring to. But if you keep watching, the camera then pans from Waverly, to Nicole watching on in the distance.

As Revenants and humans mating is not a common thing, one can only assume that there must have been special circumstances that allow a human and a Revenant to conceive a child. One can only assume that the Revenant in question must have been extremely powerful in order to interfere with the laws of nature. Otherwise, there would be Revenant/Human hybrids running all over Purgatory. Now, who could be powerful enough to interfere with the laws of nature?

And you thought Bobo was going to be a handful.

So we’ve touched on Season 2 first bringing up the concept of Adam and Eve. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Stef, Nicole can’t be a Rev/Human hybrid. She could get out of the Ghost River Triangle!” Yep, you’re right. But I think we can safely assume that being a Revenant/Human hybrid comes with its own perks. It’s considered another ‘race’, meaning a hybrid would not follow the exact same rules as a full Revenant would. Otherwise, there would be no ‘hybrid’. You’d either just be a Revenant or you’d be a human. We can’t assume a hybrid would follow the same rules as a regular Revenant would. Or any other supernatural being, for that matter.

For one main reason, shown in S02xE12:

Now, these choice of shots are incredibly interesting. Why would they feel the need to show Nicole passing through the border of the Ghost River Triangle?

During this scene, we assumed that Waverly (who we thought was half-Revenant at the time) and Alice (who we were unsure of) would not be able to leave the Ghost River Triangle if they had Revenant blood in them. They both pass the border, and neither are effected by that. At that moment, we are relieved because ‘that means Waverly and Alice don’t have Revenant blood in them’! Well, thanks to season 3, we now know that Waverly definitely does not have Revenant blood in her. She’s a hybrid alright: but a different kind. She’s an Angel/Human hybrid.

The thing is: I propose the human half of a hybrid child (Revenant or Angel) would shield them from being effected by passing through the Ghost River Triangle.

What does that mean for Alice? That means that we truly can’t confirm that she is Doc’s daughter. However, it is STILL the most likely option as we have already determined that a extremely powerful Revenant would be needed in order to parent a hybrid child - something we all know Jonas is not. And Doc is still technically human, he is just immortal. Or, at least, that’s where things stood at the time Alice was conceived. Not getting into Doc’s Season 3 drama right now, it’s derailing this theory.

Anyway, getting back on track: it’s the human halves of Waverly and Nicole (and possibly Alice) that enable them to pass through the border without being effected. This is why full Revenants cannot leave the Ghost River Triangle - and this is also why Julian (Waverly’s angelic father) cannot get back in. A pure supernatural being cannot pass through the border. A human, or a hybrid, can.

To summarize my points thus far:

We know a Revenant and a Human conceiving a hybrid child has happened before.

We know that an extremely powerful demon must have been involved (Bulshar) or else this would be a common thing amongst Revenants.

We know that a supernatural hybrid child does not follow the same rules as a full supernatural being would.

The human half of a supernatural hybrid child offers protection from things that would otherwise effect a full supernatural being.

Okay! I know that’s a lot of backstory. But I feel like these things are important to keep in mind while going forward.

Now, let’s get into the new stuff shown to us in Season 3.

Season 2 left us with Nicole remembering Bulshar’s name (when spoken by Widow Mercedes), and proceeding to learn as much as she possibly could about him with the help of Dolls. She is also given Bulshar’s ring to hold onto and protect, knowing that Bulshar wants his ring as it holds some sort of power unbeknownst to them. Nicole learns that there have been many massacres throughout the years, committed by the Cult of Bulshar. Through her research, she begins to realize that the “forest fire” she survived as a child was not a forest fire at all - it was one of these massacres. And she was the only survivor, ever.

S03xE01: “When I first heard the name... Bulshar... When faux-Mercedes said it right before you shot the Widows [...] it twigged something in me. It’s like I heard it before, so... I asked Dolls, and he gave me some old BBD files.” - Nicole

She has a panic attack upon recognizing the symbol of Bulshar/Bulshar’s cult at the sight of another one of the massacres. Waverly takes her to get some water and calm down in the bathroom, where they both become ‘glamoured’ (under compulsion) by a vampire named Petra. Now, I know there are some people that believe Nicole faked being glamoured but I don’t entirely believe that as of yet. Nicole is still half-human, which would make her vulnerable to being glamoured by vampires unlike Dolls (a full-demon-dragon-made-by-Black-Badge) who was able to resist being glamoured. She is, however, able to break through her compulsion - something that not even Waverly, an angel/human hybrid, can do. Waverly refers to Nicole becoming a ‘victim’ to the vampires, and Nicole manages to snap out of her glamour for a moment. S03xE01:

“But... I don’t think I could watch you get eaten. Be a... a victim.” - Waverly

“I-I’ve never been a victim. I’m a... survivor. No, I’m the survivor...” - Nicole

There must be something powerful about Nicole if she is able to resist being compelled, even momentarily, when Waverly was no match for it.

Side note: Nicole not being able to be ‘possessed’ or ‘controlled’ is something that has happened before. In S02xE03, Mictian (the demon possessing Waverly) tries to take over Nicole when Waverly kisses her while she’s on patrol at the homecoming game. Nicole pulls away and says:

“Waverly! Not in uniform, okay? Not in public.” - Nicole

“Not good enough.” - Waverly

No one really understood that line, but I believe that was Mictian speaking through Waverly. Nicole was not a good enough host. She could not be manipulated in the way that Mictian wanted, which would have been beneficial as Nicole has a position of power as a police officer. I believe that being able to resist compulsion by another demon, even if only for a few moments, has something to do with her Revenant hybrid nature. You’ll see why as we move a bit further with evidence presented to us in Season 3, because this happens again.

The next instance we find evident tying Nicole to Bulshar is in S03xE03. Nicole and Waverly go off to retrieve what was left of Dolls’ belongings. Waverly notes that Dolls and Nicole ‘got each other’ because they were both cops. Nicole says that he had a traumatic past, and that led him to believe he might be able to help Nicole with discovering more about hers. This is where Nicole goes more in-depth about the massacre in the Ghost River Triangle.

S03xE03: “I was just a kid... my parents were travelling. Again. And, um, they told me I could go to this music festival with my aunt and uncle [...] There was an attack... a man in leather. So much screaming and blood [...] and for years, my parents just told me that everybody died in a forest fire. And that I had somehow escaped, but... you know, it just didn’t explain the nightmares. [...] Last spring, when Widow Mercedes said his name... Bulshar... it was like this shotgun went off in my head. And Dolls helped me. He got me files, he- he told me that Black Badge had been covering up these massacres for years. [...] I somehow got myself down to the river, and somebody saved me.” - Nicole

It’s a long quote to cite, I know, but there’s a lot of interesting information here. First, I think Dolls knows more about Nicole than he ever let on before his death. He knows Black Badge has been covering up these massacres for years. I highly doubt the fact that there was only ever one survivor, a child nonetheless, somehow slipped past him. He must have known more about Nicole, explaining his willingness to help her get to the truth of her past.

The next important thing I want to talk about is the fact that Nicole survived in the first place. She describes it as “she somehow got away” - but I find that... very odd. After all, this is Bulshar and his cult we are talking about. They never leave survivors. They are brutal killers. How does a small child manage to evade them? I propose that they intentionally let her escape, because of the fact that she is Bulshar’s heir (Remember, he is the only one who is powerful enough to bend the laws of nature to have a child with a human). After all, why would Bulshar want to slaughter his own flesh and blood?

This is also the first time we really get an idea of what Nicole’s parents are like. We get the impression that they aren’t really around for her, leaving Nicole alone in the care of others while they travel. In this case, she was with her aunt and uncle.

Later on in this episode, Nicole goes on to tell Waverly that she doesn’t need pity regarding her past. Waverly struggles to digest all of this new information, and goes on it say:

“Look, you came back to Purgatory to be a cop, right?” - Waverly

“Yep, yep.” - Nicole

“Which means, it can’t be a coincidence...” - Waverly

“Probably not.” - Nicole

“Which means none of us have any free will over our lives, and we’re all gonna die anyway so what’s the point?” - Waverly

“The point is that I love you. And if that is our destiny, then I am pretty darn stoked.” - Nicole

Now, this quote is so incredibly important. This quote brings into discussion the concept of fate and destiny. Remember, Bulshar used to be Sheriff Clootie before he turned demon. He was Sheriff of Purgatory. Now, Nicole has returned to Purgatory to become a police officer - a job she could have gotten anywhere else in the city, especially as she is said to have graduated at the top of her class. Nicole was destined to return to Purgatory because she has a prophecy to fulfill, unbeknownst to her just yet.

Her destiny is not just to follow in Bulshar’s footsteps, but there’s more to it than just that. Remember the Adam and Eve concept mentioned back in Season 2? We’ll get back to that soon.

Moving on to S03xE04, Waverly and Nicole visit the site of the massacre to see a memorial has been put up referring to it as a ‘tragic forest fire’. Waverly asks if the memorial seems familiar, and Nicole laments on how it’s been 20 years since then. Waverly then asks Nicole if she has disposed of Bulshar’s ring yet. Nicole states that she is looking for “the perfect spot, where no one will ever find it”. The two begin talking about Nicole surviving the massacre, and Nicole points out:

“That’s just it. I was already down by the river when something attacked the camp. I mean, I heard it. Chaos, the... horrible, agonized screams... but, there was no fire... there wasn’t even any smoke...” - Nicole

She then realizes that Black Badge was the one who came up with the ‘forest fire’ cover-up story and that they destroyed any evidence stating otherwise. Nicole then says that she is ‘just a loose end’, and says ‘she just got lucky’.

However, from the way it sounds, the massacre was planned to begin once Nicole was already away from the scene. This would ensure her safety and her ability to escape, as Bulshar would not be happy to hear that his only heir was killed in the massacre.

Waverly suggests Nicole try talking to her parents about what happened, despite knowing that Nicole doesn’t speak to them (as she stated back in S02xE10). Nicole states that it would be pointless, as they were fed the ‘official version’ of the story (the forest fire) and tries to turn the conversation around on Waverly.

Nicole is very touchy on the subject of her parents. Naturally, not having her parents be present in her life would make her harbour resentment. But the real question is why were her parents so negligent toward her? Were they just bad parents? Or was it because perhaps, she wasn’t their biological child? Maybe Bulshar gave her to them to raise, away from the Ghost River Triangle, to keep his heir safe from not just the Earps but any other Revenants who would want to challenge him? Remember, being a hybrid means Nicole could leave the Ghost River Triangle. Bulshar, the other revenants, and any other full supernatural being could not. The Earps wouldn’t think of looking outside the Triangle for his heir when they know that the Revenants can’t leave - or so they thought.

At this point, Nicole and Waverly run into Robin and asks to be taken to the Sheriff’s department. As Waverly leads Robin to the car, Nicole pulls Bulshar’s ring out of her pocket and throws it as far as she possibly can into the snow in the forest before leaving.

It’s also in this episode (we’re still on S03xE04!) that Nedley makes his decision (albiet, thanks to Wynonna) to make Nicole the new Sheriff, as he is getting old and becoming tired of constantly trying to cover up the supernatural happenings in Purgatory that have happened over the years.

“I have been covering this shit up for too long. I-... I’m tired of it.” - Nedley

“Well maybe then you should just step aside, y’know? Let someone else have a turn. Someone who still has some fight left.” - Wynonna

For those of you who aren’t sure of the timeline of this show, we can infer that the course of Season 1 up until now all happen within the same year. We also know this because Nicole states back in S03xE01 that she was saving the outfit she was wearing for hers and Waverly’s one year anniversary. Nicole and Waverly have been dating for less than a year. Nicole was a rookie cop just starting out in Purgatory when she met Waverly. We know this because it’s constantly mentioned that Nicole still needs to ‘learn how this town operates’ in Season 1 and 2, and how she’s still an outsider to Purgatory particularly in Season 3. Nicole is an exceptional cop, but to go from a rookie cop to Sheriff of Purgatory - in less than a year? It would be impossible anywhere else. It almost sounds like... some sort of divine intervention. As if she’s fulfilling a prophecy of some sort. As if she’s following in someone’s footsteps.

Now, we move on to everyone’s favourite episode. S03xE05: Jolene.

Okay, second favourite.

Granted, this is definitely a Waverly-centric episode. But do you remember when I brought up how Nicole is able to resist compulsion to a certain degree? Yep, this is what I was referring to.

We know that Jolene (Jolene, Jolene, JOLEEENE) is able to compel people through her baking - which is why we always see her stuffing people with baked goods whenever she has the opportunity. In S03xE05, she gives Nicole lemon scones and is able to compel her into not trying to arrest her. She mentions bringing some treats over to Wynonna and Waverly, and lies to Nicole saying they’re out on a solo mission without her which plays on Nicole’s insecurities of being left out. Jolene then states:

“I do have to get going, I need your girlfriend to finish all of this. I would do it myself, but of course, I can’t physically harm her...” - Jolene

During this moment, you can see Nicole visibly shake out of her compulsion at the mention of Waverly being hurt. She tries to question Jolene about her intentions, but Jolene is able to regain control of Nicole by getting her to eat more of the lemon scone. Nicole then laughs it off, and tells Jolene to ‘tell Waverly and those Earp bitches’ she said hi. Immediately after saying that, Nicole breaks out of her compulsion momentarily, again - not before Jolene takes off before she can act.

Later on in the episode, Jolene finds Nicole alone after an intense fight with Waverly (after our favourite bar fight scene). Nicole states that she’s waiting for Waverly, and talks about the fight and even recalls that she said horrible things that she had no control over. Jolene strokes Nicole’s cheek, saying:

“I see you... You spend your life rescuing others... What about you?” - Jolene

Implying Nicole needs ‘rescuing’ or some sort, it is possible that Jolene might be able to see Nicole for more than what she is. Nicole pulls away, uncomfortable with Jolene’s advances. Jolene, in attempts to replace Waverly, attempts to regain compulsion over Nicole:

“I’m whatever you want me to be... and everything that she’s not.” - Jolene

“I love Waverly.”- Nicole

“No you don’t.” - Jolene

“Yes, I do. I love her, and- You.. I don’t even think I like you.” - Nicole

Again, as a Revenant hybrid, it seems that having control over Nicole is more difficult than that of a normal human, and possibly even an Angel hybrid like Waverly.

Jolene, unable to regain her control over Nicole, becomes hostile and tries to attack Nicole - except, a wild card comes into play.

Bulshar’s ring. Nicole threw it away back in two previous episodes. Suddenly, Jolene tries to attack Nicole and the ring returns to her. Bulshar’s ring proceeds to burn Jolene when she tries to take it from Nicole - as if the ring is trying to protect Nicole. Why would Bulshar’s ring protect anyone that wasn’t Bulshar himself? Unless... it was protecting his heir. It was protecting his family line. Jolene, fearful of the ring and Bulshar, throws Nicole into a closet (HA.) and flees to complete her plan in exacting her revenge on Waverly.

Okay, now we’ve hit everyone’s favourite episode: S03x06. Also known as The Christmas Episode. Because who doesn’t like powerbottom Nicole in an elf suit and Waverly Mrs. Claus?

Though really, this episode is a bit.. unclear to me, so if anyone wants to chime in please feel free! I’ll admit I need some help. I’ve skimmed through it a few times and I feel as though I’m still missing some information, somehow.

At this point, we know  Bulshar is kidnapping people across Purgatory, most notably descendants of the First Families that founded it. We know that members of the First Families must not be killed. Bulshar reveals that the First Families betrayed him, and sold him out to Wyatt Earp, leading up to him seeking his revenge on the town over a century later. What he’s doing to the people he has kidnapped, though... is a bit unclear to me. We essentially see them in cages, being taken out to be pumped full of green goo. 

I think the most important Nicole-centric thing to happen in this episode is Nedley announces his retirement, thus naming her the new Sheriff - officially. While not much happens in regards to being able to tie Nicole in as Bulshar’s heir, I did notice something fun:

Nicole and Wynonna are both wearing deep purple crowns. A fun tidbit to include, especially with both of them being the heirs. Waverly is wearing a yellow crown - an angelic colour. I wonder why Jeremy has a matching crown? I wish we knew more about his backstory. He’s an honorary angel in my book, though. Michelle is off camera wearing a green grown. Oddly enough, Doc isn’t wearing one at all. Anyone want to chime in on what the symbolism behind this could be? My brain is fogging up at this point.

Forgive me, I’m like, 5 hours into this masterlist post and I’m getting sidetracked. Only two more episodes to analyze at this point. At least until tonight’s episode comes out and throws a wrench into all of this.

Now we hit S03xE07. I love how this episode opens. Nicole is trying to earn the respect of her coworkers and the town as the new Sheriff, but it’s not so much that that I’m interested in. I’m very partial to the following line:

“I had no idea Officer Haught was your sister’s girlfriend, that’s so weird.” - Charlie

“You’re not one of those ‘Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve’ people, are you?” - Wynonna

What an interesting choice of foreshadowing words to use in regards to Nicole and Waverly dating. The last time we heard about Adam and Eve was back in Season 2, when Jonas believed he and Wynonna had created a Revenant hybrid child. And, as you all know, this isn’t the last time we’ll be hearing about it, either.

Aside from the Wynhaught mess that the two always get themselves into each season, Nicole spends this episode trying to convince Bunny of the city council that she’s fit for the job of Sheriff. Bunny comments that she would rather back Wynonna for Sheriff (much to Nicole’s disbelief) because:

“And the Earps are one of Purgatory’s original families. This one [referring to Nicole]...” - Bunny

“This one?” - Wynonna

“Sorry, what about ‘this one’?” - Nicole

“What Purgatory needs is a homegrown hero. Not some.. fly-by-night outsider, who - let’s face it - is a little too... different.” - Bunny

Now, we all know Bunny was referring to Nicole being a lesbian when she said Nicole was ‘too different’, but she’s also not wrong. Nicole is different; she’s a Revenant hybrid. How ironic would it be to have a Revenant hybrid protecting the town from not just your normal everyday problems, but from Revenants themselves?

After a run-in with Revenants, dealing with a gnome-seeking a wife (how do you like that for a Bulshar metaphor? I’ll get on that more later), and setting Bunny straight in supporting Nicole as Sheriff, Wynonna and Nicole have a heart to heart. Funnily enough, Wynonna tells Nicole:

“You would be a good wife.” - Wynonna

“Ah, thank you... But you’re not my type. You cheat a drinking games.” - Nicole

“You know, I used to think you were an outsider, too. And that things would get too demon-y, and you’d go and leave my sister with a broken heart.” - Wynonna

“Wynonna, I love her.” - Nicole

This episode brings up the concept of being a wife/marriage quite a bit, perhaps bringing to light what Nicole’s purpose as Bulshar’s heir may be. Wynonna also tells Nicole that she is ‘staked to this land’ just as she is, also confirming that Nicole is a part of Purgatory, and not just “the outsider” everyone seems to think she is.

It is also revealed in this episode that Nedley was the one that ‘rescued’ Nicole as a child from the forest fire/massacre. At least, he’s the one that found her after the massacre had taken place. We already established that, according to this theory, Nicole was ‘allowed’ to escape before the massacre even began, giving her, as Bulshar’s heir, ample time to get out of harm’s way.

Nedley and Nicole also talk about Nicole’s parents and how they don’t talk. Nicole calls her parents selfish and says they don’t speak or keep in touch.

“Why? Because of who you are?” - Nedley

“Yeah... a cop.” - Nicole

“When I found out you had enrolled in the Police Academy, I couldn’t resist offering you this job.” - Nedley

“When I saw the posting, I just- I knew this is where I had to serve. Everything good I have in my life is because I came back to the Ghost River Triangle.” - Nicole

This quote further ties back into the point Waverly makes in that there is no concept of ‘free will’ in Purgatory. Everyone who is tied to that land has some sort of purpose to fulfill.

Finally, we get to the most recent episode (for now, anyway). S03xE08 starts with Wynonna wearing Bulshar’s ring (which Doc gave to her as protection at the end of Episode 07). It seems to have no affect on Wynonna - at least, it’s not burning her the way its burned Jolene and Doc.

This episode spends a lot of time talking about Bulshar’s ultimate goal. In the past, while he was still Sheriff, he asked Kate to read his tarot cards. Kate began the reading and ultimately refused to read the final card - his ‘future’ card. Doc intervened and unbeknownst to both Kate and Bulshar, hid the cards from the reading. He summons his dead wife Constance Clootie to retrieve the cards for him, allowing him to finally see what his future reveals. He is successful, and we see him delighted to finally see his results.

Wynonna, unable to stop Bulshar, realizes that she and Bulshar might share a future as she is the Earp heir destined to stop him. She asks Kate to read her cards, as that would tell her what Bulshar’s cards would be.

Now, another thing that happened during this episode was the famous BGD  Big Gay Dinner. Nicole and Waverly invite Jeremy and new-boyfriend Robin to the homestead. Nicole and Jeremy are talking while Nicole is setting up the dinner table, and Jeremy points out the awkward elephant in the room.

Bulshar’s ring has returned to Nicole, again. Now, the fun part is Nicole is holding the ring, down on one knee when Waverly walks in the room. Nicole has that ‘this isn’t what it looks like’ face on while Waverly is caught up in the idea that Nicole is proposing to her. Nicole clarifies to a flustered Waverly that this was Bulshar’s ring and that it is consistently following her around, which triggers concern among everyone.

Constance later barges in on the BGD, looking for where Doc has stored Bulshar’s cards from his tarot reading ages ago. She lands a hit on Nicole, throwing her against the barn door. Suddenly, the ring begins to glow and burn Nicole. She throws it away, and Waverly grabs the ring and instinctively puts it on. “It fits me,” she states, before delivering a finishing super-powered hit on Constance.

Waverly later discovers that the ring won’t come off, and the inscription “Paradise” is revealed on the underside of the ring, as discovered by Jeremy. Wynonna rushes in, and states that she knows what Bulshar is after now that Kate has read her cards. The cards represent the past, present, and future. His past card was “The Devil”, which makes sense. He cursed the Earps, became an all powerful demon hellbent on revenge on the First Families that betrayed him. His present card is “The Tower”, representing darkness and destruction, as Kate describes. Now, his future card? “The Lovers” - Adam and Eve.

Bulshar is looking for his Paradise, his Eve, his Garden of Eden. And with the ring on Waverly, it looks like he’s found his new Eve, which could potentially mean that his Garden of Eden might even be located in the Gibson Greenhouse where Waverly was born.

How does this tie into Nicole? That’s still up in the heir (ha ha, get it?), but the way I see it is that Bulshar’s Eve (Waverly) would be promised to his heir, Nicole. My issue with this part of the theory is that I don’t know what exactly he’d gain from having Adam and Eve together, unless Nicole and Waverly can unlock something with their powers in the Garden of Eden?

It’s all very unclear, and I’m sure Episode 09 is gonna wreck this theory, but there it is. A full masterlist and analysis on everything involving our favourite ginger cop.

Let me know what you guys think! Did it make sense? Did you like it? Hate it? Enjoy guys! I’m looking forward to reading your responses and watching Episode 09 absolutely wreck 6 hours of video analysing and hard work.

[the-uptake]

The Uptake, The 704. 2|2|3|W. Book 1, Chapter 3. Go to previous. TWs: needles/phlegbotomy, medical diagnostics, emetophobia, forcefeeding, abusive dynamic. Revised 2019.06.28.

Galen came to in a small room with a polished concrete floor and walls and ceiling edges with simple recessed studio lighting. He attempted to roll over on his back. When the discovery of handcuffs halted him, he instead rolled onto his face to ease getting into a kneeling position. He pulled on the cuffs to guarantee they had been soundly clicked shut. He looked around the room. Whoever had brought him here had removed his tattered attire and clothed him in a dark tank top and pajama pants.

Fumbling to his bare feet, he found a locked heavy metal door in the middle of one wall, while the flimsy door in the corner led to a one-person bathroom. The layout of the room couldn’t manifest its current function at first glance. He kicked at the metal door trying to make some noise, but it didn’t get him anywhere, and it didn’t have any knob or handle anyway. He tried repeatedly to reach the cuffs to suck on them, but couldn’t manage to get his hands in his lap from behind him, and each time an exhausted derangement defeated him more and more. Eventually, he laid back down in the middle of the floor, and welcomed the cool of the concrete against his body.

He must have dozed off at some point, because two pair of dress shoes appeared in front of his face. He jerked back a ways with a hushed slaggit! under his breath. They belonged to two clean-cut older men, one a good bit taller than the other.

“Sorry to startle you, Galen.” The taller one, brunet, crouched down nearer, and rested his arms on his sprawled knees. “And we’re sorry that you had to be brought here under such circumstances. Hopefully, we can help you.”

Galen gave them a wild, sarcastic look before the fatigue wiped the expression off his face. Still, he craved the cuffs.

“--I know y’all?”

“Oh, my, no.” The shorter one, with longish swept-back pepper-blond hair, adjusted his glasses by scrunching his nose a bit, and joined his colleague in crouching. “Confirm for us, if you would: You were in an accident recently? And you believe it was chemical in nature?”

“Forgive Lyst.” The taller one shot an annoyed glance at his colleague, then motioned at him. “This is James Lyst, and my name’s Daniel O’Donnell. He’s very... task oriented, to put it mildly. Try to be patient with him, if you can.”

“How do y’all know all this-- Bell.” The stalker deflated and slumped on the concrete, recalling how poorly the exam had gone. “Must be bad, if the Good Doc thought he had to toss me into somebody else’s care. I, I, I, I. I’m dead, yeah? Thought so. Y’all must be morticians, with my luck.”

His features sympathetic, O’Donnell’s nod turned into a shake of the head.

“We’re chemists. Well, a chemical engineer and a pharmacist. And we currently have you under supervision for the sequelae of your toxic waste exposure. Between access and the square footage to house it, our facility is better suited to accommodate whatever diagnostics we determine can assess your health.”

“It’s a momentous occasion, really,” Lyst continued with a grin of large teeth, in an affected lyricism which seemed typical of him. “A new class of metahuman. Really, you’re something special, Galen.”

Galen struggled to keep up.

“Metahuman? My DNA’s all screwy now? This didn’t happen cause a street chems. This was a buncha drums a truck. They. They fell on me an’ broke an’ I was trapped to where I. I think I inhaled and swallowed a buncha it.” He flinched from trying to piece together details, and shoved down his tic as hard as he could. Something about these two felt more trustworthy and candid than Bell had, but he couldn’t place why. “If y’need me to remember the exact names of every thing that bust open an’ drowned me... you’re S.O.L. ‘cause I. I. --I wasn’t payin’ attention t’that kinda stuff at the time.”

Lyst and O’Donnell listened attentively, but it was Lyst who spoke up.

“You don’t need to remember all that right now. It’s quite all right. But yes, metahuman. I’d suspect you’d know what a metahuman is through some knowledge of Ketonamil, considering its prevalence in casual Quarter use, or perhaps through the politics of hybrids, but based on our current knowledge of your predicament, we both doubt any of either related substance was present on site where the exposure took place. And although a number of different chemicals can induce metahumanity, in the history of the one we suspect... there haven’t been any who took exposure with such resilience as you have.”

Galen balked, increasingly nettled by the metal around his wrists.

“Wouldn’t call it resilience. --Are the handcuffs necessary? Course they are. Y’all had t’drug me to get me here. No tellin’ what my reaction could’a been. Forget it.”

“We’re to understand it’s for your own protection as well.” O’Donnell frowned. “You have compulsion troubles?”

“I get hungry. Brain’s slagged.” He turned over, away from them. “It’s... hard t’get comfortable. Not for the floor. ‘Cause the cuffs. ...Can I say somethin’ weird?”

“I’m sorry to hear the restraints are making comfort difficult. We’ll work on that. Are they on too tight? What’s on your mind?”

“...These handcuffs.” Galen jammed his tongue up in the roof of his mouth and squinted. “...Metal. I get y’all not trustin’ me, but can we maybe not do metal? S’not the cuffs hurt. S’that...”

“What is it? You can speak with us without consequence.”

“...S’makin’ me hungry. Don’t get how, but it’s like I, I, can smell ‘em. Metal’s been drivin’ me loon. An’ with my hands behind me. Sure y’got cameras in here or some truck. Couldn’t sleep, for tryin’ t’get at ‘em.”

“Fascinating...!” Lyst had to sit down at this. “It’s affected your sensory acuity as well?”

O’Donnell dismissed the callous commentary with a cough.

“Trying to sleep with a loud appetite can’t be working well for you.” He ignored his colleague. “We’re going to try to make this arrangement as easy on you as possible. I’ll look into it personally this afternoon.”

“You must be ravenous.” Lyst leaned in to coax Galen’s eye contact, without succeeding. “It’s been a while since you were brought here.”

“Don’t remember last time I wasn’t. Not since--”

“A healthy appetite isn’t always a bad thing.” He patted Galen’s shoulder. “What would you like us to bring you? Within reason, of course. Our budget won’t allow for steak dinners.”

Galen just lay there for a moment, in a double-take.

“I don’t get y’sense a humor. That was a joke right? He was jokin’?”

“We’ll get you whatever you like,” O’Donnell insisted, increasingly exasperated with Lyst. “Burger Block? Chick Digs? King Pho? A pizza?”

Another long silence.

“Y’too, then. Let’s get somethin’ crystal here. Last I tried t’eat food, threw up. Out every end. Know y’all don’t wanna clean that up, an’ I ain’t inclined to it neither.”

“Do you remember the last thing you ate, out of curiosity?”

“A bottle a iodine. Buncha those lil’ funnel things the doc sticks in y’ear. I dunno, was a little stressed out at the Clinic.”

“Food, Galen. Not the compulsions. Stay with me here.”

The stalker let out a shrill bark, unmoving.

“Been weeks since I ate food, doc. ‘Fore ‘Piphany. Can we--” He fidgeted with his wrists and swallowed his saliva.

“Which of us has the smart sense of humor here again?” Lyst rolled his eyes.

“Y’think I’m slaggin’ y’all? Bring me Burger Block. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. Can we, maybe--” More squirming.

“If not... food... then what? The offer still stands, to get you anything within reason.”

“--I want these slagGIN’ HANDCUFFS--”

Almost in tears, Galen rolled on his face and tugged at the cuffs until his wrists were raw. The two men scrambled to each take one upper arm in hand and steady the boy.

“Cool it, cool it.” O’Donnell made hushing noises as he fished the key out of his pocket. “Stop squirming and I can-- Here-- wait, that’s not--”

The instant the cuffs were off, Galen wrestled out of their grip and snatched the restraining tool from them. They vanished down his throat in a series of curled links, and he lay back and stared at the ceiling with mental clarity afterward, hands laced on his stomach. Despite having contended with the offending article, an odor still divided Galen’s attention.

The scientists failed to hide their alarm.

“...You’ve... certainly done that before,” Lyst commented.

“Told ya I wanted ‘em. Nah. If y’makin’ a point f’me not, not chewin’. Y’couldn’t chew metal neither.”

“To your understanding, do you digest it slower or the same? The metal?”

“...Faster, t’be fair. A lot fastern’ what I think makes any sense. Paint. That’s what I’m smellin’, fresh paint. I...”

Lyst and O’Donnell glanced to each other.

“The lobby was being renovated earlier this week. Do you... you want paint?” Lyst looked at O’Donnell again, making sure he’d heard Galen right. “How-- how is he able to--”

“You’re able to smell the fresh paint upstairs?”

“Y’just seen me swallow handcuffs. Wouldn’t be weird as that, bringin’ me a bucket a paint, yeah?”

“You see that look in his eye.” Lyst wagged a finger at the flightiness Galen couldn’t quite shove down. “He’s just as overwhelmed by this as we are.”

“James, shush. It’s our job to figure this out, not shrink him. Besides, don’t you think it’s fair for him to be confused and disoriented? Clearly this condition has altered his perception in some way.”

“I’m right here, y’know. ...Will y-- will y’bring it? A bucket? Or a coupla cans?”

“Will that tide you over? We won’t be coming back to check on you until tomorrow.”

Entertaining his own warping appetites felt ill-advised at best.

“Ss, somethin’ plastic, maybe? Dunno. Don’t think ahead to well with it, jus’ makes me wanna eat it all at once if I do. Y’all haven’t got any books, yeah? It’s... borin’ in here.”

O’Donnell smiled, and helped his colleague up as they both stood to leave.

“We’ll see what we can do.”

Before Galen knew it, he was alone with himself again, the inception of the commonality of intermittent solitude. He didn’t catch how the door worked.

▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼

A rough boot to the butt jolted Galen awake, and he rolled over in anticipation for a fight, but his fists and gaze stiffened where he lay in confusion when he saw a stranger joined him. The man pulled a folding chair across the concrete floor and unfolded it with a series of rusty creaks, purposefully generating nuisance, and he sat mere feet from Galen with a big paper bag with its top rolled over. Younger than the two scientists, he had long grey-blond hair with the top half pulled back, angular features, and a white neoprene jumpsuit. Galen could tell by smell alone the bag contained fast food. Burger Block. Queasy, his fists and face drooped.

The man set down a fountain drink to one side of him, and fished out a hamburger piled up with vegetables. He tore into it with a diligent politic, seemingly less for keeping it off his uniform and more for some obligation to etiquette. After a few bites, once he was sure Galen had thought he was ignoring him, he jammed the burger right under his nose with a curious brow.

“--I, what, no.”

Galen moved to squirm away, but from where he sat the man pinned him down by the inner thigh with one foot. The man pressed down harder on Galen’s leg, until the treads of the boot dragged his flesh through the thin pajama pants. The stalker winced, and the man offered again by holding it there.

“I, I, I, I, I, I--” Galen swallowed, trying not to tremble. "--Can’t eat that.”

The man sat up straight and pulled off the bun to glance coolly back and forth between the bun and toppings.

“Educated guess whether you were a mustard or pink sauce kind of dreg.” He put the sandwich back together and took another bite. “Couldn’t exactly take your order, you know.”

“Are you... with those two guys from before? Lyst an’ O’Donnell?”

“You could say that.” The man shoved the food against Galen’s mouth this time, smearing mustard at the corner of the stalker’s mouth as he sustained unblinking eye contact. “If you don’t eat, going hungry will be the least of your worries.”

Galen grabbed him by the wrists, and the man allowed it.

“I, ii, if you were with those guys, you’d know s’got nothin’ t’do with whether I like mus--”

The man had only let Galen talk to get his mouth open, and jammed the burger in, even once the rest met Galen’s gnashed teeth. The mixture of bread, meat, lettuce, tomato, onion, and mustard elicited the same revulsion as a wad of hair in his mouth. With Galen caught off guard, the man pulled one hand away easily and used it to steady the shaven backside of Galen’s head so he could continue forcing more burger. Galen’s hands flew up to pry the salty oil and veggies away from his face, but it did little good save scatter a bit of lettuce.

“Chew. Swallow. Repeat. Stop being difficult. Didn’t anybody teach you how to eat? Don’t make me help you the entire way. I don’t get paid enough to babysit.”

Galen could smell the man’s holstered gun through the assault of fast food smells right under his nose, and opted not to argue. But these mutations, if that’s what was really going on... they’d given him such trouble stomaching anything... Still, it couldn’t be worse to resume being bathroom-ridden, than to second-guess the man’s disposition. So, he swallowed. He pulled the burger out of the man’s hands and shoved the whole thing in his mouth, and after the same level of mental preparation as taking a large pill, he swallowed whole what was left of it, just to get it over with.

Feigning he wasn’t shaking at the display, the man unstuck by letting go and offering up the soda.

“Supposin’ I can’t just say no thanks.” Without objecting beyond that, Galen popped the lid and used it to skim the ice as he chugged down the soda. He withheld comment as to the rising temperature in his gut. He ate the straw to satisfy his spite, and roll-folded the lid into his mouth too. “Don’t get what y’want.”

Rather than answer verbally, the man produced his reader from his breast pocket, and pointed in demonstration to the tiny, brightly colored cubes visible in the clear tray door on the edge of it. Heavy-lidded and matter-of-fact, he opened a recording on one of the cubes, and it lit up a pale green when he began playback.

“--Y’think I’m slaggin’ y’all? Bring me Burger Block. Don’t say I d--”

The man played it back a few times, watching contentedly as the look on Galen’s face melted from physical displeasure to disoriented grief. Galen wasn’t used to hearing his own voice, and it didn’t even click at first that it was his. Why the hell did this guy have a recording of Galen? His head ran hot and cold at once, and sweat wrought him clammy all over. Then it registered for the stalker, that this guy likely had a recording of the entire conversation he’d had with the scientists earlier. A scientist jealous of hearing of his rivals’ new work in progress? A security guard seemed the more likely explanation, but it felt like too simple of one to explain potential motives for this behavior. The more his stomach churned, the less he could focus.

Eventually, the whole thing spilled out across the floor in a charred effervescent mess. The man moved a foot aside to avoid the splatter, and his skin crawled to observe that the stomach acid actively dissolved the varnish of the polished concrete. His lip curled at the display to bare a gold incisor. He stood and pushed over the limp stalker with a small nudge, then retrieved the paper garbage to leave.

“You’re to follow all instructions to the letter. Nod if you hear me.”

A small nod, as Galen tried very hard to ignore the near-garlicky rancid stench of his stomach contents digesting the flooring beside him. He clutched his stomach, still cramping despite how much better he felt without the offending stuff inside him. Half-consciously, he felt grateful that it had come out before it had hit his intestines.

“That’s how you show gratitude for people going out of their way to extend a little kindness to you? That’s filthy, you know. Absolutely filthy.”

Galen nearly blurted out well it’s your fault, I told you exactly what’d happen. When he glanced up, he understood he’d have said it to no one: the man had already left.

“...I know.”

▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼

The door opened and shut, and a pair of shoes approached Galen, who’d curled up into one corner, lost in doldrums over the conviction that his family would not want him back until he was stable.

“Good morning,” O’Donnell started. “I brought you the paint you requested.”

He looked up over his shoulder to see the chemist had come alone, and he rolled over to sit up. When O’Donnell sheepishly handed him the can, he readily took it, but tucked it into his lap.

“Thanks.” He shied from eye contact.

“...Oh! You must be upset because you didn’t just ask for paint. Fret not.” O’Donnell reached into the hip pocket of his lab coat, and produced a reader and held it out to him. “You asked for books. I wasn’t sure what you might like, so I just downloaded a mess of things. You’re free to download whatever you like. The reader’s registered with the Central server.”

Galen stared at the device, and didn’t know how to respond to being offered such a thing. When he’d asked for books, he’d thought asking for a book would produce the physical copy of something, not a reader. He’d never had a reader to himself--the whole family had shared one, and Vana used it more than anybody. The irony was not lost on Galen, either, that O’Donnell had outfitted the thing with an impact-resistant protective case. Maybe this had been the man in white’s idea: a test of whether Galen could keep himself from eating something, when overcoming the compulsion would reward him by providing mental stimulation and alleviating isolation.

He caught himself glaring at the dark glassy stain in the floor and took the reader from O’Donnell.

“Y’all are... too generous. Don’t deserve this kindness.”

The chemist frowned at the sentiment.

“It’s the least we can do for you. You’ve been through so much already, and we haven’t even gotten to your diagnostics screening.”

Galen tapped the power button on the side and flicked the screen on. The navigation keypad along the bottom edge befuddled him and he pecked at it.

“Can I... ask a stupid question?”

“I don’t imagine it’s very stupid.”

“Has this place got security guards?”

O’Donnell crouched to be closer to the boy’s eye level where he sat in the floor, and tried to determine how to answer based on what reason Galen could possibly have for asking such a thing.

“This building is very secure. We have several guards, and extensive surveillance.”

“An’ their uniform, it’s an all white suit? Grey edges?”

The chemist’s eyes narrowed, brow shifting from scrutiny to concern.

“Why? Did one of them come in here?”

Again, Galen glanced at the vitreous slurry-stain. Left unattended, the stomach enzymes had reduced the food to carbon, and the mess had dissipated into the melted glass before the enzymes lost their potency and let the whole thing set up like it had been there all along. A lump formed in his throat.

“Long, greyish hair? But not all that old, I guess? Gold tooth. He’s one of yours, yeah?”

The chemist’s features flattened in a squint for a moment, but he reached out to hold Galen’s shoulders to look him in the eye.

“That’s... Michael. What did he want?”

“...Dunno.”

“Galen, I meant it when I said you could speak to us without consequence. The guards aren’t permitted in here unless they’re accompanying Lyst or me. No one but James and I have clearance to get in here. Did he say anything to you?”

Follow all instructions to the letter.

Galen shook his head and opened the first book he could click on.

“Thought it was weird, is all, that he wasn’t with you guys.” He tried to look like he had gotten absorbed in the romance novel, uninterested in conversation. “Guess he wasn’t supposed to be.”

“No. No, he wasn’t. Will you be all right for another day or so? We had to rent out a lot of the machines we need to run your diagnostics, but they won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.”

The flat affect indicated otherwise, but O’Donnell didn’t press him further.

“Please tell Lyst or me if Michael, or anyone else, comes in here again. You don’t have to go into detail, if you don’t want. But I promise you that the two of us want to keep you safe. If Michael doesn’t make you feel safe, neither of us want that.”

Galen didn’t have a response.

▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼

Galen flinched when Lyst and O’Donnell next visited, and withdrew into the corner before either could even greet him. The paint, can and all, had vanished, as had the reader. Balled up inside his head, he upset himself all over again over his own lack of self-control.

“I, I, I, I, I-- couldn’t help it--” He swallowed hard, trembling. “There’s gotta be a way t’make it up t’ya somehow.”

“You... how did you...” Lyst uncrossed his arms, and was looking around the room for proof he was wrong. He didn’t find any. “How did you eat the reader? --And the can?”

“I--” He looked to O’Donnell for an affirmation that it was okay to speak. “Ss, sssuck on it ‘til it melts. Like candy, or s, somethin’, I guess...”

“Incredible.” Lyst dropped all incredulity, now again fascinated. “Really, though, Galen. If you’d known you were going to eat it, you could have simply asked for an old, broken reader. It would have been fine to ask for that.”

“I-- I thought y’was gonna bring me a paper book. Know it sounds real sorry of me t’say, but... I forgot readers could even have books.”

“I don’t know that our budget could allow for antiques like that.” As tactfully as possible, O’Donnell asked, “You mean to say you don’t think you would have any compulsion to eat paper?”

“Haven’t had one so far. Not that I noticed.” Galen sighed and stared at their shoes in dejection, trying not to remember how the security guard had removed all the paper from the room on his way out when he’d been there. “I... get y’all not entrustin’ me with antiques. It was dumb of me t’even ask. Knew better. I ate my own damn e-cig, an’ Walkman, and--”

“Hey, now.” Lyst wagged a gracious finger at him. “You needn’t beat yourself up. So you had an expensive meal. It’s quite all right. Part of this is learning how your appetite works, little Galen. Galenula. Hhn.” He grinned, scrunching his nose.

“You finished off that can of paint in no time,” O’Donnell began. “We expected it to tide you over for at least a day, but that’s clearly not the case. Do we need to bring you larger, ah, servings? It’s difficult to bring things more frequently, but if we need to figure out how to schedule that, we will.”

“Metal.” Galen got doe-eyed at having blurted out the craving, envisioning what a larger serving might resemble. “Lots a metal. Computer parts if y'can.”

O’Donnell smiled, able to get their subject on a thought which seemed to calm him.

“We’ll see what we can do. In the mean time, Galen, we did come today for more than to just see you... We can start one set of tests this afternoon, if you’re up for it.”

Galen shook his head in dismissal that he could tell them no, and stood compliant.

“Whatever you need of me.”

Lyst left the room long enough to wheel in a small cart with two trays on top. In one surgical tray lay a fistful of stoppered vials, while in the other lay a variety of tubing and sterile-packaged implements. O’Donnell retrieved a pair of folding chairs once his colleague had returned, as not to leave Galen unattended with the door unlocked, and set them out opposite one another next to the cart.

“A blood panel.” The pharmacist refrained from mentioning even anecdotally that it had been since college that he’d had any phlebotomy practice. “A rather extensive one, I’m afraid. I’ll be gentle.”

“Drawin’ blood? Don’t bother me any.” Galen sat in the chair Lyst did not, and already found himself eyeing the glass on the tray. “One of y’gonna hold me?”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’m right behind you,” O’Donnell reassured, both hands on the back of the folding chair.

“First, vitals.”

Lyst produced a sphygmomanometer from a drawer in the cart. He wrapped the cuff around Galen’s upper arm, then depressed the auto-inflate mechanism so that the gauge pressed against his antecubital fold could take the composite measure of the boy’s blood pressure. With a holographic chirp, it annotated the measurement, and Lyst let the pressure out of the instrument and put it away. He got the infrared thermometer from the drawer next, and waved it over Galen’s forehead twice, and annotated its measure as well. Then, from the bottom drawer, the pharmacist set out a scale between the two of them, and suggested Galen stand on it. The only measure Galen saw for himself, it registered 81.6kg. The stalker never really had dealt much with metric, and he sat back down.

“Hm.”

“Hmm?” Hoping for an understanding, Galen looked expectantly to Lyst, who kept tapping away at calculations and annotations, then up behind him to O’Donnell, who also watched Lyst.

“How tall are you?” Lyst asked.

“Five-five. ‘Bout 130, last I checked.”

“Closer... to 180 pounds, it seems. Bell gave us his patient chart data when we overtook your care. You weigh nearly 82 kilo today. That’s about twenty-five kilo over what you should reasonably weigh. But, clearly you’re not overweight. Just... over what you ought to weigh.”

“He means to say, that kind of weight would normally factor as fat,” O’Donnell translated, concealing how wild his mind went with speculation. “Something internal has to be denser. The chemical composition of your muscles, perhaps. Or your bone mass.”

“Diagnostics will better inform us than any speculation.” Lyst put on a pair of latex gloves with minor flourish. “Now, Galenula, offer up an arm. And ball up a fist for me.”

When Galen did as instructed, Lyst gingerly tourniqueted it with a length of yellow rubber. The bespectacled pharmacist then cradled the elbow and palpated for a good artery. He took an alcohol-soaked poly swab to sterilize the area, then tapped at the resultant blood vessels again to test them to satisfaction. He nodded to himself, and unwrapped the catheter needle. Then he looked over his glasses up at Galen, who watched attentively all the while, then proceeded to eyeball exactly where to stick.

“I’m going to count to three, and you’ll feel a pinch, all right?”

Galen nodded. He had to look away, but it didn’t hurt too badly. Bell had hurt worse, he recalled, the doctor seemingly more compelled by speed and efficiency than avoiding exacting pain in the process. The stalker only looked down again once Lyst had snapped the first vial into place over the open tip of the tubing. Something about it felt wrong, and Galen tried not to squirm.

“...Shouldn’t it... be... red...?”

Rather than blood, a bright orange substance filled the vial.

“It wasn’t this color when Dr. Bell drew it?”

“...No...”

Lyst soon switched out the first vial for the second, going down the line. Some vials already contained something with which the blood was to interact, and one of these popped within a minute of the pharmacist setting it down on the tray. The burst startled all three of them, and Galen cried out when Lyst pulled the needle out and pressed down with a fresh poly swab, rather than accidentally jam the catheter further in. They all stared at the tray, wary that the others might follow suit. Galen nudged the caster-wheeled cart with his toe, to push it further away from all of them.

“I... only got seven of the eight vials drawn, but I think it’s safe to say that one wouldn’t have been a viable test sample.” Still holding the boy’s arm to apply pressure, he chuckled at how Galen had done what all three of them had thought of doing. “It’s fine. We got almost all of them, and these will definitely give us much information to work with. I won’t terrorize you further right now.”

Eyes glazed in revulsion, Galen couldn’t stop staring at the vials, many of which had turned nearly neon.

“That... that ain’t blood. Ain’t my blood.”

“It came out of your veins, Galen,” O’Donnell soothed, putting his hands to Galen’s shoulders. “The tests will tell us whether it’s supposed to be there.”

“It’s going to be all right,” Lyst seconded. “Once I get the chance to send off this panel to the lab, we’ll be sure to come right back with something you’ll like.”

“--Hhmetal,” Galen reflexively repeated, transfixed upon the fluid in the glass.

“Yes, yes. We know. Hm! You liked paint. Would you like soap as well, perhaps?”

“Soap sounds nice,” he agreed, becalmed by the idea of eating.

Lyst applied a patch of paper tape over the poly swab, and let go finally.

“Soap. And something metal. Absolutely.”

The pharmacist collected up all the vials into a foam-lined medical-grade mailer carton. From what Galen could tell as he watched, it wasn’t at all unlike a test tube rack fitted inside there, and it seemed to have thermal insulation to keep it within a certain range, as well. He noticed the side of the carton read BF Meehl before it vanished safely into the cart drawer, and Lyst tucked all the remainder of nonsense into the sharps bin in another drawer. O’Donnell patted Galen on the shoulder reassuringly, to shake him out of his stupor enough that he’d notice them leave.

“I’ll come and check on you in about an hour, all right?”

Galen took the shoulder pat as urging to stand so the scientists could retrieve the chair, then he returned to his favored corner next to the bathroom.

“Yeah. ...Thanks, any rate.”

He watched them exit, and observed this time the door opened in a series of magnetic buzzing. Maybe the security guard was watching the whole time, and let them in and out.

Once they were gone, he stared down at the taped poly swab, and forcing himself to take a nap was the only thing that kept him from ripping it off to see if the catheter had gotten out all the orange stuff.

[emetofiend2dand3d]

This is a real thing that happened:

Background: there is a gene called ALDH2 located on chromosome 12 that plays a vital role in metabolizing alcohol. A high percentage of East Asian's have a different form of the gene that does not allow them to metabolize alcohol. This is a condition known as "acute alcohol intoxication." The condition is most common in Japan. This means that people with this condition only have to drink a minuscule amount of alcohol to get drunk and their body can't metabolize it. I have a lot of Japanese friends and one of them has this condition. I saw him get drunk and get very sick at a party last night. I thought I would recount the story by writing a fic about it. My headcanon went towards Nagisa as having the condition... So this fic will be college age Nagisa getting drunk at a party and being cared for by the Iwatobi boys. Thank you I hope you enjoy. . "Are you sure about this Nagisa?" Rei, Makoto and Haru all sat on the edge of their seats as Nagisa held out his cup, asking for a shot. "Why don't I just give you a little? I can water it down with orange juice." Rei offered. Nagisa shook his head. "I want a drink." He said stubbornly. The three boys looked at each other for guidance but none of them seemed to have any ideas. Rei sighed and took Nagisa's cup. He poured a small amount in it, enough to cover the bottom and gave it back to him. Nagisa threw it back in one swig and cringed from the taste. "Okay. I'm drunk." The way he said it made everyone laugh and they felt a bit better. They hung out at the party for a while, talking with friends and playing party games. Nagisa was giggling his head off about seemingly nothing but it was so contagious he had everyone laughing with him. After about an hour and a half though, Nagisa's bubbly personality seemed to die down and he sat, chatting with friends quietly. He seemed drowsy, and was hiccuping as if he had been drinking all night. A group of college guys went up to the Iwatori team and asked them to join. "Hey, you guys wanna play some beer pong?" Makoto, Rei and Haru exchanged shrugs and agreed. "Ah- but Nagisa-" Rei suddenly felt guilty. "It's okay guys. I don't mind." Nagisa told them. "A-are you sure Nagisa? We-" Makoto wanted to make him feel as included as possible. "I'm sure! I can just watch." Nagisa insisted. Rei patted him on the shoulder and the three of them went to go play the game. Nagisa watched for a while, but he started feeling off. It wasn't the same light buzz he had been feeling earlier, it was more of a heavy feeling like he was sleep deprived. Nagisa tried to ignore it for as long as he could stand, but eventually, he developed an odd feeling that he didn't understand. Nagisa realized he was shivering. He hadn't thought it had been particularly cold earlier. But that was because the alcohol had given him a sort of warm pleasant feeling. He figured that it must have warn off and that was why he hadn't noticed the cold earlier. But he couldn't help but think it was odd, given they were in a small house crowded with people in late Spring. Nagisa tried to shake it off for as long as he could and distract himself by watching his friends dash around a table laughing and drinking together. Not only did the feeling persist however, it continued to make him feel worse. He began getting overwhelmed by the bright lights and shouting that made his head hurt. He decided it might be best to look for a place to lay down. He slowly dragged his heavy body upstairs to find that there was an empty room with a spare bed that didn't appear to in usage. Nagisa laid down in the bed, grateful to be away from the noise and the light. He thought that sleep would bring him relief, but it continued on. . Downstairs, the three Iwatobi boys were stumbling around as they played their fifth round of beer pong. Their team won, and they shouted with victory and gave each other high fives. That was when Rei looked over to see that Nagisa wasn't sitting in the same spot he had been earlier. "Did either of you see where Nagisa went?" Rei asked. Makoto and Haru looked just as surprised as he was and they began looking around the room. It wasn't especially large, so there wasn't any where he could have been hiding except upstairs. "Come on, one more round." One of the guys who they had been playing the game with asked them to come back. "Sorry. Maybe next time." Makoto declined. "Let's check upstairs." Rei suggested, and they went up to look. They opened the door to one of the the rooms to find someone listening to music and doing what appeared to be studying. Then they checked in a second room to find a couple sitting on a bed kissing. The couple shouted at them shut the door so they went to check the third room. It was completely dark but the could see someone laying in a bed from the light of the hallway. "Nagisa? Is that you?" Rei went up to him while Makoto and Haru stayed at the door. Rei leaned over him and touched his shoulder, he could see it was Nagisa. "You okay?" Nagisa didn't reply but the way he was acting made Rei worried. "He's shivering." He told Makoto and Haru. "Can one of you find him a blanket?" Haru went at once and asked the guy studying in his room if he could borrow a blanket. He brought it back and they wrapped it around Nagisa. Nagisa whispered something but they couldn't make it out. "What was that?" Rei leaned in. "C-c-cold." He shivered. "Still cold?" By then, Rei was very worried. "Haru, can I borrow your hoodie? I want to covers his ears." Haru took off his hoodie and Rei wrapped it around Nagisa's head. Despite being completely covered with blankets, Nagisa continued to shiver like he was cold. "I'm ganna keep an eye on him. You two can go back down to the party." Rei told them. Haru and Makoto hesitated, but they shut the door and left Nagisa to Rei. Rei sat beside Nagisa and stroked his arm comfortingly. Nagisa was whimpering and breathing in and out quickly as he continued to shiver. Shortly after, Nagisa moaned quietly, wrapping the blankets tightly around himself. "What is it Nagisa?" Rei asked. Nagisa sounded like he was having trouble speaking and he was swallowing compulsively. "I-m-guh-ganna-" before he could get another word out, a flood of vomit shot out of his mouth. Nagisa leaned over the side of the bed, but he wasn't quick enough to avoid soiling the mattress he was been laying on. He leaned over and burped up another waterfall of sick that splattered onto the floor. He threw the covers off of himself and swung his legs over the bed to sit up. He nearly collapsed out of it before he could even sit up but Rei grabbed him by the shoulders to keep him from falling face first. Consequently, Nagisa resorted to leaning forward and he vomited all over the floor and himself. He soiled his jeans and socks and hung over himself shakily with sick dripping down his chin. Nagisa coughed weakly and Rei tried to find the best path to step down onto the ground, which was covered with sick. It was difficult in the dark room but he managed avoid stepping in it and helped Nagisa out of bed. Rei walked him to the bathroom and had him kneel in front of the toilet. At once, Nagisa pitched forward over the bowl, heaving up more of his stomach contents, continuing with harsh coughing. He gagged weakly every few seconds but managed to stop puking for a full sixty seconds, so Rei took the opportunity to go get help. "Nagisa, I'll be right back. Don't move okay? I'll be just a second." Rei ran out and practically flew down the stairs, desperately searching for Haru and Makoto. He found them sitting and talking with some friends and he grabbed them and dragged them upstairs. "Rei what's wrong?" Makoto was concerned. "Nagisa's really sick." Rei tried to explain. "He got sick?" Even Haru was surprised. Rei tried to explain to them the extent of Nagisa's sickness to prepare them for what they were about to see. Rei opened the door to the bathroom to reveal Nagisa, covered in sick, on his knees hanging over the toilet. Haru covered his nose and both he and Makoto jumped back with shock. "He's really a mess right now and I need to take care of him but I also have to clean the room." Rei was spilling out his words, sounding flustered. "The room?" Makoto and Haru looked at each other with confusion. "Yes can you two find some towels and use them to clean the room?" Rei pleaded. The two of them nodded. "Anything to help." Makoto offered. They searched for some towels in the house and found a few in a spare closet. They went to the room that Nagisa had been sleeping in and when they opened the door, they both covered their faces with horror and jumped back. The room smelled awful. . Rei tried to tend to Nagisa the best that he could. He refused to move away from the toilet for more than a minute. He was hiccuping and burping constantly, each one getting deeper and wetter until he gagged harshly. Rei rubbed Nagisa's back and tried it get him to relax but he was too anxious to settle down. "Shh. Nagisa it's okay. Just calm down. You're okay." Makoto and Haru returned with dead looks in their eyes after cleaning the room and Rei sent them off with the task of finding Nagisa a new pair of clothes. Rei undressed him and put him in a new shirt, jeans and even socks. Nagisa remained fairly limp and passive throughout, still clinging to the toilet nervously. But he felt slightly better after getting out of his solid clothing. Nagisa hung over the toilet and suddenly started whimpering and taking in quick breaths. "What's wrong Nagisa? You feel sick again?" Rei stroked his back. Nagisa shook his head and looked up at Rei, there were tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry Rei." Rei was so surprised he didn't know what to say. "It-it's okay Nagisa." Haru and Makoto returned a moment later and Nagisa turned around to them, still crying. "Mako-chan. Haru-chan. I'm sorry." He started sobbing and Makoto smiled nervously, shaking his head while Haru simply stared. "It's okay Nagisa. You're fine. That's all that matters." Makoto told him. "You guys..." Nagisa sniffed. "Thank you."

[nothingbythebook]

I.

My day is interrupted by a puking child, and…

No. Not like that. Interrupted?

The definition of interrupt:

Stop the continuous progress of (an activity or process)

Stop (someone speaking) by saying or doing something.

Break the continuity of (a line or surface)

Obstruct (something, especially a view).

(So says the Oxford English Dictionary, which also adds, btw, this:

“Late Middle English: from Latin interrupt- ‘broken, interrupted’, from the verb interrumpere, from inter- ‘between’ + rumpere ‘to break’.”

– I learned something new, and now so did you.)

But for something to be interrupted… there has to be an expectation that it won’t be. An assumption that the activity will be continuous—that you will get to finish your sentence—that the line will go on forever, or at least for a while.

So. My day is NOT interrupted by a puking child. Let’s try this again.

II.

My sleep is interrupted… No, here I go again…

Take three:

I’m in that marvellous liminal morning place of sleep-not-sleep, and I am thinking I will wake—soon, but not just yet—when I hear footsteps on the ceiling (on the ceiling, yes), and then footsteps tramping down the stairs—doors opening—laundry bags being stepped on—and… there he is. In the crook of my arm, not quite as long as I am yet but definitely not small, and yet in that moment of crawling into bed beside me, so tiny.

He doesn’t whisper, “Upstairs?” as is his way when he wakes up before me or Sean. He just curls into me. And wiggles. “Maggie?” he says, searching for the dog in the dark.

I shush him.

“Your Dadda has to get up so early today, he needs to sleep until it’s time. Be still.” He stills, a little.

But Sean gives up on the remnants of sleep and gets up before his alarm clock.

Ender falls asleep, in my arms, for a while.

I don’t.

I mind-wander. Sad thoughts, happy thoughts. Heart-piercing, heart-breaking thoughts.

But happy thoughts too.

I like thinking.

At some point, my eyes are wet and I can’t exactly say I like that, but… it’s part of the experience.

Ender stirs beside me, awake in a flash. Starts to torment the dog.

“Upstairs?” I whisper to him.

He’s out of bed almost before I finish the sentence. Me, I stretch. Rub my eyes, forehead, neck. Sneek a peak at my phone.

6:17.

Early.

Ugh.

By the time I follow Ender upstairs, he’s already ensconced in one of the armchairs in the kitchen and wrapped in a blanket. Sean’s made coffee and I play the game I’m playing these days every morning, with every cup. Yes? No? A choice? A compulsion?

I pour a cup. Drink half of it while it’s hot… pour the cold remains down the sink later. A choice. Not a compulsion.

Sean’s got a 9 am presentation that he’s still refining, so I get Ender his cereal before going back downstairs with the coffee. Sit down in the space-that-is-me and write the morning pages.

Don’t whine in them very much, although at one point my eyes do get wet again.

Then—work. The tasks I MUST do first thing in the morning. And—go. Tedious. Unfulfilling. Necessary. Not ideal—I will not schedule a project like this again. My mornings need to belong to creative work, not this. These thoughts dance in the back of my head—but the front of it is all focused, disciplined, working.

About to be interrupted—but no.

It’s not an interruption if you know it’s coming.

“I need to cuddle.”

Ender in my armpit, under my blankets. I wonder if the reason I work on a couch, on the floor, on a chaisez-lounge is this? So I can accommodate one child, two, three while I write?

It’s hard to type AND cuddle an eight-year-old at a desk, in an office chair.

It’s not, by the way, an idyllic moment.

He keeps on grabbing my right arm. And I keep on snapping. We have a deal, Ender and I—the mornings are MINE and he can come into my space and BE with me. But I am working. I am not HIS at that time. He can be present—but all he gets is my presence. No interactions. Except ones that sound like this:

“I need my arm to do my work, stop pulling on it.”

“Ender, baby, you know this is my work time.”

“For fuck’s sake, stop yanking on my arm!”

He wiggles down and curls around my feet.

I do my work.

Get to the goal I set out as my “finish” for the morning stretch.

He says it this time before I do:

“Upstairs?”

Upstairs.

Upstairs, I make him his second breakfast and myself my first. And I break a rule—a new friend sends me a text that brings a smile to my face and so I text back (more on my texting rule later, maybe)—and I am flirting and moving around in the kitchen and trying to plan the day—I’ll read a bit with Ender, make sure Flora eats protein for breakfast when she wakes up—but then, I’ll probably be able to get the second block of my work done, and then, in the afternoon, will I have time to…

And that’s when Ender comes into the kitchen, and pukes all over the kitchen floor.

III.

My week, by the way, has looked sort of like this:

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But of course, this is only the public part of the story.

IV.

I’m trying to read, for the second time, Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project. I’m reading it because I got it as a birthday present for Sean, because he heard Rubin on a podcast talking about how different personality types are motivated and thought she was insightful and because he is very interested what makes people happy.

I’ve tried reading it before, when it was first released and there were 64 people ahead of me on the holds list for it at the public library. When my turn to read it arrived… Rubin lost me in February.

This time, I’ve persevered til June. I’m looking for the nuggets. But it’s hard.

Rubin’s relentless search for happiness (while claiming she is very happy to begin with) exhausts me. Really, that is what’s happening: as I read about her resolutions, projects, and initiative—I feel utterly drained.

It’s fascinating.

Her frantic energy vibes off the page and into my rather sensitive and strained… shall we be New Agey and call it aura? … I don’ t know. Something. Her frantic energy infects me. And not in a good way. Reading about her quest for happiness is decreasing mine.

It’s kind of interesting.

Also, insightful, although perhaps not in the way Rubin intended.

I’m not sure if I will persevere with the book through to December. It does have some good stuff, and quotes and insights from others, and I was going to pull one out for you, but I can’t find it, and really, fuck it, because the point is–Rubin’s desire to be even more happy (while denying that she’s unhappy) is making me tired.

And even those of her insights that resonate with me… I think we apply these insights in very different ways.

Anyway.

Happiness.

Sean is also reading—er, listening to—Mark Manson’s The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck. The subtext of which—or maybe its main point, actually—is that chasing happiness does not make people happy.

We talk about that for a bit on Thursday night. About the difference between “happy” and “meaningful.”

I am, right now, definitely not happy. Oh, I have moments of joy and pleasure. And even the occasional second of bliss.

But happy?

No.

And I don’t even want to be happy.

But let’s not talk about that today.

V.

I send Ender to the bathroom to wash his face and hands and I clean the kitchen floor. Settle him in bed with a puke bowl and his iPad.

“And Mommy?” he asks.

So my office for the rest of the morning is his sickbed, and I do most of my work with my left hand, as he convulsively holds onto my right.

When he falls asleep, I go downstairs and feed Flora protein, although it’s more lunch than breakfast now.

I should sit down and work. I start to draft this post instead—it seems important.

VI.

I don’t want to be happy or chase happiness, but I don’t want to be dysfunctionally unhappy either. I try to create my life, consciously and conscientiously. I want it to be meaningful, purposeful. Good, which to my mind is not the same as happy. Fulfilling. You know?

Right now, I have a project on the go that’s, ironically, meaningful and purposeful, and overall critical to the creation of my meaningful and purposeful life, but which has me doing things that are making me dysfunctionally unhappy.

So I’m looking at those things and trying to figure out… do I need to do them? If I do—if they are indeed unavoidable—can I do them differently?

It’s an interesting exercise. I’m trying different things. They all have few things in common: or maybe, just one thing.

They are a quest for… stillness. Silence.

My texting rule—I break it for you, I broke it this morning—is part of it.

My project requires me to be online, plugged in, sharing, responding, six out of seven days at least—and that seventh day, even then there are things…

It has, so far, been a 40-day long experiment in what happens to a creative person when they are never truly alone for 40 days.

It’s fascinating… and it ain’t pretty.

VII.

After his nap, Ender wants to play with his friends and go sledding, and I, the worst mother in the world, don’t let him. But I bundle him into a snowsuit—myself too—and we go for a slow loop around the Common. He barely makes it, all the while insisting he wants to go sledding and to play with his friends.

Back home, I make him tea with honey, but he’s asleep again when I bring it back.

The day continues like this—Ender waking up, falling asleep, whining, the elder two gaming, reading, fighting, me remembering at some point that I should feed them—finding out they’d already fed themselves (“But can you ask Dziadzia to bring buns and milk when he comes?”).

My dad arrives in the evening—with milk and buns, and also chicken wings—to take Flora to her martial arts class. I leave Cinder in charge of the not-puking-but-clearly-not-well Ender—then my mom comes to pick me up, and we go to the premiere of Sean’s film project (which, btw, you can now view at Art Enabled Life).

When we come back, Ender is asleep.

Turns out, Cinder took him sledding.

“Seriously?” That’s me.

“What?” That’s Cinder. “I made him wear a helmet.”

Ender sleeps like the dead; wakes up perfectly healthy.

VIII.

I want to finish writing this post in the evening, in my space. I think that will be the perfect closure to this day and this story: me, in my space, mostly uninterrupted. It was going to go like this, I had it all written in my head, scripted perfectly, and it was going to go like this:

“I have this… affirmation, I guess? words, ugh… that I’m working with right now. Well, there are two—the one I need to work on more I’m not ready to share with you. This one, though, you can hear:

“My days flow with a rhythm that nourishes and inspires myself and others.”

I’m chasing… not happiness. But flow.

Rhythm.

And I think… my rhythm will never be really smooth. Or uninterrupted. Sometimes, I will get planned or unexpected hours that flow gently, naturally into one another. But most of the time—I don’t expect, I can’t expect it.

Someone will puke. The furnace will break down. You will need me. My eyes will be wet.

I can’t control for any of that, and trying to paves the way to dysfunctional unhappiness.

But there are other… interruptions—and ways of being and thinking and acting that nurture interruptions—which all pave the way to dysfunctional unhappiness—that I can control.

So that’s my next project. Adjacent to the ongoing one, and my other creative and professional work.

I’ll tell you about it, bit by bit.

Now I have to go meditate. Then let my mind wander. Have some fabulous sex.

Sleep.”

But, um… instead, after the film, I come home to was-asleep-but-is-now-awake Ender and sit with him for near an hour until he falls back asleep, and then, I want to sleep, not write, myself. So, I do. And the next day, I’m up at 6:17 am doing all the things, and getting picked up before 8 am by a friend and going to an all-day workshop and…

I finish the post there, in-between presentations, pitches, meet-ups.

Rhythm?

Flow?

Sort of.

Rhythm, interrupted?

Sure. Hey, there’s my title.

xoxo

“Jane”

PS A shameless plug for Sean’s amazing work again—Check out the ART ENABLED LIFE project, either via its website, or if you’re a Facebook user, on its Facebook Page. The eleven films featuring eleven artists in dialogue with middle school students about how art builds resiliency (and other beautiful insights) are also live on Youtube now, and they will change your life.

Rhythm, interrupted I. My day is interrupted by a puking child, and... No. Not like that. Interrupted? The definition of interrupt:

[emetofiend2dand3d]

Hello! Can I get something with sick Kyoya being taken care of by someone (Tamaki if you're okay with it). Thanks!!

I looove the Kyoya and Tamaki pairing^^ (I made it just friendship)Tip: 2200円 (yen) amounts to about $20 ."Kyoya. Kyoya? Kyoya!"Kyoya snapped out of his daze to see Tamaki standing on front of him. "You seem distracted. Are you working on something?" Tamaki sounded annoyed. "N-no, my apologies. Was there something you desperately needed Tamaki?" Kyoya pushed his glasses up his nose. He had been writing in his notebook but he looked down to see he had just been scribbling in it. He had been pretending to write to look busy as he so often did. He was not in the mood to have to tend to any of Tamaki's daily whims. He hadn't been able to focus since that morning. He had woken up with a headache that had only gotten progressively worse throughout the day. He barely made it through his classes, only staying awake with the help of hefty doses of caffeinated tea. He had already purchased two from the school's coffee shop and was considering picking up a third. He didn't think he would be able to stay awake for the host club without it. He stopped Haruhi, who was holding a tray of cups and bringing them to a table. "Haruhi could you do me the favor of running to the coffee shop downstairs and getting me a large green tea?" Haruhi looked surprised. "Oh, are you sure? I can make you a cup of coffee." She offered. "I'd prefer something lighter, if you please." Kyoya wasn't sure he could stomach coffee at that time. He was already feeling queasy and didn't want to push it. "Sure thing Kyoya-senpai." Haruhi smiled and put down the tray to run down there for him. Just as she, left Tamaki's spun him around suddenly and clapped his hands together."Alright Kyoya, are you ready?" Tamaki's sounded excited, which made Kyoya uneasy. As soon as he regained his balance from being spun around, he readjusted his glasses and crossed his arms. "Ready for what?" "This!" Tamaki pulled a cloth off of a table and revealed an average looking table. "What?" Kyoya was getting impatient. "Doesn't it look great!" Tamaki was jittery with excitement. "I see no difference from our usual table spread." He said. "The doilies!" Tamaki pulled Kyoya closer and lifted one of the plates up. "Don't they compliment the golden tinted tea cups perfectly?" "I suppose doilies are an expense we can extend for." Kyoya jotted something down in his notebook. "They are tinted with real 14 carat gold!" Tamaki finished, and the led of Kyoya's pencil snapped. "Exactly how much did you pay for these doilies?" He asked, trying not to lose his temper. "They were a bargain! They were only 2200円 each!" "And how many of them did you purchase?" Kyoya had his calculator at the ready. "I got a deal for 2000円 off with the purchase of 100!" Tamaki said proudly. "So you managed to spend 218,000円 on useless decorative paper." Kyoya was about to blow a fuse. "Kyoya, why is your face turning red?" Tamaki looked worried. He placed his hand on Kyoya's forehead. "Kyoya! I think you're running a fever!" Kyoya tore Tamaki's hand away in frustration. "I do not. What you're feeling is my blood boiling with contempt for your utter stupidity." Kyoya was aware that he was raising his voice but he couldn't seem to calm himself down. He could feel himself sweating now and his vision beginning to get cloudy. "Kyoya..." Tamaki sounded hurt. "If you would just think before you act then I wouldn't have to work like a commoner as your dog!" Kyoya was panting. "My job has become lower than Haruhi's!" Kyoya swung his hand around and felt it hit something. Then he felt a stinging sensation and quickly turned around to see Haruhi on her knees, the front of her shirt soaked with hot tea. "Oh god. Haruhi." Kyoya was struck with horror. "Someone get a cold towel!" He shouted. "It's okay- Kyoya-senpai." Haruhi said, wincing. "I'm alright." "I sincerely apologize. I intend to pay back any damages I've caused you." Hikaru handed him a cold towel and Kyoya dabbed under Haruhi's chin. "You don't owe me any money senpai. Your apology is enough." Haruhi sounded angry. "Right. Of course. I'm sorry." Kyoya discreetly wrapped his arm around his stomach. Haruhi could see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed compulsively. "Are you sure you're alright senpai? You don't look so good." Haruhi pushed Kyoya away to get a better look at him. He was clammy and pale, with sweat dripping down his temples. His eyes were glossy and he was breathing uneasily with his mouth open. "What? Yes of course. Let's just worry about you. I'll have someone escort you to the nurse's office." Kyoya sounded flustered. "Maybe you'd better escort me, then you can be checked out as well." Haruhi crossed her arms. Kyoya was finding it harder to swallow as time went by. Then he felt a wave of nausea come over him and it took physical effort not to wince. "Please- excuse me." He turned around and tried to lift himself off the ground. He suddenly felt five times as heavy as usual and he couldn't lift up more than one knee. He covered his mouth as he felt himself stifle a gag. "Kyoya! What is it?" Tamaki ran up to him and put his hands on him to help him up. "I-" Kyoya swallowed reflexively with a hiccup. "I think I need the restroom." He looked at him with desperate eyes and Tamaki's reserve instantly became serious. He threw Kyoya's arm over his shoulder, feeling how limp and weak it was, and helped him walk. "You four are in charge of making sure Haruhi gets escorted to the nurse's office." Tamaki instructed the rest of the host club, and they all nodded with determination. "Don't worry Kyoya. Just hang on a bit longer." Tamaki tried to sound comforting. Kyoya was only semi coherent as he felt like he was burning up from the inside. The only conscious part of him left was controlling his urge to gag. Tamaki dragged him into the back room and shut the door. He led him to the couch, but Kyoya pulled back. Tamaki was confused, until he saw the direction Kyoya was going, and noticed him covering his mouth with his hand. He helped him in the direction of the club's private single bathroom. He carefully lowered Kyoya on the carpeted floor in front of the toilet. As soon as he let go, Kyoya lurched over the bowl, clutching the outside of it. "Please- go." He sounded like he was begging. "But!" Tamaki protested at once. "Please!" Kyoya's voice cracked. Tamaki clenched his fists and narrowed his eyebrows. "No. I won't leave you alone in your condition." "God Tamaki can you ever just-" Suddenly, Kyoya lurched forward with a cough and started gagging. Tamaki found himself frozen. Kyoya took off his glasses which were sliding down his nose and held them in one hand that was still wrapped around the toilet. A burp caught him by surprise and forced him to retch. He placed his hand on his stomach as his muscles clenched. He was clenching he teeth and breathing heavily through his nose. "It's okay Kyoya. You'll feel better you know-" Tamaki touched his shoulder compassionately but he was rejected. "No! I refuse to give in to the whims of my body." There was anger in Kyoya's voice. He used all of his strength and the help of the toilet to push himself up, and started walking away. He only made it as far as the sink before he leaned over it for balance, blinking, as he felt dizzy. He clenched the marble sink tightly and leaned into it with heavy breathing. He felt himself being at the mercy of his body, and he pitched forward with a cough. He was horrified to feel his stomach contents shoot up his esophagus and he covered his mouth with his hand, breathing through his nose. He swallowed, but it was no use. The liquid came back up almost immediately and forced a deep gag out of him, until he felt it hit his tongue and assault him with a putrid taste that burned his throat. He spewed it into the sink forcefully with a terrible sound. Tamaki felt sympathetic as he watched Kyoya's shoulders clenching closer to his ears with each heave. He finally forced himself to stop and he took a breath and ran the tap. He closed his eyes, feeling another wave of sickness coming on shortly after the first one. Tamaki could see he was shaking in his spot so he took him by the arm and guided him back to the toilet. "Come on. If you have to stand any longer, you'll collapse." The moment Tamaki lowered him in front of the toilet, he lurched over it with another gag and came back up panting. "I- I never thought this would happen to me again." "You'll be okay Kyoya. Besides, you have me!" Tamaki pointed to himself with a grin. "Yeah. I'll always be safe with you around." Kyoya said sarcastically, but Tamaki couldn't pick it up. Then Kyoya's face fell, and he leaned back over the bowl with a groan. "I'm forced to remember how dreadful it is being ill. I'll have to remember not to let it happen again." He opened his mouth, trying to control his breathing as he waited for the inevitable. Tamaki cocked his head suddenly and took Kyoya by the hand. "What on earth are you-" Kyoya blushed in surprise and pulled his hand away. "You burnt your hand." Tamaki said, running cold water over a towel and returning to lay it on his hand. "I'm much more worried about Haruhi. I'd feel dreadful if she was badly hurt on my account." Tamaki grinned, humming softly to himself as he tended to Kyoya's hand. "What are you so-urrp cheery about you moron?" Kyoya burped. "Nothing. It's just nice that you care." Tamaki said. Kyoya glowered. "Trust me I won't make a habit of it."