#the majority of my teachers insist we do everything handwritten so i do get to practice very often

[rememberthelaughtermp3]

how is my handwriting this bad where did i go wrong

[mothmanhamlet]

Feelings are Fatal

I’ve decided to put all my fics here on tumblr, so here we go I guess

Logan is decidedly against love, but the very feeling he hates may just be his downfall.

Logince, 4231 words, Hanahaki au/High school au

Warnings: Major character death! Blood! Kinda swearing idk

Hanahaki Disease. It was just another fact of Logan’s life, the almost magical sickness that caused flowers to bloom in ones lungs as a result of unrequited love. He had to write a paper about it once, about when humans discovered it and how it affects humanity. He got a good grade on that paper, even though he didn’t understand it. Yes he understood the phenomenon, but how anyone could feel that deeply simply evaded him.

He used to pride himself on that, the fact that he always put logic and reason above emotion. It let him get good grades in every class he took, it made sure he focused, and it helped him get through high school without a hitch.

Well almost. Before he could glide through school into an Ivy League, he met Roman Prince.  

Roman Prince was the resident drama star and popular kid. He was conventionally attractive, with his curly brown hair, unblemished skin, and light brown eyes. A hopeless romantic, he was dramatic and confident. He and Logan shared Literature and World History together for almost two years.  

He could remember the day they first met, 2nd period English Literature. It was a rather bright room with handwritten posters plastered anywhere there was room. A giant messy whiteboard was at the front near the door with a square of desks facing it. The desks seemed to be one for every two people, an odd choice for a teacher but a completely average choice for that particular one. He remembers taking half of one in the front corner.

Once the bell rang to start class, the teacher, Mr. Picani, emerged rather ceremoniously from behind the desk. Immediately, he introduced himself and scribbled “Romeo and Juliet” on the board. From there, the class launched into a conversation about the story, most of them having already read it, which soon turned into a debate.

“It’s just so tragic, they were in love and had to die because of it, what could be sadder?” Roman announced, standing up and waving his hands around to accentuate his point.  

“They knew each other for a month at best and then killed themselves, how is that a tragic love story?” Logan said with a scoff.  

“How could you just say something like that about one of the greatest love stories of all time?” Roman gasped, turning his attention fully to Logan.

“Juliet was thirteen, she didn’t know what love was.”

“Oh and you would know better?”

“Actually-”  

They continued their debate for almost all of class, ending with both of them literally out of their seats and yelling at each other. It was intense and probably not the best first impression. It also caused their suddenly pacifist teacher to switch around their seating, so they ended up right next to each other in a swift move Mr. Picani called the “Get-along-desk”.

For the first few months, it was a hell-scape. Their interactions were explosive, they always had different opinions and neither were willing to compromise. For a while, they just refused to talk to each other, after all it did seem like the logical move at the time. That didn’t last long, as being desk-mates meant being project partners and projects meant communication. If not for Logan’s refusal to disrupt his own learning, they probably would have been kicked out of class. Even in History they weren’t safe, somehow always ending up partnered together. Logan found it infuriating. Roman thought with his emotions, he relied on abstractions and was too stubborn to let go of them. Not to mention, arguing with him was like arguing with the personification of the Uno reverse card. Roman would say that he was the stubborn one, focusing on facts and figures exclusively. Four whole months went by and no one thought they were capable of getting along.

That was until Roman’s twin brother transferred into their class. Remus was everything Logan despised, doing everything thoughtlessly. He would place nightmarish takes on their reading, placing what ifs where they had no business being. Logan was sure he lacked the capability to take anything seriously. Roman could barely stand him too, Remus being the antithesis of him despite the fact that they shared DNA. If Logan hated Roman, he despised Remus.  

So of course, when it was time to do team debates, Mr. Picani made the mistake of pairing them against Remus’ group. It didn’t matter how they felt about each other before, they were against a common enemy and needed to best him.

As rivals they were strong. As allies, they were damn near unstoppable. Every issue they had was put aside as they worked on an argument about the feminism of Pride and Prejudice. They used every second of class, discussing evidence and building upon ideas. They even went out of their way to work after class. Logan was finally able to see Roman’s strengths, how passionate he was, how driven he could be, and the creativity he had in every aspect. Sure enough, they got the highest grade in the class, and a friendship was formed. Albeit, it was uneasy and reluctant, but it was a friendship nonetheless.

Soon, unease and reluctance grew to respect. Respect grew to appreciation. After a few months, lo and behold, the get-along-desk had worked. They were not true friends, but they were doing better. They started to acknowledge points they made, even adding in some occasions. They made small talk too, Roman talking about his rehearsals or telling about another person he just had to meet (but ultimately never would). Logan would start to ramble about something he learned. It was little things like that that made their friendship.

It was mid-March when Logan noticed it. Everything had seemingly calmed down since Remus had gotten expelled for performing the macarena during an assembly for the 15th time, and he and Roman were slowly becoming at least acquaintances. They were in history class at the time, when Roman turned to him while they were working.

“European society really did peak in, like, the 1300’s huh,” Roman said nonchalantly, pointing to a knight’s uniform. Of course, Logan was annoyed with him. Somehow, he managed to forget the black plague, despite it being the focus of most of the unit. But it was a different kind of annoyance, more amusement than anything else. And of course Roman    wanted to be a knight, he already had the chivalry and honor down to a tee. But he was thinking about that too much.

It was a weird sensation Logan didn’t entirely understand. He probably should have thought about it, as that would be the logical thing to do, however Roman had told him continuously that emotions were illogical and that same weird part of him wanted to listen to Roman. So instead, he ignored the feeling and lectured him on the black plague. It was easy enough to ignore.

He felt it again in English the next day, while he was reading The Picture of Dorian Gray. They weren’t required, he simply wanted to. He remembered Dorian reminding him of Roman. A little narcissistic, a bit vain, beautiful. Beautiful. His brain got stuck on that word for a while. He thought Roman was beautiful. But emotions were illogical, so he ignored it. It was easy to ignore.

It continued to be easy to ignore. Sure moments like that would pop up, more and more frequently as time went on, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter the bursts of unexplainable happiness that Logan felt when he saw Roman. It didn’t matter the times Logan lost the ability to articulate in his presence. It didn’t matter that Logan could see just how nice and charming and unique Roman was. It didn’t matter, because he could ignore it.

By the end of the year, he could safely say it was harder to ignore. What was once subtle, was now strong and demanding in his head. That was also the time Logan realized it was hopeless to even want what he now knew he wanted. Over the year, he learned that Roman was in fact, a hopeless romantic. However, the endless string of people Roman fell for had a few things in common. From what he heard, they were all emotional, dramatic, popular, and perfect. Just like Roman.

So, when the year ended, Logan did what he did best when it came to his feelings about Roman. He ignored them.

The summer passed as the summer always did. Logan did mathematics camps, biology camps, astronomy camps, anything that kept him busy and learning. It was almost boring, how routine it was. The only thing that kept nagging at him was his ‘crush’ (the others at camp had taught him the term) on Roman. It never went away as he had hoped, yet he still continued to neglect it. Unfortunately, like a wound left unattended, it would begin to fester.

The school year began, and Logan could almost remember the happiness he felt when it started again. Classes were where he found his confidence, where he was listened to and respected. He was good at school, because it let him use logic and reason generally without complication.

There was, of course, one minor problem. He was waiting in his new English class, coming off of the high that was impressing his orchestra class, as he sat down at an empty table. This teacher seemed much like his previous one, bubbly and energetic. There were more technicolor posters adorning the walls, but everything was less cartoonish. In addition to the spectacled teacher who insisted they call him by his first name, this class seemed to have a TA, a dark shadowy man who must have been a college student. Logan had to have been distracted while taking everything in, as he failed to notice someone sitting next to him.  

“Hey Microsoft Nerd, ready to win English again?” Logan turned to see a smiling Roman facing him. Besides simply being startled, Logan jumped at seeing Roman again. He didn’t think Roman would actively seek him out like that.

“Roman, you cannot win English as a class, or a language for that matter, it is not a competition,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses. He forgot how pretty Roman was. It seemed his brain was at it again with this inconvenience.

“Au contraire, Pocket Protector, we can and we shall,” Roman said with a grin, his eyes lit up like candles.

So Logan had to be with Roman for another year, which was fine except for the fact that his feelings came back swifter and stronger. It was like his brain couldn’t stop noticing Roman and his smile and how he talked about the things he loved and how good he was.

He did fine, keeping it in the back of his mind, till around mid-October. That’s when he first noticed it.  

He was in his bedroom, at the clean white desk doing his homework. He had a cup of tea next to him, his books in front of him, and everything in order. Standard studying procedure. He remembered taking a sip of tea and coughing violently, his lungs burning like a wildfire inside his chest. Coughing and sputtering, he remembered thinking it was the tea, that he attempted to breathe while drinking it. It wasn’t until the burning died down and he felt something soft between his teeth did he understand. Removing it, he could see how bright red it was, a thick petal with uniform teeth marks pressed into it. It had to be a poppy. Coughing again, he feels another, more curly petal. A red carnation. They looked striking on his desk, in a room of mostly neutrals and deep blues, they added color. They popped so strangely it almost hurt to look at. They were objectively beautiful, plump and bright, but what they symbolized horrified Logan. He had really fallen for him, there was no turning back, not now. There wasn't much he could do now.

Well.  

Seeing as it was hopeless anyways, no one else needed to know. It was his secret, his mistake to be hidden. So, instead of telling anyone or getting a doctor or doing anything, he swept the red abominations into a little blue trash bin.

He remembered the next month at school being pretty easy, all things considered. He would go about his day as normal, minus the new addition of a water bottle for him to place the horrible beautiful petals. Roman would look at him or smile at him and his chest would ache, but he was sure it would get easier to ignore. He was very good at ignoring.

Harder than that, was explaining how his trash bin became full of scarlet, slightly damp, flower petals. It didn't completely sell him out though. No, that was a few weeks later, when he was in the middle of dinner. They sat rather quietly as usual, when Logan felt the recognizable burning in his chest, however this time was worse, feeling like lit kerosene all the way up his throat. He realized in that moment he was unprepared, no way to hide what would inevitably fall from his mouth. After a minute of wheezing, Logan looked to his plate to find a full, slightly bloodied, red carnation.  

His parents stared at him with wide eyes, flitting between the plate and him. It was as if they couldn’t process what had happened. He didn’t want to tell them like this, but it was too late for that now.

“Logan, I think we should schedule a doctor’s appointment,” Logan’s dad said, clearing his throat. It was a simple announcement, one that ended the conversation as they went back into silence.

One week of mild suffering later, Logan was sitting in a doctor’s office, waiting for the doctor to come back with the results of his blood test. He didn’t know how it worked, or why they needed a blood test to determine if he had flowers in his lungs, but he decided not to question it.  

The doctor came in with a serious face, as if he was about to deliver bad news and they didn’t already know the answer. He gave his parents a brochure, one with all the options they had, although there weren’t many. There were pills he could take, but they were new, expensive, and had a nasty habit of giving people cancer. There was the tried and true method of explaining your feelings in the hopes it wasn’t actually unrequited and you just thought it was. Then there was the option most people chose, the surgery. It was generally reliable and probably the safest option. It did remove your ability to feel most emotions, but to people with this kind of problem that was kind of a bonus. A security that it won’t happen again.

In the car ride back, Logan already knew what would happen. Sure, a confession would be easy, but even worse than his mild fear of humiliation was his parents’ strong fear of him getting a boyfriend. Or any romantic attachments for that matter. They were of the opinion that school and work came first and anything besides that was a distraction. He himself prided himself on a similar outlook.

“Logan, I think you should get the surgery, it may not seem ideal, but I promise    you it will pay off in the end,” Logan’s mom said from the front seat of their car. It was nothing Logan didn’t expect, so he simply sat there looking out the window at the trail of cars around them.

“Ok.”

The next day of school, he was filled with a sort of relief. He would be rid of these emotions that had been annoying him for months and trying to kill him for weeks. He was more relaxed. Unfortunately, because no good thing goes unpunished, he forgot his water bottle in orchestra. Which meant, he wouldn’t have it till after his next class, which just so happened to be English.

He did alright, all things considered, until they were allowed to research for their essays. He felt a burn in the back of his throat that meant flowers were coming. He started to cough, attracting the attention of the others at his table, a blonde girl, a redhead boy, and of course Roman. The emo TA also started to look at him, which was one more step to explaining his… Condition to the class.

A solid minute of wheezing later, two bright red and bloody flowers appeared in his hand, a carnation and poppy each with some stray petals. That drew a little more attention. The teacher gave him a concerned glance, but after Logan shook his head at him, he retreated. A few straggling eyes were suddenly on him, but the ones he was focusing on were the ones sitting right next to him.  

“So you do have a heart Lo,” Roman said, reaching out to touch a petal. He had to be dreaming. Roman couldn’t know. Roman wasn’t allowed to know. And Roman had many nicknames for him, but they were never his name. It was as if it were too personal. “I’m very sorry about whoever this is, and I would fight them anytime.”

Logan put on a brave face and straightened the blue tie he tended to wear. “Don’t feel too bad, I’m getting the surgery for it in a month or two.” Maybe if he didn’t look at Roman he would be better at talking about it.

“Oh, good luck then,” Roman said with a smile as Logan looked at him. He could have sworn he heard the slightest bit of sadness in his voice, but Logan was never very good with emotions.  

Three weeks came and went without much notice, except for the occasional brave soul asking about his illness. Logan remembered the answers he gave to be extremely clinical, using a lot of logic for a emotions based affliction.

He sat in the doctor’s office, a cold and sterile room, waiting for the doctor to come back with his X-rays, just so they could make sure the surgery would go on as usual. His mother, sat next to him in a light colored chair, squeezed his hand.

“They’re going to fix you, don’t worry,” His mother whispered. Moments later, the doctor came back into the room, clearly trying not to look distraught.

“I’m afraid we ran into a complication,” the doctor said, looking at his mother, “Your son is extremely far along in the disease, and the roots of the flowers grew in an unfortunate place in your son’s lungs. Trying to remove them would cause extreme scarring that would inevitably lead to pulmonary fibrosis, as well as cause severe damage to the blood vessels. Not to mention the fact that his brain is still developing, which means that the alterations to his limbic system could result in abnormal developments. What this means is that your son does not have a high chance of survival, should this surgery go through. I apologize that we were not able to identify these things beforehand, and you still technically can go through with it, though I would not recommend it.”

His mother’s face fell. Logan himself could barely acknowledge what had happened, the words refusing to run through his brain. The pure cleanliness of the room became all the more oppressive, the walls were beginning to close in on him. This, Logan would remember as the beginning of the end.

The next week of school was weighted and dull. His parents started to fight about whether or not he should go on with the surgery, and every day he continued to cough more and more. His parents announced that the next week would be his last at school. It was the march of his last year at high school, it should have been the home stretch for him. In many ways it was.

His last week at school was possibly the most difficult part. He had to explain to his teachers that he would be leaving, he had to watch their faces drop as they realized why he might not come back. His English teacher, Patton as he insisted they call him, cried when he told him. He thought Logan couldn’t see him, but he was able to see the small drops of water in his eyes. Even Virgil-the-TA was a little sadder. He decided no one else would know, if he could help it. Except Roman. As much as he hated the thought of telling him, Roman was his friend, technically his only friend. He deserved to know, Logan decided. He deserved to know everything, or at least a shortened version of it.

Soon, it was Friday. His last day of school went without much fanfare, besides his teachers becoming sentimental. He had also neglected to tell Roman, effectively waiting until the last possible moment. It neared the end of English class, and Logan was prepared. When they were allowed to talk, he turned to face Roman.

“Roman, I’m going to be away from school for a while and do not know when I’ll be back, or even if I will return,” Logan said in his usual directness. It was… Odd talking about his likely death. “So if this is the last time we ever speak, I just wanted to tell you that I-” No. He couldn’t do it. Roman would blame himself for it, and Logan refused to put that on him. Roman didn’t deserve to blame himself for this. For him. “I always thought of you as a friend. A best friend I suppose.”

Roman looked at him with a mixture of shock and sadness. “Logan I li-” Roman said quickly before pausing, letting out a sigh. “Logan, I’m glad I could be your friend. A best friend.”

And that was it. Logan got on with the rest of his day, and went home.

That lead Logan to where he was now, around three weeks later. He was sat in the chair in his room, as usual, reading a book. It was Astrophysics for People in a Hurry, and he had read it hundreds of times. He always wanted to study space. The pristine whites and grays of his bedroom were tinged red from coughing fits in the middle of the day. Flowers could be spotted in the corners of his room, the only mess in his neat space. It used to feel comfortably organized, now feeling distant and damaged. Nevertheless, he essentially lived in his room, no reason to go outside when he was going to die anyways. No reason to leave his room when his parents were always fighting about him. They were still considering surgery, or at least his father was.

He felt another cough rise in his lungs. He had almost gotten used to the pain. Slowly stumbling up and to the trash can, he choked through the pain. He could feel the warmth claw its way up his throat, burning.  Moments later, he could see two blood-soaked flowers, a poppy and carnation perfectly intact, stem and all. But they didn’t stop. A stream of blood followed, nearly filling his mouth, staining his lips and teeth red. In that moment, he realized just how little time he had left.

He turned over to the light switch, turning it off, then closing the drapes to his window. In the darkness he walked over to his perfectly made bed, and lied down. He could stare at the childish glow-in-the-dark stars he had placed up there, simply because they looked nice. He simply laid in the silence, staring at his own stars.

They say that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. But a flash was the wrong word. No, Logan felt every moment leading up to this wash over him in a wave. Every mistake, every choice. He wondered if things could have been different. Maybe if he had never argued that first day, if he had never talked to Roman Prince, maybe he could have avoided all of this. He could have been on his way to a college, then to a job, and to a life. But it was too late for that. It was too late for him. It was almost over and he had lost.

Logan stared at the stars in thought. Soon, he lost track of time. He didn’t know how long he waited there before his vision started to blur. His vision started to fade, going darker and darker till he was staring into the face of the void. He felt his body lose the warmth it once contained, his energy dissolving. Despite it all, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, fighting for his life. Soon, it too gave up, slowing and stilling. He felt a soft pain surrounding his body, dulling his senses to numbness. Through the ache in his chest his breathing slowed. He gave out a small cough and a sharp breath in. As he released the breath, he felt himself let go. He released himself to the icy nothingness moving in on his brain. He couldn’t hear or see or feel anymore. He was still and detached and nothing anymore. He was finally gone.

[oh-theatre]

Sycamore High: Shatter (Chapter 11)

A/N: I am so sorry about what you are about to read, please forgive me AND PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!! Also, I love Henry he's my precious

summary: Henry has an unexpected morning, and Ted falls victim to an awful scene cause in the cafeteria

words: 2,648

warnings: FORCED COMING OUT, crying, negative thoughts, sickness, homophobia, suicidal thought 

Ao3 link

In Henry's defense, he wasn't a Musical Theatre teacher. Yes, ok, he doubled majored in Theatre and Science but that does not mean he had any intention of teaching it. He enjoyed the steady pace of biology, the thrill of surgery or even just talking about. He can't remember a single day where he doesn't boast to his students about his surgeon years, going over and studying with the class his multiple operations. The thrill he got knowing that every student that walked into class that day would leave utterly in love with him. He liked the attention, what can he say? But something he liked, even more, was his husband. And god, would that be the death of him.

“Henry..” A soft voice pleaded from the main bedroom, Henry sighed and turned away from the vanity where he was getting ready for the day. He peeked his head out of the connecting bathroom. He was met with loving eyes the sweet face of his husband. He bit the inside of his mouth, damnit here come the puppy eyes, He thought. The figure rolled in bed bothered, Henry studied him for a moment, His usually pristine face was red and puffy, his eyes were a never-ending source of watery tears. His voice was higher and stuffier than usual. The figure was weak, this set off alarm bells. Henry's husband was many things but he wasn't weak. He took years of dance, and gymnastics, his body was...well strong. Henry felt his cheeks flush a lovely shade of crimson thinking about this. He cleared his throat and finished examining his sad husband.

“You're sick, aren't you?” He questioned.

“Always the doctor aren't you Henry?” His husband teased, Henry remained unimpressed. He knew exactly where this illness came from and he had previously warned against.

“There is one basic rule all theatre people know” Henry explained, his husband sat up weakly. He faced Henry, eyes growing wide with fake interest. “You don't share water bottles Chad” Henry said simply, Chad groaned happily. “You of all people should know this, now look at you”

“I know” Chad whined “But I was parched and had already used up my own hydration-” He paused giving his husband an adoring look “You would share your water with me wouldn't you?” Chad cooed. Henry let out a boisterous laugh before staring his husband dead in the eye.

“Over my dead body” He retorted returning to his vanity, continuing his routine. He heard Chad let out a small amused moan before plopping back against the pillow. Henry finished and made his way into the main bedroom. He carefully slipped his brown blazer over his turtleneck and went over to his husband's side of the bed. He kneeled next to the bed and began stroking Chads forehead lovingly. Chad lets out a small noise of pleasure and Henry can't help but smile. I love this idiot, don't I?

“I presume in this condition you won't be able to make it to work?” He said finally still caressing his husbands face. Chad thought for a moment, no doubt examining his condition.

“I'll be fine” Chad says weakly, he sits up immediately becoming paler. Henry adjusts himself and sits next to him on the bed. “I have one class today, I'll go to the morning one and return after” Chad compromised, as much as he knew he would regret this Henry simply couldn't let Chad leave home today.

“I will take your morning class-” Before his husband could argue he continued “I don't have a morning class, I will take your lesson plans and you will stay here, watch a lot of bad tv and get better, understood?” Chad furrowed his brows, Henry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, I can't believe you're making me pull this card “Doctors orders” Henry added, he wasn't asking anymore. Chad let out a loud groan before falling back against the comfortable mattress.

“I hate you, you know that right?” He said Henry smiled un-convinced. He planted a soft kiss upon Chad's warm forehead before getting up again.

“You love me, and you know it” He said slipping out of the room, not allowing Chad a chance at a response. Henry gathered his things for class, and Chads before preparing some breakfast and Tea for his sick husband. Once delivered, with the thank you of many sick kisses, Henry grabbed a nutrition bar and made his way to school. He hadn't expected the nervous feeling in his stomach to arise as he pulled into his parking space at school. He fumbled for his things watching children laugh and sulk in the early morning. He took a deep breath, you're a teacher, this is what you do every day. After reassuring himself he made his way into the teacher's lounge, setting his things into his designated locker. And went over Chad's lesson plan, what could go wrong?

~~~

“Everything! Everything could go wrong!” Ted hollered once the children had been dismissed into their theatre groups. Bill quickly shushed him as other students eyed him cautiously. Murmuring quietly before deciding it wasn't worth their time. Ted mumbled a quiet apology and continued “Literally everything could go wrong” He said in a more hushed tone towards his two friends. Paul, still in a very drowsy state, simply rolled his eyes.

“You think too much” He said, suddenly erupting into a fit of giggles “Or maybe you don't think enough, or maybe no one can think-” His eyes grew wide with excitement “What if, this entire thing is a simulation and all of our thoughts are pre-determined and nothing we think or do is of our own control” he finished flashing an insane smile towards Ted. Bill let out an annoyed groan, with a hint of panic.

“Wh...what the hell is wrong with you?” Ted asked looking at his friend, who sounded like they just escaped Gotham Asylum. “What did he drink” Ted quietly whispered to Bill who waved him off.

“He got a very little amount of sleep last night, and the previous night” Bill explained turning his attention to his script. Ted nodded with sudden realization.

“Looks like Stage 3 Paul is joining us today huh?” Ted teased, Paul did nothing but smile and nod eagerly. Stage 3 Paul was Ted's favorite. Stage 1 was annoyingly grumpy and mean, Stage 2 was overly emotional and much too worrisome, Stage 4 was weirdly smart, and did nothing but correct people but Stage 3? Oh, Stage 3 was an amazing blissfully unaware gift sent from the heavens. Stage 3 Paul was the best Paul. Ted let his worries about Tommy and his father slip away, as he dutifully ignored his current assignment and turned all his focus on having fun with Stage 3 Paul. Today couldn't get any better, Ted thought.

But it could get worse, so much worse

~~~~

“It was not that bad!” Charlotte exclaimed delightfully as she unwrapped a pastry from her mother's bakery and took a mouth-watering bite out of it. The group murmured sounds of agreement and disagreement. “He was sweet! So he was a little nervous, can you blame him? A biology teacher teaching Musical Theatre-”

“Talk about out of your element” Emma chimed in, Charlotte nodded giggling. Emma smiled at her friend before unwrapping her own lunch, 2 pieces of bread, a bag of chips, homebrewed coffee, and honey and as always a handwritten note from her mother.

Have a wonderful day Honey! I hope your bread and honey will bee satisfactory. Also, enjoy the coffee, hopefully, it gives you the buzz you need to get going.

Love you forever and always

Mama

Emma groaned at the forced honey puns but couldn't help but smile at the sweet note. It has always been like this, ever since she was little. Her mom insisted on making her kids lunch, and every day since her first day of kindergarten there was a hand-written note filled with love, puns and more. Emma never dared complain about it, she feared it would stop if she did and honestly? She loved it, she always had. Her sister… She shook her head stuffing the note back into the lunch box and removing her lunch and setting it up. She smiled gratefully knowing no matter what, she would always have her mom… and lunch.

Ted, on the other hand, sat next to Bill empty-handed. This isn't unusual, he rarely had time to make lunch, not that there was any food at home. He was also flat broke so buying wasn't an option, all he could do was sit watching the others eat and trying not to drool over their food. He tried to distract himself by joining the conversation but… other things occupied his mind. He rolled his eyes as the girls playfully teased Paul for all he was worth. Ted had grown bored of Stage 3 Paul, having milked him for everything he could think of. Bill was sitting reading and pleasantly enjoying his food, so not an option. He huffed annoyed and examined the cafeteria, he found himself looking for a certain wide-eyed, glasses-wearing boy. He felt his heart flutter at the sight of Tommy sitting at a table not far from his own. He was sitting alone which sent a pang of guilt down Ted's chest. He was hunched over, reading a book much like Bill. Ted couldn't help but grin at the pleasant comparisons.

One more reason to love him

Like him!

Help me…

He shook his head and looked further, Tommy sat sipping his trademark hot chocolate and munching on a tasty treat. Ted gave his table one more look and decided to make his way over to Tommy finding his company much more exciting. He danced through the crowded room and slid himself into the bench across from Tommy, he cleared his throat to which Tommy’s head shot straight up. At the sight of Ted, Tommy had plastered a giant smile across his face. He bookmarked his page and turned his full attention to the taller boy.

“Heya Ted!” He looked around “What brings you to my corner of the cafeteria” Tommy inquired, Ted marveled at his voice. The sound of constant excitement rushing through him, the eagerness to listen, never faltering loving look he showed. Oh, I have got it bad, Ted thought. He quickly realized he had been gazing and adjusted his position.

“Nothing much just wanted to…” Ted paused, why was he here? He mentally cursed himself for approaching with no plan. Luckily something caught the pair's attention and god how Ted had wished it had not.

“Attention everyone!” A loud voice boomed across the cafeteria. Ted spun around on the bench quickly, he found himself staring at Billy. Billy was standing on the middle cafeteria table and held a speaker in his hand. He was surrounded by his goons who were murmuring excitedly and snickering.”I have a very important announcement to make-” He declared pausing, right cause anything you say is important, Ted thought. “About Ted Porker”

Ted felt his face fall and his stomach knot. Me? Oh god… why me? What could he- Ted felt his entire face go red. The hallways this morning, the conversation, Tommy. He turned to his bespeckled friend who shared the same face of fear that Ted did, except his was riddled with concern. Tommy quickly placed a comforting hand on Ted's arm, who gasped and pulled away. He wanted to stay, he wanted Tommy to comfort him.

HELP

PLEASE

His eyes pleaded but his actions were closed off, he turned back to Billy who shot him a disgusting smirk. Ted felt ill, he couldn't look at him. Frantically, he looked around the cafeteria, eyes were moving between him and Billy. He couldn't hear the confused murmurs of the groups around him. Finally, his eyes landed on his table, his four friends staring back at him. Charlotte's face was riddled with concern and fear, Ted tried to make out what she was mouthing to him but his eyesight dulled. Emma's face was scrunched with anger, not at Ted, at Billy. She shot him apologetic eyes before glaring at Billy. Next to her was Paul, oh Paul. Paul had clearly gained enough consciousness to understand the situation. He was standing now, balled fists slammed on the table sharing the same angry look that Emma had. Ted might have been across the room but he could feel the fury directed at Billy. And then there was Bill, Bill’s eyes were filled with concern but his face stayed calm. After a moment of silent communication between Ted and Bill, his small friend stood and made his way over to Ted. Ignoring all the looks and conversations, he sat next to his taller friend.

“Are you ok?” He whispered softly into Ted's ear, Ted pulled himself away from his gaze of the table and turned to Bill. He ignored the fact that Billy was still talking, and people were still paying attention.

“Whats… what's he saying?” Was all Ted could manage, his mind was silent. But so was everything else, he hated it.

“Ted…” Bill said softly, Ted pleaded once more “He’s… he's describing an encounter with you this morning” That was it, that was all Ted needed to hear. He shut his eyes tight to stop the hot tears from flooding. He balled his fists, he could feel Bill wrap him in a supportive hug. And then… it happened.

“Ted Porker likes boys” The room went silent, not just Teds mind everyone. Everyone froze in shock, Ted felt Bill hug him harder.

Pressure

Breathe

What would your father think?

Pressure

Failure, that's what you are

Breathe

But he couldn't, he couldn't breathe. He heard the room erupt into confusion and excited talking. Seriously? Ted thought Vultures, the lot of them. He pulled away from Bill, failing to stop the tears, he choked back a sob and stood embarrassed, mortified, ashamed. Bill stood next to him, soon joined by Tommy on his other side.

“NO!” He shouted Ted gasped, clasping a hand over his mouth. He frantically spits out apologies before backing away covered in tears and feeling hotter than ever he ran. He ran out of the cafeteria, ignoring Bill and Tommys concerned shouting after him, ignoring Paul who tried to grab him, ignoring the commanding voice of the principal telling everyone lunch was over and to get to their next class. He ran, he didn't know where he was going but it wasn't here. He wasn't staying here.

THUD

Ted shivered as he felt himself hit the floor. He swallowed so scared looking up to realize he had collided with another person. He quickly shot up, terror-filled him, what was he going to do? What was wrong with him? Why was he like this? Panic flooded his thoughts, everything he had tried to keep at bay EVERYTHING was now washing over him and he collapsed in front of the unknown person too scared to look them in the eyes. He collapsed feeling alone, useless, and feeling like he wanted to end it all. So he collapsed sobbing as two warm arms wrapped around him, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

~~~

Henry caught the boy just in time before he seriously hurt himself, immediately engulfed the terrified child into a warm embrace and rubbed his back ever so carefully. Everything about him was soft and caring but his eyes? Oh, Henry's eyes were burning with fiery rage, he knew he couldn't but he really wanted to punch that kid.

‘You can't punch a kid’ Chad would say

He shook his head, he would deal with that cretin later. Right now, he looked down at shivering boy, who had nestled his head into Henry's neck, right now this boy needs me.

[reseau-actu]

Is it easier or harder to live without plastic than 10 years ago?

Ten years ago I attempted to live plastic-free. With the government pledging to crack down on plastic waste, will it be any easier a decade on?

Summer 2008 was a warm one. I know that because my kitchen gently hummed with the sour scent of plastic milk bottles and yoghurt cartons.

During that July, I saved all 603 plastic items my husband, toddler and I generated so I could compare with an experimental month "off" plastic in the August that followed.

The project was triggered by a BBC report on plastic pollution in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, which left me wondering if it was possible to eliminate disposable plastic from normal daily life.

The answer was: "not quite". But that August we reduced our plastic tally to just 116 items, of which 63 were disposable nappies.

Ten years later, nappies are no longer in my shopping trolley. It's now laden with the full range of groceries consumed by a family with two school-age children.

Much of it is packed in plastic - and it's easy to see why: this lightweight, durable material keeps food fresh and is easy to move and store.

But with avoiding disposable plastic high on many people's to-do lists, I decided to rerun my 2008 experiment.

Would spending a month without buying anything wrapped in, or containing, plastic be any easier now?

Week 1 - breakfast battle

I tackle our breakfast routine first. We awake to milk on the doorstep, in glass bottles, just like in my childhood, albeit ordered online rather than via handwritten note.

The kids are amused by the novelty and I overhear my eight-year-old daughter telling a friend: "They appear outside our house overnight."

Image copyright Milk & More

Image caption Milk doorstep delivery new subscriptions have risen since the start of January

It seems we are not alone in making the switch in 2018.

Müller-owned delivery company Milk & More says it has had 10,000 new online customers signing up since 1 January, of which 90% are ordering milk in glass bottles.

It comes despite a long term downward trend for milk deliveries which last year accounted for just 3% by volume of the milk sold - down from 7% in 2008.

Delivered milk is more costly: a glass doorstep pint is around 81p, whereas a four-pint supermarket bottle is about £1.10. But not having to pick up milk has already cut my "top-up" trips to the local convenience store.

Image caption My homemade bagels won't win any prizes

Milk bottles are one of the most widely and easily-recycled pieces of plastic packaging.

At the other end of the recyclability scale are plastic films such as bags, pouches and peelable lids which make up more than a quarter of plastic household waste.

As a family we are heavily reliant at breakfast time on bags of bagels and boxes of cereals with plastic inners.

This prompts me to try making bagels for the first time in my life - not as hard as you might think.

But as for cereals, my suggestion to the rest of the family that we all eat porridge for a month (boxes of oats have no liners) goes down like a gruel-filled balloon.

Then I find a new "zero waste" shop a couple of miles away that has versions of our usual options but loose in bins for scooping into our own containers. Family breakfast truce achieved.

Week 2 - the supermarket

There's no avoiding the fact that visiting separate shops for separate goods takes longer than my normal one-hit blitz at the supermarket.

So I decide to give my usual routine a try - but on my new avoid-plastic-at-all-costs rule.

Attempting to shop based on packaging status alone leads to some combinations worthy of Ready Steady Cook: leeks, carrots, a giant mango and a box of eggs.

Image caption Films and nets are not currently easily recycled

Bags of salad are out, as is most pasta and rice. Tinned food is easier although cans of acidic foods such as tomatoes, or even fizzy drinks, have a plastic lining to stop the contents reacting with the metal.

Many glass jars have plastic lids or labels so items such as chocolate hazelnut spread are off the menu too (sorry kids) but I take a risk with some pasta sauces, wondering whether the synthetic rubber lining to the lids counts as plastic.

I'm reminded how heavy glass, tins and cardboard are - and, of course, have their own environmental impact - as I heave my trolley to the checkout.

Here, there is a major change since my original challenge. Single-use carrier bags are no longer dished out freely, since 2015 in England (and earlier in other parts of the UK) they cost at least 5p.

The levy has slashed usage by 83%, according to government figures. Several chains are now dropping the 5p bags altogether and only selling "bags for life".

Like so many shoppers, I'd brought my own reusable bags, so no rule-breaking there.

But the food on the shelves doesn't seem any less plastic-wrapped than a decade ago.

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption Retailers say shrink-wrapping fish and meat has cut the amount of plastic used and prolongs shelf life

However, Iain Ferguson, environment manager at the Co-op says food retailers have made many changes, they just may not be immediately visible.

"In the past 10 years a lot of work has gone into making plastic films thinner and plastic bottles lighter," he says.

Modifications such as removing polystyrene from pizza bases, switching tomato punnets to cardboard and packing meat in one type of plastic rather than layers of differing types are other moves the Co-op has made.

"Our customers say they want no plastic but customers also buy in plastic because they want the convenience," Mr Ferguson says.

"The best thing we can do is to make it easier to recycle."

All the major supermarkets insist they have made or are making significant changes and frozen food retailer Iceland has announced it will do away with plastic altogether for its own brand products by 2023.

Back to the pressing issue of family teatime, I grab a cardboard box of fish-fingers, some naked broccoli and loose potatoes. Giant mango for pudding.

Week 3 - beach effects

Half term and we travel from London to Cornwall.

Unfortunately I forget my reusable cup and water bottle and end up with a pile of junk from the journey down, adding to the 21 million water bottles and 6.8 million coffee cups the UK gets through each day.

Image caption Avril Sainsbury of Bude Cleaner Seas says attitudes to plastic litter are changing

I turn to social media for a nudge back on track. Online campaigning has increased massively since 2008 and hashtags such as #oneless, #nomoresingleuse and #strawssuck, are all used to promote the idea that small changes can create a big effect.

Among them is my children's favourite - #2minutebeachclean which started in the north Cornish seaside resort of Bude in 2014.

Known for its long sandy beaches and rolling surf, the town sees the effects of plastic pollution every day, especially after a storm.

"It can feel overwhelming," says Avril Sainsbury of water quality project Bude Cleaner Seas as we survey Crooklets Beach together.

"You will see everything that you'll find in your home, disposable lighters, bottles, caps, seals - to ghost nets, which are [abandoned] fishing nets."

But she says attitudes to marine litter are changing and people are now more likely to say "gosh I'll help you" if they see a beach clean taking place.

Image caption Micro plastics mingle with the sand on Crooklets Beach in Bude

I'm feeling guilty about those water bottles and coffee cups from the journey but Bude is a practical place. Local teacher Deb Rosser has come up with a practical solution.

"You can go to anywhere in Bude - that can be cafes, shops and accommodation providers - and they will refill your bottle for free with pure Cornish tap water," says Deb, describing her Refill Bude concept which has spread nationwide since starting in 2014.

Image caption Sales of branded Refill Bude cups and bottles have raised more than £5,000 for Bude Sea Pool

There are now 7,800 refill points around the UK and I find a new one in Boscastle National Trust Cafe, near where we are staying.

The manager says the cafe has also just swapped from cardboard cups and plates to crockery. No excuse then for plastic-free fails while we're on holiday.

Week 4 - the verdict

Back at home and some plastic-packed toiletries run out this week. I purchase a bamboo toothbrush (admittedly with nylon bristles), and get to grips with a shampoo bar instead of a bottle.

Our stock of toilet paper holds out, just, but I research a paper-wrapped alternative that can be delivered.

At the end of the month, we have not managed to live entirely plastic-free but we have cut down on our normal consumption.

It's taken a lot more time but has not necessarily been more expensive as it's forced me to limit what I buy.

Image caption My 48-item plastic tally for the month

The tally for the month comes to 48 plastic items including:

Five ham packets - several packed lunch fails

Three cereal inners

Two chicken packs

A polystyrene pizza base

Chocolate mini eggs - they were foil wrapped but in a plastic net

Two jelly wrappers

A sachet of yeast from making those bagels

Once nappies are taken out of the equation, it's not too different from the 53 items I gathered during my experiment 10 years ago.

Yet looking back on my normal consumption in 2008, there have been big changes.

Then, I used 36 disposable carrier bags a month, got through 23 polystyrene coffee cups at work and a plastic water bottle every other day.

Now, my office has a stock of mugs, and taking a reusable bag and water bottle everywhere with me has become second nature.

The same can't be said for plastic-free food shopping.

While I will keep some of my swaps (including the milk delivery) I do find it currently impractical to keep my family fed without buying any plastic at all.

However, with changes coming thick and fast - plastic-free teabags, the deposit return scheme, stores encouraging customers to bring their own containers - I may not need to wait 10 more years to give it another try.

Article complet: BBC News - Home — http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-43545991