#what if we all suddenly get healthier eating habits out of the fact that even cheap fast food options aren’t cheap anymore

[hatredmadeofgold]

There’s so many new fast food places popping up in the city centre of my hometown and all of them do not offer anything below 10 € for a single meal?? No sides, no drinks. Just one meal.

Fuck that, I’d be cheaper off making that stuff myself at home. This is insane.

idk how anyone can look at how expensive fast food has gotten and think we're doing okay

[thekisforkeats]

Ooh jm + shy kiss for the prompts?

Ohhh good one! I had to think about this a little and actually wrote up a bunch that didn't quite work at first. But! Here it is!

Set somewhere in the first few minutes of 160, in those weeks between arriving at the safehouse and Hazel Rutter. Featuring autistic Martin trying to navigate social situations because that is evidently what I write now.

(Incidentally the term "weak ties" was coined by a Stanford researcher in 1973. Link to the relevant paper. Credit where due, and all.)

(No beta no edits we die like archive assistants.)

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It takes Martin a week to convince Jon to come down into the village with him.

If he's being honest with himself--and he's trying very hard to be honest with himself these days, so he can identify any Lonely-type thoughts--he really just wants to show off his boyfriend to the nice lady at the little shop in the village where he's been picking up essentials.

Martin is a naturally friendly person, or maybe a naturally personable person. This was not always the case; he had to practice a great deal to memorize all the scripts to smooth social interactions that other people seem to navigate without thinking about it at all. It can be horribly exhausting, just going to the shops. It's one of the reasons the Lonely appealed to him; how much easier to just move through life without having to recite all those canned lines?

Now that he's out of its grip, he's come to realize how much those interactions matter. He's been reading a lot on the internet about depression and social interaction, about social circles, and one thing that caught his eye is the idea of "weak ties," those people we're not exactly friends with, but who we see on a regular basis and who help us feel connected to a larger community. People who don't really know us and yet know something about us that helps us feel seen. The bus driver who gives you a familiar nod every morning. the barista who's prepping your order as soon as he notices you in line, the shop lady who tries to keep your favorite tea in stock.

So Martin is trying to cultivate those relationships, to feel part of a wider community, rather than just relying on Jon. He thinks that maybe if he'd had more of that, before, if he'd tried harder to go through the world being seen, he might have handled Jon's coma and his mother's death in some kind of healthier manner.

Maybe not, of course, but he's going to use any tool he can to keep the Lonely at bay.

At any rate, even beyond being very good at social scripts, Martin does genuinely like people, he's a good listener, for an autistic guy he's practically a social butterfly. And Elspeth is a nice lady, maybe mid-40's, the kind of person who runs a shop because she actually likes interacting with a stream of customers on a regular basis. So she's just the sort of person for Martin to practice his "weak tie" skills.

Because, naturally, one of the key benefits of "weak ties" is that they are the sort of people you get to be public about your relationship with when none of your closer friends are around.

Yeah, no, all of the above is just flimsy justification, if Martin's being really honest with himself. He's just madly in love and wants literally everyone within a 500-mile radius to know.

That morning, Martin makes a big show of how badly he wants to spend time with Jon, no really, but he really does have to go down into the village.

"We're out of tea!"

"I don't think we have anything for dinner!"

"But I really want to keep listening to you talk about Scottish history!"

And so on.

Jon gives him a tolerantly amused look, and Martin flushes. Is he that transparent, or is Jon just that good at reading him?

"I suppose I can go into the village with you, Martin," he says, eyes glittering. "Since you're so terribly interested in the House of Stuart. I'd hate to leave you wondering what happened to James II."

Martin would feel guilty, but he can tell Jon is pleased to be "indulging" him, and it's not like Martin hasn't been listening to Jon infodump about whatever random facts Beholding's been given him all week.

They hold hands all the way down into the village, and it's nice, to walk through the place and be seen, together. It's comfortable. They'd held hands on walks before, long ago in London, before the Unknowing, but back then they hadn't been sure what they were, hadn't managed to broach the delicate barrier between "friends" and "something else." Now, they're "boyfriends," and Martin keeps finding himself wanting to go up to each person he sees on the street and shout, "This is my boyfriend, Jonathan Sims!!"

By the time they reach Elspeth's shop, he's feeling a little giddy.

He pushes open the door and the little bell rings, and Elspeth looks up from behind the counter and smiles. "Martin!" she says, and Martin's whole body warms in a very pleasant manner, that this woman he's only known a week remembers him. "Oh, and this must be the elusive Jon." She gives them one of those teasing smiles people give to new couples, glittering eyes and amusement at the silly things people do when they're in limerence.

"Yes," Martin says, and suddenly the words stick in his throat. "Yes, this is... is... umm..." Oh, why has he suddenly frozen like a deer in headlights? Why can't he remember the right words?

"Jonathan Sims," Jon says smoothly, stepping forward to offer the woman his hand. "And yes, I'm Martin's boyfriend."

It occurs to Martin, all at once, that neither of them have said that out loud to anyone else. No wonder he's frozen up.

Elspeth glances at the burn scars on Jon's hand only briefly, then smiles--and it's a genuine smile, not one of those pitying ones people sometimes put on when they see scars like that--and shakes said hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replies. "Elspeth Douglas." She has the Highland accent, but softened; she spent her 20's and 30's in London, she's said, and came back to take over the family store when her father fell ill. The similarity might be part of why Martin likes her--that and the fact that it seems that helping her sickened parent improved her life.

"Ahh, yes. The not-so-elusive Elspeth." Jon actually flashes a grin, which Martin finds remarkable. Since when is Jon... friendly? Well, maybe he's trying for Martin's sake. If so, Martin very much appreciates the effort.

The woman behind the counter laughs, and says, "How can I help you?"

"Oh," Martin manages, his brain catching up and letting his mouth work again, "we're just here for tea and things."

"Of course," Elspeth says. "I'll be here when you're ready."

They turn away, to go deeper into the aisles.

"She seems nice," Jon says almost absently. "Shame about her fa--" He pauses, and frowns. Shakes his head, looking irritated. "You didn't tell me about that," he grumbles.

"No, I didn't. But thank you for trying to keep it in," Martin says.

Jon sighs, lowering his voice. "It's becoming harder and harder to separate what I've learned on my own from what Beholding gives me. How much of my thoughts are mine anymore? Did I actually memorize all those facts about the House of Stuart, or am I getting the... mental Wikipedia page, as it were?"

"Seems like a thing you'd know," Martin comments offhandedly. He's focused on figuring out what kind of rice to buy. He wants to try his hand at sticky rice, which really should have calrose, but Jon likes jasmine rice. Do they get both?

He doesn't want to think about Beholding, and how much of it is Jon anymore. He prefers just thinking about it as something like a smartphone app Jon can use without having to actually have a phone in front of him. He does not want to think about how much of his boyfriend has been potentially consumed by some kind of eldritch thing that feeds on fear.

He really doesn't want to think about the idea that maybe soon, Jon won't even need rice anymore, and will just live off statements, no matter how much he jokes about his partner's "eating habits."

Jon has been talking as Martin's been staring at the rice, but Martin hasn't heard any of it. He's brought back to himself by a squeeze of Jon's hand in his.

"Hey," Jon says softly. "You okay?"

In Jon's voice, Martin hears all the concern that Martin himself has been feeling. He forces himself to look at Jon, and sees bright green eyes staring out of a deep brown face. He realizes he's gotten used to the color of Jon's eyes; before the coma, Jon's eyes were brown, like a deep carnelian, and so large and dark sometimes Martin thought he could fall right into them and be happy drowning there. Now they're green, bright and disarming, and Martin's pretty sure this is why Jon still wears glasses he no longer needs, to hide those strange eyes behind plastic lenses.

Those eyes are looking up at him intensely now, and Jon's brow is furrowed, and his mouth is pulled into a frown in a way that highlights one of the worm scars near his lip, and all of it is adorable, but it's also disconcerting for the contrast between the softness of his voice and the intensity of his expression.

Is Jon as afraid of losing Martin to Forsaken as Martin is of losing Jon to Beholding?

Martin frowns at him for a moment, then sighs. "I just..." He has to look away, back to the bags of rice. "I just... don't like thinking about that. Beholding, and... all of it. I just... I just wish..."

"You wish we could be normal." Jon's tone is still soft, and filled only with love and no sort of guilt or self-recrimination.

"Yeah," Martin says, still staring at the rice.

There's a hesitation, and then Jon says, softly and slowly, "You know... normal people deal with these sort of difficult things, too. There's so much out there that can hurt people... the things we deal with, they're weirder than most of the rest of it, but..."

"Yeah, I know, Jon, I just..." Martin hunches his shoulders. "Don't want to lose you again," he finally mumbles.

Jon hesitates a moment, and then he leans in to give Martin a soft kiss on the cheek.

Martin flushes bright red--Elspeth's right there!--and turns to stare at Jon. "W-what... what was... that for?!"

Jon, too, is blushing. "I just... ah... I just... wanted you to know that... that I'm... here. You haven't... lost me. Or anything."

"Oh," Martin says. "Well. Thank you."

There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Jon blurts, "...Can I kiss you again? It's just, I haven't all morning, and I really sort of wanted to spend the morning cuddling, but you wanted to come down to the shops..."

"Here?!" Martin stares at him.

"We can go behind the shelves if you like," Jon says, blushing furiously.

For some reason, this makes Martin giggle, and then he leans down to brush his lips to Jon's. Softly, shyly, as if they haven't been kissing each other all week, because he really is terribly aware of the fact that there are other people around.

"Tell you what," Martin says as he pulls back, surprisingly breathless despite how short the contact of their lips was, "let's finish up the shopping and then we can cuddle all afternoon."

Jon smiles up at him. "Promise?" The smile widens. "You're not going to drag me around to introduce me to every villager individually?"

"I was not--!" Martin glares at him, but now Jon's smile has become one of those shit-eating grins he gets sometimes, and Martin can't stay mad at him at all.

"You knew," he accuses, but there's no heat in it.

"I had a hunch," Jon says, humming. "I didn't want to spoil your fun, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, and then reaches out to take Jon's hand again. "Well, then, we'd better get to it. Jasmine or calrose? Rice, I mean."

"Both, I think," Jon says. "I find myself very much desiring normality of late, and rice is a terribly normal sort of thing."

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Demon Brothers + Diavolo Doing Dance Workouts With S/O

Okay, so!  On my journey on getting slimmer, healthier and fitter, I’ve been doing Chloe Ting’s workout programs, all free, all really nice to get yourself started and feel a sense of accomplishment. However, I randomly found some pretty neat dance workouts, especially Pamela Reif’s, and I’m in love with the songs she uses, going as far as to make one with only 80s songs, and she included a-Ha’s Take me on, and ahhhh, resonates with my heart so much! Hope you’ll like this little piece of crack and cutesy stuff <3

Lucifer

Lucifer, while yes, he has an amazing body, he seems rather insecure about it, going as far as to use a spell so nobody in his own family would remember how he looked at the beach, so it’s nothing shocking to know that he doesn’t like to exercise when others are around.

However, when he saw how excited you were finding an interesting routine that combined the fun of dancing with workout, he couldn’t refuse you, despite his fear of embarrassing himself or looking less than proper.

Seeing how much fun you’re having, not caring that your face is red, you’re sweating like crazy, and you’re dying of exhaustion, the fact that the songs are good and the workout is pretty refreshing, he feels himself unable to resist smiling at you, and little by little, allowing himself to let loose a bit.

He is a great dancer, we all know it, so he goes all in with all the moves, no matter how sexy or silly, and he LIVES for the way you cheer for him and say how amazing he his.

Poor Luci is going to blush, unable to contain how much you’re boosting his ego and self-confidence.

Clearly, he won’t do any of that around any of his brothers, and will be extra careful so that nobody, especially Diavolo, catched him while he’s dance-working out with you, in fear of them using it as black-mail, posting it on DevilGram or just keeping the content for the future.

Mammon

Mammon frequently workouts because he wants to make sure his body looks good ( he is highly insecure about himself, so he thinks that at least his body should be good, if not him as a person, poor baby ), and he definitely loves having fun at the club, so if you can combine the two things he loves so much, he’s down for anything!

When you told him about your wish to start working out, while doing something fun, because the past routines became a little boring, he asked if you wanted to workout with him.

He was very shy and sweet about asking you that, because he knows that if you used to be sedentary and suddenly decided to workout, he believed it had something to do with insecurities, and he knew very well how anxious and nervous one could be when someone else is in the room with you.

When you accept the idea, he is over the moon with glee, and will find the most fun and cool workouts that the both of you can do together.

You will get tons of cheers and encouragements from Mammon, since he genuinely wants you to be the best version of yourself and learn how to love yourself and who you are, and if working out is going to do the trick, he is going to be a dancing clown for you without a single doubt.

The fact that you’re vibing so much, smiling, despite how difficult and tiring dancing could be, makes his heart melt, because you are so beautiful when you are happy, and he’s just...SO thrilled that he can help you in your journey of self-love.

Leviathan

It’s pretty canon that Levi doesn’t really do anything physically exhausting, only working out when he feels like it, over DevilTube videos, but nothing too exhausting.

Well, unless he wants to learn a new idol or anime dance routine, which is where he goes all in with no regret, not giving a damn about how he can barely stand on his feet, or that he’s sweating a lake.

One day, Levi was playing video games on the console, and you were searching random videos on his Laptop’s DT, and you found some pretty fun dance-workout routines that you wanted to try out.

Realising that they were already viewed, and that Levi was playing a single-player game, you crawled over to him, telling him to stop the game for a second and asking him about them, then suggesting doing some together.

When he heard about you finding about about you wanting to workout out with him, he started blushing furiously, thinking of the worst, until he realised that it meant you would basically learnt he same idol dances he knows, and you could do fun cosplay skits and karaoke, and you would actually know what he’s ranting about, he was in his working out clothes in a beat!

He was so excited and eager to teach you everything he knows, imagining how awesome you would be as a performing duo on a stage, dressed up super flashy and having so much fun while the crowd was cheering wildly.

Levi did ask in the end, albeit veeeery timidly, if you wanted to perform an idol routine with him in his own room, as he has all the best high-tech stuff to make his room look like an idol concert club, and he has the cosplay-making skills, so when you accept, he’s gonna faint from happiness.

Satan

He’s not too shy about working out - He knows he has to balance a working out, eating and studying to have a healthy life-style, so he does at least the bare minimum to keep himself fit.

Satan isn’t the type to tell you what to do, but somehow, the more you stay with him, the more his habits stick to you, so out of the blue, you find yourself doing random, low-maintenance exercises with him...Sometimes while he’s still reading, and you still can’t tell how he can do that.

From the many people he’s acquainted with, he hears about some succubi doing dance-workouts that are pretty entertaining and give you good vibes, so he asked you if you wanted to check out some routines, and choosing the songs you like together, you start doing dance-routines.

Surprise, surprise, it’s actually super fun, and the succubi are great dance teachers, so you and Satan try to sing some of the lyrics, when you’re not too exhausted and panting, or when the song is just too good.

It’s always been obvious that Satan is the domestic type, loving to do any sort of activity with you by your side, or just staying in the same room, or cuddling, doing completely separate things, and enjoying each other’s presence, so dancing together with you was real fun with him, especially because he didn’t have to be proper in any way or put appearances, as he does when outside of his room.

Satan would definitely ask to do more fun activities with you, including maybe supervised mountain climbing, horse-riding, swimming, painting, taking care of animals at the shelters and many other things you’re both into, or want to try new experiences.

Asmodeus

I already believe that Asmo does some kind of yoga and pilates daily - Not for a long time, but just what’s necessary - to keep himself healthy and in a great, lean shape, because having a healthy lifestyle means your skin is going to be beautiful and have that natural glow, so of course he’s gonna do anything to keep that up with minimum sweat required.

If he has a gig up, like modeling on a catwalk, a photoshoot, or some kind of important event, he’s going to do a shit ton of Aerobics and Zumba, maybe even Kangoo Jump for as little as a week and as long as a month or so, because he has to be perfect - As if he isn’t already, but still!

Since we already know he’s the kind to love going to the club and dancing, when you go to him, telling him about the new workout routine you started, since you were a bit bored of Asmo’s chill yoga routines, he was excited to see you trying out new things out of your own volition.

He will try to fish for all your favourite songs and get some succubi to come up with lit dance workout videos so you could both to them together and have fun, because obviously, he wants you to enjoy your favourite songs, and will do anything in his power to make that happen!

Of course, before you start working out, he will drag you to all the best sports shops and try out tons of outfits, and you’ll get matching ones - Comfy and Practical, but make it Fashion!

I’m pretty sure he won’t take it 100% seriously, and he’ll be all party and fun, singing the song out loud, taking your hands and doing random moves that aren’t in the routine, like spinning you or dipping you low, and of course, the occasional kiss-steals won’t be lost in the party, and you’re too adorable to resist.

Beelzebub

Well, this guy does heavy workouts, including weight-lifting and practices for his club activities, like Fangol, which is similar to American Football, which is very...Very Beel, to say the least.

He never pushes you to workout with him, but he did mention that if you ever want to use the gym and be alone, he will make sure nobody bothers you, but if you are in need of an instructor, he would volunteer to help you, despite going softer on you and giving you so many breaks, because you are a cute, little, frail human who doesn’t eat enough.

One day, he heard from Asmo about this super fun and accessible dance workouts, and he thought it would be nice to recommend to you, so he will ask all the details, along with some DevilTube links to such videos, and when you are next together, alone, he will tell you all about it.

As soon as he sees how enthusiastic you are about it, and you even asked him to join you, he will agree without a second thought.

Until he realises that he is so big and bulky that he basically has the grace of a wooden nightstand.

It doesn’t stop him from having fun and enjoying his time of bonding with you, obviously! He will do anything you want, as long as you’re having fun and smiling the way you’re doing now.

Not to mention, it’s pretty refreshing seeing you dance with no inhibitions, just throwing around your limbs and shaking your body like you’re free as a bird.

This is the type of life he wants to live - Fun, happy and chill with his loved ones.

Belphie

No matter how much of a damn sloth he is, you just CAN’T tell me this guy doesn’t do something like Yoga, Pilates or freaking Ballet, considering the moves his busts during does damned dance battles!

He clearly won’t ever ask you to dance or workout with him, because he has a reputation to uphold, he is the Avatar of Sloth, after all, and he can sleep everywhere, as long as he has that fluffy cow-patterned pillow to sleep on.

But one day, you barge into his room, all excited to tell him the newest gossip...Only to see him with music at max volume and following some random choreography, and you just look at him with that meme pikachu shocked face.

Belphie glared at you as bad as the day he killed you, while also blushing like crazy, because damn it, only Beel was supposed to know his secret!

You then grin at him mischievously, hugging his neck and asking if he wants to do dance-workout routines together, and he refuses at first...And second and third and hundredth, but in the end, he will give in, and you will dance together.

Sometimes, he will suggest the dance workouts with a partner, just so he could have a reason to be closer to you, lazily peck your lips, cheeks or forehead, while also being able to do romantic moves...Even if the song is romantic or has seductive moves or not.

It could be some weird country song about how cute horses and cows are, and he would still do something super cute.

And of course, after a well-deserved shower, a loooong cuddle and sleep session together, in his bed, is going to happen.

Diavolo

This is a bit of a spoiler for the lessons 26-29, but I believe Diavolo is feeling pretty lonely and cast out from the group, and he’s like a sad golden retriever who wants some attention and affection, so as soon as you realise that, you start going to him to talk about random things, send him cute messages, stickers, gossips, selfies, pics with things you found awesome or cool, and he super appreciates it, he’s so happy!

This made you start bonding and go out, spending time together, so you then explain to him about human habits, memes, vines, TikToks, fandoms, trends, fandoms, ideas and all the ape shit things you could come up with, like a grandpa trying to be hip with his grandkids, but he ends up so cringe and overly exaggerated that he’s super adorable.

And that includes the dabs and Egyptian dance moves he pulls in the dance battles.

Now, you don’t get those damned arms, abs and pecs (man boobs) without some effort, he clearly works out quite a lot, as often as he can, so one day, when he was searching around random things on YouTube, on his new human laptop, and he finds some women doing some super entertaining dancing workout routines, and he is so enthusiastic about it, that he called you over and showed you those vids.

Grinning at how excited and curious he is about your world, and since you already knew about them and did some in the past, you see that his eyes were wide and expecting, wanting to try it together...So you suggested it, and he was so cheerful!

Dia has Barbatos get you both some super cute matching workout outfits, and together, you start jamming in his huge room, not before you reminded him that this is more for fun, and he should just enjoy it and not take it too seriously, and he was over the moon, especially since you were there to share his enthusiasm.

Needless to say, neither of you had your cheerfulness and grins wiped from your faces for a long time, and Dia got to find out some lit human songs! 

Yay!

[dajaregambler]

HeliosR - Keith Max Card story “Warm-hearted man”

Translation of Keith Max’s 4* “1st Anniversary” card story from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’.

Keith: Here I go~~~

Dino: Owawah!?

Keith: Oops… m’bad, threw it weirdly. Been too long since I played catch, so my control is…

Dino: Nah, it’s fine!

Brad: He’s very quick on his feet. Pretty impressive on Dino’s part

Keith: Man, seriously. Pretty often doubt if we’re really the same age 

Keith: As for you… well, you’re more clapped-out than fitting for your age

Brad: Clapped-out?

Dino: That’s absolutely not true, Brad

Dino: If anything, I think it’s amazing how you always have a sense of freshness when your so absurdly busy

Keith: Eeeeh, really now?

Dino: You’re looking all cool during catch now too …

Dino: Which is why I ended up thinking if you’re maybe tired or so… Everything alright, Brad?

Brad: It’s fine

Brad: I wondered what happened for you to suddenly call out to me, but to think it was to play catch with the three of us… Was the last time since we were rookies?

Dino: Been a while, hasn’t it? Thought that you should take a breather too 

Dino: Maybe I should worry about Keith more. Not too long before he’s gonna start huffing and puffing, right?

Keith: Oi, what’re ya treating me differently for...

Dino: Hm? You’re holding up better than I thought?

Keith: I’m telling ya… I’m pretty much the same age as you guys. Yer gonna make Jay cry, he definitely will

Dino: Yeaaah, I don’t think it’s too good to use Jay as an example though…

Brad: Actually, your stamina has increased compared to before… rather, hasn’t it returned?

Keith: Heh heh heh… Finally noticed, haven’t ya Brad

Keith: It’s a fact that my stamina and physical power has came back to me lately

Keith: Ah! Just to be clear, don’t even think I’m gonna go all like, time to put effort into working, okay!? I wanna keep things as they are now!

Dino: So uncool, Keith…

Brad: Leaving that aside…. I’m pleased with how you’re healthier than before

Brad: Generally speaking it might’ve not been to a level where it posed a problem, but when considering your position as a hero, your lack of basic physical strength was overwhelming.

Brad: And all of it came down on your negligent behaviour. It’s only natural for you to turn out as you did when you continued to neglect your own health and wallow in alcohol and cigarettes. 

Keith: S-shuddup. Gimme a break...

Brad: Thank Dino for it

Keith: Wha…

Brad: It’s painfully obvious how he’s the reason for your change in attitude. Anyone could guess that Dino’s return was the biggest factor.

Dino: I haven’t done that much though?

Keith: T-that’s right. Don’t start exaggerating now… It is clear that I’ve been drinking and smoking less since he’s back though.

Keith: Kinda irritating he has to butt in about every single thing, and he keeps waking me every morning up way earlier than needed too… 

Dino: Because you’ll sleep forever if I leave you be, Keith

Keith: I tend to wake up in the nick of time, y’know… ‘Cuz I’m the type that lives his life cleverly by doing so

Dino: Really now?

Dino: But well, don’t the rookies play a huge part in Keith being healthier than before too?

Dino: I think becoming a mentor for the 13th generation of rookies must’ve been a pretty big deal in itself too...

Brad: You’re right, that’s another thing to consider

Keith: ...Again, that’s an exaggeration 

Keith: It’s better that Dino’s back now but, looking after ‘em was stressful enough already

Dino: Don’t say that now. Junior and Faith are both nice kids, and any kind of encounter is one that you should treasure

Keith: No way. I prefer for every day to be the same as usual

Dino: For every day to be the same as usual… Yeah, that’s pretty important too

Brad: …….

Keith: Haah? Oi Brad, what’s that face for…

Brad: Nothing… Merely remembered something from back at the Academy---

-

Dino: Ah, Brad. Did you buy a new bag?

Brad: No, it’s one I have been using all this time…

Dino: Eh, really? It kinda looked all new and pretty, so I thought that it had to be a new one

Dino: Speaking of which, you do treat your things with much care. Bet you’re pretty good at it too

Dino: How nice~ Mine gets worn out pretty quickly, impressive how you’re able to pull off keeping things neat!

Brad: You are quite the active type. Your possesions must be happy for it to be used to that kind of extent.

Dino: Uwaah, Brad, you understand the feelings of objects?

Brad: No, what I said was…

Keith: Figure of speech, right? Ya oughta get that much at least

Dino: Keith’s… bag is unexpectedly decent? Am I the only one with a tattered bag!?

Keith: That “unexpectedly” was uncalled for...

Keith: I only make sure to treat it carefully to avoid damaging it as much as I can. Ain’t the type to spend money all willy nilly, y’know 

Dino: For what reason it might be, it’s good to be able to treasure things. Love and peace...☆

Keith: And there it is… Still bird brained as ever

Keith: Mh? Where ya guys going?

Brad: There’s a gathering at the student council that requires my presence, and Dino is backing up for the football club…. Actually, we should’ve already talking about this earlier today

Keith: R-really?

Dino: Sorry, Keith. I’ll be back late today, but once we’re all at the dorm let’s get together and throw a pizza party!

Keith: E-enough. Everyday’s just pizza and pizza…

Keith: Also, we see each other in class every single day too, no need to get together at our dorms

Keith: I’m gonna, go have my fill of having some alone time. …...See ya

Dino: And he’s off....

Dino: I was considering ordering pizza that I wasn’t sure if I should get yesterday though….. Should we stop holding these pizza parties?

Brad: No need to worry. He says that but there’s not a day where he hasn’t shown up.

Dino: N-now that you’re pointing it out…

Brad: Despite what he says, meeting up like this during lunch and after school has become a habit for us

Brad: If he truly thought it was annoying, or if he didn’t like it, he should be avoiding us and going home on his own.

-

Brad: ----How that part of hating change is still the same as ever

Keith: What in the world did ya remember….? S’creepy to go on your own about that

Dino: I’m also curious. What are you thinking about, Brad

Keith: Wait… Oi Dino, we gotta go home

Dino: Eh, already?

Keith: Sun’s setting already. Grown men playing catch in a park until it gets dark outside… Way too damned lame

Dino: Ah but, if we leave now we’d be back right when the rookies had wrapped up their training.

Dino: Awright, let’s all sit down to eat dinner! Let’s pi----

Keith: Pizza’s off the table. Everyday’s just that and that, enough of it

Dino: EEEH~!? Here I sat thinking how I should order from this pizza place nearby after we head home, it was one my mind before we even started playing catch today!

Keith: As if I care. Go eat with them rookies, I absolutely ain’t gonna be part of it

Dino: EeeeEEEH~!? Don’t say that, Keeeeiiiiiiithhhh!!!!!!!!

Brad: (....While behaving as if he can’t accept change, he’ll grow unusually attached to things once he lets them close to him.)

Brad: (He won’t ever admit it himself but, that hasn’t changed at all too.)

Brad: (And it seems that he gained one more thing to treasure ever since meeting the 13th generation of rookies---)

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

A dumb concept but hear me out.

Relating back to my post about how the four “rotten” kids didn’t deserve what happened to them, and what I said about the parents being the ones punished/harmed instead, I had some ideas.

First of all, Augustus nearly falls into the chocolate river but his mother rushes forwards to stop her son falling in, and she falls in instead, nearly drowning. Alternatively, we saw her putting candies into her bag, maybe she tries to get some of the chocolate river into a canteen/flask, who knows? She gets sucked up into the pipe instead, and Augustus watches in horror as the Oompa Loompas sing about how she’s encouraged her son’s gluttony, how he could meet a sticky end like her if he doesn’t change. As his mother is taken to the fudge room, Wonka sends an Oompa Loompa to get her out - but Augustus stays on with the tour. He noticeably doesn’t gorge himself as he did before.

In the inventing room, Wonka shows off the three course gum meal and Violet tries to grab it - however, she hesitates for a moment when he mentions how it’s not “quite right” yet. Her mother, however, snatches the gum from her, telling her “winners don’t hesitate, Violet”, before chewing away. Mrs Beauregarde then begins to swell up like a blueberry and has to be juiced. Violet is terrified that a stick of gum did that to her mother, and she listens as the Oompa Loompas sing about how bad chewing gum is, and about how she could end up the same way if she continues to be as competitive and like her mother. As her mother is rolled to the juicing room, Violet also stays on with the tour; no one sees her take her gum out of her mouth and toss it away.

The group goes to the nut sorting room, where Veruca sees the squirrels and decides she wants one. She goes to get one herself, only for the squirrels to leap at her; her father jumps the gate and races down to help her - suddenly the squirrels turn from Veruca and run to swarm him instead whilst she runs back up the stairs and clambers to get behind the gate once more. Everyone watches as the squirrels pronounce Mr Salt a bad egg and toss him straight down the chute; the Oompa Loompas sing about how her parents spoilt her, about how despite his money, he’s not anything more than garbage and that if she continues to act like a spoilt brat, Veruca will be as rotten as they are - rotten as the garbage. She stays on with the tour whilst Oompa Loompas are sent to retrieve her father from the garbage chute; she’s quieter and listens more as the tour goes on, not demanding a thing.

In the TV room, Mike is about to be teleported into the TV when his dad suddenly panics, runs and pushes him off the platform, taking his place himself as the lights flash a second later. Mike watches as his father nearly dies and comes out of the ordeal six inches tall; he hears the Oompa Loompas sing about how television rots the brain, hence why he tried to do something so stupid, and it humbles him a little bit. His dad is taken to the taffy puller to be stretched out, and Mike apologizes for calling Wonka an idiot as they go to continue.

Now Wonka realizes that the only ones remaining are the five kids and Grandpa Joe - and he grins as he announces that Charlie has won the special prize, that Charlie will receive the entire factory. Clearly, his grandparents and parents raised him to he not-so-rotten. The other kids are astounded but quiet, and congratulate Charlie - though they all seem a little down and different than when the tour started.

He leads the group down to the factory entrance - and there are the four parents. Mrs Gloop, covered in chocolate from head to toe, licking her lips and clearly trying to resist nibbling her fingers. Mrs Beauregarde, bright blue-purple and flexible. Mr Salt, reeking and covered in three weeks worth of garbage. Mr Teavee, eight or nine feet tall and as thin as paper. The kids are horrified by what they see - their parents are reflections of what they could become, what they could have become on the tour.

That’s when Wonka announces his proposition: the four kids have a choice. They can go home with their parents, and hope that their day in the factory has changed them, that their parents have learnt a lesson too, and that they’ll all hopefully be better people because of it - or they can stay at the factory, working under his and Charlie’s supervision and learning how to run a business together. He tells them that they’re good kids at heart, and that he’d be willing to take them on if they’re willing to make the effort, to change for the better.

None of them really know what to say, but they look at their parents - at how rotten they are, at how they could become their parents if they’re not careful - and they realize that no, they don’t want to be like their parents at all. It’s a crazy idea, yes, but as Wonka explains how each of their skills could be used and developed for good purposes, they realize that it’s better than what their parents have been raising them to be.

The parents are outraged but Wonka tells them not to worry - Charlie’s family will be living in the factory, and so the children won’t be alone with just one (kind of kooky creepy) adult male and hundreds of Oompa Loompas, because Charlie’s parents and grandparents will be there to take care of the kids and make sure they’re well looked after. Makes sense that the parents/guardians of the least rotten kid can help shape and form the other four to be better people, right? Besides, he adds, the kids are more than welcome to say no and go home with their parents.

The kids - including Charlie - decide to have a minute where they talk about this - their parents may suck, but this is still weird and a bit strange. Charlie tells them that he personally would not abandon his family, not for all the chocolate in the world - but then, he admits, his parents and grandparents are good and honest people who love and care about him, and that while they’ve never been able to afford lavish gifts or even more than one chocolate bar a year for him on his birthday, he’s always been happy because he loves his family and is content that they love him too. The other four realize that they can’t exactly say the same about their own parents - their parents have been neglectful, for the most part, and never encouraged them to pursue new skills or change their dangerous habits.

Having said that, despite the fact their parents are terrible parents, the children don’t think they can just abandon their parents completely - despite it all, the children do hold some love for their families. With that in mind, they make a deal with their parents and Mr Wonka: yes, they would very much like to live in the factory and work with Charlie, and develop new skills - but they don’t want to abandon their parents completely. They ask that their parents be allowed to live near to the factory and that they can see them as often as they like - they would ask if their families can come live in the factory too, but they don’t think a) their parents would want that, given what they’ve gone through, and b) Wonka would want these rotten adults living in his factory with his workers and potentially causing harm/problems with his candy.

It’s kind of pretty useful that Charlie’s family is about to move into the factory - Wonka, with their permission, decides he’s going to use it to make a building/area for the other four children’s families to live in. Not that the parents are thrilled by the idea at all - the Salt family has a whole nut business AND a massive estate in England, why would they give that up? Augustus’ family is from Germany and they have a meat/butcher business set up there, are they supposed to just drop it and move to this strange place?

Things do eventually work out though, and an agreement/deal is made...

Augustus becomes the taste tester for new candies, and he offers up some of his own ideas, as well as some of his own critiques or comments on each idea that Wonka and Charlie present to him. He decides to he healthier, however, and he learns to control himself instead of eating everything in sight - he enjoys things in moderation. As an added bonus, running around the factory as well as healthier eating means he sheds some weight too. His parents manage to set up a butcher business in the town, though it takes a while for them to get used to the way things are and to earn respect/customers; Augustus still visits them regularly, and they have family dinners at least once a week, sometimes with the other Golden Ticket winners joining them.

Violet uses her competitive nature to help with advertising and marketing Wonka products - her competitive nature makes her want to make sure that Wonka candy is the best and number one most bought candy in the whole world. Sales are constantly booming because of her and her marketing techniques - Wonka candy has truly never been so popular, which really says something. Her mother is still blue and flexible, but Violet visits her and soon Mrs Beauregarde learns to be proud of her daughter and what she’s achieving instead of trying to push her to be a mini version of herself.

Mike is somewhat of an expert when it comes to television, and he’s incredibly smart. He’s in charge of helping in the television room (running experiments on different candies to test the boundaries of teleporting food to television sets, etc), helping in the inventing room, and in making sure all of the machines are running properly in each room of the factory. He knows the technical stuff, the physics of how everything should work, but he also becomes a little more open minded about things because clearly Wonka’s factory defies all laws of physics a lot of the time, so he learns how much of it applies to Wonka’s factory and what doesn’t, which helps him understand the machines/science behind the work they’re doing. Given what happened to Mr Teavee, the family do move to be closer to the factory - after all, it kind of makes it difficult for the kids he teaches Geography to in high school to take him seriously when he’s...well, the way he is now. They move Mike’s video games into a television room of the factory - but he plays far less than he used to, and watches less television than he did before. His parents notice that he’s less angry, though still incredibly intelligent and full of snark - they still don’t understand what he’s talking about most of the time, but he’s more pleasant to be around and talk to; he’s more excited and eager to share information rather than snapping or looking down on people.

Veruca is arguably one of the most important people in the team. Veruca is heiress to the Salt Nut business, and so she organizes a merger between Wonka and her father for the factory to start using nuts from the Salt business in their candies. Mr Salt’s Factory continues to use human workers, and they shell nuts just as they did before, selling them as they are; Wonka’s factory uses squirrels of course, and the nuts are used in candy. Other than this, Veruca starts to learn business skills from both her father and Willy Wonka, and she’s in charge of handling the factory’s finances, such as budgeting, keeping accounts of investments and incomes, and making sure that the factory has the money for Wonka and Charlie to pursue their new ideas. Her father and mother aren’t exactly keen, however, on moving into the town and into that apartment Wonka has built for the families of the other winners - they enjoy their lavish lifestyle too much. Her father comes every weekend or so for a stay, and her mother once a month - surprisingly, it doesn’t bother her that much after a while, because she’s always known deep down that her parents have never been sure on how to love her properly. Her pets are back on the estate, with her parents, which she visits for a rare holiday from time to time - perhaps she even brings one or two with her back to the factory, on the condition that they remain on the top floor where the children’s bedrooms are, and they go nowhere near any food production areas.

Charlie, of course, is Willy Wonka’s heir and becomes his protégé, a chocolatier in the making. He has much to learn but he’s always eager and enthusiastic even if they’re having a slow day with hardly any ideas or breakthroughs. He’s working with Wonka, someone he idolizes/looks up to, and they develop a wonderful working relationship; Charlie looks up to his mentor, and Willy Wonka actually learns stuff from Charlie too. Charlie’s happy because his family are all living in the factory with him, and he knows this is where he’s meant to be. Life is good and he doesn’t take it for granted. 

The kids actually all become friends, and it’s nice because none of them have actually had real friends before; Augustus was bullied for his size, Violet’s competitiveness drove others away and she was “too busy” for friends, Veruca didn’t have real friends but rather people who hung onto her and tried to get close to her due to her money, Mike was always too busy watching TV or playing games to bother with friends, and Charlie was somewhat of an outcast due to the fact his family was poor and he had secondhand/“poor” clothes. Working together leads them all to becoming friends.

The Bucket family - who have always struggled to feed the seven in their family - now has enough food for them all and more. They happily invite the children and Willy Wonka to dinner with them every single night, and it becomes a normal part of the evening; the five children happily chatting and laughing, just being kids, the adults chuckling with them, all of them eating until they can’t anymore. Augustus, Violet, Veruca and Mike see what a real family can be, and soon they feel like they’re part of the Bucket family themselves. The other parents are even invited to dinner with the Buckets on special occasions, and - with the exception of the Salts - everyone usually takes up their offer. Eventually though, the Salt parents do slowly start to come around - for Veruca’s sake more than anything else. They still see themselves as better than the others, and they’re kind of stiff towards the other parents/adults, but they agree to dinners on special occasions since it means they’ll get to see their daughter. 

To be honest, the kids are all really happy with life nowadays; they’re happy because they’re all friends and they’re all a part of something special - they’ve all truly changed for the better. The friendship between these five lucky kids is sure to be one that lasts a lifetime.

Life has never been better or sweeter.

[hardyimagines]

Vodka Veins

Another Drabble 🥺

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Warmth. It burned. It trickled through your insides, flooding each muscle, vein, and sense. The intoxicating scent was like fire in your nostrils. They flared at the sting, a crinkle forming almost instantly between your brows. You should’ve been use to that smell by now.

Sticky fingers traced the rim of the bottle clumsily. The glass exterior was hot like your throat. You left the bottle out overnight. It was typically cold, the liquor thin, smooth as it slid down your throat, coaxing your thirst, quietening it. It was different when it was hot, it wasn’t as refreshing, yet still you tipped the half-empty bottle, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as the clear liquid filled the mug you’d been drinking tea from. The brown grains at the bottom lifted with the liquid, swimming in it uncertainly but with no choice. You closed your eyes.

The heat in your stomach radiated north, tickling your chest all the way up into your throat. It was an addicting feeling, to feel the craved comfort of something’s heat. The lack of your husband’s presence left a void inside you, one that was easy to fill with the beverage. You couldn’t taste it anymore. Your tongue was numb as you gulped from the glass. Your mouth was dry, thirst unquenched despite the amount you drank. It was draining you. Dehydrating you. Yet you continued to sip it.

You focused on the quiet tink that sounded when the rim of the bottle hit the rim of your mug. You’d set the bottle down with an audible thump before giving your sole attention to the vodka. It’s name was sweet on your lips as you pressed them together, your burning gaze unmoving from the waves that formed in your drink. You couldn’t tell if it was moving on it’s own accord, from being freshly poured, or if it was your spinning head that caused the affect. Probably a little bit of both.

The throb in your head was dull, but noticeable. It was faint, but painful, like a nail being hammered inside you. You lifted your palm to your hot skin, pushing firmly to try and cease the discomfort. The hammer hit harder and you winced audibly.

Whoever said to never mix a painkiller with alcohol had clearly never done it. The painkillers quietened the migraine and the vodka relaxed you considerably. It was the fifth night in a row you’d pass out against the table, with your arms folded and your head pressed against them, loose strands of hair draped in every direction on the wooden table.

Tonight you couldn’t find the relaxation you needed to drift into oblivion. You pushed yourself up from the table and crossed the length of the kitchen to the cupboard. Drawing the creaky cabinet open, your hazy eyes drifted along the containers jammed inside. You extended your arm, your hand trembling without you even noticing.

The light switched on suddenly, your eyes instantly narrowing, squinting beneath the bright invasion. Lifting your hand to your eyes, as if it were physically blinding, you turned your head over your shoulder to inspect who’d cruelly sent your head into a frenzy.

Your husband was stood in the doorway. His big, black coat was draped over his forearm, the material barely brushing against the watch he wore. A file of paperwork was clutched in his palm. He shuffled lightly in the doorway before moving further into the room. The man wasn’t exactly a giant, but in your vulnerable state, he seemed like he was Bigfoot. You turned your attention back on the painkillers, though you knew now that it wasn’t wise to try and take one.. some, not in front of Alfie.

Alfie tossed his jacket over the backside of one of the old chairs. His hands lifted to the buttons on the front of his shirt, adjusting them briefly. The heat inside the house was far different than the cold outside. The drastic change left him boiling. He set the papers down on the table and as he’d done for the last few nights, he lifted the bottle of liquor, examining how much you’d consumed.

“Again?” His hoarse voice sounded less threatening when you were shriveled in the corner, looking for something to numb the constant throb in your head. “Pet.” He stared at you, watching intently as your muscles tensed and your head straightened. He could tell you heard him, but you acted as if you didn’t. Your fingertips traced the bottles of medication, most of them for him for when his leg or back started to bother him. “I thought we fucking talked about this.” The swear was one of habit. His tone didn’t change. He set the bottle of vodka down a bit roughly on the table before weaving around it and stepping up behind you. His hand was seemingly cold against your hip, it’s chilly surface seeping through the material of your dress. He pulled you into him, drawing you away from the cabinet of medicine. “Y/n. Your fucking head, right, it hurts ‘cause you won’t stop fucking drinking that,” His finger pointed strictly toward the culprit on the table. “Yeah, you wouldn’t have a fucking migraine, would you, if you’d lay off the liquor.” His eyes were dark, intrusive as he pressed you against the counter. He lifted his hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him. It scared him. Coming home each night to a wife who could only remember the type and amount of alcohol she drank. You never said anything when you were drunk, he couldn’t ever understand you when you rarely did. His thumb traced your chin. “Big fucking relief it is to come home to a wife who’s just as absent as I am, innit?” His blue eyes danced between yours.

You’d confessed to him that you drank when you felt lonely, so he did all that he could to try and get home as soon as possible. Evidently, it wasn’t soon enough. You were killing yourself. Slowly, but surely. An addiction was the opposite of what you needed. It was eating you alive.

He watched as your dry lips parted, your tongue briefly moving against your teeth, as if you were going to speak. But as he strained his ears, he was given nothing.

“Right, well then.” His hand fell away from your face. What could he do? Make you the usual butter and toast? Fix a cup of tea and coffee in hopes that you could drink it and hold it down. On a few occasions you’d upchucked everything he gave you and he’d been left cradling your shaking body as you hunched over the bowl of the toilet. He hated seeing you like this. But he was too selfish to let you go. Part of him thought it would be healthier, set you free to find someone who could move you from up close everyday. His job didn’t allow it. “Let’s sober you up, yeah, talk about this once again.” His tone was different than usual, less thick, less harsh. He sat you down at the table, his hand curling around the neck of the bottle. He screwed the cap on tightly and watched as you laid your head down. When you were fast asleep, he was going to drain every bottle. The sink would be the liquor’s new home, consumed by the drain and washed down by the water.

Alfie made a hot cup of coffee and a hot cup of tea. He set a hot piece of toasted bread on a plate with some smeared, melted butter before taking a seat beside you. His arm extended, draped across the back of your chair as he waited for the alcohol to absorb in the necessities he’d given you.

It took a while. His eyes were red around the rims, droopy from exhaustion. He’d been on his feet all day. His throat was sore from shouting at the lads. He’d burned his fingers when reaching too soon for a tool. And his back was killing him. He didn’t speak about his problems though, he didn’t express to you that he needed some affection too every once in a while, to be noticed and cared for as he did for you each night. When you could form a coherent sentence and there was no slur in your soft voice, he slid closer, the chair legs groaning out against the floorboards. He didn’t know what to say. The two of you had had a long conversation a few nights ago, you crying as you expressed how empty it was to sit at home alone for days on end. Working a normal job only lasted so long. You were home long before he was, staring at the dinner on the table until it was cold and tasteless.

The silence that hung between the pair of you did most of the talking. Things were uncomfortable, awkward, and if there was no communication to find a solution, this marriage would fall apart. Alfie set his elbow on the table and let his fingertips trace the length of his beard. He watched you as you played with the remnants of your toast, brushing your thumb and pointer finger together to dust off the crumbs that clung to your fingertips.

“I don’t want to talk about this again.” You finally informed him. “It’s embarrassing.” You sighed. Your arms curled around yourself, a shy action instead of one to typically signal you were cold. Alfie watched you closely.

“If it were fucking embarrassing, right, you wouldn’t fucking be trying to kill yourself.” He murmured. His hand dropped from his face, arm flat against the table and fingers dangling off the edge. He watched you as you bit your bottom lip. It quivered. He sighed. You were going to cry. Cry out all that alcohol.

Your watery eyes burned from exhaustion. They burned from weakness and from the sting of the alcohol. Lifting your hand to your throat, you traced it briefly before looking toward Alfie. “I ain’t..” your brows creased. “I’m not trying to kill myself, Alfie. Sometimes i just drink a little quicker than I mean to.”

He pursed his lips before shrugging. “Not drinking at all, pet, right, that would be a good fucking way to avoid that, innit?” He sighed lowly before shuffling his heavy boots against the floorboards. “Fucking nonsense, that’s what it is, yeah, drinking that much alcohol, you’ve got something going on. Spit it out.”

“I’ve told you once, Alfie. I’ll tell you a hundred times. I don’t like the fact that I’m married to your house. I’m married to your dog, your furniture, your clothes, your belongings. But I’m not married to you. When do I ever see you!” You stood. Evidently, too quickly. The room spun and your legs felt like jello. Alfie extended his arm, fingertips wrapping around your own to gently pull you back down.

“Don’t shout.” He growled lowly. It was late. Neighbors were sleeping. And the last thing he wanted to do was fight. “I’m home an hour earlier than I use to be.” He defended.

“Right, and what does that do?” You collapsed back in the chair. “No meals together, no sex, no cuddling by the fireplace or talking until we’re tired. You just sleep, then leave, then sleep, then leave. It’s not a relationship.”

Alfie curled his hand against his thigh before shaking his head. “Least I ain’t drinking a bottle of liquor all hours of the day. I’m doing what I can to get home. I’m trying.”

You felt guilty as you watched the man slump against the creaky chair. He let a heavy huff fall past his lips, a sound that told you he was just as drained as you. Your stomach flooded with guilt, it was clogging. You felt stuffed and suffocated with the feeling as you squirmed at his side. Lifting your hands to your cheeks, you brushed at the salty teardrops that traced the underside of your eyes. “I’m sorry.” You whispered breathily. You knew he was doing what he could to be home with you. You couldn’t imagine him wanting to be filling out paperwork instead of spending time with you. He wouldn’t have married you if that were the case.

Alfie was quiet for a few moments, his ears ringing with your gentle apology. He sensed you wanted him to assure you that things were alright, but he wanted to remain with his thoughts for a few more seconds. The fridge in the corner let out a low hum, the annoying sound penetrating the silence. Alfie watched you from his peripheral, only reaching for you when he caught sight of a lonely tear racing along your cheek. You wiped at the droplet, the liquid smearing against the back of your wrist. His fingertips circled your wrist, delicate as he pulled you up and toward his body.

You dropped down in his lap with no hesitation. He was easy to curl up against. His legs were spread wide, bent at the knee and his arms wrapped around your middle securely, holding you firmly so when your body grew heavy and your limbs fell loosely, he had you. His lips brushed against your temple, one of his hands managing to grasp your own. You peered down at the contact, a faint smile forming on your lips.

“Promise me..” He started to speak. Your head lifted from it’s drooped position. Looking toward the man slowly, you lifted your free hand to his cheek, cradling it. His scruffy hair tickled your palm as your fingertips traced his flesh.

“I know.” You silenced him. Laying your head against his shoulder, your features nestled into the side of his neck, legs swinging in the slightest as you shuffled on his lap.

Tonight was the first night that you hadn’t started drunkenly screaming at him. He did his best to diffuse the situation when things got out of hand, but try as he might, he was hot-headed and your incessant yelling and will to disobey him when he pleaded for you to quit shouting only made it harder for him to prevent losing his cool. Each night he’d ended up yelling back at you, both of you red in the face, expressions tight and furious as you spat venomously, defensively toward one another. Neither of you could take it anymore. You didn’t know what else to scream at him. And without your need to rile him up, Alfie was tender, doing his best to sober you up.

This was the first time he’d been able to get you to promise you wouldn’t drink anymore. You made a change. He would too.

“I’ll talk to the lads.” He promised you. It was hard for him. He’d been working at the distillery for as long as he could remember and when the two of you had begun dating, it had been okay for your time together to be spaced out. You paid him visits at work and he came to see you when he was off. Married life was different. You’d vowed to love each other forever, but how was that possible when you rarely saw one another. He was so use to his routine, so use to doing things the typical, set way. He’d have to fix it. Even if it meant leaving four hours earlier for work just to be home four hours sooner after work.

His head tipped south, turning so that his pink lips brushed the soft spot on your nose. You tilted your head further so his mouth was forced to hover in front of yours. Your eyes were droopy as you gazed up at him, fingertips brushing from his cheek, down to his neck, along the collar of his shirt, to run along his tight chest. You inhaled deeply before lifting your head so you could close the small gap. His mouth was soft against yours, slow as it opened. Your heart fluttered, butterflies forming where the guilt had previously been. They flapped their wings furiously, making you shiver in delight. The tingling feeling he gave you would never fade, you knew that. He managed to draw such a reaction from you from the smallest action. Your lips mirrored his, parting so your tongues could slide out and glide along one another. Your heart thumped wildly, legs extending so the tips of your toes could push into the floor. Standing, only so you could rotate your body, you straddled his hips. Sex probably wasn’t the best way to recover from arguing for almost a week straight. Your body dropped back down on top of his own, straddling him fully now. His hands fell to your hips, gripping them gently as he pulled your body against his own, pinning you between his chest and the table. Alfie grunted. He groaned. And he sighed breathily when your fingers pulled at his thick strands of brown hair. You dipped your hips forward, smiling into the heated kiss when his hips instantly lifted to meet your own.

Everyone had their own way of making up, your way just happened to be efficient. It worked and it worked well. At least for the time being.

———————————————————————

Tagged:

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[lifeofroos]

Part 25. Another chapter in third person. Now read, I won’t spoil it. 

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. The rest is on AO3 and FanFiction.net! (And in Tumblr tags like Nico di Angelo, Dionysus, trails of Apollo etc.)

This Might be crazy: Chapter 25: Sunny Delight

Shortly after his shift in the medical bay ended, Will ran across the field, to the Big House, hoping and praying that Dionysus would still be awake. Today, Tyche seemed to be on his side. Dionysus was standing on the porch, with a small bottle next to him. 

‘Will Solace. I thought I’d get to see you one of these days.’

Will stepped onto the porch. ‘Good evening, my lord. And weird. I thought all the clearvoiency was gone as soon as my father became a mortal.’

‘More as soon as the great snake took over his most important oracle.’

Will rolled his eyes. ‘That was about the same time.’

‘Was it now, Solace.’ 

Will sighed.‘I am not here for this. I wanted to…’

‘You wanted to talk about your boyfriend.’

‘Well, yes.’ 

Dionysus pushed the bottle towards him. ‘Okay then. Here. What is it that you have on your mind?’

Will picked up the bottle to see what it was. Sunny Delight. How hilarious. He slowly screwed off the cap. ‘Well, Nico has been in therapy for a few months now and I want to know how you think he is progressing.’

Dionysus smiled. ‘Well, first he learned a few skills to calm himself and we built trust. Then, he began talking about some of the big issues he has faced in life. I think he is still processing that stage. When he is done, we can work on becoming more stable, so that he can put it all behind him.’ 

Will nodded. ‘Yes. But is it all… helping?’

‘What do you see when you look at your boyfriend?’

Will took a sip of Sunny Delight. ‘After the first few months, he was happier. He began to eat more, socialize more and he looked healthier. Less pale, the bags under his eyes got smaller, less ribs poking out.’ Will stopped talking, while he looked at his bottle of Sunny D.

Dionysus raised an eyebrow. ‘I have the same experience. He is healthier and he has more trust in people.’ It was quiet for a moment. ‘But I sense a ‘but’ in your sentence.’

Will slowly nodded. ‘Yes, there is a but. Because in the past few weeks, he has started to look worse. He eats less, his skin is paler, and he isolates himself more. And I worry about that. I was wondering if you noticed it too, that is why I came.’ He bit his lip. 

Dionysus looked out over the camp. The sun was going down. ‘Yes, I have noticed it.’ He turned back to Will. ‘I sense that you might know more about it than I do.’ 

Will was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t know if what I am going to say is a trust breach.’

‘Has Nico told you to keep it in confidence?’

‘Well, no. And I don’t think he would mind if I told his therapist. And anyway, I… I think it is important.’ 

‘You are the only one who can make the decision whether you want to tell me or not.’

Will stared at the bottle and sighed. ‘He told me the voices in his head have been louder the past few days. He is afraid something is going to happen.’ It looked like a weight dropped of Wills’ shoulders now that he finally said it. 

‘Ah-ha. No, he has not told me that, even though I find that important to know. I thought the voices were almost gone.’

‘That is because they were. But now, they are back.’ Will took a sip. ‘He... I think he has not told you yet because he hoped it would just be a bump in the road. I believe he would have told you if it had gone on for longer.’

‘I think so too.’ 

Will looked at the god, trying to see if he was speaking the truth or not. It seemed so. ‘Lord, what can I do about it? What can we do about it?’

Dionysus put his hands on the fence of the veranda. The look in his eyes was serious. ‘I’ll talk to him as soon as possible. I think this is an emergency. And Solace, it is very good that you came to warn me.’

‘Eh, thanks.’ 

‘As for you: try to support him. Don’t force him into anything, but softly encourage him to open up, to eat more and to engage in more social activities. Let him know that you are there for him. I know you already do that, but the best thing you can do is keep doing it.’

‘Yes. Yes, alright.’ Will looked at his Sunny Delight. ‘Do you think he’ll be alright? Someday?’ Will asked with a small voice. 

Dionysus gave him an encouraging smile. ‘I have met no-one who did not eventually feel better if they got the help that fitted them.’ 

‘Okay.’ Will sighed and leaned onto the wooden fence. 

‘But, Solace, on a different note, how are you feeling?’

Will swayed his drink around. ‘Worried. For Nico.’

‘How are you feeling if you take Nico out of consideration?’

‘Aside from my worries about Nico… I am doing pretty alright. I have friends and my siblings and work at the infirmary. Next year, I was thinking of applying for med school, and as it stands, I have a good chance of getting in.’

‘I am sure that it is more than just ‘a good chance’.’ 

Will chuckled. ‘I mean, I am not that good…’

‘I have seen your work. You are that good.’ There was a small silence, while Will took another sip of Sunny Delight. ‘But Solace, I am asking you about yourself because it is important that you take care of your own mental health as well. I think it is very good of you that you want to be such a support to Nico, but you must not forget who needs you to be there for them the most: you yourself. If it gets too heavy to have Nico rely on you, you should take a step back. He won’t be hurt because of it, he would be more hurt if you let him hurt you.’ 

Will thought for a second, while nodding a few times. ‘Yes, I know, and I’ll keep it in mind.’ He slowly rustled with the plastic wrap around the bottle. ‘Eh… but on a related note, Nico told me that there is an institution that specialises in therapy for demigods. Yet not a lot of us know about it.’

‘Yes, I picked up on that.’ 

‘So… I wanted to do a mental health campaign. Not just me, the other medics as well. We should create awerness. Now that I am here anyway, It suddenly came to me that I might as well ask it right now.’

‘Ask what?’

Will gave him a funny look. ‘If such a campaign is okay…’

‘Of course it’s okay. Why do you suddenly need permission? Nobody thought to ask permission when there was a camp-wide nerf gun fight going on.’

Will shrugged. ‘We want to start the habit of asking permission, I guess?’

Dionysus rolled his eyes. ‘Well, permission granted. Go make the camp aware of mental health issues. No, but seriously.’ He sighed deeply. ‘I’ll talk to Nico. If the voices really are getting worse because something is about to happen, it is only important that we know as much about it as possible.’

‘Do you really think something is about to happen?’

‘Absolutely. After what happened at Camp jupiter…’ He got a sad look in his eyes. He took a deep breath. ‘Lester will be coming this way, together with everything that that implies.’ He was silent for a few seconds. ‘But that is not important at this moment. Go get some rest, Solace, you have had a long shift in the infirmary. Remember: Taking care of your own mental health is the most important thing and the only way you can take proper care of others.’ 

Will nodded. ‘Amen.’ He drank the last bit of Sunny D. ‘Thanks for talking to me. I trust that you are good for Nico.’ The god did not answer, perhaps because he did not want to, more likely because he was way off with his thoughts. Will darted off, to the Hades cabin, for a nice long rest. 

A/N: Fun fact: I have seen absolutely no-one else write a therapy fanfiction between Dionysus and Nico, even though it is canon. It is a good thing I did not wait for someone else to do it, because I could have waited forever.

I am trying to upload a chapter every three days. With which I mean that, for example, on tuesday I upload. Then I’ll skip wednesday, thursday, friday, and I’ll upload again on saturday.

Take care of your own mental health, my dudes. 

They don’t have Sunny D in the Netherlands. I have no idea what it tastes like or what it is made of. 

[media-on-the-mind101]

Turtles All the Way Down: OCD and Generalized Anxiety Disorder (Book)

* May contain spoilers*

I recently finished reading Turtles All the Way Down by John Green, and it is now one of my favorite novels. The story hit me close to home because it deals with a disorder that I was diagnosed with. I thought writing an article about it would be a good way to educate you readers, while also sharing a little bit about myself.

Turtles All the Way Down is story about a teenage girl named Aza Holmes who suffers from OCD or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. The story shows how the disorder impacts her daily life as well as her relationships. Because the author suffers from the disorder in real life, the depiction is fairly accurate. However, I spotted a few things that might suggest a whole different diagnosis whatsoever. The story also covers Aza’s treatment which I felt was missing a lot of important things.

According to the DSM 5 (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is a disorder where a person gets caught in a cycle of obsessions and compulsions. Obsessions are intrusive thoughts that trigger distressing feelings, while compulsions are repetitive behaviors that are performed to relieve anxiety or prevent something bad from happening. OCD is often confused with OCPD (Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder) which is characterized by extreme perfectionism, order, and neatness. OCPD is often portrayed as OCD in the media which means that stereotypical OCD is really OCPD.

While Aza does have obsessions that involve cleaning, they are more about health and less about being organized. People with OCD often have a specific thing they worry about, and for Aza it is contracting an infection from a parasite called C-diff which essentially causes food poisoning and stomach damage. While she doesn’t really do anything to neutralize or cancel her thoughts out, she repeatedly reads articles online and uses hand sanitizer to relieve her anxiety.

As you may already have figured out, people with OCD often have illogical thought patterns and they are fully aware of it. But their anxiety makes them perform their compulsion anyway “just to make sure.” This is seen in the book when Aza drinks a bottle of hand sanitizer to insure that all bad bacteria inside her body are cured. Of course we all know, that drinking hand sanitizer would actually be more harmful then helpful.

“Drinking hand sanitizer is not going to make you healthier, you crazy fuck. But they can talk to your brain. THEY can tell your brain what to think, and you can’t. So, who’s running the show? Stop it, please (pg. 210).

In this scene, Aza knows that drinking hand sanitizer is actually more harmful then helpful, but she feels as if something is controlling her brain. The “they” refers to her OCD and she tells it to stop but isn’t able to control it.

While reading the book, I noticed that some of Aza’s symptoms don’t quite fit the diagnosis of OCD, such as her feeling of not knowing if she is awake or dreaming, real or non-existent. In one chapter she says the following:

“the pressing of my thumbnail against my fingertip had started off as a way of convincing myself that I was real . . . every time I thought maybe I wasn’t real, I would dig my nail into my fingertip, and I would feel the pain, and for a second I’d think, Of course I’m real” (pg.106).

The feeling of disconnect she has from her own body and surroundings are actually symptoms of DDD (Depersonalization - Derealization Disorder). According to the DSM, the disorder is characterized by persistent feelings of being a stranger to yourself or your surroundings. According to Psychology Today, however, you have to have no signs of other mental illness that can explain your symptoms, in order to be diagnosed with DDD. This is when diagnosing a patient becomes challenging; so many disorders can have similar symptoms or be co-morbid with each other that it they can difficult to differentiate.

The other symptom I noticed that is actually its own disorder, is the fact that Aza has a habit of digging her nail into her fingertip to the point where her finger becomes scarred. While picking of the skin is often comorbid with OCD, it is actually a separate disorder called excoriation disorder or dermatillomania. According to mhanational.org, this disorder is characterized by picking of the skin that creates skin lesions and that causes disruption in everyday life. It is true that the disorder falls under the category of obsessive compulsive disorders in the DSM, but excoriation disorder is not the same as OCD.

Now we’ve defined what OCD is, but another important part of how the book portrays it is in the treatment. According to Mayoclinic.com, the most common treatments for OCD include CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy), exposure therapy, and medications such as SSRIs (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors). These are the treatments that I had during my childhood, and they have been statistically proven to be very effective. 

In the book Aza sees a therapist and takes medication, but she doesn’t get exposure therapy, one of the main treatments for OCD. Aza mainly gets CBT which is essentially talk therapy, but she is not forced to face her obsessions without performing her compulsions. An example of this would be touching a dirty substance and then forcing herself not to take out her phone or use hand sanitizer. 

The last important thing is how OCD effects a peoples relationships. Throughout the story, the characters in Aza’s life talk about how hard she is to deal with. One scene toward the end really emphasizes the importance of this issue. In this scene, Aza and her best friend Daisy get into an argument because Daisy feels that Aza is too self-centered.

She says “and you’re so, like, pathologically uncurious that you don’t even know what you don’t know.” And later she adds “I don’t mean that you’re a bad friend or anything. But you’re slightly tortured, and the way you’re tortured is sometimes also painful for, like, everyone around you”(pg. 216).

Daisy is frustrated because she feels like Aza is so caught up in her own thoughts that she never shows any interest in the lives of others. When she says Aza is “tortured” and it makes it painful for everyone around her, this shows just how much her illness impacts her relationships with other people. Basically, people find her difficult to be around because they, in a sense, have to experience everything with her and they begin to lose patience. At the end of this scene, the two girls get into a car accident because they weren’t paying attention to the road.

Aza’s other important relationship in the story is with is Davis, who is like a friend with benefits. The reason he never becomes Aza’s boyfriend is because of her social anxiety and fear of contamination that prevents her from being physically close to people. 

“I enjoyed being with him more in this nonphysical space, but I also felt the need to board up the windows of myself. Me: I feel kinda precarious in general, and I can’t really date you. Or date anyone. I’m sorry but I can’t. I like you, but I can’t date you” (pg. 162).

I this scene, Aza reveals that she communicates better online then in person and this suggests that she has some form of social anxiety.

Another scene tells us just how much her fear of germs effects her life: “billions of people kiss and don’t die just make sure his microbes aren’t going to permanently colonize you come on please stop this . . . then you’ll get C. diff and boom dead in four days please fucking stop just kiss him JUST CHECK TO MAKE SURE. I pulled away” (pg. 152).

In this scene, Aza has difficulty being physically intimate with Davis because her fear of germs prevents from enjoying it like most people would. Based on this fact, we could predict that Aza will have difficulty in her future relationships because of her mental illness and this is a great example of how it effects people in real life.

As I mentioned in the beginning of this article, the author John Green himself suffers from OCD. Compared to his own experiences, the book is pretty similar. Like the main character, Green suffers from obsessions about contamination. In an episode of the Vlogbrothers Youtube channel, Green explains that

 “I might worry out of nowhere that my food is contaminated or somehow poisoned and then somehow suddenly that will be the only thought I'm able to think . . . I can lose all control over my thoughts for an extended period of time to the extent that I can't follow what's happening in a TV show or read a book.” (Green).

*John Green, author of Turtles All the Way Down*

So like Aza, he worries about contamination to the point where he can’t focus on anything else. He also has the same kinds of thought spirals :  

“the compulsive behaviors I use to cope with these obsessive thought spirals, repeatedly checking my food for contamination, for instance, or spending hours Googling what will happen to me if I eat moldy bread.” (Green).

As you can see, the characters compulsion of checking in internet comes straight from the author’s real life experience. According to the New York Times, John Green developed the disorder at around seven years old and eventually got it under control with the right medication and CBT. It was not said weather or not he underwent exposure therapy. So the treatment that Aza receives is based on the way some treatments work in real life.

While reading Turtles All the Way Down I  often found myself feeling nostalgic because my own experience with OCD is very similar. Although I do not have an obsession with a specific thing like Aza does, I have the same types of intrusive thoughts. I also have similar compulsions to seek reassurance from the internet or other people about my health, as well as other compulsions to neutralize, or cancel out my thoughts. 

Because I had Tourette Syndrome (a neurological disorder that causes physical impulses) as a child, I developed what is called Tourettic OCD. It is pretty much exactly what it sounds like; Tourette Syndrome and OCD combined. The reason this occurs in some individuals is because the ability to filter out and thoughts and the impulse to move, take place in the same brain area, the basal ganglia. As a result of this, my compulsions tend to be more physical, such as moving my eyes excessively whenever I see negative words in a book, or someone getting sick in a movie.

Like Aza, I went through CBT but I also went through several years of exposure therapy and I take an SSRI in conjunction. I think exposure therapy is a very important part of the treatment of disorders such as OCD and PTSD and I was disappointed that the book did not include it. I think that if you are going to educate a person about disorder, then you have to educate them about the treatment as well. In conclusion, Turtles All the Way Down was a great novel that captured OCD more accurately then any movie I have seen. The fact that the author has the disorder makes it all the more realistic and personal, and I have to say as a person with OCD and a psychology major, I was quite pleased with the way the character was portrayed. The story may have been missing a few important elements but overall it provided a realistic way of educating people about the disorder.

[aijee]

is this a life update or a novel?

Hi all, long time no post! Nice to meet you new followers, and nice to talk to you again for those who’ve stuck around. Just as a reminder, my blog is as much of a fic blog as it is a journal for me to sort my thoughts.

In that vein, here’s a personal update. CW for mental health/anxiety, physical pain, big life changes. There’s lighter stuff at the end!

It’s been both a long and short summer for me, after deciding to quit work and focus on my mental health. I’m a millennial twenty-something whose mind, like many, is tragically crippled with the capitalistic and individualistic values America has brainwashed me with, so I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with being unemployed and depending on my parents. I’m extremely privileged and humbled to be in a family that still maintains income during unprecedented times. I’ve been trying not to let my internalized struggles turn into this self-imposed shame for partaking in pleasures (I remember second-thinking buying a digital comic book for hours). My parents often say, “We worked hard and struggled because we didn’t want our kids to do the same. Don’t feel guilty for enjoying yourself.” Nowadays, they add that I’ve worked hard during college and my post-college job; in their eyes, I’ve more than “earned” a break, especially after losing my graduation, summers, and trips.

I constantly wonder why I impose so many limitations of myself even more during a pandemic. While being aware of global struggle is important for not becoming out-of-touch, I need to remind myself that people don’t have to earn the right to play or be happy or enjoyment. Obvious lack of nuance aside, it’s crazy to think how much capitalism—largely the idea worth is contingent (work) productivity—has deformed my sense of what’s a basic human right versus what should be earned. I think I’ve mentioned in a previous post that I struggle with thinking in extremes; it’s either starvation or hedonism, and the latter earns far more societal vitriol. I think my Asian upbringing has made me hyperaware of what others could be thinking of me, regardless of how accurate those projections are. I’d fact, I rarely assumed positive opinions. Outside of external validation, I realized how poor my self-image really was. Tearing myself down before anyone else could rarely, if ever, softened the blow.

For the first time, I’ve begun to think that my life is my own and no one else’s. It sounds logical on paper, but so much harder in practice in real life, I’ve realized. This isn’t a constant or ingrained thought yet, often peaking in between longer and more familiar strings of anxiety. But it feels like an important realization during a time full of sadness and uncertainty, let alone in my lifetime at all.

And then I injured my spine.

It happened towards the end of the summer, when I was starting to feel more put-together internally. I felt so creatively productive (in avenues I don’t care to share online) and even closer to family. I had a ball revisiting old shows. I ate food I hadn’t eaten in years. And this was suddenly interrupted when, while showering, I was wracked with unimaginable, nonstop pain. I nearly passed out alone in the shower and barely managed to crawl to my bedside to call my parents; I was lucky they came home early. I couldn’t stop crying for almost twelve hours. I was terrified at the possibility that I may be paralyzed or my legs would be affected. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, but I was bedridden and wracked with nausea. I could barely stomach anything, not even water. I couldn’t sleep. I was never brought to a hospital, either on the fear of COVID transmission. The whole time, it was so, so debilitating on a physical and mental front. My head was a nightmare.

Like a bad habit, some of my worst thoughts centered around productivity. I worried about the work I couldn’t do. I felt shameful about canceling plans with friends. I hated being helpless and not being able to take care of myself, and felt guilty for wasting other people’s time taking care of me. And yet, if I was someone else, even a stranger let alone a friend/loved one, I’d be scratching my head over why that person would think these things. Fuck work and other life plans, getting better is the most important thing because you can’t do any of those compromised activities if you’re not at capacity! Duh. Anxiety can really a number on you sometimes and it’s awful just how irrationality fuels the spiral.

I’m grateful to be back on my feet. I’m trying to hold on tightly to that victory, to this positive point that I have worked towards. It’s going to be a challenge to do my recovery exercises daily for my 2-3 month recovery period when I barely remember to floss. Moreover, I’ll be in the middle of moving and working full-time again in the next month, alongside the ridiculous anxiety over some applications and maybe interviews for a different part of my life. But I’m doing my best to take each day at a time and celebrate the good things when they come, however small. I don’t have to ace a final exam or burn my retinas studying for them to deserve victories because, hey, again, happiness is a right and I need to stop gatekeeping myself from it.

Frankly, the injury is largely why I haven’t posted sooner. I don’t think anyone should ever feel obligated to use social media when they aren't up to it. But I actually wanted to ease back into writing before I was injured, starting with this blog.

Some other positive things:

God, I missed the Avatar (Aang and Korra) series so much. What a damn good franchise, what a damn good magic system and world. IT’S. SO. GOOD, GOD. Revisiting it all and reading the comics while I was sick was the single biggest joy that kept me going. I hope the magic lingers for as long as possible.

Even in my inactivity, I’ve received some really lovely comments on my AO3. I read the emails primarily. It really warms my hear to see them. I revisited old comments recently, too, and they’ve helped keep me going and reminded me that I am capable of putting joy into the world.

I’ve taken a liking to Youtube playlist-videos and Spotify playlists that encompass a very specific story scenario, like “dancing with the villain in a masquerade ball” or “driving around the French countryside”, etc. Japanese 80′s urban pop is SO GOOD.

Smosh has been putting out such great content y’all. I was BIG on old Youtube (Nigahiga, Smosh, Michelle Phan, Jenna Marbles, etc.) and it warms my heart to see their renaissance. Amazingly entertaining and down-to-earth content. I don’t fall squarely into their demographic anymore, but the periphery is still fun.

Food is great. I love food still. I’ve eaten a lot of good food during this break. It almost pains me to go back to living by myself and eating healthier. :’(

I didn’t realize how expensive moving was. But, after living in the same apartment from sophomore uni to post-uni work, I’m moving into a bigger “adult” apartment with appropriately sized appliances instead of the mini student kind. The possibility of treating myself to a king-sized mattress and decorations is also very exciting.

It warms my heart to see people in my vague social circles indulging in home art projects, like paint by numbers and “diamond” painting. As a kid I thought “not real art” was a waste, but by god as an adult do I not give a shit about what “real art” is anymore. If it’s fun, it’s fun. That’s that!

That’s all I can think about for now.

[collapsingintojupiter]

Sunshine and StormClouds: Chapter 12

Catch up:

Chapter 1  Chapter 1.5  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10   Chapter 11

___

*Cough* yeah it’s been awhile.

Characters: Roman, Logan, Virgil, Patton, Remy

Relationships: Analogical, mentioned Romile (Roman x Emile)

Warnings: (Very brief) alcohol mention, a little swearing, and...I don’t think anything else? This one’s pretty fluffy.

___

Remy was, in fact, quite jealous when he saw Virgil’s nails the next day.

“Gurl, where did you get these?” he demanded, grabbing Virgil’s hand and looking at the design with big eyes. “You have to tell me, c’mon!”

“Oh, it’s only from the best-ever stylist in town,” was Virgil’s answer. He sipped at his coffee and laughed at how Remy looked like he was going to implode, enjoying their banter a lot more than usual this time around. Patton tried Logan’s iced tea and made a face, drawing another laugh from him.

“Alright alright, I’ll tell you,” he conceded at last with another chuckle. Remy lit up at once.

“Yeah yeah, go on,” he said.

“So…it turns out our babysitter is also a blooming artist. He painted my nails for me last night, and a few of Patton’s too.”

As if it was his cue, Patton reached towards Remy with grabby-hands, showing off the blue on his left hand. Remy set his coffee down and took the boy, leaving Logan to finish off his iced tea while he processed the information.

“You’re kidding me,” he said after a minute, looking over Virgil’s nails again. “This is amazing, what even…”

“I know, right?”

“Well then,” Remy said as he handed Patton back to his father and finished off his drink. “Looks like I have a babysitter to catch.”

---

Roman wasn’t sure how to react when he found that he wouldn’t be walking home from school that day—Remy waited for him outside In his car, motioning him over as soon as he was out the door.

“How’s Emile?” he asked as soon as Roman opened the door. He blushed at that, climbing in and looking down at his shoes.

“He’s, um, he’s good,” he said quietly. Then he looked up. “Why are you picking me up? Do Virgil and Logan need me?” he frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no!” Remy waved a hand and shook his head, a grin on his face and glitter in his eyes. “Nothing’s wrong, my boy. Aunty Remy just wants to spoil you a little, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh…okay.” Roman grinned. Being spoiled by Aunty Remy wasn’t something he was gonna pass up.

“Also…I have a favor to ask of you.” Roman raised an eyebrow in question at that.

“A favor?”

“Yeah, I hear that this town has a budding artist, is that right?” Roman’s eyes widened.

“You saw—”

“Yup! And I was so impressed, I thought I might ask if you’d be willing to do mine too? I’ll pay you, of course. And I’ll take you out to coffee again, cause Aunty Remy needs his caffeine…does that sound good to you?” Roman couldn’t help the smile that nearly split his face.

“Totally!”

...

Roman wasn’t quite sure why Remy called the drink “pumpkin-spiced seasonal depression,” because as far as he was concerned it was the most amazing thing in the world. Either way, he wasn’t complaining, and he smiled behind his drink while Remy shared with him all of the latest gossip he knew of.

Which there was a lot of, apparently.

“Now,” Remy said, setting down his coffee once he’d finished telling Roman about his old highschool friend Ashely’s divorce, “I know that you do your Chemistry homework with Logan, is that right? What do you say we drop in on him? I’ll order a pizza, and you can have dinner with us.”

“Wait, how’d you know Logan was helping me?” Roman asked, though he still hadn’t managed to banish the grin from his face. Remy winked at him. 

“He helped me through Chemistry too, you know. That big brain of his is the only reason I was able to pass.”

“Really? Virgil said he helped him too…”

“Yup! Ol’ Logan tutored a lot of people, and I personally thought he was a better teacher than all of the paid staff at that dumpster fire they called a school combined.” Roman laughed, and he only shrugged. “Hey, I’m telling it like it is. Now, let’s go give our dear friends a surprise visit, shall we?”

…

“Hello Roman, Remy tells me that you’re in need of further assistance on your Chemistry?”

Roman blinked at Mr.Sanders, while Remy laughed and pushed past him. “Now now, we have to feed the boy first. The pizza dude should be here in a few minutes, and then you can amaze him with your brilliance all you want.”

“You got a curfew at home, kid?” a third voice asked, and Roman glanced up as Virgil came into the hallway, Patton at his hip. Patton smiled happily, reaching for Roman with his little hands when he saw him.

“Ro!” he yelled.

Roman smiled at him, then looked to Virgil. “Uh, sort of, I just gotta be there before my mom goes to bed.”

“When is that, normally?” Logan asked. 

“Uh...around 10 sometimes, though sometimes it’s a lot later.” Roman shrugged. “It depends.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, but Virgil’s eyes held the same unsettling look of understanding they’d always had.

Remy was in the kitchen. 

“You should have seen how jealous he was when he saw my fingernails,” Virgil half-whispered to Roman with a grin. 

“He asked me to do his too,” Roman told him, also grinning.

“Ah, so that explains why I’m getting free pizza tonight. I owe you.”

“Virgil, please tell me you’re not only going to eat pizza.” The group started after Remy, Logan lecturing Virgil on his eating habits while the darker-eyed father half-listened to him with a tired but adoring grin. Roman carefully set his backpack down by the wall, grabbed his nail kit, and ran over to the table. Remy and Virgil were already helping little Patton get strapped into his high chair, and Logan had set out finding something "healthier” for his husband to eat. Remy grinned at Roman as he came in. 

“Ah, it’s our guest of honor!” he called. Virgil chuckled, then went to get something for Patton while Remy sat and Roman started pulling out colors and supplies. 

Lets see, Remy’s classy and fancy… Roman looked over Remy’s outfit, which was fashionable as always: a black trilby hat, sparkly earrings, shades, a gray scarf, and a fancy gray sweater to match with it. 

I have the perfect idea. 

Remy, for once, was quiet as Roman got to work, watching the boy with a look of curiosity and intrigue as he pulled out colors and brushes. He started with Remy’s index finger, painting it black before adding pale pink stripes to it. The next one was pink, with thin black stripes. Then Roman did another black one, this time with pink dots, followed by a pink one with black dots.

When he got to Remy’s thumbs Roman grinned really big, then pulled out the green nail polish. He carefully applied a layer of darker green paint; then, when it had dried, he pulled out the white, painting a tiny logo on top that could only resemble one thing:

“Oh my god it’s Starbucks!” Remy squealed, holding up his hands and gazing at Roman’s work with the biggest smile he’d ever seen. Remy gave Roman an excited thumbs-up, then ran into the living room to show Virgil. 

“Well, you’ve certainly made his day,” Logan mused from over by the counter with a small smile. 

“If you’d like, I can do yours too,” Roman offered automatically, then froze. 

Oh shit--

Logan raised an eyebrow, though instead of declining like he had expected, the teacher nodded after a short hesitation. 

“I suppose I can’t be the only one in this family without nail polish on me, can I?” he asked. To anyone else, his expression was quite unreadable--was that a smile or a frown? But Roman knew it, and he was shocked by it--the blue-tied father’s tone was amused, even happy. 

It made Roman feel warm inside. He smiled back at the teacher, then motioned for Logan to sit. He quickly pulled out several shades of blue, his cheeks burning as he listened to Virgil and Remy arguing in the living room over whose nailpolish was the best. Both were very adamant that is was theirs. Meanwhile, Patton contented himself with several toys that Logan had left with him in his high chair, and as they waited for the pizza Roman started to paint. 

Logan...the picture in his mind, unlike Virgil’s aura of stormclouds and rain, was almost calming in its own way. Logan was smart, but also kind, and when that combined with Patton’s aura of sunbeams and Virgil’s dark skies it painted a unique and beautiful picture that could be found nowhere else.

Roman realized, suddenly...he almost saw these people as family. 

Two fathers, a crazy aunt, and one sunray of a boy were more of a home to him than Roman had ever known before. Of course, he wasn’t homeless, and Roman knew that he was lucky he wasn’t, but his tired house that smelt of booze and hopelessness just wasn’t home in the way Virgil and Logan’s house was...

Roman didn’t know what he thought of that. He put his head down and went back to painting.

“There,” he said after a while, flashing Logan a big smile. “You like it?”

Logan didn’t answer him; he just stared. He held his hand up, then slowly rotated it, looking over the details on every finger with...that couldn’t be...admiration?

“Roman I…” Logan shook his head after a moment. “This is the most aesthetically pleasing thing I’ve ever seen before…”

Roman beamed. 

“You two are being awfully quiet in there,” came Virgil’s voice from the living room, followed by two sets of footsteps as the bickering pair made their way back to the kitchen. 

“oh damn gurl!” Remy shouted when he saw Logan holding up his hands, at the same time Virgil’s eyes widened considerably above the dark eyeshadow. 

“Language,” Logan said automatically, but he still had that quiet, soft smile on his face as Remy grabbed his hand to examine Roman’s work there. 

The index fingers of his hand were blue with stripes, just like Logan’s tie. Next was a tiny white brain icon on a dark blue background, followed by a delicately-done artwork of circuitry on his ring finger. The pinkies were both indigo-colored with white dots, and on his thumbs Roman had painted a tiny sun on one, and a little stormcloud on the other with backgrounds to match--Virgil and Patton. The sunshine and storm clouds.

“My students will be so jealous,” Logan remarked, and Virgil laughed. 

“Hell yeah they will!” 

Roman’s eyes widened when a $20 bill was slapped into his palms, looking up at Remy in shock. 

“Wh…”

Remy chuckled at his expression. “I promised to pay you, remember? You did a stunning job, my boy.”

“I am...also impressed,” Logan said. Virgil chuckled, nudging his shoulder as the doorbell rang.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor and go get the pizza,” he laughed. 

“Virgil, a human jaw can’t even...oh.’ Logan paused. “A joke. I get it.” He shook his head and started for the door, while the other two adults exchanged looks. 

“He ain’t been that blown over since he first saw your face,” Remy remarked, and Virgil smacked him. 

Logan came back a few minutes later with the pizza, and the four laughed and joked over dinner while Patton got to try his first (and last, Logan swore) piece of pizza. Roman was happy to note that he enjoyed it quite a bit. 

“He’s taking after you, kid,” Virgil said with a chuckle as Roman reached for his third slice. Roman froze, and the older man laughed. 

“Don’t worry, it’s a compliment,” Remy butted in, throwing a carrot at Virgil.

“I, for one, would love to see Patton grow to be as kind and hardworking as you are,” Logan stated, throwing a glare at Remy. 

Don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry…

Roman got up and ran into the bathroom.

Dammit.

He cried.

And it was the happiest cry he’d ever had.

[mbti-notes]

Hi mbti-notes, I hope you're doing well. I am an INFP young black American and the past few weeks have been such a nightmare. I obviously support the protests that have been taking place but I feel so hopeless at the same time. I've never been a fan of this country but the past few weeks have at least provided me with more clarity and conviction that there is nothing to be salvaged here. I have a friend who's also black but lives in europe and even we're at a loss for what to say to each (con't)

[con’t: other. I feel so angry and disgusted. I remember learning that as a part of anti-US propaganda during the Cold War, they’d show how black people have been treated in America and be like “this is how they treat their own people”. I’m not saying I support the USSR of course but it surprised me to hear that in the eyes of other countries, we’re as American as anyone else. It never felt that way. People can’t even protest police brutality without being faced with more police brutality. I’ve donated to bail funds, signed petitions, contacted my representatives about a piece of legislation that would help combat the issue of missing and murdered indigenous women but...I think the closest thing there is to a solution is for another Great Migration but this time, we just leave America. I feel bad saying that because obviously so many people don’t have the means to do so and it shouldn’t have to come to this but nobody wants us here. If the black panthers...]

It seems that tumblr disappeared the rest of your message, but I've read enough to detect some problematic thinking. It’s not about whether you’re “wanted”, it’s about the fact that you have a right to exist and be treated as human, equal to every other human under the law. It is beyond the scope of this blog to address politics and write political commentary. This blog primarily addresses individuals and how they cope with their circumstances. I won’t be able to understand all the experiences that you’ve had as a black American given such a short message from you. All I can do is bring to light your attitude and beliefs and how they affect your ability to cope and thrive in life. 

Developmentally, irrational pessimism is always something that INFPs should be vigilant about due to Fi-Si loop and the struggle to develop Ne big-picture thinking skills. There is certainly lots of injustice in the world, but this doesn't mean that there isn't also a lot of good in the world. There are many good people out there doing good things, otherwise, you’d have nothing to donate money to. There are also a lot of decent people who understand that racism is a big problem but don’t know what to do about it. Yet your mind is only ever trained on the pain and suffering - this indicates Fi extremes. I have a longstanding habit of observing how different people respond to challenges in life. For example, I see some black Americans out there protesting, some are educating people, some are attacking people, some are sowing anarchy, some are running for office, some are giving up, some are hiding, some are writing, some are leading legislative initiatives. Black Americans as a group share the burden of racism, but each person handles it in their own way. What is your response and why?

You focus on the problems, drowning in negative feelings, and perhaps even look for evidence to reinforce the belief that everything is irredeemable (misuse of Si), which means that you lack a big picture perspective. For your own well-being, perhaps you need to make wiser decisions about how you spend your time, where you focus your energy, and with whom you associate. Otherwise, you are only ever a victim of circumstance, bending and breaking with every gust of wind. If there are things/people in your life that exacerbate your tendency to be negative, it's up to you to adjust your decision making so that you are not always surrounded by the negative. Just as you keep physically healthy by not eating crap food, you should keep mentally healthy by not feeding yourself a constant diet of emotional negativity. For example, people tend to be much more pessimistic when they spend too much time on social media or consuming political commentary that is designed to be emotionally provocative. Perhaps there are healthier ways to spend your time. Whether you followed this or that tweet is of little significance if it only ends up with you feeling miserable.

With respect to moving: There are a variety of methods to measure the health and well-being of a society, and it's natural to think about how your country stacks up against others. Different societies have their own character and excel at different things. However, it's important to remember that there is no society without problems. Some countries are better at hiding their problems than others. Europe is no paradise, as there have been long running problems with colonialist and xenophobic attitudes. American society tends to be very extraverted and media driven, so its problems are often hanging out there for all to see, which might make them seem a lot worse than they really are.

Each aspect of society, whether you think it is positive or negative, is the result of a trade-off. For example, people often respect the U.S. for its staunch commitment to free speech, which allows for marginalized voices to be heard. But the trade-off is that you may get a more noisy and toxic social environment, as all voices get elevated and amplified. The question for you, as an individual, is whether the trade-offs are worth it for the kind of life that you would like to live. With the example of free speech, I’d rather have free speech, so I’m willing to tolerate all the noise and accept it as the cost of doing business. Nobody can make these sorts of judgments for you, as you are the best person to decide what's best for you. Thus, I'm not sure what to tell you. I only remind people that the decision making process works best when you give proper consideration to EVERY side of an issue, as opposed to being myopic, extreme, or one-sided.

Right now, there is a lot of frustration and anger floating around. Being so emotional basically means being myopic, as you are hyperfocused on the things that make you sad or angry. This will blind you to everything else. When you lose sight of the positive, Ne might start to believe that the grass is greener elsewhere. There's no denying that the problem of racism against black people runs very deep in American society, all the way back to the founding of the nation on the backs of slaves. But are you denying that progress has been made?

When people use the word "progress" in relation to history, they mainly refer to how things changed for the better. I think people too often forget that progress almost always comes at a steep COST. Society doesn’t change because people miraculously get “enlightened” en mass. No. People suffer, things get mangled, blood is shed, and there is a period of intense pain and sacrifice - these details tend to get glossed over in history classes as hindsight and nostalgia take over. Creation and destruction are two sides of the same coin. Thinking that you can create something new and better without destroying what is old and obsolete is wishful thinking. To be clear, I'm not advocating destruction; I'm only saying that, in reality, you cannot escape destruction, as it is a necessary stage in the process of creation. If you are unlucky, you get to live during "interesting" times. But, viewed from a bigger perspective, it also means that you get to live during a time when you have a chance to make a difference and what you do matters. From this perspective, being alive right now is better than living during a time of being forced into accepting the status quo, is it not?

What is society other than the people comprising it? Societal problems are analogous to psychological problems in that they are deep-seated, long-running, festering, recurring, and difficult to resolve. I believe that there is a qualitative shift in attitude right now. It doesn't mean that racism will suddenly get fixed once and for all, but I've not seen such widespread attention and commitment to the problem in a long time. It actually gives me hope. I have older friends who've remarked that they suddenly feel transported back to the unrest of the 1960s. IMO, it means that another period of progress is on the horizon, but it also means that a time of intense turmoil is here. It seems that you focus on the turmoil and miss seeing the openings and opportunities for change.

Another thing that INFPs should always be vigilant about is a shaky relationship to reality and/or being unable to tackle problems in a realistic way (i.e. poor Ne and Te development). Reality contains everything, including the good and the bad, so it’s no use to try to pretend that one or the other doesn’t exist. You will always make better decisions by taking BOTH the good and the bad into consideration. Some INFPs get stuck in trying to wish away the bad, and some drown in the bad and disconnect from everything good. 

Just as a child picks up a mix of psychological issues from their parents, as a member of society, your identity is forged through your relationship to your society's (problematic) history. I don't see how a "great migration" is any solution. Don’t forget that technology has made our world significantly smaller, so it’s a lot harder to distance from these problems. As long as you carry the scars of your home, no matter where you go, unresolved pain will continue to haunt you and hurt you. There is historical evidence that utopian thinking never leads to anything resembling a utopia. Utopian thinking is what people resort to when they are incapable of confronting the problems of reality. When it comes to human psychology, there is no way to wipe the slate completely clean without confronting and addressing the mistakes and sins of the past - this is what social unrest is meant to achieve. To believe that you can/should “start from scratch” is often a sign of Te grip in INFPs, as they want to violently wipe out the accumulated burdens of Si loop. 

Perhaps there are benefits for you, as an individual, to move away, as you might find happiness in a different sort of life. But what happens when the advocates give up and walk off? At the societal level, good people moving away only leaves the bad actors to wreak havoc on the poor and innocent. Certainly, some individuals do move away and successfully build a better life for themselves. However, some people move away only to discover that they miss home dearly, and they end up roaming aimlessly, lonely, miserable, bitter, or disappointed. What separates the two groups? You will find a better life when you know exactly what you're looking for and you're realistic about whether the new place will meet those terms and conditions. You will NOT find a better life if you're merely running away from unhappiness, fueled by wishful thinking that the grass is greener "anywhere but here". It's up to you to be honest about what's happening with you.

[breakingsomething]

the fall part thirteen - the storm (part one)

basic summary: an unnatural storm rolls over brighton.

trigger warnings: descriptions of torture and seizure

tagslist: @synonymsforzombie @spicydanhowell @skyewardlight @dreaming-of-stories-and-stars @cest-mellow @graveyardlettuce @lower-your-expectationss

they'd fixed the gate. and not only that, but they'd put bloody barbed wire on the top of it.

all anti could do was stare numbly. there had been a hole in the fence behind the bushes for years. it was how dapper had gone in and out when they'd stayed in these very waterworks, so long ago. now it was fixed. and anti couldn't glitch inside.

he walked around the whole perimeter of the building, but couldn't find any other way in. ok, so he'd have to climb. no big deal. he'd been tortured basically every other day for five full months. he could take a little barbed wire.

five minutes later, with hands cut up and bleeding, frustratingly still on the same side of the fence, he realized maybe he couldn't take a little barbed wire.

but what were his other options? growling as much as he could with his ruined voice, he shook the fence desperately, ignoring the sharp, throbbing pains in his palms. he was absolutely going to track down every fucking council worker who'd done this and tear their throats out. he was. but for now, he had to go somewhere. preferably somewhere sheltered. a quick glance at the sky told him it was oddly dark, and it looked like it was going to rain.

anti had lived on the streets for a full year after he left jack, and then for a few months before red had caught him. well, he had discovered the waterworks and claimed it for his own a few months in to his first time alone. but he'd still basically been homeless, still fighting against the elements and people going into his territory on the daily. he was used to this. all he had to do was go find some shelter and get away from the oncoming storm. no big deal. he could handle that.

he started off down the hill, through the trees and towards the road. not many people around. just a shopkeeper closing up for the day. he looked up when he saw anti, raising his eyebrows at his shivering form.

"there's due to be a huge storm," the man told him in a thick scottish accent. anti watched him lock the doors and swing the keys on his fingers. "weather warning. everyone's to stay inside, that's why i'm closing up early. better get home quickly, son. wouldn't want to get caught in it."

anti paused, then gave a quick nod before bustling past and speed walking down the pavement. the rain had started, very light at first, but continuously getting heavier, drenching him through his hoodie and shirt to his skin. his teeth chattered, and he numbly thought that at least there was no possibility of biting his tongue now. that was something.

his tattered trainers splashed through rapidly forming puddles as he walked, rubbing his arms with his bleeding hands to try and warm himself. all he succeeded in was getting stains on his blue hoodie. the sky was getting even darker, the sheet of rain coming even closer together, and then there was the sudden, inevitable crack of -

"- thunder, do you hear?" red was saying. he'd grown more comfortable with what he was doing now, anti could tell. there was more of a swagger in his step, the grin on his face less forced and more confident. he crouched in front of anti with an upturned smirk, victory sparkling in his blue eyes. "from outside. i don't know how well you can hear, actually - we are deep down, and i can barely catch it myself. but it's definitely raining. listen, anti, listen."

anti chose to squeeze his eyes shut instead, ignoring red's words. it was a pathetic act of rebellion, but it was all he could do in this situation. he almost flinched as something touched his face; a hand, warm skin against his. he hadn't experienced that for months before now. "oh, anti," red crooned softly. "what's wrong? not feeling up to it today? is it one of your off days?"

fuck you, fuck you, anti chanted in his head. the dishrag that had been shoved in his mouth stung the stub of his tongue that was left, causing more blood to well up down his throat. the makeshift gag was no more than a humiliation, obviously. and it hurt. not the kind of hurt anti ever inflicted on himself; this pain was constant. and not only that, but the withdrawl of his carbamazepine was starting to kick in, and red had taken great pleasure in mocking his constant seizures as a result.

"no biting remark?" red laughed. he slapped anti's face, gently but just hard enough that it stung. "come on, you're antisepticeye, the eternal puppetmaster, the ceo of glitches, the - what else did jack call you in that one video? the malicious gamer!" red cracked up, snorting into his palm. anti took the brief reprive to organize his thoughts, trying to keep a poker face while the bastard was still in the room.

red noticed. "oh, well. if you're gonna be boring, that's fine by me." he sat back on his heels, making a show of considering something. "so, anyway. i was talking to henrik this morning, about the weather actually, and i mentioned you. just casually. he joked that he hoped you'd get struck by lightning. well, that got me thinking. you're a computer glitch, right? or something? what would happen if you got struck by lightning, or something close to that?"

red pulled something out his hoodie pocket; a small black device with several switches on the side. "can you guess what this is, aiden?" again with the name. anti wished he knew how he'd gotten it. red suddenly slapped his face again to get his attention. "it's yet another updated prototype of that extremely powerful electrical shock device. the one i made myself, haven't tried or tested this version yet. i suppose you'll be my first and probably only subject, won't you anti?"

anti felt the haze of an oncoming seizure already, his head spinning in a cold daze. his arms, unnaturally tied back with zip ties all the way up to his elbows, screamed in agony as he tried to lean back, away from the pain he knew was coming. "cowering away so quickly?" red laughed. anti burned with hatred. "so eager to inflict pain on others, on my brothers, even, and you don't think you can take one little shock?"

red leaned in, suddenly very close. "you know, all the switches and dials on this thing are all for show," he grinned. "it only has one setting."

and fuck, fuck, the instant pain was so excruciating that anti almost passed out immediately.

fire. fucking red hot flames being injected into his bloodstream, his body heating up in an instant and jolting entirely out of his control. like a seizure, but worse, far worse, because his seizures were more predictable - he knew how long they lasted, knew how painful they usually were. this was just agony. his tied up limbs convulsed wildly, bashing against the wall and the pipe and the floor. he couldn't even scream. all he could do was make silent cries that tore up his throat, his vision blurring, stomach roiling with what would have been vomit if he had eaten at all in the past few days. as it was, bile rose in his throat, and he choked it back, letting the current pass as his body glitched to pieces.

"there," red said once it had passed. "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

anti was shaking so hard he couldn't even look straight at him, but he could hear the smug smirk in his voice. fuck, but he hated him, more than jinx, more than the doctor, more than jack, more than everyone. he'd never been this weak and humiliated and low in his entire life and even through his agony, he found the strength to glare at red, eyes black with rage and loathing, trembling as he heard the low rumble of -

- thunder, rolling across the sky like a blanket. the sound filled his ears, his head. he hadn't realized he'd stopped dead in his tracks, frozen, eyes wide with the fucking curse of remembering.

keep going, keep going. just walk, don't think, just walk. eyes facing forward. don't think. just walk.

he knew where he was going. he didn't realize he knew until he was there, right on the doorstep, right at the pale purple door that was identical to all the others on the street. soaked through, shaking for more reasons than one, mind so muddled he wasn't even sure of his own name. but he knew this door. he knew the sound of a knock, bloodied hands ruining the paint. and he knew thunder, blocking out the sound of everything but his heartbeat.

-

chase had felt warm all morning.

maybe it was because he'd been getting out a lot more lately. he'd been getting exercise, drinking water, even eating healthier. that was partially marvin's influence - chase knew how much he'd scared him with his gun, and was making an effort to push down his intrusive thoughts and appear better so no one would worry. in doing that, he had actually picked up better habits, which hadn't been intended but he supposed was definitely a bonus.

maybe it was the fact that he'd made another friend. chase was an extrovert, but didn't actively socialize with one person more than the others, usually. lucas was different. he was really sweet, really funny, and was genuinely super interesting to talk to. chase had been texting him all of last night, until almost four am. neither of them had even noticed the time. that was something chase had missed; the wanting to stay awake so he could continue a late night conversation, having someone to talk to when he couldn't get to sleep. it was a good feeling. he had missed that.

no matter what the reason was, chase was in a good mood the morning he heard someone at the door.

he fully expected it to be marvin and henrik. they had went shopping, which chase was sure was also an excuse for the two of them to talk privately about some of the current going ons they were involved in. he didn't mind. however, there had been a storm warning issued about half an hour ago, and chase was hoping to see them home soon.

he wasn't expecting to see a soaking wet, shivering anti at the door.

"oh, fuck, shit!" chase yelped, and slammed the door shut. he didn't know what else to do. anti had been missing for almost two weeks, what the fuck was he doing on their doorstep? a quick glance out the window told chase he was still there. anti noticed him looking and quirked an eyebrow at him, clutching his arms and smirking despite his disheveled demeanor. chase closed the curtains.

he immediately called marvin. "hey, chase," his brother said as soon as he called. chase could hear the faint pattering of rain. "we're just about to check out, we got the text from the council and we'll be home soon. strange storm, isn't it? is there anything you need? we've got fuckin', uhh, tissues, mac and cheese, handwash -"

"anti's here," chase blurted. "he's standing outside the door."

there was a pause. "i'm sorry, anti's what?" marvin shouted, loudly enough that chase had to pull the phone away from his ear. "that bastard, what is he doing? are you hurt? i'm gonna kill him. i'm gonna -"

"he's not hurt me, no," chase interrupted before marvin could contemplate murder any further. "he's just standing there. i kinda, uh, shut the door in his face before i could find out what was up."

marvin sighed deeply. chase could hear henrik yelling something in the background as marvin spoke again. "ok, well, he can't get in anyway. kazuki protected the place, but she gave me the key to her spell. basically, with protection spells, they can only be unlocked by another magician if given the - you don't need all the details. point is, we'll be back - henrik, quiet - we'll be back soon. is he… hurt or something?"

"can't tell," chase said. he paced the kitchen as he talked, tapping his thighs nervously. "i'll - try and talk to him. please come back soon." he paused. "also, get me an irn bru. i'll pay you back."

when marvin had hung up, chase slowly opened the door again and peeked outside. anti was leaning against the wall, hood yanked over his head, rubbing his arms to warm himself. he glanced round when chase stepped out, a look of slight surprise crossing his face as chase shut the door and stood next to him awkwardly.

he didn't know what to do with his hands, so he pulled out a lighter and a pack of sterling cigarettes, popping them open and putting one into his mouth. anti watched him light it, saying nothing, and chase silently tipped the packet towards him as an offering. anti paused before taking one, lighting it quickly and passing the lighter back to chase. chase took it, then flinched in shock when he saw the state of anti's hands.

"fucking hell, what did you do to yourself?" he exclaimed. anti quickly hid his bloodied hands back in his shirtsleeves, wrapping his arms back around himself with an eyeroll. he didn't give an answer. not that chase would have expected one even if anti could talk without using his hands. chase exhaled loudly, already regretting coming out here at all.

"so what are you here for?" chase asked. he plopped down on the steps, at the very top mostly out of the rain. anti slowly followed suit. "where have you been the past little bit anyway? everyone's been looking for you."

anti unfolded his left hand to sign with. "so they can lock me up again?" he said, shivering. "fuck off. i'm here cause it's raining and i'm barely coherent and this bloody sickness means that i experience temperatures much more extremely. i'm probably susceptible to a common cold now, actually."

chase frowned. "you've been living on the streets this whole time?"

"water works," he signed, as two separate words. it took chase a second to translate that in his head. "there's barbed wire on top. i'm not sure why i came here either, to be quite frank."

chase watched his hands, but barely took in anything he was saying. wordlessly, he stubbed out his cigarette, stood up and went inside. he came back out a couple minutes later with a bottle of water, a washcloth and some bandages. "for your hands," he said simply. he didn't look at anti's face as he went to grab his wrists and turn him towards him. anti yelped and pulled his right arm away, holding it against his chest. chase looked up again, confused.

"is there something else wrong with that arm?" he said. anti didn't answer, but pulled his other arm away too, glaring. chase sighed. "fine. if you're gonna be a bitch, treat your own wounds. or don't. i'm going back inside."

anti said nothing as chase did exactly as he said, shutting the door behind him. something darted past the kitchen door, making chase smile. "jaffa, jaffa," he called. the black cat stopped to come smell chase's hand before racing away again, leaving him alone.

it was ten minutes of internal debate before chase came to a decision as to what to do. in his mind, he knew anti was an awful person. abusive, manipulative, a man who thrived on schadenfreude, as henrik had said. and yet. and yet. there was a part of chase that could never stand to see others hurt. he was a high empathy person - always had been, even in the few memories he had from being a kid. it was why he was so determined to believe that jackie couldn't be too far gone, that chase had to be able to save him. he felt other's pain, and always wanted to be able to help. even anti. even anti, of all people.

all he could think of was connor and louise and their three weeks away from home while anti pretended to be him. they'd been in london the whole time. fucking london. like a fun little holiday while chase had a breakdown in a jail cell because he was a suspect for kidnapping. then anti had returned them, and chase still didn't understand why. they kids had been fine. chase had gone free. everything had gone relatively back to normal, except for the fact that the kids were going to private therapy in case there was any underlying trauma from the incident. none of it made any sense to him.

then there was henrik and his two months away. that time period had been hell for chase, and he knew it had obviously been a lot worse for his brother. henrik had never fully told him everything anti had done to him, but he knew it wasn't great. he'd seen henrik's reactions to nightmares and flashbacks. although, henrik had once joked that anti was the absolute worst at torturing people. he had laughed, and chase to this day had absolutely no clue if he was kidding or not.

on top of all that… jack. just jack. chase honestly didn't want to think about jack at all.

he went and sat back outside as far away from anti as he could while sitting on the same step. anti barely looked up. he seemed half asleep, the side of his face pressed against the fence leading up to the door. he had cleaned up his hands, but left the bandages unused. he was also still chewing on the end of his cigarette, which seemed to have somehow gone out.

"you know you don't eat the cig, right?" chase asked. "you smoke it. have you never smoked before?"

anti flipped him off. "i have. bitch. but it's fucking cold and i can't be bothered."

chase rolled his eyes. "well, then why did you accept it?"

"because it was free. i'm fucking poor, and cigs are hard to steal."

chase was about to ask something else when he glanced down the road and saw his brothers walking up, holding bags of shopping. he leapt to his feet and raced down the steps and the pavement, splashing through the puddles and grinning weakly at henrik and marvin as he approached. "heyyy, so. anti's at our door."

"he's not coming in," henrik said immediately. he was shaking with rage, eyes blazing. his fingers were white as he gripped the handles of the plastic bags. "that fucker is not getting anywhere near -"

"relax, hen, we know we're not letting him in," chase said. he turned to marvin, suddenly uncertain. "right?"

marvin had never been good at hiding how he was feeling. "uh, i," he articulated. chase took a bag from both him and henrik while marvin stammered, lifting them in his arms to carry. "i - well, we can't just -"

"are you fucking serious?" henrik spat, whirling on marvin. marvin's shoulders shot to his ears, eyes widening. henrik took a step away from him. "after all we've been talking about, this whole time we've been out -"

"i just feel it's inhumane!" marvin protested. his diamond shaped pupils had shrunk to thin slits, like a cat. "this storm is bad already and it's barely even started, i wouldn't want to just leave him -"

"well, he can drown for all i care," henrik snarled. they'd arrived at the base of the steps now, and henrik immediately stormed up, past anti and into the house. the door slammed shut behind him.

chase sighed. "that went well." he shot marvin an apologetic glance. "i should go talk to him. get inside quickly. storm's due to get worse."

marvin nodded. chase bounced up the steps, not looking at anti as he went by, and dropped the bags on the kitchen table. "henny!" he called. "are you ok?"

henrik was sitting on the living room couch, fuming. he had taken his wet jacket and shoes off, but hadn't changed anything else. his short hair dripped over his eyes. "you should get changed," chase said softly. "you'll catch a cold or something."

henrik yanked his hoodie over his head, angrily tossing it to the floor. "i cannot believe that bastard had the fucking gall to come here," he raged. "and marvin's on his side - do you know, while me and marvin were out, i practically poured my heart out to that fucker, i told him a ton of shit i haven't told anyone else - and he still - ugh!" he stood and paced round the room, kicking the leg of the table. "fuck, i don't know. anti can rot out there for all i care."

marvin came in a couple minutes later. "i'm sorry, hen," he said meekly. he ran his fingers through his hair. "i didn't think."

"whatever," henrik mumbled. "is he still outside?"

chase looked through the window. "yep," he confirmed. "he doesn't have anywhere else to go, apparently, so he came here."

"no doubt to piss us off." henrik went into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. even that one motion was somehow angry. "can we call someone from hecate or something to come take him back? kazuki, or someone else?"

"weather warning, remember," marvin reminded him. "it's too bad out for even magicians. well, i suppose not, there are weather related mages, and i suppose kazuki does have aerokinesis - still. i don't think they can."

they were all very quiet for a moment, listening to the booming drum of thunder outside. the dark room lit up with a flash of lightning, and the wind roared, knocking the trees against each other with piercing whistles. the rain pounded against the front of the house, and all three men looked at each other, thinking.

"i feel henrik should be the one to make this decision," chase said eventually. "he's the one who's been most badly hurt by anti."

henrik flashed him a quick, grateful smile, rubbing his shoulders unconsciously. "i don't think i want him here," he mumbled. "this is the one place we're safe. or… was, i guess. since jackie's boyfriend got in."

"no one will again," chase promised, patting his arm. he glanced at marvin as he spoke. "kazuki fixed this place herself. we're definitely protected."

both he and marvin knew that was a silent threat.

"we wouldn't want you to feel unsafe," marvin said softly. "i'm sorry if you feel that way." he let out a shuddering sigh, tapping his fingers against the table. "so… what do we do now?"

"i don't care," henrik said suddenly. he smacked the table and got up to march over to the fridge, throwing it open to look. "someone go tell anti to fuck off or something."

marvin bit his lip and looked to chase, who sighed and silently went to the outside door. the sheet of rain hit him in the face instantly, almost blinding him. "fuck," he spat, covering his eyes with his arm. anti was still sitting right where they'd left him, head in his arms. chase swallowed. "uh. henrik told you to fuck off."

anti lifted his head and shrugged.

chase tapped his socked foot against the doorway. "are you seriously gonna stay here?"

"well, what else do you want me to do?" anti said angrily. he was shaking, and chase could barely see his signs through the rain, but he got the general idea of what he was saying. "i can't go anywhere else. might as well stay here and piss off the doctor, if nothing else."

chase went back in and shut the door. "he says he's staying here cause he can't go anywhere else and also to piss off henrik," he announced. his brothers looked at chase, shirt soaked from just a minute or so outside. marvin made a face and left the room.

half an hour passed like this. they went into the living room and turned the tv on, flipping through the same shows and movies on netflix. marvin paced. henrik didn't eat the food he'd made. they were all very aware of anti outside, waiting for the storm to end.

"we might as well throw him to jackie," henrik mumbled at one point. this comment had been completely unprovoked, but they all knew what he meant. "maybe then he'll he satisfied and stop trying to kill people."

"i'm not giving anti over for my brother to torture," marvin snapped. "no matter what. i wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing i'd participated in helping him do that."

they went quiet. another ten minutes passed, and chase tried to calm the bouncing of his leg and think about anything else.

then he snapped. "ok, i don't know about you guys, and i - i know this might make me a horrible person, but i feel awful knowing he's just sitting out there looking like a kicked puppy."

marvin nodded, wringing his hands together. he'd changed into a baggy white tank top, his hair down around his face. "yeah. i - yeah."

henrik didn't answer for a bit. he was curled up in the corner of the couch, staring at the wall. eventually he turned to see chase and marvin looking at him. "what?" he snapped. "are you expecting me to change my mind?"

they both turned away again. the tv suddenly cut out without warning, and the rest of the lights in the house followed.

"great. an outage." chase flipped his torch on to see around the room. "well, that's fun."

they were definitely all thinking of anti now.

"he can't survive without electricity, can he?" marvin asked uncertainly. "that's why jackie kept him in that room."

chase hummed in agreement. he felt sick.

henrik suddenly let out a loud yell, and chase could see his silhouette leap up and march across the room. "fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck, i hate the lot of you! let's just get it over and done with, ok, because as much as i fucking hate the bastard i don't wanna go out in the morning and find a fucking corpse on my doorstep! fuck!"

marvin and chase stumbled to their feet. "we're - we're doing this?" marvin asked disbelievingly.

"apparently so." henrik walked purposefully towards the front door, chase and marvin in tow. he hesitated when he reached it and closed his eyes tight. "fuck, marvin, just let him in before i change my goddamn mind."

marvin opened the door once more. anti was curled up so close to the door that he almost fell inside, blocked only by kazuki's protection spell. chase watched, amazed, as marvin muttered a few words and then stepped outside, taking hold of anti's shoulders. "help me," he ordered chase, who obliged, trying to help lift him into marvin's arms. it seemed that anti had gone into some sort of shutdown, unmoving and limp but still breathing. henrik's breath hitched when marvin carried him inside, setting him on the floor with great difficulty. anti moaned softly, shivering and glitching out of place.

"oh god, oh mein gott, i can't do this," henrik fretted, and covered his face with his hands. chase got off the floor and pulled henrik into a soft, reassuring hug. he didn't need words to communicate what he was thinking.

"he's unconscious," marvin said. he sat anti up, pulling his sopping wet hoodie off over his head. "i'm, uh, not an expert on this stuff. but hen, i can absolutely understand not wanting anything more to do with this. i'm honestly not too pleased with it either. but, for what's it worth - thanks for letting him in."

henrik just nodded. "yes. hm. i'm going to - i think i am gonna go lay down. i don't feel great suddenly, how very odd…" he left the room, mumbling to himself.

anti coughed, trying to sit himself up with marvin helping him. "stay still, you bastard, god." then he frowned. "blinding christ, what is up with your wrist?

anti's right wrist was extremely bruised, jutting out at a slightly odd angle. "what the fuck?" chase murmured, bending down to look. "i thought he got the cast taken off cause it was healed, how could they have missed that?"

anti's eyes suddenly opened. for a moment he looked shocked, grabbing at his arms, looking back and forth across the room. marvin waved a hand in front of his face. "anti, hey. you're in here for the time being. i'm - chase, can you go get him some new clothes? he's soaked through."

anti shook his head rapidly. "no, no, i'm fine," he signed. "i'm fine, i'm fine…"

he clutched at his stomach, waving marvin off as he tried to help. "fine, fine, fine," he said frantically, looking like he was doing a repeated thumbs up. he was still shivering as chase left the room, wincing at the sudden pain in his temples. one of the signs of an oncoming migraine. how fantastic.

he got another alert on his phone. "all brighton residents to stay inside until further notice," it announced. and the storm didn't look like it was letting up anytime soon.

this was gonna be a long night.

[sunsetinmyvein]

I Know That I’ll Lose - Chapter Four - I Know You Think You’re Sly

Over the next few weeks the two of them talked pretty regularly. Different time zones made it more difficult, but Matty’s regular (or rather, irregular) sleep schedule sort of made up for that. He was beginning to notice that over time she was becoming a pretty integral part of his social system. It took him a while, but he was realising that the days that he was most snappy and rude at those around him were the days that they hadn’t spoken. He had a bad habit for forming crutches on things around him that offered some form of relief. But he figured a social crutch was considerably healthier than an opioid one, so he let it be. The band were also quickly noticing this, probably faster than Matty himself did. Though their reason for believing he was fast becoming socially dependent on this girl was the fact that he just did. not. shut. up. about her. George was at least happy to see his best friend in such a good mood, but he really wished that Matty would get over this weird honeymoon phase he was in where everything was still new and shiny and he had to tell everyone about it. Especially when they were always in each other’s space, Ross and Adam heard considerably less of it than he had to.

It had been nearly a month since she’d last seen Matty when the man himself was suddenly flashing up on her phone screen. She put down the mouthful of food that she had been about to eat as she held the phone up to her ear. “What’re you doing this weekend?” He asked without even saying hello.

“Hi, Matty. How’s things? That’s good. I’m doing well, thanks for asking.” She started rattling off sarcastically.

“Are you free or not?” He asked again.

“I dunno, I’m probably seeing family or something?” She heard him hum thoughtfully on the other end of the line. “Why?”

“Wanna meet me halfway?” He questioned. She expected him to elaborate on that, but he didn’t continue.

“Halfway to where?” She asked eventually.

“To a gig.” He said like it was the most obvious answer he could ever give. “I was bored and looking up flights for where we are gonna be on tour this weekend. It’s equal distance from me as it is from you.” He explained.

  “I… what?” She gave a disbelieving laugh. “Matty, I can’t just get on a plane and go away for the weekend.”

“Why not?” He asked.

“Well, I can’t afford it for a start.” She pointed out with a huff.

“I never said that you had to pay for it. That would be pretty rude of me to ask you to come out and make you pay for it yourself.” 

“Then I definitely can’t say yes, I can’t let you pay for that.” She said with a frown. That felt like she was just taking advantage of his situation.

He laughed loudly. “You know that I earn significantly more than you, yes?” He had a pretty valid point there.

  There was a long pause on the line as she considered all of the possibilities of this. “Just come hang out. You can leave Friday and be back by Monday.” He pressed, trying his best to twist her arm.

She contemplated the offer. Anything that she had planned this weekend she could easily cancel, and a weekend away did sound pretty fun. Also, as much as she’d never tell him, she was definitely eager to see Matty again. “I’m not just coming out to stand around while you get interviewed again, right?” She asked hesitantly.

“We have a gig on the Friday and Saturday, then some after party thing on the Friday night and a photoshoot on one of the days, I think.” He listed off, trying to rack his brain for the details that were in the schedule his manager had sent him last week.

“You’re sure?” She asked again.

“Definitely no interviews.” He laughed. “You should be able to come along to all of that.”

“Okay.” She finally agreed.

“Great!” She could practically hear the grin in his voice. “I’ll send you some stuff soon.” And just like that, the line was dead. Turned out his grin was infectious even through a phone line where she couldn’t actually see it.

  As promised, Matty quickly sent through a heap of details about flights and where she had to go, and it was only a few days before she found herself spending her afternoon waiting in a hotel lobby for him. Again. This time in a different country though, she supposed. She really did do a lot of waiting for him. The familiar British accent echoed through the lobby, but she wasn’t quite able to match it to the direction it was coming from. Which suited Matty just fine as it allowed him the chance to run up behind her and capture her in a tight hug before she noticed him approaching. He let out a loud laugh, one of the ones that was emphatic enough that it made his eyes crinkle, as he picked her up, forcing a breathless laugh out of her as well. It felt nice to be his company again. Phone calls only conveyed so much of the overflowing personality that was Matty. He reluctantly placed her back on the ground.

“Miss me?” He asked with a cocky grin as she turned to face him.

“You wish.” She scoffed, but she couldn’t help but return his grin. “It’s good to see you.” She admitted after a beat.

“You too, love.” He beamed. “We’ll have to make sure it’s not so long next time.” He added with a wink. “But I should finally introduce you to the rest of the band! As much as I like to claim I’m the best musician in the world, I wouldn’t be shit without my team by my side.” His enthusiasm to introduce her to his friends mimicked that of a kid on Christmas. He was practically bursting out of his skin as he dragged her over to the group of three guys still standing by the elevators.

  She had only met the boys in passing the night of the concert when she had met Matty, but they hadn’t exactly exchanged words. Or gestures. Or glances. So really, she probably couldn’t say she had met them but more so stood within the presence of them. He had talked them up to no end while they had been speaking over the last while, and they seemed like pretty cool guys. She just really hoped that they weren’t going to be annoyed at her for crashing their plans.

“These are the lads.” Matty started proudly. “George,” A guy with light brown, curly hair flashed her a friendly smile. “Ross,” The one with darker hair and a bit of a beard waved slightly. “and Adam” The last one sitting on the couch with the short blonde hair also gave her a wave. “And guys this is-”

“Yes, we are already well aware who you are.” George cut him off as he walked over. His friendly smile seemed to betray the tired tone in his voice, but he pulled her into a tight hug regardless. “Lovely to meet you. Maybe Matty will finally stop talking about you now that you’re actually here to talk to.” He said with a soft laugh as he moved back, giving a pointed look in his friend’s direction.

“Ah, fuckin’ lay off it, George.” Matty sniggered as he shoved his friend in the shoulder. She let out an anxious laugh, trying not to dwell too much on what George had said. The five of them stood around for a moment, none of them entirely sure what the next thing to say was.

“So, uh,” She cleared her throat, “What’s on the agenda for The 1975 today?” She asked.

“We’re actually just on our way to soundcheck for the show tonight. The set time is earlier today so that we can make it to that party later.” Ross piped up, motioning towards the doors of the hotel.

“Yes, we’d better get going.” Adam added as they made their way out.

  The venue was pretty close to their hotel, which was probably an intentional part of why they booked that hotel. They arrived without much fanfare, coming in through the back entrance to the venue without issue and making their way to the stage. Their setup seemed to be almost complete; the lighting rigs were already constructed, mics and instruments were already laid out in correct spots. The four boys walked around to the side of the stage while she decided to look on from the barrier. She watched eagerly as they wandered over to their respective positions, fine tuning instruments that had mostly already been set up for them. It was clearly such a frequent routine for them to go through this process. George altered the heights of a few of his drums, Adam was verifying that his guitar was in the tuning he had asked. Matty meanwhile just smiled down at her from the microphone. “Have you got any requests?” He asked with an eyebrow raised as he leaned forward over his mic. She just offered a shrug in return. “Aw, c’mon! You must have one?” He pressed.

“I have one.” George piped up from behind his kit. Matty threw him a curious look over his shoulder. “Depth.”

Matty frowned across the stage as he turned fully to look at his friend, “But there’s no vocals in that.” He argued.

“Exactly.” He laughed. Ross let out a snigger as he tuned up his bass, Adam was trying his best not to crack a smile.

“We can’t play that one, there’s no point in me being here if we play that one.” Matty said as he waved his hand dismissively at the band. “I wanna hear Sex.” He continued.

“More like you wanna have sex.” Adam mumbled quietly.

“What was that, Hann?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine, let’s play it.” The drummer said before Matty’s brain could catch up and process what Adam had said. A grin spread across Matty’s face as he raced off to get his guitar.

  He quickly made sure that it was in decent enough tune and fastened his capo onto the neck before starting to play the opening riff. She had been yet to witness him playing guitar properly. He had played a little bit during the encore of the show that she was able to catch, but she felt it was going to be different seeing it like this. And, it might have been, if it wasn’t this song that Matty was playing. Because Matty had a very simple job during this song: to play exactly one chord and strum for the whole thing. She frowned at this realisation when his hands never moved along the frets, but nonetheless hadn’t noticed that she had been zoning out watching him play. Her attention was finally brought back to the actual song. “She said use your hands and my spare time. We got one thing in common, it’s this tongue of mine.” As she looked back up at him, he flashed her a wink, obviously having caught her watching him. She decided to look at one of the other members of the band to try and cover up the way she could feel her cheeks warming up. In hindsight, she probably should’ve known better than to stand in front of Matty for this song.

  She walked down slightly to Ross’s side of the stage, and he flashed her a smile as he saw her stop in front of him. Where Matty was constant high energy, and dancing, and just being an overall twat on stage, Ross was considerably more collected. He mostly just bopped along and tapped his foot, paying the most attention to his bass than anything else. She glanced down at Adam along the stage, and he more or less played the same as Ross, he just leaned into it a bit more. It was a considerably closer style to the bands that she had seen play in the past, rather than… whatever it was that Matty did while on stage. His eyes were already intently watching her as she glanced back over to him. “Does he take care of you? I could easily fill his shoes,” A part of her felt like that wasn’t quite how that lyric normally went, but she hadn’t really listened to the song enough times to know for sure. She’d heard the line in passing before, but hearing him sing it now had a different vibe to it. Especially coupled with the smirk sitting on his face. Previously she hadn’t taken notice of the way that he just had such a level of confidence and assurance in how he sung it. She wanted to laugh at how cocky it made him sound, but also found herself believing it probably came from some section of truth. “But you say no.” She walked back over to where Matty was now paying full attention to his guitar around his neck as he played out the bridge. Glancing behind him briefly at George, he just grinned broadly at her. It was too hard to see how he was playing from the floor, but he seemed to be having fun. She found that she had a better appreciation for the band now than what she had the last time she saw them play. “If we’re gonna do anythin’, we might as well just fuck. She’s got a boyfriend, anyway.” He sung, shrugging for what she assumed was emphasis on the lyrics. They finished the song with no issues, and instantly Ross and Adam started rattling a few things off to the people on either of their sides of the stage about their audio. Matty took the guitar off from around his shoulders and was clearly about to throw out a witty remark, but was quickly cut off before he could.

“You happy with your levels, Matty?” George shouted at him before he could get too distracted.

“Oh, erm, yeah.” He answered, pulling himself back into soundcheck reality. “Maybe turn the guitar down a bit, though.” He added.

  He walked over and sat down on the edge of the stage, motioning for her to join him. “You play only one chord for that entire song.” She pointed out as she jumped over the barrier and sat next to him.

“Yeah?” He said with a frown, unsure why it was a point of interest.

“That’s hardly impressive guitar playing skills, I thought that’s what you were wanting to show off with that song. But obviously not.” She said with a chuckle.

“Pfft.” He let out a loud laugh. “I can do more impressive things than play guitar.” He added as he looked down at her.

“Do I even wanna know where you’re going with that?” She groaned.

“For once, it’s not a dirty joke.” He replied.

“Oh?” She questioned with her eyebrows raised, looking at him expectantly. That had to be a first. He took in a deep breath, and in about seven seconds flat, he rattled off the alphabet backwards. There were a few moments of silence between them as she tried to process this new information. “I admit, that was fairly impressive.” She finally said.

“Told you.” He said with a triumphant grin. “Anyway, c’mon. We have some other shit to sort out before the show.” He said as he stood up, holding his hand out to help her up as well.

  The band spent about an hour making sure that they were happy with soundcheck and the lighting for the gig. But after that they pretty much spent the rest of the evening hanging out in the fairly under-furnished dressing room trying to kill time until they were set to go on. George had apparently come prepared for this and pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket as they waited. She had expected hanging out with the four of them to be awkward, for her to have felt like the… fifth? wheel in this social setting. But they welcomed her in with open arms and treated her like they seemed to treat each other. It was a pleasant surprise to say the least, and the more she spoke with them the more she realised why Matty had picked these three men to spend the better part of his life with. As the show got closer a quiet fell over the four of them. The cards were packed away, a setlist was verified, crew were suddenly running around doing their final checks. The band paced back and forth a bit as they checked and double-checked instruments and ran over the new additions to the setlist, quietly mumbling things as they passed her. She just sat on a box backstage and watched with interest. It was a very different demeanour to the one that they’d all held an hour ago as they loudly joked and swore at each other. But she soon discovered that this was just the calm before the storm, and as soon as they were called to go on the first bolt of lightning struck. They shared a collective look as they walked out and Matty threw a smile her way over his shoulder as he left.

  As soon as they stepped on stage the energy in the room shifted, and everyone got a little bit closer to the age that they were going to lose their hearing as Matty stepped up to his mic and the crowd lost their collective mind. Seeing the show from the very beginning was a far superior experience to only catching the end of it like last time. Each song had its own atmosphere and setting, largely affected by the segue backing ambience and the lighting. It was obvious that a good deal of love and care had been put into this being more than just a concert. She imagined that watching it from the back of the arena where she could get the most out of Adam’s visuals would be a sight to behold. Maybe she could do that during the show tomorrow. If she would be willing to give up the better view of Matty’s performance that she had here. His dorky dance moves consistently got a laugh out of her, and once he’d realised that, they only seemed to be more frequent. He knew how to get a reaction out of people, that much was clear.

  The show was going well. Every song had gone off without a hitch, the audience were responding well as per usual, Matty was having a grand old time. But he was also well aware of the audience that was watching him from the other side of the stage. This was the first show she had seen in its entirety. He wanted to make sure it was the most The 1975-y show he could make it. But he was fast running out of ideas that weren’t already in the show to begin with. The themes of jealousy were still running through the back of his mind after their soundcheck of Sex earlier. The more he thought about it, the more an idea formed in his brain. Y/N/N had reacted well to the song, but how would she react to a situation that might cause proper jealousy? Would she actually get jealous?  He’d kissed fans at shows before, and they were the shows that got talked about the most. Did that count as a 1975-y show? He was curious to find out, and he wasn’t the sort of person to deny himself the answer to his curiosity once it had instilled itself in him.

  It was during Robbers that he decided to put his idea into action. His eyes scanned the crowd for a girl that he could use for his plan. Once he’d found one, he just had to wait for the right moment. He made sure that she was watching him from her spot side stage before he jumped down into the space between the stage and the pit. Straight away his band mates and security were trained on him, watching him with apprehension. George rolled his eyes from his drumkit, already knowing exactly what Matty was set on doing. He quickly avoided the hands that reached out to grab him, making his way over to the girl. He placed a hand on the girl’s cheek, singing the last line before pulling her in for a kiss. As soon as he did it all that he could hear in his ears was the ringing from how many screams echoed around him. She froze almost instantly in shock at the situation. The thought crossed his mind to attempt to deepen the kiss, but he got the feeling that this girl wasn’t about to kiss him back any time soon so there was probably no point. He let it linger for a moment before laughing and moving back. She looked absolutely shell-shocked. He shouted a quick ‘thanks’ at her over his shoulder as he hopped back onto the stage. As soon as he was standing up next to his mic, he was met with George shaking his head at him.

“You’re too old to be doing that shit, Matthew.” His voice echoed through his earpiece. He glanced across the stage to where he knew she was standing, expecting maybe a look of surprise or anger or something. But her expression just seemed… disinterested? That didn’t seem right. He’d have to wait until the Greta speech played before he could go talk to her.

  He played through the remaining few songs before the encore almost on autopilot, too focused on her reaction, or lack thereof, to really focus properly. When he finally finished I Always Wanna Die, he raced off stage, pretending he needed a bottle of water as his excuse.

“Any thoughts on the show?” He asked casually as he stepped over to where she was, taking a swig from the water bottle.

“Why do you do shit like that?” She asked, trying her best to hide the sour expression that was wanting to show itself.

“Like what?” He asked innocently as he put the bottle down and quickly wiped a towel down his face.

She nodded in the direction of the fan he had kissed a few minutes ago. “That. Make out with fans during the show.” She elaborated.

“Are you jealous?” He asked with a shit eating grin.

“Hardly.” She scoffed. As much as jealousy did definitely sit at the pit of her stomach, she was more so just unpleasantly surprised to see that he’d do something like that in the position he was in, in front of so many people. “Makes it a lot less desirable if you just put it on show like that.” His face fell at her remark. Wait. That wasn’t-

  “Well, I don’t properly mean it.” He tried to explain, suddenly having to backpedal a lot from how he expected this conversation to go, “I do it because they want me to, and it’s fun, I guess. Adds to the experience of the show.” He added with a shrug.

“But then you have to deal with all the shit that comes after that. I have no doubt that she’s already posted about it online somewhere or other.” She pointed out with a serious look. He agreed. He would be willing to bet money that she probably had. Or someone else had on her behalf. It was definitely out there by now.

“Good. Publicity for us.” He said with a light-hearted laugh, trying to at least kind of recover from where this conversation had ended up.

“Just seems like a hell of a lot more effort than it’s worth. It can’t be easy having thousands of girls out there judging you for it. And it must detract from the times you actually do mean it.” Her last comment instantly threw him off. This was not at all how he wanted this to play out. But he could entirely see her point and suddenly he felt incredibly short sighted for not considering it sooner. He felt like his brain was shorting out as he fumbled to come up with a response that didn’t make him seem like an absolute knob for just doing that. But maybe the only way to seem like slightly less of one was to just admit that he just was.

“C’mon Matty, we’re on.” Adam shouted at him as he walked past. He felt like he shouldn’t just leave this conversation at that, but he didn’t really have much of an option as he ran back out on stage. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

  He played the rest of the show very much avoiding the side of the stage where the girl was that he’d just kissed. An uncomfortable feeling of guilt quickly overtook him whenever he glanced in that direction. He felt like a kid who had just been given the ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ talk by their parents. As a result, his normal level of energy was definitely lacking during their encore, but for only four songs the audience hardly noticed. Y/N/N did, though. She’d seen this bit before, and it wasn’t the same this time. She was surprised that her words had cut him that deeply. The internet had shown her pretty quickly that this was not a new thing for Matty Healy, so why was this any different than those other times? As they finished up their set, he felt like he should probably apologise for what he’d done, but before he even got the chance the five of them were already being ushered away from the stage. They got dragged through to the back of the venue where a few various selections of clothes were waiting for them to change into for the after party. Ross, George and Adam pretty quickly picked what they wanted and wandered off in the direction of somewhere to change. The rush to get them all ready and out of the arena in time made Matty shove his thoughts to the back of his mind for now as he picked out a half decent suit to wear, changing into it quickly before he could change his mind.

  “Why do I have to be dressed up as well?” She grumbled as she flicked through the stuff sitting on the rack.

“Why not?” He asked with a mischievous grin. “Because you’d stick out like a sore thumb if you didn’t.” He added seriously as he adjusted the tie around his neck. “I assure you that I’d rather not have to either. It’s some posh event… thing, that the label wants me at. Everyone has to dress up.” He explained as he sat down on the small couch that was positioned in the room and slipped his dress shoes on.

“Is this like an award sorta party or some crazy rock star party or what?” She asked, deliberating over whether she actually wanted to go or not. Especially after his antics during the show, it was debatable whether she wanted to be known as hanging around him.

“There’s no press if that’s what you’re worried about.” He started with a laugh. She fucking hated it sometimes that he seemed to have such a knack for deciphering what she was really asking him between the lines. But she had to admit it was reassuring information to know nonetheless. “It’s just some networking shit. Staying in touch with people whose names are good to have in our phones. Pretty tame stuff. Open bar, though.” He grinned at the last bit. She nodded thoughtfully. That sounded doable. She opted to pick something simple to change into, and pretty much as soon as she returned from getting changed, they were all shoved into a car and on their way.

  The party was already in full swing by the time they arrived, but as soon as they stepped in it was obvious that everyone had been waiting for the band. The four of them were quickly pulled this way and that for ‘hello’s and ‘how have you been’s, leaving her to sort of aimlessly follow them along. George, Ross and Adam all seemed very animated and chatty. Matty however, answered mostly in grunts and nods. He hated parties. They were just such an incredible source of fake pleasantries and people pretending that they remembered each other. It radiated the unrelenting feeling of narcissism. These people didn’t care about him, they just cared about potential partnerships and money. And too many of these people at these parties knew him and knew the things he used to get up to in past years. It was a risky game for him to be at parties these days, he was too likely to receive offers he’d rather not have to deal with. But he was already tired after the show, he just wanted to go back to his hotel room, shower and sleep. Eventually after listening to the fifth rendition of ‘how’s tour going?’, Y/N/N wandered off in search of a drink and maybe a place to wait out the party. Matty watched enviously as she walked away from the conversation he was tied to. George’s voice eventually broke him out of his daydream of the freedom of being able to leave this hellscape.

  “We’re really happy to be here.” George said with a good level of sincerity. He did genuinely seem to be enjoying himself. “Aren’t we, Matthew?” He said with a pointed look in his friend’s direction.

“Yep.” He said, popping the ‘p’ for an attempt at emphasis as he scanned the room for the bar. The conversation continued without his presence, until eventually the people walked away and George’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” He asked Matty with a frown.

“Moping.” He answered with a tired smile. “I just wanna get stoned and sleep, man.” He added.

“You just wanna go talk to your girl.” Adam laughed loudly, causing the other two to start cracking up as well.

Matty just rolled his eyes, “Oh, fuck off.”

“Would we really be your mates if we didn’t give you a hard time for bringing a girl out here?” The drummer said with a grin as he shoved Matty in the shoulder. “Go talk to people for a bit,” He said, spinning Matty on the spot to face a group of people standing at the other end of the room. “And at least pretend like you’re having fun.” He added.

“Yes, mum.” He huffed as he walked off.

  He drifted in and out of a few different conversations, pretending to be interested and present, just like those he was speaking to. But the longer he was at the party, the easier it was for him to flip the switch and go into work mode. To network and make contacts that might benefit him down the line. He eventually ran into a few people he knew whose company he actually enjoyed and hadn’t seen in a while. That lifted his mood, albeit slightly. He gravitated around those select few to try and avoid the rest of the event around him. On the other side of the room, Y/N/N found herself watching the one person she knew at the party eagerly invested in a conversation with a bunch of people she didn’t recognise. Not that she overly expected herself to, but a part of her still tried to pinpoint who these people were. People just seemed to gravitate to him, he had that level of passive magnetism that drew people over, and she assumed his charisma was what kept them there. Certainly she knew that it was what convinced her to keep hanging around him. It felt strange seeing the same effect on other people. A naïve part of her had hoped it was a connection that only the two of them shared, but apparently not. As she looked around the room, she was reminded that she felt pretty out of place here. It all felt too fancy and high-class, and there wasn’t really any point in trying to speak to any of these people that she would more than likely never see again.

  “You look a bit lost, love.” She heard a familiar voice say. As she turned around, she saw George walking over to her, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Well, I pretty much only know him,” She said as she gestured her glass towards Matty, “and he’s sort of… otherwise occupied.” She laughed, trying to play off the unpleasant feeling sitting in her chest.

“Ah, that’s not true! You know us, now.” He said as a broad grin spread onto his features. “Come on.” He said as he began walking off. She assumed that was her cue to follow. Eventually they reached a small corner of the party with a few seats scattered across it, which happened to be the spot where the other two members of their band had opted to hang out. They let out a cheer as George walked over.

“Hey! Did you get more beer?” Ross asked eagerly.

“No, but I did rescue our friend.” He answered as he pulled a seat over for her, sitting himself down in the one next to it.

“These parties can quickly get overwhelming.” Adam said with an understanding nod. “There’s just… so many people everywhere.” He added as his eyes glanced around the room behind her warily.

  The four of them talked amongst themselves for a while. Matty had already told them pretty much everything she had told him, so George started their chat with: ‘Tell us something you haven’t told him yet’. It worked surprisingly well for opening up the door to easy flowing conversation. They spoke about anything and everything for roughly an hour in peace, until the missing member of their group finally found them. He wandered into their conversation silently, before sprawling himself out face down onto the tiled floor. “Get off the floor.” George said as he kicked his friend in the thigh.

“I was charming and social for nearly two hours. Can we go now?” Matty mumbled from his place on the ground.

“No. This thing still goes for another couple of hours.” He answered. Matty let out a loud groan at this news. “Get up.” He added through gritted teeth, still trying to get his friend to at least sit in a chair and look somewhat professional. The boy did not budge from the floor.

“We’re going to get some drinks.” Ross said as he stood up, with Adam following close behind him.

George looked at them, before looking back down at Matty and sighing. “Yeah, I need one of them too.” He agreed as he started heading in the same direction.

  As soon as their footsteps left his earshot, Matty rolled over on the floor. He sat up a bit to make sure that they weren’t still looking at him before glancing over at Y/N/N, “Let’s get out of here.” He said as a grin spread across his face. It was a lot less of a question than it was a statement.

“Don’t you have to be here? I thought this was your thing.” She asked with a look of confusion.

“I’m sure they have it covered.” He waved a hand in the direction that the rest of the band had walked off in. “They’ve all been sitting here bullshitting with you while I’ve been off being the good frontman. That’s what I’m meant to be doing, let them do the boring shit for a bit.” He laughed. “Wanna go get some food? I hear there’s this really wicked place near here that’s open late. Everyone’s been fuckin’ talking about it.”

“Sure.” She shrugged, happy for a way out of this earlier than expected. At the end of the day, it wasn’t her party to have to have to attend. She’d only come along because Matty insisted on it. He scrambled up off of the floor instantly, taking a quick look around to make sure that he wasn’t being watched too closely before ushering her out of the venue.

“And then we can go back to my place.” He added with a suggestive look as they reached the exit.

“You don’t have a place here.” She pointed out, shaking her head at him with a small smile.

“My hotel, I mean.” He clarified.

“We’re staying in the same hotel, Matty. We have to go back to the same place.” She said with a laugh. He tried to keep his cool, but a small laugh still escaped.

“You ruined it. I take back my offer, you can’t come back with me. Get a different hotel.”

  By the time they managed to sneak out of the party it was nearing on midnight. They walked down the fairly empty street towards this restaurant that he was raving about. Apparently, it had some crazy new dish that he had heard about through a friend of a friend and everyone at the party was recommending it. They’d all been checking it out while the band had to play their show. It was hardly reasonable of them to talk it up so much without expecting Matty to want to try it for himself. He mostly spoke about what other random things the people in the party had been trying to speak to him about while they made their way down the street. As they stood in front of the pretty fancy looking establishment, she suddenly felt nervous. It was a different nervous from the usual level of anxiety she felt being around someone as sporadic and forward as Matty, this was much more of a self-conscious nervous. She wasn’t sure if it was his joke striking a different chord when they were leaving or something else that had burrowed its way into her brain, but she just had this overwhelming feeling that- “Is this a date?” She eventually asked, cutting him off mid-sentence.

He frowned at her for a moment, snuffing out the cigarette he had been smoking before speaking, “No.”

  She looked from the restaurant, to the suit he was still wearing, to the fancy shit he had convinced her to wear, to the fact that it was just the two of them. His words weeks ago about not being in a place to want to make decisions like that ran through her mind, but it still didn’t feel right. “Are you sure this isn’t a date?” She asked again.

“Do you want it to be one?” He questioned.

“No, I just…” She trailed off, suddenly unsure if that answer was true or not.

“Why would it be a date?” He continued as he held open the door for her.

“Well, you’re dressed fancy, I’m dressed fancy-” She started.

“We just got out of a party.” He answered, quickly asking for a table for the both of them.

“-the guys aren’t here-” She reminded.

“Only because we ditched them.”

“-and we’re at some super nice place to get dinner.”

He had to laugh at that. “We can go to McDonalds if you’d prefer?” He offered with an eyebrow raised, waiting expectantly before taking his seat.

“No, no. I just thought…” She elected to just swallow her nerves and roll with it. Which was the majority of how she had to interact with Matty, anyway. “Just wanted to know.”

  They both sat down at the table, Matty declining the menus offered by the waiter and just ordering two of the dish that everyone else had been ordering all night and two drinks for them. It was nice for him to finally have a moment where nobody else was around. Since she’d arrived at the hotel earlier today it was non-stop. The break and chance to properly catch up was a breath of fresh air after the chaos of the day.

“How’re you finding the guys?” He asked eventually as he took a sip from his glass, curiosity burning at the back of his mind about what they could have been chatting about for so long while he was busy. Those boys had more than enough incriminating stories about him from across the years, but he had faith that they wouldn’t throw him under the bus like that. Yet.

“Good! They’re really nice,” She said with a grin. “I can see why you picked those three to start a band with.”

A smile slowly spread across his face as he dwelled on the thought of his friends. He imagined they were gonna be pretty shitty at him once they realised that he’d bailed on the party. They put up with a lot of crap from him. They were good guys. “Yeah, they’re pretty great. I dunno where I’d be without them.” He admitted with a shrug.

  “Did they do a good job of staving you from boredom?” He questioned casually.

“Yeah, we just chatted about what it was like to work the show from behind the scenes rather than playing on the front lines.” She replied.

He nodded. That seemed like a George sort of topic. Common ground that everyone could discuss easily. Good call. “Do you do it a lot?”

“Not a huge amount. I’d do it more if I could but it’s kind of just a seasonal thing that I do with my brother. It’s really fun though. I always love chatting to people at shows.” She answered, the enthusiasm for the work instantly seeping into her voice. 

“Would you do it more if the opportunity came up?”

“I suppose so. It’s pretty decent money for doing a fun job.” She said. He hummed thoughtfully at that. Maybe that information could work in his favour. The more time he spent with her, the better he felt overall. He couldn’t deny that the idea of having her around more frequently was a tempting one.

  As they waited for the food to arrive, Matty found his mind drifting back to the gig. The feeling of guilt still sat heavily in his chest. He should’ve known better than to try something like that. To try and force a reaction from someone, especially by doing something intentionally abrasive. At this point in his life some would think that personal experience would’ve taught him a thing or two from previous mistakes, but apparently old habits of recklessness die hard. He rested his elbows on the table, dragging his hands down his face before finally getting out what he had been wanting to say. “I’m sorry by the way, about earlier.”

She looked up at him curiously, unsure what exactly it was that he was talking about. “For what?”

“During the show.” He elaborated with a sigh as he rested his chin on his folded hands, glancing down at his half-finished drink. Oh. That was what he was talking about. “I didn’t mean for it to come across like that, and in hindsight it was stupid of me to think that I could still get away with shit like that. I was just being a bit of an arrogant twat. Sorry.” He apologised.

She wasn’t entirely sure why he felt the need to elaborate on what had happened. It was seeming pretty obvious that pulling stunts like that was just tied in with those aspects of Matty’s personality. With blunt honesty, came a lack of filter. With the level of confidence he exuded, came a blurred line on what was showing off and what was just being egotistical. But that was his issue to sort out, he didn’t have to apologise to her for his mistakes. “You know that you don’t have to explain yourself to me, right?”

He just silently tapped at the tattoo above his right elbow. ‘Weak messages create bad situations’ - right. “I don’t like leaving things unsaid. I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t notice that I’d done it.” He explained as their food was placed in front of them.

  Once their food was in front of them and Matty had gotten that off of his chest, conversation was back to normal between them. They bullshitted about music that they had been listening to, and about the people that they had seen at the party. It was a good thing that it was so late because they didn’t have to worry about their laughter disrupting any other tables. Eventually the restaurant was closing and the staff kicked them out. It was too late to want to continue partying on, and Matty still wanted a decent night’s sleep after playing a show tonight and only just flying in the night prior. They made their way back to the hotel and up to their hotel rooms. Of course, Matty had made sure that her room was booked right next to his. His fantastic pickup lines wouldn’t work if they were on separate floors. He fumbled around in his pockets before calling her name to grab her attention before she stepped into her room. “I lost my hotel room key… Can I borrow yours?” He asked with a puppy dog eyed look.

“Nice try.” She laughed.

He let out a low laugh as he pulled his key out of his wallet, “Can’t blame me for trying.” He unlocked the door, propping it open for a moment as he looked back at her. “We’ve got that photoshoot thing tomorrow near midday, so let me know when you’re awake. But otherwise, sweet dreams. You know where I am if you need me.” He said with a wink.

“G’night, Matty.” She called out, shutting her door behind her.

  * * *

  Thankfully for everyone, they didn’t have to start their morning the next day too early. They had gotten back anywhere between two and three in the morning after their various adventures and were all in dire need of sleep. It wasn’t until about ten that the five of them found themselves crowded around a small table in the hotel restaurant, trying to finish a complimentary continental breakfast before they stopped offering the service.

“So… where did you two get off to last night? You abandoned us at the afterparty.” Ross asked casually as he stirred his tea. George started laughing before Matty even had the chance to speak, and only laughed harder after he had answered Ross’s question.

“We were off having wild, kinky sex while you guys were stuck at the party.” Matty deadpanned. “Weren’t we?” He asked with a suggestive grin in her direction.

“Totally.” She scoffed.

  “How is he?” George asked with an amused smile once his laughter had calmed down a bit.

“Awful.” She answered, instantly getting George into hysterics again, Ross and Adam quickly following suit.

“Hey!” Matty shouted. “That’s not true!” He continued.

“What were you really doing?” Ross asked again through chuckles.

“We went out for dinner.” She answered before Matty could make something else up.

“Oh?” George looked over at his best friend with his eyebrows raised in curiosity. That was considerably more interesting information to George than if they would have hooked up. Matty wasn’t a stranger to one-night stands, but to dates? That was a bit different. He hadn’t been on a date since his girlfriend left him over three months ago. Matty flashed him a look across the table that he knew meant ‘you’d better shut up before I make you shut up’, so he decided to harass him about it later.

  It wasn’t long after they finally finished their meal that a taxi was sent over to take them to this photoshoot. It was a magazine cover that the whole band were set to feature on, the story it was relating to had already been interviewed a few weeks prior over the phone. As soon as they arrived, each of the four members of the band were offered a limited selection of outfits to choose from to best coordinate for the photo. Y/N/N waited patiently while each of them picked what they wanted and went off to get changed. It wasn’t long before Matty came sauntering out of the side room dressed in a grey suit jacket and pants over a black turtleneck. The overall look suited him well. Suits looked good on him. “What do you think?” He asked as he did a small spin on the spot. As she quickly gave him a once over, she noticed that he also had on glasses. It was a strange sight to see. Not necessarily a bad one, just one that she had never had to process before. The longer she looked at the glasses, the more she realised that they didn’t reflect any light.

  “What the fuck are those?” She asked, taking a closer look at the metal frame sitting on his face. They most definitely didn’t have lenses in them and served no purpose. Was he just trying to be ironic?

“What?” He asked in confusion as she went to jab a finger through one of the empty lenses. Thankfully, it missed his eye. “Fuck off!” He laughed as he stepped back, slapping her hand away from his face.

“You fuck off. What’s with these?” She chuckled, taking them off of his face. “You don’t wear glasses.”

“How do you know that?” He asked with a smug grin.

“I feel like I would’ve seen it by now.” She narrowed her eyes at him, challenging him to prove that he needed glasses. Without lenses. For some reason.

“I could just wear contacts all the time.” He continued, before dropping the act and answering properly. “I used to need glasses, don’t anymore. Needing glasses destroyed my penchant for sunglasses so I got laser done. But I was gonna wear these today because it looks cool. Makes me look sophisticated and shit.” He took the glasses back from her and placed them back on the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t need to look sophisticated. Anyone who speaks to you learns pretty quickly that you have a vocabulary better than a dictionary.” She pointed out.

“Yeah but people aren’t gonna be able to talk to me through the cover of a magazine. Are they, love?” He chuckled, adjusting his suit jacket.

“Fair point.” She nodded.

  The rest of the band slowly filed into the room, all with similarly coloured black and grey outfits. They looked like a cohesive unit when they were all dressed in coordination like this. Most of the time they just looked like a group of mates hanging out together. Which, to be fair, both descriptions were correct. Once the photographer was happy with how everyone was dressed and styled, they were dragged into a white room for the shoot. Y/N/N stood at the back of the room, watching keenly as the photographer shouted directions, set up the lighting, altered settings. It was interesting getting to see the whole procedure behind processes like this, but also incredibly distracting considering the company that she was with for it. Matty spent the majority of the shoot being told off for making stupid faces at her to get her to laugh. He wanted to take it seriously, but it was far too tempting to be an idiot when he knew she was just so easy to get a reaction out of. If he wasn’t allowed to make dumb faces, then he just got the guys to stand in really weird poses with him, much to their displeasure. Whenever they complained about it, he just explained that it was ‘art’. As a result, it took a little over an hour until they were able to get the shots that they wanted, but they got them. After the photo shoot was done, the day played out very similarly to the day before. They went across to the second venue for today’s show, completed soundcheck and then were soon enough waiting anxiously to go on stage.

“Excited?” She asked Matty as he paced around the room.

He just shrugged as he ran a hand through his messy curls, “Same amount of nerves as always.”

“Any grand plans for tonight’s show?” She asked, trying her best to seem serious but still cracking a smile.

He stopped pacing, turning to face her. “No,” He laughed, knowing exactly what she was taking a jab at. “I promise that there’s nothing special on the agenda.” He assured.

  One of the stage crew walked past, shouting out that they were on in two minutes. The band quickly assembled themselves side stage, letting out a few deep breaths before starting to walk out. She considered that if this was going to become a regular thing, she’d have to invest in some earplugs to save herself from going deaf in the near future. The show was a lot easier to enjoy knowing that Matty was just performing and not intentionally trying to show off like he was the night before. His stage presence was almost better when he wasn’t trying; he got lost in the moment a lot easier when he wasn’t gauging her reaction every five seconds. The songs only sounded better the more times that she was hearing them, and she made a mental note to properly watch the impressive light show from the back of the crowd the next time that she was in this position. Because she had a distinct feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time that she would be watching their live show. However, she found that the most impressive part of the show wasn’t the music, or the lights, or Matty’s dancing skills.

  “Hey, you all have to pay attention for a few minutes.” Matty said into his microphone, giving a serious look towards the crowd before their intermission speech started playing. Ross, George and Adam all walked off the stage, each grabbing a drink of water and taking a breather. But Matty stayed. The night prior he had run off stage to speak to her, so she was unaware that this was normally what he did. He turned his attention away from the audience, standing and facing the screens. The look on his face as he listened to the speech was nothing short of attentive. Even as he lit up a cigarette and sat down on the stage, his interest never wandered. His gaze flicked between the three screens that they had set up, but he never turned to look at the crowd, or to look side stage. He just sat, and listened. She supposed that he probably did it to set a good example for everyone in the audience, that if he paid attention, they all would too. But to see him so focused on the messages being displayed, to be so passionate for the cause, felt special. It felt powerful. The show continued after that with even more passion than what he had put into the first portion of it. For the first time, she saw the whole show uninterrupted, and loved every single second.

  It was fairly early on the Sunday morning that she had to catch her flight home, so they skipped the partying after their set. As much as hanging out with the band was fun, she did have to eventually head home and try to land some more work to get her through the summer. The next morning, she was waiting in the hotel lobby with her bags, having already said her goodbyes to Ross, Adam and George. Matty stood next to her, rocking back and forth onto the balls of his feet as he tried to prolong saying goodbye. “It was really good seeing you again.” He said with a genuine smile, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.” He added.

“Oh? You’re sure?” She laughed with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah!” He said with a snorted laugh. “Admit it, you’ll be back because you totally want a piece of this.” He added, looking at her over the frame of his sunglasses as he gestured at himself. She would’ve liked to have thought that hearing this joke the second time around it would’ve had less impact on her reaction, but it seemed harder to shrug it off this time.

  She had to look away from him to keep her face neutral as she answered him. “Even if I did, I would never give you the ego boost by telling you.” She knew deep down that a part of her was lying about the former part of her statement, but she was definitely pretty firm on the latter.

He hummed in consideration at her answer, “Never?”

“Never.” She repeated assuredly. He didn’t say anything else, and when she looked over at him the grin on his face was nothing short of devious. “What?” She asked with a frown.

“Nothing.” He shrugged.

“What?” She repeated.

He pulled her in for a tight hug, “Don’t set me a challenge if you aren’t prepared to have it beaten.” He said lowly into her ear before moving back. The tone of his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and suddenly she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. He said a brief goodbye, flashed her a parting grin, and then was already on his way. “Have a good flight.” He shouted, waving over his shoulder as he headed back towards the elevators. 

  Last Chapter

Next Chapter

[thenectarinediaries]

23.08 ...more?

[The nectarines are gone, but I am still sitting here with my journal open, writing something out as if I were going to publish it, looking back over the day through the prism of food. And I am hesitating about publishing this one because it turned out to be quite heavy - I will see how I feel about it in the morning. On the one hand, it’s an important admission and maybe will start discussions with other people - it already has. On the other, it’s painfully private. On the third hand, you have to feel exposed to be known. On the fourth hand, I still don’t want anyone to know, ever. Genuine quandary. In any case, a bitch will be seeking help.]

The day has been cold, so my cotton socks and I baked a sweet potato for dinner: 

sweet potato - bit of vegetable oil (I like to use the oil from my jar of dried tomatoes) - the end of the pot of ricotta - red onion - lemon zest - salt, pepper, chives 

Stab the poor sweet potato repeatedly with a fork, all over. Rub it with vegetable oil and put it in the oven at 180° fan for an hour or so, until it’s all squishy and soft inside, then cut it open and mash it up a bit and add the toppings. It is beautiful and delicious. I enjoyed this dinner very much. 

What got me going was the fact that I hesitated about eating a yoghurt afterwards. I felt like eating something else, something sweet, but I also found myself thinking “ok, do you really deserve that though?” 

What a shitty question! 

And I realised that this is a very common thought for me, and that it’s a problem. In fact, it’s a disorder.  That despite loving food (really, loving in a big way) I have a very unhealthy relationship with it. 

I didn’t drink with Pascale. Progressively, I gave up pretty much all alcohol while we were together, even when she was having alcohol I would refuse to join in. Today I was wondering why, because I love it! I love mixing a drink as much as I love cooking. I love tasting different things and I really love beer. At first it was a question of drinking beer out of the bottle, which Pascale hated me doing but which is part of what I enjoy about having a beer - so rather than drink it out of a glass, I preferred to go without. Then it spread to other alcohols, which I enjoyed not-having more than I enjoyed having most of the time, and it spread to food as an unhealthy coping mechanism for an unhealthy part of the relationship. 

It hasn’t been too hard to drink alcohol again because I have always done it with people other than Pascale, but it is much harder to let go of all the other deprivational habits when I am on my own. They have been developed over the course of a few years and are deeply rooted. I can’t stop eating less than I need, then inevitably compensating by eating too much. I would rather be light-headed than have a snack. I need to feel like I “deserve” everything I eat. I count the calories, do the workouts, enjoy hunger as if it were some kind of success to function despite running on empty. I would guess that a lot of people do this.

After trying on some clothes today and seeing how they fell on me, I was a bit bummed because I don’t like my body much. It’s not so much a question of being fat or skinny - it’s the shapes it is made of, the look of my skin. I feel like I can deal with this dissatisfaction most days because I am dedicated to telling myself “it doesn’t matter if you aren’t pretty, you are much more than that, your body is strong and that’s what matters” - except that I don’t follow through on that and still spend awful amounts of time and energy trying to make myself a more “desirable” shape, or, failing that (it’s clearly failing), to exert some kind of small control. If I can’t be a “desirable” shape, then I will own my undesirability. I feel like navigating between “self respect” and “self restraint” is like walking on a tightrope for me, and I am not always very good at it. 

I was telling Gaëlle the other day that I don’t like wearing makeup because it’s too hard to take it off and feel ugly again. I just don’t put it on, as a favour to myself and I try to also make it a question of principle for my students - that they should see women without makeup and looking professional nonetheless. But I still hate seeing my face without it, especially now that Adina is taking photos of us all the time. 

The anxiety always stems from the same fight between wanting to respect my authentic, talkative, yoghurt-eating, buttless, braless, bare-faced self and wanting to bottle it up, cover it up, make myself disappear and be discreet and palatable because I am worried - sometimes - that I am unlovable. Obviously I am not unlovable. However, I am suddenly alone and sometimes the two adjectives get mixed up, especially when I am thinking so much about love and writing something serious (academic writing in particular is a hard place for me to be.)

One of my healthier coping mechanisms is to channel French influencer Jeanne Damas when I feel bad about myself. I play act the Parisian It Girl. I am not ugly; I am low-maintenance Parisian chic. I lift my chin up and act a little arrogant. I am not ugly, I am a different kind of striking beauty and if you can’t see it, you should get your eyes tested and social security will pay for it. Most of the time this works quite well, because even if I am not Jeanne Damas, the rest is, in fact, true. The food blog has also helped in keeping my interest in food on the healthy side of things. Pragmatically, I put more on the plate when I am going to photograph it, and once it’s on the plate, I generally finish it. The excitement of using the nectarines made me eat desserts, which I usually avoid. And I was more interested in learning and trying things out than depriving myself. It encouraged abundance.

It’s Virgo season, it’s time for clarity. These are some of the contradictions that sit within me. I know this post isn’t the half of it and that there are so many factors outside of myself that play into it - but it’s a start, it’s a relief to start.

Robyn says to herself, “come on, let’s have it out”, well, geez, I really am having it out with myself at the moment huh.

[I said to Apolline, it’s a good job this video didn’t exist when I was a teenager otherwise I would have died on the spot - my heart would have straight-up stopped out of sheer thirst.]

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Healthier foods

Everyone likes tasty food, everyone. And we like it as fast as possible. That is why the restaurant and junk food businesses are so profitable and everywhere. Interestingly enough we all know that they’re terrible for our health; they’re terrible because they are high in calories and unhealthy fats, but I would argue that the most important reason for why they’re bad for us, is because they don’t give us much of the nutrition that we need.

Before you continue reading, know that I am not a trained professional, I am relying on my own experience and work experience. The nutrients to look out for: Nutrition is the most important thing to look at when choosing your food, even more so than the calorie count. Determined by age and weight, everyone needs a certain amount of micro and macro nutrients every day to function properly. The most important of these are the macro nutrients: Protein, Carbohydrates, and Fats. If you eat food which provides good amounts of these, chances are you are also getting most, if not all, the micro nutrients you need as well, but it’s always very good to check anyways.

The first thing you need to do on your quest to build an appetite is to choose the correct foods, starting by cutting out all the bad foods i.e. high sugar foods. A very good and effective method of firstly cutting out bad foods, is by simply looking through your pantry/shelves/fridge and looking at the values on the back. If anything is particularly high in fats or carbs, you will want to take a closer look at them.

Firstly asking yourself (or the container) what type of fat the item contains. If it’s “MonoUNsaturated” or “PolyUNsaturated” fat, then it’s okay to eat and you can absolutely consider it in your diet. If it’s saturated fats, then you’ll want to think twice about eating it. Most meats contain saturated fats when cooked, so depending on your intake of meats you will want to decrease your consumption of it.

"Carby” food will generally contain a high amount of carbohydrates and not much else really, so if something is high in this, you should probably cut back on it. Most things are on the list of carby foods because of sugar additives. If you have a sweet tooth or like baking cakes, you can look into low-sugar alternatives (stevia or xylitol are the main competitors for sugar), but you should honestly look into cutting them out entirely. Protein is a slightly tricky macro nutrient to get right, which is why there are so many protein supplements in circulation. For normal people protein is generally not an issue as you will likely get all you need from your food, but if you are underweight this nutrient is something to be keenly aware of. The reason being that it help in weight gain, and muscle repair/function meaning if you don’t get enough you might be tired and your muscles may be in pain or after physical strain in pain for longer than is normal. Almost everything contains at least some trace amounts of all the above macro nutrients, but in varying amounts. It’s generally fairly easy to find stuff high in either fat(s) or carbs, but protein is much harder to come by and depending on your goals, you may really have to focus on eating protein dense foods. How to think about your diet: Many diets and “cleanses” have sprung up over the last few decades, and many of you out there have likely tried at least one thing either to lose weight or to gain weight, but the truth is almost all of these diets either have short term results, which are ultimately undone because we go back to our old habits, or because the the body gets used to the change and compensates. Your body is always trying to balance itself, which means that changing it is incredibly difficult, because your body is not expecting that having plenty of food, or a lack thereof is going to be continual, so even if you force yourself to eat more or eat less, your body may still be opposed to this change, even after several days of doing this. And you will become exhausted and bored. The list of reasons for why special diets are bad is nearly endless, and you should honestly never even bother considering going on them. There is no miracle drink or cleanse (in fact cleanses, while they could maybe high in antioxidants, will do more harm than good because you will be starving yourself of countless important nutrients, with no visible gain). You may feel a slight elevation in your mood on some diets for a few days, followed by a feeling of low mood and likely other bodily aches (commonly headaches). This is not your body cleansing itself, this is essentially your body slowly dying from deprivation and it is of absolutely no benefit to you at all. Your diet should be enjoyable and something you look forward to, that is why the first step we’re going to make, is to make our meals smaller. That does not mean less, however, we’re going to start by eating smaller portions, but we’re going to eat 6-8 meals a day, rather than 3 (or less, depending on how your situation is). Eating more frequently may not be that much easier, but it will alleviate some pressure, and for those people (like myself) who may quickly feel sick from eating food, will feel this even more as you will suddenly not feel as sick from eating (this in itself may even lead to you being able to eat more).

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                                                      BEN HANSCOM → IT

                                            ❝ you guys are still the best friends i ever had, ❞ ben said.                                    ❝ no matter how this turns out.                                                    i just… you know, wanted to tell you that.  ❞

           ❝ i’m glad i remembered you, ❞ he added.

⌜ •°  ✦  °• — this is your stop . welcome to 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 .  you must be BEN HANSCOM. a little birdie told me you’re looking for SIREN’S BAR, it’s not too far from here and i’m sure your ANALYTICAL, SENSITIVE + DETACHED self will lead you down the right path. you’ve had TWENTY-THREE years of experience anyway. what were you saying? you DO remember GETTING A LITTLE TOO DRUNK AFTER RECEIVING A FATEFUL PHONE CALL FROM YOUR FRIEND? oh well, good luck with that !! hey, before you go, has anyone ever told you that you give off an INK STAINS ON THE TIP OF YOUR FINGERS, THE SOUND OF SNEAKERS AGAINST PAVEMENT, NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK BURSTING OUT OF CHEAP HEADPHONES and SELF-WRITTEN NOTES SCATTERED ACROSS THE WALL vibe? i better get going, enjoy your stay !! ── sar , she+her,18+ , gmt+2. 

trigger warnings ── bullying, body-image issues, alcohol abuse

+ for the vast majority of his childhood ben was A LOSER; a shy little boy desperately trying to hide and disappear behind his favourite books and unfortunately, being too chubby to do so. it didn’t help that his family moved a lot, travelling after a father who lived the military, and thus leaving ben without the chance of ever making real friends.  he was ALONE a lot in those days, always the new kid standing by himself, uncomfortable in his own body and too afraid to speak up in case it’d draw the bullies’ attention to him. it’s the reason he started reading — fictional stories at first and as the different school libraries ran out of intriguing authors to offer, ben switched to historical books; true and truly interesting stories which had passed the test of time... and, of course, poems. their beautiful way of playing with words fascinated him.

+ for a long time nothing ever changed, except of the names of the towns he stayed in. however, as fate would have it and right as ben had accepted the apparent inevitability of his, the hanscom family moved to DERRY, MAINE and ben soon realised that this town wasn’t like any of the ones he’d been in before. instead, it was struck by tragedies, provably leading the national charts in missing people cases and most absurdly? none of the adults seemed to care enough to see. 

+ now, what happens in derry stay in derry, and here’s what happened in short:

henry bowers harasses ben to the extreme which has actually left ben with physical scarring on his abdomen, making him to this day ( as well as years of being called the ‘ fatboy ‘ in various schools ) uncomfortable to take his shirt off

the loser club is being created and ben is developing the most adorable crush on the only girl in the group, sending her a poem because we know he loves those, but alas his heart burns alone which he reacts shockingly mature to

pennywise probably gets jealous no one writes poems about his winter fiery red hair and proceeds to scare the living shit out of the losers while also killing other kids

we know the drill: we have a fight, the clown gets defeated and the losers promise to come back in case it ever does — but until then everyone’s moving away, including ben.

+ honestly, it was only a matter of time until the hanscom family would decide to move again and as his father died in the war and with the most recent development – her baby boy? in the sewers? hurt and injured? – ben’s mother chose to leave sooner rather than later. needless to say, it was difficult to say good bye to the losers club and thus to the best friends ben had ever had, but in all the sadness which came with leaving them behind, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t the least bit excited about leaving derry behind as well. he had bled and cried, lost and hurt, loved and not been loved back for long enough in this tragic small town. it was time for a new start and at last, it was a good one !!

+ as a matter of undeniable fact, puberty has done ben well. his final growth spurt in the summer before his start at the new school, alongside with better and healthier eating habits he’d already adopted, allowed him to lose any and all remains of his baby fat — and when he then also joined the school’s TRACK TEAM? we had ourselves a handsome, healthy and most importantly happy young man on our hands, who stood with confidence in his bones and was no longer afraid of the power his own voice held.

+ without having to worry about what your bullies might do or wondering where they might be lingering to get a hold of you, school was suddenly easier than ever. his grades still weren’t fantastic – he still liked to read; less poems now for some reason and most preferably everything and anything that wasn’t on the school’s schedule – but his graduation was successful enough that the adult world welcomed him with open arms and an infinite amount of opportunities to follow whichever dreams his heart desired. so that’s what he did — or at least tried to do. as a kid he had always been a great engineer and builder who could create tree houses, even underground construction from nothing, and it must’ve been a childhood dream come true as he became an ARCHITECT and a successful one at that !! unfortunately, if the lack of happiness which came with it was any indication, it wasn’t his childhood dream.

+ he had been trying to fill the hole in his chest – with work most of all. with women, for a while, but none of them truly interested him. and with alcohol whenever desperate times seemed to call for desperate measures. however, nothing quite managed to rid him of the LONELY feeling buried deep inside his heart. something was evidently missing from his life ( and from his memory ) but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was —– beverly was his best guess, but even she was just a name on a book page he had carried in his wallet for as long as he could remember, and the scar on his chest was though oddly resembling the letter H nothing but a childhood injury he’d probably forgotten. that is, until the call came and with it, mike reminding him of times long forgotten. pennywise was back in derry, which meant the losers club would have to come back as well to defeat it once and for all. 

+ terrified and shaken by the memories of childhood trauma, ben walked into the closest bar to give himself the LIQUID COURAGE he couldn’t find within himself to face it again. he may or may not have overshot his goal, his sight going black and the memory of the night fading into blurry darkness. now, as the story goes, he would wake up in the morning, drive to derry to fight pennywise and lose some of his friends, but it doesn’t quite feel like a memory to him. instead, he is in twinrivers, twenty-three again like his whole life has been a nightmare playing out in front of him or existed merely as a shit story in a book he read, and he’s got another shot at finding whatever will make him feel a little less lonely before he’s vegetating. 

q . from what part of the canon did you take your character from ?

it’s a mixture of everything, tbh. there’s a whole lot of influence from the movies, because ben is such an adorable bean in it ( as well as all the other kids, like don’t get me started swooning about this cast ) and probably the original miniseries? because child!me watched that so many times. but there will also be some details from the book !! though, it’s been forever since i read it so my memories are a little hazy on that one.

q. what gender is your character, what pronouns do they use and what do they identify as sexual / romantic orientation speaking ?

ben is a cis-male who uses the pronouns he & him. regarding his sexuality and romantic orientation, it isn’t something he ever truly wondered about. he was eleven the first time he fell in love with someone and it just so happened to be the last time as well. 

˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: ben hanscom

˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗: ben hanscom

˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓: ben hanscom  

˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: ben hanscom  

˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉: ben hanscom