#which does give me a deadline of sunday since the plan is to watch most of the drop with m

[squireofgeekdom]

i finally finished this!! scene!!

in my defense this scene worked out to be. 6.6k.

if i can manage to make time tomorrow to finish the two scenes that come before it in this chapter (two scenes which will be Much Shorter, I say, glaring at my document as if that will deter them from Growing In Scope) i will be subjecting you to not the full fic, but at least half the fic as a first chapter (and more than a chapter's worth of feels) tomorrow and if I can manage it i will take that win

[lifewithoutmeds]

September 4, 2023

The last two weeks have been really really rough. i spent the first few days after i found out the notice completely distraught, crying, unable to sleep, and almost unable to eat. just the millions of thoughts coursing through my head, my heart heavy, anxious, filled with dread. so much crying.

the next few weeks were also bad but not quite as bad. in the last week i only found myself crying for like 3-4 days out of the week. most days i'd get a little weepy/tear up, but on good days this would only last a few minutes when i talked about jadai specifically.

friends have really come out of the woodwork to help me out and be with me through this process. some have kinda flaked due to other responsibilities, but others really came through in a big way. i was a bit disappointed with gy and cl because we had planned to meet up, but then gy had a big deadline and cl was exhausted from the first week of school after not working for a year and a half and being heavily pregnant. but i really tried to work it out with journaling, lots of reflecting (some may call it unhealthy obsessive rumination), and talking to whoever would listen. patti scheduled a facetime meeting with me at 6pm on tuesday, august 15, followed by an emergency therapy session with kelda at 7. i was in the office wednesday but just kinda blankly stared at nothing. rather randomly i was called to oppahs, who had some mushrooms for me, and seeing my countenance, he finally asked what was up and i burst into tears and told him. he was oddly conciliatory and had some words of helpful wisdom for me. thursday i accidentally slept through most of my zoom psychiatrist appointment but she called last minute and i was able to give a five minute update on what was going on and i think she upped my prescription to 200 mg which i believe is the "effective dose." later that day alex (venice cg) met me up at a silver lake restaurant and consoled me, listened to me cry, and gave me much needed words of encouragement and wisdom. friday-sunday i drove up to nida's place. typically, she was busy with kids stuff. cooking, cleaning, picking the kids up from school. it was very hot and we went to the zoo which i thought would be funner than it was. we watched a terrible movie, some prequel to Snow White and The Huntsman that i zoned out of and stared at my phone instead. sometimes i played with the kids, mostly braden, who loves attention, and i did get a few minutes of good conversation with nida in which she told me about how she felt after past breakups, and how she felt that compatibility and timing were really important. how if scott hadn't had kids before he wouldn't be as responsible as he was now, which she needed since she needed kids. she reminded me a little of what alex had said, how some people have a story and they want to cast the characters, and they go through a casting list. it felt kind of ... weird to me. to just kind of want someone to fit into their lives to help achieve the trajectory of their own lives. it didn't feel really organic or i guess ... romantic? it felt more like interviewing candidates for a job and trying to see who was the best fit, but ... i guess that's what it kind of is. it can't just be emotion and feelings andn passion and admiration and attraction. ultimately there does need to be a real meeting of time minds in terms of values and direction, hopes and dreams, etc.

on monday i randomly called my mom and inadvertently burst into tears. she was alarmed and came right over, picking me up a salad and a rotisserie chicken from the local sprouts which we ate together. she was so sad seeing me so sad, and said she was so sorry, but she also said that jadai is very likable. it wouldn't just be me who liked her, she was incredibly attracting and her being a lawyer made her more attractive and impressive, even to me. she also talked about how i couldn't compare myself to her athleticism and her desire and ability to participate in really extreme sports, saying that growing up as sick as she was, she wouldn't even dream of those things, but that she just did the best she could, struggling through each day, and she didn't see herself as lazy or unmotivated or selfish. she prided herself on doing the best she could, every day, and that helped me with some perspective.

on tuesday i drove up to santa clarita and coworked with danielle, who lives with her cute labradoodle, which was a bit distracting since she liked to yelp when she wanted attention. it was nice to have someone sharing space, and it would at times start sobbing and she was incredibly helpful, incredibly kind, compassionate, empathetic. we took the dog on a couple walks, ate lunch together (she ordered zankou), and afterward met her friend heidi at a restaurant in newhall where i treated drinks and snacks.

i woke up the next day, feeling strangely better. i just felt kind of refreshed, and a little emptied of sadness. i think the company and just being able to express myself was helpful.

on thursday i had another facetime therapy session with kelda in which she had gone through past notes and reminded me of some of the struggles, the fights, the frustrations i had with jadai and our relationship. she said to remind myself of these times too, and not just on the good times, which were constantly making me sad.

not sure what happened to friday. probably the usual? work, and then lying down and reading stories about break ups, failed marriages, sad celebrity downfalls, and true crime.

saturday amy was supposed to come over and we had all day free (supposedly) but then she said not in the morning, and by the time i texted back in the afternoon she said it was too late. which was disappointing but ended up being just as well, because i ended up meeting lorena and we got massages at my favorite silverlake thai massage place, then went to go get thai food in thai town and it was good food and good company.

sunday i walked to the embassy suites in hilton where i met up amy and her county counsel friend at the pool where i had homemade mimosas and cried a bit about the news. amy was nice and talked a bit about how after her first engagement didn't come to fruition, she ended up training for a marathon for distraction. later that day i met up kendy and matt for burgers and drinks in santa monica, then for a short hike at will rogers, but i had a mild headache from the morning's mimosas and wasn't as sharp as usual, but remember feeling incredibly loved and understood by my friends and wanting to see them more, because they made me feel lifted up, encouraged, seen, in ways that others hadn't.

tuesday was in office with lunch.

i think wednesday was just work, and then thursday i teleworked with amir, who just goofed off all day, was mostly on the phone, while i worked up a storm. we went to costco and picked up california rolls/sushi for lunch, and then came back and ended up hanging out with cesar for a while, drinking beer and wine, and chatting with his wife and kidding around with his cute kid. it was good to be in the company of people and talk about things other than myself actually.

no recollection of thursday, but friday was my RDO and i met up with caroline at a local place for brunch in burbank where i talked and cried and she consoled me and i was reminded of how good a friend was and how we had had some good times, especially traveling.

saturday i picked up jenny unni and went to lana's house for sawyer's bday. the food was good, and julia took me aside to hug me while i cried and said nice things. afterward i went to long beach to hang out with LD and her group of gaysians. the hostess was none other than stacy's cousin! we hung out til maybe 10, with me drinking the whiskey i had brought, and it was nice just chatting with other lesbian asians.

lastly on sunday, amy, ray's wife, came over around 10am and we headed over to switzer falls for a hike. it was about three hours and we talked nonstop, her about her work, her therapy, and me about the break up, etc. it was therapeutic both physically and psychologically, and i think i've found a friend and exercise buddy, and this was the first time i had broken 15,000 steps since maybe may when my first breakdown occurred, and it felt nice to feel so physically drained.

today is monday, labor day. i took a short walk, did some dishes, and did a bit of tidying. even went for a short 17-minute walk while listening to the read, and even managed to smile 1-2 times. i'll be heading out to hang with rhiannon for a bit, so i need to go, but today feels .... not so bad. sometimes the news hits me viscerally, like a punch in the gut, and leaves me gasping for air. other times it feels like a distant memory, still there, but in a distance, and not as painful, a bit far from me, but not drowning me. i hope it gets better. also there's this odd tendency seemingly, of once i write and express how much better i feel, something terrible befalls me and just swipes me off my feet. here's hoping that doesn't happen this time.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: III

“You can have me tonight or never

I thought you understood

Baby, some people are meant to be loved and others just naked

So take what I’m willing to give, love it or hate it.”

—Wrong, Zayn and Kehlani

A/N: alright SO!!!! the original part 3 ended up being at the cusp of 50k words (because i have no self control) and that is a LOT to read in one go so it’s getting split into parts 3 and 4! which means!! double update laidese and germs!!!! part 4 will be posted this SUNDAY, AUGUST 16th at 5PM PST/8PM EST :D we hope you enjoy this chapter, feedback is greatly appreciated, and please please PLEASE!!! if you like it, reblog it!!! and if you want, go nuts in the tags!! every single one is read!!! it keeps content creators motivated 💌leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ took the liberty of making an incredible playlist to go along with our story, so feel free to check it out and see if you can find any clues as to what’s in store for the characters 👀without further delay, here she is...buckle up 👁👁this is gonna be quite the ride

ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist

word count: 24.2k

content/warnings: cheeky banter over texts, The Crew dragging Niall to shit, more banter over a glass of cheap wine, vampire!harry showing up to “interior design” sessions looking like a runway model, some fwb smut, degradation kink, very mild mentions of blood, and some ugly tapestries that somehow lead to sexting

///

Y/N definitely puts Harry’s number to good use. Very good use.

In fact, during the span of the next month or so, Harry reckons that she pulls up his contact on her phone so often that she probably has him listed on speed dial. The assumption is dramatic and probably incorrect, on behalf of his arrogance, but with how much time they start spending together, it’s hardly a stretch.  

It all begins exactly a week after their first time meeting. 

Harry still hates clubs. 

He hates them more than he did last week. He hates them more than he did yesterday, more than he did this morning, and even more than he did a minute ago. He fucking despises them. 

And yet, as Harry stands here before the mirror in his enormous double-sink bathroom, fiddling with his damp hair as his flouncy dress shirt hangs unbuttoned from his broad shoulders, he’s absolutely positive he has never hated clubs more than right now. 

Niall got to pick the venue this time. He’d texted his choice in the groupchat (which is respectfully named Dinner Plans) about four hours ago, making sure to get the word out decently early so that everyone could start making their preparations, all in order for the crew to be on the move by nine P.M. 

It’s now nine thirty-seven, and everyone is fully set to leave at the agreed upon hour. Everyone except Harry. 

This, however, is not uncommon. He’s always the one that takes the longest to get ready, no matter how soon he starts. No one can remember an instance where Harry has ever been ready on time— which says a lot, considering most of the gang has years of memories from which they can pull. Mitch especially. With almost a century of friendship behind them, not once has the older vampire ever seen Harry stick to a deadline. His flare for being fashionably late is less a flare, and moreso an irritating burn. It always throws off their game a bit, but at this point, everyone has gotten used to the seemingly young vampire’s theatrics. 

So on this Friday night, there isn’t much more to do other than mold to his habits; Harry answers to no one except himself and it’s been that way for decades now, for a reason he’d rather not reminisce. He doesn’t owe anything to anyone, especially since he’s the one that always takes charge of getting them where they need to go, as well as getting them inside said destination. Complaining about their leader wouldn’t do the gang any good for a number of reasons, especially because Harry rarely ever listens. It is what it is— he’s just the way he is, and they’ve all learned to live with and respect that.

The funny thing? Harry does it on purpose, though his friends aren’t aware of it. He drags out the process of getting prepared simply so he can put off having to step inside one of those circus acts people refer to as clubs. He goes as slow as possible and does as much as possible, spreading seconds into minutes, and maybe— if he’s insistent enough and feeling particularly pesky— an hour. His record is an hour and twenty-eight minutes, which he wears with pride, much to his group’s unamusement. 

Harry knows no one will ever say anything about his annoying tendencies, unless they’re willing to volunteer themselves to take the reins for the night. Vampires are alert and productive, but only when they want to be— which is usually only when it benefits them— and only if they can muster up the patience for it. And frankly, none of the creatures he associates with have the patience required to deal with security, driving, and other obstacles the way Harry does. He’s indispensable, and therefore, everyone puts up with his shit. Quid pro quo has never been more effective. 

So here Harry stands, now thirty-eight minutes past the original time sorted for departure, carefully combing volumizing mousse into his slightly wet curls and spinning each ringlet around his index finger to give them the definition and bounce he’s so well-known for. Here he is, finishing up his post-shower routine as all of his friends mill around downstairs in his living room, waiting for him to come down so they can pack into his car and head out for the weekly hunt at whatever establishment has been deemed fit for the night. And here he is, taking his sweet time so he can be the signature pain in the ass that everyone hates to love. 

Once Harry has thoroughly coated all of his hair with the fluffy white cream, he pulls out his hair-dryer from the cabinet below his sink, snapping its accompanying diffuser into place and flipping his head upside down. He carefully scrunches his curls to his roots with the attachment, moving in thoughtful circles as he hums to the rhythm of a song he can’t be bothered to remember the name of. Staring down at his polished jet black heeled boots, he absentmindedly taps against the porcelain ground to the beat of the music, sighing wistfully as warm air circulates its way across his scalp. 

Harry turns his shoes to the side, admiring the detailing along the back of the heel. Across the curved surface is the word SUCKER, bedazzled onto the article with multicolored jewels, glitzing beautifully under the fluorescent lighting of his bathroom. The shoes had been a gift from a friend with connections in high places; more specifically, connections to the man who sits on the throne of the Gucci brand. Harry hadn’t questioned the present when he’d received it— only an idiot would bat a cautious eye at such a luxury. He’d fallen in love with them the second they landed in his palms, decked out in a gorgeous satin box and wrapped with sparkly black tissue paper. The only words that had dared leave his lips were, “Fuck, I think I just got hard.”

The shoes had fit like a charm, and he had wanted to save them for a special occasion. But given that he has hundreds of years worth of special occasions lined up for his future, he’d shrugged off his pickiness and yanked them out the back of his closet for tonight. What better way to show them off than at an overhyped disco hall? 

Harry flips his head right-side up once again, ruffling his fingers through his soft, shiny curls to check for any wet patches or stringiness. He rolls up the wire to his styling tool and puts it back in its designated spot, grabbing his favorite paddle brush and attentively filtering it through his hair until he gets the tousled waves that he’s grown so fond of sporting. He musses them until he’s satisfied with his appearance, nodding at himself casually in the mirror as he proceeds to wrap up the last few necessities he has left. 

Harry buttons his blouse, admiring it in the fogged mirror. It’s a flowy sheer black piece with holographic threads sewn through its expanse, the fabric continuously shimmering with every shift of his muscles from underneath. He leaves the last three holes empty to better show off the dark butterfly inking on his lean chest and the swallows suspended in flight along his collarbones. He doesn’t really have to leave the shirt open, given that the material is see-through to the point where it leaves very little to the imagination, obvious in how all the tattoos along his arms are clearly visible. But he does it either way— he likes it when people stare. He’s got the assets, he might as well flaunt them.

Harry loosely tucks the hem of the shirt along the brim of his high-waisted beige slacks, which he’d ironed with precision to an ideal fold. He opts out of a belt tonight, wanting to display the array of elegant buttons that line the front of his pleated trousers. The pants hang slightly flared around his ankles, and if someone’s interests were intent enough, they might catch a glimpse of his favorite socks underneath the cusps, the words FUCK IT printed across the dark cotton fabric. He always makes sure to have an aspect in his outfit that could make for neat conversation.  

The vampire pulls out one of his drawers, ghosting his fingers over his collection of jewelry before picking out a pearl necklace and his father’s gold-plated cross necklace, as well as a colorful array of rings. He makes sure to retrieve the most significant two, as always— his lionhead amethyst daylight ring and his mother’s opal. He never goes anywhere without them. 

After he’s slipped on those accessories, bending and stretching his fingers for good measure and feeling everything settle into place, he picks out the gold cross earring that matches his necklace. It used to be part of a pair that belonged to his sister. As he watches the gold twinkle in the artificial light, he briefly wonders what happened to its twin, but pushes the thought away before it leads him down a path of pessimistic speculations. 

Harry loops the dangly piece through his earlobe, sighing through his nose as his gaze jets around his entire look, searching for any possible faults he could tend to that would prolong the inevitable— another night of drunken morons and thick synthetic smoke. 

Harry decides to fold the cuffs of his shirt up to his elbows, knowing that it makes his veiny forearms look appealing. He rummages through his selection of colognes before deciding to go with his trusty Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, spritzing a bit along specific pressure points on his neck where a pulse would otherwise be present, following along with the insides of his wrists. The scent of cloves, sugar-frosted vanilla, and cedar wood envelope him in a warm ambiance. After that task is complete, he fusses with his necklaces for a minute or so, settling the cross between his pectorals and resting the rosey pearls across his clavicle, fingering at their smooth surface in thought. Much to his defeat, everything seems to be in order, down to his freshly lacquered black nails. It’s not his fault he’s nearly flawless. His long— and unfortunate— extension on life had given him a plethora of years to work himself into a state of physical perfection. There’s only so much one can do to their appearance before it becomes superiorly stagnant. 

Harry tunes his heightened hearing for a second, listening in to the conversation his friends are entertaining on the first level of his condo. Niall’s voice is the first one that comes through, unsurprisingly. He’s always the loudest and has zero filter, present in how he’s freely ranting about Harry’s exaggerated mannerisms as he paces back and forth across the floor, footsteps heavy. No one seems to be paying him any mind— As usual, Harry thinks to himself, snorting softly— because everyone appears to be caught up in their own personal lives, too lost in gossip and exchanging opinions to give the Irish vampire any thought. 

None of his gang seem bothered by his lack of rush, but Harry knows he can’t keep them waiting forever. Fridays are the day they’d all collectively agreed to hunt together and it had been as so for almost twenty years. Being the leader, Harry can’t let his childish distaste for nightlife get in the way of what’s best for the group. He needs to hunker down on his selfish inclinations and be a responsible friend, or else a human might not be the only person Niall sinks his fangs into tonight.

With one final lingering stare at his reflection, Harry goes to retrieve his phone from its face-down position on the dark marble counter, simultaneously reaching for the light switch to begin powering down his apartment for the next couple of hours until he returns. Hopefully with a pretty girl hanging off his arm and less of a burn in the back of his throat. Although Harry may be cynical, he’s also practical; if he’s going to have to spend eternity on this planet, he may as well try to conserve enough energy to make it bearable. After decades of adjusting to electricity, the last thing Harry wants is to return to candlelit rooms and going to bed in time with the sun. 

The sudden chime that shrieks from his device causes him to jump a tad, brows furrowing in mild confusion for a few reasons. First, because it’s such an odd coincidence that right as he went to grasp it, his smartphone had gone off; it’s almost spooky. Second, because anyone who would normally dare message him at this hour is currently sequestered downstairs on the cushions of his sectional sofa, waiting for him to emerge from his room. Who else could possibly need to contact him this late, especially at the beginning of the weekend? 

Harry flips his red iPhone curiously (yes, he’d bought it in red for the purpose of irony), peering down at the unknown number shining back up at him from the screen. 

The text is simple enough: Hey, accompanied by three disco ball emojis. 

After a few seconds of blank blinking and adamantly searching through his mind for a clue as to who this could be, the answer smacks him square between the eyes. The memories come to him in quick flashes. 

A bald bouncer with a stupid name. A two-story room with seven foot tall speakers and a bar nuzzled in the corner. A group of loud, tipsy girls in stilettos and glittery dresses. One girl, sitting amidst the ruckus looking alone and indifferent while everyone around her gave into inebriated chaos. Mitch urging him to go talk to her. The overwhelming smell of honey and lavender. Gentle caresses placed across the tattoos painting his arms. Pretty lips the color of fresh blood, drained glasses of liquor, and witty banter exchanged between suggestive glances and cheeky grins. Shouldering through a crowded dance floor with the young woman in tow. Settling her into the passenger’s seat of his Cadillac and feeling heat explode across his cold cheeks when she’d yanked him down by his collar, kissing him like his lips were her only source of air. 

A quaint apartment complex, flickering lights in a corridor, and a worn couch. A warm mouth, smudged lipstick, teary eyes, and the gentle, shaky echo of, “I want to make you feel good.” High-waisted silk pants discarded on the floor, a cream lace blouse, and pastel pink lingerie. Thighs squeezing his head as her sweet taste spilled across his tongue. The mortal’s bare back pressed to his chest as he worked his hips roughly into her, mumbling dirty promises against her ear. Sugary whimpers and needy pleads. The warm, tangy flavor of her blood filling his mouth and sedating the burning in his throat. Childish giggles shared in a tiny flat, her warm fingers sewing between his icy own and tugging him into her room. A sleepless night full of steady breaths and only one heartbeat. A stupid tapestry and an ugly popcorn ceiling. A late morning strewn with sarcastic jokes mumbled over the rim of a coffee mug. Pulling his favorite t-shirt over his head and inhaling the sweet smell that had been glued to every thread. 

Making a drastic decision and typing his information into her phone. 

Harry doesn’t mean to speak aloud, but the name slips down his tongue as easily as he’d drawn moans from hers. “Y/N.”

It’s not like he didn’t remember her, because he did. And it’s not like he hadn’t thought of her since, because he had. But it’d been in passing and barely relevant— faint recollections in the form of fleeting seconds. 

He’d thought of her a couple days ago, when he’d been wandering around the mall with his friends. They’d passed by a candle shop where, among all the mixed scents, there had been the unmistakable aroma of lavender and honey somewhere inside, smelling vaguely like her. She’d unwillingly made her way to the forefront of his mind when he’d gone to do laundry, picking out his baby blue Marc Jacobs t-shirt from his hamper and feeling his eyes dilate and fangs protrude— a result of animalistic instinct. As it turns out, she had left a bloodstain along the inside of the yellow collar of his tee. It was dried and crusted over by the time he found it, but the effect it had on him remained the same as the night he’d drawn it fresh from one of her arteries. He’d chucked the garment into the wash carelessly with hardly any hesitation. 

The girl had even elbowed into his brain during an important self-care session. He’d been sitting in his glorified bathtub— which, in shallow honesty, is just a jacuzzi— with his cock twitching in his palm while his head hung over the edge, an orgasm teetering along the trench of his stomach as he’d repeatedly thumbed over his tip. When he’d finally coaxed himself into a climax, moans running freely across the empty halls of his home, the image he saw in those short moments of pure bliss was of her. It was Y/N, sitting in front of him with her hands clasped between her bare thighs obediently, his prick running along the length of her warm tongue as her eyes pleaded for him to cum. 

But, as he’d stated before, the picture had only lasted a handful of seconds. As soon as his high had died down, it had disintegrated to ash, and he’d been left with a slightly startled mental imprint in its wake, which had faded away within minutes. He hadn’t thought of her since. 

That is, until now. Until the surface of his jade eyes are reflecting the message his phone had just received at nearly ten P.M., her identity obvious in her choice of emojis. 

A disco ball. The exact same character he’d assigned himself beside his name in her contact list. It was an inside joke; a result of the hatred they both shared for clubs, juxtaposed by the fact that they had met in one. It was a cute determining factor in their minimal acquaintanceship, and he’s always a sucker for a good paradox. 

Harry continues to stare down at the text message, trying to conjure up some type of answer. She couldn’t have caught him at a better time, quite literally. She could be his saving grace tonight, if he plays his cards right. Maybe if he swoons her enough, she’ll invite him over again, and he can avoid another night full of shit-faced idiots and blinding strobe lights. 

After careful consideration, he swipes open into their new text conversation and taps back a reply he deems appropriate, satisfied with how it shows his personality— the same one the mortal girl had been so taken with upon their first encounter. 

Well, this is awkward. I don’t remember giving my number to a disco ball.

The vampire waits idly for a response, watching as the message delivers and is immediately marked by a read receipt. He doesn’t know why, but he likes that she has them on. 

A swift pause follows— in which he has no doubt she’s probably attempting to come up with some type of witty remark to his— and then the three grey bouncing bubbles pop up, signifying that she’s typing back. His device bloops with her response, vibrating in his large palms.

Funny as ever, I see. It’s Y/N, from the club last Friday. 

Harry’s slightly disappointed by her humor-lacking answer, but he’ll keep the interaction going for curiosity’s sake. Some people are fun in person and just not that bright virtually. Can’t always have it all.

Oh, hey, Y/N! So are you translating on behalf of the disco ball that wanted to talk to me or…?

He can practically see her eye rolling up at the grungy ceiling of her room and that notion makes his lips twitch. 

Ha. Ha. Hilarious! But no, I’M the one who wants to talk to you, actually.

Harry can feel her sarcastic tone through this specific message and that gives him hope. Maybe she does have social networking skills. 

Oh. Well, give the disco ball my best regards then, will you? Don’t want it to think I’m being rude and casting it aside.

The creature can’t see it, but now Y/N’s lips are the ones jolting as she sits on her bed in nothing but a towel, damp hair beading water down her naked shoulders and back.

How caring of you! I’ll pass on the message.

A full grin begins to edge across Harry’s cheeks as she returns his banter just as easily as she would face to face, dimples threatening to indent into place. That’s more like it. 

His fingers poise over the keyboard, mind flicking through the different scenarios he could steer this conversation towards. He has to be perceptive and respectful, but also keep her entertained. He figures asking about her intentions is the best route to take, but he’ll do it subtly. Being too direct could come off pushy. 

So...what gives me the honor of basking in your presence tonight, hm?

He adds a thinking face emoji to the end of the text as an afterthought. He rarely uses emoticons, but now is as good a time as any to start, especially because he has to seem like someone who belongs to her generation, rather than a Victorian era immortal.

Well, you said if I wanted more interior design advice to shoot you a text so...here I am, seeking your expertise.

Harry allows himself to break into a wide simper at the shrouded compliment. It goes right to his ego, just as he likes it. She’s smart. 

My expertise, huh? I take it that my taste in wallpaper left you pretty satisfied last time, then?

A similar grin buckles Y/N’s face at his playful smugness and she bites into the side of her index finger to try and suppress it. After a moment of thought, she releases her digit from between her teeth and taps back. 

Very satisfied, yeah. Your help was greatly appreciated.

Harry scoffs coyly, leaning his shoulder against the lightly fogged black marble wall of his bathroom, his friends and plans for the night all but forgotten. He’s having too much fun flirting to pay anything else much mind. 

My pleasure, love. I’d be more than happy to give it again, anytime you need it. Just make sure to fill out the customer service survey my boss emailed you. I’m shooting for a raise and could really use the brownie points. 

“Cute.” Y/N murmurs to herself in amusement, her chest fluttering as a result of the pet name, alongside how well they’re getting on. It’s almost like no time has passed at all. Almost as if they’re friends. 

She’d been nervous to reach out, fearing that he’d see it and ignore her— or worse, leave her on read. Needless to say, this is going way better than she could’ve hoped

Already filled that out. Gave you five stars and everything. Would’ve given you six if it was allowed. 

Harry shifts his weight against the surface he’s using for support, chuckling softly as he gnaws along the inside of his cheek. He feels like a teenager with all of this borderline childish back-and-forth. He’s not mad about it, though. It’s pretty enjoyable. 

Thank you so much for your input! It’s taken into deep consideration. VERY deep consideration, if I recall correctly.  

Warmth pours into Y/N’s cheeks at his innuendo, and she somewhat hates that he can get her all flustered without actually being present. He’s really good at this. A true lucky strike, to put it in his own words.

I’m glad my standards are held so highly, especially since I’m trying to book another advising appointment with you. 

Is that so?

Very much so. How about tonight, if you’re free? I’ve got a dire situation with some wood paneling that I just can’t handle alone.

The vampire’s irises flare crimson red in triumph. It looks like he won't have to put himself through another mortifying ordeal tonight, after all. 

I’m on a tight schedule, Y/N. These expertise are highly sought after, yanno?

Y/N snorts at his pompous joke. “Moron.”

Another text comes in from Harry before she can even think of a response.

However, I think I might be able to squeeze you in for a help session today. Say in about 10 to 15 minutes? 

With newly brightened eyes, Y/N gives the message five repasses to make sure she’d interpreted it correctly. She can’t believe he’d agreed, especially at an hour when most people already have weekend plans cemented for the night. And by the length of time he’d given her to prepare, she’s extremely thankful she’d decided to shower prior to attempting a booty-call. 

Sounds perfect. Do you need me to send you my address or do you remember, by some miracle?

Don’t worry about it, pet. I have a pretty good memory of that night. You made it hard to forget. 

Another layer of heat crawls up her neck and into her ears. She knows this is a casual thing, at best, but for some reason, the idea that he had deemed her unforgettable makes her entire body feel like it’s glowing. She tries to brush it off, chalking up his compliment to how they’d seen each other barely a week ago so of course he remembered. It was fairly fresh in both their minds. 

But Y/N is from an area where she was just another face in the crowd— another timid girl in an ocean of a hundred small-town carbon copies— and she’d certainly never referred to herself as anything particularly special. To have Harry, who is such a refined and attractive person, who most likely has dozens of hook-ups under his belt, call her that? Of all people? It just hits differently. 

She shakes herself out of her head, remembering that a very interesting boy is waiting for a response on the other end of her phone.

Alright, then. See you in 10 to 15 minutes, Mr…? 

Y/N comes to the realization that she doesn’t even know his last name. She doesn’t know the last name of the guy she’d let into her house and between her legs. God, if her parents could see her now...They’d blow California into a crater. 

The name’s Styles. Harry Styles. 

She immediately recognizes the reference, chewing at her bottom lip to keep a tab on a girly giggle. It’s probably not healthy how easily he reduces her into such a dopey puddle. 

Alright, then, Mr. Harry Styles. See you soon?

Very soon. Can’t wait to show you the wood samples I just found.

With a sly smirk dimpling his cheeks, Harry pushes off the elegant stone wall of his luxury bathroom, locking his device and absentmindedly tapping it along his palm as he does a quick mind-sweep of the interaction he’d just had. He’s going to get his needs taken care of—both intimate and carnal— by a girl with whom he meshes with so well, no less. This night has taken an unexpected turn for the better, and he’s never been more thankful for making such a rash decision the morning after a one night stand. 

The shrill boom of an Irish accent breaks Harry out of his flirty stupor, the sound bounding up the stairs of his flat and echoing off the tiles in his bathroom. “Harry, did you fucking desicate up there, you prick?!”

The vampire’s head snaps to the side towards where the sudden intrusion is originating, clearing his throat softly before answering, mostly to anchor himself back into the present. He’d been too busy floating in a daydream bubble to give his friends any proper attention. “I’m on my way down!”

Harry flicks off the light switch to his master bathroom, heading into his dimly lit bedroom and scooping up his wallet from its usual spot on top of the dresser. He tucks it into the wide front pocket of his slacks along with his cell phone, rounding the king-sized mattress at the center of his space, footsteps muffled by the thick maroon carpeting across the ground. He stops under the doorframe, giving his room one last calculating glance to make sure he isn’t leaving anything important behind. Once the creature is sure he’s set, he reaches over and slides the switch meter all the way down until the hanging lamps on the ceiling fade to black. 

Harry clambers down the glass and metal staircase, passing the collection of original paintings organized across the expanse of the largest wall in his home. His friends spot him from the huge couch once he’s halfway down the steps, and of course Niall is the first to make his presence audible.

“Fucking finally.” The blue-eyed vampire groans in exasperation, shooting up from his seat beside Xander, arms falling across his lean chest. “I thought you’d died. Really died.”

Harry dismounts the last stair carefully, heeled boots making a soft clicking sound against the polished light-wash wood of his floorboards. He pushes a few rogue curls out of his eyes, the corners of his mouth jilting upwards teasingly as he regards the fellow immortal. “If I have to keep staring at that shitty paisley button-up you’re wearing, I just might.”  

Niall’s irritated expression shatters into one of sheer hurt, hands fumbling with the silk fabric of his shirt, lips melting into a pained pout as he contemplates it sadly. His tone comes out whiney and defensive. “Hey! I really like this one!”

Harry side-steps the boy, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Your fashion sense makes me question my friendship with you.”

Niall’s face pinches with anger, thick brows furrowing as he roughly swats the brunette’s wrist away. “And your dickhead attitude makes me question mine.” 

Harry’s jade eyes dance with evil glee as he returns his palm to where it had been resting before to give a curt squeeze, his rings playfully digging into the muscle beneath Niall’s top. “And yet here you are, sitting on my couch, waiting to get into my car. Funny how that works, innit? We benefit from one another. Mutualism at its finest.”

The Irish man shrugs himself free of his friend’s hold once again, glaring at him with darkening eyes, but there’s no true malice behind it. “More like parasitism.” 

“So are you two gonna kiss now or what?” Mitch’s soft, mocking voice butts in as he drifts up beside Niall, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark denim straight jeans and his long hair tied back into a low ponytail. He’s wearing a light-wash Rolling Stones t-shirt he’d gotten at a concert he and Harry had attended back in the eighties, along with a pair of scuffed up sneakers. Pretty casual for a club— too casual, in Harry’s opinion. “The sexual tension is killing the audience.” 

The green-eyed boy cranes his sight back onto Niall, raising his eyebrows in question and puckering his lips. “What d’you say, Ni? Wanna kiss this little disagreement better? I’m down.”

The pale young man makes a gagging noise, stepping away. “Don’t know where your mouth’s been. But if your bed fellows have anything to say about it, it’s nowhere good. I’m going to respectfully decline.” 

“There was absolutely nothing respectful in that response.” Adam chimes in, chuckling as he bumps Niall’s shoulder with his own, hands clasped casually behind his back. “You need to work on your people skills.”

“My people skills are fine.” Niall quips back sarcastically. “Harry just isn’t a person, he’s a demon.” 

“Technically, we all are.” The curly-haired vampire points out, walking over to his matte leather couch and retrieving a pin-striped, grey-black fitted blazer from its backrest. He tosses the jacket over his shoulders, shrugging it on and fixing the material over his torso, the curves of the piece accentuating the strong muscles of his back and the dip of his slender waist. “I just don’t care to hide it, really. Especially not when it comes to Niall’s taste in clothes. Which is rubbish, by the way. If that wasn’t clear before.”

“It was.” Niall deadpans, gaze half-lidded and petty.

Harry fixes the sleeves of his coat around his forearms, smoothing out any wrinkles and buttoning the cuffs. He momentarily ducks into the kitchen, his enhanced eyesight spotting the small digital time-stamp of the oven even from across the room. He has less than thirteen minutes before he has to be at Y/N’s flat. He should’ve suggested a longer time span.

Harry turns back around to fully face his crew, situating his collar into place by folding it along the back of his neck, appraising their expectant appearances. They’re all waiting for him. He’s the one driving, after all. 

The immortal clears his throat, hands dropping to pat at his blazer pocket, making sure that his keys are in his possession. He sighs lightly through his nose, a knowing grin trying to force its way onto his lips but he keeps it at bay, wanting to maintain a straight expression to garner less backlash for the news he’s about to break. 

“I’m not going.”

The pause that fills the atmosphere and the blank faces his friends dote are almost comical. Harry bats his eyelashes at them without a single twitch or jerk of his features. He wants them to understand he’s being serious.

After at least ten heartbeats— a guess, considering no one in the room has one to provide an accurate measurement— a raging exclamation explodes from behind the other three vampires in front of him. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

Harry watches in mild amusement as Xander stomps up from behind the group, shouldering between Mitch and Adam and sticking him with a glower dark enough to instill fear in any living being. But Harry is hardly living, and he’s definitely not scared of a vampire who’s practically a newborn. Xander’s the youngest of them in terms of the immortality scale— he’d transitioned back in nineteen ninety-six when he was thirty, which gives the illusion that he’s older when in reality, he isn’t— so Harry’s strength easily outmatches his. Xander is basically the puppy of the circle, and he’s certainly yappy and annoying enough to support that title. His lack of age and wisdom is also probably why he’s the most explosive. 

Harry kinks an eyebrow up at the taller, tanned man, looping only one button through its designated hole in the middle of his jacket. That will allow him to show off what lies beneath it while also making sure the article won’t be a pest in the windy California night. “I’m not kidding. Something else came up that...peaked my interest.”

Xander’s fists momentarily clench by his sides and he then folds his arms across his lightly heaving chest, trying to hide his anger away along the insides of his elbows. He spits his words through gritted teeth, attempting to keep his cadence level. “What could have possibly come up so late that you only let use know after we waited for you for over an hour?”

Harry can’t stop himself from smirking this time around, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards with condescension. The statement that he produces is all too familiar to Xander, given that it mirrors the reply he had used on Harry exactly a week ago, when the leader of the group had asked him what his intentions were once they’d gotten inside their club for the night. “I have a date.”  

Xander’s entire face flushes a faint shade of cherry red. His forearms tighten across his body, tone more strained than before as he actively wills himself to remain calm. “A date?”

The shorter vampire smiles at him with fake innocence, working his every nerve like it’s his job. Harry doesn’t know why, but pissing Xander off is always such a delectable pastime. “Yup. With a girl I met last week, actually.”

“You don’t go on dates.” Niall pipes up, looking around at the other men in the room in confusion, almost as if his comment should be obvious. “You rarely even spend the night. Said so yourself.” 

Harry shrugs one shoulder indifferently, checking his reflection in the closest section of the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline, the lights of the cars and buildings below twinkling otherworldly. “I guess it’s less a date and more a booty-call, to be honest. I only agreed ‘cause it’s easier than having to drag my ass to that horrid club you chose to spend hours trying to find someone. This meal’s already prim, proper, and served. And I know for a fact I’ll enjoy it, so there’s no real harm.” 

He turns back to Xander, the man’s peeved reaction tickling him more than he thought it would. “What was that you said last time, Xanny?”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Oh, yeah! I'm just grabbing a to-go box for my already prepped meal.”

Harry’s friend’s cheeks dye a deeper shade of crimson, dark veins webbing across the iridescent whites of his eyes for a flickering second. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Harry counters the angry expression with a bright smile, his dialect dripping with arrogance. “Girls dig it. And you seemed to dig it, too, if I recall correctly. Remember? You might not. Post-orgasm amnesia and all that.” 

Xander takes a measured inhale, releasing it slowly and allowing his anger to ebb away gradually, ignoring Harry’s blast from the past. His next question is physically directed towards their ex-chauffeur, but is truly aimed at the gang as a whole. “Who’s going to take us, then?”

The curly-haired vampire shrugs his shoulders once again, uninterested in the topic that is quickly growing old. “You could take Niall’s car. Problem solved.”

The whole clique lives in the same condo complex, mostly due to convenience. It’s already tricky for vampires to find others of their kind, so it’s a miracle that they’d all managed to end up together in the first place. And it’s an even bigger miracle that they got along well enough to form a tight-knit coven, which is the closest thing any of them now have to family. Living in close proximity is the ideal way of maintaining that rare bond, plus it allows them to help each other in staying safe and keeping their urges in line. 

Since they all live in the same building, Niall’s car is in the garage right beside Harry’s, so transportation shouldn’t be an issue. They just always take his vehicle because he’s the only one that actually enjoys driving. 

“Are you mental? Like actually, genuinely insane?” Xander sputters in appalled shock. “Niall drives like a lunatic!” 

“Oi, piss off! Maybe you should learn to drive then, huh? Instead of having all those guys you shag take you everywhere.”

Xander ignores Niall’s insult, putting his palms up in disgust, backing away. “I refuse to get in a car with him behind the wheel. Dying once was good enough for me.”

“Did I miss the memo?” Niall snaps, glimpsing around at all the monsters standing around him, attitude tight with annoyance. “Y’know, the one where you all just decided to shit on me tonight?”

Harry bursts into an airy cackle, listing his head to the side as he gives Niall a humorous once-over, his dangly cross earring dabbing across the crisp cut of his coat’s shoulder blade. “You don’t necessarily make it hard, love.” 

Niall’s jaw clenches as he narrows his icy blue eyes. “Xander’s right— you are an asshole.”

“Yeah, well, he’s also right about you driving like you’re on tranquilizers.” Adam sighs, running a palm up his face, using his index finger and thumb to massage either of his temples, despite the fact that they lack a pulse. “I guess I could drive? I hate it, but Mitch hates it more, so I’m our best bet. Better than Road Runner over here.” 

“Yeah, just keep talking about me like I’m not present. That’s fine. I’m spitting venom in all your drinks tonight.” 

“Well,” Harry boasts abruptly, interrupting the game of verbal ping-pong happening in front of him, taking a quick peek at his phone for the time. As much as he loves causing some good-natured chaos between his friends, he has less than ten minutes to make it to Y/N’s apartment on time and traffic’s a bitch at this hour. “I have nothing to do with this anymore, so I’m just gonna take my leave. You lot have fun figuring this out.” 

He swivels around on his heel, striding away with his usual haughty air straightening his back, heading towards the corridor that leads to the front entrance of the apartment. The softly lit hallway swallows his silhouette and for the first time since he’d left the secluded confines of his bathroom, he allows a giddy smile of excitement to tweak his lips. Just for a second and not a moment longer. If his friends had seen it, they would’ve taken the piss.

Niall’s accent cuts through the air, prickling at his ears as the glossy, cold doorknob comes into contact with his even colder fingers. “I can’t believe you’d abandon us just to get laid!”

“Lock the door on your way out!” 

///

When a sharp knock echoes across Y/N’s flat, she nearly screams. 

Her nerves have been on edge since the last text she’d received; only after reading that final cheeky message had the reality of the situation hit. 

This isn’t her. This isn’t her at all.

Inviting a total stranger into her home and into her bed was something she’d never experienced before last week. One night stands were very few and very far for her— she could count all the ones she’d had on a single hand, and even then they had been with people she had known to some extent— and it was due to the fact that this type of situation is slathered in mystery and unsureness. Giving herself up in such an intimate manner to someone she wasn’t acquainted to in some shape or form…It comes with a certain amount of risk, both physically and emotionally, which is why she hardly ever engaged in such activities before Harry.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with having that type of exhilarating fun in your life— she praises the women who can go around so confidently and express their sexuality however they please— but she herself had been raised under a roof that was moderate and conservative, and that environment had molded her into the person she had grown up to be. Those traditional concepts ran through the core of her being, and no matter how hard she tried to shake them, they refused to break loose. They weighed on her shoulders, constantly making her second-guess her motives and desires, most of which go against the status quo that had been implemented into her brain from a young age. This— whatever this is— is a huge step for her; it’s the first attempt she’s made to take over her own life and go against the grain she’d been accustomed to her whole existence. 

From the second Y/N had arrived here in Los Angeles and set a foot off the plane, she had been alone. Everyone who cared for her was miles and miles away and she was starting a new chapter on a completely blank page, with no one to guide her hand as she wrote. For the two months she’d spent settling in and trying to meld into her new environment, she had gone at it with a sense of emptiness hollowing the pit of her stomach. No one was there to comfort her during the rough patches, and no one cared enough yet to assure her that things would turn out alright. No one had bothered to tell her she was safe and that nothing would hurt her. No one made themselves available the way people did back home. 

That is, until she met Harry seven days ago. 

Their encounter had been purely for sexual gratification, but during that short time they shared, she vividly remembered him telling her that she could trust him. It was a preposterous statement to make— asking someone to trust you when you didn’t even know their last name— but the gaze in his emerald eyes had seemed so genuine and encouraging, and his voice had been so gentle and soothing, and his touch had been so delicate and consoling...That strange young man— with the pretty curls, intriguing tattoos, and dazzling smile— had somehow managed to untie the knot of unease that had been sitting in her belly for the last couple of weeks. She’s stumped on how he’d managed to wriggle it free; the only thing she can effectively say took a part in it was his eyes. There was just such a glass-like quality to them that reminded her of a mirror. It was like they were reflecting all her emotions back at her, using their familiarity to compel her into a state of mental peace. She’d appreciated it more than she’d let on. 

Something tells Y/N that this is the reason she had contacted him. She wanted to feel that safety net he had provided her with once again. She didn’t need an emotional connection from Harry, she just needed a bit of mental relief. She wanted something to take her mind off all her troubles. Something to distract her, even if it was only for a few hours. And with the way Harry had handled her last time, she knows he’s more than capable of helping her reach those goals. 

Y/N doesn’t think anyone has ever made her feel how Harry had that semi-drunken Friday night. She’d been with a few other people before, and had even been in a long-term relationship with someone she had once thought would end up being her husband, but none of those men came close to this peculiar stranger. 

In the town she was from, it was typical for people to marry their high school sweethearts. It was a small region where everyone either knew one another or knew of one another, so it wasn’t difficult to find someone that could fit into the role that needed to be filled. The person she had found was a boy by the name of Bradley, who she had begun to date their freshman year of high school. 

They’d met through mutual friends and he’d invited her to their first ever homecoming dance, where she had felt like everything was falling into place almost like in a movie. He was cute, with hazel eyes, sun-bleached hair, and freckles that jolted every time he laughed. He was polite, funny, and treated her with enough respect and dignity to keep her hooked for a while. Things had gone pretty well the four years they were together in high school; their relationship wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exciting either. It was just...secure. He was there, and he was willing to give her his attention, and that’s all that really mattered to her at the time. She thought that was all she needed. 

Then graduation came and went, and so did Bradley. He left for college, set on the intention that they would make long distance work somehow. To keep a long story short, it hadn’t worked out how they expected. As the months passed, she noticed he started to separate himself from her more and more. The video chats are what disappeared first; what used to be a daily FaceTime call turned into a weekly one and then, if she was lucky, a monthly one. Phone calls followed the same fate. Texting became a chore rather than something to look forward to and she could feel him slipping, which left her feeling helpless because he was in another state, far away and too out of reach to appropriately solve anything. Energized conversations slowly faltered into five-word messages, which eventually teetered into barely any communication at all. 

When Y/N heard the news that he’d cheated on her, it didn’t even come from him. It came from his roommate. Things ended swiftly after that, which was the saddest thing of all. Almost five years of her life, completely gone to waste. Handling the pain was a whole other misery she’d had to shoulder, alongside the embarrassment and humiliation, which stemmed from the fact that she was aware her peers had heard about the whole ordeal. With the help of her family and friends, she’d eventually gotten over the heartbreak. The weird thing is, she doesn’t think she loved him. She loved the idea of him— loved that he represented everything she had been raised to seek in a relationship. They’d grown up together, their families knew one another, they shared the same friends, they had common hobbies. It was like a match made in heaven, though after it broke off, she quickly came to the realization that it hadn’t been made in heaven at all. Made in a test tube was a more fitting analogy. 

Y/N’s love life after that painfully slow cliche disaster consisted of random boys around town she recognized from school and work. The hook-ups were fleeting and hardly satisfying, but at least they were something. She soon found out that she could do better on her own, but whenever she craved someone else’s touch, she was grateful to have anyone she could get. She’d mainly stuck to the same guys for the sake of consistency; it was easier having people she already knew how to please and vice versa, though she’ll admit it was mostly a one way street. Men can be so clueless sometimes that it’d be funny if it wasn’t so irritating. 

Then Y/N had skipped town and closed off sexually for a while. She had stayed shut down until Harry had walked into her life with that stupid sly smirk and his unorthodox— yet surprisingly attractive—fashion sense, sipping straight tequila like a fucking psycho from the cup in his jeweled fingers. He’d waltzed right onto the stool beside her at the bar, right out of the club with her hand in his, and then right past the doorframe of her apartment, kindly gifting her the best sex of her entire life. He’d worked her every desire with a certain skill and awareness she had never experienced (not from any of her past lovers, and definitely not from Bradley’s vanilla tendencies), dismantling her body as if he’d known her for decades, leaving her sore and aching in a way she didn’t know was humanly possible.

And now here Y/N is, pacing back and forth from her small living room to her even smaller kitchen, chewing along the knuckle of her forefinger as she tries to tie down the jitters running amuck in her belly. 

She repeatedly smooths down the dress she’s wearing, claiming that it’s to get rid of the wrinkles, but in truth, it’s to wipe the dampness from her palms. The outfit had been a birthday present from her cousin the year before and she’s rarely worn it since the move, which is a direct result of her lack of socializing. She only ever really leaves her home for groceries and to attend work, neither of which call for a pretty sundress and strappy tan sandals. Despite having gone out to the club a few times, the dress doesn’t fit that scene either. LA gets a bit chilly at night and she has yet to grow accustomed to the city’s weather. Wearing this after-hours would surely end with her acquiring a mild case of hypothermia. 

The garment is a light blue baby doll design, littered with tiny daffodil prints of varying shapes and colors. It stops about three-fourths down her thigh, fluttering outwards in layered flares, its bandeau-style top held in place by thin straps of the same fabric. She figured she’d deck herself out nicely; from the one interaction she’d had with Harry, she can tell he’s a person of refined taste. It was evident in his expensive clothing and his wide variety of precious rings. She doesn’t know why, but there’s a toiling in the pit of her tummy urging to impress him. 

Y/N’s hair has been freshly washed and blow-dried, her legs thoroughly shaved into silk, and she’d applied a light layer of makeup, done in anticipation that anything heavier would likely end up smeared across her face— a result of sweat and Harry’s dominant persona. Simply reflecting on his commanding sensual presence makes her self-pedicured toes curl in her sandals. 

Y/N hadn’t been sure on how to prepare for his arrival. She wasn’t versed in advanced hook-up culture— her raunchiest experience was in the backseat of someone's 2004 Toyota Corolla. She doesn’t want to get this wrong. Going overboard would make him feel smothered and awkward, but underselling would give him the impression that she doesn’t have any respect for him, save for what lies between his legs. Those are the last two things she wants him to gather from this. 

She’d settled for pulling out a bottle of red wine that had been a house-warming present from the landlord. Not too shabby, but not too loud. And who doesn’t enjoy a cup of half-decent wine on a Friday evening, right?

Y/N had just finished arranging two glasses— which she’d found at the thrift shop down the street for a steal— onto the counter of her kitchen when that swift rapping sound had broken through the tense air of her home, echoing from the front door and causing a yelp to lodge in her throat. 

Ice shoots through her veins. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She takes a handful of penetrating breaths, concentrating on how the cool air feels expanding her lungs. The technique aids in calming some of her nerves, grounding her just enough that she can will herself to move without her knees giving out. Y/N tentatively makes her way down the corridor that leads to her front door, heart hammering against her ribs. She shouldn’t be this riled up— he’s literally already been inside her. There’s pretty much nothing she can hide from him at this point. 

On the other side of the door, Harry is blissfully ignorant to the panic attack threatening to overcome Y/N. 

The vampire leans his shoulder against the frame of the somewhat raggedy door, arms crossed over his thick chest as his gaze bounces judgmentally around all the patches of peeling paint. He chews at a piece of gum— which he’d popped into his mouth on the drive over to make sure he tastes as delectable as always— in slow, lazy motions, jaw flexing as he unconsciously pops an array of tiny bubbles with his teeth, waiting for Y/N to emerge. 

Harry glances up at the flickering light bulb in the hallway of the complex, nose scrunching in distaste at the annoying flashing. She really needs to get a better place, he thinks, reaching up and dragging the pad of his middle finger along the curve of his bottom lip, absentmindedly wiping off a bit of extra chapstick that had colored outside the lines when he’d applied it. He always tries to keep his mouth soft, especially when he knows he’s going to be using it. Plus, the vanilla bean flavor pairs well with mint. 

The sound of a seal cracking open yanks his attention, the door before him slowly swinging inwards. Cool air pours from inside, bathing him in a scent that his frenzied instincts had been subconsciously craving the last couple of days. Harry cranes his neck over his shoulder, spitting his gum out and not bothering to watch where it lands. He turns back just as Y/N’s familiar figure comes into view.

The first thing he notices is the dress. 

Fuck, the dress. 

It’s nothing too fancy, just a casual sundress, but it fits her like it was made specifically for the purpose of testing his restraint. He rakes his gaze up and down her body shamelessly, much like he had on the night they met. 

The light blue background and rainbow miniature floral print compliments her skin tone nicely, making it stand out below the dingy light hanging above their heads. The piece lands about halfway down her thigh, fanning around her legs slightly in frilly folds, tempting him with that bit of innocent exposure. An image of him ripping the dress up her thighs races across the forefront of his mind and he can feel his fangs momentarily break through his gums.  

As Harry draws his sight upwards, the minimal throbbing between his legs only amplifies. The dress cinches just below her bust, accentuating her chest, and he comes to the painful realization that she’s not wearing a bra underneath; she doesn’t need it due to the bralette-like top. One simple tug of his index finger would leave her completely bare and that conclusion causes a sweltering itch to erupt along the back of his throat.

Harry’s irises finally come to rest on her face, finding that the rest of the human girl’s look appears just as it had last week. Minimal makeup, no accessories, and the smell of chamomile shampoo strung through her hair, though it’s easily smothered by her natural scent of flowers and sugar. He also finds that while he had been blatantly undressing her with his eyes, she had delighted herself in doing the same. Watching her gawk at him hungrily caresses his ego immensely, evident in how the edges of his mouth kink. 

Y/N doesn’t mean to ogle, she really doesn’t. But from the instant he’d come into view, standing there propped against her threshold with his ankles crossed and his lean arms folded over his strong chest, she couldn’t control it. He just looks so fucking good— better than last time, which she didn’t think was plausible— and she gets the feeling that he knows he looks borderline godly. 

Harry’s clad in what appears to be a sheer mesh flouncy button-up with holographic threads speckled through the material, shimmering under the dim atmosphere of the hallway. The last three holes of the shirt are left open, exposing his tanned pectorals and thoroughly inked chest. Last time they had been together, she’d been too distracted by the aching between her thighs to properly notice the swallow tattoos along his collarbones and the giant butterfly at the crest of his stomach. But now, she stares at them freely as they expand and contract with his easy breaths, her mouth beginning to water. 

The blouse is covered by a dark pinstriped blazer, the crisp shoulder blades of the jacket complimenting his broad frame as the curves dip along his waist alluringly. The loose top is tucked in along the brim of yet another pair of high-waisted trousers, though they are creme-colored instead of copper. The ironed pants give way to a pair of glossy black heeled boots, which are bedazzled along the back of the two-inch elevation, the jewels twinkling in the shape of a word that she can’t make out at this angle. 

Harry’s collection of luxurious rings and necklaces adorn their usual spots and she gets the impression that he never leaves home without them. His gold cross earring sways back and forth lightly, her warped reflection cast across its surface and staring back at her numbly. 

Harry breaks through the haze his physique had cast on her brain.

“Nice to see you again, Disco Ball.” 

A shiver slithers down her spine at the deep baritone of his voice, English accent slathered across every syllable and dripping with suggestive teasing. She’d forgotten how sultry he sounds, even when he’s not actively striving for it. 

Y/N’s attention jets up from where it had been pasted to his body, the expression across his handsome features one of snarky self-assurance, which tells her she’d been caught. Indents cave into his cheeks, twitching with glee as he bats his lashes slowly, eyes going half-lidded in amusement. He looks so sinful with those shiny ringlets curling around his small ears, framing his sharp jaw and kissing the nape of his neck, alongside those raspberry red lips and the emerald hue sparkling around his pupils. She can’t tear herself away.

After an elongated second of silence on her part, Harry raises one of his sculpted brows expectantly, letting her know he’s waiting for a response. Heat overflows Y/N’s cheeks and buzzes across the shells of her ears.

“H-Hi. Uh— Nice to see you. Too. Nice to see you, too.”

An odd sense of déjà vu flags in the back of her skull and she’s reminded that this is exactly how they’d met the first time around— with her making an utter fool of herself, much to his entertainment.

The crescent above his top lip curves upwards as a result of his grin widening. He taps the tip of his elegant shoe patiently against the cement ground, arms shifting against his chest and she can see the way his biceps strain the fabric of his coat. He’s just so fit.  

Harry’s tone comes out playful and lighthearted. He doesn’t need to be invited in again since she’s already explicitly allowed him in before, but he asks anyways, out of courtesy. “Can I come in? Or are you planning on taking me dancing or summat?”

The laugh that escapes Y/N is dense with a nervous edge, but it’s better than a stuttering jumble of incoherent words. She moves out of the way, flushing her back to the wall of the tiny entrance corridor and leaving just enough room for him to squeeze by. “Yes, come on in! Sorry.” 

“You’re alright, darling.” The tall vampire steps forward into the mortal’s home, turning sideways as he does so, chest pressing against her own. He glances down at her lips for a flash of a moment, then back to her eyes. “Thank you.”

Y/N’s grip on her doorknob tightens. She looks up at him through her lashes, bottom lip barely trembling. “No problem. Thanks for coming over on such short notice.” 

Harry runs his tongue across his teeth, pressing it to the inside of cheek as he absorbs the mildly erotic image of Y/N decked out in a frilly dress, glancing up at him shyly as her chest heaves slightly against his own. “Well, I couldn’t leave you to handle that pesky wood paneling all on your own, now could I?”

A smile ghosts over her delicate lips as she shuts the door and locks it, not breaking eye contact. “How generous of you. My hero.” 

Far from it, love.

Y/N slips out from where Harry had wedged her to the wall, beckoning him after her with a gentle turn of her head. The creature tucks his hands into his front pockets, following her down the narrow stretch. They drift past her room (he makes sure not to look in and spare himself the horror of seeing that dumb tapestry) and past her bathroom, into the expanse of her living area. It’s just as small and cozy as he remembers it and he can’t stop himself from scoffing lightly as his sight drifts over the couch. Good memories. 

“Would you like some wine?” Y/N’s question carries softly from inside her kitchen. She’s already gripping the glass bottle in her hand, attempting to pull out the cork, and she hadn’t thought of needing a wine-opener until now. Fuck. 

Harry makes his way to join her, passing underneath the archway and taking the spot across from the girl. He leans his lower back on the counter, hands remaining perched casually in his slacks. “I’d love some.”

“Great.” She huffs, twisting stubbornly at the spongy cap with all the might she can muster, the rough surface scratching her palm. “Let me just— just get this open.”

Harry’s head lists sideways as he wards off a chuckle. “Want some help?” 

Y/N releases an irritated grunt, shoulders slumping a tad as she fails to get the top loose. She holds out the bottle towards her visitor, titling it from side to side in surrender. “Be my guest.” 

The immortal pulls his hands out from his pockets, taking the container from her grasp and the human notices how they dwarf the bottle. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. 

Harry wraps his ring-clad digits around the cork, giving it one easy twist and Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off as she hears a pop tinge the air. Harry offers her the wine and cap in return, licking his lips to avoid laughing in her face. Supernatural strength always delivers. 

“How…?” Y/N’s owlish eyes flicker back and forth between Harry’s cocky expression and the object in his hands. “How did you even...?”

The brunette gives her a nonchalant shrug. “Guess you loosened it up for me, Thor.” 

She gingerly takes the beverage and its accompaniment from his outstretched palms, blinking at him in mild shock. Her slight unease is swiftly phased out, however; a result of his cute banter. It was probably just a lucky coincidence. “I guess so.”

Y/N pours out two glasses of the dark red liquid, handing one to Harry, feeling her heart skip a beat when he wraps his hold around the stout flute and their fingers brush. He stays like that for a heartbeat, with his icy digits sifted between hers, the amber specks in his irises glittering like diamonds. Then, the moment is over and he pulls away slowly, guiding his drink up to his plush lips. She hates how he can leave her so breathless without a single hitch. 

The girl watches as Harry takes a leisurely sip of the alcohol, his gaze dancing around her kitchen curiously as she finishes recapping the bottle and scooting it into the corner of the counter. 

A thought dawns on her as soon as she focuses back onto the boy before her. Harry looks weird. He looks so weird standing in her small, dingy kitchen with its worn wooden cabinets and fake marble tabletop. He looks so out of place, dressed head to toe in designer brands and fancy fabrics, hands and neck decorated with posh jewelry, and the unmistakable smell of an expensive cologne wafting from his masculine throat. And he most certainly is out of place when it comes to who he’s associating with. He’s out of Y/N’s league, not only physically, but in his behaviors, as well. It’s so obvious it almost hurts. 

Yet here Harry is, looking polished and stylish, while she’s sporting a mere sundress that was probably bought off the clearance rack at Kohl’s. It just doesn’t mix, and she finds herself wondering why he’d chosen her in the first place. When she had voiced similar concerns the day they’d slept together, he had told her it was because she was timid and he wanted to see if he could break through that. But Y/N isn’t stupid. There has to be some other reason. Why else would a rich bachelor pay attention to a small-town runaway in a measly floral—

“I like your dress.”

Y/N glances up at Harry from where her mind had fallen, startled by the sudden interference in her dark thoughts. She’d been tracing across the slope of his structured jaw, mesmerized by how it would grow taut every time he swallowed down a gulp of his beverage. 

She had ambled so deep in her head, she barely manages to mutter a passable answer. “Oh, thank you! I’ve had it for a bit, but I barely wear it.”

The edges of the vampire’s mouth quirk around the rim of his glass, creases wrinkling along the corners of his bright eyes. “It suits you nicely. A beautiful dress on a beautiful girl.” 

Y/N’s belly somersaults, a sheepish giggle running along the undercurrent of her next mumble, so low it’s hardly audible. “Thank you. Again. Thought I’d bring it out for a special occasion.” 

Harry’s eyebrows jump upwards at her comment. He draws his wine glass from between his lips, resting it against his hard stomach and gifting the human a cheeky once-over. “So I’m a special occasion, now, am I?”

Y/N looks down at the straps of her sandals, fighting off a grin. She shrugs one shoulder offhandedly, bringing her cup to her mouth and taking a long drag of the sweet liquor, feeling it wash across her tongue and leave a warm glow in her tummy. “Maybe.” 

Harry hums teasingly in his throat, tapping his pinky pensively along the bottom of his glass, opal ring clinking against the crystalline surface. The color of his drink makes the black polish on his nails stand out almost artistically. “I’ll take any compliment I can get, especially from those pretty lips.”

Another wave of heat flushes across the apples of Y/N’s cheeks. “You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?”

The monster tips back another swig of wine, savoring the notes of wild cherry and pomegranate in its palate. Not bad, especially for what he can tell is a ten dollar bottle. 

He cocks his head to the side, irises glitzing knowingly amidst his long lashes. “I think we’re both aware that I most certainly know how to flatter a girl.” 

Y/N’s stare snaps up to lock with his, the faintest whimper stringing her vocal chords. If it wasn’t for Harry’s heightened hearing, he would have never known it’d happened. But he does, and he can feel the throb between his thighs spike as a result. The sounds she makes are just as wonderful as he remembers.

The sexual tension suspending in the room is practically palpable. After a bundle of her heartbeats— which is gradually rising in intensity— echo in his ears, he decides to speak up again. 

“I’ve been thinking about you.” 

The statement can be taken into so many different contexts and that’s why Harry chose it. She could interpret it as innocent admiration on behalf of a smitten lover, or as another layer of sensual praise. It’s versatile, successful either way. 

Y/N blinks at him exactly three times in surprise. “You have?”

She’d been thinking about him, too. Non-stop. And now that she knows it’s mutual, she doesn’t feel so nervous anymore. It reassures her that they’re on the same page of this messy novel written about their undefined association. Or that they are at least within the same chapter.  

Harry bobs his head in confirmation, indulging another sip of wine, letting it filter through his taste buds slowly. His glass is almost empty. “Mmhm. Walked past this candle store at the mall the other day and they had one burning that smelled just like you.”

His confession is sweet and it makes the tips of her fingers tingle. Y/N copies his action, taking another gulp of her beverage, attitude airy and inquisitive. “Is that so? And what do I smell like?”

Harry’s response is immediate and confident, almost as if he’s spent time thinking on the subject prior to today. “Honey and lavender.” 

Y/N nods her head in wonder, laughing gently. “That’s oddly specific.” 

Harry feels like he’s been smacked between the eyes with an iron rod. That was an idiot move. Absolutely moronic. 

He just now comes to terms with how intimate the comment he’d made had been. It suggests that he’s pondered on this topic, which gives the impression that he could be more interested in her than he actually is. He doesn’t need this loose connection turning into some type of cliche romantic comedy; he doesn’t have the space, patience, or emotional stability for it. And certainly not with someone he’s only fucked once. 

The vampire clears his throat, figuring that he can clean up this metaphorical spill by throwing a bit of crudeness at it. “Then yesterday I had a donut, yeah? One of those cream-filled ones. And when I took a bite of it, all the cream just came oozing out and I was like, ‘hm, this reminds me of someone…’”

The slightly endeared expression on Y/N’s face crumbles to dust, voice shrill and indignant at his lewd analogy. “You fucking perv!” 

Harry sputters into a round of boyish cackling, nearly wheezing when her foot reaches over and strikes him on the shin. He clasps over his stomach with his free hand, head falling back in glee as her features pinch in embarrassed disgust. He manages to speak between bursts of giggles, water gathering along his tear ducts due to how hard he’s laughing. “I’m just being honest!”  

“No, you’re being a gross little fourteen year old asshole!” Y/N exclaims incredulously, but she can’t keep herself from joining in on his boasts of amusement. 

His laughter is contagious. It’s loud and unapologetic in a manner she rarely sees in anyone and he just looks really fucking cute with his dimples jolting and smile lines creasing. It’s hard to stay mad at him, though it’s not like she’d truly been upset in the first place. 

Harry reigns himself in, inhaling deep breaths and wiping at his tears with the back of his large hand as a joyful groan rumbles in his chest. A few more giggles sneak out when he sees Y/N’s flat expression, but he manages to stifle the rest. His tone is jesting, poking fun. “If it makes you feel any better, I was respectful enough to wipe the donut down with a napkin, as well.” 

“Fuck off.”

Harry grins down snidely at the last inch or so of alcohol left in his glass, bringing it to his mouth and downing it all in one go. He places the cup down carefully on the counter behind him, his arms finding their way across his stomach, fingertips momentarily tapping at his elbows. He appraises a playfully grouchy Y/N, pursing his lips to hide a smirk. 

He watches as she takes another small taste from her drink, her pulse lulled by its contents. She’s not drunk by any means— not even buzzed— but it had helped calm the tittering in her throat that Harry had been able to detect earlier. She’s relaxed now, all anxiousness washed away by the small serving of liquor and his inappropriate (and extremely funny, if he does say so himself) jokes. 

The creature thinks it’s proper time he gets what he came for. 

“I really am glad you reached out, though.” Harry starts, an easygoing smile nudging across his alcohol-swollen mouth. “Truly.” 

Y/N snorts sarcastically, attempting to hide how his comment had made her pulse sharpen. He’d heard it anyways. “Oh, are you? Truly?”

Harry pushes himself off the edge of the counter, slowly sauntering over to Y/N, who instinctively draws back further against the tabletop behind her. She ogles at him from below heavy lashes, glass still perched between her tinted lips, excited anticipation written all over her body language. He can practically feel the heat radiating off her, rising a few notches the closer he gets. 

“Yeah.” Harry’s arms unfold, one stretching over her shoulder to prop his palm against the cupboard behind her head, the other fiddling with the seam of his blazer. He slides his forefinger and thumb along the single buttoned hole, giving it a rough tug and allowing his jacket to spring open. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun interior designing with anyone. Not for a while.” 

Y/N glimpses down at where his coat had parted, drinking up the sight of his lean torso behind the see-through material of his shirt. Now that he’s nearly pressed against her, his scent is stronger than before, burying her under smoky notes of vanilla and seasoned firewood. A familiar heat pools between her clasped thighs. 

When she pipes up, it’s shaky and whispered, covered in a dreamy undercurrent. “Yeah, me either. It felt...nice.”

Harry’s irises flash crimson for a millisecond, but she’s too occupied gawking at his tight stomach to notice. His dialect takes on a low, seductive twang, the breath of his words fanning across her face. All she can smell is wine, mint, and...vanilla chapstick? 

“It felt really nice.” 

Y/N’s view drags up to land on his lips. They look as soft and appetizing as last time, tempting her to just drop her flute onto the floor and replace it with his mouth. “Extremely nice.” 

An outside force suddenly tips her glass upwards and she realizes it’s Harry’s fingers. He nudges her cup until the liquid inside funnels towards her mouth, his intentions set on helping her finish it off. She drains the wine obediently, staring up at him dazed and moony, feeling a few drops escape along the sides of her mouth and tickle down her chin. The jade-eyed boy then gently pries the glass from her fingertips, reaching over and placing it inside her sink to be handled later. 

Y/N’s hands fall flat against his thick chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily below her grasp as he takes a step forward, their bodies completely flushing together. His palm trails up the exposed sliver of her thigh, diving a couple of inches below her dress and giving the outer area a hard squeeze. He doesn’t go any further; he won’t until she explicitly asks for it. He’s a prick about a lot of things, but never consent.

Harry leans down, running the tip of his cold nose along her clenched jaw, his warm tongue peeking out to collect the streams of wine that had dripped out. The contrast in sensations makes her knees buckle and what he murmurs hotly against her skin doesn’t help in calming those motions at all.

“Wouldn’t mind making you feel that nice again.” 

Y/N’s mind stalls, overwhelmed by his touch and smell. She can feel him sponging tender kisses at the corner of her mouth, and she can feel the palm of his hand massaging at her thigh needily. She can feel his breaths quickening in pace the longer he’s around her, and she can feel the foundation of a moan building in his lungs in the form of small vibrations, which run across her palms and twitch her fingers. She can feel everything; she’s never been more hyper-aware of her surroundings than now. And all because of this one mysterious young man. 

When Y/N finally speaks, Harry feels relief flood his system, though it is swiftly replaced by intense desire. 

“I wouldn’t mind it, either.” 

That’s full permission if he’s ever heard it. 

Harry’s other hand drops from its spot against the cupboard behind her, joining its partner on her opposite thigh. He coasts his palms fully below her flowy dress onto her hips, a lascivious simper crawling across his cheeks at the lack of extra fabric beneath her clothes. “No panties tonight?”

The human swallows heavily, shaking her head as she leans it back against the wooden cabinets, giving him access to her throat. At the sight, the vampire’s fangs protrude, cutting into the inside of his lower lip as venom fills his mouth. He wills himself to maintain control. It’s difficult, considering his sharp eyes can make out the chiseling of her arteries pumping blood just beneath her delicate skin, but he forces composure into his behavior nonetheless. With all of the lights on and Y/N completely sober, he knows he won’t get away with another mid-fuck stunt like the one he pulled last time they were in this position. 

Instead, he distracts himself with what he can draw from her at this very moment— another unbelievable orgasm. 

“Such a filthy little fucking thing.” Harry growls, smearing his lips down the center of her jugular, nipping love bites into her flesh but making sure not to split it open. “S’that how bad you wanted it when you texted me? So bad that you didn’t even bother to wear anything underneath?”

Y/N whines softly when he passes over a particularly tender spot along her neck, shuttering against his chest. “Y-Yes.” 

A low chuckle rolls from Harry’s wandering tongue as he hones in on the area that had coaxed such a delicious reaction. “Fuck, that was such a pretty noise. Are you sensitive here, baby?”

Y/N nods with fervor, running her touch up his pectorals and over his strong shoulders, diving under his coat and fisting at the mesh that strains across his muscular back. Her eyes roll closed, her next confession coming out in the form of a feathery sigh, legs parting wider for him to comfortably fit in between. “I just...I just need you.”

Harry eagerly accepts the invitation, sifting between her thighs and hiking them up onto his hips. The fact that he can suspend her so effortlessly, almost as if she weighs nothing, makes the pit of her tummy boil. “You need me now, d’you? How much, doll? Want you to tell me how much you missed my cock.” 

The young woman winces ever so slightly at the crude word and it amuses him to no end. “So fucking much, Harry.” 

He can confidently say his name has never sounded sweeter than when it trickles from Y/N’s tongue. 

When he speaks, it’s packed with all the pent up turmoil radiating deep in his abdomen. “Did you think about me the way I thought about you?”

Y/N’s reply falls breathily from her mouth without any hesitation. “Y-Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”

A cocky hum tinges the air on his behalf. “And why’s that?”

“Because…” The girl struggles to swallow, finding it difficult to match how easily brazen he can be. She pushes through. “Because you fucked me better than anyone else ever has.” 

The compliment is one Harry gets often, but for some inexplicable reason, it hits so much deeper coming from Y/N. “Mm. Poor baby just needed to get properly rawed, didn’t you?”

“Had no idea how badly I wanted it until you came along.” 

A dark chuckle rolls from the creature’s lips at her bluntness. He repeatedly passes his textured tongue over the pressure point on her throat, flames igniting in his chest when she releases another watery, desperate mewl. “God, look at you. Practically already dripping. Like it when I play with you like that?”

“Fuck, y-yes.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

And so Harry keeps going, and he doesn’t stop. Not at her neck, and not anywhere else. Not until she begs him to hours later, when he’s whittled three orgasms out of her trembling body, each one more intense than the last. 

The first one takes place right there on top of the kitchen counter. He boosts her up onto the table, bunching her pretty sundress around her quivering thighs— as he’d fantasized prior— while she fumbles with his trousers. He tends to her every breathy whimper as she eases him out of his briefs, marking his teeth all over her throat with the assurance that his blood will fade the bruises by morning. He tears his jacket down his broad shoulders, panting into her mouth as she undoes all the buttons that line his elegant iridescent shirt, moaning softly when she breaks their kiss to paint her hot lips down the expanse of his heaving chest and tight stomach. Y/N ducks down as far as her angle will allow, wanting to taste as much of his skin as she can. She wants to memorize its salty smoothness for as long as she lives. 

Harry watches her with bliss-drunken fondness twitching his mouth, head falling back to hang between his shoulders as a low, “Such a good girl.” rumbles from his throat. His ring-clad fingers tangle into her locks and scratch at her scalp lightly, strained exhales encouraging her to keep going as she delights herself with tainting love bites all over him. He yanks the girl back up by her roots, grabbing her hips and roughly scooting her forward towards him, clammy foreheads pressing together as he fixes to fill her up for the first time in what feels like eternity. 

The monster’s voice is as dominant and thick as she likes it. “Eyes up here. Want to see you come undone while I fuck you.” 

The way he spreads Y/N open makes her choke out a scream like nothing else she’s ever heard. Harry simply clamps one of his palms over her mouth, continuing to ram into her at a harsh stride, gasping against her ear with every thrust as she rakes her nails across his back. “Gotta keep that pretty mouth quiet. Thin walls.” 

The human feels like her heart is going to break through her ribs and what she doesn’t know is that with every passing beat, Harry feels it tenfold. And it’s driving him fucking insane— she drives him fucking insane. Especially when she looks at him with that glossy, begging gaze, biting into the mound of his hand as he slams his hips inside her so hard, the glasses in her cupboard shake. “Like it when I give it to you rough? Yeah, I thought so. Just like that? Harder? Say please…Christ, you’re a fucking angel.”

Y/N is dirty. So fucking filthy, and Harry loves every second of it. Loves that anything he throws out, she returns with as much enthusiasm, if not more. Loves that she can take his cock as hard as he’s willing to give it, which says a lot, considering his stamina and strength usually surpasses most humans. He’d met very few mortals who can match his sexual prowess and she happens to be one of them. She not only takes it, but pleads for more. She doesn’t just seek her own pleasure, but insists on delivering his own. And though they’re polars opposites at their core— she’s timid, physically standard, and boringly normal, whereas he’s confident, attractive, and unusually superior in every sense of the phrase— they fit together better than he’d ever care to admit. They’re perfectly compatible, down to their personalities and their intimate needs. 

As Harry stands there— fingertips leaving welts across her waist as he grunts brokenly against her throat, stretching her out like she was meant to take him this deep, her moans sounding like classical melodies to his ears— he thinks that maybe...maybe he’ll keep her around. A friends with benefits situation would be the most ideal. And to quote his own clever motto from before, it would be mutualism at its finest. 

The alliance would be nothing emotional; simply for the sake of providing each other with requited relief, as well as providing Harry with a convenient feeding arrangement. Neither of them would have to submit themselves to going to those terrible clubs, they both already know what the other enjoys, and the banter they share is pretty fulfilling. Plus, her blood is one of the sweetest he’s ever had. Whatever magic lies in her veins tides over his cravings in a fashion he’s never quite experienced. They both get what they want and don’t have to deal with the disasters of real commitment; neither are in a place in their lives where they can shoulder such a big responsibility. Harry is emotionally unavailable, as he has been for the past two centuries and as he intends to be for the next dozen. Y/N has just started anew in a place where she has so little to give and so much to lose, dating is the last thing on her mind. A casual no-strings-attached arrangement would be a perfect gift, bow and all.

And with the way they make each other cum multiple times that night— once on the counter, and twice on that trusty old couch— there’s not a single doubt in Harry’s mind that this is most definitely mutualism at its peak. 

///

During the span of the next few weeks, Harry learns a lot about Y/N. It’s surprising how informational someone’s sex habits can be. 

The second week after they had met— and the first since their second very heated, very satisfying encounter— she shoots him a text on Wednesday, of all days. 

Harry isn’t doing anything particularly interesting when he receives her message. He had gone to see Mitch play at the bar that had recently booked him as a semi-permanent gig, sitting in the booth furthest in the back from all of the ruckus, fingers tapping along the waxed table to his best friend’s skilled jazzy guitar chords. Mitch always teases Harry about how he doesn’t have a job, which the vampire always waves off. Working for money is stupid and unnecessary; any materialistic wants and needs that plague him, he can get with the help of compulsion. Therefore, what’s the use in condemning himself the horrors of customer service or a constricting office cubicle? 

His best friend is halfway through his set when Harry’s device vibrates against the sticky surface before him, tittering fingers coming to an abrupt stop. He flips over his iPhone, eyes flickering over the screen, a coy grin spreading its way across his blushed lips. Y/N’s contact beams up at him in return. He’d set her profile as just her name alongside three disco ball emojis, for the sake of their little inside joke. 

I’m getting off work a bit earlier than I thought today and was wondering if you wanted to help me with my ceiling fan.

Harry bites into his bottom lip to muffle a chuckle, shaking his head lightly as he stares down at the comical request. 

That’s odd. Last time I was there, you didn’t HAVE a ceiling fan.

Y/N sits on her lunch break in the backroom of the cafe where she’s employed, a veggie wrap halfway suspended towards her mouth when Harry’s text bloops in, pointing out her embarrassing mistake. She blinks at his correction blankly, eyes closing in faint humiliation as her true intentions are now painfully clear. 

After a second of recollection, she types back some damage control, though it hardly has an impact. Harry’s already chortling to himself just thinking about how contorted her face must look at the moment.

I’m aware, thank you. I meant I wanted help picking one out. I’ve got a few tabs saved as potentials. 

He decides to be a little shit about this whole thing, continuing to mock her.

You could just send me the links right now and I can tell you which one I like. You know that, right?

Y/N knows that. She also knows, by the tone and texture of his response, he’d only mentioned that alternative to be annoying. He knows she’s not talking about ceiling fans, and he just wants her to chase after him. Unfortunately enough for Y/N’s pride, she’s more than willing to.  

I just think your opinion would be much more valuable and effective in person, since you’d be able to help me search for other ones at the same time. We’d cover more ground. Two heads are better than one!

We do make quite the team, don’t we?

I personally think so. A dynamic duo for the books, honestly.

A soft round of applause cuts through the air around the vampire, signaling the end of Mitch’s performance. Harry glances up to see his best friend mounting his guitar back into its case, smiling bashfully at the crowd and nodding his head in thanks to all their praise. Harry coins his luck; things couldn’t have wrapped up at a better time. 

Alright, Watson. What time will you be home?

Y/N stops mid-chew through a bite of her meal, cheeks puffed as the corners of her mouth twitch at his nerdy reference.

I’m off at 6:45. Should be home by 7. 

I’ll see you there, then. 

See you there. Also, why do YOU get to be Sherlock? Seems a bit sexist. 

Harry rolls his eyes at her quip, smirking to himself as he types out his final response.

Well, first and foremost, I’m literally English. Secondly, last time I checked, I’m always the one in control. And frankly, you seem to like it that way. See you at seven, darling.

And at seven on the dot, Harry’s outside her apartment. His friends would be amazed at his punctuality. He only shows it when it’s worth the trouble.

The creature walks up the steps to the mortal’s complex with his Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, keychain tucked into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans, and his tan Chelsea boots clicking against the cement ground. A light wind whips his Keith Harrington Safe Sex t-shirt against the broad muscles of his back, drawing a soothed sigh from his lungs. He loves the California weather. 

He gives her door three swift knocks with his ring-clad knuckles, stepping back from the entrance and clasping his large hands behind his back as he waits. 

When Y/N answers, Harry tilts his chin down a smidge, looking at her over the brim of his chic black glasses with his signature dazzling smile dimpling his cheeks. He lists his head slightly in a formal greeting. “Detective.” 

The girl’s irises flit up to the ceiling as amusement twitches her lips. She plays along. “Nice to see you again. Detective.”

She moves off to the side, beckoning him to come in and he gladly takes the offer, striding into the flat and down the narrow corridor he’s grown quite familiar with. Y/N follows him back into her living room, gaze quickly drinking up his appearance. He’s casual today— less jewelry, more comfortable clothes— and he works the normal fit as effortlessly as he works his fancy brands. Especially with those tight dark jeans. They hug his thighs in a fashion that should be illegal. 

Harry twists around on his heel to face her, reaching up to remove his sunglasses and tucking them along the collar of his tee. A handful of curls fall across his forehead, framing his face and sculpting his jaw, as usual. A sweep across Y/N’s physique tells him everything he needs to know. 

She’s still in her work clothes, clad in a navy blue polo shirt and a pair of dark skinnies similar to his. Her hair is down, though the strands have a dent that suggests she’d been wearing a ponytail. Her mascara is smudged a tad under her seemingly tired eyes, but her attitude is as bright and lively as always. She appears messy, but he likes it. It’s a type of unconventional beauty that’s natural and genuine, which he can appreciate.

He contemplates her with a certain slyness that makes her shift in her socked feet. 

“I got a message earlier. Sounded kinda frantic.” He drifts closer to the human, a sultry tension growing taut between them. He glances upward for an instant, as if recalling a thought. “Something about ceiling fans…?”  

Y/N chews into her cheek to keep from giggling, allowing him to press his chest to hers. He slowly begins to back her up towards the shabby couch, which has seen this interaction happen one too many times. “Yeah, I’m thinking of getting one. Figured it’d help. It just gets really hot in here sometimes, y’know?”

“Mmm…” Harry thrums in agreement, deep in the back of his throat. His hands crawl onto her hips and grasps them somewhat roughly, index fingers hooking into the belt loops of her jeans as he leans down to brush his soft lips over her own. She’ll never grow tired of the electricity that passes through them every time their mouths touch. It kindles her needs unlike anything else. “It does get pretty hot in here sometimes. Especially if you’re working up a sweat.” 

He pushes her further towards the sofa, movements gradual as she drifts backwards, careful not to trip her. She glimpses down at where their lips are flirting, breath hiccuping when he licks his lightly in anticipation, his tongue just barely grazing her Cupid’s bow. “Absolutely. A fan would definitely help relieve some of that stress.” 

“Yeah.” Harry nudges the tip of her nose with his own, feeling her grab at his biceps for security as he continues inching her backwards blindly. “It can work wonders for when you’re all pent up, too. Especially when you’re really tight, which I know for a fact you are.”

The backs of the girl’s knees hit the edge of the couch and she topples into its cushions. She sits up onto her elbows, sheer need inking into her irises as he patiently begins to undo his belt. His long, nimble fingers work with ease and he seems to be in no particular rush, which pricks at her nerves because she feels completely the opposite. She’d been thinking about him since Friday night— or rather, Saturday morning, when he had actually stayed for breakfast that time around. 

Y/N had sat on top of her small dining table while he took the seat before her shirtless, leaning forward with his arms crossed nonchalantly over her lap as she fed him bites of lemon blueberry pancakes. The pads of his calloused fingers had drawn random shapes across the warm skin of her thighs, attempting to cheekily slip beneath her pajamas shorts and he’d giggle boyishly around mouthfuls of food every time she would swat his hand away. He looked so fucking pretty that morning, with his curls tangled in tuffs and the vague imprint of her teeth scattered across his grinning mouth, angry red scratches decorating his bare shoulders. That wholesome yet dirty image had left her head spinning for days. 

The sound of Harry’s zipper ripping open blinks Y/N back into the present and she nearly gawks as he grabs onto the hem of his graphic t-shirt and yanks it over his head, arms crossing as he does so. He tosses it onto her playfully, laughing as she smacks it away from her face and gives him a deadpan look. Harry leans forward, propping his palms on either sides of her head and bracketing her in, the unmissable scent of his delicious cologne invading her senses as his dark tattoos ripple over the lean tendons of his stomach and arms. His strangely cold forehead flushes against hers and he nips at her top lip, tugging it between his teeth and releasing. His voice comes out as deep and hypnotizing as ever. 

“Get undressed for me. Want your thighs wrapped around my head.” 

Harry comes to find that for such a reserved girl, Y/N has a pretty intriguing sexual mindset. She’s open to a lot of stuff he’d never expect from a rural-town escapee. Her kinks surprise him, but pleasantly so, considering they cross over with a lot of his own. She’s into choking, which he adores. There’s nothing hotter than feeling her pulse slam against the palm of his hand as his array of rings mark into the delicate skin of her throat. She likes being restrained, which translates into Harry pinning her wrists above her head while he slams between her drenched thighs. It’s difficult to achieve that on the sofa, so they end up rolling across the rug on the floor, her legs tangled around his hips like a vine as he pants into her mouth, damp hair flopping over his forehead and tickling her eyelashes. Ideally, he would have used his belt to tie her hands to a headboard. If they were at his place, he would’ve just reached for the metal cuffs he has hanging casually off the railing of his bed, which he keeps there for easy access. But they’re in her living room, so he makes do with what he can. 

The vampire doesn’t stay over that night, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he promised Niall he’d help him out with a car issue. Apparently the motor is making a weird noise and Harry isn’t shocked one bit. Niall barely has the brain cells to be alive, much less to handle the upkeep that comes with owning a vintage vehicle. He thanks Y/N for a good time as he slips into his tight jeans and recovers his sunglasses from the floor, pulling his tee over the already fading hickies littering his collarbones, fitting his accessory into his sweaty curls. 

Harry leans down to where she lays limply, splayed over the couch where he had placed her after picking her up off the ground (only after he’d made her cum twice). He plants a nonchalant farewell kiss to her parted lips, thumbing over her bruised nipples jestingly and grinning into her mouth when she whimpers. “I’ll see you later, Watson. Let me know which fan you decide to buy.” 

Two days later, Harry’s phone chimes again, this time with the unique ringtone he’d assigned just for her. 

He’s relaxing in his bathtub, submerged up to his chest in hot water mixed with Epsom salts and jasmine bubble bath, his locks sudsy with shampoo. He’s in the middle of shaving his face, dragging the straight razor (his time in the nineteen thirties made him picky towards any other tool, especially those simpleton plastic ones) down his jaw carefully, making sure not to nick the little moles under the corner of his mouth. When his device goes off, he halts all his motions, glancing over from the hand mirror he’s holding before his face. He’d changed her contact name to Watson as homage to their funny little dynamic, but he’d kept the disco balls in their place. He respects the roots of their acquaintanceship.

Fan came in. Wanna come check it out?

He had a nagging suspicion he’d hear from her today. It’s another Friday night, after all. He’s just happy she’d texted earlier than last time so he can flake on his friends without forcing them to wait for an hour. 

Wow, you chose two day shipping? You must be itching to see me.

Don’t let it go to your head. The only thing I’m itching for is your professional opinion. 

Right. Well, me and my professional opinion are washing up at the moment so give me thirty minutes and I’ll be there, yeah?

Sounds good to me, Sherlock. 

Harry decides on an outfit that falls at the center of his dressing spectrum— something comfortable but not lazy. Something semi-formal. He doesn’t really have to impress her anymore (not that he had to try that hard in the first place) but he wants to look good, either way. There’s nothing wrong with showing off what he has, both physically and wardrobe-wise. He chooses a horizontal-striped fitted tee made of thick cotton, the lines alternating between brown, beige, and a light caramel. He tucks the shirt into a pair of mid-rise corduroy flared pants that are a dark mustard shade, shrugging on an olive green jacket with red and white stitch detailing along the edges, large images of cacti embroidered along its expanse. His pearls, cross necklace, and he opts out of his earring this time. Rings, vanilla chapstick, mint gum. Keys, wallet, starch white Vans. 

Before he knows it, he’s being roughly pulled into her home from his spot just outside her threshold, his cherry-lacquer nails carding into the silky hair along the nape of Y/N’s neck as his teeth skim over the hollow of her throat. The human grapples to push his coat off his wide shoulders, backing further down the small hallway of her flat and kicking the door shut. She holds his head firmly to the sensitive spot in her neck that he’d toyed with a week prior, and he can’t resist the way his eyes blink crimson— a hunting impulse, stemming from the sound of her blood rushing through her carotid artery. He hadn’t fed last time— vampires only need to feed once a week to avoid desiccation— so he surely intends to tonight. 

Harry’s hands fit perfectly around the dip of her spine, pulling her body tight to his as he paints sloppy kisses over her jugular. He gets his teasing words out in between desperate gasps and breathy chuckles. “And here I thought this was genuinely going to be about the fan.”

“Shut up.” 

Y/N makes a sharp turn, tugging him into her room instead of the living room and it dawns on him that this is the first time they’re going to fuck in her actual bed. All those instances of sleeping together and not once had they done anything on the piece of furniture that was intended for that sole purpose. It’s ironically hilarious and he voices that opinion as they stumble onto her mattress. 

“You know,” Harry murmurs into her mouth as she shoves him flat onto the rumpled sheets (she hadn’t made her bed this morning and that’s endearing, for some reason), straddling his lap as she hurriedly pulls his t-shirt out from along the waistband of his trousers. “Out of all the times we’ve done this— which is quite a few— we’ve never done anything on your bed other than sleep.” 

That’s a lie. He’s never actually slept in her bed. After staring at the ceiling blankly two weeks ago for about eight hours, he had been smart enough to grab his phone from his pants the second time around. He spent that stretch of time playing Mario Kart and watching Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix with the volume down just out of human earshot, so as to not disturb her slumber. 

Y/N ducks in order to drag her wet, pillowy lips down the butterfly inking on his tummy and over the spines of the two ferns on his pelvis, licking across his happy trail. He jerks in response, a soft grunt gurgling in his lungs as she uses her index finger to trace the outline of his hardening cock through the velvet fabric of his slacks. Her voice is distant, giggle breathless. “Yeah, you’re right. How counterintuitive.”

Harry swiftly pops the button of his trousers, helping her coax them down his legs, releasing a stuttery moan when she immediately bends down and mouths at his prick over his briefs. The soiled stain forming around the tip of his cock would be embarrassing if he didn’t know she found it hot. 

His tone is tight but humorous as she continues licking at him eagerly through his underwear, nails digging into his inner thighs. “Am I your first?”

Confusion flickers in her eyes for a moment before she realizes the joke. He’s referring to if he’s the first person she’s slept with on her new bed in her new home. “Yes, you are, actually.” 

Harry’s juts his bottom lip out into an overly-sweet exaggerated pout, talking in a honeyed drawl. “Aw, I get to christen your bed with you? We’re practically married now. When’s the baby due?” 

“God, you’re a moron.” Y/N bursts into a fit of laughter as she mounts back onto his lap, pinching at his torso in fake spite and feeling her insides flutter at the airy giggles that escape him. She gnaws on her bottom lip thoughtfully for a second, watching with hunger as he finishes removing his shirt and momentarily sits up to chuck it onto the ground over her shoulder. 

Harry falls back onto the mattress, folding his taut arms behind his neck, biceps flexing with the movements as his strong chest and toned stomach look as appealing as ever. She runs her palms over his tanned skin, feeling the sturdy muscle shift beneath her touch. Shit.

The immortal slinks his head to the side, eyes going half-lidded in suggestive mischief as he sees the way she’s objectifying him. He doesn’t mind; he actually lives for it. “Are you just gonna keep staring or are you gonna fuck me?”

His lewd comment washes warmth across Y/N’s ears and spurs her into action. In less than a minute, she’s fully unclothed, bouncing on his cock with a type of need that boils the pit of Harry’s belly. His fingers are digging bruises into her waist, slamming her down onto his prick with enough force to make the old bed creak wildly. She may be on top, but he’s still the one pulling the strings. 

Y/N collapses forward, anchoring herself onto her forearms on either sides of his head, burying her face in his auburn ringlets. She bites onto her tongue, trying to keep a tab on the atrociously loud sounds threatening to spill from her mouth. They come out as broken whines instead, which Harry drinks up like a glass of aged bourbon. She fists at his roots, jolting with every thrust he gives upwards, her knees digging into his love handles to keep balanced. At this point, she’s barely riding him at all. He’s just ramming himself into her from below as he guides her hips and she doesn’t have an issue with that at all. She likes when he leads.  

His growl comes out low and raspy, riding on a moan, his warm, choppy exhales pebbling her bare nipples. “How’s that, darling? How’s that cock feel?”

Y/N nods her head frantically, not trusting her tongue to form an appropriate response. 

“Tell me.” He grits out through bared teeth, back arching a bit as he feels the knot of white hot pleasure in his stomach twist and turn. 

“I— I can’t. I’m—”

One of Harry’s hands coasts down the small of her back and onto her ass, giving it a harsh squeeze. She yelps at the new sensation, pain and bliss intermingling. “Yeah, you fucking can. You will. Use your words. Tell me how much you like it.”

A violent shutter runs through Y/N’s limbs and she instinctively pushes back against his palm. Harry’s eyebrows kink in question as he feels her draw her face back from his hair. One look at her eyes tells the entire narrative: She wants him to spank her. 

Harry slowly lifts his hand from her skin, brows raising a bit higher for confirmation. Y/N smears his lips against his forehead and left cheekbone, bobbing her head desperately, whispering a tiny, “Yes, please.” that sends smoky tendrils of hot air cascading down his straining neck. 

When the vampire’s hand comes down, it’s fast and hard, his cold rings biting into her flesh and leaving welts, the sound echoing off the glossy walls and tall bookshelf in her room. The cry that betrays her could probably be heard down on the main floor of her complex. 

The shattered noise makes Harry sanity slip and he’s lucky she’s too lost in her own bliss to see the way his eyes glow dangerously red. “Fuck, you’re such a slut for it.” 

Harry suddenly boosts himself forward, toppling Y/N backwards until she’s the one wedged against the bed. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, nestling her face into the crook of his sweaty collarbones, cracked cries pooling into the junction of his clavicle as he hikes her roughly up his thighs. He sinks further between her legs until he bottoms out with a loud garbled groan, pushing so deep she can feel him in the trench of her belly. 

“Oh my God, Harry— I— fuck, just—just— oh!”

His pace rises in intensity, strokes messy and unforgivable as he fucks her into the bed, the cracking of the frame warning him that it might give away. “Oh, so you liked that, did you? Like it when I call you a slut and stretch you out like one?”

Harry feels Y/N’s teeth rip into his shoulder in order to evade a scream; a strong shiver pin-balls down his spine as a result. Her voice is absolutely wrecked as she talks over her muffled mouth. “Loved it. Loved it so much. Want—Want more. Please, please, please.”

Harry holds her down firmly to the sheets, pounding into her with a form of unrestrained force he’s never exhibited. She just drives him to the brink like no one else has in nearly twenty decades. “Can you feel me in your tummy, pet? Can you feel how I fill you up?” 

“Yes, yes— it’s so good, Harry. You’re incredible.”

“Such a proper little whore.” He has to actively hold back from digging into her throat with his fangs, his eyes screwing shut in concentration as his orgasm begins to burn through his veins. “Begging me to fuck you like one, over and over. You’ve never had it this good, have you?” 

“N-No. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.”  

“Hands off.” 

“W-What?”

“Hands off.”

Y/N obeys, throwing her arms above her head and letting them hang off the edge of the bed as he’d instructed. It’s not like he wants her to stop scratching down his back, but he knows that if she continues, he’s going to black out. He’s already teetering, obvious in the black webs he can feel materializing over the whites of his eyes.

“Ask for permission.” 

The mortal unclamps her teeth from his bruised shoulder and swallows heavily, her words sputtering out from how hard she’s jerking against the bed. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please—can I—can I cum?”

“‘May I cum.’” The boy corrects, half because he wants to be a cocky ass, and half because it’s automatic. He was raised during an era where intellectual accuracy was of utmost value in society. It’s hard to leave those lessons behind. 

Y/N hiccups another mewl, hands curling into loose fists above her head as he continues to fuck her deliberately into the duvet. She repeats his phrase shakily. “May I cum? Please?”

Harry’s lashes flutter open and as soon as he sees her, all doe-eyed, covered in his love marks, with her bottom lip trembling...It’s like a switch flips. When he speaks, it’s soft and encouraging; a drastic contrast from his mood a few seconds ago. “Yeah...Yeah, baby, go ahead. Cum for me.” 

That night, as Harry lays there awake staring at that awful popcorn roof with the taste of her blood fresh on his tongue and her steady heartbeat throbbing in his heightened ears, he catches himself smiling in the dark. It doesn't have to do with emotions or feelings or any of that complicated bullshit. It just has to do with the fact that he found some consistency in his life, as unattached and materialistic as it may be. They don’t have a complex bond or a deeper meaning. They simply just coexist. They provide some common stability to each others’ lives and it helps keep an important balance. Stability is so rare to find, especially for an immortal who is condemned to witness the world constantly evolve around them while they remain frozen in time. Society will change, people change, appearances change, alliances change, and though it can be exhilarating, at times, Harry never truly has a say in it. He’s always just strung along for the ride.

This is different. It’s static, and that’s all he really needs it to be. Sex can be so emotionally messy if lines aren’t drawn and boundaries aren’t set. But with Y/N, it’s like they have a silent understanding— an unspoken agreement signed by both parties. It’s a notion that could have spared Harry his life in the past, and it’s an ideal that— even in death— took him centuries to learn:

Some people are meant to be loved, while others are just meant to be naked. 

///

The third week is when things escalate for the better. 

Specifically, Tuesday night. That’s when the sexting starts. 

It’s a pretty calm evening and Harry finds himself with nothing to do. Mitch is out with Sarah, who had come into town two days ago due to the band she’s touring with being on a three week break. She’d said she wasn’t staying for long— maybe a week, because she has plans to visit some other bloodsucker friends in Canada. Even though Mitch tries to hide it, Harry can tell he’s bummed about Sarah’s short visit. The older vampire is good at hiding his emotions, but Harry’s known him for so long that he could read Mitch’s mood even if he was blindfolded and gagged. 

The jade-eyed boy had been honest with his best friend, asking him what the point was in continuing to see someone whose depth of interest in the relationship wasn’t as developed as his own. Mitch had simply shrugged one shoulder and told Harry that he wouldn’t understand. He mentioned something about how eventually, the freshblood high would wear off and Sarah would find herself wanting to settle down somewhere with someone she could trust for the rest of eternity. Mitch explained that he cared for her enough to wait until then. 

His best mate had been wrong. Harry does understand. He understands the concept of chasing after someone who, in the end, didn’t want anything to do with him. He understands it a little too well, sadly. He figures that’s the same fate Mitch is bound to suffer, just on a less extreme level. 

But then again, Harry’s perception of love is majorly skewed, so who is he to judge?

With Mitch tied up with Sarah (probably literally, though Harry doesn’t dwell on that; it’s none of his business), his options dwindle to the rest of the crew. Niall and Xander had invited him to a concert they were attending, but Harry politely declined the offer. The musicians were some wannabe indie band and Harry would rather swallow a nicotine addict’s blood than listen to a couple of morons sing in cursive. Adam had suggested he tag along with him, Ny-Oh, and Charlotte to a new art exhibit that had opened up in the next town over. It was a thirty minute drive, so it wasn’t that bad, but Harry declined that invitation, as well. He loves art, if the giant collection on his wall has anything to say about it, but he doesn’t get on well with Ny or Charlotte. They say he’s “too much of an arrogant dickhead” to be around for an extended period of time. They’re right, of course, but it still hurts. Plus, Ny has a mullet and Harry knows he wouldn’t be able to withhold from making a Billy Ray joke. It’s best he stay away, lest she end up with an achy-breaky heart.

So that leaves him here, all alone at eight P.M. on a Tuesday, plopped on his couch in nothing but a pair of maroon plaid boxers as Hamilton plays on the ninety inch flatscreen mounted on his glass wall. He had left the curtains open, not really caring that he’s practically naked. The sun’s already set and it’s almost pitch black outside; plus, he lives on the twenty-fourth floor of the condominium complex. The only living being risking an eyeful is a peepy pigeon. Even then, Harry’s more than happy to put on a show. He’s confident enough in himself that nudity is practically second nature. His friends can attest to that. 

Harry lays across his leather sofa with a large checkered throw cushion snuggled into his side, one of his hands slung across the backrest of the couch as the other remains submerged wrist-deep in a bag of Veggie Straws. His socked feet are propped up on his round marble coffee table, ankles crossed and posture anything but eloquent. The apartment is silent, except for the musical streaming through the speakers of his television set and the gentle pattering of rain just outside his glorified window pane, accompanied by the faint flickering of the city lights below. The atmosphere of the room is relaxed and cozy and it lulls his soul in a manner he can’t put into words.

Harry has always liked the rain. Ever since he was a child, he would sit by the small round window of the attic room he shared with his older sister, watching it fall from the sky in sheets of glittering sapphires, soaking into the dry ground and turning it into a slush of dirt he would later sneak out to play in. When he got older, he would prop his shoulder against the doorframe at the back of his father’s blacksmith shop and gaze at it, mesmerized by how it would trickle down the streets of the public market, washing away all the grime that came with a bustling city’s reputation. Sometimes he would stand in it, feeling its cool touch run down his arms and soak into the back of his sot-covered work shirt. He enjoyed how it would cleanse the sticky sweat from his face and neck, its gentle nature leaving him feeling like he could float through air. Then his father would call him back into the store and playfully scold him for allowing himself to get drenched, warning that his mother would kill him if he caught a cold. 

Harry’s changed a lot since then, he knows that, but it comforts him that his love for rain is the one aspect of his personality that two hundred years of Hell had failed to take from him. 

The melodies swimming out of his TV reign him back in from memory lane. 

Harry’s not really one to enjoy musicals, but back when Hamilton had first hit Broadway, he’d used his persuasive supernatural abilities to sneak into one of the first showings. He’d been curious as to what all the hype was about, and the play did not disappoint. The songs were catchy, the acting was good, and the characters were brought to life through raw emotion and comedy. He respected that. And the plot of the story itself resonated with him deeply, as well. A protagonist that rose from nothing, fell in love with the wrong woman, and made terrible life choices that seemed correct at the time, which would all eventually lead to his death. It hit a bit too close to home. 

If he had a dollar for every time he’s seen it since it had come out on Disney+, he could probably pay rent himself instead of compelling others to do it for him. 

The play is halfway through one of its most famous ballads when the monster’s phone dings with a familiar tune. A smirk is already etching itself across his face before he even unlocks his device. 

I need interior design advice. 

I’m still a little sore from our last help session. How’d you bounce back so quick?

Funny, but I need ACTUAL interior design advice this time. 

Harry’s brows furrow in mild confusion and slight disappointment. He draws his hand from the junk food container, dusting off the crumbs. Oh. 

Genuinely? 

Yup!

He guesses he’ll give it a go. He does have pretty exquisite taste; the modern gothic aesthetic of his condo proves that. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

Alright, shoot. 

Y/N releases the breath she’d been holding in. Thank God he’s agreed to help. As much as she’s ashamed to admit it, Harry’s really the only person in LA that she deems relatively close to a friend. She hasn’t managed to mesh well with her coworkers much, despite the fact that she’s been trying extremely hard. She just doesn’t wanna force herself into unfulfilling fake friendships for the sake of having people to flaunt. It’s not right and she knows she’d grow to resent it. 

So instead, she’d reached out to the one California resident who doesn’t make her skin crawl. 

Whew, okay, thanks in advance! So I went out yesterday and got a new bedspread and I wanted some help choosing a new accessory to go with it, which is going on my wall. 

Harry’s ears perk up and his back straightens at her statement. Could she finally, by the grace of fucking God, be getting rid of that shitty tapestry? 

Well, let me see it, then. Don’t keep a man waiting, I’m dying to play Property Brothers over here.

A picture comes through of the two new accessories Y/N is referring to and the way Harry’s face drops instantly is almost comical.

Which tapestry fits better? I’m thinking the Van Gogh style painting of a lighthouse. The blue goes well with the dark turquoise of the comforter. But then again, the forest canopy has those pretty exotic flowers that compliment the coral stitching. I can’t decide. 

The vampire’s face pinches in disgusted horror as he blinks down numbly at the image on his screen. He’s going to be sick. Those Veggie Straws are about to make a hideous comeback. 

…two new tapestries? Did the other one rip or…?

What? No!! I just saw these down at the thrift store and thought they were cute. Why? Are they really that bad??

They’re not just bad, they’re worse. He’s going to ask her to blindfold him next time he visits. 

They’re…kinda immature, dove. I just thought you’d go for something cooler this time, like a vintage painting or a couple vinyls to mount on the wall. 

Immature? 

Oops. He should have picked his words more carefully. Now he’s gone and offended her and she’ll probably bite down the next time he puts his—

Another message interrupts his spiraling negative conclusions.

I know you didn’t just call ME immature when you compared me to a cream-filled donut, Harry. 

The playful tone in the text delivers a wave of relief that is almost as pleasurable as what lies between Y/N’s legs. 

Can I speak freely for a second? Full disclosure, no consequences?

That preface makes me think you’re about to chew me out.

I’ll be gentle, I promise. I know it’s not our usual dynamic, but I’ll give it a go.

Y/N ignores the bristling across her cheeks. 

Alright, go head.

I just think tapestries are kinda stupid. They scream “confused teenager trying to find myself.” But that’s just my opinion. I’m only telling you so you know that I’m probably not the best bloke to go to with tapestry inquiries. 

Harry watches as a read receipt stares up at him for a few seconds. Just when he thinks he might have truly upset her this time, her message bubble pops up. 

So...the one I’ve had hanging in my room the last three times you’ve been over…

I had to actively restrain the urge to strangle myself with it.

Y/N breaks out into laughter. The image of waking up to Harry laying facedown on her bedroom floor, balls naked and mummified within a sunrise tapestry...It’s sending her. 

Well, you know what? That’s not fair! You can’t judge my house when I haven’t even had the chance to judge yours. 

Harry nods once to himself in surrender, reaching up to finger-comb a few rebellious curls out of his eyes. She makes a valid play. 

Fair enough. You’ll have to come over and give me your opinion sometime.

I’d be honored to. Now, would you be so kind as to put your own personal bias aside this once and help me choose which one to put up. I promise I’ll spare you any more tapestry-related problems in the future. I’ll remove it from my customer contract.

Harry sighs defeatedly. He can’t believe he’s giving up his integrity for sex. 

Fine. Send me a picture of both of them up on the wall. It’ll give some perspective. 

Y/N giddily obliges, deciding to send a video instead. That way, she can get all of the angles in one go rather than having to send multiple pictures. 

Harry waits patiently, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth as he taps his foot against the coffee table to the tune of Wait for It, which is playing in the film that has now become the backdrop of his night. When Y/N’s next message comes through, he’s mildly surprised to find it’s a video. He clicks play, watching intently as she circles the two pinned tapestries slowly, making sure to get a proper view from all sides. By the time the thirty second clip is coming to an end, Harry’s leaning more towards the tropical canopy painting. It’s not as loud and she was right about the flowers matching the stitching on the duvet. 

He’s about to tap back “the forest one” when something flashes across the screen that makes him choke on his snack, launching him into a coughing fit.  

It’s within the last three seconds of the video and if he had cut it off in order to text back, he would have missed it. But he hadn’t, and now it’s burned into the back of his eyelids, causing a buzzing sensation to string right to the area between his thighs.  

The last few frames of the video, Y/N had lowered her phone from the position she’d been suspending it, probably thinking she had already stopped filming. She hadn’t. And because of that, Harry gets a full frontal view of her body, covered in nothing except a pair of lace panties and a mid-thigh oversized Avengers t-shirt. The entire screen fills with bare, silky skin and raunchy lace and he can feel his fangs poke into his tongue. 

Harry’s not a pre-teen; he’s not going to drool over seeing a pair of legs. What really gets to him is the fact that it appears Y/N still has a few hickies across the inner area of her thighs, which have failed to fade as quickly as the others. They should be gone, given that anytime Harry feeds (like he had the last time they’d slept together), he always gives her a bit of his blood to heal. Meaning, normal bruises like that should be gone. Maybe he just hadn’t given her a high enough dosage, or maybe he’d marked her more than he remembers, but either way, the stains are there.

The vampire ogles at the paused image with a dry throat and wide eyes. Just seeing her like that, dressed in comfy yet effortlessly sensual attire with no bottoms on whatsoever, freely flaunting his love bites around her apartment, probably looking at them in her mirror, thinking about how his teeth had felt grazing her skin…

It’s enough to pop a stiffy into his briefs. 

Harry glimpses over the top of his phone, swallowing thickly at the large bulge beginning to tent his boxers. His socked toes curl as he feels a longing throb begin to swell at the pit of his clenching stomach. Great. This is just fucking perfect. 

He attempts to tap back a reply, but his hands have started quivering slightly, clumsy thumbs ruining his message to the point where he has to retype it three times.

The forest one. I agree with what you said about the stitching. 

Okay, thank you so much! Your input is highly appreciated, as always.

The immortal finds himself gnawing at the inside of his cheek, weighing on whether he should mention the little softcore porn moment she’d unknowingly shot, or if he should just let it slide and go take care of the issue that is literally weighing on him— he can feel it getting heavy against his thigh. 

His fingers seem to take on a mind of their own, printing out a quick sentence and hitting the send button before he can rethink his motives. 

Did you watch your video before you sent it?

Uh no...It looked pretty okay to me while I took it. Why, do you need a different one? Was the lighting too dark? 

The fact that she sent it by accident only adds to the appeal. She’s such a good girl. So fucking innocent and sweet, she could practically give him a toothache. 

Do me a quick favor and rewatch it all the way to the end. I think you’ll be surprised with what you find.

Y/N leans back against her bookshelf wall, chewing on her bottom lip as a sly grin ticks the corners. She doesn’t have to rewatch the video. She’s fully aware of what she had done, which had been completely on purpose. She’s only playing dumb to see his reaction, getting off on how flustered he seems to have become. Yes, her intentions for contacting him had originally been purely for his opinion on decor. But when she saw the chance, she decided to jump headfirst and take it. What are friends with benefits for if not for times like these, when you’re too lazy to come over but need a bit of relief? 

The human allows a full thirty seconds to pass, simulating that she’s watching the video, and then thoughtfully taps out her response.

Oh, whoops. Sorry for the indecent exposure.

Harry shifts in exasperation against his sofa, the radiating in his abdomen crawling up to his chest and down to his knees. He needs to take care of himself now.

It’s fine, babe. You just might wanna be more careful, cause this time around you got lucky that it was me and it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Could go south if it were someone else. 

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly at his scolding, but continues to play the clueless act, curious to see where it’ll take her. 

You’re absolutely right, I’m so sorry. 

Harry clears his throat, flinching as he feels a soft twitch run up the length of his cock. He exhales tightly, trying to steer the conversation into a lighter mood. He doesn’t want her to feel bad; it’s not like he’s angry about this. He’s hot and bothered and needy, but not mad.

I just think it’s funny you exposed the fact that you go around your house without pants. 

Oh, fuck off! No one ever wears pants around their own house, especially if they’re alone. It’s one of the laws of physics. No human resistance, no pants. 

Harry glances down at his body symbolically, where he’s clad in only his underwear, as well.

Touché.

Exactly. 

A pause befalls the conversation as both parties fish for something new to say. The situation’s become less lively and more intense now and neither are sure how to navigate without crossing a line. In a surge of courage, Y/N decides to just directly communicate her intentions, praying that he doesn’t take it the wrong way. 

I have an idea, just hear me out. For the sake of evening the playing field, I think that since you saw me pantsless, it’s only fair that I see you the same way. It balances out, right?

Harry’s jaw drops in an open-mouthed simper, impressed by her blatant suggestion, but also by how smoothly she had delivered it. He mumbles his next words to himself, voice amused and somewhat awed at how she had managed to spin this to her benefit. “You clever little minx. Bet it wasn’t even an accident.”

You did it on purpose, didn’t you?

Y/N purses her lips, shrugging her brows cheekily.

Maybe.

The vampire scoffs, taken aback not only at the ploy she’d pulled off, but at how unapologetic she is about the whole thing. It’s hot. 

Alright, l’ll bite. Tick for tack. 

The photo that comes through makes Y/N choke on her spit. It’s not anything too revealing, but it packs a lot. Literally. 

It’s a pretty casual picture, and she gets the feeling he took it as so just to be a tease. In the frame, all she sees is a snapshot of Harry’s lap, thighs straining against the flimsy material of a pair of crimson tartan boxers, the large tigerhead tattoo he totes somehow prominent in the low lightning. Of course it stands out, though. That’s to be expected; his thighs are thick in the most satisfying fashion and they’re one of his most defining features. She can also see the bottom half of his lean tummy, the cutoff being the crest of his belly button. His fern inkings are peeking out of from below the waistband of the Calvin Kleins, dark and matte on his lightly bronzed skin, and she spots the nonchalant position of his crossed ankles in the background. 

As appetizing as every little detail is, the centerpiece of the portrait is the obvious bulge pressing into the fabric of his briefs. The outline is so prominent, the picture borderlines on graphic. His cock looks pretty as ever, even when it’s covered; the thin underwear leaves very little to the imagination. 

Y/N has to bite down on her tongue to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

Wow, okay, well...Your picture was much more explicit than my video. That’s not fair at all. Throws off the equilibrium we were trying to establish. 

Harry chuckles aloud, shaking his head in amazement at how well she can bend the game to her will. Three weeks ago, when he’d first laid eyes on that shy girl at the club, he would have never expected her to be so bold. Now, she has him wrapped around her pinky like a string.

You’re absolutely right. My apologies. Maybe you should send one similar so we can even out the stakes. 

You read my mind.

Y/N’s next picture causes a hiss to stream through the cracks of Harry’s teeth, eyes glinting red.

It’s a picture taken on top of her bed, the angle set from above. She’s laying on her side, her torso twisted so that her backside is in the shot, her huge tee pulled tight against her waist so it creates an enticing cinching effect. Her thighs are clasped together, the collar of her shirt pulled away just enough that he can see where the valley of her chest begins to curve, and the cheeky lace panties are working utter wonders for her ass. He can’t stop staring. He physically can’t pull himself away, his eyes bouncing across every pixel, attempting to commit the picture to memory to keep it locked in the back of his brain forever. 

Y/N awaits anxiously for his reaction, biting into the pad of her thumb as the seconds list by, wondering if he had enjoyed the nude or if he was just sitting there judging all her flaws. It’s been so long since she’s sent a risky photo like that, she can’t help but stress. Sharing your body with someone digitally is almost as intimate as real sex and it comes with similar worries and insecurities. Was the angle good? Are her stretch marks unattractive? Are the dimples along her backside gross? Is he second-guessing their arrangement? Is he wishing they hadn’t met?

She practically drops her phone when it vibrates.

God, you look stunning. Like a proper fucking dream.

All of her concerns immediately disintegrate, replaced by an odd sense of pride. She’s happy that he enjoyed it, and she’s thankful for the caliber of his response. Most men don’t care to comment that nicely, if they comment at all, and Harry’s enthusiasm only excites her further. She wants to keep going. 

You look pretty fucking good yourself. Wish I could just kneel between your thighs, take you into my mouth, and make you feel good for hours. 

Harry struggles to get saliva down his parched throat, her words bouncing around the inside of his skull, sending a current of bliss directly to where he needs it. 

Hours? You want me down your throat for hours?

For hours, Harry. I’d literally just sit between your legs and let you fuck my face again. Let you use me to make yourself cum.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry’s broken whine echoes off the tall walls of his home, one of his big hands finding a path to his curls and tugging in desperation. He needs to keep composure. 

Harry’s next snapshot comes through and Y/N has to screw her eyes shut for a second to brace the bolt of electricity that zips down to her core. 

The boy’s thighs have parted wider, his feet now down from the table, knees hanging off the edge of the sofa. His free hand has delved below his briefs, pulling them up just enough to show a tad of the neatly trimmed area beneath. His fingers are cupped over his cock, hiding it from plain view, but the imprint of his knuckles on the fabric suggest he’s gripping it tightly. The longer she looks, the more she notices— specifically, a dark damp patch spreading at the middle of his boxers and she knows damn well what it is. The fact that she’d got him riled up enough that he’s leaking through like that...She can hardly breathe right. 

Shit, you look so good. How do you always look that fucking good? I just want to feel you stretch me out while you moan into my mouth. 

Harry slowly starts pumping his palm up and down his cock as he rereads her words, catching his lower lip between his teeth, his naked and flushed chest stuttering. He doesn’t want to be the douche that tells her to send another picture, but he really needs her to. He wants to see what she’s doing, how she’s fairing. Wants to know if he has her as fucked as she has him right now. 

It’s almost like they share a telepathic link because not even five seconds later, another beautifully filthy photo is decorating his screen. 

This time around, Y/N has decided to fully lay on her back, spreading her legs open and drawing her knees up slightly so that her thighs are not only flexing, but displaying all the love bites he’d left only a few days prior. They’re all different shades of purple and brown, scattered over the satin suppleness of her skin, painting a canvas of the heated night they’d shared. It’s art at its most prestigious, if he’s ever seen it. And she has her hand ducked below her panties, the outline of her fingers situated right over her clit. 

Harry’s own hand instinctively tightens around his length, pulling a weak groan from his parted lips. He throws his head back against the backrest of the couch, bucking into his palm and teasing his forefinger over his bubbling tip. He spreads the precum all over the sensitive head, whimpering when the draft from the air conditioning caresses it and sends a quiver toppling over his shoulders. 

Fuck, she’s driving him mental. There’s only one way to take care of this effectively, despite their distance. 

I’m going to call you.

Y/N gulps heavily, licking over her chapped lips and feeling her pulse jump at the realization that she’ll be getting to hear his throaty voice coax her through an orgasm. Not only that, but she’ll get to hear him cum, too. She’ll get to hear every shattered gasp and needy mewl, almost as if he were pouring all those sounds of pleasure right into her ears in person. 

The mortal’s heart hiccups when his contact pops up on the Caller ID, phone vibrating insistently. After a deep breath taken to ground herself, she slides her shaky thumb over the glass, slowly bringing the device up to her ear. Her voice is soft and timid as ever, a tremble running through its undertone. “H-Hello?”

Harry’s words come through the crackling speaker as dark and smoky as whiskey, pouring into her mind and intoxicating her as easily as the real liquor would.

“Flip onto your stomach and take off the lace. Now.”

[theastrophilearchitect]

I started writing a book.

And I’m mad about it, because I just started this post, brought up a new tab and lost it because I didn’t save my draft.

Anyway. That’s a thing I did. Wow.

As of this moment, this post won’t be going up until April 19th, but I’m starting writing this at 10.30pm on Sunday, February 21st, 2021. I’ve done a lot in the last couple weeks, and I want to have some record of all I’ve accomplished without just letting most of it fade over the next two months.

I’ve always wanted to be an author. From when I was reading under my covers with a torch past bedtime, through the years I wanted to be an artist, through the years I wanted to be a lawyer. It’s always been there - no matter what primary career path I went down, I wanted to be an author. The last few years, I’ve been invested in becoming a biologist, and that dream really took a backseat.

In the start of this lockdown, my mental health went downhill, and some advice my therapist gave me was just to prioritise myself. It sounds simple enough, but, even in my free time, I’d been focusing on schoolwork - revising constantly for exams I’m still not sure are actually happening. (Boris Johnson is apparently making an announcement tomorrow about beginning to ease lockdown, but we’ll see) So, on Saturday, February 6th, I started an attempt to coalesce the ideas I had floating in my head into something tangible.

I’ve tried to write books countless times (not technically countless - I have all the documents on my laptop, so I could if I wanted to), but mostly, I’ve never gotten further than a couple bare plot points and some characters, maybe some ideas for subplots, before I’ve stagnated and given up.

Three times, I’ve finished a skeletal outline. Twice, I’ve started to go back over those outlines only to realise they made no sense or just seemed week, and simply not cared enough to fix it. Until now, I guess.

February 6th, 7th, and fast-forward to my week off beginning the 15th, up until the 19th, I kept developing this concept I’d managed to form, but I was struggling to establish a coherent plot. I had up until and including a midpoint (which was later condensed into just a first act), but everything after that was just a void. I began searching for some skeletal structure I could apply to it, both to work on pacing and fill in the blanks. I tried several, and got a little further, but was about to give up hope.

Then I remembered a video by Katytastic I’d watched years ago about the 3-act, 9-block, 27-chapter structure she used, and couldn’t see the harm in giving it a go. And something clicked.

You can find the video here - the structure’s detailed and easy to follow, plus she even gives an example of using it to generate a plot.

I started binge-watching her writing vlogs in the background, and even started using her same writing program, Scrivener, which just made every a thousand times easier by taking away the need to juggle a billion Word documents. It’s fairly pricey, but I’m currently using the 30-day free trial - it’s 30 days of use, not of ownership, too: if you use it every day, it lasts 30 days, but if you use it once a week, it lasts 30 weeks.

Where Kat used the 27 parts the structure broke down into as chapters, I chose to refer to them as beats, and separate chapters later.

On Saturday the 20th, I finished defining my scenes and started writing an actual draft. I wrote two scenes, putting me at a collective word count (not including notes, synopses, etc.) of 2,580 words.

This morning, Sunday the 21st, I started over. I hated my opening. I’m not going to go through the mess of today’s process, but I currently have around 80 one-line-outline scenes, split into 3 acts. I wrote a draft of my prologue and detailed-outlined (which I’m mentally referring to as zero-outlining because it’s similar to how Katytastic does what she calls a zero draft, but is very much outlining, not a draft) two and a half other chapters. Scriver also tells me how many words I wrote in total, across notes, character profiles, location lists, a document I’ve named ‘Train of Thought’ for my ramblings as I go etc.

Today, I wrote a grand total of 4,141 words, which, rather counterintuitively, puts me at a draft total of 2,598. That makes sense. Anyway.

There are a lot of unknowns in the world right now, and I have no idea how much time I’ll have in the next six months to invest in this project, but I’d like, at bare minimum, to have one complete draft by the start of the next school year in September, which gives me just over 6 months. Which is probably too much time to actually motivate myself, but that’s not the point.

A manuscript needs to have a minimum word count of 50K words to be considered a novel, so, even though my ultimate goal for this project is around 80K words, 50K is going to be my goal for this draft.

I’m being optimistic about sticking with this.

Tuesday 23/02/2021 - Word Count: 3,099 I wrote nothing yesterday; planning to focus writing solely on days off rather than work days, but last night, watching through the incredibly long queue of Alexa Donne writing videos, I came to the conclusion writing every day, even just a little, would be the best way to ensure I keep working on this, so I set myself a goal of just 500 words a day.

Wednesday 24/02/2021 - Word Count: 5,350 After doing a little bit of maths as to how long this outlining and draft would take me if I were to only write 500 words a day, I decided to boost that goal to 1,000. I got started around 1pm today, online school draining me so much I couldn’t face another two hours. I worked on and off until 6pm, and around 4.45pm, I finished outlining Act One!

Thursday 25/02/2021 - Word Count: 7,022 I continued my scene outlining into Act Two, but I hit a brick wall around the midpoint. I have to write chronologically - some people jump around, but I have to write linearly, or it feels like I’m trying to make something in a void. It just doesn’t work. I didn’t know how to get from one scene to the next - there were so many things I needed to establish to get there, but I didn’t want to backtrack. I decided to re-jig the whole thing, but, after dinner, I realised I didn’t have to, and instead, decided to just start a draft, conscious of the things I need to establish as I go.

Friday 26/02/2021 - Word Count: 8,208 Starting draft one, I rewrote the prologue I’d already written, technically putting me to my second draft of it, because I’d been thinking about it for days and just wanted to revisit it, and it was so much better. Then I moved on to chapter one, but decided I wanted to re-jig my chapters. While outlining, I’d split the whole book into only about twenty chapters, but decided to go for shorter ones for more effective divisions of the story. I got most of the way through the first scene of chapter one, but basically ran out of both time and motivation, since I hadn’t heavily outlined that scene. in total, I wrote over 2000 words today, but because I only increased the prologue word count by about 100 words, it didn’t do that much to the total count.

Saturday 27/02/2021 - Word Count: 11,050 I got some chores done Saturday morning and focused on finishing my book so I could include it in my February wrap-up, but I still had time to get some writing done around mid-day. My goal was just to hit 10K this weekend, but I though I could do it in one day. I wrote about 1,000 words before feeling a little word-drained, but took a break for lunch, got back to it and wrote 2,400 words. Though that only added a little over 2,000 to the word count, it took me to 10K! I’m 20% of the way to being able to call it a novel! We’re in quintuple digits!

And then eight hours later, I wrote another thousand words and got to 11K.

Sunday 28/02/2021 - Word Count: 13,722 I spent most of my Sunday morning writing, though it took me more than two hours to write about 1500 words, though it only added about 1100 to my count. I decided to set myself an overall and weekly deadlines to hold myself accountable. Due to the fact I don’t yet have a clue how many words this will work out as, I decided I wanted to have either a complete first draft or 100K words (which I doubt I’ll reach, but it seems like a good way to make myself finish the draft before my deadline) by the end of April. Which works out to a little under 1500 words a day, or just under 11K a week, which is perfectly doable. Bearing in mind my current word count is including outlines, but I still believe in myself.

I wrote another 1600 words later, which took me to 14K, until I deleted the 300 word outline I wrote for one scene, but I worked out my words per day for the next two months with the assumption of a 10K word count as of March 1st and a target of either a complete draft or 100K words by the end of April, so I’m nearly 4,000 words ahead of schedule. Which gives me 6,606 words to write this week, instead of 10,328. (If you couldn’t tell, I like numbers. They just make sense to me.

Monday 01/03/2021 - Word Count: 15,005 I didn’t quite hit my daily goal, but I was completely leached of motivation today, I’m ahead of schedule anyway and I was only under by less than 200 words. It’s alright. But, hey, we hit 15K! Two days after hitting 10K!

Tuesday 02/03/2021 - Word Count: 21,119 This was an insane writing day. My end-of-day target was only 16,480, and that was still ahead of schedule - if I was sticking to the 100K by April 30th, I’d only actually need to be at 12,950 today. This was the best writing day I’ve ever had. I wrote before school and during breaks, which kept both my writing and working momentum up.

I didn’t read a page of my current read, but I wrote a total of 7,681 words and increased my wordcount by 6,114 words, or literally an additional 40.75%. I hit 20K three days after hitting 10K, and am 42.238% of the way to being able to say I wrote a novel, be it a shitty first draft that won’t be complete at 50K words.

I also finished chapter three, which I’ve been working on for three days and came out ~5,000 words, and wrote chapters four and five in their entirety.

Note to self: this is day 10 of vaguely outline-drafting this project.

Wednesday 03/03/2021 - Word Count: 23,364 I've only written 490 words today, as of writing this update, but I just wanted to make note of the fact I've done some calculations, and can reasonably finish my draft this month. I'm still not completely sure how long it'll work out to be, so I can't quite work out my daily words to finish on the 31st, but if I stick to my current 1,475 words a day, I'll hit 63,894 words by the end of the month, which is a little less than I imagine this draft will be, but if I stick to that as a minimum, my first draft won't have to go into April.

I'd like to post this later this week, but I already have a post for this Friday, so God only knows how long this will be by the time it goes up. So far, I've written 1,900 words today, and I don't think I'm out of fuel yet, but I'm stopping because I need to read today, and I'd rather not burn out. I'm over my goal, anyway.

Oh, also, I'm nearly at 25K, which is halfway to a novel, but I haven't broken into Act Two yet, which means this book will be 75K minimum. I'm going to do some maths and work out how many words a day to hit 80K by March 31st. 2,030. That's doable. So I haven't read, but back to writing for like ten minutes.

I've now hit an additional 2,245 words for the day, though I wrote a total of 2,663

Thursday 04/03/2021 - Word Count: 25,415 I've decided to work out how many words I need to write each day to hit 80K by March 31st, and watch the fluctuations. (I like statistics). It should steadily go down throughout the month if I surpass it each day. Today's minimum word count is 2,023, already seven words less than yesterday's. How exciting.

The last scene of Act One was very heavy on world-building I haven't yet figured out, so I stuck what was meant to happen in brackets and just moved on, meaning I have now broken into Act Two!

I think, during the week, I'm going to focus on just meeting my minimum word count rather than exceeding it, just to save fuel for the weekends, when I can write so many more words.

And, we hit 25K! I'm halfway to a novel!

Friday 05/03/2021 - Word Count: 26,693 In complete honesty, I'm beginning to lose momentum. Maybe it's just today, but I don't really want to write and feel like I need a break, but I'm going to make myself write anyway. I'm going to make myself keep writing until this draft is done, however shitty it may end up. I really hate first drafts.

When you say 2,000 words is only 7-8 pages, it doesn't sound like that much to write per day but my god. Luckily, most of the stuff I've had to save to a Pinterest board called 'Writing Motivation' says if you write when you don't want to, it should pass instead of worsening. I wanted to hit 35K this weekend, but I'm not sure I'll have the momentum. I'll at least hit 31,270, though, which is my minimum goal for this week. I'm still over 700 words off my goal for today, but I'm taking a break because my head is foggy and there's still eight hours left in the day. Besides, 700 after dinner is easy. She says, realising she's probably jinxing it. Oh, well. 80K by March 31st would be difficult, even if I weren't going back to school soon, but that's a stretch goal. 100K by April 31st is my minimum, and I'm 9,000 ahead of where I need to be for that.

I think I’m stagnating because I’ve hit the ‘Fun and Games’ section, which I find really boring. I’m going to try to keep going with it, but I may just skip it and come back later.

Saturday 06/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,150 So, I did not get the extra 700 words in. Before dinner, some stuff I had to deal with came up, and by the time it was done, I just wanted to go to bed, so I did. Today, I'm going to try to make up for it, which I think is reasonable because it is now the weekend. I'm still kinda exhausted this morning, but I'm going to do my best, and my wrist hurts, but I'm not sure why. You'd think it would be from all the typing, but only one wrist hurts - you know what? Never mind. They do both hurt. I'm just not sure why, but it doesn't hurt typing this, so that doesn't make any sense. Anyway, to hit my word count for the day, I need to write 2,555 words, which doesn't sound like too much, but it kinda is because I'm primarily writing Act Two at the minute, and for every thousand words I write, I lose like 400 from my outline. You'd think I'd just not include my scene outlines in the word count, but it's too late for that now.

I'm thinking this over, and I really don't think trying to write 80K by the end of the month is going to be good for either my motivation, mental health, or ability to function back at school, so I'm going to stick to 100K or a finished draft by April 30th, and re-work out my goals from there, based on yesterday's word count, so I'm not making myself do catch-up today.

So, to hit 100K by April 30th, I only need to write 1,309 words each day (which will decrease over time because if that's my minimum now, I'll probably surpass it, decreasing the amount of words left etc.). That's so much less pressure.

God, I really don't want to write today. I just want to watch YouTube and Netflix and read.

Okay, so here's the thing. I've been working on this story straight for three weeks and I'm kinda exhausted of it. I'm not done with it, not at all, and I want to keep working on it because it exists, which makes it workable.

I watched a writing vlog by ShaelinWrites yesterday, and she said she writes different projects at once, alternating in week- or multi-week-long blocks. I think I might try that.

My plan with this post and the following updates was to keep updating it until the day it goes up, the day after which is when I begin drafting the next, but, since I may be switching projects for a while and this is really about the project I've decided to dub 'Bay Tree' (which is just, I guess, a pseudonym for here because while I have no idea what it would eventually be called, I know that's nothing like the title I'd want to give it) so I'd want to start a new post for a new project.

I'm now doing a little outlining instead of actually continuing writing, but I think this will help me, though I'm still not certain about whether or not I'm going to directly continue with this specific project for the minute. Instead of setting daily goals based on a target, I'm also just going to say 1,000 words a day, and see where that takes me.

I've just been outlining into Act Three, and I've met a major plot stumble, but I'm going to work that out and explain what I'm doing in my next writing update.

So, go drink some water, eat if you haven't eaten in the last few hours, stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself how wonderful you are and how much happiness you deserve, and, if you want to write a book, stop thinking about it, and go write.

[p4nkow]

Say something

Hello everyone! Just wanted to drop this Roger one shot based on the song Say Something by A Great Big World ft Christina Aguilera. It’s nothing but angsty so let me know what you think!! It can be read both as real life Roger or as Ben!Roger.

Gif not mine so credits to the owner.

You tried so hard not to sleep while you waited for Roger. You tried to stay awake by watching the tv and even by cooking some sweets but nothing worked. You fell asleep on the couch and you woke up as you heard the keys jingling. This had happened a lot during the last period, actually. Queen were working on a new album and according to Roger they had to spend whole nights at the studio in order to meet deadlines.

You groaned as you tried to open your eyes, still groggy because of the sleep. “Roger?”

You heard footsteps before noticing his silhouette in the shadow. “Sorry, love. Didn’t want to wake you up.” He came closer to the couch, placing a kiss on your forehead. Even though you weren’t thinking very clearly - it was 3AM after all - you could sense something was wrong with him. It was his smell. He usually smelled of cigarettes and beer, but this time there was something more. You could smell a feminine perfume on him which clearly didn’t belong to you. You could feel your eyes become glossy at the thought of him cheating on you but you weren’t sure of that. You couldn't be.

Maybe you were just overthinking as usual ‘cause you knew Roger loved you.

You put those thoughts aside and decided to act like if nothing happened. You cleared your throat as you reached him in the kitchen, sitting on the stool as you watched him prepare a toast.

“How was work?” You asked, placing your elbows on the counter as you watched him struggle with mayo.

“It was good, we worked a lot but then we spent most of the night arguing about the new John’s song.” He seemed confident as he spoke and he didn’t give you not even a little reason to doubt him.

“Back-something?”

“Yeah, Back Chat. Brian hates it.” He said with a giggle as he turned towards you. He took a bite of his toast, leaning it towards you. “Want some?”

You shook your head as to say ‘no’, looking at him with a little smile. He was really handsome, even at 3AM after a long day of work.

“Why does Brian hate it?”

“There’s no guitar solo in it.”

“Oh now I see why” You said with a soft laughter, yawning right after. Roger came closer to you, leaning towards you to kiss you. You kissed him back, cupping his cheek.

“C’mon love, let’s go to sleep” He said, taking you by the hand. As soon as you stood next to him you could smell the same scent as before and even though you trusted him with all your life you couldn’t help but think the worst.

It was over my head

I know nothing at all

Roger coming back home at late nights was becoming a routine so you got used to wake up at 3 or even 4AM as he came back from the studio. They were also planning the new tour and him and the boys asked you to join them, especially since Mary - Fred’s closest friend - was going too. You weren’t sure of what to do- you had to consider your job before taking a decision. You could tell Roger really wanted for you to join him so it was a hard choice.

I’ll be the one, if you want me to

Anywhere, I would’ve followed you

It was a bloody freezing sunday afternoon and you had a big pile of laundry to do. You were sitting on the floor as you patiently put all the dirty clothes in the washing machine- it was the best way to spend the afternoon, considering the fact that Roger was at the studio with the boys. He asked you to stop by in the late afternoon so in the meanwhile you had to pass your time.

You were making sure there was no stuff forgotten in the pockets- you found a couple of keys and notes about new songs. Roger did that a lot.

What you didn’t expect to find, though, was a note from a girl. It was on one of the backpockets of his favorite jeans and it was written with an elegant handwriting.

“What a fun night, blondie. Gimme a call for a replay.

-Crystal”

Her phone number was written right below her name. It took you a few seconds to process it but at some point you could hear your heart break. You weren’t overthinking, you weren’t wrong. Roger was cheating on you. And it broke you.

You were so desperately trying not to think the worst, to have trust in him like you always did, but he betrayed that trust.

You started to sob without even noticing and you ran your fingers through your hair. You just couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to. Roger destroyed three years of relationship for what? Quick shags?

You were mad at him for doing this to you. You always begged him not to. You begged him not to make you one of the other girls, but he did it anyways. You didn’t even know how to manage the whole situation- your mother’s heart would be broken, not to mention your father’s. You were planning on starting a family, for fuck’s sake. And he screwed all that. He screwed everything up.

You were planning on bringing up the subject as you stopped by studio and that’s probably why you couldn’t manage to open that goddamn door. You just stood in front of it, your hands sweating and your thought starting to torture you.

“Are you gonna stare at it for much long?” Veronica’s voice brought you back to reality. You turned towards her as you blushed, shrugging and looking away. She was one of your closest friends, as well as John, so you were sure that if she looked at you long enough she would have noticed something was wrong.

“I was about to go in.”

She raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on her big belly. “Yeah, sure. C’mon girl, whatever is going on in that smart mind of yours- you can do it. I know you enough to know that look in your eyes and there’s definitely something wrong.”

You bit your lip as you considered the idea of telling her the truth. The thing was, spitting it all out meant making it all real and you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

“Never mind, Ronnie.” You turned towards the door and you opened it, entering the room followed by her. You spot Roger sitting behind the drums and even if you were trying to force yourself to give him a smile you just couldn’t fake it. You just gave him a nod before going to take a seat on the couch, placing your gaze on Brian and Freddie as you tried not to look at Roger. That’s why you didn’t notice him when he sat next to you. He placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing it as he gave you a big smile.

“You alright? You seem a bit pouty today.”

Say it, Y/N. Spit it out. Say it, say it, say it.

You cleared your throat as you nodded, faking a little smile. “Yeah, I’m just tired. I’ve been making laundry all day.”

You thought you’d seen a change in his eyes due to your words but his smile stood still so you thought you just pictured it. Say something, Roger. Anything. Please, say something.

“Sorry, my fault. Too many clothes.”

It wasn’t exactly what you were expecting to hear but you weren’t surprised. There was no way Roger was going to tell you that he was cheating.

That’s exactly the moment you started to think that maybe it was your fault. Maybe you weren’t enough. Maybe he needed something more, someone better. Maybe you did something wrong.

You bit your lip as you could feel a lump in your throat, so you excused yourself and run out the room. You couldn’t bare the thought of him with another woman.

Say something, I’m giving up on you

I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you

The following day you still hadn’t said anything but you decided not to wait for him anymore. If he was being out there shagging someone, you wouldn’t be the perfect girlfriend who waited for him at home. That’s why you decided to catch up with your old friends, the ones who had nothing to do with Queen and either were Roger-related.

They were more than happy to hung out with you again and you met them at a pub not far from your house. You really had a lot of fun that night- that’s probably because you tried so hard not to think about Roger and what he was probably doing.

It was late night when you came back home and a friend of yours, Peter, gave you a ride. You didn’t even try to be silent as you were sure Roger would not be home. To your surprise, he was. He was sitting on the couch, drinking a beer with a notebook on his lap. That’s probably the first time he was actually working during his late nights.

“Hey.” You whispered as you tried to avoid his gaze.

He followed closely your movements and you could tell that the tension was growing incredibly quickly. “Hey, I was worried.”

“I was out.” You took your wheels off as well as your jewels.

“With Veronica? Chrissie?”

“With my college friends.” Silence. You hated that situation. You still loved him and probably you always would have. He’s been part of the most important years of your life and and though he hurt you, you just couldn’t stop loving him.

In that moment you’d have done anything just to sit on his lap, caress his cheeks and kiss him. You’d have told him that everything was okay, that you loved him. But you couldn’t do that and it was all his fault.

“Was Peter with you?” Your heart ached at his question. He had always been jealous of Peter, even though nothing ever happened between the two of you. How dared he to act like jealous when he was the one cheating?

“Yes.” You turned your back at him as you took a deep breath.

“Did something happen?” You were losing your patience. Your eyes became glossy as you shook your head. “No.”

“You know I don’t like him.”

“Roger.” That had been the drop which overflowed the bowl.

“He’s always been-”

You turner towards him as you tried not to look confident. “Stop it.”

He probably noticed your glossy eyes because he put away his beer and he stood up. “What’s wrong?”

“I know.”

He narrowed his eyebrows and moved a step forward. You moved back as he came closer to you. That hurt him but couldn’t fake it anymore. “What are you talking about?”

“Who’s Crystal?” Roger was out of words. He tried to say something but you cut him off. “How many Crystal’s there have been? Huh?”

“Love, let me explain.” His voice was squeaky and shaky as he tried to explain. You shook your head as you wiped away all the tears that had started running down your face.

“There’s no need. How dare you talk about jealousy when you’re the one who’s cheating?”

“They didn’t mean anything, love. I never meant to-”

“Don’t call me love.”

“Y/N, you are the love of my life. I never wanted to hurt you. Please, trust me, they never meant anything.”

“Save it, Roger. That’s enough. You don’t even know what trust is.” You shook your head in disbelief as you tried to walk away. He grabbed your wrists and you turned towards him. His face was close to yours and his big, blue eyes were glossy as tears ran down his cheeks. He gently wiped away yours and you wanted so bad to lean by his touch. That hurt like hell.

When he spoke his words were nothing but a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am, too.” You nodded as you tried to store all the details of his face, not knowing when you were going to see him again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough.”

He closed his eyes as if he was in pain, shaking his head. “Fuck, Y/N, no. Don’t say that. It ain’t you. It’s me, I’m fucked up. You’re so fucking perfect.” He was desperately trying to change your mind.

“And yet you’ve cheated on me.” You set your wrist free from his grip, looking away from his eyes. You cleared your throat as you tried to show you confident, not wanting to let him know how much he really hurt you. You grabbed your keys as you went to the door, leaving Roger behind. It was the most painful thing you‘ve ever done. You didn’t know how you were going to manage the consequences but it was the right thing to do. “I’ll send someone to get my stuff.”

“Y/N-” You didn’t want to hear anything else so you walked out, leaving the love of your life behind.

You’re the one that I love

And I’m saying goodbye.

[klaussstilinski]

Chapter 4

An: I was slipping plain and simple. I truly hope you enjoy this chapter. Please leave your feedback, all is welcome. Sorry for the long wait but another chapter is coming Thursday!!

Disclaimer: DON’T OWN ANYTHING ABOUT ON MY BLOCK, JUST MY CHARACTERS DAISY, JACKIE, AND MADELINE.

You ever get that feeling like your whole world is falling apart and then boom something exciting happens and everything is fine in the moment? If so, well, congratulations you’re human, and you’re not the only one with those feelings. When your world Is falling apart you have this crushing feeling in your chest; like there’s an elephant sitting there just waiting for you to stop breathing. Although it feels like your heart is beating faster and is going to beat out of your chest cavity it’s actually all in your head, that’s called panic. Your heart rate is picking up because of your fear of death. Then all of a sudden, your lungs start expanding like a balloon when someone starts blowing warm air into it. That crushing feeling is finally lifted off your chest and you can take a gulp of fresh air. That. I wanted that. As I'm sitting on my warm chocolate brown recliner couch, I wipe my eyes as I realize that the meeting with Oscar didn’t go as I had planned, or even hoped for. It was so much worse, and to be honest I don’t know how I'm going to face him or the kids for a while. ~THAT MORNING~ I wake before my alarm clock starts going off. Excitedly I get up to start my morning routine; hair up, brush teeth, wash face, moisturizer, pull hair down just so I can put 2 french braids in and dance my way to my closet to pick out a semi-comfortable outfit. Boyfriend jeans, a basic grey V-neck tee and a black and an old black and grey plaid shirt matched with some white vans. Smirking I all but skip to the white nightstand, unplug my phone, grab my necessities and walk to the wooden front door, set the alarm and walk to the car. Nothing is going to wipe this big smile off my face. That is until I walk into the back door of the bakery. “Daisy! Oh, thank god you’re here. I need you to pick up Jackie’s shift, she came down with the flu.” Maddy gagged, “It was real nasty! She facetimed me this morning, her nose was so red and her eyes were so puffy. OH and her voice was basically gone.”

“That’s fine, bu-but um wasn’t she trying to finish some cupcakes for a 8 year old's birthday party?” I asked swallowing hard.

“Yeah, so she finished half of the order, which was 50 cupcakes, but the other half of the order was the 2-tier cake.”

“I-I didn’t know about the cake. When is the deadline?”

“Sunday...but like I said the cupcakes are done!” She quickly adds when I look at her as my jaw hits the floor.

“Maddy! Today is friday, just please tell me she already has the framing of the cake.”

Walking to the fridge she opens the doors with a grand gesture. “She actually does, and she has base coating done.” Breathing a sigh of relief, I put my belongings away, put on my apron, wash my hands, and get started making the fondant for the marvel birthday cake. By the time I get finished covering the cake with the fondant, it was already 12. Short day my ass. Jackie owes me big time.

~4 THAT EVENING~

R- 3:13 pm: Daisy raincheck on tonight's meetup!!

R- 3:17 pm: You know you could at least text me back...

R- 3:19 pm: Okay so I know you got this message; it says it was delivered

M- 3:25 pm: DAISY! The boys, mainly Ruby, wants to reschedule. Call me as soon as you get this!!!

M- 3:40 pm: Why haven’t you called? Are you hurt?

J- 4:01 pm: Just to formally update you woman, we can’t make it to the meetup tonight...

Well for once I'm glad my phone was on silent. Hanging my apron, I clock-out and quickly head out the door putting my phone up to my ear.

“Hey, sorry I had to cover Jackie’s shift at work. I saw y’all couldn’t make it to the meeting tonight but why did you need me to call you?” I ask as soon as Monse picks up.

“You’re fine, yeah something about Ruby needing to move his things into his room with his abuela. But I actually need to talk to you. It’s really important.”

“Talk, I'm driving!”

“I think I might have feelings for Cesar.”

“Um yeah I know, I think we all know at this point.”

“But he’s pressuring me to tell everyone. He I feel like he wants to stake a claim, or something.”

“Are you home? I’m on the way, we’re going to my house to talk.”

“Yes, how far are you?”

“About 10 minutes away, be ready!” I reply hanging up the phone. Arriving I blow the once before she comes running out the front door and quickly jumping into the car.

“I didn’t know you had a record player.” Monse yells through the house.

“It was a gift from grandma, along with all of her old vinyls.” Picking up a Nat King Cole record I turn it over to show her the vintage vinyl.

“She was into Jazz?”

“Stop beating around the bush. What’s going on with you and Cesar?” Glancing at the clock, it’s already after 5.

“So, we’ve been seeing each other since I came back from camp and-”

“Having sex.” I interrupt as I sit down beside her on the couch.

“W-what?” She stutters looking at me with wide eyes.

“Monse, I'm not dumb I know y’all are having sex. Do I approve? Hell no. Do I wish you would have waited? Hell yeah. But hey,” I turn and look her in the eyes. “I’m not disappointed in you Monse. I’m not judging you either because there are worse things you could be doing. But just a 1 question, are you using protection?”

“Yeah...” But she’s looking everywhere but at me.

“Monse?”

“We’re only using condoms, but not all the time.”

“What?” I screech.

“Dad has never talked to me about birth control or even sex. I’m not even sure if I should talk to him about it. Wouldn’t that be weird?” Her round cheeks turn slightly red, reminding me of the time mama first told me about sex and I got so embarrassed.

“Well since you already technically know about sex, I'll let you know right now that condoms are good birth control but they aren't 100 percent effective. That’s why sometimes it is best to be on some kind of birth control yourself, not saying you have to though. There’s the pill, IUD, the shot, the patch, implant, ring, sponge, and so many-”

“Okay I get it!” Monse yells cutting me off. “There are many types of birth control, but um this isn’t why I wanted to talk you. I’m afraid if we say something it’ll break up the crew.”

Laughter bubbles up my throat and without warning it tumbles out. I stop when I see Monse grinding her teeth.

“See this is why I was afraid to tell you!”

“I thought you were joking, Monse you’re afraid of what the boys will say. The same two boys who are most likely jerking off to magazines or porn?”

“Eww I totally didn’t need to hear that.” Shuddering she jumps up and starts pacing the living room. “I just don’t want things to change between us.”

“Things are going to change, you’re growing up. Everyone changes Monse, you can't stop that. But if they don’t support you in this decision then screw them. Real friends support you in anything and any situation. From what I understand they love you both, right?”

“Right!”

“Okay then I have no doubt in my mind that those boys will accept you two. Maybe you’re just scared of your feelings for him.” She went to interrupt me but instead her stomach growling cuts her short. “I know you Monse, you’re just scared and nervous, which is normal. But maybe you should give it a try with you and Cesar just to see how things will work out. But for right now let's get some food in you!”

“Good idea.” She says chewing on her nails while walking to the kitchen with me following close behind.

Frozen pizza and tater tots were definitely a win tonight. Not the healthiest but who eats healthy 24/7 anyways.

“So, dad is picking me up. He should be here really soon” She says as we’re watching tv after dinner.

“Oh, when did he get back in town?”

“Yesterday, he said something about the two of you not really talking right now.”

“Yeah just somethings I guess we need to talk about.” I shrug not really caring to have this conversation with her.

“That bad?”

“Not really, I just don’t agree with everything he does.” Lights shine through the living room curtain. “Well I guess he’s here, come on I'll walk you to the door.” Heading towards the door she stops to ask me a question.

“Did you use birth control with Spooky?” Laughing I push her towards the door.

“Not at first no, but eventually I started taking the pill, which by the way there’s different kinds of.” Opening the door, I turn to her to give her a hug just to see her face frown with confusion.

“What are you doing here?” Turning around I come face to face with the devil himself.

“Hello to you to.” Oscar announces looking at me the whole time. 30 seconds go by before another car pulls into the driveway.

“Well there's my ride, I'll call you later Daisy, love you!” Monse yells running down the steps in towards dads car.

“Why are you here? It’s not even 8 yet.”

“Thought I'd surprise you; we need to talk.” He walks by me as if I wasn’t blocking his way in.

“Um, excuse me I didn’t invite you in!” I follow him once I close the door. “You can’t just walk into my house uninvited.” Laughing he sits down and leans back stretching his legs and arms.

“Come sit,” he pats the cushion beside him. I choose the other end of the couch. 10 minutes go by before I decide the silence begins to get to me.

“What did you want to talk about?” How awkward.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He locks his jaw in place.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don't play stupid with me.” Playing stupid? No, I'm actually stupid because I have no clue what the hell he’s talking about.

“Honestly have no clue what you’re talking about Oscar.”

“The baby...” It gets eerily quiet. My body runs cold, it feels like my body turns to stone.

“Got nothing to say now huh?” Hanging my head, I lock my fingers together in my lap.

“I did...I-I came to you and told you.” Glancing up at him, I see him look at me with disgust in his eyes.

“You didn’t tell me that you got an abortion.” His voice gets deep and raspy.

“No, who told you that?”

“That’s not important, you were my girl. You come to me about these things not-”

“How was I supposed to do that when you were behind bars? Huh?” My voice gets louder and louder. “I was 15 and scared Oscar. You weren’t here to help.”

“I would've been if you just told me from the beginning.” His neck is turning red from all the straining and yelling he's doing.

“You know that wouldn’t have stopped you from doing what you did!”

“How do you know?” He laughs, but it wasn’t one filled with humor, no, it was filled with sarcasm. “I would’ve done anything for you.”

“You told me to leave and build a life for myself.” I try to change to direction to conversation.

“That doesn’t mean leaving town, and getting an abortion.”

“Stop saying that, I didn’t get an abortion. Why do you keep saying that?”

“Why won’t you tell me what really happened? I want to believe you, but since you won’t tell me what happened I can only believe what other people tell me.” Was his smart ass response.

“Why can’t you just believe what I’m telling you and leave it at that?”

“Because it was my child!” He yelled.

“It was my child too.” I scream back officially breaking down in tears. “I lost the baby…” I manage to say as I’m trying to breathe through my soon to be panic attack.

Silence.

I guess he didn’t expect that. When you’ve been told one thing for years, a lie, and then hear another thing that might be just as worse as the lie, I guess it would render you silent.

“I was consistently worried about you, me, the baby, what my mom would think, and so stressed out. God I was so stressed, that before I knew it I had lost the baby. I was only 11 weeks along” Wiping my eyes I get up just to slowly pace the floor. “Please…say something.”

“Do you blame me?” Looking up at me, we lock eyes as so stop and face jinx

“No, I never would. The doctor said it happens often.”

“Did you believe them? That it happens often?” He whispered.

“No…it was my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have been that stressed but instead I still decided to take on everyone’s problems and my own.”

“You should’ve told me. You were mine, the baby was mine.” With his head hanging between his broad shoulders he starts running his fingers through his hair. “Had everything planned and written down in there. I was going to behave and get out early. Come home to you and our child. Get a job, buy a home, and have more children. Build a better life for our family. That’s what I wanted.”

“Im so so sorry Oscar!” Closing my eyes as tears run down my cheeks.

“That’s what kept me alive in there. Knowing I had you and our blessing to come home to. Then that all came crashing down when I found out the truth, well what I thought was the truth.” I stayed quite to let him get what he needed off his chest. “I don’t blame you, you shouldn’t have had to worry about me, I put you in that situation. For that I’m truly sorry Daisy.”

“Yo-you don’t owe me an apology.” I know my under eyes had to be an angry red from all the wiping and rubbing.

“I do, because no matter how mad I am I’m still in love with you.” I can’t move, I think I’ve stopped breathing too. “I’ve tried to stop, god I’ve tried. But I know where my heart is and who it belongs to.”

“You don’t mean that, you’re just upset Oscar.” Whimpering I sit down beside him.

“I mean everything I just said. But it’s because I love you that I can’t love you.”

“What? I’m confused. You love me, but you can’t love me?”

“That would put a target on you. Being my girl in the streets would put you and everyone you love in danger. I can’t have that, I would kill everyone for even looking at you the wrong way.” Oscar explains himself.

“I’ve dated you before, I know what it’s like.”

“But things have changed, I’m more powerful than I was before. I won’t put you in danger again, end of story.” He gets up and starts heading for the door. Jumping up I chase after him.

“You can’t just tell me you love me then walk out the door Oscar. That’s not fair. You’ve done this to me before and it left me in pieces last time.” I grab his arm to stop him from walking. “Please just talk to me more before you just close the book on us.”

“Goodnight Daisy, I’ll see you around.” He pulls his arm from my hands and locks the bottom lock before heading out the door. A loud sob comes from somewhere in the room and it’s once I collapse in the chair when I realize that the sound came from me.

~THE PRESENT~

As I’m wiping the tears from my face I decided here and now that this won’t be the end of us. He might’ve walked out but I refuse to just give up on him so easily. Then that’s when it hits me. All this time I’ve been running away from my feelings for him. Everything is so clear.

I’m still fucking in love Oscar Diaz.

My phone ringing brings me out my trance. Running to the kitchen I find the phone on the kitchen table and as soon as I seen the name something else comes to realization within these last 5 minutes. Only 2 people knew of me losing the baby. I hit decline just for the person to pick call right back. I have to options, ignore them and turn my phone off or answer them and confront them of their disgrace and lies. I hate confrontation so option number one sounds really nice right now. Too late! 

“Why would you lie to Oscar and tell him that I had an abortion?” I spit in the phone. 

“Daisy baby...”

TAG: @mbaku-babygirl @izraahh1 @shesbriaanayy @aka-eb @yxseminx

[moldy-mold]

Diary Post: My Thoughts and Processes on Making “Silent Strength” It’s lengthy, taking place over long period of time. Mainly written for my future-self to remember what I went through, but also for anyone who is curious. Now that the project is over, I can post without reservations. There are certain things I need to keep secret though, so if I’m vague I do so intentionally!

Basically, a lot of number-crunching, physical labor, and psychological labor.

It started off as kind of a joke tweet I made. I had enough content to make a Tales Of art book and people were receptive to it. So… I thought maybe I could go somewhere with this. A few weeks later, I suddenly had a lot of Kratos art. Like. 80% of all my Tales art was Kratos. It didn’t make sense to make a broad Tales Of book when really most of it was Kratos.

I hadn’t made a book since I was in college despite it being one of my favorite things to do. They were never art books, just some editorial design projects that totally didn’t count. This book… would be my first-ever art book.

Several times, I came close to having enough art to print a book - the last time was my large collection of Yusuke Kitagawa, but the quality wasn’t where I wanted.  At that time, I was still experimenting with my iPad Pro and figuring out Procreate, so that was what I used him for.

NGL, I was pretty afraid of looking like a clown. After doing all this work, what if no one actually buys it? I was talking to some friends and they said they would buy it. It was enough for me. In the end, I’m creating something that I love. - The first thing I really wanted to work on was the cover. It needed to be epic but also mysterious (lol)… It was a good time to practice lighting and backgrounds. The cover had to be freaking Fantastic. I spent 3 days drawing nonstop. I was on vacation so I could spend full days just drawing. It was really intense. I would stop in the evenings to go for a run or else my legs would never get circulation again.

The hardest part was keeping it secret. I wanted to share it with the world right away bc I was so proud of it. Well, all I could do was show it to my parents and some close friends. They didn’t know who Kratos is, but it was obvious I was crazy about him.

Initially, I was doing some hand-lettering for the zine title instead of using a typeface. Tbh, I was so sure I was naming this zine “Blame Your Fate!” bc that is such an iconic line. But it just didn’t work with my cover, which looked… a little too serene for that. So… Silent Strength or Divine Strength? I asked around and got my answer.

But what size? All of my art has been on letter canvases. I wanted it to be large so you could see the details in the art. I’ll just start with that. - Luckily, I had all my Kratos-related art in one place. I started my InDesign file and threw everything in there just to see what it looked like. Man, I draw a lot of boxes… But I didn’t want them all next to each other. I also wanted to kinda organize it by the people Kratos hangs out with. There’s a Yuan section LOL… and a Lloyd section… and an Anna section. Idk, I tried to get some kind of order in there with a sprinkling of full spreads here and there to keep it fresh and interesting for the eyes.

I hadn’t worked with InDesign on such an intense level since college. I forgot all of the tips and tricks we learned in class. Spent some time reading on how to do things again… like adding page numbers. - I started drafting my pre-order form. It’s my first time making a google form like this. It’s kind of fun? I spent a long time on it, despite how simple it was. This was going to be my “Store” so it had to look and sound good. - My friend introduced me to charm-making. It seemed easy enough, and I wanted to give my zine more oomph. Besides, I’ve always wanted to make a charm.

I remember someone saying they’d buy a book of just the 4 Seraphim if it existed. I like them too and they lack art imo. In the end, I decided to do a polaroid charm. It’s not really that unique but I wanted Kratos to have actual friends to hang out with for once LOL.

She was going to do a group order to try to reduce the costs. I thought maybe 4 weeks would give me enough time. In the end she said I only have 2. I work well under pressure, so needless to say, I did make that deadline. I actually sketched the whole thing on the plane headed home. - After playing the game the second time, watching the OVA again, and reading “Offerings to a Star,” I have gained a real soft spot for Yuan.  My friend once said, “If you weren’t stolen away by Kratos, you would be in love with Yuan.” Lol. I’ve been in a “Kratos and Yuan hanging out” mood lately, so of course I needed something good for the zine. They’re so cute together! Now… what is the bro-est thing I can draw?

I was currently in Florida for my friend’s wedding. I was friends with the groom and his best man since high school, so that makes it 10 years now. Seeing how they’re still friends after all this time, despite living in opposite sides of the country, was really moving to me. Of course, me being me, I could see Kratos and Yuan’s long friendship being similar to this, if they had gone to school together. I just had to draw it. - When I got back from vacation, I did some research on zine sizes. Mine was HUGE compared to others. I just didn’t quite realize it until I held a magazine in my hands. It really is huge…

I settled for a medium size. 7x9. I really liked how it looked. Petite but not too petite. Unfortunately resizing my book had messed up my artwork placement so I spent hours rearranging all the text and resizing my images. I found out afterwards that there’s a way to retain the format while changing the document size. Gee, that would have been helpful 4 hours ago.

Sadly, choosing a custom size booklet makes printing more expensive. But I wanted it badly enough that I’d be willing to pay for it. Letter size is just too large… - I decided to stop dragging my feet and post a promo. I just really needed a deadline for myself to get this all done before July ended. I’m happy it was well-received. A lot of people like Kratos huh…

Anyway, the pre-order is due in a week and I still don’t know what all the costs are yet. I need a physical proof ASAP to weigh at the post office! - Something possessed me one day to do another drawing. I don’t usually do painterly style (mainly because it’s really difficult and takes 10x longer) but I just REALLY wanted to push myself on this Final Piece to the zine. I wanted it to be… radiant. Almost religious. I worked on it obsessively. From breakfast to sundown. The only time I would stop was at 7pm to go running or else my legs would give out on me.

Call me crazy, but I would save my progress on my phone so I could examine it for errors during my warmup. I also spend an hour examining it for errors before going to bed. It’s a miracle I hadn’t dreamt of the painting. - I sent my files in on Sunday in hopes that they start working on it first thing on Monday…. and it HAPPENED! They finished before I even woke up. I think they start work at like 6am…

Of course, I drove over there as soon as I heard so I can get a look. “Please… please let the colors be okay,” I prayed as I was driving. I barely remember driving there, I was so lost in thought. It would be another long ordeal if I had to fix all the colors.

Thank the stars. The press proof looked BEAUTIFUL!! I was screaming to the client coordinator how much I loved it. I mean, I worried for a looooong time that everything would turn out too dark (it usually does) but it was PERFECT. I was especially worried about the cover, which contained a lot of yellow and I def did not want it to come out mustardy… But it was great in the end!

The press operator is a quiet man. He’s got a scary face and never smiles but I think he’s secretly nice. He has done a lot of favors for me in the past without my asking. He was the one to print, bind, and trim the book for me. Obviously he had to have seen what I was drawing. I wonder what he thought of it…? He walked away before I could express how happy and thankful was. He didn’t need to hear it. It was like he already knew. So cool…

I immediately took it to the post office to weigh it. I needed as much info as I could get and plus, I was dying to know for myself. This is the week I was supposed to open pre-orders and there was still a lot I needed to do. Take pictures, create mockups, pricing, etc.

NGL, all of these costs were building up fast. It was so darn expensive to make a zine while also keeping prices down. But I wanted so much more for my baby. Extra glossy cover, perfect binding!! I knew by the end of this, I probably wouldn’t make much money. It hurt a little, but I tried to think that it was for the greater good. Learning experience and all that. And creating something beautiful. Especially something beautiful of Kratos. - Pricing was really the hardest part. I pretty much threw profit out the window. However, I definitely did not want to be losing money. My dad and I had worked together to create a spreadsheet of expenses to make sure my head was above water. I followed it… loosely.

My friend came to talk to me at the right moment. I was sort of panicking at the prices. She made me realize I was thinking way too hard about it and gave me some tips based on her own experience. It really put my mind at ease talking to someone who understands my woes.

The truth of the matter is, the book is wonderfully made and has a lot of pages - countless hours of drawing. There is only so much I can do about pricing. It is what it is… I just needed to come to terms with my own worth. - Boy, what am I going to do once the zine is done? My friend says that I’ll be so over Kratos that I’ll stop drawing him (but the love remains). It’s like… all of the intense planning, working, struggling nonstop will just suddenly… stop. TBH, I’m running out of ideas. I spent it all on the zine. - Photoshoot today. I had to paint my nails purple for this occasion. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the look I wanted in the apartment. It’s just so naked without props. I think I’ll take it to a cafe for some nicer backgrounds. I talked it over with my friend and decided to do a quick flip-through of the zine as a promotional video. I used the most professional video program I had on hand… Snapchat. It actually turned out pretty legit and of course I slapped stickers on there because it’s Snapchat.

I had to tape/hide some of the pages for the video because I wasn’t actually done with the drawings. I had the printers print it anyway so I could examine it for color accuracy.

I’m really stressed about pricing now. It turns out I had a lot more international fans than I anticipated. I wish I took notes on interest earlier in the game to cater to them. I had a list of “possible buyers” and I only just now decided to check where they live? Foolish.

I did another cost analysis on paper to figure out what my goal was to make up for the charms. Right now they’ve cost me a fortune for something that was supposed to be giveaway. Other things that rack up are packaging costs, PayPal fees, and some other supplies I needed for this project.

Maybe I shouldn’t have made it 40 pages. It is an impressive number, but no one is really paying for quantity. I think 25 is a better number lol. If I had done that, I could have had my super-gloss cover like I wanted. :’(

There is hope though. And I’ve placed it in the hands of my followers to come through for me. I think I’ll open pre-orders on Saturday or Sunday, depending on what I finish. - “Losing your cool will only lead to poor decisions.” 
Thanks, Kratos twitter bot. You always know what to say.

I read this post today on what makes people buy zines. Very interesting!
 https://twitter.com/andythelemon_/status/1141469048653398019 - Photoshoot part 2 today. My friend and I went to a cafe nearby that had some nice atmosphere in hopes of finding the right shots. I brought all of my Kratos merch just in case. I’m glad I did though, since the tables were pretty sparse and it was difficult to capture the backgrounds without getting a bunch of random people in it too.

I would have been the photographer, but I definitely wanted my hands in the shots. In a way, it was meaningful - to show that this was made by my own two hands. Plus, I wanted to depict natural interaction with the product. It made it feel real.

The photos were cute! I feared it would look a little amateurish with all the merch in there, but I think fun was what I was really going for, not “professional.” And plus the flip-through was a Snap anyway LOL. As long as the photos have good lighting and tasteful composition, you really can’t go wrong with “fun.”

Now that I’ve finished editing my photos, there really isn’t anything holding me back from opening pre-orders. I’ve pretty much come to terms with my pricing. If I fail to break even, I’ll just have to open commissions to try to make up for it. I was telling my friend on the way home, “I gave this zine EVERYTHING I had to give. So at the very least, I won’t be disappointed in myself.” No stone left unturned, no detail left unchecked. It was perfect according to my standards. I really love my zine okay?!

I thought I was crazy for not only choosing a small fandom, I narrowed it down even further by picking ONE GUY to make this zine about. She replied, “Even if it’s small, those people who love him now must be EXTREMELY LOYAL to still be in love with a character from a 15-year-old game. All of them will want your zine.” - I went to bed that night with the intention of making the pre-order post live in the morning. I was so nervous I couldn’t sleep. I was wide awake until at least 5 or 6 am. Luckily, I was able to doze off for a an hour or two before I would shake myself awake again. It was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. It was the moment of truth - to see if all my effort made a difference. Was it going to sell? - The pre-order post looked really freaking good. I’ll give it that. I even made a YT account just to post that darn preview video on tumblr lol. It was definitely fun seeing everyone’s excitement and we all just freaked out together.

I broke even! That’s what really matters. Honestly at this point, I couldn’t care less if I made profit or not. I now know how much people really like the zine and that alone made me so happy I could die.

I was particularly fascinated at Google Form’s ability to transfer all the data collected into a spreadsheet. That is extremely helpful. I spent hours organizing the data. It was really fun…?! Now I can tell who gets invoiced and who paid and separate them into categories. IT’S FANTASTIC!

Stayed up late researching how much adding tracking could be. I had a slight panic attack thinking “what if my books got lost in transit?” It would really hurt me to have to reprint books and ship them again. And then I realized I will need to fill out customs forms for all international orders. Yikes, I’m gonna be living at the post office lol. You can print them out at home if you fill out the form online but there are still some things I’m uncertain about. I may visit the post office later this week to ask all my questions. - This morning I sent out everyone’s invoices. I gave the international people the option to purchase tracking. It’s expensive… but I need to provide that option just in case.

I received a nice message from someone who offered to advertise for me on Instagram. Of course, I gave them the OK! I’m really so shocked they would do that… They said the liked the zine so much it deserved more exposure. My dude… I love you… T_T

I thought about advertising on insta myself earlier in the week. For some reason I felt it was going to be fruitless since I don’t have an art account on there with a following. So, I gave up on the idea. Hey it worked out in the end.

I’ve never been so organized in my entire life. I want this zine experience to be perfect. The people have placed their trust in me, so I cannot mess up. - Edited some pages in the zine. The typography must be perfect… It made me think back to undergrad days in graphic design school. Man, if only I can present this as a project - photos, videos, matching accessories and all. I’d probably get an A lol. - Orders slow down after the first day. The rest is just about getting new people to see the post and giving other people more time to decide.

I finished my Kratos stationery today. It’s going to be so cute. My friend said people would want to buy it but I don’t have it in me to do more products at this time. Plus, I want it to be a surprise.

Why make stationery? Well my real job (no, I don’t draw Kratos all day for a living) is a stationery designer! It would feel really wrong not to put into practice what etiquette I’ve learned in this business. Plus, I felt that it was necessary to properly thank all those who ordered. And it’s fun?

I started designing the shipping labels for the domestic orders since I don’t need to fill out a customs form for those. I wish I had sticker labels but… it’s okay. It will still look good in the end. - Every so often, I would get nervous at the amount of money I’m responsible for. Perhaps, if I had a store with existing products I wouldn’t feel this way, but the fact that the books haven’t been printed yet made me scared. I know, I need this money to even print the books in the first place, but I’m just baffled at my customers’ trust in almost a total stranger. I felt pressured that I could not let them down and lose that trust. It probably didn’t help that I watched a documentary on Elizabeth Holmes (Theranos) that day.

So, I prayed every single day that nothing would go wrong. I’d check my spreadsheet constantly for any mistakes. It was a little obsessive, but I would rather be that than overlook something.

I began collecting cardboard boxes. My plan was to cut them up to protect the books during transit. I would have preferred hard envelopes but they were a bit pricey. If I have to do more work myself, so be it.

I’ve been getting nice DMs from some buyers. I think my invoice due date scared them… I really did not intend to be strict, but I wanted people to pay now if they can rather than forget about it. This happens at work all the time, so the best thing to do is have it due immediately. It would not look good to have to wait on stragglers when I close pre-orders, so I’ll probably reach out when there is one week left. - My Kratos stationery arrived! Aww it is SO CUTE!!! My babies… I have a lot of notes to write so I got started right away. It’s going to be a lot of work trying to come up with creative ways to say “thank you,” but I don’t mind. I said I was going to put my all into the zine experience so I will.

At long last, the charm order has been put in motion. My friend said it could take a while… I hope it won’t be longer than 3 weeks. I really do not want to keep everyone waiting. I may ship out the ones who did not win a charm first. I mean, there is no reason to make those guys wait. I should ask the charm winners if they still want to wait and see if anyone wants to give it up for someone else who is more patient. Hm. - I finally stopped by the post office today to collect customs forms. I have my work cut out for me since I’m filling all of them in by hand. D:

I’m not used to international addresses so I think I’ll ask for help in checking them for spelling errors and typos. Heaven forbid I mess up on the very last part of the zine experience.

In my nervousness, I decided to reach out about invoices early on. If someone wanted to cancel, I would rather find out sooner rather than later. Everyone was really nice about paying and thank goodness they’re still excited.

Feeling kind of overwhelmed by all the things I need to do, but it’s a good thing. If I don’t know what to do, I can either: cut cardboard, write letters, type shipping labels, draw more Kratos for a… possible volume 2? Someone I talked to today already said they’ll pre-order a second book if I make one. Omg I think I’ll die. But we’ll see. It’s just a joke right now haha… - Preorders end today. I had another nightmare last night that the books could not be printed properly and there was nothing I could do. Why do I keep getting nightmares about the zine! I had one a few days before about people canceling their orders when I asked them about the invoices. I’ll take these dreams with a grain of salt. I’m probably just stressed/worried but everything is going to be okay. When I open my eyes, nothing is on fire.

I received my final proof a few days ago. With all of the artwork completed and changes applied. The book looks good, no doubt about it. There was only one thing I was nit-picky about but it can be fixed. The press operator offered to print another book for me to inspect. I’ll go see it on Monday and then submit the rest of the orders. I also asked to to have a meeting with the press operator so we are on the same page. It would be beneficial to have an understanding of how my book is made so that I may be more helpful to him.

I spent the day preparing shipping labels. I hate to admit, I am not too familiar with the format international addresses so I had an address validator open as I was typing them in. For the most part, everyone was helpful in already formatting their addresses in the preorder form! - My parents called me the day after preorders were closed. They wanted to say congratulations on my success. No one thought it would do this well. I couldn’t be offended by that since I was also guilty of it. I’m happy though. It feels like my love spread across the world and was contagious.

I tried to think of what advice I would give to others. Obviously, genuine love for the subject and hard work were a necessity. But it would be good to consider value. If I were selling it at this price, I had to make sure my pieces and presentation looked the part. I ask myself, if someone else sold it, would I buy it?

I sent out messages to all the charm winners in the morning. I wanted to apologize profusely at the ridiculous amount of time it has taken to get them made. But no, I’ve got to stop apologizing. I stated the facts and left it at that. Everyone was really kind and patient⁠—to which I was thankful for. I don’t usually get that when I’m working customer service. - All the books were done printing in one day. Wow! I went to pick it up immediately of course. I can’t believe all of this is coming to an end. I finished preparing the mailers. All that was left was to stuff and seal the domestic orders. They were the easiest to do so I’m going to ship those first. The rest will need customs forms, which I haven’t filled out just yet. It’s going to be a while for those…

The mailers were quite sturdy with the cardboard cutouts I slipped in them. I have nothing to worry about. I’m sure my babies will be okay! - I took a whole box of domestic orders to the post office today. Wasn’t sure what to expect. But my clerk had to input every single address one at a time while I checked for errors. Omg, why are the post office shipping labels SO HUGE. I thought it was going to be half the size. And they’re ruining my designer labels! Slight panic but oh well…

I had a long long line behind me. I’m so sorry, people. Luckily there were two clerks or I would be really sweating. Despite my intimidating box of zines, the clerk and I had Synergy and we managed to ship all of these in about 15 minutes. I received a very long receipt and quite the bill lol. - Shipped the international orders today. I was kind of a mess since I had no idea what to do. I keep wondering if I can help speed up the process in any way but I don’t think I have the option to ship first-class at home.

When shipping international, keep the post office copy of the customs forms together with the package since they use that to type the address info into the system. Also, we get free tracking, which I did not know about. The other clerk told me that we did not get tracking for international first-class but I guess he was misinformed. It’s good to know for next time. - The charms finally arrived!! And THEY’RE HOLOGRAPHIC?! It was pretty awesome, but it makes picture-taking kind of difficult!! Anyway, I was a tiny bit disgruntled that they got my order incorrect, and I even asked for a reprint. But they said no, so I left it at that. Besides, it seems the holographic effect was well-received.

I like this size that I made. It’s really cute! Larger than your normal charm but not too huge. It’s almost like an Instax photo! - There was one customer who I found lives near me! I asked her if she wanted me to hand-deliver it to her in a public setting and she agreed (to my amazement). We finally met a few days ago and talked for hours and hours lol! I’m glad to have finally made a new friend here in this town but of course she’s moving away in two weeks. <:’3

We’re going to meet again to make the most of her time left. - I shipped the rest of the orders on the following Monday. I HAD to get these out. The poor guys have been waiting over a month! I think I picked a bad time to go because I had a huge line behind me and only one guy working. People in line were getting antsy or mad. The clerk at the other post office was super fast but not this guy…

For some reason shipping to the UK and Japan nearly doubled in price since the last time I checked. RIP. T_T - Omg I finally made a mistake. I wrote a letter to the wrong person. And the contents of that letter are too personalized!!! I am dying of embarrassment!!!!! Screams!! Had to apologize to both customers too!!! Luckily they were good sports about it but I’m seriously kicking myself AAAAAAAA!!!! - The most rewarding part after sending all my babies away is seeing the commentary on my project. It is so so nice to receive positive feedback. People are happy! Happy with something I created out of thin air. Everything was worth it 1000 times over. I can die happy!

I’m especially thankful to those who show understanding for how much effort went into it. It definitely wasn’t easy and I poured way too many hours into it… not that I regret that.

I don’t want to jump the gun but I would really love to make a volume 2. Because I know I can do better than last time. New and improved art and comics! But we’ll see if I make enough pieces for another book. I was against printing 40 pages before but now I kind of like it. It feels more worth it than a 25-page zine. If i’m going though so much effort, might as well bring in the entire package.

I’ll be printing more of this volume for Aselia Con 2020. Now I know people will appreciate it.

[angel-of-studying-blog]

My Study Habits; awareness of what works for me and what doesn’t.

I need to be at a desk. If I’m on the bed or couch it’s like my brain refuses to do work.

I need to have water at my side while I’m doing homework or studying. I eat when I’m stressed, procrastinating, or bored, and drinking water instead is a good way to keep that bad habit at bay.

Rewriting notes doesn’t actually help me that much.

Reading the assigned readings is so so so important for me. I need to remember that I don’t actually have to read in depth and analyze, but that sometimes simply skimming will do the trick. Skipping readings screws me over though.

Notes are good most of the time. But don’t write down stuff I don’t need. They don’t need to look pretty.

In fact, trying to make my notes pretty detracts from my mental energy reserve and makes me not want to do the things I actually need to do. Plus it puts this pressure on me like from that point on, I HAVE to have pretty notes. Like who cares if they’re pretty.

To-do lists are everything. I need them to function.

Routines are important. When I abandon them, my life spirals out of control for like a whole week and makes me behind on a bunch of stuff.

I need to clean out my backpack and folders more often. It gets heavy and hurts my back, which is bad since I already have back problems.

Don’t depend on that extra 30 minutes I have every morning to get stuff done. My friends usually distract me, so just get it done on time.

Paying attention is class is the thing that helps me most. I also need to participate, because that is almost a sure way to do well in the class.

Writing down questions I have, like in math, is a Good Thing. A really Good Thing.

I’m not a physical Planner person. Like, writing stuff down everything on paper doesn’t work for me because I can’t just change it easily like I can on Google Keep.

Don’t try to be Aesthetic. It’s draining and pointless.

Don’t force myself to maintain a blog or whatever because feeling obligated to do unnecessary things stresses me out.

Flash cards are actually really useful for me. Huh.

My schedule is pretty full on Mondays and Wednesdays. That’s why I should get started on my homework pretty soon after I get home, if not immediately.

Planning out the things I’m going to do the night before with a quick list really helps keep me on track.

I need to take advantage of all my free periods. Instead of talking to my friends, I should just shove my earbuds in and keep my mouth shut and focus on my work.

For two years, I had myself convinced I didn’t need much sleep to function. I was so wrong. Sleep makes all the difference. Not getting enough sleep for one night can screw up my entire week as I try to ply catch-up, so I need to start thinking ahead. I need to teach myself that sleep is the biggest priority. It lets me focus in school, absorb knowledge, as remember it better. Plus it keeps me out of awkward situations since I don’t have control over myself when I’m tired. And it makes me look and feel better. Just remember that feeling of exhaustion and almost dozing off during an important lesson.

Deadlines are what motivate me.

Study groups aren’t very effective for me, especially in math. I need time to sit down and think about stuff at my own pace, I don’t like being rushed and being distracted by chaos and people talking.

BUT they can be effective IF I take the lead and do the actual teaching. I can’t listen to other people, especially peers, review stuff. I need to be the one explaining, but that requires knowing the knowledge before hand. So basically, I should only count on study groups for review. I’ve found the groups effective for history. Sometimes biology (again, know the material). Math not really, but maybe if I was sure about the material.

Writing things down helps me. Sometimes I just need to sit down and visualize my ideas and put it down on paper so I can see it physically.

Maybe I should try mindmaps ^

Maybe I should also give Cornell-style notes a shot. I’ve only done outline-style so far.

Do assignments in pencil. I get sloppy and careless for some reason when I use pen and I’m dissatisfied with how it looks.

All the stuff in my backpack has to be organized in a specific way, that way my stuff stays intact and I have peace of mind. Same with the stuff in my pencil pouch.

I love sticky notes.

Coffee is a good last resort, but try not to get addicted to it or depend on it. Sleep is better anyway.

I need breakfast or else my stomach will hurt and I’ll be distracted.

Drinking water in the morning helps me stay focused and keeps headaches away.

Speaking of headaches, I tend to get them often, especially when I have less than six hours of sleep (GET SLEEP) and when I’m dehydrated. Keep Advil on hand.

I need to sit in the front. I hate the back. The middle is okay...but the front is the best. Okay, maybe second row.

If I get sleep, I focus better in school and do better on homework and tests. If I do that, I know what I’m doing. If I know what I’m going, people notice and praise me. I look smart. I LIVE for that. When I get that feedback, I do get motivated. When I’m motivated I sleep better. It’s a whole cycle and SLEEP is what makes it all happen.

Deleting all my social media apps is how I keep myself from procrastinating, and I don’t even like social media so it’s easy for me.

My main distractors are YouTube and Webtoon. I need to do something about that.

I’m more of a reward than punishment person.

If I’m currently watching a show I love, I tend to let it take over my life and then I don’t do my homework and I get behind. BUT I also can and do use shows and movies to either reward myself or look forward to as a break. What I do with 20 minutes episodes is I try to get 2 or 3 things done. With longer episodes, I bunch together more assignments on my to-do list. With movies, I try to get everything done and then I watch them.

My dog distracts me. I spontaneously cuddle with him, telling myself I’ll only play with him for 5 minutes, but then it’s 15 or 20 minutes later and I’m only then finishing up. I should practice self-control.

I can only work upstairs at the kitchen table when my whole family isn’t home. When they are, I can’t focus, so I should work downstairs instead. I get distracted downstairs too, but I’m working on it. That chair really hurts my back though. I should get a new one.

Putting a blanket around my shoulders puts me to sleep. Don’t do it while working.

Sometimes I don’t want to do work so my brain pretends to be tired and I tell myself I’ll only nap for 15/20 minutes but it always ends up being like way over an hour. Just push through it or make coffee instead.

I get sloppy and lazy in my PJs, so over the weekends I should change into something once I wake up so I don’t waste my weekend and I actually get things done.

I should try to get stuff done on Fridays mostly and some on Saturday, because when I leave everything for Sunday, I rush and do a poor job.

Making a physical schedule for my classes helps me.

Sometimes I don’t want to do homework if I can’t listen to music while I do it. Like with watching assigned videos, or reading textbooks. But I need to get over it and somehow get it through my head that I’m making it worse than it is.

On days I don’t feel motivated, I should make some sort of reward. Whether it’s taking a walk with my friend, watching something, reading something, eating something, sleeping, relaxing, etc.

Maybe I should schedule some crying-time for myself. Just to relieve stress and anxiety.

Under-wire bras are uncomfortable and distract me in class.

The main ways I learn: paying full attention

How I should study for math (after learning the hard way): practicing the problems by doing them is more important than looking over all the notes. Do the practice packets and focus on the problems she says to focus on. BUT Indo still need to look at the notes beforehand, or else I’ll act crazy and feel like I’m not doing it right and start going insane. So I need to really have some self control for about a week before finals and split up the notes I need to review. Because looking over the notes let’s me see everything we learned and reminds me about stuff I forgot.

I’m a visual learner. Then a kinesthegic learner. I’m definitely not an aural learner, but I can maybe work on that?

The main ways I learn: paying full attention in class, participating, doing the homework, asking questions. A bit of studying for tests included.

I have to actively pay attention and really try to absorb stuff and process it at the same time as I’m paying attention. Especially for math and the sciences. Not really for history, and definitely not for English.

When I get home, reviewing my math notes from that day’s lesson just really quickly before I do the assignment helps me learn it and understand it and remember it.

I once tried to briefly review a week’s math notes every day before doing an assignment in order to do better on the math test and I think I did better.

Listening to music while I do math doesn’t distract me 99.9999% of the time.

But it does with reading things like textbooks.

Listening to music while reading textbooks because I don’t want to stop listening to music is way less effective than hardcore skimming through a textbook without music because I wanna get back to music. When I listen to music while reading, I take nothing in, it drags out longer, and I get distracted. When I don’t listen to music, sure I’m bored a bit, but I take everything in, I don’t get nearly as distracted, and I finish quicker. I should try to not just skim though (but if I can’t help it, then yeah, even just skimming is better).

Highlighting doesn’t always help me. In fact, it rarely does since I only use it for the aesthetic. I should try utilizing it better.

I’m good at English and can write essays easily, so that’s let me get lazy and not look to improve my writing. I feel like because of this, it’s been stagnant. I should challenge myself.

When I have had teachers, I should try to not use that as an excuse to do poorly and instead put more effort in.

Talking during class is disrespectful and doesn’t help me. I don’t usually do it, but I do when I’m tired or in a class I don’t like.

Audionyms are so useful to me, but ONLY when they have the accompanying images.

Do the damn extra credit, dumbass.

Don’t waste my free periods.

If I know I have a lot of homework, but I have plans, I should do some homework beforehand.

I didn’t realize how valuable and useful practice tests and questions are, but they really are and I should start taking advantage of them when I have them.

Don’t waste time making quizlets if you can find ones that already exist.

Physical flash cards are more effective for me. They require me to go through them less than digital ones. I’ve proved this to myself. But if I want some quick review I can use quizlet.

Study guides are great.

Getting homework done in classes like English is great because then I don’t have to worry about those stupid little assignments and can focus on more important things.

I don’t really like doing my math homework around other people because I like silence and peace so I can really focus on it and take my time with it.

Sometimes I use that ^ as an excuse to not do anything, when really I should just do different homework.

I have all these little processes and routines that I find therapeutic and a good way to get myself in the zone for homework: setting up the lines on my graph paper for my math homework, cutting my flash cards, making a to do list, getting all my stuff out in a particular order and the same with putting it away.

I also use a lot of alarms.

Taking notes during classes like math and science saves my life.

Drawing stuff for math and science in my notes helps.

Don’t waste time rewriting nooootes.

Notes for History are useful, but not always necessary. Math notes are unquestionably necessary, same for the sciences (like Biology). English notes are whatever, and I only write them because they’re required.

I memorize physical notes easier, but if a teacher talks fast, computers might be more useful. Maybe I can rewrite it physically at home. That would probably be the only time that rewriting notes is good for me. And I can do stuff like drawing diagrams on the side if I do computer notes and then combine the two.

Usually I don’t like checking my answers on tests because I’ll change it and get it wrong when I could have gotten it right, but math is the exception.

Most days I have a few hours at home before my sister gets home, and that’s the best time to get homework done because it’s quieter.

Before high school, I didn’t have to study. It was a rough transition, and it took me two entire years to realize that I had to get off my ass and actually put effort into school. This semester I figured out a lot of things about how my brain works, how I learn, what I need, and how to utilize all of these things. I put in a lot of effort, and looking back, I think I mostly did my best. I feel satisfied with it.

I do better when I have a lot on my plate because I know I can’t mess around, whereas I get lazy and form very destructive habits when I only have a few things to do. I need multiple hard classes at a time instead of just one. I need at least two that require a lot of effort/time or are difficult, at least one fun or easy class, and about two classes that are somewhere in the middle.

I’m an extremely competitive person. This is also what motivates me.

Surrounding myself with smart and hardworking friends pushes me to be the same (but also to be smarter and harder working than them, shhh)

I’m a natural leader, so when I’m in group projects I always end up being the one taking charge and delegating tasks/reminding people.

Also I’m not a fan of group projects if I can’t choose who I work with.

I like making some sort of visual for upcoming events because it makes me less stressed to know exactly when an event is coming up and how it’s oriented around other events.

I’m really good at memorizing things, but usually for short-term things. That’s useful for unit/module tests, but not for things like finals. Luckily, I don’t have to relearn the material, I just have to review it. Maybe to prevent having to cram, I should do more frequent reviews in shorter bursts over the semester.

I need to fully understand things like math and science to feel comfortable. I can kind of shrug off history and English if I’m not solid on a topic.

I developed a growth mindset at the beginning of this year because I was sick of my old school habits.

I’m an optimist/realist.

I’m not superstitious buuuuut, if I get cocky about a test, I usually end up disappointing myself. It’s best to just go in neutral because that way I’m not stressed or anxious or excited, I’m just sitting down and my brain is functioning normally at the best of its ability.

I’ve come to learn that time speeds up the month of finals week.

I find it really useful when a teacher demonstrates the lesson or does the problems with us.

[valrosewriting]

Her King’s Assassin

The bar is packed to the ceiling with people hunched over their drinks of choice when I arrive. I survey the people around me, poor red eyed men and women drinking away their worries, women and men dancing in the hope that they can find someone to love them, who might be able to take care of them in these trying times, and people like me, here for a reason that nothing will deter them from. There are men crying onto the bar top, not that I blame them, the kingdom’s dire financial situation has made everyone cry at some point in the nearly three years since it began. All this grief because the new king can’t keep his greedy fingers out of the treasury. Not that anyone has been able to prove anything, but it’s whispered in every corner of the Kingdom by the people who have had too much alcohol loosening their tongues.

I make my way through the throng of people pressed up against each other and towards the back of the bar to a booth where the familiar wrinkled face of my middle man is watching me. I slide in next to him and take a sip of the drink in front of me.

“Good evening Nigel. I got your message,” I say and he just smiles at me.

“I would hope so Vivian, otherwise this is one big coincidence,” Nigel says laughing at what he thinks was a good joke and I roll my eyes.

“I don’t have time for games Nigel. Do I have an assignment or not?” I ask tapping my fingers against the glass.

“Always in such a rush my dear. Oh well the impatience of youth I guess. Yes, you have an assignment,” Nigel says and pulls a large envelope out of his pocket and hands it to me and I turn it over in my hands. It’s heavy, whoever is hiring me must be paying a lot. I open the envelope and look inside.

“Someone hired me to kill the King?” I ask keeping my voice low even though it’s nearly impossible to hear me above the music. I’ve learned the lesson that people will sell whatever information they can get their hands on in order to make a couple bucks anywhere they can and it’s not like I can blame them, I would do and have done the same.

“You will receive your usual rate plus an extra fifty,” Nigel says and I check to make sure that my advance is in there. With a hit this big and a payout like that I have to make sure I’m going to be paid.

“Okay, I’ll do it. Did they set a deadline?” I ask after Nigel produces his flask.

“Two weeks,” Nigel says taking a sip out of his flask and I roll my eyes. For someone whose job requires a steady hand and eye, he doesn't seem to do much to preserve either.

“Were there any requests?”

“They want you to make it look like an accident and they wanted it to be quick and painless,”

“They must care about the king,” I say and wonder if the king has an insurance policy. It seems like something the old king would have stressed the importance of.

“So, what do you say,” Nigel asks watching me closely for signs of doubt, which I know he won’t find. Years in this line of work and I’ve never turned down a mission that I felt was for the greater good.

“The old King is dead, long live the Queen,” I say and slip the envelope into my coat and leave the bar and walk home. People rush past me on the street in a blur of businessmen, merchants, guards out to make sure there’s no one up to no, like me. The street is filled with the sounds of carriages and cars. Though more of the former. The King’s mother had felt reintroducing horse drawn carriages would help protect the environment. Yet another thing the new King paid no mind to with his monster of a car. I have an accident to plan and to do that I need sleep.

Five days into my recon. I find myself wondering how the King has managed to survive this long. He refuses to wear a seatbelt, he orders his chauffeur to get out and to let him drive. Then he drives at what, in my opinion, is far too fast to be safe. Every time he goes to sleep he sends his bodyguards away. Probably so he won’t have to pay them.

By the end of the week I have watched him put his life in danger so many times that I have to wonder why someone hired me to kill him. He is making it way too easy for an accident to happen. It’s just a question of setting up the perfect accident. Honestly at this point I could walk right into the mansion and mess around with the oven to kill him and no one would know I was ever there to begin with. The place is completely deserted most of the time. I count maybe five guards who leave every night and that’s it. He doesn’t even seem to have a staff to tend the mansion.

I’ve never been one to waste an opportunity like this so I make the decision to sneak in that Sunday night. This way there’s nobody out and about that could see me going inside. Which just makes things all the simpler for me to sneak over the fence under the cover of night. I scale the wall of the mansion with a ladder, I chalk the fact that it was just left out where anyone could see it as just one more irresponsible thing that the king has done during his rule. I come to the open window on the north side of the Mansion and I start to feel bad about the payout I’m going to receive for this job. A toddler could pull this off. In fact, I’m tempted to do this job blindfolded or with an arm tied behind my back. Anything to make this more of a challenge.

I make my way through the hallway following the dull red carpet and into the throne room and I can't help but notice that the throne has been stripped of its traditional gold and jewels. I try to remember the last time I saw them on throne and I can't. I don't think I've seen them since the coronation. Thinking back on my trip through the Mansion I can't remember seeing anything expensive or even remotely fancy. The ceremonial torches are wooden and no longer plated in gold, the televisions that the King uses to watch the news are cracked in places, the carpet is messed up dirty, and the King’s desk as all sorts of scratches in it. I push those thoughts from my mind, I can't have them interfering with my mission. I need to keep a clear head. I have one shot and I can't afford to miss it. If I do I won’t be able to get near him for a long time. Assuming he’s not too much of a cheapskate as to refuse guards after an assassination attempt.

The King's bedroom isn't hard to find. It's relatively close to the throne room and not locked. I easily slip inside and find the king lying in bed with the blankets up to his chin, and presenting the perfect target, but something about all of this seems off somehow. Suspiciously off so, I watch the rise and fall of his chest and I know what's wrong.

“I know you're awake,” I say, the element of surprise is already lost anyway. The King's eyes open and he looks at me. I hold his gaze and step towards the bed. He doesn't even flinch.

“You don't seem afraid of me, a stranger in your room, and one with a gun at that,” I say pulling my gun out.

“You're not going to kill me, not with that gun at least,” the king says.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because I said I wanted you to make it look like an accident,” he says and I blink at him. Of all the things I was expecting him to say that was not it.

“You hired me?” I ask and he nods so I ask the next logical question, “why did you hire me? If you wanted to die you could have done it yourself and saved the kingdom some money. Besides, if you’re feeling suicidal you should talk to someone. There are plenty of resources out there,” I say and wonder how I went from trying to kill him to trying to talk him out of having himself killed.

“I'm not suicidal.”

“You hired an assassin to kill you. That seems pretty suicidal to me because I sure as hell don’t offer dance lessons.”

“I don't want to die. I have to die.”

“I'm going to need a bit more information than that,” I say putting the gun away because everything about tonight has gone to hell. I might as well not waste and relax. Besides I can take him without a weapon. Also, I don’t think he’s going to attack someone he hired to kill himself.

“If I die Caitlin takes the throne. She's always been far smarter and better at ruling than I. However, father insisted that I take the throne instead of her.”

“Okay so then step down,” I say.

“The Royal treasury is nearly empty. Even she is not a miracle worker…”

“...And if you die she gets a life insurance policy payout,” I say, as far as plans go it’s not the worst I’ve ever heard.

“Three million dollars. Double if I die in an accident,” he says and things finally start to make sense to me.

“You mean you weren't dipping into the treasury?”

“No. Several mines on the western coast failed to produce their usual yield a couple of years back so money just slowly stopped coming in. My father did not handle the situation well and chose to keep the lines open instead of looking for places to build new ones. When he died I inherited all his bad choices and I don’t have the support or funds to fix any of it. But Caitlin can and I can give her the boost that she’ll need,” He says.

“Does she know about this plan of yours?”

“No. I can’t risk her losing support because of an investigation. That’s why I hired you with was supposed to be my college fund. I can’t make an accident on my own and I can’t risk it looking like a suicide and have the company try to weasel out of paying her.”

“I misjudged you,” I say feeling slightly bad for falling for the rumors.

“A lot of people have. It’s...not okay...but it isn’t important right now. I knew when I hired you that there were going to be many people celebrating the news of my death and wishing it had come sooner,” he says.

“You’re willing to die for people that will praise whoever made it happen?”

“No. I am willing to die for my people. The people who it is my job to protect and if I have to die to do that, then so be it,” he says and I stare at him.

“How can you be so selfless?” I ask.  

“My Father may not have always made the best decisions but he had an undying love for the people we are responsible for. I watched him spend hours pouring over every petition people would send in. If someone had a grievance and were unable to come here he would go to them,” he says and then something changes in his eyes and he says, “I think we’ve had enough chit chat for one evening. Obviously, you came in here with a plan to kill me. Perhaps we should get on with it before the guards arrive for duty. I would hate for them to get involved in anything that could hurt them.”

“You still want me to kill you?” I ask something about this whole thing not sitting right with me.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve chosen now to grow a conscience,” he says with a grown.

“Hey! I only take jobs when the person is a bad person. I don’t kill innocent people. I was fine with killing you when I thought that I would be killing a thief,” I say.

“Oh great. Of course, the assassin has morals now!” he snaps running his hands through his hair.

“Look, I’m sorry that you’re scared but you don’t get to take it out on me. I won’t...no I can’t kill an innocent person,” I say.

“Even if it is for the benefit the Kingdom?” He asks and I sit on his dresser back leaning against the mirror.

“Well, it’s not like I actually have to kill you. Your sister sounds like, from what I’ve seen of her personal projects, a very skilled negotiator. Meaning she can probably hold her own in an argument with an insurance company about paying out her brother’s insurance policy. Meaning we can probably get away with them never finding a body. If many people see you die,” I say.

“What?”

“We arrange for you to fall into the rocks over on Harbringer’s cliff during a press interview. I can climb down and paint some of the rock with your blood to make it look more realistic,” I say.

“But why take the chance of the company refusing to pay out when we could easily just supply them with my dead body from the fall?”

“Because you will live.”

“How?”

“The cliff face has all sorts of caves and caverns that open towards the sea. If we can get you into one then you can crawl along it to the hills overlooking the cliff.  They never find a body, your sister takes the throne, and hopefully the kingdom will prosper,” I say and the king looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head.

“That is a nice sentiment. But, how do we get me over the cliff and into those caves quickly enough that no one will see?”

“You have horses, right?”

“I still have my mother’s horse...why?”

“Well if the horse were to escape the stables and runs towards the stage. You lose your footing and fall off the cliff with a rope attached and it swings you into the cavern. One pull to disconnect it from the cliff face and a rock dropped into the water and you’re dead as a doornail for all the world to believe.

“No. I won’t risk my mother’s horse being killed because it caused my death,” he says.

“Alright, there’s an underwater cave in Lake Clarice. We can rig it so that your car crashes into the lake and then you can swim into it. There’s a hole in the roof of the cave that I can help you find it and find your way out. Then we can take off for the nearest town that doesn’t know what you look like and you can start your new life out there in the world of not being royalty,” I say and his face twists into something I don't recognize. It might be fear mixed with disappointment.

“I don't know if I'm going to be able to do that. I can't do covert,” he says.

“That's not my problem now is it. My job is to kill you. I'm already giving you a chance to live. If you screw that up it's on you. Not me,” I say and he stares at me. I ignore the look. If I was able to create a new life after my family abandoned me then he should be able to do it. Although, I did have the advantage of not having to hide who I am when I was putting my life together. I also had Nigel to help me.

“What am I supposed to do? I have no money, no marketable skills, I won't even be able to use my own name anymore.”

“Whatever it takes to survive. Just like your subjects do every day,” I say, just like I did.

“But if I get caught I don't think that the kingdom will recover from the scandal,” he says and I have to admit that he has a point. The investigation and the repayment to the company will cripple the kingdom.

“Then don't get caught,” I say.

“Can you offer me any pointers?” he asks and I blink at him.

“You’re asking me for advice?”

“Of course, you know more about this than anyone I would be able to go to,” he says.

“Alright first you have to change the way you dress. Nothing in bright colors in most situations the ideal outfit has dark muted colors, is clean, covers your body and make sure it matches. However, if you are planning to go somewhere where people are wearing bright colors go with that. Behave the same exact way everyone else is behaving. If everyone is screaming and jumping around, then do the same and don’t look around like you’re nervous. That’ll draw attention to you. wearing a hat could help too and shave your beard. Also change the way you walk, try removing the liner from your shoe to walk lopsided,” I say and he stares at me.

“How am I going to remember all of that? I’ve never done anything like this before and I didn’t exactly plan on living past next week,” he says and I sigh. Maybe he needs a Nigel of his own.

“Alright how about this, I’m tired of going back and forth with you. How about you tag along with me as an assistant and I’ll teach you some of the tricks of the trade through practical training and then we’ll see what we can do with you. Also, since technically I saved your life I’m going to start calling you Alastair until you decide on a new name,”

“Fine and what is your name?”

“Vivian,” I say.

“Ironic, an assassin whose name means life,” Alastair says.

“Or fitting in this case,” I say.

Setting up the car to go into the water takes maybe a day. The hardest part is making sure he’ll be able to close the door after he gets out. We spend hours learning the best way to make the car leave proper marks on the road to make it look like he tried to keep the car out of the water and another day to figure out how hard he’ll have to hit the guide rail in order to break through it all while making sure he’d have a quick clean shot to the cave without needing to come up with air. It’s a lot of work but finally we manage to get everything perfect. We even manage to time it for the rain which means it’ll be even more believable and there likely won’t be anyone around to see it happen and try to play hero. Although it will make the swimming more difficult but he can do it. We've been practicing what not to do so everything should be fine.

The next day late in the afternoon after the rain has come and gone. A couple on their way to a picnic spots the smashed railing and call the police. The police then find the skid marks and the sunken car that everyone knows belongs to the King and they begin dragging the lake for his body.

From a nearby hill Alastair and I watch this happen along with a couple of other groups of people. When we see them pull the car out of the lake we make our way down to the road and we start walking to my car. Normally I don’t take it to job sites but I can’t risk anyone seeing him.

“Why did you decide to help me start a new life?” Alastair asks as we drive away.

“Because I wouldn’t be where I am not without someone to help me find a path. I’m just putting the energy back into the universe,” I say as we drive away.

The next day people all over the kingdom celebrate as the Queen takes the throne and two weeks later she announces that Alastair has been officially declared dead. Which means that she’ll be receiving the insurance payout soon.

I never thought I would see someone as happy about their own untimely demise as Alastair was when his sister made the announcement.

[adventisttoday]

By Tyson Jacob, 4 March 2020 Adventist young adults were among the runners in the Kilimanjaro Marathon on Sunday (1 March) near Moshi, Tanzania. David Masele, youth director at the Arusha International Seventh-day Adventist Church, organized a group from his congregation to participate. He is an experienced runner and ran in the 21 km race with several friends. I watched as a number of Adventist young people, tall and short, white, brown and black ran in the various races, each one showing what he or she could do until they crossed the finish line. Some were awarded simply the medals of participation, while others won a variety of championships. As I talked with them, I learned most had been preparing since last year. Masele told Adventist Today that “apart from the fun with friends, I take this as a challenge, since I’m not a marathon running person. In reality, I get tired and it is hard to get to the finish line, but I push myself and finish. With that in mind, it strengthens my never give up and endurance spirits in my real life.” Running helps him with his spiritual life, Masele said. “In the Christian life it’s not always straight; there are a lot of obstacles and hills. I learn from the marathon to never give up and to have the spirit of waiting and knowing it`s not always straight. Marathon running has helped me learn that encouraging one another is very important because we all have the same goal of reaching the final destination; we all have to work to get the medal.” Masele does a couple of marathons each year, and plans to do the same in the coming year. “I always have a target to improve my finish time,” he said. And, “I will run a few other marathons this year and again in 2021.” Levis Mcbravy, an Adventist musician from Dar es Salaam, the largest city in eastern Africa, told Adventist Today that he did not run but came with the group to provide support to his friends. He is planning to run next year. Jane Essaba, from the Temeke Adventist church in Dar es Salaam, expressed how bad she felt after missing the deadline to participate as a runner and mentioned Glory Elineema Kangalu and Rose Elineema Kangalu, both members of the Burka Adventist church who have participated along with many other of her friends that she mentioned with great joy. David W. Zabron, a member of the Njiro Adventist church who works as assistant manager for Youth Entrepreneurship Program (YEP) Tanzania, told Adventist Today that he was planning to run but got busy and realized how late he was in preparing, so he decided to be a spectator and cheer on the runners this time. He plans to register for other races to come. “The event was fantastic,” he said. “I got an opportunity to become friends with several Adventist youths.” Civic and business leaders see the Kilimanjaro Marathon in terms of how it builds community and economic development. Speaking during at the beginning of the race, Kilimanjaro Regional Commissioner Anna Mghwira, praised the race’s sponsors, which included Kilimanjaro Premium Lager, Tigo Pesa Services, Grand Malt, Kilimanjaro Water, Barclays Bank, Simba Cement, TPC Sugar, Precision Air, Kibo Palace Hotel, Unilever, GardaWorld Security, Keys Hotel, CMC Automobiles and the government Ministry of Natural Resources and Tourism. She pointed out that this year’s race was expected to draw participants from more than 50 countries worldwide. ———— Tyson Jacob is the reporter for Adventist Today based in Africa at the Adventist University of Arusha. The photo is one he took of the group of Adventist young adults at the Kilimanjaro Marathon on Sunday, 1 March 2020.

[charlesjening]

An Interview with a Paperless Practitioner Doing Things Her Way

Welcome back to the second in our series of interviews with Gusto partners who just so happen to be doing some pretty cool things out there in the exciting world of accounting. In case you missed the last one, we introduced you to Bruce Phillips of Aprio Cloud, all while extolling the virtues of payroll and benefits solutions provided by our friends at Gusto. Go give it a read.

Before we jump in, we encourage you to pay Gusto a visit to find out how they’re bringing payroll and benefits into the 21st century. Forget flying cars, what the future needed was a modern solution to getting your people paid, onboarded, and insured. I mean, flying cars would have been nice but hey, this is pretty good too.

This time around, you’re meeting the incomparable Nayo Carter-Gray of Maryland-based 1st Step Accounting. Not to play favorites but we’re particularly fond of her paperless approach and how she’s using technology to embrace the deskless lifestyle.

Going Concern: Let’s get some introductions out of the way. Tell us about your firm.

Nayo Carter-Gray: 1st Step Accounting is a virtual accounting and tax preparation firm that is environmentally conscious and focused on leveraging technology for efficiency and convenience.

Nayo Carter-Gray

The culture I’m building for my practice is one of flexibility and freedom. I truly believe no one should be tied to a desk because of the advancement of technology, and so I try to ensure that my customers can work with us regardless of location and can access all information with at bare minimum a smartphone.

GC: As laptop hobos ourselves, we fully get behind the deskless lifestyle. What all do you do over there?

Carter-Gray: We currently offer accounting and bookkeeping services, tax preparation and planning, education and seminars (online and in-person), QuickBooks online setup and training, IRS and state tax audit and collection services, as well as consulting for small business growth and development.

GC: Nice. So a solid well-rounded suite basically. Bit of a personal question maybe but why did you start your firm?

Carter-Gray: I started my firm initially as a tax preparation firm, and I focused on multilevel marketing business owners because I was a MLM business owner. I found that my team members and other colleagues were being fed bad information when it came to reporting the business income and expenses on their taxes. After the first tax season, I discovered a need for bookkeeping and education for the small business community since the larger firms don’t want to waste their time and resources on these customers because they don’t earn them enough billable hours.

GC: It’s funny, we’ve heard that from other firm owners about starting with tax prep and then branching out when they see a need to provide more services to their clients. It’s almost as if tax prep is a gateway drug. So, if the little old lady you’re helping cross the street asks you about your work, how would you describe your job?

Carter-Gray: I make accounting a little less taxing for small business owners all across the U.S.

GC: Excellent play on words. While you’re making things less taxing for your clients, what tools can you not live without?

Carter-Gray: So many to choose from! My project management system Trello keeps me on track, my forms builder Cognito Forms helps me organize data collection from clients, and my online scheduler/CRM vCita does just about everything: it helps me keep my schedule in order, allows my clients to conveniently book appointments that work for them, and helps me to keep communication and notes in one centralized location.

As an honorable mention, I can’t live without my SideTrak second monitor for my laptop which conveniently attaches to the back of the laptop and slides out to make working from home as easy as working from my office.

GC: And Gusto, natch! How did you first hear about them?

Carter-Gray: Another accountant mentioned them (not sure who), and shortly after I heard about Gusto, I attended QuickBooks Connect where I got to see all the features for myself at a breakfast they hosted. I switched my largest customer at the time a month later because I was so impressed.

GC: Excellent first impressions aside, any surprises about partnering with Gusto?

Carter-Gray: No real surprises because Gusto did a fabulous job of presenting its product. I will say the payroll autopilot feature definitely lived up to the hype. I have several clients on salary and this makes payroll a breeze!

GC: Positive feedback is always nice. How about you? What do you think is the best perk of partnering with Gusto?

Carter-Gray: I do love how Gusto listens to its community and makes improvements based on our feedback. And it’s awesome that Gusto offers a discount or revenue share when we refer the product to our communities.

GC: Alright, enough about all the benefits of partnering with Gusto. What are some challenges your firm has faced in 2019? And don’t be afraid to tell us the really tough stuff.

Carter-Gray: This year my firm struggled with finding a project management system to stay in constant communication with my clients. After taking some hard but necessary feedback from a few clients that left the firm this year, I decided to make it a priority to find/create a system that would allow us to stay on track of deadlines and give our customers the insight they needed to know what was going on with their project.

Another challenge is because I’m the only person working in the firm year-round, my personal goals have hindered the growth of the firm this year. I’m currently sitting for the CPA exam, which is very time-consuming and it has taken away from major marketing efforts to bring in tons of new clients like I have in the past.

GC: Wow, that’s got to be incredibly difficult. We’re sure you’ll do great. Back to your clients, are you seeing any future trends on their side our readers might be interested in hearing about?

Carter-Gray: My clients will continue to grow in their respective industries. Because I work with businesses that are newly formed or have only been in business for one to two years, I get to watch their growth from part-time hustle to full-time enterprise. So I’m expecting a few of my part-timers to go full time in their businesses in 2020 because of their steady growth.

GC: That’s gotta be fun for you to see your clients thrive. On that note, can you tell us about an interesting client situation that you’ve advised on? Or something exciting your clients are working on?

Carter-Gray: The most interesting situation that I have advised on may not be very interesting at all to most. For me, I’m very interested in watching my clients grow. So the situation I have had the most pleasure of advising on was watching a current client who is a hair stylist create and sell a physical hair-styling product. To be a part of the team that helped her go from concept to reality was an amazing experience.

The client’s reality is that the older she gets, the harder it will be for her body to sustain the hours she puts in at the salon standing and styling people’s hair. So creating her product is going to allow her to create an exit plan before she actually needs it, and this is so inspiring and interesting to me.

GC: I bet! I’m happy to report that we’re done with the interrogation portion of this interview, now on to the easy stuff! What’s your usual breakfast?

Carter-Gray: Usually it’s two eggs over easy, but during the winter months when it’s cold or I’m traveling, it’s apple cinnamon oatmeal.

GC: Everyone has a routine for winding down at the end of a stressful day. What’s yours?

Carter-Gray: I love me some good TV and a delicious Coca-Cola slurpee. I can drink them every day no matter the temperature.

GC: Man! I haven’t had one of those in FOREVER. Alright, tell us a fact about you that would surprise people to hear.

Carter-Gray: I was a parent by the age of 14.

GC: Yep, definitely surprised! What a wonderful example you’re setting of how hard work and a forward-thinking attitude can take you far in life and make an impact in the world.

So that’s all we’ve got with Nayo Carter-Gray. Feel free to check her out on YouTube for more. And if her glowing review of Gusto made you eager to learn more about how partnering with Gusto can help you and your clients seven ways to Sunday, be sure to check out their partner program for more details.

The post An Interview with a Paperless Practitioner Doing Things Her Way appeared first on Going Concern.

republished from Going Concern

[andrewdburton]

How I’m fighting chronic depression and anxiety

Hello, friends! I have four money articles in progress, plus I'm editing several guest posts for future publication. But today I want to give a brief update on my mental health. My depression and anxiety have been tough this year but it feels like I've turned a corner, and I want to share what's helped.

Each week when I go to therapy, I complete a survey regarding my recent mood and attitude. It's about what you'd expect. There's a list of maybe a dozen statements, and for each I fill in a bubble indicating how strongly I agree (or disagree) based on my experience during the previous seven days.

From memory, sample statements include:

I feel nervous and/or my heart races.

I feel anxious in social situations.

I have friends and family I can ask for support.

I have trouble finding motivation to get things done.

I'm able to complete everything I want to do.

And so on.

At my first therapy session in April, my score on this assessment was awful. I felt anxious all of the time. I was having trouble with increased heart rates. (Thanks, Apple Watch, for constantly flagging that.) And by far my biggest problem was getting done everything I wanted to get done. I wasn't doing anything. I was too deep in my anxiety and depression.

Last week, I visited my therapist for the first time in a month. As always, I completed the mental health inventory before our appointment started.

“Whoa!” my counselor said when she saw the results. She pulled up my past scores on her computer. “This is the best you've been since we started working together. You marked that everything's fine except for your ability to get work done. That's great. What happened?”

“What happened is that I got out of my routine,” I said. “I've been on vacation. Plus, I've been doing a lot of the things you and I have talked about. They've helped. Right now, the reason I can't get done everything I want to do has nothing to do with depression and anxiety. It's just that I have so much on my plate that I can't figure out how to prioritize it!”

During our time together, my therapist and I have explored a variety of steps I can take to improve my mental health. When I actually implement these things, life is great. (I have a tendency to talk about making changes without actually doing so. This was especially true early on.)

Here are three changes that have helped me cope with my depression and anxiety.

Spending More Time with People

When Kim and I lived in a condo in the city, I got plenty of social interaction on a daily basis. Now we live in a house in the country. Unless I make an effort to reach out, I can go a week without having a meaningful conversation with anyone but Kim.

Plus, I lost touch with many of my old friends when Kim and I embarked on our fifteen-month RV trip around the U.S. When I returned home, I didn't resume the relationships (and my friends didn't either).

Some people have social interaction built into their lives. They're surrounded by co-workers on weekdays. They attend church on Sunday. They take their kids to school events and/or participate in community organizations. I don't do any of this.

For many years, I had a built-in social group because I took Crossfit classes. I got to interact with my fitness friends several days each week. But I haven't attended classes in a long, long time, so that network has vanished too.

This summer, I've deliberately taken steps to reconnect with old friends. I invite them to join me at Portland Timbers games. I have lunch or dinner with them. We walk dogs together. Although I haven't joined any community groups, Kim and I are both looking to do so.

There's still more work to be done here, but I feel as if I'm moving in the right direction. It feels good to reconnect with people.

Exercising and Eating Right

Speaking of exercise, this is another area where I've let things slide.

I used to be fat. I ate poorly and I didn't exercise, so naturally I gained weight and then maintained it. My poor choices were reflected in my (lack of) physical fitness.

In 2010, I resolved to change. I reduced my calorie intake and made better food choices. More importantly, I started cycling and discovered Crossfit. Within two years, I was the fittest I'd ever been in my life. I was lean. I was strong. It felt amazing.

No joke: Being fit and knowing that you're fit is one of the best things you can do to boost your confidence and to fight depression. I'd always heard that. For a few years, I lived it.

I maintained my fitness until 2015. When Kim and I left for our RV trip, however, my health began to erode. At first, she and I made time to exercise but gradually our motivation vanished. At the same time, we were eating more unhealthy food (we wanted to try the regional cuisine!) and drinking more alcohol (we wanted to try the regional wine and beer!). We packed on the pounds.

Since returning to Portland in 2016, I've made intermittent attempts to exercise and eat right but nothing has stuck. “I had to buy fat clothes for our trip,” I told my therapist before we left for Italy in August. You can bet she had a chat with me about (a) my word choice and (b) my inability to follow through with fitness.

Now, I have a plan. My crazy summer schedule becomes less crazy on October 15th. After that, I have no travel planned. I will sign up for Orange Theory classes and attend them early every morning. (I have to exercise first thing or it won't get done.)

In the meantime, I've already begun reducing my calorie intake and making healthier choices. My goal is to lose weight this winter instead of gain it.

Lowering My Expectations

Perhaps the biggest change I can make to improve my mental health is this: lowering my expectations for myself. I am a perfectionist. But perfectionism leads to both procrastination and disappointment.

“J.D., why are you forcing yourself to publish so much when you know that doing so is stressful?” my therapist asked in June. “This is an expectation you've placed on yourself. Nobody else has done this to you. You are making yourself unhappy.”

Good point. And, you know what? This was one of the primary reasons I sold Get Rich Slowly back in 2009. Ten years ago, I was deeply unhappy because of the publication schedule I had imposed upon myself.

So, Tom and I have been s-l-o-w-l-y transitioning to a different model here at the website.

I will write when I want to write (about what I want to write).

He and I are working together to revise and expand older articles. We'll publish new and improved versions from time to time.

We've been publishing articles from guest authors and from places like NerdWallet.

We're in the process of hiring a staff writer. (Maybe more than one?) If you're interested, you should apply for the position.

But it's not just here at the blog that I have to fight my high expectations. It's everywhere in my life: my relationships, my health, my home — even my expectations of what I do in my spare time.

Yesterday, I was talking with my former Crossfit coach about returning to the gym. “J.D.,” he said, “I know you. And if I could offer one piece of advice, it'd be this: Set your bar for success very low. If you go in and expect to be where you were six years ago, you're going to give up. For now, you should count it a success if you simply show up.”

“Showing up” seems like a low bar indeed, but my coach is right. If my expectations are too high, there's no doubt that I'll fall short. And when I do, I'll be discouraged. It'll stop me from starting! So, my first fitness goal will simply be: get to the gym each day.

It's going to take some time for me to shed all of my expectations. (And, truthfully, I'm not sure discarding all expectations is even desirable.) But that's why I'm working with a therapist.

Here's an example of my expectations in action. Although I've agreed with my counselor that I should not adhere to a publication schedule at GRS, I begin to get antsy as days pass and I don't have something new ready for readers.

In fact, this very article is a result of that. For the past seven days, I've been working almost non-stop even though there's nothing new to show for it. It's been a week since I published my last piece and it's stressing me out.

When I sat down with my coffee this morning, I started writing a journal entry about how this expectation was making me unhappy. That journal entry turned into this article. I still have work to do on this haha!

Everything I Already Know

The funny thing about therapy (to me) is that my counselor's advice is stuff I already know. I have a psychology degree, after all, and at one time I intended to become a therapist myself. The things she says and does are all very familiar to me. (She's always telling me not to worry about things I cannot control, which is hilarious because that's what I'm always telling you folks.)

But there's a difference between knowing and doing. You can have all of the book knowledge in the world, but if you don't put that knowledge into practice, what's the point? My counselor's job is to move me from words to action.

Honestly, I feel great right now. This is how I used to feel most of the time — and how I want to feel in the future. I'm enjoying life and getting shit done. The darkness is currently at bay. All I see is light.

Yes, I feel overwhelmed by how much work I have to get done — next Thursday, I leave for another 20 days on the road! — but instead of shirking the work, I'm doing it. And the workload isn't due to negligence on my part. It's just a perfect storm of deadlines and travel.

But in the back of my mind, I'm worried about what might happen this coming spring. The past few springs have been miserable for me. I'm dreading a return to the days of lying in bed, the lack of desire to talk to anyone about anything. I don't like myself when I spend all day in my underwear playing videogames. Yuck.

I'm making the right moves now, though. I'm being proactive. I'm being a grasshopper, not an ant. While everything seems rosy and bright, I'm working to lay a foundation for future success, working to create systems that will help me maintain a positive direction even when the depression and anxiety come creeping back next year.

Fingers crossed that all of the preparation pays off!

The post How I’m fighting chronic depression and anxiety appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/how-to-fight-depression/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[artsoccupychi]

I Went Fasting Without Food for 40 Days | Here’s What I Learned

I’m completely fascinated by the process and benefits of fasting without food. I’m talking about “eating absolutely nothing for a long period of time.” (With water, it’s called “water fasting,” or without water, it’s called “dry fasting.”) And, I’ve always felt that when Christians, Muslims, and Jews quit fasting routinely, we lost something important. After all, some sects in those religious traditions used to fast, at length, for weeks at a time.

Fasting Without Food | Beneficial Things I Discovered

In this article:

Fasting-Mimicking Detox

Why I Didn’t Do My Water Fasting at Home

What It’s Like to Fast at Siddhayatan

Should You Try Water Fasting?

What Are the Side Effects of Fasting Without Food?

What Does Research Show the Benefits of Fasting Are?

Is Fasting Without Food Good for Weight Loss?

How Can I Get the Benefits of Fasting Without Actually Fasting?

Who Shouldn’t Fast?

What I Learned From Fasting Without Food

  Fasting-Mimicking Detox

Now, my research into fasting—including doing it myself 4 times in the past 2 years (for 12 days, 9 days, and 7 days twice, and some shorter fasts in between)—has less to do with spiritual fasting or purification and more to do with the health benefits. I developed what qualifies as a fasting-mimicking detox, five years ago, which 13,000 people have now done. (By “fasting mimicking,” I mean you can eat three times a day, but food is completely prescribed to achieve similar benefits to fasting.) And, I do not honestly believe that most people can or will do what I just did. (Go completely without food for a week or more.)

In fact, I’m not sure they even should. More on that later.

Let’s talk about what crazy, slightly disgusting and simultaneously amazing things happen in the human body when you fast for a long period of time, why I keep doing this, what I get from it, and why you might want to consider doing it.  

Why I Didn’t Do My Water Fasting at Home

I have very little self-discipline. I’m not a biohacker, constantly using technology on myself, to experiment. I’ve never run a race longer than a 10k and don’t plan to. And, I don’t have any self-denial fetishes. I don’t just do every hard thing, because it’s a challenge.

Besides being raised Mormon, where we fasted Saturday night to Sunday night one Sunday every month from the age of 8, I have absolutely no reason why fasting for 40 days would be easy for me.

I’m one of those people who, if something hurts, or I’m hungry, everybody around me is gonna know about it.

In fact, I knew I couldn’t do it at home.

I would start with the best of intentions, I’m sure. I might even last a whole day. But, the fridge would be right there 100 steps away. My car would be in the garage. I live just 10 minutes away from food, really good food.

No, wait, it’s worse than that. There’s a Thai restaurant literally 3 minutes away from my house.

My willpower is nothing when I get ferociously hungry. I’m a vegetarian, and very frankly, I’d eat a t-bone cooked rare if I got hungry enough – maybe even a hot dog. (I suffered actual pain writing that.) So, I flew to a spiritual retreat in Texas run by Hindu monks and nuns to fast. It’s called Siddhayatan.  

What It’s Like to Fast at Siddhayatan

Siddhayatan is in Nowhere, Texas. Truly, it is miles from anything, and you cannot use your Uber or Lyft app from there to sneak out and get food in a moment of weakness.

It’s insanely cheap, maybe the cost of a Motel 6.

It makes sense, considering they’re feeding you nothing, and you might be sharing a bathroom, or staying in a room with no drywall, and only a naked lightbulb is your form of light.

I could go to True North in California where they’ll “medically supervise” me, and the lodgings are really nice.

But heck, while I’m facing all my addictions, might as well face my addiction to upper-middle-class luxuries.

I take a sliver of soap and a towel. (Correct, the Hindu ashram does not provide a towel or washcloths.)

I take a $100 Uber from the airport, where you can actually get a ride. You can Uber to the ashram, but not back to the airport.

Later, I’ll have a private car company drive me back. But, you can’t just call them when you’re freaking out and wanting food. You can schedule them to pick you up tomorrow.

So, this saves me from my freakouts. I mean, freakouts are by definition short-term.

You see how it’s the perfect place for water fasting for 40 days? Temptation is completely removed.

Also, you “can” have a meal there if you find you aren’t doing well in fasting without food.

You would have to be in a serious crisis to just drop in for lunch, though. First of all, that would be embarrassing.

You’re supposed to give them a heads up because this is the most frugal place you’ve ever been.

The monks and nuns (dressed all in white) make a homemade vegetarian Hindu meal three meals a day, but they make just enough for the exact number of people they have there doing the yoga, meditation, silent, and spiritual retreats.

(You, the water faster? No soup for you. They didn’t plan on you crashing the meal.)

So, besides being embarrassing to fail to ask well in advance if you can eat a meal with everybody else, you might actually be causing everyone they did plan for to not get enough to eat if you just crashed a meal.

I know, it’s really Dickensian.

So, my point is, your food cravings are not easily indulged at this place. And for me, that’s half the battle.

There are the actual hunger strike and physical weakness itself—sometimes even symptoms from long-term fasting without food (I’ll get to that)—but the constant temptations you’d have at home are removed.

I know a guy at home who recently fasted for 23 days. He went out to lunch and coffee with people, the whole time, and just abstained.

I guess some people are motivated or more self-disciplined than I am.

I almost lost my mind watching Netflix on my laptop during my last fasting.

(Do you know how much food they show, on most movies and TV shows? No, you don’t. You notice this kind of thing only when you’re fasting.)

So, some people might have an iron will and be able to fast at home, but I am not one of them.

The total isolation at Siddhayatan is hard (I like being around people!), but it’s also helpful.  

Should You Try Water Fasting?

Now, if you’re thinking about this for yourself, there are a few caveats.

One, there is no medical supervision here. No nurses or doctors. They have people fasting here all the time, without serious incident, but people have actually died from prolonged fasting before, or so I’ve heard.

I mean, the odds of you dying from fasting are probably about as high as you dying from taking most over-the-counter medications or driving in a car.

That is pretty low.

But, when I interviewed Valter Longo, Ph.D., a fasting and longevity expert and author of The Longevity Diet, he did cite two deaths he knows of from people fasting for a length of time, one of them with diabetes and one with multiple sclerosis.

While Longo recites the many incredible health benefits of fasting, including rebuilding myelin sheath and regenerating insulin-producing capacity of the pancreas—long-term benefits, not just short-term, after the fast—I imagine he doesn’t want the liability of people at risk fasting for long periods of time, due to his recommendations.

Frankly, neither do I, in an age of litigiousness.

This seems ridiculous, given that millions of people have fasted, accidentally due to lack of food, or on purpose, for literal millennia. But, here we are in 2018 where most Americans have never gone a whole day without food, and some tell me they’ve never even skipped a meal. I think we’re more in need of fasting than any culture in the history of mankind.

So, here’s my onerous disclaimer: if you undergo a water-only fast or dry fast longer than a day, don’t say that I told you to do it. Please do it under the supervision of a trusted functional medicine practitioner.

This blog post is about my experience, is not medical advice, and does not substitute for competent medical care.  

What Are the Side Effects of Fasting Without Food?

Hunger and Energy Fluctuations

It goes without saying that you’re really insanely hungry the first few days. Then, your body and mind settle in.

Some people describe having lots of energy. Most don’t! Generally, the longer you fast, the more your cravings for food subside, but so does your energy.

Your spirit will stay higher if you’re “doing the mental work” of challenging yourself with the task of confronting your addictions, congratulating yourself on your progress each day (or hour), reminding yourself of the health benefits, and staying positive.

If you’re smart, you don’t take a laptop with a huge writing project and deadline, like I do. (Every single time, a single mom’s gotta work!)

If you can afford the time off from life, you can just lie in bed and take short walks now and then, but not do much of anything unless you feel like it.

That said, you know yourself, and some of us do better when we’re as productive as energy allows.

I think fasting without food would actually be harder for me if I were like everyone else at the Siddhayatan retreat and didn’t work at all.

On about day 4, I start to have periods of not feeling hunger. One of the nuns told me that this is my body and mind “accepting” the fast.

Muscle, Tissue, Organ, and Fat Cleanup

But, I also, in each of my last 3 fasts, start to have lower back pain on day 4. Since I never experience this at home, I researched it, and I believe it is—don’t be scared now because this is going to sound scary—my kidneys backlogged with broken-down muscle tissue, possibly compounded by over-drinking water (which is easy to do when that’s all you can have).

Yeah, your muscle breaks down a little bit. This may sound like a bad thing.

But, if you’re a weightlifter and your trainer has you believing that all your nutrition habits should be geared to just one thing—preserving and building muscle mass—let me share a revolutionary concept, well, two of them.

One is every time you lift weights, you’re tearing down muscle fiber. And, as it builds, that’s how your muscles grow.

And two, your muscle needs cleanup, just like your organs, joints, or even every cell! If a tiny amount of your muscle breaks down, it was the body tearing out the parts that needed rebuilding anyway.

Don’t overattach, as the Hindu monks would tell you.

Remember, the fasting process doesn’t want to break down a healthy muscle. It’s strong, and it is serving you well.

As you deprive your body of food, it’s nasties like bacteria, cancer, and yeast that are gobbled up like crazy, and belly fat!

Fasting Without Food Is Different For Everyone

My friend Katie Wells, who has one of the most popular wellness blogs online, “The Wellness Mama,” recently water fasted for 2 weeks and found that after the first three days of weakness and hunger, she was insanely productive.

She cooked for her family of six children and just went abstaining from food.

As I mentioned before, if I was at home cooking for my own children, I lack confidence that I wouldn’t cave and throw in the towel, after a day or two, promising myself, “I’ll start again tomorrow.”

Total isolation and removal from food temptation, like I get at the Texas ashram, is very beneficial to me (also a little lonely).

Fasting without food gets you “up close and personal” with all your addictions. You know how you need a coffee to wake you up? (Or, in my case, you like it as a pick-me-up while you’re working, in the afternoon.)

Well, you can’t have one. You can’t have a glass of wine (or three) on Saturday night, you can’t snack, and you can’t even have a cup of tea.

And, this becomes an interesting deep dive into your soul, where you learn how addicted to stimulation, in general, you are.

What will you do with that knowledge? I think even the awareness is helpful towards managing addictions and moving through them to a healthier place.

I think that if you can soldier on and do your work and tend to your family, the time will pass more quickly than if you do what I do:

Sit around in bed, mostly, working on your laptop and watching movies. P.S. Try not to watch movies about food.

When I was hitting a wall, in my most recent 7-day fast, on day 3, the nuns told me about some of their other water fasters.

The longest? An older man fasted for 40 days without food. Pretty Biblical, right? They said he would pretty much lay in bed the whole time and was very, very weak.

But, the woman who stayed in my room before me had come for a 30-day fast, brought her dog, and planned to confront her emotional eating problem.

She ended up extending two more days. (Wow.)

Another woman came for three weeks and walked 10 miles a day.

Like I said, fasting is different for everyone. In fact, while each of my long fasts has had similarities, my process, struggles, and epiphanies are different each time, too.  

What Does Research Show the Benefits of Fasting Are?

There are a host of health benefits that result from giving your body and your digestive system a break.

Anti-cancer Benefits

I was first handed a bibliography of books on fasting by Thomas Lodi, M.D., when I was on a worldwide research tour of 19 clinics, studying non-toxic cancer treatment.

Lodi feels that fasting for 30 days is the best thing a cancer patient can do. Those books on fasting are found in the References section below.

Some disagree. In fact, Valter Longo, Ph.D., who specializes in fasting and in oncology in his research, feels that fasting while doing chemo is highly effective, protective of healthy cells, but he says that in both animals and human studies, he’s never seen fasting alone turn cancer around.

And, I think it’s clear that when a patient is in Stage IV and cachexia has set in, where the body is metabolizing muscle to feed cancer and stay alive, fasting may be a very poor idea.

But, Dr. Lodi maintains that the evidence shows it to be a powerful cancer preventative and treatment adjuvant.

With quite a bit of cancer in my family, my primary reason to fast, periodically, is cancer prevention.

Anti-diabetes Benefits

One study shows fasting to be regenerative for insulin production, as the pancreas repairs itself during a period with no food. And, the results weren’t short term: months later, they remained.

This is especially true when the person fasting begins “refeeding” on a plant-based diet. (Longo says the evidence is clear that the plant-based diet is best, for longevity, with small amounts of wild-caught fish as well.)

Several studies in Longo’s book cite turning around Type II diabetes, though Longo feels that a “fasting-mimicking diet” is preferable and less risky. Those taking insulin should not go without food for a long period of time.

Our 26-day detox qualifies as “fasting mimicking.”

You’re eating three meals a day, but all the food is easy to prepare, high in fiber and micronutrients, and the detoxer is eating no processed food, no animal products, and no highly allergenic foods.

There are periods of significant calorie suppression, which Longo’s research shows to be powerful in increasing stem cells, increasing human growth hormone and disease reversal.

Having guided 13,000 people, now, through our detox program in the past 5 years, I agree with Dr. Longo that many people are simply too toxic to do a full-blown fast, with no food at all.

(Some feel great the whole 26 days, but others struggle, even with eating three times a day on the detox, as they come off their caffeine, alcohol, sugar, salt, and other addictions.)

However, with rare exceptions, anyone can do our 26-day detox protocol, Longo’s “fasting mimicking diet,” or “FMD” five-day monthly protocol.

Autophagy Benefits: Cleaning Out for Better Rebuilding

At the water fasting retreat I did in 2016, I met a man named Eric.

His reason to fast was that a practitioner told him to do it for 20 days, to burn out a severe candida overgrowth.

Eric had been a heroin addict for many years, and he’d been hospitalized for the effects of his drug use, where he contracted MRSA that required a month of antibiotics. And, as you likely know, antibiotics usually lead to gut issues.

His were extreme. Absolutely anything he ate bloated his otherwise flat stomach to looking like he was 8 months pregnant. He was miserably sick, and desperate.

He was desperate enough to stop eating for 3 weeks.

However, contrary to Eric’s belief, arriving at the retreat, the primary benefit of fasting isn’t ketosis, although you are definitely in ketosis after a day or two.

Eric was after “ketosis,” where the body burns ketone bodies in the brain for fuel, which is all the rage currently with practitioners.

(I predict the obsession with ketosis, which is actually the body in crisis, will eventually go the way of the dodo.)

I explained autophagy to Eric, which is far more interesting to me.

It is literally defined as “self-eating,” because when the body has no other fuel, it feeds its cells and does cleanup work by metabolizing cancerous growths and breaking down yeasts, mold, fungi, viral, bacterial, and many other aberrant cells and growths.

Longo’s research culling epidemiological studies, as well as centenarian studies and his own research with various populations, points to not just the “self-eating” phenomenon of autophagy burning out aberrant cells first (not muscle mass, my friends, not unless that muscle needed replacing) but also the efficacy and power of the rebuilding  process, which happens after the fast.

Amazingly, 3 weeks of water fasting rectified Eric’s desperate situation, and a few months after finishing his fast, he texted me that he was still feeling great.

Neurological Benefits

Not only does fasting help our bodies, but it also benefits our brains. New studies show that fasting may actually ward off neurodegenerative diseases like Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s and even improve our memory and mood.

Dr. Longo cites a study showing that fasting contributes to stripping down and rebuilding the myelin sheath, an exciting possibility for multiple sclerosis patients.

Other studies reveal a correlation between fasting and improved neural connections in the hippocampus (the part of our brain that plays a critical role in memory). It has also been shown to reduce the number of amyloid plaques—the proteins associated with Alzheimer’s.

Fasting has also been shown to increase the brain-derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF) that contributes to the growth and maintenance of the brain’s nerve cells and has an anti-depression effect.

Mark Mattson, a professor of neuroscience at the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine, explained in Johns Hopkins Health Review how fasting produces changes in the brain.

When you eat, glucose (or sugar) is stored in your liver as glycogen. Once the glycogen is used up, in about 11 hours, your body starts burning fats that are converted to ketone bodies.

It is these acidic chemicals that actually produce positive changes in the structure of synapses—or the gap that transmits information from one nerve cell to another. These cells have been shown to transmit signals to and from the brain at speeds of 200 mph.

When we constantly eat, our bodies don’t have a chance to produce these ketones. It’s interesting to note that exercise has similar positive effects on the brain.

Immune System Regeneration Benefits

The results of yet another study conducted by Professor Longo and his colleagues at USC surprised even them, deeming the unexpected outcome “remarkable.” The research consisted of asking a group of people to fast for two to four days on a regular basis for a period of six months.

What surprised the researchers was this: fasting caused the immune system to regenerate. They believe that the body, put into a state of low reserves, does what it can to save energy.

The result is that a lot of damaged immune cells, along with glucose, fat, and ketones, are broken down. The depletion of these immune (white blood) cells results in stem cell-based regeneration of new immune cells.

Another one of their findings was a noticeable decrease in the production of the enzyme PKA, a hormone that has been associated with an increased risk of cancer.

The reduction in PKA allows the stem cells to switch into regeneration mode, ultimately rebuilding your entire immune system.

It’s pretty incredible.

Anti-aging Benefits

Researchers from the Department of Medicine at the University of Virginia found that fasting for just two days produced a 5-fold increase in human growth hormone (HGH).

This hormone that diminishes as we age is associated with muscle and bone growth as well as sugar and fat metabolism. It has also been shown to significantly reduce the symptoms of congestive heart failure.

In addition, clinical findings showed a decrease in cholesterol and triglycerides as well as inflammation which, as we know, is associated with a number of chronic diseases such as arthritis, Alzheimer’s, cardiovascular disease, and high blood pressure.

Asthma Benefits

In another study conducted by Mark Mattson’s team, participants with moderate asthma cut their caloric intake down to about 1/5th or 20 percent of their normal consumption every other day for eight weeks (this would be an example of a “fasting-mimicking diet”).

The result? The symptoms associated with their asthma “improved significantly.”  

Is Fasting Without Food Good for Weight Loss?

Fasting is great for weight loss. But, then again, that’s not a great primary reason to fast. I’ll explain.

First of all, there are much, much easier ways to lose weight. Faster isn’t always better.

Second, you will gain back some or most of the weight you lost, and that’s a good thing.

You have to understand that fasting is a two-part process.

There’s the first period where you aren’t eating. As discussed before, your body is breaking down old cell parts, tissues, and fat stores, and healthy cells are consuming dead cells for fuel and so that they don’t swamp the filtering organs like the kidneys.

But, there’s also the “refeeding” process. That’s where you give the body very healthy fuel, after your fast, to rebuild the broken-down tissues.

Because “you are what you eat,” then you want to eat lots of the cleanest foods possible, that is, nutrient-dense, organic plant foods, including greens, vegetables, nuts and seeds, fruits, and legumes. And, if you eat animal products, eat very clean ones, and sparingly.

So, one of the first parts of the body to break down is fat stores, especially belly fat, according to research literature cited by Longo. But, as you may know, fat cells don’t disappear.

They only shrink. So, if you go back to your old ways of eating, you can fairly easily rebuild those belly fat deposits.

You’ll have to end your fast with a commitment to eating mostly plant-based whole foods if you want the belly fat not to return.

Some people respond to the idea of fasting with this: “That’s a terrible idea because you’ll lose muscle mass!”

This seems to be a vestige of the protein-obsessed fitness industry, who thinks that (a) anything that builds muscle mass is good (not true!) and (b) anything that decreases muscle mass even to the smallest degree is bad (also not true!).

Remember, any muscle tissue that your body breaks down in the fasting process (a) needed to be broken down and metabolized anyway, which is hard on the kidneys but great for your stripped-down and rebuilt lean muscle, and (b) will be the first to be rebuilt, along with healthy organ tissue, like pancreas, kidney, or liver.

I recommend if you fast and you’re interested in weight loss, you should not weigh yourself before and after.

You’re going to lose how much you lose. And, in the “refeeding” process, you will gain some of the weight back. (You need to.)

Just trust the process, don’t make weight loss the primary goal, and focus on the health benefits.

Start with a “fasting-mimicking” diet, like our 26-day detox, know that you’re giving yourself an amazing health reboot—with some loss of fat stores being an inevitable result and some increase in human growth hormone and stem cells—and congratulate yourself on your wins, as you think about taking it a step further, potentially, later.

  How Can I Get the Benefits of Fasting Without Actually Fasting?

Like Dr. Longo, I wouldn’t tell any first-time faster, someone who has never done a committed detoxification protocol or a long-term (4+ days) fast without dipping a toe in the water first. Here are some ways to do that:

1. Longo’s Own 5-Days-a-Month “Fasting-Mimicking Diet” Is a Place to Start

That’s one idea, and you can read about it in his book The Longevity Diet. (In his program, you’re eating plant-based meals, of 800 to 1,200 calories a day.)

2. 26-Day Detox Protocol

A second option, as I’ve mentioned, for a hard reboot of the body’s digestive system and a lot of breakdown of old material and eliminations of chemicals in organs and fat deposits, our 26-day process is highly effective, based on the research and practice of the “greats” in the field of human detoxification.

These include Dr. Max Gerson, Dr. Bernard Jensen, Dr. Ann Wigmore, and Dr. Richard Anderson, among others, who have influenced my own 20-year dive into how the body purifies itself, and now to nurture it, in that process.

3. You Could Skip Lunch or Dinner Each Day For An Extended Period of Time

Eat only two meals and an approximately 100-calorie snack (like an apple or a small green smoothie).

And, this is my suggestion: significant evidence shows breakfast to be very important, especially as brain fuel if you work for a living or go to school. Children critically need breakfast, as this study and others show. So, skip lunch or dinner rather than breakfast.

4. You Could Do Alternate-Day Fasting

You fast one day a week, or every other day, to slow the process and shorten the refeeding cycle.

5. Dr. Bryan Walsh is An N.D. Detoxification Practitioner and Feels That No One Should Undergo a Fast Without a Sauna

And, I agree with him. There is such a flood of chemicals and metabolic waste coming through; a daily sauna session would be more than helpful.

The ashram has not invested in one. (I’ve offered to help.) Virtually, all other places I’ve been worldwide, who treat disease holistically, offer infrared sauna sessions.

Having one at home is potentially one of the most useful things you can invest in for your health. Make sure it’s a low-EMF sauna using untreated cedar wood.

Fasting, or even a fasting-mimicking diet, will be massively assisted by daily sauna sessions.

6. Coffee Enema

I think a coffee enema would be very helpful as a daily practice throughout a fast. (Not allowed at the ashram either. They don’t want any potential messes in the residential rooms.)

The caffeine in the organic coffee is instantly taken up by the hemorrhoidal vein to the liver, which not only produces a lot of glutathione (the master antioxidant) but also dilates the liver bile ducts, to release a lot of toxicity into the lower colon.

This allows it to release immediately, rather than recirculate over and over through the blood.

Our detoxers who do this optional but encouraged practice report quick and highly reliable relief from headaches, constipation, and many other symptoms of detoxing (called Herxheimer reactions).

This practice was pioneered by Max Gerson, MD, about 100 years ago, and I personally have used it with astonishing results in my own detoxification experiments and working with 13,000 detoxers, over two decades.

Dozens of holistic clinics around the world employ it, as well, especially for cancer patients to help eliminate tumors breaking down. (For example, this Swiss clinic of biological medicine I take my readers to each summer for a liver detox.)  

Who Shouldn’t Fast?

People with renal (kidney) damage shouldn’t fast. (I aborted my last fast 2 days earlier than planned when kidney pain cropped up. However, I’d had annual testing the month before and knew my kidneys to be in perfect shape.)

Pregnant and nursing mothers

Children (In fact, children shouldn’t do severely “time-restricted eating” or “intermittent fasting” that involves skipping breakfast, either, according to this study.)

People with significant diagnoses shouldn’t fast without recommendation and supervision by your functional medicine practitioner.

People with diabetes

(If it were me, as noted earlier, I’d start with one of the options in How Can I Get the Benefits of Fasting, Without Actually Fasting before jumping right into a long water fast.)

Obese people are most likely to fast, and I’ve read of some fasting for 8 weeks or more. Obesity itself presents an enormous risk of death, and so do possibly even more extreme solutions like gastric bypass.

But, those with extreme fat stores are also storing more toxins, as fat attracts chemical toxicity. So, likely, all the risks of long-term fasting are much higher for obese people.

They should be under very close medical supervision. Because while it may be tempting to think “go big or go home” with the long water fast, the risk of cardiac arrhythmia and renal damage or hyperacidity is also higher.  

What I Learned From Fasting Without Food

As I strip down broken parts and bits of organs, fat stores, and muscles and tissues, a similar process occurs in me, emotionally and mentally.

I break down, a bit, and rebuild.

And, this is why the spiritual seekers and mystics fast, for even longer periods of time than I do to allow spirit triumph over the body, for a time, and to bring the mortal body low, to humble it, so that only the spirit is strong.

For many, fasting is a way to humble oneself to be more capable of giving thanks and worshiping divinity.

For me, too, it’s my shield against living in a world where I have to breathe cadmium and arsenic in the air, occasionally, despite my significant efforts, eat genetically modified foods and refined foods with carcinogenic chemicals added, and drink water with plastics or antibiotics or fluoride in it.

In my weakness, I also learn how strong I am. I discover that I can do hard things and that I can mentally overcome the weakness of the flesh.

Amazingly, while my most recent 7-day fast was the hardest, I think it was also the most emotionally cathartic.

I learned how my brain, deprived of fuel, affected the way I view others. I decided to observe it rather than judge it.

Basically, I was mad at everyone and everything, for two days, as energies and matter moved through me—another reason I’m glad I was at an ashram far from home.

This PubMed article explains why adrenaline is increased in many who fast for several days. (This also explains why I had a resting heart rate of 78 when my normal is 55, and in the last few days of my fast, I felt my heart pounding in my chest.)

I was working on my laptop, and occasionally phone, and I found that things I would normally take in stride provoked a surprising amount of irritability and flashes of anger. It lasted two days, and then I woke up, peaceful, the last morning.

My awareness was heightened. I thought a lot about my weaknesses and addictions, and I stared at them without shaming myself. I was just observing.

I realized—without even tea, or chewing gum, to entertain my mouth and my senses—how many times, during any day, I do something to increase or decrease my energy, my anxiety, or my ability to rest.

It’s not like I’m taking depression meds, sleeping pills, or painkillers or street drugs.

But, I do drink coffee to power through an intense afternoon of work, and I do drink wine to lubricate a stressful social engagement with strangers.

I do jumping jacks next to my desk to manipulate my energy, and I play sports every morning not just because you’re supposed to break a sweat, for your health, but also for the adrenaline rush and endorphins I draft on, all day.

It is an interesting and useful exercise to fast for a week or two, where all these tactics are off the table. And, I have nothing to rely on except my mind.

And, I find that my mind is strong enough to conquer difficulties. This is good to know, because if we know one thing about life, it’s that we will face serious challenges in the future.

The main thing I accomplish, then, when I fast, is strengthening my body and mind.

  Next: I made two Facebook Live videos during my most recent water fast, answering viewer questions and giving more detail. Watch them here:



How do you plan to start fasting without food? Share your thoughts in the comments section!

Up Next: 10 Amazing Treatments By Europe’s Biological Medicine Doctors (You Can’t Get From Your U.S. Medical Doctor)

  Resources:

Longo, Valter Ph.D. The Longevity Diet. Avery. 2018

Wells, Katie. My Experience with Water Fasting & Why I’ll Do It Again. Wellness Mama. 03/2018. https://wellnessmama.com/345549/water-fasting/

Sugarman, Joe. Are There any Proven Benefits to Fasting? Johns Hopkins Health Review. 2016. http://www.johnshopkinshealthreview.com/issues/spring-summer-2016/articles/are-there-any-proven-benefits-to-fasting

Wu, Suzanne. Fasting Triggers Stem Cell Regeneration of Damaged, Old Immune System. USC News. 06/2014. https://news.usc.edu/63669/fasting-triggers-stem-cell-regeneration-of-damaged-old-immune-system/

Hartman, ML. et al. Augmented growth hormone (GH) secretory burst frequency and amplitude mediate enhanced GH secretion during a two-day fast in normal men. The Journal of Clinical Endocrinology and Metabolism. 04/1992. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/1548337

Johnson, James B. et al. Alternate Day Calorie Restriction Improves Clinical Findings and Reduces Markers of Oxidative Stress and Inflammation in Overweight Adults with Moderate Asthma. Free Radical Biology and Medicine. 03/2007. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S089158490600801X?via%3Dihub

Grantham-McGregor, S. Can the Provision of Breakfast Benefit School Performance? Food and Nutrition Bulletin. 06/2005. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/16075563

Zauner, C. Resting energy expenditure in short-term starvation is increased as a result of an increase in serum norepinephrine. The American Journal of Clinical Nutrition. 06/2000. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/10837292

  Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that help support the GSG mission without costing you extra. I recommend only companies and products that I use myself.

Editor’s Note – This post was originally published on April 19, 2018, and has been updated for quality and relevancy.

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[josephkitchen0]

How to Start Pig Farming Today

By Marc Burdiss – I’ve always wanted pigs and been curious to learn how to start pig farming. I’ve never owned pigs, never even was a close friend of someone who raised homestead pigs. I know farmers who raise ’em by the hundreds, but not anyone who raises just a few for meat. Pigs were always a project for “next year,” or “when we had more money.” And then the Chicken Coop Massacre of May 2010 occurred here at the family homestead and my wife said we need something bigger that the predators wouldn’t bother, and something that will eat the leftover food scraps the dogs don’t eat.

When given the green light, I sprung into action before the offer was rescinded. We, I, looked on Craigslist for feeder pigs, made arrangements on cost and delivery, and began to get ready. I know, I know, get everything ready before the animals arrive. That is all good and well, in theory, however, my projects have never met that standard before, why start now? It’s Thursday and the pigs come Monday afternoon. I searched the internet for how to start pig farming, pig farming for beginners and raising hogs for meat, and after a few hours of asking Uncle Google, I decided it may be important to have something that holds them in. How about a pig pen?

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The Pig Yard

The pig yard was built over an existing 12′ x 16′ concrete slab.

I thought about remodeling the coop to house the pigs in, but it has a dirt floor— couldn’t keep raccoons out—, how would it keep pigs in? Besides, I plan on making it predator-proof and getting more backyard chickens. In reading the books and articles on homestead hogs, I knew an option was raising pigs on pasture, but that was ruled out. Without any exposure to a normal pig’s habits, let alone a semi-loose one on pasture, I decided for my sake and the sake of my neighbors’ gardens I would want them enclosed. My wife noted that near the coop there was an old concrete slab about 12′ by 16′ that could be used. Of course, it was piled high with junk and would need to be cleaned, but as always, her logic was unquestionable. It should be easy to clean and pig snout proof and was near enough to not be a hardship walking out slop.

Off to the tractor store I went, family in tow, and we purchased two cattle panels 16′ by 48″ tall for $20 each. The employee helping us asked what we planned on feeding the pigs, to which I informed him I had not gotten that far in my research. What did he recommend? We ended up purchasing 250 pounds of pig ration and cracked corn, and I could scratch one more item off my ever-expanding list.

We live on a farm that is “resource-rich,” if only you look hard enough. In cleaning off the concrete slab I found a few bent, but usable, fence posts 7 ½ feet tall, and a few straight ones about 5 ½ feet tall. These would come in handy to hold the panels upright. I also found two other panels I could salvage and cut up; one pig and one cattle. I ended up with a pig yard 12′ by 16′, with the back wall a 32-inch tall pig panel that would serve as a step-over gate. To these panels, I attached three posts on three sides and barbed wire six inches off the bottom of the one floating over the concrete pad. Do not work these panels in place until a pig hut and feeder are in place, otherwise, you have to undo them to get them in. (Like I said, my list was a work in progress.)

So with the pig panel off the back, it was time to build the pig shelter, after all, it is Friday night and the pigs are coming Monday —I still have plenty of time. In the pile of junk on the concrete, there was a shipping container with four four-foot pieces of red roofing sheets. My mission was to turn these into a decent pig shelter.

The Pig Hut

Framing for the hut shelter

Saturday morning finds me scrounging for 2 x 4s around the buildings and yard after doing some rough estimates based on an Internet picture of a pig lean-to. Using the metal roofing panels as my important measurements, adding the fact from a pig book that the one pig needs 25 sq. ft. of shelter and to add 10 sq. ft. for every additional pig, I needed 35 sq. ft.

I once read that 6/4 of the people have trouble with fractions, and I being one of those people, decided that 6′ x 6′ equals 36 sq. ft. and that was close enough. I then had to figure the hypotenuse of a lean-to four feet high by six feet long would give me a slope needed on the back of around 7.2 feet, —perfect for my 8 feet of panels with overlap. I was in business. I just had to over-engineer this to make it “pig tough,” all the while trying to imagine how tough a pig could be.

The Pig Feeder

With the hut done Saturday morning, I had the afternoon to go talk to a few people I know who have larger barns and do very little with them. Now that I had thoroughly researched what can pigs eat and I had my feed, I needed a feeder. The one at the farm store was way too pricey. Worst case scenario, —I would feed them a measured amount every day, but a used feeder would be perfectly acceptable in my book. The first place I visited was a bust, but I got a good lead —Mike has an orange one and hasn’t had pigs for years. He may sell it cheap if he still has it. Twenty minutes of talking with Mike, a pig feeder is loaded and the price —a few jars of homemade jelly and the promise of a few pork chops. Done.

Water Vent

I loaded it up and hauled it to the pig pen. This was getting easier than I imagined. What was next? Oh…right—. Food needs water to wash it down. How am I going to water these pigs? I found a big concrete dog bowl and thought that I could make it work. Really, how much can a little pig drink? Sunday was wiring and arranging the furniture day. Feng Shui practitioners have not found as many configurations as I did, trying for the most pig-friendly layout of the pig yard.

Slide, scoot, step back, repeat.

“Hey, did you think of a slop trough?”

Start over; repeat. Until you see the present configuration in the photos.

Pig Day

Monday arrives full of hope and promise of pigs and bacon and all that is pork. The day drags at a Christmas Eve pace until the farmer’s truck pulls up, with a pig carrier on the back. I tried to play it cool, but have to admit I was as excited as could be. The pigs, it was explained, were Poland Chinas, and I was receiving a gilt and a barrow. I made a note to myself to look those up when I got inside.

These pigs had had all of their shots they would need to be shown in the fair. “I am just going to eat these two,” I proclaimed proudly, “and their pen is over there.”

“That should work,” the farmer said, “but where is their waterer?” I pointed to the concrete bowl as proof I had thought this through and was one step ahead of him. He laughed. “On a hot day, these pigs will drink five gallons each. That bowl is two gallons. I would get a blue plastic, 55-gallon drum and stick a hog nipple in it if I were you.”

A few probing questions later and I had a Tuesday project. The next few hours were spent taking care of a lot of important projects near the pig pen, and no, I assured everyone, I was not just working nearby to watch the pigs.

The Homemade Pig Waterer

Water vent

Water valve

The man at the farm store said they did have the bite valve hog nipples in stock, and they had other fittings to make it work. I had a drum with a removable lid that should work; I drilled a 1.5″ hole about a foot up from the bottom and installed a threaded bung mount with rubber gaskets. Into this, I had to add a reducer bushing to get the size down to 1/2″ needed for the hog valve. I could have Teflon taped the threads but didn’t and have had no problems with leaks. In the lid, I drilled a 1.5″ vent hole and covered it with a screen to keep bugs and debris out. The hogs, I was assured, would play with the valve and discover it contained water. They did. It does. We have a water source the pig farmer would be proud of. Come to think of it, I am now a pig farmer, too.

The Slop

It has been a few weeks since I tackled learning how to start pig farming (in one weekend!) and here is what I have learned. These are not rambunctious pigs— at least mine aren’t. They are great at sleeping, grunting, entertaining the kids and guests, but rowdy would never be used to describe them. They get excited when we bring our table scraps out, but even that would never be called “hog wild.” My pigs go “hog mild.” They appear at times to be just overweight hound dogs. I also learned I am raising some kids who are true carnivores. All animals are named by the kids at our house, and the pigs were no exception. However, my daughter broke with her usual naming convention of adding an “ey” to the end of an animal name and named hers Bacon; my son followed suit with Porkchop. Piggy will have to remain the name of a bank. They are counting the days until we haul these pigs to the butcher. Come to think of it, how will I get the pigs to the butcher when they weigh 250 pounds each? Hmmm. I have time after all; that is months away and really, how hard could that be?

I hope this gives you the guidance and inspiration to learn how to start pig farming on your homestead.

These snoozing pigs are oblivious to the frantic deadline that surrounded their arrival.

What interests you about raising pigs of your own?

Published in Countryside September / October 2010 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

How to Start Pig Farming Today was originally posted by All About Chickens

[lotsofdogs]

Things I’m Loving Friday #238

Aaand just like that, Friday is upon us again! Woop! I hope your day is off to a great start already!

Things are a little shaky over here thanks to a feverish toddler. Chase was 100 percent fine yesterday morning and then, seemingly out of nowhere, he took a turn for the worse and had an awful fever. He was up in the middle of the night sweating profusely and so Ryan and I did our best to comfort him, keep him hydrated and show him some love with lots of cuddles and middle-of-the-night readings of his favorite Dr. Seuss books.

Chase was also up super early this morning and when I went into his room to ask how he was feeling, he happily replied, “I feel healfy” – aka “healthy” – which was adorable and hopefully true! He still has a fever of 102 but he’s back to chattering away and seems energetic so I’m hoping that’s a good sign! I’m trying to get him to take it easy this morning, so we’re currently curled up on the couch and he’s in heaven watching How to Train Your Dragon. We don’t do a ton of screen time in our house (mainly because I’ve noticed it makes Chase way crankier and exacerbates meltdowns/tantrums) but he sure does love TV when he gets it so I think he may enjoy today’s “sick day” quite a bit.

As for our Friday/weekend plans… most of them hinge on Chase feeling better. I have a prenatal appointment in the late afternoon today and we’re planning to hang out at home with Chase and Sadie tonight. I’m also dreaming about spaghetti at the moment, so if our Friday night includes spaghetti and garlic bread, I’ll be a happy camper.

On Saturday we’re having our friend Ben over for a birthday dinner and I have a baby sprinkle to attend for a friend, but other than that, our schedule is wide open. I’m really hoping all the rain we’ve experienced in Charlotte over the past two weeks will stay away this weekend so we can get out on the lake and enjoy some beautiful sunshine. Fingers crossed!

Now let’s move right along into your usual Things I’m Loving Friday post and chat a little bit about the things that are making us smile this week, shall we?

Things I’m Loving Friday

My First Instacart Delivery 

Oh happy daaaaay! HOW have I never used Instacart before!? I had a deadline I needed to hit for a company that required me to photograph a recipe yesterday afternoon and when Chase ended up sick with a fever, I knew there was no way we were going to leave the house. I quickly researched grocery delivery services and Instacart immediately popped up. Within two hours, I had several bags of groceries delivered to my front door. AMAZING!!! This was my first Instacart experience and while I am one of the odd balls out there who actually enjoys grocery shopping, I think having this service as an option in my back pocket will be so helpful, especially when baby number two arrives! If you want to give it a try, this referral link will give you $10 off your first order. Woop!

Looking Through Chase’s Baby Book with Chase

With so much baby talk happening around here lately, I’m trying to be sensitive to Chase’s feelings and make him feel special and cared for as well. Honestly, I think I’m more worried about this than I need to be because half the time the baby comes up, it’s because Chase is mentioning my belly or saying something about the baby but I thought he might enjoy paging through his baby book the other day to see what he looked like when he was a baby. He was SO into it!!!

Chase loved looking at all of the pictures of himself throughout the first year of his life and had so much fun pointing out pictures of Sadie and his family and friends. I remember that book took me SO long to make but seeing his excitement over it years later makes me want to get back into the habit of creating family photo albums because it really was so fun to look back and remember the first year of Chase’s life. (FYI, I made his baby book through MixBook which I hiiiiighly recommend! Their templates make it easy to put together and aren’t as cheesy as some other baby book templates I’ve seen out there.)

Couch Cuddles

Though seeing Chase sick absolutely breaks my heart, he’s always so darn active and go, go, go that I admittedly soaked up all the toddler cuddles I could yesterday. Anytime I’d try to get up off the couch to go to the bathroom or get something done, Chase would look at me and say, “Mom, lay down with me,” and since I feel like I’ve been running around like a crazy person lately, I tried to take this as a sign to rest with my little man (and my belly).

I remember toward the end of my pregnancy with Chase everyone told me to “rest whenever I could” and that seems impossible this time around with a toddler to care for, so spending a few hours on the couch in my pajamas with Chase in the middle of the day felt like my weird, twisted version of heeding this advice.  

Latest RXBAR Flavors

As an RXBAR super fan, I was awfully excited to try some of the brand’s new flavors when they sent me a box of their latest bars and nut butters to try last week. I’ve already made may way through every flavor and think they’re all fantastic! It didn’t take me long to identify a favorite, however, and the chocolate hazelnut now rivals the chocolate sea salt as my all-time favorite RXBAR flavor. SO tasty! Also, their new vanilla almond butter packets are way too tasty. I had one a day until they were completely gone and now I need more in my life ASAP!

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones

If there is one book I’ve seen popping up all over the internet as a “must read” recommendation this year, it’s An American Marriage. For some reason I kept skipping over it when I was looking for a new book to read but when I finally curled up with this book at the end of a long day, it immediately roped me in and I understood the hype. The author is a very talented writer and believably writes from the perspective of three different characters as we follow the lives of Celestial, Roy and Andre.

An American Marriage begins by giving us a glimpse into the relationship of Celestial and Roy, successful newlyweds living in Atlanta, whose lives are ripped apart when Roy is falsely accused of a crime and sent to prison. The book follows their relationship as they struggle to keep their marriage in tact through Roy’s incarceration and Celestial’s desire to continue to live her life. Seeking solace and support from her childhood best friend, Andre, Celestial is more conflicted than ever while Roy struggles with his own battles both inside of prison and out once he is released and finds himself longing for the comforts of his old life with Celestial.

Around the Web

Food: Peanut Slaw with Soba Noodles / Sesame Chicken Chopped Salad / One Pan Chicken Taco Skillet 

Fitness: Resistance Band Booty Workout / 12-Minute Lower Body Tabata Workout

Weekend Sales: The Nordstrom Half Yearly Sale ends on Sunday! Here are a few standouts to me: Twist Front Tee (a great summertime staple), Ruched Tank Dress (aka the dress everyone was obsessed with last year that’s shockingly flattering on all body types – here it is in more colors but not on sale), Cover Up Romper (only $20 and so cute to throw on over a swimsuit!), Knit Maxi Dress (flowy and feminine), Marc Jacobs Mini Nylon Backpack (I have a version of this bag and LOVE it for carting around my stuff and Chase’s necessities), Adidas Clima Running Shoe (LOVE the blush pink color!)

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  Friday Flashbacks

Cold Brew Mocha Protein Smoothie (Refreshing, energizing and a creamy protein-packed treat!)

Do Anywhere Workout (To complete this bodyweight-only workout, begin by completing 16 repetitions of each exercise before beginning at the top and completing 14 reps, 12 reps, 10 reps … decreasing the reps by two until you reach your final round of 2 reps per exercise!)

Question of the Day

What is one thing that is making you smile this week?

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[davidcarterr]

John Rattray Interview

John Rattray has been a friend of Slam City Skates for years. John spent a fair amount of time in London while filming for WFTW, the seminal UK video from Blueprint Skateboards. We were recently in Portland were John now resides and we were stoked that we managed to catch up with him to speak about the Good Egg Project among other things...

Where does this interview find you?

I’m in my house in Portland, Oregon right now. I’m sitting in bed in the attic, it’s Sunday morning and the boy is still asleep downstairs. How long have you been living in Portland for?

I’ve been here for around 5 years.

What’s the best thing about living out there, are there any drawbacks?

It’s an amazing city. It’s got walkable neighbourhoods, it’s pretty well set up for cycling, there are a bunch of skateparks dotted around all over the place. It’s in the Pacific Northwest, which is beautiful. It’s still rapidly expanding and it has the problems of any city really.

What we got to see was really beautiful, do you spend much time out in the mountains?

We try to get out and hike as much as possible. The summer is prime time. That’s when we’ll be hitting the Columbia Gorge and floating the rivers and heading to the coast the most, but through the winter and spring there are spells where you still get out there.

How long have you been working at Nike SB for?

I worked specifically at Nike SB for a little over 3 years. From late 2013 to the start of ‘17.

What’s your role there?

I was digital brand manager, so coordinating all the creative across all the online channels. For the last year I’ve been out of SB in a marketing innovation roll working across all of Nike. It’s been an interesting experience.

It must be nice working with Colin Kennedy again, we met a solid crew out there on this trip...

The Nike SB crew are awesome. I haven’t worked super close with Colin so much as he is strictly Europe. Hopefully things can evolve in that direction.

It was good seeing you do a backside air in Sandy Bodecker’s bowl. You’re still managing to keep skateboarding keen?

I manage to skate once or twice a week at this point. I skate mainly in the weekend mornings with Ivor at either the Nike warehouse or the eastside warehouse that Silas and that crew run. My friend Phil has a key there. Occasionally I get an evening session in at Nike and try to catch an air on the extension, skate the ledge and the euro gap and maintain muscle memory as best I can. It’s still the best to get deep into a session so your mind can switch off for a while.

Do you ever miss the life of being a pro skater or is dad life just as challenging?

I do miss it. Kind of. It’s a weird one. It seems like such a different life to now. It was just me and Philippa, living in California. I managed my own projects, traveling, skating, working towards video and editorial deadlines. It was a dream really but I sometimes feel like I could have done more to set myself up better to deal with…life after skateboarding. Not sure what steps that could have been. Long story short, I’d say dad life is way more challenging than pro-skater life, so yeah, I miss it, but there’s no reverse gear in life, so onward we charge.

Could you imagine yourself living back in Scotland one day in the future?

I totally can, I’m just not sure what I’d do there. Right now I just want to get as much work experience as I can so I can remain employable and moving is realistic. It also gets interesting with Ivor. He’ll be graduating pre-school this summer and we live round the corner from a k-5 school he’ll be going to.

Can you recommend us a book and a film that will enrich our lives?

It’s been a while since I’ve had the time to devote to books and film, which is a bit of a bummer. But if you’ve ever had chronic back pain, check out Healing Back Pain by John Sarno. If you wonder how evolution works, check out The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins. Film-wise, I just saw Coco in the cinema and it had me crying. It’s a good one.

It’s good to catch up with you after many years, we wanted to speak more about the project you just put together. Before we start we want to say that we were very sorry to hear the heartbreaking news about your sister. Lots of love goes out to you from all of us here at Slam.

Back at you.

Did it take long to put together the Good egg Project together?

I started the campaign in around early May ‘17, so about 9 months ago. We did the ride at the beginning of July, so it took a couple of months to get the crew and plan together. But I suppose it had been in the back of my mind for a couple of years before that.

What about getting other people on board?

That just naturally happened. As I put it out there that this was a real mission, friends hit me up to come with and support. It’s another example of the internet as a power for good. A tool that we can choose to use for our betterment.

Had you ever done anything like that for a charity before?

I have not.

Can you tell us a little more about the charity this was for?

I did this in support of the Scottish Association for Mental Health. My cousin started working there after Katrina died and they were there as a registered organization on the Just Giving app that I used to get the campaign going. So, it was a no brainer for me. The SAMH organization specializes in outreach and education around suicide prevention and mental health support in Scotland.

You mentioned filming pieces of this on your phone. Did you have a clear idea of what you needed to capture before you set out?

Capture the ride as best we can. Kurt Hayashi and Jon Humphries did a fantastic job on that. Scott Pommier helped shoot the skate session at Lincoln City. And beyond that it was writing and delivering my own pieces to tell the tale and get some of the points of view of the other crew on the ride. That’s where it gets more improvised and you collage it together based on what people come back with.

Did you edit the piece yourself?

I did.

Was the editing process a learning curve?

Learning curve was not too much. I’ve been consistently working on video projects of varying complexity for a long time. Not on the daily, but enough that I have a decent comprehension of the fundamental principles and can navigate premier fairly quickly. The main difference with this project was the workshopping. Sending work-in-progress versions around a select crew of friends and getting professional feedback on the various iterations as I built and refined the timeline. That process was vital to getting it into a watchable state for someone with not much context. That’s one of my main rules of thumb. Can someone who knows nothing about this, as well as someone who was literally on the trip, both sit and watch this and understand, sentence to sentence exactly what’s going on without getting lost or bored? It’s the same as writing an essay, except with moving images and audio to wrangle. There’re still things I’d do stylistically differently on a future project – I still feel like there’s a little too much straight-up piece-to-camera segments – but for now, I’m happy with how it came together.

What advice would you give to anyone else who wanted to put something like this together?

Make a to-do list. Get started. Go for it.

Was it gnarly physically? You must have had jelly legs when you started hoisting that egg plant out there...

The egg plant was the next day after the ride, so muscles were worked pretty hard, but I think it’s slightly different muscle tissue that’s used for riding distance as opposed to the quick reflexes for skating. That said, yeah, I was not exactly feeling the loosest I’ve ever felt. Definitely tight, but in the bad sense of the word haha.

Photo: Joe Brook

Are you going to throw one into every session now?

I wish. I want to get a good session going soon where I can get to the point of throwing myself upside down. Those sessions are too rare these days.

It’s great to see something positive like this arrive out there. How important do you think things like this are?

I think it’s super important or I wouldn’t have made this thing happen. I’d love to be able to be working on projects like this full time. That would be awesome.

What message do you hope is taken away?

That there is help out there for people with depression. That it’s way more common than we think. And that there are things we can do to help. Raise awareness, talk. I hope that it makes a tough subject a little more accessible by painting it into a positive context. I hope that it shines a little light into a world that can sometimes feel pretty dark.

Can you recommend any reading or support for anyone going through difficulties both suffering from depression or supporting someone who is?

Reading: In Scotland there are resources on the SAMH website. Support: family and friends. I know when you’re in the throes of it you can feel like you have no support, but I’m convinced that everyone has someone. Sometimes it’s luck. Get to the doctor. Chemistry can help symptoms.

Any last words...

I suppose it’s like Cardiel says in the video, there’s a little bit of light, if you can see just that little bit of light, grab onto that, and don’t let go.

This mission was in aid of SAMH who do a bunch of community work, suicide prevention training and mental health outreach around Scotland. In 2016, they carried out 177 suicide interventions and their work has been integral in reducing the suicide rate in Scotland by 17% over the last ten years. Find out more about the charity this was in aid of HERE

John Rattray Interview published first on https://medium.com/@LaderaSkateboar