#yes I procrastinated on packing until today. yes I’m moving tomorrow. what of it

[e77y]

Collecting and making jewelry is all fun and games until you have to move and you end up with four tote bags full of jewelry and jewelry supplies 😭

[lindsayrises]

A bunch of complaining.  Feel free to scroll past.

i.

am.

so.

fucking.

tired.

end of the school year (4 more days).  assessment time.  report card time.  it’s fucking ridiculous how many tests FIRST GRADERS have to take.  It’s so fucked up.  do i procrastinate?  yes.  so is some of this (below) an issue i created for myself?  yes...but only some of it.

Last thursday night (ok, I guess Friday morning):  up until 2:30 (working/cleaning my house).

Friday:  work.  home.  pack.  drive halfway to st. louis.

Saturday:  drive the rest of the way to st. louis.  family time.  lunch.  visiting my brother’s family’s future home.  high school graduation.

Sunday:  drive back to lincoln.

Monday:  i think i got to work around 6 or 6:30 a.m.  I think I left around 8 p.m.  i brought work home with me and worked until 1:30 a.m.

Tuesday:  work from maybe 7:00-5:00, run errands, do a journaling “thing” (workshop?  i don’t know what to call it).  go to sleep at 8:30 p.m.

Wednesday:  it’s worth mentioning that i cannot keep the days straight this week.  like, at all.  i have to consciously think about what day it is.  ok.  yesterday:  work from 6 or 6:30 a.m. to 9:00 p.m.  Take work home.  work until 4 fucking o’clock this morning.  sometimes i wake up at 4:00 a.m.  I was hesitant to go to sleep because i was afraid i’d oversleep.

today:  work 7:30-4:30.  therapy.  run to two stores (to buy items to reward students who are doing a good job.  AKA buying shit to fill up my god damned prize box to bribe my students.  desperate times....).  i actually planned on going back to work on report cards.  instead, i went back to work just to pick stuff up to work on them at home.

Food today

breakfast:  1/4 of a plain bagel.

lunch:  10-ish doritos

dinner (at fucking 8:45 p.m.):  taco salad and chips and salsa.

that’s it.  that’s all i’ve eaten today.

we have four days of school left.

i’m having all sorts of mixed emotions about not coming back next year.

there is so much that needs to be done before 9:00 tomorrow morning.  report cards are due at 4:00 tomorrow afternoon.  I have NEVER submitted my report cards late.  It might happen tomorrow.  it’ll take a miracle to get everything done.

One of my students will be gone the last three days of school (next week).  i planned on having a lot of things to send home with him.  but i haven’t had a chance to put things together.  I better make a list so I don’t forget.

I have very little left to give.  

4 more days.

so now it’s approximately 9:45.  I’m going to sleep for a few hours and then get up really early (3:00?) to get shit done.

i haven’t even begun to work on packing/moving my stuff out of my classroom. that’ll have to wait until next week.

[andromedasstarship]

are you free tomorrow?

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - nothing! just a sweet & cliche ‘first meeting’ story  :)

summary - midterms are coming up and all the good cafes on campus are filled, maybe the sweet looking curly haired guy in the back will share his table with you?

a/n - for my valentines day oneshot series! 'every table is full, but i really need to study, is there any way we could share?'

-------

Stressed, was a simple way to explain the current state you were in. The semester had snuck up on you, moving faster than you had ever expected. As the fifth week was coming to a close, you were getting dangerously close to the storm of midterms you had waiting for you in the sixth week. And you desperately needed to study. The only thing stopping you- surprisingly not your own procrastination-, was that it seemed as if the rest of campus was also in the same predicament as you. 

This was the third cafe on campus that you had entered that was absolutely filled. 

Your eyes scanned around the room, hoping to catch someone in the middle of packing their things. Nope. You considered circling back through the other two cafes you’d just been in or maybe even just going off campus. Except you couldn’t justify wasting more time by circling the same few cafes over and over, nor could your college student budget justify paying for coffee when you could just use your allotted campus cash. 

Just as you were about to give up and leave- begrudgingly deciding that studying in your room would have to be good enough-, you spotted a man sitting alone towards the back of the cafe. He sat at a large table with plenty of space; even though he had one of the largest stacks of papers you’d ever seen one individual possess. 

You weighed your options, internally debating if it’d be worth potentially hurting your pride by asking him to share the table and getting rejected. Seeing as the other option was definitely hurting your pride by hovering the same cafes like a hungry park bird, you tightened your grip on your tote bag and started walking towards him.  

Whatever he was reading must’ve been exciting, as his focus didn’t stray even for a moment nor did he notice you at all until you were right up against the chair across from him. You awkwardly cleared your throat to catch his attention, giving him a tiny wave when he looked up at you. 

“Hi!” 

“Hello?” 

“I’m really sorry to bother you, just every table is full and I really need to study and I know it’s not the best, but could I share this table with you?” You asked anxiously, holding your breath as you waited for his answer. 

As he opened his mouth to respond, you quickly added. “I swear it’ll be like I’m not even here!”  

He gave you a ‘please calm down’ look and you felt some of the weight dissolve from your shoulders as he nodded his head. “Take a seat, no worry at all.” He told you, adding a kind smile as he looked back down at his stack of papers and pulled them closer; giving you more room at the table. 

You let your bag fall off your shoulder and hit the ground with a thunk, relieved to no longer be carrying the physical weight around. You clasped the top of the chair in front of you, leaning towards him just so. “Thank you,” you said, giving your best gracious smile, “let me get you a coffee or something?” 

He looked almost shocked- or was he flustered? you weren’t sure-, quickly shaking his head in response. “No! You don’t need to do that at all.” He assured you, but you weren’t so quick to back down. 

“It’s the least I can do, please?” You pressed, giving him a very exaggerated pleaaaase look, “with all those papers you must need some serious caffeine.” 

You thought he was going to continue this little back-and-forth with you, but you watched as his body relaxed ever so slightly, signs of what you hoped was him conceding. “Just a black coffee.” 

"Just black?" You countered, raising your eyebrow, leaving it unsaid that he was just choosing the cheapest drink they had.

"Room for cream? I'll fix it up myself." He replied.

----

From the line, you had your first opportunity to really give this guy a look. The papers in front of him had sucked him back in as soon as you stepped away from the table; meaning you weren’t too worried about him catching you in your little…, creeping moment. The student population was large, but it was still small enough that you found yourself repeatedly seeing the same strangers. Yet, you’d never seen this man before. And you were sure you would’ve remembered this man, had you seen him before. What? He was undeniably attractive. There was something about the way his hair just perfectly curled around his face that made you just want to reach out and ruff- that’s weird. Even his little sweater-tie-button up outfit was doing it for you. Maybe today won’t be so bad. 

The line moved quickly and you found yourself carrying the two drinks back over to the table in under five minutes. You set his cup by him, taking care to put it away from the massive stack of papers. You set your cup down next, sliding in the chair diagonal from him. 

“You know,” you started, hefting your bag up into the chair next to you, “I never got your name?”

“Thank you,” he quickly got out, holding up his coffee as he did so. “I’m Spencer, uh…, Spencer Reid.” He told you, a faint red creeping up from under his collar. 

You gave him your name in return, a bit distracted as you pulled more of your things from your bag. From the corner of your eye, you saw him hold his coffee up again, nodding his head towards the cream and sugar station before walking off to fix his drink up properly. 

In his absence, you pulled out the rest of your books, debating which subject you should tackle first. You were glad you were finally towards the end of your college career, meaning the majority of your classes were specific to your interests rather than a four hundred student gen-ed; not that it made you any more excited to study for this exam. 

When Spencer came back he set his coffee down with a slightly shaky hand. “Did you know coffee is actually classified as a fruit?” He asked, as he slid back into his seat against the wall. 

“I didn’t know that.” You replied, shaking your head. 

“The coffee bean itself grows on a bush and they’re actually the pit of a berry, which is what makes them a fruit. They come in two main varieties, green and red.” He rambled, as if reciting from some magic book stored in his brain. As soon as he was done he clamped his mouth shut, remembering how most people reacted to his ramblings. 

You raised an eyebrow at him, but your face didn’t show any signs of annoyance. “Big coffee fan Spencer?” 

“Big fan of facts.” He corrected, giving you a sheepish smile.

“Oh yeah? Well you seem pretty smart then, which class should I study for first?” You asked, holding up two of your textbooks.

He looked at both books curiously, trying to take a guess at what your major might’ve been. He pointed at the one in your left hand. God’s, Monsters and Mortals. 

“Are you an…, English major?” He guessed, wondering if the book was some supplement for a unit on the Iliad. Not to mention the other book you held up was quite literally called ‘Literature Through The Ages’. 

You shook your head, putting the book he chose down on the table while you returned the other one to your bag. “Close! Classics,” you said, giving him a sheepish grin, “I know, it’s a bit niche, kinda ridiculous, but there’s something about how we immortalized memories of ancient times through literature that are just fascinating. There’s something about the lessons of the past that I think a lot of people are ignoring today, ya know?” You replied, quickly closing your mouth before you’d go on some incredibly long tangent about your interests and studies. Didn’t you say it’d be like you weren’t even here?  

“No, no!” He hurriedly said, shaking his head. “Understanding the lessons and patterns of the past and how they’ve morphed humanity today? That’s cool!” He assured you. 

“Well what about you, Spencer Reid? What’s your major, you must have some horrible professors, if that stack of papers is the norm.” You joked, liking the way the corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. 

“I’m uh…, a professor here.” He responded, his face cringing ever so slightly as he watched your mouth drop open simultaneously as your eyes nearly fell out of your head. 

“You’re a…, professor?” You repeated, extremely confused as to how someone who looked only a few years older than you was somehow employed to such a degree. 

“Just a visiting one!” He clarified, clearing his throat. “I’m on a sort of, uh, sabbatical from work.” 

“Isn’t a sabbatical when someone gets away from academia?” You countered, smiling to show you meant no actual aggression. 

“Big fan of facts, remember?” He repeated plainly, but you caught the joke in it and you smiled wider at that. 

“No offense Professor, but you look a bit young to ya know, be one.” You said, hoping he’d give his age in response. 

“I’m 29.” Ah, only four years older than you. 

“29 and already a professor at a university like this? What, do you have like 20 Phds. or something?” You asked jokingly, laughing a bit as you said so. 

“Three actually.” He replied, a mix of shyness and pride across his face.

Your mouth dropped back open again, trying to wrap your mind around the man in front of you. “What are you? A genius then?” 

“By some standards, yes.”  

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that. Him paying special attention to each paper he graded- you wished all your professors cared about student work the way he seemed to-, while you were busy deciding which parts of the taught units were the most important. 

After what you imagined was nothing short of four hours you felt your head begin to throb and your eyes were starting to go fuzzy. In that time, the two of you had downed at least five coffees each, going back and forth over who paid for them. You had managed to create an individual study guide for nearly all your upcoming exams and a quick glance told you that Spencer still had a few papers left. Unbeknownst to you he could have finished those papers hours ago, even with the in depth comments he entered into the computer for each one; there was just something about you that drew him in.  

He wasn’t sure whether it was the funny unfiltered comments you’d make sporadically while you worked or the way you actually seemed to be interested in every little tangent he had gone on whenever one of his students brought up a particularly good or amusing point in their papers’. His therapist had recently recommended that he engage in conversations with those not already well acquainted with him and it seemed like the world had lined up perfectly to put you in front of him so soon after. 

You loudly slammed your textbook shut with a groan and let your head fall against the table. “Why does academia have to be so boring?” You asked rhetorically, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Is it some requirement to get published? Your work needs to put college kids to sleep?”  

“The works that you’re reading are quite literally ancient, in their defense. The term ���academia’ itself comes from the school of thought taught by Plato himself in ancient Athens.” Spencer explained, putting down the paper he had been grading. 

“And now, all these years later I have to suffer because Plato was such a bore.” You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. 

“You said you were studying the downfall of Icarus weren’t you?” He asked, once again unbeknownst to you, he remembered everything you had said today. “It’s one of my favorites of ancient Greek mythology. The power of the mind of man, yet how quickly that very power could be taken away if man oversteps. Really makes us wonder if we’ve overstepped as humans yet, if we use Icarus’s fall, quite literally from grace, as a lens for other devastations we’ve seen across history then-” 

“Spencer, are you free tomorrow?” You asked, effectively cutting him off. 

He looked a bit like a fish, the way you had stopped him mid sentence and his mouth hadn’t yet closed. His eyebrows turned up, head tilting with them. “Tomorrow? The 14th?” 

“Yeah, are you free tomorrow?” You repeated, holding back your nerves. 

“Oh.” He said, eyes going wide as you assumed he finally connected the dots, “Oh!” 

You were about to speak again, retract your question completely before he could reject you, suddenly wondering why you decided to go out on whim like that at all. But he beat you to it. 

“Yes, yes I am.” 

------

happy valentines day (almost) i love yall!!

tagging a few people who asked + a few mutuals i think might like this (no pressure!!) - @hqtchner @ssahoodrathotchner @kylorendrip @feverdreamreid @homoose 

permanent taglist - @sunflowersandotherthings

[cabinofimagines]

You’ve got some really bad habits

some can be interpreted platonically, and others are not up for debate. Lucky enough, I have more than enough bad habits to draw inspiration from (that’s not something to brag about, I know.) - day

warnings : nothing too serious. things that seem quite trivial ig, but bad habits nonetheless

requests : Could you do a fic where the seven and whoever like checks up on the readers? They take care of them and their unhealthy habits?? Thank you!

P e r c y

Biting your nails

The two of you were lounging on a picnic blanket on top of half-blood hill, watching as the sun set sooner than either of you would have liked. You laid back on Percy’s arm, one hand rested on top of his chest and feeling it fall and rise with every breath.

He made a noise suddenly and raised your hand to his face, examining it closely and sighing, “You’re still biting your nails down to the nub I see.” His lips rested against the middle finger, turning his head to connect eyes with yours, “You promised you’d try not to do that anymore.”

You looked away guiltily, pulling your hand away, “I tried, but it’s hard to break a habit like that.”

He chewed his lip in thought, “Hey, my mom had the same issue, and she had this nail polish that helped her stop.” He looked back to you with a small smile, “I’ll ask if I can borrow it next time I visit!”

A n n a b e t h

swearing

It wasn’t like it was a big deal, it certainly didn’t make her uncomfortable and she actually thought it was really funny. Annabeth always looked forward to hearing which combination you could come up with next and how it would fit the situation you used it in.

But when you visited Olympus on the occasion of returning one of the gods stolen pieces and came out with more than on swear, she felt like it should be discussed where you can use this language. She was laughing a little when she reprimanded you, so you didn’t know if she was serious or not but promised anyway to watch what you say and where you say it.

F r a n k

Being late

Poor Frank must be a ball of anxiety by now, you thought. You were running late to your first date with Frank and that was not something for you to be late to. There was no excuse to use to cover for yourself. Your time management has always been a big flaw of yours.

You swung open the door to the cafe to see Frank sitting there tracing the lines of the wooden table. Apologies left your lips before Frank even knew you were there, his face relaxing once he realized you hadn’t stood him up after all.  

He laughed and assured you that he was just glad you came at all but commented on your horrible time-keeping skills. You smiled at his light-hearted nature and promised you’d work on them just for him. The occasion became sort of an inside joke between the two of you afterwards.

H a z e l

Biting your lip

It was hurting both of you in entirely different ways. For you, it was peeling your lip, causing it to bleed and become more sensitive than it ought to be. For Hazel, it was tormenting to watch the plump flesh being pulled and bit between your teeth, only to be let go with a silent pop.

She stayed quiet about it for the most part, deciding that kissing you whenever you did so and when it was appropriate was enough to stop the habit. But you did it one too many times today, causing even the good-tempered Hazel to snap.

“Good grief, y/n” she sighed exasperatedly, “can you not go one minute without biting your lip?”

You stared wide-eyed at your girlfriend, entirely unused to her scolding. You couldn’t help but laugh and lick your lips to tease her further, “What else am I to do that keeps them preoccupied?”

J a s o n

Cracking knuckles

Jason hated the sound so much. Anytime you did it, he would make a face and express how much he disliked it. It was a point of teasing at first and he made it a point to show you how much he hated it by giving you a certain look that was manufactured just for the times you did that.

It was the breaking point for Jason when you did so in front of him when you were out with Leo to buy some Christmas presents. He gave a groan and spun to look at you with that look again, “Y/n please stop doing that! At least when I’m around.” His voice softened when he saw the embarrassed look on your face. 

Leo mumbled a “yikes” and turned into the first store he saw; a boutique.

You rubbed your arm uncomfortably and whispered a small, “I’m sorry” before walking into the shop behind Leo, leaving Jason to regret the way he handled the discomfort.

P i p e r

Not being able to say no

Okay, you’ll admit that you were crying, but you weren’t going to admit why. You were supposed to meet up with Piper to play Volleyball with her and a few others, but when you didn’t show up, she got worried. She didn’t even knock which is what took you off guard.

She watched as you hurriedly tried to wipe away the tears, but they just kept coming. Piper moved to sit beside you, turning your head so she could see your red eyes, “What’s wrong? You didn’t show to Volleyball, did something happen?”

You shook your head and forced a smile, “Just tired, Pipes. I’m sorry and I’ll make it up to you.”

Her head turned in thought, eyes searching your own for an actual answer. You were about to make a joke about your tears when she spoke up first in an accusatory tone, “You know you’re not obligated to say yes to everything, right? You’re stretching yourself too thin and it’s stressing you out!”

You gaped, stammering for words but finding none. She sighed at this and collected your hand in her own, kissing the back of it, “Let’s start by not rescheduling volleyball and letting you make time for yourself instead.”

L e o 

Waiting to do things last minute

You were hurriedly throwing your things together; you were being picked up from camp by your family soon; and by soon that means that they are actually waiting at the border for you at that moment. You were mentally cursing yourself for bringing so much with you to camp, but you weren’t expecting to stay just for the summer this year.

Leo sat in your desk chair, shaking his head at your procrastination, “Y’know you could’ve at least packed the things you don’t use--”

You shoved the rest of you clothes into your suitcase and threw yourself on top in order to shut it, “You know I work better under pressure!” With one suitcase down, you moved to grab another to fill it with the rest of your belongings, “Besides, I don’t have to bring everything back home!”

He sighed and rested his head in his palm, “Okay yeah but there’s working under pressure and then there’s stressing yourself out.” But it didn’t seem like you were listening to him, too busy running through the list of things to take in your head. He resigned to letting you be for now; he would work on your bad habit when you came back to him.

W i l l

Wearing hair ties on your wrist

You’d only just woken up, barely eaten anything that morning when Will was at your table. You glanced up, startled by his arrival, and turned to face him, “Can I help you?” But his eyes weren’t on your face, but on your wrist on which held many marks from the hair tie you kept there.

He pointed, “You know that’s not healthy.” seeing your confusion he continued, “Wearing that on your wrist can actually cut off blood circulation.”

You hummed and turned your wrist as you examined the black hair tie, “Well not to sound ungrateful for the information, but I think there are more life-threatening things in my life than a hair tie.” You gave a smile and turned back to your food without another word. You then watched Will wander out of the dining hall.

You didn’t talk to him for a few days after finding all of your hair ties cut in half after breakfast.

N i c o Staying up way too late

You had no clue when the sun had set. Ever since Apollo decided to set the sun around 4-5 every day, you always assumed it was much earlier than it was. So, when Nico swung the door open to the arts and crafts center, you couldn’t tell if his expression was due to his exhaustion or if he was completely over your bad habit.

“Do you have any clue what time it is?”

You were frozen, feeling like you were caught with your hand in the cookie jar, “uh it’s 3 pm somewhere!”

Nico sighed and leaned against the doorframe tiredly. Silence overtook the room, and you knew that he wasn’t going to leave until you did too. So, you capped the paints and put away all of the crafting tools you drug out for your project. You didn’t comment on the small smirk of victory on Nico’s pale face, you’d deal with that tomorrow.

.

.

.

all fics taglist : @beneaththeiceandsnow​

frank zhang taglist : @goldglitteryfoxtrot

[selene-tempest]

It’s my birthday and apparently the hubby isn’t going to let me ignore it...

((Author lady is putting this up now to celebrate, but it won’t be uploaded to Ao3 yet because it doesn’t fit the timeline at the moment, so you’ll have to wait.))

“What do you mean she’s not coming home?” Scott asked.

“She’s not coming home,” John replied with a shrug. What else was there to say? How else could he make that simple sentence any clearer?

"Like never again?" Alan whimpered. 

John didn't dignify that with an answer. 

“But why?” Gordon asked.

“Because she doesn’t want to.”

“Did you try to talk her round?” Scott asked.

“Of course I did, but she’s being stubborn, and you know what she's like when she sets her mind to something.”

“Why? Did we do something wrong? Does she not love us any more?” Alan asked, looking like he was about to cry.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course she still loves you. Do you honestly think that after four years in this family and all the things we’ve been through, this would be the time she decided she wanted out?” John couldn’t believe how dramatic they were all being about it.

“But it’s her birthday, she should be here with us,” Scott said firmly, like that was all there was to it. 

“Yes, her birthday, and she does have a choice in the matter,” John reminded him.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“You can tell her then,” John said. “Because I’m certainly not going to get involved with that.”

“Did she at least say why?” Virgil asked, ever the sane one.

“Yes, she said that she isn’t having a birthday this year, she’s ignoring it because someone,” John paused to glare meaningfully at Scott, “keeps teasing her about getting old because she’s hitting the big Three-O.”

Scott sniggered quietly to himself.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of it if I were you,” John warned him,

“I didn’t even say anything that bad to her,” Scott protested weakly.

“No, but you asked me what it was like being married to a cougar that only wanted me for my youthful body.”

Scott sniggered again, turning it into a cough when John’s glare rached up a notch.

“And yesterday you got up off the couch and asked her if she wanted to sit down,” Virgil added.

“I was being considerate!”

“If that was the case you shouldn’t have said that you were doing it because it’s only polite to give your seat up for the elderly,” Gordon laughed.

“Oh for the…” John dropped his head into his hands in utter despair. Scott was just lucky that he was only there in hologram form or he’d have punched him. 

Scott just shrugged. “She needs to come home, it’s her birthday.”

“Well she’s not going to,” John told him, wondering if he should whip out the hand puppets to get him to understand the simple answer of no.

“Go and get her, she’ll do it if you tell her to,” Alan tried.

“Let me think about it...no.”

“Aw, come on, John, please?” Alan was going to pout, John just knew it.

“I’ll try,” John sighed, knowing he was beaten.

-x-

“Come on, love, get out of bed.”

“No,” Selene said, her voice muffled since her head was currently stuffed under a pillow.

“Everyone wants to see you,” John wheedled.

“I don’t care, I’m not moving.”

“You have to celebrate your birthday.”

“Lies! I say the same thing to you every year and every year you tell me you don’t want a fuss. No party, no going anywhere, no nothing. Why can’t I do the same?”

“Because I’m me and you’re you. You’re the sociable part of our couple, you’re the one that forces me to go places I don’t want to by insisting that I'll have a good time when I get there.”

“And you still argue, complain and refuse to go. Maybe I’ve finally started to listen to you and realised you were right all along, birthdays are bad, social is bad, celebrating anything is bad. I get it, you were right.”

“Don’t even try that,” John warned her.

“Try what?” she mumbled innocently.

“Telling me that I’m right so I’ll be so shocked I won’t argue with you any more.”

“It was worth a shot,” she grumbled to herself.

“Enough of this,” John declared, grabbing the edge of the duvet and yanking it off the bed, revealing his darling wife lying flat out on her belly like a dead starfish. “Come on, get up.”

“No! I’m not getting up. If you really loved me and wanted me to celebrate you’d go and get a Chinese and eat it in bed with me.”

John paused for a second, because honestly that did sound very tempting… no, he had a duty as a husband, a duty to give his wife a birthday she wouldn’t forget for such a milestone. 

“No, we’re doing something for your birthday and that’s final. You asked me to trust you for my birthday last year-”

“And you didn’t! You bitched and tried to seduce me into staying on Five and ignoring the trouble I and everyone else had gone to.”

“Never happened,” he lied smoothly. “You have two choices, get up and come with me or I’ll call your mother and let her drag you out of this pit.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed. 

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

“No, because then you’d have to talk to her and you know how that would go,” Selene left the threat hanging in the air.

John paused, his brain frantically scurrying to come up with something like a hamster spinning on its wheel. What could he do that would be special for her birthday? He’d used up his one good idea planning a night away for the four year anniversary of the night they met… huh..maybe he could… 

He pulled his phone out and sent a quick message to EOS asking her to get to work rearranging the surprise. Selene's birthday was close enough to their anniversary, shifting the two bookings he had made shouldn't be too much trouble.

“Fine, then you have two more choices, get up and pack yourself an overnight bag and be waiting patiently for me to get back so we can go, or I’ll pack for you and throw you over my shoulder and drag you out. Choose wisely.”

“I choose door number three.”

“Stop being dramatic, plus you know that’s not an option. You can see your family tomorrow, for today you’re mine. I would strongly advise you pick the first option as you know my idea of suitable clothes to pack differs wildly from yours, you know I can’t be trusted…”

“Not convinced.”

Huffing he grabbed hold of her legs and yanked her backwards down the bed. She shrieked like a fire alarm. He ignored it. Flipping her over he tugged on her arms, pulling her into a sitting position.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” he lied, taking in the messy hair, mascara smudged around her eyes and the fact she was wearing the hideous nightshirt that he loathed with the fire of a thousand suns. 

She snorted, clearly not falling for his line.

He knelt down beside the bed, taking her hands in his.

“Do you trust me?”

“Most of the time.”

“Then trust me now, do as you’re told and stop being obstinate for the sake of it. Think about it, you and me, a whole night away…”

“And no mention of my birthday?” she clarified.

“Not if you don’t want it,” he promised. “I had something arranged for our anniversary but I think you need it a little earlier.”

She still looked suspicious but she reluctantly nodded her agreement. “Alright, I’ll trust you.”

“Good. I’m going to head back to the island to pick up Dad’s plane-”

“Plane? Just where are we going, exactly?”

“That’s on a need to know basis and right now you don’t need to know,” he told her. “Just concentrate on getting yourself ready, have a shower if you want to, dress in something you feel amazing in and be ready in two hours.”

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?”

“Nope, now move your backside,” he ordered, giving her butt a little swipe.

-x-

John had walked straight out of their flat after giving her her orders, leaving her to it. She procrastinated for half an hour, feeling that he would have totally won and she would have lost if she got up and did as she was told straight away. She needed to keep some form of dignity and control over her own dramatic leanings. 

She then slowly packed a few essentials, throwing in a nice maxi skirt, some leggings she could wear under it if they were going anywhere cold, a peasants blouse along with underbust corset she could add to jazz it up in case they went anywhere fancy, a thick shawl for chilly weather, a T-shirt to wear in bed, fresh underwear, makeup bag, toiletries and she was done.

She did take a shower, not because he suggested it but because she felt a bit grotty and knew it would make her feel better. She resisted the urge to stare at herself in the mirror and scrutinise her naked body until she wanted nothing more than to hide back in bed again, and got on with the laborious task of hair washing, leg shaving and getting dressed.

She was just about ready in jeans, T-shirt and a hoodie she’d stolen from Alan, comfy travelling clothes, when he texted to demand her presence downstairs. 

He had an automated taxi waiting that took them straight out of town to the nearby private airfield that Scott used whenever he was taking a break and leaving One at the island in case of emergencies, although this wasn’t a surprise since he had said he was going to get Jeff’s jet. 

The flight time had been relatively short in relation to standard commercial flights, only an hour and a half, but when you were used to being in a family that could zip across the globe in half an hour it was quite long. This comparison did absolutely nothing to tell her where they were at any given moment or where they were going to end up, so she stuck with sitting quietly, letting him get on with the whole flying thing.

“Are you still grumpy at me for making you leave the house?” John asked after half an hour of mostly silence from Selene.

“No,” she sighed, “I just really didn’t feel like doing anything, I’m not sure I’m going to be the best company at the moment.”

“Did I ask for you to be good company? It’s not like I’m a shining example of how to be the life and soul of a party.”

“I know, sorry, I just kinda wanted to forget about it. Everyone wants to make a big deal about my birthday and I don’t. Mum wanted to drag me around to visit people, to which I firmly said no, so she’s not really talking to me at the moment. She did that a lot when I was a kid, kept having parties and events that were loosely based on one of our birthdays, but she’d invite a lot of her friends and family members we didn’t really like. She’d have a great time but we didn’t because it just wasn’t what we wanted to do."

“I can understand that, Grandma was much the same.”

“Plus it’s the first big thing, apart from our wedding, without Dad and I’m just not really in the mood to celebrate, I’d rather just have a quiet night in and get a pizza or something.”

So that was what was really bothering her. Not so much the fact that she was getting older, though he was sure that wasn’t helping, but the fact that her Dad wasn’t going to be there. He could understand her point. Scott had turned thirty while their father had still been missing, presumed dead and it hadn’t been the celebration it should have been. Birthdays without their Mom had been much the same, celebrating milestones without important people was always hard. Maybe they were a little guilty of forgetting what that felt like, since their Father had been recovered after so many years. They were used to him being there again and didn’t let themselves dwell on the past if they could help it. 

“I promise you that we don’t even have to think about your birthday,” John assured her. “This is just us, having a night away from the madness that is our lives and tomorrow I’ll send Virgil to pick up Celia and Adam, she loves him so she'll behave, to bring them back to the Island for the night so we can have a quiet family dinner. Will that work for you?”

She thought about it for a moment or two, but could see no other way of getting around it.

“Yep, that’ll do.” 

"Good," he smiled, turning away tk check on the course settings. 

Watching him fly the plane, knowing he had put in a lot of effort already made her feel  like a complete bitch.

“I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you going to all this effort to arrange something, I didn’t mean to be a grumpy cow.”

“I’ll let you off this once, because it’s your birthday,” he teased, earning himself a half hearted glare that turned into a giggle as she finally let go of the tension she had been holding onto.

“I’m gonna smack you, you know that, right?” she warned him.

“Not while I’m flying, and maybe wait until after dinner, I’ll be slower then and easier for you to catch.”

“Noted,” she nodded, reaching over to drop her hand on his knee.

“I hope you’re not planning on distracting me,” he said mildly, acting as if nothing was happening, his eyes on the sky. 

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, or is that another thing best left until after dinner when you’re too full to run away?”

“I could handle a little distraction now, but if you want me to be able to reciprocate with a little distraction technique of my own, you’re going to have to wait.”

“I’ll wait,” she decided, but that didn’t stop her leaning closer to smack a kiss to his neck. “Have I told you today that I love you, husband?”

“No, you were too busy ignoring me, wife. My heart is shattered by the way.”

“Oh, yes, you seem so very heart broken.”

“I’m hiding it well.”

“Sure you are,” she drawled, trying very hard not to laugh. “I do love you though.”

“As you should.”

His tone was so serious that she lost the battle to hold herself together and started to laugh. John smiled to himself, relieved to see that she had perked up. Hopefully she would have loosened up enough to enjoy the activities he’d planned for them both that evening as they were certainly more her thing than his.

John landed the JT1 on what appeared to be a small runway with a barn, in a field, in the middle of nowhere. He had refused to let her see where they were travelling to, insisting she pull down the window blind next to her as they got closer and close her eyes for the last three minutes of their descent and landing.

A local woman was there to meet them, her accent saying she was american, southern by the sound of it, although Selene wasn’t too good at identifying accents. After the woman had opened the barn doors and John had taxied the small jet into it, she introduced herself as Cherise. Hands were shaken and pleasantries exchanged before she led them to the small truck that she had parked nearby. A five minute drive and…

“Is that a river boat?” Selene asked, unable to figure out just what the heck was going on.

“Yep, now get on,” John instructed, guiding her onto the walkway with one hand while grabbing their bags with the other. They waved a goodbye to Cherise who assured John she’d be ready and waiting the next day and to just text when she was needed, and went in search of seats.

The boat was more of a ferry, containing around 150 seats, only half of which were filled.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?" 

"No, I don't think I will."

"You would if you loved me."

"Its because I love you that I'm not telling you," he replied cryptically, getting up from his seat and moving to the front where an attendant sat. 

“What river is this?” Selene sneakily asked a nearby passenger as John paid their fare, a measly sum of five dollars each.

“Please don’t answer her,” John called over, obviously overhearing.

The man chuckled, having been shamelessly listening in and finding the situation most amusing. “Are you being kidnapped?” 

“I don’t know, you'd better ask my husband,” she pouted. 

“It’s her birthday and it’s a surprise,” John explained as he returned to his seat next to her. “She’s being impatient and sneaky.”

“You’ll only have to wait five minutes,” the man told her, patting her shoulder. “Surely that’s not too bad?”

“You’d think so,” Selene huffed, crossing her arms as the boat slid out of the dock and out into the open water.

Just as their fellow passenger had promised, just a shade under five minutes later the boat cruised into another dock and they were ushered off.

“Now will you tell me where we are?”

“Nope, not quite yet,” John grinned, enjoying this game immensely. Tucking her hand into his they followed the stream of passengers out of the dockyard and onto the streets beyond.

It wasn’t until she saw the streetcar waiting for the offloading passengers that she figured it out. 

“Oh my gods, you didn’t?” she gasped, the pieces of the jigsaw finally sliding into place. The river, which surely had to be the Mississippi, the streetcars and the friendliness of the locals, there was only one place they could be. The city of New Orleans was famous for being one of the only places in the world to still have a working historical streetcar line, something she had heard all about from her friends who had been lucky enough to visit. It was one of the places on her bucket list, her spiritual home for her laidback, chilled out self.

“I did,” he smirked, feeling incredibly pleased with himself at that moment, knowing that his hunch had been correct.

"You are amazing!" she screamed, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“Finally you realise it,” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist for stability as she bounced enthusiastically on the spot, almost knocking him over. “Shall I assume you approve?”

“Hell yes I approve!” she squealed, smacking a kiss to his lips.

“Good, because we’ve got a full evening booked up.”

“And time factored in for a wander?”

“Translation, time to look at some shops?”

“Obviously.”

“Maybe we can find a little time tomorrow morning,” he allowed. She smiled happily, knowing that was a yes. 

She squeezed up as close to the window as possible on the streetcar, wanting to see everything, squeaking and pointing like an excited child whenever she saw something she recognised.

When he had been thinking of somewhere to take her for an overnight stay he'd happened to overhear a phone conversation between Selene and another friend. They had been discussing a mutual friend and their shop in New Orleans and had spent ten minutes talking about the area with Selene saying how much she wanted to go, how it was on her list of places to visit before she died. The answer, it seemed, had quite conveniently fallen into his lap. 

It had been simple enough to organise, just a hotel booking, pick up from the landing area in St Bernard Parish and tickets for the tour he’d found. He’d planned on surprising her for their anniversary, knowing that it would never be something she would think to plan herself. She knew their busy lives, knew that time off was a rarity that could never be counted on, plans often had to be ditched at the last minute and so she never made them, not wanting him to feel bad if her efforts went to waste because IR were called out and he had to return to Five. 

He had thought she would want to do something with family and friends for her birthday so had booked for the week after, but once again she had surprised him with her insistence that she wasn’t going to celebrate. So he’d had to make some quick decisions, adapt, improvise, overcome.

He kept his eye on his phone, watching the little dot moving on the screen that was them and their streetcar, waiting for the right stop to disembark. Seeing the stop for Toulouse Station coming up he grabbed their bags and waited for her to notice. When she didn't, so engrossed was she in the streets going past, he had to catch her hand and tug her out of her seat. 

“Come on, we’re walking from here,” he instructed, pushing the bell to indicate to the driver, nothing was automated in New Orleans if they could help it, that they wanted to get off.

The stop wasn’t terribly close to the hotel he’d booked, but he’d thought it would be nice to walk, allowing her to see the sights a little and familiarise themselves with the layout of the area.

They walked hand in hand through Jackson Square and out onto St Ann street. St Ann’s was a pleasant walk past a number of shops, bars and restaurants, the end of which intersected onto Bourbon Street. Selene insisted on dipping into a gift shop and grabbing a few items for the family, just in case they didn’t get a chance to later. It took all his skills in sneaky manipulation, and promises of later distractions, to get her moving again, following the street until they reached their hotel. The whole walk took them less than half an hour but they were already feeling a little damp and sweaty.

The Lafitte Guest House was on the quieter end of Bourbon, something he knew both of them would appreciate. Selene liked her sleep and hated being woken suddenly and, although she suffered it well on the island, he knew for a fact that she would not appreciate it while they were away. He’d debated the wisdom of knowingly booking into a haunted hotel but experience had told him that his wife would find a spirit no matter where they were and at least this way they would be forewarned.

“This place is so nice,” she had cooed, running a hand along the ornate wooden handrail on the staircase. 

“It’s a little smaller than some of the fancier hotels, but I thought you’d prefer the atmosphere here.”

“I do, it’s the perfect choice,” Selene agreed as they were shown to their room. And it was, a three storey building that fitted in perfectly with its surroundings, the classic New Orleans French inspired architecture.

“This building was constructed in 1849,” their concierge told them, “by the same man who designed our opera house, Robert Seaton."

He turned down a hallway, beckoning them to follow along. 

"I’m afraid, although your original booking was for our most haunted room, room 21, it is already occupied, I do hope that won’t be a problem?”

“Not at all,” John assured him. “Any room you have will be fine, we’re just thankful you could accommodate us at such short notice.”

“No problem at all,” the man said, leading them up a flight of stairs and along a corridor. He opened the room with a flourish, stepping aside to allow them to enter.

The room itself, much like the rest of the hotel, was like stepping back in time, containing period furniture, a lovely large four poster bed and large french door windows that opened out onto a small wrought iron balcony overlooking Bourbon street. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Selene sighed, flopping backwards onto the bed with a woop of delight.

“Happy wife, happy life,” John quoted, much to the man’s amusement. 

“Will you be requiring anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you, we’re just going to freshen up and then head out to dinner," he said, dropping Selene's bag in a nearby chair." Actually, is there anywhere you can recommend?”

“Many places, but I’d say the best idea is to follow your nose and your stomach, although I would encourage you to try something authentic, the gumbo at SoBou is my favourite.”

“Then we’ll be sure to try there,” John promised. “Sel, are you done messing up the bed?”

“Nope,” she answered, continuing to roll around like a happy puppy, burying her face in the pillow.

“I’ll leave you in peace,” the man laughed, backing out of the room after John shook his hand, discreetly pressing a twenty into the man’s palm.

“I’m going to freshen up with a shower,” John told her. “Try not to fall asleep.”

“I could come with you,” she offered, perking up at the idea, sitting up on the bed expectantly.

“No, I’m far too hungry for that, besides which we have somewhere to be tonight, so your continued attempts to distract me will have to wait,” he told her, grabbing his bag and firmly shutting the bathroom door behind him.

“Unfair,” she pouted, flopping back down again. “It is my birthday you know!”

-x-

“I literally can’t eat another bite,” Selene complained, pushing her bowl aside with half the, admittedly delicious, Jambalaya still in it.

“That’s because you ate four bits of bread before they brought the food out,” John told her, finishing the last bite of his gumbo and wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“I regret nothing,” she insisted, reaching over to swipe the crust of a piece of bread off his side plate, wiping it through the sauce left in his bowl.

“I thought you were too full to eat another bite?” he asked as she popped it in her mouth, chewing hard before swallowing to answer him.

“Of my own food, obviously, yours is fair game,” she sipped her coke and smiled sweetly.

“Of course, how stupid of me not to realise that.”

“It really was,” she agreed, holding in a giggle at the martyred look on his face.

“Dessert?” he eventually asked once she stopped sniggering like an idiot. 

“Obviously, do you want to share one?” 

“Sure,” John shrugged, at ease with pretty much anything at that moment. He had worried that he might find the whole area overwhelming as it had a reputation as a nonstop party town. He’d been dreading crowds of people getting too close for comfort, being too loud, too boisterous and invasive. But he’d found that, while it was loud it wasn’t unbearable, seeming to consist of a lot of music, laughter and the occasional shout. 

Although it was crowded, they weren’t shoving and barging, they were respectful of personal space and friendly enough without being over friendly.  It was a pleasant surprise, one that was reflecting in his current mood. Selene, for her part, was so chilled out she was practically horizontal, four witch types had already waved hello and greeted her like a long lost friend even though she didn’t know them at all and she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the experience, her grumpy mood of earlier completely forgotten. 

“What do you fancy?” Selene asked, currently studying the dessert menu on the board.

“Besides my gorgeous wife?”

“Yeah, besides her, wives are not for eating,” Selene snorted.

“I beg to differ.”

Selene tore her eyes away from the menu to look at him. He lifted his bottle of beer and took an innocent sip, his eyes projecting trustworthiness. She wasn't fooled. 

“Something chocolatey?” she offered, trying to distract herself away from the thought of his mouth on something other than the neck of the bottle.

He thought about it for a second or two then shook his head. “Maybe something with fruit?”

“ Or possibly Ice Cream?”

“Maybe,” he studied the menu himself. “Bananas Foster?”

“Perfect,” she nodded.

They finished up the last of their meal at a leisurely pace, chatting in between sharing bites of the delicious dessert. Bananas Foster was a favourite of Gordon’s and she snapped a picture to send to him later, wanting to make him jealous.

John paid the bill, leaving a generous tip and reached for her hand, guiding her outside. He took out his phone, checking the time and location for their next activity. Keeping hold of her hand, using it to pull her in closer to his side, he led the way further down Bourbon and onto St Peter’s where the tour guide would hopefully be waiting.

"Hello!" one of their guides greeted them as they closed in on the group of maybe twenty people already waiting there. "Tracy, party of two?" 

"That's us," John confirmed and Selene nodded too. She had no reason to, she just wanted to look like she had some kind of clue as to why they were there and what was going on. 

"Good, then you're the last ones, let's get started. I'm Delphine, this is Remi, and we'll be your guides on this, the world famous New Orleans Ghost Tour." 

Selene squeezed his hand excitedly and he allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding. It was always a bit of a gamble with her when it came to planning anything like this. In most things she was incredibly laid back, but when it was anything that involved the potential for witchcraft, mediumship or ghosts then you were swimming in muddy water. It depended on how respectful the people involved were. He had done his research as best he could, seeing that the tour had been running for more than 80 years in some form or another and that they didn't employ the use of jump scares, people in costumes or sensationalise it in any way. He just hoped it was all it promised to be. 

"This is a two hour walking tour, ending with a visit to the beautiful and very haunted St Louis Cemetery No 1," Delphine informed them all. "But we're going to start right here in the heart of the French quarter where murder, mystery and voodoo magic helped shape our history."

The other attendees ooed and ahhed, already impressed by the mere thought of ghosts and ghoulies. 

Selene was busily looking around them curiously as they wandered slowly down the street, Delphine and Remi giving them a run down on the architecture, the history, the customs and the people that make up New Orleans. But he could feel that she was already on alert, the hand that held on tightly to his arm seeming to warm against his skin, letting him know that her gifts had already awoken, sitting up to take notice. 

As they walked they were told a little about the Le Petite Theatre and the young chorus girl who, falling out of favour with the producer, hung herself above the stage during the opening night's performance. Legend had it that every opening night her shadowy form could be seen hanging against the backdrop of the stage.

The first place they stopped at properly to take pictures and listen to the full history was the Andrew Jackson hotel, somewhere John had looked at as a possible place to stay but had decided against it when he had realised it was on the tour.

“The Andrew Jackson, once a boarding house for boys, fell victim to two major fires at the end of the 1700’s,” Delphine told them. Her voice was pleasant to listen to, loud enough that they didn’t have to strain their ears but soft and lilting in that southern way that put you at ease instantly. 

“One of those fires burnt the school to the ground, killing a number of young residents. The spirits of the boys are often seen and heard in the hotel, being described as mischievous spirits who like to play outside people’s rooms at night. One guest reported waking up in the middle of the night to see three small boys sitting on the end of her bed. Of course, she screamed, which the boys copied, screaming back at her in terror before vanishing.”

“Can you sense anything?” John whispered to Selene, making sure to keep his voice low, not wishing to interrupt Delphine or distract the other people listening. 

Selene waggled her hand back and forth in a ‘meh’ gesture, indicating it could be something or nothing. 

“I can feel energy from there, but nothing is coming forward to say hello,” she whispered back. “If we were inside I’m sure I’d get something more but out here, not being funny but the spirits are probably so used to tourists coming through that we’re boring to them now. That and, where I’m usually one of the only mediumistic people to come in to talk to spirits, there are tons here, you can trip over a witch by accident. So they are probably just keeping themselves to themselves.”

“Fair enough,” John chuckled, he always loved the way she explained things, a mixture of simplistic and colourful language with a hint of ‘I’m the expert’ that he so admired.

They continued walking, Remi pointing out interesting landmarks and telling the odd story of a murder or some other tragedy that had occured until they reached their next proper stop.

“Here we are at the historic, and very popular, Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar, the oldest in the city. History is mixed on whether this building was owned by the famed Lafitte brothers, Jean, or John, and Pierre or just named after them. Some accounts say that they ran the blacksmith shop as a front, others say that they cannot find any actual evidence of their involvement. All we know for sure is that they were nasty pieces of work.” Remi swept a hand out, gesturing towards the bar that was already hopping even though it was still relatively early.

“Jean and Pierre, the Pirate Captains, were instrumental in helping to win the battle of New Orleans during the war of 1812 against the British,“ Delphine continued to explain, glancing at Selene and winking at the mention of the British. “Jean was given a pardon for all his misdeeds as reward for their help, but in exchange he was ordered to leave the state of Louisiana.”

“Bit mean,” Selene whispered to John, who nodded in agreement, imagining how it would feel to help save a city only to be thrown out of it. 

“It’s said that they left great treasures around the French Quarter and in the Mississippi itself which have never been found. The only other person that knew of their whereabouts was a fellow pirate that Jean made the mistake of trusting. Unfortunately, as is often the way with pirates, he was untrustworthy, returning again and again to the cache's to skim a little off the top, so to speak. When Jean found out he did a little skimming of his own, he killed the pirate and it’s said that his spirit is cursed to guard the treasure forever more.”

“That’s a bit of a rough deal,” Selene muttered. “All eternity guarding something he can’t have? That’s like Virgil dying and hovering over the coffee pot.”

John snorted out a laugh, picturing his brother in ghost form, wailing as Scott took the coffee pot, poured himself a cup and drank it in front of him. 

As they wandered on, John and Selene were asked for a few selfies by tourists not in their group and they had to hurry to catch up a few times, finding it impossible to be rude and refuse even though John would have much rather done so.

They were told of the Pharmacy Museum. The building had the dubious honour of being the first licensed pharmacy in the United States but the treatments offered often did more harm than good, verging on barbaric. From drilling holes in skulls to relieve the pressure as a cure for headaches, to chemical concoctions that would have you put in prison were you to use them today. 

The second doctor to practice there was known to kidnap pregnant women and perform horrific experiments on them and it was his grizzly spirit that was said to shunt the building still.

They stopped outside a large, three storey building, getting comfortable as their guide started her story.

“The Palace, the Sultan’s house and the murder house,” Remi called out over the increasing noise of the streets and the chatting of the tour attendees. “All names for this building. Originally the second home of a wealthy businessman, he was hardly ever in residence and often rented it out in exchange for some extra cash that he probably didn’t need. Legends differ, one saying that the mysterious young man, a tall, dark and handsome stranger, was the brother of a sultan, hence the name, while others talk of him being some kind of demon or devil.”

“Demon’s aren’t real are they?” John asked Selene in a side whisper. She didn’t answer but her scrunched up nose and avoidance of his eyes told him all he needed to know. 

“Do you know any?”

She nodded vaguely, clearly not comfortable talking about such things out in the open as they were so he took the hint and shut up, tuning back into the talk.

“The man was very exotic,” Delphine was saying. “He had an accent that no one could place, he arrived with a full entourage of young and beautiful people, both male and female. Again, here accounts differ, some say that the Sultan actually hired a number of assassins to murder his brother and his entourage but others are far more sensational.”

“How much more sensational could it get?” an older woman whispered to her partner. 

“I don’t know,” the other woman whispered back, “maybe an orgy?”

John dropped her chin to Selene’s shoulder, burying his face in her neck as he tried not to laugh. Selene was less composed, out right giggling as he pulled her closer, his arms around her waist so she could lean back against his chest.

“The man and his ‘family’, for that was how he referred to them on the rent agreement, moved in. They immediately closed all the window shutters, hung heavy drapes and weren’t really ever seen again, although the neighbors knew they were in there. They could smell food cooking, they heard music playing at night and the smell of incense often wafted out. But, more disturbingly, the sound of screams would be heard, although it was never known if they were of pain, or pleasure. After a while the house grew quiet, no signs of life were seen and with the silence came a sickening smell. When the police broke down the door they found a scene that they likened to a slaughter house. Dead bodies were everywhere, blood splattered the walls and in the garden they found a freshly dug grave that contained the body of a man, supposedly buried alive. “

“Damn,” the woman who had suggested the orgy, muttered to her partner. "That's definitely not as much fun."

“As I said, accounts vary, some say that it was the sultan’s brother’s harem that had been killed and the brother was the body found in the garden, others say that the family escaped and killed those that either attacked them or that they were demons feeding on the flesh and souls of their victims. We will never know for sure. But rumour has it that the ghost of the sultan’s brother haunts these halls, that passers by still smell the incense and that the echoing screams can still be heard coming from inside.”

“Anything there?” John murmured in her ear, nodding towards the big building.

“There’s definitely an energy of some kind in there,” she answered, keeping her voice low and quiet. “It feels more like residual energy though, not so much an active spirit, but I'd have to be inside to know for sure.”

As they walked Delphine told them of another house, 734 Royal Street where a young black woman had frozen to death on the roof, having been told to disrobe and wait up there by her lover as a joke. He never expected her to do it and was the unlucky person to find her the next morning, naked, frozen, dead on the rooftop. It was said he died soon after from a broken heart.

Some people report to have seen a woman standing on the roof, being concerned enough to call the police. But as soon as the police hear the address they are known to dismiss it as just Julie, still waiting.

Next on their stop was the LaLaurie Mansion. Delphine, their guide, told them the story of Delphine LaLaurie, the beautiful lady of the house who married a man named Louie LaLaurie, a doctor from Europe. They were what was considered an it couple of the time, the height of fashion and threw extravagant parties to show off their wealth and to network.  

The only thing of note that anyone found strange about them was the high number of slaves they seemed to own. Delphine LaLaurie would explain it away as nothing if you asked, brushing it off but if you continued to press the issue, or asked anyone else, you would find yourself ousted, shunned, never to be invited back again.

On the tenth of April 1834, whilst hosting another of their elaborate events a fire broke out in the house. The fire brigade were called and soon had the flames under control. Everything seemed fine, the damage seemed to be minimal but they checked the area thoroughly, just to be sure.

The fire looked to have originated in the kitchen and there they found an older enslaved woman, huddled close to an open window, coughing harshly, almost overcome by smoke. They wondered why she had not left through the window to save herself, but they soon found the answer. They discovered that she was chained to the stove by her ankle, unable to even leave the room, let alone the house itself.

They questioned her on the fire and she admitted that she was responsible, she had set the fire. When they asked why she pointed above her head and told them to look in there. In the room above the kitchen, the slaves quarters, they met with the most horrific sight.

The attic room was full of tortured, mutilated slaves. The doors had been locked but they had soon broken it down. As soon as the doors had opened the smell that hit them had made them heave, some of them needing to turn away to vomit. Papers from the time told of at least seven slaves, chained, beaten, tortured. Victims of pain experiments, their muscles and limbs stretched and broken.

Even though the people of time didn’t hold slaves in the same regard as others they were up in arms, calling for the LaLaurie’s blood. A mob gathered outside but they could not find them, the LaLaurie’s had made their escape in a carriage.

“People talk of a dark and depressive atmosphere in the house,” Remi continued, “and many have reported to have seen the ghost of LaLaurie. A young couple once lived here with their baby. One night the man awoke to see a woman standing over the crib. At first he thought it was his wife but she was right there in bed beside him and she didn’t have long, red hair. He yelled out loud and the woman turned to look at him before running away. He made to follow but something told him not to, instead he stopped to check the baby. The baby’s sock had been removed and had been stuffed deep down into the baby's mouth, partially down its throat, choking it.”

“I don’t like this one,” Selene whispered, her eyes fixed on the building in front of them. Even though it was a lovely warm night and she had her shawl around her shoulders, John could feel that she was shivering and wrapped his arms around her tighter.

“There’s a darkness in there, not like at the Sultan’s Palace, different. I feel that this building still has evil inside it. The energy is so...spikey,” she finished, not really knowing how to describe it. “Like it could prick you or hurt you just because you were there. I can’t say if there are any spirits in there, I’d have to go in for that, but the things that happened in there, it’s soaked into the walls, the floor, everything.” 

She shuddered again, taking an instinctive step backwards, forcing John to do the same or have her knock him over. He knew what she meant, the house felt strange even to him, like every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to turn around and leave. He was a Tracy, he didn’t back down from anything, even with the fine hairs at the back of his neck standing to attention, but he was more than happy to start walking as the tour moved on.

The last stop on their tour before they moved on to the cemetery was the famous house of Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans who, despite being dead for over 250 years, still seemed to hold some sway over the city, still having powers from beyond the grave.

“Born in 1801, to a wealthy white plantation owner and her black mother, Marie was said to be incredibly beautiful,” Delphine told them. “She married and went on to have two children before her husband mysteriously went missing. After this she called herself a widow, though some people believe that this was simply to save face and that he had actually abandoned her and their children.”

“Is this place any better?” John asked, his voice low in her ear, making her shiver for an entirely different reason.

“Much better,” she replied, keeping her voice quiet. “I can feel power here, but it’s neutral, nothing that I would call malevolent or nasty.”

“After her husband’s disappearance she was in need of money with which to take care of herself and her children. With precious little options, she began working in a hair salon, serving wealthy white and Creole women of New Orleans. Just like the salons of today they were a hotbed for gossip and secret spilling. She hoarded the information she was privy to, using to her advantage to rise up the ranks of society.”

“Honestly, I  can respect that woman,” Selene muttered. “I gather gossip and use it to my advantage too.”

“Sweetheart, you said that finding Grandma’s old photo album and stealing the picture of Dad’s emo phase was you doing the Gods work.”

“I stand by that,” she sniffed, ignoring the giggle from the young man standing behind them.

“Marie entered into another relationship with a wealthy and powerful man from a prestigious local family,” Remi continued. “And they had a total of fifteen children in quick succession.”

“Sod that!” Selene yelped, crossing her legs in the ultimate act of self defence. 

“And you said I have too many brothers,” John teased, hugging her tighter when she attempted to elbow him.

“Obviously, with so many children to look after she found that her time was limited,” Delphine said, ignoring Selene’s outburst. “She quit her job at the hair salon and devoted herself to raising her children. It’s believe that this was the time when she started to pay more attention to her mothers voodoo beliefs and practices.”

The story, which Delphine and Remi continued to tell them as they walked towards their last stop of the night, St Louis Cemetery number one, said that while she had a basic knowledge from her mother she learnt most of her craft from a voodoo doctor known only as Doctor John.

Selene turned her head back to look at John as she walked beside her. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a side hustle in Voodoo? You’ve been making me do all the magical heavy lifting for years.”

“Well, I had to leave you with something to do to make you feel useful,” he retorted, smacking a kiss on her lips when she squeaked a protest.

“Quite Christian based in the prayers used, voodoo combines the use of saints, incense and dance into its practice,” Remi continued as they walked. “She was known for her pet snake which she had named Zombie, and for providing Gri-Gri bags, spiritual readings, spells, fortune telling and mediumship for the wealthy of New Orleans upper class. She was said to have died with a smile on her face in 1881 and, when her death was reported in the newspapers they called her the kindest woman that had ever lived. She was said to have nursed the sick and helped out with all manner of problems that people might have, although many said it wasn’t so much because of her magical abilities that she was so powerful, but the secrets that she kept. Secrets that kept many politicians in her debt.”

They came to stop outside the crumbling white walls that surrounded the cemetery, glowing eerily in the rapidly darkening twilight between dusk and full night. The walls themselves were actually made up of wall tombs, a place for families who couldn’t afford a large above ground one.

“Marie Laveau was laid to rest right here in this very cemetery. It’s said that she still wields a remarkable amount of power even from beyond the grave, so much so that people often petition her spirit in the hopes that she will grant their wishes,” Delphine said as they entered. 

She and Remi led the way through a maze of tombs, some old and crumbling, others surrounded by iron railings that tilted at odd angles due to age and decay, some large, some small, some classical, some extravagant while others were just so outlandish that they looked completely out of place.

They stopped beside a rather plain white tomb, relatively small in comparison to some of the others they had already seen. Delphine reached out a hand to touch the side of the tomb, right beside a green X that had been scrawled on the paint.

“The practice has since been banned and is considered a criminal offence, but in the past people would mark her grave with an X, although as you can see some people ignore the law. The ritual stated that you should mark the grave with an X, turn around three times, knock on the tomb and then yell out your wish. If the wish came true you were supposed to return, draw a circle around your X and leave an offering to the lady.”

“I can think of a few wishes I’d like granted,” a lady in their group stated, making a fair few people laugh. “Not much, just a few million in the bank, a nice house and a good looking man on my arm.”

“Well, I can’t help with the millions,” her husband said, “but at least you have the good looking man.”

“Yeah, in my dreams,” she countered, although he didn’t seem too offended by it.

“Marie’s ghost has been spotted in many locations throughout the French quarter where she made her home," Remi told them. "She is most recognizable by the red and white turban tucked around her hair and the bright clothes she wears. People are still drawn to her and often follow her wanting to introduce themselves but she always vanishes, sometimes right in front of them, before they can do so.”

“She doesn’t sound scary,” a man said dismissively. 

“Oh, she’s seen as very friendly,” Delphine answered, “until you cross her. She’s been seen many times in this cemetery, walking between and sometimes through the tombs. Usually she leaves you be but, if you do anything that she deems disrespectful, such as disregarding or insulting her beliefs or religion she has been known to scratch, pinch and shove people to the ground. Voices have been heard coming from inside her tomb and some people that get too close have reported feeling sick.”

“She’s not too bad,” a voice beside Selene and John said in a conversational tone.

“Have you seen her?” Selene asked, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Delphine and Remi as they told of the cities other famous inhabitants of the cemetery such as Bernard de Marigny and Barthelemy Lafon.

“Seen who?” John asked, dragging his attention away from the talk and back to her.

“Sorry, wasn’t talking to you,” she whispered.

“Do you happen to know where the Vignes tomb is?” the man asked, changing the subject from ghost talk to something more mundane. 

“No, sorry, we’re just on a tour here, we don’t know the area,” Selene admitted.

“Who were you talking to?”

“This guy,” she said, nodding towards the blond man who had begun to wander closer to the front of the tour group, obviously wanting to take advantage of listening to the information without having to pay for the privilege like the rest of them had.

“Who?”

“Him,” she replied, waving in his direction. "That new guy, he definitely wasn't with us at the start. He must have joined in along the way."

“There’s no one there, Sel,” John said quietly. She looked at him, studying his face to make sure he wasn't messing with her, but he seemed serious enough. She sighed, for someone so observant John certainly seemed to be missing the obvious. 

“Yes there is, he’s right there,”  she insisted. Praying for patience she grabbed his hand to drag him closer. “See? He's right there.”

“Yes,” John gulped, eyes widening, “I actually do see him.”

“Right, so he was saying that Marie Laveau isn’t as bad as everyone says she is, I assume he meant that her spirit isn’t that menacing, I was asking him if he’d seen her but then you interrupted and-”

“Sel,” John interrupted, his eyes locked on the man who was meandering back their way, “I don't think he joined the tour, he just walked straight through that tomb.” 

“Damn, then he’s got some serious energy in him,” she breathed, catching John’s meaning. “He must have if I didn’t sense it straight away.”

“Sorry, I had to listen to make sure they told my story right,” the ghost said, reaching her side. John’s eyes almost fell out of his head, confirming that he could now hear him as well as see him.

“Oh, are you a famous one?” Selene asked as the tour moved on, affording them a little more privacy to talk. 

“My name is  Henry,” he told them, dipping in a courtly little bow. “Oh, that's my cue, if you’ll excuse me…”

Henry vanished and reappeared nearer the front of the tour. Making a face of pure boredom he stepped into a gap between two tombs and moaned in a low, quiet voice. “I need to rest.”

Several people in the tour jumped and an older lady stumbled. John, actinb on instinct, reached out to steady her, letting go of Selene’s hand in the process.

“Where did he go?” John asked, returning to her side after assuring himself that the lady was unharmed. 

“No where, he’s still right there,” she answered, giving Henry a small wave.

“No, he’s not.”

“He is,” she insisted, “come on, we’ll go talk to him again.”

“As we were saying,” Remi could be heard above the mutterings of the other attendees. “The story of Henry Vignes is a sad one. A sailor who trusted the wrong person, Henry died having no place to be laid to rest, his tomb sold by the lady he had entrusted with his most important papers.”

Henry nodded sadly, leaning casually against the side of a tomb.

“He has been seen by many people, usually so clearly that they do not realise that he is even a ghost,” Delphine told them. Henry preened a little at that. 

“He often strolls right up to tourists and asks them where the Vignes tomb is located as he’s having trouble finding it himself. He’s even been known to appear at funerals and ask if there is any room left in there for him.”

Selene giggled, she couldn’t help it and Henry winked at her, tipping his hat before fading away.

“Are you sure he was still there?” John asked later that night as the tour returned to the french quarter meeting place. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” she sighed. “I don’t know what happened there, you seemed to see-”

“And hear,” John added.

“And hear him just fine. Then all of a sudden you couldn’t anymore.”

“I couldn’t at first either,” he reminded her, “I thought you were talking to yourself.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she grumbled. “Sometimes I’m the only person that will listen to me.”

“Was there anything you did that might have allowed me to see him?” John asked, ignoring her insinuation that he never listened to her. He listened to her all the time, he was just selective with what he chose to reply to, knowing she needed very little encouragement with some of her more ridiculous ideas.

“No, I didn’t do anything at all,” she promised him. “All I did was move you closer so I could point him out.”

“You took hold of my hand,” he said, mentally rerunning the moment in his head. “And kept hold of it the whole time.”

“Not the whole time,” she reminded him. “When Henry did his haunting voice that lady stumbled and you caught her before she hit the deck.”

“And I didn’t hold your hand again until we were walking back,” he finished. 

“Nah, it can’t be that simple,” she scoffed. “I hold your hand all the time.”

“But have you ever done it while there was a spirit around?” he asked, guiding her around a group of drunken young ladies all carrying brightly coloured cocktails in yard long plastic containers with straws sticking out of them, most of which were being eagerly slurped from as they walked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, thinking about it. “I don’t think so now that you mention it.”

“Do you think that could be another side effect of that little bonding mistake we made?”

“I guess anything is possible,” she mused. “Tanzi did say that we might keep noticing new things for a while after.”

“I guess there’s only one way to know for sure,” he shrugged, “you’ll just have to make sure you tell me next time you see one.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised him. He smiled at that, knowing how just a few years ago she would never have dared to even agree to try, let alone have any intention of doing so. Her ex, Nathaniel was responsible for messing up many things in her life, her confidence in herself and her abilities being one of them, but John was determined that, no matter how long it took, he was going to prove to her that she never needed to be wary again.

Bourbon street at night was like no place they had ever been before. They heard it before they even got close, the neon lights glowing from a distance. The lights reminded Selene of London but that was where the similarities ended. 

The entire street was a wall of noise, music of all kinds seeming to spill out of every single bar on the strip on either side. She felt John tense beside her, knowing that it wasn’t somewhere he would be at all comfortable.

“Do you want to try and avoid it?” she asked and he nodded gratefully. A quick word with Remi and they had secured directions and a suggestion to head down Dauphine St instead of continuing onto Bourbon. They could follow it until they reached St Phillip’s St which would lead them to the intersection where their hotel was located.

They thanked him and Delphine for a fun and informative tour and struck out on their own. Dauphine street was much quieter than Bourbon appeared to be, there were still small crowds milling around outside but not enough to send John into flight mode, so they took that as a win.

“Want to grab a drink?” John offered but Selene shook her head.

“No thanks, I’m not really feeling it today, maybe it’s the crowds or all the walking but I think I’d rather wait until we get closer to the hotel, that way we can find a quieter one to try before we head to bed.”

“Good plan,” he agreed, pulling her in closer. It was only eleven at night, relatively early for them, but they had had a long day and the thought of the comfy bed awaiting them was a very pleasant one.

They located the intersection where Dauphine met St Paul's and soon hit the tail end of Bourbon. From there the music was far more bearable, seeming to be a mixture of classic rock, Selene could hear Smoke on the Water playing from a bar, and some kind of Jazz.

With Virgil, Scott and Jeff being fans of old fashioned Jazz music they decided to move a little further in that direction, meaning to take a video or two to show the others when they got home. That was their first mistake.

“No, no way,” John protested as a woman separated herself from the crowd outside the bar where a band was playing and grabbed his hand.

“Come on, honey, you have to dance,” she insisted, swirling on the spot and dragging him with her.

“Help!” he yelped as his arm was pulled this way and that by the enthusiastic woman. 

“Little busy,” Selene laughed, having been swept up into the arms of a man who was trying to lead her in some kind of 1920’s era Jazz hop dance that involved a lot of quick footwork and much arm waving.

John managed to escape as the band paused before launching into their next number and stole Selene back. She took full advantage, holding on to his hand as the music began to play again. 

A couple near them started something that looked vaguely like a charleston mixed with a waltz that Selene was determined to try to copy. Neither she nor John were very good, not knowing the steps or the music enough to actually follow along and ended up finding their own rhythm, not caring that they didn’t match the others, not caring that they were slower and less energetic. It was nice, it was simple and it was very much them.

“Thank you for forcing me to celebrate my birthday,” she said, pulling him in closer to steal a quick kiss.

“My pleasure,” he grinned, twirling her on the spot then dipping her in his arms. “Anything for the birthday girl.”

-x-

“It was so nice to see Myst again,” Selene sighed, relaxing deeper into the passenger seat of Jeff’s jet as they cruised over the Pacific, on course for Tracy Island. 

“I haven’t seen her in two years, not since she last visited Tanzi, I can’t believe how great the shop looked, they’ve run it for years but don’t get to spend much time there.”

“Well, with what we spent they'll still be open for at least another ten,” he teased, not in the least concerned by her shopping spree. You only turned thirty once and if she wanted to buy up half of the shop that was her choice.

“I didn’t buy that much,” she pouted, but couldn’t hold it for too long when, with a no doubt on purpose twitch of the controls, the little plane rolled sideways, sending a number of bags cascading to the floor.

“You were saying?”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” she huffed, trying not to laugh. "You said they were birthday presents.”

“So I did,” he agreed, lifting his hand off her knee to poke the console, bringing up a comm line to the island, announcing their impending arrival.

Virgil had messaged earlier that morning to say that he was picking up Celia and Adam in time for their return, so all they had to worry about was enjoying a leisurely breakfast.

They took him at his word and shared a delicious three egg omelette, an order of beignets and the best coffee she had tasted in forever.  Bellies full and suitably rested after an uneventful nights sleep in the hotel, the resident ghosts declining to visit, they had wandered around Jackson Square and the shops of the French quarter. 

John had insisted that he was hungry again and craving something special for lunch, that something special had turned out to be oysters. Selene had watched in morbid fascination mixed with horror as he had proceeded to devour a dozen oysters speckled with hot sauce, which she refused to try, while she munched her seafood salad. She was still undecided if watching him swallow them down whole so easily was hot or disturbing, the jury was still out.

Cherise had been as good as her word, waiting for them to dock from the ferry and taxing them to the bar where the jet waited for them. They had waved a happy goodbye after awkwardly stuffing their shopping (the pieces they hadn’t arranged to have delivered) and overnight bags into the back and taken off for home.

“I hope mum doesn’t make dinner awkward,” Selene sighed, knowing that with her family anything was possible. “I know she’s going to be a bit disappointed that I didn’t want to spend the actual day with her.”

“Then let her, you can always blame it on me.”

“My hero,” she smiled, lifting his hand to her lips to kiss it. “What would I do without you?”

“Marry Scott?” he joked, ducking out of the way of the smack she aimed at his shoulder. 

“I think Cat would have something to say about that,” she huffed. “Besides, you know you’re the only man for me.”

“I know, but it’s nice to be reminded now and then.”

She was still giggling, feeling relaxed and happily clinging to his arm, as the lift from the hangars completed its ascent, the doors opening to spill them out into the hall just beyond the lounge.

“Why do I hear music?” Selene asked suspiciously.

“I have no idea,” John admitted as they rounded the corner into the lounge.

Selene stopped dead in the doorway, as did John, unable to believe what they were seeing with their own two eyes.

“Am I that old now that I need glasses,” she whispered, “or am I actually seeing this?”

“Unfortunately it’s very real,” he whispered back, wrapping his arm around her protectively.

The lounge lights were flickering to the beat of the music, someone had laid out food on the coffee table, including a plate of mini sausages that Armstrong was steadily working his way through and someone had opened the concealed drinks cabinet.

It wasn’t the fact that there was quite clearly a party in full swing, a party that she had said on no uncertain terms wasn’t to happen, it wasn’t the fact that the entire family , plus her mother, Adam, Cat, Penelope, Parker, Bandon, Conrad and Moffie were all there.

No, it was the fact that each and every one of them was sporting a wig in various shades and stripes of purple and black. Wigs they had apparently teamed with half the contents of her wardrobe and every band T-shirt Jeff had ever collected.

“What the ever loving fu-”

The music quietened as the party animals realised they were no longer alone. They looked at John and Selene rather guiltily, not saying a word.

Scott, who had somehow squeezed his chest back into her favourite corset, was tossed under the bus and shoved forward to greet her.

“I’m going to kill you,” she hissed, trying to back away as he advanced on her, arms open in anticipation of a hug.

The world's most annoying best friend simply grinned at her, flashing those dimples that he knew she could never resist.

She tried to duck behind John but Scott was too quick for her, herding her directly into the path of the oncoming Virgil.

She was swept up into a bone crushing bear hug, vanishing under the tide of Tracys that descended to join in.

-x-

“Admit it, it wasn’t that bad,” John said, catching up with her beside the pool and handing her another can of her favourite cherry coke.

“I didn’t want a party,” she argued.

“But…”

“But I guess it wasn’t that bad,” she admitted, moving over on the padded bench seat to make room for him to sit next to her.

“They only did it because they love you.”

“I know, but they are all idiots.”

“I know, but it was a special birthday and they wanted to celebrate with you.”

“I know,” she said, leaning against his side with a contented sigh. 

"I've got a present for you," he announced, jiggling his shoulder to get her to move and shifting so he could dig into his hoodie pocket. 

"Really? Why?" 

"Because it's your birthday."

 "You really didn't have to, New Orleans was more than enough."

"The trip was supposed to have been for our anniversary, I just moved it forward," he reminded her. "Besides, I'd be a pretty lousy husband if I didn't get you something special to mark the occasion."

He offered her a bright green velvet pouch which looked to contain something rectangular and hard. 

"Open it," he instructed. 

"OK." She did as he bid, noticing that he was watching her very closely. Did he think she wouldn't like it? 

She loosened the draw strings and tipped the pouch up, catching the bundle of cards that slid out. 

"Tarot cards? What are they…" she paused, turning them over, her eyes widening as she realised exactly what they depicted. 

"Oh my gods," she gasped then burst out laughing. "These are amazing!" 

She flicked through them quickly, laughing even more at some of the pictures, each matching perfectly with the subject. 

"Where the hell did you find Muppets Tarot cards?" Kermit was the Emperor, Miss Piggy his Empress, Fozzy the Fool, Sam the Eagle as Justice, Animal as the Devil and most perfect of all, Statler and Waldorf as Judgement. 

"Tanzi put me in touch with someone who makes one of a kind sets to order," he replied, breathing a little easier now that he saw she liked them. 

"They're perfect, absolutely perfect. I love them so much."

"Good," he smiled, slipping his arm back around her waist and pulling her in closer. "I wasn't sure if it was something you would like or I should actually buy for you and didn't want to do the wrong thing. But Tanzi said that tarot cards are often gifted to people so it was OK." 

"Why would you think I wouldn't like them?" she asked softly. 

"I know how important your tools are to you and how Nathaniel never respected them. I guess I wanted to show you that I care too, that I'll always respect you and your beliefs."

"You are the best husband in the world," she assured him, pulling him closer for a kiss. "I love that you did this and I love that you know me so well that you could commission the most perfect set of cards just for me. Thank you, I love them."

"You're very welcome. I'm glad you like them."

"You always surprise me, just when I think you couldn't be any more amazing you pull something like this out of the bag, literally," she laughed, holding up the green pouch. 

"So, does this mean that you enjoyed turning thirty?" 

“I guess, as birthdays go, it wasn’t too awful.”

“Not too awful?” he mock gasped, clutching his heart. 

“Not awful,” she repeated, tipping her head back for another kiss. “Did you know they were planning all that?”

“Not all of it,” he admitted, “I suspected that they might not stick to a quiet meal but the rest was as much of a surprise to me as it was you.”

She let out an elegant snort in response, clearly not convinced.

“Honestly it was,” he promised, making the rescue scout sign. "Scouts honour."

“OK, I believe you, even though you weren't the scout, Scott was.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, draping his arm around her shoulders, his head tipped back to look up at the night sky above their heads. “All over for another year, how do you feel?”

“Better than I did yesterday morning,” she answered.

“Good, then my work here is done.”

She nodded, resting her head against his shoulder, just enjoying the peace of the late night,

“You’re quiet,” he said softly a few minutes later. “Everything alright?”

“Yep,” she promised. "I'm just thinking.”

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?”

“Yep,” she repeated, grinning evilly. “I was thinking that mine isn't the only special birthday this year.”

Realisation dawned on him, a feeling of dread skittering up his spine.

“No, absolutely not.”

“But you said it yourself, you only turn thirty once.”

“No.”

“You forced me to celebrate, so it’s your turn next.”

“No, listen to me very carefully. I, as your husband, forbid it.”

“I’m thinking of a nice, relaxing trip somewhere quiet. I’ve heard that Finland does an amazing range of glass igloos to stay in to watch the sky, it's supposed to be beautiful that time of year.”

That didn't sound too bad, he had to admit. 

“OK, that wouldn’t be too terrible,” he agreed, breathing a sigh of relief. “For a second I thought you were going to say you were planning a party.”

“Would I do that?” she asked innocently, sliding out of his arms and off the bench. "I'm just going to show these to Mum, she'll have a fit."

“No, you aren't. Get back here. I forbid you to even think about planning a party."

"I'm not planning anything," she said, deftly avoiding his attempts to catch her and pull her back down. 

"Promise me you won't plan a party," he pleaded. 

"I promise," she vowed, dancing around the side of the pool towards the kitchen. 

John's eyes narrowed, she looked entirely too suspicious…

“I’m going to leave that to Scott.”

She dropped her bombshell, turned tail and ran like her life depended on it. 

[linastudyblrsblog]

Burnout, unfortunately, is everywhere. If you haven’t experienced it personally, you probably know someone who has self-diagnosed.

 Defined by the World Health Organization as a syndrome “conceptualized as resulted from chronic workplace stress,” it causes exhaustion, “feelings of negativism or cynicism,” and reduced efficacy. That’s a big umbrella, and the condition has become something of a catch-all for chronic, modern-day stress. 

Here are 11 of our favorites to help you create your own escape plan:

1. Figure out which kind of burnout you have.

The Association for Psychological Science found that burnout comes in three different types, and each one needs a different solution:

1. Overload: The frenetic employee who works toward success until exhaustion, is most closely related to emotional venting. These individuals might try to cope with their stress by complaining about the organizational hierarchy at work, feeling as though it imposes limits on their goals and ambitions. That coping strategy, unsurprisingly, seems to lead to a stress overload and a tendency to throw in the towel.

2. Lack of Development: Most closely associated with an avoidance coping strategy. These under-challenged workers tend to manage stress by distancing themselves from work, a strategy that leads to depersonalization and cynicism — a harbinger for burning out and packing up shop.

3. Neglect: Seems to stem from a coping strategy based on giving up in the face of stress. Even though these individuals want to achieve a certain goal, they lack the motivation to plow through barriers to get to it

2. Cut down and start saying “no.”

Every “yes” you say adds another thing on your plate and takes more energy away from you, and your creativity:

If you take on too many commitments, start saying ‘no’. If you have too many ideas, execute a few and put the rest in a folder labeled ‘backburner’. If you suffer from information overload, start blocking off downtime or focused worktime in your schedule (here are some tools that may help). Answer email at set times. Switch your phone off, or even leave it behind. The world won’t end. I promise.

3.  Give up on getting motivated.

With real burnout mode, you’re too exhausted to stay positive. So don’t:

When you’re mired in negative emotions about work, resist the urge to try to stamp them out. Instead, get a little distance — step away from your desk, focus on your breath for a few seconds — and then just feel the negativity, without trying to banish it. Then take action alongside the emotion. Usually, the negative feelings will soon dissipate. Even if they don’t, you’ll be a step closer to a meaningful achievement.

4.  Treat the disease, not the symptoms. 

For real recovery and prevention to happen, you need to find the real, deeper issue behind why you’re burnt out:

Instead of overreacting to the blip, step back from it, see it as an incident instead of an indictment, and then examine it like Sherlock Holmes looking for clues.

For example, you could ask yourself: What happened before the slip? Did I encounter a specific trigger event such as a last-minute client request? Was there an unusual circumstance such as sickness? When did I first notice the reversion in my behavior? Is some part of this routine unsustainable and if so, how could I adjust it to make it more realistic?

5.  Make downtime a daily ritual.

To help relieve pressure, schedule daily blocks of downtime to refuel your brain and well-being. It can be anything from meditation to a nap, a walk, or simply turning off the wifi for a while:

When it comes to scheduling, we will need to allocate blocks of time for deep thinking. Maybe you will carve out a 1-2 hour block on your calendar every day for taking a walk or grabbing a cup of coffee and just pondering some of those bigger things. I can even imagine a day when homes and apartments have a special switch that shuts down wi-fi and data access during dinner or at night �� just to provide a temporary pause from the constant flow of status updates and other communications…

There is no better mental escape from our tech-charged world than the act of meditation. If only for 15 minutes, the ability to steer your mind away from constant stimulation is downright liberating. There are various kinds of meditation. Some forms require you to think about nothing and completely clear your mind. (This is quite hard, at least for me.) Other forms of meditation are about focusing on one specific thing – often your breath, or a mantra that you repeat in your head (or out loud) for 10-15 minutes…

If you can’t adopt meditation, you might also try clearing your mind the old fashioned way – by sleeping. The legendary energy expert and bestselling author Tony Schwartz takes a 20-minute nap every day. Even if it’s a few hours before he presents to a packed audience, he’ll take a short nap.

6.  Stop being a perfectionist; start satisficing.

Trying to maximize every task and squeeze every drop of productivity out of your creative work is a recipe for exhaustion and procrastination. Set yourself boundaries for acceptable work and stick to them:

Consistently sacrificing your health, your well being, your relationships, and your sanity for the sake of living up to impossible standards will lead to some dangerous behaviors and, ironically, a great deal of procrastination. Instead of saying, “I’ll stay up until this is done,” say, “I’ll work until X time and then I’m stopping. I may end up needing to ask for an extension or complete less than perfect work. But that’s OK. I’m worth it.” Making sleep, exercise, and downtime a regular part of your life plays an essential role in a lasting, productive creative career.

7.  Track your progress every day.

Keeping track allows you to see exactly how much is on your plate, not only day-to-day, but consistently over time:

Disappointing feedback can be painful at first – research shows that failure and losses can hurt twice as much as the pleasure of equivalent gains. But if you discover you’re off course, reliable feedback shows you by how much, and you then have the opportunity to take remedial action and to plot a new training regime or writing schedule. The temporary pain of negative feedback is nothing compared with the crushing experience of project failure. Better to discover that you’re behind and need to start writing an hour earlier each day, than to have your book contract rescinded further down the line because you’ve failed to deliver.

8.  Change location often.

Entrepreneurs or freelancers can be especially prone to burnout. Joel Runyon plays “workstation popcorn,” in which he groups tasks by location and then switches, in order to keep work manageable, provide himself frequent breaks, and spend his time efficiently:

You find yourself spending hours at your computer, dutifully “working” but getting very little done. You finish each day with the dreaded feeling that you’re behind, and that you’re only falling farther and farther behind. You’re buried below an ever-growing to-do list. There’s a feeling of dread that tomorrow is coming, and that it’s bringing with it even more work that you probably won’t be able to get ahead on.

List out everything you need to do today. Try to be as specific as you can…Next, break that list into three sections. Step 1: Go to cafe [or desk, a different table in your office, etc.] #1. Step 2: Start working on item group #1…Once you finish all the tasks in group #1, get up and move. Close your tabs, pack your bags, and physically move your butt to your next spot. If you can, walk or bike to your next stop…When you get to the next cafe [or spot], start on the next action item group, and repeat…

When you’ve completed everything on your to-do list for the day, you are done working. Relax, kick back, and live your life. Don’t take work home with you because that won’t help you get more done – it will just wear you out.

9.  Don’t overload what downtime you do get.

Vacations themselves can cause, or worsen burnout, with high-stress situations, expectations, and sleep interruption. Use it to help in recovery from burnout instead: 

Make a flexible itinerary a priority. [A] study from Radboud University found that effective vacations give you the choice and freedom to choose what you want to do. That means two things: Try to avoid structuring your vacation around an unbreakable schedule, and plan on going somewhere that has multiple options to pick from depending on the weather, your level of energy, or your budget.

10. Write yourself fan mail.

Seth Godin uses self-fan mail as a way to keep motivated instead of burning out on a project that seems far from completion:

I define non-clinical anxiety as, “experiencing failure in advance.” If you’re busy enacting a future that hasn’t happened yet, and amplifying the worst possible outcomes, it’s no wonder it’s difficult to ship that work. With disappointment, I note that our culture doesn’t have an easily found word for the opposite. For experiencing success in advance. For visualizing the best possible outcomes before they happen. Will your book get a great testimonial? Write it out. Will your talk move someone in the audience to change and to let you know about it? What did they say? Will this new product gain shelf space at the local market? Take a picture. Writing yourself fan mail in advance, and picturing the change you’ve announced you’re trying, to make is an effective way to push yourself to build something that actually generates that action.

  11. Break projects into bite-sized pieces.

Taking a task on in one entire lump can be exhausting and provide little room for rest in between. Breaking up your projects into set chunks with their own deadlines provides a much healthier, and easier, way of completing a large project:

The default take on deadlines is typically to consider them to be cumbersome and stressful. Yet, from another perspective, a deadline can be viewed as a huge benefit to any project. Without the urgency of a hard deadline pushing a project to completion, it’s easy for you, your team, or your client to lose focus. We’ve all worked on agonizing projects where the timeline just bleeds on and on, merely because the flexibility is there…

It turns out that the manner in which a task is presented to someone – or the way in which you present it to your brain – has a significant impact on how motivated you will be to take action. A study led by researcher Sean McCrea at the University of Konstanz in Germany recently found that people are much more likely to tackle a concrete task than an abstract task… It seems to me like the difference between being handed a map versus following the step-by-step instructions of a GPS device. Not everyone can read a map, but everyone can follow the directions. By breaking your project down into smaller, well-described tasks, the way forward becomes clear and it’s easy to take action.

[ddaehyeon]

selcouth; kim junseo + reader

— unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful.

pairing: kim junseo + reader

genre: mix of fluff and angst (this is so light for me), reincarnation au, soulmate au

word count: 1.2k

warnings: implied death

a/n: first one-shot for wei yaaay. this is short as this was actually meant to be a drabble only but kind of turned out twice longer than it should be. i’ve missed writing this kind of fic ๑•̥﹏•̥๑ anw, enjoy!

requested!  ☆  wei masterlist

“if we’re not meant to be together in this lifetime, maybe in another, we’ll be.” 

the words played in your mind like a song on repeat, each syllable was a broken melody you found some sort of comfort on. it wasn’t the first time such a sentence came to plague your head. regardless of how frequent the occurrence of the dream was, you never failed to reminisce about each scene afterward. 

it was odd. the way you’d recall each dream ever so vividly as if it was a fragment of memory you were meant to relive.

a snap of fingers in front of you pulled you out of your daze. seokhwa’s gaze was locked on you, a hint of concern painted on his visage. “are you okay?”

the soft noises in the library finally began to set through your ears— hushed talks, book pages being flipped, and scribbling sounds. you blinked your eyes, facing seokhwa with what seemed to be an equally confused look.

“ah,” you began, unable to get many words out of your lips. “i am.”

seokhwa simply frowned and sighed, easily catching the reason as to why you were so deep in your thoughts earlier. “you dreamt of him again?”

staring at your still unanswered worksheet, a chuckle left your lips. “well, yes. same dream, different place.” 

“maybe he’s your soulmate,” seokhwa said before he flipped his worksheet to another page and started to write down the answer for an essay question. 

you hunched your shoulder up at your friend’s remark. it was the usual thing he’d tell you. something you declined to buy right away. what were the chances of meeting the person in your dreams anyway? you had already decided that it was simply best to put it in a way that whoever he was, he was just a passerby your subconscious was able to capture ever so vividly that up until now he appeared in your dreams.

it was an odd thing for you though. to be kept on the same spiral of dreams. however your dream starts, wherever it occurs, there is only one end. lonely eyes and a gloomy smile. along with a gentle, yet tight hold of your hand as if not wanting to let you go. as if wishing you’ll stay in the dream. the same line would be heard, which would wake you up easily.

“i’m going to get myself a drink,” you uttered, letting go of your pen. the dream would most of the time cross your mind like a fleeting thought for a short escape, but today it was rather strong. it had been inhabiting your mind for good hours. and the deadline for your worksheet settled to happen tomorrow didn’t help at all. 

seokhwa glanced at your material. if only he didn’t know about your procrastinating abilities, he’d say it will be a hopeless case. he turned to look at you then back to his own paper. “buy me banana milk as well.”

“sure.” you stood, carrying your purse with you. 

the vending machine was located on the far corner of the study area in the library. fortunately, there weren’t many people there either. it was class hours for most anyway, so students in the library had inflated down in a great number. 

you inserted your money and typed in the code first for seokhwa’s drink, followed by yours. the banana milk came down effortlessly, but your own drink didn’t. you stared at it for a moment, thinking whether it would be nice to give the machine a tap or something. however, the stillness in the establishment kept you from doing so.

“do you need help?” someone asked you from behind. you knew for sure a voice should only be heard, but his mellow tone went all the way to your stomach and freed a cage of butterflies that had set fluttery chaos. you moved to your side and watched the other slide his own money and press a drink that was on the top of yours. 

the sound of two drinks falling down simultaneously was the last thing you heard before everything went completely silent once again. he crouched to retrieve all the drinks and handed them to you. eyes locked on him, the very moment he turned to face you.

...this couldn’t be, you initially thought. a cold shiver ran down your spine, which was opposite to how you felt a warm sensation on your cheeks. it was a strange feeling. it was the first time you saw him, yet he already had a good clutch in your heart.

“it’s coming to an end again.” he did nothing to cover the desolation that mingled well with the curve on his lips. the last ray of sunlight highlighted his visage, making it seem like he was glowing. his hand was holding yours as both of you stood at the top of the valley. 

if it wasn’t for the fact that the two of you were standing near the cliff, you’d think it was a romantic setup, but no. 

you mirrored the same smile, looking at the horizon. the sun was gradually sinking, the noise coming from an angry crowd growing stronger and stronger. “we’ll see each other again, right?”

“of course.” hesitantly, he let go of your hand. his gaze trailing down to depths of ground he knew for sure would crush his body in not less than a minute. “if we’re not meant to be together in this lifetime, maybe in another, we’ll be.” 

both of your eyes widened in panic as you desperately tried to reach for his hand. the roaring crowd not even serving you an ample amount of distraction. you were a few seconds late to react, he was no longer standing next to you. his feet had already brought him to the end. the end the two of you were supposed to take together.

this time. this time it will not happen.

a wave of ache washed over your chest. the memory dwindling, yet it felt so real. as if it happened just a few days ago. maybe it was real. the male standing in front of you had the same expression.

“you…” it was uttered in sync, the realization hitting you and the other synchronously.

“kim junseo,” he said, a mix of shyness and relief was packed on the smile that appeared on his countenance. it was as if he had been searching for you.

the warmth it provided made a soft smile appear on yours. “i’m y/n. it’s nice knowing you.”

junseo let go of a breath. “in this lifetime?”

it was unusual for you to talk to a stranger in this manner, but it was him. the guy that kept on appearing in your dreams.

you nodded your head, solace embracing your heart as if freeing you from a terrible loop. “in this lifetime.”

[rottenbrains]

Daichi X Reader

Wordcount : 1871 words

Warning(s) : There’s spoilers (a bit) but it’s safe. I actually wanted to make it as an angst but gave up halfway. I decided to just post this to show how shitty and suck my writing became as I finally realized my assignments are still piling and i’m still procrastinating. Send help please! cause i’m still craving for Haikyuu and desperate for the second half this July!

Clenched fists and sore throats. The game against Shiratorizawa really got you at the edge of your seat, with a tense atmosphere and heavy pants from both sides of the court. You might faint if you stayed seated for any longer as the tension keeps on escalating, with the members trying to score a double point to end the game. Standing up, you went to stand beside Tanaka’s sister while firmly gripping the hem of your shirt. The pressure was evident, easily spotted with only a plain glance towards the prolonged-rally at the court. Everyone was cheering with them all, shouting and hoping for their win when Hinata made his back-attack jump, making the court goes silent.

Received by the opposite’s libero, but it bounced off. Out of the bounds.

There goes it.

Their double point.

The whistle is blown.

21-19, Karasuno against Shiratorizawa.

It’s sealed, finally. They’re going to the Nationals. Weak by the knees, you fall down as you watched your boyfriend hugged his buddies while the juniors just roared with all their might.

“Y/n-chan!!! You okay??? They’ve won the match, now stand up and show yourself! They’re greeting the audience…” Saeko-neesan called to you, pulling you by the arms to help you stand up. Still shocked, you tried to stand up with her help as you feel warm tears on your cheeks.

Nevertheless, you stood up proudly as you overlook each of the members standing at the court facing you. Finally, as your eyes set on Daichi, your eyes just sting all the more as he kept his eyes on you.

“Arigatou Gozaimasu!” They all shout as they bow. While everyone was clearly applauding and congratulated them from the stands, you just sobbed and wiped your eyes harshly after managed to wave at the exhausted captain. Soon after, the ceremony continued as you calmed yourself down. As soon as it was over, you joined Saeko-neesan with the others to meet the team.

“SAWAMURA, YOU PRICK!” From a distance you hollered his name while sprinting towards him, attacking him with a punch to his stomach and bone-breaking hug afterward. For a girl shorter than him to punch him, you sure are packed with strength as he grunted from the punch and reciprocated your affection.

“You do realize that we’ve just done playing 5 sets of the game, right?” He asked, putting his chin on top of your head as you hugged. The realization hits you.

“…Congratulations. And I love you, too~” You said, muffling your voice on his body before you released him and skipped towards the coach, followed by Shimizu. Forcefully, you poked his sides, making him yelp in front of Takeda-sensei. Annoyed, he turned to look at you as he put on his angered face.

“What was that for?!” He glowered, and much more annoyed when he saw you raising your eyebrows in a playful manner. Shimizu was about to ask when Koushi went to your side, interrupting the silent conversation.

“Coach, can (Y/n) join us on the bus later? It’ll be fun to have her around…especially for the captain who lost his tooth yesterday…” Koushi asked, poking fun at the captain when he’s not listening.

“Since she’s practically our third manager, and helps with the training…” Shimizu pointed out, also trying to help you to join them later.

It’s true though. You’re in the same class as Shimizu, and you've been helping her manage the team from behind since there’s a lot of things to do if Shimizu did it all alone. With the cute new manager, the workload has somehow decreased so you’ve been helping them a lot less than before. But with the new members and their abilities that are to be reckoned, the team had made an explosive comeback and of course, the workload increased again. Not that you wanted to complain. From those workloads, you got yourself a boyfriend. It’s a win-win situation. You get to help your friend manage the team, you get yourself a guy.

When your brother knew about it, all hell breaks loose. He’s a doting brother, alright. And he’s also the coach of the team. Damn your luck. Keishin glared at your boyfriend whenever you came to the court to visit Shimizu and Hitoka, which is all the time. And your luck was just getting started.

You were playing with the kids that same to your gramps’ house to learn volleyball when your brother dragged Hinata there. You were supposed to be playing just for fun when the old man decided to ask you to teach him. There goes your playtime because now it’s time to start throwing balls and lecturing Hinata about tempo.

The next day, your brother shocked you when he asked you to come to the gym when it’s practice time. He hates that you came there all the time, to meet your boyfriend that he didn’t know existed. Suddenly, now he wanted you to come? This is, what we call bad omen.

“Since your brats are familiar with her, starting today, she’ll be the assistant coach. So I expect full cooperation and professionalism.” Keishin highlighted the last words while looking at Sawamura. You were about to object when your brother cut you.

“At least this helps your skills to not be forgotten… Since you know how to play but decided to not play. And also, Gramps actually agreed with me, for the first time ever!”

And that’s how you started to help the team with receives and serves. All that mess, and now you’re sitting beside your boyfriend as he chowed on the food with the others. Your brother is busy talking with Sensei about the improvements and hardships to come while the energetic four sleep through the dinner, too tired to even lift the chopsticks. Slowly, you excused yourself and went out of the shop to enjoy the view outside.

Orange-painted sky with crows cawing from afar, you sat outside the store as you looked at the sky wondering about yourself.

“You should at least eat first…” a gentle voice rings your ears as you felt a solid arm wrapped itself around your shoulder. Sawamura was getting himself comfortable, scuttled a little beside you before sitting still with his arm around you.

“Well… I’m not really hungry. But for you, you should at least rest and eat inside” You mumbled when you saw two piece of fried shrimp he was holding with his arm that was around you. He waved the shrimps in front of you, a signal to tell you to eat it. You pulled one of it with your mouth and chewed it slowly when he releases his hold on the one you’re chewing on. He retracted his arm and took the shrimp to his mouth, then slings it back to your shoulder. Both of you just enjoy the shrimp while looking at the colorful horizon.

“So…what made my girlfriend furrowed her eyebrows for a while now?” Sawamura asked, breaking the silence after a while. He looked straight at you, while you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes, not really in the mood to look at him. You just continued to look at the sky, staying silent to think about your answer.

You don’t even know why are you like this. Looking at the sunset, you didn’t really feel bothered or whatever. So when your boyfriend mentioned your furrowed eyebrows, you started to think. You started to think about the unpredictable future. The chances of winning. Tiring practices. Exams. Universities. Lives after highschool. Your boyfriend. You’re not actually bothered by anything until he mentioned about your mood today. And you’re not trying to say it’s his fault that you’re actually started to feel anxious about the future when he asked you just now. Thinking about everything, now you actually furrowed your eyebrows on your own accord while gazing at the sunset.

Maybe, the sunset has this tremendous power to make people think about everything. Who knows?

Looking at your crinkled forehead, Sawamura pecked your cheek.

“There go those eyebrows again… Now, care to tell your boyfriend?” He asked again, much softer than before, whispering to you before laying his head on your shoulder.

“…It’s nothing, actually. I was just thinking about the future…” you spoke softly, to match his previous tone of asking. Breeze danced through your hair, making the stray ones goes wild on your head, fluttering like dead leaves.

“So you’ve been thinking about the future…why?” He inquired, confused about what had caused you to think that.

“Hmm… sunset? I’m not sure… I’m not actually thinking about anything before. But, when you said my eyebrows are crinkled and furrowed…then I started to think about the future…” I said, while fixing my hair, “what will happen after this? You’ll be busy with the Nationals… then there are exams… how will our future play out? What will happen to us? Everything is so uncertain it makes you wonder… out of every situation played on your mind, which one will be the reality??”

Silence. Sawamura was just steadily breathing beside you that you would’ve thought that he fell asleep as you blabbered about your sudden thoughts if not for his chuckle.

“Haha, you’re being extra sentimental today…” He answered, slowly moving his arm from your shoulder and it slithered back to your waist, followed by his other arm. “Yes, the future is uncertain. We’ll never know what will happen. But, make sure that you remember this… I’m always here for you.” He remarked as he tightens his hug on me, kissing my cheek on the process.

“Hey, I told you to rest. Not to hug my sister in the public!” Your brother growled as both of you heard the sound of the shoji screen being pulled.

“Sorry coach, but I need this…” Your boyfriend answered cheekily at Keishin as you just giggled.

.

.

.

Tomorrow

“Y/n… there’s a red spot on your skirt…” Shimizu whispered to you, before stealthily passing you the pad as she put it inside your blazer pocket. You were about to sit when Shimizu stopped you, forcing you to stand up again. You guys were at the cafeteria and Daichi definitely saw the thing slipped to your pocket.

“That explains your mood yesterday…” He said shyly. Embarrassed, you take off your blazer to tie it on your waist as you walked hastily towards the nearest toilet.

.

.

.

“Y/n, faster now… or we’ll be late to meet the others.” Daichi said as he pulled you forward, dragging your slow footsteps to meet Koushi and Azumane. Soon, you saw both of your old friends standing in front of you as Koushi and Azumane are currently shaking their hands according to their ‘non-existent secret handshake’.

“Ohh, it looks like our petshop owner came waltzing at us with the police officer clinging to her…” Koushi cooed at you as he pointed at both your hands, linking together, tight like glue.

“Shut it, you,” I said while slapping his hands. He pouted from the contact as Azumane just laughed at our antics since it’s been a while since all of us are gathered together like this.

“Now, let’s go find seats before there’s none left… I believe none of us wanted to miss this match” Daichi said in his typical-team-captain tone, tugging at me so that I can start walking. Soon after, four of us are struggling to get past the sea of humans to watch the battle of our beloved juniors.

[mmemiraculous]

Berry Boys Chapter 3

First Gig

Tags: @shadowberrybinch

“Crap, I’ve got to get my fountain pen.” Marc got up to retrieve his pen from his room. “Do you want a snack?” He asked the bluenette on the couch.

“I’m ok.” She replied.

Marinette was at Marc’s house this Saturday. They were watching movies, and chatting. Marc had called her over when he felt way to bored home alone. He’d gone to his room to get his fountain pen because Marinette had said she wanted to make a cheesy love poem for her girlfriend. Marc chose to use the fountain pen because it made the words look fancy.

“Hey Marc, who’s ‘Blueberry Guitarist’?” Marinette asked from the living room

Marc’s eyes widened as he ran back to the couch, pen in hand. “D-don’t worry about it.” Marc snatched his phone out of Marinette’s hands.

“Wait— is it Luka? Did you text him?” Marinette’s eyes lit up.

“I-I maybe- don’t worry about it, I said.” Marc stuttered, his face was flushed in embarrassment. It was Luka texting him, but he wanted to tell her himself to avoid embarrassment.

“I’m sorry for teasing.” She apologized.

“No, no your fine.” Marc assured her, “and yes it is him.” He said quietly.

“What did he say?”

Blueberry Guitarist: Hey!

I got a small gig at a coffee shop

Tomorrow a friend of mine is

Going to sing while I play

You can come if you

want to.

We can also hang out later too

“He asked me to hang out.” Marc said sinking into the couch cushions.

Bluenette squealed and clapped her hands. “It’s totally a date!”

“I-It’s not a date!” Marc stuttered. “He just said hanging out. I don’t think it could be any clearer.”

“Ok, ok whatever you say.” She put her hands.

Marc put his phone down and put his focus back on the movie..

“Blackberry?”

“Yea?” Marc faced her.

“Are you gonna answer?” She chuckled softly.

“OH, Right!”

Whipping his phone out he sent the reply quick

You: yeah, sure!

I can hangout after as well

The reply back was immediate:

Blueberry Guitarist: Great! Hears the

[address] I’ll see you there!

Tomorrow was going to be a great day, Marc thought as he sank back into the couch.

“What about the poem?” Marinette reminded.

“Oh yeah,” he took his pen and a blank sheet of paper off of the coffee table. “How do you want to start this?”

“What about, “your cinnamon brown eyes give me strength to get through the day.””

Marc sighed, this is going to be a long day.

After 2 bowls of popcorn, 2 movies, and 1 very, very, cheesy love poem later, Marinette went home. 30 minutes after her leave, Marc’s mom was back home.

“Hey sweetie, how was your day?” She asked when she walked into the apartment. She hung up her coat and put her keys on the hook next to it.

“It was fine. Mari came over and we watched movies.” The next part rushed out of his mouth: “someonealsoaskedmetohangoutwiththemialreadysaidyesbutanIgo?“

His mom stared dumbfounded. “First of all, how can that many words come out of your mouth so fast? Second, what did you say?”

Marc sighed, he’d been doing a lot of that today. “I said, someone also asked me to hang out with them i already said yes but can I go?” The writer explained slower.

“Oh really?” She smirked.

“It’s just hanging out!”

“Go ahead sweetheart. You already said yes anyways.” The writer’s mom said with a smile on her face.

Yes! Tomorrow plans are confirmed. He felt that his mom would say yes regardless, as long as they weren’t doing anything together tomorrow. Daniella Anciel was just like that. Always bringing joy to anyone around, doing anything and everything for her family.

“So, What do you want for dinner?” She said when she made her way to the kitchen.

___________

Sunday morning, Marc’s anxiety level felt like it went through the roof. Today was the day he’d go out with Luka. No. It’s not a date. They’re just hanging out after Luka’s gig.

The guitarist told him that he’d they would start at 3:00pm. So Marc decided to get there at 2. Just Incase of course.

“Be safe! Make sure to lock the door when you leave and call me if anything is wrong.” His mom told him on her way out the door. “I love you!” She waved as she closed the door, he waved back and locked the door.

4 hours until he had to leave, how should he pass the time? He could write, Marc still didn’t have an exact idea for his short story. The deadline was in one month, so he couldn’t procrastinate for too long. It wasn’t that he had nothing to write. It was that he had way to many options. Maybe this is how Nathaniel felt when he let him go. But could Marc having all of these really stressed Nath out that much that he really had to let him go?

Anyways, he’s got to stop thinking about that. It always drives him down a spiral when that topic gets in his head. For now he can just write. So Marc decided to expand on one of the many prompts he had.

___________

4 hours. He has been writing for 4 and a half hours. HOW?! Marc had told himself that he’d be out of the apartment by 2. It’s 2:32.

Grabbing his keys and journal, Marc raced out of the apartment, almost forgetting to lock the door on his way out. With how fast he was running Marc was surprised that he didn’t get hit by a car.

At last he finally got to the cafe. He opened the door and a few things caught his eye; Luka had an acoustic guitar instead of the one he saw him with the first time he met him, Marinette and Kagami were sitting at a table, and the clock said 2:45. He ran for 13 minutes? Marc made his way to his friends.

“Why are you sweaty?” Kagami asked. “Did you run all the way over here.”

“M-maybe” Marc stuttered. Is it that obvious? He was still out of breath, maybe it was that obvious. “What are you two doing here?”

“We wanted to be here for Luka’s first solo gig.”

“Oh, ok.” Marc just thought it would just be him and Luka after he played.

Marc went up to the counter and ordered tea. 15 minutes later Luka and a girl he didn’t know went up to the small area that had a microphones, two speakers, and two stools.

The girl had brown skin and short curly black hair. She wore a purple leather jacket with a jagged stone crop top and blue high waisted Jeans. Frick she’s pretty.

“Hello everyone, my name is Angeline Johnson,” the girl introduced herself, then gestured to the guitarist. “And this is Luka Couffain, we’ll be playing a song named’’ fire drill.”

Luka started playing a few notes, and then Angeline started singing. Her voice was really nice, but that’s not what Marc was focusing on Luka. He looked in his element, so calm and content, and he was really good at playing. Luka made the entire vibe of the cafe so calm. A big surprise of the entire thing was when Luka started singing the second verse. Marc didn’t know if he could be more impressed than he already was, Luka was just that skilled apparently. What really tied the rest of the song together was when Luka and Angeline sang the break together. They sounded like their voices were made for each other.

At the end of the end of the song the entire cafe gave a big applause and the two singers said there thanks. They hugged each other and went their separate ways.

Luka picked up his guitar and walked over to the three. “Hey guys. Thanks for coming.”

“No problem, we wouldn’t want to miss this.” Marinette said.

Luka turned to the writer. “Hey Marc.” He smiled at him. God damn, he can’t let him move on from his other crush huh?

“Hey,” Marc said back. “You were really good. So was Angeline of course. But um, I didn’t know you were going to sing as well.”

“It was Angeline’s idea.”

“Well, it was a good idea.” What came out of Marinette’s mouth next was unnecessary. “So, are you and Angeline seeing each other or…?” Marc almost choked on his tea.

“What? No!” Luka shook his head fast. “Of course not! Angeline’s with someone and I don’t see her in that way.” That relieved Marc. Should that relieve him? Is he be allowed to be relieved by that. “Anyways can we please change the topic now?”

“Sure.”

“So what are you guys doing next week?” Kagami asked, the question aimed at Marc and Luka. Both explained that they didn’t have much going on besides school work.

“You should join us on our group hangout at the ice rink. It will be us two with Alya and Nino on Friday.”

“I’m free.” Said Luka.

“I’d have to ask my mom first, but I’m probably free.”

“Great we’ll see you two there.” They started packing up their stuff. Both said their goodbyes to the boys and took their leave.

“Thanks for coming again.”

“I-I’m glad I’m here. You two were really good.” Marc smiled.

“Thank you, really. So Mari told me that you’re entering a contest?” With that question Marc launched into conversation, not stuttering like he has been when he talked with Luka, talking about writing did that to him. It was also sweet with how Luka was apparently interested with what he was talking about.

After he finished rambling about himself he decided to ask about Luka. He told Marc about himself. Told him about from him living on a boat to his dreams about playing music for big crowds. Frick. Luka is really cool. It’s only been two weeks since he’s gotten over Nathaniel, should he really be liking someone already?

After their conversation, at 4 o’clock, Marc had to leave unfortunately. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah”

Both stood not knowing what to do next. So they both went for a hug instead, which surprised them both that they had the idea at the same time.

“So, um, bye.” Marc said, with a shy wave.

“See you.” Luka smiled.

Marc left the cafe feeling really good about Friday.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Eighty-Five: An Artist ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

He’s never been one much for the arts. That’s always been more his brother’s calling, despite their father’s begrudging acceptance. While Itachi pursued music, Sasuke took to filling Fugaku’s expectations and going to school to major in business.

Granted, Itachi’s doing quite well - arguably better than his younger brother. Lessons from age four, of course, give him a little edge. Add in natural dexterity and talent, and he’s already playing in recital halls packed to the brim to hear him play his melancholy notes.

But Sasuke can’t bring himself to be jealous. Sure, he’s still hanging from a rather low rung of the corporate ladder, but it’s stuff he finds fairly mindless and easy. While many hate their jobs, Sasuke simply...does his, neither actively enjoying or disliking it. It’s just something he does for about eight hours a day, five days a week. So far he’s managing a rather frugal lifestyle just fine.

Granted, it’s also a rather lonesome lifestyle. Sasuke’s not much of a socializer to begin with, but occasionally a friend will drag him out for something. But mostly, he enjoys doing things either with his family, or on his own.

Today is one of the latter days.

Just down the street from his apartment is a niche little coffee shop he frequents. Itachi teases him about how hipster it seems, but Sasuke just brushes the comments aside. He doesn’t much care what it’s like besides being quiet, quaint, and hosting (in his opinion) perfectly brewed black coffee.

Which is why he’s currently seated at his favorite corner table, sipping a cup and going over a presentation he needs to deliver next week. It’s already finished, but it’s an excuse to get out of his living quarters and get some liquid energy. While he can’t practice the auditory part here, he can tinker a few details and...mostly spend the afternoon browsing his favorite sites.

...that is...until he feels eyes on him.

His own flicker up, the only part of him moving as they search for the intruder. But every other face is turned away - either browsing their own laptops or phones, reading, talking to a table mate, or...scribbling on a rather large pad of paper.

Dark eyes squint just a hair, watching.

It’s a young woman - about his age, maybe a little younger...her face is rather soft, so it’s hard to tell. Seated in a booth along the opposite wall, she has her knees brought up to rest against the lip of her table, and a sizeable sketchbook is propped atop them. He can tell she’s not writing - her hand flies across the paper far too much to be anything but drawing.

Huh...he has to wonder what she’s sketching. Not that he knows much about it, but surely the setting is quite nice. A still life, maybe - seems like something rather eye-catching to draw. Or so he’ll guess. Itachi would have far more idea about than he. His talents might lie in music, but he knows the artistic side of things in general better than Sasuke ever will.

After a minute or so, he goes back to his laptop screen, sipping his coffee and absorbing back into the work.

When he starts packing up to head home, she’s already gone.

The work week passes, and it’s not until the following Saturday he can make it back. Unlike his last visit, it’s pouring rain this time. A wet umbrella rests against his chair. The same project - to be presented Monday - is back on his laptop screen...but mostly just as an excuse. He told Naruto he couldn’t go to some local league basketball game he’s playing in due to work.

It’s...half true. He hasn’t given the presentation yet. It’s still a work in progress. But he also hasn’t touched it in three days because the powerpoint part is done. While he could be home rehearsing it...Naruto has a nasty habit of dropping in even when told no. Hence hiding out here.

Besides, he’s got it memorized already. He’s not missing much by loligagging here.

The shop’s a bit more crowded today - probably because warm drinks are the perfect staple for a cool, rainy Spring day. And who wants to be out in the weather? Better to just...cozy up here until the rain stops.

The numbers don’t bother him - he got here early enough to claim his table, and no one’s dared ask to steal a chair or join him. Whether he intends it or not (though usually he does), Sasuke has a rather distance-inducing aura. Or at least, that’s how his brother oh so politely puts it.

Sasuke, on the other hand, knows he just has a major case of resting bitch face. And he’s more than glad for the annoyances it spares him...at least, with anyone intelligent enough to read it. Hence why Naruto still hangs around...he just doesn’t quite get it.

Today he’s indulging in a bitter cup of sugarless hot cocoa when that same feeling returns: like someone’s watching him. Looking up, he still doesn’t catch anyone staring.

...but he does notice she’s back. Sketchbook lady. Returned to the same spot, shying a bit from her neighbors but still scribbling away. This time it’s not just a pencil - some colored...somethings sit in a neat tray atop her table. Not pencils, and...he doesn’t think they’re crayons? Oh, who cares what they are. Either way, she must be coloring her previous shot, given her same vantage point and what looks to be the same sketchbook.

Huh.

A bit more curious this time, Sasuke takes to watching her. Every so often, she looks up and studies the wall behind him: the one directly across from her. Shrewd, pale eyes squint as she examines it before going back to her coloring.

...he sort of wants to see it.

Sasuke also can’t help but wonder how she’s accounting for the change of people. There’s more of them, and they’re surely different than last weekend. Did she just...go over what she had? Or is she improvising? He’s never really given such things a thought before, but...watching someone in the act of creating, admittedly, piques his interest.

But after a little while, it gets a bit repetitive...and he can’t exactly see what she’s doing. A little disappointed, Sasuke goes back to his procrastinating, eventually noting that the rain has stopped. Should he risk going back home…?

Maybe not yet.

He stays a few hours more, ordering another cup and an everything bagel to pass the time. Not the best lunch he could have, but...meh. He can have something better for him for dinner. Only once he gets a text from the knucklehead proclaiming victory (and whining he didn’t show up) does Sasuke deem it safe to head home.

The next morning, he wakes to his phone vibrating against his nightstand. Groggily he grabs it, swiping to answer and mumbling, “Hullo?”

“Sasuke, good morning.”

He blinks slowly. “...’tachi?”

“Forgive me for calling so early, but I wanted you to be the first to know: I’m going to be back in town for the week. I’ll be flying in this afternoon.”

Dark eyes quickly brighten, sitting up. “Really?”

“Yes. I was going to tell Mother and Father tomorrow morning - I thought, for today, it could just be the two of us.”

A kind of childish glee at both the falsehood (his brother never lies) and his indulging of Sasuke’s constant pining to see him beget a smile. “Yeah, sure - got anything in mind?”

“Oh, I thought we’d just wander around downtown and see what jumps out at us. I haven’t been back in almost a year, I want to see what’s changed.”

“Okay, yeah - sure.”

“I’ll meet you at your building - I’ve got a rental car arranged. I should be there about three?”

“I’ll be waiting!”

Hanging up, Sasuke can’t help but grin at his brother’s number before it fades back to the homescreen. Well...talk about a great start to a week!

By the time Itachi makes it, he’s been bored for hours, having little else to do on a Sunday but wait around. They immediately leave again, going on foot to simply explore.

“I’ve missed this city,” Itachi admits wistfully, hands in his coat’s pockets and simply looking around.

“And we’ve missed you - how’re all your gigs going?”

“Wonderfully. I’ve been planning a little tour with another artist: a vocalist who’s been practicing with me the past few weeks.”

“Any stops near here?”

“In here, as a matter of fact - but not for a few months. We’ve got quite a bit of practice and arranging to do. But I will let you know.” Slowing to a stop, Itachi cocks his head curiously at an open door. “...Sasuke, care to go in?”

“Huh? What is it?”

“Apparently an art exhibition - locals, seems like.”

It might not be his scene, but...well, Itachi’s the guest, and it’ll make him happy. “Yeah, sure.”

The pair enter, quickly seeing a variety of works and mediums by a vast array of artists. While Itachi speaks to the host, Sasuke starts wandering, not as invested as he’s sure Itachi will be. Thumbs hooked in his belt loops, he glances over several pieces before coming to a standstill.

Wait...but that’s…?

Still staring as Itachi joins him, Sasuke barely hears his question. “...huh?”

“I asked if you found something you like…? Oh...well that looks an awful lot like -”

“It’s me.”

“...are you sure?”

“Yeah, I…” A bit flabbergasted, Sasuke shifts his weight, gesturing. “I go there all the time. That’s my table, and my laptop -” His umbrella even made it in the shot. There’s no doubt about it: even the angle matches. This has to be that woman, from before! She was drawing...him…?

“Can I help -? Oh!”

Both brothers turn to an approaching figure, and Sasuke locks surprised eyes with none other than the artist. Her own are wide, and color lightly tints her cheeks.

“It...it’s you!”

“Yeah...me,” Sasuke replies. Now it makes sense: why he kept feeling watched.

“I...I-I hope you don’t mind me using you as a model, I...I mostly do street drawing. I just...draw what I see. I was lucky to catch you twice, and so quickly! I just finished this piece this morning, I almost couldn’t bring it…” A hand tucks stray hair behind her ear. “...I’m Hinata.”

“Sasuke. Nice to actually meet you, I guess.”

“L-likewise!”

Behind him, Itachi gives a knowing smile. “May I ask, are your works for sale?”

“Oh, well...no, technically not.”

“Ah...forgive me.”

“No no, that’s okay! Would you...like to buy it…?”

“It’s rare to see my brother captured in such a way,” Itachi muses, earning an embarrassed glower from Sasuke. “You truly did a fantastic job. Of course, if you’d like to keep it -”

“No, I understand! I’m just delighted you f-found it! This city’s rather big, after all…”

“As am I. And I’m always a fan of supporting local creators. So, may we negotiate…?”

As the talk turns to money, Sasuke scowls and sulks off to one side, eyeing her other works. True to her word, most are just...captures of various local places and people. Though stylized to a point, he can still recognize quite a few places just at a glance, and further looking shows a great amount of detail.

Signing a check, Itachi hands it over with a smile. “A pleasure, miss Hyūga. I do hope you keep creating - your works are lovely.”

She ducks her head shyly, and then glances to the slip, eyes going wide. “...but you said -?”

“Please, consider it a well-deserved tip. I know enough artists to know they often undersell themselves. And yours is a talent worth supporting.”

Looking awed, Hinata breaks into a soft smile. “I’ll...go see about packaging this for you. Thank you s-so much.”

Itachi nods, turning as his brother steps back up. “Are you truly so opposed to the piece?”

“No...I’m not. It’s just kinda weird.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Just is.”

“Well, it’s clear your territories overlap - perhaps she’ll be able to draw you again, hm?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that.

Returning with the framed artwork carefully wrapped and bagged, Hinata hands it over with another thank you. “Um...s-sorry again for stealing your visage.”

“Don’t worry about it. I guess now I get to see what you were working so hard on.”

Another light blush pinkens her cheeks. “I’ve wanted to do a portrait in there for ages...you just had the right...look, I guess.”

That earns a small snort. “Suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Miss Hyūga, might I have your cell number in case I find any other potential investors in you and your work?”

“Oh! Um...sure!”

“Sasuke, you should do the same.”

“What?”

His brother gives him a look that clearly says not to question him. “It’s never a bad idea to stay connected. Besides, given I’ve taken her only copy, Hinata might want to arrange another portrait.”

Squinting suspiciously, Sasuke nonetheless agrees, exchanging digits.

“Thank you so much, miss Hyūga.”

“Oh, please just call me Hinata.”

“Very well - I hope you enjoy your evening.”

Once the brothers take their leave, Sasuke rounds on Itachi. “What was that all about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“All of that!”

“What, I can’t buy art of you?”

“No, that’s - you were - and the number -”

“It’s clear she finds you intriguing,” Itachi replies briskly. “And not just in a superficial way. She could have captured anyone in that shop, but she chose you. Hinata saw something that caught her eye about you that no one else had managed. I just thought keeping a person with that impression of you close might be...wise.”

“...you’re setting me up.”

“Connections, Sasuke - they’re important.” Itachi gives him a smile, eyes twinkling. “Don’t they teach you that in your line of work?”

Having no retort, Sasuke just stuffs his hands in his pockets. “...c’mon, we’ve still got daylight to burn.”

“If you insist.”

     Oof, this is...very very long compared to most entries, and now it's super late, I gotta get hopping to bed xD      I got the idea not long after reading the prompt, and honestly thought it wouldn't be long enough...and then it ended up twice as long as most drabbles I've done for this challenge! But it was a cute concept, even when I realized it was gonna sop up the rest of my evening, haha!      Anyway, I'm wiped, so I better call it. Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!

[canaryatlaw]

alright. I need to start writing and get to sleep. Today was pretty good. My alarm went off at 11 and I was a bit tired still because I had a bit of trouble falling asleep last night (but nothing too bad) so I considered ubering to my appointment instead of taking public transit so I could sleep longer but convinced myself to stop being lazy and just get up. So I got ready, and mapped out a plan to take the bus to the train that could take me downtown since it was fairly cold and I didn’t want to walk all the way to the train. So that went pretty smoothly, I ended up getting there with like 25 minutes to spare so I went into the little coffeeshop next door and got a hot chocolate which I drank until it was time for me to go up to my dentist. I’ve had the same dentist since moving to Chicago and have kinda followed him around because he’s been changing practices a bit, but he said hopefully this should be his final location because it’s solely his so there shouldn’t be an issues there. It was just a cleaning, no big, my teeth suck so there was a little decay that we’ll take care of next week but no major issues so that was good with me considering how bad it’s been in the past. When I first got there I was updating him on my life since I hadn’t seen him in a while and he was like “well if you’re looking for temporary work my boyfriend works at [temp company]” and I was like I’ve actually been talking to them, what’s his name?? so he told me and y’all, the guy I’d been communicating with this whole time and did the Skype interview with is my dentist’s boyfriend, lol. So he said he’d mention my name to him so that was cool. I finished up there and walked down the street a bit to where there’s the Macy’s downtown because I needed a red tie for my Sunday cosplay, and I happened to walk in the right door right to the men’s formal wear section, so that took less than 5 minutes in and out, which was convenient. From there I got on the train and took it up to Target to pick up a prescription and grab a few things. I went for an uber express pool home but the uber app was being stupid of course and told me to wait on the wrong side of the street so when the car pulls up to the other side I’m stuck waiting for the light and when I finally get over there and am like 10 feet behind the car trying to get his attention he fucking drives away and cancels the trip and I was like UGH WTF so that was super frustrating but I made sure I didn’t get charged the cancellation fee for it because it clearly wasn’t my fault. So I called another uber which I had to walk back across the street for, but thankfully that one worked out much better and the driver was really chill. Got home and put some stuff away, then started packing for this weekend. My backpack always ends up being stuffed to the max no matter what I’m taking with me, it’s always a struggle lol but I make it work. After I was mostly done with that I was just sitting on my bed with my laptop when I got a message from Jess asking if I wanted to get food (cheese curds, specifically) because she’d decided to skip her Kpop dance class tonight and was craving them. So once she got home from work she walked over and I met up with her, and we went to one of the close by places we like (the one that had had the open mic comedy night that we got stuck in for like 3 hours lol. so that was good, I always end up getting full on the cheese curds and mac and cheese bites that I barely eat my actual food, but my meal was pretty small so it worked. Once we were done there we headed back to our respective apartments with a plan for her to come over tomorrow morning in an attempt to use multiple computers to get BTS tickets while I’m doing my phone interview, lol. So that should be interesting. Got home, remembered Brooklyn 99 was on and tuned into that just a few minutes late, and it was truly a fucking excellent episode, they do such a good job of handling sensitive subjects very delicately and with their due respect while also making a fucking hilarious show, and that was on display in tonight’s episode more than ever before, I think. Definitely more serious than most, but it was still a damn good episode and their storyline was really well done, so hats off to them. Once that was over I decided to watch Blindspot from like two weeks ago that I apparently never watched, which was actually quite good. I then watched Riverdale from this week and like, y’all, I know this show has always been complete trash but this week’s episode was SO fucking bad it was honestly painful to watch. It’s just so way beyond any sense of reality that it hurts your brain to even see it. Smh. By the time I finished with that Jimmy Fallon was on and it was said in a commercial earlier that he was going to have John Mulaney on so I stuck around for that, they ended up doing a truth/lie game with the two of them and Pete Davidson where each person has two envelopes, one with a true statement and one with a false statement, the other people get to pick which one, and then they have 60 seconds to question the person to figure out if it was true or not, and honestly it was so fucking funny. It was great when Jimmy read his and Pete was just like “yes, it’s true, done” and Jimmy was like “you have to ask questions!!!” and of course he was right, it was true, so that just made it all the more funny. I highly recommend watching the clip on youtube if you didn’t see it. And yeah, after that I started getting ready for bed and procrastinated and all that good stuff and eventually I got here. Tomorrow we got the phone interview, then we’re probably gonna make a Walgreens run to grab a few things, then head to the airport absurdly early because it’s an international flight and Jess’ airport anxiety is going to be through the roof (I’m not complaining or trying to shade her, it’s just the truth) so we have to make sure that’s all handled, and for those reasons I should be getting to sleep since it’s now 2 am. Goodnight dears. Happy Friday.

[familyties-ff-blog]

1

 Jordyn 

Time felt as if it were slowing down on purpose. Working and having a 10 page paper due did not go hand in hand. I just knew I had to leave soon if I wanted to be able to get my paper done in time for my class tomorrow. 

  I know this wouldn't be the situation if I hadn’t procrastinated, but let's be honest. Who does their homework the same day they get it? I know I don’t and for that I am now paying the consequences. 

  “Jo, go clean table 5 before you leave.” My manager said to me. I nodded and went to do as told. 

I picked up the tip they left behind and cleaned up the the table. Luckily the group of people weren’t as messy as other customers I normally had to deal with. I hurried up, and went to split my tips with my team before clocking out.

Looking at the time on my phone, I hurried up seeing as to how late it was. I locked my locker and made my way out of the restaurant. My manager had been kind enough to let me clock out early but I had to close the following day just to make up for it. 

  Before going any further, I decided to stop at the coffee shop and get myself a coffee. I knew I’d need it if I wanted to get my work done in time. As I waited for my order to be ready, I got a text from my neighbor. 

  Tell your roommate to lower the music or I’m calling the cops. 

Rolling my eyes, I huffed knowing there was no way in hell I'd be able finish my paper now. I quickly texted back and said I wasn’t home so I couldn’t do anything at the moment. At this point I was glad the coffee shop stayed open all day and night. 

Luckily I had my laptop and the books I needed for the assignment with me, so I sat down after getting my coffee and began to work. I continued to type up my work, hoping that I could finish before my deadline. 

  “Jordyn?” A familiar voice called. I looked up from the computer screen only to find my uncle standing in front of me. He was still wearing his scrubs from work.

  “Hi. How are you?” I asked him as I stood up from my seat. 

  “Im doing better. How about you?” He gave me a quick hug before taking the seat across from me. 

“Stressing but Im okay.” I smiled. 

“Why?”

“I have this paper due tomorrow, I just got off from work and my roommate has music blasting.” I tried to sound as optimistic as I could but it was harder than I thought.

“Can’t you tell your roommate to turn the music down? Its about to be 1 in the morning.” He said as he looked at the time.

“I can, but she won’t listen.” I shrugged.

“Well, if you want you can spend the night over at my place. Im probably going to knock out after I shower so there won’t be anything interrupting you.” He offered.

“I don’t want to intrude.” I said to him.

“You won’t be. Come on take my offer.” He smiled at me. I looked into his brown eyes and reluctantly agreed. I began to pack my belongings away before I could follow him to his car. He didn’t live too far from the college area, which caused the ride to be a lot shorter than I thought.

“Alright, so the guest rooms are down the hall. The office is there for your use, there's plenty of Keurig coffee in the pantry or you can make your own pot of coffee if you like. Anything else you want, feel free to grab it.” He said to me as we walked into his house.

“Thank you.” I smiled at him.

“You’re welcome. Well I'm off to take a shower, so goodnight.” I thanked him once more before I headed to the office so I could finish my work.

It was nearly 6 am when I finished typing up the last cited source for my paper. As I was beginning to go through the spelling check, I heard someone in the kitchen. I saved my document before making my way to the kitchen.

“Good morning.” My uncle said to me. I felt as if my jaw hit the floor as I looked at him.

He was walking around the kitchen without a shirt on. He looked like a living statue carved by Michael Angelo himself.

What the hell was I thinking?

“Morning.” I regained myself and took a seat on the stool by the island.

“How's your paper going?” He asked me as he poured a cup of coffee.

“I'm done.” I smiled.

“That's good, here.” He handed me the cup along with the sugar and creamer.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Im about to make some pancakes. Want some?” He asked me. I began to fix my coffee. 

"Yes please." I was hungry and tired. I hadn't slept well due to work and my roommate.

"What time is your class today?" He asked me.

"At 8. Then I have another class at 4, and work again from 6-2." I said to him.

"When do you find time to sleep?" He asked me.

"Between classes. Tomorrow I don't have class until 1 and I don't work so there's that." He nodded and began to make the pancakes for us.

He moved around the kitchen effortlessly while he made breakfast. I had to stop myself from staring at him.

"Well if you ever need a quiet space, you're welcome to come over whenever you want." He offered.

"Again thanks. I really appreciate this." I said to him. He handed me a plate with a short stack of pancakes.

"You're welcome, if you need a ride to school or anything let me know." I began to eat breakfast.

As soon as I was done eating, I asked for a ride back to my place. I needed to shower and change before my class began.

"Not to be rude, but couldn't you call your boyfriend and asked to stay at his place?" He asked me as he drove to my apartment.

"I don't have a boyfriend." I said to him. He looked took a quick glance at me but didn't say anything else to me.

"Thank you." I said to him as he pulled up to the apartment complex.

"You're welcome. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you. I'm always here to help you." He said to me.

Oh there is something you can do... Ugh. Stop with the inappropriate thoughts. 

[cosmosogler]

today my brain, like some kind of drunk frat boy, said “remember that bs we did yesterday? let’s do it again! round 2!!!” in my head i am imagining sam rockwell’s voice.

i didn’t sleep well at all. my eyes felt bruised. my jaw feels bruised. my teeth hurt all the time.

i did, however, manage to shower, eat, clean up after snoopy, and pack and leave by 9:05. so i was in the physics building at 9:30. i had trouble getting settled. i was workin by 10:10 though.

snoop and i are having a disagreement about where the litter box should be. i think that it should be in an area that’s easy to keep clean. snoopy thinks it should be on top of my couch.

i worked until about 12 when i took a break for lunch. my lunch was pretty bad though and very much not enough. i felt sick even from a pbj. i managed to talk harrison into grabbing some lunch from the food court (by talking him into it i mean i asked and before i could finish he said “yes”). pizza was a bad idea... i felt sick after that too, but less like i was gonna shrivel up from lack of food. i might still be losing weight. hard to eat.

that took longer than i wanted it to so i sat back down and continued reading my textbook at 1:15-ish. i have two assignments due tomorrow... i was going to start them today. i was. i wanted to finish reading the textbook so i wouldn’t feel lost and overwhelmed when it came time to solve problems. reading is such slow going though... at 1:50 i stopped to go to my appointment with disability resources. i was there for about 50 minutes. i started feeling really upset when we went over rudimentary study strategies and what, exactly, happens when i try to take tests. danielle said she remembered that i had told my case worker that i’d passed out during the prelims.

i tried to focus on some goals. i half-joked that i was hoping she could get me reading the textbook four times as fast after my appointment. she said to focus on feeling less isolated and to try to relax. she gave me some mindfulness exercise mp3s from a web site so i downloaded a couple that looked interesting this evening. i haven’t tried them yet, but i stuck to the ones that were 5-10 minutes long.

it feels like relaxing only works half the time. last time, when i took my finals in undergrad, i felt relatively confident going into my observational astronomy test. like, i’d studied for 5 days, i hadn’t used ALL the strategies but i did go over all the material. and i got a 50% on that test. it brought my grade down from a solid b into c- territory.

so it’s hard to see the point of being less stressed when i go into tests. because now i know that being less stressed won’t actually help. that stresses me out more.

i noticed when describing how my semester has gone so far that i seem to really know what i’m talking about when i’m talking with my classmates about physics. as soon as i gotta prove that i know stuff to my professor, though, it’s all gone. and when i calm down a little and get working on problems, my brain reaches for stuff i know to connect to the questions, and it picks the wrong stuff. but i don’t notice i am using the wrong stuff, because my brain pulled it down from the shelf and told me it’s what i needed. and at that point i’m so relieved to feel like i know what i’m doing that i just do the problems completely wrong and i look hella dumb.

scrambled connections. 

so that’s where i seem to be at. some insight, maybe? after that i went back to the department, got distracted talking to suzanne (her fiance’s cousin died and they are leaving for his funeral so she won’t be around this weekend), got some cookies with keegan and harrison, and then sat down and worked for another hour and a half. 

i got that feeling, like, where if you’re doing some form of hard physical activity, stamina wise. when your stamina is gone, and you kind of realize it’s gone a few seconds before your body gives and breaks. i got that deeply uncomfortable, wrong, “it’s time to stop right now” sort of feeling. so i went home real quick after that even though i still hadn’t started my homework problems. i’d made good progress on my reading... i hoped i could read a little more at home even though it was a long shot.

when i got home i didn’t feel like washing my pots to cook anything so i made a microwave meal. i took some time to brush snoopy. i opened the window to let in some fresh air and looked out over the courtyard. i fudged around with youtube for a little bit and did some administrative emailing. i had a couple oreos, maybe three.

then i actually, honest to god, sat down and read the textbook. it was incredible. when my timer went off i took a break and stretched while snoopy watched. then i just laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling for like three minutes. 

i got back to it after i checked my updated comics! i finished the chapter, which was my goal actually. some of the work is in chapter 4, i think... the professor wants us to be 3/4 of the way through chapter 4 by tomorrow morning and we all had a good chuckle over that.

i asked around a bit and it seems like not a lot of the other students read the textbooks. i dunno. i know it’s hard, and i know it’s kind of helping me procrastinate on the actual homework, but i do feel more comfortable in lectures when i’ve read the section. it’s easier to keep track of where the professor is going. and it’s easier to figure out what the questions want me to do, and where to find helpful stuff in the book. 

some of it’s helpful, some of it’s not. i emailed both my professors in the afternoon and told them i didn’t think i’d have my assignments done by tomorrow morning. the classical professor said to just bring it in on monday which is a relief. my quantum professor didn’t get back to me. i didn’t see him in his office either. i hope he’s ok.

i finished that around 9:40. now it’s 10:15. stretching really did help a lot. might need to do that after i get home every day. stretching my back has helped a little bit, but if i do everything then i might actually feel better instead of just “not worse.” 

i somehow pulled both of my shoulders in my sleep the other night though and wearing a backpack’s been agony. it might help to get a backrub but i wouldn’t let anyone massage my back or shoulders even if i was dead. if someone came up behind my corpse it would fly away like a thrown muppet.

i don’t like massages, or spas, or that kind of stuff in general. i can tolerate being emotionally vulnerable sometimes but the idea of being physically vulnerable is like a cold wall of fear and uncertainty and anxiety. i’m already physically vulnerable. if you wanted to grab me or hurt me there’s not really anything i could do about it. but specifically relaxing, in water where it’s hard to move, or laying down or letting someone stand around behind me, feels like it’s inviting problems. can’t do it. 

that and my back has all kinds of nerve damage from my heart surgery. when people touch the area wrong or it gets bumped on a table my whole side either feels like knives or just goes fuzzy and numb and i can’t move my arm any more. neither of those feels good!!!

my side gets sore when it’s muggy out too. since the scar tissue is on my right side, having my whole dominant arm be kind of weak and fussy is really irritating.

i know it could get worse. i know things could be worse. but that doesn’t mean they are good now.

thinkin about that makes me miserable.

it feels like a got a lot done today. but it also feels like i got the wrong stuff done, even though i know that my homework would have been frustrating and basically impossible without doing all this reading first. i hate sitting and reading the textbook and my classmates look over and ask how much of the assignment i’ve got done and i have to say “none” even as the sun goes down and the staff goes home.

it feels like i didn’t try hard enough, even though i literally could not have done any more today. my best just isn’t good enough. baby steps aren’t what my professors want. they want me running the marathon with everyone else. i mean, yeah, walking a bit is better than laying on the ground, but i’m still not gonna hit the finish line by the end of the day. it’s so, so hard to get to the end of the day and praise myself for doing just a little bit, even when i feel like hot garbage and one problem was a gargantuan effort. it’s so discouraging to look at my work and be like, “yeah! i did it! i read for an hour today, even though i was very depressed!” when i needed to read for five hours, and now tomorrow to catch up i have to read for another five hours plus the four i didn’t get around to that day.

i mean, it’s not ten hours i need to catch up on. it could be worse. but nine hours is still not good. nine hours is still really bad!

i mentioned a stupid thing before the “read more” cut that i didn’t get around to during the bulk of my entry. i had another panic attack for like forty minutes. right when i left my apartment before i even got to the elevator i felt sick and sweaty and breathless. i wanted to complain to someone but there wasn’t no one there so i just struggled to breathe by myself for a while. it was basically a repeat of yesterday. angry about a big dude grabbing me in the dark and instead of apologizing, saying “i’ll touch you whenever i want.” REAL COOL!!! he’s my step dad. not technically related. 

i don’t like having panic attacks. don’t get a lot done when that’s happening and afterward i just feel drained and that makes it hard to get moving again. i’m still upset. but i really don’t feel comfortable making myself all gooey and weak in front of these people i hardly know, especially when they ain’t really talked about any of their problems either. i don’t wanna freak out at someone i don’t know that well four weeks into the semester. that would be bad.

anyway i’m going to go to bed on time for once tonight, so i gotta wrap it up here. i’m so tired. i’m going to do that five-minute meditation thing and see if that changes anything.

(edit: it helped.)

[amoralie]

NOTICE. 

literally just a heads up that replies may not come at all for the rest of the week BECAUSE! it’s freaking tuesday and I’m going to a festival from thursday to monday morning, and as we all know I am incredibly lazy and haven’t even started cleaning up my rooms and packing.. and if you’re wondering what’s gonna be so tough about cleaning rooms.. imagine this: a big room. supposed to be a living room but redesigned as animal room, with 19 animals living inside it. three big ass cages and some smaller ones. YES. I need to clean every enclosure before I leave because even though my mom is going to feed them, she obviously doesn’t clean them, because that’s NOT her job. take aside that I doubt she’d even open any of the tarantula and praying mantis enclosures, she’s too scared I’m sure. Practically all of them are due on saturday, but I’m not there so I have to do it either today or tomorrow. AND IT ALWAYS takes at least 6 hours to clean everything ( feeding not included, add an extra hour ), and my bedroom is quite frankly a mess because I moved my bed around and searched that ONE t-shirt the other day. which ended up with the entire inside of the wardrobe laying on the ground. 

and while that’s all nice and dandy and should be .. alright to finish in two days if I actually stop procrastinating I of course have an appointment at the doctor today AND tomorrow morning. :’) so! while I really want to do replies and all that nice fuzz, I need to focus on cleaning. I really don’t want my mom to rip my head off for not having everything SPARKLING, especially since she is so kind and takes care of my animals while I’m away. SO THAT’S KINDA.. HAPPENING. and on the festival I’m obviously unable to reply, I’ll maybe be hella ooc on amalie’s twitter, yelling about how great it is ( @amitwts ) so you can talk to me there, or ( until festival ) via tumblr IM’s! if you read all of this i lov u.