#also i completely stopped smoking weed so this is kind of the next step 4 me

[tinybed]

i went to a networking event yesterday for models and photographers and it was really cool, i think i learned a lot and met nice people but i accidentally got sooo trashed, i drank way too much and i still feel sick today :( i’ve stopped drinking so much in the past few months but i totally dropped the ball this time and its making me just want to stop drinking entirely. its just too much for me to handle. it sucks because i enjoy having like 2 beers and thats nice but i keep accidentally over drinking and its leaving me feeling as though the only way to prevent it is to stop entirely… i keep having this same revelation but i think this time im really just going to stop for a while and see what i think/ how i feel ughhh

[idesofrevolution]

Okay: Bad Boy Musky Transformation it is. Enjoy!

I knew, of course, that Marco sold whatever the degenerates in the neighborhood needed. Weed, Acid, Ecstasy, Shrooms, Coke... take out the hard ones and you have his menu. He always seemed to afford the good things in life with his dark money. Two weeks ago he’d bought a Ducati; a week prior it was a 60 inch TV! God knows it wasn’t from dutiful employment, but I knew damn well just what it was that afforded him these luxuries: whatever could be inhaled, snorted, or smoked. And yet, here I was, working two jobs at McDonalds & Popeyes just trying to afford my garbage studio apartment. 

He’d only ever been kind to me, I’ll admit. He’d bring by a pizza he said he couldn’t finish, or his old speakers he’d upgraded. Nice guy, if a bit dim. Always out in the courtyard, laying by the pool with his shirt off. Always surrounded by other guys who’d slip him a hundred. It’s not fair! Four years of college and what did I have to show for it? Student loans and no job prospects. Yet there he was: no trade, no job, no future really; but living like a king. So it was one day where I’ll fully admit that my jealousy overwhelmed me. 

I was short that month, for the first time mind you. Short only by a hundred dollars for rent, but I had already gotten a notice on my door. Pay tomorrow or get lost. It was this desperation that made me remember every deal that thug made, every 8-ball, every eighth, every pill... Would he really notice a hundred missing from his pile? I knew for a fact that every Wednesday night, precisely at 10, Marco would leave for the hookah club and not return until 4 or 5 at the earliest. I knew he locked his door, a few locks actually, but I also knew that the moron left his window cracked nearly every night. It just so happened that on that particular evening, he did just that. 

In that fleeting moment of curiosity, a plan built up in my head. I watched him loudly slam his door, lock his several locks, and saunter out down the stairs. I waited about five minutes before creeping out of my apartment, careful to watch for other prying eyes. I had to be quick. I made a run for it, bolting to his open window on the balcony. It slid open quite easily, and I heaved myself over the ledge and into Marco’s dark apartment. I landed on the ratty old carpet and quickly shut the window. Looking around the apartment, it was a three bedroom for sure. In the same state of disrepair as mine, but furnished with some of the most expensive, gaudy things I’ve ever seen. Brand new leather couches, a coffee table made completely of glass, a massive stereo system next to his 60 inch TV... An absolute manchild lived here.

However, I wasn’t there for the TV or the oversized sectional. I had a sneaking suspicion that he, like many of us, kept his extra money somewhere in the bedroom. Ensuring that no noise would come from my steps, I snuck quietly down the hall, covered in paintings of scantily clad men toward the bedroom. Interesting, he swung that way, huh? Opening the door, a wafting stink hit me in the face. The room was covered in dirty laundry, used condoms, half rolled  blunts, and lines of coke on nearly every surface. This is what I was expecting, and I was surely right. Holding my nose shut, I crept toward his dresser, and began to ruffle through his belongings. Damp socks, damp underwear, damp lycra, everything in there was damp and reeking. I slammed each of the drawers shut, and opened the closet. There, on the tile floor behind rows of pristine sneakers were a pair of destroyed old Vans; and inside each were rolls of hundred dollar bills. Jackpot. I knelt down and grabbed one of the rolls, momentarily unclamping my nose to remove the rubber band. The smell was unbelievable. It took me aback, just how strong it was. I’m sure each of the pairs of Huaraches, AF1′s, and the like had strong scents of their own, but from this single pair of beat up old Vans was the most salty, sweet, almost cheesy footmusk that I’d ever encountered.

For a mere second, I contemplated bringing one of the shoes to my face, letting the dirty, wet insole touch the tip of my nose. However, it was in that second that I should have just left well enough alone. The lightswitch flipped on, and looming over me was the hulking, shirtless Marco. In my right hand was his wad of cash, in the left was his grody sneaker. My face flushed, and my stomach dropped to my toes. He crossed his arms and smiled.

“If you wanted a loan you could have just asked...” Words were caught in the back of my throat. I wanted so terribly to make up some fantastic excuse as to my presence in his closet, but the frog in my throat had other ideas. The growing grin of Marco, paired with him beginning to kneel down to my level made my heart nearly stop beating. “And if you wanted a sniff I’d have given it to you.” He smirked and slowly pulled the shoe from my hand, taking a quick whiff of it’s stench. He turned quickly and laughed, waving the wafting scent away from his face before grabbing the back of my head and plunging it right into the shoe. “Okay, deep breath now.”

I tried to struggle, to fight back, but the man was nearly twice my size and pure muscle. There was no chance of me weaseling my way out of this. I had to just play along with this weird fetish that he seemed to have. I inhaled a quick breath, barely getting any stink. 

“No, no. I said deep breath.” I felt a strong hand shoot to my crotch, grabbing my junk within my jeans. The shock of this invasive gesture broke my concentration, and a gasp of breath escaped from my mouth. Into my nose, my mouth, my sinuses, my brain did the musk penetrate. I moaned loudly, the confusion of a powerful grope and a powerful scent submerged me into a strange state of consciousness. Or rather, a lack thereof. I was inhaling the footsmell like air, and I couldn’t get enough. My cock began to tent in my pants, and I felt my right hand drop the roll of cash I thought I so desperately needed. “Ahh, haha. That’s right, let it in. Let me in.” 

His voice seemed distorted, as if we were in a deep cavern, it echoed in my skull. He removed the shoe from my face, pulling me to my feet by my bulging groin. Guiding me toward his bed, I sat down on the smelly sheets, no longer in complete control of my faculties.

“Take your clothes off.” His words entered my ears like soft velvet, it felt wrong to disobey. In fact, I wanted to obey. For the first time, I wanted to listen to whatever this man told me to do. His bulging muscles, his plump lips, the way his crooked smile felt so dangerously mischievous, the way his smell took my breath away like a vacuum. For the first time, this man was everything I wanted. I ripped my clothes off and lay there on his bed wearing nothing but my bare, cold skin. Smiling, he took hold of my throbbing, upright cock in his rough hand. Ripples of goosebumps ran up and down my body as he slowly ran his calloused hand up and down my shaft. Each stroke allowed a groan or a moan to sneak out of my lips, before he leaned down atop me and planted a soft kiss onto my lips. He tasted like an ashtray and as his tongue slipped into my mouth, rolling atop my own, I could feel some of his taste transfer to me. I can’t explain it, as we kissed I could feel that taste of cigarettes and blunts seep into my tongue. I pulled his pants down, his thick, uncut cock tumbling out of his compression shorts onto my stomach. He smiled as he pulled away from the kiss. I stuck my finger under his foreskin, swiping it around, and brought it to my lips. It tasted like ripe, sweaty cock, and I began to crave it. “Oh yeah, babe you’re a keeper.”

He jumped up, and pulled me toward the edge of the bed. I got a perfect frontal view of his gorgeous cock and saggy balls, his virile and manly smell kept pouring into my nose and into the depths of my mind. He grabbed me by the back of my hair and pulled my eager mouth forward, engulfing his slick, smelly cock. I suckled, my loud slurping seeming making him even hornier. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him fiddling with something just out of view. As he thrust down my throat, I realized just what it was that he had. His used condom, I presume from whatever sexy fuck occurred the night prior, was in his hands. I closed my eyes as I felt its rubbery walls close tightly around the tip of my cock, slickly sliding down my shaft until his cold, creamy load touched my slit. With a loud snap, I looked down and saw his thick white cum completely enveloping my cockhead. I only got a quick glance before he’d pulled out of my mouth, replacing his succulent cock with my now favorite smelly shoe. I licked the sole, letting the thick toejam season my ashy tongue as the musk thrust into my nose once more. 

I knew what was coming, and I was prepared when I felt that slippery cock slip like butter into my tight hole. He’d grabbed my cock, covered in his seed, and jerked in tandem with his thrusts into my ass. Sensory overload. His smell, his seed, his cock, his taste, the very sight of him... It was all him. He was marking me. I was his property, and I was glad to oblige. Every single hard smack against my ass cheeks, every stinking waft into my brain, every breath of his smoky breath coming out of my mouth... It was too much! He fucked like a madman, stroking my cock into his slime until I felt a strange tingling in my cockhead. It was a slick, penetrating sensation of his seed... slurping into my slit! I was nearly screaming as I felt it sink deep down my shaft, into my engorging balls. It was stewing, brewing inside my growing sack! I heard him howl as he unloaded his fresher load into me. 

I felt his cock within me shooting spurt after spurt... going from ounces to gallons very quickly. His cum spread throughout my body like water into a balloon. I could feel the silky liquid beneath my skin, creeping, inflating every part of my body. It seeped up my throat, into my mouth, behind my very eyes into my brain. The pressure grew as I felt growth, I felt strength, I felt different. My body was gelatinous beneath my skin, before slowly firming into a much larger form. An improved form. I pulled Marco’s shoe from my face, and looked at my changing body. The cum kept flowing as I saw my muscled arms, my bulging abs, a grotesquely inflated ballsack... He leaned down and kissed me again, giving me another much needed taste of his addictive taste. My brain was melting, reforming, changing... Things were fuzzy and blurred before it was my turn to blow my load. In it, was who I used to be, my failures, my strife, my worries and obligations... Flowed like a jet out of my cock into his condom. Cum flowed out of the top of the condom, before Marco ripped it from me, letting the hot juices pool between us. 

“Lookin’ good, babe.” He smiled at me, and I looked at the man I loved with a smirk. Yeah, I sure fuckin’ do look good. We laid there all night long, fucking and kissing and sniffing and tasting... By the time the sun came up, I was in his clothes, I reeked of his sweaty manly musk, I was wearing my favorite pair of red Vans, and I was readying an 8-ball for pickup later that morning (after a few lines for me and the boyfriend). I kicked back and lit a cigarette, enjoying the laid back life I’d come to love with my man.

It’s a love story. How touching. So let me know what you think. Give me some anons on your opinions! Also, toss a few quid into the tip jar and I’d be eternally grateful <3 <3

[companionjones]

Santa Claus Is Going To High School With Ethan and Y/n

Fandoms: StarKid, Black Friday, Santa Claus Is Going To High School

Pairings: Ethan Green x Reader, Chris Kringle x Reader

Summary: In the beginning, you were just a loner in high school who had a huge crush on one Ethan Green. You’re a big fan of escapism, and a certain kids movie brings you lots of serotonin. The teenage version of Santa Claus is more attractive than one might think. What happens when you and Ethan get sucked into the kids movie you’ve grown to love, and Chris Kringle starts vying for your attention? Will Ethan actually get jealous?

Warnings: This is long, cursing, speaking of cursed, I AM SO SORRY I MADE THIS

*******

    Ethan Green would have rather been at home, smoking weed. Instead, he was at Lakeside Mall with some kid he was babysitting. He took the job because he needed the money for his jalopy that was in the shop. He didn’t mind the kid all that much. The boy, a nine-year-old named Tim, was nice enough. The only problem was that Tim wanted to see a very annoying-looking kids movie in theaters called Santa Claus Is Going To High School.

    “Thirty bucks for two tickets? Are you kiddin’?” Ethan griped as he stood outside of the Cineplex. “Fine. But I want a refund if the kid doesn’t like the movie.”

    The half-asleep cashier responded detachedly, “We don’t do refunds here, sir.”

    Ethan groaned, “Yeah, whatever,” and pulled the kid inside.

    In Theater 4, the previews were still playing. All the seats were empty save for one. Ethan recognized the girl in it. He knew her from the hallways at school. It was you.

    Silently, you were thankful no one else was in the theater with you. That way, you couldn’t be judged as a teenager seeing a kids movie...for the fifth time. Yes, you were kind of obsessed with Santa Claus Is Going To High School. So what? That was your business, no one else’s. Or, at least, it was until--

    “What the hell are you doing, seeing this movie alone?” Ethan Green, the last person in Hatchetfield you wanted to sit next to you in that moment, decided to take a seat.

    At a loss for words, you were trying too hard to think of something to say. “Ethan! I...Um...I--”

    He chucked, “Relax. I’m not gonna make fun of you or anything. Just because something isn’t my style, that doesn’t mean you can’t like it.”

    Completely in shock that someone your age wasn’t going to judge you, you just gaped at him.

    Ethan didn’t notice. “Plus, it kinda rocks that you’re here. I thought I was gonna have to watch this movie with just Tiny Tim here. But it doesn’t seem so bad now with you at my side.”

    You cursed yourself for giggling. It was always like that with Ethan. You two would get paired together on a school project or something, and he would casually flirt with you like it was nothing. You would fall for it, you two would get really close, then the project would be turned in. After that, whenever you would go up to Ethan in the halls, it would be like the two of you had never spoken before. You hated it, especially after you developed a huge crush on him.

    And it was all starting again.

    When the movie began, you watched out the corner of your eye as Ethan fought to stay awake. He lasted ten minutes into the movie. Honestly, you were exhausted, too. You were just getting out of a double shift of waiting on tables. You thought you could get through the movie before crashing at home. You fell asleep not three seconds after the leather-clad boy.

    Ethan was woken up by a school bell ringing. He found himself sitting in a desk. Disoriented, he looked to his right to find you staring at him in alarm.

    “What the hell...” Ethan was able to mumble before the teacher called out to him and you to not be late for your next classes.

    He and you stumbled out into the hallway.

    Once out there, you whispered to Ethan in distress, “We’re in the movie. We’re in the fucking movie!”

    “No. Fuck. No,” Ethan adamantly disagreed, “We’re dreaming. This is impossible. This can’t be real--” Ethan immediately went to help you up when you ran into one of the other students.

    The boy you ran into beat Ethan to it, however.

    “Oh my god...” you voiced, completely in shock, as the stranger helped you to your feet.

    Right in front of you, holding your hand was the reason you came back to watch the kids movie over and over again. There was your #1 comfort character, your biggest crush since Ethan.

    He smiled warmly at you. “Hi there. Sorry about bumping into you...Say, you must be new here. What’s your name? I’m Chris Kringle.”

    “I know,” you blurted. Upon seeing Chris’ slight confusion, you backtracked, “I mean...You’re all people talk about around here. You must be the most popular kid in school, and you’re almost as new as I am.”

    Chris responded charmingly, “Well, that just means that you have a chance at becoming just as popular as I am, and probably even more so because you seem like you’re at the top of the nice list.”

    You felt your moth fall open and cheeks heat up from the flattery.

    Ethan cleared his throat in an attempt to get Chris’ attention off of you. He didn’t particularly like that Chris Kringle thought it was appropriate to be that friendly with you upon only just meeting you. Chris was also yet to let go of your hand.

    He didn’t let go when Ethan got his attention, either.

    Ethan had also gotten your attention. “Um, I’m Y/n, and this is my friend, Ethan. This is our, uh, first day.”

    “Oh, well you two probably need some friends around here, huh? You’re both welcome to come sledding with us. We’re heading off now,” Chris cheerfully invited.

    Ethan answered, “Uh, we actually have something--”

    “We’d love to!” you interrupted.

    Chris beamed, “Great! Let’s go! Oh, and don’t worry, people always bring extra sleds.”

    “What the hell are you thinking, Y/n?” chastised Ethan. “If this isn’t a dream, which I don’t think it is anymore, ‘cause you seem pretty self aware to me, then we gotta figure a way outta here!”

    “I don’t think we can get out of this until the plot of the movie plays out to the end, which is this Friday at the championship game against South Heights. I think all we can do is wait it out.”

    Ethan blanched, “Friday?! But I left Tim alone in that theater!”

    “Haven’t you ever seen a movie like this?” you questioned, “Jumanji? Teen Beach Movie? I’m almost positive no time will have passed once we get out of this.”

    “So what? You just want to go sledding with Chris Kringle until the game on Friday?” Ethan questioned.

    Lamely, you answered, “...Yes.”

    Ethan was rendered defeated by your hopeful eyes. He huffed out, “Fine.”

    Happiness overtook your face. “Thank you!” you celebrated.

    Ethan avoided your gaze due to how adorable he thought that was. Then, a new idea caused him to smirk, “Wait, how do you know how the movie’s going to play out?”

    “I...might’ve seen the movie more than once,” you explained. It was your turn to avoid your friend’s gaze. “...Four times, not including this one.”

    Ethan’s eyebrows shot up, “Four times?! Why the hell do you like this movie that much?” Just then, he followed your gaze to Chris Kringle. It clicked in his head. “Oh...”

    Your gaze dropped to the ground. You bit your lip, embarrassed.

    Both you and Ethan followed Chis to a large hill where a bunch of students had gathered to go sledding. You were able to borrow two extra sleds from a couple of students. After the first few trips down the hell, you and Ethan finally got used to the fact that the two of you were sledding in a Christmas movie with Santa Claus. Or maybe, you two had finally given into the insanity.

    You were standing at the top of the hill, waiting your turn with Chris when he asked you, “So, what’s the deal with you and Ethan?”

    “Me and Ethan?” You were shocked that someone besides yourself could see you and the Green boy like that. “Oh, no. We’re just friends.”

    Chris wondered, “Is there a chance at something more?”

    “Definitely not. Sorry. I guess I fucked up my Christmas wish, huh Santa?” Fuck. You did not mean to say that.

    Kringle panicked, “Wait, you know I’m Santa?!”

    “I, uh--Yes. I do, but you didn’t tell me, so Father Christmas’ spell is still intact. Tell Jingle and Jangle that before they freak out.”

    “YOU CAN SEE MY ELVES TOO?!”

    “NO! No, I can’t!” you assured, trying not to stress out Chris anymore.

    He furrowed his brow, still breathing heavy. “Then, how’d you know I’m...”

    “I...just got that vibe from you?” you lied, cringing because you couldn’t think of a better explanation than that.

    Somehow, Chris bought that, but he still had another question. “Then, how’d you know about Jingle and Jangle?”

    “Well, I see you talking to them all the time.” That actually wasn’t that much of a lie. Chris was pretty bad at talking his elves on the downlow all throughout the movie.

    Chris bit his lip. “Oh. Um, you won’t tell anyone about my secret, will you?”

    He had stepped closer, and your heart had sped up in response. You gazed into his eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “Of course I won’t, Chris.”

    “Are you two going to actually sled, or just stand up here talking?” Ethan asked as he approached you and Chris.

    Chris, oblivious to the pissed off look on Ethan��s face, laughed and answered, “Sled.” He hopped on his sled and flew down the hill.

    “What the hell was that for?” You angrily questioned Ethan.

    He played dumb. “What are you talking about?”

    “Interrupting us like that? We were...in the middle of something, Ethan.” You were glad you stopped yourself from saying ‘We were having a moment.’ That would’ve been embarrassing.

    Green argued, “Didn’t you say the plot of the movie’s supposed to play out?”

    “Yeah. So what?”

    He wondered, “Doesn’t Chris have a love interest somewhere?”

    “Her name is Noelle,” you answered.

    Ethan sighed, “Of course it is...Y/n,” he got your attention again. “Are you sure you want to get in the way of that?”

    Your mouth slammed shut and your jaw clenched.

    Chris got you to turn to him by shouting your name from the bottom of the hill. He motioned you to join him.

    Glancing between him and Ethan, you chose to ignore the latter for the moment. You sledded down the hill.

    You successfully steered clear of the leather-clad boy for the rest of the time you spent sledding.

    That annoyed Ethan, but he knew you couldn’t avoid him forever.

    When everybody headed back home late that night, you and Ethan didn’t have a home to return to. The two of you decided to head back to Northville High. You and Ethan got lucky. The window to the staff lounge was open. The two of you slid in, and the school was yours.

    “Okay, so we have to find a place that we can sleep in where nobody will accidentally find us tomorrow...” you thought out loud.

    Ethan was still hung up on your conversation earlier. “Are we not going to talk about--”

    “Can we just worry about where we’re sleeping tonight?” you urged.

    Ethan sighed, knowing that talking about it was also something you couldn’t avoid forever.

    Eventually, you and Ethan found the boiler room. Ethan agreed with you that it was secluded enough that no one would catch you. The two of you got lucky again when you found that there were enough sweaters and blankets in lost-and-found for makeshift beds.

    At one point, you asked Ethan, “You cold?”

    He was shivering. Ethan was probably the least prepared clothing-wise to spend hours sledding on a hill. He was feeling the effects of that then. Not that he’d ever tell you. “N-no. I’m g-g-g-good.”

    “Yeah, right.” You rolled your eyes before waling over to the boiler and turning it on.

    Ethan’s cheeks tinged in pink. “T-thanks.”

    “No problem, Ethan.” You approached your bed again and covered yourself in blankets. “You know, you’ve always had issues with asking for help.”

    “How the hell do you know that?” Ethan didn’t mean for that to sound as mean as it did.

    That didn’t seem to affect you though. “The school projects we worked on together,” you explained, “I always had to find all these covert ways to help you out ‘cause you wouldn’t let me do it directly.” A faint smile was playing at your lips, like you were remembering those things fondly.

    Ethan never noticed how much you’d helped him. He didn’t like to admit it, but he had a really tough time in school. As he thought about it, however, Ethan realized that when he did projects with you, the material he was learning didn’t seem as difficult as it normally was. You made things easier for Ethan to understand. That was really nice of you, he thought. He felt bad for never thanking you before for all you did. “...Thanks for turning on the boiler...” Ethan tried. He figured it was a start.

    “Any time, Green,” you smiled before turning away from him and settling into bed.

    The next morning, you and Ethan snuck into the halls when school started. Chris quickly found the both of you. He’d brought you both pumpkin spice hot chocolate.

    “Oh, wow,” you commented when Chris handed you the beverage. You were truly surprised and flattered. “Thank you so much, Chris! This is so nice!”

    He brushed it off. “It’s really no problem. I got them from the cafeteria. We’ve got pumpkin spice for days here at Northville High.”

    You actually giggled at that. Then, you promptly got lost in Chris’ eyes again. You would’ve been embarrassed if you were even paying attention.

    Well, apparently Ethan was. He scoffed, causing you to look at him, and he grumbled, “I guess I should leave you two to it. I...gotta get to class.” He practically stomped off.

    Your eyes followed Ethan as he went. You wondered what in the world was wrong with him.

    Chris got your notice again when he asked, “So, what’s your first period class? I’ll walk you to it.”

    “Um...what’s your first period class?” you asked quickly.

    He shrugged, “Statistics--”

    “No way! Me too!” you lied. “Let’s go,” you suggested before he could become suspicious.

    “So tonight, everyone figured we’d go ice skating. You wanna join us?” he offered, “Ethan can come too if he’d like.”

    “Uh...thanks! We’d love to go,” you smiled, cursing yourself in the back of your head for speaking for Ethan again. You bit your lip, knowing what you had to ask. You weren’t exactly looking forward to knowing the answer. “Is Noelle going to be there?”

    He furrowed his brow. “You know Noelle?”

    “Um, yeah,” you lied, “I’ve seen her...in the halls.”

    He believed it. “Oh.”

    “She’s um...pretty. Isn’t she?” You hated that you were talking up someone else to your crush, but you also knew that Chris was destined to end up with her.

    Chris’ eyes widened in slight realization. “Oh. I didn’t know you swung that way. Do you...like guys?”

    Huh. Santa’s an ally.

    “Um...” Shyly, you nodded. You felt your cheeks thinking about the implications of his question.

    He just smiled. “Good!”

    You spent the whole day following Chris to his classes. It was a dream. Chris kept freezing your desk with his powers and doodling little snowflakes and Christmas trees on it. It reminded you of Jack Frost in Rise of the Guardians. It was really cute too. The teacher had to tell you to quiet down several times because you were giggling too much.

    At the end of the school day, you ran into Ethan again.

    He’d spent the day mostly in the boiler room. He figured that he was spending enough time in regular school. He wasn’t about to spend more time in a fictional one.

    When he saw you again, and you awkwardly brought up that you had signed both you and him up to go ice skating, he said, “Whatever,” which meant he’d go. The main reason he agreed was because he preferred anything over the blank cement walls of the boiler room.

    He just didn’t consider one thing.

    “Ethan, do you know how to skate?” you wondered, skating over to the boy hugging the wall.

    “Psh, of course I do,” he lied shakily, tightening his grip on the solid, non-slippery surface. “I just, uh...like it better over here.”

    You laughed. “Come here.” You took his hand.

    Ethan panicked. “Whoa, whoa. What’re you doing?”

    “Relax. I’m not gonna let go of you,” you assured. “Just one foot after the other, like this.”

    Slowly, you started leading him around the rink.

    For a little while, Ethan felt like he was actually getting it. One bad step though, and he started to freak out again. “Whoa, whoa!” he shouted.

    “It’s alright, it’s alright!” you tried to say, but it was too late. You stayed true to your word, though. You didn’t let go of Ethan. You went down with him.

    He was mostly scared of the act of falling down, so after that part was over, he was mostly concerned with the pain in his backside.

    Ethan looked over to you to complain that you had let him fall, but he found you losing yourself in laughter. He forgot what he was going to say. Watching you, Ethan felt his heart speed up and a smile growing on his lips. Soon, both of you were laughing your asses off.

    Eventually, you and Ethan had gotten your shit together enough to stand up. The two of you went over to customer services at the rink to get ice packs for your fresh bruises.

    “Sorry, I guess I should’ve told you that I...uh...” Ethan trailed off.

    You finished for him, “You’ve never been ice skating before in your life?”

    “Yeah...” Ethan smiled because you started laughing again.

    “It’s fine,” you shrugged off. “I guess I should’ve asked you if you knew how to skate before volunteering you for something against your will...again.”

    Ethan was about to say he didn’t mind. He was about to say that the past couple days with you had been the most fun he’d had in a long time.

    But then, Chris approached the two of you. “There you guys are! I’ve been looking all over for you! Y/n, I was wondering if you’d like to skate, um...with me for a bit.”

    “Oh! Um...”

    There it was. Chris was going to come along, yet again, and sweep you off your feet. You were going to say yes to Santa Creep, and Ethan would be left alone for the rest of the--

    “Ethan and I are actually gonna head back home,” you replied to Chris, interrupting Ethan’s thoughts. “We’ve been skating for a while, and we’re both pretty tired. I’ll see you tomorrow though, okay?”

    Chris seemed a little disappointed by your words. Ethan tried not to become too happy from the look on Kringle’s face.

    “Oh...okay,” Chris replied, “I’ll see you tomorrow...”

    Back in the boiler room, Ethan was still stuck on what had occurred at the ice skating rink. “You know...you didn’t have to come back with me...”

    “Hmm?” You turned to Ethan and furrowed your brow.

    He went on, “You didn’t have to come back with me ‘cause I don’t know how to skate. I coulda come back by myself. You could’ve kept having fun at the rink...with Chris.” Ethan had to physically push those last two words out.

    “Nah, I didn’t really feel like it,” you answered with a shrug. “I’m probably not going to be skating for a while with these new bruises you gave me,” you teased, but your voice grew softer. “Plus, I wanted to spend more time with you.”

    Ethan’s heart stopped. He looked away from you in an attempt to hide the growing blush on his cheeks.

    “Goodnight, Ethan,” you bid before turning over in your makeshift bed, and laying down to rest.

    Ethan’s last thoughts as he fell asleep that night was how the four concrete walls of the boiler room didn’t seem that lifeless with you there.

    The following day was Friday. For the students of Northville High, it was the last day ‘til Winter Break, and the championship basketball game was that night. For you and Ethan, it was the last day of the movie. Santa Claus Is Going To High School was supposed to end after the big game against South Heights.

    You and Ethan ran into Chris in the cafeteria during breakfast. He had more pumpkin spice hot chocolate for the both of you. “Hey guys! I forgot to tell you last night, but since it’s the last day of school, there’s caroling in the halls today. Students who join don’t have to go to classes. Do you guys wanna carol with me?”

    To prevent yourself from immediately responding “Yes!” you bit your lip. You looked to Ethan. You didn’t want to speak for him again.

    He glanced to you, and it looked like he was about to reject the offer, but then he thought about it for a second. “You said it gets us out of classes?” Ethan asked.

    Chris nodded.

    Ethan sighed, “Yeah...okay.”

    A smile broke out across your face. You couldn’t help but hug Ethan. “This is going to be so fun!” You felt Ethan’s body stiffen, and to it to mean that he thought it was weird that you were hugging him. You quickly separated from him.

    You dismissed the pink painting his cheeks as you seeing things.

    The actual singing part of caroling was pretty boring. The group of students you were with would just stop at random places in the hallway for a song or two. People in nearby classrooms would come out to watch you guys and get a little time off from class.

    What made caroling so much fun though were Chris and Ethan. Between stops, the three of you would mess around in an effort to make each other laugh. Well, while you were trying to make both Ethan and Chris laugh, it had turned into a bit of competition between the two of them to get you to laugh. Personally, you didn’t notice any malice between the two of them, but you were too busy laughing to notice much anyway.

    Throughout the day, everyone held their own books that had in them all the carols everyone was singing. Chris stole your book, and you had to go through the whole song and dance (no pun intended) of trying to get it back. Chris easily dodged you every time you went for the book.

    At one point, you tripped over your feet while going for your book. Chris caught you before you fell, and for a second he just gazed at you with wide eyes. Then, something insane happened.

    Chris Kringle kissed you. The boy, the fictional character you’d had a crush on since his movie came out, liked you enough to actually kiss you. You were frozen to your spot.

    Kringle must’ve taken that as a negative reaction. He parted from you.

    “Y/n...”

    You heard a shocked voice behind you before you could say a word to Chris. You turned around and saw Ethan’s highly concerned face.

    Suddenly, the bell rang. It was signaling the end of the school day. The sound made you jump.

    “...I...I have to go, Y/n,” Chris told you. “Coach said he wants us in the gym as soon as the bell rings.”

    You were reminded of the championship basketball game. “Right. Go,” you encouraged.

    “Come to the game later. We can talk there,” he offered.

    “Okay,” you nodded.

    Chris left. You and Ethan were suddenly alone in the hallway.

    Ethan stated, “I can’t believe he just kissed you.”

    “I can’t believe he just kissed me either.” You exhaled for probably the first time since Chris’ lips were on yours. You couldn’t stop a small smile from forming.

    “You don’t want to kiss him again, do you?”

    The question made your smile vanish. You avoided Ethan’s gaze.

    “Y/n, you can’t want any of that. None of this is even real!”

    Your face started burning from embarrassment and anger, but you fought back anyway. “So what?” you shouted. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen?”

    Ethan clearly hadn’t expected your voice to raise as well.

    “Dammit, Ethan,” you really didn’t care anymore, “I’ve liked you for such a long time, but you never noticed me! The only reason you sat next to me in the theater was because I was the only person there. You had no other option. But Chris, he had all the options! And he chose me! Do you have any idea how that feels?”

    You had shocked Ethan into silence.

    “Look, I’m going to the gym to watch Chris practice. Come, don’t come, I don’t care.” It was true. You didn’t care. At that point, you didn’t care that the movie was supposed to play out a certain way. You left Ethan alone in the hallway and headed toward the gymnasium.

    It took Ethan about a minute to even move. So many thoughts were running though his head. He was right to be mad at you, right? The movie had to end a certain way, or else you and him ran the chance of never going home. But then, there was the revelation that you had just unloaded on Ethan. You liked him? Like, liked him, liked him? The more he thought about it, the more obvious your crush became to him, and worse he felt about how he treated you in the past.

    Ethan also started to realize that, maybe he liked you like that, too. Maybe he wasn’t just worried about the movie’s plot. Maybe he was so concerned about Chris’ behavior around you because he was jealous.

    And that brought Ethan back to how he had acted around you in the past. Had he really been so bad? Yes. He’d been so concerned about his bad boy image that he pushed you aside whenever the two of you were around other students. He couldn’t imagine doing that after all you two had gone through in that movie. Ethan didn’t want to be away from you at all anymore, and that included right in that moment as well.

    Ethan knew he was going to have to admit a lot of things to you to get a chance at getting you back. He only hoped it wasn’t too late. He glanced up at a clock in the hallway and realized he only had ten minutes ‘til the game started.

    Meanwhile, you were looking at the same time on a clock in a hallway outside the gym.

    “Y/n.” Chris came jogging up to you. “Thank you so much for meeting me here.”

    “Uh...Hey, Chris,” you swallowed, dread filling you. You’d had some time to think since your argument with Ethan. You were still very angry with the leather-clad boy, and you still cared about Chris a lot, but Ethan was right about one thing. The movie needed to play out a certain way. You had no choice but to get out of the way of that.

    Chris noticed your unease. “Are you alright, Y/n?”

    You took a deep breath, preparing to let Chris down easy. “Um, we need to talk, Chris--”

    “Wait,” he interrupted you, “I know what you’re going to say. Y/n, I’m sorry I kissed you. It was pretty naughty of me to get in the way of the movie.”

    You blinked. Completely disregarding that ‘naughty’ line, you asked, “How’d you know that?”

    At that, he just smiled, “I’m Santa Claus, remember? It’s also how I know it was your Christmas wish to start dating Ethan.”

    “Wait, you’ve known this whole time that we’re in a movie? Why didn’t you tell me?”

    He chuckled, seemingly embarrassed. “I was trying not to mess up the plot. Stay in character, you know? I guess I really fucked that up, kissing you.”

    “Wow, I never thought I’d hear Chris Kringle curse,” you laughed.

    “You just came out of no where, Y/n. Quite literally. I had no idea I’d...like you this much when I brought you here.”

    Eyes nearly popping out of your head, you almost yelled, “You brought us here?!”

    There was an echo. It was Ethan, who had just arrived on the scene. “Why the hell would you do that?” he frantically asked.

    Chris just smirked, “You two will find out soon enough.”

    The buzzer in the gym sounded, signaling the game was going to start soon.

    Chris turned to you. “Y/n, I want you to hang onto my jacket for me.” He handed you his letterman. “Don’t worry about the plot of the movie, I’ll take care of it. I’m...really going to miss you, Y/n. Ethan, you got very lucky with this gift. Be very nice to them.”

    He kissed you on the cheek and ran off before you could say something in return. You absentmindedly put on Chris’ letterman and turned to Ethan. Your plan was to try and explain away Chris’ leading last words to Ethan, but before you could:

    “I really like you, Y/n,” Ethan blurted.

    Your words got caught in your throat.

    Ethan quickly continued, “I’ve only really noticed how I feel in the past couple days in this movie, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t liked you for a long time. I’m sorry for acting like such an asshole. I really don’t know how you continued to be nice to me after all that...”

    He continued to ramble on, but some twinkling above your head caught your eye. You smiled when you looked up and saw it. “Hey, Ethan?”

    Your voice immediately shut him up as he gazed at you.

    “Look up,” you quietly prompted.

    Hanging above the two of you was a beautiful little mistletoe.

    “I...uh...” Ethan swallowed. “Does this mean you’ll forgive me?”

    You smirked, “Well, I guess that depends on whether or not you’re a good kisser.”

    Ethan’s face broke out in a grin as well. He hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you close enough where your heads barely had to move at all to kiss.

    You were woken up in the movie theater by the kid Ethan was babysitting—Tim, as Ethan had called him—cheering because Chris Kringle had successfully used the ‘Santa Swap’ to win the championship game against South Heights. At least, you thought Ethan had called him Tim. Did Ethan only say that while you and him were trapped in the movie? Was any of that real at all?

    Dread filled you when you started to think that Ethan had never actually kissed you, it had been a dream. That dread doubled when you realized that you had fallen asleep on Ethan’s shoulder.

    You slowly started to raise your head because you had a feeling that Ethan had fallen asleep too, and you thought maybe you could save yourself some embarrassment.

    However, as soon as he could, and at the same time Chris kissed Noelle in the movie, Ethan kissed you too. “I just had the most amazing dream,” he whispered to you once you parted.

    Several thoughts raced through your head. Was it a dream? Is it possible for two people to have the same dream? Yet, you quickly realized that it didn’t matter because Ethan had just kissed you. He liked you! You finally got your Christmas wish.

    As you and Ethan walked out of the theater hand-in-hand, Ethan asked Tim, “So, nothing seemed weird about that movie, kid?”

    Tim shrugged it off. “Nope.”

    “Huh,” Ethan turned to you, you guessed probably to ask you how much you remembered, but Ethan gasped when he saw what you were wearing. “Holy shit.”

    Following Ethan’s eyeline, you spotted what had freaked him out so much. “Holy shit,” you repeated.

    You were still wearing Chris’ letterman.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, I have more fics over on my page. You should check it out. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[itsnsfwalways]

Canyon Moon

A/N: WELCOME TO THE CANYON MOON FIC ! The chapters have to be split up and cut a lot shorter bc of sizing limits but I’m hoping you guys will still like it.

FIC MASTERLIST

WARNINGS FOR CHP. 1: swearing, mild drug use (weed)

CHAPTER ONE: the world’s happy waiting

The ocean has always been a calming place for you. Any body of water, really. The lapping of thewaves, the smell of salt, the course feeling of sand between your toes. It felt like home. So when you moved to Malibu, you found yourself lying on the beach until 4 am most nights, sometimes sleeping, but more often than not listening to music and writing.

Working as a songwriter for mostly just your friends, or as a fill in whenever someone wasn’t there, you were constantly writing. It was a lot easier to get deeper that way for you, not having to worry about sharing your secrets, and being able to mask it in other people’s voices. That being said, you had journals upon journals of your own songs. They were just for you, and occasionally your best friends, but it was something you were really proud of. After writing for the past 6 years, you’d like to think they were pretty good.

You’d gotten to your little spot around an hour ago, parking your pride and joy, an orange and yellow remodeled VW bus, which also functioned as your room most nights when you wanted to be out here, next to the sand.

The vibrant sunset had since dulled into a deep purple color, but it was still fairly light out. A small bonfire was lit in front of your blanket, keeping you a little extra warm even though it was still 70°.

Strumming your guitar, you moved away from the rock you were leaning against, a car’s headlights snapping you out of the haze you always got when you were out here. And also those two joints you had smoked already.

You raise your eyebrows at the fucking bright yellow Ferrari, hoping they were just stopping for a second.

Your prayers were ignored as a guy stepped out, a hoodie pulled over his head.

Shrugging your shoulders, you continue to play mindlessly, making up different melodies before creating a new one on top it.

Mr. Ferrari starts making his way over to you, which sends a flutter through your chest.

“Hey, just so you know, if you’re going to kill me, I’ve always wanted to die listening to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac,” you yell, grabbing your phone from your bag just in case.

The guy stops for a second and lets out a laugh.

“Definitely not trying to kill you,” he chuckles, and, oh, he’s British.

He comes closer and you come face to face with one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen. Wearing a black hoodie with the words “Treat People With Kindness” embroidered on it, that’s cute, a pair of grey slacks, which you wouldn’t necessarily think of for beach attire, but he makes up for it by completing the look with no shoes.

“Do y’have a lighter I could borrow? Damn thing ran out and the gas station is just far away enough for it to be annoying.”

You laugh at that and nod, tossing him a random one from your bag.

“I feel that. I’m Y/N. Where you from?” You bluntly ask, because hey, he’s cute.

“Manchester, originally. Live near here now. You mind?” He asks, and you nod, scooting over to let him sit.

You’re hit with the smell of vanilla, leather, and just rich as he plops himself down, leaning against a rock a few feet away from you.

He points to your guitar, lips curled around the joint for a second before he inhales and asks,

“How long you been playing? Liked what you were doing earlier.”

You blush at this, barely remembering what you were doing.

“I have no fuckin clue. 14 years? Got my first guitar at 8 and fell in love.” You over exaggerated hugging your guitar, getting another laugh out of him, before you spit out,

“Oh, and thank you! I don’t really remember what I was doing to be honest. Just get in the zone sometimes. Do you play?”

He looks surprised at this, looking at you closely for a second.

“Uh, yeah, little bit. Been trying to learn more recently and kind of get my skills up.”

“Good for you! If you ever wanna play together, I’m literally always here. You sharing?” You smile, looking at his face in the orange light. His cheekbones are illuminated perfectly and you feel your throat go dry.

He nods and hands it to you, watching as you press the filter to your lips.

“What did you say your name was again?” You rack your brain and cannot remember him introducing himself.

“Didn’t. Harry, sorry that was a bit rude,” He mumbles, and you look at him funny.

“Are you like an FBI agent, Harry? Why so secret? And harassing young girls on the beach at night? With a fucking Ferrari? Come on, man, what’s your secret?” You tease, bumping your elbow into his side.

He laughs, shoving you with his shoulder lightly.

“Only harassing that’s going on is you interrogating me. But if I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll leave right now. I should probably go, actually.” He rants, suddenly moving to get up. You turn your body quickly and lay your legs in his lap so he can’t move.

“You’re dumb. Secret, please?” You smile, blinking up at him.

He scoffs, shaking his head with a small smile, and pauses to run a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath in before saying,

“I’m a musician, so that’s where the car and secret beach trips come in. I’m actually just starting to write for my next album, and I’m hitting a rut.”

“Oh shit, that’s what’s up! You’ll have to show me your stuff sometime. Sorry that I don’t know you, I’ve been living on the road for awhile so I listen to a lot of oldies. Plus, with hippie parents you don’t hear a lot of new music,” You explain, gesturing to your van.

He looks at you for a second before shaking his head, smiling to himself.

“What?” You grin, shoving his knee with your foot.

“You’re something else, s’all.”

“So I’ve been told.” A giggle falls from your lips as you lay down on the blanket, legs still in his lap, guitar now discarded to the side.

Looking up at the stars starting to form, you feel his gaze on you. Trying to figure out who this chick was, what stories she had, what witty remark was just past her lips.

“Question.” You say, propping your head up. Your hand finds it’s way on the back of your skull and you feel the blanket shift slightly underneath your elbow.

“Answer,” He responds with the same tone, tapping your knees with his fingertips.

“Would you wanna come with me so I can get a tattoo?”

He stops for a second and stares at you.

“Like, right now? You got an appointment?”

You grin and move off of him, ruffling his hair.

“Even better. I got cool friends.”

He takes his time packing up all your stuff, being as cautious enough to remind you not to cover the fire with sand in case someone stepped on it.

“This is my beach, Ferrari. No one comes here. Except handsome British guys, apparently.”

He looks up from the ground, where he’s stuffing your towel into your bag, and throws you a smirk.

“Thanks, baby. You’re gorgeous as well,”

“Blegh. Let me come introduce you to Sunflower,” you fake shudder at the pet name and he grins, pinching your side so he can laugh at your little jump.

You lead him over to your van, opening up the side door to show off your renovated home.

The entire thing was orange with white trim, big yellow sunflowers painted on the sides. The ceiling inside was painted a dark blue, the walls painted yellow.

A meditation rug was lying on the floor, a light brown wood flooring that matched the cabinets attached to the ceiling.

Your bed was all the way in the back, a simple white comforter on it. A mirror hung next to it, attached to the bathroom door. There was a small kitchen counter complete with a sink and a stovetop next to it. A small table folded out behind the drivers seat where a lounge area was located, orange cushions and fairy lights decorating the little couch.

All in all, it was a tiny fucking house in a car and you treated it like your baby.

“This is fucking sick,” he says, looking at the different artwork, posters, and decorations hanging all over the walls and cabinets.

“Thanks! Did it myself. Spent all summer working on it a few years back, I’m damn proud of it.”

There’s a pause for a second, trying to figure out how to best work this out.

“I’m cool to just leave my car here if you’re down to drive me. We’re going to one of my guy friends’ studio about thirty minutes from here,” you suggest, having a feeling Harry wouldn’t be down to leave his car here, no matter how secluded it was.

“Uh, okay. Should I be worried? Who knows what scoundrels you hang out with?” He teases, watching you go into the van to grab some things.

You glance back at him, laughing, before your breath catches in your throat. He’s since removed his hoodie and is left in a white tank top with small black print on the rib cage. Making a mental note to figure out what it says later, your eyes can’t help but drift to his arms. Illuminated in the car light, his biceps bulge as he rests his hands on the roof, leaning forward slightly into the car.

His tongue traces along his teeth, landing itself in his cheek as he watches you check him out.

“See something you like?” He asks, raising his eyebrows like he’s genuinely curious.

Your eyes flick back to his smirking face and you blink for a second, before responding with,

“Yeah, was trying to figure out what asshole uses a word like ‘scoundrel’ in 2018, what the fuck, Harry?”

He barks out a laugh and brings his fist up to his mouth to cover it, the other one coming down to hold his stomach.

“When you are done appreciating my humor, I need to change real quick. Spin around, please,” You come up from your squat and pull off your sweatshirt, not waiting for him to do that.

“Jesus, Y/N,” He exhales, spinning around and looking up at the sky.

“What? I gave you a warning,” you giggle, sliding your sweatpants down to slip into a pair of black volleyball shorts.

“By about half a second!” Harry exclaims. “You’re killing me.”

“Sorry, superstar, nobody is exempt from special treatment here.” You roll your eyes at yourself, what the fuck are you even saying.

“Mkay, you’re good.”

Harry spins around, eyes taking in your new outfit.

On top of your shorts was a giant Stevie Nicks shirt, one from her White Winged Dove tour.

“Shit, you might be a bigger Stevie fan than I am, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Fuck, you have no idea. My dad went to the fucking final show of this tour and met my mom in the crowd during Dreams. My mom made him play it when I was born because she swore Stevie brought me to them.”

You catch him staring at you and turn your head away, cheeks burning because you’re rambling and need to shut the fuck up.

He clears his throat and takes a breath before starting.

“Promise not to kill me when I tell you this?”

Holding your hand to your burning cheeks, you murmur,

“No.”

“Y/N!” Harry exclaims, finally coming in the van to tickle you.

“Okay, okay, I promise not to kill you,” You mock, waving your hands around.

“I was lucky enough to sing one of my songs with her along with Landslide and Leather and Lace.”

You drop your bag onto the ground as your jaw drops.

“Shut up. I don’t believe you.” You cross your arms over chest. “I don’t know if I’d be angrier if you’re lying or if it actually happened. Holy shit am I jealous.”

“Oh, I was crying onstage, losing my shit. She is, everything. Dreams was the first song I learned the words to, yknow? She truly is a magical being.”

“God. I’m definitely looking you up later because who the fuck sings one of THEIR songs with Stevie Nicks.” You sigh, leaning over to grab your bag and Doc Martens.

“Oh god.” Harry laughs, running a hand through his hair again, looking at you really intensely for a second.

“Not to sound like a dick, but do you really not know who I am?”

“I mean if you need your ego boosted I can lie?” You offer, before dropping the witty responses.

“But no, sorry. Like I said, I just.... don’t really listen to new music, and if I do it’s always my friends or some indie shit with an overused beat.” Harry laughs at that and you smile, yes, he’s not weirded out.

“Don’t apologize, please. I just, can’t be too sure, yknow? People like to use you, especially here. And you’re just a little too perfect to be true,” he sighs, pulling you closer to him by your waist.

Placing you hands on his chest, you look at him for a second before leaning forward and whisper in his ear,

“My tattoo awaits me, baby. Let’s go.”

He groans and leans his head on your shoulder, before letting you go and grabbing your bag for you.

Such a gentleman, you think to yourself, locking up Sunflower.

“Does your car have a cool name?” You ask, after buckling you, fingertips appreciating the rich black leather seat.

“Nope, but I’m good at nicknames. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say normal terms of endearment aren’t your thing?” He asks, making eye contact with you for a quick second as he puts his arm behind your seat before stretching slightly to look behind him as he pulls puts the car in reverse.

Looking up for a quick second, you remind yourself to breathe.

“You would be correct. Gotta use your brain if you wanna get me all jittery,” you tease, fanning yourself over exaggeratedly.

He gives you a side eye and smirks at you, popping a piece of gum in his mouth and raising his eyebrows, as if to say, game on.

“So where am I going?” He asks, starting to drive away from your special spot.

“Let us ask the oracle!” You hold out your phone like a trophy, before laughing to yourself and bringing up Google Maps.

Propping your phone up in the cupholder, you sit cross legged in just your socks in his seat, fidgeting with your hands for a second.

“I’m kind of intrigued on who you are now. What’s your story?” You ask, turning your head to look at him.

Harry glances over at you, eyes drifting to your bare legs for a second.

“Well, the short version, I guess, is I grew up in a little town in England with my mum and my sister, applied to X-Factor when I was 16, got put into a band called One Direction with four other lads, released couple albums with them until end of 2015. Then did a movie called Dunkirk, wrote and released my first solo album, and toured it. Just got back from tour about a month ago, actually.”

You look at him blankly for a second, and he shifts in his seat, removing one of his hands from the wheel to place it on the armrest.

“Holy SHIT am I unaccomplished,” you exclaim, hitting him in the chest.

“Hey!” he yells, but you cut him off.

“How many fucking albums is a couple? And how old are you, my god. That is impressive.”

“I’m 24, that probably should’ve been said before we’re alone in a car together. And 5 albums, in 5 years. Nearly killed us.”

“I’m 22. Damn, dude, that’s insane. It sounds like they horribly overworked you and I am hoping you were generously compensated and had a bit of musical freedom. I know how the music industry can be with boy bands.”

He nods for a second, licking his lips slightly, trying to figure out how to phrase his response.

“I’m not going to lie, there are some definite perks and I am so incredibly lucky to just be able to do what I love as my job.” His fingers find their way to his bottom lip, pinching it slightly. “It was fun, I mean, you throw a bunch of teenagers together and give them celebrity status? We were insane, and I enjoyed it. But.... it felt like I wasn’t a person anymore. I was just ‘Harry Styles from the boyband One Direction’.”

“I don’t necessarily understand but I think the fact that you came out this respectful and real says something. You seem to have your shit properly together, and, even if you don’t, you got back from tour two months ago! You deserve some relaxation. The world’s happy to wait for you to find yourself a little.”

Pausing for a second, you place your hand on his arm, squeezing it lightly before swearing,

“I hope you know I’m being genuine about not knowing you and latching on for fame. I’ll let your parents know my intentions with their son are all very pure.”

He laughs at that, glancing at you again,

“I appreciate you saying that. This life is wonderful, like I said, but it’s very stressful and puts pressure on every relationship. There’s always going to be stories or photos and rumors spread like wildfire.”

You shift in your seat, understanding that this was a very serious issue for him.

“Listen, I’ll let you know up front that that doesn’t bother me. I’ve dated musicians and know the life, I get it. I think you’re cool and that we could have a fun time experiencing real life together. But before we do that, you need to have fun and let everything the fuck GO. I’ll promise you right now, if you let me stick around, you’ll experience what life is. No fame or pining for success bullshit, no offense, but there’s no need for it. If you’re happy doing what you’re doing, no one can tell you you’re not successful.” Harry stops the car at a red light and fully turns to look at you.

He exhales harshly before grinning. “You are a breath of fresh fucking air, Y/N. I think you’re going to change my life, if I’m being honest here.”

“Here’s hoping,” you grin.

A/N: THE OFFICIAL FIRST CHAPTER IS UP !!! I’m hoping you guys will come to love this fic as much as I do. I’ll try to find a writing schedule that works with you guys and my work schedule, so sorry if chapters take a little bit to come up. This is going to be a looooong fic, so buckle up, turn that old lover’s hippie music on, and enjoy !!

- lana <3

[artificialqueens]

Everybody Knows You're High, 2/4 (Rajila) - Dartmouth420

“And on the deck while I waited for her to get dressed, I sparked up another one and I was such a mess that I confess that my professor wouldn’t look me in the eye…”

Summary: Raja has a great time at her philosophy class this week, Manila strategically turns the whole situation into a joke, but their attempts to one-up each other go a little too far…

A/N: this chapter is dedicated to the term ‘making out,’ and how vague and ridiculous it is lmao. thank you V&albatross for the shoutout!

tw: weed

Raja forgot that it was a Tuesday and smoked a huge blunt just after noon, before remembering that she had to leave for class in fifteen minutes. Uh oh.

But luckily Professor A. O’Hara’s philosophy class was a lecture and that meant Raja didn’t need to participate, she could just sit in the low-lit room, stare at the slides and let the words wash over her. Which was totally doable while high. Also, Manila was in that class, so Raja didn’t want to skip it.

Pleasantly hazy, Raja threw an open button-up shirt over her tank top, wandered over to Manila’s house a few doors down and knocked on the door.

Manila answered, her face pink and sweaty, her fantastic legs clad in neon green leggings.

“I just got back from the gym,” said Manila, “I still need to change, just give me a sec-“

“Sure,” said Raja, leaning casually against the porch railing. Manila looked pretty cute, all warm and sweaty like that. Raja reached into her front pocket and found a tiny little joint she must have forgotten in there the last time she’d worn this shirt.

Well, she was already high, so why the hell not? Raja sighed happily, thanking whatever deities had decided to smile upon her today as she fished her lighter out of her shorts, and lit up.

Manila came back out a few minutes later, in a neat little corduroy skirt that hugged her hips, shirt tucked in, and said, “Oh my god, are you getting high right now?”

“Yeah,” replied Raja, happy and content, “I forgot it was Tuesday and started earlier, figured I may as well lean in, right?”

Manila rolled her eyes and shook her head, then locked the door.

They walked together to campus in the warm sun, and Raja began to feel soft, even a little loopy, like she needed to slow down…

“Hurry up, we’re going to be late,” urged Manila, walking ahead of her.

“Nah, just slow down a bit,” murmured Raja in response. The sun was catching in Manila’s hair again, the black curls shining with an almost reddish-orange highlight.

“Are you related to any gingers?” asked Raja, blithely.

“Uh, my uncle on my mom’s side,” replied Manila, “And so is one of my cousins. Why?”

“Your hair has this kinda red highlight in the sun…”

Manila laughed and it was a happy sound that Raja quite liked. But then Manila went behind Raja and pushed her, her hands on Raja’s back as she hustled her rapidly down the sidewalk, which Raja liked a little less. They finally got into the building and managed to make it to class with only seconds to spare.

Raja entered the dark room, supremely comfortable and chill, and took her usual seat. Manila sat next to her, taking out her neat little notebook and pen to take notes. She was so organized, Raja admired that about her.

Professor O’Hara greeted the class and hit the lights to begin the lecture. Raja smiled and nodded and basked in the weird glow of the PowerPoint while Manila diligently took notes next to her. The words washed over them both.

After the lecture was done and the lights turned back on, Professor O’Hara took questions from the class. Raja found she had a question too, and raised her hand.

“Don’t draw attention to yourself-“ hissed Manila next to her, trying to grab Raja’s hand and force it back down.

But Professor O’Hara has already addressed her, so Raja batted Manila off and opened her mouth.

“Uh, so…” began Raja, leaning forward and putting her chin in her hand, pausing for what she was sure was only a couple seconds. An amused murmur rippled through the crowd. “So, when Plato talks about you know, duality, what if-“

Raja wasn’t sure where she was going with her question, but she was confident it was going somewhere, and kept talking. Professor O’Hara had an amused expression on her face, and pressed her lips together, not quite making eye contact. Next to Raja, Manila slid lower in her seat and shielded her eyes with her hand.

“…so like, isn’t that connected to Aristotle’s original idea about being?” finished Raja.

Muffled laughter sounded throughout the class. What was so funny?

Professor O’Hara blinked, and cocked her head to the side, then said, “Well, to everyone’s surprise that’s actually an excellent question, Raja-“ and proceeded to answer it.

Raja glowed with the praise, nodding her head slowly as Professor O’Hara answered her question, and further elaborated on the content of the lecture, which inspired more questions from the class. Raja remained pleasantly blazed. Coming to class like this had been a great idea after all-

Soon enough it was over, and Raja yawned, sleepy, and stretched as Manila put her things back in her bag.

“Raja,” said Manila with resignation, hoisting her backpack to her shoulder, while the rest of the class filed out around them, throwing amused glances in Raja’s direction, “Everybody knows you’re high.”

“Mmm…” replied Raja, content, getting up from her seat and tripping a little on the edge of the chair, “Yeah, this time I don’t care.”

-

The problem with Raja, considered Manila as they walked back down the street together after class and Raja prattled away, happy and stoned, was that from the day they’d met Manila wanted throw her against the wall, furiously make out with her, have insanely hot sex in every imaginable way, move in together, start their lives, be completely and utterly in love, have like four kids and three dogs, raise them, retire, get old, and die together. 

Obviously that was a little much. 

Manila had quickly learned that her desperate fantasy seemed to be the exact opposite of what Raja was looking for. Raja’s priorities seemed to consist of getting stoned, getting laid, playing video games and going to class. Apparently in that order. So, they became good friends instead, along with Delta and Carmen, and had an excellent friendship that involved terrible humour, petty competition, and affectionately roasting one another to death. Given that Raja had never shown any romantic interest in her, Manila did her best to shove her feelings to the back of her mind. She wasn’t going to ruin a great friendship with her idiotic feelings, god forbid!

So, not that Raja randomly asking her to make out the other day had thrown Manila’s world off its axis anything, just… ugh.

They kept walking, and Raja kept talking to herself. Admittedly, she was making some great points about Plato.

“Carmen’s kinda mad at you, by the way,” said Raja, turning to her. Her deep brown eyes were a little bloodshot, but still shockingly intense and beautiful.

“Why?” asked Manila, glancing at the blue, open sky instead. It was a lovely day.

“‘Cause you unlocked metallic Peach the other day. She wanted to unlock metallic Peach.”

“Tell her the day she beats me at literally one round of Smash Bros is the day I’ll stop unlocking stuff for her,” said Manila.

“This is just as bad as the Mario Kart Incident last April,” said Raja, who was still looking at her, and then added, in an apparent non-sequitur, “Hey, has anyone ever told you you’re like really pretty?”

“Yeah, my mom,” replied Manila sarcastically, but her heart beat a little faster with the compliment.

“No, come on!” replied Raja, with a blissed-out expression and a goofy smile, “You are, though. Your hair is like so nice-“

Manila didn’t know what to say. Getting this kind of attention from Raja wasn’t something she’d anticipated happening, it was making her feel vulnerable and a little turned on, and she wanted to believe that it meant something… but doubt congealed in her stomach. It didn’t mean anything beyond a casual, well-intentioned, platonic expression of attraction. This was just how Raja was.

“Shut up!” laughed Manila semi-hysterically, impulsively pushing Raja in response. Raja was stoned and off-balance enough that she tripped and fell into the neighbour’s garden with an indignant squawk. Manila felt bad for a split second, then laughed out loud.

“Hey!” protested Raja, picking herself up from the enormous hosta plant she’d fallen into, her long black hair in her face, “I thought you liked me!”

“I do like you, you don’t need to worry about that!” said Manila over her shoulder, maintaining a joking attitude and walking up the steps to her house.

“You’re the worst,” whined Raja, making a face, then flipping her off in a friendly goodbye. Manila returned the gesture.

Manila went inside and got a snack from the kitchen, said hi to her roommate Shangela who’d just gotten out of the shower, and went into her room. Manila dropped her backpack to the ground and flopped down on her bed. 

It was simple: Raja was blazed as usual and messing with her, that was all. But if there was anything Manila was good at, it was messing with people in return.

-

Raja wasn’t used to being rejected. She was, after all, very cool, extremely sexy, highly intelligent and always had weed. Clearly a catch! But apparently not to Manila. Raja knew Manila liked her, Manila had specifically said so the other day! They were already friends, they understood each other’s humour, and they hung out regularly, which was half the battle when it came to getting involved with somebody, even casually.

So, at Morgan’s Hallowe’en party, Raja found herself on the enormous, crumby couch, passing a blunt back and forth with Manila and several others. Some mid-2000s hip hop music played in the background, and way too many people were packed into the space in ridiculous costumes. Manila was pressed in next to her on the crowded couch. Earlier Raja had noted Raven somewhere at the other end of the house, pointedly ignoring her, which was ideal.

Manila somehow managed to look incredibly cute while dressed as Weird Al Yankovic, fake moustache and all, which was a feat in and of itself. Raja was dressed as Raoul Duke from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, because she related to him on a spiritual level, and already had the sunglasses for it. Their dumb costumes even matched, both featuring ugly Hawaiian shirts. Manila was cracking a joke with Carmen on her other side, and Raja figured this was as good an opportunity as any. Raja slung a casual arm around Manila, passed the blunt back to her and whispered in her ear, “Do you wanna make out?”

Manila put the blunt to her lips and inhaled deeply, the end glowing orange as Raja waited with anticipation for her answer, excitement mounting in her stomach.

With a smirk, Manila blew a lungful of smoke into Raja’s face, then she rested her hand on Raja’s thigh, and leaned in. Raja’s heartbeat accelerated.

Manila shut her eyes and Raja shut hers too, barely able to believe it was happening. Manila’s lips brushed against hers, soft, thrilling, just the barest hint of contact-

Manila pulled back abruptly, and Raja opened her eyes, confused. 

Manila gave her an absolutely shit-eating grin and declared, “Nope!”

Raja’s jaw, along with her mood, dropped with disappointment. An odd moment passed between them. Through her haze Raja realized, with Manila’s shit-eating grin and her hand on still suggestively on her thigh, that Manila was mocking her. Raja, totally stoned, asking her to make out with for a second time with the exact same line had inevitably, painfully, become a joke. 

Raja huffed, insulted, and turned away. Manila cackled.

On Raja’s other side someone new sat down, a pretty, athletic and tanned girl with dirty blonde hair, her amazing body in clad in what was basically red lingerie and devil horns. Raja recognized her, she was that girl a year or two below them who went running with Manila sometimes. She was laughing, her head thrown back, at something another blonde beside her was saying.

Raja tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Hey, you’re cute, do you wanna make out?”

The girl blinked at her in shock, and then grinned, and said, “Uh, oh my god, yeah.”

“Great.”

“Damn, you’re so direct, I’ve had a crush on you like forev-”

Raja ignored her, took her face in her hands and leaned in. Their lips met and the girl let out an excited gasp. She tasted like Jack Daniels and smelled like tropical perfume. Nice. And she was a great kisser, with an enthusiastic and knowing tongue. The girl’s warm hands immediately went to Raja’s shoulders. Around them a few people oohed and laughed, and Raja caressed the girl’s lower back and practically pulled her into her lap. Raja’s bucket hat fell off the back of her head.

Manila was still laughing at something on Raja’s other side, but her laughter stopped abruptly, and Raja felt the couch shift as Manila stood up. Raja broke the kiss for a moment and glanced over her shoulder in time to see Manila stomp away, furious jealousy in every line of her body, throwing her fake glasses to the floor.

That’s right, burn.

Smug, Raja went back to making out with the blonde chick in her lap, their hands wandering all over each other until someone yelled at them to get a room. May as well. Raja got up and led the girl into Morgan’s messy bedroom and shut the door.

“You know you’re like a legend around here, right?” chuckled the blonde girl, grasping the edge of Raja’s shirt and pulling her down onto the bed with her, “By the way, my name’s Willam-”

“That’s nice,” replied Raja, crawling on top of her, kissing her neck and getting down to business.

-

It became an inside joke.

Manila had barely managed to pull it off, because coming so close to kissing Raja had been horribly thrilling, (electric, overwhelming, transcendent), and she’d wanted so badly for it to be real, to be anything other than just a stoned-and-low-key-horny suggestion on Raja’s part-

So, despite Manila’s burst of jealousy over Raja’s makeout session at the Hallowe’en party with Willam, her gym buddy of all people, their friendship remained strong and uninterrupted. Manila didn’t hold it against Willam either, who’d been all too happy to talk about it at their next cardio and gossip session, because Raja was generally irresistible. Manila sure as hell wasn’t going to let it get to her. After all, this kind of thing was in the nature of a friendship that largely consisted of roasting each other to death over a high-octane flame.

As the week passed the joke got even funnier. Raja got over sulking about it, and started purposefully asking Manila to make out at the most hilarious, awkward, and inopportune times.

For example:

Playing Smash Bros at Raja’s house late on a Saturday night with Delta and Carmen, everybody squashed on the couch: “Can we make out if I win?” “As if you’d ever beat me, bitch.” “It’s true Raja, you kind of suck at Nintendo-” “Shut up!”

Hollered across the quad, much to Manila’s embarrassment and Raja’s enjoyment, in front of a crowd of freshman, “Hey Manila, you wanna come over here and make out!?” “Go shove your tongue down somebody else’s throat!” “Aw, rude!”

In the hallway after class, just as Professor O’Hara walked by, loudly: “Wanna come back to my place and make out?” “Oh my god, Raja!” “Ladies.” “Sorry, professor!”

Whispered in the library, “Do you wanna go into the stacks and make out?” “Write your essay.” “I’m done, though-“ “What, already!?”

Even Delta and Carmen got in on it, and Manila had to dodge the question from them too. Teasing, sexy requests of, Hey, wanna make out, Manila? followed her around, as Manila clapped back hilarious retorts to gales of laughter. It was fun and Manila rode the wave of attention with aplomb.

Manila figured that this particular’s joke’s shelf life would only last as long as any other and would soon fade into oblivion, replaced by whatever came next, and Manila would never have to address or bring to light her feelings for Raja.

In her opinion, she’d handled the situation perfectly. And Manila praised herself for it as she ran her usual route, glancing up at Raja’s house as she ran by.

But every night before she fell asleep, a little voice tugged at the back of her brain and said, maybe you shouldn’t mock people when they express attraction to you, that’s kind of fucked up, and she’s your friend, maybe she actually does like you back- Manila aggressively quashed it.

-

“Hey, so,” said Raja, on the way to the library with Manila to buckle down and write their philosophy papers together as the end of term approached, “Why don’t you want to make out with me? Like, I’m a total catch.”

It hadn’t previously occurred to her to ask, but maybe this would help her get a leg up on the situation. Ideally Manila’s leg. Ideally up on her shoulder while Raja ate her out, and Manila blushed pink like she sometimes did, and tangled her hands in Raja’s hair, and gasped and arched her back and- that was neither here nor there. As hilarious as it was, the joke had been driving Raja a little insane. If Manila had said, in any seriousness, that she wanted Raja to stop asking, Raja would have. But she hadn’t, Manila had leaned in to the silly, flirtatious back and forth. 

Instead of forgetting about it, the endless teasing and parody of the matter had only reinforced what Raja wanted in the first place.

“Well,” said Manila after a pause, adjusting her heavy bag and glancing at the cloudy sky, “You don’t take school very seriously.”

“What?” laughed Raja, who’d been expecting something more along the lines of I’m genuinely not attracted to you or I think I want to date guys again, “Is that really it? I totally do!”

“No you don’t, you’re a huge stoner.”

“Yeah but thats just for fun, I’m like really smart,” replied Raja, grinning, “You should see my GPA.”

“Mmm no, you’re real dumb,” sassed Manila. She shook her head and her curly hair, up in a high ponytail again today, bounced with the motion and Raja wanted to run her fingers through it. “You’re a total goofball and everyone knows it. You show up to class high! I have like a 3.82, and I want to keep it there.”

“How would making out with me affect your grades?”

“They say you are what you eat…”

They both exploded into laughter, causing the other students walking down the busy campus path to throw irritated glances their way.

“Bitch,” replied Raja, elbowing her, “A 3.82 is nothing-”

“Hey, no,” protested Manila, stopping and turning to her, “It’s like really good, don’t talk down my accomplishments just because you’re jealous-“

“I have a 3.91.”

Manila opened and shut her mouth in shock, before responding, “No you don’t, you’re lying.”

“No I’m not.”

“Prove it.”

“Sure,” chuckled Raja, taking out her phone and going to the school website, launching the grading centre, pulling up her current transcript and grade point average, “Look.”

Raja handed Manila her phone, gloating. The screen read 3.91847. Manila took it and her eyes narrowed, and she scrolled up to check that it was actually Raja’s name at the top, then back down again. 

“Guess I do take school seriously,” taunted Raja, unable to suppress the urge to tease her.

With unexpected force, Manila shoved the phone back into Raja’s hands.

“Whatever!” snapped Manila, rushing ahead furiously.

“Hey, where are you going?” called Raja after her, laughing, “Don’t be mad just ‘cause I get better grades than you-“

“I’ll see you at the library!” snarled Manila over her shoulder, power walking down the street.

Raja watched Manila walk away, pleased that she’d proven her wrong her but confused as to why she was so mad. Raja wandered into the little smoking area with a couple of scraggly trees and fished in her bag for a tiny joint she’d hidden there earlier. She found it and lit up, inhaling the comforting smoke. Just a little something to help get those creative and intellectual juices flowing…

-

After a few hours of work in the library while Raja pumped dreamwave tunes through her headphones directly into her skull and wrote her philosophy paper, she looked up and noticed Manila sighing deeply for like the fourth time.

“What’s up?” whispered Raja, taking her headphones off.

“Nothing,” whispered Manila back. Her eyebrows were scrunched together.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Fine.”

Raja put her headphones back on, without music, and wrote a few more sentences, pausing to check her references. She was going to get a hundred percent on this paper, she already knew it. Raja had been a bit of a child prodigy in terms of reading and writing comprehension, and her memory, her research skills, her grasp of history, literature, sociology and philosophy were outstanding. Her two dads were loving and supportive hippies who let her do whatever she wanted, so her sense of freedom and confidence had soared throughout her college career along with her grades.

“I can’t believe you have a higher GPA than me,” complained Manila, under her breath.

Raja took her headphones off again and gloated, “Yep, this huge stoner right here is better at school than you.”

Manila glared at her, then sighed again. Raja smirked, but her face fell, because Manila actually looked sad. And tired. There were lines under her eyes. Sympathy tugged at Raja’s stomach. 

“Well, a 3.82 is really good,” began Raja, shutting her laptop and leaning forward, “Like, it’s above average-”

“Don’t be patronizing,” said Manila, shaking her head, closing her laptop and gathering up her books, “I can’t work on this anymore, let’s head out.”

“Okay, sure,” said Raja, getting up. A few people at other tables were glaring at them anyway, angry about the interruption of the silence. Raja wanted to make Manila feel better, and wondered how.

They left the library, walking together through the dark evening in the direction of home. It was a clear night, and the stars were just visible. Raja dug around in her bag for a joint but couldn’t find one.

“I have that good spicy instant ramen and Cheetos at home,” suggested Raja after a few minutes, “It’s not that late if you want to come over.“

“So we can make out?” added Manila sarcastically.

“No,” replied Raja, “Just to like decompress, I dunno, I’m hungry, I thought you might be too…”

“Do you ever eat vegetables?”

“Weed is a plant.”

Manila laughed and shook her head.

“What’s bothering you?” pressed Raja. 

“I try like, really hard,” said Manila, after a pause, “I take college seriously, and my parents have such high expectations of me, I just- I put so much work into it and you-” Manila gestured at her, “You fucking coast, Raja. Look at yourself. You get stoned all the time, you party and play Nintendo. And honestly, you treat the girls you date like they’re disposable, Raven’s reaction wasn’t that unreasonable… but everyone still likes you, you somehow have a perfect GPA and you look amazing-”

“Yeah, I do look amazing,” agreed Raja, with a smile. She decided to ignore the middle part of what Manila had said.

“-and you have the self-awareness of a fruit bat.”

Raja looked carefully at Manila. Her expression was tired and frustrated, the orange glow of the streetlight catching in her hair. Despite the way they constantly roasted one another, Raja cared about her, and it saddened her to hear that Manila was feeling the pressure of… well, everything.

Self-awareness. Hmm. Raja could work on that. Maybe that was the key to getting Manila to see that she wasn’t joking, that Raja genuinely, unexpectedly, to her own surprise, really liked her.

“So,” said Raja, as they approached her house, the living room light shining like a beacon, indicating that Delta or Carmen was still up, “Instant ramen and Cheetos? You can kick my ass at Smash Bros, that always makes you feel better.”

“You know what, sure,” replied Manila, rolling her eyes, a smile at the edge of her mouth, “I’m gonna hand you your ass on a silver platter, bitch. Especially since you always insist on playing as Yoshi for some reason…”

Raja smiled to herself as they went up the front steps to her door.

[dayseternal-blog]

A Hanahaki AU -

Summary: She knit a red scarf for him.  She never gave it to him.  Days turned into months, months turned into too late.

Naruto starts dating. Hinata decides to move on.

A sickness takes root in the heart.

Inspired by SasuSaku fanfic “Medicine” by @grimmjowkurosakidrake

Rating: Mature

Read Chapter 1: Smoke on her tongue

Read Chapter 2: He’s not a ghost

Read Chapter 3: Weeds

Chapter 4: Leave himself behind

Delicately crimson maples burn against the blue sky.  Pale gold ginkgo leaves fan across the dry grounds.  A fountain warbles up ahead, its bubbling growing clearer to her senses.

It’s quiet.  The area of the park he took her to fairly secluded, far away from the hustle and bustle of Konoha central.

Despite all the muddled things that have happened, the afternoon is too peaceful, too beautiful.

“Please.  Let me make it up to you.”

She hesitated.  She turned her face down.

“...Hinata.”

He had only ever been sincere with her.  

She looked up.

And was surprised.

Hope, a caring smile, gently lit his face.

How she has been wanting to hope, too...

Susumu slows, bringing them to a pause along the path.

She stops beside him, glances up at him, and recognizes the weight across his brow, realizes that...he wants to talk.

But she doesn’t.  

She still doesn’t know what she wants, what would be best, what the right thing to do is.  For him...for herself.  She wishes she could freeze time, just let every day be a tranquil autumn mid-morning, the fountain ahead the greatest curiosity to consider.  

Sakura was right that she wasn’t ready to date.

But now that she’s in the thick of it, should she just stop?  No amount of crying, worrying, sleepless nights have helped her figure out her feelings, and she keeps thinking, “time heals,” but how does it do that?  Has she no control or say over this?  Can she not push it along?

“...For the other night, I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head, confused, an apology completely unnecessary from him.  “N-no, I was the one..”  She lets that thought trail out.  The memory hurts more than she knows she has any right to feel.  It’s embarrassing, it’s regretful.  “I’m the one who’s sorry,” she finishes quietly.

He lets out a long breath.  “I wanted it to be special for us.”

She wanted her first to be “special,” too.  She had a lot of romantic notions--the most important facet, the man she wished to share it with, an impossibility.  It’s too late now.  And she’ll get nothing by thinking of it.

“I thought, well, away from others...when the mood was right.  I wanted it to be something you would remember.  In a good way.”

She keeps her eyes averted to the forest floor.  An ache settles in her chest.  “It was my own fault.”

He quiets, perhaps processing her words.  “...Why did you...?” he asks softly.  

Why did she kiss him last night?  Why…well, out of anything, this she knows quite clearly now.  “I...I don’t know if I can find anyone else.”  She keeps her eyes firmly on the ground, feels her own words itch across her skin.

She realizes belatedly that she shouldn’t have told him that.  Those words of self-doubt weren’t meant for him to know.  They were meant to be bottled up inside, they were meant for being whispered in Sakura’s strict confidence.  

More silence follows her admission, broken only as he tentatively laces his fingers into hers.  “What do you want from me?”

The question sucks the air out of her, leaving only a sour sensation of her own inadequacy.  She doesn’t even know what she wants from herself.  Speechless, she quickly glances up at him to gauge his expression, his emotions.

He’s watching her.  He gives no further guidance, no options for her to pick from…

She needs to decide.

She searches him, for any kind of clue or sign.  Her mind feels like radio silence.

She waits.  Waits for the right words to come, waits for a feeling to push her to do or say something.  Anything.

Nothing.

An emptiness that stretches into more and more nothing until the silence itself is louder than the rustle of the wind in the trees, the confusion on his face, the unknowns of his thoughts, overwhelming, she feels too suddenly like the girl of ten years younger.  Indecisive, hesitant, weak-willed, cowering in the face of something greater than herself.  

Love never chooses cowards like her.

He sighs, an aggravated, hard breath, one that tells her she’s pushed his patience too far.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, gathering any bit of strength she has to hold back tears--that shame would be excessively too much, but even she can hear the slight thickness in her voice.

He lets go of her hand, his fingers curling into a fist.

“I…”  She takes a deep breath, effort upon effort to control herself.  “I don’t want to be a waste of your time, but I just...  I don’t know.”  She can’t look at him.  She’s staring at the ground, blinking away the burn behind her eyes, calming herself until she can face him.

He steps closer, she can feel his heat, his arms coming around her in a hug that doesn’t ask for her to return it.  His cheek at the top of her head.  His chest rising and falling slowly, in deep breaths, against her own cheek.  “Hinata,” he starts.

She squeezes her eyes shut, the unexpected comfort making her shudder, freeze, stop breathing, until she’s sure she won’t cry.  She releases her breath slowly, carefully.

His hand rubs her back, the other gently around her.

It’s comforting.  But it also feels wrong.  The juxtaposition of her feelings plaguing her fully, and she wishes, she wishes she could just enjoy his affection, wishes she could just force herself to return it, her thoughts considering for a second hugging him back, make herself just act it until she feels it in her heart, but, but,

Her heart breaks.

Pathetic.  The sharpness of her disappointment in herself sickening, scarring longer against her self-confidence, a self-hatred she hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Is it my face?” he asks, a bit of humor in his tone that makes her take pause.

She shakes her head, still hiding her own, pinched face in his easy hug.

“Theeen, is it my personality?” he guesses.

She shakes her head, and decides she owes him a very certain, “No.”

“Did you miss me?” he asks lowly.

Her eyes pinch closed only tighter.  She nods.  But she knows it’s not for the right reasons.  She missed him because she was and is pathetic.  Pathetically lonely.

“...Do you think you can come to like me?”

“I like you…” she softly murmurs.

“But you don’t...not really...”

She stills, unconsciously holding her breath.

He exhales slowly, heavily.  He carefully backs away, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, before dropping to his sides.  His tone quiet, careful, “Just to be transparent with you, I think it’s best if I start seeing other girls.”

She can feel his gaze searching hers, almost asking for her permission, or agreement.  She finally nods, a knot stuck in her throat.  Her chance with him is really over.

He nods, too, his face turning away.  “Um, yeah.”  His eyes shift to hers.  “You’re beautiful, so you shouldn’t worry about finding someone else.”

She holds in her discomfort.  No one has ever complimented her appearance so easily as much as he has, and she never got used to it.

“The man you love will be one lucky bastard.”

She scrunches her nose at the swear word, shaking her head slightly in disbelief.

He almost smiles.

She knows she was the lucky one.  That he gave her a second chance was more than she deserved.  And she really needs to tell him so.  He only did his best to build her up.  She never really did anything for him.  Never told him exactly what she thought of him.  “You’re kind..really patient..and...handsome…”  She’s never said that to anyone before, but he also deserves to know it.  As easily as he ever told her that she’s beautiful.  “I was the lucky one, that you gave me a second chance…thank you.  And the girl who receives you will be even luckier.”

He runs his hand through his hair, then sighs again.  His brows furrow together.  “Don’t kiss me again, okay?  I might not let you off so easily next time.”  Despite the reprimand, his tone sounds joking.

And she nods seriously, apologetically, sincerely.  “I’m sorry.”

“And don’t apologize to me again,” he adds, softer.  “It’s okay.”

It certainly wasn’t okay.  She knows that much.  She sent him mixed signals until the end, making him suffer from her own mixed-up head, and it just wasn’t okay.  But his forgiveness is a miracle.  It’s a miracle that he doesn’t seem to hate her.

“Can I walk you home?”

She doesn’t know how he can seem so at peace in this moment.  She’s sure that the disappointment tugging at her own consciousness must be so much heavier in his, but she accepts his offer.

They walk silently back, no more words to say to each other that would seem right, and she fears that that’s just how it is.  Perhaps that’s just how break-ups should be.  

At her gate, he nods in lieu of a farewell.

Then she bows, an action to convey all of her indebtedness to him, then watches him turn around and head off, and as she enters her home, she realizes she feels a little more at peace, too.

*

She feels a lightness of air, a brighter atmosphere, a kind of clarity about her.

There’s no rush.

Rushing herself will only make her feel worse.  Forcing herself will only put her under unnecessary pressure.

It’s okay.

If Susumu can be okay, then she can be okay, too.

It’s okay.

Even if it’s not okay, it can be.  She can be okay.

She can do other things.

Maybe not see other guys.

And definitely not see Naruto.

But she can just keep busy.

Spend more time with Hanabi.

Train more.  Improve herself.

Just let time happen.

*

It’s after a mission on their return to the village, and all that they have left to worry about is their report, that she informs Kiba and Shino that they broke up.

They stare at her, their simple dinner temporarily forgotten.

Kiba finally blinks at her, coming out of his stupor.  “Who broke up with who?”

“I guess…”  She considers saying that they simply broke up with each other, but that wasn’t really the case.  “He broke up with me.”

Shino sits a little taller, but his silent reaction is eclipsed by Kiba’s, “What?”

She opens her mouth to repeat herself, but Kiba shakes his head, catching himself.

“I mean, sorry.  Are you okay?”

She nods.  There were probably a lot more reasons, like, if looked at as negatively as possible, she was “playing” with him.  Using him to figure herself out, and that’s about the lowest she’s ever gone, the worst she’s ever been, the worst anyone can ever be.  And now, only now can she see how miserable she was, how awful she was.  She’s not okay okay now, but she’s..okay.  Getting there, maybe.  Probably a whole world better than before.

“You two seemed fine...can I ask why?” Kiba asks, his considerate hesitation an effort he rarely exerts.

She smiles in appreciation and shakes her head.  “He broke up with me..because I didn’t have the confidence to do it myself,” she admits.  

“He broke up with you because he could tell that you wanted to break up with him,” Shino rephrases.

Hinata considers Shino’s words, deciding that it’s not quite right.  “Actually, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to break up with him.  I think he just thought it would be best if we broke up.”

“And has it been for the better?” Shino asks evenly.

“Yes.”  It really has been, so she repeats it to solidify it.  “Yes, it’s been better.”  The sureness of her own tone is comforting.  Rather than holding everything in, she’s found that talking about this, with Sakura, with Kurenai, Shino, Kiba, even Hanabi, has been helping her feel less heavy.  Less lonely.

“That’s good, then.”  And Kiba smiles at her nod.

Shino leans forward, makes sure that she can feel his attention even through his dark glasses.  “We’re always here if you need us, Hinata.”

There are so many, many supportive people around her.  Teammates, friends, family.

She doesn’t need him.

She knows she’s never needed him.

She supposes it was never about need, though.

There was a time in her life when he was everything to her, if not a need, it was that-

I loved him.

...Loved?

It’s an endless ache to realize she’s grasping at that swollen sore in her heart, doing her best to pull him out, as if leaving him somewhere behind in her present will help the space in her heart (that was molded just for him, by him) close up in her future, or maybe maybe maybe, maybe one day, hold another.

(After all, not possible.)

(If he’s not there, then what’s supposed to be?)

(Nothing?)

It’s okay if she still cries.

Cries to mourn a one-sided joy. 

Only ever infinite to her, never to him. 

The feelings she’s harbored, collected drops of memories, hopes, visions of him in a bag fit to burst with all the affection she ever had only dreamed to reveal to him, splashes of it leaking out in her words and actions to and for him, momentous to her, colossal in effort and courage to rein in or show in measured, limitless beats of her heart.

But landing ultimately, colorlessly flat.

Whether at his feet, in his eyes, ears, mind, if not reaching his heart, she never landed anywhere.

(It’s okay.)

*

For avoiding anything to do with him, she’s been hearing a lot about him.

That he and his girlfriend are fighting, he’s been angry.

That he’s been taken off missions until further notice.

That he’s been really sick, he has a chakra illness.

That he hasn’t been leaving his apartment at all.

Despite her best, her very best efforts to not think about him, the rumors worry her.  Well, they worry everyone in the village.

How sick is he?  Why is he sick?  Will he get better?  Why is he angry?  From being sick?

What’s true and what’s not?

The rumors must have started with some bits of truth from the girlfriend.

Misplaced, ugly temper spikes at Rumi.

How can she be fighting with him if he’s so sick?  Isn’t she taking care of him?

...She must be.

If Rumi loves him, she must be.

If it were her...she would…

It doesn’t matter.

It’s not her place to worry about him.

It’s okay.

And Naruto will be okay, too.  He always pulls himself up.

*

She actively does her best to not think about him, worry about him, wonder about his health as the rumors are...rumored...to run with truth.  But time gives her no reprieve.

October 10.

The anniversary of the end of the war.

It’s been their tradition over the last two years to arrive at the cemetery early on occasions like this, around 6:00 in the morning.  To place white lilies at her cousin’s grave.  To stay together in quiet conversation or silent prayer until the sun kisses the war monument and other early-goers begin breaking the morning chill.

She’s not sure if she should go.

She knows she should go.

But she’s not sure if...she should go.  Because maybe she shouldn’t go.

The anticipation that used to fill her for this early morning moment, the fondness that warmed her despite the dry autumn cool, are gone, lost, replaced with racing anxiety.

He might not even come.  With how sick he’s been, if the rumor is true, he shouldn’t overexert himself.

She’ll go with her family later in the day, as she always does.

But, she’s awake now.  She has flowers in a vase in the washing sink, ready to go.

And what if he goes?

It’s his birthday.

And that would be really, really awful of her if she didn’t show up, and he did.  Even if she couldn’t bring herself to get him anything this time...not after her failed confession last winter, or her almost-actually-not-really-at-all-a-confession on his birthday last year…

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to bake chocolate for him.  She could’ve chosen anything, anything, and she chose a mini chocolate cake.  As if to announce her love to him.  Maybe that’s just what she wanted to do.  Tell him the truth of her feelings.

No, no.  She couldn’t do that.  Not when they were finally getting along so easily.  Not when it seemed like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to notice her.  She wanted to be sure before she did anything.

She was so nervous, her heart fluttering like the tiny, red maple leaves twirling from the trees, crinkling through her arms and legs, when she saw him leaning against one of the posts of the large gates to the cemetery.  He was effortlessly beautiful.

He smiled, waved with his free hand, his grin banishing the crisp cold and the early morning dusty blue dark, her pulse resetting to an exuberant race.

He never knew how happy he made her.  And it pleased her, warmed her all over, to know she could communicate a little of that today.

She quickly went to him, uncaring if she appeared too eager, because...well, because.  He made her forget herself.

He didn’t seem to notice the bag she carefully toted along with the bouquet of lilies, he seemed to think nothing of it, and the handles burned in her tightened grip.  She’d give it to him when they were leaving.  A part of her wanted to relieve herself of the stress right now, but she reasoned that she didn’t want to inconvenience him. 

They walked straight to Neji’s grave.  By now, this being his...fourth time?...Naruto seemed to know exactly where it was, and he confidently led the way.  For all she knew, maybe he had visited on his own, too.  For herself, it was far, far over her hundredth time.  She had long ago lost count of her visits.

He greeted the headstone as if Neji stood there, instead.  “‘Morning, Neji!”

She scrunched a small smile, dazzled by his wide, self-satisfied grin, and she followed suit, copying his cheery attitude.  “Good morning, Neji-niisan.”

“We’re back!”  He nodded, leaving an opening for her to add on, and she just smiled, enjoying it.  But he toned down, his voice lower when he said, “We brought these for you.”  He lifted his lilies in gesture, bent down and placed them near the grave, and flipped the cup over.  He reached into his utility pocket, pulling out shears for her.  “I’ll go get the water.”

“Thank you,” she managed to murmur to him before he left.  She settled in front of the grave and began to unwrap the bouquets.

By the time he returned, she was almost through clipping the stems.  

He began taking the shortened ones, arranging them neatly into the cup.  “This cup is too small.  We should start bringing our own cups.  Are we allowed to bring our own cups?  What would they do with it?  Would they just throw it away?” he chatted quietly.

“Mm, I think they throw everything away after about a week.”

“Ahh that’s such a waste.”

She hummed her agreement.  “But that’s a good idea, Naruto-kun.  Maybe next time I’ll bring a taller container.  Then we wouldn’t have to clip the stems and leaves so much.”

“It would look nicer than just laying the flowers all over him.”  He suddenly started to snicker.

She glanced at him, his shoulders shaking with quiet, gleeful laughter.  An image of Neji lying on the ground, steadily getting surrounded and covered in bouquets of flowers, a deepening grimace of annoyance marring his usually serious features, rose to her mind’s eye.  She couldn’t help but laugh with him, the thought too ridiculous to not react to.

He bumped shoulders with her playfully, the careless action sending heat up her neck, making her bite her lips, making her remember herself.

“Naruto-kun,” she quietly scolded.  He always made her laugh when they came here.  Laughing in a cemetery was not at all appropriate.  Especially for today.

He side-eyed her, his chin pulling down in a comically judgmental expression.  “What, you laughed, too!”

“Shhh...No, I didn’t.”  A blatant lie.  But he always made her feel silly.

“Psh, yeah, sure, right…”

“Mhm.”  She finished clipping all of the flowers and pushed a few into the cup.  She gathered the leftover ones and tied them back together, laying them beside his grave.

He was watching her, squinting at her, she could feel it, and it took everything in her to not violently blush.

When he didn’t look away, she turned to him, a smile of embarrassment edging up on her.  “What is it?”

He blinked, his brows lifted, he looked away as if he hadn’t been staring at her.  “Nothing.”  But he was grinning.

She glanced away, a little confused, only to feel him obviously watching her again.  Quickly turning to him, she asked, “What?”

He turned back.  “Nothing,” he insisted.

She studied him, his silent, smug laughter bunching in his cheeks.  It was too late, she was blushing, and she was already at new levels of silliness.  “What nothing?”

“Nothing means nothing, y’know?  I was just watching ya!”  His admission was too easy, too shameless.

Her nerves were no match for that.  Her embarrassed confusion and badly hidden happiness must have been all over her face because he laughed harder.  Unable to take it, she buried her face in her hands, patted her cheeks multiple times as if to beat back the warmth of her blush, wondered if it was possible to go insane with happiness.

His laughter calmed to quiet chuckles, and she eventually lifted her face.

She hugged her knees together protectively to hide the frenetic beating of her heart.  She laid her head on her knees, pouted at him beside her.  Found his gaze.

Blue, blue eyes shined with something warm.

She blinked, surprised.

He grinned, the previous expression lost in his teasing smile, and he turned to look at the headstone.

They stayed quiet like that for longer, the lifting haze over the grounds calling the approach of dawn.

She gave her prayers, the ones she had repeated a million times to his grave in the stillness of early mornings and late afternoons.  Never with any less sincerity.  They held her deeper feelings she didn’t often have time to sift through, of regret, of appreciation, of love.  She thanked him, a number never to be counted, for his sacrifice, for the change he brought to their clan, for the numerous lives he saved besides her own and the precious one beside her.

She hoped Neji knew.  She hoped he knew without a doubt what a hero he was.  How he would always be her hero, would always be her inspiration, her older brother.  No amount of visits and flowers would ever equate to everything she owes him, but she hoped it would make up at least a fraction of her feelings.

Naruto sat silently beside her.  His own expression was solemn.

When the shadows began to lift, gold glinting off the monument, and more voices filled the spaces between, he shifted and looked at her in a question.

But she wasn’t quite ready to go, she still had one thing to do.  Her fingers twisted into the bag.  Her chest tightened, heat filled her palms.  “Um…”

“Hm?”

“...Um…”

“What is it?”

She looked away, suddenly unsure of what she was about to do.  What if he didn’t even like cake?

Naruto drew closer, his tone suddenly concerned.  “What’s wrong?”

Surprised, she replied, “Oh, nothing’s wrong!”  Only to realize she now needed to come up with something to explain her behavior.  And the truth came out.  “I brought something for you...for your birthday.”

“Oh.”  His worried expression morphed, she could see realization lighting his features.  It was beautiful, like joy blooming in slow motion.  “Really?”  It sounded almost like he didn’t dare to believe it.

It gave her confidence.  She brought the box out of the bag to show it to him.

He took it, looked at it, looked at her, as if incredulous to even be holding a box.  “I’m gonna open it now.”

She nodded.

He peeled off the sticker sealing the lid, lifted it, his smile widened.  “Cake!”

“Mhm.”

“You...didn’t make it yourself, did you?”

“Mhm.”

“You did?”

“Mhm.”

“..Wow!...”  He admired it longer.

It wasn’t much.  She tried hard to not go overboard.  She made it small enough for one person to eat.  The most effort was in the birthday wish and his name, piped as neatly as she could on a flat, white chocolate piece placed on the top of the cake.  She decorated it with little swirls to symbolize his Uzumaki name.  She wasn’t worried about the taste because she made a second cake, just so that she could taste-test one...maybe she went overboard.  Hopefully he couldn’t tell.

“Wow, Hinata!” he exclaimed again.  “Wow!”  He looked at her, looked at it again.  Smile unfading.  “Wow…”  He stared at it for so long, she wondered what he was looking at.  “...wow…”

He liked it, and that obvious fact made her heart soar.  “..You can have this bag, too, to carry it in.”

He nodded, looked up, eyes cerulean soft.  “Gee, Hinata.  Thank you.”

She smiled, feeling shy with how sincere his reaction was.  “Happy birthday, Naruto-kun.”

His smile grew, he seemed shy, too.  He looked at it a little longer before closing it, then put it back in the bag.  “Thanks, Hinata.”

“It was no problem.  I..hope you like it.”

“I will,” he said, his voice as sure as always.

They left the cemetery, she was tingling, her smile an un-receding blush on her cheeks.

He sighed, a happy sound.

She glanced at him, he was smiling, eyes bright.

It was after that she decided to try to confess to him.  A doomed, misguided decision she couldn’t get herself to commit to in the end.  Perhaps for the best.  His affection already belonged to another.  His first girlfriend probably knit him that scarf, the green stripes an effort her own, solid red scarf didn’t show.  He probably wouldn’t have even remembered his old red scarf.  The meaning would have been lost on him anyway.

She has nothing to give to him this time.  He might not show up after all.

So she steps out of her house.

Heads to the cemetery.

Steels her resolve with each step, readies herself to face him, wonders if she’s managed to move on at all.

Has it been long enough?

No..., she considers bitterly.

She pauses, unwilling to subject herself to any more pain.

But he might not even be there.

He has a girlfriend, after all.

He shouldn’t spend time alone with another girl anyway.

Maybe he and Rumi will come together later on.

She takes a step back, unsure.  She doesn’t need to go.

But what if he’s there?

And just as suddenly, a memory: “What if Naruto and Rumi-chan break up.  What would you do?”

She stands there, two blocks from the cemetery, doubt confusing her.

Minutes pass as she calms herself into blankness.

This isn’t about romantic love.

This isn’t about her relationship with Naruto.

Today is about Neji.

No, every day is about her cousin, her only older brother.  She owes him her very life, every second, every breath.  He was one of the few people in her life who really believed in her and showed it, who took the time to improve her, who was always there for her.

By acting like this, isn’t she stepping on his memory?  Neji would never let her be so pathetic.  Even when he hated her, once upon a time, it was because she wasn’t stronger, wasn’t living up to her name and place.  

He gave her so much of his time and knowledge to help her, develop her.  Amazingly, he was more patient with her than her father ever was.  He pushed her past her limits, reminded her of her goals when she thought she was too tired to keep going, never once called her a failure or a disappointment during their trainings.

“Again.”  Neji stood ready, poised in his battle stance.  Hours of practice seemed to do nothing to him.  He was an immovable wall, straight and proud.

How often she wondered if she could ever be like him.

“Hinata-sama, up.”  His demand was calm, never frustrated.

She stood, her legs shaking, her joints aching, her very skin burning at the chakra points.  But she was up.  And that’s what mattered.  

Neji proved to her that as long as she could stand, she could keep going.  He trained her into a tenacious spirit.

Or so she thought.

Just last year, she felt she was everything he wished her to be.  She felt like she had grown into a kunoichi he would be proud of.

What about now?

Letting her indecision and hesitation ruin herself, ruin others.  Letting herself wither in self-pity.  Letting herself rely on others for comfort, when he always told her to dig deeper within herself.

If she can’t face her weaknesses, her fears, then she really is useless.

And Neji didn’t save her so that she could waver uselessly about like this.

She needs to go.

For Neji.

For herself.

She steps toward the gates of the cemetery.  Empty.  And it’s okay.  She passes rows and rows of headstones, finds Neji’s, empty, no visitors.  It’s her alone at his grave.

And that’s okay.

That’s better than okay.

This is what she needs right now.  If he comes later, then he comes.

And that’s okay, too.

Today is for Neji.

And she’s okay.

She’s okay.

She’s glad she came.

****

He isn’t prepared for something like this.

He’s never been like this with anyone.

Why is everything like this now?

Naruto stays in bed, there’s no reason to get up.  No place to go.  No one to see.

His girlfriend hasn’t come to check on him.

And he’s not going to do a single thing about that.

He shouldn’t be the one to apologize first.  Not this time.

So…

She has to apologize first.

And he’s just going to wait.

It feels stupid.

Those books about dating didn’t say anything about this.  Stupid girlfriends and stupid fights and stupid feelings…Something’s wrong with him.

This heavy, gut-deep feeling twisting his insides, filling him with a restlessness, something close to, similar to, when Sasuke left the village.  But he could do something about that.  He could chase after him, find him, punch the stupid out of him, and that was that.

He’s disgusted to think that this time, the stupid is in himself.  Sakura always told him he was stupid, but he never let himself take her words to heart.

Kanae couldn’t deal with him.  She dumped him within two months.  

He thought he was doing well with Rumi, but now…

He’s the common factor, after all, Even Hinata doesn’t-

The weight in his chest hardens in his throat.

He doesn’t fight it this time.  The empty plastic bag is ready by his bed, he just turns over and lets it go.

It burns, sharper than before, in his throat, behind his eyes, in his nose.

The flower plops out, wet petals splaying out.

But relief eludes him, his chest tightening painfully, he’s choking, hacking out labored coughs.

Slender green leaves, stiffer than the flower petals, slide out in his spit.

He grimaces at the sight, catching his breath, hating it, hating himself.

Obviously it’s worse, he realizes pretty soon he’ll be coughing out entire stalks.  Yet somehow, he can’t find it in himself to care enough to do something about it.

*

When he realizes he’s hungry, he returns to instant ramen, his version of comfort food.  Rumi tried to convince him to make okayu, that bland rice goop that takes a forever and a half on the stove to soften.  As if that would heal his chakra illness.  It’s not like he has a fever or a cold.  If it’s a sickness of his chakra, shouldn’t he just eat what he wants?

Well, what he really wants isn’t instant ramen.

He heads to Ichiraku when everyone else is in bed.  Ever since they turned 24 hours a few months ago, he had been making it a habit to go when no one else is out and about.  It lets him eat peacefully after or before missions, something he didn’t realize he’d ever want.  His younger self would never believe him if he said he was actively avoiding people’s attention.  

But tonight he just wants to enjoy ramen!  Ramen is his greatest companion!

When he arrives, only one older man is sitting at the bar.  They nod to each other in a silent hello.

Teuchi and Ayame aren’t manning the restaurant.  It’s their new-ish hire, Jun, who he’s gotten to know over the last few months.

“Naruto!” Jun greets.  “I haven’t seen you in awhile!”

“Yeah, it’s been...awhile.”  He can’t reason that he’s been busy.  Because he hasn’t been.  He can’t say that he’s been sick.  He doesn’t want to talk about that.

The cook gestures to a flyer on the wall near the menu.  His name, NARUTO, is printed in bubble lettering over a picture of a steaming bowl of ramen covered in sliced narutomaki and pork.  “Do you want to try your special item?”

It’s already that time…  The end of the war.  His birthday, too, in just a few days.  He had it once last year when Ichiraku first started commemorating the anniversary in his honor.  It is miso ramen, his favorite.  He shrugs.  “Sure.”

“One Naruto Special coming right up!”  Jun begins portioning out the noodles for him.  “What brings you out so late tonight?  You have a mission?”

Nothing goes his way these days, like Jun running straight to the heart of everything that’s annoying him right now.  His utter uselessness.  “Uh yeah, no…”

Jun raises a brow.

He can go a few ways with this, like lying, giving vague answers, or going all in with the truth.  Jun is someone with little stake in his personal life.  And he’s barely talked to anyone in the past week.  It’s only the rich scent of ramen keeping him from going berserk at this point.  “I’m sick, so I’ve been relieved from duty for awhile.”  The truth comes out.

“You have a cold or something?”

“No,” he sighs.  “A chakra illness.”

“...That sounds bad,” Jun states uncertainly.

“A chakra illness?”  The stranger nearby jumps into their conversation.  A fellow shinobi, by the looks of it.

Naruto shrugs to show he doesn’t know much more about it.

“That’s serious!” the stranger continues.

“Ahh, no…”  Lies and vague answers.  “It’s not that serious.”

The man settles back.  “Hope you get better soon.”

“Me, too.”  Naruto knows he should go talk to Sakura.  He knows he should, but…

“So you haven’t been coming around because of your illness?” Jun continues.  “Last I heard, your girlfriend didn’t like it that you came here so often,” he laughs teasingly.

Every single topic he wants to avoid.  “Yeah…” he huffs out.  “It’s both.”  He doesn’t realize how aggravated he sounded until he sees Jun’s skeptical expression.

The shinobi a few stools down sounds out a knowing “Hmm!”

“Things aren’t going well with her?” Jun asks cautiously.

The question makes him stop.  And think.  Because it seems obvious that...things aren’t going well.  It’s too obvious.  But verbalizing that would make it too real.  More real than it already is.  So he answers with silence.

Jun nods sympathetically.  “It’s normal for people who are close to get into arguments sometimes.”

“Huh.”  He supposes that’s true.  He’s really close to Sasuke and Sakura.  So it makes sense that he’s constantly arguing with them.  But things were sorta always that way with them.  And the fights never seemed to last.  Minus when Sasuke defected.  With Rumi, it’s just...different.  Worse.  “I just feel like I can’t say what I want to say to her, like I’m always holding back.”

“Hmm!” the stranger sounds out again.

Naruto stares at the man, but he just nods and eats his ramen, now keeping his thoughts to himself.

Naruto doesn’t know what to make of it.

Jun’s mouth pinches together thoughtfully.  “I guess I do hold back on some things with my girlfriend.  I don’t talk to her the same way I talk to my friends.”  Jun sets the completed bowl of ramen down in front of him, steam wafting over his face, the salty scent waking him up.

Naruto starts eating immediately, the creamy broth a taste of heaven.  He wishes Rumi could just enjoy ramen with him, even better if she would order multiple servings, like how Hi--------.

“If you think it’s a real problem, though, you should talk about it with your girlfriend.”

He swallows a mouthful of noodles, viciously veering all of his thoughts and senses on his food.  “...I did...she just got mad at me.”

A contemplative silence follows.

The memory of Rumi storming out of his apartment makes him frown.  He stuffs his mouth with more hot ramen, his loud slurping meant to drown out all else.

“...You want to make up with her, right?” Jun asks.

Does he want to make up with her?  Of course.  Right?  That’s just what he does.  What he always does.  He treasures the people around him.  He’s put so much effort into making this relationship work.  He can’t just give up on it...right?

“It’ll work out as long as both of you want it to.”

Does Rumi want it to?  He can’t imagine apologizing first this time.  And if she apologizes first, then that would show she wants things to work out, too.

The older shinobi stands and sets his payment down on the counter.  “My wife and I divorced.  Just as it takes two to repair a relationship, it takes two for it to fall apart in the first place.  One person can be more at fault, but-”  He looks pointedly at Naruto.  “Just remember it takes two.”  The man leaves.

Naruto frowns at his retreating back, disappearing into the night.  I know that.  He didn’t need those parting words.  He knows that not everything is Rumi’s fault, he knows that something is wrong with him, he knows that-

I’m more at fault than anyone…  

His chest feels like stones are steadily piling within, hard knots that make it hard to breathe.  But he forces the rest of his ramen down, gulping it as if it’s his first meal in ages.  He came here to enjoy his ramen, the simplest task in the world.  He can at least finish it.

*

He’s been throwing up, hardly able to keep food down with it.

He can’t stop thinking about last year’s annual memorial.  He doesn’t want to think about her, he doesn’t mean to think about her, he knows he shouldn’t think about her, he knows, knows, knows…

And he can’t deny it any longer.

Just the thought of last year makes his gut turn, his chest tighten painfully, his neck seize hot with strain.  Before he can stop it, he’s throwing up the flowers he usually purchases, the burning, soppy, bulky mess conflicting awfully against a faint memory of sweet chocolate cream.  He doesn’t even need to go to the florist.  He has an entire field in his body.

But between worrying about whether he’s going to go tomorrow to the cemetery and whether he should go and get this stupid fight with his girlfriend done and over with after long over a week of not speaking, he can’t get himself to do anything.

He knows what he should do.  He knows what he’s supposed to do.  A good boyfriend would-

He doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to do anything.

He can hardly think, can’t get his priorities straight.  Can barely consider the idea of confronting Rumi without thinking of tomorrow morning, honoring Neji, can barely wonder if Hinata will even--

He finds himself hovering over his trashcan or the toilet every few minutes, sour saliva filling his mouth, gasping for air, trying to keep himself from vomiting again.  Only after several minutes of careful breathing, when he’s calmed enough, he moves away to the couch.

Rumi was right about him.

Rumi was right.

It’s obvious that Rumi was right.

Rumi, that night, when all of this started…

“You don’t...you don’t get it…you have me, Naruto-kun...you shouldn’t...why would you…”

She was right.

What he’s feeling, what he’s thought, it was, it is, strange.  Weird.  No, fucking worse than that.  And he didn’t want to admit it, didn’t catch it until every wrong, stray thought betrayed his duplicity with hard, painful evidence.

He needs to do something or say something to fix everything.  He needs to make it up to Rumi somehow.  Somehow make things right again.  With her.  With himself.

He lays on his couch, listlessly staring at the ceiling.

It’s easier to just not think at all.

Naruto.

Yeah?

You’re losing chakra.  Your body’s not properly replenishing its natural supply.

Yeah, okay.

Kurama’s more awake these days, restless at the back of his conscience.  When he notices something, he verbally observes it.  Then goes back into silence.

I can’t help you with that.

I know.

I’ve been healing your throat.

That explains...a lot.  ...Thanks.

Ungrateful brat!  Go see your medic-nin friend.

He groans, trying to shut off their mental connection.

A hard, authoritative rap against his door, ten consecutive knocks too long, echoes through his apartment.

Sakura.

Damn it.

Heh.

As much as he doesn’t want to, he drags himself to his door.  He knows what would happen if he doesn’t.

She has her hands on her hips, head tilted with eyes that take in every wrinkle on his shirt and skin.  She gives the most exasperated sigh.  “I told you to tell me if your condition worsened!” she scolds.  “You want to die?”

A rhetorical question, but he still feels compelled to self-righteously say, “No!”

She rolls her eyes.  “Then come on!” she snaps impatiently.  “Get your shoes on!”

He does as he is told, coming to the annoying conclusion that he’s very likely going to have to stay in the hospital until he gets better.  “Are you going to order me to hospital bed rest?”

“And if I do, what?  You’re going to run away?  Don’t you dare try, or else.”

He frowns, sulking.  But for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel like he’s about to be sick.  He really should have gone to see her sooner.  Sakura’s one of his closest comrades, he trusts her more than almost anyone.

As they’re heading to the hospital, he wonders if he really looks that bad.  Sakura could tell as soon as he opened the door.  Maybe he smells of vomit?...  “You could tell just by looking at me, huh…”

She glances at him and shakes her head.  “No.  Rumi came to see me today.  She asked about you.”  She says this all matter-of-factly.

It makes him blink hard, guilt slamming into him ten-fold.  The disgust in himself, steadily building over the past few days, now sluggishly oozing all over himself.

Rumi hasn’t come to apologize, but she’s still thinking about him.  She’s still worried about him.  And Sakura probably knows that their relationship is rocky…

But Sakura doesn’t say anything more, and Naruto doesn’t know what to say.

*

“So?”  Sakura is in her professional medic-mode, green eyes boring into him.

He feels vaguely like he’s in an interrogation.

“Rumi told me that you were coughing out entire flowers.  I want to hear it directly from you.  How bad has it gotten?”

He should have told her a long time ago.  He should tell her now.  But once again, he feels the need to evade this entire topic.  He shifts in his chair, almost daring to act like he didn’t hear her.

“Naruto.  This is serious.  I need you to tell me.”

He works his jaw, feels the weight of her serious stare, and finally lets out a breath.  “...It’s whole flowers.”  The words fall out heavily, a burden he had kept for too long.  “And leaves.”

Her brows furrow.  She notes it down.

“Sakura-chan...what should I do?  Tell me you found something.”

“I looked through our archives.  I researched similar chakra illnesses, but that’s the thing.  They can be similar, but the root causes can be drastically different from person to person.  Naruto..”  She takes a deep breath.  “We haven’t found anything specific to your condition, but!  Shishou and I discussed a theory yesterday.”

He can’t help frowning, showing how absolutely unnerving it is to hear that he has an unrecorded sickness, never experienced by anyone else.  He waits for her to continue.

“The lilies are obviously a chakra transformation.  The question we needed to answer is, why?  Why would your body be suddenly evicting your own chakra?  In the form of flowers?  Well…”  A familiar glint of determination sparks in her eyes.  Her penchant for academics was always beyond his understanding.  “We think it’s not your own chakra.  After all, you don’t have the Floral Release kekkei genkai.  This transformation is not congenital.”

He looks away, trying to understand.  Failing to understand.  He frowns.  “Kurama’s chakra is doing this?”

“No.  At least we don’t have reason to believe so.  We’ve seen Kurama’s chakra manifest before.”

That’s true.  Kurama’s chakra is the opposite of elegant white lilies, more of a threatening, boiling red or a poisonously thick, crackling black.

He stares at her.  Just waits for her to tell him.

When she sees that he’s not coming to the answer on his own, she finally continues.  “We posit that it’s nature energy residue.  Very few shinobi undergo Sage training.  Even fewer shinobi successfully complete such difficult training.  Based on mostly Jiraiya-sama’s accounts, we believe your body contains a very small--minuscule really--amount of nature energy at all times, a kind of left-over residue from repeated collections.  You build up a resistance or defense over time to nature energy’s power in this way, which allows you to activate Sage Mode more and more easily.”

He nods.  That makes more sense to him than he thought it would.

“However, that theory doesn’t really tell us why this is happening.”

Stress tingles at his limbs.  He swallows inaudibly.  He doesn’t want to discuss this at all.

“Why now?”  Her eyes narrow at him skeptically.  “Something must be so disturbed, that it’s disrupting your body’s regular functions.”  Her voice has quieted some, her words seeming more like thoughts for herself than for him.  A conversation she’s probably been having with herself or with Tsunade for awhile now.  “Your body is seeking an equilibrium, trying to rebalance itself, and the nature energy residue that’s riding along your own chakra system is the first thing kicked out...As lilies.”

He stares at her, unwilling to interrupt.  Sakura’s so smart, he’s afraid to know if she’s already figured him out, but he can’t just stop her from talking.  It’s like reading a terribly predictable story all the way through, only to find out if it ends the way he thinks it will.

“These lilies are the key.  The body tries to heal itself on its own.  It’s our body’s natural instinct.  And for some reason, your chakra is manifesting as lilies to help you to restore your equilibrium.  Your body is trying to provide you with what you need.  It’s telling you what you need.”

His chest is heavy with the weight of a shame he doesn’t want to address.

“It could’ve been anything else,” Sakura reasons in his silence.  “Any kind of plant or other nature release.  Or your body could have just leaked your chakra out gradually.  It would end the same way.  Chakra exhaustion.”  She stares at him, willing him to look her in the eyes, but he can’t.  “Naruto, if this keeps up, you will either die of chakra exhaustion or from strain on your respiratory system.”

It sounds surreal to him.  He’s faced death on multiple occasions, but never like this.  His body’s never failed him before.

“Naruto?”  Sakura’s tone is gentler now.  “You already know why this is happening, don’t you?  I need to know so that I can create an antidote or a plan for a solution…  Can you tell me?”

He shrugs again, but it’s getting harder to breathe, and he’s desperately trying not to think, to keep his mind as blank as absolutely possible, because the last thing he wants to do is think of..think of…

He gets out of his chair, dropping his face into the nearest trashcan.

“It’s telling you what you need.”

Hinata.

His chest clenches, tightening, tightening.  An ache shooting up his neck.  A painful burn at the bottom of his throat.  

I’m sick because I-

A flower blooms out of him, tearing along his esophagus.

Two.

Three.

Vaguely he knows that Sakura’s right behind him, her chakra seeping through his back, into his chest, attempting to soothe him.

He coughs out stiff leaves, slick with saliva.

He spits out extra congestion.  Blood.

His eyes widen at the sight.  Kurama!

Tell her now or your throat is going to start hurting a lot more from now on.

He squeezes his eyes shut, tears pricking beneath his eyelids.  Hell no!

“Naruto,” Sakura calls, tone concerned.  “You need to tell me what’s going on now.”

He pulls himself up.  His head feels heavy.  His chest feels heavier.  He wants to lie down and curl up into the fetal position just to relieve the pressure.  “I’m just stupid, Sakura-chan.  I’m a complete asshole.”

“...What do you mean?”  She leads him back to his chair and helps him to sit down again.

“I mean what I said.  Even I know it’s wrong.”  He sighs.  Groans.  Covers his face in his hands.  “I don’t know what to do.”

Sakura waits several seconds for him to continue.

He doesn’t want to explain, the last thing he wants to do is voice it aloud.

She leans forward in her chair, gaze intent on him.  “Naruto, you really need to tell me.  This illness you have can kill you if we don’t resolve it.”

He drops his hands, stares at Sakura.  Wishes for a forgiveness before he’s even confessed to anything.  How will she react?  With anger?  Because he’s so stupid?  “I know I’m with Rumi,” he tries.  Is it any justification?

Sakura just gives him a look of confusion.

“But I…”  His voice dies in his throat.  He feels like he’s going to retch.  

“...Naruto, if you can’t tell me, our only other option is a memory evaluation.”

He swallows it back.  “Sakura-chan, I’m a bastard.”

“What are you saying?  Why are you saying that?  What did you do?”  Her patience is obviously wearing thin.  “Did you...cheat on her?”

“No...yes...I don’t know.  I don’t know, Sakura-chan.”  He buries his head in his hands again.  Fuck, am I cheating on her?

“Try to tell me what you do know.”

“I don’t deserve anyone.”

“...Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m shit.”

“Stop talking down on yourself and talk to me.”

He finally looks up.  He knows he’s the absolute worst.  If he confesses everything, all the ugly and disgusting parts, Sakura will beat him up, like he deserves.  “It wasn’t intentional.  I didn’t mean to.  I don’t even know why…”  Has he been cheating on Rumi?  His feelings are so foul, his own body couldn’t reconcile them?

Sakura silently waits for him to continue, her brows furrowed in her concentration.

He takes in another breath, labored with the pressure on his breathing.  “I just...I...just...hate it so much.  That she’s-”  His face scrunches up--a flashing memory of her purposely leading that guy away from him--bile burns his esophagus, and he swallows it back.  He hopes Sakura knocks him out.  “I think about her too much.  I have Rumi, but I was thinking about her.  I am thinking about her.”  He thought about her in all kinds of ways.  Fantasized about her.  Even he knows, after nearly two weeks to himself, after finally facing reality, that it’s wrong.  An awful thing to do.  “Fuck, I haven’t spoken to Rumi in over a week, but all I can think about is...”  He looks at Sakura desperately.

She looks speechless.

“I can’t stand it, I can’t stand that I’m being like this!”  He’s not doing right by Rumi, but he can’t even bring himself to apologize to her.  He still doesn’t want to accept it, that he’s a jerk, a real piece of shit.  He feels itchy and gross beneath his own skin.  He wants to crawl out of his body and leave himself behind.  He’s always been loyal.  He’s always been trustworthy and reliable.  Despite all his faults, he always faced people honestly, so why is it that all of a sudden, he’s acting like this?  He tried blaming it on her for so long, rationalized that it was her fault for choosing that guy.  He never had any patience for two-faced assholes, and he refused to recognize it in himself for so long, but it’s been so obvious, so so obvious.

“Naruto,” Sakura intones quietly, slowly.  “...Who are you talking about?”

“The lilies,” he breathes out.  He can feel the pressure tangling, collecting, expanding heavily in his chest, right there at the bottom of his throat, spit collecting on his tongue.  “What am I supposed to do?”  He could probably walk right up to her, and she would just push right on through-  “I can’t do anything, there’s nothing I can do about this, what am I supposed to do?!  I just, I just want to stop!”  He shouldn’t desire her, it’s wrong of him.  But all he wants, all he really wants, “I just want her to look at me, nothing else”--a labored breath--“I don’t need anything else from her if she would just-” look only at me “-it’s wrong, I know believe me I’ve been trying to stop-”

The twisted knot in his chest lodges up into his throat, choking him.  The bulk shoots up, unending, his mess spilling on the floor.  Through the burning blur in his sight, vague flowers plop into his puddle, traces of blood streaked on white and green.

“Naruto!”  A sound of a chair clattering on the floor, and Sakura’s familiar, warm chakra seeps into his back, into the spaces of his chest, disrupting the spastic surge of his own, until he’s coughing for air that’s not making it past the blockage in his chest.

He blacks out.

*

The first thing he registers is the dark window.  Night.

“Naruto-kun!”  Rumi leans forward from her seat, catching his attention.

He’s lying in a hospital bed, the clean sheets stiff over his body.  “...Rumi…”  His throat feels dry.  He swallows, then grimaces at the sour taste of his own breath.

Her hazel eyes are low with concern.

The last time he saw her, she slammed his apartment door.  What is she doing here now?  Is she not mad anymore?

She watches him silently, maybe waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t know what to say.  He should apologize or ask her how she’s been...Do something or say something, but nothing feels right.  The hollowness in his gut contrasts with the latent weight of his chest.  He can’t grasp at the excitement he used to feel when he saw her.  All he recognizes is his own guilt.  He’s a disgusting guy.

“Sakura-san told me to inform her if you woke up.”  She hesitates for a moment, shifting in her seat.  But he just watches her slowly stand, walk around his bed, slide the door to his room open, and disappear as she shuts it.

The beeping pulse of the monitor beside him is one of the worst sounds in the world, he’s certain of it.  But for once, he hopes it stretches time for as long as possible.  He’ll only have a few minutes before he has to confront everything.

When the door slides open again, Sakura enters, alone.  “You gave me a scare there, Naruto,” she scolds.  “Not to mention the mess in my office.”

He tries to crack an apologetic smile, but his lips can’t curl properly with his cheeks.  “...Sorry.”  He pushes himself up to sitting.

She shakes her head.  “You’ve been stable for the past few hours.  As soon as you fainted, your chakra began to relax.  All I did was stop any internal bleeding, but Kurama helped that process along.”  She takes a seat where Rumi was before.

“Thanks.”

Sakura faces him, holds his gaze, then flips open a blank page in a notebook.  “Your condition is much more serious than I thought.  Any slight thought seems to trigger an episode, and you obviously can’t bring yourself to say it.  I want you to write it for me.”

“Write what,” he asks warily.

“Who the lilies are.”

Tell-tale spit gathers beneath his tongue.  He hastily grabs the notebook and pen from her, scrawls her name across the page, and pushes it back to her, looking away, unable to settle his sight on those characters.

Sakura sighs.  A long, tired one.

When he glances back at her, he’s never seen her look so sad for him.  Sympathetic maybe.

He waits for her to say something, anything, to beat him or curse at him.  When nothing comes, he baits her.  “So?  What?!”

“Did you know that they broke up?” she asks quietly.

He blinks several times, processing.

“Hinata and Susumu-san broke up recently,” she repeats.

He looks away, trying to comprehend the slightest ease of tension in his chest.  “Really?” he asks, unwilling to believe it just yet.

“Yes, she told me a few days ago, that they’re officially off.”

He feels like he can breathe better, like things are re-righting themselves in the very structure of his body.

“Naruto?”

“..Yeah?”

“Do you understand how you feel about her?”

He looks at Sakura, frowns.  How he feels about her?  He shrugs, gazing at her cautiously.

“Don’t you…”  Sakura bites her lip.  “Don’t you love Hinata?”

Her words feel bitter, they tie up a pit in his chest, a knot sitting at his heart, plugging whatever relief he had just regained.  “...I have Rumi,” he negates.  He said that word to his girlfriend, and he has the gut-churning feeling that he shouldn’t use those words for anyone else.

“You-”  Sakura lowers her voice to a whisper.  “-You don’t have to, Naruto.”

He digs through her meaning, arriving at the conclusion that Sakura’s telling him...to break up with her.  “I, I can’t do that.”  His eyes widen.  “I need to make up with her.  I’ve been such an ass to her, I need to make it up to her somehow.”

She buries her face in her hands.  Then suddenly lets out a muted, frustrated scream.  “You’re such a fool!  Do you really think that’s the right thing to do?!”  She looks up at him, her viridian eyes flaming with impatience.  She doesn’t wait for him to respond.  “You know what.  Normally, normally, I would try to mind my own business.  But this has to do with your health.  And I need to make sure you understand what’s going on here.”  She takes in a big breath, as if she’s about to pick up a boulder.  “You have a disease that’s transforming your chakra into lilies, which are being violently expelled from your body.  The probable root cause is an exceptionally intense emotion toward Hinata that you, or your body, needs to communicate or express, but you have no outlet to do so.  Therefore, from what I can tell, unless you convey your feelings to Hinata, you will continue to lose chakra.”  Sakura stares at him, eyes wide but with the piercingness of a glare.  “Do you get it?!  You need to prioritize your feelings!”

Naruto turns away, looks toward the door where Rumi last was.  It would be wrong of him.  “I can’t just do that to Rumi.  She never did anything wrong.  That would hurt her, right?  There isn’t anything else I can do?”

Sakura tsks, sighs, her head falling back to stare at the ceiling in her obvious frustration.

“There’s no other way?” he presses.

She groans, her eyes closing for a second.  “Surgery.  But I don’t want to do it.  No.  I refuse to do it.”

“Wait, what, why?!  You just take out whatever’s fucked up inside of me, right?  You can do it, that’s easy for you!”  There was such a solution this entire time?  Why didn’t she say so earlier?

She scoffs.  “Of course I can do it.  But like I said, I don’t want to!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not that simple!” she snaps.

He shakes his head at her in confusion.  “What do you mean?!”

“You’ll change.  Chakra surgeries are sensitive, it’s a very delicate process, but no matter how careful the medic is, the patient always comes out...different.”

“...What do you mean?” he repeats.

“I told you before that chakra is tied to your very identity.  Operating on it can screw up all sorts of psychological aspects that we can’t begin to predict.  Yes, I can remove the physical problem.  But you would never be the same.”

He waits for her to elaborate.

“You could not only lose abilities, you could lose memories, even entire emotions.  One patient Tsunade told me about lost memories of his brother.  The patient had a stress-related chakra illness that was making his chakra too thick for his system.  Shishou operated to remove the strain, but after, the patient forgot how to connect with his own brother!  He could tell that he was missing something that he used to have, but he couldn’t remember his own feelings.”

He squints at her.

“Considering that this is about Hinata...”  She averts her gaze.  “I predict that there’s a chance you could lose your memories of her...if I operated on your chakra.”

Lose my memories…?  Hinata jumping down between him and Pain, protecting him?  Her blood dripping down her face, her fearlessness then, her assuredness while confronting what he was certain would be her death?  Just forget everything she’s ever done for him?  The weight in his chest spreads, an ache developing all up his sternum, a strain along his collarbones.  “I can’t lose my…” he murmurs.

“...I know.”

He holds his head in his hands.  Tries to imagine what he needs to do.

Find Hinata.

Tell Hinata...tell her what, exactly?  That he needs her?  Wouldn’t she just look at him speechless and confused?

And then what?  He’ll feel better?

Maybe? And then?  What about Rumi?  Isn’t that actually cheating?  Talking to Hinata about his...feelings...when he has a girlfriend?  He can’t do that!

But he needs to if he wants to get better.  Forgetting Hinata is out of the question.  Doing nothing means he’ll be that much closer to dying.

So he needs to tell Hinata.

And then…?

“Naruto.”

“...Yeah?”

“You need to talk things through with Rumi first.  If I was dating a guy who loved someone else...I wouldn’t want to be with him.”

He looks up then.  “But I--!”

Sakura tilts her head in confusion at his rebuttal.  “But what?  You know..I’ve thought about this for myself, and, I would hate it, I would really hate it, it might take me some time...a lot of time...but, I would leave him alone if he..if he told me he loved someone else…”  She sighs.  “Logically, I know that no girl deserves to be with a guy who doesn’t truly love her.  And...a guy deserves to have someone he can honestly love.”  Sakura’s eyes cast down to the floor.

He was about to say that he does love Rumi.  That’s what he said to her before.

But he couldn’t say it.

He can’t.

Because he doesn’t.  Not the way Sakura loves Sasuke.

Selflessly.

Untiring and devotedly.

He blinks, realization cold and clawing across his nerves.

He can’t believe he forgot...forgot what it was like to try to vie for Sakura’s attention.  To see that he would never get her to look his way with that impossible affection.  To come to terms with that for his best friend’s sake because he cared so much more for their happiness than his own.

If he could have ever admitted it to himself back then, he would know that he was lonely.  Frustrated.

But it was just another tally for his losses against the world, and he didn’t need to cut himself any deeper.

And yet here he is, dating Rumi because…

He just wanted a girlfriend.  Maybe to feel better about himself.  Or to feel more like a winner, less like a loser.  More like an adult, less like a lost child.  To feel deserving of affection, to have that for himself, from anyone who was willing to give it.

And...he thinks she could tell.

A spiraling, sinking pit forms in his stomach.  How has he been making her feel?

If it’s anything similar to the loneliness that fueled his games for Sakura’s heart, he’s hardly grown from the child that played pranks for attention.  Hurting others for his own gain.

If it’s any worse than that…

Someone like him…

Selfish, immature, cheating?,

He deserves this chakra illness.  If it’s any atonement, he should be suffering.

He squeezes his eyes shut hard, as if the black dark can make everything else disappear.

He didn’t mean to.

It didn’t seem like a big deal.  Dating seemed fun.  Rumi seemed like a fun, nice girl.  She is exactly that.

Someone good like her can’t possibly care for him the way Sakura cares for Sasuke, right?  That’s just not possible, right?  When she said she loved him, she didn’t mean it that way, right?  How could she?  How could anyone?

Did she mean it?

And he just…

He just?  Said it back?  Because she said it?  Because she wanted to hear it?  Because he thought he owed it to her?  Or no, because it was just-

Three words.  For kisses and boobs.

The nausea this time is different, his disgust at his own obliviousness, his willful incompetence, it’s a shame he can’t bear.

He lies down, his mind jumping between the possibility that she didn’t mean it that way, or that she really, really did mean it.

She didn’t mean it like Sakura says it, right?  She hardly actually knows him!

...And he hardly actually knows her.

“Naruto?”

He almost forgot Sakura was here.

“Naruto?” she calls again.

He rolls over, opens his eyes, meets Sakura’s viridian.

“I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, but Rumi is still here.  She’s waiting in my office.”

He closes his eyes again.

“Naruto?”

He keeps his eyes closed.  He doesn’t want to think.

“Naruto?”  She huffs.  “...I’m going to go get her.  After that, it’s up to you, but, for your own life, and for hers, too, talk to her.  I think you need to tell her,” she finishes quietly.

Tell her?  Tell her he never actually Sakura-level-loved her?  Tell her what exactly?  The details of his illness?  He opens his eyes in his trepidation.

“...Things can only get better from here, Naruto.”  She stands, giving him another sympathetic look, before leaving.

Better how, exactly?  Better for who?  For himself, only?  He can just continue on, doing things for himself?

*

“You...”  Rumi breaks the awful silence between them first.  “You’ve gotten worse than before.”

“Yeah…”  He watches her, notes her sad expression.  Notes that they haven’t smiled at each other in a long time.  Wonders what she’ll look like when he tells her--

“What’s wrong?  Can Sakura-san help you?”

He shakes his head.  “She can’t.”

“What?”  Her eyes are wide in alarm.  “What, what does that mean?”

“It’s a problem with me,” he tries, but her shock only turns to confusion.  “I…” he starts.  He loses his train of thought.  He takes in her small face.

She’s a small girl, but she’s small, too, in other ways.  Just that much younger than him, slightly too young to have participated in the war, just at that age below him to be naive to his experiences.  She’s pretty.  A cute girl.  Bright, light eyes.  Even features.

How the hell did he get involved with a nice girl like her?  How had he rationalized they would be a good match?  She deserves someone so much better than him.  Someone she can actually connect and relate with, someone who deserves her affection.

“You’re...not going to die, right?” she asks.

He hopes not.  The idea of death still doesn’t seem real.  “Rumi…”

She freezes, brows furrowing with concern, eyes wide again.

“I’m sorry.”

“...Wha-”

“We…”  He steels himself, everything hardening along feelings of inadequacy, and pushes through.  “...shouldn’t be together anymore.”

She blinks, alarm morphing back to confusion.  “What, Naruto-kun, wha-, what?”

“Because you deserve someone better than me.”

“What?  No, what?  I’m happy with you, I don’t need anyone better, you’re perfect to me!”  Her words rush out.

Perfect?  She’s always described him in a way that he can’t really identify with.

“Are you going to die?, is that why you’re saying this?”

He’s hurt her without even actually telling her anything.  “No, it’s not that…”

Her eyes dart away, her gaze frantic before him.  “Is it because of our fight?”

“No-”

“If it is, you know that I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean any of it, we don’t have to do this-”

“Rumi.”

He watches her features scrunch up, crumpling inward, like she’s holding back from crying, and he knows, in comparison to any time before, he’s never made her look like this.  Never made anyone look this sad before.

“Rumi, I’m sorry, it’s just…”  The tears glossing her eyes are a punch to his face.  His fault.  All his fault.  “I can’t give you what you deserve.”  Every word that he says, does it only make it worse?

“I-I don’t need anything, Naruto-kun.  I really don’t need anything…”  Her voice is thick, heavy, trembling  Her eyes are wide, unblinking, tears balancing at her lashes.

He doesn’t want her to cry.  He doesn’t want to hurt her.  He never wanted to hurt her, so...why?  “You do, Rumi.  You’re a great girl, and I’m just this...this guy.  I’m not who you think I am, and I can’t give you what you...what you deserve.”

“No!, noo!”  A sob shakes her voice.  “I can change, if I was too needy, I don’t have to be, I can be better, too, I’m not, not anything, I don’t need anything…”

Rumi…  He watches in horrid self-loathing as a large tear spills down her cheek, followed by another one, and she blinks, her hands coming up to furiously wipe her eyes.  He turns away, unable to handle it, comprehension failing him.  How...how did he hurt her so much?

“N-Naruto-kun, I don’t want to, I don’t want us to b-break up!”

His own throat feels thick.  A heavy pinching in his gut makes it hard to breathe, and the guilt weighing in his conscience is too heavy for him to lift.  He can’t look up.  He can’t look at her.  “I’m really..sorry, Rumi…”  He is.  But saying it doesn’t feel like enough.  And there’s no way for him to show it.  If he really, really means it, shouldn’t he be able to prove it somehow?  When did he become such a useless bastard?

Her breath hitches, a choked sob that pierces the air awfully.

He bites his lip, the tension in her breaths impossible to listen to, and he knows that one look at her crying this hard would be too devastating, a memory that would damn every waking moment from now.  He shuts his eyes, his hands clench at the sheets in frustration with himself.  Every part of him is useless.

Worse than that.

Harmful.

His inability to comfort her, to make things right with her, only hurting her more.  At this moment, his very existence is an ugly wound on her life that should never have been.  All previous moments together now just shattered, brittle shards that will remind him of his foolish, foolish, stupid, stupid, self-absorbed dishonesty.

He can never ask for her forgiveness.  He can’t explain himself.  He can’t try to give excuses.

That would all just be for his own sake, and he doesn’t deserve any of it.

What’s wrong with him?

Why did any of this happen?

*

When she left, face in her hands, the sound of him breaking her apart still ringing in his ears, he stays where he is, unmoving emptiness throughout, and wonders.

If it’s okay for him to live like this.

If it’s okay for him to just go on.

He hurt Rumi, took her lightly, acted out of self-interest, and the worst part?  He wasn’t even aware of it.

Was he always this selfish?

Will he always be this selfish?

The tugging on his mind tells him he hasn’t learned anything.  He hasn’t grown, not even from tonight.

Because above everything, in the background of his conscience and at the forefront of the ache in his chest, is the itching thought of meeting her in the morning.

He sickens himself.

He doesn’t deserve anyone or anything, affection or otherwise, so how dare he hope to see her, how dare he want her to think of him.

He really is the worst kind of guy.

Just an absolute bastard.

*

When he wakes, he startles, the cold hospital air sore within his dry throat.  He blinks against the bright morning sunlight streaming into his room.

Adrenaline spikes.

He’s late.

No, he already missed it.

He couldn’t sleep after Sakura checked in on him before going off-duty, parting with “It was the right thing to do.”  Right?  Nothing was right about it, he’s only ever made stupid decisions, he’s only ever been entirely stupid.  For his own abilities to finally back-fire on him, well, it was a long-time coming, wasn’t it.  His regrets, every embarrassing, shameful moment building up to this, all the work he ever put in only to fail spectacularly, this is really the final blow.  He thought he left his past failures behind him at the Academy.

When he finally dozed off, he wasn’t even aware of it.

And now it’s too late.

Who’s to say she even went, right?

She probably didn’t.  Because why would she.  He’s not worth anyone’s time, and Hinata finally realized that.

That well-familiar sickness unfurls in his throat.  He barely makes it, turning over and vomiting in the trashcan beside his bed.  Somehow, it’s not quite as bad as yesterday.  A couple lilies less or something.

How sick is it that he’s relieved that Hinata and that guy broke up?  If it’s anything like what he just went through with Rumi, he wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but...

Who broke up with who?  And why?  It’s an awful, shameful relief to indulge in his thoughts, now free to wander to her without betraying Rumi.  He absolutely disgusts himself.

He can’t stop himself.

He doubts that guy broke up with her.  Why would anyone, right?

He’d never-

He coughs out leaves, the pain pinching and stinging in his chest, lasting longer than he’s used to.

Kurama can’t heal him as quickly as before.  He’s really getting worse.

He huffs out a sigh.

Death.

What even is it?  He doesn’t want to die.  He still has so much he wanted to do.

Become Hokage.

He almost wants to laugh at himself, but he’s too disgusted to truthfully find humor in it.  Anyone so inherently emotionally stupid as him shouldn’t be allowed to lead the village.

Not too long ago, he thought he grew up.  He thought he was responsible.  Saved the world, punched Sasuke really good, completed successful missions like nothing.  He could see people relying on him.  He maintained good relationships.

Who knew dating would reveal what a fool he actually is?

The sound of wood and metal grating jars him from his depression.  He blinks at Sakura, who’s standing in the doorway.

“Oh, you’re actually still here!”  She sounds genuinely surprised.  “Then, I’ll be the first to say ‘Happy Birthday’ to you.”  She smiles warmly, but it’s marred by a tinge of pity.

He glances away.  “Thanks.”

“And I’m not about to let this be the last time you hear me say it.”  She suddenly appears at his bedside.  “Are you ready?”

He stares at her.  Her determination registers as only a terrible blankness within.

“I sent summons for Hinata.  She’ll be here any minute.”

He sits up, blinking hard at his ex-teammate, but he only sees her, creamy skin, peaceful smile.  He’s not fucking ready to see her.  He pulls at the cords monitoring his chest, and Sakura grips his wrists with such bone-bruising strength, he can’t help whining.

She gives him her infamous fake smile that speaks volumes of threats.  “I’m staying here until she arrives.”

*

She rushed over as soon as she was called.  The messenger caught her when she was nearly at home, and she changed directions immediately.

But now she stalls, taking slow steps down the hallway.

She can’t tell if it’s intentional, or if it’s the nervous apprehension numbing her extremities to a careful pace.  She thought she couldn’t be any more emotionally exhausted, not after all the stress she put herself through earlier that morning, but it’s as if her mind and heart just have a thing for endurance.  They won’t give her a break.  She’s alert, everything racing like the adrenaline rush in a battle.

Just beyond this door.  He’s there.

Really sick.  So sick, Sakura must have called her for her Byakugan.  Why her Byakugan, out of all the Hyuuga in the village, she can’t begin to comprehend.  Maybe it’s Sakura’s way of forcing her to get over Naruto, a self-evaluation of some sort.

She swallows her nerves.

She’s still in love with him.

And for whatever she’s worth, she’ll help him if he needs her.  Even if just looking at him makes a new piece of her wither.

She knocks.

“Come in!”  Sakura’s voice sounds out.

And so she does, sliding the door open, her sight immediately aligning with blue.

Her heart plummets straight down to her feet, the vacancy in her chest a sharp pain.

She slides the door closed behind her.

By now she should have said something.  A greeting for Naruto.  For Sakura.

She can’t say a word, but her feet somehow carry her closer to them, her knees locking with each step.

“Thanks for coming, Hinata.”  Sakura looks at her, then at Naruto.

Naruto is staring, eyes too wide, too frozen, and she notices the dark circles beneath, then the slightly pale pallor of his usually tan skin.

He’s really sick.

“I’m going to leave the two of you alone for a moment.  Naruto needs to talk to you.”

She registers that Sakura steps behind her, leaves the room, but she can’t break from Naruto’s stare.

Something’s really wrong with him, deeper than just an illness, and she’s suddenly scared.  Not for herself.  For him.

*

Her lips part.  “Naruto-kun?”  Her quiet voice, a nostalgic waver of trepidation.

It’s what he’s been wanting, needing, what he’s been dying to hear.

[cyborgraptor]

haunted house thrill ride minus the haunted house

Last night my brother, his wife, and me both left rather late to see if we could make it last minute to a haunted house an hour away from where we live to Ft. Worth, TX. People might already know the attraction called Cutting Edge, as its been going on for years now - the last time we went to it was 12 years ago. We wanted to see how it was now, and it has a somewhat decent rating. We remember there was bubbles at the end that COMPLETELY soak your clothes and nearly smothers you, so we checked reviews to see if they still had it. It does, but there’s a bubble-less route so you can avoid it. But, the end of this review had us curious.

(Parking was 15-20$ we read on the website, too.) Anyway, we drive down there. Immediately get sad spotting the homeless population taking up entire large sidewalks as we enter downtown. Arrive at 12:15, and the attraction ends at 1am. We knew there’d be a line since it was a semi-chill night thats good for big crowds. Buuuuuuut we weren’t expecting to see around 500 people ass-to-ass wrapped in a tight line in the parking lot 45 minutes till closing. So we said “Fuck that shit, lets find a cool late night dinner place while we’re in down here”.  Regret. My brother remembered there was some ice cream place they went to while they were here some time ago down some main street. Quickly figured out that street was closed off, like some parade/party just recently happened, but there was nothing but a bar open down the street and a security golf cart picking up cones. We figured we could get on our feet and walk further down the street to see if we could find it that way, as there was a lot of hidden buildings. So we park the car, get out, and go to a street corner to look around. Across the street, we saw a woman face-down against a curb to a shop, totally looking like a dead body. Two men were slowly trying to help her up to get in their car. The three of us looked at each other like “Uh oh” and looked back behind us down the street if there was possibly more fucked up people like her, of if someone else was noticing us watch that. Then we heard a scream, and the woman was sprinting full speed out of the parking lot. She stopped suddenly and the men ran over to her, and then she started laughing loudly instead. Okay. Hopefully...............she was just on drugs............????? And then the two men had to lift her like a couch back into the car. We stared at each other again and said “Okay time to go!” and then nearly stepped in vomit on the sidewalk as we turned back to our car. But it doesn’t end there!!!!!!!!!!! We were still starving, so we googled some late-night diners nearby instead. It was either ramen or this place called Ol’ South Pancake house (you can google it if you want). The website makes the place look cute and homey. Our decision to go there was solely placed to get chips and salsa based on what my sister-in-law read on the website, but I think she read the wrong thing. We get there. Pretty crowded. The air inside smelled like cigarette smoke even though it was a non-smoking store. There was a group of eight people in front of us COVERED in fake blood, probably(hopefully) from the Cutting Edge place. A very..........interesting looking waitress hobbles over to us after them to seat us at a table that would make claustrophobic people explode. Then we get......her. The other waitress. She seemed like a sweet elderly woman, at first. Not white hair, but grey, and pretty in-fit for her age. We asked about the salsa, and she squinted at us and said they only had potato chips (which is probably true). We looked at each other and ordered some fried pickles instead. She then nodded slowly and said “Surrreee thiiiinnnnng,” and then gave my brother a face similar to this.

So we’re probably going to get food poisoning. The pickles were good, at least. While we were eating, a group of college-age people sit next to us. One guy was in normal clothing, while his two other friends were in costumes (another guy and a woman). Chucky, the killer doll man, was next to me. The two of them were veeeeerry obviously on something. My first interaction with Chucky was when I was drinking coffee, a red wig suddenly landed in front of me. “O---OOOPSSSSS!” Chucky said next to me, grabbing the wig and dropping it several more times. Our trio just laughed awkwardly. He then tossed it behind me in my chair, and thats when his stable friend said “Hey bro what the hell are you doing, man?” Which, I think, prevented Chucky from groping my ass, and he quickly grabbed his wig back. Then he and his costume GF (assuming) got up to go to the bathroom. They cut through the open kitchen and we could see the staff get startled. While that happened, an old man walked into the section of the diner that was blocked off. We were confused as hell, but another waitress started serving him food in there. Maybe they knew him or something, who knows. But. Do you know where that cut-off door looks out to for the old man to watch?

Haha, it’s to us! Making direct eye contact to me at all times!!!! Oh boy!!!

So now we have a guy with possible dementia over there, and Chucky and his GF come back (through the kitchen, AGAIN) on our right. A staff member comes to their table saying they need to not go through the kitchen ever again. The sober friend is obviously dumbfounded but does nothing but giggle and shake his head. THEN the GF gets up and leans to our table, saying “What are you guys doing tonight?” completely in our personal spaces. Sister-in-law leans back to her to quietly say “What are you guys on?”. The woman kind of shakes her head and replies “Oh just weed. Just a bit of weed.” Smiling HUGE while saying so, but also in a bitchy way. Chucky encounter #2 happens. While his GF was leaning to and fro, he hissed right into my ear, actually making me jump (but not scream). We all laugh awkwardly again. At this point, its better to deal with them than start a huge commotion and possibly make them rage, because the people around us are already keeping an eye on them for all of the shit they’ve stirred already. #3. Shortly after he says “I’m Chucky, the killlleeeeerrrrrr....” and starts pretending to bite the air next to me. That quickly turned to him trying to bite my shoulder. I barely felt anything, and tried to keep inner peace until his friend yelled at him again to stop. There was no teeth-sinking, but I felt a wet mark after he stopped. My brother said he looked like this.

Well. We finally got our food. I got steak and eggs, my brother got a burger, and sister-in-law got a pancake thing with peaches in it. Right after the teeth waitress placed the pancake thing down, she suddenly said, “Wait, there’s no butter on this! You gotta have some butter on it to make it good!” What does she do to solve this, you ask? Simple!

She takes our silverware, takes a plastic cup container of butter from our condiment rack, and starts going to town stabbing and smearing the butter into the once-nice looking pancake thing! For a full 30 seconds in silence! “There you go!” she says with her full rack of fake teeth, and walks away. My brother had to laugh behind his napkin while she was doing it, and so did I. #4. A pancake suddenly lands on my plate after I got done eating the obviously once-frozen steak. Chucky said nothing this time, but his sober friend just shook his head. But after Chucky tossed his last two pancakes on our table, sober friend tried to stop him - in doing so, sober friend accidentally pushed his own plastic cup of cheese on the floor. “Awwww man, look at what you made me do bro!” He sighed seriously. Sober friend then asked teeth waitress where his bacon bits where at, and all she did was look over at their own condiment rack and pointed, “Right there,” and walked away. Sober friend didn’t only spill his cheese, but he spilled his bacon bits onto the rack, too. Costume friends got up to walk outside after that, and we sympathized with him saying “Damn, she’s brutal.” Oh, and by the way, dementia man has still been staring at us the whole time. We’re completely done eating now, and whisper to each other “We need to get the absolute fuck out of here.” We pay at the entrance/exit, and walk outside. What we see is what we believe Chucky and his GF fucking in their car parked to the side of the store. The windows were steamy and only saw his head sticking up. “Time to go!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I chanted again, as we got back in our car. Dementia man walked out of the diner after us, but luckily, he didn’t see what car we got into. It still doesn’t end there. We cut through the empty streets back to where we got into the city. It was 3:40 am at this point. My brother saw a cowboy sitting at an empty light corner. GOTTA LEAVE! Five minutes later we enter the expressway. Three minutes go by. My brother is cranking up the music to stay awake for the hour long drive back home. But then I see it. Something bright down on the highway below us to our left. We’re passing by and my brother doesn’t notice. “F...........fire. FIRE. THERE’S A FIRE.” “WHAT?”

He stops on the completely vacant road and we back up a little to see it. Yup. Thats a fucking burning car.

We camped there for about 10 minutes until even one cop showed up, then finally a firetruck. Normal people pulled over initially to direct traffic with the flashlight on their phones. All four of the tires popped loudly as they burned. And while the hose was dousing out the flames, a semi-explosion happened. Sounded like a firework, and was very bright, but nothing shattered and debris didn’t rain down anywhere. We finally decided enough was enough and we got the fuck out after the flames got controlled.  I’m happy to say we made it home safe without any other bullshit occurring to us. But What. A. Fucking. Night.

[club-roc]

The C&Me Report: Dispatch #   1

Author’s Forward

This is a work of friction, the turbid spew of a diseased imagination.  The characters, events, location, time of day, and yes even the fucking weather are all made up - except when they aren’t.  

That the submissive in the story maybe resembles someone in my past life is a bizarre coincidence that you shouldn’t read anything into.  The rumor that I may have based the -  selfish? disgusting? can we settle on sick? - narrator on myself is an unfortunate misunderstanding.  I am a considerate, thoughtful, kind, compassionate, altruistic, gentle, empathetic, loving soul - and I swear the wrath of a banshee working off a seven day drunk upon anyone who says different.

I hope you enjoy what I think is a novel approach to the old in-out.  For those of you who prefer a more traditional 3-step narrative of the form:

 boy meets girl (or whatever gender permutation gets you going)

 one paragraph (preferably less)

 boy fucks girl

this just ain’t gonna work for you.  Seriously.  But, if you choose to ignore this warning, for fuck’s sake don’t whine about it afterwards.  

One final note: if you do make it to the end, and your cursor is a short click away from registering one star, you should know that the banshee gets pissed off rather easily these days - just sayin’.

Happy trails.

Roc Daimonas

Sep. 2020

*          *          *

I have an ethical dilemma that I’m hoping that you can help me with.

Whether you come at it from a moral or legal perspective, these days non-consensual sex is kind of frowned upon.  The MeTooers are clear: she has to freely say “yes”.  Sounds easy, but sometimes Easy Street is paved with potholes.

Let’s start with the seemingly obvious: “yes” doesn’t get you off the hook if you mention that you’ve got proof that could have her swinging in Sing Sing. Nor, for that matter, any persuasive argument that includes an “or else I will … “ clause.  But what if it’s “or else I won’t”?

For example, you have front row tickets to the hot show that she’s dying to see.  Without a promise of action for afters, you won’t take her.  “Maybe (fill in her best friend’s name) is interested…?”  I think we might need a new category, “technically consensual but the guy’s a douchebag”.

Also obviously, if she’s drunk, her “yes” doesn’t mean shit.  But what if she’s sober, in fact hasn’t had a drink all day.  And she needs one, badly, sort of the way that after holding your breath for two minutes you need air, because she’s an alcoholic.  Sadly she’s broke, has nothing left to pawn, and has already been to the Plasma Donation Center twice this week.  Let’s say she loves bubbly and you have a bottle of White Star on ice.

If, under those circumstances, you tell her, “no nookie no party”, you know damn well that you’re going to get laid. (Pro tip: one glass, then sex, and only then finish the bottle).  You can get all moral on me, but she’s gonna do what it takes to get a drink, and if that’s by blowing somebody in the liquor store’s parking lot, oh well.  I’m thinking why not me, instead of some jerk who’s gonna sub a store-brand asti?

Seriously, I’m looking for feedback, let me know what you think.

BTW, I wouldn’t trade sex for a drink, I’m not that kind of asshole, and this isn’t that kind of story.  Rather, it’s actually cannabis that she wants, and I’m much worse of an asshole.  You see, I’m a sex addict, sub-category control freak, and I’ve been waiting patiently for a long time.

*          *          *

C called, Lydia was dead.  Apparently she passed out and knocked her 151 into a candle.  I hadn’t heard anything from C, hence nothing about Lydia, for about five years, but this seems less like news than the fulfillment of the inevitable.  Though on second thought, that she made it that long is impressive.

When she called, she was upset.  Not because they were friends - nobody was friends with Lydia, she saw life as 100% transactional.  No, C was upset because she was on her way to score reefer, “and I’d already given her my last $60” … could I help her?

“Sure no problem”, I told her, answered by a huge sigh of relief.  “I’ve got that much cash in my wallet, come by and get it - and don’t worry about paying me back”.

Oops.  Not exactly what she was fishing for.  “Ah, do you have any weed that I could have?”

Long.  Fucking.  Silence.  It’s been five years since I’d talked to her last, the day we broke up over - surprise! - her drug and alcohol problem. 

“Uh, Roc…”

“Let’s do this: come over for the $60.  Let’s at least get you covered on that, then you can score somewhere else.  I’ll think about the other”.

A little while later she’s on my sofa, smoking a pipe.  I have the cash and a small container in front of me.  “This is for you”, and I hand her the bills.  “You can also have this - BUT - one time only, never again.  This is about a week's supply, you can score something in that time.  Are we agreed - never again?”

Two things that I need to clarify - a week’s supply for me, if she’s on a roll, is probably about a 4 hour supply for her.  AND - if it gets them their fix, an addict will tell you anything that they think you want to hear.  

So of course, she was absolutely in agreement.  Some things never change.

And surprise!, surprise!, 24 hours later, guess who knocked on my door?

*          *          *

C no doubt spent the day coming up with all sorts of completely sensible reasons why I should give her more shit.  Most likely revolving on the fact that Lydia was the last person who would sell to her.   But she’s thrown off, I have a packed pipe on the table next to me, she can’t take her eyes off the prize, she can’t focus...I just let her stammer for a minute.  I ask if she wants the pipe?

Shit eating grin - hell yes!  I grab it and reach out towards her.  She takes it, but I don’t let go.   ‘You can have this one, no problem.  You want more, ‘present yourself’”.  Ancient code for “submit for kinky sex”.  She starts to object, I cut her off: “you can have none, one, or stand, your choice - do you understand your choices?”

Maybe she mumbles “OK”, so I let go and in no time she’s sucking down the pipe.  I get a couple beers while she’s busy, set one next to her, pop the top on mine and sip some brew.  Done with the pipe, she follows suit.   Between the weed and the booze, she relaxes, but after a bit starts starts fidgeting.  I wait for it.  Finally it pours out: “I don’t think this is a good idea”

I bust out laughing, she doesn’t see what’s so funny.  “You’re right, it’s an AWFUL idea, we just don’t agree on what’s the bad part.  So maybe we forget about it, huh?  Maybe you should just go home”.

Well, no, she doesn’t want that either…“Can’t I have some more?”

“It’s time for you to go, I’ll walk you to the door”.

She takes a deep breath, rises, and puts her hands on her head.  Her arms are in the wrong position, her legs aren’t nearly far enough apart … some things never change.  I pack the pipe.  “You want this?”, she says yes, eyes focused.  I spark the lighter and smoke it.  From her face, that’s not what she had in mind.

I pack another, walk over to her.  “First, if you want your fix, I get mine - is that understood?”  She nods.  I hold the pipe for her, spark the lighter, and long hit, all gone.  She’s holding it in, deep, and I continue, “second, anytime - and I mean ANYTIME - that you feel uncomfortable giving me what I want, just say, “take that shit and shove it where the sun don’t shine”.

Suddenly the tension’s broken, she cracks up, coughs, blows out the smoke, coughs a little more.  “You fuckerhead! - you owe me another!”

I smile.  “We’ll see.  But I’m serious.  Say that phrase and everything stops.”  She nods, but I’m not done.  “What you gotta realize is that I don’t really want to do this”.  Like Hell, but she doesn't need to know that. “You can say that anytime, BUT … once and done.  No more weed.  Ever”.  You can tell she’s not happy about that, but keeps it to herself.

I pack another, then tell her “this is a really good time to tell me that, because if you don’t walk away, I’m going to turn you into my slave.  For real.”

She’s heard that before, sarcastically says “of course you are”, tilts her head a little, mocking me with her face, her eyes.

“You heard your choices, tell me what it’s going to be”.  

To get their fix, an addict is going to tell you anything they think that you want to hear.

I hand her the pipe, tell her to use the can, have a cigarette, whatever, then get undressed and back in position.  “If you’re quick enough, I’ll pack another pipe”.  While she’s scurrying on her assignments, I try to find some rope.

*          *          *

She’s back in position, but instead of being naked, she’s got my robe on - and her socks.  Some things never change.

I pack a pipe, point out that she’s not quite undressed.  Eyeing the pipe, she tells me “brr, it’s chilly!”, her code for gimme the pipe, and let’s go to bed and fuck.  Well that ain’t gonna happen, so instead of giving it to her, I spark the lighter and smoke it myself.  She has a frustrated look on her face.

“Why don’t you turn the furnace on, and relax a bit.  When it’s warm enough, strip and return to position.  When you’re ready, I’ll get you another pipe”  She sticks out her tongue, turns up the furnace, sits, but the blower’s barely on before she’s lost the robe and is back in position.  I pack the pipe full enough that even she’s gonna need a few minutes, hand it to her.  While she’s working it, I look over the body that I once knew so well.

Five years of hard living has taken its toll, but she’s still a great looking lady.  Tall for a woman, long torso and average legs, she’s blonde, slender, tits in damn nice shape (hey - we’re all getting older, things ain’t the way they used to be, nothing’s wrong with that, but it doesn’t mean I can’t notice tits that gravity hasn’t found yet.)

She’s set down the pipe so apparently she’s done.  I walk behind her, tell her to cross her wrists, which she does it the wrong way - surprise! - which I correct, wrap the rope and tie it securely.  My feet push her legs further apart, I grab her hair and pull her backwards so she’s a little past the tipping point, take my free hand and caress her face, my lips find hers...

Our lips and tongues play as my hand finds its way to her breast, stroking the one, squeezing it, finding the nipple, pulling, twisting, back to main tittie and fondle some more, soon the other tit has my attention and it’s on to part deux.  Mission accomplished, my hand returns to her forehead, another cycle begins, this one ending at her navel. 

A couple more cycles and she’s kissing like she’ll die if something doesn’t happen, finally my hand finds her pussy, palpable heat rising from it...I touch it, she’s dripping wet ...fingers on either side of the clit, squeeze, the clitteral bud, engorged, twitches under the pressure, again and again....  She moans past our kisses, I slide the fingers in her slot…

Out again, slick as can be,  fingers strum her clit, right-left right-left right-right-left, the moan does not diminish, she’s begging me to fuck her…but the control freak in me is not ready yet, I play some more…My fingers find her snatch again and I jam them in, fast, over and over...the moan is lower as the orgasm has begun, her voice up and down as the O takes control…

Fingers out but the O continues, I strum her clit, her abs are so tight and she’s over the top again….suddenly I slap her oh so exposed pussy a half dozen times, her O just fucking explodes, she shrieks loud enough to wake a passed out banshee …

I set her down, exhausted.  I get ice water, give her a sip, she didn’t realize how thirsty she was.  I ask if she wants a smoke, or a fuck?  She perks up at fuck, “oh yes please fuck me, I am sooo horny”, so arms released, into the bedroom, onto the bed, a pillow under her ass…

I pull down my pants, off with my shorts, oh my I thought it was hard but this is impressive, it would a crime to lose this boner, and C is looking at it, can’t take her eyes off it, wants it, inside, so I climb onto her, give her pussy what it needs more than anything….

No more fooling around, dick slams into cervix and her abdomen erupts, instant orgasm, cunt even hotter and squeezing tight, won’t let go… I get an urgent message, dick to control center, situation critical, too much pressure, heat, we can’t take much more of this, we’re going to have to unload…

No.  I’m not in high school anymore, this doesn’t have to happen.  I pull the dick out, pre-cum dripping, trailing, C figures out something’s not quite right, OH NO PLEASE DON’T STOP PLEASE FUCK ME...and I jam it in, thrust as fast and hard as I can, she goes fucking nuts, my dick does the impossible, gets bigger, harder, and it’s that way with each thrust, reactors are critical, pumps overloaded, Captain she’s gonna blow!, and unlike on TV that’s what happens, hot jizz spews into eager pussy and can you say “supernova”?  Of course she can, but not now, not enough energy, ambition left to talk.  For the first time in five years, we embrace.

As usual, she’s out of bed first, runs to the john, back to me, hugs me...I wonder what she’s going to compliment first, after all it was a stellar performance...I figure she’s going to ask me to slap her pussy again next time...

“Can I have another beer and a pipe?” 

 Some things never change.

[gamzee-the-capricious-fanfic]

Chapter 3

Some Notes: There is some minor friend on friend violence. And some drug mention/use. Also, I don’t like weed terminology, its boring, so i’m just going to use cheesy slang for weed cause why not

It's the day before classes, the last 4 days have been a bit rough for you. Your pangs of guilt when seeing Karkat is starting to fade but it's been a bit difficult for you to communicate with him. Not because he avoids you or anything, quite the opposite really. He's pretty much always in your business at this point. You are no longer aloud to be alone at all now which you feel is putting strain on everyone. Especially yourself. You were ok when you had at least one option to be alone, well, to be fair that last day wasn't great but you had actually just found your husktop (how did you lose it?) so at least you wouldn't have been completely bored. So far though you just feel tossed around. You don't really think anyone really wants to sit around and grub-sit you all day. You feel stifled and unable to do anything you want to do. I mean, you don't feel like you can ask someone to go with you anywhere, it has been more like you have to follow them around. But worse than that you kind of feel… unwanted. 

It's not an unfamiliar feeling. In fact you've felt that way most of your life. I mean your own lusus never really wanted to stick around. The eventual use of sopor later on helped you to not feel that way. Well, the feeling was still there but buried deep in your high as hell mind. Then of course you met your friends, but they never really wanted to hang out with you. Tavros talked to you a lot but it wasn't within his means to visit you. Karkat you felt kind of just tolerated you before you were moirails. Occasionally others would talk to you but not much. You guess you never really processed those feelings when you were doped up and now they are all up crowding your thinkpan. You wish you could get high. 

At the moment you are trailing after Nepeta and Equius. They are talking animatedly, or well Nepeta is at least. You kind of feel, in the way. You guess you are just lucky they aren't trying to incorporate you into the conversation out of guilt. You would much prefer to not interact with anyone. You wonder if you slowed down enough would they notice you were gone? They aren't looking at you so you slow your walking keeping an eye on them to see if they may look back. Once they are quite a ways ahead of you you quickly make your way behind a building so you will no longer be in line of sight. You wonder how long it will take them to see you are not with them. Best to not think about it. You're on a mission: find a way to get high so you can stop thinking about things for at least a little while. You don't intend to pick up sopor again by any means but you know there are human alternatives. You want to get high, just for today. You hope that when classes start tomorrow everything will be at least a little better. You head off towards the city, if you stay on campus, the chances of you being caught are likely.

It takes you a few hours but eventually you find a seedy motherfuckin area and actually you kind of stumble into a drug deal. It could have been bad but you waved around some money and the dealer was happy to sell to you. He offered you many different types of human drugs but you heard from Dave that weed is pretty ok and there is not a high chance of addiction. So you buy some, you probably spent more for it than it was worth but you don't really care, you pay a little extra so the dealer can show you what you are even supposed to do with it. He says the fastest way to use it is to smoke it so you figure that is what you will do. You bought enough to make a few blunts as you find out they are called, you don't really give two fucks about the terminology. You shove the packet of weed in your pocket and head on your way. 

You find a nice secluded spot just off campus and you figure its as good a place as any, so you sit on the ground back against a building and you try to figure out how a human lighter works. Alternian ones are so much easier, this design is stupid. You finally manage after a few tries, great. You roll up a motherfucker and light it. Shit makes you cough but honestly whatever it takes at this point. It takes a little bit of time but you start feeling a bit high. Not as good as sopor but it is enough to chill you out. It makes it easier not to think about things. You sigh and look up at the sky. It's about 7 pm you think. You turned off your phone so you couldn't check for sure. You decide to sit there for a while longer, even though the high makes you feel better you don't want to go back to your room. You know Karkat will just rip into you so you'd rather put it off a bit for now. You decide to light up another one. Might as well. 

The sky has long since gone dark and you still haven't gone back yet. The darkness is no obstacle of course. Trolls are technically nocturnal creatures after all. You sigh, you should probably turn your phone on at least. When it turns on you see you have 25 missed calls, all from Karkat, and a slew of messages from various friends. You don't care to look at them so you just delete them all. You look at the time while you are at it, huh, 11pm. You didn't think you had been sitting here that long. You decide you ought to get up. Your legs feel all stiff from sitting so long. You decide to slowly start walking towards the side of campus your dorm building is at. You still want to procrastinate on getting there but you know you ought to at least sleep a little before classes the next morning. You imagine Karkat might rant and rave at you for at least a couple hours. 

Your halfway to the dorm building just minding your motherfuckin business when you hear something running towards you. Your high is still going so your a bit slow to react but it is Karkat and he looks pissed. You wonder why he is not slowing down as he approaches you but you soon find out. He tackles you to the ground driving the breath out of you and then he punches you in the face. Hard. 

"YOU FUCKING VILE HORSESHIT PRICK!" He punches you again. You are too surprised by this reaction to do anything. 

"WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU JUST UP AND DISSAPEAR LIKE THAT!" He goes to punch you again but you grab his hand stopping him. He is practically snarling at you and every ounce of high feeling you had is gone. 

"FUCKING SAY SOMETHING YOU ASSHOLE, GIVE SOME EXCUSE I DARE YOU!" 

You kind of snap. "I DON'T NEED TO GIVE YOU A MOTHERFUCKIN REASON. I'M NOT SOME FUCKING WRIGGLER THAT NEEDS LOOKING AFTER KARKAT." You shove him off of you. You are angrier than you ever recall being. Karkat looks alarmed but you don't care. He tries to say something. 

"SHUT THE MOTHERFUCK UP AND JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR ONE GODDAMNED SECOND." You lower your voice a bit, rage is still boiling through your veins so it is more of a dangerous quiet. "I can't fucking stand to be smothered Karkat. You think I like being tossed around, unwanted, and treated like I'm broken motherfucker?" 

He stutters, the fear on his face makes you smile. "I-I---n-no Gamzee. I-I'm sorry--" 

"Of course you are. OF COURSE YOU ARE. I can make you real and truly sorry my brother." 

A timid voice comes from behind you. 

"G-Gamzee?"

You turn with an almost guttural growl at whoever interrupted you. It's Tavros. Part of you is screaming inside to not hurt him but the you that isn't you takes a step towards Tavros with a sadistic smile on your face. Karkat grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. Next thing you know your hands are around his neck squeezing. Despite that he looks calm, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. You loosen your grip on his throat and he shooshes you. The anger is starting to slip away leaving you feeling empty. Your hands fall to your sides, you feel like a limp doll, probably look like one too. Then filling up the emptiness you feel is horror. You were going to hurt them. You almost came close to killing your moirail. 

"O-oh god, Karkat i-im sorry, i'm so sorry. I wouldn't have--" you trail off, you were lying, you would have killed him. You would have snapped his neck like a twig. You think he knows too.

You don't understand how he could stand there, comforting someone who was just seconds away from killing him. You feel sick to your stomach. Karkat is rubbing your back and murmuring to you that everything is ok. 

"But I hurt you..?" You can't comprehend that being anywhere close to ok.

"Well, to be fair I did punch you, twice.” He examines your face. “Hold still.” 

He wipes your face with his sleeve, you didn’t realize your nose was bleeding. He makes a face at the blood on his sleeve. You look down at his neck, you can still see the imprint of your hands. He notices you looking. 

“It’s fine Gamzee, It could have been worse.”

You suppose so? But still doesn’t erase the fact that you still did that and had the intention to do worse. You sigh, you do that alot these days you realize. After a moment you say in a quiet voice, not one of violence but uncertainty. 

“I… don’t see how you can still up and have any feelings for this motherfucker after all this.”

“Well, you might be a violent clown dumbass but you’re MY violent clown dumbass. Does that answer your question?”

You chuckle softly. 

 Another voice chimes in. It’s Tavros, you kind of forgot he was still there.

“Y-yeah, well, uh, I’m not in a quadrant or anything with you” He blushes profusely. “ but I still uh, care about you, uh, i-inafriendway.” He says that last bit very quickly. 

Karkat rolls his eyes, you’re not sure why though. Actually most of Tavros’s actions and words kind of confused you. You’re getting some mixed motherfuckin signals. It’s too confusing to think about right now you decide. After looking at Karkat you stifle a laugh at a thought you just had.

“You know, if no one else knew better they would probably think we were kismesis.” You gesture to your face and Karkat’s neck.

“Oh god, I can’t even imagine that. Me hate dating you? No fucking way.”

You laugh for real now, you 100% agree with that statement. Karkat grabs your hand and starts tugging you towards the dorm building. 

“Lets get you cleaned up then we are going to have a pile session, well, probably just on the lounge couch.”

Damn, you were totally ready to whip out the horn pile. After a big exaggerated sigh you smile. It's been a while since you two had a real feelings jam. 

Later in your guy's room you and Karkat are all sorts of comfy in the couch. You are lying with your head on Karkat’s lap and he is running his hands through your hair. You have already went back over and talked about the whole feeling suffocated thing, this time with less yelling and violence. Karkat was thinking of a way to compromise, you get to do whatever but he still wants a way to know if you are unsafe or feel like you might have a seizure. 

“Ok, how about, a text warning? Like not a word or anything that may be too long. Maybe an emoji?” 

You yawn, It’s really fucking late. “Yeah sure Kar, that sounds fine by me.” You think for a moment. “I guess we should pick one then?”

Karkat starts flipping through the emojis on his phone occasionally showing you one that he thinks would be appropriate. You just want a funny one though.

“Look, Its gotta be something you wouldn’t normally use ok? These fucking stupid ones look like something you would just randomly send me.”

You suppose he is right. He searches intently before pointing at one. It is a red x lookin thing. 

“This one, remember that you dumbass.”

“Sure Karbro, now, not to be too much of a buzzkill on this whole pale sesh but can we go to sleep now?” You yawn again.

“Oh god Gamzee, please never call this that ever again. An idiot like you knows what it sounds like.” He is making a face. “Now maybe get the fuck off of me then we can sleep.” 

You sigh, then you grab him and pull him down to lie on the couch next to you. He grumbles. 

“What the fuck are you doing Gamzee.”

“Oh no bro, I am too motherfucking tired to get the fuck up so I guess you are just stuck here.” You smile and pull him in close, no escape for this motherfucker. 

Karkat mutters some very interesting curses but ends up settling down giving in. You love it when you win. 

Some inspiration songs for this Chapter:

The Reason cover by Chase Holfelder https://youtu.be/jsLHVKGIMik

Fit for Rivals Damage https://youtu.be/MsWzZ4SnhSk 

Twenty one pilots Car Radio https://youtu.be/KAmBKyfoJCY

And Every Breath You Take cover by Chase Holfelder https://youtu.be/KAmBKyfoJCY

^ this one more like Karkat in this chapter

[cleverbroadwayurl]

Oh What a Day (Jeremy Heere x Reader Pt 14)

Song: Oh What a Day by Ingrid Michaelson

Word Count: 3496

Need to Catch Up? PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9 PART 10 PART 11 PART 12 PART 13

Want More? PART 15 PART 16  PART 17 PART 18 PART 19

A/N: What even is a posting schedule at this point??? I have a Connor Murphy fic coming up soon so that anon can expect to see that by the 21st! I also have do some critique on it really fast and like, make things historically accurate. But anyways! I was asked to write fluff,,, so happy birthday @catatonic-kuragin!!! Yay!! 

Trigger Warnings: mentions of an abusive boyfriend...I think that’s it but IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW

Taglist: @retrogarden @be-more-heidi-hansen @scarsonthecuffsofyourjeans @catatonic-kuragin @bluhimaweirdo if you want to be added, just ask or PM me!

Jeremy: Hope you have a great night! Let me know if you need anything 😊

The moment Jeremy’s phone went off, both boys immediately paused Apocalypse of the Damned. The ringer had been turned up just in case something happened, and both boys were glad that Jeremy was so precautious about this particular situation. Michael jumped up and started for his linen closet that sat at the back of his closet, grabbing sheets just in case you had to stay the night on his couch.

As soon as Michael’s hands grabbed the sheets he was looking for, his best friend stopped him, holding up a single hand as he read over the text over and over again. It wasn’t that Jeremy wanted to bring you over to his house instead of the Mells, actually it would be smart to change the location just in case your boyfriend had caught on, but the text was something that Jeremy never expected from you, especially given the interaction you’d had earlier that night at Red Robin.

You: Thank you! I hope your night is going well!

There was a beat as dust seemed to settle around the room. A blue glow came from the TV screen, almost making everything around them look like some scene out of Stranger Things. Weed had been left out of the night’s activities, just in case one of them would need to drive or just in case you needed help, so the air didn’t smell of the usual stuffy smoke, but rather the tropical air freshener that Mrs. and Mrs. Mell insisted on putting downstairs in the basement. Michael put the sheet set back into the closet before closing the door and walking back to his best friend.

“They just hoped our night went well,” Jeremy said, unsure of how exactly how to read that text. With anybody else, the text was one dimensional, easy to understand and read. But with you, this could be a cover up, you could be trying to see if he was home yet so you could make your getaway again. He had subtly hint that you could hand out with him and Michael, fuck he wanted you to hang out with him and Michael, but not make it so incredibly obvious that he was trying to pull you away. Because being too obvious might result in sacrificing your safety, which was never going to be a goal of Jeremy’s.

“Good. I’m glad they’re safe,” Michael responded, relief clearing his features.

Unfortunately, Jeremy wasn’t as convinced as his best friend. He continued to stare at the small grey message as he spoke up again, “But what if it’s like…code? What if they’re actually in danger?”

“Tell them you’re over here and they’re welcome to come over if they want.”

“That isn’t discreet enough.”

The two thought about it for a little bit longer before both of them crafted a part of a text that seemed acceptable to send to you. Sure, it took an army just to send a single text, but in this case there was no such thing as too careful.

Jeremy: It is! Michael and I decided to go back to his house and play some video games in his basement

Three little dots appeared almost immediately after the text was sent, and the lanky boy wiped his hands on his jeans. Michael’s hand met his shoulder, the soft touch giving reassurance that everything was going to be okay, no matter what. It was also a way to help Jeremy calm down, breathing already evening out.

You: That sounds like fun! I’m glad you guys had a nice night!

That seemed like the end of the conversation, nothing more to it.

Then again, this didn’t seem like you. It was too short, too minimal, too…something. Jeremy thought that maybe there was something going on behind the scenes that he just couldn’t place no matter how hard he tried. So, he decided to type out another message, even though his thoughts were screaming at him to not do so.  

Jeremy: Did you make it home safely?

It was a risk, but he decided that if you weren’t you’d let him know and he could help. Yeah, this was for the best. Plus, Michael was still with him, and he was sure that his moms would love to help in any way they could.

You: I did! You: Thanks for asking btw, I thought maybe you’d want to hear from me or something You: Just because I know you texted before and I didn’t want you to worry so uhh I just got back and yeah, everything this fine.

Okay, Jeremy had to smile at that. With all the time you’d spent with him, it was like you knew him like back of your hand. You’d texted him to ease his mind, which was something he wasn’t expecting, and it meant that you’d taken notice that sometimes Jeremy is nervous about his actions and, well, you. While in the back of his mind, he knew that some of this was your conditioned habits showing, he knew that you messaging him like this, checking in with him and picking up on his mannerisms, was something that hadn’t been ingrained into your head. This was genuine, and your triple texts reassured him of that as he read over each one again and again. The glow of the TV had now becoming comforting and Michael had completely switched vibes, from concerned best friend to scrolling through his phone and completely at ease with himself. He was almost waiting for the conversation with Jeremy and you to end.

But maybe Jeremy didn’t want it to end just yet.

“Michael?”

“Yeah dude, what’s up?” he locked his phone before making eye contact with the boy who sat beside him.

“Can we save this level for another time? I…I just uhh—”

“I get it, dude. You ‘just uhh’ want to text (Y/N) for a little bit because ‘they have to be the cutest thing in the entire universe’. It’s all good, no worries, man.” Jeremy rolled his eyes at his best friend’s mocking before Michael spoke up again, “Hey, I’m just using your words, Heere. It’s not like I pulled those out of thin air.”

He saved the game before turning off the console and switching over to Netflix. It was silent as Michael went through category after category before finally settling on That 70s Show. He settled further into his beanbag as the intro played, a deep breath exiting as he did so. Relaxation radiated off of Michael’s presence, slowly seeping into the room.

Jeremy couldn’t relax, though. Now that you were safe, he realized that there was a lot more he was worried about, like figuring out how to talk to you. Which was dumb; it was dumb, right? He’d talked to you so many times that Jeremy believed this small conversation should be easy. He kind of knew what to say, at least more than he did that first night that you’d shown up on his door step, and he had a general idea of what you like, but somehow this was more nerve-racking than ever before.

“Need help?” Michael asked, leaning towards his best friend.

Jeremy nodded, “I just don’t know what to say.”

The other boy let out a chuckle at Jeremy’s usual antics. He scooched closer to him, reading over the texts you’d sent again. “Say ‘Yeah’ and then ask them about what they’re up to. Easy as that.”

The lovesick boy shoved Michael playfully as a blush appeared on his face. “Easy for you to say dude.”

But maybe it was as easy as that. Jeremy didn’t have to try and get you to like him, at least not in a romantic sense. Plus, based off of the interactions you’d already had with one another, it seemed like you already liked him in a platonic way. So yeah, maybe this was as easy as Michael made it out to be. Maybe this time he could get away with gaining confidence by his best friend’s quips of encouragement. Maybe he didn’t need a battalion to win you over.

Jeremy: Yeah! Jeremy: What are you up to now that you have a night free to yourself?

It didn’t talk very long to respond to his texts, almost implying how excited you were to talk to someone that you knew was on your side.

You: Ooooo big night tonight. I’m just getting some ice cream and then going to play Life is Strange. You: What about you?

Your comment made Jeremy light up in excitement. Not only were you responding to him in a way that made it seem like you wanted to talk to him more often than you did, but you were also joking around with him and engaging in questions that were about simple mundane things like how his night was going. He never even imagined that you’d text him in better circumstances this summer, even if they were stemmed from something that could’ve gone horribly wrong. Something told him in his heart that this conversation was done with free will, nothing coercing you. It was genuine. It was perfect.  

Jeremy smiled to himself as he typed out another message.

Jeremy: Oh man speak of the devil, Michael’s sitting next to me giving me those pacific northwest vibes.

Michael gave his best friend a weird look. Jeremy hadn’t even realized that he’d just definitely laughed out loud at his own text before Michael had given him such a weird look. Mock hurt flashed across his face “Are you teasing me?”

“We’re just talk about Life is Strange.”

“Oh haha, very funny. ‘Michael is Chloe Price’.”

“Well…”

“Those two only had each other and you know it!”

Jeremy leaned forward and giggled as his best friend cried out. After a second, the mock hurt disappeared and both best friends were laughing with one another, just like they had so many years ago, before the mocking, before Rich’s SQUIPped antics. The laughing ceased after a good minute, only short chuckles entering the room along with Michael’s sitcom choice playing in the background. Jeremy’s phone vibrated again, and he glanced at it before smiling widely to himself.

You: Oh my god 😂😂😂

The lanky boy was over the moon at this point, stars in his eyes as he read over your response probably more times than could be counted. It was so nice to talk to you…the real you. Not the broken down version of you that came into his life over a month ago, but you who liked to joke and laugh, you who liked to make blushy and flirtatious eye contact, and you who was just so perfectly conventional in the right ways.

“What do I say next?” Jeremy consulted Michael, his brain only coming up with words that had romantic connotations.

“Hmmm” he began, the sitcom now long forgotten, “ask them if they like the game so far. I think they’d enjoy it.”

“Me too,” Jeremy smiled.

Jeremy: How do you like the game so far?

He only had to wait half a second before you replied.

You: I’ve actually played it a few times…but it’s my favorite so like I love it still. 😊 You: Like I don’t think that I could ever say I don’t like it, you know?

The boy blushed at his incorrectness before straight up almost apologizing for his mistake. He began to type out a message, but Michael stopped him. “I noticed you get nervous again, but dude, that’s an honest mistake. It’s fine, trust me.”

So that’s what Jeremy typed back (as Michael yelled to the boy who only sat beside him “Use an exclamation point! You like that game too!”)

Jeremy: I didn’t know that!

He decided to joke around again, keeping the mood light and happy instead of dragging you into a lengthy apology. Michael was right, it was an honest mistake and Jeremy knew you weren’t going to judge him for it.

Jeremy: No wonder you support “Michael Price” 😂

He giggled again as he sent that, blush becoming as deep as it was when you’d called him cute weeks ago. Jeremy couldn’t believe how well this was going; talking to you was better than he could’ve ever even imagined. And it wasn’t only that, but he could talk to you for hours, not saying a word himself, but just listening to you. Jeremey swore that he could listen to you for hours at a time, getting lost in you and your cute mannerisms hour after hour. He wanted to know everything; from your favorite socks to why you like to go to that diner than the one that was closer to your house. He wanted to talk about the world with you, and everything in it.

You: I totally do omg!!!

Text didn’t seem like the right place to do that, though. He debated what he was going to say next, words of wisdom that his friends had said before coming to him: Ask them out! Even if it’s just platonic! What’s the worst that could happen? With that, and Michael’s wordless support around him, Jeremy took a breath, took a step, and took a chance.

Jeremy: Can I ask you something?

You: Sure! What’s up?

Nerves set in as Jeremy began to sweat, swallowing hard as he wiped his hands on his jeans again. Michael took note of the change in demeanor and paused That 70s Show so Jeremy could have some quiet to focus on getting the bearing to talk to you. His hands shook a little bit, but his vision remained steady as he typed out a message. Before he could delete it all and ask you something dumb instead, Michael took the phone, read over the text, and then told Jeremy to hit send. He did, thinking that Michael had altered the text in some way, but was unfortunately met with the original text, already sent to you.

Jeremy: There’s this park by my house, and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go there one night later this week and just talk and hang out? I thought you’d just want to enjoy a friend’s company for a little bit. And you can totally say no btw.

“Michael, what the fuck?!” Jeremy hissed, taking his phone back and throwing it onto his beanbag. He stood up and started circling the room, hands running through his hair a million miles a minute.

“You wouldn’t have sent it yourself!”

“That was the point!”

His phone vibrated, but Jeremy was too caught up in himself to even care. What the fuck was he even thinking? He couldn’t even explain to you at this point that he didn’t mean it like a date, it was just meant to be friends, and now you were going to reject him and never talk to him again, and it was Michael who was supposed to change it so it read something better than what had actually sent and now he’d have to answer to the mistakes that he’d made, which included his own trusting of Michael’s judgement, which was stupid to do because he was impulsive as fuck sometimes, and now the consequences were falling on him, and damn it he blew it, he really blew it, and now, now, it was going to be impossible to—

“They said yes!”

“Wha--?!”

“They said yes Jer!”

“You’re lying,” he noted bitterly.

Michael held up your response in all of its glory, smiling goofily the whole time.

You: That sounds great! I’d love to! You: I’ve always wanted to go stargazing, and you’re totally right, I do need a friend to just talk and hang out with.

A brief moment of silence took over before Jeremy and Michael started cheering and screaming into the other’s face. Jeremy swore he could run up the basement stairs and run around the block 50 million times, just screeching “THANK YOU MICHAEL!” into the night. Because now not only was he going to see you, he was going to see you in happy circumstances, ones that he himself were setting up! The real you, the happy you, was making a comeback steadily, and Jeremy was practically over the moon with his joy.

Jeremy: Sounds great! When are you free?

You: Hmm can we do Thursday?

Jeremy: That works for me!

You: Perfect!

Jeremy could feel his heart begin to pound against his chest, even though he knew that this emeting was to be platonic and strictly platonic. And maybe that’s why he didn’t feel as much pressure or nervousness in thinking about this new event you’d both set up with one another. Normally, with Christine, he’d get super nervous after planning a date—even though this wasn’t a date—getting more nervous with each minute ticking down. This uneasiness lasted from the moment she’d said yes until he got home after the date, his hands used to be so sweaty and almost always, he held his breath like no tomorrow.

But this felt different. It was different. While you were in the worst of it, Jeremy was more than happy to offer you comfort and a place of safety when the world felt like it was crashing down. This was just something a little extra that he had been wanting to do. You’d be out in public, but after almost everyone went home for the night, as it didn’t get dark until late. And with this time in the park with you, there was a safe bet that your boyfriend wouldn’t find the two of you. Thinking it over again, though, if both of you did get caught, you’d have an alibi and Jeremy would be there to protect you if things got bad. It would be easy; you two would go to Jeremy’s car and go over to Michael’s house to wait out your boyfriend’s anger for the night, laughing and talking while simply being what you were supposed to be: teenagers that were excited to start a new life away from home.

Just to be sure, though, Jeremy had to double check with you. It was the only way to ensure your safety in a public space for something that, to a single passerby, would look like you two were on a date.

Jeremy: I just want to make sure because I don’t want you to get hurt Jeremy: uhh is your boyfriend okay with us hanging out?

It took you a few seconds to respond, happiness still coming with each and every letter you’d typed out.

You: I don’t know why he wouldn’t be okay with it!

A sigh flushed through Jeremy, relief allowing him to breathe deeply as he typed a small message back.

Jeremy: Great! So I’ll see you on Thursday! Jeremy: We can meet there too, if you’d like. At maybe around 9:30ish? It gets dark pretty late right now

You: Sounds perfect! I’ll see you then!

He smiled to himself before locking his phone and refocusing on the sitcom that had been started back up. Jeremy didn’t even notice his best friend watching it again, his whole focus on you, the person of his dreams, agreeing to even just hang out with him for an extended amount of time. Then again, you’d done that many times before. But this wasn’t like those times, and he knew that.

Jeremy joined Michael, sitting on the bean bag next to him before the slushie-enthusiast spoke up. “Jer’s got a date.”

“It’s not a date, Michael.”

“Sure…uh huh…okay,” Michael said, unconvinced of what his best friend said.

“It’s not though. Seriously. I don’t want to intrude on that relationship, even if it’s—”

“Horrible, awful, the absolute worst, literal hell—”

“I get it, dude,” he paused for a second. “but still, cheating would be bad. I mean, look what it did to Brooke. Plus, with the SQUIP…I just don’t feel comfortable with it, you know?”

“Yeah, dude. I was just teasing.”

Jeremy’s phone went off again, another text from you making an appearance. He smiled at your text, reading the preview. Before he swore that you couldn’t get any cuter, but once again, he was completely wrong.

You: Hey I’m going to bed because I’m literally falling asleep on my couch. You: But thank you so much for inviting me to do something, it’s nice to be able to have some times to relax with a friend.

He could just imagine you, half tired, falling asleep as Life is Strange played in the background. Jeremy could see your head resting, controller just out of your grip, mouth hung slightly open in the most delicate way, as heavy breaths sent you off to sleep. Yeah, he definitely wanted to see that one night.

Jeremy: No problem. Jeremy: Get some rest, okay? You deserve it. I’ll see you on Thursday.

You: See you on Thursday, Jeremy 😊 You: Have a wonderful rest of your night

[samtheflamingomain]

guess who's back

Today I left inpatient rehab. I was there for 20 days, and I'm currently 25 days sober.

This might get long, so I'll give a brief "table of contents".

Highlight reel, my mindset, my personal experiences/review of the treatment I received, and miscellaneous thoughts.

Highlights: 4-5 classes per day ranging from 1h to 2.5h. Mostly just standard CBT and DBT, very little of what I "learned" was new information for me. I really loved the people in treatment with me; they're all genuinely smart, great people. The staff were okay. The food was trash. I lost 18 pounds. I did a metric fucktonne of art and writing. Overall, it was a mixed bag.

My Mindset: I went in thinking "I just need to be locked up for 3 weeks to keep me away from alcohol". I obviously achieved that just by being there. Over the 3 weeks, my cravings mostly disappeared. I find myself fantasizing about drinking again, but I've become better at talking myself out of it.

Because the other 4 people there were on hard drugs, I felt a bit out-of-place as the only one who's never done more than booze and weed. All of them had plans to get drunk when they got out. Alcohol is obviously less harmful than mainlining fentanyl, so for them it's harm reduction. They were there to quit hard drugs because that's the priority.

At first I almost convinced myself that, because my life wasn't a dumpster fire compared to the others, I could conceivably carry on with my alcohol use. One guy who was into heroin said he "didn't drink that much, just a mickey a day". I was also on a "mickey-a-day" drinker, but for me, that's my biggest problem.

Over time I stopped comparing myself to the others, and solidified that I can't keep drinking like I was. I need to completely stop. I can't have "just one".

Personal Experience/Review: I coped pretty well with being away from home. The only one I really had to miss was my cat and my own bed. I wasn't homesick. I had a lot of art stuff I'd brought to fill my time. I also did a lot of writing, finally finishing a chapter I'd been stuck on for literal years.

The room I was in was approximately 500 degrees, with a fan positioned 6 inches from my face. Bigger than the one I have at home, though.

I smoked like a chimney, as everyone else were pack-a-day smokers. It was a good distraction and a good way to get to know everyone.

We did a lot of meditation, which I surprisingly enjoyed. We also did some random sessions about "energies" and "chakras" and a bit of 12-step bullshit slipped in here and there because one of the staff, a former addict herself, got clean through NA and it kind of tainted the stuff she talked about. I honestly think AA/NA is cultish and absolutely stupid, so that pissed me off a bit.

Overall, though, despite the classes being a bit long and boring, and very repetitive, having a structured day really helped. I was never bored, and I did my absolute best to be present and put in the work.

A bit of a tangent, but I'm a very "I'll try anything" person, I've tried nearly every depression/anxiety/PTSD drug on the market, ECT, rTMS, and now 2 rounds of rehab. I want to get better, and I'll do almost anything to get there.

Miscellaneous: I've decided to go back to school! I'm going to do a one-year intensive program to become a paralegal. I already have a diploma in Court Support Services, but the job market for court clerks is practically non-existent. Paralegal gets me into law firms and such. No guarantee return on investment, but hopefully more opportunities than just Court Services.

I realized I've been letting my health deteriorate, and it's been years since I've seen a dentist or an eye doctor, and I desperately need both. I'll have to pay out-of-pocket, but I finally have the savings to do so.

Tattoo coming in the next few weeks, going on a bit of a shopping spree to celebrate, and back to work this week. Also, my laptop is dying, so I'll probably need a new one by the end of August. My savings are about to take a real hit, but then, that's what it's for.

That's about all I have for now, feeling pretty good about being sober, and decently confident that I can maintain it.

Stay Greater, Flamingos

[coca-coola]

Life’s not fair: My Processing

This isn’t a poem, or a story. This is just me getting all the weight off. This is the collection of all the fucked up shit that’s happened. Some that everyone knows, some that no one knows. My mind locks up bad and painful memories and I need to get it all down, I need to know it happened so I can finally move on.

TW: Violence, Sexual Assault, Abuse, Miscarriage

Age: 1 My father held me out of a second story window while I kicked and screamed and threatened to drop me, because my mother cheated on him. My mother was begging and sobbing, but there was nothing she could do because my father let me slip a little more each time she took a step closer. I always knew that I was afraid of my dad, I never had a real reason when I was younger. But I guess the brain doesn’t forget. -This I don’t remember, but I was told about by both parents-

Age: 4 This memory is hazy, and I only remember it because of a flashback I had at age 13. It was my first sexual assault. All I can remember is three men holding me down and me screaming for my mom who was directly down the hall from me. I fought and screamed and cried and she just kept crying and saying she was sorry. The men were her friends. Thats all I can remember but after years of processing and trying to brush off that flashback as just a product of an over-active imagination, I know that its a real memory. It makes too much sense, and it was too real. I grew up with an extreme fear of men and I never had a reason. My mind blocked out the memory, not the trauma.

Age: 5 This is the first time I remember being sick. Really sick. I have an auto-immune disease, that was especially bad as a child. I got an ear infection, which for most kids, is just a common thing that is cleared up in no time. For me, I was sick for weeks. I was hitting a 10 on the pain scale and occasionally passing out from it. All I really remember is screaming because of the pain and my mother holding me and crying with me. When I brought this up at age 16 with her, she told me that the infection was so bad that I almost ended up in the ICU.

Age: 7 This memory is hazy, but certain parts are fresh. It was the first time I saw abuse up close and personal. It started with screaming from my mother apartment, which was downstairs from mine (I lived with my Grandma at this time). I ran down to her while my Grandma tried to catch me, and saw my moms boyfriend beating my mother in the way you only see in horror movies. I remember screaming at him, telling him that he was killing her. My Grandma yelled at him, saying that she called the police and that they were on the way. He bolted, nearly naked and on foot, out of the house and out of the neighborhood. The house was something out of a natural disaster movie. All the kitchen furniture was broken, everything was thrown off of the counter (including my pet fish), and everything in the living room was thrown apart. My mother was a bleeding, shaking mess. And she just kept crying for him to come back. This was all because she wouldn’t hand him his shoe from under the table.

Age: 9 I moved in with my mother again, after being with my Grandma basically my whole life. I moved in with her because she kept threatening to have me taken away by force, and I saw the toll that that was taking on my Grandma, so I told her I’d go willingly. You know that one point in your life that you wish you could go back and change? This is mine. My mother lived with her boyfriend (the one from Age 7), and their two daughters (my sisters, whom I love unconditionally now), and the household was hell. The abuse didn’t stop, and it was almost just as bad most times, and it wasn’t only my mother he beat, it was my sisters too, and my mom joined in on that. My mother degraded me in every way she could without hitting me, but I still wish I got the physical abuse instead. She tore me down, and those are scars I’ll carry until I die. There was one time when she did hurt my physically; she choked me with a purse strap because I was playing with my little sister and she thought I was hurting her, I wasn’t, not even close. My sister watched as I was being choked and said nothing. My mother made sure I knew that she didn’t love me like she did my sisters, and she made sure I knew that I was nowhere close to being equal to anyone in the house (except for maybe my dog).

Age: 10, turning 11 This memory is half visual, and half tactile, but all fresh. After I moved in with my mom, I started going to church, and became really close with my pastor. He was the most loved and trusted man in the neighborhood, and he was the type of guy you’d never have a second thought about. He was also the only man my Grandma trusted with me. I attended his church camp the summer going into 6th grade, and during the short time I was there, he broke the touch barrier a few times, which made me uncomfortable, but I still trusted him. One day there was an event at the church, kind of like a feast, and he asked me to help him make Kool Aid. He lead me down to the kitchen in the basement, and closed the door behind us. I made the Kool Aid while he watched and told me what to do. And when I was done he said I did a beautiful job, and asked me to give him a kiss on the cheek. I went to do so and he quickly turned his head so that I kissed him on the lips instead. He moaned and I got freaked out and tried to politely ask to go back upstairs, since the juice was made. He told me that we weren’t done and then kept brushing his fingers through my hair, telling me how beautiful and precious I was. He told me to sit on the counter, I did. I wish I didn’t. I wish I ran away. I kept my eyes closed and silently cried the entire time. Then when he was done, we both went back upstairs, and I just went home alone. I never went back. He gave me an STD. I didn’t tell anyone until I was 17. I can still feel his breath on my neck and his hands on my body. Any time anyone called me beautiful after that, I only heard his voice.

Age: 11-12 Not much to this. I was bullied for being fat, and then I starved myself and lost all the weight, and then was bullied for being too skinny. I was diagnosed with anorexia. I still struggle with it, but have it mostly under control now.

Age: 12 My Grandma lost her battle with depression in June. She swallowed all of her pills and told my aunt that no one loved her. The entire time I was in the hospital, I was waiting for her to wake up, because she always did. Whenever she was in the hospital and the doctors said it was hopeless, she woke up. She didn’t wake up this time. The angel who loved me and raised me and taught me how to find beauty in everything, was gone.

Age: 14 I went to my friends quinceañera with my cousin and boyfriend at the time. My boyfriend and I planned to stay after everyone left so we could do everything we talked about doing while texting. So once everyone else left, we snuck to the back of the building and he sat on an old milk crate and I sat on his lap. I jerked him off while he fingered me, but at one point he came and pushed it into me. I, being the overly fertile person I am, got pregnant. When I found out, I asked him what he’d do if I were pregnant, and he told me he’d leave me. I did everything I could to self-abort, and something I did worked, because I miscarried at two months.

Age: 15 I dated a girl that was too old for me, a teenager, but still too old. She was mature and already lived alone, and I was fresh out of a relationship and hated my mom and wanted to feel bad I guess. One day she brought me to her house, and we fooled around like we did a lot. At some point I told her I was tired and wanted to stop, and she told me she wanted to try one more thing. She took out a pretty big dildo and I told her no, that it would hurt and I didn’t like dildos. She forced me onto the bed and tied me down with the restraints she had under her mattress. I cried and kept telling her to stop, because it hurt. It really hurt. She switched between both holes, and laughed the entire time. I had to play off the blood in my pants as a period when my mom noticed. I tried to break up with her but she would randomly show up near my house or text me at random times. It’s only been a few months since I last heard from her, and I’m really hoping she gave up for good.

Age: 17 It started when I hooked up with a random 27 year old, because my girlfriend at the time made me feel unwanted and undesirable (she didn’t mean to, but that’s how I was feeling). I went there, we got high, we fucked, and we both came. He asked me to suck his dick again afterwards, and he knew I hated doing it. I did it for about 3 minutes before I stopped and said I was done, and I wanted to leave. He told me that he wasn’t done, and grabbed me by my hair and used my mouth as his own personal fleshlight. I was gagging, I couldn’t breathe, and I was crying. He just kept telling me how good my “tight lips” felt. I forced my girlfriends hand in breaking up with me, which wasn’t hard at all.

A few weeks later, I hooked up with an older man. I went to his apartment, which was in the next building from mine, and I smoked first, because that’s the only way I can enjoy fucking guys. After I was already high, he offered me an edible, which I accepted, except it wasn’t an edible. Instead of weed, it was laced with ecstasy. I let him do things to me that hurt, and that I wouldn’t even allow someone I loved do. I was extremely passive and acted completely out of character. And I saw him put the condom on wrong, and I didn’t correct him, or say anything, I just did everything he told me to do without question. The condom broke. I got pregnant. This time with a baby I intended to keep. I told most people I was going to try to self abort again but I couldn’t bring myself to it. I loved this baby and I wanted this baby. I named him and talked to him. I miscarried at a just few weeks. It tore me apart. I named my puppy after him to try and ease the pain.

Age: 18 I got some weird texts from a number I didn’t know. They came from a man who had serious blackmail, so there was nothing I could do legally. He got very sexual very fast, and started to threaten me. He told me he knew my schedule and where I live, and that he’d have me like he wanted. I chose to ignore the texts because I assumed he was bluffing. I didn’t actually think I was in any danger. The next morning I went out to walk my dog, like I did everyday. While I was walking I felt a body of a gun pressed against my lower back and I stiffened up and my dog started to growl. He leaned down to my ear and told me to act normal and to follow him. I tried my best to keep my dog under control while he lead me to a backstreet leading to the park nearby house. He pushed me into the woods and told me to keep walking until he said to stop. Once we made it to where he wanted to be, he told me to walk to the path and tie my dog up, so that if anyone came by, he’d bark and warn him. I did as told and walked back to him, where he was waiting with the gun in his hand, aimed straight at me. It was the first and only time I got a good look at him. He was covered head to toe; he wore a black hoodie, large sunglasses, a bandana with stars on it, tan work gloves, thick jeans, and timbs. As soon as I made my way to him, he pulled his pants down just enough to get his dick out, and told me to pull my pants all the way down, and then he pushed me against a tree. He was overly rough. I think he got more out of making sure I was in pain than the rest of it. At one point, his glove scratched my neck and I thought he had a knife up to me so I let out the beginning of a scream, and he immediately plugged my nose and covered my mouth and cocked his gun on my forehead and I shut my eyes as tight as possible because I was petrified. He asked me if I was stupid. He told me that he hoped I enjoyed that breath I wasted, because it was my last. He pulled the trigger. And I knew that my Grandma was still looking after me because I told her I was sorry. I opened my eyes and saw him still in front of me. The gun jammed. He was pissed and he took it out on me, and at one point I wished the gun did go off. When he was done, he told me to count to 20 before I went anywhere. I counted to 30, pulled my pants up, got my dog, and left.

I ended up in the mental hospital just a few days later. I was drained and empty and hopeless and broken in every way. I was done and I didn’t believe I was supposed to be alive. While in the hospital, I got a lot better. Better than I have ever been in my life. But while I was in the hospital, my nana had my dog killed for no reason. She just wanted to break me further. They had to keep me longer, but I still came out better.

——————————————————————-

I am stronger than ever now. These things are a part of my past and they all still hurt but they don’t control me anymore. I have to process to let go, but I am letting go. I am going to be okay. I am going to live a full and loving life. And I will feel pain again, but I will not suffer again.

[patricksilvrrozartistry]

Current Music Obsessions: August 17 - 31, 2017

Ho lordt. I have A LOT of obsessions to get through for these past two weeks of August! I listened to A LOT of stuff and purged my watch later playlist big time. So let's start out with the MANY honorable mentions.

Glass Idols - Thema Alwaid - Idle Riddles and Rhymes Alessia Cara - Scars to Your Beautiful Nyxx - Diabolical Arise - Sin Fin Temperance - At the Edge of Space (live) Thy Art is Murder - The Son of Misery Belly - Feed the Tree Accid Reign - In the Dark Mount Salem - Lucid Clouds - Nothing but a Name feat. Mihu Glare of the Sune - Groundwater AL1CE - Looking Glass Nostra Morte - Persefone White Skull - Will of the Strong Dreamspell - Твой Выход Rage of Light - Mechanicals Sirenia - Sister Nightfall Angie - Smoke Weed Eat Pussy Septicflesh - Enemy of Truth Lorn - Acid Rain Tacere - Voice in the Dark MaYaN - Enemies of Freedom MaYaN - Paladins of Deceit Sheer - My Wicked World In the Silence - Ever Closer Eihwaz - Delusion Beyon-D-Lusion - Sweet Surrender Veil of Delusions - Together for Glory Mechina - Creation Level Event Evanescence - Bring Me to Life (Synthesis) Zolita - Fight Like a Girl Orden Ogan - Come with Me to the Other Side feat. Liv Kristine Azathoth Circle - In My Mind

Now let's see those MANY real obsessions.

1) Season's End - Our Prayers Fall Back to Earth

It's been 12 years since these guys dropped any new material and they released this awesome track. It's so good and haunting. I always love it when music talks of the struggles of the real world, ESPECIALLY when it get political. It opens your mind to what is really going on outside.

2) A Sound of Thunder - Who Do You Think We Are?

These guys are amazing. This track is low key a diss track to people always trying to define metal bands and put them in small boxes. A metal band is still a metal band no matter what subgenre they fall under. I love their campy songs like this one. They're always so fun.

3) Serpent & Seraph - Tears of Naviane

I discovered these guys through a compilation video on YT one day and fell in love. There's something about this track that is so hypnotic and amazing. It goes from being extremely aggressive to being extremely beautiful rapidly and the transition practically non-existent, but that's what I love about it.

4) Garbage - No Horses

This is the second song I've heard from these guys and it is completely different from Magnetized. It has a bit of a 90's industrial kind of vibe to it and I love it. Another song that is charged by the evils of the world around us. More specifically: police brutality.

5) Micky Huijsmans - New Horizons (Textures cover)

This is one of my favorites off Phenotype, and Micky put such an epic spin on it with this cover. I never expected her to do growls and I hope she brings them to a future End of the Dream album. It really shows multiple dimensions to her voice that EotD doesn't show and is amazing.

6) Synkvervet - Aurora

Another song I discovered from a compilation video on YT, this is a blackened symphonic metal band. This song is so beautiful and lovely. The contrast between their female singer and their male vocalist are so epic. Also, their female singer looks STUNNING in this video. Definitely am gonna check out more from these guys.

7) Little Dead Bertha - Cry of Mankind (My Dying Bride cover)

This was a random discovery on the recommended videos on YT and I need to hear more from them. It has a blackened doom metal vibe to it and their female singer's voice is so lovely. Not only do I need to check out more from these guys, but I need to finally listen to My Dying Bride. I still haven't listened to them yet!

8) Cradle of Filth - You Will Know the Lion By His Claw

This is their best single they've released for their upcoming album and probably one of the best songs they've released in the past 10 years. It's like an evolved form of classic CoF and I fucking love it. The last two minutes are absolutely INSANE. Dani's low growl is everything. So hyped for the new album!

9) The Great Discord - Omen

Everything these guys have released in line with their new album has been amazing. This song is pretty and so cool. They've really stepped their game up with this album. Not saying that Duende wasn't a good album, it was amazing, but they're definitely putting their names out there with this one and I can't wait to see what amazing opportunities come their way from it.

10) Russkaja - Alive

Really weird, bizarre, amazing, glorious, cheesy ska fused with punk and rock. I've heard a few songs from them, but haven't really gotten that deep into their works. I really need to change that. I love bands that don't take themselves seriously. Also, that EDM breakdown was extremely unexpected and dope af.

11) Aly & AJ - Take Me

This is their first song (under their names) in 10 YEARS and it's wonderful. When I found out that they dropped a new single, I nearly screamed. These girls were my childhood. I'm so hyped for the upcoming album and to see what direction it's gonna go in, because this is a blend of indie rock and 80's styled synthpop and I love it.

12) Corvyx - I Got You (Bebe Rexha cover)

I never heard the original, but I am OBSESSED with this guy's cover of this song. I've been a big of this guy for a minute now and I think this one is on the same level of favorites as his cover as I Don't Wanna Live Forever. His voice is so lovely in this song and I love the slight distortion. This song is such a fun one to just blast while driving.

13) Kari Rueslatten - Spellbound

This song is so pretty. It's such a simple song, but it's so pretty that you get hooked on it instantly. Such a great song to put on and just chill to. I can't wait to get around to listening to her new album.

14) Tristania - Aphelion

I've been on a big Tristania kick lately and this has been one of the songs I've been obsessed with by them. I really need to listen to their full discography again, because I'm not familiar with Morten's era with them. This song is just so beautiful and intense. The last two minutes are probably my favorite. It just escalates so quickly and ends on such a beautiful note.

Crushed Dreams

After getting a copy of World of Glass, when this song came on, I knew I would be listening to it non-stop for a hot minute. The intro, the choirs and the exit are so amazing and beautiful. This is definitely my favorite album from Vibeke's era with the band. It's so beautiful, raw, haunting and in your face.

15) Qveen Herby - Busta Rhymes

Amy is definitely reinventing herself with this new project. Karmin dabbled with hip hop a little bit, but this project is pure trip hop/hip hop and I'm loving it. And homegirl goes IN on the second verse. I really need to listen to their debut EP.

16) The Naked and Famous - All of This

I can't remember how I came across this song, but nonetheless, I love it. It wasn't all that interesting to me at first, but then it grew on me and became an obsession. It's such a simple pop rock track, but it's so fun and catchy and has a bit of a punk-ish flare to it. Really digging it and am gonna check out more from them.

17) Crimfall - Until Falls the Rain

I discovered these guys through Helena (I'm a big fan of her old project Tacere), but have only listened to Wildfire Season. This song is so powerful and beautiful. I know how cheesy this sounds, but this song is amazing to listen to when it's raining/storming outside. Such a perfect blend of symphonic and folk metal. Can't wait to hear their new album.

18) End of the Dream - Who Do You Think You Are

Finally listened to their new album, Until You Break, and I really enjoyed it. This and the track below are ones that definitely stood out to me on the album. This song has such a hard and raw proggy vibe to it and is so in your face. I also love the vocal lines in the chorus.

I Am Nothing

This song is so beautiful. It starts out so simple and pretty, but then it starts to escalate and it gets so powerful and raw near the end. I haven't heard a song like this one in a very long time and am so pleased with it. It really shows off just how much this band has grown since their first release.

19) Exit Eden - Rhapsodies in Black

I couldn't pick a particular song that I was obsessing with from them, so I just put the whole damn album on here! This album is absolutely AMAZING and I listened to it non-stop for little over a week. My two favorites are their covers of Paparazzi by Lady Gaga and Frozen by Madonna which features Simone Simons of Epica. Paparazzi is so unexpectedly heavy and intense and Frozen is just as beautiful as the original, but with a symphonic metal flare to it and I love that they kept the original vibe of the song with this cover.

Those are all my obsessions for the last two weeks of August. I promise the next installment won't be as long!

[the-haven-of-fiction]

The Prize, Ch.7

Summary: AU Tom, set in early 19th c. London.  Madeleine and Tom have known each other since they were teenagers (her brother is married to his sister). Can they overcome their fears and choose each other?  

Genre: Romance/Angst/Drama (Written as an experiment in the heaving bosom/bodice ripper vein)

Rating: T (non-explicit sexuality/mild violence in later chapters)

Author’s Notes: Thank you to @i-wanna-be-toms-body-pillow for her continued enthusiasm and assistance. I’m still surprised that people are interested in this story.  Thank you for the kind words.  I really enjoyed writing this chapter, the beginning kind of had me hot and bothered. ;)

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

The library was always the first place she went.  It was her domain, her refuge, her kingdom.  After time away, her heart would beat a little faster in anticipation as she made her way down the hall.  Stepping over the threshold was to be transported.  No matter the frustration of things great and small, no matter the pain of life and loss, she always found respite here.  She walked through the room, sighing contentedly, her hands caressing the spines of her treasures, shelf by shelf, feeling the binding against her palms, the smooth edges of the lettering.  Deep breaths filled her lungs, the scent of dust and memories and dried lavender relaxing her.  A few favorites, for she had many, were picked up with reverence and pressed to her chest, embraced as a beloved.  Among them were gifts from her parents and she traced her fingertips over the words they had left on the inside cover.  

“I missed you,” she told them.  And she heard them all respond in whispers, each page rustling softly in her ears, the cooing intimate words of a lover meant only for her.  

She abandoned her slippers, letting her stockinged toes curl into the carpet, then gathered several more volumes in her arms and began to dance around the room in slow twirls and turns with her eyes closed.  They were the perfect partners, her books.  They never stepped on her toes, they never had sweaty hands, they never regarded her awkwardly.  They were constant, they were comforting, they were companions.  

Although she always brought a supply with her when she was in town, it was never enough; and it wasn’t simply the books themselves, it was this place, this room.  This room with its old almost thread-bare scarlet upholstered furniture that the housekeeper, Mrs.Copplan, was always chiding her to replace. This room with the globe in its stand and her mother’s watercolors of birds on the walls. This room with its dark aged wood and tall mullioned windows.  She moved to them and pressed her cheek against the cool glass.  More deep breaths.  This was home.

Tom stood at the threshold watching her, captivated.  He’d never seen this before.  She had left the door open this time and he convinced himself in a second that it was an invitation.  

She was wearing a new gown with a pink flower pattern against white and it was a beautiful compliment to her hair.  The sunlight streamed through the windows and she stopped for a moment, lifting her face to soak it up, eyes still closed, a smile illuminating her countenance in a way that the sun never could.   He had taken a single step forward and caught himself before the second step interrupted her reverie. He wanted to take her hands and dance with her as she had done with their niece and nephews when they were children. He wanted to spin around with her until they were dizzy and breathless and laughing, until they collapsed onto the floor in a heap of her skirts.  He wanted to take her flushed cheeks in his hands and feel her breath on his lips. He wanted to cradle her head and lay her down on the sun-warmed carpet and tell her a story she’d never heard while he wrote the words on every inch of her silky skin.  

He struggled to give this a name and again found himself wanting to consult her about it.  She would know.  She would quote something in Latin from one of these books and smile at him and pat his shoulder and speak in her rational way and soothe him as she had for years.

But would she share it? Would she understand?  Would she only look at him in confusion if he spoke so impassioned to her?

But her eyes opened and fixed on him with a look of pleasure, as if she had known the whole time that he was watching.  As if she wanted him to watch.  And even though he knew it seemed to be lacking in sense, seeing her like this was just as intimate as when she had been clad only in her nightgown at the inn.

He stuttered and had to clear his throat, informing her that Mrs.Copplan had tea ready to be served.

“Thank you, Tom.”

She placed her armful of books on the round table by the globe and looked around for her shoes.  

“I’m famished.  I’ve been anticipating some of Cook’s tarts for weeks.”

After tea.

He would do it after tea.

Yes, he told himself, you will.

The last drop of his second cup was being drained when a servant entered the room with a request for Tom from the old gardener, Elton.  Tom had always enjoyed being outdoors, especially interested in the talents of those who kept the grounds.  Elton had a new variety of plant that he had been cultivating by the pond and was eager to share his success with Tom.

It was on the tip of tongue to suggest that he plan a meeting with Elton the next morning instead when Mrs.Copplan exclaimed “Yes, please, sir, go.  The man won’t be satisfied until he has your approval and I can’t bear to hear him muttering over his stew tonight.”

Tom snuck a glance at Madeleine and saw that she was attempting to stifle a giggle.  The ancient, or so it seemed, tension between the two faithful retainers was something of an ongoing source of amusement for the rest of the household.  No one knew quite exactly how it originated.

Madeleine gave Tom a smile and mouthed “Go” as she brought the teacup up to her lips.

Reluctantly he arose and made his way to the flower garden and down to the pond.  The weather was unusually fine, warm for so early in the spring, and he took his time, enjoying the eager young blooms that were already showing their faces for the season.

Elton was puffing on his pipe and seated on the weathered three-legged stool that he had taken to carting around the estate.  He greeted Tom warmly and proceeded with great animation and speed to proudly show his handiwork.

“I suppose Mrs.Copplan made some kind of untoward comment about me before you left the room?” he asked with a feigned air of disinterest.

Tom smiled at the old man and decided to throw caution and decorum to the wind.

“What happened with you two? Why the animosity?”

Elton’s shoulders slumped in a heavy sigh and he turned to face Tom.

“Fear.  Love.  Mostly fear, I suppose.”

He answered matter-of-factly, honestly, with ease, giving Tom the impression that in uttering those few words, he was relieving himself of burdens that he had carried for far too long.

Keen eyes that were dimming, but not with wisdom, latched onto Tom’s, and he took another drag on his pipe.  The smoke curled up into the air and a few puffy clouds temporarily shielded them from the bright sunshine.  

“Don’t let fear win the fight, my boy.  It will grow like weeds,” he motioned towards the flower garden with a gnarled hand, “and choke out the life that is battling to break through.  A gardener can’t let the weeds go wild because he is afraid the seeds won’t bloom.  Only a fool would do that.”

“Yes, of course,” Tom murmured, with full awareness that Elton’s words were indicative of what he wasn’t saying, that he saw a familiar struggle in Tom’s eyes.

“One fool amongst two men is enough,” Elton laughed, although it was tinged with regret.

“Life is very strange,” he continued, “We are taught that selfishness is wrong and surely it is; but we have to let ourselves be…be…”

His grayed eyebrows knit together in concentration as he searched for the words.

“Brave?” Tom offered.

“If we are convinced it could bring happiness, selfishly brave, in a way,” Elton nodded in agreement, “If that makes any sense.”

“I understand,” Tom answered, looking out across the garden back to the house.

The clouds moved on and the pond was again bathed in sunlight.  Elton informed Tom of the plans he had drawn up for a new gazebo on the east side of the water and they had been chatting for quite a while when Tom noticed a carriage he didn’t recognize approaching the house.  The east side of the pond afforded a glimpse of the drive some distance away.  He thanked Elton and promised a complete surveyance of the estate in the morning before walking back through the flower garden, gathering a handful of lavender for Madeleine, and into the house.

He was curious as to whom the visitor might be, but he was also eager to speak with her before his courage was lost.  

The voice that fell on his ears before he rounded the corner of the hall caused him to halt.

It was Mr.Kingston’s.

He was here.

In Madeleine’s home.

Her suitor.

His rival?

Was it too late?

The surge of jealousy that raced through him was so intense, he was nearly crushing the delicate stalks in his hand in reaction to the horrible idea that crossed his mind. Surely Mr.Kingston would make such a journey for one reason.  He quickly turned and exited the house, stumbling slightly in his haste. 

The walled garden.

It was the first place that came to mind.

He sat on the brick bench in the wall for an hour, the shadows of evening creeping in around him, as the events of the weeks since the ball played on the stage of his mind.  He thought of how happy she had been about Cassie’s engagement, how happy she had seemed every time Mr.Kingston called on them. He thought of the accident, of his terror that she might be hurt or worse.  And he thought of her waltzing into his room in the inn, closed his eyes and remembered the sweet agony of sitting still while her hands were on him, of the lace wrapper that she placed over his thighs, of the vision of her dancing with her books in the library mere hours ago.

Elton’s words came to him.

He heard the neighing of horses and the sound of wheels on gravel.

And he rose with purpose, with resolve, moving with long steady strides to claim the prize that he couldn’t bear seeing in another man’s arms.  

Instead of going through the house, he walked around the perimeter to the front entrance and was greeted with the sight that made him hastily step back from view in alarm.

The sight of Madeleine embracing Mr.Kingston.

[farmeryohn]

I Don't Know

I was told I should write my feelings down. Or something like that. I've never wanted to. I always fear the day someone decided to just pick up my phone and go through it. But here I figured no one would take the time to read it anyway and really care so why not. I also don't know how to work mobile so sorry for the long post ahead of time. I never belonged with my family. Having cousins nearby was nice growing up. Always having someone you knew nearby and that junk. Growing up though my interests were always different. My cousins focused almost solely on partying or some form of sports. I played football but only because I wanted to have some semblance of normalcy with my family. Then one day Matt and his brother Kyle went out to celebrate that Matt had just graduated high school. I was a freshman, 13 at the time,  so wear my cousins and Kyle. Matt, his brother and 3 other guys from their school got into a car accident. Matt and two others died. His brother survived with bruising and the other guy I didn't hear about but he wasn't dead. I remember seeing Kyle in a hospital bed thinking how this all couldn't be real. How quickly someone could be in your life and how quickly they could leave. I didn't have a father growing up, or at least my father wasn't around much. He was allowed visitation, and I remember always wanting to spend time with him, but he wasn't around much, especially in the earlier years. Matt was like an older brother figure to all of us. I didn't have a brother at the time and I was my mothers first so I had no older figure to follow. My male role models where my Grandfather and my step father but no one closer to my age that was figuring it all out just a little older than me. Losing Matt changed something in me. We weren't family, we didn't even go to the same school but his brother Kyle and my cousins all played little league together so we all spent time together and became close. When he died life became clear. Life is a horrible thing, something filled with pain and sadness. I view changed and I became a recluse. I still spoke to my cousins but no longer did I spend my time with them. I found my own group of people, people who kind of understood what I was going through. At this time, I met up with an old friend of mine who I hadn't seen since early elementary school. To this day, if you asked me I wouldn't know how I recognized him or how he recognized me but that's a story for a later time. I looked at life and began to expect nothing but the worst from life and shortly afterwards people as well. I started skipping class, started smoking weed, and closed myself off from my family. I like to tell people that when Matt died that was the last time I had cried and up until a few years ago it was true. It had changed something in me, broken something in me. We met with a counselor, my cousin and I to pick classes for our semester and I think that was the first time some adult noticed something was wrong. I also had a substitute for a class send me to, I don't really know, like the school therapist or something. I didn't even know our school had something like that. I met one of my ex girlfriends there but again story for another time. I told them what happened, I wasn't diagnosed or anything but nothing ever left that office. My mother never knew, my teachers didn't really know unless I was pulled to speak to the therapist, and my cousins didn't know. I wouldn't tell them because they wouldn't understand. I told my best friend though. He thought it was weird but necessary. I only went there for a month or so before I stopped. Nothing had changed but talking about it had grown tiring. During sophomore year I started to think I had stopped feeling.  I learned soon that I hadn't, at least not all together. I knew pain. I caught my ex cheating. I had expected it, she had cheated on her ex and my mind had already told me she would. Always expected the worse. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it might but I think that was because I was waiting for it. When you expected the worst from people, you were rarely proved wrong. Junior year one of my cousins was shot and killed by a police officer walking out of a liquor store. I didn't cry then and during the wake he looked so different than from when we were kids. People say if you're not doing anything wrong than you don't have to be scared of the police. Those people obviously are white. Two deaths in 2 years. I don't know what my cousins death did to me. I was already closed off but I was sad if nothing else. Senior year I think I was starting to grow a little out of whatever had dragged me low but that was struck down. I got into a car accident. It wasn't my fault, at least that's what everyone still tells me. My grandfather got hurt; he hadn't been wearing his seatbelt and had thrust from his seat into the windshield. A head injury and nothing life threatening but this was the last time I cried. My father figure, the best man I knew in this world, almost died and it was all my fault. He ended up in the hospital a few months later due to a blood clot that occurred because of the accident. Brain surgery. All my fault. I cried alot from that but I think it took all of me. I still think about it and get close but no tears. Just the burden. The next few months I spent living in Washinton with a friend named Kyle that I met online playing video games. He let me stay there but I still needed money. So I became a runner. You know, people who deliver drugs and take payments. The middle man of it all. I could not tell you the amount of guns I've had pointed at me at first. It wasn't something I thought I'd have to get used to in life but growing up in LA prepared me for it a little. My friend didn't live some where nice and it was obvious. Cops and ambulances wouldn't come to his neighborhood. It was especially heartbreaking when one of his friends was shot in a drive by in front of his home. I ran with Kyle to the hospital with his friend bleeding out in his arms. The staff took him but it wasn't long before they came back out and let us know he hadn't made it. We were detained for questioning by police but nothing ever happened. Never got the answer to the question of why they couldn't send out an ambulance. I received a psych evaluation and because of unprofessionalism and general incompetence, I was misdiagnosed with schizophrenia. Prescribed medication and everything. Sold the meds for money because I knew I wasn't a skitzo. I might not have been fine but I knew what I wasnt. A few months later and I was back home but I still didn't belong. I had a roof over my head, I had a job for money, and food in my stomach and not much else. I had what was needed to survive and I eventually found out that that was what I had been doing for years. Just surviving. I didn't have abuse in my life, I didn't have to worry about the next meal, but in all my conscious memory I hadn't ever felt I belonged. I never felt truly loved by anyone. Psychology tells us of the needs in life. Basic, Psychological, and self fulfilment needs. Up until that point life had truly felt like all I ever had was shelter and safety. The basic needs. Otherwise known as not living but just surviving. My mother cried when I told her this. I don't blame her. Somewhere inside me I know I am loved by my family, but having never felt a part of them, it feels as if that love has been wasted on me. I tried to get better, I really did. I honestly believe I'm alot better now than I once was. I moved away from home after a year of being back. It wasn't until then that I fell in love. And I mean real love. I had had a few relationships before hand but there hadn't been this feeling. It was also the most pain I had ever felt in my entire life. Oh how I wished I could go back to how I was but love had changed me and left me bare. Love is the single most comforting and painful experience in my entire life. I still don't believe that there is a way to move forward from it completely. I still feel the dull pain even to this day and it has been well over 3 years now. It'll be 4 years in Sept since I left the home made for me by my mother. I dropped out of college but I intend to go back someday. I own my own home and have tenants. My mother is proud of me and I suppose it should make me happy bit life still seems to have that film of gray. I have closer friends, ones who will always have my back as they say. I don't have an intimate relationship now but I have some feels for another right now and that enough for me to know I'm still doing better. To have someone on my mind from time to time is a welcome break from everything else in my thoughts. I don't know what else to say. I would like to know how things would have turned out differently if I had just felt different.

[biofunmy]

Tech Products We Tried And Loved In 2018

As tech and business reporters at BuzzFeed News, we love consuming stuff. This year, our obsessions weren’t limited to the buzziest new gadgets (we recommend LAST year’s iPhone, and the Facebook Portal is conspicuously absent from this list). We were also into all sorts of new apps, fun social media accounts, productivity hacks, and even just ways to…disconnect from technology. (Reading books! Doing jigsaw puzzles!) And yes, we also enjoyed weed vape pens.

Here are all the things that the BuzzFeed Tech and Business team tried this year and wholeheartedly recommends.

1.

Customizing my PopSockets to show my cats’ faces — $15 each

I don’t need to go into all the ways that PopSockets greatly improve your life; my colleague Katie has already done that, naming it as her favorite tech thing of 2017 and talking about it nonstop all of last year. (I should know. I sit next to her in the BuzzFeed newsroom.)

Long story short, Katie convinced me too, but I took it a step even further by customizing my PopSockets with my cats’ faces. This is an easy thing. You basically take a picture of your beloved pet (or pets), photoshop out the background, and head over to the PopSocket “customizer” page. A pair cost me only $30. And you can switch out the design by popping off the top, so both Laser Beam and Vivienne get play on my phone.

Yes, this is something I show off to people at parties, frequently and obnoxiously. But now you can be that person too! Also, I’m planning to get a friend of ours a customized PopSocket with the face of his girlfriend on it as a prank Christmas gift. It’s gonna be great.

—Davey Alba

I don’t get why people like PopSockets. They are extremely uncool and bulky. Since I have a deep-seated fear of developing iPhone claw hand and a long history of dropping my phone and shattering screens (my claim to fame is that Bella Hadid and I go to the same screen repair place), I needed to find something that allowed me to hold my phone with my fingers but wasn’t totally lame. I noticed that my friend’s cool German mom was using a sleek iPhone strap at dinner one night, and I ordered one on Amazon for $2.50 less than a standard PopSocket. It lays completely flat and is the perfect size for my middle and ring finger. While I hear that PopSockets constantly break, my sturdy phone strap has never failed me. One time, a stranger on the subway asked me where I got it! I am a trendsetter.

—Maggie Schultz

The thing everyone asks me when I wear my computer glasses is: Do those things work? Well, if by “work,” you mean, “Do they make me look smart and cool?” — then yes. They work great. Do they actually do anything to protect my eyes from blue light? Idk, the science is fuzzy here.

I’ve been blessed with perfect vision, and I don’t need prescription glasses of any kind. But I’ve also been cursed with looking great in glasses! What’s a gal like me to do? Wearing fake glasses with no prescription is embarrassing; it’s something a mall emo teen would do. Computer glasses allow me all the glory of wearing “real” glasses without any visual impairment requirements!

The only downside is they have a slight blue tint, which makes them look different from actual glasses. But it’s probably not that noticeable, so I’m able to walk around looking like a certified genius while still maintaining my idiot lifestyle.

There are fancier versions of these glasses, and maybe those lenses actually do a better job of protecting your eyes. But I was in the market for something cheap, and Amazon had lots of styles under $25. I got a second pair for about $15 in pink plastic frames as well.

—Katie Notopoulos

4.

Dosist pen — $40–$100 on Eaze (availability based on local state law)

I’m 46 and, frankly, I don’t want to get too high. Or arrested. Or smoke dope that’s been treated with something I use to drive my Honda. I don’t want to get blasted or brain-hammered. I have shit to do! But every once in a while I do like to, you know, take the edge off of life?

This is why I like the Dosist pen vape. It’s a self-contained oil vaporizer that delivers a measured dose of THC and CBD as you inhale, and then vibrates to let you know to stop. There are various “formulas” with different THC to CBD ratios, and other terpenes, designed to deliver specific types of highs. (I like Bliss.) It’s also reusable. When empty, you can bring it back to a store that sells them for a $5 deposit. Plus it’s available from various on-demand delivery services, such as Eaze, so you can have it at your door within about 10 minutes of deciding you need to, uh, unwind. Not bad!

—Mat Honan

5.

Infinite content feeds that aren’t social media — various prices

2018 was the year I embraced the continuous scroll and the back catalogue. Long live the podcast feed, the extended playlist, and the audiobook. There were too many moments in 2017 when I was browsing Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram and asked myself, “What am I doing here? How have two hours passed? Is this why I can’t finish a book?” or exclaimed, “Holyshiteverythingissobad!” I was receding-hairline-deep in inane and stressful content, a condition that only encouraged stress and self-loathing. I needed a change.

So did I really listen to two years’ worth of Who? Weekly, a gossip podcast about C-list celebrities? The alternative was reading more Twitter takes about how and why the Russia investigation wound torturously on, so you fucking bet I did! Did I stream Abba’s entire discography on Spotify? It distracted me from the hellfires shrouding my apartment in ash, so I sure did! Was listening to 37 hours of The Brothers Karamazov‘s intellectual Russian family drama better than clicking on three gay thirst trap accounts in a row? YES.

—Blake Montgomery

Tabs. I tend to have a lot of them. As of writing this, I have 67 open across six windows, and many I don’t even remember clicking. There’s that big New York Times exposé on Donald Trump’s tax schemes, which I got halfway through before I was probably distracted by something dumb and meaningless on Twitter. There’s a friend’s 10,000-word essay I promised myself I’d read eventually. And there are three tabs of stale Twitter feeds I forgot to exit out of.

Tabs are the most obvious byproduct of my internet attention deficit disorder, the online exoskeletons of things my addled mind was interested in for about 10 minutes until a new shiny notification fluttered across my screen. Compared to others, my problem is probably mild. A colleague, whom I’ll leave unnamed, confided to me the other day that he had 2,193 tabs that he’s archived with an online tool. [Editor’s note: BuzzFeed News does NOT endorse Ryan’s tab strategy; it will slow your computer to a crawl.]

I have yet to download a tab manager — it’d probably just feed my habit — but I have found something else to cope with my issue. Audm, an iPhone app, streams audio read aloud by professional narrators of longform articles from outlets including the Atlantic, the New Yorker, and BuzzFeed News. Priced comparably with a newspaper or magazine subscription at $7.99 a month, Audm is perfect for long commutes and vacation road trips. Stories, of which there are more than 1,000 on the app, run anywhere from 15 minutes to 2 hours, and they sound exactly like a well-done audiobook. The content is also surprisingly fresh, with releases timed to magazine publication dates or within a few days of a story appearing online.

While the app is buggy (it takes a full minute to load and crashes about three times before I can get a working stream), it’s worth the wait. It’s transformed my morning train rides from a constant refreshing of Twitter, email, and Slack to one where I’m able to catch up on a subject I actually wanted to read about, a distraction from the distractions. And the best part is, when I get to work, I’m finally able to X out of one those tabs that I forgot about a few months ago.

—Ryan Mac

7.

@_personals_ Instagram

I spend way too many nights scrolling through Instagram until I finally fall asleep. Some of my favorite posts are the ads on @_personals_, an Instagram-based dating community for queers. The account is inspired by old-school newspaper personals, and it’s so damn good.

The way it works: The small group running the account holds an open call for ad submissions and asks for a $5 donation. Throughout that month, the account posts the ads, including a cute emoji and the submitter’s Instagram handle so interested people can get in touch.

Here’s a sampling of the ads:

“Androfemme lesbian boy-child seeks co-collaborator in all things to eventually farm sheep, write books, & build a house with.”

“22/aries/tiny faggy nb boy iso non-monog partners for crafts & crafty fucking”

“25,enby femme. Half puppy half little. Bottom bitch. Lives to please but bratty & will make you earn it. Ask my mami. I’m worth it.”

“Wry & romantic, reserved (not timid) femme into questioning, clumsily cooking with patient people, & song. Actual tragic for musos, gentle tradies, & enthusiastic nerds.”

And all of this was posted just in the last week! I was introduced to this account to expand my dating options. But now I mainly read this account for the prose.

—Leticia Miranda

For the last few months, my world has been dark. It started when Apple added a new feature in the latest version of its Mac operating system that switches all menus and other parts of the user interface to blacks and grays. This makes it easier to look at your computer at night or in a dark room without squinting. Eventually I got so used to the look that all bright colors on any screen made my eyes hurt.

Fortunately, more and more tech companies seem to be building a “Dark Mode” into their products, and I’ve since switched to it on all the apps I use the most: on Instapaper to catch up on my reading, on Twitter when I’m scrolling through my timeline for hours, on the Kindle app to read books, on YouTube, and on Reddit, which added it earlier this year. Last week, I installed Dark Reader, a Chrome extension that makes all web pages dark by default, and a dark theme for Chrome that makes the browser’s tabs jet black.

Most of us can’t help being chained to our screens for unhealthy amounts of time each day, but turning on dark mode wherever possible is a tiny luxury we should all indulge in.

—Pranav Dixit

9.

Headspace — $95.88/year subscription

For most of my life, hearing people talk about meditation would conjure up New Age visions of crossed legs and om-ing and marathon stretches of Nirvana-achieving trances. From afar, it seemed like an activity that required endless hours of devotion — more like a way of life than a healthy hobby. So to say I was extremely skeptical of app-based meditation would’ve been an understatement. At worst, it sounded like a scam; at best, a bastardization of a sacred kind of ritual.

I was wrong. A friend introduced me to Headspace after a conversation we had about productivity — specifically, how I’d found it nearly impossible to focus and structure my days without jumping haphazardly from tab to tab in my browser. And how I’d end even my best days feeling frazzled, detached, and legitimately unsure of what I’d just accomplished. On their advice, I bought myself a year’s subscription in order to incentivize actually creating a routine. I chose the Basics tutorial and tried a couple of five-minute sessions.

Unsurprisingly for a mindfulness app, the introduction to meditation is very calming and gentle. I learned that I’d been mostly wrong about the entire practice — devoting just 10 or 20 minutes a day (or whenever you have some downtime) can pay dividends quickly and improve focus. And the app — despite some corny animations — is full of guided, unguided, and semi-guided sessions that you can tailor to your day (helping to fall asleep, unwinding at the end of the day, focus before or after a workout, or just taking a breather).

I’m still no guru and I’ll admit I’ve struggled to sit down with Headspace reliably every day. But when I do, it’s immediately satisfying and is maybe the only thing on my phone that makes me feel good. The app-based part, of which I’d been so skeptical, is actually the part I find most essential in that it helps me take a few minutes for myself during random bits of downtime. It’s technology that introduces a little friction and reflection into my life, and for that I’m thankful.

—Charlie Warzel

10.

/remind command in Slack

You can set a bot to remind you of anything by just typing a command. It’s like having a personal assistant in the future, and it’s great for someone like me, who never leverages to-do lists or calendars to their full potential. You can set these reminders hours, days, or even weeks in advance by just typing a command. So for example, if I know I need to mail something when I get to work but am afraid I’ll forget to take it out of my backpack, I just set a Slack reminder for about 10 minutes after I expect to arrive at the office, and it reminds me to do it!

—Caroline O’Donovan

11.

Cutting the cord — Savings: $125.79/month

I can’t believe how long I let my cable company pump cash from my bank account. The last time I got a bill from Spectrum was in March. It was $208.26 for a “Triple Play” bundle: allegedly “fast and reliable” internet, cable (with HBO and DVR), and a fucking landline that I never even bothered to get a phone for. This package, according to a dubious customer service rep, was inexplicably cheaper than just ordering internet and cable separately without the unused landline, and it was the lowest price they could offer me, a customer of 10 years. Shit, right? The point had clearly arrived in my life when I had to decide whether I was willing to pay $2,499.12 a year to mindlessly flip through a-hundred-something channels when I was too bored to do anything else. But lame habits die hard, and it was comforting to know that I could always pull up some channel playing Friends reruns at the end of a long day. After painstakingly convincing my husband that he’d still have access to his precious, vital, life-sustaining ESPN through any number of streaming services, we made the irreversible leap to the land of the cordless, and my GOD, it has been wonderful.

We rebuilt our media habitat like this:

– An internet-only account on Verizon for $42.48 per month

– The cheapest Sling TV subscription (it has my essentials like CNN, Comedy Central, HGTV, BBC America for those great animal series, and TBS for Friends reruns, as well as ESPN for hubby) for $25 per month, and it came with a free Roku

– An HBO Now account that’s $14.99 per month

We also got a digital antenna for $14.99 plus tax, a one-time cost. There’s less content, but there hasn’t been a microsecond when I thought, Man, there’s not enough to watch. In fact, I might even say the quality of my media consumption has slightly improved since we cut the cord, as there are fewer channels that lure me into hours of accidental, regretful viewing. My programming has become more intentional. And the Roku universe is full of apps for free content like YouTube (and, ahem, BuzzFeed) and PBS Kids for my toddler. The free Roku Channel also has a boatload of free movies — not new releases, but stuff like Brooklyn, The Fighter, Spaceballs, and Braveheart: things you might have previously watched on DVD.

So I went from paying $208.26 per month to veg out with my TV to paying $82.47 to veg out with my TV. I am a step closer to entertainment enlightenment, my friends. As for the math: I’m saving $125.79 a month; which adds up to $1,509.48 per year! I intend on taking my family on a low-key getaway with this money, which is definitely going to be more memorable than 200 hours of MTV. I know people will ask “But what about DVR?” (it’s an extra $5 a month on Sling) and “Won’t all the streaming services you get to replace cable add up?” (it depends entirely on what you need, but a lot of my friends who have cable are ALSO paying for HBO or Netflix or Hulu already, so we’re possibly all oversubscribed). If there are cable-only programs that really add value to your life, then by all means, keep the cord and stay happy — I’ve just found that isn’t the case for me.

It’s possible that one day we’ll all be so dependent on cordless services that they will find ways to force customers to subscribe to bloated media packages. But for now, what’s not to love?

—Venessa Wong

12.

Buying last year’s model iPhone X (256GB edition) – $710

This year, I decided to switch from my Android back to an iPhone. I fly a lot to visit my parents in the Philippines, so I loved the cheap, convenient international coverage my Pixel’s Google’s Project Fi offered me ($10 per 1GB of data plus $20 for unlimited calls and texts!). But I missed the easy compatibility of the iPhone with other gadgets in my home, like my finicky Vizio soundbar.

But another difficult decision awaited me because 2018 was the year when choosing an iPhone became confusing as hell. The new iPhone XR’s upgrades were minimal compared to last year’s X, but the phone got wildly more expensive. So I got a used iPhone X (for a great deal, I might add) on the website Swappa.

My colleague Nicole Nguyen convinced me to make this call in her (excellent) iPhone XR review. Basically, a used iPhone X checks all the boxes in terms of positive qualities: It’s small-hand-friendly, has a super high-res screen, extra zoom, portrait mode, and is less than $1,000 to boot.

And hey, I was glad to hear some year-end 2018 news that aligns well with my choice: In November, Google renamed Project Fi to “Google Fi,” and announced that it would soon support a lot more phones, including my iPhone X. Huzzah!

—Davey Alba

13.

@girlshredclips Instagram

Back when I was a little girl living in the middle of nowhere and roaming around my rural town (population: 125) on my skateboard, I couldn’t have imagined that there were other girls who liked skating as much as I did. Anything I ever found online or in Thrasher magazine featured boys. Yes, there was occasionally Elissa Streamer, generally considered to be the first woman skater to go pro, and there were always bikini babes… but I couldn’t relate much to Ms. Streamer (more badass than I could ever hope to be), and I certainly was not a bikini babe. I never saw another skater like me (which is maybe not a surprise, considering how rarely I saw other people at all back then).

Now I’m a grown woman in a big city and skating less often than I used to, but my heart skips a beat anytime a post from @girlshredclips, @meowskateboards, or @skatelikeagirlsfbay pops up on my Instagram feed. Holy shit, these girls can shred.

Some are just little kids, some are my age, some are moms. Although they all skate better than me, I can see myself in them — past, present, and future — and it delights me to think that skater girls growing up in 2018 have plenty of relatable examples to keep in mind whenever some dude tells them that they’re posers. Yes, the internet can be a facilitator of chaos; Instagram and the other social media platforms can sometimes make you feel like you have a garbage life. But lady skater Instagram accounts bring me joy every day. (Pro tip: Unfollow people who make you feel bad about yourself; follow a few women who shred instead.)

—Samantha Oltman

When I go to a bar, I want to be able to hang out with friends and just, you know, talk to them at a normal human volume. But many food and drink establishments are so dang loud that you end up gesturing at, instead of conversing with, people. That’s why I am very into the free Soundprint app, which is only available for iOS but also has a website version. Soundprint publishes a list of quiet places in major cities, including New York, San Francisco, Philadelphia, and Las Vegas.

The Soundprint app shows you an average noise rating in decibels of the restaurants, bars, and coffee shops near you. The app calculates the rating based on “SoundCheck” submissions from users who allow the app to access their iPhone’s microphone to measure how loud the environment is. According to the app, a red rating (over 81 decibels) means a place is so loud that long exposure can cause hearing loss — and there are over a dozen establishments within a square mile of our office that fit that profile! Anyway, if you, like me, are a grumpy curmudgeon, this app is great if you want to find a quiet place to chat.

—Nicole Nguyen

The best thing to happen to my cat in 2018 was Mousr, a small, wheeled, AI robo-mouse he has embraced in a Milo and Otis kind of way — if Otis was a cat toy and Milo was a cat hellbent on its destruction. This is in no way an exaggeration. My cat has developed an almost pathological addiction to “Mr. Roboto,” which uses a small array of cameras, a “time-of-flight” sensor, and some other whiz-bang tech to convince him that it’s an actual mouse. Watching my cat playing with Mousr is like watching one of those slow-motion YouTube videos of cheetahs surprise-attacking gazelles. My cat talks to Mousr — with those same sinister chattering, chirping cat-sounds that typically signal imminent murder. My cat drags Mr. Roboto off its charging station when it’s recharging. This has become such a problem that we recently moved the charging station to the top of an armoire. The other night we heard a small crash downstairs. A few minutes later, our cat came upstairs proudly dragging Mr. Roboto by one of its custom tail attachments. He mewled at us until I pulled out a phone and fired up the app, which allows for both autonomous (wander, wall-hugger, and stationary) and remote control modes. Then he stalked, captured, and mercilessly beat the absolute shit out of it (donkey kick!). Happy kitty. Mousr retails for $149, which is outrageously expensive for a cat toy. But we are probably going to invest in one anyway (ours is a loaner); frankly, I’m not sure there’s any other option. My cat would kill me.

—John Paczkowski

Instagram is by far the app I am most addicted to — sometimes I’ll be scrolling through it, close the app, look around, and mechanically reopen it like some kind of zombie. I have the timer set to 20 minutes, which means I get the alert that it’s time to stop basically every day, sometimes even first thing in the morning! But even though the pop-up message usually makes me stick my tongue out at my phone and roll my eyes, it does break the spell and remind me to do something more useful with my time, like practice Italian on Duolingo. It’s not a cure-all, but it’s a nudge in the right direction in a world where software is almost always nudging you in the wrong direction.

—Caroline O’Donovan

17.

Sonos One — $199 (currently on sale for $179)

You move into an apartment and you get a couch, kitchenware, your bed. But after all those basics are set? An essential upgrade is filling your home with sound. In the continuing hellscape year that was 2018, there was one thing I realized could shift my mood in a small but significant way: playing whatever jam I was currently obsessed with on my Sonos One.

Sure, you can just blast your fave song loudly on your laptop, which I used to do. But then I decided I was going to be the grown-ass 30-year-old woman I am and splurged on a nice-sounding speaker. I went with Sonos because it’s the wireless speaker brand that’s widely known for high-quality sound. Against the wishes of my boyfriend, I bought a Sonos One, a speaker that integrates with voice assistants like Amazon’s Alexa. My boyfriend is freaked out by the idea of an always-on mic listening for a wake word. When I brought the Sonos home, I left the mic deactivated for weeks after setting it up — but I liked to know the option to use Alexa was there if I wanted it.

Then one day… I turned it on. I didn’t tell my boyfriend, I just set up the Sonos One with Alexa when he wasn’t around, and started talking to her. Whenever he came by, I pretended I was still committed to a life lived free of voice commands. But eventually, when we were talking about some song, I just blurted out: “Alexa. Play [song].”

Look, that first reveal wasn’t pleasant, but now my boyfriend has totally come around and yells at Alexa too. “What’s the weather?” “What time is it?” “Play [podcast].” My best troll is commanding Alexa to read an excerpt of an Atavist story he wrote a few years back out loud. He narrated it, so his voice comes through the speakers; you’ve never seen anyone shout, “Alexa, STOP!” so fast.

There are times when the speaker conks out and refuses to respond to me, but you know what? It’s a lot more fun having the thing in my apartment than not. And yeah, to a certain extent, my boyfriend and I have both warmed up to having a voice-activated gadget. The Sonos One is the first and last one I’ll be getting for my home, though. I promise, Joseph.

—Davey Alba

Hosted by Jane Marie, The Dream dives into the multilevel-marketing schemes that have overrun social media. MLMs like Herbalife, Mary Kay, and Amway have been around for a while, but a whole slew of weird new female-friendly ones that sell essential oils or athletic leggings have popped up recently. I’m fascinated by the role the internet has played in their explosion. The podcast talks to people who have been burned and lost money from these schemes. It also dives into the history of how MLMs came to be so popular over the last 50 years, and how the government has failed to rein them in. My favorite episodes are when a producer signs up for a cosmetic MLM and we get to see the details of just how it tricks the sellers into buying the product, losing money outright, and selling within a closed system.

—Katie Notopoulos

19.

2013 MacBook Pro — around $500 on eBay

I’m a sucker for shiny new gadgets, but my favorite piece of tech this year was my five-year-old MacBook Pro. It’s a late 2013 model with a 13-inch display and middling innards, and it’s been the workhorse I have relied on for everything from live-blogging Apple events to reporting from remote corners of the country.

OK, so it’s got some spots across the screen. The battery only runs about five hours before it needs to be plugged in. The spaces between the keys are grubby from the time I spilled tea into the keyboard and never quite managed to get the stains out completely (I let the laptop dry and it still worked like a champ!). And one of the speaker grills is bent from the time I banged it on my bed when I was annoyed with someone on the internet.

But I wouldn’t trade this for anything else, not even for one of Apple’s modern laptops that are thinner, lighter, sexier, pricier, and full of frills like a Touch Bar that nobody asked for or keyboards that can be destroyed by a single speck of dust.

As long as I can stream Netflix and browse the web without Chrome grinding to a halt, my old Macbook Pro is all I need.

—Pranav Dixit

Biking to work is awesome. You don’t have to be face-to-armpit against complete strangers on the bus. You get a little work out. It’s good for the environment, too! What’s not awesome is how dangerous biking on crowded city streets are. I was constantly yelling, “HEY, AHGGHBLERGH” after getting cut off by drivers or pummeled by Uber/Lyft passengers that don’t look over their shoulders before opening the car door.

That is, until I got this rad bell (lol, yes — a RAD BELL) called Spurcycle. It was a birthday gift, which I highly recommend, because at $49, it’s certainly pricier than other bike bells. I like this bell because it’s really small, but it rings very loudly, for an absurdly long time. If you don’t believe me, believe the thousands of people that backed this on Kickstarter in 2013, because they too were into loud little bike bells.

The ring isn’t obnoxious, like a car alarm. It’s nice, and using it is a really lovely way to tell cars, pedestrians, and ride-hail passengers “I’M HERE!!” without having to shout “I’M HERE!!”

—Nicole Nguyen

21.

Shortcut to creating a new Google Doc

I can’t believe I didn’t know about this until just recently, until after I saw someone tweet about it. As someone who primarily works in Google Docs — I use it for all my note-taking and writing — I open new docs all the time!

The shortcut lets you skip all the usual clicks required to open a new doc. Instead, you just type this URL: http://bit.ly/2VnNPmb. But even that’s not really convenient enough. So I dragged it onto my bookmarks bar, and now I have a handy button right in the middle of my browser for NEW DOC.

—Katie Notopoulos

22.

Wireless charging pad — $4

I got my wireless charger in the most discount scenario possible: on a Sunday evening as the Black Friday weekend sales entered their desperate final hours, in a Neiman Marcus outlet store where everything was 40% off, fished out of a giant bin of extra, extra discounted garbage positioned near the registers. It was four levels deep into an Inception-style discount world, it’s some no-brand piece of suspiciously light and hollow junk, and it ended up costing like four bucks. It was the best thing I bought in 2018.

The reason why is pretty simple: The first time you just put your phone down on the table and watch it begin charging — without any plugging in or fiddling around with a cable — is a legitimately magical experience. It’s one of those moments when a thing finally works the way you always wanted it to work, even if you didn’t know you wanted it to work that way. Think of the first time you experienced a real touchscreen phone — i.e., the first time you played with an iPhone — or the first time you put in your AirPods and experienced headphones the correct way.

It’s not a coincidence that both those examples were Apple products — while the company doesn’t tend to be the first to market with a new technology, it’s typically the first to bring a good version to market. There were crappy touchscreen Nokias years before the iPhone, and Bluetooth headphones have been a thing since those dorky headsets people were wearing in the early 2000s. They were all junk, and then Apple made the Correct Thing.

Maybe that’s what’s going on with wireless chargers now, because hardly anybody seems to be using them, despite them being pretty good. Apple seems to have completely screwed up in its attempts to launch its own extremely fancy one (and maybe given up entirely?) and the result is that the market lacks a certain halo of Apple approval and encouragement. But don’t let that stop you! Even my $4 piece of crap is *fantastic*, and everyone should have a wireless charging pad sitting on their desk at work and their bedside table at home.

Start by buying the cheapest one possible to get a feel for how they work; because they don’t need to pay the Apple tax levied on anything with a Lightning connector, they’re wildly cheap — cheaper than all but the cheapest regular iPhone charging cables. Here’s a probably-perfectly-fine Anker wireless charger for $12 — the same price as a six-foot Lightning cable from Amazon Basics. What are you waiting for? You have nothing to lose but your chains.

—Tom Gara

23.

Band Memes on Instagram

If you’ve read this far, I’m going to go ahead and guess you might have been not the coolest person in your high school (no offense). Perhaps you were even like me and played in the middle school or high school band — if so, these memes will be very relatable. I have found myself strangely overjoyed to find extremely niche relatable memes that are mostly made by and for high school students, but that I, an adult, can enjoy as well. This year, I joined an adult community concert band, and I’ve been so happy to play the bassoon in a group setting again. It also gives me an excuse to revive “playing in band” as part of my Personal Brand. And as part of my Personal Brand, I deserve to enjoy these wholesome memes.

—Katie Notopoulos

I love Apple’s AirPods wireless earbuds. I think they’re among the company’s best products and a reminder that Apple still has the chops to inspire that “sense of childlike wonder” that Steve Jobs used to talk about. Problem is, I no longer use them. For whatever reason — my overly large head, my poorly designed auricles, a shitty external auditory meatus — I have difficulty keeping my AirPods in my ears, or getting the type of fit that delivers good sound. I do not have this problem with Master & Dynamic’s MW07 True Wireless Earphones. They have detachable “Silicone Fit Wings,” which slot them securely into my outer ear, and they sound fucking fantastic. In fact, they are by far the best-sounding buds I’ve used. And they’d better be because they cost $299 (double Airpods’ $149). This is perhaps because they feature “custom 10mm high-performance Beryllium drivers,” are cloaked in “handcrafted acetate,” and come with a hefty stainless steel charging case (14 hours of additional charge) that might break a toe were you to drop it on one. I don’t need or care about any of those things. But as a big-headed, recovering audiophile, I am happy to pay for them if it means my earbuds will stay in my ears and reliably play “Master of Puppets” into them with solid sonic accuracy.

—John Paczkowski

In August, my wife, my dog, and I spent a weekend with friends in a rental cabin in New York’s Hudson River Valley. We planned on hiking the whole time, so of course it rained for two days straight. The options inside were limited to books, conversation, and wine — good enough for the Greeks, but not for me. I ransacked the cabinets. Scrabble, been there. Monopoly, done that. Then, at the back of the bottom shelf, I spied it: a jigsaw puzzle. And not any jigsaw puzzle, but a 1,000-piece warhorse from the bad boys at Ravensburger. When completed, “The Sanctuary of Knowledge” depicts an old couple reading by the fire in a cavernous Baroque library as fairies fly around them. (I took the fairies to be a metaphor for the magic of reading.) I’m like any other tech-addled thirtysomething (i.e., delayed gratification averse) but something about this wee old couple and their whimsical retirement made me want to dump the box out and get to work. So I did! — to the polite ambivalence of my friends.

I didn’t finish it. I got about a quarter of the way there and then we had to leave. But those few hours I spent matching shades of brown for the inlays on the vaulted shelves felt, I don’t know, therapeutic? Meditative? Purposeful? The puzzle didn’t come with an app or a leaderboard; it didn’t want to know anything about me or my friends; it couldn’t tell me the weather. Instead, it drew my mind and my fingers into a soothing little loop, never popping up with notifications, never leading me to other puzzles that secretly advocate for fascism, always with a discrete ending in sight. Good for me! I thought at the time, the completion of one-fourth of a moderately challenging puzzle was proof that there was still some gray matter left between the internet-sized holes in my brain. Bully for puzzles!

I ordered “The Sanctuary of Knowledge” on the car ride home. I’m saving it for a rainy day.

—Joseph Bernstein

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