#and i have to go finish my tea and then journal and then GO TO BED

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[angelicgirlmj]

an angels guide: sunday reset routine

hi angels! at the end of a busy and long week you need to prioritise taking care of yourself, your mental health and your space. i like to save sundays to be a ‘me’ day, a day where i indulge in self care, cleaning and preparing myself peacefully for a busy week ahead. resetting your space and self can be an intensive routine (think thirty minute youtube videos of someone deep cleaning their house) or just simple and short (having an early night). this is my more aspirational reset routine, on an ideal sunday i will do all of this but some days i may negotiate and do a little less. hopefully this post inspires you to take care of yourself and your space.

space ˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

open your windows, let air circulate.

wash bedding, pillowcases, towels and any face cloths.

light candles or incense to make your space smell good.

polish any mirrors and windows.

declutter surfaces or desks (put everything away and back into its place).

fold clothes and ensure wardrobe/drawers/clothes storage spaces are tidy.

wipe down surfaces.

clean any hair brushes, makeup brushes etc.

throw away any rubbish from bins or around you.

plan meals for the week ahead. look at what is in your fridge or cupboards and clear anything expired.

play calming playlist or playlist themed around the atmosphere you want to create in your space.

water any plants.

get new flowers/rid of old flowers.

plump any pillows, refold blankets and make your space cozy and safe feeling.

body ˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

apply hair oils + hair mask and leave to soak in for the day.

do yoga/stretching in the morning.

drink a glass of water first thing.

eat nutritious meals that will allow your body to feel good.

go on a walk or exercise.

have bath/shower.

do full body exfoliation - scrub off dirt and grime from past week.

shave (if you shave your body hair).

apply deep, cleansing body washes and give self a massage of sorts.

drink tea/matcha.

clean teeth, floss, mouthwash and oil pull twice.

apply body oils, body lotions/creams.

finish day doing light stretching/yoga.

face ˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

do full am and pm skincare routines.

ice face.

do gua sha routine.

apply a face mask.

tweeze/tidy eyebrows if that is a preference.

use a lip scrub or exfoliator.

gently facially exfoliate.

give self brief facial massage.

apply any spot treatments or specialised skincare.

mind ˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

meditate in the morning.

journal and plan week ahead.

read at least one chapter of a book.

watch a comforting/relaxing show.

ensure all school work or anything similar is complete or at a point where it needs to be.

do something for yourself (paint your nails, colour, make something, bake etc).

plan ways to stay on top of any goals set.

set weekly goals and targets.

have an early night.

be off devices by eight if possible.

spend time with a family member or friend.

spend some time outdoors.

drink plenty of water.

thank you for reading angels! i hope this post is helpful and you have a relaxing and productive sunday. all my love, m.

[hxxsxxng]

to have and to hold - lee heeseung ❦

「pairing」 : husband!heeseung x fem!reader

「word count」 : 1.3k

「genre」 : fluff. fluff. FLUFF.

「summary」 : heeseung always pays attention and remembers the little things, and his love language is definitly all of them.

「warnings」 : no warnings!

「authors note」 : this is the first part of the FROM THE HEART❦ series!

SUPPORT BY REBLOGGING

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

I curled up on our plush sofa, my favorite book in hand and a steaming mug of tea on the side table. The soft pitter-patter of rain against the window created the perfect ambiance for a cozy afternoon at home. As I flipped to the next page, I heard the front door unlock, and a smile tugged at my lips. Heeseung was home.

"I'm back!" his melodious voice called out, followed by the sound of shoes being removed and keys jingling as they were placed in the bowl by the door.

"In the living room," I responded, not looking up from my book just yet. I was at a good part and wanted to finish the paragraph.

I heard his footsteps approaching, and soon felt the sofa dip as he sat beside me. A gentle kiss was pressed to my temple, and I finally tore my eyes away from the pages to look at my husband. His dark hair was slightly damp from the rain, and his eyes sparkled with warmth as they met mine.

"How's the book?" Heeseung asked, nodding towards the novel in my hands.

I marked my place with a bookmark and set it aside. "It's getting really good. The main character just discovered a hidden passage in the old mansion."

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Sounds intriguing. Though I hope it's not giving you any ideas about tearing up our walls to look for secret rooms."

I playfully swatted his arm. "Don't worry, I'm content with our secret-passage-free apartment."

Heeseung's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Speaking of which, I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes."

Curiosity piqued, I did as he asked. I heard him move away and then return a moment later. "Okay, you can look now."

I opened my eyes to find him holding a small, gift-wrapped package. "What's this for?" I asked, taking it from him.

"Just because," he replied with a soft smile. "Go on, open it."

Carefully, I unwrapped the gift to reveal a beautiful leather-bound journal. The cover was embossed with intricate designs, and when I opened it, I found the pages were lined with tiny constellations.

"Heeseung, it's beautiful," I breathed, running my fingers over the smooth leather.

"I remembered you mentioning that you wanted to start journaling," he explained. "And I know how much you love stargazing, so when I saw this, I knew it was perfect for you."

My heart swelled with love. It was just like Heeseung to remember such a small detail from a conversation we'd had weeks ago. "Thank you," I said, leaning in to kiss him softly.

As we parted, my stomach let out a low growl, causing us both to laugh. "Hungry?" Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded sheepishly. "I may have gotten a bit too engrossed in my book and forgotten about lunch."

“Okay c’mon, take a break from the book and we can cook some food together” he suggested, slowly taking the book away from my hands. “How about stir-fry”

"Sounds perfect," I agreed.

We fell into a comfortable rhythm, chopping vegetables and preparing the sauce. Heeseung hummed softly as he worked, a habit I'd grown to love over the years. As I reached for the soy sauce, I accidentally knocked over the bottle of sesame oil.

"Dang it" I exclaimed, watching in annoyance as the oil spread across the counter.

But before I could even move to clean it up, Heeseung was already there with a cloth. "Don't worry, I've got it," he said, quickly wiping up the spill.

"My hero," I said dramatically, placing a hand over my heart.

He grinned, tossing the cloth into the sink. "Always at your service, my lady."

As we continued cooking, I couldn't help but marvel at how in sync we were. Heeseung seemed to anticipate my every move, handing me utensils before I even asked for them and moving around me with practiced ease.

Once the stir-fry was sizzling in the pan, filling the kitchen with delicious aromas, Heeseung turned to me with a glint in his eye. "How about we have a little fun while we wait?"

Before I could ask what he meant, he pulled out his phone and hit play. The opening notes of our favorite song started to play, and I couldn't help but laugh as he started dancing, gesturing for me to join him.

I hopped down from the counter and took his outstretched hand. We twirled around the kitchen, our socks sliding on the smooth floor as we moved to the beat. Heeseung sang along, his voice harmonizing perfectly with the music.

As the song came to an end, he dipped me low, both of us breathless and giggling. "I love you," he said softly, his face inches from mine.

"I love you too," I replied, my heart full to bursting.

The timer on the stove beeped, bringing us back to reality. We reluctantly separated, and Heeseung turned his attention to the stir-fry while I set the table.

As we sat down to eat, I couldn't help but smile at the sight before me. Heeseung had arranged the vegetables on my plate to form a smiley face, just like he used to do when we first started dating and I was feeling down.

"What's got you smiling?" he asked, noticing my expression.

I gestured to my plate. "Just appreciating your artistic skills."

He laughed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "Only the best for you."

After dinner, we settled back onto the sofa, this time with our gaming controllers in hand. It had become a tradition of ours to spend our evenings playing video games together, alternating between cooperative and competitive games.

"Ready to get your butt kicked?" I teased as we booted up our favorite fighting game.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. "Big words from someone who lost the last three matches."

"I was going easy on you," I retorted, selecting my character.

~

Later that night, as we lay in bed, I turned to face Heeseung in the dim light. He was scrolling through his phone, but set it aside when he noticed me watching him.

"What's on your mind?" he asked softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

I snuggled closer to him, resting my head on his chest. "I was just thinking about how grateful I am for you. For us. For days like today."

I felt his arms tighten around me as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Me too," he murmured. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you."

As I drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the warmth of Heeseung's embrace and the love that filled our home, I knew that this, these quiet moments, these small gestures, this deep understanding between us, this was what true happiness felt like.

And I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

taglist: @jakeflvrz @simpjay @slutforjaeyun @rayofsunshineeee

[bloomzone]

GLOW UP DIARY:#3 the power of self-care

"If you don't have a dream, that's okay too. It's possible not to have a dream. If you're happy, that's all that matters"

-Suga

heyy sparkles...so today it's the third part of the glow up and thank you so so much T-T for the support in the second part

Edit: haircare,nail care is for apparence part I focused on routines,skincare,body care in this part (I'm so busy these days T-T<3)

© bloomzone

#3 SELF CARE

✉️ : Self-care includes activities like eating well, exercising, and relaxing to maintain physical, mental, and emotional health. It's essential for managing stress and enhancing overall well-being.

Self-care is essential for maintaining balance

﹙ ✿ ﹚Taking care of yourself is about finding simple, comforting routines that make you feel good. Start with small steps, like taking a relaxing bath,do ur skincare , journal...Prioritize these moments and remember that they are just as important as anything else on your to-do list. Celebrate your progress, no matter how small, and choose activities that genuinely make you happy. Listen to your body and give yourself the rest and care you need. By focusing on what brings you comfort and joy, you'll create a self-care routine that feels natural and rewarding.

HOW TO START SELF-CARE ?

Have a routine: It is really important to have a routine because if not you could have bad sleeping, be tired all day, get boredeasily, won't be able to finish responsibilities, it can bring you bad self esteem, unmotivated and in general is a complete mess.

Example of a routine (by me)

summer version.

⏰( wake up at 4:30am to pray ifajr if u are a Muslim :) )

♡ ﾟwake up at 9:30am

♡ ﾟmake bed

♡ ﾟdrink water

♡ ﾟmorning stretch 15min

♡ ﾟskincare/quick shower

♡ ﾟbreakfast

♡ ﾟhelp mom if needed

♡ ﾟphone time

⏰(pray duhr if u are Muslim:) )

♡ ﾟlunch time

♡ ﾟnap

♡ ﾟfull workout

⏰(pray asr if you are Muslim:) )

♡ ﾟstart learning a language,see friends or simply watch a movie

⏰(pray Maghrib if you are a Muslim :) )

♡ ﾟhelp mom cooking dinner

♡ ﾟwash dishes

♡ ﾟcheck social

♡ ﾟskincare

♡ ﾟget ready for bed

♡ ﾟsleep at 10pm

Things u can add to your routine :

cleaning ur room

- wardrobe

- desk

cooking

- I will share my fav recipes in next blogs 🤫

set goals for next year

- academic goals

- life goals ( saving money,body goal ...)

sunday self care day routine

summer version

⏰( salat al fajr + reading Quran for Muslims)

♡ ﾟwake up at 9am

♡ ﾟdo ur bed

♡ ﾟmeditation

♡ ﾟskincare + face mask

♡ ﾟjournal/affirmations

♡ ﾟice coffee/tea

♡ ﾟmorning stretch 15min

♡ ﾟbreakfast

♡ ﾟhelp in cleaning

♡ ﾟwear ur fit

♡ ﾟgo shopping

⏰(pray duhr in masjid if u luv to :) )

♡ ﾟlunch

♡ ﾟfull workout

📍everything shower time

- hair mask

- shave

- body care

📍after shower

- dry your hair

- clean/paint ur nails

- wear ur comfy pyjamas

♡ ﾟwatch a movie

⏰(pray Maghrib if you are Muslim)

♡ ﾟquality time with ur family/friends

📍get ready for bed

- write down what u achieve this week

- affirmations

⏰(pray Isha if u are Muslim)

♡ ﾟskincare

♡ ﾟget ur beauty sleep at 10pm

SELF-CARE BODYCARE AND SKINCARE

1.skincare

﹙ ✿ ﹚ I know that we all love shopping and buying things because it's pink or aesthetic or it's just because it's a famous products NO NO this wroong u don't need to buy a whole truck of innisfree products because it's pink or glow recipe buy products that will work for u if u have acnes and ur face hurt everytime u try to sleep or u wanna just wash it,visit a dermatologist he will give the product that ur skin need to heal again. (As a girl with strict parents hhh they didn't let me go I'm 16yo btw),so I start to buy random products until I found the perfect one for my skin (I have a terrible TERRIBLE oily skin)+ if u are 12-18 don't use serum's without permission of doctor u will just broke ur skin texture I bought ordinary serum and it just make my skin worst + it's an expansive sht ☠️

How to get rid of acne ?

♡ ⠀skincare secrets !

⊹ ‧avoid junk food

⊹ ‧fresh vegetables and fruits

⊹ ‧icing your face

⊹ ‧clay mask (recommended by me)

⊹ ‧avoid using a lot of skincare products

⊹ ‧ simplify ur skincare routine ( cleanser,toner, moisturizer)

⊹ ‧get 7-8 hour of sleep

⊹ ‧rice water

⊹ ‧don't sleep with ur make up

⊹ ‧stay hydrate

⊹ ‧change ur pillowcase (one in a week)

⊹ ‧ cucumber slice as a mask

⊹ ‧don't touch ur face

♡   Item you need

⊹ ‧pimples patches

⊹ ‧silicone facial cleaner (for deep cleaning)

⊹ ‧headband (keep ur hair up always)

2.BODY CARE

﹙ ✿ ﹚ Taking care of your body is a vital part of feeling your best, both inside and out. A good body care routine can boost your confidence and help you embrace your natural beauty. Body care is also about self-love and taking time for yourself amidst a busy schedule remember girlie every skin type is beautiful, and finding the right routine can enhance your natural glow.

♡   Body care secrets

⊹ ‧ don't shave (ur body)early until u are in the right age (+17) , if u are not a hairy girl no need to shave :)

⊹ ‧ shower everyday (don't wash ur hair )

⊹ ‧ choose the right body wash (nivea,vaseline >>)

⊹ ‧ stay hydrate avoid junk foods to protect ur body skin from pimples

⊹ ‧Exfoliate your skin 1-2 times a week to remove dead skin cells and promote cell renewal. Use a gentle scrub suitable for your skin type (coconut oil brown sugar >>)

💌 : How to shave ur leg and have a smooth soft skin

1- soak ur leg in warm water for (3 to 5 min) to make ur skin ready

2- use ur fav body scrub and exfoliate your body from death skin

3- use something like body oil or shaving cream and find a good razor at least 3 blades (venus Gillette is on top)

4- shave with slow don't be harsh,long strock and don't forget to wash the razor everytime

5- after drying ur legs use any lotion u like to give the skin the extra moisture + using baby oil to avoid strawberry legs

⊹ ‧ Choose body care products that are free from harsh chemicals and fragrances Opt for natural and gentle ingredients stay healthy girlie

⊹ ‧ avoid very hot water

⊹ ‧ Use natural oils like coconut oil, almond oil, or jojoba oil for deep hydration. Apply them after a shower or use them as an overnight treatment for extra softness.

♡   item you need

⊹ ‧ dry brush

⊹ ‧ loofah

⊹ ‧ natural soap (for ur 🐱)

⊹ ‧ razor pack

⊹ ‧ body scrub

⊹ ‧ body wash

⊹ ‧ africain exfoliating nets

⊹ ‧ body moisturizer

⊹ ‧ Shea butter

⊹ ‧ Epsom salt

ıllı ⠀ : ⠀Self-care is essential for every girl to nurture her mind, body, and spirit. Taking time for yourself isn’t selfish; it’s necessary. Whether it's indulging in a relaxing bath, practicing mindfulness, or simply taking a break to read a good book, these moments help recharge your energy and boost your confidence. Remember, you deserve to feel good and be happy. Prioritizing self-care allows you to show up as your best self in every area of your life. So, take a deep breath, put yourself first, and watch how everything else falls into place. Ilvy sm ⠀ ♡ ⠀ !!

© bloomzone

[see-arcane]

Before the journal opened

Before it saved his life

Before Hell staked a claim

Before he swung his knife

A storm rolled in with the spring

And hope paved his long way

Through monsters and their red wants

He takes step one today.

WARNING: Contains some grisly imagery towards the end.

PDF Version

Chapter 2 Preview is available here

Harker

C.R. Kane

March to April

Spring rolled in more grey than green that week. It dribbled rain through morning and noon, pondering to itself whether it would save an encore for evening in the way of a proper storm. The songbirds and the street noise went on as best they could between showers. They made up the only true din in Jonathan Harker’s corner, not counting the hammering of the typewriter or an occasional rustle of sheets. The usual low cacophony of the firm had been whittled down immensely due to the cough that had been shared at the start of the week and sent the greater part of Peter Hawkins’ small legion home to hack and sniffle in private.

This left Jonathan somewhat abandoned, not counting Hawkins’ presence behind the office door. It was just as well. He’d been splitting his attention between the eternal tower of logistical and legal chores that ruled his desk and the shorthand notes made in preparation for his exam. Such had been his constant state for the past two months. There had been ribbing from all directions, some bemoaning the imminent loss of a load-bearing clerk, others saying now they could draw lots and boot someone else out the door, and still more wheedling about whether or not they could still drag him in place as a shield when clientele of a certain incendiary temperament came around. Please?

Jonathan had remained ominously mum. Groans and lamentations ensued.

This was a joke, of course. Young Mr. Harker was nothing if not dedicated to the task of transmuting Hawkins’ charity to a whipcord child fifteen years prior into a proper investment. Case in point, using a lull in his own workload to get things in order for those bedridden solicitors who had the nearest deadlines pending. Bentley idled through with his tea as he did and shook his head.

“Don’t know what it is that comes with your kind, Harker, but it’s a busier thing that any of us idle English have. We’re down two thirds of the building and here you are doing three-quarters of the work. Get the examination out of the way and you may as well tell the old man to retire.” A thoughtful sip came from behind the porcelain. “Must be something they teach you Gurkha sorts, eh? Some kind of discipline our doughy little English schoolboys never get knocked in their heads.”

Jonathan weighed the decision of whether or not to give Arnold Bentley his bimonthly reminder that he was, in fact, English by birth. His parents as well. But the reminder would likely fall into the same pit between the man’s ears where all the others had gone. Worse, it might risk a tally mark against him in whatever invisible score was kept by peers. The one that determined whether the combination of Jonathan’s physiognomy and disposition really were enough to pardon his status or not. He finished this measuring of scales in less than a blink. A smile was summoned.

“Not at all. Just helping where things can be helped.” He straightened a sheaf of forms back in order. “That, and I cannot go a day without productivity, or else I shall have to go home and carve my hand with the kukri knife in penance.”

Bentley paused halfway through his laugh when Jonathan held his gaze. He gawped over his cup.

“God. Really?”

“No, not really. My penmanship would suffer terribly.”

This spurred a louder guffaw from the man, likewise a rattling clap of his open palm to Jonathan’s shoulder. Then he was out like a breeze to carry on with whatever it was he had drifted from in his own territory of the building. Jonathan resumed his interrupted rhythm. Read. Check. Write. Type. Read. Check. Write. Type. So he went for another hour before his watch told him it was time to check the post.

He stepped out during a lull of rain. The thunder talked with itself in the slate-dark clouds, debating whether or not to turn the spigot on the moment the wad of envelopes was out in the open. Jonathan applauded himself on dodging the first drops of the deluge by seconds. Peeking through the window, he saw there were even a few fitful winks of lightning hopping through the sky. What few pedestrians were left went running for shops they had no interest in, restaurants they had no appetites for, and cabs that turned frustratingly scarce within the minute. Jonathan grimaced in premonition of the dash he and Mina would have to make under the umbrella once she was free of her students.

But that was for later. For now, he flipped through the day’s heap and dealt them out to the waiting desks, occupied or not. The last in the stack was a familiar packet and one of extraordinary make. It was patterned with the stamps of myriad countries with ornate flourishes in the writing. A thick crimson seal sporting a rearing dragon marked it as the second delivery from the same foreign estate that had written to Hawkins in February. A castle set in the backdrop of the Carpathians.

Jonathan had felt his heart twist the first time he’d handled a parcel from the address and it twisted doubly hard now. There had been time in the interim to start combing through Exeter’s libraries for any beginning details to have ready should Hawkins want some background to aid one of the solicitors, especially in the case of a potential trip. If the latter came to pass, it would mean a visit to London and a perusal of denser material. A fine enough excuse to wander the superior bookcases and the British Museum on its own. But the luster of the errand was already gone in his mind. The first glimpse of the prospective client’s territory in the first book he’d cracked open, wrought in illustrations and sparse photographs as it was, sent a spear of longing through Jonathan’s chest that still hadn’t left.

Why would anyone living there want to trade such a place for England?

Jonathan was not oblivious to the advantages of the country. He understood his good fortune in access to modern works, from amenities to entertainments; at least in theory. With cautious budgeting. But all his life had been spent in cramped rooms or congested streets. The presence of a park, a farmer’s field, a distant beach, or a picturesque cemetery were the nearest he would ever come to the broad and chainless beauty of places not yet stomped flat with bricks and smoke.

Imagine! Meadows and hills, valleys and forests, all topped with the great serrated crown of the mountains. Cities and villages worn smooth with generations going back through centuries.

Imagine being there with her. Seeing sunrise flood over the peaks, walking old roads and footpaths, tasting and seeing and playing and breathing in a place without its laces drawn like a noose around throat and purse. The trains alone would be enough for her, true, but we would find somewhere to stop. Somewhere in every swatch of the countryside. At some point, as she became lost in a view, in a meal, in a walk, she would see me on my knee and what I held in my hand, and the wedding could happen right there in an ancient chapel, and then…

But the fantasy turned to dust before it could finish.

The required funds were cudgel enough to smash the whole daydream to atoms. At most they might manage a trip someplace other than their usual heights of hedonism. That was, a brief trip to Piccadilly and back. Maybe a bit of theatre. Possibly a picnic. Perhaps even some further place in the Isles. Somewhere rich with quiet and history of its own, but likely not across the Channel. Never a locale so far and mythic as the place Hawkins’ new client seemed interested in abandoning. Jonathan pictured Hawkins writing back to the noble on his behalf, wailing at the stranger not to forsake his fairy tale castle for the doldrums of a Londoner’s garish crate of a manse, no matter how crusted in filigree.

Save yourself! Do not trade your mountains for an English molehill!  Turn back, turn back!

But that would be a poor way to run the firm, wouldn’t it? Resigned, he brought the packet to Hawkins’ office and knocked at the door.

“It’s open, Jonathan.”

Jonathan ducked in with his smile already nailed in place. It was an expression he now had to work at as recent months plodded on and Peter Hawkins’ complexion failed to improve. The man behind the broad desk was only half as rubicund as he’d been the year before. He had insisted to everyone who dared ask that he was merely suffering from a particularly ugly attack of gout and that he would be fine in a week or so. As it stood, Hawkins could still sit up straight and bellow thanks when Jonathan came by with his delivery. He even turned a shade ruddier upon seeing the dragon’s seal.

“Well now,” he said through a grin. He turned the packet over and pointed it at Jonathan. “Have you taken lunch?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Go on and fill up quick. If this is what I believe it is, I expect I’ll need your ear within the hour.”

So saying, Hawkins slit the packet open and began to read. Jonathan dismissed himself with his fingers crossed in his pocket. Perhaps the British Museum wasn’t too far off after all. That and the London libraries. It would be too brief a visit for anything more extravagant than what Lucy referred to as his and Mina’s ‘academic holidays,’ but it would make an interesting exercise just the same. Plotting the trip was a pleasant enough distraction to eat to.

He finished just as he heard the tell-tale grunt and shuffle that meant Hawkins was hefting himself up to trudge around his desk. Jonathan flew to the door first, only just recalling to swat his knuckles against the wood before opening it. Hawkins looked up with a shock before gratefully flopping himself back into his chair.

“You have a dog’s hearing and cat’s feet. Ought to have a bell on you to give an old man some warning.”

“Apologies.”

“Nothing to apologize for. Saved me dragging myself around unduly.” Hawkins thumped a hand on the desk as if patting a horse. “I suppose I need to throw this out and trade desks with you. I can make it past that little square of yours in no time.” He thought further on it. “Less than a minute, anyhow.” He made a face that couldn’t decide itself between a smile or a grimace. “My doctor, who only seems to tell me what I already know, declares that I am not fit for any arduous travel. In his terms, that includes going further than the street corner on foot. Even a train ride is apparently a gamble, being that I should be in bed resting and rotting like a good patient rather than hobbling my way to and from the cab to work. Already I press his orders and my luck. Which means this,” he held up an envelope, “is out of the question for me.”

Jonathan recognized the torn envelope and scarlet seal. What held him up was the recognition that it was the first of the two packets. The February delivery.

“That’s unfortunate. Who was the client?”

Hawkins grinned in earnest now, purposefully turning the envelope so that the address was hidden.

“You tell me.”

Jonathan offered half a smile back. It was an old game that had begun years ago when he was still just a bookish boy underfoot, helping around the office for whatever could be spared for a child’s wage. Even then his eyes had been hungry things.

“Count Dracula, from the castle of the same name, of Transylvania. The address is from a Bistritz postal service situated in the Carpathians.”

“True and true.” Hawkins set the envelope on the desk and tapped it with a thick finger. “Curious taste in property, this one. Likely has the cravings of a renovator. No trouble on our side but for the hunting. But the esteemed gentleman is so damnably far into the Continent that I couldn’t rightly offer myself up in the way he’s asking. I ought to say, the way he insists upon buying. The way our Count puts it, he would rather pay every fee of travel for his English solicitor to and from his keep in the mountains, and play host on top, rather than, he says, ‘Suffer bartering land through stationery.’ In short, he’s willing to ship a solicitor to his door rather than play at this back-and-forth for all his questions, all out of his own pocket. He wants someone who’s not just going to find and sell the manner of place he’s after, but someone who can play encyclopedia if he’s unsure of something.” 

“Hence him being prepared to rent out the owner of the firm for an in-person visit,” Jonathan finished. Hawkins gave a nod.

“And the owner might have been up for it a decade or so ago. But time marches and gout outweighs gold. So I fear that leaves me out of the picture.” Jonathan watched Hawkins fold his hands with a calculated laxness on the desk. “Your examination is coming up.”

Lightning flickered outside. More danced across Jonathan’s brain.

“Yes, sir. It is.”

“You have been my clerk since you were old enough to rent a flat,” Hawkins went on. “My apprentice and professional living plaster to this place well before that.”

“Yes,” Jonathan breathed more than spoke. He feared his vocabulary was leaking out both ears while his heart tried to climb his throat.

“And,” Hawkins half-leaned over the desk, “you have been holding onto her ring since last year. Haven’t you?”

Heat rushed up to Jonathan’s face as he got out, “…Yes. I have. Sir, are you—,”

Hawkins brandished the packet Jonathan brought through the door an hour ago. This he laid beside the February envelope so that the pair of them seemed like strange square eyes staring up at him.

“I need you to understand: This is not an offer as much as a prayer. If there’s no chance with you, that means Bentley is the next choice. He’s my longest running man here and is liable to set up his own firm before the decade’s out. But for all that, and for all that he is a trustworthy one to patter with most Englishmen, I would sooner trust a cat with a lame canary than Bentley to not choke on his own tongue with a foreigner. Clients of noble lineage included. The man can barely toe his way around an Irishman let alone anyone from across the Channel. And, since the door is shut and no one is around to cry nepotism, I can speak the unvarnished truth.

“You could do with one week what anyone else here could manage inside a month and have it done better. That is not me being rosy about the past or present, that is me having eyes that work and a basis of comparison between how things ran before you began working here and after. The after is smooth as silk compared to the pre-Harker gravel. Stable gravel, I allow, but not nearly as easy a burden as things became once you were attacking the paperwork. And the footwork.” Hawkins raised a caterpillar brow at him. “Any good finds in the local bookshelves?”

“Not as many as I hoped,” Jonathan thought he heard himself say. It was hard to tell as he seemed to have relocated to some remote island in his skull and could only register what was happening as if from across an ocean. “I wanted to stop by the options in London if I had the chance. Just to gather some background on the client’s location if it was needed.”

“I’d say it is,” Hawkins hummed. “Supposing you can tell me you have your schedule open for some traveling come May.”

Jonathan told him it was. Hawkins told him to go to the corner cabinet and move the bust of Alexander off the high shelf. Then to bring down the bottle and two tumblers. There were toasts and there was talk and there was a laughing chide from the older man as he shooed Jonathan’s pocket notebook back from whence it came. No notes today, young man. At least not right now. Actually, perhaps one for later. Did he have time open to visit a tailor? There was a travel budget that was about to go unused if the Count was to have his way. It may as well go toward a good cause. Hawkins could hardly send his best solicitor to a noble’s door without looking his best, and it was for the firm’s image, really, so it could hardly be helped, and the doctor couldn’t grudge him such paltry exercise as going to harangue a suit seller…

Jonathan’s eyes burned and his face ached with smiling. He was mortified to find himself close to a sob before turning the sound into a coughing laugh. Hawkins told him to drink, not inhale. That turned the next sound into a true chuckle. He couldn’t tell whether it was an effect of the liquor or his own imagination that made it seem as if the thunder was laughing too.

“Transylvania,” Mina said for the dozenth time.

“Transylvania,” Jonathan echoed. He turned to face her rather than cling to the charade that either of them were focused enough to continue their mutual study. His pile included the texts that had come to haunt his subconscious with its rules and rites of property law, now with the hypnotic temptation of the library books waiting just an arm’s length away. Mina, who Jonathan knew was as much or more a pillar of solid focus than himself, had not a mote of attention to spare for the papers taken from the realm of educational etiquette or her personal project of mirroring and translating his shorthand. The latter made a certain gleeful anticipation turn over in his stomach. It left him floundering between elation and anxiety with equal force until he thought he might lose his last meal on the floorboards.

Which would be a shame, as he and Mina had combined their efforts into a delightful result in Jonathan’s narrow kitchen. Jonathan had only half-jokingly implied that they were making a child’s ideal feast because he was, in fact, giddy as a boy who’d just shaken hands with Father Christmas. Mina had declared this was nonsense.

“A supper made of breakfast is an entirely sound culinary decision.”

“Yes, Miss Murray,” in his best schoolboy tone. “Did you want crêpes or toast?”

“Crêpes. Extra cream.”

They had giggled like children over their respective plates. Just as they did over the rapidly ignored chores they had planned for themselves after. It was the frightful intoxication of feeling the future unrolling into a new smiling mystery before them. One that whispered, yes, yes, this is real, this is coming true. A future that might include…

Jonathan gulped down a heavy lump of air as his gaze flicked again to the sheet of shorthand messages he had scribbled out for her to translate. She had stopped halfway through. Close, close, close. But he didn’t let his stare linger. Instead he found her face again, still glowing. Jonathan was forever surprised that he had not dreamt her up as a boy and continued dreaming her until now. It surprised him more that he had managed to earn her love and dumbfounded him entirely to think that she regarded herself in the same terms. More, that she insisted she was the luckier half of their equation. He did not follow her meaning then, nor did he think he ever would.

“Mina, anyone with a sliver of sense in their head would feel the same for you,” he had insisted more than once. Each time she had smiled and shaken her head. Her eyes forever bright with a sweet-somber knowledge he couldn’t decipher.

“There is plenty of sense to spare. Loving hearts as well. But there is a different lens that women see the world through and it shows things men shall never have to see. It shows so much to watch for. To be wary of, or to hope for, or to know not to expect because life has made it clear that so much of what’s dreamt of only exists for a few, while the rest make do with storybooks and stage plays.” Her hand had held tight in his. “You were not meant to exist outside the borders of a fairy tale, Jonathan Harker. That you cannot see as much for yourself makes me wonder if someone really did peel you off a page and if you will vanish back to a fair princess somewhere when I wake up.”

“That implies I am either a prince or some clever farmhand. I’m cut out for neither. I am a squire at best. Though I would not settle for a mere princess either way, however fair.” He had dared a grin at her. “Or have you already forgotten Mrs. Westenra’s unique stance on the matter?”

Memory had nettled Mina out of her glumness with a sputter that tried and failed not to turn into shamefaced laughter. She had improved somewhat in the years since the incident itself, back when the whole ring of persons involved had flamed with embarrassment over the misunderstanding of Jonathan’s presence when spotted with Miss Lucille Westenra and her companion Miss Mina Murray now that all of them had stretched out of childhood and into the far end of adolescence. Followed by the ensuing inquiry as to why Mr. Harker had been baffled at the very concept of seeking to gain Miss Westenra’s affection as anything more than a friend.

Jonathan remembered sitting in one of the gilded rooms of the Westenra estate, sat across from Lucy’s increasingly rose-faced mother as she came to the belated realization that Mina Murray’s young man was not trying to court anyone other than Mina Murray. Worse, it had been left on his shoulders to steer the conversation out of potential wreckage by thanking his hostess for clearly being concerned on Mina’s own behalf, as there were too many people in the world who took the notion of seeking out a secret paramour behind another’s back as a matter of course. He was heartened to know that Mrs. Westenra cared enough to be mindful should an actual cad come into the orbit of her daughter or her friends.

Still flushed, Mrs. Westenra had chased agreement in this, poured on apologies for the mistake and had thankfully never brushed the topic since. Though Lucy had words enough to spare on the matter for months afterward. She had languished at them in the garden about it, the image of woe in peach blossom tailoring.

“Jonathan, I fear we must become enemies,” she’d intoned gravely. “You must walk with a cane in hand and I must brandish my parasol so that we keep our distance and never risk breathing the same air. We cannot even deafen poor Mina’s ears with the Bard or eavesdroppers will take us knowing the lines of Hamlet and Ophelia as proof of a tryst. Perhaps we should go around with our hats pulled down over our eyes, lest we give into temptation and acknowledge each other’s existence while being the opposite sex. It is our only chance of salvation.”

“Miss Lindon again?” from Mina, her smile placid. Jonathan knew she wore the same callused shell he did when it came to the patter that trickled down from higher tiers than theirs. Those tiers were many and their squabbles almost alien in what they deemed worth sniping about behind their fans and cigars. The infamous Miss Lindon was apparently a thorn too serrated even for Lucy’s compassion to withstand.

“Very much Miss Lindon again. ‘He would just do for you, Lucy.’ As though she thought I would be doing a charity by going behind my friend’s back and she were doing a charity by her sneering compliment. At least nature was kind enough to spare me having to think of a similarly charitable rebuttal, as a beetle helpfully flew into her hair a moment later and she went running. One must take silver linings when they come. Unrelatedly, Jonathan, when you do become a solicitor in full, should Miss Lindon and her future beau ever approach you for a house..?”

“I shall do what I can to find them a lovely estate,” Jonathan assured. “In Northumberland.”

“Next door to an entomologist?” Mina asked over her cup.

“Of course.”

Jonathan blinked the recollection away, wondering whether it was the dizziness of the day or the ticking of the clock between Mina and the final line of shorthand that was making his mind slosh. Perhaps it was simply the subconscious’ effort to dodge the weight of the evening and what it might promise. His thoughts were fleeing to hide from hope and worry. But Mina knew him too well. She caught him with her eyes before pulling him back into the headiness of the present.

“You will do fantastically, Jonathan. Tell me you know it as well as I do.”

“I will not say I know it. Too much confidence risks laziness. I will only say that I shall give all of myself to the task. It must be done so it will be done. If I think any further than that simple fact, my head will burst.”

“If you do, I promise to sweep you up and put your pieces back in order.” Her smile softened an increment as her hand settled in his. “I mean it.” She squeezed. He squeezed back.

“The same goes for you. We are neither of us allowed to hold ourselves together with string and brittle smiles once the door is between us and,” Jonathan flapped his free hand at the rain-streaked window, “all of that. No acting when it’s us alone.” He flashed her a decidedly less-than-brittle smile. “I promise not to tattle to your girls.”

“You were bad enough today, Mr. Harker. Half the classes were watching.” Her voice tutted, but the grin showed in her eyes. Jonathan had arrived at the school with the umbrella in one hand and a bouquet in the other. A bundle of her beloved lilies that he’d used as a screen behind which to steal a kiss and drop the announcement of Hawkins’ assignment in her ear. Forgetting her audience, Mina had kissed him back, forgetting to mask herself behind the petals. They had absconded to the cab to the sound of a dozen girls cooing their farewells, Miss Murray, see you tomorrow, Miss Murray, has he got a brother, Miss Murray?

“Hardly a terrible thing. If you are one of their examples, mustn’t they have something to look forward to at the end of all their practice?” He assumed a pose of scheming innocence, lashes batting. “I could be especially nefarious come Valentine’s Day. Take a holiday from Hawkins and show up toting chocolates and train tickets and a florist’s worth of flowers.”

“You will do no such thing.”

“I can hire an orchestra to follow us around. Have them play waltzes the whole day.”

“Jonathan.”

“No, of course, an orchestra would be too cumbersome. A singer and a violin, perhaps. I can hire a paperboy to throw rose petals after us. Or else I could send them up to the classroom to follow you in procession out of the building…”

The typewriter hammered back to life. Its keys were struck with more force than they needed.

“Sorry,” Mina sang above the din, “no hearing you over this. You will have to be a foul minion of Eros a little louder.” Jonathan bit his tongue against a reply. Yes, she was typing again. Yes, she was reading the last of the shorthand. Tap-tap-tap, clack-clack-clack. So far it was all the lines of a love note—a common enough surprise, if one that fished more than the usual dimpled grin out of her tonight—and she had not caught on yet to the conclusion. “How long will the client need you over there?”

“Between the travel to the estate, the stay, and the return trip, the whole thing should be over within early May. I shall have time to hoard you a while before you and Lucy have your summer escape to the coast. Was it Whitby?”

“Yes, quite near the landmark Abbey. I mean to harass the townspeople with demands for any ghost stories they might spare about the place. Perhaps Marmion is but a single drop in a sea of waiting legends.”

Tap-tap-tap.

“Then I shall try to collect what I can abroad in turn,” Jonathan said from behind a fan of notes. He kept only the corner of his eye pinned on the swimming lines. “There should be spirits in abundance along the route.” 

Clack-clack-clack.

“I would think so. But don’t settle for ghosts alone! I shall happily adopt any devils or revenants or folkloric fiends the locals can share—,”

Her voice died mid-key.

Jonathan looked over the top of his pages. Mina sat frozen as a sculpture. Her hands still hovered at the typewriter, lax and immobile. But her eyes were in motion. Flicking back, forward, and back again between Jonathan’s shorthand and the five words they had translated to in plain ink.

Will you marry me, Wilhelmina?

By the time she finally turned her head back to face him, he was already on the floor, swift and silent at her hip. The box sat open in his hand. Set inside was a petite gold band whose stone gleamed like a fleck of starlight.

Mina looked from the ring to its holder with eyes that were already spilling.

“Yes,” Jonathan heard a dozen, a hundred times in the ensuing night. Yes, yes, yes, a thousand, a million times, yes. Between kisses, between tastes, between touches and takings that skirted the furthest edge of propriety between unmarried bodies. Yes.

“We are engaged. We must prepare for the wedding night as one must study ahead of an examination. Isn’t that right, Miss Murray?”

“It is, Mr. Harker.” Then, furtive despite her position over him, she grew a smile both shy and sly. A lure surrounded by the hanging curtain of her hair, “…Can you say it? For practice’s sake.” He did not have to ask her meaning.

“Mina Harker.”

Her teeth bared in a white moon.

“I didn’t quite hear you. Say again?” As she asked, her hand moved. He gasped in the trap of it.

“My pronunciation must be off. How is this?” His own hand moved. Her eyes went wide and dark. “Mina Harker. Mina Harker. Mina Harker.”

More practice unspooled. Harker, husband, wife, I do, I will. Around and around again until their tongues ran dry and they were left folded into the tangle of each other, their last fig leaf still reserved for the nuptial night itself. As midnight rolled past, the storm slipped off with it and left the moon to throw its rays through the edges of the curtains. Mina’s ring trapped its glow on her knuckle. He almost wept to look at it.

Real. This is real. I am awake and this is real. God, God. Thank you.

“Thank you,” he murmured into the top of her head. Her hair massed into a perfect curling cloud under his chin. The cloud tickled there as she lifted her gaze to him.

“For what?”

“You know.”

“If I must say, ‘You’re welcome,’ so must you.” Jonathan held his tongue. “Exactly.” Her hand cupped his cheek as she went on, “I feel much the same. Like a lottery was won and the prize is an unfair gift by dint of how precious it is compared to the recipient. By how that prize refuses to acknowledge their own value. But there is time yet to filter that all down into something better. We will have our vows to smother each other with and neither of us will be able to shush and insist, no, no, I am the luckier one. All while the pews roll their eyes. For tonight I ask that we have a truce. No deprecation, no hoisting onto pedestals. Just for now, we will pretend we each feel equal to the blessing of the other. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Good.” Mina lifted herself high enough to find his lips with hers. “I love you, Jonathan.”

“I love you, Mina.” He mouthed the words to himself long after she had fallen asleep atop his heart. I love you, Mina. I love you, Mina Murray. I love you, Mina Harker. I love you. Thank you.

Jonathan faced the covered window and the sliver of pane visible at the cloth’s edge. He spotted the moon hovering in a split among the breaking rainclouds. As sleep finally found him, he could not shake an unpleasant certainty that he was looking at a great glowing eye. And that it was staring back. 

Jonathan discovered Carfax Abbey on a clear blue day. His immediate impressions of the place ran in quick succession. First, that the location was so precise in its accommodation of Count Dracula’s specifications that it might have been commissioned. Second, that it looked like a place meant only to exist after dark on a sinister moor. This remained true despite the brilliance of spring stubbornly budding along the edge of its high stone fence.

He sent back a late thanks to himself as he’d been that morning, when he had tossed a coin on whether or not to bring the Kodak with him for the day’s hunt. Though the cab would be trusted to take him to the general area, it would be down to more literal footwork to inspect the properties he hoped to survey as far as he could without increasing the fare. Which would not bother him too much if he were going light. He did have a fondness for a run when it could be gotten away with sans pedestrians. But there would be no jogging with the camera to mind. Only a steady trudge.

Yet even that predicted march was trimmed down to a mere amble by dint of the cabman’s suggestion. He had heard out Jonathan’s description of his ideal quarry and first assumed him to be a tourist who’d gotten lost in a search for haunted houses.

“The area hasn’t much in that way, lad. Only place that comes close is old Carfax. Used to be an abbey, but looks more like a hideaway for the Dark Ages’ ghouls.”

“Do you know if it’s for sale?” This had earned him an odd look before the cabman admitted he had seen a sign staked out front that might have claimed the place was available. Supposing one cleared away the accumulated grime.

“I have to wonder if your buyer will bother with such a place. Ghosts can be dealt with, but it has more unsavory living neighbors to deal with.”

“Who are they?”

“Can’t say I know them personally, thank God, but I know for certain they’re perfectly mad.”

“Really?”

“Well, they’d not be in a private madhouse otherwise.”

The cab passed said lunatic asylum en route to the site. Jonathan was happy to note that it was at least a stately building, clearly a former domestic estate that had been expanded into suitable proportions for the inmates and staff. Better still, it was so far from Carfax as to be invisible through the facility’s wall of tended trees even when standing outside the latter’s stonework border.

Seeing the composition of said fence’s rough stones had plucked at Jonathan’s boyhood itch for play. If it were not for the cabman as a witness, he might have clambered his way up and walked along the edge as he’d done around his aunt’s home before he was declared too old for such nonsense. Still musing, Jonathan thanked the man again for the find and paid for the ride, promising another fare if he would return in an hour’s time. The cabman hesitated even after he had taken the first half of the pay.

“You’re certain you’d rather not go up the whole road first? There aren’t many houses, but they’re each of them empty and all far less a stain on the eye than that evil heap of rocks.”

“Do any of the rest have a chapel attached?”

“Don’t believe so. But if your buyer’s so keen on his prayers he ought to make do with a trip to church like the rest of us.”

“I imagine he means to refurbish it for that very purpose.” Jonathan offered a smile. “I’m certain whatever spirits might be lurking will have to clear out once he’s put the place in order.”

“Or torn the bloody thing down,” the cabman muttered not quite under his breath. He huffed and checked his watch. “An hour, you said? Just to wander around the place?”

“To wander here and across the neighboring grounds. I need to take note of the full landscape as well as the estate.” The cabman snorted at this in time with his horse.

“I hope your buyer is paying what you’re worth, lad. Any more on his list and he’d have you mapping out all of Purfleet to be sure it suits his fancy.” When the cab pulled away Jonathan began the photography. As much as he could manage from outside the fence. But then, because there were no witnesses, and because there was no way of opening the gate without ruining the rusted lock, and because it really wouldn’t be a thorough survey of the property without a glimpse of things on the inside of the towering stone walls, Jonathan shouldered his bag and scaled the rock as blithely as a spider.

He landed in the shade under one of the sundry trees that crowded the interior grounds. Jonathan marveled at how the trees’ shadows and that of the hulking abbey combined to hold a permanent dusk in place. So much so that it was a challenge to find any well-lit spots in which to take pictures without losing details. Up close the chapel was no less imposing than the abbey. It stood apart in its overgrown gothic solitude while the abbey puffed itself out with late additions to the structure. Jonathan made a note to reserve some pictures for Mina once he’d set aside an album for the Count. Sadly there was no letting himself indoors without becoming a full intruder, and so he satisfied himself with touring the rest of the land. A tour he was happy to make at a run.

The camera and his bag were set carefully aside with the chapel to manage this—for he must manage it, seeing as the grounds seemed to cover no less than twenty acres—and sent another belated thanks to his morning self for donning more active shoes than his workplace pair. While the place was no forest, it was an easy enough copse to imagine as such. A private patch of woodlands in which he had no one to be mindful of on a trail or blush over as they gawked at him, wondering what his hurry was. Here the exercise even bore fruit in the form of revealing a pond set at the estate’s southern end. A pool clear with spring water and trickling a faint stream through a grate into denser growth beyond the rear gates. Another run and a returning walk ensured this too got its photograph.

It was as he took these pictures that he saw the place even had some refreshment in the way of brambleberries snarling their way along the masonry. They were still some months away from being in season, but the desire to steal a piece of their thorny nest to plant his own shrub gnawed. At least until he reminded himself it would be hopeless with his current lodging. A mint tin of a flat slotted wall-to-wall with the rest of the street. Mina’s was worse still, he knew. When they married, they would pool their funds to find somewhere with a little girdle of a garden around it. Or else they would have window-boxes to grow things for the kitchen. Or both. Just a wedge of greenery to tame and taste for themselves.

 For now, he satisfied himself with adding it to the marital itinerary and took out his notebook to jot the impressions of Carfax Abbey as he had for half a dozen other estates, all of them falling short on one preference or another. Too new, too near to the hub of a city, too compact, too bright, and, most damning, not a single chapel to spare among them. At least, none that were not in use by the general public. He would likely run around for another couple weeks to check on other prospective options, but he held little hope for a finer match than Carfax.

Carfax, Carfax. I wonder…

The notebook was tucked away in exchange first for his watch, which showed he’d somehow burned only twenty minutes, and then a compass. A minor note from the Count had mentioned a desire to have, ‘an open sky with which to see all the night and day, the dusks and dawns, without men’s brick and smoke in their way.’ Jonathan could not fault such a wish and so had brought the compass to see if he might happen upon a house with the view clear for the east’s sunrise and the west’s sunset. The compass revealed he had done even better with the abbey.

‘Carfax.’ Quatre Face. A four-sided house with its walls facing the four cardinal directions. All clear of any rooftops and their belching chimneys. I’m sure it will please you, Count.

The thought sank his joy like a stone. Jonathan looked again at the abbey. Haunted and a relic of dead centuries, true, but a place of dignity and grand dimensions all the same. A voice rose up in him with smiling malice as he stared at it.

You will never have such space. You will never have a home so broad that Mina can have rooms all for herself and more for the daydream of children. You will live close to all the fruits of a metropolis, as near as the gutters themselves, and only ever know what it is to skim them, to borrow them, to daydream without laying your lesser hands on them except to use them for another. You will have neither the sprawling beauty of nature or the boons of modernity. Not for your entire life, Jonathan Harker.

And, because he could not stop the flow once it was running:

She should have found someone better. Someone with more than your scraps to offer.

He ground the heel of his palm against each eye until they dried.

“What would she say?”

Something kind you do not deserve.

Jonathan shook his head and marveled at the paradox that still found its way to nettle him even with the ring on her finger. Perhaps because of it. It was the miserable uncertainty of the hours preceding his examination turned up a hundredfold. Time, experience and evidence all stood in favor of him passing his tests on the professional and romantic fronts, yes, yes, he knew it…

…But what if he didn’t? What if he had somehow fooled himself and Mina and Hawkins and peers and the world itself into thinking he was more than what he was? What if?

What if you stop wallowing and get out before the cab returns?

Jonathan stopped long enough to skip a stone across the pond before following his route back to where he’d clambered over the wall. With half an hour to spare, he began walking at a healthy gait across the spread of land between the abbey and the asylum. If only to say he knew how many paces it was between the properties. One, two, three, four, five…

The pacing turned irregular once he had to cross through the border of trees that stood for a property line between Carfax and its company. Jonathan was stunned to discover there was no proper fence hidden behind the picturesque rows. Only a walled and gated section at the rear of the asylum that suggested an area for outdoor excursion or perhaps a private kitchen garden. He hoped it was the former. Even the insane needed leave to stretch their legs beyond the borders of a cell. As he mulled this, he heard a shout. It sounded like it held the weight of every expletive known to the English tongue and several more beyond it.

Following this was the same livid voice grating seemingly out of thin air, “Idiot! Fool! One damned page and you do this?” Jonathan heard a clatter of hollow things against a wall. “Imbecile!” He stepped fully beyond the wall of trees and saw the voice’s owner pacing back and forth inside a barred window set at the foot of the asylum’s wall.

“Sir? Are you alright?” Jonathan was almost as surprised as the man in the window to realize he had not only spoken, but come closer. There was an instant in which the man tensed. The picture of one who’s realized someone of influence has caught them in a bad moment. Yet upon actually seeing Jonathan and recognizing his lack of import, he relaxed enough to smile. Albeit sourly.

“Apart from this most inconvenient stint of homemaking, courtesy of concerned friend and kin, I am quite fine, young man. Ebullient, ecstatic, elated.” The polite rictus hardened. Jonathan thought queasily of wild dogs. “Apart from the fact that I have lost the last of my stationery to an overfilled glass. My cup runneth over. My cup ruins days of work and turns the remaining space to so much waste. Just look!”

The man thrust something up to the gaps in the bars, stopping just short of throwing the spoiled pinch of paper out onto the grass. For it was spoiled. Jonathan saw the stationery was really little more than a large cut of butcher paper folded and refolded until it made a sort of accordion-book. The whole thing was so waterlogged that Jonathan could barely tell tally marks from letters as the crayon bled together and the pages sagged.

“Ruined,” the man punctuated with what was either a sneer or a sulk. “At best I can try to mash and dry the thing out as a new sheet. But the stuff was already muddy enough to write on and I shall have to reduce myself to the penmanship of an infant with the bluntest marks just to make anything legible. And I had just started to make progress.” He cocked his gaze more fully at Jonathan. His look was one accustomed to giving brisk appraisal. “If you are a journalist, you are quite tardy with your pen. You’ve not even set up your camera’s tripod to record the travesty.”

“I am no journalist, unfortunately,” Jonathan admitted as he unearthed his notebook. “But at least that leaves some of this to work with, if you’re amenable.” Covering the shorthand of the last full page, he showed the man in the window the remaining blank sheets. Not a great many pages left, and certainly not of impressive size considering it was a pocketbook, but it would be a fair amount of writing space for a careful script. The man’s expression did not change, but his eyes brightened.

“I may be. Supposing I know the price at the other end of such a trade.”

“No price, sir. You would do me a kindness in taking it as I shall have to start a fresh one for another project soon. The predecessor would be left unfinished and forgotten in the meantime.”

“Ah, a worse fate than a journalist. An author. How many poor diaries have you left abandoned in their pretty bindings for the sake of a new volume?” The man clicked his tongue through a grin. “I jest, of course. You do not seem the sort to waste what he has.” The grin, still genuine, flattened an increment. Bloodshot eyes gleamed. “I fear I wasted a great deal of what I once thought mine on the other side of these delightful accommodations. Never make such a mistake as mine, young man. Do not doubt for an instant that what you trust today cannot turn on you tomorrow.”

“I won’t, sir.” Jonathan thought of adding that he had lived under that knowledge since the day he attended the funerals which ended his childhood. He swallowed it back. “May I..?” He held the notebook up, his shorthand sheets pinched between thumb and forefinger.

“I would be most grateful.”

Jonathan tore his filled pages neatly out. The remaining clean pages were barely thicker than a pamphlet, but clung sturdily to the little spine. Jonathan knelt low enough to lay it within reach on the grass. He noticed a small dusting of white powder at the window’s edge. A crowd of ants whittled away at the mound.

“Ants,” the man scoffed as he followed Jonathan’s line of sight. “Pitiful company. I had hoped the thaw would bring in something heartier. Flies, ladybugs, perhaps some early butterflies. But the real trouble is keeping them around. Ah, apologies, might you bring it a little closer?” The man raised his forearms into view. “I haven’t the best angle from where I stand.” Jonathan scooped up the notebook and brought it an inch nearer.

The man’s hands were abruptly out through the bars and clapped around Jonathan’s. Tight. Short of hurting, short of breaking, but locked as firmly as a vise. Jonathan tensed without pulling back. Again he thought of wild dogs. Of things that only seemed to be dogs until they closed in. Creatures that chased once they saw something run.

Jonathan was still. The man was still. Grasping Jonathan’s hand and the notebook in a pantomime prayer.

It’s my left hand. Smart enough for that, at least. I can still do my paperwork with the right intact and the other broken. Will the fingers heal in time for Mina to slip the band on? How mortifying to have to explain it all to her. I wonder if the asylum would make up a cast without charging for it…

“There is no need to shake upon it, sir,” Jonathan heard himself say. “The book is yours.” The man regarded him with less of a smile now. His lip still curled, but it seemed only to hold on by sheer will. It dropped entirely with the gust of a sigh.

“The book and a lack of tact, I fear. Even if I were not mad, I would still be a churl.” The hands relaxed and a set of fingers drummed once on the back of Jonathan’s wrist. “Though I suspect you are a soul used to them. I would tell you to be more wary on your way, but it is only a simpleton of a preacher who would bother teaching his flock wariness in a world where they must interact each day with wolves. Though I will advise that it is rather foolish to go around making conversation with confirmed lunatics up close. I am confirmed, you know. The facts are printed and signed all over by professionals. I saw the document myself.” The man’s look floated away from Jonathan and into a distance he couldn’t guess at. “Printed on far finer paper than what we settle for.”

One of the gripping hands came away, leaving only the one folded over the notebook and Jonathan’s palm. They shook. The notebook was collected in the same gesture.

“My thanks,” from the window.

“Quite welcome,” as Jonathan righted himself. He surprised himself with his own steadiness. The rote pitch of the office and a life’s worth of reflex steered his tongue while mind, heart, and stomach rattled where they hid. Because he had to do something with his freed hand rather than clasp it in its brother, he fished out his watch. Only now did a ripple of worry manage to rise to his face.

“Some trouble?”

“I fear I may have lost my ride.”

“You came from the by-road, yes? It hardly sees traffic. If your driver’s gone on without you, go around the front here and see if you cannot bribe our beloved head doctor into lending out the wagon. Just say you have managed to wring a whole quarter of an hour’s worth of nattering from his friend R.M.”

“R.M.?”

“Short for Mr. Rig R. Mortis.” The man chuckled at Jonathan’s look. “Pseudonym, young man. Can hardly have the family being shamed under my real title. He will know who you mean. Though I do hope you manage your ride instead.” With that, the man ducked back from the window and was gone. Jonathan had made it three strides away when the voice called behind him, “Here!” Something small struck the back of Jonathan’s heel. He turned and saw gold winking up at him. A sovereign. “It is not payment. You are merely ensuring the attendant who lost it when I had my last room search never gets it back.”

“Sir—,”

But the window was already abandoned. Jonathan picked the coin up. It was partially obliterated on one end, erasing part of Victoria’s face and the rider on the reverse. This was because the edge had been ground to a sharp edge that nicked his thumb open as he turned it over. Blood smeared Saint George, his steed, and the dragon hissing up at the sword and hooves.

Cold fingers seemed to walk up his spine as he examined it. Shaking the chill away, he tucked the coin in his pocket alongside the notebook’s harvested pages and dashed back the way he’d come. He made it to the waiting cab just as it was pulling up to the gate.

“Well, lad? Is it what your buyer’s after?”

“I believe so.” Jonathan smiled as he said it and held the expression admirably until the cabman turned his gaze back to the road. He gloved his hands despite the balmy weather, sheathing his thumb as it traced the thin impression of the cargo sitting against his breast.

“If you keep up with that you shall tear the whole cheek off,” she said at his shoulder. “You are awake, I promise.”

Jonathan stopped pinching at himself and split his attention between Mina’s face and the clock’s. The magic circle of Roman numbers seemed to shake a phantom head. No, it said, not yet. But soon.

“This is happening, then?” he asked as he turned fully to Mina. Mina, here at the last moment together until mid-May. Mina, wearing the ring he had saved a year for on her finger. Mina, who had clasped and kissed and kept him from collapsing outright in stupefied relief upon the announcement that he had passed his examination, her fiancé now a solicitor. Mina, who held his hand and kept him from floating off through the ceiling and into the sky. “This is really happening? Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” Jonathan’s eye traveled to her neck and the glimpse of a cord peeking from her shirt collar. She caught him and spared her free hand to tuck it out of sight. “Just as I am sure you will not fly off with my treasure, you magpie.”

The treasure being Jonathan’s own plain gold band now worn as a necklace. He had been the one to slip it over her head the night before, mesmerized by the soft shine as it landed over her heart. It was done by mostly mutual agreement. Mina wished to hold a scrap of tradition close and leave his hand bare until they reached the chapel. And, though Jonathan suspected this was mere theatre, she said she wished to hold onto it as proof to herself that she was awake and that the engagement was a reality. Besides, it was practical! If he were wearing the cord on his trip, what if he should lose it in any number of countries as he traveled? It was one thing to risk forgetting it at the office or leaving it at home. Quite another to imagine losing it in a hotel in another nation. Even with all this logic at her disposal, Jonathan donned his best moue. Mina covered it with her hand.

“That is unfair.”

“I am not above unscrupulous tactics, Mrs. Harker.”

“Like trying to break me by calling me Mrs. Harker?”

“Possibly.”

“Well, you are foiled. My will is too great.” She brought her hand away to brush a strand of hair from his brow. “There is no need to scheme anyway. You shall have the thing back soon enough.”

Jonathan pretended not to hear the slight tremor at the word ‘soon.’ Yes, it was only a few weeks’ separation. A month at most if there were delays in train or coach. But even in this zenith of excitement, knowing unequivocally that this was where their future began—a future where they were taking their first steps up rather that walking the same flat circle in the dust—it felt strangely like waiting to leap into a chasm. A gorge that required endless paperwork to keep track of, plus what was required for the travel itself. Documentation, letter of credit, passport, polyglot dictionary, and, carefully packed, the first new suit he’d had in three years.

Mina had insisted on his modeling it before packing it away. After, she declared she must send a letter of gratitude to not only Mr. Hawkins, but to the tailor. They would have to see him again about the suit for the wedding. Lucy had already written back in response to Mina’s last letter with the announcement, erupting with insistence that, while she was not the sort of girl to live and die by fashion plates, she wanted to know the very instant she began hunting for a dress.

In the present, however, the only new attire was the coat Jonathan wore. A companion piece Hawkins had insisted join the suit before Jonathan could escape the tape measure. Jonathan’s hand drifted up to one of its pockets now and found it unexpectedly light. Worry spiked for a moment before his mind caught up to what it was he’d been feeling for. He almost laughed. Mina canted her head at him, searching. She never missed even the most minute shift behind his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Only I’ve realized I was so adamant about packing everything for the needs of the trip and the client that I forgot the one item I meant to bring solely for me.”

“Your books?”

“No, the law texts are there. A bit of Dumas as well. But I have forgotten my book.” He offered a bashful smile. “Ours, I mean. For your assignment.”

Her brow furrowed a moment before she recalled, “The journal?”

“Yes. I meant to grab one of the spare pocketbooks from my desk, but it’s not in its place. Maybe I bundled it in the case without thinking.” If not, he could shave out a little of his emergency budget for something en route to the castle. But Mina was beaming at him.

“An ordinary pocketbook might suffice for a clerk, but not a solicitor. Especially not when I’ve held onto this since you turned your back to peruse the dictionaries two months back.” She brought out her reticule as she spoke. From the reticule came a slim leatherbound volume with supple pages made to resist the traitorous smudges and tears of its precursor’s flimsy leaves. The whole thing was tied with a white ribbon that pinned a matching pen to its cover. “All shorthand. Promise?”

“Promise,” Jonathan nodded as he took the book gingerly from her hand. It fit so perfectly in the coat that it failed to even dent cloth. “Though I don’t believe the same applies to the recipes. Which I shall collect in abundance and inflict upon us both once I return. Is there anything specific you want me to bring back?”

“You know my tastes already.”

“Other than the cuisine, I mean.”

“Nothing comes immediately to mind. A good story or two would be nice, but,” again her hand found his face, cupped against the angle of his cheek, “as long as you come back, I will be satisfied.”

“I suppose that can be managed.”

The clock tolled and the call went out to the station. All aboard, come along. Mina’s eyes flicked with brief wonder to the train itself. Locomotives and their railways had been one of her chief interests for as long as Jonathan had known her. She regarded her copy of Bradshaw’s Guide with the same reverence as some did their Bible, to say nothing of the clipped articles she had collected concerning new routes and models being laid out within various countries. In sum, Mina loved the practicality and potential of trains. To her they were proof that their world was not limited by whether or not they could hail a hansom or how far it was willing to take them. But now her smile dimmed.

“It had better bring you back on time,” she said as they walked arm and arm up to his car. “I shall be standing in this very spot with my watch out.”

“I’ll warn the conductor.” Because they were among strangers, she had allowed him to hold her arm rather than the reverse. He gave a gentle squeeze first to her arm, then her hand. The lump of the stone stood out under her glove. “If it runs late, I will simply run ahead.” Her laugh did little to hide the dew in her eyes. It matched the mist in his. Their hands held tight.

In that moment, an absurd impulse leapt up in him. An animal-twitch of fear that went deeper than mere anxiety, deeper than love, deeper than concern of career or separation or wandering in unknown lands. It was the needling of a sense he had no name for. A thing that smelled or heard or tasted some imperceptible sign that bodily and mental awareness refused to acknowledge. It whispered:

Do not go. Do not do this. Go home. Go now. Before it’s too late.

The whisper froze him. Mina appeared to freeze with him. Her eyes reflected a feverish glimmer of his own disquiet. They stood locked in that second like a hart and doe with their ears pricked toward a huntsman’s tread in the wood.

But then they blinked. Mina’s gaze lightened and the uncanny sensation left Jonathan as quickly as it came. Only a shudder of nerves disguised as a portent. Really, he could hardly bow to it even if it had meant anything beyond a hiccough of his own fretting. Fact outweighed fear and the fact was he had a job to do. A job that began here, now, with the release of Mina’s hand so he might grab his other bag from her.

Thus unburdened, Mina abruptly trapped his face between her palms. Jonathan bent down until his mouth met hers. Here was the plush press of her lips on his, feeling so much like a reverie he thought once again that he must be asleep. He would wake any moment and the fantasy would fall away into foam. Now. Now.

“Now, I don’t mean to intrude, but there is a train waiting. I’m afraid you must save the rest of the young man for his return trip.” They both snapped up at once to see the uniformed man at Jonathan’s back. He was eyeing them with a look that spoke of a career forever encumbered with similar scenes. The man peered at Jonathan over his spectacles. “You are boarding?”

“Yes, sir. Apologies.” But an apology not even fractionally meant. He turned back to Mina who now steamed from the neck up as she avoided the gawking of an older couple taking in the show. The wife gestured at the sight of them, muttering something in a tone of mingled mirth and query in her husband’s ear, to which the husband rolled his eyes. Jonathan spared them only a mote of attention. “Mina.” She looked to him. “I love you. I’ll be back soon.”

“I love you, Jonathan. I’ll be right here.”

He found his seat at the window and did not turn his head away from the glass. Not while the train idled. Not while it pulled away in its hiss and puff of turning wheels. Not while Mina stood there waving after him, her feet tugging her forward a few unconscious steps so that she might see his window longer while he craned his head to keep her in view. Only when the station itself was a speck in the distance did he turn back around. Off to the future to lay an invisible track for them both. To collect countries as keepsakes and bring them home on paper like pressed flowers.

Jonathan tried to imagine what he might cross on his travel to and from the castle that would be a worthwhile souvenir. Images of books and baubles were conjured as he traced the edges of his journal. So he went on musing until excitement burned out to exhaustion and the first doze of his trip dragged him down into sleep.

A dream came and went.

He was still on the train, still at his window, but the seat facing his was no longer empty. A face he knew was there. One harvested from the far end of his school days and the nascent career as a clerk. So he believed.

It was a familiar countenance in the way that the sight of a stranger always seen in the same place amounted to vague acquaintance. Known enough to nod at in passing. Jonathan had nodded at this one and been given a nod back in student years. He’d thought of introducing himself once or twice, only for the young man to flush and hurry off like a frightened stray. Jonathan had never quite understood it.

Now here was his anonymous acquaintance again, finally sedate in his seat and hidden in his newspaper. While he was not Jonathan’s senior by more than a year, he looked to be in a more professional state of dress. Pressed and tailored and relaxed in that way men can be when they know they have a wardrobe full of similarly fine ensembles waiting at home. But it was his choice of accessory that gave him away as being on a similar pilgrimage to Jonathan’s. The unoccupied portion of his seat was taken up by the paperwork of a sale, carefully weighted by a discarded hat. His companion spared it no attention, having his gaze pinned on the newspaper open in his hands. It blocked the view of him from the whiskers down. Jonathan was still wondering whether to announce himself when a voice came from behind the newsprint:

“My way goes through Munich. Yours as well?”

“Yes,” Jonathan said. “Though I fear there will be no real stop there. At least, the Count did not pencil a hotel stay in the route.”

“Hm,” his companion nodded. “I suppose he would not gamble it twice. Even if he did set it right the first go around.” The newspaper rustled and the young man’s eyes finally lifted above the print to find Jonathan’s. They were bottle glass-bright. “What all have you packed?”

“Necessities, mainly. Everything for the sale, some changes for the overnight stays and—,”

“And what haven’t you packed?”

“I…” His hand traveled again to his chest. “Mina saved me at the station. I forgot a notebook, but she had one ready. I should be fine.”

“No. You are still missing something. Rather, I expect you will be missing it quite soon.” There was a sigh behind the paper. “All that practice and you go and leave the damned thing under your bed.”

Jonathan straightened in his seat. His right hand clamped reflexively, as if palm and fingers were dreaming of a hardwood handle. 

“I’m not going to the jungle.”

“There are worse things than animals to worry about. If you cannot cut them down, what will be left to you?” Another page turned. The bottle glass eyes slid to look out the window. Jonathan followed his gaze and saw that the world had gone black and white under a skull-faced moon. “But then, you might make do without the steel. You handled the worst of our schoolmates well enough back then without even raising your voice. Whatever you may lack as a full-blooded Englishman you make up for in softer stuff. Enough that one or two of the lads confessed over drinks that they wished you were a girl. I was not one of them. You gave me trouble enough as a boy. 

“All that said, you have skills that will help. Appealing attributes. Ones I could have used myself.” The unblinking eyes slid back to Jonathan. It was a greyer stare now. Almost filmy. “I had nothing to sell. Neither in English property or my personal wares, so to speak. I could not even muster charm enough to be worth an extra hour’s chat.” Jonathan watched his companion’s hands crumple the paper in two fists. He saw for the first time that those hands were red. They left dry maroon stains across the gazette. “Who is waiting for you, Jonathan Harker? Who at home? Your Mina, old Hawkins, and who else? Any names come to mind?

“Of those friends, are there any who will know to worry when it goes wrong? Anyone to ask questions? To watch the calendar and the post and wonder how you are? Because I thought I did. I even knew the difference between friends and amiable acquaintances, unlike you. Fellows in and out of my firm. Even a girl who understood my needs and was willing to play her part. They all said they expected letters from me. Said they’d be on watch if I was not back within half a month. That was a year ago. And still they do not know where I am. Nor have they cared enough to look.

“But you would have, I think. If I had ever gotten over my cowardice. If I hadn’t wasted boyhood cringing, so afraid I would give myself away. If I had not made a ghost of myself rather than a friend. I was so proud of myself for not daring at the time—I fear I would have made a wretched scene when I first realized you and the pretty schoolmistress were serious. Instead I took my wine and my pain in silence. Told myself how wise I had been not to try. Ha.” Jonathan watched pallid lips peel open on a smile glazed pink with bleeding. Red rivulets trailed out between the young man’s teeth and into the trimmed beard. “Not that it would have mattered in the end. If we had been friends, if we had been more, if we had been anything at all, there wouldn’t have been much for you to find.”

Jonathan leaned forward. It took an effort. A growing stench was starting to waft from the opposite seat. The stink of copper and rot.

“Please, just tell me what this is. Tell me how to help. What’s happened?”

His companion’s grisly smile wilted. The bottle glass eyes ran like his mouth.

“What’s happened is you have climbed onto the same train I took. You will ride on plenty more. The same coaches too. Perhaps that will help. They never caught on to the truth of things when it was me. After all, he does have work to do, being what he is. People must have made it to and from that place before in official capacity. They must have thought it would be the same for imported goods. Hopefully they will know better now. But then, so will he. Soon all you will have to rely on is yourself. Use what you have. All that you have. Play the game as best you can. As long as you can.” Red tears and dribble flowed in a thickening cascade. “I could not last a week and so lost everything. Or nearly so. I am restless, true, but it could have been worse. Much worse.”

“I don’t understand,” Jonathan almost rasped. Fear choked him like a noose.

“I know. And I am very, very sorry to say that you will.” His companion sighed, releasing a crimson haze of spittle into the air. “Well. This is all I can manage as I am. I suppose I shall not need this anymore. Here.” The newspaper was shut and held out for Jonathan to take. “Somewhat out of date, but well worth the read.”

 Jonathan spared barely a mote of attention for it. There was no headline or story that he could make out. Only a flash of what looked like the stanzas of a poem, though he couldn’t say for certain. He was too gripped by the sight of the young man below the neck. Seeing the fullness of it hooked something in Jonathan’s stomach and drew it up to the very edge of his teeth. He wasn’t sure if it was his breakfast or a scream.

That was when the hand fell on his shoulder.

Cold. Just as cold as the lips now pressed at the side of his neck.

Whatever sound he might have made was cut off as something sharp drove into his throat and the train went as dark as the world beyond it.

“Sir?” Jonathan fell against his seat as if thrown. The uniformed man started back himself, taking his hand away from Jonathan’s shoulder as he did. “We’re coming to the station soon. Can’t have you sleeping through your stop.”

“No. No, of course. Thank you. Sorry.” The man glanced at Jonathan’s lap with a look possessed by every father who has ever known better than his progeny.

“You could pick lighter reading to nod off on. You’re only setting yourself up for sour dreaming if that’s what you skim beforehand.” He didn’t loiter long enough to explain what he meant. Jonathan looked down.

He had picked a gazette to stuff into his things before he and Mina reached the platform. He’d had an idea that he was reserving his books for the far end of his travel and so would make do with some final updates from his native soil. At some point he had turned all the way to the obituaries. His hand rested on one describing the tragic loss of a young man at sea. A sailor fallen overboard in a storm, presumed dead.

They could be wrong, Jonathan thought with sudden desperation. Perhaps he lived. He made it safely to an island or some distant beach. They could find him alive and well. Couldn’t they?

The newspaper was shut, folded over twice, and tucked back in his luggage. Jonathan did not touch it again until he left the final station that spat him out by the shore, feeding it to the first wastebin he saw. He almost laughed to himself when it came time to board the ship. It would be May by the time he cracked open the journal and wrote anything of interest.

“I shall do better on the return trip,” he promised the naked pages. “I’ll record a view of the sunrise on the water, I swear.” And he meant it. But for this first voyage across the water, Jonathan stayed shut in his room. If he dreamt of a black tide coming up to swallow him, he was happy to wake without recalling it. 

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Nine

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Nine: Mothers and Meetups

Summary: Saiki and (Y/N) get stuck as Saiki's house, and (Y/N) ends up in an awkward discussion with Yumehara and Teruhashi.

            “Soon, the world will turn into a sea of blood,” said Kaidou cryptically as he walked down the street with his friends.

            “At least red’s a pretty color,” said (Y/N), always seeing the positive side of things.

            “The time of awakening is fast approaching, Saiki,” said Kaidou.

            “Why don’t you wake up?”

            “Well, then, Saiki, (L/N). See you tomorrow,” said Kaidou. “That is…assuming there is a tomorrow.”

            “Oh, hi, Shuniekins! Are you going home now?” asked a grey-haired woman in front of Saiki’s house.

            “W-Welcome home, mama!” stuttered Kaidou.

            “Is that your mom?” asked (Y/N) excitedly.

            “I am, Shun, are these friends of yours?” questioned Mrs. Kaidou.

            “Well, never mind them! Let’s go home!” squeaked Kaidou nervously.

            “What’s the matter? Our house is close by. Why don’t you invite them over for tea?” asked Mrs. Kaidou.

            “What?! W-Well, they’re busy. Right? Isn’t that right?” Kaidou was practically begging his friends to say they were.

            “Yeah, I do have some stuff I was gonna do today…” said Nendou.

            “Come on, get the picture.”

            “Actually, it was nothing important,” finished Nendou.

            “I would love some tea!” chirped (Y/N).

            “And you?” Mrs. Kaidou addressed Saiki. “Are you busy?”

            I think I’ll pass.

            “I got some coffee jelly from the neighborhood association earlier.” Mrs. Kaidou smiled.

            “I’m sure he’s free,” said (Y/N) teasingly before Saiki even responded.

            “Please take us to your home.”

            “Please, come in.” Mrs. Kaidou opened the door of a huge house. She led them to a bedroom. “This is Shuniekin’s room.”

            “What a big room!” exclaimed Nendou.

            “Wow!” (Y/N) grinned as they looked around.

            “You can do somersaults on the floors!” Nendou began to roll around.

            “Yeah, but there’s no good reason to.”

            “He’s lively, isn’t he?” remarked Mrs. Kaidou, smiling. “No matter, I’ll go prepare tea.”

            “Th-Thanks!” Kaidou called after her.

            “Hey, runt! You call your mom ‘Mama,’ huh?” teased Nendou.

            “You had to bring that up, didn’t you?”

            “Are you a goody-goody at home?” joked Nendou.

            “I know the nickname attack very well.”

            Kaidou switched to his eighth-grade syndrome persona. “She’s an ordinary citizen. I’m trying not to drag her into this since my identity in this world is Shun Kaidou, not the Jet Black Wings! As for ‘Mama,’ in this case, it’s the characters for ‘true’ and ‘demon’ combined. In the world I come from, that’s how we address our mothers.”

            “Calm down, Shuniekins,” teased Nendou.

            “You’re a big mama’s boy,” cooed (Y/N).

            Nendou began looking under Kaidou’s bed.

            “Ah! Hey! What’re you doing, you jerk?!” cried Kaidou.

            “Looking for dirty magazines, what else?” replied Nendou.

            “Blech,” said (Y/N), sticking out their tongue at the idea.

            “Huh? I don’t have stuff like that!” said Kaidou.

            Nendou found a box and dumped out some journals. “Oh? This looks suspicious. What’s this?” He picked up a paper labeled “contract.”

            “Don’t touch that notebook!” squeaked Kaidou. “I’ll never forgive you if you open it.”

            “Put that down, Nendou. That’s not a game to him.” Saiki was serious.

            (Y/N) nodded fervently. “Leave it alone.” They snatched it from Nendou and gave it back to Kaidou.

            “What’s the big deal?” asked Nendou.

            “Those with eighth-grader syndrome have notebooks that they never want others to see.”

            “You’re no fun. I’ll check out these other shelves,” said Nendou.

            “How dare you mess up my sanctuary, you jerk!” said Kaidou.

            His mother entered the room with a tray of tea and sweets. “Thank you for waiting.”

            Kaidou immediately became quiet and polite again as everybody began to eat and drink.

            “I know it can be tough since he’s so shy, but please continue to be his friends,” said Mrs. Kaidou.

            “S-Stop it Ma—I mean Mom!” cried Kaidou.

            “She’s quite different from my mom.”

            “And mine!”

            “So, you three, what college would you just kill to get into?” asked Mrs. Kaidou.

            “Ma—Mom, it’s too soon for that sort of talk!” exclaimed Kaidou.

            “What are you saying? It’s important to start thinking about that now,” his mother said, frowning. “You three are second years. You must be studying for your college exams, right? So which school?”

            “What’s this ‘killer college business?” asked Nendou.

            “I really haven’t thought about it all that much. Besides…right now this is all I can think about.” Saiki began to eat his coffee jelly.

            “I haven’t narrowed it down quite yet,” said (Y/N) brightly, sipping their tea.

            Those were all the wrong answers.

            “Just how lightly do you three take your future?” demanded Mrs. Kaidou. “College prep begins the moment you enter high school! Shuniekins goes to cram school three times a week and studies at least three hours a day at home! You three at least prep before all your regular and after school classes, right?!”

            “I’m not disregarding my future, but…” (Y/N) trailed off. They felt like it was a bad idea to continue.

            Nendou and Saiki were silent (mostly because the sweets were too distracting).

            “Shun, come with me!” commanded Mrs. Kaidou. She dropped a ton of workbooks on the table. “You three work on workbooks! You can have snacks when you’re done!”

            (Y/N) sighed and slumped in disappointment. “Aw, man…” They sighed and picked up a thin worksheet. “Maybe if I get a little done, she’ll let me have something…”

            Saiki nodded and, when they weren’t looking, made the rest of the work finish itself with his abilities. “Finished,” he said. Please let this be one of the times you’re not observant.

            “Let’s eat then!” cheered (Y/N), not questioning anything.

            Good.

            Mrs. Kaidou opened the door and saw the pair eating while Nendou played videogames. “What are you three doing?! I told you to study!” She began to flip through a workbook. “I don’t want you to hang out with my Shuniekins any—What? Can’t be…They’re finished?! It hasn’t even been ten minutes!” She was astounded. Could these three really be…geniuses?!

            “Hold on a sec, Mama! I know what you said earlier, but I really—What?” Kaidou frowned in confusion as he entered.

            Mrs. Kaidou was happily giving out more tea and sweets to (Y/N), Nendou, and Saiki. “Please continue to be friends with Shun! Oh, Shuniekins, what good friends you’ve got!”

            (Y/N) leaned over and whispered to Saiki. “I’m really glad she didn’t press the whole college thing. I don’t think she’d really take to the idea of going to culinary school instead of a college for academics.”

            “You want to be a cook?”

            “Confectioner, actually,” said (Y/N). They grinned teasingly. “Yes, that means I could make coffee jelly.”

            “Are you an angel?” blurted Saiki.

            (Y/N) just laughed.

            Saiki found that he liked that sound.

l

            (Y/N) was heading to Café Mami, simply thinking about the snacks they wanted. They were broken from their thoughts when she bumped into Teruhashi and Yumehara.

            “Teruhashi? Yumehara?”

            “(L/N)?”

            “(Y/N)?”

            They ended up sitting together inside Café Mami.

            “I think this is the first time we’ve seen each other outside of school,” said Yumehara.

            “Now that you mention it, you’re right,” said Teruhashi.

            “I didn’t know you two came here,” said Yumehara.

            “It makes the best tea and sweets,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “I come to study and read,” said Teruhashi.

            “I see…” Yumehara trailed off.

            All three took a sip of their drinks.

            This is awkward. We don’t talk much at school, thought Teruhashi.

            I called them by their first names. Do we know each other well enough to do that? wondered Yumehara.

            This tea is really nice, thought (Y/N).

            “Ah, come to think of it, our school trip is coming up soon, right?” remarked Yumehara, making conversation.

            “Okinawa, isn’t it? I can’t wait,” said Teruhashi.

            “Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it.” Yumehara began to fantasize about Saiki complimenting her (extremely unrealistically).

            “Yeah…” Teruhashi began to daydream Saiki saying “oh, wow” (also extremely unrealistically).

            “I’m excited!” chirped (Y/N). They imagined Saiki as well, but their mind pictured just traveling Okinawa with him (though they also wished for a moment with him. They did like him, after all).

            “I can dream, right…” breathed Teruhashi.

            “Huh? Were you thinking something just now?” asked Yumehara.

            “What? No, nothing!” said Teruhashi hurriedly. “What about you two?”

            “I-I wasn’t thinking about anything,” stammered Yumehara.

            “I was thinking about what I want to do on the trip,” said (Y/N) honestly.

            “Um, do you have someone you like, Kokomi?” asked Yumehara, trying to create conversation again.

            Teruhashi spit out the tea she was drinking.

            “What?! You do?” asked Yumehara excitedly.

            Oh, yeah, Teruhashi likes Saiki, remembered (Y/N).

            “N-No, I don’t,” denied Teruhashi, “You suddenly asked the question, so I was surprised.”

            “Sure…” said (Y/N). No point in exposing her to someone else who likes Saiki. Especially since it would cause him trouble.

            “Well, I guess you wouldn’t right? It seems love worries are foreign to you,” said Yumehara. “What about you, (Y/N)?”

            “Nope,” chirped (Y/N), lying easily.

            The other girls nodded uncertainly. They didn’t believe them (mostly because they assumed that (Y/N) liked Saiki as they did since they spent so much time with him).

            “What about you, Yumehara? Do you like someone?” asked the blue-haired girl.

            “Y-yeah,” said Yumehara, blushing.

            “Wow! Who is it?” questioned Teruhashi.

            Saiki again, thought (Y/N).

            “Well…don’t tell anyone, okay?” asked Yumehara.

            “Of course not,” said (Y/N).

            “Someone in our class?” asked Teruhashi.

            “Yeah,” admitted Yumehara.

            “Ahh, now I’m curious!” Teruhashi smiled brightly.

            “My psych—,” began Yumehara.

            Oh, wow, is she really going to be truthful? (Y/N)’s eyes widened.

            Teruhashi spit out her tea. “What’d you just say?!”

            “What? Oh, I said my psycho ex-boyfriend is finally out of the picture, so…” said Yumehara.

            Oh, oops, thought (Y/N).

            “Oh, psychO…psychO, right…” mumbled Teruhashi, relieved.

            “It’s someone I liked before I went out with my boyfriend,” said Yumehara.

            “Uhm…to tell you the truth, there is someone I’m sort of interested in,” said Teruhashi.

            Is Teruhashi going to admit it???? thought (Y/N). “Wow, really?”

            “What? No way?! Who’s that?!” questioned Yumehara excitedly. “In our school?! A French guy?!”

            “H-Hey, you’re too loud,” said Teruhashi.

            “She’s very curious,” laughed (Y/N).

            “Well, since so many guys hang out with you, I can’t figure it out,” said Yumehara, shrugging.

            “No, that’s not true. The last time I hung out with guy friends was when I went to Saiki’s house with (L/N) and the other guys on New Year’s Day,” said Teruhashi, smiling.

            Yumehara spit out her tea. “O-Oh, I see.”

            Uh, oh. They’re realizing that they both like Saiki… thought (Y/N).

            They were completely unaware of the two girls who were also thinking about how (Y/N) might like Saiki. Luckily, they were all distracted as a straw wrapper popped over the booth divider.

            “Oh, sorry. It went to your side,” said Nendou, appearing over the divider. “O-Oh, Teruhashi!”

            The trio looked over at the other booth.

            “Hi, guys!” (Y/N) waved and grinned.

            The other two began to blush as they realized Saiki could have heard them talking. Seeing the other blush, their suspicions were confirmed. Strangely, though, Kaidou bumped into Yumehara, who turned completely red. Nendou then accidentally jostled Teruhashi, who also blushed. (Y/N) could tell that from Teruhashi and Yumehara’s wide eyes that they probably thought the other liked Kaidou and Nendou, respectively.

            (Y/N) grinned and whispered to Saiki, “Lucky break for you. Now they won’t be fighting over you.”

            “Yeah. Just lucky.”

            Unfortunately, (Y/N) wasn’t as lucky, and as they spoke to Saiki, they remained right in the line of fire of Teruhashi and Yumehara’s suspicions.

            Yare yare.

            Saiki decided to ignore them and order another coffee jelly. With (Y/N).

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[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part seven

part eight: i think about jumping off of very tall somethings

Eddie was fully convinced he had lost whatever remaining dignity he might have had when his friends had found him sunken into his beanbag chair with random detritus strewn around the room. He really thought he could not feel any lower than when Ronnie made it more obvious than necessary that she was picking her way through Eddie's junk to stick a hand into his nest and pull him out by his collar. He thought that was rock bottom, but being early for coffee with Robin and Nancy and having to wait with a cooling americano he spent way too much money on really gave that whole experience a run for its money.

Ronnie had suggested dming Robin and Nancy and testing the waters to see if they would be willing to broker some sort of reunion with Steve. Eddie stared at her like she had suggested he deliver the one ring to mordor alone; however, she obviously had a point since the newly announced couple suggested meeting up.

"Hey! Eddie! Sorry we're late!" Robin caught Eddie's attention as Nancy went to order.

"Oh, uh, no worries," Eddie fumbled, "I'm just happy you're here at all honest."

"I mean, Nance said it's only fair to hear you out but you were fucking brutal to my best friend, dude, so like the window to give you some grace is pretty fucking small," Robin answered.

"No, yeah totally understood. How do you want to do this?" Eddie asked.

"Why don't you just explain what happened from your side of things. From our angle, you look like kind of a douche but also I feel like maybe Steve didn't handle things great either? I dunno. I mean, you made him really happy, if we have a chance to fix that, I think I owe it to Steve, right?" Robin answered.

"Sure, yeah, no that makes sense," Eddie started as Nancy sat down with her and Robin's drinks.

"Keep going, Eddie, this is mostly Robin's thing anyway," Nancy prompted. She did not look quite as open to fixing things as Robin did and Eddie felt a little more nervous after he let himself relax in Robin's easy presence.

"For sure, so like obviously you know all of the like tabloid bullshit about Steve and whatever and like I kind of got it and understood but then without any warning I show up and Steve's like gorgeous and super successful ex was just on his couch and Steve isn't willing to explain? I mean that was pretty fucking hard to swallow," Eddie finished a little less certain of where he stood with Robin as she narrowed her eyes over her tea.

"So instead of trusting Steve and listening to him when he told you how much the tabloids have lied about him throughout his career you let the fact that I was present in his home be enough to trump years of what you all had built?" Nancy questioned. Eddie could see her journalism chops coming out.

"That's fair. I mean, I definitely acted without a lot of thought but like, why wouldn't you have looped me in? Did you guys not trust me?" Eddie asked still trying to figure out why he was left flat footed all those weeks ago.

"I think that might be on me," Robin piped up, "I was pretty nervous about coming out and I think Steve was being super protective and didn't want to ask me to come out to more people than I was wanting to. It's not that he didn't trust you, Eddie, it's that we had some pretty shitty years with different agents trying to push me in different directions and I think he just was sick of feeling like outside forces were making me move quicker than I was ready to. And it's not like you made it easy on him to reach out to you after. How was he supposed to respond when you blocked him on literally every platform?"

"I guess I didn't think he would want to explain or he'd try to like explain everything away even though it had seemed obvious at the time he was cheating on me," Eddie paused when both Robin and Nancy threw death glares across the table, "Jeez, I know now that was stupid but at the time it was the only rational I could see."

"I guess we should stop interrogating you, you do seem pretty serious, otherwise I don't think you would have agreed to meet both of us," Nancy jumped in.

"I really regret cutting him off like I did. I know I got way too in my head about everything immediately and just didn't give it time or let him respond," Eddie tried to sound as apologetic as he felt.

"We believe you, you two are both dinguses," Robin cut in, "more importantly, what are we going to do about that fucking song and how the hell do you propose apologizing for all the shit you stirred?"

"I thought we were done with the interrogation," Eddie held his hands up.

"Only about whether or not you're genuine, you still have to figure out how you are putting my bestie back together," Robin answered.

"So about that. I have a couple ideas. One, I feel like a song got us into this mess and my label wants more music anyways so I am kind of thinking of an apology song. The rest of my band has actually started workshopping some stuff with me to try to put it together as soon as we can. I'm kind of hoping to release it before Steve gets back so we are a bit under the clock," Eddie began, "And second, that's where I was kind of hoping you guys could help. I don't want to like ambush the guy but I also don't know if Steve will be interested in meeting with me or like ready to start dating again. I was kind of hoping I could crash one of your movie nights? Maybe once Steve gets settled a bit more?"

"Steve is not the best with surprises," Robin thought aloud, "but that's not a no, it's a convince me."

"I just figure he'll be in his space and relaxed and he also fully has an out to have you kick me out if he isn't interested. If he is, I was kind of hoping you too would be willing to make yourselves scarce?" Eddie hoped that was enough.

Surprisingly, Nancy was the one to answer.

"I think we have a deal, Munson," Nancy stuck her hand out for Eddie to shake.

Eddie left the cafe feeling more hopeful than he had in some time.

part nine

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(if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

[seventies-arcana]

PAC: whats blocking you from entering your next romantic relationship?

good evening lovies. today in this pac reading, you will find out what's a strong barrier between you and entering your next romantic relationship. this is for enjoyment purposes, none of my readings are a substitute for professional advice.

ask upon your guides/higher self to help guide you to choose a pile/photo, then read the corresponding message.

images are not mine.

pick a picture to begin ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

pile one (the apples):

there's a strong theme of balance with this reading. possibly, you could be juggling a lot of priorities and commitments currently, such as work, school, family, friends. or you could be going through some sort of transformational stage in your life, such as moving houses or changing jobs. whatever it may be, your hands are full. you have tasks at hand you need to complete. i'm not picking up an significant energies of being overwhelmed, maybe at times you are, but overall you are content with finishing what you've started. once you are able to have more time on your hands, you will be able to take the next steps into entering a romantic partnership. this time will come naturally. divine timing is at play. once you can let go of the responsibilities currently occupying your plate, you will have the time for a romantic partnership. if you are someone going through a transformative period, it is strongly recommended that you let out any lingering emotions that might be having a negative impact on your being. these sort of periods can be stressful, and you can be harboring sadness, anger, fear, and anxieties deep within your mind. whatever helps you release those emotions (perhaps an ugly cry, journaling, or visiting your safe space to reflect) will be a strong supporter into moving forward. overall, your main blockage is time. you need to complete tasks you've started before a romantic relationship can begin. however, that does not mean you should spend less effort and take short cuts to complete the tasks quicker. again, divine timing is at play. you are where you need to be. be patient, your time will come.

pile two (the tea):

i'm getting the strong sense that you are a daydreamer. you have thoughts and wishes lingering in the back of your mind. there's the potential for something to spark, and you see it. for some of you that pick this pile, you might have your eyes on someone or a current relationship that you could see developing into something romantic. for others, you know (either in your conscious or subconscious) that a romantic relationship could begin if you put more effort into going out more and meeting new people. either way, one thing remains true, and that is that you are way too in your head. you're spending too much time longing for a connection without making direct efforts to have that connection in your physical world. i keep hearing the phrase "wake up," as if spirit wants you to open your eyes and get out of your fantasy world. the main thing that is preventing you from entering a romantic relationship is yourself. maybe your spending too much time watching romantic comedies or reading romance novels. instead, you should use that time to put yourself into more situations where you can meet new people (or talking more with someone who you could see a relationship with/is interesting in you). you're making yourself miss out on some interesting things! if you're someone who is shy or introverted, spirit wants to assure that you are capable to put yourself in more social situations. they are supporting you every step of the way, cheering you on. once you are able to spend less time fantasizing of what could be or what you could have, you'll find yourself taking the next steps into entering a romantic relationship.

pile three (the croissants):

you are a hard worker. you have put in the work to achieve your goals, and i'm getting the energy that these goals were probably self-help and self-love related (if you haven't been doing this, you need to in order to be able to enter your next romantic relationship). perhaps you have recently left a situation that had been negatively impacting you; such as a toxic relationship, damaging habits, etc. and after ending whatever has drained you, you began taking the steps to make you feel like yourself again or more loved. you're putting more effort into yourself, trying to make sure you eat enough, take showers frequently, and so on. however, you have yet to see any significant progress in this. not that you haven't gotten better-- you have-- you just wish you were seeing better results. the truth is, there is one thing you have yet to really do for yourself. and that is to forgive yourself. forgive the past versions of you, the ones that may have lashed out, said something they didn't mean, hurt themselves without truly realizing it, stayed in a situation or environment that was damaging, etc. whatever it may be, you need to forgive yourself. once you are able to do so, you will see self-improvement blossom in ways you've yet to experience. along with this, you will become ready to enter your next romantic relationship. in the mean time, feel those emotions that may still be lingering on your soul and have the patience, because time is the strongest healer. remind yourself that you are not your past, but you can learn from it.

pile four (the cat):

for those of you who have picked pile four, the message seems to be a mix of pile two and pile three. perhaps you've had bad experiences with love, maybe facing a negative relationship with an ex-lover or maybe you've faced unrequited love. despite this, i get the sense that most of you have done the proper healing to move on from this situation and properly put yourself out on the field once more. although, you are afraid or anxious to do so. you're weary about opening your heart and letting yourself love again, possibly terrified at the idea of being vulnerable like that. hence, it's your own fears that are holding you back. you know what you want (your type, your boundaries, the type of relationship, how you should be treated, etc.) ((or at least, you should know)) and you're prepared to begin meeting new people and trying things out. you need to reflect and understand that not every relationship or experience with love is going to end with heartbreak. in fact, each relationship you experience that has ended is one that you can learn from. ask yourself, what are ways you can conquer your fears of love? is it by journaling? saying "fuck it, you only live once"? faking it till you make it/pretending those fears don't exist? hyping yourself up? whatever it may be, indulge in it. because once you get over this fear, you will be able to enter your next romantic relationship.

please like, follow, and reblog for more pac readings :)

[folkloresthings]

in honour of us both going to uni tomorrow, i have a lil drabble request…fernando with a younger gf doing a degree 🫣 nando is my guilty pleasure ngl

EL ur a genius 🤍 my two fav things. also made her do a journalism degree because i’m doing a journalism degree so what

A WORLD AWAY. ❨ fernando alonso x reader ❩

“how’s your essay going?”

fernando’s soft spanish accent is muffled through the speaker of your phone, his face propped up on your desk next to your laptop. the glow of the screens and your newest candle illuminate your face in the top—right corner, hair scraped back and a large hoodie hanging on your shoulders. fernando still thinks you’re the most beautiful thing.

“not terrible,” you sigh, glancing at the word document that has laid untouched since your phone had rang thirty minutes ago. “need some more sources to fill it out a bit. i’ll probably have to stay up to finish it.”

“not too late,” fernando orders, brows raised. “you need your sleep.”

glancing at the clock, you mentally work out what time it is with him. he’d have only been up for a few hours, morning in singapore while it was night in london.

“yes sir,” you chuckle, sipping your lukewarm tea. “how do you feel for quali?”

the usual updates from your boyfriend pour in, and you know he could talk for hours about his job and the race. frankly, you’d let him. your degree was exhausting at the best of times, but you were in your final year now and with the deadline for your dissertation looming, the stress was piling on. fernando’s calls to rant about work or just dissect a race distracted you from your own responsibilities, even if it was just for a little while.

“go to sleep, mi amor. you look exhausted,” he sweetly worries, head titled adorably in the camera. “you can finish it tomorrow.”

“wanna talk to you, though,” you pout, already shutting your laptop and crawling under the covers of your bed. “i miss you.”

“i miss you too, cariño,” fernando murmurs. while the other wives and girlfriends jetted off to as many races as they could, your degree kept you far too busy to be able to visit fernando as much as you wanted to. you went to as many races as you could — but both of you felt the hardships of the distance.

“but you need to sleep. i’ll speak to you later, okay? i love you.”

“i love you too. goodnight.”

when you did get the chance to visit fernando at work, he was ecstatic. showing you off was his favourite thing to do, bragging about your academic achievements and whatever article you’d written most recently. it made a nice change to people asking, or not so subtly whispering, about the evident age gap.

you were almost twenty—four, fernando eighteen years your senior. it gained a lot of attention when you first went public, and still did two years into your relationship. you’d learned to deal with it, but you could always feel the eyes on you when you entered the paddock.

“don’t worry about them,” kika always told you, walking arm in arm to hospitality for a coffee. she had her own struggles, with her and pierre’s smaller, but still noticeable, age gap. “you love each other. that’s what matters.”

and, god, you did love fernando. watching him race, embedded in his element, he was easy to adore. when, every time he took him helmet off, he found your face in the crowd and sent you a wink.

“i’m so glad you could come,” your boyfriend mumbles in your ear when you hug him after the race, congratulating his impressive P5. it wasn’t podium, but you were proud no matter what. your chest seized as his words flew straight to your heart — you knew how much it meant to fernando to have someone there to support him, even with the tough facade he so often put on. you only wished you could be there more.

“a few more months and i’ll have graduated, then i’ll come to every race,” you tell him happily, lips squished where his hands press to each cheek. lingering forward, his soft lips fall on yours and kiss you adoringly. a thank you, everything he wasn’t very good at vocalising when he wanted to.

“i’m so proud of you,” fernando mumbles against your lips, hands heavy in your hair.

“i’m supposed to be the one telling you that.”

“i mean it, mi amor. you’ve been working so hard, and i know it’s not easy being with me. but i’m glad that you are,” fernando admits. your teeth find your bottom lip, willing it not to wobble as your eyes begin to sting with warmth. no matter what happened with the race, or your degree, or even the scandal of your relationship — you had each other.

[lazywitchling]

It's NOT a New Years resolution. We've talked about this.

But since I am starting a new planner, I have blocked off a little section for three things: Consume, Create, Maintain. And each day, I want to have at least one thing in each box.

Consume can be: Watch movie. Scroll social media. Look at pretty art. Play video game. Read book. Listen to music. Listen to podcast. Drink a latte. Have a candy. Brew some of the fancy tea. Etc.

Create can be: Draw, paint, doodle. Crochet. Write a long blog post. Write in my journal. Put stickers in my journal. Work on a jigsaw puzzle. Make some food that involves more than opening a box. Have an in-depth chat about our D&D characters with friend. Arrange trinkets on a shelf to be aesthetically pleasing. Create a playlist. Etc.

Maintain can be: Text friend and ask what's new. Write a letter to grandma. Call sister. Dust off the bookshelf. Put away that half finished craft project. Brush the cat, or clip his nails. Change the sheets. Go grocery shopping. Use a sheet mask. Use that leave-in conditioner. Throw out that dried-up nail polish. Etc.

Because y'all know that otherwise my ADHD ass will pick ONE of those categories and do it ALL DAY until I collapse.

[pinkies-senses]

Dear Celestia,

Today…

Twilight bit the bottom of her lip, staring at the blank page that was supposed to be finished and sent off an hour ago. Her hooves sat crossed in front of her, already gone numb from staying in that position for longer than what would’ve been recommended.

There was nothing new to write to her mentor, today was the same as yesterday.

Reassure the ponies and other refugees, wait for a cure or Spike to report back to her, have guards check on Rarity’s health, vent to Cadence about sitting around and doing nothing, and… well… sitting around and doing nothing.

“Look on the bright side-” her brother said to her earlier that day, before completing that sentence with the dumbest thing she has heard slip from his mouth.

“-at least you get to relax and swap roles with Celestia and her sister. It’s about time they did something for once.”

That earned him a scowl and a smack upside the head from Cadence’s wing.

Twilight’s ears flattened against her head.

As if she enjoyed sitting there and watching her friends and people rot! What’s so “relaxing” about that??? The audacity!

“…and don’t get me started on the jab he made at you and Luna, Celestia! I get that he means well, but for buck’s sake! You can’t control your powers! If you tried, you’d accidentally go scorched earth! What does he not understand???”

Snap!

Twilight’s head whipped around to stare at her quill, which broke at the force of her erratic writing.

She wasn’t even aware she was writing down her own thoughts.

She threw away her quill and crumbled up the paper with her magic only to pause… and opened it up again.

What stood out to her wasn’t the words itself (The page held nothing important, just some rant she copied onto the page.), but rather how relieved she felt.

She hasn’t written anything about her feelings nor her personal thoughts in a long time, not when she has been so busy trying to run what was essentially a refugee camp and finding a cure for the parasite that plagues Equestria.

The only substance that has filled once empty journals has been research and documentation.

In other words… she hasn’t been writing for herself.

Twilight placed the crumpled page into an empty journal and flipped to the next page, pausing to think if she even has the time for such an unimportant task.

‘…Well. It’s not like I have anything to write about tonight.’

So there she stayed in that room full of crystallized furniture and velvety sheets, preparing a hot cup of tea and a snack for that night’s leisure…

End of prologue…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looky, a prologue! He ha Ho!

I’m really tired rn and I’m off my meds but tell me how the writing is! I haven’t written in a while so bear with me, goody goody?

Also eat grass, smoke fast, sled ass 💪

[angelicgirlmj]

an angels guide: before your first day back to school ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

hi angels! so for many of us it’s approaching back to school season. for lots of people this can be a bit of an anxiety inducing time, whether you are starting a new school year or kind of education there is alot to plan and prepare and get ready for - it can feel extremely overwhelming! here is my guide for having an organised and effective first day back at school to get you on track and motivated! enjoy and as always feel free to comment your own tips or advice.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

the week before ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

check through stationary and buy anything you need, check subject lists to see what is recommended as well. buy cute stationary in your favourite colours to motivate you!

sort through books, folders etc and organise notes, any loose pieces of paper and any important documents.

assign a folder to each subject, or if already have a folder check through and make sure it is organised and neat.

clear school emails etc, check through and organise into sections and respond to any. check for any information from your school regarding the upcoming year.

finish off any summer work and make sure it is all complete and ready to be handed in on the deadlines provided. check for any extra work if you have spare time, such as a book or article to read.

read up on the new syllabus/lesson plan for your subjects. familiarise yourself with how it looks, any new terms and any possible problem areas.

fix your sleep schedule! start going to bed earlier and waking up at the time you need to be up for school just to make it less of a shock to your system.

check your bag will fit everything and that any additionals such as a water bottle or lunch box are in good condition and to your tastes.

work on your morning/evening routines, plan when you will be doing work and make necessary changes.

figure out your fitness goals and routines - are they realistic for a full time student? time management is key.

if using apps such as notion, ensure it is set up for the new school year and neatly organised.

plan outfits, check through clothes in case in need of new underwear etc or wardrobe staples.

research healthy and nutritious lunch ideas (may make a post on this later!!), buy ingredients if needed.

do any ‘high maintenance’ things, get your nails done, lashes, eyebrows etc.

pack an emergency bag (pads/tampons, spare underwear, cash etc).

check any hygiene products and buy new ones/replace old ones if run out or in need of more!

do more self care, do a hair or face mask, do your own nails, watch your favourite films, have some you time before school starts again.

make a back to school playlist.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

the night before ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

eat a healthy dinner.

do face mask (use one you have tried before in case a new one causes a bad reaction).

oil hair + hair mask.

dry brush before shower.

wash out oil + masks, shampoo twice.

apply conditioner and leave in.

exfoliate and clean body with soap before shaving.

wash out conditioner and apply bath gel.

finish shower, hair routine (mine is in-depth i have curly hair!), apply body oils.

blowdry, diffuse or air dry hair depending on type.

apply body lotion and perfume.

make tea and drink while doing some journaling (what is my plan for tomorrow, what do i want to achieve etc)

pack bag and organise clothes.

clean teeth, floss and mouthwash.

do gua sha routine and ice face.

do pm skincare routine.

do nail care routine and out hair up for bed.

watch comfort show or read comfort book.

set alarm.

have an early night!

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

the day of ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

wake up nice and early.

do some yoga/stretching.

tidy room.

eat a healthy breakfast.

pack or plan lunch.

fill up water bottle.

check bag is fully packed.

check school timetable, make note of rooms etc.

have a quick shower if time (shave, body gel etc).

clean teeth and do am skincare.

get dressed.

journal and plan day.

put on back to school playlist!

head to school.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

thank you for reading angels! hope this was so helpful and have a wonderful back to school season. all my love, m.

[animementrash]

AOT veterans headcanons

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe

Tags: just random thoughts on the main three vets, they/them pronouns for Hange, some may be ooc?, SFW only

A/N: Here are my headcanons based on how I percieve them, I have some more for the rest of the characters but I'm posting only three for now because they are longer than expected. (I also have NSFW ones but I'm waiting until I get more comfortable with sharing my thoughts before posting those) Hope you like them and thank you for reading!

Levi Ackerman:

Washes his hands constantly, almost too many times a day.

Would rather fight a titan with an arm tied to his back than do the dishes. The mere thought of soggy leftovers sticking to his hands makes him gag.

Avoids going out to public places because he’s aware of his popularity inside the walls and doesn’t know how to act when he’s the center of attention.

Following the previous topic and contrary to popular beliefs, this man would never reject a gift/letter/trinket given to him by a local. It can be the most random thing but he will always accept them with a small nod, he’s deeply thankful for their blind trust in him.

Yawns and stretches ALL THE TIME, he is known for sleeping as little as 3 or 4 hours per night and while he’s able to go on with his day without problems, this doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling drowsy all the time so he’s almost always letting out quiet yawns and stretching his arms to ease the soreness of his body.

Sneezes a lot when cleaning. It’s not rare at all to hear him sneeze when he’s dusting or sweeping, if someone says “Bless you” to him he’ll quietly mumble a “thanks” before getting back to cleaning.

Has a favorite seat at the dining table and gets grumpy when someone takes that place before him.

Speaking of dinner, this man eats SLOW AS HELL, he’s usually one of the last to finish his meal.

Is constantly thirsty because he refuses to drink anything but tea.

Has memorized everyone’s footsteps and knows who’s coming to his office before they even knock the door.

Cleans and calibrates his ODM gear daily even when he’s not planning on using it.

Doesn’t like to be in new recruit’s trainings because he gets anxious when most of them hurt themselves while getting used to work with the ODM gear.

Trims his hair weekly, most people believe he shapes his haircut and has hairdresser-like skills when in reality all he does is trim it to avoid losing the shape it already has.

Can’t read cursive even if his life depends on it. One time Erwin handed him a memo written in cursive and he got so frustrated because he didn’t understand what it said that he ended up ignoring the memo. Turns out Erwin needed him to turn in some reports earlier than usual and got scolded because of it.

Loves eating fruit. Fruit was considered an ultra luxury item in the underground so when he realized how much fruit he could eat once he was in the scouts, he got obsessed with it.

Whines and complains a lot for a person who’s known to be grumpy and stoic. Ask him to do something he dislikes and you’ll hear a bunch of huffs and puffs before he goes to do it.

Talks with his horse. A lot.

Wanders through the empty halls when he can’t sleep and doesn’t bother to bring a candle to light the path, the cadets now believe there is a ghost haunting the headquarters.

Erwin Smith:

Hums and whistles a lot, he’s always making some kind of noise while signing reports or walking down the halls. You can hear this man before seeing him.

Takes more time than he’s willing to admit in styling his hair every morning. He is a firm believer that appearance matters a lot so he puts a lot of effort on his.

 Has a specific pair of glasses he uses when reading, almost no one knows about it besides Hange who helped him choose the right ones.

Talks in his sleep, it can vary between mumbled nonsense to full on speeches.

Has a journal that is more like a diary because he writes all his thoughts/hopes/fears on it but he’d be damned if someone refers to it as a diary and not a journal.

Is lowkey afraid of insects but plays it cool when he comes across one because he doesn’t want to come out as “weak”.

Snaps his fingers when trying to remember something.

People think he’s a very wise and smart man because it’s very common to find him “deep in thoughts”, truth is he just tends to zone out and disassociates like crazy.

Loves dogs, he’s the biggest dog person in the scouts. Often stops and pets dogs he finds while taking a walk downtown.

Cleans and polishes his shoes every night before going to sleep. Whenever his face gets reflected on the shiny shoe a smile appears on his lips.

Not always but sometimes sneaks out behind the barracks to smoke some cigarettes, tries to hide all evidence afterwards because Levi will start complaining about the awful smell.

Would rather be late to an early meeting than go without shaving, has to shave daily because by the end of the day he already has a shadow beard.

Is well aware of his attractiveness and uses it to his advantage when needed.

Visits his father’s grave every Sunday and spends most of the day there. Sometimes brings a book and reads it out loud.

Smacked his face after trying to see through a clear glass Levi had cleaned earlier, after laughing for several minutes Levi scolded him for dirtying his glass.

His wardrobe is full of neutral-colored clothes, he sucks at matching outfits so goes with the safest options.

Knows very well Levi can’t read cursive so when he’s bored, he scribbles gibberish on a paper and gives it to Levi saying it’s important to get it done by end of day just to get a laugh.

Has relatives living inside the walls who refuse to acknowledge him, some of them even pretend he died the same day his dad did.

Has an ongoing bet with Hange to see who makes Levi laugh the most, so far Erwin is winning by one but only because he accidentally fell from his horse and Levi found it hilarious.

Arm-wrestles with Miche a lot, especially after they had a few beers.

LOVES dancing, this man knows how to dance and isn’t afraid to show it. (Sadly for him he also loves to clap when dancing and this makes everyone laugh)

Hange Zoe:

Is both street-smart and book-smart, is the only person who has beaten Erwin in a chess match and also beaten Levi in a wrestling match.

Almost always has pencils sticking out of their hair, they place them there for a moment and totally forget about them.

Levi restricted them from using fountain pens because they would spill ink and stain everything and everywhere.

The reason why their glasses have straps on is not only because the risk of them falling off is smaller but also because according to them “it makes them look cooler”.

Wanted to join Erwin in giving instructions to Levi written in cursive but since their handwriting wasn’t as good as Erwin’s they opted for giving instructions in riddles, this makes Levi even more furious than the cursive ones.

Just like Levi, Hange takes a long time when eating dinner but the reason for this is not because they eat slow but because they talk a lot. By the end of the meal their food is either cold or soggy.

Tried to bite a titan once just to show them how it felt to be “on the receiving side”.

Their horse has tiny braids on its mane made by them when they were nervous.

Refuses to brush their hair because their ideas may “fall off” if they do it.

Tackled Levi once when they saw an “eerie figure” roaming the headquarters halls and thought it was a new species.

Has read more books than anyone in the scouts, knows a little of almost everything.

Says “wait, what?” at least twice when talking with someone, before that person can repeat themselves, they interrupt with a completely related answer and expect the person to continue speaking as if nothing happened.

Almost all cadets go to them for advice, they take this very seriously and never joke around when listening to their concerns.

Just like Erwin, they have relatives living nearby the headquarters but they’re not interested in one another.

Has a tendency to bite their nails when nervous, all his fingernails are short and bumpy because of it.

Is very quick at math and calculations.

Always carry a pocket notebook with them and writes anything that catches their attention so they can investigate about it later.

LOVES bugs, is always trying to catch them and examinate them. One time they trapped a cockroach and created a full design of an “armored suit” based on them, when Erwin asked where they got the inspiration for it, they just placed the cockroach in Erwin’s desk and Erwin almost fainted on the spot.

Randomly goes to Miche and asks him “what do I smell like?”, Miche stopped participating on their little riddles when Hange decided to put rotting food in their pockets before asking.

All their books have little notes and highlighted parts on them. Sometimes has two or three copies of the same book because their view on certain parts changes over time.

Takes pinky-promises as a legit way of commitment.

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch - LiTA (Sky/Prapai) 3/3

I'm watching Love in the Air for the first and ONLY time as part of my Pride Petty Watch, so I'm recapping my suffering experience. The previous recaps can be found here, here, here, and here. I made tea from Long Island *wink* and even though I am not mentally prepared for what's about to happen, I'm ready to finish this, so I can have a break from The Whores Horrors™.

*sign of the cross*

If I wasn't so upset at everyone but Sky and Sig, I think I would have really enjoyed the colors and the ways characters' positions showed power dynamics, but here I am, Bird Box-ing my way through the visual rhetoric.

Love really is blind because I feel Sky would stab Prapai if he heard Prapai call him "gentle" but Prapai has proven to not let reality get in the way of his vision.

I will keep repeating that when Prapai is good, he is the best. He is enamored by Sky picking out stationary. He is happy Sky remembered what he likes to eat. He is worried about Sky at school and his health. His flirty banter works in this setting. Everything is perfect (except Sky's shirt which I refuse to show because it got enough screen time without me adding to it).

How about we just stop here? Just like with Rain and Payu's story, this is a clear point that the story could end, and it would make sense, but noooooooo. The story needs TWO kidnappings because unlike telenovelas, apparently one was not suffice.

To think that Don't Say No was a choice for my Pride Petty Watch, but I'm here, suffering for my actions and watching Prapai forget who he slept with from his former roster. It happens to the best of us, 'Pai.

This is an odd comparison, but this is Last Twilight all over again for me. They just told each other how they feel with big declarations, and one hour later it all goes up in flames simply because the narrative demands it without it making any lick of sense.

AND WE ARE BACK IN THE RED!!!! This show gives me no peace and no relief, yet this time was less jolting because I felt it coming, and somehow him crying in the car repeating that it is happening again is more upsetting.

Get in, Slut for Christ! We're going to confessional, so you can pray for the sin of not taking no for an answer in a show full of people not taking no for an answer.

Not to stereotype, but you are wearing a holographic butterfly shirt, my dude, so what in the Lisa Frank bullshit are YOU doing in sex trafficking? You are not allowed on the Pride float this year, and if you dare to step on it, I will push you off of it and make it look like an accident AFTER I take the shirt off your body because you don't deserve nice things.

Prapai, you are better than this. You have displayed a mild sense of awareness regarding Sky, so having Sky breaking down right next to you without you acknowledging his pain is not your fault, but the story's, and I'm getting real salty about the way this plot wants me to like you yet simultaneously does everything to make me hate you. Was MAME fighting with herself when she wrote this?

Perfect example! Prapai has consistently followed up after the party because he knows something is off from Sky's responses, so he immediately questions if HE did something wrong instead of assuming it's Sky. He still sends Sky food. He goes by to check on him once. Then he brings out the burner cellphones.

As much as I complained about this behavior, it makes sense in this situation because it aligns with exactly who Prapai has been shown to be, a stalker (affectionately here, derogatory in previous episodes).

SO WHY WOULD HE BREAK INTO SKY'S APARTMENT AND READ THE JOURNAL?!

It's not even about the *thing* for me. It's about the lack of consistency for the sake of, what? drama? Prapai talked about swindling a key from Joy, so I'm not surprised he made his way into the apartment without Sky's knowledge, but for Prapai to use the key for this doesn't make sense with his previous behavior. Desperate times call for desperate measures, but Prapai has been desperate before and he consistently showed up at Sky's apartment to bother him. He tricked Rain into giving him information. He showed up ON CAMPUS to hound Sky. He sent flowers. Yet he does none of that here. Payu went to Rain's mama's house to hunt that boy down, yet Prapai doesn't get the same treatment. Payu got the opportunity to lock himself in a bathroom stall with Rain and sniff him after making a surprise visit to campus when Rain was avoiding him, yet Prapai must commit a crime to get to "I love you"?

And on that topic, the long break between Prapai stating he no longer liked Sky - while Sky was bursting with tears and started to cry harder - and Prapai saying he loved Sky was unnecessarily long. In fact, it was cruel. And as much as I hate Prapai's aggressive tactics and crass flirting, he has never been intentionally cruel to Sky, so Prapai ignoring Sky repeating "please, stop" again and again only to end with "I love you" doesn't work for me because that "please, stop" will rear its ugly head again when the ex enters the plot. Having Prapai do something very harmful to Sky who slowly crumbled down to the floor begging Prapai to stop, only to end with him doing something very loving and them smiling on the couch is an emotional beatdown that makes telenovelas jealous.

My boy Sig wasn't perfect because he defaulted to telling Sky to cheer up, but he asked the good questions, he let Sky stay with him as he worked through his feelings, he told Sky that Prapai loved him, and he told Sky to cry. He is a saint among cockroaches, and even though I do not believe in the institution of marriage, I would marry this man in a heartbeat and fully commit to the bit.

UNLIKE RAIN WHO IS NOW TRYING TO PROTECT HIS FRIEND AFTER HE WAS THE ONE WHO OFFERED UP SKY'S NUMBER AND APARTMENT KEY! I'm glad the story acknowledged that Rain's stupidity was pivotal to making this ship happen, so I'll acknowledge that both ships shift around yellow and blue as their love story develops.

---Episode 13---

I thought we were past this lighting and coloring, but this is a reminder that I'm in hell.

I completely forgot about the whole "Wipe Down" controversy in this show, and now I am fully judging y'all because out of all the SHIT that has happened in this show, especially in episode 13 so far, this is what y'all was upset about it? This was the battle y'all picked? The hill y'all wanted to die on was this moment? Y'all was mad because we were shown Prapai wiping down his partner as a basic form of care after sex? Prapai who stalks and breaks into apartments? THIS is the behavior of his that got y'all so riled up that you chose to write 2,000-word think pieces on and lower the show's rating on MDL with the long-ass comments?! THIS?! I hope your cardigans always snag, your soup always burns your tongue, and your glasses always have smudges on them because some of y'all do not deserve small joys or everyday whimsy. Shame on you, shame on your ancestors, and shame on your cow.

Prapai is checking that his helmet didn't hurt Sky when he hugged him, and I'm quickly coming around to the fact that "I don't hate you because you're problematic. You're problematic because I hate you the story hates you"

RAIN, NO!

I refuse to show this man's face or any of these scenes, but he is wearing a cross earring and the Sluts for Christ would like the record to state we do not know this man nor claim him, so we will be handling this situation promptly. However, we only need the ear, so if any other members of the delegation need anything specific, please add it to the Gay Agenda, and we will make sure to get those requests fulfilled in a timely manner. Thank you, and have a blessed day.

HE HAS A BRAIN CELL! HE'S GONNA PASS THIS COURSE!

Prapai just yelled at Sky, and I'm not even mad. This is where I'm at in the plot. Prapai ripped out the eyebrow earring, and I'm cheering him on. Payu stopped him, and I pissed. Prapai is rich. He will not go to jail. LET HIM MURDER!!!! He has already committed other criminal offenses, so what is murder to the list?! Mostly murder under these circumstances! THE CHARGES WON'T STICK!

SOMEONE BRING ME TAN SO WE CAN MORTAL KOMBAT THIS SHIT AND FINISH HIM!

"I'll cry for you" - My therapist will be sending you an invoice, LiTA

Chai, I knew I liked you. Your name is "Tea" and as a tea drinker, you have provided me the same level of comfort I get from a nice warm cup of spiced chai and I would also like you in my mouth. I fear you and respect you, so I know the sex will be fire and as the spokesperson for the Sluts for Christ, we have something you want, well . . . pieces of it anyway, so if you would like to exchange numbers, I can share with you any information I know perhaps over drinks . . . or under you. Whichever you prefer. I'm open to suggestions.

And commands.

Oh, thank God, I'm done! I am free. There is no more trauma to witness. Slytherin earned a point and passed the course. I never have to see him or these weather boys ever again!

*special episode pops up*

FUCK!

[girlypopbops]

The Ultimate Guide To a Monthly Reset ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Each month deserves a fresh start. This made me inspired to start a new monthly tradition where on the first Sunday of the month, I will do a deep clean a reset. With September just starting and kicking off my favorite string on months coming up, starting now was the perfect time. Below I am going to deep dive into all that I did to put myself back on track for a successful month again. I might also mention that I woke up today feeling the most peace I have in ages, so I can confirm this reset is essential.

Home:

𖥔 Laundry : washing usual clothes, towels, bath mats, bedding, bags, (anything that can be washed essentially)

𖥔 Vacuum

𖥔 Mop

𖥔 Clean mirrors

𖥔 Wipe down all surfaces

𖥔 Dust

𖥔 Re-organize all drawers and papers

𖥔 Put everything back in its designated spot

𖥔 Clean makeup & hairbrushes

𖥔 Clean out any junk ( in drawers, bags, wallets)

Digital Space:

𖥔 Clear out any old messages that aren't needed taking up space

𖥔 Clear out search histories

𖥔 Change device wallpapers & re-organize home screen

𖥔 Delete any apps you don't use

𖥔 Clean out camera roll

𖥔 Unfollow social media accounts that aren't good for your mental health

𖥔 Clear out emails

Brain:

𖥔 Journal about the prior month & reflect on what was fun and what didn't work out

𖥔 Set goals for the new month

𖥔 Tarot reading on advice & what to expect in the upcoming month

𖥔 Re-asses routines

Body:

𖥔 Everything shower : full shave, exfoliate, scrubs, dry brush, body oils, tons of moisturizer

𖥔 Face mask

𖥔 Full skin care : shave face, pluck eyebrows, clean out pores, oils, eye cream, toner, moisturizer, use a frozen clear quartz or amethyst face roller and gua sha

𖥔 Teeth whitening strip

𖥔 Paint nails

Finish the evening off with a hot tea and book and a nice candle burning!

☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.

Getting into bed all squeaky clean, clean bedding, mind clear, and ready to take on whatever the month has in store is sure to get you the most refreshing nights sleep!

[malusokay]

Evening routine ideas 

A proper evening/night routine can not only help you reduce anxiety but can also be really fun! Here are some of my essentials for a calm evening, for you to take some inspo!! <3

Light a candle. My current favourite is 'pumpkin harvest' from Yankee! <3

Run yourself a relaxing bath. You can add a bath-bomb or rose paddles to make it even more relaxing!!

Do your skin/hair care. Remove your make-up, moisturise and maybe try some overnight hairstyles.

Charge your phone and any device you might need.

Care for your pets and tell them you love them. <3

Go for a walk and enjoy the cool evening air. Fresh air always calms me. :)

Put on a comfy pyjama and get a fuzzy blanket.

Catch up on some youtube videos or shows. I love watching video essays; my favourite channel is Mina Le!

Make yourself some herbal tea to calm down. Some good ones are Chamomile, Lemon balm, Peppermint and Lavender.

Finish your homework and tidy your desk. Staying organised, yk.

Read for a while and listen to some music. I'm currently reading 'My year of rest and relaxation'. Should I review it?

Update your diary or journal. List some things you're grateful for.

Try meditation if your day was stressful. <3

Meal prep for the morning. I recommend overnight Oats!

Plan ahead and ensure you have your alarm set so you don't stress in the morning.

Fluff your pillows and make your bed cosy, so you can sleep comfortably.

Try sleeping early so you get your 8 hours of beauty sleep.

As always, please feel free to add more suggestions in the comments! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩