#august is always a weird month for academics

[eclecticsophism]

a studyblr/gradblr offering -- a section of my Zettelkasten for my MA thesis?

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesdaypost year in review

this year brought to you by viewers like you. thank you! i still do not know how to thank everyone for their incredible generosity during the Late July/Early August Moving Catastrophe Badtimes and im still feelin some kinda way about it. thank you.

took eight weeks completely off, more than any other year so far

overnight traveled for work for the first time

moved cross country with Mack to face dangers untold and hardships unnumbered

bought an actual for-real couch and not a futon

got Phil

(unrelated to Phil) i got spayed after almost ten years of begging and pleading various medical professionals, (also unrelated) got covid and RSV back to back

listening

fallow weeks: 8. i almost always have a tuesdaysong bc i am almost always listening to something. all of the tuesdaysongs are here:

particular favorites were Peel Me A Grape (Anita O’Day), top spotify song of the year Yeah Yeah Yeah (Blood Orchid), Yeah Yeah Yeah’s Wolf remixed by Sextile, Father Finlee (Spence Hood), A Minha Menina (Os Mutantes).

the very last tuesdaysong of the year is Sugar Rum Cherry by Duke Ellington, one of the few christmas songs i tolerate.

special shoutout to the austin underscore walker universe of podcasts, bc i mainlined A More Civilized Age (clone wars/star wars rewatch) while packing, and devoured P/alisade (the newest scifi season of F/riends at the Table) this month.

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reading

fallow weeks: 11. pleased that i am killing the invisible rules in my head and including more articles instead of feeling guilty about Not Reading A Real Book!!! every week when i sit down to write the tuesdaypost. read a fuckton earlier this year bc i was procrastinating moving prep, have not read much since i moved.

article sources:

inoreader (the best free RSS feed/app imo)

The Markup (gold standard usage of data to show how various technologies are being used to harm the public good: you may have heard of the recent American bills to equalize internet service and fix organ donation grift. that was them)

Web 3 Is Going Just Great (crypto disasters)

404 Media (technology reporting, internet culture, also break a lot of data/legal/privacy scandals)

Remap (formerly Vice's video games division Waypoint, more active on podcasts and twitch but do have great personal essays about gaming longreads)

Retraction Watch (an important academic service but platformed a particularly virulent transphobe and let the comments devolve into a free for all. yes im still mad about this)

Krebs on Security (~once a month extremely long and thoughtful infosec writeups)

Data Colada (cover academic data whoopsies, currently being sued for their journalism)

the two authors i spent the most time with this year were Alexis Hall (romance novels and novellas) and Raymond Chandler's noir detective novels. i read 90% of Raymond Chandler's work in march and went insane about yet another sad bisexual man. Philip Marlowe the cat is named after his pet detective, the human Philip Marlowe.

march was kind of a banger for this category bc in one of what i consider the best tuesdayposts this year, i tried to break down why i fucking hated Frank Miller's Sin City comics so much.

other comics, but ones i loved: Spy X Family, Berserk, weird noir DC miniseries The Human Target.

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watching

fallow weeks: 10

notable stuff i watched for the first time (according to letterboxd) that will stick in my head for a bit. some (The Night of the Hunter) i am so glad i watched once but do not feel the need to revist. some (Slipstream) fascinate me with how good they could have been. some (Twilight. all of them) were fun bc of the people i watched them with. the two i went particularly deranged over are The Big Sleep and Day of Anger. still feel very normal about them.

very heavy on crime and courtroom films this year!

television: very excited for s2 of Blue Eye Samurai, Interview With The Vampire, Spy X Family.

i should loop back and finish Black Lagoon, Adventure Time (completely forgot i rewatched most of that this spring), and The Big O. that last one is throwing me a little bc (since i last checked) there is no freely available version with subtitles (i cannot find subtitles Period) and i'll be damned if i have to import a dvd. i can find the dub with subtitles but! i want to hear spike spiegel as mecha-batman :(

sort of lukewarm eh-i'll-get-around-to-it about s/tar wars shows. i have not watched a/hsoka At All or wrapped up the animated Resistance show. i'll pay attention when ando/r is airing again.

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playing

fallow weeks: 10. way fewer than i would have guessed!

the trouble with this category is that it is exceptionally hard to find new good games (either ones i already own or ones that are free). it is almost completely prohibitively exhausting to trawl through the free category on steam. there's simply a lot of cruft out there. a very good thing (but also incredibly timeconsuming thing) i started this year was throwing games into various folders so the eight bajillion libraries i have are less overwhelming. i can safely ignore 80% of my epic games library, for example. the itch.io library is a whole separate weekend project i think.

got back into genshin for good or for ill, which took up most of the back half of the year.

go play ABZU. i am no longer asking.

i would like to go back and finish the RPG Gamedec, un-softblock myself in the RPG Weird West, and finish the visual novel Dead Man's Rest. i think i stalled out in Call of Juarez: Gunslinger bc there was a mexican standoff that my reflexes are simply not fast enough for/too much to pay attention to. i am excited to pick up that spooky fishing simulator DREDGE when i have fun money again.

completely forgot i spent most of jan/feb/march being annoyed at fallou/t 4 but having some fun in Far Harbor, also forgot i spent an entire month playing through Wolfenstein: The New Order but i am not compelled to play through it again. it was fun! but like many games after one playthrough my time with it is done!

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making

fallow weeks: 17 (unsurprising, pretty low energy year as a whole as i recovered from covid rounds 1 and 2 and the frankly insane stress of moving).

wrote exactly one fic: some matters at the heart of cowboy western snap shirts: why they are so and some of the implications of their being so, i would like to write more next year but i don't really have the brainpower. i hope this changes soon.

the baby blanket i started last year is still not done but the baby is still under a year so i have a very narrow window of time.

dyed some couch covers im still very pleased with

wrote an extremely long but very well received gallery wall guide

recipes: 12. sort of shocked by this? i am becoming an incrementally better cook and slowly finding recipes i both like and can successfully execute. found the fortitude to caramelize onions, for example. quick pickled red onions, for another thing. big year for protein or greens on top of beans and rice. faves included: cuban-style pork shoulder, hellofresh peruvian chicken, red lentil soup, white bean/kale/rice bowls

i would like to be less terrified about cooking fish. i would like to eat more fish.

and of course, the biggest project of all, acquired Phil. here is my very favorite photo ive ever taken of a cat

[chesacakeripper]

vent post incoming because I am not sure if I'm having a proportional reaction to this or not and throwing it out into the void might help...

So. For context.

My mum's side of the family is very Organised. Particularly my aunt, who is queen of the Itinerary, but this also comes from primarily my grandad (in his 80s but pretty fucking healthy & ex-navy). I love them to bits, they're the Most Sane extended family I have (father's side has all sorts of weird interfamilial politics going on (which I shan't get into but jfc) and my stepdad's family is very nice but also Very Religious.

Bearing this in mind, they have this tradition of these big family holidays around special occasions - these have been the only family holidays I've ever been on barring boating with just my father and grandma when I was a kid - and they are always like. A big affair. Domestic, not abroad, but it's always Rent A Big House in an Area for a Time and then have extremely itinerised activities and have lots of Family Fun (usually whilst me and my mum quietly seethe about it because my aunt has Money and we have historically been very poor, so it's always been more of a burden for us but we just have to suck it up and deal.)

Anyway, this was Tolerable when I was a kid or a teenager and, ya know, in school and living at home.

I am now a 26 year old adult with a Real Job that has a fucked up rota of unsociable hours, that I often don't get until weeks before I'm due to start shifts, and runs year-to-year on the academic year calendar August to August. I also live several hundred miles away from my family.

Last year, there was a Big Family Holiday planned months in advance that I told them from the outset I was unlikely to be able to attend, because the date of it fell on my rotational week from one speciality to another, on a completely different site, and I would either not be able to take leave during that week due to mandatory induction or simply not *want* to due to learning how a new job works. So I didn't go.

My grandad evidently missed me being there (and is feeling his age a bit) so wanted to do another Big Family Holiday this year. Which I was asked about via a message from my mum. Initial planned date was september time 2023 which I said, yo that's way too far ahead for me to even know if I'll have a training post or even know where in the damn country I'll be working - this year I'm taking a year out of training to work ad-hoc shifts and have a break from the Relentlessness of Covid Pandemic Medicine, so like, before August would be good! Because I'm choosing my own hours!

Okay, mum said, are there any dates that are a solid no for you right now?

Ah, I said. Not during the week of Glastonbury Festival. Because we're trying to get tickets this year as it might be my only chance to definitely go and it's my partner's favourite place in the whole world.

This was. All the input I had. In the planning of this family holiday.

I received confirmation a bit later (this was in september 2022) to say that IT'S BEEN BOOKED! Family Holiday is GO!

For EIGHT ENTIRE DAYS in early July, like literally five days after Glasto is done.

Okay, I say, pissed off that I didn't get any input in how fucking long this holiday was, or, crucially, where it was. I got sent a link to a holiday house that I had a skim through but didn't think more about it other than, fuck me, a bit rude not to include me in literally any other part of the planning.

Skip ahead to now - May 2023 - I have secured a training post in a nearby city starting in August, which is excellent news, but still means I have to move house.

So I sit down with my partner as we try and run logistics on getting packing materials and looking at leadtimes on renting, and looking at quotes on storage units and the like.

I get my calendar up and check dates and when things are going to be best planned.

And I realise I have this fucking 8 day chunk of July blacked out for this family holiday that I absolutely have to attend this year because my grandparents are getting old and it might be The Last Big Family Gathering before something happens to their health, right. And I missed the one last year, so I gotta be at this one, otherwise shame on me.

This 8 day chunk of July that's right smack bang in between Glasto and When We Need to Be Moving House.

And then I double check where the fuck in the country this holiday is supposed to be, again.

*Dartmouth*. It's in. Fucking Dartmouth. Which if you are unaware of the British Isles Geography is right in the southwest corner of the fucking country. And is approximately a 5.5 hour no stops drive away from where I live.

Readers, if you've gotten this far I need to tell you something. I don't yet have a driving licence. I'm in the process of doing lessons and have my test booked for the 20th June. Which is the day before we leave for glasto, right. So even if I pass my test first time (I might not, pass-rates are about 50% here), the only chance I will have to practice driving on motorways etc will be on the 4.5 hour drive to glasto, and then possibly on the way back.

Partner can and does drive, right, but probably can't come to Big Family Holiday because he'll either still be in work that week OR will be sorting the moving house stuff out in my absence.

So if I pass my driving test, I might have to do a 5.5hour solo drive cross country completely alone on big fucking motorways less than two weeks after passing my test. Not fucking ideal.

Alternatively, I could take the train. which costs (with a railcard) nearly £120 for a return and takes approximately EIGHT HOURS each way.

Other options would be to travel even earlier (still also via train, as it's also a 5 hour drive to where they live) to my parents and accompany them on the 4.5 hour drive from where they live to Holiday Destination, because my family decided to choose a place to go on holiday that is pretty much an equal distance from both of our locations but NOT IN A HELPFUL WAY. We'll still all have to travel the same fucking amount to the far corner of the damn cross country triangle between us.

Third option is to beg my friend who lives near glastonbury to let me stay with her or in her parent's house for the inbetween five days and then travel the 2 hours to Holiday Destination from there, but this isn't ideal because 1) I'd need to pack clothes for three weeks, 2) we only have one vehicle so how would partner get home, and 3) due to moving house I do actually need to be back at home in that inbetween time.

Anyway. I'm pissed off. Because I'm an adult with a job and none of the planning for this family holiday other than *avoid this one specific week* was done with any kind of consideration toward me. It feels like I'm still being treated as a child that can just Drop Everything and Attend an event I'm not even particularly thrilled to be going on (for eight entire fucking days) and if I don't or can't go I'm in the wrong.

/scream

[the-paris-of-people]

Ooooh you’re taking fic request? I’d love something with Ben and Devi dancing together at the winter dance, he 100% was gonna ask her to dance with him

"So,” Devi asks as Ben’s buttery fingers slip nervously around her waist. He’s gentle as he touches the beads on her dress. Devi smiles to herself. This was the same nerd who instagrammed his PSAT score? “Why’d you want to dance with me? Are you sure you’re not a perv?” 

“I thought we already established that,” He jokes. His shoulder relax as they fall into their normal repartee. Whew. They were back to normal. They could forget about all the weird stuff that had happening between them over the past couple months and go back to Ben and Devi, academic rivals. “I’ll stop at nothing to be a creep.” 

“Soon you’ll be an insurance adjuster in Tarzana inviting kids on Reddit to pizza,” She quips back, upbeat.

Ben grins and laughs that high-pitched laugh he does when he’s really happy. Back when they were sworn enemies, Devi used to hate the sound. Now it’s kind of her favorite. They get caught in a cycle of laughing together, where Ben’s laugh makes Devi laugh which makes Ben laugh even more, and their laughs are always much longer that they need to. It’s weird. She doesn’t feel this way with Paxton, this security and slow warmth spreading from her chest and down to her belly. It was such a special feeling she shared only with Ben.

“No,” Ben shakes his head and stares sincerely at her. Devi gulps at his wide, intense eyes. “I just hated seeing what happened with Paxton today. I know Eleanor is your date and you love your girl group, but.. I just wanted you to be able to dance with someone else tonight.” 

“Oh,” Devi bobs her head. He felt bad for her. That’s what it was, of course. He just felt bad for her and was being nice, in normal Ben mode. There was nothing going on. “Yeah, that makes sense. But you don’t have to make sure I’m having a good time, I’m fine! Eleanor and I have been scarfing the cupcakes all night at the table. They’re divine.” 

“Ehhhh, they’re okay,” Ben shrugs, lifting an eyebrow in classic Gross fashion just when he was on the verge of a brag. “Not to toot my own horn, but I know way better cupcakes in L.A.” 

“What, like you can make better?” Devi scoffs defensively. “ Sorry, did you learn how to at your pastry making class with Ina Garten?” 

“Hey, we only summer with Ina in the Hamptons in August,” Ben defends. Devi rolls her eyes and they both laugh again. She watches Ben hesitate before he presses on, “But no, actually, they’re from this place in WeHo,” He speaks slowly, like he did in his screening room, as if revealing an embarrassing confession. “I, uh, actually ordered some as one of your going away gifts.”

“My going away gifts?” Devi squeals. Her heart throbs furiously in her chest. The warmth in her chest flutters and intensifies, like when Fabiola and Eleanor told her they missed her after she abandoned them, when her Mom kissed and embraced her as they watched old home videos, when Dad when he handed her the only tomato yielded by his garden. She felt so incredibly special and cared about. “You got gifts for me. Like, plural?” 

“Yeah,” Ben pulls her a little closer as he reveals, “I mean, after you told me you were scrapping the fancy dinner party, I wanted to do something else for us. But then I kind of smashed all your gifts against the floor of my game room. It was not, uh, my proudest moment.” 

“Damn, Ben,” A grin slicks across Devi’s face. She’s glowing at this intimate disclosure. They almost felt like they were back to how they were before sitting across from each other in Ben’s house, exchanging complaints about their home lives.  “I didn’t know you could serve it up Devi-style. Trust me, I’ve done way worse.” 

“Oh I know,” Ben teases. Devi tries to forget about the fact that Ben got her gifts (multiple) as he mocks, “Remember when you smashed your science fair second place trophy over your potato clock? ” 

“How is a basic ass baking soda volcano better than a potato clock, Ben?” Devi shouts, then reels herself in. Breathe, Devi, breathe. You were not about to explode all over Ben over a pity dance. “Anyway, I’m sorry your gift giving abilities went unappreciated, Gross.” Her heart breaks a little as she fixates on his sad eyes. She remembers how much she hurt him, how he deserved someone who loved and appreciated him all the way like Aneesa did. It was better that they weren’t together, she convinced herself. It was. “I know Aneesa will love whatever dorky shit you get her.” 

“Thanks, David,” Ben lingers even as song comes to an end and he lets go. She exhales a little, sweaty all of the sudden. Did he have something else to say? “Anyway, I should probably get back to Aneesa. I don’t want to leave her all night.” 

“Yeah, totally!” Devi sticks her thumbs up in an attempt to hide her awkwardness. Her heart starts slamming against her chest. Arghhhh, Devi, turn your feelings off! “I’m glad I ran into you, dude. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go back to eating my lame cupcakes.” 

“Have fun, David,” Ben chuckles nervously. Devi watches him start to walk away, turning around towards Aneesa, then turning back towards her. What was he going to ask now?

“Sorry, I uh, just wanted to tell you in case anyone else didn’t,” Devi’s breath catches as she waits for the rest. “You look really pretty tonight.” 

Yeah, she still wanted Paxton to come, Devi’s eyes sag as they follow Ben back to Aneesa. 

But she should’ve picked Ben in the first place. They both knew that.

[eliotquillon]

HIVE TIMELINE TWO, ELECTRIC BOOGALOO (Updated and reworked for Bloodline; spoilers ahead!)

It's a year since my original HIVE timeline (which you can read here and is obviously pre-Bloodline), and how things have changed. Well...kind of. I was expecting more of my timeline to crumple under the weight of eight years' worth of continuity errors but, unlike most of my pre-Bloodline fic, my 2020 timeline has stayed somewhat intact. However, in light of Nessa's excellent post that used the Bloodline prologue to figure out Raven's birthday with a scary amount of accuracy, I've decided that somewhat intact just isn't enough. Lo and behold...find the C ottomalpense new and improved H.I.V.E. timeline under the cut. This is just my interpretation of the canon timeline; because Walden contradicts himself constantly when it comes to age and continuity, most of these dates are educated guesses and any other interpretations are more than valid. Bloodline spoilers below.

PART ONE: RAVEN

In my original timeline, I used two anchor dates: Otto's 13th birthday being August 29th 1993, and Raven being 16 in the 'fifteen years earlier' Hong Kong flashback, making her 31 in Aftershock/Deadlock. Using the age difference between her and Otto, I counted backwards to give Raven a birth year of 1979. Otto's birthday still holds up, but Bloodline has since made it clear that Raven was 15 in Hong Kong. Therefore, several options presented themselves in order to salvage the rest of the timeline.

Option 1: Raven was indeed born in 1979, and Hong Kong takes place in 1994. This would make her 27 in H.I.V.E., given that she has a September birthday and H.I.V.E. takes place between September-December 2006. However, this means Raven that if Raven is 30 in Aftershock/Deadlock, there are only three years between the first seven books....something that canon vaguely supports given Shelby's "I've waited three years for you two to get together" comment to Laura and Otto in Deadlock, but feels very, very unrealistic given the number of time skips and the sheer volume of things that happen in the first seven books. My original timeline was created to get rid of the stasis in canon and give a better sense of the progression of time between books. Keeping Raven's birth year as 1979 undermines that.

Option 2: Raven was born in 1981, Hong Kong takes place in 1996, and she is 25 in H.I.V.E., meaning that there's exactly five years between H.I.V.E and Aftershock. This supports my earlier placement of Aftershock being the start of fifth year, but 25 feels kind of...young? It also hinges on Raven knowing her exact birth date before she finds out that Nero is her father, which I personally don't think Bloodline supports - Nero didn't know her birthday, and I think if Raven did know, she would've told him pre-Bloodline.

Option 3: Raven was born in 1980, Hong Kong takes place in 1995, and she is 26 in H.I.V.E., but, because she doesn't know her birth date, she celebrates her birthday on New Year's Eve. So while Raven would technically be 31 in Aftershock, she would still consider herself 30 until the end of the year, as would Nero. This gives a little bit more leeway with her age, reduces the number of changes in the overall timeline, and accounts for the overall unreliability of both Raven and Nero's narration in the flashback scenes - given that one of them had been traumatised so thoroughly that she had recurring psychotic episodes just months before that scene, and the other had his memory tampered with to the point where he misremembered the date of worst day of his life.

I personally opted for Option 3, making Raven's new birthday 3rd-6th September 1980. She is 33 in the Bloodline epilogue. Therefore Hong Kong still takes place in 1995.

PART TWO: OTTO

This is just a rehash of my last timeline, but for clarity's sake: Otto being an August 1993 birthday makes him one of the youngest in his year, meaning that everyone else (Lucy, Wing*, Nigel, Franz, Shelby, Laura, and Penny) were all 1992/3 babies. Bloodline takes place right at the end of his final year (meaning I correctly predicted that it would be set in 2012), making him 19. Something I forgot to mention in my original timeline is that Tom is described as being a few years older than Penny in H.I.V.E., but given that Tom isn't really alive for long enough to present me with an issue timeline wise, I'm just going to let that one slide. The Bloodline epilogue thus takes place in 2013.

As always, I am ignoring Rogue's claim that Otto is 13, because it doesn't make sense in any context (if Otto really is 13, it means he magically ages three years in Zero Hour and Aftershock according to Walden's own implication that Otto is 16 by Aftershock...which I'm also ignoring, but whatever). Laura still choosing between universities in September 2013 is weird, because either she is very, very late for the 2013 academic year, or very, very early for the 2014 one, but, again, I am ignoring it. Essentially, nothing meaningful has changed for any of the student ages between this timeline and the 2020 one.

PART THREE - NERO

This is where it gets interesting. This time last year, my Nero section was just speculation. I was, uh, very off, and did not account for how early Nero knocked Elena up. That was on me. My bad!

Nero is in his early 20s when Elena is murdered. If we take the year to be 1980, and early 20s to mean anything between 20-24, we can get an approximate birth year of 1956-1960. I'm going to average that to 22, making Nero's birth year 1958. He's a practically spritely 48 in H.I.V.E, and 55 in the Bloodline epilogue.

(Also, I am treating the 'thirty years' in the 'thirty years ago' flashback to be an estimate. Nero has memory issues and also thirty years has a much better ring to it than thirty-two.)

PART FOUR - DIABOLUS

We can't talk about Nero without mentioning Diabolus because I, for one, have been haunted by the knowledge that Nero taught Diabolus for years. However, assuming Nero immediately joins the H.I.V.E. teaching staff in 1980 following Elena's death, he is 22. If Diabolus is a first year student, we can give him a birth year of 1966/7. That said, I tend to think Diabolus is a little bit older than that, given how close he and Nero are in Hong Kong, so if we age him up to a third year in Nero's first year of teaching, that makes him 15/16 with a birth year of 1964/5. There's only 6/7 years between him and Nero, leaving plenty of time for them to become close friends by Hong Kong, during which Nero is 37 and Diabolus is approaching 30. That means Diabolus had Nigel at 27/28.

PART FIVE - THE OVERLORD INCIDENT AND XIU MEI

The Overlord Incident (henceforth the OI) is the bane of my existence. There's no mention of Raven in the original flashback in the Overlord Protocol, implying that she wasn't around yet, but it's referenced as still being a work in progress in Hong Kong. Again, this is a rehash of my previous timeline, but the Deadlock interpretation doesn't work; regardless of anything else, Wing was definitely born in 1992/3 in order to be in the same year as Otto, and either Wing or Raven would be too young for the OI to occur after Hong Kong (Raven was only 13 in 1993 in this interpretation of events, and this is one that puts her on the older side - there's an argument to be made for her being born in 1983, which would make her 10). Ergo, in this timeline, the OI precedes Hong Kong.

As mentioned, Wing had to have been born in 1993 at the latest, and the evidence suggests that he's most likely one of the older kids in their year, pointing to a 1992 birthday, meaning Xiu Mei got pregnant by January 1992 at the earliest. There must be time allowed for the following to occur between Wing and Otto's births and the OI: survivors of the OI to start going missing, Xiu Mei and Wu Zhang /Cypher to marry and move to Japan in order to escape persecution, and Overlord to get enough soft power over Number One to convince him to start trying to produce a clone of himself to be his successor. At earliest this can be 1991. I, however, think that it's more likely to be January 1990, given Overlord's comments about how much Number One initially resisted having his brain hijacked. This is the same as my previous timeline.

Unlike my previous timeline, however, I'm also going to attempt to estimate the year of Xiu Mei's death. While the Overlord Protocol does not explicitly state this, it can be inferred that Nero receives Xiu Mei's locket and letter after she is murdered by Overlord for investigating the Renaissance project. Nero receives the locket "many years" before Overlord Protocol (which takes place roughly in Spring/Summer of 2007), but Xiu Mei was also presumed "long dead" already when he received it as a result of the OI. This puts 17 years between Xiu Mei's faked death and Nero's reminiscence over the locket and letter in 2007 after the assassination attempt in Vienna. Xiu Mei can't have died before Wing was at least 5 years old, given the strong memories he has of her and the fact that he made a promise to her not to kill anyone, so I'm tentatively putting Xiu Mei's real death at 2001, when Wing would've been 9. This leaves just enough time for Cypher to establish himself as a thorn in Nero's side, and for his relationship with Wing the deteriorate to what we see in the Overlord Protocol.

PART SIX - OTHER

I've been meaning to do the maths on this for a while, but H.I.V.E.mind was officially brought online April 10th, 2006! (He'd been online for four months, three weeks, and two days by September 1st.) Nero really was paranoid after the OI.

Brexit doesn't occur in the H.I.V.E.verse, because Duncan Cavendish (David Cameron) resigns in 2010, AKA way, way, before the rise of UKIP and the 2016 referendum. The Iraq war, however, does - Tony Blair is heavily, heavily implied to be the prime minister in 2006.

Not really timeline related, but the fact that both Otto and Raven are Virgos is enough to make me shudder.

TL;DR - THE (FINAL???) TIMELINE

1950-59: The Furan siblings are born at some point. Two siblings are twins, presumably Elena and Anastasia or Anastasia and Pietor. At some point, they are owed a blood debt by the Sinistres.

1958: Nero is born.

Early 1960s: H.I.V.E. is founded, most likely by Nero's mother.

1964-5: Diabolus Darkdoom is born.

Late 1970s: Elena and Nero start their affair.

1980: Elena is murdered by Pietor. Raven is born. Nero has his memory of Raven's survival forcibly erased by Francesca Sinistre, clearing the blood debt between the Furan and Sinistre families.

1980s: Diabolus Darkdoom and Duncan Cavendish attend and graduate H.I.V.E. Diabolus and Nero become friends.

1989: Raven runs away from her orphanage.

1990: The Overlord Incident takes place, leaving three named survivors: Nero, Xiu Mei, and Wu Zhang. Overlord begins to assert control over Number One.

1991: Raven is found by the Furans and brought to the Glasshouse. Wu Zhang and Xiu Mei marry and immigrate to Japan after survivors of the Overlord Incident start going missing.

1992: Presumably the year Raven claws out Pietor's eye and gets shot in the woods, it is also the point at which Overlord/Number One most likely starts considering cloning himself. In the final quarter of the year, some students - most likely Wing, Shelby, and possibly Laura - are born.

1993: Otto and the rest of the students in his year are born.

1994: Likely the year Dimitri's escape attempt fails, and Raven is forced to murder Tolya. Also presumably when H.I.V.E.'s Icelandic location became dangerously compromised, and Nero starts seriously considering plans to move. At this point his mother is dead.

1995: Nero and Diabolus go to Hong Kong to meet with the Architect, and thwart Raven's assassination attempt. Raven eventually defects to G.L.O.V.E., and the first Glasshouse burns.

1996-2000: Construction on H.I.V.E. 2.0 is completed. Nero starts work on the emergency Zero Hour protocol.

2001: Xiu Mei is murdered by Overlord for asking too many questions about the Renaissance initiative. Wu Zhang becomes Cypher. Nero receives his half of the amulet, and Xiu Mei's letter.

2001-2005: Lucy's parents die of unknown causes. Diabolus Darkdoom falsifies his death to escape execution for getting too close to the Renaissance initiative, possibly after divorcing his wife first. Otto drops out of school and starts scamming local business to repair St Sebastian's. At some point Pike convinces Nero to try AI again. Number One's will is entirely consumed by Overlord.

2006: H.I.V.E.mind goes online. Pike's experiment to give Ms Leon the same reflexes as her cat goes horribly wrong, leaving them both trapped in the wrong body. Shelby becomes the Wraith and makes headlines for stealing millions of dollars' worth of jewellery. Laura is caught hacking the nearby American air base's early nuclear warning system. Otto hypnotises the current prime minister, allowing Duncan Cavendish to come into power. During a failed escape attempt from H.I.V.E., several hundred million pounds' worth of damage is caused to H.I.V.E. by Nigel's experimental crossbreed plant, Violet.

2007: Cypher fakes his death as Mao Fanchu in order to lure Wing to Tokyo, and the Contessa betrays Nero. Nero keeps Cypher alive, unbeknownst to Number One, and starts to have suspicions about Number One/Overlord for the first time. By the end of August, everyone is fourteen, and first year is over.

2008: H.O.P.E. is formed, and Nero is captured in either April or May whilst meeting with Gregori Leonov. Three months later, he is rescued by Otto, Raven, and the gang. The Contessa and Number One/Overlord die. Laura and Otto kiss, but nothing comes of it. Diabolus resurfaces from the dead to be elected head of G.L.O.V.E.'s ruling council. At some point in late August to early September, Otto, Wing, Shelby and Laura first encounter the animus fluid on a train to Paris whilst on a mission to recover a stolen thermoptic camouflage suit. As a result of the Contessa's death, Lucy Dexter is transferred to H.I.V.E. at the start of third year, at which point everyone is fifteen. Following the hijacking of Dreadnought, and an encounter with Pietor Furan, the animus fluid, and the Disciples, Otto is captured by American forces after saving Air Force One and the US president. He is then turned over to H.O.P.E.

2009: Assassinations of key members of G.L.O.V.E.'s ruling council take place at the hands of Otto, now under the influence of animus. Raven is given executive privilege to kill him if necessary. Otto confesses his love to Laura. Following a confrontation in the Amazon jungle, Cypher, Ghost, and Trent all die. H.O.P.E. is destroyed. Otto feigns memory loss of everything that occurred under animus. By the end of the year, everyone is sixteen.

2010: Laura's brother, Douglas, is born. Otto has continual and repeated nightmares and is the subject of rumours. Overlord takes control of the Advanced Weapons' Testing Facility in Colorado. The Zero Hour protocol is activated. Wing and Shelby get together. Chief Lewis and Lucy Dexter die. Pietor Furan is killed by Raven. Nero becomes head of G.L.O.V.E. Duncan Cavendish is forced to resign. The Architect is contacted by Anastasia Furan through a proxy, and construction of the new Glasshouse is completed. Following the appointment of Security Chief Dekker, Laura is blackmailed into betraying the location of the Hunt after Tom and Penny's recruitment to H.I.V.E. Joseph Wright and several former members of the ruling council are offered the help of Disciples'. All of the Alpha stream save Shelby, Otto, Franz, and Wing are taken captive. Otto is expelled, and joined Raven on the hunt for the location of the new Glasshouse. By the end of the year, everyone is seventeen.

2011: Raven and Otto take down several Disciples, most notably visiting Dubai, London, and Paris. In Venice, they are pursued by the CIA after tracking down the Architect with the help of Diabolus Darkdoom. Tom dies. The new Glasshouse is stormed and destroyed, again. Laura is given the choice as to whether she wants to stay at H.I.V.E. or not, and decides to stay. Anastasia Furan is taken hostage in Nero's basement storage facility. The Disciples' countdown for the new batch of hostages starts at 99 days. By the end of the school year, everyone is eighteen.

2012: The majority of Otto and the gang's final year goes smoothly. Franz starts working out and loses weight, becoming conventionally attractive. A few days shy of graduation, the clone known as Anna becomes loose. Otto reconvenes with the CIA and is allowed access to the last remaining batch of the animus fluid. Francesca Sinistre dies. It is revealed to Nero by Anastasia that he is Raven's father. Raven kills Anastasia. Otto stays behind to destroy H.I.V.E. and dies. His consciousness is transferred to a cloning vat by H.I.V.E.mind. Everyone is nineteen.

2013: Construction on the new H.I.V.E. facility is already underway. Raven finds out her birthday. Shelby and Wing set up an orphanage, implied to be in Africa, for war orphans in Otto's honour. Franz is an instructor at the temporary facility. Laura gets in to MIT and Oxford. In early September, Otto shows up on her doorstep.

[wangisking]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘  𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆  𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑  𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐘

BASICS. FULL    NAME  :  Augustus Alexander Wang  NICKNAME  :  August and Gus ( in general ), Auggie, Ice Prince, and Guggie ( by Aurora ). Aug and Lestat  ( by Jack ),  NAME    MEANINGS  : Augustus is  Latin for  the great / the magnificent.  Alexander is also Latin and means defender of mankind. From what I know, Wang in Chinese means king.  HISTORICAL    CONNECTION ?  : Though, his dad did think of the Roman Emperor Augustus when they named him, they liked the meaning. It seemed to fit him. They weren’t wrong, he was an emperor and he still has that energy.   AGE  :  22. Like Aurora, he can’t age past 22. He wouldn’t have minded either way.    BIRTHDAY  :  5th  April ETHNIC    GROUP  :   Augustus is half Korean and half Brazilian.  NATIONALITY  :   British LANGUAGES  :   fluent  in  English and French. Conversational Latin. Broken Korean. Learning Urdu. SEXUAL    ORIENTATION  :  demi-heterosexual ROMANTIC    ORIENTATION  :  demi-heterosexual RELATIONSHIP    STATUS  :   Single and doesn’t want to mingle. He had only one serious relationship in the past with Aurora Shams from 2017-2019.  CLASS  :  Upper  class,  Wealthy but not private-jet kind of wealthy.  HOME    TOWN  /  AREA  :  London till he was 10 and Vancouver till he was 17 CURRENT    HOME  :  Los  Angeles PROFESSION  :   Drummer, songwriter, model, and student.    PHYSICAL. HAIR  :  long  and  wavy.  Chestnut brown. Here is an example. It goes down his earlobes in length.    EYES  :  piercing, almond-shaped eyes. Naturally brown, but he wears blue or green contact lenses.  NOSE  :   a Greek nose, straight without bumps. FACE  :  Oblong shaped, sharp and chiseled cheekbones, strong jaw. Masculine features. Example.  LIPS  :  not  full  nor  thin, heart shaped.     COMPLEXION  :  pretty pale. Example is same as the face section.  SCARS  :  one on his chest. TATTOOS  :  a very small ‘10/17′ on his left rib.   PIERCINGS:  earlobes HEIGHT  :  6′5″  or  195cm.   BUILD  :  Inverted triangle. Broad, tapered shoulders. Muscular. Defined, sculpted abs. Long limbs. Broad chest. He was naturally towards the muscular side with broad shoulders and chest. He’s never been on the skinny side. Example one and two   USUAL  HAIR  STYLE  :  he lets his hair do their thing, he styles them a little, but he prefers a messier vibe.  USUAL  FACE  LOOK  :  He looks generally bored. His eyes have a piercing look that seem to be drilling into the person before him. Like he can see right through you. There is an insolent smirk tugging at his lips like he thinks you’re amusing. Almost proud, like he thinks he is above you. There is depth and intensity in his eyes that stare skywards in thought. There is also mischievous, radiant glimmer in his eyes.   USUAL    CLOTHING  :  prince charming meets rockstar. Lots of jackets, darker colors, boots, necklaces and rings. Here is his wardrobe.      PSYCHOLOGY. FEARS  :  claustrophobia and the fear of ending up alone. He always had this creeping feeling that he’d be alone in the end and that he was always meant to be alone.  ASPIRATIONS  :   he doesn’t have any set aspirations. They change every now and then. However, his goals are just to keep his found family happy.  POSITIVE    TRAITS  :  extremely charismatic, intelligent,  academic and studious, alluring and attractive, quick-witted, charming and captivating, articulate and eloquent, adventurous, desirable, analytical, brilliant, friendly, enthusiastic, adaptable, observant, kind, mellow, competent, extremely caring and protective over those closest to him, clever, loyal, clear-headed, confident, humorous, courageous, imaginative and creative, a visionary, refined tastes and manners, daring, dignified, ebullient, deep, remarkable, surprisingly he’s very forgiving, forthright, gallant, logical, gentlemanly and sophisticated, perfectionist, popular, self-reliant, shrewd, witty, suave, curious, and resourceful.    NEGATIVE    TRAITS  :  egocentric, self-obsessed, idle, indifferent, selfish, defiant, arrogant, argumentative, rebellious, kinda lazy, stubborn, distracted, doesn’t really care for morals, blunt, can appear insensitive a lot, is insensitive at times, no filters, can be cold for those he doesn’t care for, emotionally immature, deflects emotions, suppresses his feelings, sorta detached, kinda pessimistic, and unknowingly self-sacrificing because he thinks it’s fair and he deserves it.   MBTI  :  ENTP  (  Ne  dominant,  Ti  auxiliary,  Fe  tertiary,  and  Si  inferior  —  this  means  she  can’t  use  Ni,  Se,  Te,  and  especially  can’t  use  Fi). He  perceives  the  world  by  connecting  dots,  thinking  of  never-ending  possibilities,  looking  for  pieces  of  a  puzzle,  and  finding  meaning  in  abstract.  He  makes  judgments  on  if  what  he  perceives  fits  his  internal  logic.          ZODIAC  :  Aries sun, Gemini rising, Sagittarius moon.  TEMPERAMENT  :  sanguine choleric  ANIMALS  :  parrots and cats because they’re both intelligent but little pieces of shit who enjoy making your life hell.  VICE  :   it’s either his ego or how he ends up detaching himself FAITH  :  currently, he’s Mu.slim. He was born protestant, became an atheist when he was 13, agnostic at 14. Bud.dhist at 15. Taoist at 16. Confucianist at 17. Mu.slim at 19. Doesn't practice it though.     GHOSTS  ?  :  yep.. AFTERLIFE  ?  :   yep REINCARNATION  ?  :  he guesses so. Went  through  it, but doesn’t remember. ALIENS  ?  :  hell yeah. POLITICAL    ALIGNMENT  :  liberal. ECONOMIC    PREFERENCE  :   upper class or upper middle class is good with him.  EDUCATION    LEVEL  :   MSci in Physics from the University of Cambridge. Is opting to specialize in astrophysics soon. FAMILY. FATHER  :  Edward Wang, owner of a chain of fine dining restaurants  MOTHER  :  Elisa Violeta Wang, psychiatrist, deceased  STEP MOTHER :  Chaeyoung Wang, lawyer.  SIBLINGS  :  Cassandra Wang, athlete EXTENDED    FAMILY  :  he is not close with his external family and doesn’t know his birth mother’s family at all. They never wanted him.  FAVOURITES. BOOK  :   Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Galactic Dynamics by James Binney, Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Mukarami, Slaughter house Five by Kurt Vonnegut, War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, and Lord of the Flies by William Golding. MOVIE  :  Scott Pilgrim vs The World 5    SONGS :  All You Want - Dashboard Prophets, Tokyo Smoke - Cage the Elephant, Where is My Mind? - The Pixies, Sparks - Coldplay, Lithium - Nirvana, and Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra     DEITY  :  none.  Let him argue with one and ask for proof of their deity-ness. HOLIDAY  :  Halloween. It’s dramatic and fun. MONTH  :   October, because he met Aurora and Jack this month in 2017. SEASON  :  spring  and  summer. PLACE  :  he doesn’t have a specific place, but he prefers European architecture.  WEATHER  :  cloudy and windy. Sunny if it isn’t too hot. SOUND  :  drums and percussions, the sound of aurora and jack’s laugh, guitars, violins, the sound of wind roaring, music boxes, and the clinking of bangles and jewelry.  SCENTS  :  sage, rosemary, and damascus roses. TASTES  :  chocolate, strawberries, chilies, and fried food.       FEELS  :   the feeling of hitting the drums, wind in his hair, the cold night air, warm morning sun, grass against his fingertips, silk, and touching long hair.   ANIMALS  :  cats and dogs. NUMBER  :   8 COLORS  :  white, cherry red, pink, maroon, wine red, black, and silver. EXTRA. TALENTS  :  he is an extremely talented drummer, good at guitar and the piano, he is talented at songwriting, composing music, he’s exceptionally good at mathematics and physics, analytical skills, storytelling, knows a lot of facts, near photographic memory because he remembers all important historical events with dates and details, academic writing, and brainstorming ideas.  BAD  AT  :   cooking, not very good at driving because he gets distracted, doing one task at a time, playing videogames, actually listening to what people say, being humble, and actually being a good leader.  TURN    ONS  :  this is a complicated question. He needs a very strong emotional connection to feel sexual attraction towards someone. And he only felt it for one person in his whole life. But, what sparked that attraction was a brilliant mind and the ability to connect with his mind on a very different level. It’s not going to repeat with anyone else.  TURN    OFFS  :  literally everyone else. He’s not sorry, but I am. HOBBIES  :  playing the drums, writing and composing songs, reading, solving problems, listening to music, watching shows, getting people to do weird shit, and annoying people.      AESTHETIC  :  crowns, drums, broken drumming sticks, abstract art, the vast space, chess boards, album cases, thrones, the echoing sound of pianos, Greek sculptures, galaxies and nebulas, early morning sunrise through curtains, libraries, equations scribbled on napkins, empty museums, unmade white sheets, polaroid cameras, conspiracy theories, VHS tapes, antique books, cobblestone alleyways, night skies, cluttered books, calloused fingers, crumpled composition pages, guitar picks, vinyl, telescopes, and planets.      Basically: abstract, chaotic academia, cryptid academia, dark academia, indie, kingcore, light academia, musical academia, science academia, spacecore,   QUOTES  :   it’s weird but i can’t decide which one fits him.  FC  INFO. MAIN    FC  :  victor han  ALT    FC  :  n/a. OLDER    FC  :  he can’t age past 22, so he doesn’t need one. YOUNGER    FC  :  none  yet. VOICE    CLAIM  :  both speaking and singing (his accent is posh British with a slight hint of Canadian) MUN  QUESTIONS. Q1  :    If you could write your character your way in their own movie , what    would  it  be  called ,  what  style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about ?    A1 :  The same answer as Aurora, The Tale of Solis et Lunae that stars him alongside Aurora, Lunae, Jack, and Tate, plus more. A cosmic adventure / fantasy / coming of age / superhero / the reluctant hero / the chosen one.  His role is of Aurora’s best friend and her greatest support in emotional and supernatural dangers. He is the time traveler who ascends time and space, so he often also gives her insight and information like the sage. It’ll  expand across dimensions, worlds, and different states of existence. The scenes would be cinematic with a strong soundtrack. I imagine him to have some scenes like Quick Silver in the X-Men movies.       Q2  :   What would their soundtrack / score sound like  ?     A2  :   He would have a 90s grunge or spacey dream rock sound. It ties in with the end of the last answer because i see him in one of those scenes with 90s grunge or maybe classical music ?    Q3  :      Why did you start writing this character  ? A3  :    I made Augustus just a bit before Aurora. They were a two part deal. I don’t know when it began, I just had this image of a tall, long haired boy with piercing, intelligent eyes who’s a smart-ass and likes being a know-it-all nuisance. This character has been the same since he began in 2019 and refused to change. He was always a drummer, he always had the same fashion sense, the look, Gus was always half-Korean, he always had long fingers he wore rings on, and he was always Aurora’s best friend/partner in crime. He remains unchanged and that's why I wanted to write him. This very vivid image of this boy was something I had to pen down. And just my luck, I found a fc who looks exactly how Gus looked in my head.   Q4  :    What  first  attracted  you  to  this  character  ? A4  :   Augustus is just extraordinary. It’s something I always felt about him and Aurora and I don’t see any of my other characters coming anywhere close to them regardless of how much I spent time on them. But with Augustus, his entire image and looks and personality — down to his wardrobe and jewelry was always so vivid in my head. Like I knew this very chaotically handsome boy who was going to turn the world upside down.  His story is interesting, but what interests me more is his perspective on his story. The way he looks at his life and how he is quiet and doesn’t show his pain. How confused he always is. How much he aches but never seems so. The way he loves but doesn’t say even a quarter of the intensity he feels. And how sometimes he believes he deserves suffering because it makes sense to him. I also love the connections he makes and the way he loves so deeply and profoundly but underneath the surface. His connection, love, fears, and hopes with Aurora and Jack for their respective reasons are extremely beautiful.   Q5  :      Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.  ? A5  :  Augustus is unknowingly self-sabotaging. He let go the only relationship / love in his life that made him feel like real love just because he thought he didn’t deserve it. And because when he was provoked, it made “sense” to him. He bottles his emotions and pain so much despite their intensity. He never shows how much he really cares and really hurts. And how sure he is that he’ll end up alone without friends and that it makes sense to him. Q6  :      What    do    you    have    in    common    with    your    muse  ?   A6  :    Here’s a fun answer, because I bottle my emotions like him. I also interact with the carefree way he does even if I don’t feel peachy. He’s smart and witty and really hot and I don’t even have that going on for me. So, yikes. Only of Gus’ bad things I share.  Q7  :      How  does your muse feel about you  ?   A7  :  Gus loves interacting with people so he’ll definitely show up to annoy me. Maybe, he might think I’m fun to annoy? Or maybe, we’ll have a similar sense of humor. I think he won’t dislike me. Not sure if he’ll like me. I think he’d think I’m funny in a strange sort of way.  Q8  :      What    characters    does    your    muse    have    interesting    interactions  with  ? A8  :    Aurora, first of all. They have this same brain wave-length thing going on where they’re partners in crime and bffs forever more. He knows how she is feeling and what she’s thinking even before she utters it. If she is about to sneeze, he’d get a tissue ready. He can tell if she is hungry or sleepy with one glance. She can do the same, so they sorta have this weird understanding of each other.  Jack is this older brother figure Augustus loves. He won’t admit it, but he kinda wants to make Jack proud of him. He also wants to provide love and care to Jack that he thinks he deserves but never got. They’re his family now and he’ll never be alone or sad again. He annoys Jack a lot but behind it all, he just wants Jack to think he is needed and he belongs. That if he thinks Augustus is reliant on him, then he has this family he has to protect and care for. He can’t stand the thought of Jack feeling unloved, forgotten, alone.  Tida is another one. There’s this great respect and adoration Gus has for him. Almost like he looks up to him in some ways  He also has a lot of hopes and expectations attached. He feels Tida is everything that Gus himself lacks. He is the ideal boyfriend, kindest person, shows his emotions vividly, and is like a warm and cozy blanket personified. He is probably Tida and Aurora’s biggest supporter and first one to know. He can’t be happier than he is that Aurora found someone as good and perfect as Tida.   Taewon is one really fun character. Their two-way frenemy jealousy spans over years and started in Cambridge when they were both in love with the same girl they claimed to be best friends with. Though, trying to be calm, Augustus was constantly provoked and hurt, made to feel inferior and constantly in fear of his relationship being broken by Taewon’s schemes that he couldn’t say out loud. This dark period ended with a fist fight and baggage of guilt they both carry to this day for hurting each other and the one they claimed to love. Today, they’re way past that and frenemies who have funny quips and arguments for each other. They say they dislike each other. But if the lighting is good, one would be the photographer of the other. Q9  :      What    gives    you    inspiration    to    write    your    muse  ? A9  :  Music  helps  me  imagine  scenes  with  perfect  visual  details.  Any  scenes  from  shows  that  remind  me  of  my  storylines. Q10  :      How    long    did    this    take    you    to    complete  ?   A10  :  I don’t remember. It was many days and I didn’t count because it was in bits and pieces.

[lunawritten]

hi there! this’ll be my very first post for the studyblr / writerblr / writeblr communities! so exciting! i wanted to go ahead and write up an introduction for everyone new to my blog ♡

- ̗ ̀ about me  ̖ ́-

i just changed my major this week (astrophysics -> IT)

i'm a third year astrophysics student with minors in creative writing, IT for game dev, and mathematics now i'm an IT major  i waited till the spring semester of my third year to change my major :// don’t be like me kids

i'm 21!!

i go by he/him and she/her but have a strong preference for he/him when online

call me luna / eric / lunawritten, whichever you prefer!

i'm bi, and you could also say i'm ace and aro too

friends describe me as creative, nice, and a little bit looney 

- ̗ ̀ interests  ̖ ́-

writing, of course! 

reading, although who has time for that nonsense in college?

going to coffee shops

forcing my friends to come to coffee shops with me

video games 

learning to code / beginner game development

authortube on youtube

dnd / critical role

forcing my friends to play weird board games with me

- ̗ ̀ writerly things  ̖ ́-

i have many book ideas, but there’s one lovely project that i call my ‘main series’ that owns my heart and soul, and i’ve been working on it for 8 years now ♡♡

word count goals

here we go! so, let me just say that i’ve only been seriously writing since august 2020, which was about 7 months ago i'm currently working on the first draft of Book 2 in my main series, which i’ve been slowly but surely writing since august when an academic semester is going, i try to write at least twice per week, averaging 2k per session for other months of the year, i try to write 600 words each day my monthly goal is always 18k

drafting goals

my plan is to finish draft 1 of Book 2 by May 2021 the drafting of Book 3 will hopefully commence by August 2021, which gives me a few months to brainstorm and do diligent research beforehand the hope for writing Book 3 will be around the same timeframe as Book 2, so 8ish months then draft 1 of Book 4 will start near the summer of 2022  and who knows when i’ll get to the next book?

publishing goals

well, no true goals at the moment! my only aspiration i'm aiming for is to traditionally publish Book 1 before i'm 30

- ̗ ̀ studyblr  ̖ ́-

i am ever so fond of the studyblr / writerblr / writeblr / nanowrimo communities! i’ve always wanted to be apart of them and make my own content

productivity! this’ll push me to post what i’ve done, or haven’t done, throughout the day and keep me on track

i want to be much more productive in hobbies other than writing, such as

making my first rpg video game (with udemy’s help) learning digital art figuring out the divinity engine 2 reading nonfiction books about emotions and such taking longer walks

i'm planning on posing weekly at first, and amping it up when camp nano hits in april

- ̗ ̀ nanowrimo  ̖ ́-

i love nanowrimo

i'm seriously such a sucker for nano; the atmosphere of writers coming together and writing is just so inspiring for me

i frequent the forums a lot

my dream is to attend an actual in-person write-in someday

my camp project this april 2021 is finishing up Book 2!

♡ feel free to message about anything, really ♡

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Tis the Damn Season

Chapter Five- Santa Baby

Hello, I took a couple weeks, because life can be busy, and mine is changing, but here is a little 🎁!

Thanks to @dirtystyles, she’s the real gift!

"What are you wearing?"

"I'm sorry, but what?"

 It was all she could think to say. Emma hadn't heard from Harry in months. In August he had sent her a random picture of him in a collar with long hair. She knew he had chopped his hair months ago, it had caused an internet flurry and was one of the few times he'd emerged from hibernation. She might be miffed that his year-off apparently didn't include visiting her. Not that she had asked him to.

She'd never ask.

Emma might also be incredibly miffed that he had cut off his glorious hair. She'd rocked herself to sleep many a night thinking of the way it felt trailing ver her chest, then stomach, in the crevice of her thigh. The crunch and silk of it between her fingers when she got it between her fingers at the end of that path or when he was rocking her to sleep.

Thinking about his hair usually made her hot for him, and thinking of it gone made her nostalgic, and a little mad. And that was when the memory was fresh and jot months old.

In any case, she wasn't feeling very soft for him, and that was a sexy question. She definitely wasn't feeling wet for him.

She had just walked out of class on a freezing cold day before she was ready for it to be this chilly, and she had to ride her bike. Her class was on individual contribution to global crises. Emma was the first to point out that individuals were not the true climate change culprits, but every bit helped. She just wished she'd ridden one of the clean energy buses today. Today sucked.

"Your teeth are chattering Emma, you outside?" she made an affirmative sound and he wisely knew better than to wait for an answer after that. He'd set up this mood, after all. "Sorry, came out wrong, it was meant to be funny." Harry had an apology in his voice. It was like the first knead of a dough, but he had a long way to go. "Anyway, what I meant is, I'm Christmas shopping, and I was thinking about what you might like, was gonna get you a jumper, and I think I have an idea of your style, but wanted a little guidance, I'd hate to buy you something and have you hate it—"

"Harry, take a breath!" She could feel that smile he had a way of bringing to her lips, despite herself. She really wanted to be upset with him, but seemed he'd proved himself, or distracted her at least.

Emma can't quite get a full grasp on why she's irritated with the phone call with him.  She's not sure what she expected. They never had a conversation about it, about how they are just a little holiday fling. She's never even had a summer fling, so she doesn't know the rules but she assumes that they are not supposed to repeat year on year. Least not without some progress or a defining conversation where they decided on not a relationship. He was confusing. He'd been so happy to have a bit of extra time with her, she'd thought he might be in touch more, with his seemingly abundant free time. She's wanted him to be in touch more. But he hadn't.

She'd heard from him less than ever.

And now he was buying her gifts and making her smile. Damn him.

"I'm breathing, promise." He sighed. "I just could tell I'd pissed you off, and I don't want to. I've been thinking about Christmas, and well, I'm excited."

"I'm excited too. Holidays are exciting." Emma is not going to read into that. He's excited to be with his family. He's Christmas shopping for everyone. This is not about her, them.

There is no them.

There is no them, except between Christmas Eve and New Years. And that is purely physical.

These are the things she repeated to herself when she was sad, waiting for him to call or text. Sad from how he dragged himself from their pub bed saying he'd miss her and be in touch and then wasn't. His sweet nothings were like when people signed your yearbook K.I.T. She knew you weren't supposed to take those yearbook signings seriously, but he'd said it, not written it below some picture of him. That counted more, right? Than a picture? Those were cheap, especially of him; there were pictures of him everywhere, Emma was also upset that none of them looked like the real life him. Just a shade of his actual beauty.

She wanted to see him now. She missed him though she shouldn't.

Just over a month now until Christmas. And a busy one at that. She had so much data to sift through from the summer and a presentation she was basing on it was her culminating project. It would also make an early start on her field work come summer. Those things, academic, important things were her focused her life's work. Not delicious Harry Styles and his sweet holiday nothings.

"Yes, especially when I get my favorite for Christmas." Harry said bringing her back to the call they were on.

The meaning behind those words were a bit harder to ignore. All she could get out was "Oh?" Then she rolled her eyes at herself and cleared her throat and said, "Your mum's Christmas cake?"

He chuckled. "I am fond of that cake, I think I put on two stone last year from how much I ate. And she sent me home with one!"

Emma almost called bullshit on that. He'd expended all those calories, she'd been the apparatus.

She took a breath to speak, and he cut her off. "I don't mean the cake, anyway, I mean you: you're my favorite thing to have at Christmas. The best gift."

What was she supposed to say to that? Another eloquent oh? Instead she said, "Your favorite thing?" Playful offense on the word thing.

"Oh hush." He laughed. "You're my favorite, Emma. In case you want to be obtuse and miss my point. I'm very excited to see you."

She breathed in. All she could manage to reply with was "Me too."

She meant it, but as they got off the phone after setting up their usual tryst and a special meeting before the party to exchange gifts, she couldn't help but wonder if he did. If what he said was true, why the radio silence?

The gift on her lap on the train was large and ostentatious. She didn't have a ton of money for the it, student life, but her recipient was a millionaire, so she'd gone all out on the wrapping paper.

It was a frog in a Christmas hat, the motif on the paper. Emma remembered when she and Gemma had called Harry "frog boy" and he'd been mortified. But it had also found its way into their private rooms. Not when he was inside her, that would be weird, but when he looked up at her and grinned, all dimples and no teeth from where he likes to make her stomach a pillow.

How "Froggy" had become a term of endearment, she didn't know. The moment she'd seen the cute froggy in his holiday rig on the overpriced paper, she had stopped what she was doing, parked her bike with no lock, and popped in the shop.

She then had to find something to put in the paper. He'd been shopping for her this year, in October, and he'd said he was at the shop and she'd seen pictures of him hauling bags out of Gucci. That was not intimidating at all.

They had exchanged small things in years past. Harry had started it, he'd given a cookbook a friend recommended the year she went vegan. Then the next year he'd donated in her name to a clean air initiative. She'd just picked up odds and ends she thought he'd like, like a 100% recycled journal one year and a glass bottle set for his gym runs the next.

This year, she'd racked her brain, but she'd eventually found the perfect gift to fill her frog paper. She was getting better at this. He was entirely too good at it, and he was a quick learner. She'd been underwhelmed with the flowers he sent the first year and had explained that cut flowers made her sad. It seemed a waste to kill something for its fleeting beauty. Harry had nodded thoughtfully.

The next flower he sent was a gorgeous orchid, it arrived once she was back in Amsterdam and came with instructions. That first orchid had started a trend and between his gifts and her own new interest, her flat was looking very jungle esque.

Emma was always very excited to see him, but this year, after his call, there was more anticipation and preparation. If he was going to be ready for her, she would be ready for him.

She got a fresh haircut and trimmed her bush. The thrift store was kind to her, and her new Christmas jumper was perhaps less ugly than flattering, but that was ok with her. She particularly liked the way it lay over the skirt she'd planned to wear to the Twist's annual todo.

Her flights had been uneventful and her mother was elated and doting. Emma found it much more tolerable this year. Maybe she was just in the spirit, or maybe she'd been away from the village and her family long enough to actually miss them.

She definitely missed Harry.

He, predictably, had texted that his flight was delayed and he was trying to make arrangements, but he might not even make it in time for the party.

"I'm doing everything in my power to get there tonight. If I can't make my mother's party, but arrive tonight, can we meet? I'll call the inn."

"Yes." Was all she texted back. She found she was mourning their kiss beneath the mistletoe, and that he might miss her outfit. But Harry's power was considerable, and she had no doubt he would be at the Boar's Head in time to see what she planned to wear under the sweater.

Those pieces, she felt a twinge guilty about. They were pricey and definitely not second hand. Used pants were where she drew the line.

People, not Emma, bemoaned Harry's absence when those who still lived local or were able to travel home gathered for toast. Emma knew she wasn't the only one who came home partially to see Harry. It was why she was able to fly under Gem's radar, hopefully.

Gemma's only comment was, "He'll be here when he can." When Eloise asked where Harry was. She asked every year, it annoyed Gem, and took some of the heat off Emma. Eloise was so obvious, Gemma could direct some of her protective big sister vibes that way.

The night was winding down and Emma's third glass of champagne could use topping up. She'd just sidled into the kitchen to pop another bottle when a pair of arms came around her from behind.

She'd have dropped the bottle too if Harry had not pulled the most uncharacteristicly smooth and agile catch he'd ever made, whilst dipping her for a swoon worthy kiss.

"Harry!" Emma gasped, "What are you doing?" Her Hand went to find his hair, and she was sad to find it until she found his sharp, bare jaw instead. It cut through her nostalgia and she was able to appreciate his face on a new way. His lips.

"Getting my midnight kiss!"

"It's not New Year's." It was better, like new year's and her birthday combined, that kiss.

"Not yet!" He righted her but stayed wrapped around her while she popped the bottle. She poured him a glass too and had to refrain from holding his hand when she pulled him into the living room after they toasted.

He stole a kiss before they went to join the others.

It looked like his arrival was going to renew the party spirit, but he begged off as tired, and disappeared to his room by 1:30.

Emma wasn't sure what to do, or where to go, so she just slipped out the back at 2:00 when a car nearly gave her heart palpitations by pulling up right in front of her. The door popped open and Harry stuck his head out. "Cmon, it's our getaway car!"

She couldn't help but shake her head. "You disappeared and I didn't know what you wanted to do."

"Well, you obviously!" He giggled, high off the champagne and his conniving. "C'mon! We don't have that long. I wanna do Christmas morning with you!"

"It's still nighttime." Emma pointed out.

"Don't worry, we'll find something to do until the sun comes up." He looked up at her through his lashes and she couldn't help but bite her lips.

"What's the rush, Styles?" Emma asked as she climbed into the car. The driver seemed unconcerned and headed down the familiar lanes of a familiar place.

"No rush, I'm just excited and have to be back so I can sneak in for Christmas brunch."

"Oh." She knew that, it wasn't the first time.

"Not 'oh,' I want to give you your gifts on actual Christmas."

"Are you Santa Claus?" She teased as he pulled her into his chest.

"If that's what you're into? I'll be whoever you want me to be."

"Then just be you." She said with painful earnestness before she could stop herself.

Harry looked down at her in the cradle of his armpit and put his forehead to hers and gave her an Eskimo kiss. "As long as you're you."

Emma melted and if she hadn't been so tired and a little too drunk on bubbly she wouldn't have fallen asleep on the way to the Boar's Head.

"Baby," Harry whispered into her hair. "Wake up, we're here."

"I can't believe I fell asleep that fast."

"It's my voice, I've been told it has a sedative power."

"Sleepy is not usually how your voice makes me feel." What truth serum had she taken tonight?

"Well, I'll have to talk a lot to keep you up then. Hope you're refreshed after your little nap."

She was, and he kept her up but by 5:00, even his deep voice and other powers of persuasion couldn't keep her leaden lids open.

"Baby! Emma." Harry was kissing her awake and holding out a shirt for her slip on while slipping socks up her calves. "Present time."

"Ok, Santa baby." She yawned and let him drag her into the room where she had completely missed the tiny Charlie Brown tree in the corner. "Oh! You went all out." She looked at him in awe when she noticed the multicolored packages under the tree. "I only got you one thing," she was rubbing sleep out of her eyes and too tired to bullshit. "I'm feeling inadequate."

"Nah, I've heard it's better to give than receive."

"That's not what you said a couple hours ago."

"I'll give gifts if you give head." They both scrunched their brows. "Scratch the part where I made it sound like you were my sugar baby."

"Or a prostitute."She raised an arch brow.

"Nah, I couldn't afford you." He didn't even smirk.

So she responded, "I think you think that's a compliment."

He snort laughed and she couldn't help but smile with him. "I mean, you do it well enough to be paid for it, but by the face you're making I better quit talking and get to the spoiling to get myself out of trouble. Go on, open a present."

"Any order you envisioned."

"Um? No, the one where order matters I have a plan for."

"This isn't all?"

"This is most." He nodded and she felt a warm place under her breast that only ignited when he was being domestic.

Back in her old room in her childhood home, or in her flat in Amsterdam, she'd occasionally puzzle over these moments. They felt nothing short of boyfriendy, and she loved it. When she thought back on them, especially in the cold January days, they kept her warm and made her feel special. She hadn't ever felt that warm flush in her chest with anybody but Harry. She'd kind of avoided the feeling, usually.

By July, after long periods of silence where he was running around the world while she endeavored to save it, the glow of those days paled in the midnight sun. When he acted like a boyfriend, like they were more than a hookup and then ignored her, it hurt. When she was well into her yearly drought, and all she had were those shooting stars to wish upon, the sweeter he was, the more rich the ache, the aftertaste saccharine.

Emma could tell, his gifts and the joy he seemed to take in giving them would warm her to the backbone through January, and make her teeth hurt by July.

And still she couldn't convince herself to stop, to ask, to protect herself. She couldn't even detach a little, she was so excited about the little stuffed animal she had for him in return.

"Harry, this is beautiful!" She unfolded a gorgeous sweater dress of a fine wool knit that screamed warm.

"Yeah?" He smiled, pleaded with the praise and himself. "I was at Gucci, and I was gonna get you some stuff there, but they just didn't feel like you, so I started doing some research on sustainable brands and I found this one, and another. This one is good for day to day, it's called Ever Lane, and the next, Bode, it's great for retro pieces. Open the next one."

She'd been staring at him. He was going to buy her Gucci? This was better, but that seemed like a pretty penny to spend on your holiday hook up. She knew money wasn't really an object for him. He always paid for the hotel on their rendezvous and she never brought it up. It was always just taken care of. She wasn't a starving student, but she also wasn't an international pop star. These gifts felt big, bigger than what they were.

He liked to be generous. But, it felt like these gifts, the 5 packages and one coming later were a statement in a language she didn't understand.

"Harry, this is too much." Was all she could say. He didn't respond with words, just gave her a look and shrugged his shoulders like, 'what else am I supposed to do with it'.

Emma knew from Gemma that Harry took care of them, their vehicles and his mum's house and whatever they mentioned they wanted or he thought they'd like.

Gemma had said last year, when she was thrilling over her Christmas gifts, "It's the one time of year I let him get away with it. The rest of the time I've gotten to where I don't mention things I like or want, because they show up on my doorstep, you know?"

Emma had nodded even though she didn't know, but she did now. He was so thoughtful it hurt, but the implications troubled her.

"Open the next one. I'm really excited for it."

It was a beautiful jacket, mustard, her favorite color, and matching mittens.

"For when you want to ride your bike, but it's chilly. They're very warm." He remembered she was cold on her bike that day.

Emma knew he remembered her text after the 'what are you wearing' conversation about being grumpy because she had chosen to ride her bike but it was too cold. His big beating heart could melt snow.

She swallowed down the sentiments clogging her throat along with her worries. Should she ask? She'd have too, eventually. This was feeling more serious than it should be, like he wanted to call her babe for more than a weekend, like he wanted her to stay, with him.

It's what she wanted, in some part of her, but was completely out of the question. He had a big international life, and she had her own global ambition.

The rest was wrapped donation cards to causes she'd worked for or even mentioned. The last gift was a small box, and when she opened it, she cried, then laughed and handed him his box.

"What?" He said, "I can't tell if you're happy or sad about that gift?" He worries his bottom lip.

It was another frog, just like the one she'd picked as the tangible gift when she'd made the donation in his name.

Emma just shrugged and wiped her eyes. "Open it."

His bursting balloon laugh inflated her merry heart. "Did we really do the exact same thing?" His face had an odd look she could only call tender.

"Same wavelength, me and you." He was misty like she had been a moment ago. He leaned forward and kissed her. Then picked up their stuffed frogs and made them kiss like he was a small child playing dolls. "I almost don't want to separate them."

"Are we still talking about the frogs?" She laughed, because she had a feeling they weren't.

He shrugged and his phone began to buzz. "Can I take a rain check on answering that question? If I don't leave right now, they will know I stayed out all night on Christmas Eve, and there will be questions. I don't think we are quite ready to explain what we are." He chose that moment to yawn like a lion in the late afternoon after a long day of lounging and got up to leave.

Emma still had questions.He'd said not quite ready to explain what they were doing. Emma wasn't even sure what they were doing. Were they going to tell people, tell Gemma? Tell them what? That they were together? Wanted to be together? Belonged together. The frogs too, did the frogs belong together?

He was dressed by the time she was done freaking out. He looked tired, but exhilarated, like he'd spent a night getting everything he wanted and a few things he didn't know he needed. "Bye doll," he kissed her, right on the mouth, affectionately and with only a trace of the heat the December air lacked. "I'll see you tomorrow night. Merry Christmas! I wanna see you in the sweater," he was walking through the door. "Oh, and the other thing?"

"Other thing?" She looked at him confused.

He pointed underneath the tree. "Have another look."

Emma blushed when she opened the lingerie. She wondered if he'd had to check her pants and bras for sizes or if he just knew the shape of her well enough that he'd guessed accurately.

They looked really good.

She needed to be getting home as well. There would be no getting out of it, she needed an excuse for rolling in just in time for Christmas brunch, her parents were notorious early risers, as was she. Her plan was to tell them she'd just made too merry the night before and slept on the couch at the Twist's. It was truth adjacent. It was the best she could come up with, her head was full of Harry and she couldn't think.

Her Christmas passed in a blur of food and wine and wrapping paper. Harry had sent her a picture of him with a bow on his head and asked her if she felt spoiled enough or needed him to wear the bow the next day.

She'd told him to wear it. And only it.

She'd not expected him to follow directions both precisely and with some creative license.

"Do you really think your cock is a gift?" She tried to mock him, while he stood proudly, hips first in their room at the Boat's Head.

"Well, I intend to give it to you!" He raised his eyebrows and stalked toward her. "I like the sweater. Looks amazing, but? Probably better here." He swept it over her head and deposited it on the floor.

"That was atrocious!" She giggled, but felt no anxiety unlike the last day or so.

"Yeah, maybe, but I needed to see if you'd worn my other gift."

"I thought it was my gift."

"For both of us, I'd argue." He winked.

"You wink like a drunk pirate." She couldn't help but smile at him. His silly banter had completely removed the nerves she should be feeling, standing in front of him in a Santa red bra, panties, garter belt, and stockings. She'd sourced the Santa hat herself and the black heels were hers.

"I'm feeling drunk seeing you in this." His hands were running over the satin on her hips and the lace at her waist, then the bare flesh of her ass. "I think I even lied to myself. This was definitely my present." The last word was said against her lips and his big hands slid down the globes of her backside to between her thighs, hoisting her onto his hips. The trail his thumbs left had her shivering.

The bed rose up to meet her. Harry hovered over her before standing and staring.

"Are we on pause?" She was panting and really hoping they were not stopping let alone slowing.

He opened his hands like a director, "I'm just trying to remember this to keep me warm all year." He ran his hands from her toes to her curled hair, she'd gone all out, then back down. His face was full of anticipation and a hesitation she'd never seen when she was this bare, not even the first time when he was flush on bravado and international acclaim.

"What is it?" She started to sit up.

He groaned. "Wow, that move did great things for your chest."

Emma could only laugh. He was acting like he'd never seen a naked woman, when he'd probably seen more than his fair share, and had definitely seen her before.

"You're acting like you've never seen me before."

"It's always like the first time. You're overwhelming."

"I'm overwhelming?" She wanted to laugh, she saw him as Harry, at first her friend's brother, then the cute boy with the big career she'd hooked up with, then her favorite holiday surprise, and now she couldn't define exactly what he was to her, mostly Harry? Who she missed all year and cherished for a week at a time in person, a deeply in her heart the rest of the time. She remained aware, however, of who he was, at large.

"Absolutely, I can barely take you. Can't believe I get to have you." What did she say to that? She only nodded, it was mutual. "Listen," he continued, "Can I take a picture of you. I'll keep your face out of it."

She thought for a moment, thrilled that he wanted to save this memory, to relive this moment until they met again. She didn't have any pictures of him, and thought there were so many online, none of them were really of him. "Yeah, go on Harry."

Maybe she should take one back. Save the neck down one place and the neck up as her wallpaper, she could get away with it. She saw classmates with him as their Home Screen. Her plans kept the nerves at bay while he got his set up ready.

He posed a leg, had her lay back, and then sit up. He took about 5 pictures on his phone, then three Polaroids, and by then she was getting into it. She was moving in ways that made her feel sexy and he was getting antsy.

"I'll show you, so you can approve, after." He discarded the phone and pulled his jumper over his head before crawling up the bed and over her.

"I trust you Harry. It's fine."

She wasn't sure what it was about those words, but he grew, thicker between her thighs and larger in her presence before he was kissing her bra off and asking if he could leave the stockings and shoes on.

"'Mmmhmmm." Emma moaned from her perch on the pillows looking down watching him pull her panties free and reattaching her stockings. "Damn." He kissed both places and flipped her over to skate his lips up her thighs and ass and back. Her hair was over her face while he kissed her neck and rutted into her with his jeans still on. She grabbed a handful of his glorious hair and kissed him over her shoulder. "Like this?" She asked.

"Mmhmmm." He echoed and she felt him kicking his jeggings free and sliding on the condom. She was flat on the mattress and unsure if he wanted her to push back on her knees. She didn't need to think about it long, he hoisted her up, and pressed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades so her body arched like a slide. His fingers climbed up to cascade down her backbone in an echo of the ride he was about to take down. He was right there, hovering, and Emma pushed back, but the whine in her voice was the more obvious tell.

"Baby, I need you."

"I need you, so much. Miss you when I'm gone."

She missed him when she was gone too. He slid his head in and waited. Emma wasn't really in control of the clenching this caused and it made Harry lose his grip on his. The smack of his hips against her thighs reverberated off the borrowed walls they considered their own.

He stroked her inside out and commented on the grip of her onto his dick. "It's like you don't want to let me go," he whispered into her ear.

Emma turned her head and breathed, "I don't want to." The kiss broke his rhythm and lingered until her clenching started over, again. How was she so close so soon?

"No, no, no." She whined when he pulled out.

"Shhhh, I've got you." He knew she was onto something, they'd become practiced hands at each other's pleasure.

He flipped her over and smoothed her hair back, bracketing her face between his hands like an aside he needed to voice right at that moment. "I just want to see you."

He went back in with ease, and with anybody else she might be ashamed for how embarrassingly wet she was, for the squelch. "God! Harry!" Her thighs came up to his hips and he hitched one over his elbow and open, then lay a good portion of his weight onto her. It was just the right side of too much. Just like all of him.

"Let me find it again, that high you were chasing?"

She was nodding, babbling. He picked up the rhythm from before and added a tiny rut at the end to the swelling of her clit. She was back on the trail to the summit quickly. It had been good, if fumbling, from night one. By this gift season, it was like he had installed all of her buttons personally and could push her to the edge at will. Her eyes were closed and she was concentrating hard on the oasis just beyond her horizon.

"Baby," he whispered, his breath soft and scented like her lip balm. "Open your eyes." He was just over her and he wrapped her open thigh back and around his knee. "Watch me," he made a c with his body so she could watch the goings on and feel them too.

"Oh, fuck."

"I love your filthy mouth. When you get going. Demure driven Emma on the brink has a dirty dirty mouth."

She'd narrow her eyes at him if she could bear to look away from his cock.

"Baby!" She gasped.

"Hold it, stay, just a little longer." He kissed her and then compelled her eyes to his. "I'll come with you."

His nose touched hers at just the tip and he rocked her and watched as she trembled and held off and pleaded. "Now, now, come now." He grit his teeth in preparation, but he needn't have worried, the minute he commanded it, she obeyed and the body roll of sensation ran from the roots of her hair to the bends of her knees.

He seized and his head fell back, but as soon as he was in command of himself again, his eyes were back on hers. "I love...," he gasped and her mind raced over what the hell he might say. What she wanted to gasp back. It was a bit of a comedown as opposed to a denouement when he filled in, "...having you for Christmas."

He buried his face in her neck and breathed into the nooks and crannies she thought she had kept safe from him.

Which was why it hurt so much when she had to tell him no.

His final gift, complete with an aching grin, had been an open ended ticket. "So you can come to me, with me, on tour."

She knew her brow knotted up like a bundle of discarded yarn. That wasn't the agreement. And she couldn't, couldn't even allow herself to want it. She had her PhD program looming. There was no time to go anywhere this fall.

"Harry, you know I can't."

He looked crestfallen, like this was new information and not why they only got these stolen snowbound days once a year. "Can't or won't?" He was verging on angry and it would piss her off if her heart wasn't so close to fissuring.

Honesty was her only policy, "Both." She handed the ticket back to him.

It ruined their night, the movie they tried to distract themselves with, the goodbye sex they didn't have.

He wasn't even there when she woke up the next morning.

But the tickets were on his pillow with a small note, "Change your mind, please. I'll be seeing you. H."

[raleighcarrera]

circles

platinum | shane parker x mc (cadence dorian)

shane and cadence have been best friends their entire lives. so why do things feel so different when she comes to visit him at college? set pre-book. (for @platinumweekend ❤️)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @empressazura; @zigtheeortega ; @pixeljazzy ; @withbeautyandrage 

~3.1k words | T

“it’s not like that.” it feels like at least the fourth or fifth time he’s said as much since he first casually mentioned that cadence would be coming to visit this weekend, much to the delight of his friends. “we’ve been best friends our whole lives. that’s it.”

“sure,” angelica grins, looking just about as far from angelic as any one person can get. “if you say so.”

devon takes a less patronizing approach. she shrugs, not looking up from where she’s filing her nails. “i don’t buy it. you don’t go through puberty with someone without having at least a little sexual tension with them.”

“oh my god,” shane groans, “will you guys stop? we’ve never -- i don’t -- we’re just friends.”

evan, his roommate, hums. “just let me know if you need me to clear out tonight, okay? casey said i could bunk with him.”

“if you guys don’t shut up, i swear to god --”

there’s a chorus of protests from around the table, several whispered exhalations of touchy, i see and hands being raised placatingly. he rolls his eyes, picking up his empty plate. it’s time to go pick cadence up from the bus stop, like -- now. “just please be normal when she gets here, okay?”

“we will if you will!” angelica calls out after him. laughter follows him as he exits the dining hall, and he only exhales once he’s halfway to his car, shaking his head. 

his college friends are far from the first group of people to assume that there’s something more than just friendship between he and cadence. his own parents have implied a number of times that it wouldn’t be the worst thing if they got together, and that’s about a girl that’s slept over at his house more times than he can count, a girl who he went through his power rangers phase with, a girl who saw him through middle school and high school and still somehow liked him enough to call him her best friend.

he’s gotten very good at ignoring comments from people who don’t understand their relationship or even think it’s weird how close they are, so being teased by his friends doesn’t bother him as much as it makes him roll his eyes.

shane’s used to the judgments others cast on what’s always been nothing more than a mutually supportive and wholly enjoyable friendship. still, for some reason, it’s a little tougher to shake off this time than in the past, and he finds that some of their comments have poked at certain sore spots he didn’t even know he had.

he’s uneasy, as he ducks his head and jogs across campus.

it’s probably going to be a very long and very strange weekend.

*

true to form, cadence is beaming when she hops off the bus, the last person to exit the doors that swing open at the campus stop. she’s looking around at everything wide-eyed, like she’s never seen a college campus before, which is hilarious, given that she’s just come from one.

but the tiny performing arts school she attends a few states away is surely at least a little bit different than their hometown state college, a giant university with nearly one-hundred thousand students in attendance.

she rushes over with her duffel and he feels himself grinning back at her as soon as she’s close enough for him to see how bright her eyes are, behind her glasses.

she really is very pretty.

shaking his head, he folds her into the biggest hug he has, making a little oof sound when cadence squeezes him so tightly it leaves him short of breath.

“oh my god, hi,” she squeals into his ear, bouncing up and down on her tip-toes. “i missed you so much. it’s been forever!”

it’s been just about three months, since they said goodbye at her grandma’s house in august the night before they both had to leave to go move in. and while in some ways it feels like they were just together, especially given how they’re constantly in contact, he knows exactly what she means. it definitely also feels like it’s been way too long since he last held her exactly like this.

“i’m so glad you’re here,” he murmurs in return, pulling away to reach for her bag for her. “there’s so much i want to show you.”

“i know!” cadence exclaims, back to smiling at everything again. “i can’t wait to meet all your friends. but -- come on, i’m freezing. first let me see your dorm.”

right. his room. where she’ll be sleeping... with him.

it wasn’t like that’d never happened before. of course it had. you didn’t get to be lifelong best friends without squeezing into a few strange sleeping arrangements. he and cadence had shared a bed, a couch and the same stretch of floor before without even an ounce of weirdness affecting their relationship.

so he can only assume that the reason why it feels suddenly strange, this time, is because of the way his friends had just been teasing him and how uncomfortably close to home some of their comments had landed. 

devon’s voice in particular flashes through his mind again as he does his best not to stare at cadence and her leggings and the sweater that’s slipping off her shoulder: you don’t go through puberty with someone without having at least a little sexual tension with them.

shaking his head to dispel the unwelcome flipping of his stomach, shane jerks his thumbs at the far side of campus with a grin. “right this way.”

*

like always, he finds himself waiting around for her to finish getting ready.

they’re not due at the pregame for another hour, so he’s free to catch up with her (alone, thank god -- evan is meeting them out) while she gets her makeup on, his eyes lingering on the precise movement of her dainty hands applying eyeshadow while she talks a mile a minute about her bus trip earlier that day.

“-- and there was this little girl making bracelets at the terminal, she was so cute. i gave her five dollars and she made me this keychain for my bag on the bus. isn’t it so good?” she sets down her concealer to reach for the beaded lizard hanging off the edge of her duffel. “so cute, right?”

“have you ever gone anywhere without making friends with someone?” shane asks instead of answering, smiling fondly at her. “i swear you could hold a conversation with a brick wall.”

cadence laughs, turning back to the tiny compact mirror balanced on her knees. despite the less-than-ideal environment of his very bare and very poorly lit dorm room, she still looks flawless, brushing highlighter on her cheek until it’s glittering. 

he realizes he’s staring again and averts his eyes guiltily. why does he feel guilty? it’s just cadence. have a few simple months apart made him completely forget how to act around her?

“well, the drive would’ve been boring without anyone to talk to,” she answers finally, “and you were in class.”

“i’m surprised you didn’t bring something to read,” he muses. there’ve been plenty of times he’s had to rip a book out of her hands so she’d pay attention to him and the movie he was trying to show her, after all. 

“god, i just wanted a break from anything academic,” cadence groans, “midterms ruined my life. do you feel like college is a thousand times harder than high school, or is it just me? most of the time i thought everyone had to be exaggerating, but -- i don’t know.” she fidgets on the rug, flicking her eyes up to his. “it’s not like how i thought it’d be.”

shane holds her gaze quietly. college isn’t like how he thought it’d be, either -- it’s actually a little bit better. but it’d be impossible to say so now that she’s admitted she’s struggling.

one thing is exactly like he’d imagined it, though: he misses her just as much as he’d expected to. it’s not easy at all to be so far away from his best friend.

“yeah, i know what you mean,” he says finally, keeping his eyes locked on her even when cadence turns back to her makeup to gloss her lips. “it is hard. and it’s definitely important to take those breaks. don’t worry, we’ll get your mind off of school this weekend.”

cadence laughs, snapping her compact shut and stuffing her makeup back into her bag. “i hope i can keep up with you guys. my school is definitely not a party school.”

“we’ll catch you up,” he promises, grinning at the thought of the evening ahead of them. he’s going to show cadence a good time if it’s the last thing he does. and she has no idea what she’s in for. “don’t worry.”

*

surprisingly, everyone is perfectly nice and normal when they arrive at the pregame. his friends treat cadence like an instant member of the group, like she’s someone they’ve known for years. they welcome her with open arms and start pouring shots down her throat like they’ve done to him so many times before completely effortlessly.

it’s what happens when they get to the party that’s troublesome. 

he’s admittedly a few drinks deep when cadence drags him onto the dance floor. he should’ve known that’d be the first place she’d want to go; all of cadence’s shy little wallflower moments fly straight out the window whenever she’s had so much as a sip of alcohol. 

it’s not his fault he doesn’t manage to stop her. shane’s own head is swimming from the shots he’s had and he figures there’s not much harm in indulging her, but it’s only when they all crowd onto the dance floor and he sees the way his friends are looking at him that he realizes the position they’re in.

“this is awesome!” cadence chirps, angling her head to be near his ear. her arms loop around his neck as she swings her hips to the music. “i’ve never been to a party like this before.”

true, in high school, there were parties like this, but the two of them were never invited to them. they’d gone to prom alone together, and stayed up all night afterwards sneaking sips of alcohol at cadence’s grandma’s while she pointedly went to bed early.

“i’m glad you’re having fun,” he calls back, shuffling awkwardly on his feet in front of her. “do you need a water?”

“no!” cadence’s eyes are bright in the low light of the random living room they’re in, bopping along to the beat. she bounces up and down on her feet, dragging him closer. “you need another drink.”

to say the least. he could probably stand to put some distance between them, too -- get himself a moment of air. shane nods, ducking out from the circle of her arms. “yeah, i’ll be right back.”

he groans as he steps into the kitchen, almost turning around and heading back the way he came; casey and devon are standing in front of the counter. they both give him a pointed look as he slows to a stop in front of them.

“don’t,” he mutters, suddenly feeling very warm from the drinks he’s had and absolutely nothing else. 

“dude,” casey sighs, shaking his head at him, “you guys should probably just hook up and get it over with.”

“okay, that is not helpful,” shane answers, leaning around him to reach for a beer, cracking the tab on the can and taking a big swig in the hopes that it’ll calm him down. unfortunately, his head just spins harder as soon as he swallows. “it’s not a big deal. we’re just excited to see each other.”

there’s a beat before devon answers, eyebrows arched from behind the plastic cup in her hands. “sure.”

admittedly -- the rest of the party is kind of a blur. there’s more drinks and more dancing, and his friends drag he and cadence up on the roof to play some drinking game he doesn’t understand. the thing is... it’s fun, in a way he hasn’t experienced since the summer. sure, he’s been to plenty of parties since the semester started and gone out and gotten drunk and stayed up all night, but...

time with cadence was a different kind of fun. 

having her around, with him at school, filled a void he hadn’t realized he was lacking until she arrived, like he’d simply grown accustomed to a new full-body ache and had only noticed it once it was suddenly removed.

it’d be impossible to pretend not to be endeared by the way she stumbles out of the party and how she hums to herself in the street on the walk home, so he doesn’t bother, slinging his arm around her shoulders to lead her back to the dorm.

while everyone else is arguing about what type of pizza to order, they slip away, and then they’re alone in his room again.

cadence toes out of her shoes and twirls around barefoot across the rug between his and evan’s beds on her way back to her bag. “okay, that was so fun,” she sighs, dropping down onto the floor. “i wish i went to school here.”

“me too,” shane murmurs, watching her pull out her makeup wipes and tie back her hair. his eyes drift over to the twin bed sitting inconspicuously on his side of the room. when he’d invited her up here, he’d assumed they’d both just cram into it like they had so many other times before, in his twin bed at home. now...

now cadence is getting changed into her pajamas with her back to him, and he coughs and does the same, averting his eyes in the dark where he’d never flicked the light on when they got back to the room.

he’s saved from having to think of something to say by the way she crawls straight into his bed and leaves the blanket flipped open for him to join her.

maybe it’s the beer’s fault, that he gets in -- or maybe he has the beer to thank for giving him the courage to get into bed with her, but either way, he does, and within moments he’s nose-to-nose with cadence in the smallest space they’ve ever been in together, and she smiles at him in a way that’s almost unfairly beautiful, for someone who knows him as well as she does.

that’s the thing that’s so unlawful about this: she’s his best friend. she’s been by his side for every single up and down of his life, every moment he was happy or sad or angry. cadence picked him up when he doubted himself, comforted him when he needed it, made him laugh when the world felt ugly and hopeless. 

if he did something wrong now, all of that would go away.

it doesn’t stop her from staring at him, though. cadence keeps her eyes locked on his, and smiles at him through the dark, and evidently he’s the world’s biggest idiot, so he stares back. of course he smiles, too.

“thank you,” she murmurs after a moment, breaking the still silence between them. “i’m glad we did this. i needed this.”

shane swallows, resisting the urge to reach out for her. “you should’ve told me you were struggling. i would’ve had you out sooner. or -- came home, or something.”

she shakes her head. “nah,” cadence whispers, “i could tell you were having too much fun.”

he sighs, giving in and tucking his arm around her back. cadence wiggles closer under the sheets until their knees are touching. “it doesn’t matter how much fun i’m having,” he reminds her, voice as serious as he’s ever heard it before, “because you’re the most important thing in my life. always. and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you.”

cadence blinks at him. her face splits into a beautiful, dazzling smile and then, quickly enough to make his head spin, she leans in and kisses him, closing the last inch of space between their faces.

his palm spreads out over her back and he tilts her in closer, kissing back slowly. part of him knows it’s a mistake, but a larger part of him has thought about this before -- too much, probably, for someone who calls himself her best friend. part of him has imagined it a million times, in a million ways, though none of them compare to this -- the real thing.

in none of his fantasies did he ever think it would feel like it does, comforting and familiar but new and exciting all at once. he’d never assumed kissing cadence would feel as natural as breathing -- but it does.

it feels like something they’ve done a thousand times before, and there’s no denying it’s something he’d like to do at least a thousand times more. his exhale is shaky when they break apart, his eyes sweeping her expression for a sign of regret on her beautiful face.

cadence’s eyes blink open slowly, her smile reappearing as soon as they do. “shane...” she murmurs, and something in his chest twists and then cracks wide open, a swarm of butterflies invading his stomach.

“yeah.” this is insane. what are they doing? they shouldn’t be -- he shouldn’t, really, because cadence is his best friend and he needs her and she is...

she is asleep, suddenly, breathing even and deep with her eyes closed again. the lips he’d just been kissing are parted with a little hitch in her exhales.

he relaxes, slumping back against the mattress.

fuck.

is she even going to remember this in the morning?

studying his best friend, curled in towards his chest and fast asleep without a care in the world, like the entire planet hasn’t somehow just shifted on its axis, he can only hope that she will -- because he knows that tonight, and its many revelations, is going to be impossible for him to ever forget.

not that he’d ever try to. a palm scrubs across his face, and he lays down, resting carefully on the other half of the pillow cadence’s hair is taking up the majority of.

well -- at least they’re together on this one, shane muses, as he stares up at the ceiling and tries to calm down enough to go to sleep. 

no matter what madness tomorrow brings, at least he’ll still be sorting through it with his best friend.

[marawritingstuff]

SUNSHINE

Finally, I would like to thank my fellow classmates.  I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you.

Valedictorian speech written.   Come on, Amelia, no sleeping.   Time to write the memoriam.   Everybody would have completely forgotten about Sunshine, aka Jennifer, if those idiots stopped talking about weird stuff.

On this day as the Class of 2008 celebrates our graduation, our Sunshine isn’t here.   Jennifer Halloway sadly took her life seven months ago.  

Couldn’t someone else give this speech? Heaven knows, we weren’t friends. Sunshine didn’t have any friends. I didn’t even know her!  Well, maybe a little bit.

Sunshine always lit up a room with her distinctive style.  She brought laughter wherever she went.

My first encounter with Sunshine occurred the first day of fifth grade.  Jennifer stumbled through the homeroom door dressed in a jumper that was falling apart at the seams with a sun patch centered slightly below her large breasts.  The tall, overweight girl, with a haircut that even a discount barber wouldn’t admit to, clutched her books closely to her chest.  As a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” sprang from the mouths of a group of students near the back, a storm of spitballs flew through the air.  Sunshine didn’t even look up amid the commotion but headed to a corner desk at the far side of the classroom. A wave of sympathy overcame me, and I began to get up to greet her, only to be met by Susie, my best friend’s hand. I looked at my friends.  Some were laughing while others had wrinkled up their faces as if Sunshine had a communicable disease that could be passed through the air by her mere presence.  There is not much I can say now.  Then I was a ten-year-old girl who wanted to be liked so I wrote off Sunshine’s life, joining in my friends’ laughter and jeers that would last for nearly seven more years.

Her intelligence and compassion did not go unnoticed by teachers and fellow students.

Sunshine remained on the periphery of my universe.   We were both smart, extremely smart.  Advanced placement classes cluttered our schedules; at least for a while, but she lacked the social graces to stay amongst the “gifted.”  Group projects were the new fad in education.   My peers pretended to let Sunshine be part of the group during class, but everyone knew the real discussions, work, and fun happened afterschool. Nobody ever told her where the meetups were happening.  When it came to the division of work, the group inevitably responded: Jennifer refused to help.    Some of the teachers would try to elicit a defense from Sunshine, but she remained silent.   I guess she never got over the fear instilled in her in elementary school.  Supposedly, she told on some bullies for calling her “Cabbage Patch Kid” and they slammed her in the mud and kicked her bad.  Of course, there were some teachers who were just as ruthless as the students.  I heard Ms. Reardon, the sixth-grade science teacher, tell her that despite her intelligence, social problems meant that she would never succeed in life and Mr. Pearson, the seventh-grade English teacher, said someone as poor as her shouldn’t have hope. I wish I could say that I acted differently, that I tried to include her, but I didn’t. By the time we reached high school, the group project grades had dropped her out of my academic circle.   However, the continued bullying kept Sunshine burning bright in my orbit.

Jennifer’s grace was an example to us all.

The whole cheerleading squad threw me a welcome party the day before my freshman year began.  They even brought me the cutest outfit and a junior offered me a ride. At 7: 15 a.m., she pulled into the driveway in her clunker.   Fifteen minutes later we screeched into the parking lot, just as the buses were pulling in.  The unmistakable sound filled my ears.  “You Are My Sunshine.”   Mud balls flew knocking Jennifer from the stairs of the bus onto the concrete.   She pulled herself up dredging her splattered sunshine jumpsuit with her.  As she stepped through the entrance doors, Sunshine disappeared from my mind again.

Though she wasn’t one of the more outgoing students, she was beloved by everyone.

That first year our paths didn’t cross much as our classes were clearly different now and extra-curricular activities weren’t her thing.  At times, I would hear calls of “fatso”, “creepy”, and “not so little Orphan Annie” coming from the halls, and witness Sunshine being thrown into lockers.  At lunch she sat alone, while some kids threw food at her and most...okay, all…of us just sneered.   Gossip went around that her grandmother, her sole living relative, got cancer and the water in her house was turned off.      Her hygiene suffered, ostracizing her even more.  One morning I really had to pee, so reluctantly ran to the gross bathroom on the first floor. That giant jumpsuit was in a sink with Sunshine scrubbing it with a bar of soap. Laughter exploded from me.  She just stood there scrubbing…I am sorry I did that now.

I, for one, enjoyed Jennifer’s contributions in the classroom.

A language class was required for all students and, unfortunately, I lacked any skills in this area, so this meant mixing with all the other sophomores. As I walked into class, I noticed the name cards carefully placed on the desks. Señora Amelia Brantley.  Cute.  Assigned Seating.  I scanned the desks.  Señora Jennifer Halloway right next to Señor Harry Hankel, the quarterback, who later became captain of the football team, a notorious bully. Everyone thought Harry would make it to the NFL someday bringing fame, and money, to our school. Thus, his pranks were largely ignored, especially by the popular teachers, like Ms. Garcia. Throughout the semester, every time Ms. Garcia turned her back, he would take hold of Sunshine’s desk and throw it into the wall leaving her reeling. Ms. Garcia refused to discipline Harry, instead admonishing Sunshine for moving her seat.  The worst day came on Cinco De Mayo.   There was a buffet of Mexican delights contributed by the students and Ms. Garcia.  A decorated piñata hung from the ceiling.  At the end of class, Ms. Garcia had us start a Conga line.   When Sunshine tried to join in, no one would touch her back.  They called her a dirty pig and made oinking sounds. Rather than discipline the class, Ms. Garcia simply broke up the line and we went back to the Cinco De Mayo feast. Sunshine went to the back corner of the room, sat down on the floor, and for the first time ever, I saw her cry.   That was the beginning of the end, even though I neither knew nor took any steps to stop it.

She was the picture-perfect student.

To be honest, SAT’s, college applications, and maintaining my 4.0 kept me too busy after that to think much about Sunshine.  I jumped on the chance to assist with developing the year-book pictures, not only since it would add another line to my Ivy League applications, but also because I loved watching the blobs slowly transform into images of happy people.  Cheerleaders forming pyramids.  Football players making touchdowns.  Even Susie’s mug, now a beautiful young lady, smiling at the Junior Fall Dance.    After school one day, I stirred the solution as the last picture appeared.  My arm grew limp as the picture came in focus. Sunshine was sitting in the corner of the gym at a pep-rally, all alone, grasping her knees.  She looked so miserable, like a puppy that had been hit too many times.   Gently, I moved the image towards the trash when the Senior Editor came in and stopped me, laughing and pronouncing that this would be a highlight. I didn’t say anything.   The centerfold of the yearbook was Sunshine’s picture with the caption, “You are the light of our school.”

As we are here to celebrate our own accomplishments, I know the Senior Class wishes they could throw Jennifer a ceremony that could honor her alone.

Unlike my freshman year, I walked through the school doors on the first day of my senior year with confidence and pride; head of the cheerleading squad, member of the student council, editor of the yearbook and a shoo-in for valedictorian.   Frankly, this was just a distraction from the wait on the responses of the Ivy League schools. December was the traditional month that early applicants received an acceptance…or rejection. August. September, November, were all a blur.

December 12th, I arrived home and opened my inbox:

NEW MAIL

HARVARD:   APPLICATION STATUS

SUSIE:    SPECIAL CEREMONY FOR SUNSHINE, DAWN

Clicking the attachment of the first message, my hands shook uncomfortably. The Harvard Crest sat cleanly at the top of the letterhead.  My eyes scanned the document.

“Congratulations.  You have been accepted into the incoming Class of the Fall Semester of 2008.”

The next few hours were a haze.  Screams and tears.  My mother hugging me.   Calling Susie.  It all seems like a huge mess of emotions now.   Later that night, Susie called to remind me that she was picking me up at 6:00 a.m. for the ceremony.  The excitement of the day had overwhelmed me.  I assumed it was another award for one of the teachers.  The second e-mail remained on my computer unopened as I dreamed of Harvard crimson sweatshirts.

The alarm rang all too soon, I threw on a hoodie and my Northface winter jacket and lumbered down to Susie’s car.  The window made a perfectly good pillow and blocked out most of her jabbering. Later, I learned that Susie was explaining that Sunshine’s grandmother had been missing for a few days.  One of the idiots from the football team called Sunshine impersonating the police luring her to the flagpole in front of the school, our destination, with a promise of information regarding her grandmother.  If I had only listened to Susie.  Or opened the e-mail.  Or done…anything.  

Susie screeched to a stop a few blocks from the school where several other cars loaded with seniors had assembled.  I struggled from the car, joining a group of twenty-five in a steady creep.  As we came over the hill, I could see Sunshine standing beside the flagpole in her old, scantly patched coat, shivering in the cold.  She kicked the snow around her, weakly mouthing, “where are you Grandma.”  The group pounced on her. Harry Hankel seized her by the arms forcing her to face the flagpole.  From under the snow, two other blindsiders began to pull ropes causing a pair of bloomers and a bra to ascend. The sunshine patches left no doubt of the owner, though I had no idea where the mob had obtained her private items.  The group broke out into a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” as they blasted her with ice balls, several striking her square in her mouth causing teeth to be knocked fully out.   Seconds seemed liked hours until someone opened the front doors of the school.   Everyone scattered.   I stood there for a second watching Sunshine lie there on the ground.  Blood dripped from her mouth staining the snow. Susie pulled me by the arm, and I turned away.  This would be my last view of Sunshine.

I wish I had a chance to know her more personally.

The incident occurred one week before the holiday break.  Sunshine didn’t make an appearance in school that week.     Holiday cheer soon made me forget the horrible event as my family overwhelmed me with gifts of Harvard paraphernalia: sweatshirts, mugs, anything you could imagine.   When I finally stepped back on the grounds of the school, I shivered. My eyes turned up to the flagpole resting on a shadowy image of one of Sunshine’s patches waving.    Susie dismissed it as an illusion due to stress.  Only a few hours into class, the principal called us all for an assembly in the auditorium.   Despite my heavy sweater, I hugged myself tightly trying to keep warm.  Mr. Lumbre, our principal, stepped on the stage, but I could barely see him despite all the theater lights.  A shadow seemed to be engulfing him.  

“Jennifer Halloway took her own life on New Year’s Day.  She is survived by her grandmother.  Funeral arrangements will be announced.  Grief counselors will be made available in the main office.  School is dismissed for the day to allow time for mourning and processing.”

The senior class sat still. I don’t know what they were feeling, all I know is no one said a word.

We really didn’t have the opportunity to say a proper good-bye.  However, even after she was gone, Jennifer still seemed to be with us somehow.

No sunshine came through the clouds the day they put her in the ground.  Only her grandmother and the church pastor watched as the casket descended into the earth.  I sat in Susie’s car staring.  I read in the newspaper that Sunshine had shot herself with her grandfather’s old gun. Her grandmother, finally recovering from a bout of dementia, returned to find her in the garage a few days later. Some of the other seniors said they were going to come to the funeral.  Susie backed out but let me take the car.   Only the hearse and the pastor’s beat up Chevy kept me company in the cemetery parking lot.  I couldn’t bring myself to get out and drove away in perceived silence, though I thought I heard the faint sound of Nat King Cole’s “When Shadow’s Fall.”

The grief counselors only stayed a few days as no one sought their services. Sunshine never left.   No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, every morning the sunshine shadow enveloped me as I crossed under the flagpole.  As the temperatures rose outside the school, they fell within.  The furnace was replaced, but the temperature didn’t rise a degree. They tore apart the ductwork, vents, and changed all the thermostats.   Nothing worked.   Soon things…well…they started getting scary. Senior girls were randomly being thrown into lockers.  Books flew from students’ arms.  The darkness and “When Shadow’s Fall” were everywhere. Most of the students, and staff, for that matter, were unfamiliar with the song.  My grandmother adored Nat King Cole.   Though I used to love hearing that smooth baritone, I shivered as it creeped from every Ipod, car stereo, and even the PA system.  No other music has been heard in the school since Sunshine’s death.  

I walked into a biology class one day on a mission to deliver notices of the upcoming teacher and student council cooperative meeting.  There sat Harry Hankel snoring away as a film on protozoa projected over him. I stared at him and sighed, sick of the whole damn school. To my shock, an invisible force picked up his desk and relentlessly banged him back and forth into the wall.   I saw nothing touch him but some in the class maintain that a sunshine shaped shadow passed over the film screen before the accident.  Harry’s dreams, and the school’s dreams, were over.  The doctors were unable to repair the damage in his right leg.  He will never play football again.

We wish she could have partaken in the many happy activities of Senior year that are captured forever in our memories.

The final grade announcements confirmed my valedictorian status.  I wanted to drop it all and drive off to Massachusetts, never to look back.  However, the yearbook distribution had to be done.  On the penultimate day of school for the seniors, I walked into the student council office and watched my junior editor sliding receipts into each book. She abruptly stopped, something seeming to catch her eye.  Flipping open the book, she let out a shriek and bolted from the office.  Drifting over to her workplace, the pages of the yearbook flipped back in the constant cool breeze that pervaded the office. I covered my mouth in horror, looking down at the faces, or lack of faces, of the senior class.  Susie should have been smiling back at me.  Instead, there was a black spot in the shape of a sunshine. Book after book, page after page, the same.  Black blotches smeared out any faces of seniors.  Slumping down in a chair, I began to cry.  I wasn’t sure then, or even now, who or what I was crying about. Was it for our lost happy year? Was it for the loss of my hard work? Or was it finally for Sunshine?

We are all sorry for the tragedy that befell Jennifer.  I can only hope that Sunshine can find the peace she was seeking.  Goodbye Jennifer.  

There will be no yearbooks to sign this year.  Mr. Lumbre cancelled the prom.  No one objected.  Soon there will be parents wishing many of us well as we head off to our respective colleges and universities.   The question is will Sunshine be with us?  Will she stay at the school?  I don’t know the answer to that.   I do know that she is here now as I type these words, shivering, in the dark, a sunshine shaped shadow looming over me.

I…am…. sorry….

[howdoyousleep3]

weird personal question (don’t feel like you have to answer it!!) - when/why did you start writing smut (and why only/mostly smut) ? just curious. you’re an amazing writer, ily hope you have a great day!!

Hi cupcake! 

So, I started writing smut last summer and I posted my first story at the end of August. I found the fandom in kind of a backwards way? I read a RPF about Chris and Seb and then that easily led me to finding Stucky fics and then once I watched a few movies and read some more I was fuckin’ hooked lmao. I started writing though because I couldn’t get one little scene out of my own head and couldn’t find it anywhere else so I was like I should try this out. I hadn’t written creatively since high school (college was all academic) and I loved writing in general so I wasn’t too hesitant to jump in. 

Why only smut is a really good question that I was thinking about yesterday while journaling. 

I’ve always been like...a sensual person? I know I’ve said that I’m not a sexual person when referring to how much sex Fiance and I have (we’re killing it this month btw *highfives all around*) but they’re different in my brain. I like writing people engaged in two of the most intensely vulnerable and risky situations they can come across in life, sex and love. I love writing out emotion and feelings and dirty talk and I do not think those are done well enough with books that are actually published and out there. 

I’m not opposed to writing things aside from strictly smut and I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately, but I feel like I’ll always need to include it in whatever I write because it’s just who I am? 

Hope this made sense! Thank you for stopping by ily!

[transboygenius]

Season 4 promo

After overcoming some abuse, anxiety, and depression issues, I FINALLY have it finished.

Three months ago, a huge ceremony took place for the graduation of Lindbergh's fifth grade students. All children were dressed in caps and gowns, receiving their diploma one by one. Cindy earned an academic award along with her diploma. Fortunately, for Jimmy, he earned quite some more, which made him fall over with all that weight. Cindy looked over to him in envy, while Nick helped him pick up some of those awards. Miss Fowl was crying tears of freedom, for she was finally free from Sheen's shenanigans. While the ceremony was still going on, Jimmy gave an inspirational speech about what he learned. Not just about geometry, history, or science, but socialization, and how it changed him. He even gave a sincere shoutout to Nick.

Cindy watched in all bitterness. She was upset. Was it because Jimmy managed to outdo her achievements? Yes. Was it because she still misses him in her life? Also yes. She still loves him, but she is also jealous of him. Why can't she just be one of those? Despite that her and Jimmy vowed to each other that they would be friends instead, she could never move on from him. Ever since him and Nick escaped fron the medieval century, he has redeemed himself from his arrogant and egotistic ways, putting friendship before science. Cindy doesn't get it. She has tried for months to bring him into common sense, even tried beating it out of him, and he does it for some kid he used to have minimal interactions with.

Not only that, but they also became really close friends after that time warp trip. Something about their relationship really made Cindy feel envious. They're always happy with each other, as well as supportive. Even when they find something either of them disagree on, they still search for a way to cooperate. Also, the way Jimmy's always bedazzled by Nick brings her with a lot of questions. Why doesn't he ever look at me like that? Compared to his friendship with Carl and Sheen, he definitely had some "weird" subtext going on with Nick. Cindy lost two goals in this year. While in her gloomy state, her mother began to comfort her. Or at least that's what she thought.

"Oh, don't let the agony of defeat weigh you down, Cynthia! This is only the beginning! That big headed whippy dip may have won the battle, but I guarantee you will win the war! We'll just have to try HARDER this time! I'll help you, and make sure you stay on track!" "Gee. Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate that." "Anything to bring the Vortex image up!"

...........................

It was another fun summer vacation for children, especially for Jimmy and his gang, along with Nick. Sometimes they would go off into far adventures. Sometimes Jimmy would give a new experiment to present. Sometimes they would do normal summer activities such as going to the beach, or Retroland. Or sometimes they would lie around at home all day like couch potatoes. Nick has never had such a productive summer before! He was so happy, he even did his chores whenever he was told to. Well, occasionally. While everyone was making the most of their vacation, Cindy would continue researching and studying until her brain melts.

Most of Nick's summer days were spent with Jimmy, because of course. He spent some time with Libby, since they surprisingly had a lot in common. He at least put his best to hang out with Carl. Even though Nick doesn't consider Sheen much as a friend, Sheen can't help but get a little clingy over a new amigop. Just for Jimmy, he tolerated all of his actions, even when he starts to infodump about how much he knows about Ultralord. When Nick feels he isn't doing a good job being pal-friendly to Jimmy's two comrades, he cooks them up lunch, takes special recipe requests, and gave free cooking lessons. He'd cook for Libby too, only to test out new vegetarian recipes. The only member of the squad Nick interacted with the least would be Cindy.

After three months of summer, it eventually went down to a bummer. When the first back-to-school commercial airs, every child is met with horror. Speaking of which, on the third of August, it was time to face a new beginning. Goodbye Elementary School, and hello to Middle School. Nick was gazing into the mirror, grooming his curtain cut with care. Although he's not popular anymore, keeping his own hair perfect has become a habbit to him. He also decided to try a new casual, comfortable wardrobe: white long sleeved shirt, blue t-shirt over it, teared loose jeans, and purple converse. The ring around his neck never left him. After he finished admiring his own reflection, he took his backpack and ran towards the door.

"Nick, would you like me to drive you there?" Shouted his mom from another room. "It's cool, Mom! I'll just take my scooter!" Replied Nick. "Well, you better not be late on your first day! Love you, honey!" “Love you too, Mom."

.....................

So on the scooter ride to school, he met with a few friends on the way. Libby and Cindy took the bus, but he only waved to Libby. Sheen was passing by in his dad's car, constantly trying to get Nick's attention while Nick did his best to ignore him. Then came Bolbi on a unicyc- Wait a minute, he's not a friend. Lastly, up in the sky, there was Jimmy in his hovercar, greeting Nick from above. Then there was Carl in the backseat, catching the breeze in his face, then a splattered bug. All of the squad met at the front entrance of Gelaway's Middle School. Even though summer was over, some were eagar to move to a new school level where they'll no longer be regarded as little kids.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh... Can't believe we're in middle school now! The place where practices to being a teenager begins! Pretty soon we'll be driving in our parents' cars, and attending R-rated movies!" Cooed Libby. "I can't wait to wear body jewelry!" Said Carl. "Sooooooooo, looks like this is a new stage in our growing life. It feels like only yesterday we were doing show 'n tell, and macaroni art. Now there's... ...here. Wow." Spoke Nick.

Jimmy gave his tall buddy a light nudge on the shoulder, then grinned at him. 

"Shall we... ...go inside now?" Asked Jimmy. “YES, LET'S GO INSIDE NOW! I've been surrounded by babies for too long! PEAK OF ADULTHOOD, HERE I COME!" Shouted Sheen, then dashed on ahead.

The rest of the gang followed behind. When they made it inside, it felt like opening a door to a whole new world. The inside was full of older and maturer kids, all in a different multicultural range. Most of them were just fooling around on their phones. Libby had her eyes on a couple of teens playing music and then dancing to it. Sheen had his eyes on a couple of dudes having a casual conversation about science fiction. Carl had his eyes on... ...a Llama Lovers club? Nick had his eyes on something that made him wanna act fast. He quickly hid behind a really tall, blocky kid while the gang continued to chat amongst themselves.

A trio walked down the hall, in an intimating fashion. The lead of the trio was a blonde boy who wore fingerless gloves, a snapback, baggy pants, sneakers, and a t-shirt that had a ravenous spike collared bulldog on it. Not to mention he had a (fake) tattoo on his left arm that read "Beast." He appeared to look the most intimating, and seemed to be at Nick's height. The kid on his left was a lanky boy, who wore a red and yellow tank top, with matching shorts, plain white sneakers, and his hair was braided. He was the tallest, and looked like a friendly kid at heart. The last one was a short redhead with a fringe hairstyle. He wore a blue sweatshirt, long jeans, and a pair of crocs. The boy was the shortest of the bunch, but still a little taller than Jimmy, and he looked like he was trying way too hard to be intimating.

The three happened to be approaching the gang, and then the short one tripped.

"AARON!" Shouted the blonde lead. “Uh, uh- Sorry, chief!" The redhead soon got back up to his feet.

The front blonde kid then snapped his fingers to get everyone's attention. As he did, he gazed down upon Jimmy.

"Well, looks like we have some new fish in this joint! Hey squirt, you must be Neutron!" “Uhhhh... The pleasure is-" “I'm not done talking yet, nerd! *AHEM*"

The blonde grabbed Jimmy by his hair, and lifted him up to make direct eye contact.

"You and I will be getting to know each other very well."

He then released and just dropped Jimmy, leaving his soft served ice cream hair now out of shape. The gang just stood in silence as they waited for this blonde kid to say something else.

"What? I'm done talking!" Said the blonde. “Who are you jerks, anyways?" Asked Cindy. "Ah, I'm glad you asked, doll! They call me 'Tony!' You BETTER remember that! You are prohibited to call me anything else besides 'Tony!' Understand, huh?" "Chief?" Asked the short redhead. "YOU WERE EVEN LISTENING- Oh. Whaddya want, Aaron?” “I thought you were done talking.” “UGHHHH-“ “And don’t we get an introduction?" "*Sigh* And this is my crew, Mike and Aaron. Call them anything you want, I'm sure they don't mind." "I'm Mike, btw." The tall kid declared. "Coooool! A real school gang! Do you guys have a super cool gang name??" Asked Sheen. “Of course we do, needle-neck! Otherwise we wouldn't be a gang! It may sound simple, but it still manages to strike fear into the weaks' hearts. We call ourselves: Tony Mike n Aaron!" "Oh. Well, it sure is easy to remember." "Dang straight! And you better not forget! As for you, nerd. I'll be seeing you around soon."

With business now done, Tony turned the opposite direction and walked away. Mike fixed Jimmy's hair before catching up with Tony. Aaron just continued to stare at the squad aggressively, trying not to give away a blink. Eventually, he had to stop when Tony called him up. As soon as they were gone, Nick came out of hiding, and got back in place like he never left. And it's a good thing the gang hasn't noticed, otherwise he'd make himself look like a wuss. He was in no mood to deal with those three right now. 

"Uhhhh, Jimmy. Shouldn't we be collecting our schedules?" Nick tried to change the subject. "Huh? Oh YEAH! C'mon, team! We don't wanna make a bad impression by being tardy on our first day!" 

.........................

Homeroom was with English class. The teacher was a man who looked like he hasn't gotten enough sleep, and talked in a stoic monotone voice. His expression was blank.

"Welcome, class. My name is Mr. Nite. Here we will be learning the art of literature English and how it will build up your doctoral level. Also for other stuff that's very important in the future, bluhblubbluhbluh. Now, can each student stand up from their desk one at a time, and present themselves to me?" “Salutations! My name is Cynthia Vort-" "That will do for now. Thank you all for giving me the chance to know each and every one of you. Now, to start the day, please turn to page 13 in the textbook in front of you. We will be going through Sonata For Harp And Bicycle. When you are finished, there are questions you shall answer at the end of the story. You are also proposed to write a five paragraph summary for Sonata For Harp And Bicycle. We will be reviewing the story tomorrow, write an essay report on the author's background, taking notes on what you learned, and then comes the big test on Friday. Begin now."

Mr. Nite slumped his head down on his desk to take a nap. All the students hesitated for a moment, before opening their textbooks. First day of middle school, and already their week is busy. Well, first day of school is not supposed to be a party. Carl and Sheen went through at least one page. They both started to get a migraine from all the big fancy vocabulary they're never used to, not even when hanging around with Jimmy for years. 

.............................

The other classes were just as bizarre and stressful. In music class, the teacher was a grown man with a purple dyed mohawk, visor sunglasses, and other stereotypical attire from the 1980s, also talking in outdated slang. His name was Mr. Beatz. He played his guitar, loud enough to sting the students' ears, and break windows. Libby seemed to be the only one taking a liking to him. They're first assignment was to recreate they're own cover of Do Re Me. He didn't feel like starting with something simple, since "That's so early 2000s." 

In home economics class, the teacher was a plain lady who wore chef attire. She also appeared to act like two characters in one. One minute, she's a sweet housewife gently instructing the basics to culinary skills, then the next she turns into a strict food teacher with the cooking arts of a five-star chef, also bearing a British accent. Her name was Mrs. Rosemerry. Their first assignment was to fix up something without a recipe. Lucky for Nick, he could easily survive.

In P.E. class, their coach was some buff, toned women. Right before anyone could introduce themselves, she blew on her whistle and started the first assignment: Run fifty laps around the field. Anyone who gives up, or pukes, has to do a hundred pushups. Her name was Ms. Barbell, by the way.

............................

Everyone became quite exhausted from this long first day. They didn't expect middle school to be quite a challenge. Then again, nobody said growing up was easy. To add insult to injury, all of them had homework. Homework on the first day. Feels like being punished for no reason. Thank goodness lunch has arrived. The squad took their trays and waited in line to be served. Nick, however, brought his own lunch, but he made sure to reserve a table for his friends. Then, Carl and Sheen came in contact with the lunch lady. She looked nothing like a stereotypical lunch lady. In fact, this dollface sweetheart looked like someone who walked out of their dreams. The two boys couldn't help but gaze upon her remarkable beauty. They eventually snapped out of it when she scooped some unidentified glop onto their trays. She was attractive, but not her cooking.

The squad all sat at the table Nick held for them. None of them ate. They just stared at the mystery glop on their trays. Carl gave a taste. It was so revolting, even he couldn't work it down. Libby felt there was meat products cooked into the stuff, so she refused to touch it. Nick, about the only kid at the table who packed something edible, looked at the poor, hungry boy genius. Caring for his best friend, he offered him half of his lunch on a napkin. Then, he started getting hungry stares from Carl and Sheen. He knew that giving Jimmy some of his own lunch would give them the wrong idea that he's just giving out free eats, but he would never let the little guy starve like that. They were drooling down on the table, begging Nick with big, gapping eyes.

"Please, Nick. I gotta keep my blood sugar up." Whined Sheen. "(You say that like it's a bad thing)"

Nick wasn't feeling any sorry for them, but the only way they'd leave him alone is that he gives them what they want. So, he put out his lunchbox and told them to take a little. The two boys helped themselves, feasting greedily like a bunch of animals. After they were done, they wiped off their faces clean with napkins, then slid the lunchbox back to Nick. There was nothing left for him but an empty milk bottle, which had a big mark bitten out of it.

"Thank you very much! Now how am I gonna keep my blood sugar up?" Said frustrated Nick. "Hey, lighten your mood, gang! Sure, the classes are pushy, the teachers are looney, and the food here stinks! Quite literally, too. But, at least there's some good to come out of this!" Exclaimed Sheen. "Like WHAT?” "Recess! GERONIMO!"

Sheen flew towards the door that's suppose to lead to the playground. He crashed with a loud thud, then Jimmy came up to point out the the print on the door says “Pull.” Unfortunately, all he found were students lounging outside; Enjoying their packed lunches, gossiping with each other, reading, or being on their phones and tablets.

"Whoops! This isn't the playground!"

All the outside students overheard Sheen's statement. Some got up from their sitting positions to give him a taste of reality.

"Sounds like you're new around here." "Sorry, we don't have any of that 'little kid' stuff anymore." "No teeter-totter, no slides, no monkey bars, *Sighs* no swings." "Welcome to phase one of growing up. ...sir."

Now this has gone too far. First all this work, no edible nourishment, and now they can't have the one escapism that helped them pull through elementary school.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The others then met with Sheen outside, surprised themselves to find no recess playground. Just big kids doing "big kid" things. Sheen crawled on his knees and begged to Jimmy.

"Jimmy, could you invent something that would shrink down ages? The peak of adulthood is scary!" "C'mon now, Sheen. An age reversal process isn't gonna fix anything."

Nick then separated the Ultralord fanboy from his short friend, giving him some comfort.

"Don't worry about that, little bud. Sure, this first year has gone through a rocky start, and it'll probably get much worse in the future, but... ...with all our effort, we'll make it through together." "Thanks, Nick. Although, that doesn't seem to make me feel any better." "Oh, buck up, will ya?"

Nick then pulled Jimmy close to him as they decided to find some spot to longue outside, which made Jimmy just blush a bit. And from his tall friend's cheesy motivational speech, he wonders what he's implying when he mentioned "we'll" and "together." Together as in the whole squad as a group, or together as just him and Nick as a pair. Cindy, following behind, watched with indifference on Jimmy and Nick's closeness.

[rkrose]

“i’ve been trying all my life to separate the time, in between the having it all and giving it up, yeah. i wonder what’s in store if i don’t love it anymore. i’m stuck between the having it all and giving it up, yeah”  ━━  august 5th, 2020 . . . phone call with alice park ( big sister )

it’s been eight years. eight years since rose moved from her family’s home nestled in the suburbs of melbourne, away from her parents and her siblings to the big smoke of seoul, south korea. a country that was thousands of miles away. who knew that at age fifteen a girl could be so driven, so determined to pursue a dream? this dream of becoming a musician took rose across a whole ocean to a country she had never been to before. time had been kind, things had gotten easier. the early days were the hardest. rose’s lack of knowledge on basic customs expected of almost any korean to her clumsiness regarding the korean language and the honorifics that went with it. she recounts her first year as being vacant and lonely, and those feelings even followed her into her second year. no one reached out, and rose didn’t reach out either. it was easier to keep any and everyone at arms length. she wanted to do this by herself. she didn’t want to be a burden.

favouring hours alone playing guitar and piano, singing seventies and eighties songs she had heard on the radio back home. and when tucked away in her bed at her home stay’s apartment on the outskirts of the city, rose would call her big sister and tell her about her day. a part of her felt inclined to lie, to say that she was happy. but she wasn’t and alice . . . alice could tell. alice was off at university at this point, a first year, studying law. charlie was studying medicine and rose was . . . in south korea, at a music school. so she could pursue . .  music. rose always had it a little easier in comparison to her older siblings. her father hadn’t been super enthusiastic to find out that she had applied to this music orientated school across the ocean in his place of birth, but her mom had been supportive. she saw that her daughter had a dream, so she wanted her to go and pursue it, even if meant sending her youngest to a foreign country. 

favouring hours alone playing guitar or piano, singing old songs that she remembers hearing on the radio from back home. and when tucked away in the bedroom of her home stay’s apartment, located on the outskirts of the city, rose would call her big sister and try to tell her about her day, about her adventures. rose felt inclined to lie, to say that she was happy. but she wasn’t and alice could tell. she was off at university at this point, first year, studying law while their older brother studied medicine. meanwhile rose was in south korea at a music school so that she could maybe attempt to pursue music. her intentions hadn’t been to stay in south korea permanently. initially, it was her three years of high school and then maybe if things went well, a year of university. but a year after graduating and having flopped completely academic wise, and no real drive or pull to go back home to australia, rose had found herself in one of south korea’s biggest entertainment companies come winter of 2016. this was where she paved her dream, even if it wasn’t the way she had visualised it. everyone had to start somewhere, or so she figures.

rose had always had it a little easier in comparison to alice and charlie. being the youngest was probably the reason, she was used to being babied and being the favourite. her father, a branch manager of a bank chain in melbourne, had been rather disheartened to discover she had gone and applied to sopa, behind his back more or less. rose’s mother, a psychiatrist, had been much more supportive. she had saw from a young age what her daughter’s true passion was, in efforts to help rose pursue a dream she had found early on. she sent rose on her way, with no certainty of what this meant for her. and even eight years later and rose not returning as she had planned, her mother still feels the same way. uncertain but immensely proud. and even now, her dad’s a little proud too, even if he doesn’t get the whole singing dancing idol thing.

eight years on, late night phone calls still occur between rose and alice. only they’re not as often and rose lives in an apartment with her two bestfriends. rose finds herself stumbling into bed on most nights after training; life is physically, mentally and emotionally exhausting these days and the thought of talking to anyone, even alice, sounded unbearable at times. but rose always does her best to make time for the important people in her life. tonight, rose is tucked away in her bed with her long blonde hair in braids. she wears an oversized sweatshirt which rose actually thinks might belong to her boyfriend. rose stares up at the ceiling overhead with eight years of lies and it’s weight resting on her chest. the line is quiet. “something up, rosie? you don’t sound too good.” alice asks down the phone, and although chipper, she sounds concerned. “ah, it’s nothing. don’t worry, ali.” rose says, waving off her concern with a laugh. “well . . . nothing is something. what’s going on? you’re alright, aren’t you?” rose purses her lips, a clutched hand rests on her chest. would it be so awful to verbalise her feelings, what she’s felt for the past four or so years?

“i’m thinking . . . about . . . i’m thinking about moving back to australia.” rose says slowly, softly, in hopes she doesn’t draw attention. lisa and jisoo are home, and although one of two knows, she doesn’t wanna talk to them about that now. “y-you’re what? no. what? what happened?" alice’s reaction was as rose had thought: genuine surprise, shock and perhaps a little bit of disbelief. very alice. “you didn’t break up with chris, did you? i thought you were still at royal.” the mention of chris was enough to remind rose of her first real argument with her boyfriend ( of almost two years now ). “no, no. we’re still together and i’m still . . . at royal. my contract ends in december, though. i meant . . . instead of signing it again, i could just . . . come home, and be with you and charlie, and mel and charlotte, and mom . . . dad too, i guess.” 

the line goes quiet again. alice must be trying to wrap her head around the suddenness of the topic. “ali, y-you there?” rose asks, pushing herself up onto her elbows. she furrows her brows. had she said something wrong? “what brought this on all of a sudden, rosie? last time we spoke you seemed so . . . so happy and certain of everything. are you okay? is there . . . something else going on?” last time they spoke. the last time rose and alice spoke was months ago. rose was still coming to terms with what this all meant, what feeling this way meant. “no,” rose mutters quietly, shaking her head. “i . . . i just . . . “ and so she starts from the beginning, all the way back when rose first landed on the tarmac in seoul, south korea as a bright eyed fifteen year old.

"i wish you had of just been honest with me, rose. about everything.” alice admits quietly. rose wishes she could of been honest from the beginning too, but thinking about the consequences of her honesty frightened her. the lies hadn’t been any better, though. “i was scared you’d tell mom and that she would force me to come home.” having to give up her dream though honesty, to be defeated because of her own feelings had been a fear of rose’s at that age. it still rings true now to some extent. trainees shouldn’t show their weaknesses, they become easy targets in the eyes of their company. “mom always wanted what’s best for you, as she does now. and charlie does, and dad . . . in his own, weird way. and i want what’s best for you.” rose bites at her lip, trying to hold the tears that well at her eye at bay. “and if you think that coming back home to australia is what that is, then so be it. but i don’t think that’s what you really want.” 

i am so passionate about singing and performing. nothing makes me feel more whole than when i sing, i truly feel alive . . . as cliche as it sounds. and i was shy, so i hid behind my guitar and my company forced me to step forward and become this . . . this person. after all this time i came to love dancing, i’m actually somewhat good at it although coaches disagree. but . . . i realise that even though my dream was to debut in a band, in reality, an idol group was what i was destined for. and these past three years i’ve worked so hard, tirelessly, so i can one day debut with my friends. i’ve cried so much these past few months. i’m so tired, ali. i feel so up and down about my future. am i selfish for thinking about myself? is it selfish to stay in the company when a much better person could be in my place? i’ve never wanted something more in my life than this. i can’t believe i’m admitting that. i, roseanne park, want to be an idol. i want to debut so badly but the stagnancy makes me nauseous. is four years going to turn to six years, and will six turn to eight? i see these young idols train for a year and then debut the following year. am i not good enough? am i doing something wrong? and the fact that you all are so far away makes me wonder if all of this is worth it. i just . . . i want to go home. i mean, i think i do. 

"you’re growing restless, rosie.” alice concludes rather firmly. here was the tough love rose had avoided hearing but needed, so badly. “but don’t give up on your dream because you’re restless or because you’re tired.” and by this point, the tears are running down rose’s cheeks, they’re red and warm. she wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of the sweatshirt. alice pauses and rose swears that she hears a sniffle on the other end of the line. “i know you’ve been lying to me all of these years, telling me how happy you were and how you loved korea. i know that things must of been so tough for you, rosie . . . and yet you stuck it out because you didn’t wanna disappoint mom . . or me, or charlie. that’s so . . . so you.” alice chuckles and rose mirrors, sniffling. she was right, after all. rose was too afraid of admitting that she had maybe made a mistake in going to korea so young, but she was still too prideful to give up. “you’re so stubborn, roseanne. you’ll try and make anything work.”

“and it’s because you’re so stubborn . . . that you should make this work. make this crazy, once in a life time opportunity work out, just follow it through.” rose picks at a stray thread on her pyjama pants, still listening intently to alice, hanging onto every word. “because i think . . . that if you do end up coming home, and not signing that contract again, that you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” there’s another pause. “and people like you rosie, people like you need to be where they can shine. and if you can’t do this for you, then do it for me. do it for mom, and charlie and dad. do it because we believe in you and love you more than anything.” there’s more sniffles between both sisters. rose hasn’t shared a moment like this with her sister in . . . forever, perhaps ever. she’s been reminded of how she’d put on a brave face whenever duty called. “i don’t want you to give up on this dream, rosie. just keep holding on. everything will make sense soon. i know it will.”

   to be continued . . .

[thetaylorfiles]

I would NOT advise holding your daughter back next year unless other stakeholders at the school HIGHLY recommend it. Holding kids back generally doesn’t really work in terms of academics and can be emotionally damaging. Remember, when we return everyone will have been in a weird place, I’m sure teachers will work carefully to make sure students get their needs met when we return

It was always a consideration. Her birthday is August 20. Which means she started kindergarten at 4 and turned 5 a few weeks in. We’ve been worried she’d be better redoing the school year but decided to let her go on to 1st (it’s a classroom of both k and first in a really unique setting. It’s a wonderful classroom). So that if she had to repeat them at least she’d be repeating the one that was academically more challenging.

And then we were in the home stretch, and we were this close to being like, she can do it. I think she’s pretty close to being able to go on to 2nd. But her reading and writing akills are lacking and the jump between 1 and 2nd is HIGE in terms of work and what you need to know. We thought with the last several months she might be able to pull it off.

But now? There’s just no way for so many reasons. I don’t feel like explaining them all. Covid made the decision for us and it’s going to suck for her in many ways and be good for her in many ways. It is what it is.

[mythicallore]

A Famous Case of Truly Frightening Entities

Hauntings truly run the spectrum of the weird. You have some that merely involve moving objects, others that entail roving apparitions of some type, and still other more malevolent case that have reports of physical violence and assault revolving about them. Then you have the truly frightening accounts that involve all of the above. One of the most terrifying hauntings in history seems to have settled down on one very unfortunate family in the 1970s, involving a group of specters with an inclination for violence, mayhem, and even rape, and which would go on to become one of the most ghastly incidents of paranormal activity on record.

The story of one of the most frightening and violent hauntings of all time starts in 1974, with a single mother by the name of Doris Bither, who lived in in Culver City, California, with her four children. The family had moved here from Santa Monica in order to try and start a new life after a string of abusive relationships that Doris had been in, and to try and escape her demon of alcoholism. It was a rough time of things, as Doris had barely enough to raise her four children, all born of different fathers, and they were a broken family living in dirt poor conditions, but things would soon get worse still, when something decidedly dark and paranormal came calling.

It started rather creepily enough, with an elderly woman who came over one day shortly after they had moved in to tell Doris out of the blue that she had once lived in the home and that it was evil, before wandering off to never be seen again. So far, so eerie, but it would prove to be almost prophetic. Not long after this, there would be instances of classic poltergeist activity, such as lights turning on and off, objects moving on their own, and anomalous noises, all of which were witnessed by all of the family members. Then things graduated to the more frightening when apparitions would start appearing.

At first it was just glimpses, a shadow figure moving across the living room here, a movement in the periphery of the vision there, but it got steadily more intense, and even neighbors began seeing these things around the house. The figures that were seen started to take shape, appearing as fog-like humanoid shapes that would move about or merely sit in the corner and simply watch. In an interview with Ghost Theory, Doris’s middle son, Brian Harris, would describe them thus:

It was never clear. When they would make themselves known, it was always like a fog. Like a human…but not quite. It was like a sculpture. Like a chiseled body. Not a full figure, but at times we could see some of it. At times, it would be annoying. We would be watching television and these things would walk by. Like nothing. We were so used to the poltergeist, that we just got to a point were we wouldn’t even care.

It became increasingly clear that there were more than one of the entities as well, either 3 or 4 of them, depending on who you ask, although Harris has said that there were 4. This spooky paranormal activity, although at first scary but mostly harmless, would not stay that way for long, soon becoming increasingly terrifying. Not content to just mill about and cause mischief, the entities began to lash out at the family, pushing, shoving, hitting, and even clawing or biting them, and this would happen at all hours, even in the middle of the daytime. Harris would say:

We all experienced some form of attack. There was the pushing, biting and scratching being done to us. There were about 4 entities in the home, and they made themselves known by appearing all the time….I think it took a lot of energy for them to do that. It was as if they [the four entities] showed themselves whenever they felt like.

Although he said there were four of the specters, Doris herself would later claim that there were only three, but the true number was- too many. Even more terrifying still was that the entities began to actively target Doris the most vehemently, and it went from simple pushes, scratches and bites to full on assault, with the ghosts even allegedly holding her down and raping her with abandon. This would often happen in the next room while the terrified children listened to the bangs, thuds, and their mother’s desperate screaming as they cowered in the shadows, but it also sometimes happened right in front of their eyes, and Harris has described these spectral attacks thus:

The whole rape thing was real. My room was right next door to my mother’s. I would hear the attacks happening. Things being thrown, her screaming. Then she would come out of the bedroom and have all these bruises. On her legs, her inner thighs. There were times were we would see it happen in front of us. It was like if a man was standing in front of my mother and would start to beat her. Imagine a woman being beaten. You could see her being picked up and thrown around. Sounds, slaps…but there was no one there to actually do it. We all felt it too. pulling, biting and scratching…we were all attacked.

These viscious attacks and sexual assaults went on unabated, with the apparitions appearing without warning practically every day and night, and it got to the point where the family was desperate for anyone to help them. The biggest of the entities even gained a creepy nickname for himself, “Mr. Whose-it.” Doris took it upon herself to approach paranormal investigators and parapsychologists Kerry Gaynor and Dr. Barry Taff, who were intrigued by her harrowing tale to say the least, and went about arranging a full investigation into the claims. They would not be disappointed.

The team moved in for their investigation on August 22, 1974, thinking at first that there would not be much to this all other than a seriously disturbed young woman. The first thing they did was take a look at the myriad bruises, scratches, and scars that she had all over her body, especially along her inner thighs, allegedly inflicted by the entities and which proved to be far more savage and severe than they had expected. She gave them additional information on the attacks by saying that there were 3 of them (despite her son’s claims that there were 4), and that the two smaller ones would hold her down while the bigger one raped her.

Intrigued, but not yet sold, the investigators set up their equipment in an effort to gather any evidence at all of a haunting. When this was done, they had Doris go into one of the rooms where the most activity had been occurring and told her to start yelling and cursing at the unseen entities, trying to draw them out. Almost immediately there was intense orb activity captured on the equipment, with spots of light flitting all over the place like angry bees. After this Doris was seen to be enveloped by a greenish mist, followed by the materialization of what appeared to be the upper torso of a man, which hovered there in the mist and was apparently so terrifying that one of the investigators fainted. This torso could not be captured on the equipment, but there is a photograph of Doris with a strange arc of light appearing over her.

This sort of intense paranormal activity would could continue virtually unabated for the next several months of the investigation, including apparitions, mysterious lights, temperature drops, horrific mystery odors, and moving objects. It was even noticed that the invastigators’ presence actually seemed to anger and irritate the entities, and it was also found that playing music by the metal group Black Sabbath also seemed to cause an uptick in activity, making it all stronger, but then it suddenly started winding down and stopping altogether for no discernible reason.

One of the photos taken during the investigation

In later years, Doris would move her and her family to other places on several occasions, but according to her each time the entities would follow her wherever she went, although somewhat weaker than they had been. She would even claim at one point that she had been impregnated by one of the spirits. Although her case had become quite well-known at the time, Doris herself would drop off the radar for years before finally succumbing to cardiac arrest in 1995, leaving us no further along as to what happened to her than when these supernatural forces first targeted her.

What exactly happened to this poor woman and her family? What sort of spirits or entities targeted them and why? That would depend a lot on who you ask, but according to Taff himself, it has nothing at all to do with ghosts or spirits as we imagine them. Taff is convinced that the phenomena were caused by the subconscious human mind lashing out to affect the world around it though psychokinesis, the ability to move objects with the mind. In his theory, this is all the result of various factors coming together to cause the mind of a victim to reach out to wreak havoc on the outside world, most often without their awareness that they are even doing so. So insistent is he that this is the case, and that such hauntings are caused by the projections of living beings rather than demons or the ghosts of the dead, that he has expressed disdain for these “paranormal” ideas, saying:

I don’t, for one second, believe this is the work of dead people throwing living people around. As there are no academic credentials required for anyone to go out and investigate the paranormal. Every new age groupie is out there looking for demons, emulating the garbage they’ve seen on cable TV paranormal shows. To fully comprehend the possibility that a living person’s subconscious mind can involuntarily generate such power as to manifest luminous anomalies, apparitions, and macroscopic psychokinetic events, is for me, far more compelling than if a discarnate intelligence was responsible.

The evidence and collected data suggests these effects are the result of what’s called Recurrent Spontaneous Psychokinesis (RSPK) There’s two types of psychokinesis (moving physical objects around without physical means). There’s microscopic, which works on very small scales, things like affecting random number generators, random event generators, and moving subatomic particles around. It’s usually electrostatic-based, fatigue in the individual is shown, as it’s done on a conscious level. And then there’s macroscopic, what we call ‘poltergeist,’ and that’s a whole different ball of wax. We’re talking about the ability of moving very massive objects, hundreds of pounds easily. It’s done on a subconscious level, as there is no fatigue seen in the person at the core of it. Like the microscopic type, it’s believed that the phenomena are generated by a living human agency.

Taff has used this explanation to explain a wide range of what are traditionally considered to be “paranormal phenomena,” which he has compiled into a book called Aliens Above, Ghosts Below: Explorations of the Unknown, which takes the approach of trying to explain all of these disparate phenomena with possible real world rational solutions. Others disagree, and say that this was some sort of demonic presence, a trio of ghosts up to no good, or just the delusions of a fractured mind. It has never been solved either way. Whatever the case is remains to be seen, but in the meantime the Doris Bithers story has gone on to become one of the most frightening and controversial accounts of a haunting on record. So famous and noteworthy is this mysterious case that it was made into a 1983 Hollywood film based on these events called The Entity, starring Barbara Hershey and directed by Sidney J. Furie, and which is loosely based on the real events. What was it that terrorized this family so violently? We may never know for sure.

[wazjunz]

Owlboys

Raelene touched Gordon gently on the shoulder.

“Gordon, you’re hyperventilating,” she said quietly.

Gordon’s hands wrung at the steering wheel like he was squeezing water out of a soaked towel. Raelene could see beads of sweat forming at his temples.

“Is this the place?” she asked. Her voice was calm, steady; like a psychologist’s should be. Gordon nodded, staring past her down into the field. Raelene followed her patient’s gaze.

“Can you see the owlboys now?” she asked. Gordon’s eyes flicked to hers, irritated.

“Do you think I’m experiencing psychosis Raelene?” he snapped. “Have I had a schism? Am I detached from reality?”

Raelene was shocked, though years of practice allowed her not to show it. She’d been a mental health practitioner in a metropolitan hospital for twenty years. She’d certainly handled more extreme behaviours than a snippy comeback, but for gentle, intelligent, thoughtful Gordon, this was a sign of extreme stress.

Gordon took a deep breath and dragged his fingers though his grey-brown hair. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine,” she replied. “You’re really scared aren’t you?”

Gordon laughed nervously.

“I’m so scared,” he replied.

Raelene believed him. She’d made a career out of believing people. She joked that it was her one real marketable skill. She’d figured out pretty quickly that being a good psychologist wasn’t rocket science. People just want to know they’re not crazy. They want someone to say, “I believe you." Raelene had spent two decades of her life doing everything she could to deliver those three words to patients before someone else (usually a Doctor or a Nurse or even another psychologist) messed up royally by saying anything else. A lot of the people who came through emergency as mental health admissions had been sexually assaulted. Raelene saw first hand that for people who had just been through a major trauma a misplaced ‘are you sure?’ in the place of ‘I believe you’ could break someone’s spirit almost as badly as the assault itself.  

She never even thought about going into private practice until after her divorce. Her ex-husband was an arse, but he shared her work ethic, so they owned their own home and had savings. Starting again was relatively easy. Raelene told her colleagues that she had every intention of staying on at the hospital, but at the same time she bought a small house in a misty little rural valley an hour out of the city. She resigned a few weeks later. Her little house had an artists studio out the back that would be a perfect home office. Raelene was only in her 50s, and had spent most of her divorce money on her new home, so she still had to work. Her adult son reluctantly build her a website, rolling his eyes the entire time. He’d inherited his father’s belief that everything Raelene did was annoying and slightly stupid.

Her first private clients were painfully boring. After twenty years of dealing with crisis day-in-day-out, three ladies her own age with long term, but highly functional depression didn’t do much for her in terms of mental stimulation. Business didn’t really pick up until she got a call from a farmer on a neighbouring property. He was a tough looking 40-year-old family man who probably hadn’t been to a GP for twenty years. He seemed out of place in her little studio, surrounded by indoor plants and comfy cushions, wound up tighter that a rubber band.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t really believe in counselling or whatever, but you aren’t allowed to tell anyone what I say to you right?”

Raelene assured the farmer that the only reason she would break confidentiality was if someone’s safety was at risk. That seemed to satisfy him.

“I saw a big hairy man in the bush on my property,” he blurted.

“He must have been eight feet tall and built like a brick shithouse. He just stood in the tree line about forty metres away from me, watching while I filled a horse trough with a hose.”

His voice was shaking. Raelene looked him in the eye.

“I believe you,” she said.

He came back twice more. She asked him how he felt about what he’d seen, how he coped when he woke up dreaming about it, and then about his life more generally. At the end of his third session he told her he felt a bit better just telling someone, and that he didn’t think he’d need to come back again.

Word must have spread somehow from there. Raelene started getting calls from otherwise normal people who claimed to have seen or experienced something they knew no one would believe. She saw a high school science teacher who was convinced aliens had put a microchip in her arm. She met with a family who claimed an angry poltergeist was noisily opening and closing their kitchen cupboards at 3am every night. Two distraught parents came to her with their little girl who claimed her imaginary friend bit her on the arm. The parents said she’d screamed so loud and long that they rushed her to the hospital. Raelene seemed to have accidentally cornered the market on healthy, average people who needed to tell someone about an unexplainable, socially unacceptable trauma. She told them all the same thing.

“I believe you.”

Just like at the hospital, that alone seemed to help the most. Some people she saw regularly, their visits morphing from ghosts and monsters into the usual concerns about their life and relationships. Others dropped their strange experience on her lap and never returned.

Gordon came to her about a year after the farmer. She liked him immediately. He was exactly ten years older than her, slender, with thick wavy hair and smart, smiley, dark brown eyes. He used to be an academic, and now worked for a publishing company, proofreading textbooks. He spoke quietly but clearly, laughed easily and often, and always insisted on showing Raelene videos of his grandchildren on his smartphone. He also believed that mysterious, sinister beings called ‘owlboys’ were stalking three generations of his family. 

Gordon was visibly nervous the first time he came in. He had a little leather satchel with him, and he held it on his lap like a shield, but it didn’t take much to get him talking.

“I’m a somewhat disturbed,” he told her. “Not mentally. I mean...not clinically. But I’m worried about something, and I don’t want to tell anyone because I know it sounds mad.”

Raelene nodded, for him to continue.

“I guess I didn’t think much of it until I found my grandfather’s diary,” Gordon continued.

“I’ve always been a little bit jumpy, and I tend to have bad dreams a lot, especially when I’m stressed. One dream has been recurring since I was a child. I see these odd, um, creatures or beings. They just show up in whatever regular dream I’m having, standing at a distance, or leaning out from behind a tree or a door frame. They never attack me or anything but there’s a feeling about them that gets to me. A sense of…doom I guess.”

“What sort of beings?” Raelene asked. Gordon rubbed his chin.

“To me they always looked like fuzzy rectangles with big black eyes,” he said. “But there’s something really wrong about them that I can’t describe. Something about the way they move. I’ll see them in a dream, and then for the next few days I have that experience where you think you see something out of the corner of you eye, but you look again and it’s not there. I just put it down to an overactive imagination…until I found the diary.”

Raymond reached into his satchel and pulled out an antique leather book.

“This was my grandfather’s,” he said.

“It’s mostly really dull farming stuff, but there are three entries that made me think I’m either going crazy, or there’s something weird going on.”

Gordon explained that his grandfather was one of the first landowners in this valley, and ran a large cattle farm in the early 1900s. Gordon’s own father, Roland, had grown up on the farm, and Gordon had spent the first few years of his life there too, before his family moved to another part of the valley. There were three yellow post-it notes poking neatly out of the diary. Gordon turned the pages to the first note and looked at Raelene. She gave a little nod, and he began to read.

“This one’s dated August 1, 1929,” he said.

“Saw something in the far paddock today. The largest owls I had ever seen, gathered in the centre of the far paddock, in the gully. I estimated them at four feet tall, with black eyes the size of saucers. There was something very peculiar about the way they moved.”

He flicked to the second post-it.

“August 1, 1937. Roland saw the strange owls in the far paddock today. Said he was too frightened to get a closer look. Could not tell if they were people or animals. Called them ‘owlboys’ because they looked like little boys but with owl faces.”

He jumped to the final post-it, speaking more quickly now.

“This one is the first of August, 1940 and it’s mostly about a fence falling down and chasing stray cows around the property,” he explained. “But then he writes, ‘Owlboys in the far paddock. Came back in early.’ The diary goes on for another decade, but he never mentions them again.”

Gordon snapped the diary shut and looked at Raelene expectantly.

“I think the fuzzy white rectangles I’ve been seeing my whole life might be owlboys,” he said. Raelene didn’t reply.

“Did you notice the thing that the entries had in common?”

Raelene wasn’t really a detail person. She had no idea what Gordon meant.

“August first,” he explained. “Every time they saw the owlboys it was August first. I think the owlboys, whatever they are, visit that spot every year on the same day. I only got the diary in November last year, after dad died, so couldn’t do it last year, but this year on August first I’m going to that spot to see if they’re there. I want you to come with me as a witness.”

Raelene had agreed to go with Gordon on the condition that he come and see her once a fortnight for the six months to August. He’d agreed, and had quickly become her favourite patient. They talked about his grandfather and his father, his career, his wife, his own children and grandkids. Of course, they also talked about the owlboys. Gordon was convinced they were real. Maybe not flesh and blood creatures, but real, intelligent beings nonetheless. He burned through a number of theories as the weeks went by. At first he thought they might be native spirits of the valley, angry at his forefathers for clearing a sacred spot to graze cattle. Then he decided the whole ‘owl’ thing might be an alien cover-up, citing the big black eyes, and a number of obscure books he’d dredged up that talked about alien abductees having weird memories of giant owls, supposedly revealed (under hypnosis) as ‘screen’ memories’ intended to cover up an abduction. As the date drew nearer he began to err towards the owlboys having something to do with his family specifically, but he wasn’t sure what.

He’d seemed oddly calm when he rolled up to her house in his neat Volvo station wagon on the first of August, but as he drove her up into the hills on the North side of the valley towards the area where his grandfather’s farm used to be he’d become increasingly agitated. By the time he pulled the car to a stop on the little ridge with a view down into the gully on their left he was breathing fast and strangling the poor steering wheel to death. Raelene put her hand on the door handle. Being in the car with Gordon’s huffing and puffing was starting to stress her out too, and she needed some air. Gordon’s hand shot out and grabbed her firmly on the shoulder.

“Don’t get out,” he whispered. “I’m getting that feeling. The doom-y feeling.”

Raelene turned to look at him. She was about to tell him he might be making himself lightheaded, and to try and slow his breathing, when something white in the trees behind him caught her attention. She leaned to look past him for a better view of whatever was there. Time slowed down. She could hear her heart pumping in her ears, but all other sound seemed to have stopped. Her brain was trying to desperately to explain the input from her eyes. She almost thought it was a child because of the size, but the body shape was wrong. It could have been a person in a costume, but no, the eyes were too real. They were huge, and black and so deep. Whatever it was kept swaying side to side, partially behind a tree about 30 metres into the bush. There was something completely unsettling about how it moved.

“Gordon, what is this,” she whispered.

Gordon had swung around to follow her gaze into the bush.

“Where, I can’t see,” he asked shakily.

“There! Right there!” she shrieked. “Can’t you see it?” Gordon scanned the bush frantically.

“I can’t see a thing,” he said. “What is it?” Raelene ignored his question and grabbed his arm hard.

“Get us out of here, now!” 

Gordon threw the car into drive and made a quick u-turn. For a terrifying moment, this swung Raelene closer to the being in the trees. She shrank down in her seat. The thing had stopped moving but it’s eyes followed her as the car picked up speed down the hill. Now it was her turn to hyperventilate. Gordon barely slowed down through the curves towards the main road.

“Did you really not see it?” Raelene was frantic now. “Gordon tell me you saw it too.”

Gordon glanced across at her and shook his head.

“I couldn’t see anything,” he said.

Raelene put her face her hands and let out a little moan. She felt Gordon’s left hand rest gently on her shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s OK… I believe you.”