#i used up more than half of tonight's 10 minutes sketching nothing great

[babygray]

A rough sketch before bed.

[excelsi-or]

your type (pt. 6)

Hiiii friends, it’s only been like two weeks! Pretty good in terms of posting for me lol. I don’t know what it is about this story in particular, but I feel so self-conscious about posting new parts. But I’m also not someone who likes to leave things half finished.

I hope you’re all doing well :) 

BIPOC recs: I actually have a few! Two books: Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 - Cho Namjoo (basically follows a woman’s life in South Korea and all the micro-oppressive things that women face in their personal and career lives); Winners Take All - Anand Giridharadas (a non-fiction about how billionaires create such a disproportionate world for us all; I love listening to Anand’s talks about this subject. I find it fascinating). Music: Cross Country - Breland (excellent country song); Boyz II Men - Kirby (I love this woman’s energy)

w.c. 2.6k

pairing: jihoon x OC/reader

pt. 1; pt. 2; pt. 3; pt. 4; pt. 5

The summer semester has her in the research lab 8 hours a day. Luckily, Jihoon is also on campus for just as long. His professor got him a gig working on music for a few groups in various companies. It helps get his foot in the door, and while the deadlines are tight, he genuinely enjoys working.

They take their lunch breaks together, wandering the green or just wandering hallways if it’s too warm outside. But since he doesn’t have other classes, Jihoon’s been chatting with a few girls he’s met.

And he’s told her all about them, so she isn’t blindsided if someone else decides to share it with her.

“How was your date last night?” she asks at lunch.

Jihoon shrugs. The girl had come over since Seungcheol was at Jihyo’s. “She was whatever.”

She lifts an eyebrow, eating the sandwich that Seungkwan made for her lunch. She’s now taken to spending the night at Seungkwan and Hansol’s when Seungcheol visits.

Jihoon sighs. “Jiwoo was uninteresting.” When she has no response to this, he pouts. “She didn’t really have any opinions on anything, so we couldn’t find anything to talk about.”

“But you didn’t just go for dinner.”

“She was fine in bed.” Jihoon shrugs. “Didn’t really tell me what she liked, so hard to say how she felt about it.”

“Ahh.”

“What does that mean?”

She pops the rest of her sandwich in her mouth. “I don’t really know how to continue from that.”

Jihoon snorts. “Well, you’re the one who asked.”

She thinks for a minute. “Are you just saying she was uninteresting?” She kicks him lightly under the table. “Did you listen to her?”

“Of course I did!” Jihoon sips his coffee. “You said that I need to look at people more,” he makes a point of staring at her, “and to be aware of my body language because it comes off as standoffish.”

“And still?”

“All she talked about was her dog. I love talking about people’s dogs, but not for two hours.”

“Dinner was two hours?”

Jihoon shakes his head in frustration. “The kitchen kept getting the order wrong. Anyway, enough about my failed date, how’s your research going?” He pushes a napkin towards her.

She pulls out the pencil she was using to hold her hair up. Her hair cascades around her and she begins sketching out her reaction. While Jihoon hasn’t quite learned all the chemistry terminology, he recognizes various things, specifically the compounds she’s working on. She’d taught him some basics about catalytic testing, using drawings to help him follow along.

Multiple times she’s insisted that her research is really boring, especially for people who aren’t in science. But Jihoon likes listening to her talk, and her research lets her dominate the conversation. He asks questions and clarification, and she’s always great at simplifying things.

Jihoon has learned that her amazing attention to detail translates well to analyzing his songs. And she’s always very honest about the parts she likes and doesn’t like.

“I have some finished works I want your opinion on.” They start to clean up their table.

She glances up at him. “You don’t have a date tonight?”

Jihoon waits for her to fall into step with him. “I do, but I also have deadlines. So, if you’re not tired later, meet me in the studio?”

She waves goodbye to him. “I’ll let you know where I’m at.” She waits for him to exit the building before going to put her earphones in. As she’s heading to the stairs, she sees Seulgi heading towards her. They cross paths in the chemistry labs, but have never been on real speaking terms.

She smiles at Seulgi, about to go around her like normal, when the woman asks, “Are you and Jihoon dating?”

Despite her earphones in, she does hear the question. She turns. “Uhm, no.” She pauses and Seulgi says nothing. “Why?”

“I just…” Seulgi gives her a once over. “You seem too nice to be dating Jihoon.”

She’s taken aback by that observation. While Jihoon has given off the hot-cold vibe, player energy, and a slight lack of communication skills, she can’t say Jihoon’s ever warranted a comment like that. “We’re just…” She tries to come up with a word. “We’re just friends.”

“You’re smart.” Seulgi seems to mull something over. “But smart girls like you have fallen for his charm.”

“Like… you?”

“Once, but I’m not talking about me here. I’m talking about my friend.”

This piques her interest more than she wishes it did. Jihyo has warned her against listening to all these testimonials of women dating Jihoon.

“Maybe you just need to give the man a solid chance. If you’re gonna spend all your time with him anyway.”

Against Jihyo’s advice, she asks, “What happened to your friend?”

“Jihoon broke her heart. He doted on her and from the sounds of it, worshipped her, but then all of a sudden, he went cold. Stopped answering messages, stopped picking up the phone, avoiding her in the hallways. Then he said—”

“‘I’m ignoring you now, please leave me alone?’”

Seulgi tips her head. “Have you talked to Wendy?”

She runs her tongue along her bottom teeth. “No. I haven’t.”

“So how did you—?”

“I met another girl he’s dated. And… he’s a creature of habit, so… figured he’d say something similar.”

Seulgi hums. “Well, Wendy refuses to see any other man now. But she’s fine, mostly. We just can’t mention Jihoon around her. So, just…”

“Be careful?”

Seulgi chuckles. “So you’ve heard the warnings before?”

“A couple times.” Under her breath, she mutters, “Maybe I should heed them more.” She gives Seulgi a friendly nudge as she walks away. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Is everything okay?”

Jihoon received her text around 4:30, saying that she wasn’t feeling well and would go straight home after she was done in lab.

“Yeah, I’m just… I think I’m getting sick.”

She had seemed fine when he saw her.

“Okay, I’ll walk you home then.”

There’s a long pause. “I actually caught up with Taehyung, Jungkook’s boyfriend? He said he would walk me home.”

Jihoon turns in his chair at this odd development. “Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll… see you tomorrow then.”

“Bye.” Almost like an afterthought, she adds, “Sorry.”

Jihoon turns back to stare at the pieces of work he has open in the task bar that he wanted to show her. Instead, he closes them and goes back to work.

Time passes without him realizing. Before he knows it, it’s time for him to meet up with Ara. He glances at the clock, thinking.

Jihoon (19:14)

Meet me at the gym?

Jihoon (19:14)

Hey, don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight. Caught a cold.

Soonyoung (19:15)

Sure. See you in 10.

Mingyu (19:15)

I’m in.

Ara (19:15)

If I didn’t know better, I’d assume you have another woman in mind.

But okay.

Get well soon, babe.

True to their word, Mingyu and Soonyoung meet him at the gym near their homes. Soonyoung leads the way inside and they go stretch while Jihoon disappears to change.

When he reemerges, Mingyu asks him what’s wrong.

“She cancelled on me.”

“Who?” Soonyoung is stretching on his right.

Jihoon crosses his right arm across his body, feels the stretch in his upper delt and across his arm. He updates them on what’s happened in the last 7 hours, from lunch, to her saying she’s sick, to Ara.

Mingyu frowns. “I didn’t realize you two were still going on dates. I thought you’d already gotten to the… dating part of dating.”

“Wait,” Soonyoung seems to realize something, “are you seeing other women right now? We cannot win this bet unless you commit!”

Mingyu observes Jihoon in the mirror. He has a dazed look in his eye, as if he’s thinking hard about something. “You actually like her.” He turns to Jihoon. “You’re genuinely upset that she didn’t come to the studio.”

Jihoon wasn’t really frowning before, but he is now. “No. I’m not.”

“Wonwoo hyung said that he thought you were seeing other women again.” Mingyu turns back to the mirror. “I said that couldn’t be possible, because you don’t like to lose.”

“Can we just work out?” His tone is harsh, but his friends hear a small plea in there too. They exchange looks over Jihoon’s head and shrug.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Soonyoung nudges him towards the free weights.

It isn’t until after their gym session on their way home that Soonyoung and Mingyu begin grilling him.

“Are you seeing other women right now?” Mingyu asks.

“Well…” Jihoon adjusts his bag on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

Soonyoung and Mingyu’s jaws drop.

“Dude. The bet.” Soonyoung gives him a push. “What if she finds out?”

Jihoon watches his feet move beneath him. “She already knows.”

“She knows? And she still goes out with you?” Mingyu demands. “Are you guys just friends?”

Soonyoung groans in frustration. “Seriously, Jihoon, bets are serious business. We went all in on this bet. You can’t just let Seokmin win a bet like this.”

“What happened, hyung?”

The question seems to release something in Jihoon. He throws his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know. I really don’t. She just… holds herself at a distance from me. I can’t seem to…” He makes grabbing motions in the air. “Get anything out of her.” He shakes his head. “Maybe we should just give up here. I don’t know if I can win this bet.”

“Yah!” Soonyoung throws an arm around his shoulders. He squeezes his arm. “I am not losing to Seokmin and Seungkwan on a bet that I know that we can win. You are the best at this.”

“She’s just as good at keeping me at a distance. And apparently she’s also had men castrated before.”

Mingyu and Soonyoung blink in surprise at the sudden information.

“Okay, well, we’re not going to let that happen to you,” Mingyu states.

Soonyoung agrees. “But you’re going to have to start pulling out al your moves. You—”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Listen to me. I have been at this since February. The girl won’t even let me kiss her.”

Mingyu scoffs. “You haven’t even kissed her yet? You guys are just friends.”

Soonyoung holds a hand up in Mingyu’s face. “You are not being encouraging.” He readjusts his grip around Jihoon. “Look. We’ll help you then. Lee Jihoon doesn’t tap out like this.”

“You said she canceled on you.” Mingyu tips his chin in Jihoon’s direction. “Why?”

“She said she was sick and found someone else to walk her home.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen. He releases his grip on Jihoon to get a better look at his face. “That’s it?”

Jihoon scowls. “Did I not tell you that I haven’t even kissed her yet? I eat lunch with her every day and then I walk her home.”

“Are we in the 1700s? What the fuck?” Mingyu demands.

“I can’t work out what makes her tick. She tells me stuff about herself, but nothing I can use. All I’ve learned is that she’s one of the smartest people I know, reads a lot, paints, and can give me actual feedback on my music.”

“Oh, come on, that can’t be all you’ve learned.”

Jihoon sighs, racking his brain for more information. There are obviously little things he’s noticed, like that she drinks a shit ton of water; that when she thinks something’s amusing, she lets out a little breath of laughter; or that she presses down on her fingers with her thumbs when she’s nervous. But he can’t share these things. They aren’t useful.

“I’ve learned she hasn’t really dated anyone since Byunggu. That she doesn’t even count that guy as a boyfriend so Jungkook is the last man she dated.”

“Byunggu… why do I know that name?” Soonyoung looks to Mingyu.

“Because he’s the guy who’s either been threatened, murdered or castrated,” Jihoon grumbles.

Soonyoung waves him off. “No.” He reaches behind Jihoon to hit Mingyu’s arm. “Isn’t he that guy who debuted last year?”

Mingyu’s brow furrows.

“He stopped coming to parties because he was filming some show or something, remember?” He pushes Mingyu, as if that will jog his memory. “He was one of your girls’ friends. Remember? She wouldn’t stop talking about him? That’s why you dumped her?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Mingyu pulls his phone out and looks something up. When he turns the phone to Jihoon, Jihoon squints at an article about this man who is currently doing small roles in various dramas. He doesn’t recognize the face. But until this point, he’d never seen any photos of this elusive ex. A debut would explain why he disappeared into thin air.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?” Jihoon pushes the phone away. “She clams up as soon as he comes up.”

“Okay, okay. Forget trying to replicate the men of the past.” Soonyoung says. “Just… be you.”

Jihoon stares at him in disbelief. “She doesn’t like me.”

“She must, because she’s spent a lot of time with you, hyung.” Mingyu sips from his water bottle. “Noona only gives certain people her time, if you haven’t noticed. Her girls, Hansol, Seungkwan, Wonwoo hyung these days.” He shrugs. “If you’re spending so much time with her, she likes you at least a little bit.”

Jihoon bites his tongue, annoyed that they’re right. “I’m only going to give this another month. If I can’t get this girl into my bed, then there’s no way she’s going to say ‘I love you’ first.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” Jihyo asks.

The two roommates are having a night in, watching a movie but talking the entire time with take out on the table.

She came home looking preoccupied, so Jihyo forced her to put on her pajamas, pick what sort of take out they would eat, and to bundle up on the couch. Then she forced her roommate to tell her what was wrong.

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s a sign that two different women have told me I should be careful?” She pouts. “I don’t want to feel like I need to tread carefully.”

“I don’t know what Jihoon was like with those other girls, but he likes you. I know what a guy looks like when all he wants is to get you into his bed. That look on Jihoon’s face when he sees you is pure adoration.”

She carefully breaks apart a cookie before popping a piece into her mouth. “If anything, Jihoon’s just a friend.”

“A friend who adores you. Who you also seem to like.” Jihyo nudges her with the back of her hand. “You can’t go around thinking every boy is going to hurt you like Byunggu.”

“I don’t think that. Why would I think that if I don’t even give them a chance to try?”

Jihyo snorts, both amused and frustrated. “Jihoon is putting in the effort with you. You didn’t even give him your number for like a month and a half. And he still made it work.”

“I did that to keep him away from me.” She rolls her eyes, a slight smile on her face. “So, thanks for helping him out with that.”

“You still hang out with him.”

“You know, he’s seeing other girls now.”

Jihyo pauses. “Really?”

“He tells me about them. He had a date yesterday. He has one tonight.” She shakes her head. “I think it’s just better for me if we stay friends.” She notices Jihyo on her phone. “What are you doing now?”

“Asking Cheollie if Jihoon’s home.” Jihyo turns her phone her way, grinning. Seungcheol had sent a picture of Jihoon next to him on the couch. The two seem to be playing video games. “Give the man a chance. You don’t know what kind of boyfriend he can be if you don’t.”

[route22ny]

(The following was published in the Sun-Times on Oct. 9, 1970, and is reprinted with the permission of Chaz Ebert and Rogerebert.com.)

While “digesting Reader’s Digest” in a dirty book store, John Prine tells us in one of his songs, a patriotic citizen came across one of those little American flag decals.

He stuck it on his windshield and liked it so much he added flags from the gas station, the bank and the supermarket, until one day he blindly drove off the road and killed himself. St. Peter broke the news:

Your flag decal won’t get you into heaven anymore;

It’s already overcrowded from your dirty little war.

Lyrics like this are earning John Prine one of the hottest underground reputations in Chicago these days. He’s only been performing professionally since July, he sings at the out-of-the-way Fifth Peg, 858 W. Armitage, and country-folk singers aren’t exactly putting rock out of business. But Prine is good.

He appears on stage with such modesty he almost seems to be backing into the spotlight. He sings rather quietly, and his guitar work is good, but he doesn’t show off. He starts slow. But after a song or two, even the drunks in the room begin to listen to his lyrics. And then he has you.

He does a song called “The Great Society Conflict Veteran’s Blues,” for example, that says more about the last 20 years in America than any dozen adolescent acid-rock peace dirges. It’s about a guy named Sam Stone who fought in Korea and got some shrapnel in his knee.

But the morphine eased the pain, and Sam Stone came home “with a Purple Heart and a monkey on his back.” That’s Sam Stone’s story, but the tragedy doesn’t end there. In the chorus, Prine reverses the point of view with an image of stunning power:

There’s a hole in Daddy’s arm

Where all the money goes ...

You hear lyrics like these, perfectly fitted to Prine’s quietly confident style and his ghost of a Kentucky accent, and you wonder how anyone could have so much empathy and still be looking forward to his 24th birthday on Saturday.

So you talk to him, and you find out that Prine has been carrying mail in Westchester since he got out of the Army three years ago. That he was born in Maywood, and that his parents come from Paradise, Kentucky. That his grandfather was a miner, a part-time preacher, and used to play guitar with Merle Travis and Ike Everly (the Everly brothers’ father). And that his brother Dave plays banjo, guitar and fiddle, and got John started on the guitar about 10 years ago.

Prine has been writing songs just as long, and these days he works on new ones while delivering mail. His wife, Ann Carole, says she finds scraps of paper around the house with maybe a word or a sentence on them and a month later the phrase will turn up in a new song.

Prine’s songs are all original, and he only sings his own. They’re nothing like the work of most young composers these days, who seem to specialize in narcissistic tributes to themselves. He’s closer to Hank Williams than to Roger Williams, closer to Dylan than to Ochs. “In my songs,” he says, “I try to look through someone else’s eyes, and I want to give the audience a feeling more than a message.”

That’s what happens in Prine’s “Old Folks,” one of the most moving songs I’ve heard. It’s about an elderly retired couple sitting at home alone all day, looking out the screen door on the back porch, marking time until death. They lost a son in Korea: “Don’t know what for; guess it doesn’t matter anymore.” The chorus asks you, the next time you see a pair of “ancient empty eyes,” to say “hello in there ... hello.”

Prine’s lyrics work with poetic economy to sketch a character in just a few words. In “Angel from Montgomery,” for example, he tells of a few minutes in the thoughts of a woman who is doing the housework and thinking of her husband: “How the hell can a person go to work in the morning, come back in the evening, and have nothing to say?”

Prine can be funny, too, and about half his songs are. He does one about getting up in the morning. A bowl of oatmeal tried to stare him down, and won. But “if you see me tonight with an illegal smile — It don’t cost very much, and it lasts a long while. Won’t you please tell the Man I didn’t kill anyone - just trying to have me some fun.”

Prine’s first public appearance was at the 1969 Maywood Folk Music Festival: “It’s a hell of a festival, but nobody cares about folk music.” He turned up at the Old Town School of Folk Music in early 1970 after hearing Ray Tate on TV. He did a lot of hootenannys at the Fifth Peg and at the Saddle Club on North Avenue, and the Fifth Peg booked him for Sunday nights in July and August.

In those two months, the word got around somehow that here was an extraordinary new composer and performer. His crowds grew so large that the Fifth Peg is now presenting him on Friday and Saturday nights; his opening last weekend was a full house by word-of-mouth. He had a lot of new material, written while he was on reserve duty with the Army in September.

There’s one, for example, called “The Great Compromise,” about a girl he once dated who was named America. One night at the drive-in movie, while he was going for popcorn, she jumped into a foreign sports car and he began to suspect his girl was no lady. “I could have beat up that fellow,” he reflects in his song, “but it was her that hopped into his car.”

***

Copied from today’s Chicago Sun-Times following the news of John Prine’s death. Roger Ebert’s 1970 discovery of Prine and the subsequent review (above) jump-started the musician’s career. The Rolling Stone retrospective of Prine’s career is here, and well-done.

[miracleboiz]

Making a Home Ch. 10

Kita Shinsuke had experienced a lot in life. He had been raised with his grandmother, a loving foster parent and for some time he followed in her foot steps before finding his own path. He thought his foster care license had expired before getting a call at three am with two small boys thrust into his arms. Miya Osamu and Atsumu, from broken homes but still fighting. Thirty days before his license expires. Thirty days to make a choice, keep the boys or let them be separated into different homes. Thirty days to fall in love with them.

Words: 3k

Relationships: Gen

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, non-graphic abuse

Not from Kita, but it is mentioned. I will post any warnings before any panic attacks or vague descriptions of abuse.

Read below or on AO3

Shinsuke didn’t look up as the doorbell rang again, letting Oikawa move past him to greet whoever had come in. Instead he and Osamu had Azumane on his knees in the back corner office while Osamu did his best to braid a ribbon into the long stips. Azumane still looked a little traumatized from having a four foot tall child run up to him and yell the question at him to braid his hair.

“Are you sure… This is highly unprofessional.” Azumane said, glancing up at his boss.

Shinsuke was moving the drawings on the back wall to clear up more space and barely gave Azumane a quick flick of his eyes before he was shrugging. He didn’t say that as long as Osamu was smiling he would let him do anything, he didn’t think it needed saying aloud.

“My store, my rules. And I think you’re meeting the dress code just fine.” Shinsuke hummed, trying not to laugh at Azumane’s defeated sigh.

“We have a dress code?” Sugawara’s voice made Azumane whine a little louder as the silver haired man crouched down to offer Osamu a new clip to slide into the braided ribbons before moving to the thread wall. Azumane gave him a look of despair as the butterfly was quickly added to his hair, Shinsuke only felt a little guilty that it was probably starting to get unnaturally heavy. Not nearly enough to stop Osamu though

“Yes, it specifically states not to wear anything Oikawa considers to be good.” Shinsuke turned, ignoring the laughter that broke from Sugawara as the pounding of feet reached him. Seconds later Atsumu burst through the gateway.

“ ‘Samu! I’m getting married.” The words made Shinsuke drop the drawings immediately as he scrambled to understand what was going on. He twisted to stare open mouthed at Atsumu, completely speechless as the child rushed at his brother and skittered to a stop in front of him.

“Why?” Osamu looked as confused and terrified as Shinsuke himself felt. Atsumu either didn’t notice or didn’t care because he just held up a box with a bright oversized grin.

“ ‘Cuz if I marry him then I get all the cookies always!” Atsumu chirped, eyes wide with wonder and delight. Shinsuke slowly turned his head to blink at Azumane and Sugawara, both of them were already looking to him for answers.

“Akagi…” Shinsuke called, letting his eyes fall shut as he heard Akagi’s squeaky answer from outside of the back office. He moved around the boys, pausing only enough to brush Atsumu’s hair down from the wind, and looked to find Akagi attempting to hide behind a rack.

“I left you alone with him for…” He glanced at the clock and then back over. “An hour and a half. And now he’s getting married?”

Akagi looked momentarily ashamed before shrugging and holding up a box of baked goods. He smiled pleasantly over the box, attempting to flutter his lashes sweetly but it did nothing against Shinsuke’s annoyed glare.

“It’s not my fault.” Akagi whined, pitching his voice up and making a few customers glance over. He quieted when Shinsuke’s eyes narrowed but his pout only grew stronger as he huffed.

“I didn’t tell Shinji-kun to give him an extra muffin. He just did it and said he liked Atsumu’s shirt, then Atsumu was declaring their engagement to everyone. I thought I was going to have to fight Takahiro-kun for his son’s honor.”

Shinsuke watched him before sighing and glancing back at the twins. They had joined Azumane on the ground and were currently sharing pieces of muffin with him while Sugawara finished grabbing the fabric he’d actually come in for.

“I think Asahi’s already planning the wedding outfits,” Sugawara said breezily as he moved past and back to his customer.

“I’m not making enough money to deal with all of you at the same time.” Shinsuke said softly, wondering if this was going to be his life. 

Running after Akagi to keep him from accidentally traumatizing Shinsuke’s kids, or worse teaching them things to traumatize all of the adults in their life. Meanwhile, Sugawara had found Oikawa and was currently harassing him with a perfectly innocent smile while he tailored a customer’s pant leg. Azumane had grabbed his tablet and was sketching something out while Atsumu was being taught by his brother how to continue the endless braids on Azumane’s head.

In all honesty, a life like this… was a good one. The feeling was sweet, winding in Shinsuke’s stomach as he watched the scene and he wondered if that was why his grandmother had never given up on foster care. Children weren’t necessary for his life to be happy, he was happy before they had arrived and if they left he would still find his life fulfilling and what he wanted. Yet, they brought something new, something light that Shinsuke was hesitant to give up. He could nurture them, protect them, help them grow and the option was more enticing by the minute.

“Oh shit you’re smiling… I’m going to die… Goodbye my sweet ‘Mimi, goodbye my muscular boo Aran, farewell my darling nephews- Shinsuke where are you going? You know my dramatic monologue needs an audience. Don’t make me download TikTok to get attention, you know I’ll do it.” Akagi called softly as Shinsuke took the box of treats before turning and walking away, a fondly exasperated smile playing on his lips. Shinsuke raised a hand to dismiss his remarks, ignoring the whine that rose up.

“Go help one of the customers, I have kids to watch.” Shinsuke said, slipping into the office to watch Atsumu finish his first braid. It was terrible and unbalanced and Shinsuke was proud of him.

“Hey, did you want to meet the others and bring them their muffins?” Shinsuke asked the two of them, holding up Akagi’s box in explanation. Both of them lit up, smiling brightly as they nodded and reached their hands up eagerly for Shinsuke to take them.

The day passed rather quickly, especially after the length of the day before, and as seven o’clock hit Shinsuke was flipping off the last light in the shop. Azumane and Sugawara had left only a few minutes before and Akaashi had escaped a few hours ago. Oikawa was still on the phone with someone but he gave Shinsuke a thumbs up and mimed locking the door as he passed.

Atsumu had already snuck back into the house and was curled up on the couch with Kitty as he played through ‘Spyro’. Osamu on the other hand, had decided he was in charge of Akagi for the day and was enjoying bossing him around.

Still, Shinsuke hadn’t expected to walk into the office between the two buildings to see Akagi on the floor and Osamu in front of him. Osamu was doing his absolute best to explain how to draw a flower for a card and Akagi was either intentionally harassing him or genuinely had no idea what he was doing. Shinsuke watched from the doorway for a moment before deciding it was a little bit of both.

More than a few doodles decorated the floor, markers and crayons laying beside both of their knees while they leaned over Akagi’s current project. Each one was decorated with rather… adorable characters for ‘cheer up’ and ‘you’re doing great’. Shinsuke honestly had no idea what it was for or why Osamu was making Akagi make them but as long as they were having fun he wasn’t going to say anything.

“No, no, you have to make petals- Shinsuke-san!” Osamu chirped as he felt eyes on his back and turned to see him. He grinned, a bright and free smile, and pointed at Akagi who was still just drawing lines on his paper.

“We’re making cards for Azumane! So when he gets scared he can look at these and know it’s okay!” Osamu explained and Shinsuke’s heart melted. He moved over, gently mussing the hair and trying not to give in to the urge to kiss his head.

“That’s great, Osamu. Will you be helping me with dinner tonight as well?” He asked, heart swelling at the way Osamu’s eyes lit up and the child twisted to grab ahold of his hand.

“Can I?”

“Of course. But you need to clean up all of this before we can. So why don’t you help Akagi clean up and then we can get started?” Shinsuke offered and Osamu nodded. He turned to Akagi, hands on his hips.

“C’mon Oji-san! Let’s get this taken care of! Then I can show you how to cook so you’re not hungry anymore.”

Shinsuke laughed softly, making his way inside as Akagi insisted he knew how to cook. Between himself and Osamu, Akagi might actually leave the country with basic knowledge to feed himself instead of eating out constantly.

Shinsuke glanced over at the couch as he walked in, noting Atsumu’s curled-up position. As attached to his brother as he was, Atsumu hadn’t really branched out much and didn’t seem to connect with people as well as his brother. Even with his comment about marriage (though Shinsuke still thought it was rather cute he had forgotten that money was a thing that he could use to buy pastries and instead skipped straight to marriage) he hadn’t brought up Shinji-kun or the bakery again all day.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” Shinsuke asked softly, waiting for Atsumu’s nervous glance and jerky head nod. “Thank you, Atsumu… Can I check on your cheek?”

This time Atsumu fully froze, pressing the pause button on the game. His eyes darted to Shinsuke before he slowly nodded his head, anxiety clear in his gaze. Despite seeming to finally relax and branch out, Atsumu wasn’t actually asking for what he wanted. Instead he was letting his brother lead them around and following along happily with whatever adult offered him something.

Shinsuke moved closer until he could gently tilt up the child’s head, looking over the dark purple skin carefully. Atsumu’s eye didn’t seem affected by it and it was healing well for only being the second day. Though Shinsuke could see that it was slightly swollen, the skin around it pink and irritated like someone had been prodding it.

“Does it hurt much?” Shinsuke asked as he pulled his hand back with a quiet thank you.

“I’ve had worse.” Atsumu said and Shinsuke noticed he didn’t answer the question. Atsumu turned his head away as Shinsuke tried to look closer, a frown on his own lips.

“Atsumu, were you touching it?” He kept his voice light and gentle so Atsumu wouldn’t think he was in trouble. Regardless the child flinched subtly, fingers grasping the controller tighter.

“The… the people in the shop… kept staring…” Atsumu confessed after a few heartbeats, shaking slightly. “I wanted to make them go away but… It just… made it worse…”

Shinsuke stared at him for a moment, feeling guilty for not noticing at all. Of course Atsumu would have been self conscious about his face especially with the memory of how it happened so fresh in his memory. 

“Why didn't you say anything?” Shinsuke regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Of course Atsumu hadn’t said anything. He didn’t know he could trust anyone yet, it was only the second day there was no way he would have warmed up so quickly with his past.

Atsumu froze, shaking slightly and Shinsuke realized he was trying to hold his breath before he started crying. His mind blanked for a second before he rapidly told himself to calm down and instead focused on Atsumu.

“I’m sorry Atsumu. It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me things, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise…” Shinsuke started but it was clear that it wasn’t helping when Atsumu shook again with a ragged breath. “Atsumu…”

Shinsuke licked his lips, trying to think of how to calm him down before Osamu and Akagi finished. He didn’t want Atsumu shutting himself off to everyone to keep his brother happy and he definitely didn’t want Osamu to pick up on his brother’s panic and leave him with two anxious kids to calm down.

“Atsumu,” he started again letting his voice soften until it was near a whisper, “it’s alright. I’m sorry they were staring at you, next time you can come back inside if you want. I’m sorry I didn’t notice, I should have been there to help you. I’m very sorry I didn’t protect you.”

Atsumu’s gaze shot to him, once, twice, three times. The tiniest tears were forming at the edge of his eyes at his panic before confusion started to build instead. His mouth moved without words, and his eyes danced around the room. His fingers tapped at the controller for a moment before he finally seemed to be able to come back to himself.

“What…” His voice was a whisper and Shinsuke regretted not watching his words better. “Why… Why are you sorry?”

“Atsumu, it scared you right? Made you upset that they stared?” Shinsuke waited for the inevitable nod before continuing. “I should have stopped that but I didn’t realize it was happening. It’s my fault for not protecting you… Atsumu… A parent is supposed to protect you, I should have let you know you were allowed to leave earlier or let you know you could have stayed right next to me. And for that I’m sorry. The bruises on your face won’t go away by poking at them, they’ll just hurt worse and now it’s because I failed you. I’m sorry, Atsumu. I hope you can forgive me.”

Atsumu wasn’t able to speak, he just stared at Shinsuke. Choked noises came from his throat but no words escaped as he looked on with confusion and anxiety. The child swallowed, looking away a second later before rapidly nodding his head.

The only other time any adult had ever apologized had been when Kenma-kun said sorry for his game music being loud back at the police station. No adult had ever apologized to Atsumu for messing up and certainly none of his foster parents had ever bothered to ask him to forgive them.

Atsumu had no idea what to do with the knowledge or how to act. Did he say yes? Did he hug Shinsuke? Did he say sorry back? Cry? Smile?

He put the controller down slowly beside him, biting his lip as he turned to look more fully at Shinsuke. His foster parent actually looked remorseful, like he did really feel bad for not noticing Atsumu’s problem. Atsumu wasn’t really sure how to tell him that he was good at hiding it, and he had a feeling that would just make Shinsuke sad again. After all… Parents were supposed to love their kids right? Being hurt would make a parent sad and Shinsuke had said...

“You… Said...parent…” Atsumu said softly, flinching internally as Shinsuke blinked at him. He meant foster parent, of course he did. Atsumu shook his head, shoving away the hope and the heartache that was taking its place.

“It’s okay…” Atsumu said quickly as Shinsuke opened his mouth to say something. “Really… it’s okay. I… I… I’ll leave, next time.”

Shinsuke hesitated, wanting to push further but this wasn’t a teenager. This was a scared six year old who didn’t have the tools or the emotional maturity to talk through all of this in one sitting. They’d have to work at it. Together.

“Only if you want to.” Shinsuke murmured, tilting his head to look at the bruises again. “I’ll go get an ice pack for the swelling alright?”

Atsumu nodded, letting his gaze fall to the couch when Shinsuke left. He should have known better than to think Shinsuke actually thought of himself as their parent. He must have meant whichever parents decided to adopt them, if any did.

Yet….

Shinsuke-san was kind, was it bad of Atsumu to wish Shinsuke was his parent? That Shinsuke would decide to keep them after all instead of passing them off like a baton? Was Atsumu a bad person for not wanting Shinsuke to be disappointed in him for being weak? Was he betraying his future parents by wanting Shinsuke to stay with him and Osamu?

He jumped as he felt Shinsuke sitting down again, looking up to see him offering an ice pack in one hand and… The fish crackers that Atsumu had asked for at the store.

Shinsuke’s blank face softened and Atsumu was starting to realize that Shinsuke wasn’t blank so much as… quiet. You had to look further than just his frown to know what he was thinking.

“You didn’t eat much at lunch since you ate so many muffins, so I thought you might like them.” Shinsuke explained as he reached forward and placed the ice pack gently over Atsumu’s bruise. Atsumu shook slightly, the words escaping him again but Shinsuke didn’t seem to mind as he ruffled his hair.

“Are you okay? You just have to nod or shake your head, okay?” Shinsuke said, the corners of his lips lifting as Atsumu nodded his head and moved to hold the pack on his face. Shinsuke pushed off the couch after opening the box, turning back towards the shop.

“I’m going to go see what’s taking Osamu and Akagi so long okay?” He explained, moving a few steps towards the door. He glanced back when a soft noise came from Atsumu, taking in the blinking eyes that lingered on the spot beside him.

Atsumu didn’t want to be alone again. Part of him hated it, he’d only had Osamu for years. Why was it different now? Part of him wanted to call Shinsuke back, ask if he was allowed a hug… Ask if he could stay a little while longer so Atsumu could pretend Shinsuke cared about him more than the money, more than because a friend asked. So Atsumu could pretend a little longer he was wanted.

“Hey Atsumu?” Shinsuke called, waiting until he glanced up to make sure he heard. “After dinner, would you be okay with showing me how to play that minecraft game?”

Atsumu’s eyes lit up immediately and he nodded, the barest hint of a grin growing on his face. Shinsuke couldn’t help but smile back, finally turning to look for his wayward sons that probably were covering his walls in paint. 

They had some more work to do. A lot more work really, but Atsumu was smiling and Osamu’s laughter was echoing from the office. Shinsuke couldn’t help but think that this was a very good life.

[voldemorthatesnose96]

Colors In Silence

Chapter 3

Chapter 2 here

Chapter 1 here

Disclaimer : just wanting to remind you all that English is not my mother language. Sure, I’ve been learning it my whole life but when it comes to grammar, I admit that I’m very much lacking. So if you find any grammatical errors, I’m more than happy to know. You can always knock on my dms <3

I can’t stop looking at my phone. It has been 3 days since I saw Robbe and there’s no text from him whatsoever. We exchanged numbers after that lunch and, let me tell you that it was one of the best moments of my life. The food was great, our conversation was amazing and I finally learnt about Robbe’s life; he’s an only child, divorced parents but both still respect each other very well and sometimes they even go on vacations together, been deaf since he was only 6, doesn’t want to go to college because it’s too tiresome and later his Dad open the flower shop for Robbe to feel at peace and make his own money, met his girlfriend named Gia in the supermarket when he was helping her to reach the top shelf and they’ve been together for over 2 years now (I gulped loudly when he ‘told’ me this. 2 years is a fucking long time!!!).

All these memories, I can’t help but miss him right now. I need to see him but what if he’s with her? What if he’s on vacation with her, like Hugo and Violet?

Screw Gia. Text him NOW!

You win this time, brain.

Apparently my longing is far more superior than my guilt. Feels like my fingers are already know what I’m supposed to type :

Robbe, how’re you? It’s been 3 days since we saw each other and... well, if you’re free, can we meet again soon?

And without another pause, I send it. Now the most infuriating part is starting; waiting anxiously.

Hang on.

I’m not being too creepy or demanding with that text, right? What if he’s gonna hate me because of it? What if he doesn’t want to see me again? What if...

Before my brain is making up another scary scenario, my phone beeps. I immediately open it and almost scream when Robbe replies :

Hey, sorry for not texting you. I just thought maybe you’ve been busy with your project and stuff; don’t wanna disturb, y’know. I’m good but yesterday Gia was being a little difficult, we even had a row :/ but ofc we can meet but maybe the day after tomorrow? My parents are going to take me to watch a play out of town tonight and we’ll be going home tomorrow. Wdyt? :)

Can’t contain my excitement, I quickly reply :

No problem! Any day is fine! But if you don’t mind me asking, what’s going on with you and Gia? Are you okay?

I’m not asking on how she’s doing because I don’t give a damn and even if I know her personally, I still don’t want to give a damn. Maybe I’m a bit mean but after reading what Robbe said about them lowkey being not okay and even arguing, my heart is swelling with joy.

His reply comes 5 minutes later :

It’s okay. So, I forgot that yesterday was our anniversary because the shop has been so busy, I even had to ask my Mom’s friends to help me sort that out. At 10 pm, when I just wanted to close the shop—being DEAD-ASS tired, there she was; stomping and giving me a death glare. She was half-screaming “I WAS WAITING FOR 3 HOURS, ROBBE! DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASING IT IS FOR A GIRL LIKE ME, IN A FANCY RESTAURANT ALL ALONE AND CRYING IN SECRET?! YOU DIDN’T EVEN READ MY TEXT! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU???” but the funniest part is she didn’t even let me explain and said “know what? Screw you! I hate you! Leave me alone! Don’t even bother to say sorry!” instead. So I just stood in front of my shop, with people staring at us and a second later, Gia walked away from there, crying *smh* but there you have it. My oh-so-touching love story. Feel free to cry or laugh.... or both -_-

I’m sorry, Robbe, but I do laugh after reading your text. Whoa, I can’t comprehend why a girl go feral when her boyfriend forgets their anniversary. To be fair, Yoona never remembered our anniversary, nor did I; though I still remember how we met. We met at the school cafetaria when she asked me to swap her pasta with my mango pudding and because she gave me such a radiant smile, I couldn’t say no. Therefore, after lunch was almost over, I approached and tried to talk to her; the rest is history. Oh by the way, we’ve dated officially after 3 times going out together. A year later, Jonah happened and we were going downhill fast.

But I don’t need to talk about her any longer. She’s happy with him now and I’m already falling in love with someone else—a very special person if I might add.

I’m sorry that happened to you but I can understand how scary a girl can be hahaha. Maybe going out of town with your parents tonight can lift up your mood :)

Robbe replies :

Tbh, I’d rather spend the night with you. You can cheer me up like no other, honestly.

My breath legit stops for a minute because of that text. Did he actually.... OH MY GOD! He’d rather spend the night with ME? ME?!?!

Lord, if you’re really there, I need your help not to send a risky text to him, showing him that I want that too. No, I need that.

Just say what you wanna say, Sander. If he can be blunt, you also do that.

I really do hate how my brain works sometimes but today, I do what it told me to. Twice. So I type :

The feeling’s mutual, Robbe. *sigh* if only we could see each other right now, that’d be great. Don’t you think?

He replies :

I do think so but I can’t, yet. So I’m looking forward to our next meeting. Where do you wanna go?

To be honest, I don’t even know. If I say that I want to go to the art gallery, I’m scared that it’ll bore him, if I say that we better watch the new movie at the cinema then it’ll be too mundane. I’ve never been this stressful about going somewhere when Yoona and I were still together.

I don’t know. Any ideas?

He replies :

You decide this time, not me :) I’ll wait until tomorrow. Okay?

I smile while typing :

No problem. Challenge accepted

He replies :

Well, gotta go. Need to pack for tonight. But you have to impress me with your choice or I’m never going out with you again. Bye for now, Sander. P.S : I’ll text you tomorrow, don’t worry. Ciao!

“Have fun, Robbe.” I say softly to my screen, pretending that he can hear it from here.

It feels really good to finally be able to look forward to something. To see Robbe again. Even though we can’t meet today or tomorrow just yet, at least he said that he would text me again and that thought alone makes me happy and content.

Because I’m feeling delirious, I run to the art room and immediately start to sketch one thing that comes into my mind while thinking of Robbe—a tulip. Even though I’m not an expert or as good as Robbe but because I’m an artist who’s often drawing or sketching some flowers, I do read books about them. To be frank, I only remember the meaning of the popular ones like sunflower, peony, rose, orchid and not the ones like what Robbe gave me the other day; larkspur and all that and I don’t understand why it happens.

Most people declares their love for someone using roses, especially the red one. But I’m different. I always like tulips among all flowers. The way their colours can lit up the whole field, very vibrant and pleasing; not too dramatic but not too subtle either. That’s exactly how I felt when I saw Robbe’s smile for the first time. It warms my heart and also sends chills down my spine. Maybe it was love at first sight.

But before my thoughts can go any further, Dad’s voice greets me.

“Son?”

“It’s me, Dad.” I reply without looking at him, hand still sketching.

I hear his feet approach and stop beside me, his eyes are examining my art.

“Why a single tulip?”

Of course I can’t tell him the truth, so instead, I say, “I just wanted to.”

He becomes silent for a while before continuing, “something happened to you while I was gone?”

My hand stops instantly, my body goes rigid. Is there any indication or a slightest reaction from me that tells him why I’m doing this thing? Oh God, no.

“Son?”

I shake my head, “nothing happened.”

“You can’t lie to me, Sander,” he answers, sighing. “I know how you feel by just looking at your arts. You can always tell me what’s wrong.”

That’s it.

That’s the last straw.

I had enough!

”STOP ASSUMING SHITS ABOUT ME!” I retort. “All those years you carved me into something, into someone just like you! I know that I never complained but you NEVER asked me what I want or what I need! Since Mum died, you never acted like a proper parent for me but a teacher. Just a mere teacher. To be honest, Dad, I always feel like an orphan. You don’t even know when I’m sick, whom I hang out with, where I’m going except the Art School and so many other things. But NOW you suddenly came here and even had the audacity to tell you what’s wrong with me? Okay, I’ll tell you what’s wrong, I’m falling in love with a boy. A BOY—and yes I’m aware that I’d been dating a girl before but this time is different. To make matter worse for you, Dad, I’m a Pansexual and I fully realised that when I was 11,” I stop to take a breath. Dad’s face still looking stoic but also sad, somehow. I can’t take this anymore. I need to leave. “Know what? I don’t give a shit whether you’re gonna be disgusted with me or not because of that. I’m done! SCHLUSS!”

And with that, I walk out from there without looking back and close the door loudly behind me.

[jilyyall]

Animal Magnetism - Ch 2. Jacob Black.

Edward Cullen was not a normal teenager; of that I was certain. But knowing that did nothing to stop the pull I felt towards him. And if what he was saying was any indication, he felt some strange pull towards me, too. It was like we were magnets struggling against hope to stay apart. I only wondered what would happen when we inevitably collided.

Chapter 2. Jacob Black. Fanfiction.net / AO3 Intro/1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/

"Are there any cute boys in Forks?"

I made a face at my phone and had the benefit of watching my best friend Madison laugh at me. It was Friday, which made it a whole entire week since Renee and I had shipped out from Phoenix to Forks.

She clearly took my reaction to mean that there weren't any cute boys around but, in all honesty, a certain face came to mind at her question. Edward Cullen, who had looked ready to murder me at lunch on Monday, wasn't in school for the rest of the week. I was beginning to think he had transferred out, but I figured something like that wouldn't stay secret for long in a town this small. His siblings were all at school every day, sitting at that same lunch table. I knew because I had made a habit of checking. Purely for my own physical wellbeing, I tried to tell myself. Because I needed to know if I was going to have to spend Biology next to a boy who hated me for no reason.

In reality, I just wanted to see him. There was something about him… I looked at the eerily lifelike sketch of his face I had made on my Government syllabus on that first day. He was beautiful. He was alluring. Apparently, he wanted to kill me. I wanted only to see if that was true. Maybe I had imagined the whole thing. Maybe he was just a normal boy who had gotten ill and left school early and was still recovering. His father was a doctor… maybe he was just a very thorough doctor.

"Hello? Bella?" Madison sang, drawing out the words in a pretty, taunting melody. "Don't tell me you're already crushing on someone."

"No!" I insisted, my face going bright red. "I was just thinking… there are a couple guys at school who I think like me."

"Nice. And which one will you be dating?" she asked.

"None of them!" I laughed just picturing it. "There's this guy named Mike… super boyish looks… blond hair, blue eyes… he's pretty popular. I don't know, maybe he's kind of cute… not my type. Anyway, this girl Jessica, I guess we're kind of friends now… she's half in love with him. He keeps walking me to class and going out of his way to talk to me and be on my team in Gym."

"Wow, he really does like you if he's willing to put himself in harm's way just to be near you," she snickered.

I ignored her, and quickly continued. "Every time he comes to talk to me, I bring the conversation around to Jess. If she's around, I try to just shove them together."

"Ultimate wing woman, as ever," Madison said with a giggle.

"Speaking of, how's Conner?" I asked. Conner was a good friend of mine back in Phoenix. His best friend Dylan was dating Alana, one of the girls we hung out with and at first they had tried to set me up with Conner, but there was nothing there but friendship. My last few months in Phoenix, I was working on getting Conner to ask out Madison, who thought he was really cute.

"Oh, you know… we're going out tomorrow," she said nonchalantly.

I gaped at her. "Wow. Way to bury the lead."

"I know! I've been choking it back ever since you called!" she squealed.

"When did he ask you?" I said.

"Yesterday!" Even if I couldn't hear the excitement in her voice, it was plain as day on her face. "I wanted to call you right away, but I decided to let it marinate."

"Wow," I said. "That's great."

"Bella, what's wrong?" Madison reined in her excitement with some effort, to study my face closely.

"I just miss you guys," I said with a weak smile. "I miss the sun."

"Even though it burns the crap out of you in three seconds?" She said, referencing the reason for my alabaster skin.

"It's better than being wet constantly," I grumbled.

"Well, at least it sounds like you're making friends!" Madison said, trying to cheer me up. "Hey, who's the other guy?"

My mind immediately went to my mysterious, handsome Biology lab partner, who I had yet to actually meet, but I knew she couldn't be talking about him. "What other guy?"

"You said there were two boys who liked you, but you only mentioned Mike," Madison said.

"Oh. Well, there's this other guy named Eric. We only have one class together, and lunch. He and Mike are friends… only the kind of friends who seem like they hate each other half the time? I don't even really sit near him in English, but he always tries to walk with me to class, and then he started sitting with us at lunch on Wednesday," I told her.

"Is he cute?" Madison asked.

"He's uh… Well, Eric is very… nice. He's a very nice guy," I said diplomatically, but Madison laughed, clearly understanding that I meant no, Eric is not cute. At least, not in my opinion.

"Bells!" Charlie called loudly up the stairs. "Billy and Jacob will be here soon!"

"Do you have to go?" Madison asked, pouting.

"I guess so. Sorry," I smiled sadly. "Dad's friend and his son are coming over."

"Ooh, cute son?" Madison asked.

"Mads!" I laughed, shaking my head. "There are more important things than cute boys!"

"That has yet to be proven," Madison said primly, then raised an expectant eyebrow. "Is he?"

"Um. I haven't seen Jacob Black since we were both kids, so how would I know?" I said, and then frowned. "I think he's only fifteen."

"What's two years, if the boy is cute?" Madison said.

I rolled my eyes.

"Bella!" Renee called.

"Go," Madison said. "I have to start getting ready anyway."

"I thought your date was tomorrow."

"It is," she said, and I could see that she was standing up from her bed now, starting to move around her room. "We're all going to that state fair tonight, remember?"

I did remember. It had originally been my idea to all go together as a group. Then my parents had sprung the move on me. I forced myself to smile by the time Madison turned her attention back to me.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "Have fun!"

I could see by her frown that I hadn't fooled her. "Bella…"

"I should go before my parents yell at me again!" I said. "I'll talk to you later!"

With the click of a button, her face disappeared from my screen. Suddenly, I was feeling more depressed than ever about this move. All of my friends back in Phoenix were going off tonight to have fun at the fair that I had wanted to go to.

"Bella!" Renee called from just outside my door. "If you're not down here in five minutes…"

I tossed my phone on the bed and crossed my room to fling the door open before my mother could think of a suitable threat. It probably would have been another generic 'you will regret it' anyway.

"Oh, honey," she said, her expression fading from stern to sympathetic when she saw my face. "What happened?"

"We moved to Forks," I said, trying for deadpan, but even I could hear the slight venom in my tone. Knowing I should apologize and explain myself, but not really wanting to, I slipped past Renee and down the stairs.

Jacob Black, as it turned out, was a pretty cool kid. He lived with his dad, Billy, down in La Push on the Quileute Reservation. Billy was one of the tribe elders, and he was also Charlie's best friend. Apparently, they used to go fishing a lot, but as far as I could tell, this was the first time they had gotten together in a while.

Jacob was nice, and sweet, and effortlessly funny. He acted like we were old friends instead of two teens thrust together by their fathers. Really, we kind of were old friends, but when you hadn't seen a guy since we was eleven and you were thirteen and your clearest memory of him was the two of you making mud pies together, you could be forgiven for thinking the reunion could be a little awkward.

"Hey, Jacob?" I said.

We were washing dishes together after dinner while our parents were catching up in the living room with a few cans of beer.

"Yeah?" he asked.

He was two years younger than me, but he was maybe an inch or so taller than me, and his thick black hair about as long as mine and hung in a long, straight ponytail down his back; the end of it swished as he moved around the kitchen putting away dishes after I'd washed and he'd dried them.

"How come Billy and my dad haven't seen each other in a while?" I asked.

"Caught that, did you?" he said with an embarrassed laugh. He sighed and shook his head when I only nodded and watched him expectantly. "Well, it's kind of a weird story."

"I can handle weird," I said, more curious than ever.

"Ah. Well, have you met the Cullens yet?" he asked as he rearranged the dishes in a cabinet so that he could fit another bowl. "They're a family who moved here a couple years ago."

"Yeah, I know them. Well, sort of. I go to school with the kids," I said awkwardly, wondering why everything had to circle back to Edward Cullen. "Haven't actually met them yet."

"Well. There's this legend. Down on the Res," he said haltingly. "It's stupid, I'm not supposed to talk about it."

I saw that the back of his neck and the tips of his ears were flushed and considered. Was this yet another boy who might like me? Or was this just a kid embarrassed by his tribe's superstition?

"I can keep a secret," I said, trying for the flirtatious tone that Sasha, a friend of Madison's, used often to get boys to do her bidding. It sounded awkward on my lips, forced and unnatural and horribly fake, but Jacob turned to me with slightly wide eyes. I looked back down at what my hands were doing in the soapy water, partly to hide my face from Jacob and also partly so that I didn't accidentally cut myself or break anything.

"Okay, well… the Cullens just don't have a very good reputation down on the Res," he said carefully. I could tell he was leaving something out, but I didn't trust myself to be able to pull off that flirtatious tone again. "People think they're strange."

"Well, can't argue with that," I said quietly. I dried my hands when I was finished washing the dishes, and leaned against the counter to watch Jacob finish drying and putting them away. "But what does that have to do with Billy and my dad?"

"Well, I guess my dad warned Charlie about them," Jacob said slowly, and I got the feeling he was measuring each word carefully. "Said they might be dangerous, and that he ought to keep an eye on them."

"Are they dangerous?" I whispered, thinking of Edward's murderous black glare and unprovoked hatred.

Jacob shrugged and shot me a pained grimace. "I don't know, Bella. Not in Charlie's opinion, and he's police chief, so it's his job to know if someone's dangerous."

"Jake, you ready to go?" Billy said from the doorway. I could tell by the way he was looking at us from his wheelchair that he had heard enough of our conversation to think his son had already said too much.

"Sure, sure," Jacob said, hurriedly putting away the last plate. I could see that he knew his father had caught him, but he didn't seem too worried about it as he smiled at me and said goodnight.

"Don't be a stranger, Billy," Renee said, leaning into Charlie's side when he wrapped his arm around her on the front porch. "And you, Jacob. You're welcome over for dinner anytime."

"Thanks, Mrs. Swan," Jacob grinned.

"Renee," she corrected.

"Careful what you offer. Jake here could eat a whole horse," Billy warned as Jacob lifted him into the passenger's seat with more ease than any fifteen year-old should, and folded up his wheelchair to stow in the back of the car. Charlie pretended not to notice when Jacob climbed in behind the steering wheel.

"Yeah, well, maybe Jake needs to be careful too," Charlie joked. "Renee has a knack for making some really inedible meals."

I smirked at that, and Renee elbowed him in the side with a scoff. He was right; Renee couldn't cook to save her life. Jacob and Billy only laughed and drove away as we waved them off.

The weekend passed slowly. Renee and Charlie went into town to look at a few properties to rent that Renee could use as an art studio on Saturday because there wasn't any room in our house for her to work. I spent much of the day texting my friends in Phoenix, and catching up on some reading for English. On Sunday, I woke up to a phone call from Madison, who wanted to walk me through her date with Conner. She went over every minute detail of the night, from her outfit to the cologne he was wearing, to the nervous kind of smile he sent her as he walked her to her door, right before he kissed her. After she finally let me off the phone, I texted Conner to congratulate him on finally taking my advice, and got back an emoji rolling his eyes in response.

And on Sunday afternoon, I headed out to the porch to see what the commotion was when I heard a monstrous rumbling outside. There, in the driveway sat a behemoth of a truck. It was red and solidly built, and in the driver's seat was Jacob Black. He jumped out quickly, probably so that Charlie couldn't actually see him behind the wheel again, though it was pretty clear who had driven as he went to retrieve the wheelchair from the bed of the truck and helped his dad out of the passenger's seat.

"Hey, Jacob, Billy. What's up?" I asked as my parents came to the door behind me.

"Bella," Charlie said, and he sounded excited. I glanced back at him over my shoulder to see him grinning at me. "This is your new truck."

"Loose interpretation of the word 'new,' Charlie," Jacob said, laughing, probably at the look of disbelief on my face.

He wasn't wrong. The truck was ancient, probably older than I was, and the paint job was nonexistent. It was red, sure, but so faded and uneven that it was almost pink in some spots, and a very light almost orange in others. And boy was it loud, but I didn't really care. It was a truck, and it was mine. It meant that I didn't have to get Renee to drive me to and from school every day, and I would never have to be dropped off in Charlie's police cruiser.

"Are you serious?" I asked. "You bought it for me?"

I knew that this was just one more thing to mark how permanent this move was, but I couldn't help but be excited. It would be nice to be able to drive myself to school every day. And I could go into town whenever I wanted, if I ever wanted. I could go to the grocery store for myself. I could even drive up to Seattle, just to get away from Forks for a day.

"Yes, Bella, it's yours," Renee said. When I turned around, she was beaming and I knew it was because it was the first time she'd seen me smile since we came to Forks. I didn't think twice as I hugged my parents, thanking them profusely, before I ran down the walkway to inspect. I slipped when my foot hit the concrete and Jacob caught me, very gallantly deciding not to tease me as he began to give me a tour of the truck.

Before they left to head back to the Reservation with Charlie in his cruiser, Jacob warned me not take the truck over fifty. When I laughed, he told me he was serious.

"I rebuilt that engine. It's sturdy, but it will die if you drive over fifty," he reiterated.

"Good thing I know a good mechanic," I told him, and pretended to ignore his pleased flush.

On Monday, I drove my new truck to school, high on the freedom of being alone. I parked in front of a silver Volvo, by far the nicest car in the lot, and hopped cheerfully out of my truck. I wasn't even annoyed when Mike and Eric both walked with me to English, and joined in on their conversation about the weekend.

The day was smooth sailing until lunch.

I had just sat down with my tray of food at my usual table with all of my new friends when Jessica leaned over, her face right in front of Mike's, to hiss at me.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you."

I paused, my bottle of water halfway to my lips, and felt terror clawing in the pit of my stomach. "What?"

"He is," Mike confirmed, frowning. "I wonder why."

I was too much a coward to look, to confirm that he was back. After an entire week, I had gotten used to his absence. It was an absurd thing, really, to be used to the absence of someone I hadn't even met. But I knew who he was, and I knew that for some reason I couldn't grasp, he hated me. Fervently.

"Does he look mad?" I whispered.

Mike and Jessica gave me twin odd looks.

"No," Mike said slowly.

"Should he?" Jessica asked with a small, confused giggle. "I mean, how badly could you have offended him? You never even met him."

"Oh, yeah," Mike said. "He was out all last week. He's probably curious about the new girl."

His grin was teasing, and he waggled his eyebrows at me so I rolled my eyes if only because I knew I should react in some way.

"He's still staring," Jessica informed us a few minutes later.

Mike went sullen again, and stopped in the middle of what I was sure was an inflated story about the last time he went surfing. When he looked in the direction of the table I knew the Cullens occupied every day, I rammed an elbow in his side none-too-gently.

"Stop looking at him!" I hissed at them both.

Jessica giggled at my reaction, but did as I asked, her gaze dropping to the table. Mike frowned, clearly not liking that another boy was giving me attention, or that I was so affected by it. I saw the moment Jessica noticed Mike's mood: the smirk slid off her face and she propped her chin up on her fist as she pushed a pile of corn indolently around her plate.

I sighed, and pushed back my chair. I didn't have the energy for this. "I'll see you guys later," I said, and walked away.

I was dreading going to Biology and having to endure the most uncomfortable hour of my life with Edward Cullen for a lab partner. Idly, I wandered the school. Lunch had only just begun, so I had a lot of time to kill. I stopped when I came to a building I'd never been in. I didn't have any classes in Building two; I didn't even know what kind of classes were held here.

Curious, I pushed open the door and walked down the hall. I peeked in the door of the first room I passed and saw a few easels set up with paint still drying on canvas. So this building held art classes. It was comforting in a way, to be surrounded by all of the things that used to litter Renee's cramped little in-home studio back in Phoenix. I walked a little further down the hall until I came to another door. Peering inside, I was surprised to find that this was clearly the music classroom.

There was a piano in the front of the room, and several guitars and other various instruments in cases I couldn't identify. I was surprised that Forks High offered music classes; it seemed like a small town high school with only four hundred students wouldn't be the type of school to support the arts.

I stepped inside, cautiously glancing around to make sure there was no one in the room, and walked to the piano. I couldn't play very well. Aside from the embarrassingly basic Happy Birthday to You and Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star, I only knew how to play a few notes. My mother enrolled me in classes back in Reno when I was about eight or nine. I made it through four lessons before I threw such a tantrum that she caved and allowed me to quit. She played a bit, but not very well. Better than me, at least. It was something that calmed her busy mind, she'd told me once. She bought a cheap, used upright when I was ten and used to sit and play poorly at night. I would tease her for her clumsy mishaps, but secretly I enjoyed sitting and listening to her play.

I sat on the bench and laid my fingers on the keys, splayed out as if I actually knew what I was doing. Quietly, I laughed to myself. What was I going to do? Play Happy Birthday? I shook my head and let my fingers smash a few keys at random, discordant notes filling the room for a split second.

A movement caught my eye and I looked up, embarrassed, ready to apologize to some teacher I hadn't met yet.

And my heart began to race when I saw him.

There, in the doorway was the bronze-haired boy from last week. Edward Cullen. I stared at him, wide-eyed, terrified, waiting to see that inexplicable hatred on his face. He stepped into the room, looked around cautiously and kept a safe distance between us. He didn't look angry. He looked confused and almost concerned.

"Hello," he said slowly. His voice was velvet on the air, soft and smooth and luxurious and as melodic as anything I'd ever heard.

Wordless, too afraid to speak, I nodded.

"I apologize. Am I interrupting?" He asked, standing rigid against the wall as far from me as he could be in this room. His guarded, almost pained expression did not match his dulcet tone.

"No," I said slowly, wondering why he was behaving so strangely.

He nodded his head and took several slow steps into the room, towards the piano and me. He looked poised to turn and flee even as he came to a halt so close to the piano that he could reach out and stroke the propped-up cover if he felt like.

The sudden return of my tension that his presence had wrought made me uncomfortable. I was sure my heart had never raced so fast. I was impossibly aware of every small movement of his body. I realized I was holding my breath, so forced myself to exhale. When I cleared my throat, he looked at me like he was concentrating really hard.

"I was just leaving," I lied.

His expression was almost completely neutral, but I sensed just the slightest edge of frustration in his gaze as he studied me. Finally, one corner of his mouth turned up, just slightly, as if he was forcing himself to smile at me. Heart pounding and hands trembling slightly, and trying to pretend I was completely unaffected by his presence, I stood, then bent to pick up the bag I'd dropped at my feet.

"Goodbye, Bella," he said as I walked carefully past him, willing myself not to trip over my own feet. I paused at the door and glanced over my shoulder. How did he know my name? Probably, I reasoned internally, he'd heard it from a classmate. He was already seated on the bench, right where I had just been, and his fingers began to move across the keys, slowly, tenderly, coaxing the most beautiful notes I had ever heard.

I looked at his face, wondering what I would see there. With a jolt, I realized he was watching me as he played, a small, accomplished smile on his lips. Flushing, I smiled weakly, and walked away.

FFN / AO3

[anne-lister-adventures]

Saturday, 2 May 1840

6 3/4

1 3/4

Very fine morning and Reaumur 10 1/2º at 6 3/4 a.m. the German woman came with butter A[Ann] wrong again because I took one instead of half a pound      surely I shall now stick to my purpose and get rid of her some way or other as well as I can 

At 10 came Hoffman for 1/2 the money in advance for the carriage doing yet he has been since Wednesday morning and done nothing at it! I would give him the money if he would give me security for having it done as he promised I said on Tuesday but it was agreed to be done on Monday evening – No! He had taken 2 Calêches to do, and the Kibitka was to be ready next Tuesday week! No! said I, I must be auge or demidieu not to be out of patience with this – Tell the man I wish him good morning – And I sent George with compliments to Mr. Chwostoff to ask him to be so good as say when he could come –

I should go out today at 1 1/2 for a couple of hours except this had no engagement – George can literally do nothing i.e. get nothing done for us – What can be the reason of it? I cannot comprehend the man he is Russian – It is not that he cannot explain what is wanted – Had George in soon afterwards about what to do with Domna – Mentioned her going to Mr. Besoc’s – Longish talk – George went to her, and brought word back that she should not like to be at Mr. B-s[Besoc’s] all the people being Georgians – What would she like? To be at the house of a Marchand here whose wife had been to visit her – Said I had nothing to say against her objection to Mr. Besoc’s – Would consult Mr. Chwostoff tonight – George to inquire into the volonté of Domná and if her volonté and mine agreed, the matter would be easy – If not, I would arrange some other way – But if she returned I saw no way but his going with her – A-[Ann] and I sat talking things over she mending gloves &c. at my elbow, I drinking raisin tea and eating the raisins being thirsty – Then wrote the last 8 lines till now 1 5/’’ – 

At 1 1/2 Hajie Yoosoof came and brought a youth with him – At the moment Madame and Mademoiselle Golovin were announced sent off Hajie and received the ladies who sat some time very civil Mr. Stadler soon came and sat more than 1/2 the time they were here, and after they went took him with us to the Gymnase for Hajie returned for us soon after 2 – 

Large handsome building 60 élèves du Gouvernement – Building 50,000/- and 3,000/- (en argent) per annum allowed in the Directeur and Master of the School only arrived about a month ago from St. P-[Petersburg] the latter had been 3 years at St. P-[Petersburg] a student before that at Charkoff – 

The Tiflis Gymmase. (Image Source)

He shewed us his translation into Russian of Romeo and Juliet, and his Baudry-Paris Edition of Shakspeare[Shakespeare] in 2 volumes large 8vo.[octavo] – Good clear print – The edition corrected by Chalmers – Well-informed gentlemanly man – Turned to Macbeth – The beginning – Aroint thee witch – The glossary explained it – Avaunt – Begone – Mentioned the conjecture of a learned Scotsman (Dr. Hunter ages ago to my Aunt Anne) – That aroint thee should probably be a rowan tree, witch – i.e. the rowan tree or mountain ash was a spell against witchcraft – Or it might mean, that the shaft of the besom on which witches rode was generally of rowan tree, and that the witch should betake herself to it and begone – But now on writing this (at 10 55/’’ p.m.) it seems to me that the conjecture was that rowan tree witch, meant, there is, or I have, or beware of, a rowantree, or spell against thy powers, and will have nothing to say to thee – 

The rooms of the Gymnase large lofty and good – And the master’s apartment very nice and comfortable – Tasted the soup the roast beef and soup the 5 boys remaining (vacance – All the rest gone to their friends to return next week) had for dinner – very good beef – Tender – Best we have tasted here – The Maître de Pension gave us chocolate and excellent Savoy Biscuits as we talked over Shakespeare – Mr. Stadler, too, at home on the subject of English Literature – 

From there to Hajie Yoosoofs house in the square Abasabad – He shewed us several dictionaries and grammars – English Richardson’s Dictionary and Sir William Jones’s Grammar and Jauberts French Turkish Grammar – At last shewed his own MS. Grammar in Persian Tartar and Turkish – Had given 29 lessons to a young Prince Tchetchevadsoff (vide the name right spelt a p.[page] or 2 back) and he could already read and speak a little Persian – Mr. Stadler as we talked it over afterwards thought our Hajie’s grammar quite on an Eastern plan, no easier to an European, nor so easy as the common method – For my part, I am no judge – But it is probable that Lord Clanricarde will not trouble himself much about grammar or asiatic society in this case – Got away as soon as we could much obliged to Mr. S-[Stadler] – 

Came in at 4 50/’’ – Sat talking – Dinner about 5 17/’’ that is eggs and barley cake and butter and a little cheese and wine and water – Had just got all sided (about 7 p.m.) when Mr. Chwostoff came and staid till 10 25/’’ – Had stood some time but we somehow got to the subject of our English Ministers and their measures and Hein came – 

Soon after Mr. S-[Stadler] came we had sent for Hoffmann who arrived too tipsy to be fit for anything ∴[therefore] sent him off – With Hein la chose s’arrangeait – The carriage to be done on Thursday or Hein to forfeit (to pay) for 55/- S.[Silver] R.[Rubles] which it is now agreed to pay – He to send the carriage back but I to pay for its going to him = 3 or 4 abasses – Does not want paying till the work is done – 

Had talked over the affair of the servants – Of leaving Domna – On C-‘s[Chwostoff’s] saying it would be best to give her so much, and let her arrange for herself, but surprised she would not go chez Mr. Besoc, I proposed giving her her wages as usual and doubling her allowance for nourriture i.e. giving her 2/- a day – Yes! That would be quite enough – And if I gave George 1/- per day for the time he had been here it would be quite enough – 

All this settled we had tea – Green exprès for Mr. C-[Chwostoff] and he probably thought it good; for he took 2 cups – Did not know of any other place (Inn) for us to be at than this – Shops here where nothing but Persian things are sold in a Georgian (Colonel in the Russian Service) here learned in the Persian language and who has just finished or is finishing – Persian Grammar and Dictionary – 

On C-‘s[Chwostoff’s] going away asked what books we could bring from England, should we return to go to Persia, that he would like – But said he was of course aware of the difficulty – All must be sent to the Censureship – He said we should get the Russian Ambassador’s seal put on the package – Box or caisse – This led to explaining the difficulty of this – Lord S.[Stuart] de R-‘s[Rothesay’s] getting our passport signed Whig Ministers &c. &c. – But inquire again as to getting the Russian Minister’s seal – He might safely give it to us – We are certainly not likely to aid the spread of Whig politics – 

C-[Chwostoff] asked to see A-‘s[Ann’s] album – heard we had beautiful views &c. &c. !!! Explained – Shewed A-‘s[Ann’s] little unfinished sketches – I wish we could se fournir de jolies dessins –

Had Domna and had just read a few pp.[pages] of vol.[volume] 3 Dubois and had just written the last 4 1/2 lines of p.[page] 181 and the last p.[page] and so far of this now at 12 10/’’ – Very fine day, but rather windy – 

Mr. C-[Chwostoff] spoke of the amazing of trotting horses in America – The Marquis of Sligo had bought 2 horses in Philadelphia that trotted in double harness 19 English miles an hour with ease – He had given 2000 dollars for one horse – But for 600 dollars one could have a good horse that would trot 19 miles an hour in harness – The American horses taught to trot from their ‘infancy’ –Could trot a mile in 1 20/’’ minutes to 1 1/2 minutes – the latter pace common enough! – I had boasted that our English horses could trot as well as the American – no! said I – now I give in – we cannot do that – a mile in 1/2 minute a common trotting speed = 60 x 2 / 3 = 40 miles an hour!!! they can beat our best blood horses at gallop – Yes! They could – I said I had once ridden 2 miles in 4 minutes and thought it a great thing and I had trotted 14 miles in an hour (the little brown Buskett mare at Skelfler) and thought the galloping in particular a great thing – But I had only gone at the rate of 30 miles an hour and American horses can trot at the rate of 40!!! – 

It seems the great Western America-going steamer is taken up by our government for the India Mail to Alexandria and letters do not now go viâ Marseilles – And by this new arrangement government would save £60,000 a year – Speaking on the head of Whig savings, I said we paid the same taxes as before the petites économies of clerks and ladies pensions &c. &c. and in a time of and after 20 years of profound peace, we still borrowed, Ministers could not make all ends meet! – 

C-[Chwostoff] said we were better off in war – No nation had gained by the peace – Nor England nor Russia nor France still in a precarious state – And we should go on from change to change till we had (such was the sense of his phrase) run the whole rig – Had just written so far now at 12 40/’’

[symbols in the margin of the page:]         ✓       ✓       +          ✓       +          +

[in the margin of the page:]             Hoffman again

[in the margin of the page:]            Gymnase

[in the margin of the page:]            Mr. C-[Chwostoff] drank tea with us

[in the margin of the page:]            Agreement with Hein

Page References: SH:7/ML/E/24/0093 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0094 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0095

[thou-crusty-batch-of-nature]

Where the moon meets the stars

Pairing: reader x sirius (house not specified)

Warnings: injuries, fluff, angst

Summary: You are Remus' twin sister and a werewolf, just like him.

GIF NOT MINE

I couldn't move. Or see. In fact, I barely heard anything apart from a quiet sob from time to time. I figured out it was a small boy.

All wanted to do was to pull him in a sweet hug. I wanted to tell him that everything will be ok. But he didn't listen.

I tried to open my eyes. I tried to scream or move, but nothing happened.

I had been staying in the same bed for days. 'Maybe I'm home', I thought. I could smell the fresh pastries that my mother used to bake. I heard my brother's laugh. I tasted the butterbeers I used to drink with Sirius. I almost felt the warm, summer breeze spoil me. I waited for someone to come and wake me up.  

But the little boy kept sobbing.

  ****two days ago****

"Aaand - it's done!" I announced happily. I took a step back to admire my work. It was a sketch of my brother and his friends lying casually near the great lake. He was reading while James and Sirius were trying to balance random objects on a very deep sleeping Peter. Snowflakes were falling from the silky veil of clouds, as if they were waltzing. 'Perfect'

"Oh thank God! I can't sleep hearing this bloody annoying scratching from your pen!" Addy exclaimed, exasperated. She and the marauders have been my best friends for six years. "Now, would you go to sleep, please?"

I couldn't. That's why I was drawing. It was the only thing that made me feel at peace. I have always been the most relaxed and sociable sibling. Or that's what everyone thought. But I was so scared of myself and the wolf within; scared of the power I had and the danger in which I put my friends every month.

"Yes, I'm coming."

***

"Y/N! Come on! We're already late!" Addy yelled, grabbing my blanket.

"Just a minute!"

I managed to get ready and in less than 10 minutes we were on our way to the great hall.

"Well if it's not the laziest, most wonderful sister in flesh and bones! And of course, Addy!" greeted Remus. I sat down next to Sirius. "'Morning," I responded lazily. I quickly devoured some sandwiches.

"What have they done to you?" James commented terrified.

"Shut up! It was either me or them!"

***

"Pssst... Y/N... Wake up!" Sirius whispered, poking my cheek.

"What? Has the class started?" I asked confused.

"Merlin, you're just like Moony! It's almost finished! I woke you up because you started snoring!" he chuckled.

"It's History of magic?"

"Divination."

"Same thing."

"Have you slept this week?" Sirius asked, concerned.

'No.' "Yes." I lied. Tonight was a full moon. This year it started growing worse; and even with the potion, I couldn't control myself.

Slowly, the class came to an end. I took my bag and slowly headed for the common room. The entire school was decorated for Christmas; mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, candles, Christmas trees and an exquisite smell of cinnamon and cranberries. I was awoken from my reverie when I heard someone call my name.

"Sirius?"

"Ello! I-I need to tell you something," he mumbled "I-"

"Pads! Here you are!" James shouted happily. "I have been looking for you! Hi, Y/N!" As soon as he had seen you, he turned to Sirius, who was blushing. "Am I interrupting anything?" Prongs asked suggestively.

"Actually-"

"No, it's ok, I will leave. We can talk later, can't we?" I decided, then left.

***

"Are you alright? Have you been listening to me? Y/N?" Addy asked. She has been trying to help me with the Arithmancy homework for the last two hours, but my mind kept wandering in other places.

"Bloody hell! It's pointless! I can't concentrate at all! All those numbers intimidate me! Look how they're waiting for me to fail!" I sighed, "Besides, I have a bad feeling regarding tonight!"

"Y/N, calm down, everything will be alright!" she sympathized, pulling me into a big hug.

But it wasn't.

***

I was there. I could see everything. Though, I was a hostage in my own body. Remus was in the shrieking shack, managing to control himself.

But I couldn't. I ran in the forest as soon as I transformed. Everything was covered in white. The trees seemed to hold the starry sky from breaking upon the ground.

They were near me. I could hear Sirius' barking from behind. Suddenly, I stopped. Rage, violence and adrenaline filled my lungs. I turned back and ran to Sirius.

'No.'

'No, no, no.' I tried to stop when I saw the black hound. I gathered all my power and I did the only thing that came through my mind.

I pushed myself in the freezing lake.

***

I felt horrible. Everything hurt.

After a few tries, I finally opened my eyes. It took a few seconds for me to realise that I was in the infirmary. I looked around. The sun was rising. Remus was in another bed, sleeping. Someone was sitting in the armchair next to my bed. 'Sirius.' He was sleeping as well. Even with dark circles around his eyes, he looked astonishing. His dark curls were falling all over his face and his hand was gently holding mine. I slowly grazed my fingers across his cheeks.

"Y/N?" he whispered slowly. "How are you feeling?" His eyes were red and swollen.

"Awful" I admitted. "For how long have I been sleeping?''

"Four days. The worst four days of my life." I tightened the grip on his hand.

"What happened?"

"You saved me, but you fell in the lake. I immediately transformed and pulled you out. James came soon after it. You were unconscious, but you were still a werewolf, so we couldn't get you inside. We tried every spell we knew, we even made a fire, but you were still freezing. Fortunately, the moon set after half an hour. We brought you and Remus here. He woke up that morning, but he needs to stay here a few more days to recover completely. Y/N - I was terrified. I couldn't stand the thought of losing you. I realised a while ago - I love you. I love everything about you; your smile, your jokes, your presence, your intelligence, your looks. And while you were asleep, these bloody four days, I couldn't help but feel like an idiot for not telling you sooner," a tear rolled on his cheek, which I brushed away with my thumb "I thought that I lost my chance." He finally looked at me.

"Just kiss me."

"Are you su-" but before he'd finished, I grabbed his tie and pulled him in a sweet kiss. He slid his hand under my hospital gown, pulling me closer.

"I love you too," I said, followed by another kiss, this time full of passion.

BONUS:

"Oi! Mate! At least don't kiss my sister in front of me!" Remus shouted disgusted.

"Oh, shut up!" I said, then threw my pillow at him.

"You know, he is right!" a voice came from the corner.

"When did you get here, James?" Sirius asked frustrated.

"Surely not when you were snogging Y/N!" Peter exclaimed, not so innocent smile on his face.

"That's completely true!" Addy insisted, "However, I've always shipped you two!"

"Get out!" I shouted.

MASTERLIST

Tags @futurewriter2000

[jackslittleavery]

Locked In Love- (Zach Herron x Reader)

 Request: You and Zach hate each other but you are friends with the rest of the boys. Eventually you and Zach are left alone one way or another and realize that you have feelings for each other. But neither of you want to admit it. The rest of the boys begin to realize and try (and succeed) to get you two to admit it. I will let you take it from there.

Summary: We loathed one another’s guts. He hated me, I hated him. We despised each other. Or so we thought. 

Warnings: Definitely cursing, a quick mention of sexual activity and a rude reader and rude Zach.

Author’s Note: I hope you guys enjoy this imagine! This was requested by @lovableherron love ya girl! And [Y/N] is a singer in this imagine.

As I alternatively rolled onto my sides for what seemed like the thirtieth time since I’ve woken up about ten minutes ago, I knead my knuckles into my closed eyes, attempting to rub the exhaustion out of my eyes. 

After a couple more seconds of procrastination against my morning necessities, I worked up the strength to throw the multiple blankets off my body, and begin my morning. Trudging my way to the bathroom, I noted that the door was locked, bringing to my attention that someone was in there. 

I gently knocked on the door and waited for a response. “I’m in here, give me a second.” I groaned in agony just hearing his voice. The voice that belonged to Zach Herron. The rudest, most disrespectful, child alive. He was extremely ill-mannered and he disgusted me. Just in case you couldn’t tell, I hated him.

I held no problems against his friends Jonah, Daniel, Jack, or even Corbyn, considering I lived with them all. But, I had so many problems with Zach.

I’ll admit we never connected from the jump, but the better I got along with the other boys, the worse our relationship turned. Every conversation I had with the boys, every time I spent the night over at the boys, was another dent engraved into our tainted alliance. So you could probably already assume that when it was time for me to move in with them, all hell broke lose.

And in case you couldn’t tell, he hated me too.

“Ugh,” I complain. “Hurry up, will ya?” I say, rolling my eyes, and making my way back to my bedroom to wait. Before my palm could completely come into contact with the door knob, I hear the bathroom door open, causing me to turn my head.

Poking his head out of the door, he squints his eyes at me before speaking. “Oh, it’s just you. Now I know to take extra long,” he smirks and closes the door behind him. “Oh, my god,” I groan, already knowing that he wasn’t kidding about taking long on purpose.

3 minutes later. 5 minutes later. 8 minutes later. 10 minutes later. 15 minutes later. Alright, now this is just ridiculous. 

I spring off of my bed and out my bedroom and power walk my way back to the bathroom that I should’ve been in a long time ago. I bang on the door, getting fed up with the selfish boy’s antics. “Dude, what are you doing, jacking off? Hurry and get out, we have to be at the studio in half an hour.” 

Right before my fist can pound the door again, it swings open revealing a fully-clothed Zach, except for his shoes. “Oh, I’m ready to go. And so are all of the other guys. You woke up a lot later than us, actually. Knowing you, you’re gonna take a million hours to get ready but don’t worry you can just take an Uber by yourself,” he smiles at me, beginning to walk away, blowing a kiss and tapping my shoulder, knowing full well it would annoy me. 

My eyes fall down to my phone, reading the time displayed on the lock screen. 12:28 p.m. I mentally applaud myself for getting ready on time, with two minutes to spare. I brush the ends of my hair out, and afterwards, walk downstairs, to retrieve my shoes to match my simple outfit.

As I slip my shoes on, I look up ahead, and notice Zach looking at me, with a slight smile sketched across his face, as a confused expression finds it’s way onto mine. As if my face flipped some switch in his mind, he quickly turns away a walks into the kitchen, where the rest of the guys were. 

You couldn’t blame me for being perplexed as to why Zach was randomly smiling at me while I doing something so simple, like putting on my shoes. But the more I think about it, the more believe that he was possibly just thinking of a good joke about me. 

Hearing my stomach growl, I settle on the idea of grabbing a quick snack before heading out. 

“Good morning,” I smile to the boys that I haven’t seen all morning. “Morning,” they say all at once, except for one person that doesn’t know manners. “Afternoon,” he says with his smart mouth, squinting his eyes at me and leaning up against the refrigerator, that I was about to look in for food.

“Can you please move from in front of the fridge, please?” I ask, trying to sound as polite as possible to avoid another petty argument. “You know, [Y/N] there’s a much shorter and politer term you could use that’s very effective for-”, he says, very sarcastically before I interrupt. “Excuse me,” I breath out, trying to rush this confrontation along. 

“Excuse me, who?” he says, planting his index finger behind his ear lobe and moving his head closer to mine. “Excuse me, Jacob.”

“Who the hell is Jacob?”

“Jacob Sartorius, please stop asking questions and just move, I’m hungry,” I say pushing him out of the way, with the rest of the four boys chuckling at my discreet insult. I grab yogurt out of the fridge before hearing Jonah call out, “Alright are we ready to go?” Once everyone responds with a “yeah”, we head outside to the car to get to the studio. 

Once I was done singing my part of the song, it was Zach’s turn to record his verse, but Daniel had other plans than to wait and listen to his band-mates recording. “Alright you two, me, Jack, Corbyn, and Jonah are gonna grab lunch. Zach, record your part while we’re gone, okay?” Daniel says, picking up his wallet from the small table in the soundproofed room. 

“What about me? I already recorded my part,” I say, silently praying that Daniel would decide to bring me along with them. “Someone has to work the soundboard while he’s in there,” he replies. 

“Why can’t Jack stay here and I go with you guys?” I pout, I really didn’t want to be left alone with the boy, it would turn into world war three. “Don’t worry, we’ll be quick,” Daniel responds to me again, kissing my forehead, for a token of good luck. 

Once, the door fully closes behind the four guys that were keeping my sanity in check, Zach turns his head to me and says, “You’re cute when you’re mad, you do this thing where you scrunch up your nose, and you put your hand on your hip, as if I’m scared of your tiny ass,” he chuckles, smirking at me watching me blush from his random compliment.

“What, do you like me or something?” I say, teasing him, knowing that he didn’t but still wanting to put his buttons. He looks up at me with wide eyes, as his cheeks get rosier by the millisecond, quickly catching himself and shaking his head in denial, “Hell no.” 

I quietly giggle at his flustered reaction to my question. The way his eyes got so wide, like he had been caught in doing something wrong and the way his cheeks turn to the brightest shade of red within seconds, it was cute. Wait, did I just call Zach Herron, cute? The same Zach Herron that I couldn’t stand just a few hours ago?

“What are you thinking about?” he asks me quietly, sitting down in the seat across from me. “Nothing,” I say, shaking my head, just like he did. “What, do you like me or something?” he says, copying my words, smirking while waiting for my flustered reaction just as he had when I asked the exposing question. 

I tried to hold it back. The blushing. The wide eyes. They all came so quickly and all at once but time seemed to go in slow motion as I kept my eyes locked onto his. 

“Hell no.”

*Back at the house, late at night*

As the night seemed as though it was coming to an end, Jack got a sudden idea that could bring the day back to life. “Let’s play Truth or Dare, guys,” he says, sitting up in his seat. I normally don’t agree to playing these kinds of games because they almost always end in two strangers kissing or even worse, but I decided to play along tonight.

After everyone agrees, Jack declares that it was my turn to go first. “Alright, [Y/N], truth or dare?” 

I thought for a while before settling on being a little adventurous and choosing to go with a dare. “I dare you to go in the closet,” Jack says, with murmurs coming from the other guys in obvious confusion. “Why, what’s in the closet?” I say, getting up anyway. “Nothing’s in the closet, just trust me,” Jack responds, gently pushing me towards the tight-spaced room. 

I close the door behind me, and listen closely at what was being said in the living room a few feet ahead me. “Alright Corbyn. Truth or dare?,” Jonah asks. 

“Truth.”

“Is it true that you want a mix-tape for your birthday?”

“Of course, man.”

“Great, now I know I don’t have to spend money on you.”

I quietly chuckle along with the boys that were sitting comfortably in living room, while I was squeezed up in this closet. “Zach, it’s your turn. Truth or dare?,” Jack asks. 

“Dare.”

“Get in the closet with [Y/N].”

“Dude, are you-,” Zach protests, but gets interrupted.

“You asked for a dare, you got one, now get in the damn closet,” Jack orders. I hear footsteps approach the door, before hearing Zach turn back and say, “Your dare is gonna be much worse, Jack, you just wait.”

The door knob turns as Zach steps towards me, my heart beginning to flutter. Only twelve hours ago, I would’ve been annoyed and irritated, but I was over the moon. Just as Zach steps inside, Jack runs up behind him and shuts the closet door. I turn my head to Zach when I hear the lock on the door turn from the outside. 

Zach puts his hand on the knob and tries to turn it, but it denies him and keeps itself locked. “Jack, what the fuck?” I yell through the door, making sure he can hear me. “I’ll open the door when you two admit to each other that you like each other.“

“What are you talking about, Jack? You’re just talking crazy at this point.” Zach says, pulling at the door knob, trying to force it open. “I heard you guys at the studio earlier today. I know you like each other, so stop this fake beef you two got going on,” Jack says, as his voice gets quieter, signifying that he was walking away from the door. 

 “I mean, he’s not wrong,” Zach says, fumbling with his fingers. “I do like you, I just didn’t want to admit it to myself I guess.” He looks down at his feet and even though it’s almost pitch dark in the room I could see his cheeks getting rosy again. 

I nod my head in agreement with him and continue from where he left off, “I thought I did actually hate you, but after we were talking in the studio today, I realized I do like you.” 

 His eyes light up when he makes eye contact with me sand he says,“If I promise to stop pretending like I hate you, will you let me take you on a date?” 

“I’d love for you to take me on a date,” I smile, before hearing a muffled “aw” coming from all the guys in the living room.

[shipmistress9]

Not one of Them - Epilogue 7: Good Memories and Two Firsts

Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3: Chapter 4

Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8

Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Epilogue 1; Epilogue 2

Epilogue 3; Epilogue 4; Epilogue 5; Epiloge 6

Alright, here it is. It took a while because I'm already writing and plotting the next story.

As promised, we go back to happy Hiccstrid here. Fluff, and smut, and more fluff, and more smut, ending with fluff again. I hope you'll like it ;)

Grinning widely about the sober notification he'd just gotten on his phone, Hiccup dug for his keys, and opened the door to their flat. And then grinned even wider when he heard a stream of unashamed curses. Swiftly, he got rid of his jacket, grabbed the bag with his shopping, and entered the living room, eager not to miss the comical display.

As expected, Astrid was walking up and down in front of the large windows at the opposite side of the room. She looked beautiful in a tightly fitting red top and that sorry excuse of a skirt, even with that disgruntled expression on her face, hands running through her hair, and ranting into thin air.

Her phone, Hiccup noticed, lay on the kitchen counter, its display glowing with the signs of an active call, one unread message, and a muted microphone. He placed the shopping bag next to it on the counter, and walked over to take his girlfriend into his arms.

"That bad?" he asked, smirking into her hair where she couldn't see it.

"Worse!" she growled angrily. "I swear, if that old scarecrow doesn't stop changing his mind, I'll turn into an axe-murderer. This is the sixth time now. The sixth! I mean, I'm pretty sure I got what he was asking for. But every fucking time I send him my sketch, he comes up with another alteration. And then shouts at me for not being able to read his mind. Gods, why am I doing this again?"

Hiccup pressed his lips to her forehead, snickering inwardly, and felt her relaxing already in his arms. "Because you love your job," he murmured against her skin, making an effort to sound calm and serious. "Because this old man is just a client, and the company wouldn't have given us this assignment if they thought it unimportant or boring, because we're the best. Because you know he's probably doing it just to listen to your beautiful voice some more. Because you're a professional, and that weirdo is not worth your anger. And because you'll love it when I have to deal with him, once he's satisfied with your sketch."

Chuckling quietly, she snuggled closer into his embrace. "Right," she snickered. "That'll be fun to watch." She stretched to give him a light peck on his mouth, whispered a low "Thanks!" against his lips, and retreated before he could pull her in for a real kiss. "But I need to get back to being a professional now."

With a smile, she wound her way out of his embrace, snatched her phone from the counter, and hopped onto the sofa. "Mr Mildew? I'm sorry for this interruption. Now, I'm all yours again. So, what was it exactly that bothered you about that sketch?"

Hiccup watched her with a fond smile, then went to change into more comfortable clothes. When he returned to the living room, she was still sitting on the sofa, her head dropped back, and an unnerved expression on her face. Her replies to the seemingly endless stream of instructions coming from her phone had become noticeably monosyllabically, consisting only of short hums and monotonous yeses. A small grin crept across Hiccup's face, and he decided to distract her a bit, to put her professionalism to the test.

Quietly, he stepped closer and crouched down on the ground behind the sofa. She hadn't noticed him so far, and jumped a little when his hands began to play with her hair that hung in long golden waves down the backrest.

Lately, she almost always wore her hair down while they were home. It was something she hadn't done before, and it had taken her days to notice, and to realise why. And her explanation had made his heart sing. To her, her tightly braided hair represented some kind of mental wall, a shield. Only rarely had she felt comfortable and safe enough to let her hair down, during sex with those random guys the met in the club or in general. Eret had never seen her with her hair down, while she'd never thought twice about it when with Hiccup. This knowledge gave him a weird kind of satisfaction. Hiccup hated the other man with a passion, for everything he'd done to Astrid, for tricking her, and for hurting her when she was so vulnerable. Which had been his fault, and Hiccup would happily spend his lifetime making it up to her.

Slowly, he worked his way through her tresses, combing his fingers through them, and entangling them. Every now and then, his slight pulling on single strands made her hum in pleasure, sounds that, so far, mixed perfectly with her replies on the phone.

He went a step further, lifted his hands up to massage her scalp, fingernails lightly scraping over sensitive skin. Astrid shivered and fidgeted when he didn't stop. Her eyes were closed now, a small smile on her lips, and Hiccup doubted she was listening closely to Mr Mildew's explanations anymore.

With a cheeky grin, he brushed her hair aside, and brought his mouth toward the soft skin at her neck. His light kisses and nibbles left her whimpering quietly until, after a few minutes, he bit down into her shoulder. An urgent moan tore itself from her throat, one that startled her and made her clutch a hand over her mouth in shock.

Chuckling, Hiccup got back on his feet, and grinned at the incredulous look she threw him past her phone.

"N- no, I'm sorry, Mr Mildew," she said hastily. "Yes, I'm listening. I just... got cramps. Yeah, cramps, in my arm. Guess I need to move it more, maybe throw a few punches later or something." As she spoke, her gaze met his across the room, her eyes gleaming dangerously.

Unashamedly, Hiccup grinned back at her, and then unpacked his shopping. It wasn't much, just some ingredients for dinner. Getting them had been a spontaneous decision, a way to celebrate this day. One month might not be that long in terms of relationships, but, without a doubt, it had been the happiest month of his life.

He went about grating the different types of cheese – Gouda, Mozzarella, Cheddar, Brie, Parmesan, Swiss, Munster, and Monterey Jack – while listening with half an ear to Astrid's call. This particular client had been bothering her for almost a week now, and from the little Hiccup got his requests were pretty weird indeed. What was that about a sheep and... a bed? Hiccup frowned, but then shrugged, and turned his focus back to the task at hand.

Once Astrid was done with her phone call, she came over to keep him company. She grabbed the bowl with the freshly grated cheese while he was busy getting out the large pasta pot and filling it with water, then lifted herself up onto one of the counters nearby to curiously watch him work.

"Mmh, to what do I owe the pleasure of you making Mac and Cheese for me?" she asked, tossing a bit of cheese into her mouth. "It's still two weeks until my birthday. Or is that supposed to be a bribe so you don't get punched after all? Because it works."

Smirking at her words, Hiccup reached past her for the salt and oil, not missing his chance to caress her rear and bare thighs. "Well, it's... been a while since the last time I made it," he replied, frowning slightly. He didn't like remembering that day. "And I thought today would be a good day to create some new memories. Good ones over the bad. Also, it's been a month... And it's Wednesday, we could return to old habits. You know, squish in a film night. Unless you need to finish those sketches for this impatient customer."

The last words, he said with a twinkle in his eyes, even though they, too, belonged to that day. But dwelling on bad memories wouldn't do them any good, they both agreed on that. Instead, they were intent on drawing them back out again and repainting them with brighter colours.

Astrid smiled despite the hint of pain in her eyes. She didn't like to remember that day either. "That sounds like a great idea. And no, I don't need to finish those tonight. A film night would be great," she replied, stealing more cheese, and smirked at his scowl.

"You know, the more you eat now, the less will be in your dinner later," he pointed out good-humouredly, not mentioning that he'd bought more cheese than necessary anyway. He had expected her to swipe a bit after all. "But what was it our dear Mr Mildew asked for? Does he really want an erotic picture of a sheep in a bed?"

Astrid choked on the last bit of cheese as his joking words made her laugh. "Quite possibly," she wheezed. "At first it sounded like a metaphor. You know, something along the line of 'sleeping innocence'. But by now, I'm not so sure anymore. It does sound like that's what he's after. Weirdo. And he actually wants it to look like a real sheep. Not the usual furry-kink style with a humanised sheep-girl. Wouldn't be the first time we drew those, after all. Although, I still don't see what's so special about animals in bed."

"Oh, I don't know," he said with a grin, interrupted his preparations for now, and walked over to where she sat. Standing between her legs, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and leaned closer. "I quite like the lioness that's occupying my bed lately," he whispered into her ear.

She chuckled as his breath tickled on her neck, and wound her arms around his torso. "Miaow," she breathed, and lightly scraped her fingernails over his back, just where her marks on him were beneath his shirt.

Hiccup shuddered and growled, head spinning by how quickly the atmosphere between them had shifted. Again! Gods, how he loved being with her, every aspect of it. He retreated, just enough to look her in the eyes, and saw the same spark of desire in them which had flared up inside him.

She pushed one hand up into his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss that hid nothing of her hunger, and he responded eagerly.

Kissing her was his personal drug; simply just too intoxicating to not respond to it. His eyes fluttered shut, and, in a way, it hurt not to look at her. But at the same time, not being able to see increased the sensibility of his other senses which made it perfectly bearable. All those sensations were overwhelming.

Her heat pouring into him, and the sensation of her soft lips moving with his...

The sweet taste of those lips, of salty cheese on her tongue, of her...

Her scent in each breath he managed to inhale in-between...

And her small noises which filled the air around them...

Oh, her noises...

Her desperate gasps for air...

Her low whimpers before she pulled him closer...

Her gentle sighs while she buried her hand in his hair...

Her small moans when he held her as tightly as he dared...

Her soft keening as their bodies pressed against each other...

Hiccup was losing himself in her careful noises – and he actually had before, frequently. He had no idea how long this kiss lasted already. It could have been only seconds or several hours. He didn't know, but he also didn't care.

As always, Hiccup lost track of everything as he kissed Astrid. All he was aware of was her tongue sliding along his, her small gasps and whimpers, her hand clutching at his back and hair, pulling him in, and their bodies grinding against each other with persistence. His fingers were entangled in her long golden tresses, his fingertips scraping over her scalp, and he could feel her tremble and twitch every time he hit a sensitive spot. He could go on like this forever. Or so he thought...

"Did you get the same message I did?" she asked with bated breath after finally tearing herself away from his lips. Suggestively, she let one hand glide down his front. "The clearance?"

"Yes." His voice was hoarse with want, his cock already straining against the fabric of his boxers. The hiccupy breath she took at his answer didn't exactly let him soften either.

Her hand slid beneath his waistband without further hesitation. She moaned softly when she found him hard already from their heated kisses, and pushed down his trousers to fully expose him.

"Here?" he asked, a little breathless. She nodded, and he pushed her short skirt up – to find her bare beneath already. With a low growl, he let his hand drift over her exposed sex, slick and wet, already ready for him.

Astrid shifted closer toward the counter's edge, and wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, drawing him in.

For just a second, he paused, hesitated, drew the moment out a little bit longer. He watched the anticipation flare up high in her eyes, mirroring his own feelings, before, finally, pushing into her.

"Oh, Gods..." he whimpered at the overwhelming sensation. Being inside her was always wonderful, but this... The physical sensation of, finally, actually, feeling her, skin on skin, was intense. The emotional aspect though...

There were no boundaries between them anymore, nothing that separated them, and it was amazing. They were one.

"Hic–" she gasped, rolling her hips to get him moving, and he complied.

He pushed into her, slowly at first, but quickly going faster and faster. His hand were on her rear, pulling her toward him in time with every one of his thrusts. Her urgent little noises spurred him on, and it took only minutes until they were both high, until Hiccup reached for her clit to push her over the edge completely. Mesmerised, he watched her eyelids flutter, listened to her crying out his name, and felt her clenching tightly around him, rippling along his length until he came as well, buried deep inside her, filling her.

Trembling and panting, they floated down from their mutual peak, leaning against one another, and basked in their closeness. He felt himself soften, but for once, there was no need to pull out, no risk of losing the condom. He held her tenderly, cradling her against his chest, as if to never ever let her go again.

Astrid giggled, and her hand fluttered down to her stomach. "I can feel you," she whispered, grinning. "All bubbly and... and..." she shrugged, giggling some more, and he couldn't help his lips twitching as well.

"And I can feel you, too," he replied equally low. "All these little aftershocks–" he broke off as one of those rippled through her, squeezing him almost playfully, and they chuckled in unison.

"I love you, Astrid," he finally murmured, and kissed her sweetly. "Gods, I do..."

"Mmmmh, I love you, too," she hummed happily, nuzzling his neck.

"But now... Could you hand me the kitchen towels? I feel a bit leaky." She winked at him, and Hiccup snorted, but complied.

They cleaned up, themselves and the kitchen counter, before resuming their former tasks – cooking on Hiccup's part, and Astrid returned to the sofa to retrieve her discarded briefs.

For a while, they worked in companionable silence. It was so easy, so effortless. There was no need to fill every minute with meaningless chatter, no need to always do something together. It was enough to simply be together, to know the other one would be there if needed.

Hiccup could hear Astrid humming to herself while she worked, and it harmonized perfectly with the noises the boiling water made as he grated the rest of the cheese. It was the perfect background music as he added the butter, evaporated milk, and sour cream to the cooked pasta, seasoned the mixture, and then carefully added cheese and water until the creaminess was how Astrid liked it best.

"Okay, dinner is ready," he called over to her, and grinned as she scrambled off the sofa in a hurry.

Eating dinner went about just as easy and comfortable as everything else. They joked and teased one another, and talked about simple daily things like bike maintenance and an upcoming collaboration. Astrid ribbed him a bit by stating that his Mac and Cheese alone was worth staying with him forever, and Hiccup accidentally dropped some pasta on her top while playfully feeding her with his spoon – and greatly enjoyed how she finished her meal topless.

Afterwards, they cleaned up the kitchen together – which turned into more of a water fight than actual cleaning – before they settled in for their film night, both of them dressed in fresh clothes after tossing their soaked outfits into the laundry to dry.

"And what did you have in mind?" Astrid asked as she placed two glasses with fruity lemonade and a bowl of nuts on the coffee table. "After cooking for me, it's your choice today. Although, I'm always up for Doctor Who, as you know. How about The End Of Time? Donna is awesome as half a Doctor, and I love the bittersweet ending."

Hiccup looked at her thoughtfully, and, for a moment, actually considered it. But comforting her through the inevitable tears at the end was not how he wanted this day to end. Then he grinned as he remembered something else.

"No, I have another idea," he countered. "Make yourself comfortable, while I get the Blu Ray from my room."

"What's it doing in your room?" she called after him as he left the living room.

"I... ahm... couldn't stand it lying around here when I bought it," he called back. "And then I forgot that I bought it."

"What is it?" she replied, looking up at him as he returned.

But instead of an answer, he just stared at her. His heart made a painful thud when he saw her lying on the sofa, on that sofa, the one neither of them had even sat on in nearly two months. The memory of the last time she'd sat there rose in his mind, and it made him feel ill. Her eyes met his, and she gave him a cautious smile.

"Good memories over bad ones, right?" she reminded him quietly, and, after a moment's hesitation, he nodded. Slowly, he walked over to her, legs still a bit shaky.

"So, what film do you have there?" she asked in a clear attempt to change the subject.

Hiccup shook off the bad feeling the memory had triggered, and returned to the here and now. She was right, after all. No dwelling on bad memories.

With a small smile, he held out the case of Thor: Ragnarok to her. "I've heard this is a good one. No idea if it's true though, I didn't notice much of the film when I went to watch it."

A wide grin spread across her face. "Perfect!" she exclaimed, beaming.

He plugged it in, and then climbed over her to lie behind her on the comfortable sofa. It felt good to wrap his arm around her waist, to pull her closer against his chest, and to inhale the scent of her hair with every breath he took as the TV flickered to life and Marvel's starting theme played out. It felt good enough to not constantly think about how Eret had been in exactly this position before, during that other film night. And it felt good enough for him to decide that it didn't matter anyway.

It didn't matter what Eret or Heather had done. Not that particular event and nothing else either. All that mattered was that he and Astrid were together now, and that they would do whatever felt good and right, without letting any past events influence them.

It felt good to hold her, to feel her. She was warm and soft and everything he needed. Funny, and witty, and loving, and, oh, so wonderful. He leaned down to place another kiss on her hair, and felt her relax in his arms.

For a while, they simply watched the film, cuddling comfortably. His hand moved over her, slowly and innocently at first, caressing her waist and wandering down to her belly button. She shook with silent giggling as his touch tickled her, her vibrating body against his distracting him.

Without really intending to, his hand wandered on, up her arm, over her shoulder, and brushed her hair aside so he could place light kisses on her soft skin. Humming contently, she rolled her head to the side to give him better access, and leaned back against him until her cute ass pressed against his groin.

Hiccup inhaled sharply as he realised where they were going, but was far from complaining. This, too, had been one of his fantasies, after all. Smirking to himself, he kept his mouth on her neck, nibbling and licking teasingly, while his hand drifted onwards to her breasts, kneading them carefully and pinching her hardening nipples through her fresh shirt. Then he wandered down further still, over her taut stomach, and down between her legs.

Astrid was writhing beneath his touch by now, taking in short and panting breaths. After turning the volume of the TV down, she'd turned to look up at him through clouded eyes, and Hiccup couldn't look away from her.

And he didn't need to, either.

His fingers knew what to do, even without him seeing it. Slowly, they glided over the fabric of her briefs with just enough pressure to let her feel him. Then they teased her further, rubbing her clit through the thin lace, pressing between her folds. When he pushed the fabric aside to really touch her, she moaned and strained toward his touch, needing it, needing more.

But he wanted to take his time. He wanted to lazily play with her body, and watch her twist and tremble. There was no hurry, no hunger for relief, just the simple pleasure of the moment. She was so beautiful like this, hands clenching at his shirt and the cushions below.

When he pushed his fingers into her, first one, then a second, her back arched into his touch, and he watched in rapture as she fought to keep her eyes on him. It didn't take much from there, just a little crooking of his fingers, a little rubbing of his thumb over her clit, until her quivering body became stiff for a second, only to wildly thrash and spasm a moment later. Her orgasm came with a beautifully sinful moan as her eyes rolled back into her head, and then fluttered shut in bliss.

He would never... never... never get enough of her.

"Mhhh, yeah," Astrid hummed lazily after regaining her senses. "Definitely a good memory." She gazed up at him with a dreamy look on her face that spoke of love and happiness. Then she whispered, "Come here, you," and pulled him down to kiss him.

Hiccup adjusted his position in an attempt not to crush her beneath him. He'd meant to let his hand, that still rested over her sex, glide down to prop himself up on the sofa as her surprisingly swift move left him with few other options. He'd not meant for his slick fingers to virtually stick to her skin and glide over her ass instead.

Astrid's low groan and the realisation of where exactly he was touching her drained his face of all blood. "I-I'm sorry," he sputtered, pulling his hand back in a hurry – only to let it glide again over that taut circular muscle! "Shit! Ah... sorry, I... I didn't mean..."

His stammered apology got interrupted by her light chuckle, and Hiccup hoped that his slip-up hadn't angered her in any way.

"Why are you sorry?" she asked drowsily.

He swallowed, hastily drew his hand away from her, and sat up straight. "I didn't... didn't mean to touch you... there. I mean... I know that... that..."

"That what?" she continued when he lost himself in his sputtering, and looked up at him curiously. Then light dawned in her eyes. She relaxed back into the cushions, and, with a small smile on her lips, said, "Ah, don't worry. I don't mind. It's been a while since I had anal sex anyway. I'm more than up for it."

She was joking, right? Teasing him as a punishment for his slip-up? Yeah, that had to be it. Hiccup's vision swam out of focus as the image of him sinking into her pert ass rose in his mind. Hastily, he chased it away, aware of how his cock twitched eagerly at the idea. She hadn't been serious. She couldn't have been.

"Hah, funny," he said shakily, and reached for his glass on the coffee table with a trembling hand. "I'm really sorry, okay? Won't happen again, I promise."

Astrid's quiet chuckling was a bit disconcerting.

"Too bad," she hummed. "But if you don't want to, that's alright."

He threw her a measuring look. She sounded serious. But that couldn't be true, right?

"You... you can stop joking now, Astrid," he stammered as more images appeared behind his eyes. But he didn't even dare to actually imagine... that would... she would kill him!

"I'm not joking."

"Astrid," he pleaded. "It's alright, I learned my lesson. I know that... that women don't like anal sex. And I would... I would never ask for something you don't want to do."

She gave him a long measuring look before sitting up as well. "Hiccup... I do like it," she said earnestly. "It just depends on enough prep and lube." She shrugged offhandedly, and reached for her glass as well.

. o O o .

Smiling inwardly, Astrid sipped at her lemonade. Hiccup was simply too good to be true.

Most men she'd been with hadn't even hesitated for a second whenever she'd indicated she would be up for anal sex.

But Hiccup? No, he was different, of course, he was. She'd blatantly offered it to him, and he still wouldn't go for it out of fear she wouldn't like it. And he clearly wasn't averse to anal sex, either. On the contrary. She'd seen how his cock had grown and twitched at the mere mentioning.

Carefully, she glanced back at him. He sat still, his glass in one hand, the other one opening and closing absentmindedly. He had a strange look on his flushed face, a mixture of lust and curiosity, but also worry and nervousness.

After taking his glass out of his hand and placing both back on the table, she crawled onto his lap to straddle him.

"I really mean it," she murmured into his ear. "I'm more than up to it if you want to."

Hiccup gave a weird strangled noise, and placed his hands on her waist, but only to remove them a second later again. She could feel his cock beneath her, straining against his jogging trousers. Why was he so reluctant if he clearly wanted it?

Then an idea occurred to her, and she retreated to look at him again.

"You've had anal sex before, right?" she asked, incredulously. Surely, he had. He was Hiccup Haddock! He'd literally had sex with hundreds of girls. Surely, he-

"No, I haven't," he replied, voice barely more than a whisper. Biting his lip, he looked away, almost as if he was... embarrassed? "I... I didn't want to pressure them for anything that, surely, they wouldn't want to do. And I've never been with one of them long enough to figure out what else she might like. And..." he swallowed, frowning. "And Heather made pretty clear what she'd do if I ever dared to venture into that direction." He grimaced, though whether due to the reminder of Heather or what she'd threatened him with, Astrid couldn't tell.

With a small smile tugging at her lips, she reached for his hands and placed them back on her waist before leaning in to brush her lips against his.

"Well, I'm not Heather," she teasingly mumbled against his mouth, and it had the desired effect.

Hiccup chuckled and relaxed, holding her more firmly again. "No, you're most definitely not," he agreed, but then paused. "Does it... bother you? That I'm not as... as experienced in that area? I mean, I... I'd love to try, but..." Helplessly, he lifted his shoulders only to let them slump down again. Gods, he was so adorable.

"No, it doesn't bother me," she whispered, dropping her head to avert her eyes "It... it means I can be your first. I–" she took a deep breath as the full meaning of those words hit her. "I... didn't expect that. But I like it," she added, chuckling weakly.

Hiccup chimed in a moment later, nuzzling into her neck. "My first, my last, my one and only," he mumbled, making her giggle even more.

"So, do you want to try?" she asked after they'd calmed down again, feeling like he wouldn't approach that topic on his own again.

And sure enough, he started to fidget nervously right away. "Now?" he asked, his voice noticeably higher than usual.

Astrid fought not to chuckle or even grin at that. He was nervous, no point in teasing him further. "Sure, why not?" she asked as casually as she could. "I'm already fairly relaxed, and as far as I can tell, you're definitely hard enough." Okay, maybe a little teasing was acceptable...

"Yeah, I guess so," he replied with a shaky laughter, his hands running distractedly up and down her sides. "So... erm... what do you... ah... need me to do?"

"Mmhh... we need lube. And a condom wouldn't hurt either. We should have a few spare now, I think. Mind getting those? I have lube in my bedside table, second drawer, back left corner. Oh, and some baby wipes?"

The speed with which Hiccup lifted her off his lap and disappeared into the hallway that led to her room was honestly hilarious. Astrid had to bit her lip pretty hard as not to laugh out loud at his eagerness. He was back in record time, eyes gleaming in anticipation.

"Okay, what now?" he asked after they'd both stripped and were settled on the sofa again.

"Now, I need a little prep," she said, smirking at his member standing at full attention. "I won't be able to take you without."

She lay back, and showed him how to do it, how to massage her sphincter muscle until it permitted first one lubricated finger and then more. She let him try, and quickly began to enjoy the feeling of him fingering her open. Yes, she had long since learned to enjoy this kind of treatment, but having Hiccup doing it still felt so much better.

"Okay, that's enough," she gasped when he had three fingers easily wiggled into her.

He seemed mesmerised, and barely even registered her words, his dilated eyes glued to her body and how it was able to stretch.

"Hiccup?" she addressed him more directly, and, finally, he reacted.

"Mmmh?" came his distracted answer as he absentmindedly reached for a baby wipe to clean his hand. But at least his gaze returned to her face, if a little clouded.

Astrid sat up, and drew him into a deep kiss. She'd meant to distract him, to ease his nervousness, but it rather served to throw them both off track for a bit. His heavy body pressed her down into the cushions as he lay above her, barely remembering to support himself as he kissed her hungrily. He was all hands ravaging her hair and tongue ravaging her mouth, all skin sliding over skin. She let her hands roam up his back, searching and finding the scratches she'd marked him with, and he growled as her fingers brushed over them. A second later, his mouth was on her neck, biting and sucking, and she arched up against him in response. Gods, she needed to have him inside her, and soon.

"What now?" he growled against her skin. He sounded so eager, and yet he still gave her the lead.

"Condom. And more lube," Astrid replied, panting, her arousal betraying her own eagerness as well.

. o O o .

Hiccup followed every single one of Astrid's instructions. He still could barely believe that she actually wanted to do this, but he trusted her. He trusted her that she wouldn't do anything like this just for his sake alone.

With practised ease, he sheathed his cock, and whined needily when Astrid applied bounteous amounts of lube to both him and herself at the same time. This was really happening!

Then she turned, forearms resting on the sofa's backrest, and butt invitingly pointing in his direction.

"Like this?" he asked a little confused, but kneeled down between her legs nonetheless. He'd wanted to see her face, see her reactions, whether he hurt her or anything. As much as he was looking forward to this, he didn't want to hurt her.

"Yeah, it'll be easier that way," she replied, pushing back against his cock. "Just... stay still for a moment, okay? Let me..." she trailed off as his tip brushed over her hole, and they both gasped.

Ohgodsohgodsohgods, was all Hiccup was able to think as she slowly pushed back against him. Without much resistance, his tip slipped inside her, and his mind went utterly blank. She pushed further, and he watched himself sink into her, unable to come up with a single coherent thought.

"So tight..." he whimpered when her cheeks were pressed against his stomach, a sound that Astrid mimicked.

"Mmh... big..."

With shaking fingers, he reached for her, rubbing her back and holding her hips. He fought to further keep still, even though all he wanted was to move, to fuck into her soft and hot body. But he would be good, would wait for her to go on.

It took her a few seconds, seconds in which she twitched and clenched around his cock, seconds during which he thought he might go insane at any moment. But then she stirred, carefully pulling away, only to push back on him again. The movement elicited a moan from them both, and her head dropped down on her arms.

"Okay," she gasped, "Your turn. Just... go slowly at first, okay? It's been a while..."

Hiccup whimpered again, and nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see that. He grabbed her hips tighter, took a shaky breath, and began to move.

It felt weird, different. Slick with all the lube, so tight, so fucking tight, and hot as Hel. He pushed in and out of her, hesitantly, and tried to concentrate on being as gentle as he could be.

Astrid squirmed beneath is hands, trembled and twitched. Then she suddenly pushed back against him, just as he was about to push back in, making his thrust much harder than planned. She groaned loudly, and Hiccup stilled immediately.

"S-Sorry," he gasped. "Did... did I hurt you?"

Astrid, her face buried in the crook of her arm, shook her head. "No," she whimpered. "Didn't hurt... just... Gods..." She shivered, muscles clenching around him.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, worried. He let his hands glide up her smooth back in an attempt to distract them both.

"No!" came her urgent reply. "No, don't stop. Gods, no. Please–" she broke off, voice caught in her throat as she began to move on her own again.

And Hiccup understood.

She'd been serious.

She liked it.

He began to move again, carefully pushing into her tight channel, and her answering moans and whimpers were all the reassurance he needed. Soon, he became more confident, moved with more purpose, became a little faster, thrust a little harder, when her reactions kept spurring him on.

"Gods, Hiccup. Harder!" she begged, voice rough and needy.

Groaning, he complied, went harder, and faster, and harder still when she kept begging for more. Gods, she never got vocal like this. Soon, he was covered in sweat, and panting heavily. He fought not to come too early, to drag it out for her as long as possible, but it was hard. Thor almighty, she felt so good.

"Fuck... Astrid, I... nng... I..." he growled, vision blurring. He was close, so close to losing it. Only a few more thrusts, he wouldn't be able to hold out any longer. Her moans grew in volume, and somehow she seemed to tighten even more around him. It felt like she was choking him, sucking him in even deeper, and it was too much for him.

"Gods, yes! Aahh- Astrid! I... Fuck!" Hiccup shouted as he came, buried deep inside her. Her lustful noises carried him through his height and down afterwards. He tried to go on, as she wasn't done yet. But he softened too quickly, utterly spent after she'd milked him so thoroughly.

"Mmmhh, sorry," he mumbled against her back, embarrassed, and yet still stunned by the intense experience. Carefully, he pulled off the condom and wrapped it into a baby wipe, before slumping down onto the sofa. Mixed feelings crept up in his heart as Astrid snuggled into his side. For him, it had been great, but for her... he hadn't been good enough for her.

"Don't be sorry," she sighed happily. "That was fantastic, even better than I remembered. Or maybe it was just because it was finally you," she added, sounding thoughtful and completely serious.

For a while, Hiccup didn't reply. His arm lay limply over her shoulder, but he didn't dare to touch her further, and he wasn't sure what to do. "But you didn't come," he finally stated, eyes cast down. Sure, this had been his first anal sex, and he obviously had no experience there. And they didn't always climax together, and he could easily get her off otherwise. But still... No matter how much logic he applied, the nagging feeling wouldn't go away.

Not until Astrid chuckled quietly at his side.

"I never do from this," she murmured sleepily against his skin.

Hiccup frowned, and tried to make any rhyme or reason of her words, but finally gave up. "But you said you like anal sex. And now you say you can't come from it? That... that doesn't make much sense."

She sat up to look at him, probably finally sensing his mood. She smiled softly, and leaned in to peck his lips, before she explained, "It feels amazing. Not sure if you noticed, but I really enjoyed it. And I don't need an orgasm for this to feel good. I came before already, that's enough. For now, at least."

He gave her a long, scrutinising look, but then nodded. "You could have said that before, you know?" he pouted. Her explanation was enough for him. She had enjoyed it, that much had been obvious after all. But he didn't want to let her off the hook that easily.

But Astrid didn't fall for it.

"I could have," she grinned. "But that would have made you only even more reluctant. Now, you believe me at least." She cuddled back against his chest, and this time, he took her into his arms properly.

For a couple of minutes, they simply sat there, quietly basking in the afterglow, before Astrid pushed herself up on wobbly legs. It looked almost comically as she stumbled toward the bathroom, as if her legs weren't working right anymore.

"When did you get so drunk?" he asked teasingly as she returned in the same manner. It really looked funny.

But Astrid just poked her tongue out in reaction, and slumped back onto the sofa. "Very funny," she stated flatly, smirking at him good-humouredly. "Get used to it, that's how I'll be walking for the rest of the day. And tomorrow, too, probably. Your fault entirely!"

Sobering up in an instant again, Hiccup pushed himself up to give her a serious look. "Did I hurt you after all?" he asked anxiously. "Gods, Astrid, you should have stopped me. I didn't want to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's just because of all those loosened-up muscles. I won't be able to walk straight for a day or so. And I won't be able to sit without my butt stinging for a couple more days, but that's alright."

"Astrid," he began, worried, but she interrupted him directly.

"It's fine, Hiccup! It's just a bruise. Every time I sit down my butt will sting, and I'll remember this amazing hot sex we had. And, damn, did you fuck me good!" she said dreamily. Then she awkwardly climbed onto his lap, facing him, and wound her arms around his neck. Her hands lightly caressed the almost completely healed scratches she'd left on his back over a week ago. "It's like these, sweet little reminders. Just funnier, for you at least." She grimaced, but he could see the amused glint in her eyes.

"Alright," he accepted her explanation. But she would have to live with getting pampered for a few days, he decided. Just to make it up to her.

Smiling warmly, she leaned in and kissed him. Maybe it was simply meant as a short peck, but it ended in a long and intense liplock, one of those where neither noticed the passing of time anymore.

What finally tore them out of enjoying each other was the music.

"I swear, if that menu theme plays even one more time, I'm going to throw the Blu Ray player out of the window," Astrid mumbled, voice saturated by humour despite her unnerved words.

"Totally understandable," Hiccup agreed. "Another thing though... have you noticed anything about the film? Because... I haven't," he added, grinning.

"No, me neither," she replied, giggling. "I guess we'll need to watch it again. How awful..."

"Mmmh, horrible," he chimed in, but then became serious again, if a little corny maybe. "I'd watch it a thousand times with you. And maybe, we'll even make it through it one day."

"Oh, I plan to accomplish that today," she said, sounding quite determined, and reached for the remote controller.

"Maybe we should skip the first twenty minutes or so, though," he mused. "You know, to turn the odds in our favour." They shared a look, and then simultaneously shook their heads.

"No, those are too fantastic already," Astrid giggled. "I want to see Thor sassing out Surtur while dangling on that chain again. And Loki falling for thirty minutes. We can't miss that!"

They made themselves comfortable on the sofa again, cuddled together under one of their soft blankets, and started the film again.

And this time, they actually managed to watch it all.

Okay, I hope this was enough in forms of compensation for the previous two chapters ;)

It also was the last of the epilogues I planned to write. There are at least two more I want to write from your prompts, namely the handcuff-story and ten years later. But I'm not sure when I'm going to write those, as I want to focus more on my next project from now on. Stay tuned ;)

[ankyouweek]

This link we share - Part 1

((Big Bang submission, who turned… way bigger than I imagined, so I’m dividing it into 3 parts. A big thank you at blazardragon and nidaimeshinigami for putting up with me promising them I would send the second part soon and ended up forgetting for months… You guys rocks !) Rating: General Audiences Characters: Sugaya Sosuke, Mimura Kouki ; mentions of other characters Relationship: Sugaya/Mimura

At 14 year old, Sugaya had a very specific vision of who would he be in the future. He couldn’t have conceived another career than being an artist : it always have been such a great part of his life, the skill for which he sacrificed so much and yet also gave him so much in return. He was made to create. 

So, surely, his middle school self would be proud to see where his life was 10 years later. 

…Excluding the impending deadline for the exhibition that was currently making him pull yet another all-nighter, because somehow, he still hadn’t learned to organize his schedule properly.

It have been so easy, during art school, to work hour after hour closed in a studio to draw, paint and sculpt without batting an eye, yet nowadays the lack of proper sleep made it tough to concentrate, his mind drifting to kinder places -notably his sweet, comfortable bed - a double size, he didn’t even have to worry about all the junk he accumulated on it, he could just lay among the sketches and notes and… No, no, he had to work, he only had a few days to complete his canvas to send it for the selection…

Sugaya had always been a fast worker, so it originally shouldn’t have been a problem. He still remember that summer, on a assassination school trip in an Island, how he had been able to produce a decent enough scarecrow in a few minutes ; he probably wouldn’t be able to reproduce this now, his way of working under pressure being different. Nevertheless, having never stopped improving his abilities, he should have been able to produce something he could be proud of in the imparted delay.  Not sit still on the newspapers-covered floor mixing paint again and again to find a color he could finally be satisfied with.

…A break. He needed to take a break.

He stretched an instant, feeling sore in his back, before exiting the room he used as a workplace. Thanks to the money he kept from back when class E was rewarded for killing Korosensei, his art school expenses have been funded, and with a bit of help from his parents, plus some of his artwork selling relatively well, he have been able to buy a small apartment. In Tokyo, it wasn’t nothing ; he had been told to reconsider and wait a bit more to invest in an house, but he had wanted his independence quickly, finding the life alone more relaxing for his flexible schedule. 

As soon as he was in view, a small, oddly colored figure appeared on the screen of his cellphone, left to charge on a messy coffee table. 

“Good evening, Sugaya-san !” Ritsu never stopped using pronouns, even after all those years. “Mimura-san tried to join you some minutes ago - he’s on his way to drop off someone near there, he would like to stop here after that. -Hm ? Sure, tell him to come.”  He could see it was already night outside, but on early November, that didn’t mean much. “What hour it is ? -Twenty-two hours past seven.” The joyous voice answered.

Oh, he didn’t see the time pass. Because he snacked a lot and ate an early dinner to concentrate on his work, he have been able to progress quite a bit, but now he understood why his mind wanted a break so much.

…Wasn’t this day a Saturday ? Was Mimura working today ? He normally only worked on weekdays, since working in large groups necessitated a good organisation, but a team still had deadlines.

…Guh, deadlines. He should stop thinking about it for the moment. Having a friend coming would be a nice distraction - due to his different life rhythm, his social life was a mess. A bit like his living room, to be honest. He… He should try to clean a bit before Mimura come. He had to admit he was much less zealous about the state of his apartment than he was with his art supplies.

Some minutes later, a ringing sound interrupted Sugaya in the middle of a precious cleaning technique of his, that is to say to take all the papers left on the coffee table and put them in a corner where they wouldn’t be too visible. He hastily finished to go open the door. 

“Hello. -Ah… Good evening.”

The young man on the landing stared at him in that slightly hazy, disconcerted way proper to sleep deprived individuals.

“You look like you’re going to fall asleep as soon as you will close your eyes.” Sugaya noted. “Come in. -You might not be too far from reality with that one” admitted Mimura as he removed his shoes in the entrance. “Though you don’t look that fresh yourself. Another deadline ? -In three days, still missing two paintings. What about you ? -There’s a place we’re booking for filming and we needed it for a month, but we’ve been given only 3 weeks, so we’re shooting as much as possible for now. Everyone’s mood is a bit on the low side. -Sound tough.” 

When Mimura hanged his vest on the coat rack, Sugaya had an instant of pondering on how little the man changed physically since junior high. Seeing him irregularly after high school ended meant he have been able to notice how his face became little by little a bit more adult, but else it was just all the same, the haircut he couldn’t be bothered to change because it was the easiest to maintain, the simple clothes all in hues of dark green or brown with the shirt tucked in… Technically, the man did grow up too, and during high school the height difference between them diminished by half, but somehow Sugaya had yet another growth spout and they ended up with almost the same gap as before. 

“So, hm,” Mimura interrupted his thoughts, “it’s okay if I spend the night here ? I feel like I shouldn’t drive in that state… -Sure, I don’t mind. Ritsu talked about dropping someone near there, it’s for work too ? -Yes, some of the actors don’t have a driving licence and it’s faster to go take and drop them than making them use common transports. They need their sleep, too. -…Is that normal for you to do that ? -Hm ? Well, taking care of the actors is pretty much the third assistant’s job. It’s not like, you know, that time I told you when the set designer messed up.” He slumped into the couch. “I would really hate this job if I didn’t love it.” 

Sugaya nodded silently. In the first place, one couldn’t survive in an artistic career if they weren’t driven by their passion. No, even with passion… months of switching between unemployment and small, unsatisfactory jobs could wear down even the most tenacious motivation. By now, the two of them were in better situations ; he was starting to live from what he created and not commissions that ended disastrously due to his personality, and Mimura’s circle of acquaintances in the filmmaking world was growing, something, according to him, that was very important to get more jobs. But it would still take a long time before they would be in a truly comfortable situation.

 “Do you want something to drink ? I have beer and I can make tea.” He was almost tempted to suggest coffee. That probably wouldn’t even stop his friend from sleeping. “Hm… tea would be great, but there’s no need to make some just for me, water will be fi- -No, it’s okay, I was planning to make some for myself anyways.” While moving to the kitchen, Sugaya continued to talk, his voice a bit louder. “Doing a break before starting an all-nighter. By the way, you can use my bed instead of the couch if you want to, I’m probably not going to sleep tonight.”

Tea, tea… He really needed to go do some shopping… Oh, that’s right, there was this really nice tea Yada once gave him. ‘It’s important to have high-quality tea just in case, you never know when you will have important guests’. She… probably didn’t think of a case like this, but Mimura was an important friend and technically a guest, so…

“Is green tea alright ? I’m not sure I have anything else…”

Sugaya waited an instant, but he received no answer. 

“…Mimura ?”

He took a peek in the living room from the entrance of the kitchen, slightly frowning. But his face immediately softened looking at the deeply asleep man, a pillow tightly hugged in his arms.

“Guess you choose the couch after all.”

–

Maybe it was seeing his friend so exhausted that made Sugaya aware that, maybe, he shouldn’t wait to be this tired to go to sleep, especially since the little progress he made, he erased it a few minutes later. Maybe it was the idea of waking up around the same time as Mimura and sharing a meal together before returning on his work. Either way, after a few hours struggling over a blank canvas, he didn’t fight much for his eyelids to remain open and soon drifted to his bed.

Sadly, if he dreamt he didn’t remember it. No old memory, no meaningful vision that he would feel compelled to paint as soon as he woke up or anything convenient like that. He felt a bit cheated out compared to the main characters of Fuwa’s stories.

Yet, somehow, when he put himself in front of his palette while his friend was still soundly asleep in the living room, everything seemed clearer. Twirls of vibrant yellow under touches of pink. He could conceive it. A picture with an oddly familiar vibe. 

Quickly his fingers moved.

Sugaya was already starting to put little details on the rough forms when a figure moved in the corner of his field of vision.

“You can come in, I don’t mind the company. -Ah, thank you, I didn’t think you would notice me.” Mimura approached while talking. “You always seems so concentrated while you work, I would hate to interrupt you. Is… that tentacles you’re drawing ? -Yes, the idea came to me this morning.” Strong tentacles blossoming, full of life, among cherry petals. He liked the energy of it. “That’s inspired by this tanka poem Korosensei once wrote, isn’t it ? -I… Maybe ? I don’t really see what are you talking about. How do you even remember that ? -Easy, it’s in the guidebook.” Of course. He should have guessed it, what isn’t in that book ? “On the topic of ‘How to give a good impression during a conversation’, on the category of 'Poems and Quotes worth remembering’. Korosensei put this poem among popular works. -Yeah, that’s something he would have done.”

They both smiled remembering the octopus’s antics. It would have been painful, during their high school years, to have the presence of their beloved teacher so close to them, but still a shadow unable to replace the original. Now it only felt nostalgic. Nakamura have been the first to notice it : ‘Don’t you think that there are more jokes in the pages for the more mature subjects ? Like, the ones that would have mattered the most during our teenage years were more sober’. Did Korosensei thought of that, too, when he wrote those guides ? Did he predict how everything would unfold after his death, him who must have been familiar with it ? The more they grew up, the more the class E alumnus saw the actions of their former target in another light, gaining a new understanding of him.

Mimura stifled a yawn, bringing the artist out of his thoughts while his hands still moved on the painting.

“Not slept enough ? -Not quite, but I still feel far better than yesterday. Thank you for the night, by the way. -Don’t mention it, you needed it. How much time did you said you’ve been working like that ? Three weeks ? -Ah, no, that’s the time we got to rent a place, we’ve only been on it for one week. -…So you still have two weeks to go at that rhythm. -Unless we get at nasty surprise, yes.” Mimura used an almost fatalistic tone. “That’s the kind of things you should expect from this job. -…I’m glad to be an independent artist, then. -Hey, it’s not that bad. Sure, it’s exhausting, but you get to bond pretty closely with the crew. Sometimes it reminds me a bit of 3-E. -That much ?”

Those weren’t words that could be said thoughtlessly.

The link the class shared, it could hardly be described without experiencing it first. It wasn’t a matter of having spent lot of time together ; almost a year, even less for Ritsu and Itona. Since graduation, even if they tried to reunite now and them, those events weren’t a regularity. But the intensity of it - the warmth of finding a part of normalcy in this classroom, when both families and school turned their back to them, it brought them close. And the thrill and stress of assassination, it brought them closer. Running in the mountain, the feeling of recoil after firing, the weight of a knife, almost drowning in a vicious plan… A bond formed by killing intent, that’s how Korosensei mentioned it once. Sugaya couldn’t imagine forming such a tight relationship with someone else without living again those experiences.

“It’s… different, of course. Nobody can share what we experienced that year, but we have our lot of hardships when filming, too. And, well, it’s important having friends in the industry, too. Sometimes it’s how you get opportunities. -Oh, yeah, you already mentioned that. Is this that important ? I’ve been told the same thing about the art world, but I didn’t encounter many problems. -That’s because you’re too talented. Someone who can produce such a wide variety of art so fast, with a constant quality ? You’re pretty unique. -Haha, thanks. Well, I’m grateful for that, it’s already hard to stay in contact with everyone without having to make buddies here and there. -You’re just not willing to put the effort.”

Ah, here it came, that familiar acerbity Mimura only used against close ones. He might not be wrong, to be honest. Sugaya found maintaining contact with people to be pretty draining, but maybe he could get used to it if he tried a bit more.

Maybe.

“Speaking of friends.” Mimura continued. “ Will you be there for Isogai’s birthday party ? -…Maybe ? -…It’s next week. The 13th. -Oh. I guess ? I forgot it was coming up. Wasn’t there a birthday between his and mine ? -Okuda, yes, that was yesterday. Ritsu didn’t tell you ? -She doesn’t when I’m working hard. Crap, I will send her a message when I’m done. How come Isogai decided to make a birthday party, anyways ? He’s quieter than that usually. -Maehara insisted. Seems like they’re getting really closer after he broke up with Okano. -…He what ?” Sugaya turned his head away from his painting.

If there was a topic that have been talked over and over between the former students, it would be whether Okano and Maehara would end together.

A lot of it could be blamed on Korosensei. Or, really, just all of them being a bunch of gossiping sleazebags. The specific pair would have mattered little, as long as it would have directed everyone’s attention away from their own love stories, be they real or imagined by some teasing friends. Those two just happened to be the most entertaining.

Their personalities were tumultuous together, to the point it was hard to think they were attracted to each other, yet the two of them couldn’t help but pay attention to the other. When they seemed to make efforts toward a common understanding, some unfortunate incident would destroy everything. When it seemed to be over forever, somehow they got even closer. It was so ridiculous, almost everyone was kind of glad when they finally got together. Finally they could switch topics.

And yet they broke up ?!

“Come on, that was months ago, even you should know now. -I don’t, I really don’t.” Months ago… They haven’t been a couple for very long, in the end. “What did Maehara do for this ?” It had to be Maehara the problem. “As you can guess. Caught cheating. -…Okano really deserved better. -She did. For now she seems to spend lot of time with Kimura, but I’m not sure it’s… like that. Anyways, after this Maehara started to spend more time with Isogai. Well, more than usual, if that’s even possible. -So, basically they’re living together now ?” Mimura chuckled at the joke. “Not yet. I wouldn’t even be surprised if it’s the next step, but then, there’s the whole case with Itona too. -What about that ?” Sugaya knew he wanted to get independence from his father because their relationship was getting tough for him, was that linked ? “In a way. Don’t mention it in front of him, okay ? But he still have lot of issues living alone after… well, you know. Isogai suggested to him to come live with him, but since he still lives with his family… I guess he didn’t want to be a burden ? Anyways, he’s living with Terasaka for now. -Poor him. -Oh, he might complain a lot but I’m sure he’s enjoying it. -I was talking about Terasaka. -So was I. -Oh.” Sugaya went quiet an instant before asking. “Any other news I should be aware of ? Did Kanzaki and Sugino finally got together ? -No, I think no matter how much closed from the world you are, Sugino would make sure you know about that one. -Ha, true.” The baseball player had said so many times he got over it, yet he always seemed to fell back into his old crush at each sign of affection. “…It’s a bit sad, to be honest. -It’s scary. I’m glad I didn’t finish that way.”

As the conversation fell down, Sugaya concentrated back on his canvas.

He knew very well what that last sentence meant. Some years ago part of the boys reunited together over beer and talked about crushes of their past. It felt pretty weird to learn of Okajima’s old affections for Hayami in front of Chiba. And, of course, Mimura’s past infatuation for the former ‘Madonna of Class E’. 

At that time, Mimura already had gotten a girlfriend.

Not someone from the class. A very nice, sweet girl, from what he remembered. He even felt a bit sad to learn about their break-up, but that wasn’t a first. Didn’t Mimura was with someone in high school, too ? For most of his comrades he would get confused, but he was pretty sure he saw that one. He remembered that feeling that took him from seeing even his close friends all trying to get into new relationships and experiencing romance. Loneliness.

Maybe it was his fault for expecting everyone to stay as they were. He had a hard time keeping up with what everyone was doing, even people as close as his own sister ; unconsciously, he hoped things wouldn’t change too much, that nobody would drift too far from the family that was Class E, and that even if he spent most of his days alone, there would always be a friend willing to stay by his side. 

“…Hey. You know, if it’s too hard for you to drive so much when you’re tired, maybe you could stay here till you’re finished with your work. -…What ? -I just thought of it, with all those talk of who lives with with who. You drive less, we get to catch up and maybe do some things together… That would be nice, no ? -That… I don’t really want to intrude… Besides, I would come back really late, I would almost be never here… -You’re contradicting yourself. -���Am I ? Well. Uh. Personally, it would really help me, but… you’re sure you’re fine with that ? -In case you didn’t notice, I am the one who just asked. -Yes, but… You said that on impulse, right ? We need to speak about it. Over… I guess it’s too late for breakfast. Will you be finished soon ? -Almost. Counting the time to clean the brushes… Fifteen minutes ? -That seems quick.” Mimura frowned. “But then I shouldn’t be surprised anymore, coming from you. What do you say about eating outside ? -Fine by me.” He was used to it after all. He never have been one to cook much when he was by himself. “Any preference ? -Hmm, I think it would be better if you chose, you know the neighborhood better. -Alright, alright, just don’t complain if my choice doesn’t suit you.”

Sugaya took a break of an instant from painting to look more closely at his work, in search of the small details he wanted to add.

Funny. He didn’t remember last time he created a picture so lively.

[eel-guy]

Valentine’s Day

This fanfic was created by @sumide1711uu for @normalblockconfessions

Rubberdoop

Passion

Ross slammed his hands down on Barry’s desk, startling the younger man. “Barry. Are you ready for the night of your life?”

Barry looked up from his screens, eyeing Ross carefully. He had his usual smile with something mischievous glinting in his eye. When Ross said things like and Barry agreed to them, Barry never got hurt or anything like that. Embarrassed or drunk off his ass didn’t count, but something still didn’t quite feel right. “Am I going to die of embarrassment if I agree?”

Tilting his head left and right, Ross chewed on his bottom lip, trying to come up with an answer that would appease Barry. “Define embarrassment,” he said after a few more than necessary moments of silence.

Barry groaned, going back to his current project. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Also, I’m kinda busy with a project. I have to get it done by next Friday and I’m only half done. So if you don’t mind.” Slipping his headphones back on, the younger man clicked through a few different filters.

Ross nudged the headphones off, speaking over the quiet hum of music flowing out of them, “C’mon, man. You need to take a break and today is the best time. You can save your shit and be back tomorrow, if you want. But please say yes. I don’t want to go by myself.”

Turning off the music, Barry turned his chair to face the Australian. “You have my attention. What did you mean ‘go by myself’? Go where?” Barry sighed, leaning back in the chair, “Is it a strip club again? Because I’m not going to another strip club with you ever again in my entire lifetime.”

Ross waved him off, “I swear it’s not another strip club. It’s… it’s…” Sighing, Ross continued in a softer voice, “It’s a poetry slam night at a local coffee shop.”

Barry hummed something that wasn’t an outright disagreement. How could he immediately say no when Ross, confident, shameless Ross, curled in on himself, rubbing his arm? Ross peeked up when Barry began speaking, “Maybe. How long until we leave? ‘Cause project.”

Without a confident no, Ross lit up. “So you’re coming?” Barry gave a shrug followed by a nod. “Awesome! So it’s like 3 right now? It starts at 8 and I kinda wanna get there early if that’s okay. I mean, I don’t have Steam Train or anything like that, so I’m ready when you are.”

Barry snorted a laugh, “Sounds good, buddy. Give me like a 15 minute warning and I’ll be good.”

Ross nodded, slipping back to his desk. While he didn’t expect Barry to turn him down, they had been talking all week about hanging out this weekend, Ross was still grateful for the yes. It wasn’t the first time he had attended one of the poetry nights, but standing in front of strangers and pouring his heart out was something he’d rather do with a friend, a familiar face, in the crowd.

Ross’ hands itched the entire 4 hours he sat there waiting for time to pass. First they grabbed his pen and tablet, sketching out a new scene for Gameoverse, but eventually the project was quietly abandoned for a more tradition route. Ross drew a few characters he could use for the animation, but he grew tired of that as well. Then his hands dug around in his bag for his poetry book. Finding purchase, Ross pulled it out and began writing more and more words until everything was pouring out of him. The lines started slow, jagged, unfinished, but soon the words danced on the page, mingling with one another blissfully.

While he would never stop such a creative flow except for his bodily needs, Ross paused long enough to check the time and look over to Barry. The editor was chatting away with Ryan about something Ross couldn’t quite hear. There was still 10 minutes to go before Ross would decide it was close enough to get up and pull Barry out of his project. But that was the future and right now Ross was back to staring the pages in front of him. Looking over the poems he managed to bang out, he found one that he decided to read instead of the one Holly had helped Ross pick out. He scribbled down a title along the entire length of it. It was rather short, but something about it was different than the rest of the words littering the book.

Shoving the book back into his bag, Ross stretched before wandering around the office. He had been sitting at his desk the entire time and he was more than grateful for the blood moving in his legs. After the walk and a snack, Ross leaned his hip against Barry’s desk. Barry’s eyes flicked up to Ross, nudging one of the headphones off his ear and waiting for something. Ross crossed his arms to look a bit more confident than he felt, “You about ready to go?”

Barry nodded, “Uh, yeah. Give me like 10 minutes and we’ll go, okay?” Pulling the headphone back over his ear, he turned back to the screens, assuming Ross would give him some space, but no. The Australian hovered over him, watching every click that happened. “Do you need something?”

“No. I just love watching you edit and shit. I mean, I’ve tried my hand at stuff like this for animation, but still, it’s so cool what you’re doing.”

Barry blushed, hunching his shoulders, “Thanks, dude. That means a lot coming from you. You’re such a great friend.”

Nodding, Ross slowly said, “Maybe you can help me out tonight.”

Barry bit back a sigh as he saved the project once more, closing it and taking the headphones off his head. “I swear if this about a strip club or anything like that, then the answer is no.”

Ross waved him off, sinking into himself, “Oh, no. Nothing like that. I want you to read something and tell me your honest wholehearted opinion of it. Because I just wrote it and Holly read the other one, but now that’s not happening because of this one and I need someone to look over it to make sure it sounds okay.”

Barry felt the gears in his head turn. “Oh. You’re reading something tonight? That’s really cool. I didn’t know you wrote! I’d love to read your stuff, if you want. I know it can be really personal and shit and I don’t want to invade your privacy or anything like that.”

“Yeah, I guess it is pretty personal, but I trust you.” After Barry gave a soft smile, Ross walked back to his desk, grabbing his bag. He dropped it on the edge of Barry’s desk before reaching around for the familiar soft leather cover. Ross paused for a second, hands curled around the book. “Um… I don’t know about this anymore.”

Barry patted him on his arm, “You don’t have to show me. I mean, it’s not like it matters a ton to me. Er… Well, what I meant was…”

Ross nodded, pulling the book out. He showed Barry a weak smile, “It’s okay. I know what you mean. I’m just nervous. I only ever really show Hol my stuff. So this is kinda like a big step for me. Not just with you, but the poetry night too.”

After Ross fiddled with the pages for half a minute, Barry stared down at Ross’s handwriting. Poems overlapped with each other, making them impossible to read. Barry looked back at Ross, who was waiting with bated breath. “Uh, dude, I can’t fucking read any of this.”

“What? My handwriting isn’t that bad. Is it?” Ross peered over to look at the literal word vomit he called poems. “Oh, um, this one.” Ross traced a small box around the one he intended to read later.

Barry scanned the words, noting the simple title written along the side. He could envision Ross speaking these words in a dimly lit café in the basement of some music shop or something, see how he would emphasize the words and hear just a touch of his accent come through at the end. After reading it a few more times, Barry wordlessly passed the closed book back to Ross.

“So, do you think it’s okay?”

Barry placed his hands on either side of Ross’s face, which was a bit awkward for both of them since Barry was still seated. “Dude, that was amazing. I can see why you call it Passion.”

“You really think so? Like I could read this and people wouldn’t hiss at me?”

As Barry was about to go on and on about how emotional the piece felt, he backtracked just a touch. “Wait. People hiss at you if it’s bad?”

“Yeah. Snapping is good, hissing is bad. I swear the place is stuck in the 90’s or something.” Ross breathed out a laugh that sounded closer to a wheeze. “Okay. Is it good? If so, can we go?”

Barry turned to his computer one last time, turning the machine off. “Yeah, we’re good.” After Barry grabbed his things, they said goodbye to everyone that was hanging in the main space and left. A few wrong directions from Ross and bad timing on Barry’s part, the pair finally arrived at a normal coffee shop. Barry took one look and said, “I thought it would be sketchier.”

Ross fumbled with his bag, retrieving his poetry book, before snorting. “Now you think it’s stuck in the 90’s too. C’mon. Let’s get inside. The event, I guess, is on the second floor.”

Barry followed Ross through the small crowd of people yearning for an evening fix and up some tucked away, rickety stairs that should have been replaced. Ross sat at the edge of the semi-circle wrapped around a makeshift stage. Taking the spot next to him, Barry noted the whiteness of the older man’s knuckles. “Are you okay, man? I mean, if you’re worried-”

“I’m fine,” Ross hissed out as someone took stage.

“Hello friends of the arts!” The word forced a snort out of Barry and Ross shot him a glare. “Tonight is our open-mic poetry night. To flesh out the evening, we have a few people already lined up.” The speaker listed several names with Ross smack dab in the middle.

The speaker passed the mic to the first person on the list and they went through several poems, or a really long one, Barry couldn’t tell. After a few moments of silences, people began snapping and Barry snapped right along. This went on through three more people before Ross shifted in his seat. Barry placed a hand on the Australian’s arm, “You got this, Ross.”

Ross flashed Barry a shaky smile before standing and making his way over to the center. He took the mic before fumbling to find the right page. His stomach twisting into knots, Ross lost any shred of confidence he had. He scanned the crowd of 30 or 40 people, pausing at Barry, who gave him a thumbs-up and a smile. Ross smiled back, turning back to his book. “Um, I call this one Passion.

“It comes Slowly at first It always does

Soon fast Then faster And faster And faster still

Until it all fades Nothing Numb Alone

Bursting Ideas flow Wave after wave Then a hushed whisper

‘You’re okay.’”

Ross closed the book, looking up at the crowd. No one moved for several seconds before the sounds of fingers snapping filled his ears. Giving the audience a quick bow, he passed the mic to the next person and made his way back to Barry.

Barry clapped him on the back, “That was way better than I thought. I mean, holy fuck. You should read more. Like I would come every night to hear more.”

Ross gave a half-hearted smile, “You really mean that?”

“Of course, man. You’re fucking amazing.”

[stokan]

The 20 Best Things of 2016

Fun fact: Many good things actually happened in the year 2016. It’s true! It wasn't all death and Trump, although as you’ll see, those two factors hang heavy over even the best of things. But just like every year, 2016 still managed to produce its fair share of great art, cultural triumphs, and viral delights. Leaving out, obviously, things from 2016 that it seems like I’ll probably love but have yet to experience (OJ: Made in America, Search Party, 20th Century Women, Fences, etc.), and TV shows I’ve already written about in years past (OITNB, Transparent, You're the Worst, Veep, etc) here are my top 20 favorite things from 2016, listed in no particular order:

1. Beyonce - “Formation” video

How upset old white people were about this should give you some idea of just how great it is.

When I was growing up, the biggest music video from the biggest female pop star of the day involved her dancing around suggestively in a Catholic school girl outfit. Trump may have won the election, but progress still remains undefeated.

2. Kendrick Lamar’s Grammys Performance

(Of course this isn't anywhere on the internet for me to link to. Because Neil Portnow.)

Kendrick’s performance was the performance that Kayne always thinks he is giving. It’s a performance that made everyone else who took the stage on Music’s Biggest Night seem like talent show contestants.

I don’t want to tell artists how to use their fame, but this is how they should use their fame.

3. Last Week Tonight - #MakeDonaldDrumpfAgain

SPOILER ALERT: He didn't make Donald Drumpf again. In fact the viral success of this piece and lack of any resultant effect on Trump whatsoever does raise some big questions about the effectiveness of comedy in actually changing anyone’s mind about anything in 2016. But yet, like death from a thousand paper cuts, it definitely drew a little blood. And even though I really wish John Oliver had stuck with guns and only referred to Trump as Drumpf for the rest of the year, it was still a more thorough and effective attack ad than anything the Clinton campaign managed to put together, and that was basically their whole job. John Oliver can never be president, but the world is going to be a better place as long as he keeps trying to help decide who will be.

Also, says everything about 2016 that this piece now feels like it came out ten thousand years ago.

4. La La Land

Hey, remember joy? And love? And having hopes and dreams? Well La La Land sure does! The best and worst thing you can say about it is that it’s a pre-Trump movie. Maybe the last one ever in fact. But for my money, Damien Chazelle’s quest to Make Musicals Great Again is exactly the tonic we need right now. And it seems fitting the Oscars after the death of Debbie Reynolds are going to be headlined by a colorful and happiness-inducing musical about show business, complete with its own dream ballet. Sometimes the best way to reinvent an art form is to just do it the same way its always been done, only better and at the right time.

5. Olympic Swimming

When the Olympics began I barely cared. I was raised on the Olympics, but in 2016 there’s so much else going on it felt like maybe time has passed the Olympics by. And then the swimming started. And Ledecky destroyed all challengers. And Phelps proved that calling him the greatest swimmer of all time is still underrating him. And Simone Manuel made history. And Lochte Lochted. And Anthony Ervin spun an all-time Olympic athlete backstory into Olympic gold. And for a week there was nothing in the world more compelling than watch people swim laps in a pool.

So turns out the Olympics are the Michael Phelps of sporting events - the second you think they’ve slipped a bit is when they have you right where they want you.

6. LVL Up - “Pain”

Point: Rock and roll is dead

Counterpoint: “Pain” by LVL Up

7. Stranger Things

I hate the 80s. I hate supernatural shows and horror-based shows and “genre” shows in general. I hate homage as the starting place for a work of art. I hate culture’s obsession with nostalgia and youth. And yet I loved Stranger Things. It felt like nothing else on TV while feeling like so many other things all at once. It’s the show Lost wishes it could have been, and what JJ Abrams wishes he had made instead of Super 8.

Also: I hate that there’s going to be a season two. I hate that dialogue around the show seemed so #TeamBarb when clearly any sane right-thinking person is #TeamNancy all the way. I preemptively hate all the imitators Stranger Things is going to spawn. And I hate the Stranger Things backlash that’s inevitably coming and coming hard. But right now, in this moment, let’s all embrace a wonderful television ride and not worry about the demigorgons in the woods coming to put slugs in its mouth.

#KeepHawkinsWeird

8. Flossie Dickey

Sometimes you find true love where you least expect it. Like in an interview with a 110-year woman at a nursing home.

9. Sam Donsky on The Ringer

(Speaking of soul mates…)

In the age of Trump it’s more important than ever that we have writers brave enough to ask the tough questions. Like: Who would win the Oscar for Best Baby? What is the best night any celebrity has ever had at Madison Square Garden? And why does David Benioff always thank his wife by her full name?

From analyzing the Kim/Kayne/Taylor tapes like they're the Zapruder film, to asking 74 questions about a film no one saw or liked, 2016 was the year Sam Donsky officially made himself into this generation’s Woodward and Bernstein, if Woodward and Bernstein were mostly known for dissecting dumb pop culture on the internet. We may never fully understand why Trump won, but, also, what’s up with Chris Pratt’s vests?

10. Black-ish - “Hope”

A perfect piece of writing and a perfect argument for the continued existence of network TV.

That being said though, 40 years ago this would be a classic TV episode people would talk about for generations. Now, it didn't even get nominated for an Emmy. Maybe network TV is just beyond saving.

11. The People vs. OJ Simpson

It’s almost a cliche at this point to point out how many societal issues the OJ Simpson case touched on, but watching this miniseries unfold was a great reminder that looking at the the past is usually the best vehicle for exploring the present. To choose just one example, the scene where the jurors argue over what to watch on TV is a perfect encapsulation of how something like a Trump victory could some day be possible. And if Marcia Clark isn't a perfect Hillary Clinton avatar then I don’t know who is. My only complaints about a perfect eight hours of television are that it wasn't longer and that Sarah Paulson and Courtney B. Vance aren't eligible for Oscars.

12. Samantha Bee’s Donald Trump Conspiracy Theory

Look, I don't want to say that Full Frontal with Samantha Bee is the best and most important show on TV. That is has the best joke writers in the business. That it has the righteous anger and indignation that this year called for. That it’s going to be our guiding light for the next four years. And that it’s proof that giving The Daily Show to Trevor Noah was one of the dumbest decisions in recent television history. All I’m saying is that some people are saying that, and who am I to disagree? If I was going to make claims that outlandish, I guess the first pieces of evidence I would direct you to are this already iconic Donald Trump conspiracy and the show’s Harriet Tubman segment. But I’m not one to make accusations about things using facts and evidence. I’m no expert; I’m just a guy. A guy standing in front of samanthabee.com asking it to to love him.

13. David Bowie - “Lazarus” video

The ultimate mic drop.

They say Native Americans used to make use of every part of the buffalo. David Bowie was like that, only the buffalo was his life.

14. SNL

“Farewell Mr. Bunting”

Having enough trust in your audience and your vision to attempt this sketch is super inspiring. Getting people in 2016 to wait through two and a half minutes of build up in a viral video before it pays off feels like a miracle. And getting the feeling back in my face when I finally finish laughing at this is going to be really great.

“Black Jeopardy” This is what comedy can do when its at it’s best. It cuts to truths about America more clearly and cleanly than 1,000 think pieces ever could. Are comedy sketches eligible for the Nobel Prize in Literature now?

“Hillary Clinton/Hallelujah” And this is what comedy can do when it’s not comedy at all. When historians 200 years from now want to know what the days just after the election of Donald Trump felt like all they need to do is watch this. The best thing SNL has ever done.

15. Songs That Made Me Unsure Whether I Should Be Sad, Dance, Or Both

Christine and the Queens - “iT”

I have absolutely no idea what this song is about. All I know is it sounds like the feeling of being alive. Between this song and Marion Cotillard’s eyes the French really continue to have the whole beautiful sadness thing figured out.

Eleanor Freiberger - “My Mistakes” The best Rilo Kiley song of 2016. The world can change however it wants; as long as it keeps giving me new versions of the exact song I’m totally good.

Mike Posner - “Took a Pill in Ibiza” The exact opposite of me is an EDM-influenced song about taking drugs in a nightclub in Ibiza. Yet here we are. Turns out that existential melancholy translated into Douche from the original Neurotic Intellectual is still pretty damn relatable. And yes I realize this song came out in 2015, but this will always be the sound of 2016 to me.

16. Moonlight

Moonlight feels like a miracle. That a serious drama without any name stars about a poor, gay, black man coming of age could be made at all, yet alone breakthrough into the popular consciousness. That a cast this natural and flawless could be found, like an album where every song that comes on makes you go “no THIS one is my favorite!”. That there are two different sets of three actors so similar and so good that when I see them together doing press it hurts my brain because I can’t process that they were not ACTUALLY the same person at three different ages. That two people making small talk at a table in a diner could have a whole audience on the edge of their seats. That a no-name director with one prior little-seen credit could create the most powerful and well-made movie of the year. None of these things seems possible or plausible, and yet they're all true. This movie is a miracle. And its success gives me hope. To quote critic Dana Stevens, in the pitch-black year of Trump, Moonlight was a “crack in the wall that allowed light to shine through”.

17. Atlanta

In 2016, what even is TV? It’s basically anything now. And it’s everything. It’s whatever it wants to be. And no artist has yet risen to meet the challenge and possibility of our post-Louie world better than Donald Glover has. In 2016 Atlanta is TV, and TV is Atlanta. There are no rules. There is only what you can dream up.

What will season two of Atlanta be? It could be literally anything and no one would bat an eye.

18. Chance the Rapper - Coloring Book

Chance the Rapper is so millennial it hurts. Chance the Rapper definitely has strong feelings about safe spaces and Bernie Sanders. Chance the Rapper has never even considered doing something ironically. Chance the Rapper makes Lin-Manuel Miranda look like a cynical pessimist. Hell, Chance the Rapper named himself Chance the Rapper. And as a millennial, Chance the Rapper is the future.

And the future sounds amazing.

The future is like if Old Kanye had been raised on new Kanye and was actually good at rapping. (As the old saying goes: every generation gets the Late Registration it deserves) The future is like if Picasso painted with emojis. The future is earnestness being the new aggression. The future is Future being the past.

Hip-hop is dead, long live hip-hop.

19. “A Closer Look” on Late Night With Seth Meyers

I almost left this reoccurring segment off my list of the best of 2016 because it’s become such a constant part of my life that I assumed it had been around longer than just this year. Who knew when Jon Stewart retired that the new iteration of The Daily Show would be called Late Night With Seth Meyers? Or as I call it: Essential.

20. Revisionist History Podcast

Facts and knowledge really took a beating in 2016, but turns out both are still great if you just re-examine them rather then throw them out all together. Perhaps looking more deeply into our assumptions about the world can help us better understand human nature and the reality we all share. Who knew?

Of everything I experienced in 2016 this podcast is the thing I reference most frequently. I’m fun at parties.

[mikeyd1986]

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 59, June 2017

On Monday morning, I had my Strength Training session with Luke Davey at Breakaway Fitness in Berwick. I was faced with numerous barriers on the drive to UFT PLAYgrounds this morning...the rain, low visibility, heavy traffic, being nervous, a couple of errands, last Thursday night’s terrible workout session...but I managed to push through all of these and let them go. I don’t give up very easily despite my never-ending mental struggle. What’s the worst that can happen right?

Right off the bat, I knew that this would be a much better session today. I felt like I was connecting better socially with Luke, I was saying hi to a few of the trainers at UFT and I was feeling better about myself. Focus on the positives. Plus it was a much quieter time to train as well. Morning sessions clearly work better for me so it was a good choice on Luke’s part to change the time for me. Nobody wants to see me as an emotional mess plagued with negative thoughts. I have to try and leave all that anxious bullshit at the door which is really difficult for me sometimes but just gotta keep trying. https://www.facebook.com/breakawayf...

WARM-UP...I started my sessions by doing 3 rounds of 10 “Good Mornings”. I was overthinking my form a little at the start but slowly improved and focused on bending from the hips. And I also did 3 rounds of 10 back extensions. My legs and knees were starting to burn a bit but otherwise I did heaps better than last time.

DEVELOPMENT...Back to the deadlifts. Today I did 5 rounds of 5. My form really has improved tremendously and Luke gave me plenty of constructive feedback about it. That made me feel awesome. Here I am doing 85kg deadlifts and despite feeling a little fatigued, I really smashed them out. I took my time with them, making sure I corrected myself before the next rep. I was deliberately being mindful about keeping my shoulders pulled back, bar close to the body and chest straight. I’ve certainly come a long way since I started doing this.

WORK-OUT...Another really tough workout today. I had to do 21, 15 and 9 reps of the following: 20kg deadlifts, ring rows, (two minute rest), 20kg deadlifts and butterfly situps. I was really starting to feel it during my 15’s and after my rest. My arms were burning so much especially doing the ring rows. I was gasping for breath and feeling a bit light headed at times. I was also worried about throwing up.

Part of me felt like I should raise the red flag up at Luke and yet even if I wanted to, I was too exhausted to speak. I didn’t want to come across like “Poor Michael” either. But even though I struggled hard and had to slow down and stop a few times, I wanted to prove it to Luke and myself that I was finishing this damn workout. I ended up getting a time of around 13 minutes and 20 seconds. I AM NOT A FAILURE. I AM NOT WEAK. I WILL NOT GIVE UP!

On Tuesday afternoon, I caught up with my friend Mandi Herauville at Enterprise Eatery in Berwick. Of course, I didn’t realise that the cafe closed at 3pm and here we are just chatting away as they’re trying to shut the doors. But I’m really glad that I made the time to see her. I need a good laugh and to release some stress before my session with Brendan. She’s still in the process of painting the walls of her gym at The Yard Strength & Fitness and she wants to do something unique with the colour scheme compared to other gyms.

Later that afternoon, I had my first remedial massage appointment with Brendan Rose at MyoMAX. I was physically shaking like a leaf as I grabbed the clipboard and started filling my patient info form out. Funnily enough, filling out the form proved to be a good distraction. The nervousness was more about this being a new experience for me and not really knowing what to expect. I bumped into Joseph Coverdale and Michelle Newman in the waiting room, returning smiles and awkward glances. https://www.facebook.com/Myomax/

In the treatment room, Brendan made things as comfortable as possible for me. Though I was slightly self-conscious about taking my shirt off in front of him, I managed relax as he assessed where my tightness and soreness in my muscles was located. Doing a squat in front of him, it was clear that I was really stiff in my hips and found it difficult sinking my butt low to the ground. This was obviously a lot different to the relaxation massages I’ve had in the past. This was a much more personalised service.

Some of his questions felt like curve-balls. I decided to just be honest with him, even if that meant saying “I’m not sure”. Why should I feel guilty about not knowing an answer? But it was good that he made the effort to ask about my personal life and get to know me better. I trusted him enough to let my guard down a bit without being an emotional mess. You can only keep that “brave face” on for so long.

As for the needles and the massage techniques, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting. Brendan was very careful and gentle about it, assuring me that it wouldn’t hurt. He even played Nickelback’s new album on his tablet to help calm my nerves even further. The only thing that I’m really worried about is the financial cost of these treatments but I’ve already discussed it with Brendan. I’d rather be honest than pretend I’m fine. But I would definitely return to him. He did an excellent job today. https://www.myomax.com.au/

On Tuesday night, I went to my Body Combat class with Cinamon Guerin at YMCA Casey ARC in Narre Warren. Despite feeling very drained, I somehow had the physical energy to do pretty well tonight. For once, I decided to stand directly in front of one of the mirrors. I’m not sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, though it did inspire the thought that I need to go shopping for more form fitting workout wear. It’s time to rid myself of those large baggy clothes.

I felt really good during the first half of the workout, especially doing those side roundhouse kicks and jab boxes. Then it got ridiculously hard for me during the second half where we had to quickly shift between doing squats, back lunges and front kicks. I got really uncoordinated and found it difficult to keep up but I just did what I could. Most people were fatiguing hard at this point but I felt great afterwards.

Chatting with Cinamon after the class always puts my mind at ease. It’s just so easy to talk with her about anything from my mental struggles to the progress I’m making with my fitness to reality TV shows. She’s a great listener and gives great advice. She also makes me laugh which is exactly what I need more of in my life. http://w3.lesmills.com/israel/en/cl...

On Thursday morning, Mum and I attended a Morning Melodies function at the Olinda Creek Hotel in Lilydale. Unfortunately, I was in a really negative and irritable mood not helped by checking my bank balance. It just resurrected a lot of guilt and shame from my endless debt cycle and spending too much money. It got me down because I really wanted to have my credit card paid off by now (end of June) but alas it’s just going to take a bit longer. I just have to remember that it could be worse. I WILL pay that credit card off.

Watching the performance by Dennis Rea however seemed to lift my mood a little. He played an hour’s worth of classic cover songs by artists such as Elvis Presley, Neil Diamond,  Marty Robbins, Johnny Cash and John Paul Young. Mum told me that her father, my granddad, used to play some of these songs to her when she was a young girl. After the show, I was practically venting to my Mum about all the things that have been bothering me lately which kind of helped in a way. I needed to get it out of my system. I enjoyed some beer battered fish and chips as well as a passionfruit cheesecake and a regular latte. https://www.olindacreekhotel.com.au/...

On Thursday night, I attended my first ever Life Drawing class at Oak Hill Gallery in Mornington. It’s been nearly 10 years since I last did any sort of life drawing at TAFE so I really wasn’t expecting great drawings tonight. The moment I walked into the gallery, it was a bit of a mad panic getting all the equipment and materials ready. I had to reacquaint myself with an easel and using charcoal as a drawing medium. The gallery space was also quite squashy and with about 6 other artists in the room, everyone was up close and personal.

Tonight’s model was local Mornington-based artist Billy Nye who’s work I greatly admire. We had the fireplace and heater going as well as some smooth jazz and romantic songs playing while we were busy drawing. Each drawing is timed at 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes or 20 minutes so the idea is to work quickly, loosely sketching out the structure of the pose and working in the details. My style seems to be very expressive with a focus on bold linework. I still need to improve on my composition and scale of the body parts but overall I think I did alright for my first class. http://oakhillgallery.com.au/2017/0...

On Friday morning, I had my second Strength Training session for the week with Luke Davey at Breakaway Fitness. I decided to surprise Luke with a small birthday present. My biggest concern was that he’d take it the wrong way. My intentions are always good ones and honestly this was nothing more than a random act of kindness. I’m a caring person and I care about my personal trainer so I wanted to do it. Thankfully his reaction was a positive one, he was taken aback and didn’t expect it.

I feel like I’m in a much better headspace than I was last week at UFT. Switching to morning sessions has obviously been a worthwhile decision in terms of my mental health. I’m connecting better with the other trainers. I’m letting go of negativity. I’m trying hard not to overthink too much (easier said than done!) and I’m also bonding better with Luke. I even decided to try and be more interested in his life instead of being consumed by the awkward silence. And it’s genuine as well. It just takes confidence and self belief to be able to speak up for myself.

WARM UP...Today I started my session by doing 4 rounds of 12 single-arm bar bell rows and 4 rounds of 15 resistance band stretches through the upper back muscles. The second part was a lot harder though. I did some YTW shoulder exercises on the bench. Basically I had to make a “Y”, a “T”  and a “W” using my arms for 3 rounds of 10 reps each. I was fatiguing very quickly even during the first round. My shoulders were burning and I found it difficult keeping my arms up. But I reminded myself that there’s no shame in struggling, being out of breath, panting or fatiguing. This was a new exercise for me so I should be proud regardless.

DEVELOPMENT...Back to the bench press again, this time doing 5 rounds of 5 reps. Today I was focusing more on correcting my technique rather than how heavy the weight was. This was definitely a source of frustration for me as it’s a lot of things to remember and it takes me a while to get it. Making sure that the bar path was in a straight line. Keeping my elbows in close to the body. Rotating the forearms inwards. And tensing up the back muscles. All while lifting the bar up and down.

Eventually I got there though and made some significant improvement. Seeing Luke’s face upside down actually made me laugh. It’s like those funny faces in the World’s Greatest Shave ads. And it’s exactly what I needed today to keep my mind focused on the workout.

“All your life, scramble and scurry. Take your time, rather than hurry. Never too late to write the best of your story. Remember to breathe or else you're gonna be sorry. Life's no race, it's a companion. Always face with reckless abandon. The ticket to life as my mother once told me. Stick with your pride and you're gonna be lonely (gonna be lonely)”  Nickelback - After The Rain (2017)

“So here I am. I’m back at it again. So much time I’ve wasted. Sitting on my own hands. Nothings gonna stop me. From doing what I love. With determination. Running through my veins. Running through my veins. It’s now or never. This is my second chance. I’m not ready to give up. It’s not my time. There’s no more excuses. That will change my mind. Don’t look back”  Driven to the Verge - Persistence (2017)

[anne-lister-adventures]

Monday, 10 March 1840

4 50/’’

11 1/2

All ready at 5 25/’’ then a little breakfast (our own little boiler no pother of Semovar) – Reaumur 7 1/2º on our table – The room coldish – 2 cups of tea and breakfast over in 10 minutes – And from the Kopanowskaia at 6 – A little village - Counted a group of 19 Calmuck tents (Kibitkas) – 

Descend upon the Volga – The wood (vide line 12 last p.[page]) was, as today, large old pollard willows on large sandbanks and islands of the Volga – Looking like a forest in the distance and in fact it is willow-forest the trees being often sufficiently thick on the ground to leave little room for anything else, tho’ we found cattle straying among them – 

At 7 25/’’ turned up from the river to the land-road – Very fine morning – At the Little gorod of J-[Jenotaiewsk] at 8 35/’’ – The servants Kibitka a few minutes en retard – We had arrived so much sooner than I expected thought going another stage before breakfast – But the next Station said to be such a poor little place where we could not breakfast that determined to breakfast here – The good-looking new (wood) house it seemed belonged to a seigneur – Nothing to be had there – 

Set off to another place in the Gorod – Having just walked round the white handsome church at some distance (opposite) our Station – This the Cathedral! Another neat church besides this – This a clocher with 4 style portico – Nave – And the church (all 3 adjoining) a large circle gathered up in 2 retiring steps to the size of the domes, with North and South entrance by 2 style porch and pediment – all the roof metal plates painted green – 

The Jenotaiewsk cathedral c. 1910.

One of the nicest neatest little Gorod churches we have seen – 4 or 5 wind mills close to the town (right) on entering, and (left) on entering in a wide sort of 1/2 formed square the cathedral – And not far from this a neat good building for Town’s business, Court House – Nice little villagy town – 

We had 3 or 4 minutes walk to chez ‘le seigneiur’ the Maître de Poste a German Russian – Arrived 2 months ago – His wife and daughters at St. P-[Petersburg] the Postmaster at Astrakhan going to Kazan (as Postmaster) and our friend anxious to succeed him at A-[Astrakhan] would not stay here at any price – Nobody to speak to – No parti for his daughters – All Calmuck – The ladies could not read or write and on my mentioning the common waste of manure, he said here they did worse than pile it on the riverside to be washed away – They laid it in the Town – and the smell was offensive in summer – 

Emolument 500/- per annum – There might be other revenues but un homme comme il faut could not take them – Better appointments and a good house at Astrakhan for the Postmaster – Trade very bad there now – Nothing but the fishery – Nothing to be had but Moscow things – The Persian trade all goes to Tiflis now – They have a grant of it free of duty for 10 years – Several rich merchants there – And a large new hotel that cost 10000/- 5 storeys High – On the Koura – Kept by an Armenian, Chadinoff – Prince Volkonsky had spoken of it to our host – 

Could not tell what we should pay there – But had before recommended a house (no hotel where one can dine at Astrakhan) at A-[Astrakhan] kept by a French whose wife is a German where we should lodge and board (very good table) for a Silver Ruble a day! Nobody no company there (at the house) now – How will this turn out? This was told at 1st when he asked what affaires we had at A-[Astrakhan] and fancied it might be the wife of a Naval Officer (English) who had been 10 years there in the Russian Marine (ship building) and did not wish to engage for another 10, and was afraid of his wife passing him on the road, as she was to join him there – But he should wait for her at Moscow – 

Our host had been 6 years prisoner in England – Had surrendered to the English par préférance instead of to the French at Lisbon after the Russian Turkish War (in 1808?) – Prisoner at Portsmouth but had visited Chatham, London &c. &c. apparently on parole – Liked England very much – The Russian prisoners very well treated there – Had been at Tiflis – Lost a nephew 2 months in the Circassian War – Nothing but patience will do with these people – 

Must ask at A-[Astrakhan] to have an escort – Dangerous about Kisliar – The couriers never take money that way – Always by Tcherkask and Stavropol – No danger in passing the Kabardas – Always an escort – Recommended us to be there by moonlight – Very fine – As if one was in a hole so surrounded by mountains – The best time for passing is January – The sooner we get there the better or we may be inconvenienced I suppose by the melting the snows – I got no answer I think to my inquire if there were avalanches – 

He said we might be 16 or 18 hours on horseback in getting thro’ from one Station to another – Sure we never saw such a road – A Germany colony a few v.[versts] from Tiflis that we ought to see – We should find Germans French and English there and all sorts of Persian things &c. &c. to be got there – 

Gave the Courier the address of the people at A-[Astrakhan] and gave him an a letter for the Calmuck Prince and for horses to take there tomorrow – Our carriage Kibitka too heavy – Had best take a light Traineau de Poste but said we must have 3 horses and ourselves and the 2 Russians (Courier and George) could go – 

The Prince was in the campaign in France in 1814 – His sister (that Lord Royston saw) married unhappily – Married a Calmuck – The Prince very rich – Would half kill his servants if they took anything – I must not pay anything – He speaks French – Is très comme il faut – 

Cannot sleep at Zamianowskaya, so that if we cannot arrive in time at Libajouskaya had best return and sleep a 2d. night at Soroglazinskaya where we shall sleep tonight, the encampent being on 12 v.[versts] from there across the river – The Prince has a good house – Pity we did not arrive in time for the great religious fête 3 weeks ago when he had 80 people staying in his house – Begged I might give the servant of our host and left with himself a 30 Kopek Silver piece – Probably the master not the maid would take it – And I might have given more – Probably a 1/2 Silver Rouble would have been better – 

Off at 10 3/4 – Descend immediately upon the Volga till 11 50/’’ then seem to leave it and go along the land-road (the summer road) – Had my door open for some while – Drive over ice – And large sandbanks and islands covered with large old pollarded willows – A Deciatine, said our Maître de Poste (who 1st addressed us in English) = 80 x 30 fathoms of 2 English yards = 4800 yards something less than an acre = 4840 yards – A-[Ann] had slept and I had slept and read which beguiled the slowness of our progress – 

2 35/’’ when we reached Kosikinskaya – Little cottage-like log house Station House but we might have had a nice enough little room to ourselves and might have breakfasted as to room quite as comfortably as we did chez ‘le seigneur’ whose Semovar had lost its cheminée (long ∴[therefore] in boiling and we had to get our own cheminée) and there was nobody in the little Gorod to mend it – Our host gets all his provisions from Tamboff 700 v.[versts] off (I think he said 700 v.[versts]) – 

At K-[Kosikinskaya] neat little painted broad church – Needle-pointed clocher – Nave – And church part 8tagon[octagon] as well as the clocher – The village small and shabbyish – 2 or 3 Calmuck tents in the courtyard (farm yard) opposite our Station House – The Post stables merely of wattled (wicker) walls, flat roofed and hay piled stackwise on the top – Royston crows in abundance hopping about – Quite tame and with them several magpies – The guide post marks 115 v.[versts] to A-[Astrakhan] Read a great deal this morning – 

Schnitzler vol.[volume] 2 on the origin of the Calmucks and Tatars, and vol.[volume] 1 from p.[page] 169 to 217 chapter 6 and then on arriving at the Station at 4, Soroglazinskaya, finding the house full of people – Could not be taken in, drove off with one horse to our present quarters – And en route finished the remaining p.[page] or 2 of chapter 6 and alighted here at 4 20/’’ – One nice enough room – Soon made ourselves comfortable – And went out at 4 40/’’ for an hour to the neat church which A-[Ann] sketched – 

Sent off the Courier to the Calmuc Prince with A-‘s[Ann’s] card and mine and compliments and we would be chez lui about 10 tomorrow a.m. – They say here, he has 2 brothers at St. P-[Petersburg] one a Captain in the Grenadier Guard – Has a large village about him, and a school for his people – Some have cottages and some tents (Kibitkas of felt) – The river is close to the village here just below it – And all seems sandy desert around – Bare of snow here and there – But they say there is good pasture land at a little distance – Some Calmuck tents here, one in each of several farm yards – But they say, these people do not stay here, but live in the woods to the westward – Several good wood cottages and houses here – A good, picturesque village in long line above the Volga – All the people very civil in taking off the hats as we pass – Wrote all the above of today till tea at 8 in 1/2 hour – 

The village the property of the people – Cossacks – Free – The farm yard full of sheep a mixed breed between Calmuck and not ∴[therefore] some with the short fat tails and some not and some with the long small tail of English sheep – A good sheep will weigh fit for the butcher 2 poods (40 Russian lbs.[pounds] or 36 English lbs.[pounds]+ = 72 English lbs.[pounds]) and sell for 8/- horses from 40/- to 100/- and cows about 40/- - a fat cow = from 8 to 16 poods and the fat animal worth about 7/- or rather more per pood – 

Had just written so far at 8 40/’’ p.m. very fine day Reaumur -15º dehors at 6 a.m. and +7 1/2º in our room at 5 1/2 a.m. Had the Courier in – To be chez le Prince at 11 a.m. tomorrow – Had Domna – Undressed – A thorough wash –

 1st 1/2+ Volga   6 to 8 35/’’     Kopanowskaya to Jenotaiewsk (Gorod)      30

ditto ditto ditto    10 3/4 to 2 35/’’  J-[Jenotaiewsk] to Kosikinskaya       25 1/2

all on Volga   2 55/’’ to 4    K-[Kosikinskaya] to Soroglazinskaya           24 1/2

                                                                                                               80

Some of Anne’s and Ann’s stops in little towns along the Volga.

[symbols in the margin of the page:]         +          𐐥

[in the margin of the page:]             Reaumur -15º at 6 a.m. dehors

[in the margin of the page:] ��          Jenotaiewsk

Page References: SH:7/ML/E/24/0038 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0039 and SH:7/ML/E/0040