#sticking the first one in my card display binder

[shrapnarl]

Doodles from a couple days ago

[rigaudon]

This was just gonna be another comparison but then I pulled out my binder and ended up with an illustrated essay.

So while the new cards are PRETTIER, at the same time, the quality on the new cards can't compare to the old ones. Ceruledge is super shiny, but the cardstock is VISIBLY thinner than Gengar's (and the fancy pants full art foils are even thinner), and the ink is so much DENSER on the old cards. The difference in ink saturation is most obvious when you compare the cardbacks

The old card is on the right in the first picture. Basic bitch 1999 nonfoil Dragonair feels 20× nicer to hold than 2023 glitterbomb hyperfoil. 💀💀💀

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk, but while I have you here... let me give you a glimpse into the mind of me as a child. You might be wondering why the edges of all my old cards are so fucked up, it's because 1: they've been crammed in here for 24 years (holy shit, I'm old).

Which shouldn't be a big deal except for 2: As a Real Pokemon Trainer, my binder is in pokedex order and every variant I have of the same pokemon lives IN THE SAME SLEEVE TOGETHER (top card dictated by how shiny and/or how much 10-year-old-me liked the art), none of that side by side entire sheet of 9 squirtles bullshit. I stacked the squirtles.

(Yes, you are correct in the assumption that this means I was, 3: constantly taking them out of the sleeves and keeping 10+ cards in the same card holder, especially if I had a lot of cards of the pokemon on both sides of the page. I had to replace the sheets in the whole binder at least 2-3 times because I'd stick so many cards in them that the sides would rip and drop $500 in cardboard all over the pavement). I mostly fixed that when I stopped keeping dupes of the same art in there too.

But Raie, you say. Surely, this doesn't include foils and rare cards, right? Great question! Glad you asked!!

Say hello to single-sleeve Vileplume family!

Will I continue this tradition as an adult that should know better? Yes, absolutely.

What number am i on? 4? A few of them most definitely went through the washing machine at some point. Idk when i got a new one, but I got my original Pidgeot from a friend who'd left it in the pocket of her jeans and 80% of the card was fuzzy.

(Please don't ask why this mangled common Pikachu is the one I decided to display on top. Adult me doesn't know. Maybe mangled, stained, washing machine Pikachu was my first Pikachu and thus had sentimental value over literally any of the 30 other copies I had of that same Pikachu.) Now that I think about it I probably just put the FIRST copy i got in the binder for emotional attachment reasons, idk.

Speaking of sentimental value: I keep my ticket stub from the first pokemon movie between my Mews.

And i was going to end on that note until I saw this INSANE THING LOOK AT THIS. THIS. FISH. THIS FLAT, COMMON, BASIC FISH POKEMON IS OBJECTIVELY BETTER THAN FUCKING CHARIZARD.

Something something 20 year old card game something something power creep

I CAN ONLY INCLUDE TEN PICTURES ON THE APP SO GIVE ME A MINUTE BUT I HAVE TO PREFACE THIS NEXT REVELATION WITH: MEWTWO HAS 60 HP

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [8]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Warning: angst if you squint, I guess

↳  Word count: 2,294

↳  Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | You Are Here! | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

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

WEDNESDAY - 8 TWO YEARS LATER

The heart of Toronto would never compare to the magnificence of Times Square in New York, but the mass amount of billboards by the Eaton Center always managed to send you into awe during your nightly trek home from work. 

You looked up toward the billboards with a sigh as you waited for your streetcar, barely managing to squeeze out a smile as you saw Mark’s visage splayed along one of the electronic spaces. The night sky was too polluted with the city’s light to display any real stars, but Mark’s face was more than enough for you. For the past week, you had seen NCT127’s faces sprawled across that billboard, part of promotions for their latest global comeback. It was a brief respite as you waited for your streetcar home every night, to finally know that the day was over and that you could relax.

It had been such a long time since you’ve seen Mark in person. Even though you texted him every day when the two of you were awake at the same time and video chatted whenever he had five minutes to himself, it always felt depressing to be without him. To not kiss or touch or hug at all was torture.

Everyone knew that it was deadly for soulmates to be apart for so long, that depression would set in and even worse physical illnesses were a real risk. It was hard to be so far away and over the past year you had been let go from multiple jobs because you were constantly sick, and therein lies the problem. You simply couldn’t afford the solution to your problem. So, depression and illness it was. It took everything you had to keep your head above water, to keep your dream alive and know that one day your heart wouldn’t ache as much as it does at the present moment.

After a 20 minute ride on the streetcar, you entered your building and took the stairs up to your little hole-in-the-wall apartment, the bare minimum that you could afford after Rhiannon paid her last half of the old place’s rent. A single bed, bath and a tiny kitchen that housed a little chair and round table. Thankfully, there was enough counter space that you could place a tiny TV to watch Netflix on while you ate. You were lucky that the house had a large living room, which doubled as your studio.

The coffee table was one of the only things left from your old apartment, along with the tote of Marvel films you kept hidden below it. Atop the table now rested all of your cameras, a drawing tablet and cards that you got in the mail from Mark from time-to-time, instead of notes, binders and textbooks. Sitting against the wall across from the table was a small bookshelf and an easel with a large frame sitting on it, housing the last portrait you finished the night before, ready to be shipped to the buyer.

After… somewhat enjoying a quick pot of white cheddar mac & cheese and watching a rerun of Supernatural on your little TV, you head into your room and sit at the desk next to your bed. After starting your computer, you opened up discord and sat back in your wheely chair, waiting for Rhiannon’s status to change to green. Wednesday was the day that she had to be up early for her job, so that meant time for a 10-minute call before you went to bed and she went to work. 

Next to your computer was a copy of the photo you took two years ago, of your soulmate and all his friends beneath the shedding cherry trees in High Park. You smiled at it, the memory was fond but now faint in your mind. You reached forward to pick it up, but you stopped yourself. You knew that if you inspected the photo more, you’d only miss Mark and all your friends more. 

There were times where your apartment became so quiet that it reminded you how alone you really were. You had lived with Rhiannon most of your life, and that meant there was at least some noise going on at all times. Whether she had her headset unplugged when she was listening to music or watching youtube videos, she was clattering about when helping you wash and dry the dishes, or if she was walking around and tripped on nothing. She was always talking, laughing, or doing something that always let you know that she was there. Now, you had nothing.  

The silence is broken and you’re startled by the calling sound from discord, Rhiannon’s icon popping up on the top of your screen. You place your hand on your mouse and click the join call button, adjusting the webcam perched on the top of your desktop monitor. 

"Hey," Rhiannon was the first to speak, yawning and reaching back to pull her hair into a perfect, tight ponytail. 

"Hey," you respond, watching her closely and leaning your chin on your right palm. "How are you holding up?"

"I should be asking you that, Jesus, you look like the Hulk if he got the swine flu," she retorts, and even through the grainy quality you can tell she has sympathy written all over her face. "I'm doing great, we've got two cleanings today and a wisdom teeth removal, so that'll be fun." 

You scoff and attempt to smile, "I'm fiiiiine, other than the fact that I'm here and you're there, 13 hours in the future and at least one ocean in between us and an entire continent and a half. I'd say that constitutes abandonment."

"I got the getting while it was good and you know that," she stuck her tongue out at you. "You need to keep saving so that you can fly your ass out here." She squinted at the screen. "You really need to drink like… an entire bottle of nyquil, dude."

"If only it were that easy," you groan. "I don't even have a photographer's position yet. All I get is sitting at a desk and responding to emails… even with my head start, I can't find a good job and I barely make enough to keep living in Toronto." You stick out your tongue back at her for the nyquil comment. "As if I haven't been hiding a bottle of dayquil in my desk for the past week."

Rhiannon stopped what she was doing and leaned toward her camera. "You know why you can't get the jobs you want," her voice is soft, empathetic. "Mark is having trouble, too. He's been doing a lot of half days, so I don't know how they plan to do their tour with him being constantly sick." 

You looked away. "I can't afford to take any more time off… I don't want to lose this job. If I do, I'm not sure that I'll be able to make my rent."

"You're going to need to take time eventually,” Rhiannon stated firmly. "If you don't get at least some of your strength back you're going to end up in the hospital like I did. Remember?" 

You glanced back at your screen, watching Donghyuck wander around in the backdrop. You were beyond jealous that they got to live together. 

"Maybe. I just miss you. More than I miss having a clear passageway in my nose." 

Rhiannon smiled sadly at you. "I miss you too, everyone does. You'll be here soon, I promise. I gotta go, sleep well and drink plenty of water, okay?"

"Okay." 

Rhiannon waved at you before her screen went dark, ending the call. The call was shorter than usual, so you presumed that she had woken up late. You zoned out a little, acutely aware that the apartment had gone silent again. You didn't want to cry, to give up after surviving for so long. You had made it this far without letting everything get to you.

You knew that your deteriorating health was because of your separation from Mark and companies saw that as a liability, even though laws had come into place last year to protect separated soulmates from workplace discrimination. You felt a tiny ping of hope when Rhiannon said you would be able to move soon, but you knew she was lying to make you feel better. 

Feeling lethargic, you stand and make your way to the dresser in the corner of your room, stripping and throwing your clothes about the room. You open up a drawer and pull out a pair of sweatpants and the softest t-shirt you could find and slipped them on, wandering to your bed and slowly climbing in. You slipped off your glasses, placing them on your desk and reached forward to turn off your lamp.

You hugged your polar bear and tried to get comfortable, hoping to fall asleep quickly. You supposed you could call into work when you woke up; at least your manager was nice enough to understand when you needed a day off. You rolled over, tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn't come. Not while your phone was constantly buzzing. 

"What the hell," you mumble to yourself, untangling yourself from the knot of blankets you had tied yourself in to reach for your phone. Your lock screen lit up with a photo of Mark, one you had taken two years ago of him standing in Union Station. 

[Rhiannon (5)] 

She sure knew how to type quickly. 

Rhiannon: I'm on my way to work, I'll let you know when I'm there

Rhiannon: sorry our call was so short, I was running a little late

Rhiannon: I talked to Mark last night, did he say anything? 

Rhiannon: are you asleep already? It's been like 5 minutes 

Rhiannon: ok you're basically just ignoring me at this point

You: calm down bro I was getting in my pyjamas 

Rhiannon: I forgot how slow you get when you're sick, I could die of boredom waiting for you to respond 

You: hardy har 

Rhiannon: so have you talked to mark today? 

You: around lunchtime he woke up from a nightmare but I assume hes busy right now 

Rhiannon: Things have been pretty bad around now, I think you might have guessed that

You: Yeah, things aren’t really that great here either, but I’m more worried about Mark… have they given him time off? 

Rhiannon: Not much besides half days. He’s really been missing you. Maybe you should message him and see if he’s not busy

You: Yeah, maybe. I feel really guilty

Rhiannon: I know. I still could help you buy your plane ticket, you know. You: You know I can’t do that, I can’t take more from you than I have already. I owe you too much.

No response. 

You: Rhiannon I’m sorry 

You: Come on, you can’t have scrubbed in that fast!

You sighed, staring at your screen and still seeing no response from your best friend. You took a deep breath in and immediately regretted it when you began coughing up a lung, but at least you weren't upchucking your dinner. Instead, you decided to send a text to Mark.

You: mark, you there? 

You close your mind for a moment, thinking that maybe going to bed even later than usual would just make you more sick in the end, but you really needed to know what was going on. 

Mark: yeah I'm here babe, what's wrong, can't sleep? 

You: no not really… do you have time to talk for a bit? 

Mark: yeah, my legs gave out during our first practice so I'm taking a break

You: I'm sorry

Mark: it's not your fault (Y/N) 

You: it kind of is, we're both dying because I can't afford to move 

Mark: (Y/N), we're not dying, and it's okay, you'll be able to move soon

You: face it you know that we are… I haven't felt this horrible in a long time and I've thrown up three times today 

Mark didn't respond right away. 

Mark: why are you putting yourself down so much 

You: I just… have a lot of regrets right now 

Mark: what do you mean

You licked your lips and rolled over in bed, wondering if you should tell him.

Mark: are you okay? 

You: no, I feel like this would make you hate me 

Mark: I could never hate you and you know that. Tell me what's been bothering you.

You: For the past while… Rhiannon’s been offering me money. It’s honestly not much because everyone’s struggling nowadays, but it would be enough for me to fly to Korea, and I’ve felt so guilty about it that I kept saying no and she stopped offering

Mark: You mean that you could have been here faster? You: and now I feel that saying no was a really bad idea… and I.. I can’t afford anything, barely even food and now I hear that you’re even more sick than I am and I feel terrible

You: I don’t know what to do

Mark: It’s okay, (Y/N), really. I know how hard it is to take money from someone else, I’m not mad at you

You: Really?

Mark: I’m just disappointed that I have to keep waiting. You’ll be able to move soon, I promise, I promise, I promise

You: Are you going to be okay

Mark: As long as you are. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be there for you the second you land. Okay?

You: Okay. I… I should probably get some sleep now. Mark: Rest well, I love you

You: I love you too 

You sighed, placing your phone on your desk and turning over in your bed. It was time.

[emospritelet]

Manifesto prompt : dat handshake in front of press.

I’m really enjoying writing these two. Happy to take more prompts!

[AO3]

x

Belle was nervous, and irritated with herself because of it.

She told herself there was no need; whatever came of the evening she had already made her point. News programmes were covering the story; the BBC and Sky had already started running pieces on the state of local authority funding and municipal libraries, and the clip of her confronting the Prime Minister was all over social media. It was likely that the next day’s headlines would provide more coverage, and she was pleased that the news outlets were talking about the issues that affected real people in real towns, rather than the usual infighting at Westminster. She was aware that it was probably too late to save Avonleigh’s library, but while there was a glimmer of hope, she was determined to keep fighting.

To that end, she used the little time she had before book club to dig out the research she had been doing when trying to plead for the library’s continued funding. Everything was still in the colour-coded binder she had put together for one of her many meetings with the Council. She even had the presentation she had designed, prompts on a handful of cards to accompany the Powerpoint slides saved on a memory stick, although she very much doubted the Prime Minister would want to see it.

Belle thought she would have difficulty concentrating in the book club, but given that the members were more interested in talking about her impromptu television appearance than about Little Women, it didn’t really matter. Merida even showed her a YouTube video of her rant, edited to include captions of what Sutherland was allegedly feeling at the time. Which seemed to alternate between being outraged and turned on. The other club members thought it was hilarious.

“You’re my hero,” said Leroy, grinning at her above his bristling black beard. “Look at Sutherland’s face! I’m willing to bet no one ever talks to him like that.”

Leroy was short and stocky, a gruff hospital porter with a heart of gold and a secret, burning love for Astrid, the pretty nurse who worked shifts and could only attend book club every other week. He always looked around for her eagerly whenever he arrived, and the look of disappointment on his face when she wasn’t there made Belle’s heart melt. 

“Gave it to him with both bloody barrels!” chuckled Merida, tossing fiery red curls over her shoulder. “Serve the bastard right! Like he has the slightest clue what goes on in towns like this! Bloody London elite! They’re all the same!”

“He’s Scottish,” Belle pointed out, and she sniffed.

“Yeah, but he’s posh Scottish. They’re a breed apart, Belle, you mark my words. Plus he’s an MP. They go down to the House of Commons and check their morals at the door.”

“They can’t all be like that,” said Belle, wondering why the hell she was defending politicians when she had spent years cursing them out.

“Maybe not all of ‘em,” acknowledged Merida. “But our MP definitely is. Bloody Leopold White. When was the last time you saw the bastard in this town?”

“Last election,” said Leroy. “Came to the hospital and got in the damn way. Bet he does the same thing this year.”

Merida snorted, shifting in her seat.

“Someone should unseat the bastard,” she said, and her eyes widened. “Hey, Belle! You should run!”

Belle sighed.

“I have zero interest in running for Parliament,” she said. “I just want to save the library, and I probably won’t even be able to do that! In two months’ time I’ll be out of a job!”

“Just keep the pressure up,” said Merida. “They’ll have to do something, it’s all over the news!”

“Yeah, and in a few days’ time, they’ll have moved onto the next story, and no one will care,” sighed Belle. “I’ll just have to make the most of it while I can. I’ve done some interviews, I’m speaking to the Prime Minister tonight, and I’m going to contact the Council tomorrow, see if public opinion has changed their minds. I doubt it.”

“Maybe we should protest,” suggested Merida. “Keep the momentum going. I can make placards.”

“I can wave the placards and yell stuff,” offered Leroy, and Belle pursed her lips.

“Alright,” she said. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I’ll let you know what Mr Sutherland has to say for himself.”

“Just don’t let him sweet-talk you,” warned Merida. “These politicians are masters at wriggling out of their responsibilities. They’re all great at talking without saying anything, you know? If he makes any promises, get them in writing. Or on camera. Or both.”

Belle grinned.

“I’ll try.”

x

She was surprised not to encounter any cameras on her short walk from the library to the Swan Hotel, but there again she supposed none of the reporters wanted to miss the meeting. Anna met her in the hotel reception, smiling briefly and gesturing towards the corridor behind her.

“We’re in the Marchland Suite,” she said. “The press are crammed into the room next door, waiting to capture the two of you meeting. They’ll probably fire questions at you, but don’t feel you have to answer.”

Belle nodded, suddenly, painfully nervous. She fingered the strap of her satchel, in which the folder containing her research was sitting. Her bag had already been searched by two large men whom she presumed were Sutherland’s security team, and the formality of it all made her very aware that she would shortly be in a room with the most powerful man in the country. It made her feel tiny, insignificant, and she took a deep breath, trying to draw courage into her lungs. Anna gave her a sidelong look as they mounted a flight of stairs.

“Chin up,” she said. “He doesn’t bite.”

Belle nodded wordlessly, and the next moment they were stepping through a doorway into an opulent room decorated in pale cream and sage green, filled with waiting reporters. Anna led her through the throng towards a set of double doors, rapping smartly three times with her knuckles. Cameras started whirring, a ripple of flashing lights exploding in the air, and Belle could feel her pulse thumping in her throat and behind her eyes as the doors opened and the Prime Minister stepped out, nodding to the waiting reporters and smiling broadly as he adjusted his cuffs. 

The flashes of two dozen cameras were creating a strobe effect that was making Belle want to squeeze her eyes shut. It was all a little overwhelming, and she felt herself freeze in place as Sutherland stepped towards her, reaching out with his right hand. He was dressed in a different suit to that he had worn earlier, but it was just as expensive, and fitted him just as well. His tie was blue, his shirt crisp and crease-free, the cuffs just poking out from beneath his jacket to display gold cufflinks. To Belle’s great surprise, she found herself imagining what he looked like first thing in the morning, unshaven and dishevelled with heavy eyes. The image that came to her mind was also shirtless, and her eyes widened as she wondered where the hell that had come from. Her cheeks flushed a little, and she told herself to get a bloody grip.

“Miss French,” said Sutherland, smiling as he grasped her hand. “Good of you to come.”

His hand was warm and smooth, his fingers closing firmly around hers, and he used his other hand to pat and squeeze her upper arm, as though sending her some sort of reassurance, or holding her in place. It made her eyes narrow, but she nodded a little stiffly, shaking his hand. He had a politician’s smile, white teeth and fake warmth that didn’t quite reach his eyes. They were nice eyes, though, and she wondered what he looked like when he was greeting someone he actually wanted to meet.

“Prime Minister,” she said cautiously, and his smile widened a little.

“I’m grateful that you took time out of your busy evening to meet with me,” he added. “Hopefully we can have a constructive discussion.”

“I hope so, too.”

The flashes were off-putting, making her feel somewhat dazed, but Sutherland didn’t seem to notice. She supposed he was used to it. He was still shaking her hand, and she realised it was so each of the cameras could catch the perfect shot. He was clearly adept at working the press to his advantage, and it made her very aware that this encounter was as much for his benefit as for hers. Probably more so. It also made her want to pull back, but she stared into his eyes, feeling her jaw tighten as she stood firm. Eventually he let go of her hand, and she resisted the urge to rub her palm against her thigh.

“Well, if you could come this way,” said Sutherland pleasantly, gesturing to the room behind him.

“Belle, what are you hoping to achieve tonight?” called a reporter, and Belle blinked, her brain suddenly blank in the face of flashing cameras and thrusting microphones.

“I - uh…” she faltered. “I…”

“We’re just opening a dialogue,” said Sutherland smoothly. “Miss French raised a number of interesting points in our last meeting, and I want to make sure that the people’s voices are heard.”

Our last meeting? Interesting way to say I yelled at you in the marketplace. Belle swallowed hard, her throat dry, and lifted her chin. Come on, you can do this!

“What’s your opinion on the Government’s record on public funding?” asked a balding man with thick glasses, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“I believe my opinion on that topic is already doing the rounds on social media,” she said dryly. “Maybe you missed it.”

There was a ripple of laughter. Sutherland had placed his hand on her shoulder, a light pressure that she knew was designed to get her walking. She dug in her heels, shoulders lifting a little.

“Do you still believe the library can be saved?” asked another reporter eagerly.

“I’ll believe that until they lock me out of the place,” she said, and there was a babble of voices as they all asked questions at once. A woman in a bright pink coat shoved forward a little.

“Belle, do you think this is a genuine overture on the Prime Minister’s part, or just a photo opportunity?” she asked.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” she said. “I’m not holding my breath.”

Sutherland’s expression was blank and impassive, but a tiny muscle twitched in his cheek. She felt his fingers tighten a little, and the white-toothed smile slithered back into place.

“Right, well, I promised Miss French a private meeting,” he said. “If you could excuse us, please, we have a lot to discuss.”

There were more shouted questions, but Anna stepped into the line of sight, motioning to the reporters to move back. Belle allowed herself to be steered through the double doors into a plush meeting room, a shining mahogany table and eight chairs on one side, and a squashy leather couch and two armchairs around a glass and chrome coffee table on the other. The doors behind her closed, shutting out the noise from the waiting press, and Sutherland stalked to the table, placing his palms on its gleaming surface and fixing Belle with a dark-eyed stare.

“Well, Miss French,” he said, his voice a little lower and rougher than it had been before. “I believe we have things to discuss.”

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Trains Part 2 (Peter Parker x Male Reader)

I feel like I was originally taking this a different direction but somehow I come up with this garbage. Got a few ideas and a few requests, so prepare yourself for some fics.

Part 1 here

Word count: 2128

At some point, you were talking to Peter almost every day, and the same day you had to go into the city for an internship was the same day he had to go. He usually helped with losing track of time, and it got you off your phone for a portion of the day. You learned a lot about each other: he went to Midtown Tech, you went to Stuyvesant. (He'd always ask you about the escalators and you told him about how people get hurt on them. Yikes.) He worked with Tony Stark (who he would call "Mr. Stark"), you worked... not with Tony Stark.

You'd always ask him about Stark Industries, and he would tell you only a little bit every time. He said he only met a few of the Avengers, but he had more stories about Spider-Man. He said that he wanted to bring you to the Avengers Tower someday, and you freaked out to no end.

And he did. You were both on your way to the city, and you were nerding out the whole way there.

"Am I gonna get to meet Mr. Stark?"

"I think so."

"Do you know if I can visit the labs?"

"Maybe."

"What do you do as an intern?"

"Mostly paperwork. I check the levels I have access to for progress in the fields sometimes. And then I work on my own stuff."

As soon as the train doors opened, you and Peter rushed out with a crowd into the busy subway station, and you grabbed his hand to not get lost as you both began to make your way to an exit. You honestly wouldn't mind holding his hand more. You both got out and were walking to the famous tower that you would be entering for the first time.

"Oh my god. This is it. I get to go inside with Peter Parker himself, Tony Stark's intern. If I get to meet Dr. Bruce Banner, that's it. I'm gonna jump out the window," you said.

"No! No jumping out any windows. Come on, you should be in the clear if you stick with me."

Peter pulled you into a lobby you could only ever see from the outside when you passed by the windows. The fact that you were in one of the most famous buildings in the STEM field and in the world left you in awe. Peter tugged at your hand when you slowed down your pace.

"(Y/N), if you cooperate, I'll try to get you a souvenir or something to bring back."

You snapped back into reality and bounded forward to match Peter's quickening strides. As he walked with you past the lobby, he flashed an ID card to the security at the front. His hand squeezed yours when he turned quickly to reach an elevator.

"We're going up to see some of the labs first," he informed you.

"Oh my god, yes!" you whispered. "Can I see your ID card?"

"No."

You took in the entire elevator, looking at every detail of the tiles until the doors opened. Peter's hand awkwardly left yours as he put his ID away in his pocket and pulled out his phone to send a text.

"Dude, I don't think I thanked you enough for doing this. This is by far the coolest thing to ever happen to me. And I've met Spider-Man once!"

Peter laughed at your excitement. The elevator stopped, and he motioned for you to follow as he opened two doors next to each other to show you two of the labs.

"I probably shouldn't show you anything too serious because some of this stuff is really secret. These are just a few things that people are working on," he explained.

You both got closer to the blueprint hologram in the first room, and you stated in awe at the detail and the object in front of you. It was a prototype of a very small display screen that was essentially a computer, and it seemed to be fitted into a pair of glasses.

"I bet Mr. Stark is updating his own so he's testing out something new. Next room!"

After viewing both labs, he brought you to a few more where people were actually working. You got to meet a few scientists who were excited to explain to you what was happening. Peter scanned his card to one with no distinguishing characteristics, not even a plaque. He looked at you and turned the handle.

"This is probably the most important room I have access to, and this is the only one where you can actually touch anything. Don't break anything," Peter said to you with a hint of a smile on his face.

"I swear on my life," you promised.

"Okay, maybe not that severe."

He pushed the door open and gestured you in, closing the door once you were both inside. He scanned his card once more on the empty table, and suddenly hologram screens showed up all over and a door in the wall opened to reveal the one and only Spider-Man suit.

"No. Fucking. Way," you blurted out. "I literally met him on the train and now I'm in the lab for his suit?! This is awesome!"

You stared at the holograms, reading all the information you could about it.

"'Baby Monitor Protocol'? What's that?" you asked, turning to face Peter.

"It's a program to control Spider-Man's full use of the suit's powers. Then he managed to hack it and get it deactivated. Mr. Stark isn't bothering to reactivate it but he reminds Spider-Man to be responsible," he explained.

"Oh my god, are those his web shooters?!"

You walked over to the objects perched on a pedestal next to the suit. You carefully picked them up and gaped at them. You snapped your head up to him, catching a hint of a smile on his face before it was gone.

"Peter. Can I use this?" you asked, begging him with your eyes.

"I'll show you how, but don't tell anyone."

He picked it up and placed it on his wrist, aiming at a wall and pressing the button like Spider-Man would, hitting the wall in a web. He took it off and placed it on yours, standing right next to you as he lifted your wrist to aim at the wall.

"Your middle and index finger press that," he instructed, taking a step back.

You pressed the button and the shooter released a web on the wall right on top of Peter's shot. You spun to face Peter with an excited expression, to which he laughed then took it off your wrist.

"This is pretty much all I can show you for the labs. I'll see if we can talk to Mr. Stark."

You both left Spider-Man's lab and went back to the elevator. He pressed a button for a higher floor.

"That was so cool. Oh my god. How do you guys make the webs?"

"Spider-Man makes the web fluid himself. He keeps it to himself but I think he has his own notes for that."

The elevator was fast, and the doors were open as soon as Peter finished speaking. He motioned you to follow him, which you did with wandering eyes. Then Tony Stark himself walked out of a hallway, and your jaw dropped as Peter waved to him.

"Mr. Stark! This is my friend, (Y/N). He's the one I met on the train a while ago," said Peter excitedly. "I took him to see some of the labs. (Y/N), this is Mr. Stark."

You had no time to become starstruck because Tony Stark himself started to bombard you with questions.

"You go to Stuyvesant?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I have a friend there. You know the AP physics teacher on the 4th floor?"

"I don't have him but I think I know who you're talking about."

"Great. I'm busy, so I want you to take this to him. He's a little crazy. It's just a few problems in some things we're doing in the labs and I wanted him to take a look."

He handed you a folder held with a binder clip and gave you the firmest handshake you ever received in your life. He pat Peter on the shoulder as he left. You turned to Peter with eyes comically wide and your jaw dropped.

"Peter. What the fuck. Tony Stark just gave me something to deliver," you gasped. "This is the best day of my life!"

"I thought that was when you got to talk to Spider-Man," he chuckled. "And trust me, I still freak out a bit when I see Mr. Stark.

"Well, sorry, dude. If I got to meet Dr. Bruce Banner today, that's it. I'm jumping out that window."

Peter laughed and let you put the folder in your bag. You headed back towards the elevators and you clutched the straps of your bag like it was your life.

That Friday afternoon, you ended up helping that "crazy teacher" with the science stuff, and a few pictures sent to Peter got half of them done in an hour. He was definitely an interesting teacher but, as smart as he was, you couldn't understand a lot of his mumbling. You told him you'd come back tomorrow because you had to meet a friend today. He agreed and let you keep the folders with him.

You reached Peter's apartment to hang out with him before dinner at his place, and he opened the door for you with a smile.

"I have to show you something," he said excitedly.

He let you in and you shut the door, barely having time to take your shoes off before he pulled you towards his room.

"Okay, look at my computer."

You looked at him, confused, and slowly walked over to his computer.

"Why are you showing me Club Penguin?" you laughed. "I mean we play together anyway. Is that Ned?"

He quickly switched to an opened email, moving to show you the screen with a blush on his face. You leaned in to see tickets for Comic-Con later in the year, courtesy of Tony Stark. Happy emailed him, explaining that he told Tony everything that Peter texted him about. Tony said that he wanted to buy tickets for Peter and his friends because of Peter's claimed money issues. You let out a laugh in disbelief and turned to hug Peter tightly.

"This is amazing, Peter!" you exclaimed. "I've wanted to go for so long. Can we dress up or something?"

"Actually, I've been planning to do Star War Characters? I've been saving up," Peter suggested.

"Or... we can be Star Wars characters and you can be Spider-Man," you smirked.

"I- uh- what?" Peter stuttered. "I don't even have-"

"You know, I wasn't too sure if you were Spider-Man or not. I mean, Spider-Man talking to me and then a teenager who suddenly talks to me on the train? But the internship, having access to Spider-Man's lab, and the ID card that clearly showed you were Spider-Man... I think Tony Stark should fix that."

"I'm not Spider-Man!" Peter exclaimed.

"I'm sure you have a lot of good proof and your alibis are great, but your closet is wide open."

You both turned to look at his Spider-Man suit hanging on top of the rod in his closet.

"It would make the people there happy," you said. "And the kids would love it."

"I just wanted to spend time with you there. I kind of really like you and I wanted us to have a first date there," he sheepishly mumbled.

"What, we didn't already have a first date at the Avengers Tower?" you joked.

He smiled and pulled his ID out of his bag, turning it over a few times.

"I should get this changed with Mr. Stark. I guess putting 'Spider-Man' right on an ID card isn't the best idea," he chuckled.

A few months later, he went to Comic-Con as Spider-Man. His Luke Skywalker outfit was in your bag when he was done parading around as the friendly neighbourhood hero. The kids definitely loved it. Comic-Con was probably the coolest second date you've ever been on. You and Peter ended up sharing a first kiss with him hanging upside down from the ceiling and hidden from the public eye.

And he ended up showing you his new ID card: the same photo with his name and not the superhero one, his title (intern) and mini googly eyes attached to the front, courtesy of Mr. Stark as punishment for "lack of appreciation."

[tgai-spock]

Lines of ice from rolling waves and subtle villains

So we arrive on earth.

Chapter 2

Earth was chaos. Vulcan cities may have been overflowing with people who never learnt to mind their own business, where privacy was afforded only in relation to ones personal life and behind closed doors, but earth was chaos. Was anyone paying attention to anyone else? Both yes and no, several times loud rowdy men pointed at Spock and shouted:

“Oi! Vulcan,” why he had no idea.  He’d never seen vulcans do this even by those who hated him for being a hybrid. Was it a statement of fact made by those who were mentally disabled, and was this gesture innocent, the same as a child pointing at a sky and saying, blue? Or was it something more violent? It was by the way, the sky, blue. Which was weird, there was little blue on vulcan, the seas were pink, the skies orange, although many of his clothes were blue, it was different seeing the colour where it naturally occurred. Other groups shouted at him too. Groups of girls huddled in groups would suddenly grow 3 times the size and point at him.

“Mother, at least on vulcan the vulcans pretend they aren’t talking about me. Send me back.” Spock said as they walked past another group. His mother, who was the only one he was shopping with looked more stressed than she had at his whining that the school was illogical, and that he was going to choose magic as a serious study course if he was forced to attend. That didn’t seem to bother his mother all that much, but it did make his father twitch in ways he hadn’t seen before, so he had put it down as one of his options along with science and computers. Of course his father wanted him to do computers, and math. 

“Maybe we should get you a hat. You could wear my scarf for now” Amanda motioned as she went to untie her scarf.

“If I even begin to remotely look like a girl I’m going to kill myself” Spock said. Amanda sighed.

“Listen, don’t let their shouting bother you. In school that will completely disappear, it won’t be stood for at all. They have plenty of other aliens attend, they can’t have people just shouting out species randomly. I feel the people out today our rather dim, and drunk.”

Spock shrugged “fine. But only because I’ve been called worse and they’re validating the fact I’m vulcan.” Amanda sighed, she wished her son wouldn’t say things like this. He wished this wasn’t true for him.

“Can you read the email and remind me what we need to buy?” Amanda asked “I’ve forgotten.” Spock flicked up his lightweight tablet that he had been carrying in his hand non-stop for the past three days.

The Letter:

For first years attending the school each pupil must bring with them the following :

General Lessons:

Notebooks for each lesson, at least one new one per term.

General stationary, including pens, pencils, scissors, gluesticks, and celllotape.

Scientific Calculator

Protractor and compass

Shorts for p.e, unacceptable clothes include jorts. Shorts may be any colour but no patterns, pictures, characters, or 100 pictures of Nickolas Cages face may be on them.

Jogging bottoms/leggings (plain in colour, no patterns).

Suitable shirt or jumper for p.e (no slogans or patterns.)

Hairbands/bobbles 

Tablet

If magic is a chosen subject they will need to bring:

Tarot cards

Tea Cup

Crystal ball

Spock hummed as he read through the items that were relevant to him, and they stopped outside a sports shop.

“Why does this say first years on it?” Spock asked.

“Oh, sometimes parents think their children will be better in a school that caters for children between the ages of 11-14 as they’re still very young. This is a school for older 15—17 year olds. Isn’t that good?”

“How?”

“You won’t be alone on your first day of school.” Amanda said.

“I guess” Spock said as he tried to work out if there were any benefits (currently Spock’s new slogan was ‘I guess’ but what it actually meant was ‘I have no idea how that makes sense’). They entered the sports shop.

The walked around aisles to the shorts and jogging bottom sections. Spock picked up plainest, blackest pair of each he could find.

“You can wear colour now.” Amanda encouraged.

“I don’t want to.”

“You could.”

“And yet I’m not going to.” Spock said and Amanda sighed, she could see this wasn’t going to be an argument she won. They walked past some hats and Amanda puts a black cap over his head, that was just large enough to go over his ears.

“Mother. I don’t need a hat.” Spock said.

“I don’t want you to hide who you are, but it would be nice for people to stop yelling at you. At least while we’re walking down the street.” Amanda says the words as though she is stabbing herself with each one.

“So a hat is going to solve this.” 

“It might.. reduce the amount of shouts” Amanda reasoned “you don’t have to if you think thats worse.” Spock took off the black cap and picked up a sparkling silver hat, that was enough to make an elder vulcan faint on the spot. He put it on his head. Amanda grinned.

“You may have that hat.”

“Oh” Spock said, this hadn’t been what he wanted at all.

“Your father will hate it. And I’ll get you the black one too incase you suddenly find it too garish.” Amanda said.

“Okay but, I’m going to wear this non-stop as soon as I get back to vulcan. ” Spock said although he had absolutely no plans to do so, if the vulcan sun reflected of this hat there seemed to be a great possibility that it would kill someone else upon immediate impact.

“You can, I am allowing it.” Amanda said. Spock didn’t know how to react. His mothers logical boundaries must have disappeared into the atmosphere as soon as they arrived on earth.

The walked around to the sports bra section, and Amanda stopped suddenly. Spock almost bumped into her. Spock looked about awkwardly.

“Wrong section” he said.

“The thing about human school is you will be expected to do sports in front of other people.”

“And.”

“You can’t do that in a binder.”

“And yet I will.”

“No you won’t” Amanda said quietly but with such force it was enough to stop him in his tracks. She picks up a few.

“Do you want black or another colour.”

“Black.”

“Okay.”

“Now we need tarot cards, a tea-cup and a crystal ball.” Spock said looking down at his tablet despite having already memorised them.

“Do you want to try these on? Check they fit?” Amanda asked.

“No. Where are we going to get this stuff? Is this stuff even real?”

“Oh I looked up a little place around here” Amanda said and lead the way to the changing rooms.

“I said no” Spock said.

“I am saving you. You do not want to do p.e in clothes you’re not comfortable in, go try them on.”

“They’re the right size.”

“It’s completely different to finding out if their comfortable, go on.”

* * *

There was a lot of crystal balls in the shop display. Every inch his eyes looked on, sparkled with crystals. Crystals on necklaces, crystals on rings, crystals on pendulums - and a number of dragon ornaments. 

“I should not have chosen magic” Spock sighs already defeated, Amanda laughs.

“Don’t think we don’t know you did that on purpose, your going through with it now” Amanda laughs pushing her son forward. They walk in through a dark blue door, and a bell above their heads rings as they enter.

“Good morning” a woman, with curly straw like hair behind a till greets them.

“Morning” Amanda replies “do you have any tarot cards?”

“I have a few selections available at the back” she points “would you like help choosing one?”

“No thank you” Amanda says and they walk in the direction the lady had pointed, around tables full of small gems with a ‘buy 4 get 1 free’ deal around them. The back of the store was different, slightly less gems appearing and more wooden rings. Much to Spock’s confusion, there were several wands and tall staffs with fancy curved wood tops.

“Why?” Spock asks pointing to a staff.

“Walking stick” says Amanda.

“Why?” Spock asks pointing to the wand.

“Religious practices. Your the one that choose magic, my aunt used to practice you know.”

“Is that the one married to the uncle who tried to kill me?” Spock asked.

Amanda sighed “well she’s divorced him now.”

“Erm” a voice from behind them, the shop keeper with wide eyes and a few extra packs of tarot cards in her arms said “I just remembered my shipment arrived this morning with some different tarot styles, so I thought I’d set them out for you.”

“Oh, thank you” Amanda said as the lady walked forwards and put down several extra packs. Amanda picked up one pack covered in cats, Spock picked up one that was black.

“You can take them out and have a look if you’d like, just remember to put them all back in.” The lady says and backs away, Amanda nods.

“This one” Spock says and chooses the cards that are all black except for the symbols outline on them, such as the 8 of swords which had 8 rainbow swords on it.

“Are you sure?” Amanda asks showing off the cats “I bet I could custom order one like this, but with sehlats instead.”

“I’m sure.” Spock said. Amanda shakes her head as they walk back over to the till.

“Well at least this has been quick. Excuse me do you have any crystal balls? The type you can see the future in.” Amanda asked

“Strange” the woman says “you’re the seventeenth person to ask me that.”

“There is a school nearby that has magic lessons, this is one of the requirements.” Amanda informs her.

“Oh” says the woman with her teeth as she looks up to her ceiling for a moment “yeah that would make sense. I thought everyone must just be like geeze, that Gandalf guys, pretty neat.”

Amanda nodded “I’m aware it’s a new school, is it new this year then, or is this a new shop?”

“Oh, I only brought the place a few months ago” the woman says as she places a large crystal on the bench “I guess I should check out the requirements that school has and get some  in stock. Whats it called?”

“Saint Daimon’s" Amanda nodded.

“Nice, modern. Hey I’ll tell you what, if you buy this big crystal ball I’ll give you and your son a discount on any of these protection stones. Never hurts to have a little extra help” she says and she waves her hand over a collection of different sized gems, some smooth, some rough like rocks.

“Would you like a magical stone for protection?” Amanda asks Spock calmly. Spock picks up a hand size rough orange stone covered in blue lines. He chucks it up into the air and catches in neatly in his palm.

“Yes. This looks like a protection stone” Spock says and places it next to the tarot cards and crystal ball. Amanda eyes him suspiciously.

“I don’t like how you handled that at all.” Amanda says.

“You said I could have the protection stone.” Spock says with one raised eyebrow.

“Is that all I can help you with?” The woman asks.

“Yes thank you.”

“Card or print?”

“Print” Amanda says as the woman types up the cost into her till.

[Chapter 1]         [Chapter 2]         [Chapter 3]          [Chapter 4]

[Chapter 5]         [Chapter 6]

[paradisobound]

Rebirth to Rebloom

Summary: Dan Howell met Phil Lester while they were still in high school when Phil was helping him out. But as time went on, they lost touch when Phil graduated, and they never speak. Dan thought of him often and hung onto his crush all these years until Phil shows up at the flower shop he works and asks for Dan’s help arranging flowers for his daughters birthday. 

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: None 

Written for @phandomficfests Bingo Fest prompts used were: anxiety, second chance, and writers choice (flower shop au). 

View My Bingo Card | Read on Ao3

Dan first met Phil freshman year of high school. Phil was the graduating senior who had full control over Dan’s seminar class to help the freshman kids adjust to being in high school. Phil was just really kind to Dan. Dan felt like he held Phil in a higher position of trust than he held any other authority figure in his school. Phil was someone that Dan genuinely looked up to. 

Throughout freshman year, Dan wished he was able to grow closer to Phil but the truth was that it just didn’t ever happen. It wasn’t some dreamlike scenario where Dan grew close to Phil and then Phil grew close to him and sparks flew. In fact, it was much more of the opposite. 

Dan knew he had a crush on Phil pretty early on. He hadn’t come to terms with anything to do with his sexuality and frankly, that crush scared him. He didn’t know why he was looking at Phil differently than he looked at girls. He didn’t know why he suddenly begin to daydream about what it would be like to have Phil hug him or even hold his hand and…kiss him. He didn’t know why he was even thinking about all of this but suddenly he began to realize that his crush was definitely a crush and fuck he was beginning to get head over heels crazy about Phil. 

One day after freshman seminar, Dan asked Phil if he could talk privately. Phil had gleefully accepted and hurried the other students out of the room so he and Dan could talk. Dan doesn’t know what struck him to want to talk with Phil about this but he does.

When Phil sits down in front of him, Dan blurts out what he’s been wanting to say. “I think I might be gay.” 

At first, Phil’s eyes went a bit wide and that made Dan nervous but then Phil’s expression softened and Dan realized that he was in no real trouble by admitting this. “There isn’t anything wrong with that,” was Phil’s response. 

Dan felt so relieved that Phil wasn’t saying anything differently about Dan’s admission. There was just something that felt so much more relaxed. 

They spoke for a half an hour following that. Dan got out all of his feelings and Phil just listened and gave advice where he could. And Dan honestly—and maybe a bit selfishly—waited to see if maybe, just maybe, Phil would say something about his sexuality too. 

And he did. But not what Dan wanted to hear. 

“My girlfriend Alyssa is bisexual so I’m sure if I told her about your sexuality struggles, she would be really grateful to help you out! I can even have her message you on Facebook if you want.” 

Dan’s heart shattered in that moment. He tried to hide how sad and broken that confession made him with a smile and a thankful nod as he hurriedly made some excuse that he needed to get out to meet his mom in the parking lot. That wasn’t true—Dan always walked to school. 

When he got halfway home, he stopped on the sidewalk and dropped onto a curb and let out a few muffled cries into his arms. He shouldn’t have gotten so worked up about Phil. He knew it was never going to happen but yet, it still hurt to hear that anyway. 

He got up after a few minutes and made his way home where he told his mom he wanted to be alone for the night and he headed up to his room. Two hours later, more tears came as he saw he had a friend request from both Phil and Alyssa on Facebook. 

He accepted both and then turned his phone off. 

The rest of freshman year was difficult with seeing Phil every other day for seminar. But eventually he got over his unrequited crush and on the last day of freshman year, he even gave Phil a hug and congratulated him on graduating. 

Dan thought that that was the last time he’d ever see or hear from Phil. But little did he know that his chance to be friends with Phil would could again nearly ten years later. 

***

Dan maneuvered through the shelves of his flower shop, picking up flowers and placing them back into their respective containers. He didn’t technically own the store, but he sometimes feels like he does with the amount of work he does here. 

His friend from high school, Gina, decided to open up a flower shop in their hometown right after high school and while Dan didn’t originally have any say in the shop, Gina eventually talked him into working here. So Dan’s degree in philosophy went into a bin for later and he instead put on a green apron and a pair of elbow high rubber gloves. 

Dan knew next to nothing about flowers but after working there for three years, he’s beginning to know a bit more every single day…even if Gina isn’t here all that often. Although, Dan can’t entirely blame her. She does have a three year old son and she is a single parent so he does understand it. He can’t imagine how tough it must be but on the rare chance that she brings in Lucas to the store, he loves chasing the little tot around the aisles. 

This day was like any other for the store. Dan opened it so Gina could take Lucas to the doctors and then he spent his morning rearranging flowers and putting together new arraignments to put in the window display. He hasn’t had any customers in person but they have a few online orders that he needs to have ready for tomorrow so he’ll work on those sometime this afternoon. 

He’s still working on fixing up one of the flower displays on the shelf when the bell over the front door rings and Dan stands up from his kneeling stance and brushes his soiled hands on his already stained apron. 

Dan makes his way, weaving through the aisles until he finds himself coming to the counter. He instinctively picks his head up and begins to say “Welcome to Gina’s, how can we help you?” when he’s suddenly cut off by the attractive male standing with his back to Dan. His hair is black as a raven’s feathers and he’s wearing a red bomber jacket with black skinny jeans and Dan instantly stops in his tracks. 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out as he smoothes down his clothing and reaches up to try and fix his tangled curls. He hopes he doesn’t have any dirt on his cheek or some shit that could look embarrassing. 

The male turns around and flashes a smile and then Dan realizes who it is. 

That’s Phil. Senior Phil who Dan was hopelessly in love with in high school. 

“Oh my god.” 

Phil’s blue eyes widen and he’s squinting a bit underneath his glasses. “Dan?” 

“Phil?” 

“Hi!” Phil says, walking forward and pushing his car keys and phone into his pocket. “Wow, this is unexpected. It’s been so long.” 

“I know.” Dan says, feeling a blush begin to creep up onto his cheeks. 

“How have you been? How was high school?” 

Pretty shit. I was bullied nearly every day my senior year after I came out via a Facebook post but that’s okay because I managed to be salutatorian and that counts for something. “It went okay.” 

Phil reaches up and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “High school is pretty shit, to be fair.” He says. “College was a lot better.” 

Dan scoffs. “That’s the understatement of the century.” 

Phil laughs and Dan watches as his tongue sticks out from between his teeth and suddenly Dan is being hurled back into his high school days where he was crushing so damn hard on Phil. 

“So you’re probably wondering why I’m here,” Phil begins with a chuckle. “I actually need some help. So my daughters birthday is in two days and I have nothing for her party but she loves anything to do with flowers so can you help me pick some out for her?” 

Dan feels the smile fall from his face as he tries to hide his sadness. Phil has a daughter. That probably means his ended up marrying Alyssa and having a child with her. And that means Phil is definitely straight and Dan’s dream of rekindling his crush is immediately flushed away. 

Dan nods with a painful smile and then motions for Phil him to the counter. Dan bent down and pulled out a book of flower meanings that Gina had left for him to look over and he opened it up to the tab that read ‘for children’. 

He immediately sees that Lily’s are listed and Daisy’s are too so he looks up at Phil and points to them. “Lily’s are actually symbolic of daughters so if you want to give her a flower that not only looks pretty but also is a deeper meaning for her, that is your best choice. But daisy’s are good too if you wanted to do a mix.” 

Phil looked at them and then nodded with a smile. “Remi would love lily’s honestly. I’m sure she would absolutely adore having them for her party.” 

Dan smiled at Phil and then closed the binder and pulled out an order form from the slip that Gina had next to the register. “We can fill out an order form then and you can give me a pick up time and date and I’ll have them ready?” 

Phil nodded quickly and smiled in relief at Dan. “That would be amazing, Dan. Remi is going to love them.” 

They quickly filled out the order form and Phil put down that he would pick up the flowers at 9am that Friday and while the store doesn’t open until 10:30, Dan would be willing to come in early to supply Phil with the flowers he needs. 

“Thank you.” Phil says, handing Dan his credit card when they begin to process the price for the order. “I seriously thought I was going to be screwed with how last minute I was but time has just been getting away from me lately. Like Remi is turning four this year and I’m actually in tears watching her grow up.” 

“It must be hard.” Dan says, his voice a bit stiff. “The owner of this shop, Gina, has a son Lucas and he’s a handful but he’s growing so fast. I remember the day he was born and now he’s going to pre-k next year.” 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? How fast time goes when you’re out of high school.” 

Dan nods with a smile. Because it is true and it only becomes more and more painfully aware when he thinks about how he is 24 years old and painfully single. 

Phil finishes paying and then says his goodbyes with a ‘it was good seeing you’. As the door chime shut and Dan is left alone again, a few tears spring to his eyes that he wills to hold down because it was just another stupid crush coming to light. And he didn’t want that to effect him. He knew long ago that Phil wouldn’t feel the same way and it’s certain he won’t now so Dan needs to accept that. 

Even if it hurts him a bit more to know that Phil has a daughter and he was going to be fixing a bouquet of pink for her birthday. 

***

The flower shop gets a call from Phil one day later. Dan expects the worst with the call. He’d been working on Phil and his daughter Remi’s flowers endlessly the last day. He doesn’t answer the call because he hears the phone from where he is water the hydrangeas but Gina does. 

It turns out Phil needs the flowers delivered to his house on Friday at 9am because he isn’t going to have time to pick them up at the store. Gina originally tells Dan she’ll do it by dropping off her son at daycare and then swinging by the Lester residence but Dan asks to do it instead. 

“I can do it.” 

“You’re going to get up before 8 on a tomorrow to deliver flowers by 9 at a home twenty minutes away?” 

“Yeah.” 

Gina just scoffs and laughs a bit. “Okay mate. If you do this, I’ll pay you overtime.” 

Dan just nods and smiles with a slight blush as he takes Phil’s address and sets it aside with the order. He then prepares a few more things for it before leaving to go home to his sad apartment for a sad lunch with his pet goldfish. 

On Friday morning, Dan wakes up early, 6:30 to be exact, and gets ready. He styles his hair, something he never does, and then wets down his face, cleaning it and washing it to get some of the oils from his skin that sometimes like to accumulate when he’s anxious. He takes the time to get dressed nicely and then he leaves his flat with his car keys in hand and drives to Gina’s. 

He can normally walk to Gina’s in just fifteen minutes but since he needed his car this morning, he double parked it in front of the shop and walked inside to get the order ready to go. He gets his car situated and everything ready and secured at just around quarter after eight and he leaves with his GPS telling him the way. 

He makes his way out of the small town to a rural area just outside of the suburbs. He’s still driving down the street when the GPS tells him to make a turn down a short road and he ends up at a small ranch home surrounded by trees. 

It’s cute, Dan presumes. It’s isolated and small but it looks great and Dan pulls into the driveway of the home just as the front door opens and Phil walks out. Dan parks his car and gets out, walking halfway to Phil. 

“Thank you so much for being able to bring the flowers to my house.” Phil says. “Remi’s mom is…well, she’s not being fair right now and so I have to leave and pick up Remi by 10 and I would have never made it to pick up the flowers, bring them home, and then go and pick her up for her party.” 

Dan feels his stomach clench and roll. So, Remi’s mom didn’t live with Phil…which meant they were separated? 

“…you can bring the flowers inside for right now. I have a table all set.” 

Dan snaps out of his thoughts to smile up at Phil and open the trunk of his car so they could take out the flower arrangements. Dan helped bring them inside Phil’s home and they set them on a table in the living room which had photos of Remi from the time she was a baby to one that was clearly taken not that long ago. Dan couldn’t help but look at how she looked so much like Phil. Her hair was red but she had stunning bright blue eyes and cheekbones to match. 

The cake was sitting in the middle with the cover on it and it read “Happy 8th Birthday, Remi!” and it was decorated with little flowers and roses all over. 

“Remi is going to be 8th this year.” Phil says. “I have such a hard time believing my little girl has gotten so much older. I remember when Alyssa called me on the phone and told me Remi was born, it was so surreal. I still remember what it was like to hold her for the first time. She was so small and fragile.” 

Dan’s lips curled into a smile as he looked at Phil and Phil’s cheeks flushed red a bit. “She looks like you.” 

Phil lets out a laugh. “She actually is a spitting image of Alyssa. I can’t look at Remi without thinking of her mother.” Phil pauses. “It’s both a blessing and a…” 

Dan knows what Phil was about to say but maybe in this case it was best to leave certain things unsaid. 

“Do you have any children, Dan?” 

Dan shook his head and bit his lip. “Ah…no, I’m um…I’m gay.” 

He sucks in a breath and waits for anything Phil might say back to him but just as soon as it looks like Phil might say something, Phil’s phone starts ringing and he leaves the room to answer it. 

Dan looks around, looking at all of the pictures on the wall of Remi and Phil. There are no photos of Phil with anyone else but Remi. In fact, it doesn’t look like there are even any signs that anyone else lives here besides Phil and Remi. 

Phil comes back just seconds later and lets out an apology. “Alyssa is asking to meet me early so I have to go now. Thank you for bringing the flowers here. I know it was probably super ridiculous to do this but it means a lot.” 

“It’s really not a problem.” 

They exchange a quick glance and Dan’s about to turn to leave when Phil brings him in for a tight hug. He releases Dan quickly and they both blush and Phil motions that he’s leaving so Dan follows him out and they leave right after each other. 

***

“Get the flowers to the Lester Residence okay?” 

Dan nods at Gina as he walks through the door and ends up at the counter. 

“Of course.” 

Gina gave him a knowing look. “Was there a reason you were so eager to take the flowers to Mr. Lester?” 

Dan felt his mouth fall open and he quickly shook his head. “No! No. There is nothing going on…he’s…” 

“Dan, you’re blushing like mad, babes.” 

“He’s an old high school friend that I used to have a crush on.” Dan says and Gina coos. “But he’s straight and has a daughter and she was who the flowers were for.” 

“And you two didn’t steal a cheeky kiss in the front door before you left?” 

“Gina!” 

She waved him off with a laugh. “I’m just taking the piss, babes.” She twirls a strand of her loose hair in her fingers. “Are you sure he’s straight?” 

“Why else would he have a daughter?” Dan asks. 

“Sweetie, you’re being a bit ridiculous.” She says. “Gay men can have children. Maybe it was a one night slip up. Or maybe he did fall in love with a woman for a short time. A man can have a daughter with a woman and then decide he wants to be with men instead.” 

Dan feels a blush creep up his cheeks because Gina is completely correct. 

The conversation ends and he spends the rest of his shift helping Gina rearrange some of the displays in her store and assist a few straggling customers. 

Later that day when he goes home, he gets a message on Facebook from Phil Lester. 

Phil Lester: Just wanted to tell you Remi loved her flowers! 

Attached is a photo of his daughter stood in front of the table with a massive grin on her face. Her hair is pulled up in messy dutch braids and her glasses on her nose are slightly skewed but something in his heart swells a bit when he sees the photo. 

Dan Howell: I’m so glad! 

Phil Lester: Excuse me if this is too creepy or weird but…would you like to get coffee sometime? I’d like to catch up. 

***

Despite how his anxiety was welling higher and higher as he walked to the cafe on the corner of first and main, Dan was still excited to meet up with Phil to catch up. It had been two weeks since Phil messaged him about the flowers but he had to wait to meet up with Remi went back to her mom’s for the weekend. 

But now here he is, opening the door and seeing Phil sat at a table in the corner, his lips sipping from a black mug. Dan lets out a deep breath and walks over to him, a small hop in his step. 

“Hey.” 

Phil looks up from his coffee and smiles. “Hey.” 

“How are you?” 

“Could be better.” Phil answers. “Dropping Remi off is always really hard.” 

Dan sits down in the chair across from Phil and lets a sympathetic look come across his face. “I’m sorry.” 

Phil shrugs. “It’s okay. Alyssa and I have been co-parenting Remi since she was born so it’s something I’m used to but it hurts more and more the older she gets.” Phil shakes his head. “But you don’t want to hear about this. Tell me about what you’ve been up to since we last spoke.” 

And Dan does. He tells Phil about high school and how he was salutatorian and then he tells Phil how he tried going to college but realized it wasn’t for him and got a dead end job at Urban Outfitters for a few years before he found his job with Gina who was a coworker he had from UO. 

They finally get on the topic of relationships and Dan goes first. “I had a boyfriend for a few years but we wanted two different things in life. He wanted to party and get drunk every night and have drunken sex and I wanted to actually live my life and it didn’t work.” 

Phil shook his head. “My ex was the same way. He wanted to spend more time hanging onto me and clinging onto me but any time I told him about Remi, he recoiled. He never wanted to meet her and it hurt because Remi will always be the first person in my life before anyone else.” 

Dan tried to not linger on the word ‘he’ but he couldn’t help it. 

“Remi is such an important part of your life,” Dan says. “If someone doesn’t want to meet her, they don’t belong in yours.” 

Phil smiled at Dan and nodded. There was a silence between them for a moment before Phil looks up from his gaze at the table and smiles. “Dan?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Would I be too forward to ask if you would let me take you out on a date this weekend?” 

***

They date for two months before Dan is introduced to Remi. Phil explains that he wants to make sure that Dan is serious about taking on a commitment of being in Remi’s life with Phil and he agrees almost instantly. Of course their relationship is new but they both knew from the moment they walked out of the coffee shop that they were supposed to have met again. It was fate telling them so. 

They both felt the connection. 

Their first date, they wind up at Dan’s apartment and it’s the best sex Dan’s ever had and despite all of that, waking up next to Phil convinces Dan that he’s the man he wants to wake up to the rest of his life. 

The day Dan meets Remi, they go to the park together and he watches and plays with Remi on the swings as Phil watches. At the end of the day, Remi gives him a hug and then tells Phil how much she likes him and it makes a tear come from Dan’s eyes. 

One year after they start dating, Dan moves in with Phil and Remi begins to call him her step-dad. He meets Alyssa and he feels more than happy when she welcomes him with open arms into Remi’s life. She even says she remembers him from high school. 

And Dan still works at the flower shop with Gina but now instead of staring out the window and wondering where his life is going, he gets to stare at his ring finger and think about where his future is heading with Phil and Remi by his side. 

And all of this happened because Phil came to them to do her flowers for her birthday. 

[almostafantasia]

tenderly, tragically, beautifully

Summary: In which bad things happen to the people who deserve them the least and Lexa learns that although cancer can be treated, the scars it leaves behind take much longer to heal.

Read on AO3.

Trigger warning: Clarke has cancer in this fic but it’s non-terminal and she doesn’t die. There’s a fair amount of angst though.

She feels as though every pair of eyes is watching her from the moment that she steps through the school gates. Which is just paranoia at its absolute finest because the reality is that not a single person is actually looking at her, but with the very obvious way in which the other kids are deliberately trying not to stare at her as she walks up to the red brick school building, Clarke might as well have a giant flashing sign above her head.

A giant flashing sign reading this kid has cancer, with a vertical neon arrow pointing down at her.

Clarke knows that they all know. Even if Raven hadn’t already filled her in on everything that happened while she was in the hospital, this is high school so gossip spreads faster than a race car speeding around an asphalt track.

“Yo.”

Raven makes an unnecessarily loud entrance, clattering into the row of lockers beside Clarke’s and dropping her shoulder bag to the floor with an unceremonious thud. It catches the attention of those nearby, but upon realising that Clarke is there, those heads quickly turn away for fear of being caught staring.

“Everyone’s treating me like I’ve got a deadly virus. It’s cancer, it’s not contagious!”

She raises her voice with this last bit, startling the group of freshman boys who cross to the other side of the corridor in order to give Clarke a wide berth as they pass.

“Clarke,” Raven hisses, resting a comforting hand on Clarke’s shoulder.

“I’ve been here for two minutes and I already wish I was back in that stupid hospital,” Clarke complains through clenched teeth, taking a heavy textbook out of her bag and throwing it into her locker with slightly more force than actually necessary.

“They probably all heard the word ‘cancer’ and assume that you’re on your deathbed,” muses Raven.

“I’m not.”

“I know,” Raven agrees, as she reaches out to give Clarke’s fingers a reassuring squeeze with her own. “You’re going to be fine, you’ve just got a few shitty cells in your body.”

“John Murphy’s got more shitty cells in his body,” Clarke comments, as the shaggy-haired boy saunters past the two girls with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, giving Clarke the side-eye as he passes.

“Well unlike Murphy, your shitty cells are going to be killed by the chemo. He’s stuck with his for life.”

Clarke appreciates what Raven is trying to do, but that doesn’t mean that it works. As grateful as she is for her best friend’s insistence that she’s going to survive this new obstacle in her life, it doesn’t really detract from the fact that she has months of having her body pumped full of chemicals to get through first.

“Raven…”

“What? I’m just letting you know that I’m sticking by you no matter what.” With a wicked smile, Raven adds, “I’ll always be your best friend, even when you go bald.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me,” Clarke whines, shutting her locker and turning around to lean against it dramatically.

“You finish treatment just before Thanksgiving, right?”

“Yes,” Clarke nods, wondering in which unpredictable direction Raven’s train of thought is heading this time.

“So you’ll be rocking the cutest pixie cut in town by Christmas.”

Clarke lets herself imagine it for just a second. She hasn’t had her hair shorter than shoulder length since a disastrously bad haircut at the age of ten, but when she pictures herself with much shorter hair, barely long enough to curl ever so slightly around her ears and the top of her neck, she smiles slightly. Mostly at the realisation that with virtually no hair to have to deal with each morning before school, she’ll be able to get out of bed a whole fifteen minutes later than usual, but also at the thought that with minimal effort and a bit of strategically placed styling cream, she can probably make herself look hot as fuck.

“Thanks Raven,” Clarke smile gratefully.

But Raven’s brain is always moving way faster than Clarke is able to keep up with and she’s already onto the next thing.

“Hey, do you think the chemo is going to give you superpowers? Wouldn’t it be awesome if you got x-ray vision or invisibility or something even cooler?”

“Raven…”

Class is weird. Raven walks her to the door of her classroom like a mother dropping her young child off for the first day of kindergarten, and when Raven departs with a final wave over her shoulder, Clarke feels exactly like that scared five year old, out of her depth in a world that seems far too big for her.

It’s pretty much exactly the same routine in the classroom as it was out in the school corridors, except that now, in this more confined space, Clarke can’t really do much to pretend she hasn’t noticed how everybody is behaving around her. Each pair of eyes fall onto her as she passes, then glance away when they realise who has just walked by.

And then the hushed muttering starts. Clarke’s classmates must be seriously misinformed about the symptoms of cancer if they think that she isn’t able to hear the whispering as she makes her way to her usual seat on the far side of the classroom.

As the clock on the wall just above the teacher’s desk slowly ticks away towards the start of another day at school, the desk next to Clarke remains empty. Finn Collins, the desk’s former occupant, who Clarke is ninety-five percent certain was flirting with her in the few weeks leading up to the discovery of the tumour in her back, has moved to a previously empty seat in the back row next to Atom. It’s too much of a coincidence for Clarke to blame this on anything but the cancer. Who would want to flirt with her when there are plenty of other much prettier, much healthier girls in the school to flirt with, all of whom are still going to have a full head of hair in a few months’ time?

“Hey.”

Ten minutes into her first day back at school and already so used to being treated like a bomb that is waiting to go off, Clarke actually startles in her seat a little bit when the girl in the seat in front of her turns around to say hello.

“Oh, hi Lexa!”

Lexa Woods was Clarke’s elementary school best friend until the two of them slowly drifted apart as they grew up and their interests changed. Not to say that they no longer get along, but that they move in different circles now, with nothing more than a polite smile if they pass in the school corridors.

Until now.

“This is for you.”

Clarke’s eyes widen in surprise, then her entire face twists into a confused frown as Lexa places a thick ring-binder down on Clarke’s desk, upon which lies an envelope.

“Um, thanks,” Clarke replies tentatively, picking up the envelope and sliding her finger into the small gap at the edge to tear it open and remove its contents.

It’s just a card, white with pastel coloured butterflies surrounding the embossed words ‘thinking of you’ in a pretty cursive font. Surprised, Clarke flips it open to read the message inside.

Dear Clarke,

Wishing you all the best over the coming months for a speedy recovery.

Lots of love, Lexa xx

It’s pretty much exactly the same as the twenty other cards she has at home from various relatives and friends of the family, empty words that don’t really detract from the potentially life-threatening illness that resides in her body, but it somehow means so much more coming from Lexa than from anybody else. Coming from Lexa, who could quite easily have done exactly the same as Finn and everybody else in this godforsaken school and blatantly avoided having to go anywhere near the girl with cancer.

“And this is everything that you missed while you were in hospital,” Lexa continues, opening the folder to display the thick wad of handwritten notes inside, neatly colour-coded and underlined and separated into subjects by labelled dividers.

“Lexa, what the…?”

“You missed two weeks of school and you must be really behind in all your classes so I wrote out my notes again so that you could have a copy,” Lexa explains hurriedly, a pink flush rising to sit on her sharp cheekbones. “If there’s anything you don’t understand when you read through it, I’d be more than happy to go over it with you.”

“Lexa,” Clarke sighs, feeling a rush of affection for her former best friend as she flicks through page after page of Lexa’s impeccable handwriting, laid out under clear capitalised titles and broken up with nearly drawn diagrams and tables. “You shouldn’t have.”

“It was good revision for me,” Lexa shrugs, as if the gesture is insignificant.

“Wait,” frowns Clarke, as she reaches one of the coloured dividers and enters a different subject, “do you even take Chemistry?”

“No, but I know Monty through the debate club so I borrowed his notes and copied them out,” Lexa answers. “They might not make much sense because I didn’t understand a lot of it but I’m sure that Monty would be able to explain it if you need help…”

“Lexa, this must have taken you hours…”

“Yeah, well you’ve got cancer, it’s the least I can do to help.”

The word hits Clarke like a fist in the gut. It’s been two weeks since the diagnosis, two weeks where Clarke’s mind has been consumed with nothing but that one singular word going around and around in her mind until she’s half crazy. But Clarke realises that maybe the problem is that the word has only been in her head since the diagnosis – nobody around her has been brave enough to say the word aloud since the doctor who gave her the bad news two weeks ago. Even her mother, a doctor herself, skirts around the word at home, as if saying it out loud makes the whole situation far too real to comprehend.

It’s just a word, it shouldn’t hurt so much.

Except that it’s not just a word anymore, it’s a way of life. It’s chemicals being pumped into her body, and being ignored by even those who used to flirt with her, and the inescapable unsettling worry that despite the assurances of the oncology nurse, maybe she isn’t going to make it to the other end of this ordeal with her life.

“Sorry, did I say something wrong?” Lexa’s voice pulls Clarke out of her thoughts with a lurch, and she shakes her head to focus herself back in the real world.

“No, it’s just…” Clarke tries to explain, her voice just a croak as she tries to push past the lump that forms in her throat. “It’s still quite new to me.” Trying to articulate aloud for the first time, Clarke continues, “It’s weird because it’s all I think about but it still takes me by surprise sometimes. I’m so used to everybody skating around it like they want to pretend that it’s not happening, so it surprised me how forward you were.”

“Sorry,” Lexa mumbles, bowing her head apologetically. “I shouldn’t have…”

Reaching out a hand to touch Lexa’s shoulder in reassurance, Clarke says, “Lexa, it’s fine, I…”

But she doesn’t get the chance to finish. The classroom door clatters open as the teacher enters to start the lesson, and within an instant Lexa is facing the front once more with wide, attentive eyes.

The teacher’s eyes scan the classroom as his voice fills the room to get their attention, but he stumbles mid-sentence when he spots Clarke in their midst. There’s a moment that feels like an eternity, a moment in which Clarke knows the teacher is trying to decide whether to acknowledge Clarke’s return to his class, a moment in which Clarke wants nothing more than to melt into the hard plastic chair as if she has never even been here at all, but then it passes, and the class continues as if nothing has happened.

As if Clarke doesn’t have cancer.

But she does.

“Lexa,” Clarke hisses, when the teacher turns his attention to the computer and pulls up a powerpoint presentation for the lesson. Lexa turns around to frown inquisitorially at Clarke, who forces the resentment out of her mind and the sadness from her eyes as she smiles gratefully at her former best friend. “Thanks for the notes.”

Lexa thinks about it a lot, probably way more than she should think about somebody who she so rarely speaks to these days, but it really plays on her mind. Why somebody so young, somebody with such a bright future, somebody with so much joy and happiness and vitality should get diagnosed with cancer when there are so many bad people in this world that it could happen to instead.

It sucks, and Lexa isn’t even the one with cancer.

She almost wishes that she was. And yes, she knows that’s a terrible thing to think and that she should be grateful for her own good health, but it’s the truth. If there was a medical procedure that could suck the illness from Clarke’s body and transfer it to her own, then that’s exactly what Lexa would do. Clarke has everything; a big friendship group full of nice people that nobody in their year group seems to dislike, good grades, good looks, and an aspiration to be a doctor. Lexa, meanwhile, feels as though she has nothing in comparison - only a few people that she would consider friends, two parents who somehow manage to straddle the line between loving her too much and not loving her enough, and an unhealthy dose of anxiety. It should be her that has the cancer, but instead there seems to be an unjust system of reverse karma in place, where bad things happen to good people.

There are bad people in the world, and there are good people. And then there is Clarke. Clarke, who is so good and pure that Lexa isn’t entirely convinced that she isn’t an actual angel reincarnated in human form. Clarke, who on the second day of kindergarten, helped a tearful and bruised Lexa back to her feet after being pushed to the ground by John Murphy, then declared them to be best friends for life, though only after kicking Murphy in the balls for hurting Lexa in the first place.

Nobody deserves to be diagnosed with cancer less than Clarke.

Lexa almost wonders if Clarke’s illness is karma punishing her. Perhaps fate is saying a massive fuck you to her, not to Clarke, by forcing her to stand by helplessly as the girl she loves suffers. Because there is absolutely no doubt that Lexa does love Clarke. She’s known it for about a year, though she’s probably loved her since the day that six year old Clarke offered out a hand to help Lexa get back to her feet.

But what hurts the most is knowing that there’s absolutely nothing she can do to help Clarke, nothing she can do but sit by and watch as Clarke’s health deteriorates and the side effects of chemotherapy kick in.

Lexa has never felt more helpless.

Lexa almost doesn’t recognise the girl who walks into class the following Thursday morning with bright pink hair. Nothing has changed other than the hair colour – she wears the same worn out jacket she’s owned since freshman year, the same slightly pitiful frown that’s been on her face since the diagnosis a couple of weeks ago – and yet the vibrant pink that frames Clarke’s face makes it seem like she’s an entirely different person from the girl with the beautiful golden tresses that Lexa has known for most of her life.

“Clarke!” Lexa gapes, as Clarke drops into the seat beside her, Lexa having moved back a row now that Finn Collins has taken up his new seat at the very back of the classroom. “I – wow!”

Though Lexa, quite deliberately so, does not ask for an explanation for Clarke’s sudden and drastic makeover, Clarke gives her one anyway, as if she feels like she has to justify her new fashion choice.

“I’ve always wanted to dye it,” she shrugs, reaching up with one hand to play with a single pink curl, “and I might not have hair for too much longer so it seemed like as good of a time as any to get it done.”

As Clarke glances away, a brief moment of sadness passing across her face as she does so, Lexa’s insides lurch unsettlingly at the thought of Clarke’s hair falling out against her will. She quickly remembers that Clarke will be taking the day off school tomorrow for the first of many chemotherapy treatments, which explains the unexpected change of hair colour mid-week, and just tries to imagine for a second how terrified Clarke must be at the prospect of going into hospital for such a daunting treatment.

Lexa flails silently for a moment, wondering what, if anything at all, she can say that might ease Clarke’s mind ahead of her hospital visit but nothing comes to mind that won’t do more harm than good. Lexa settles instead for saying something a little different.

“The pink really suits you.”

Eyes wide with surprise as she lifts her head to look up at Lexa, as if she hadn’t been expecting the compliment at all, Clarke softly mumbles, “Thanks,” before reverting back into a glum silence for the rest of class.

Clarke’s absence on Friday, despite her only sharing a couple of classes with Lexa, feels somewhat akin to Lexa having to spend the day without one of her arms. She’s a mess for pretty much the whole day, distracted with pondering thoughts of where Clarke is, of what the doctors will be doing to her, and of hoping that none of it is as bad as the scary word chemotherapy makes it all sound.

When she arrives home from school that afternoon, Lexa collapses on her bed with her phone in her hand, the screen unlocked and opened on a message conversation with Clarke, but she hesitates with her thumb hovering over the keyboard before she sends anything. Nothing that comes to mind quite seems right for the situation - casual well-wishes seem too impersonal and asking how the treatment went seems far too invasive and unsympathetic.

Lexa exits the conversation and locks the phone with a sigh, shaking her head in dissatisfaction. She wants to be there for Clarke, she really does, but there’s no class at school for how to be a good friend to somebody with cancer and it’s not really something that Lexa can do on intuition alone.

She decides, forty minutes later and after some assistance from her mom, on a simple Facebook post; an old photo of the two of them with their arms around each other and toothy grins on their faces at Clarke’s eighth birthday party, which she captions “Found this looking through some old stuff - partners in crime since kindergarten!” and then tags Clarke in it. Nothing fancy. It’s simple, it’s irrelevant, and it will hopefully let Clarke know that Lexa has been thinking about her all day.

She definitely doesn’t spend the next few minutes eagerly refreshing her new feed, waiting for a notification that lets her know that Clarke has seen the post.

It never comes.

She doesn’t know what she was expecting, if not a comment then perhaps at least a like, but each time the little red bubble pops up in Lexa’s notifications, it is with somebody else’s name and not Clarke’s. A selection of school friends like the post, both from their high school and old friends who knew the girls back around the time that the photo was taken. Some names are ones that Lexa doesn’t recognise, presumably friends of Clarke’s from elsewhere. Octavia Blake reacts to the post with a red heart that Lexa wishes came from Clarke instead.

The first comment is from Raven; “Double denim? Griffin, you were such a style icon!”

It hurts more than it should, two minutes later, when Lexa’s post remains unacknowledged but the little blue thumb icon appears underneath Raven’s comment with Clarke’s name next to it.

Clarke is back at school on Monday morning, almost as if she was never gone. There’s no indication that she missed a day of classes for the first of many life-saving medical treatments, no missing hair, no hospital gown or big sign around Clarke’s neck saying I had chemo. And Lexa curses herself for even thinking that things would be different.

(She decides that Clarke’s pale skin and tired eyes are just a figment of the imagination that is looking for something different in Clarke’s appearance.)

“Hey,” Lexa greets Clarke in their first class of the day. “How was the … uh, the treatment?”

Raising a single eyebrow at Lexa, Clarke replies, “You can call it chemo. That’s what it is.”

“Sorry,” apologises Lexa, feeling the mild burn along her cheekbones that is no doubt accompanied by a pinkening of the skin there. “I’m just new to all of this.”

She regrets the words the very second that they leave her mouth. The way that Clarke’s face falls, disappointment filling her blue eyes as her brow knits into a furrowed frown, is enough to inform Lexa that what she has just said was insensitive on every level.

“You’re new to this?” Clarke asks, her voice soft but laced with bitterness.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Lexa says dejectedly. “That was insensitive of me.”

Lexa is more disappointed in herself that she would care to admit. She’s spent more than a little bit of time this weekend on her laptop, googling questions like what to say to a friend with cancer and the overwhelming number one piece of advice she could find was to not make it about herself and how she feels about Clarke’s diagnosis. And yet, all that research is for nothing as she lets herself down within the first thirty seconds.

“It’s fine,” Clarke assures her, though Lexa can’t help but feel that this isn’t fine at all, nor will it ever be until Clarke’s treatment finishes and she gets the all clear in however many months’ time. “I get it, you want help but don’t know how. The best thing you can do is to just act normal.” Lexa nods along earnestly as Clarke reaches out a hand and rests it tenderly on Lexa’s forearm, before continuing. “And Lexa, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. You’re treating me like a human, not like a time bomb. That’s more than I can say for most of the rest of the assholes in this school.”

“I’m sorry,” Lexa attempts to apologise a final time, but the arrival of the teacher for the start of the lesson means that she isn’t given the chance to take her apology any further.

“By all means, come on in,” Clarke says to Raven, pushing open her bedroom door as she leads her best friend inside. “But fair warning, it looks and smells like a hospital.”

Clarke wrinkles her own nose as she steps into her bedroom, the nasty smell of cleaning product invading her nostrils. Her bedroom doesn’t really feel like home much at the moment, the various medications prescribed to her for combatting the side effects of chemo scattered haphazardly across all available surfaces in the room. The smell, despite her desperate pleas, comes from her mother’s insistence of giving the room a thorough disinfect almost every other day so that Clarke doesn’t catch anything while her immune system is reduced.

“Jesus Christ,” Raven blanches as she follows Clarke into the room, lifting her hand up to her face to cover her nose and mouth. “Do you not have any air freshener?”

“I’ve asked my mom to get me some,” Clarke answers. “She insists on keeping this place spotless. I’m already sick, a few germs isn’t going to do any harm.”

Raven’s hand reaches out to Clarke’s, her fingers clasping around Clarke’s wrist to get her full attention.

“Hey. No. Mama G is a medical professional, you listen to what she has to say, okay?”

“Jesus, Raven,” Clarke whines, dropping onto the bed with a plop that rumples the freshly washed sheets. “Are you my mom now?”

Raven launches herself belly first onto the mattress next to Clarke, propping her head up with one elbow as she sends a wicked smile in Clarke’s direction.

“Shut up,” says Raven, rolling over onto her back, where she steals half of the pillows and cushions that decorate Clarke’s double bed and sets them up against the headboard behind her. “Are we gonna watch a movie or what? It’s so awesome that you’ve finally got a TV in your room.”

Shrugging and reaching for the remote control that sits on top of a pile of untouched pamphlets from the hospital, Clarke points it at the brand new television that sits on top of the dresser against the opposite wall and says, “Cancer perks.”

The end of the school year and the start of the summer break between Clarke’s junior and senior years of high school comes around two weeks later, shortly after her second chemotherapy appointment, and Clarke has never been more grateful to have a couple of months off school.

She can already feel some of the changes in her body – most notable is just how lethargic she’s starting to feel. Clarke has always been the number one advocate for power naps but since starting the treatment, she’s found herself passing out pretty much everywhere, including in class, though two hours of calculus on a Monday morning is probably enough to send anybody to sleep.

The other thing is her hair. It hasn’t started to fall out yet, not properly, but Clarke has started to notice a bit of thinning. Each pull of her hairbrush through the newly-dyed pink hair tugs strands out from her scalp that get caught around the bristles of the brush and when she showers, there is slightly more hair than usual to pull out of the drain at the end. It isn’t noticeable in the mirror yet, but Clarke knows that the worst part – when actual clumps of her hair start falling out in uneven patches across her scalp – is almost imminent, and she’s grateful that she won’t have to go to school during this in-between stage.

Lexa is thankful for the arrival of the summer break. Junior year has been a lot of work and she knows that her final year at high school will be even more tiring. As much as she’s looking forward to throwing herself headfirst into another year of challenging schoolwork and college applications, the two months she has before that to mentally and physically rest is exactly what she needs right now.

And yet, three days after the last day of school, she finds herself already missing the crowded corridors and the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

Well, maybe not those, per se.

She finds herself missing Clarke.

Their friendship is by no means rekindled to the level that it was at before they started drifting apart in middle school, but Lexa likes to think that they’ve reached the point once more where they can text each other and make social plans without it being weird.

Clarke, on the other hand, seems to disagree.

Lexa Are you free today? We could catch a movie or get lunch if you like! Or something else, I’m open to suggestions.

Clarke I’m pretty tired actually. Think I’m just gonna stay at home.

Not yet disheartened, Lexa is already prepared with another suggestion that might suit Clarke a little better.

Lexa I could come over and we could watch something at yours?

Clarke I think I just want to sleep tbh

Lexa tries to think of something to say, anything to let Clarke know that she’s always going to be welcome to hang out with Lexa later, but everything she tries typing out just falls flat. She doesn’t want to seem needy, doesn’t want to force Clarke to exert herself any more than she’s physically capable of doing right now, doesn’t want to make Clarke feel guilty for the way that the side effects of the chemotherapy are inhibiting their social interactions.

She just wants Clarke to know that she isn’t alone.

Lexa No problem!

Clarke stands in front of the mirror and adjusts the beanie on her head for what is probably the hundredth time in the last ten minutes.

“You look good,” Raven says. “Don’t worry about it.”

Except that Clarke is worried. Because Octavia is throwing a party tonight and Clarke has been coerced (by Octavia, by Raven, even by her own mother) into attending and it’s the first time she’s left the house for anything other than a hospital visit in the three weeks since school finished. And the first time in almost as long that Clarke has worn anything except for pyjamas.

Not to mention the fact that it’s the debut of her new hairstyle. If you can even call a patchy buzzcut a hairstyle. Hence the beanie.

“Are you sure people aren’t going to notice?” asks Clarke, turning to look at Raven, who is sprawled across Clarke’s bed, playing on her phone as Clarke gets ready.

Pushing herself up into a seated position, Raven grins up at Clarke and answers, “The only thing people are going to notice is how hot you look. Because damn girl.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” Raven insists, shaking her head. “Everybody is going to wish they were you.”

Clarke arches an eyebrow, because she’s pretty certain that there is not a single person in the world who would want to be a kid with cancer.

Raven doesn’t miss the look that Clarke shoots her and she jumps up to her feet, crossing the room to stand beside Clarke as they both look at Clarke’s reflection in the mirror.

“You’re hot,” Raven tells Clarke again. “The colours really suit you, your tits look great in that shirt, and you’re totally rocking that beanie. Fuck the cancer, you’re awesome!”

And for just a moment, Clarke believes it.

Parties aren’t always Lexa’s thing. She not a huge drinker, nor does she like big crowds of people, not to mention the fact that she doesn’t fall into the right social circles to get invited to most of the parties thrown by the kids in her year at school.

But for some reason Octavia Blake, who has never taken the time to talk to Lexa much off the soccer pitch that they share during training for the women’s varsity team, personally insisted that Lexa just had to come along to the party that she’s throwing tonight.

It’s not Lexa’s scene at all. Music thumps from two loudspeakers positioned on either side of the living room, questionable drinks are being poured into cups from a large keg being manned by Octavia’s college-aged brother, and sweaty bodies are crammed into every corner of the Blakes’ small house. But Lexa doesn’t get invited to parties often and she’s determined to at least try to enjoy this one.

(Her attendance has absolutely nothing to do with the possibility that tonight might be the first time she sees Clarke since school finished for the summer. Nothing.)

There’s a big shout from the already quite tipsy Octavia when Raven arrives at the party, and Lexa’s eyes desperately squint towards the door for Clarke.

And there she is.

Oh boy.

Lexa doesn’t know if it’s the jungle juice catching up with her or if the sight of Clarke entering the room behind Raven is really that mesmerising, but her head starts to swim a little bit. Clarke looks a little thinner than before, a little more tired, but Lexa hardly notices that because Clarke is still just as beautiful as ever. There’s a dark gray beanie pulled over her head, hiding her hair (or lack of it, as Lexa quickly realises may be the case), but it just emphasises everything else. The sharp plane of Clarke’s jaw. The blue in Clarke’s haggard eyes. The dip of the neckline on Clarke’s rather revealing tank top.

Jesus Christ, when did Lexa become so fucking gay.

Lexa’s heart is racing, and the only thing that stops her from passing out, or from locking herself in a quiet and soundproof room for the duration of the party, is that Clarke has an expression on her face that matches the same startled-slash-terrified feeling that Lexa has too.

And so Lexa pushes her own anxiety aside and makes it her main aim to make Clarke feel as comfortable as possible in this scary new environment. Lexa takes a sip from her drink for courage, then plasters a smile on her face as she pushes through the crowd to cross the room and welcome Clarke.

“Clarke!” Lexa beams, her smile genuine as she throws her arms around Clarke’s neck in a greeting. “I didn’t know if you’d be here tonight.”

Lexa didn’t know, but she hoped.

“Yeah, Raven came to my house and basically dragged me out of bed,” Clarke shrugs. “Also, my mom threatened to cut off the wifi at home if I didn’t leave the house. She’s worried I’m becoming a recluse. I swear parents are supposed to worry about kids going to wild parties and getting involved in underage drinking and sex, but apparently when you get cancer they actively encourage it.”

“Then why are you complaining?” Lexa teases Clarke. She gestures towards the kitchen, then asks, “Do you want something to drink?”

Clarke squints at the plastic cup in Lexa’s hand, inspecting its contents with a wary gaze, before she answers, “Sure. Why not?”

Clarke’s hand seeks her own so that they don’t get separated as they slowly navigate their way through the mass of drunk teenagers, and Lexa tries to ignore the erratic pounding of her heart in her chest and the feeling of Clarke’s warm palm against her own. It’s stupid to get so worked up about such meaningless platonic intimacy, but this is Clarke, who gets Lexa’s pulse racing by just looking at her. Lexa knows that being with Clarke in that way is beyond her wildest dreams, but even an act as simple as having Clarke’s hand squeezing her own as she leads Lexa towards the kitchen, is more than Lexa thinks she deserves.

“Are you having another?” Clarke asks, when they make it to the keg where Bellamy is pouring his homemade concoction into plastic cups and distributing it to the teenagers that surround him.

Lexa glances down at the cup in her hand and takes a moment to think, before knocking bag the dregs at the bottom and nodding as she passes it across to Bellamy for a refill.

“So,” says Clarke, when they both have their drinks, leading the way out of the kitchen and through the glass doors into the back yard, where the music is quieter and the air much cooler than the warmth indoors that feels heavy with the scent of cheap alcohol and teenage sweat. “You seemed surprised to see me here tonight, but I’ve never seen you at a party before.”

“Yeah, parties aren’t usually my thing.”

They reach the far side of the yard, where a rusty swing set stands under the branches of a tall oak tree, and Clarke sits on the seat, looping one of her arms around the chain to keep herself steady, while Lexa stands nearby.

“What’s different about tonight?” asks Clarke.

“Octavia was very persuasive,” replies Lexa. She takes a quick swig of her drink for courage, and then continues, “And I was hoping you’d be here. I wanted to see you. To know that you’re doing okay.”

The cover of the darkness, lit only by the crescent moon ad a few twinkling stars in the sky, does a good job of hiding the blush that rises to Lexa’s cheeks when she confesses that seeing Clarke was a motivator for pushing herself beyond her usual comfort zone.

“I’ve been bad at replying to your messages,” says Clarke. “And I’m sorry for that. Sometimes I just don’t have any energy and then I forget and…”

“No!” Lexa protests quickly, holding up a hand to stop Clarke before she can apologise any further. “You don’t have to say sorry. I probably text you way too much.”

“I like that you message me,” Clarke says in a soft voice. “It’s nice that you think of me.”

“Of course I think about you,” says Lexa, laughing softly under her breath, because there is hardly a moment that goes by where Lexa isn’t thinking about Clarke, even subconsciously. “You’re … I mean, you’re you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Clarke asks, an inquisitive smile on her face.

Lexa’s cheeks burn in embarrassment and she’s grateful that it’s late enough that the shroud of darkness hides her red-tinged cheeks.

“You’ve always been special,” Lexa shrugs as she answers, avoiding eye contact with Clarke out of fear that she’ll fluster and stumble over her words. “You were my first friend in Kindergarten. Do you remember that?”

“I do,” replies Clarke, and when Lexa finally looks up, it is to find Clarke grinning fondly at the memory. “Murphy pushed you over and I kicked him in the balls.”

“My hero,” says Lexa, mockingly fluttering her lashes in Clarke’s direction.

“God, even back then you were an adorable nerd,” Clarke teases, taking a swig from the plastic cup in her hand.

“Wait, you think I’m adorable?”

“I don’t think I said that,” Clarke denies resolutely, though Lexa can see that she’s trying to fight a smile that gives away the truth.

“You definitely said that,” insists Lexa.

“I also called you a nerd,” Clarke reminds Lexa matter-of-factly.

“Yes, but that’s old news.”

They fall into silence, and as Clarke gently pushes herself back and forth on the swing with her feet against the lawn, all Lexa can see are flashes of memories from years past, of two small girls chasing each other around the nearby playground and seeing who can fly the highest on the swings before losing their nerve.

“I’ve missed this,” says Lexa, smiling to herself at the memory. “Missed us.”

“So have I,” agrees Clarke, scraping her feet against the grass to bring herself to a standstill. “We should do this more often. Hang out, I mean. If you’d like to.”

Lexa’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Yeah, I … I’d love to!”

Lexa can’t remember why she was ever so worried about coming to this party in the first place.

The thing about promises is that they are easy to make and even easier to break. So when Clarke and Lexa promise to spend more time together, to rekindle a friendship that has been not much more than a pile of ashes since middle school, it’s far too easy to just let things continue how they did before the party.

It’s not that Lexa doesn’t try. Because she does. She sends Clarke occasional messages, links to things she’s seen online that she’s found funny, photos of the mundane happenings in her day to day life, little anecdotes that she thinks Clarke might enjoy. And Clarke replies most of the time, but it’s very rarely more than a one word answer or a laughing face emoji. When it is something more, the conversation fades out within the two or three messages after that.

Lexa tries her best not to push Clarke, because as much as she wants Clarke’s friendship to be the same permanent fixture in her life that it used to be, she also knows that Clarke is having a difficult enough time right now without having to fend off the unwanted attention of a former best friend who has a massive fucking crush on her.

When three weeks have passed since the party, three weeks since they promised to spend a little bit of time together, three weeks in which virtually nothing has changed since before their conversation at the party, Lexa decides to attempt to initiate a face-to-face meeting.

Lexa Woods Do you want to hang out later? We could have a movie night? You wouldn’t even have to leave your bed!

She doesn’t have to wait long for Clarke’s reply.

Clarke Griffin Yeah, might be fun

Lexa Woods Cool! I’ll bring popcorn! What time do you want me to come over?

And that’s it. There isn’t a reply to that message. Lexa checks her phone over and over again, just in case she has accidentally missed the ping of her text tone, but there’s still nothing. She assumes that Clarke has fallen asleep, that her message goes unanswered for a completely legitimate reason, but Lexa soon starts to second guess herself and doubt begins to creep into her mind.

Maybe Clarke doesn’t want to hang out with her.

Maybe Lexa is being too pushy.

No, Lexa tells herself. Clarke likes you. Clarke wants to spend time with you. It’s not her that’s pushing you away, it’s the cancer.

With that in mind, Lexa slips into her shoes, grabs a jacket, and decides to head over to Clarke’s house.

When Lexa arrives at the Griffin house, she is nervous.

Nervous that Clarke won’t be in the mood for socialising and that she’ll be turned away at the door.

Nervous that she’s going to be invited inside and will have to somehow find a way to cope with spending two hours watching a movie with a girl that she’s basically in love with.

The fluttering of her heart is almost enough to make Lexa go home of her own accord before she can enter the house.

Lexa musters all of her courage and raises her hand, tapping on the front door sharply with her knuckles. While she waits for somebody to answer the door, Lexa’s heart pounds so hard that she can hear the blood rushing through her ears.

It feels like an eternity that Lexa is waiting on that doorstep, but the door finally swings open and Abby Griffin peers inquisitively at her.

“Hello, can I-?” Abby stops mid-question to peer closer, and recognition seeps across her face as she realises who is on her doorstep. “Lexa?”

“Mrs Griffin,” Lexa nods, smiling politely.

It’s been years since Lexa has been to the Griffin house, years since she’s seen Abby, and though things have changed – there are different cars on the drive, a new rug in the hallway just behind Abby, more gray in Abby’s hair and more crinkled lines around her eyes and mouth – Lexa feels like no time has passed, like she’s still a bright-eyed middle-schooler visiting for a slumber party with stolen candy and whispered secrets beneath the sheets long after the rest of the house has fallen silent.

“Please, call me Abby. And come in!” Abby steps aside, welcoming Lexa into her home and closing the front door behind her, before she continues, “It’s good to see you. It’s been far too long since we had you in this house.”

Lexa nods in agreement, and then asks, “Is Clarke around? We said we’d have a movie night.”

“I haven’t seen her for a while,” Abby answers with a frown, pausing to think before she speaks again. “She came down and made herself some toast just after two but it’s been quiet since then. She’s probably been sleeping.”

“Oh, okay,” says Lexa, trying to mask her disappointment.

“You can go up and see her if you like,” suggests Abby. Abby’s eyes widen as she has an idea, and she explains to Lexa, “I tell you what, I haven’t planned any dinner tonight so we could order pizza for your movie night. How does that sound? Why don’t you go and wake Clarke and ask her what she wants on her pizza? You remember where Clarke’s room is, don’t you?”

“That sounds great,” says Lexa, the anxiety from earlier starting to be replaced with comfort as Abby makes her feel welcome in the place that used to feel like a second home.

She can only hope that Clarke does the same.

Leaving Abby alone downstairs, Lexa ascends the staircase to the upper floor of the house and makes her way to the door that she knows leads to Clarke’s bedroom. And yet again, she hesitates outside the door as nerves begin to rise within her gut at what she might find inside.

After two deep breaths, Lexa knocks lightly on the door and then, when there is no response, she pushes it open and peers inside.

Clarke is asleep. That much is apparent straight away. Her eyes are closed, her mouth slightly agape, and she snores softly. One of her arms is flung casually above her head on the pillow, while Lexa can just see a few toes decorated with chipped red nail polish peeking out from beneath the covers at the foot of the bed.

The most glaringly obvious thing in the room, and Lexa tries her best not to stare at it for too long, is that Clarke has no hair.

Lexa always knew that Clarke was going to end up losing her hair at some point, but she immediately regrets not preparing herself for the sight. Clarke’s scalp is stubbly, like the hair has been shaven close to her scalp at some point in the last few weeks, but the little hair that remains is thin and wispy, like that of a newborn baby before their proper hair starts to grow in thick. It only adds to the childlike image that Lexa gets of Clarke, sprawled out on her bed like an infant taking a nap, and Lexa wants nothing more than to wrap Clarke up in bundles of blanket as she presses soft kisses to her forehead and whispers promises to keep her safe.

Grateful that Clarke is asleep and therefore unable to witness Lexa staring at her almost-hairless head, Lexa forcibly drags her eyes away from the sleeping girl and takes in the rest of the room. Though it’s still the same room that Lexa remembers from her childhood visits, it’s much different. The room feels smaller and less inviting, is Lexa’s first impression. It smells clinical in here, but that’s not it. Across the dresser, there are an assortment of medicines in bottles and boxes, labelled with names that are just as terrifying as they are long. Lexa had no idea that cancer treatment required so much medication.

A giant corkboard leans against Clarke’s closet door, upon which Lexa can see various information pamphlets from the hospital pinned up with brightly coloured pins. Most of the corkboard is dominated by a huge yearly wall planner, which Clarke has decorated with coloured stickers to denote which medicines she needs to take on which days, as well as written in all of her hospital appointments. At the bottom of the board, there’s a handwritten sign that says 12 days to next treatment, with a homemade flip chart to change the numbers as she counts down. Around the edge of the board, Clarke has pinned up a few inspirational quotes, and Lexa smiles to herself as she reads one in particular - scars are like tattoos but with cooler stories.

It’s all very strange to Lexa, seeing the evidence of Clarke’s cancer all over the same bedroom that she used to have playdates and slumber parties with Clarke in, but the reality of it sinks in a little more that it has before. Lexa feels a tinge of sadness at the realisation that this is what Clarke’s life has become now, but also a huge swell of admiration for how Clarke is refusing to let the cancer take her down without a fight.

When Lexa glances back at the girl still soundly asleep in the bed, she feels as though she’s looking at her in a different light.

“Clarke?” Lexa says in a hushed voice, crossing the room and sitting down gently on the edge of Clarke’s bed, trying not to cause the mattress to jolt suddenly under her weight as she takes a seat. Lexa is torn between wanting to wake Clarke up to spend time with her or leaving her to continue her peaceful slumber, but it is the selfish part of her brain that wins out in the end. “Clarke, it’s me. Lexa.”

Clarke stirs ever so slightly and Lexa reaches out with one hand to brush the back of her fingers against Clarke’s warm cheek, stroking the soft skin tenderly. Clarke leans into the touch, and her bleary eyes flicker open just a fraction.

“Your mom is going to order pizza for dinner,” explains Lexa. “Does that sound okay?”

Clarke lets out a little grunt that Lexa assumes is an affirmative, and so she continues her line of questioning.

“Great, what do you want on yours?”

“Cheese,” mumbles Clarke sleepily.

“Just cheese?” Lexa asks for clarification. “No other toppings?”

“No.”

Clarke rolls onto her side towards Lexa, tucking her legs up to her chest as she curls up and pulls the covers over her shoulder. Her eyes are closed once more, as if she never stirred at all.

“Do you want me to leave you to sleep?” asks Lexa, her voice just a whisper as she tries not to startle the sleepy girl beside her.

Clarke lets out a low hum that Lexa interprets as an affirmative, and Lexa slowly gets to her feet, careful not to disturb Clarke as she crosses the room and backs out into the hallway, closing the bedroom door with a soft click.

Once she is back downstairs, Lexa relays Clarke’s pizza order to Abby, as well as her own, then takes a seat on the couch in the Griffin’s living room.

“She’s fast asleep,” Lexa says, once Abby has phoned the pizza restaurant and placed their order. “It was almost like she was talking to me in her sleep.”

“She does that,” nods Abby. “Sometimes I can go into her room and have an entire conversation with her and she’ll have no recollection of it when we speak later in the day.”

“Wow,” gasps Lexa. “She must be really out of it. Does she spend a lot of time asleep, then?”

“You could say that,” Abby laughs softly under her breath. “Now, Clarke has always enjoyed her sleep. It’s difficult enough to get her out of bed in the morning at the best of times, but since she started the treatment, she spends most of the day in bed. She’ll surface a couple of times a day for a snack, but it’s rare to see her awake for more than a few hours at a time.”

“I…” Lexa starts, but then trails off, wondering if the way her thoughts are going aren’t appropriate for a conversation with the mother of a cancer patient. But Abby looks at her with warmth in her eyes and an encouraging smile on her face, and it makes Lexa feel a little like there isn’t a wrong thing that she can say, and so she continues, “This is probably going to sound really ignorant, but I’ve never known anybody with cancer before, and seeing somebody go through all of this is so different to how I imagined it to be. I don’t mean that to sound so…”

“No, Lexa, there’s no need to say sorry!” Abby is quick to shut Lexa down for she can start apologising. “I’m a doctor – I deal with people suffering from all sorts of things on a daily basis, and I even did a placement in an oncology ward when I was a student doctor – and there are things about Clarke’s treatment and the side effects that surprise me.”

Lexa smiles gratefully at Abby’s words, and then continues, “It’s just, media makes it seem like cancer is about your hair falling out and being connected to a machine by a tube.”

“And there is an element of that to it,” Abby interjects.

Nodding, Lexa adds, “But it seems like it’s so much more than that.”

“There is,” agrees Abby. “You also have to remember that not everybody experiences cancer in the same way, so the way that Clarke’s body responds to the chemicals fighting off the disease is not necessarily the same way that mine would, or yours.”

“Clarke is … I know it’s stupid for me to be saying this when it’s mostly my fault that we aren’t as close as we used to be.”

“Lexa,” says Abby, reaching across the space between them on the couch and resting a comforting hand on Lexa’s arm. “You and Clarke have been an important part of each other’s lives. It’s perfectly natural for you to be affected by what she’s going through.”

Lexa smiles gratefully, Abby’s words doing a little to quell the guilt that Lexa feels for finding it difficult to talk or even think about Clarke’s health.

“Clarke is special,” Lexa confesses to Abby. “Clarke has always been there for me. She’s been looking out for me since the day that we met, and it feels like it’s my turn to repay that favour, to look out for her.” Lexa pauses, before she admits, “And I’m worried about her. She doesn’t seem the same as she used to be.”

Lexa wonders for a moment if she has said the wrong thing, when Abby’s brows furrows and her eyes fill with sadness at the changes she’s seeing in her only daughter.

“She’s not,” agrees Abby. “And she may never be. But whatever she may seem like now, she’s going to be a much stronger person when it’s all over.”

Lexa is reminded of another one of the quotes she saw pinned to Clarke’s corkboard up in her bedroom - Cancer is always going to lose, because though it tries to make you weaker it only ends up making you stronger.

“To quote Kelly Clarkson; what doesn't kill you makes you stronger,” says Lexa, and Abby laughs softly at her words.

“Mom?”

They both startle at the sound of Clarke’s voice, having not heard her descend the stairs, and look up to find Clarke rubbing her tired eyes as she enters the room,  wearing pyjama pants and an oversized hoodie.

“Who are you talking to? I thought Dad was away toni-” Clarke stops mid-sentence when she notices Lexa. “Lexa?”

Lexa gives a meek little wave. Clarke looks completely surprised to see Lexa in her living room, as if she doesn’t remember either inviting Lexa over or even the short conversation that they shared in her room earlier. Lexa remembers what Abby said about Clarke often having entire conversations that she’s too tired to remember later and realises that must be the case.

“Told you she wouldn’t remember,” Abby's says, quiet enough that only Lexa can hear her.

“I came up to your room earlier to ask you what you wanted on your pizza,” Lexa explains to Clarke, smiling kindly in an attempt to reassure Clarke that it’s completely fine if she doesn’t remember. “We had a conversation.”

“We did?”

“Pizza is on its way,” says Abby. “Probably about half an hour.”

“I don’t know if I’m hungry,” Clarke protest, her voice feeble. She drops into one of the armchairs and curls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them to keep them close to her body as her head drops back against the cushion behind her.

“That’s fine,” Abby tells her. “But it’s there for you if you want it. Lexa says you two are having a movie night.”

“Oh shit, I totally forgot about that!” sighs Clarke, eyes widening as she remembers inviting Lexa over.

“Language, Clarke!” Abby scolds Clarke, though there isn’t actually any trace of anger in her voice.

“Sorry,” mumbles Clarke.

“I can go if you want me to,” says Lexa, trying to mask the disappointment as she makes to get up onto her feet.

“No!” says Clarke quickly, leaning forward in her seat slightly and letting her feet slide onto the floor as if preparing to chase Lexa if she tries to leave. “Stay! Please?”

Lexa drops back into her seat perhaps a little too eagerly, just pleased that she’s finally going to be able to make true of the promise they made at Octavia’s party and spend some time with Clarke. If her heart picks up its pace in her chest, then Lexa vehemently ignores it.

“Let’s use the den,” says Clarke. The Griffins have a room at the back of their house that they call the ‘den’, a small-ish room with a couch, a television, and several towering bookshelves along one wall, and Lexa remembers the room well from her childhood visits here, she remembers eating chips in front of cartoons, and making a fort to hide from the grown-ups. “My bedroom is too much like a prison.”

Lexa nods, her only concern being Clarke’s comfort at all times. If Clarke would rather host their movie night in the den, rather than the bedroom that has become almost like her own private hospital ward at home, then Lexa isn’t going to put forward any complaints.

“That sounds like a great idea,” says Abby. “Why don’t you girls go and set up in there? There’s some spare blankets and pillows up in the spare bedroom if you want to make it more comfy in there. I can bring the pizza to you when it arrives.”

“Thank you, Mrs Griffin,” says Lexa.

“It’s Abby,” replied Abby, a twinkle in her eyes, “and you know that, Lexa!”

They build what can only be described as a nest on the couch in the den, cocooning themselves in a warm bundle of blankets and cushions while they choose a movie from Netflix. When the pizza arrives, Abby brings it through to them and smiles at the sight of their heads peering out from under all the blankets.

The pizza box sits between them on the couch, resting on a small cushion, and they help themselves to cheesy slices while the movie plays in the background. Despite her earlier protests that she wouldn’t be hungry, Clarke’s stomach gives a traitorous growl when they lift the lid, and she manages almost two slices before she gives in and says that her appetite has gone.

Clarke falls asleep about halfway through the movie, and with her stomach full and the nest of blankets keeping her cosy, Lexa can feel her own eyes drooping with the onset of drowsiness not too long afterwards. She tries to fight it, to stay away and watch the movie, but her eyelids are heavy and she quickly succumbs.

When Clarke wakes up, she is uncomfortable.

Which is weird because she’s bundled up in blankets on the soft couch cushions in the den, with Lexa fast asleep against her side. She should be the epitome of comfort.

There’s an unsettled feeling in Clarke’s stomach, and it takes her a few sleepy moments to realise that she feels nauseous. The need to be sick is not an urgent one, but it is there, but as soon as she realises that she’s feeling queasy, it takes over her entire body and she can’t think of anything else.

Clarke tries to extract herself from the blankets without disturbing Lexa, but with the other girl asleep against her side, her head resting on Clarke’s shoulder, it’s a harder task that it seems. The blankets are tangled around their limbs and as she tries to remove herself from their warmth, Lexa stirs against her and her eyes blink open.

“Are you okay?” Lexa asks, her voice raspy in her newly awakened state.

“Just gonna go to the bathroom,” Clarke says, trying not to let her discomfort show. The last thing she wants is for Lexa to worry about her.

Lexa looks on in concern, but she nods silently and lets Clarke leave, helping to remove the blankets so that she can make her escape.

Clarke knows the drill by now. She reaches for a hair tie and pushes her hair back into a loose bun, then sits on the edge of the bathtub within reach of the toilet basin. She takes deep breaths, trying to stop the bile from rising in her throat, but by this point she knows it’s going to happen.

When she can’t fight it anymore, Clarke leans over the basin and retches, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. When she doesn’t think she can be sick any longer, when there is nothing left to throw up, Clarke scrabbles with one hand for the flush, while the other reaches for a square of toilet paper to wipe the disgusting dribble from her chin and lips.

“Clarke?”

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Clarke glances up from where she is huddled on the bathroom floor to find Lexa leaning against the doorway with concern on her face. The very reason that Clarke rarely has friends over at her house is because she doesn’t want them to see her like this, but the illusion that she’s dealing with cancer with her dignity still in tact is lost the moment that Lexa lays eyes on the way that Clarke is clinging to the toilet seat with her own drool coating her lips.

“Go away, Lexa,”

“Can I do anything to help? Do you need anything? Water?”

Clarke is loathe to ask for help, but her throat burns and there’s an acidic taste in her mouth and water sounds like heaven.

“There’s a bottle of water that I left in the den,” Clarke reluctantly says to Lexa.

“I’ll go get it.”

Lexa hurries out of the bathroom obediently like a dog rushing to fetch a ball, and Clarke is only left alone for a moment because the commotion brings her mom along in Lexa’s absence. Abby enters the bathroom and takes a seat on the edge of the bathtub, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Clarke’s back.

“Clarke, are you okay honey?” she asks.

Clarke glances up and puts on a forced smile, as she replies sarcastically, “Peachy.”

Lexa returns with the water bottle, filled with fresh water, and gives it to Clarke with a worried expression still on her face. Clarke accepts the bottle with a grateful nod of her head and takes a huge gulp, swilling the water around her mouth to wash away the taste of her own vomit, before she spits the water into the toilet basin and takes another sip to actually drink.

“Lexa, I don’t want you to see me like this,” says Clarke, now that her throat isn’t quite so dry and scratchy.

Though Lexa looks as though she wants to say something, she remains silent.

Pushing herself up into a standing position, it is Abby who comes up with a solution, leaving Clarke on the bathroom floor beside the toilet as she says to Lexa, “Lexa, how about I make up the spare room for you and you can sleep there tonight?”

Lexa keeps staring at Clarke with a frown on her face, eyes full of pity and something else, before she finally glances up at Abby and nods silently. Abby ushers Lexa out of the bathroom, leading her down the hallway, and it is only when Clarke has been left alone in the bathroom that she lets herself break down, tears cascading down her cheeks and her chest heaving with sobs as she collapses on the bathroom floor and just cries.

School starts up again at the end of the summer and so begins Lexa’s senior year.

Clarke doesn’t show up on the first day, nor on the second, and when she does finally show her face on the third day, she looks wearier than Lexa remembers, and her words are much more negative.

“I just don’t want to be here,” complains Clarke, when Lexa meets with her during morning break to give her a copy of Lexa’s notes from the two days she’s missed. “I don’t see the point.”

“Of course there’s a point!” Lexa tries to assure her. “This is senior year, your last year!”

“And what?” shrugs Clarke dejectedly, slumping against her locker. “I have to miss school for appointments but what about the days like yesterday where I physically couldn’t get out of bed? I’m tired all the fucking time!”

“I’m sure the teachers will be able to help you catch up on the work you’ve missed,” Lexa suggests.

“The teachers don’t give a shit,” replies Clarke. “I’m not in school enough for them to care. They’ve already written me off as a hopeless case. I’m just a kid they’ll talk about in a few years, like ‘remember when we taught that girl with cancer, such a sad story’. That’s all I am to them, a story.”

“Then I’ll help you!” promises Lexa. She hates seeing Clarke like this, hates how the cancer seems to have drained all of Clarke’s positivity. “I can come over to yours and help with the stuff that you miss and it’ll even help with my own revision.”

“I can’t ask you do so that.”

“I want to,” Lexa shrugs, her voice soft.

Clarke looks at Lexa in confusion, her eyebrows furrowed into a frown, like she’s trying to work out why Lexa hasn’t written her off in the same way that nearly every other person in the school has.

“But why? There’s no point. My life lost all its worth the moment they did the scan and found a tumour.”

Clarke chokes on her words towards the end, and Lexa catches her reaching up to rub at her eyes, as if wiping away tears. Within a few seconds, Clarke’s chest is heaving with sobs and her cheeks are damp.

“Come on,” says Lexa, putting an arm around Clarke’s shoulder and guiding her into the nearby girls’ bathroom.

There are two girls in there when they enter, standing at the mirrors touching up their eyeliner, but upon seeing Clarke in tears, they seem to sense the need for privacy and quickly gather their belongings, vacating the bathroom to leave Lexa and Clarke alone.

“It’s okay,” Lexa soothes Clarke. “Let it out.”

“Why me?” sobs Clarke. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Nothing” says Lexa, as she pulls Clarke in for a hugs and wraps her arms around Clarke’s shoulders. Clarke’s own arms circle loosely around Lexa’s waist and her head falls on Lexa’s shoulder, her tears soaking the sleeve of Lexa’s t-shirt. “You did nothing. You don’t deserve any of this and it makes me so mad that it’s happening to you.”

“I had it all planned out,” says Clarke, another sob tearing through her body as she trembles in Lexa’s arms. “I was going to get a good GPA and go to med school and become a paediatrician but none of that is going to happen anymore.”

“It can still happen if you want it to,” Lexa tries to reassure Clarke.

Clarke pulls herself out of Lexa’s embrace and walks into one of the toilet stalls, emerging a few seconds later with some toilet paper scrunched up in her hand, which she uses to dab at her eyes and then blow her nose.

“That’s the other thing,” Clarke says to Lexa, tossing the used tissue in the nearby trash can. “I’m not sure I even want to be a doctor anymore. Why would I want to spend the rest of my life working in a place that reminds me of what I’m going through now?”

“Then that’s fine,” Lexa answers without hesitation. “There’s still so many other things you can so. You can still go to college without deciding what you want to major in yet, or you don’t have to go to college at all if you don’t want to.”

Clarke’s eyes narrow and she looks at Lexa with an expression on her face like she doesn’t understand why Lexa is so insistent that Clarke’s life isn’t as bad as she thinks it is.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” asks Lexa.

“Being so nice to me.”

Clarke still looks at Lexa with incredulity in her eyes, like the very idea of somebody showing her kindness is one that she can’t begin to fathom.

“Do you remember in Kindergarten when you helped me up after Murphy pushed me over and then kicked him in the balls?” asks Lexa, and Clarke’s glistening blue eyes soften with traces of amusement as she nods through her tears. “You’ve always had my back and now that things aren’t so great for you, I want to have yours.”

Lexa omits the part where she’s basically in love with Clarke and would do anything to ensure her happiness.

“I mean, Murphy hasn’t done anything but if you want to kick him in the balls anyway, it would really cheer me up.”

“Noted,” smiles Lexa.

Though her cheeks are blotchy and there are red rings around her eyes as evidence of her tears, Clarke is no longer crying and Lexa is grateful that she seems to have cheered up a little. She thinks that seeing Clarke like that, seeing the emotional impact that the cancer is having on her, is far worse than it is to see all of the physical changes on Clarke’s body. Even seeing Clarke hunched over a toilet bowl emptying her stomach that time Lexa went over for a movie night was more bearable than this, because at least Lexa knew that the nausea would pass. Seeing Clarke so upset and feeling like there is nothing she can do to help only leaves Lexa feeling completely helpless, and she wishes that there could be steps for her to take to ensure that Clarke doesn’t have to feel like her life isn’t worth anything now that she’s sick.

“Seriously, though,” Lexa tells Clarke, who has now turned to the sink and is splashing water over her face from the faucet. “I’m here for you. I know that things aren’t going your way at the moment, but I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re alone, because you’re not.”

Clarke’s eyes are still red and the skin around them puffy from her tears, but there’s something much deeper in them as she looks at Lexa, like maybe she might be finally starting to believe that what Lexa is saying is true.

Something changes in Clarke.

Lexa hardly notices it at first, because in many ways nothing changes at all. Clarke still misses a lot of school and when she does show up, she is still just as weary and down about her situation as she was at the start of the school year, keeping her head down on her desk for often entire lessons and secluding herself from most of her peers during break and lunchtimes.

But there’s definitely something different too. Something in the way that Clarke’s eyes seek out Lexa’s in the school canteen and her tense shoulders relax visibly as she comes to sit at Lexa’s table. Something in the way that Clarke will always choose to sit next to Lexa in the classes that they share, even if she ends up sleeping on her desk for the entire lesson. Something in the way that Clarke has started inviting Lexa over to hers after school every now and then so that Lexa can help her with the work she’s missed, even though their ‘study sessions’ usually end up with them binge-watching TV and reminiscing about memories from years past until their cheeks hurt from smiling too much.

Lexa likes it. Well, she doesn’t like that Clarke is still struggling, but she likes the way that even though Clarke is having a tough time, she’s giving Lexa the chance to try and make it a little less difficult.

Clarke has her last treatment in early-November and Lexa spends the entire day glued to her phone. Or at least as glued to her phone as she can be at school without the teachers noticing it and confiscating it from her. She checks it as often as she can, waiting for a message from Clarke to say that she’s out of the hospital so that she can congratulate Clarke on making it to the end of a gruelling six months of chemotherapy.

There isn’t a message, but when Lexa checks Facebook during her lunch break, there’s a post from Clarke at the top of her feed, dominated by a goofy selfie of Clarke at the hospital with a dumb filter that distorts her face and gives her a pair of animal ears.

Lexa taps the ‘like’ button instantly, then scrolls down to read the caption that Clarke has posted below.

Clarke Griffin 34 minutes ago Last ever chemo today! It’s been a difficult six months but I’m coming out the other side stronger and I couldn’t have done it without the most incredible support from the best friends and family I could ask for. Thank you to each and every one of you for sticking by my side during these tricky months. I love you all! All there’s left to do is to wait for the scan to confirm that the cancer is gone and then I can start growing my eyebrows back!

Lexa’s eyes prickle with tears and she wipes them away immediately, before anybody else can see her crying in the middle of the school canteen, but Lexa can’t stop the smile that spreads across her face with the growing pride that she feels for Clarke and the struggle that she has overcome as she types out a comment on Clarke’s post.

Lexa Woods So proud of you and the strength that you’ve shown! <3

It doesn’t come close to expressing what Lexa is really feeling, but when the notification pops up a few seconds later telling her that Clarke has replied with a heart emoji of her own, Lexa hopes that maybe it’s just about enough.

On the day that Clarke goes for her final scan and gets the all-clear from the doctors, who tell her that the chemotherapy has been successful and that she’s in complete remission, they go for milkshakes and donuts to celebrate.

“To you,” says Lexa, holding up her milkshake glass when the waitress brings them their drinks, and Clarke meets it with a soft clink of her own against Lexa’s, “for being the strongest and bravest person I know and kicking cancer’s butt.”

“To you,” adds Clarke, keeping her glass raised even after Lexa lowers her own, “for sticking by my side when so many others turned their backs.”

Lexa wraps her lips around the straw and sucks up some of her milkshake, sighing at how refreshing the drink is, before she puts the glass down on the table.

“Of course I stuck by you,” Lexa shrugs. “I just didn’t want you to feel alone.”

“I appreciate it,” smiles Clarke. “As long as we’re still going to be friends now that I’m healthy again?”

Clarke has genuine concern in her eyes, like she actually thinks that Lexa might stop being her friend now that she no longer has the excuse of wanting to help Clarke through her difficult times.

“Of course we are,” Lexa promises Clarke. “I’ll always be your friend, even when you have hair again!”

Clarke’s face cracks open into a grin and Lexa flushes with delight at having made Clarke smile, a sight that has been so rare over the last few months. It’s nice to see Clarke relaxed for once, instead of exhausted and void of hope, and Lexa can’t tell if Clarke is actually more radiant than before or if it’s just Lexa imagining things. Either way, Clarke looks beautiful as she sips on her milkshake, even more so when she smiles, and Lexa is reminded of all the un-friendlike feelings she has for Clarke as her heart stirs in her chest and makes its presence known by thumping rhythmically against her ribcage.

To distract herself from her racing heart, and to stop herself from doing anything stupid like telling Clarke that she looks beautiful and accidentally confessing her love, Lexa gestures to the box of donuts on the table between them and asks, “Powdered sugar or chocolate sprinkles?”

“Like you even have to ask,” grins Clarke, reaching for the donut decorated with chocolate icing and multi-coloured sprinkles.

The cancer might have gone, but Clarke’s social anxiety definitely has not, and the nerves that she feels upon entering the party that Octavia is throwing at her house for half their year is almost overwhelming. Her hair, barely starting to grow back and still a closely shaven fuzz on her head, is hidden beneath a comfortable gray beanie, and even though it has been months since she had long hair, Clarke still feels self-conscious about her current look.

The other partygoers greet her as if nothing has changed, as if she hasn’t spent months going in and out of hospital appointments and barely showing up to school. There’s the people who have always been her friends, even through it all - Raven wraps Clarke in a tipsy hug when she first sees her, Jasper greets Clarke with a fist bump and offers to pour her a drink from a suspicious-looking homemade concoction stored in an old plastic water bottle, Octavia drags Clarke straight into the middle of a makeshift dance floor in the living room and starts grinding up against her instead of Lincoln - but there’s others, people who have barely acknowledged Clarke during the last six months, who greet her and smile as she passes as if she has never had cancer at all.

It’s weird and Clarke doesn’t like it.

When Clarke has finally managed to escape from Octavia’s inappropriate dancing, using an excuse of needing to go somewhere a little cooler, Clarke makes her way to the slightly quieter kitchen and pours herself a drink.

“So the cancer is gone, huh?”

Clarke glances up, bottle of soda in one hand and a red plastic cup in the other, to find Finn smirking across at her. Finn, who was definitely flirting with her before the diagnosis, but who hasn’t even looked her way since, let alone spoken to her.

“Well,” says Clarke, trying not to let her disinterest in conversing with Finn creep into her voice. “I’m in complete remission, so…”

“So you’re basically cured.”

Clarke knows that she used to be attracted to Finn, though in this moment she can’t possibly remember why. Perhaps the chemotherapy has killed all traces of the former attraction along with the cancer.

“Finn, it…”

“When is your hair going to grow back?” asks Finn.

He must think that he’s flirting, because he wears a smirk on his face and leans closer to Clarke. Clarke decides that they must be living in alternate universes, because Finn clearly thinks that his advances are wanted, while Clarke is struggling to think of anywhere she would rather be less than here with Finn.

Except for perhaps the oncology ward with a tube pumping chemicals into the port on her chest, but it’s an incredibly close call.

“What if I like it short?” Clarke replies haughtily, folding her arms indignantly across her chest.

Still undeterred, Finn says, “I think you look really pretty with long hair. You know, how it was before.”

“Well, if you like it short then I guess I have to grow back.”

Finn completely misses the sarcasm in her voice because instead of getting the idea that Clarke doesn’t care about what he has to say and backing off, he instead leans yet closer and says, “How about we go and talk somewhere a little more private?”

It takes all of Clarke’s self-restraint to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“And by ‘talk’, you mean hook-up?” she asks him, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Well, I guess. If you like.”

Clarke loses it.

“No, Finn,” she snaps, spitting his name out like it’s a nasty taste on her tongue that she can’t wait to be rid of, “I don’t like. I don’t like the way that you think you can ignore me for six months and then as soon as I finish my treatment, you decide that it’s okay to start flirting with me again because you no longer have to deal with a girl who has cancer.”

“Clarke,” whines Finn, “I only meant that…”

“Well, guess what, Finn?” continues Clarke, barely allowing herself time to take a breath before she launches off again, not giving Finn the chance to try to wriggle his way out of this one. “I’m always going to be the girl who had cancer! You don’t go through something like this and just forget about it. This experience has changed me and I’m not the same girl who had a crush on you last summer. And if you didn’t want to be around for that change then that’s on you.”

“Clarke…” protests Finn.

“Finn, I don’t care,” Clarke tells him bluntly. “If you didn’t want to be my friend when I had cancer, then you don’t get to be my friend now that I don’t.”

Clarke is pretty proud of herself for that one, but she becomes aware that her rant at Finn has drawn a little bit of attention from the handful of other people in the kitchen. They watch her with mild fear on their faces, as if worried that she’s going to turn on them next and give them the same kind of treatment that she’s given Finn.

But Clarke is done ranting, and from the way that Finn is finally silent, Clarke thinks that maybe she might have got through to him.

Clarke decides that she has to make a quick exit to escape the judgement of the other people in the kitchen, but when she looks up at the door out of the kitchen, she notices that Lexa is standing there watching her, and Clarke realises that she must have seen the entire exchange with Finn.

With her conversation with Finn fresh in her mind, Clarke realises that Lexa is the only person outside of her tight-knit friendship group who has even looked Clarke’s way during the last few months, let alone tried to support her through the biggest challenge of her entire life, and the realisation has everything clicking into place.

Clarke pushes past Finn and walks towards Lexa, grabbing Lexa’s hand with her own on her way out of the kitchen and pulling Lexa with her.

“Come on, Lexa. We need to talk.”

We need to talk.

Put together in that order, they are probably four of the most ominous-sounding words in the English language, but Lexa has no time to process what they might mean or what Clarke wants to talk about. Clarke’s hand grips her own and Lexa is being dragged down the hallway of Octavia’s house, past a few other kids in their year, until Clarke opens up the front door and leads Lexa outside into the chilly December air.

“Clarke, what…?”

Clarke kisses her. Like actually kisses her, lips gently moving against Lexa’s while one of her hands comes up to tangle itself in Lexa’s hair.

It’s not at all what Lexa imagined their first kiss to be like - and Lexa has probably imagined and re-imagined a thousand different scenarios in which she and Clarke share a first kiss. Lexa has pictured it being tentative and clumsy, she’s pictured it being fiery and fuelled by lust, she’s pictured it taking place right after Lexa has delivered a smooth line to knock Clarke off her feet, and she’s pictured it happening in the darkness of her own bedroom late at night during a slumber party. In fact, had you asked Lexa just thirty seconds ago, she probably would have said that there is not a single version of their first kiss that she hasn’t already imagined.

But she never once imagined it to be like this, never thought that it would happen on Octavia Blake’s front step while a party rages on behind the closed front door, never expected that Clarke’s lips would be so soft or that her hand would caress Lexa’s scalp in the way that it does, never once predicted that Clarke kissing her would make Lexa’s heart beat in her chest like it’s having its very own high school house party in her chest.

Lexa tries to be as present as she can be, a task which is a lot harder than it seems when her entire body feels like it’s floating off the ground and soaring into space. She tries to kiss Clarke back, and she lifts her own hand to cup Clarke’s jaw, where her fingertips dip just beneath the soft material of the beanie that Clarke wears and her thumb traces patterns along the bone of Clarke’s gaunt cheek.

The kiss is a bit of a surprise - as far as Lexa is aware, her feelings for Clarke have been entirely one-sided until now - and Lexa can’t help but wonder what has changed in Clarke’s mind to bring them to this point. When Clarke draws back from the kiss to change the angle, Lexa pulls back from the kiss, though she keeps her hands on Clarke to hold her close, trying to let Clarke know that this is just a temporary pause, not a permanent halt on their kissing.

“Clarke, what…?

“Finn was hitting on me and it made me realise that there’s only one person I want to be doing that,” explains Clarke. When Lexa stares at her dumbfoundedly for a few seconds, not quite believing what she’s hearing, Clarke elaborates by saying, “You.”

Lexa’s jaw drops open like she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing, even though she already has the physical evidence that Clarke wants her from the way that her lips are still tingling from the recent pressure of Clarke’s mouth sliding against her own.

“Listen, this isn’t going to be easy,” says Clarke, dropping the hand that is buried in Lexa’s hair so that it’s draped around her neck and bringing the other one up to match it. “I still have to go to the hospital for tests every few months and there’s always a chance that the cancer could come back. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but mentally I’m a bit of a fuck up right now.”

“Clarke…” protests Lexa, shaking her head.

“What?” shrugs Clarke. “It’s true! I’ve still got a difficult journey ahead of me but I want to make that journey with you. I want you to still be by my side, because I can deal with the cancer - not very well, I admit - but I can deal with it. I don’t think I could handle not having you in my life.”

There’s a question in Clarke’s eyes, as if she’s waiting for Lexa to promise that she’s never going to leave. Lexa can’t find the words to do justice to the way that she’s feeling, so she decides to do it with actions instead. Her hands tighten on Clarke’s waist, pulling her closer as she leans down for a second kiss that feels like Lexa is arriving home.

“Just to be clear,” Lexa mumbles against Clarke’s lips, “are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

Clarke lets out a little noise, something that Lexa decides must be the audible version of an eye roll, before she answers, “Yes, idiot. Be my girlfriend?”

Lexa doesn’t know how she manages to keep kissing Clarke when her mouth is threatening to crack into a huge grin, but she manages it, only pulling back for long enough to say, “Yes.”

[silviasutton1989]

Open Your Heart to Me (Liamx Olivia RileyxDrake MaxwellXHana)

Author’s Note: I worked really hard on this one so I hope it comes through how I intended. Let me know what you guys think. If you clock on the bold words it will send you to the song they will be singing. It you want to read the chapter before THIS. @everythingchoices @choicesfanficlibrary if you would like to be tagged in later work just let me know!

Raiting: PG13

Summary: The gang has finally made it to the Karaoke bar but tension will be high.

"Oh My Gosh! We are here!!!!"

Maxwell's squeals wakes Riley from her thoughts. As the gang pile out of the limo they are greeted with loud music hardly stifled by the building which also holds a large purple and green neon microphone blinking above it. 

At the sight of all the people in the area Olivia speaks, "Surely they have private seating in this place." Her possession of Liam's hand has taken over to his full left side. Liam looks defeated as he keeps his focus in any other direction but Riley's.

Once they reach the front door Maxwell pulls the bouncer aside. 

"So um.. buddy how about we talk about a VIP area for a second."

With her friends preoccupied Riley reluctantly turns in Drake's direction as he is looking around the building.

"Can we talk?" She motions for him to move further out of Olivia and Liam's earshot, he obliges.

"Hey are you mad at me or something?" Drake leans into Riley's ear making sure she could hear him through the loud playing of "Living La Vida Loca". His voice and hot breathe near her ear sends chills down her body.

"Why did you do that in the limo Drake?" Riley crosses her arms and takes a cautionary step back from him.

"I thought you liked the way I touch you." A sly smile creeps upon Drake's face he closes in the distance between the two yearning to kiss her exposed shoulder but settling for simply grazing the area with his fingertips.

Riley exhales loudly and takes another step back.

"I don't like these mind games you play."

"Mind games?" Drake scoffs and look towards an unsuspecting  Liam. Olivia has whispered something in his ear and a full smile has taken over his face. "Or are you just upset that the Royal Highness is too busy to flirt with you at the moment."

"Stop trying to put Liam in this and stop trying to guess how I feel abut him! You tease me with these touches and looks and secret kisses just so I'll be the one who has to ask for more."

Riley and Drake are complete mirrors of each other, arms crossed eyes widen.

"Then you play this whole noble card leaving me to feel desperate and cheap. Saying "Oh we can't do this because Liam is my best friend and he is n love with you". Yet you don't mind sitting across from hi with your hand u my dress do you?! And I'm tired of it Drake I'm tired of playing this same game with you especially when your always the one with the upper hand."

"Oh so I'm the one playing the games? I'm the one who has the upper hand? Tell me something have you told Liam how you feel about me?"

Riley stammers, "Well...No-"

"Have you told him how you feel about him?"

"No but you know he's helping clear----"

"No right! Your just stringing him along till Beaumont's name is cleared. What's going to happen when he dumps Madeline and tries sticks a ring on your finger? Who will be strung along then Riley? Me or him?"

Riley takes a moment to respond the rise and fall of Drake's chest as he breathes told her his "games" we not to entertain him but to protect him.

"Drake I want to be with you... but.... it seems our issues aren't that we have to wait till the time is right. You don't trust me do you?"

Riley searches for an answer in his face, he quickly looks away.

"You make it hard to see where your priorities lie and you are the one playing mind games. With Liam, Maxwell, and Bertrand, is it so hard to think you maybe doing it with me too. It's really hard to trust you Sutton."

With those words piercing through her body, Riley walks away as she meets back up with the rest of the group Maxwell is all ready speaking with them.

"So let's go!!"

"We got a table?"

"Yeah Hana has been here for like 20 minuets already we are over there."

They reach Hanna who is waving frantically at the gang "Hey  guys the waitress is on her way. I've had two drinks all ready see"

Riley hurries to sit next to Hana at the end of the crescent shape table. As Olivia and Liam sit in the middle Olivia begins to stroke his hand again she whispers in his ear, "Liam you know I have terrible stage fright let's do a song together ok?" He leans in and whispers back to her "As you wish." They flip open the large binder and begin to look for a song.

The waitress appears to take orders.

"What can I get you all?"

"Whiskey neat" Riley and Drake call out at the same time

The table laughs at the coincidence everyone but Riley and Drake.

Maxwell waves at the waitress "How about a couple round of Jolly Ranchers for the table mam?"

In no time the drinks come and after a couple of terrible renditions of "I Like Big Butts" and Before He Cheats" play the hostess announce for Maxwell to come on up.

Maxwell quickly takes a shot and jumps up "Ok are you guys ready because " He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a handful of confetti and blows it over the table "IT'S SHOWTIME!" 

"Go Maxwell!" Hanna shouts. As the beat for Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" begins to play He quickly turns to Hana "hey how about we make this a duet?"

He extends his hand to her and as she takes it "Are you sure I'm not as experienced as you." As they walk to the stage he responds "No on is my dear. No one"

They begin to sing awkwardly at first but soon finding their own rhythm on which parts to sing.

"Awe aren't they ...cute" Olivia starts and she hands the waitress their selection to sing. "Are you not singing Riley?"

"Yes I am" Riley hands the waitress her selection while Olivia sets her sights to Drake "Looks like its just Drake huh?" she turns to Liam "and I thought I was the party pooper!"

Drake looks at the waitress who stands waiting for his selection. He hands her his empty glass "Keep them coming please"

After a couple of songs end, the hostess announces Liam and Olivia to the stand. The song "Nights with you" by Mo begins to play.

To calm Olivia obvious nervers Liam starts the song off looking directly in her eyes.

"Girl your gorgeous you know you might not always feel like it but you are." He picks up her chin with his fingers and and once it was her turn Olivia is  fully into the song signing only to Liam. 

"Lose Attention. Even though this world is mad and you feel out of control.

But your the best at When you let it off by banging your head and putting your hands up in the air.

oh babe Ill take you out tonight Don't care about your fiancee waking up alone!"

"Wow" Maxwell stares at the display in front of him mouth agape.  "She almost looks---"

"Human" Hanna laughs.

"I was going to say harmless but that's close enough."

They all chuckle lightly. All but Drake as his thought and focus has been solely on Riley who hasn't looked in his direction all night. 

By the time Liam and Olivia find their seats the third round of drinks have made its way to the table. Drake's liquid courage kicks in and in front of the whole gang he stands. "Riley can we talk?"

"Come to the stage Riley!!" announces the Hostess.

Riley walks past Drake and before she can make it on the stage she is stopped by the hostess.

"Hey hun look I know know you wanted that Bebe Rexha song "The Way I Are" but look I got you something better very close to Whitney just follow the words you'll be fine!"

Before Riley can respond she is on the stage a bright light blinding her. Somehow the only visible thing is Drake still standing watching her.

The song "How will I Know" covered by Sam Smith starts to play.

Riley looks at the hostess who gives her a thumbs up and points to the screen. She closes her eyes, she knows the words. This song is the whole relationship with the only man she can see see at the moment.

"Oh it's you I know your the one I dream of 

Look into my eyes take me to the stars above

Oh I lose control cant seem to get enough

When I wake from dream tell me is it really love

How will I know if you really love me?"

Once Riley gets enough courage to open her eyes Drake has disappeared.And she sees no one, nothing but the light before her. The crowd is quiet and she stumbles through the song ending with a forced smile and wet eyes. When she finds her seat back at the quiet table Maxwell begins.

"Hey Riley don't be embarrassed you were great up there." He reaches over the table and places a hand on hers

"Hmm it looked like she was about to cry if you ask me."

Liam nudges Olivia "Hey you were perfect right Hana" He scoots over and wraps his arm around Riley.

"Right I think you gave a whole new emotional feel to the song Like I really didn't hear the words until I heard you sing it like that."

Before Riley could say or move from Liam the hostess begins another announcement.

"We will now have Drake to the stage."

A clearly drunken Drake makes his way to the stage as the crowd claps softly. He finds Riley in the crowd and sees she is wrapped in the arms of Liam.

The music for Dancing on my Own by Calum Scott begins to play.

The table is silent as Drake begins to sing it is Hana who speaks. "I didn't know Drake could sing." No one answers her. 

"I'm in the corner watching you kiss him Ohh 

I'm right over here why cant you see me Ohh

I'm giving it my all but I'm not the guy your taking home

Ohh I keep dancing on my own."

Riley looks up at Drake his dark brown eyes piercing through her. She hasn't notice Liam's arm is no longer around her. She never heard him tell her he was leaving with Olivia . She hasn't even realized how rudely she said "No" when he asked her to come with them. 

Drake finishes his song and quickly leaves the stage. Riley starts to run after him when Hana grabs her arm.

"Hey are you leaving too? Your going to miss my rendition of "Fantasy". 

"You can do Mariah? You sure bout that you may need a backup singer don't want you to have to whistle through your high notes"Maxwell insists. 

"No I got this!" She places a hand in front of his face.

"So you leaving Riley?" 

"Yeah I think so I'm going to check on Drake. You all have fun!"

And with that she was off past the door spotting Drake climbing into a back of a taxi. He sees her and waits for her to get in before shutting the door. Madonna's Open Your Heart blasting through the building as they drive away.

[doge-w-a-bloge]

~just little clamgirl things~

II talked to an Undertale fan IRL about the connection between the “don’t forget” picture and clamgirl! We swapped info on our internet presences with each other, so...here’s her youtube channel, if you want to see her content!

(I, uh, haven’t watched any of the videos in said youtube channel yet, though.)

(Hopefully it’s good youtube content?)

Anyways, it’s always fun to get an opportunity to share that bit of trivia. Many people know about the “don’t forget“ drawing, but so few know its appearance in the game is tied to talking to clamgirl.

Here’s the data (as they are in version 1.001, since 1.05 and beyond’s multi-language programming means text isn’t directly included within objects the way it is in 1.00 and 1.001) that displays this exact connection, under the cut.

First, let’s look at the dialogue data for obj_clamgirl.

   global.msg[0]= "* I\'m visiting Waterfall&  from the city./";    global.msg[1]= "* Synchronicity...^1?&* My neighbor\'s daughter looks&  about your age./";    global.msg[2]= "\\W* Her name is \"\\YSuzy\\W.^1\"&* I feel like you two should&  be friends./";    global.msg[3]= "* You have..^1.&* A neighbor\'s blessing!!!/%%";    if(self.talkedto > 0) {        global.msg[0]= "* Not knowing where I live&  is no issue^1.&* Fate finds a way./";        global.msg[1]= "* In life\'s grand scheme^1, she&  might be why you came here&  in the first place.../%%";    }    if(global.flag[7] == 0) global.flag[279]= 1;    if(global.flag[350] == 1) {        global.msg[0]= "* I sense a disturbance in&  the nearby aura.../";        global.msg[1]= "* I think you should leave&  that girl alone./%%";    }    if(global.flag[7] == 1) {        if(global.flag[279] == 1) {            global.msg[0]= "* So you never met my&  neighbor\'s daughter./";            global.msg[1]= "* Don\'t despair^1.&* This world has infinite&  opportunities./";            global.msg[2]= "* But there\'s a limit to the&  things you can do today^1.&* Accepting this is healthy./";            global.msg[3]= "* Take my neighbor\'s blessing^1!&* And consider this blessing&  for anything you like!/%%";        }        if(global.flag[279] == 0) {            global.msg[0]= "* I wanted to tell you about&  my neighbor\'s daughter./";            global.msg[1]= "* But you walked right by me&  before I could tell you./";            global.msg[2]= "* Fate has decided that I&  should not tell you./%%";

Ok, several things to see here. Flag #7 is, essentially, the "did asriel break the barrier?” flag; 0=no, 1=yes. Flag #350 is Undyne’s curent status; 0=alive, 1=murdered. With that in mind...

If you talk to Clamgirl at a point in the game before the barrier is broken, Clamgirl will tell Frisk that they should be friends with Suzy. If Frisk talks to Clamgirl immediately afterwards, Clamgirl will imply that Frisk is fated to meet Suzy. At this point, flag #279 is set to 1. And Clamgirl’s dialogue after the barrier breaks is determined by this flag - by whether Frisk already talked to her already, in other words.

...

Now let’s look at obj_readable_room1. We’ve already gone over Flag #7 being a True Pacifist related flag. And now we’ve learned that flag #279 is the “talked to Clamgirl before the barrier broke“ flag; 0=no, 1=yes.

   if(self.room == 80) {        global.msg[0]= "* (There\'s a photo album inside&  the drawer.)/";        global.msg[1]= "* (There are photos of Sans with&  a lot of people you don\'t&  recognize.)/";        global.msg[2]= "* (He looks happy.)/%%";        if(global.flag[7] == 1) {            global.msg[0]= "* (There\'s a photo album inside&  the drawer.)/";            global.msg[1]= "* (There are photos of Sans with&  a lot of people you don\'t&  recognize.)/";            global.msg[2]= "* (... and^1, one photo of you&  standing with Sans and all&  your friends.)/";            global.msg[3]= "* (He looks happy.)/%%";        }        if(global.flag[279] == 1) {            global.msg[0]= "* (There\'s a photo album inside&  the drawer.)/";            global.msg[1]= "* (There are photos of..^1. Huh?)/";            global.msg[2]= "* (A card is sticking out from&  the back flap of the binder.)/";            global.msg[3]= "* (It\'s a poorly drawn picture&  of three smiling people.^1)&* (Written on it...)/";            global.msg[4]= "* \"don\'t forget.\"/%%";

We see the following things. The “people you don’t recognize” photos will always appear in this room, no matter what. The “you and all your friends” photo will only appear after the barrier is broken.

And... the “don’t forget” drawing will only appear if you talked to clamgirl before the barrier broke.

From an in-universe, cause-and-effect perspective, this second change makes no sense. Rather, it’s a deliberate out-of-universe decision on how and when to present the player information. We, as players, are only supposed to see this drawing if we have met Clamgirl, and heard her talk about Suzy. This creates a direct narrative link between Sans and Suzy that has yet to be explained. The most obvious way to interpret this, is that Suzy is the missing piece to the mystery of Gaster.

* But there's a limit to the things you can do today.

How is she connected, though? We have no information on that. We never even find her. She lives in New Home, whose streets we cannot visit. There is no unused content related to her that datamining can find. We simply do not, and can not, know what the role of Suzy is, in either the skeletons’ story or Frisk’s.

* Not knowing where I live is no issue. * Fate finds a way.

...yet.

[brie-haus]

My Honest (and unpaid) Review of Meal Delivery Service

Last year in January I was in the midst of trying to change my diet and implement health changes that would stick. My husband and I are pretty bad about eating out several times a week because that is convenient and cheap, which checks the two main boxes for us. A friend of ours told us about the meal service they use and we decided it would be a worth a shot for us. Being the OCD type that I am, I did a bit of research into the worth of meal service that is out there and was actually quite surprised by all that is available.

When we signed up for meal service, there were 3 main options available: a) services that deliver uncooked ingredients to your door once a week that you prepare using ingredient cards, b) services that prepare healthy food options for you and you pick them up once a week, and c) services that deliver pre-made individual meals to your door once a week. We knew for sure that we wanted fresh ingredients that we would be preparing ourselves so that we could control ingredients going into meals (I have lots of allergies and I also try to watch how much sodium I am eating). Of those options there was only one that delivered to Mebane and was within our budget and that was HomeChef.

               With HomeChef, you create an online profile where you establish your taste buds (spicy, protein preferences, etc), any dietary restrictions, and any food options that may be a deal breaker for you such as bone in meat options. From there, HomeChef displays their offerings for that week and you pick the three (minimum for free shipping) or more meals you want delivered for that upcoming week. You can also set preferences for what day of the week you wish to take delivery, etc. I recommend going in and selecting your meal options and saving them several weeks in advance as meal options lock at noon central time ever Friday.

               We absolutely love HomeChef. Their first box to you will include a binder to store your recipe cards in and each recipe cards comes hole punched to go easily into the binder. That is a service that no other meal service we have looked into includes. They have a great variety of options that include “safe” options for my picky taste buds as well as a variety of new things that have kept us satisfied for a full year. They offer HomeChef Express and Oven Ready options that are easy prep and quick turnaround for busy nights when you want a home cooked meal but you don’t have the full 30+ minutes to commit to cooking. Their customer service is amazing. On a few occasions our box has arrived with damaged produce (hello rough shipping journey) or an item missing. We contacted support with a description and photo of the issue and received quick response from support along with a credit on our account for the next shipment that more than covered the item we had to supplement ourselves.

               Purely just to mix things up and see what else the world has to offer, we decided to pause our HomeChef account and go with HelloFresh that recently started delivering to our area. We signed up under a promotion for $90 off. That’s my first tip, when you sign up for any of these services, hunt around for the best deal. They are always doing promotions and if you play your cards right, you can really save a lot of money. We received our first box on Tuesday of this week. I am pleased with how the first box arrived. Like HomeChef frequently does, they sent along a few free samples to try in addition to the ingredients for the meal. One thing I do like the HomeChef does is they seal all the meat in a Ziploc bag to prevent any juices from seafood, etc from getting into the food bags and contaminating ingredients. The meat items for HelloFresh were each individually sealed at the bottom of the box. The ingredients for each individual meal arrived in big, brown bags rather than the lower profile plastic bags from HomeChef but I do appreciate less plastic waste. All the food items were enclosed in a cardboard enclosure inside the box and all recipe cards and promotional material was on top of that, safe from any leaks from the ice pack.

               Preparation of the food is about the same across the board. The instruction cards are clear cut and easy to follow. The complexity level with each is pretty consistent and varies depending on the dishes you select. I do not see that HelloFresh offers “Oven Ready” or “Express” options that are quicker to prepare and require less prep work. The HelloFresh meals we have prepared so far (4 to date) have been overall a bit more flavorful than HomeChef is typically. HomeChef does provide larger ingredients and larger quantities than HelloFresh. We are still giving it a few weeks and may even try yet another meal service out to see how we like it.

               The flexibility that these meal services give us is great; it allows us to prepare things we would otherwise never cook for an affordable price. It’s super convenient and less trips to the grocery store is definitely a bonus for us with our very busy schedules. It has cut down substantially on our food waste and it allows me to plan on having healthier meals to go along with my goal for a better lifestyle.  

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Writting Prompt: Danny cries in his sleep, sometimes really loud. And screams. Once he even transform while sleeping. The problem is, he start to doing it when he fall asleep in class. Hope it's good enough to write

angst oh god what is with this phandom and angst okay here’s ur angst with a heavy dose of weird millennial humour because this bitch can’t angst without a metric fuck of comedy sprinkled all over the place

also I’m sick and wrote half of this in the middle of the night while feverish so like, I did my best

–

“OKAY THIS IS FINE.” Danny said aloud to the floor. He didn’t really intend the floor to be the recipient of his ire but it was where his face was currently planted so it would just have to ding darn diddly deal with it.

Danny had experienced his fair share of being stuck in awkward positions but this one had rivalled many of his top ten, and he hadn’t even been thrown across a room by a ghost to achieve it! Nope, he just fell out of bed.

One arm was flung out before him, the other awkwardly pulled behind his back, still twisted up in his bedsheets, along with his leg. Just the one leg, the other was hanging - in quite a remarkable display of inhuman dexterity - over his shoulder.

All it took was some gut wrenching, heart stopping, bile inducing nightmares. Nothing fancy really, just the visceral image of everyone he loved and cared about DYING from TOO MUCH FIRE right in front of his eyes as he watched helplessly. Yep.

“THIS IS FINE.” Danny said again, a little louder this time. The carpet smelled like feet, Danny decided maybe he should take his eating hole off the gross floor before he caught a foot fungus on his lip. He knew it was possible, it happened to Ricky Marsh once at camp.

Yeah Danny should REEEAAAALLY get his face off that carpet. Right now, yep. He was gonna get up at this very mome-

Jazz heard a loud snore come from Danny’s bedroom. He was supposed to be up half an hour ago, school started in ten minutes. But she knew he had a plate piled high with superhero shenanigans that kept him up at obnoxiously late hours nine nights out of ten. The bags under his eyes could hold all the homework he never got done, with extra space for his unfinished chores.

Jazz was fully prepared to sneak in and firmly tuck him into bed with ghost proof sheets, a lie, an excuse and at least three compromises balanced on her tongue ready to jump at any parent and/or teacher that wanted her brother out of the warm sanctuary of bed today. Then she heard his gentle snores twist into a devastatingly soul crushing little whimper.

Oh boy, that wasn’t good.

Jazz opened her brother’s bedroom door and quietly peered inside to find… no one. He wasn’t there. Typical ghost bullshi-

Jazz had almost closed the door when she heard it again, that tiny little whimper. Was he invisible? She thought to herself, barely acknowledging how fucking weird her life had gotten that that question came so naturally to her.

Jazz padded into the room and found that Danny had, somehow, managed to fall asleep on the floor beside his bed. One leg still hanging in the air via blanket sling, it was almost funny, until he screamed that is.

Jazz nearly jumped out of her spotty blue socks when a noise ripped out of her sleeping brother’s throat, a noise that honestly could have come from the cutting room floor of a horror flick that was deemed too terrifyingly violent to be shown on screens literally anywhere. His back was arched, his mouth wide, hands curled in on themselves, he almost looked as though he were convulsing.

It stopped suddenly, with a gasp and a jolt Danny woke. He didn’t shoot up or flail about, he just laid down on the floor, eyes blearily noticing that there was another person in the room. Jazz sat down by his side as he wiped his face, staring at the tears on his hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Danny glared at her.

“Sorry, standard question.” Jazz mumbled as she unhooked his foot from the clinging bedsheets. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Danny, still laying on the floor, swung his right arm around, it had gone numb and tingly, the kind of numb and tingly that really hecking hurt when he started moving it again, yeesh.

“I had this really gnarly dream,” he started as he massaged his arm, Jazz listened intently. “I ordered a sandwich without mayo but when I bit into it there was mayo like, EVERYWHERE and-”

Jazz dropped a pillow on his face.

“That was rude.” Danny’s muffled voice grumbled.

“If you don’t want to talk about it you can just say so instead of being an asshole.” Jazz huffed as she found a pair of jeans and a shirt that were Clean Enough and threw them at the pillow. “You were crying and screaming, I was WORRIED.”

Danny pulled the pillow and clothes away and looked at his sister, actually looked her in the face. Her eyebrows were pulled tight and she was gnawing on her bottom lip, she really did look worried. Danny sat up and fished a somewhat pungent binder from under his bed, Pariah’s Oath he really needed to do his laundry.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” he stared down at his hands, face suspiciously neutral.

“Okay.” Jazz’s voice was gentle, she wasn’t going to push it, she’d learned a long time ago that it always just made things worse. “That’s okay, just know you can always talk to me, alright?”

Danny stood up and stretched, joints cracking and popping in a way that made Jazz want to barf. He could feel his arm again, thank the Ancients.

“You say that now, but every time a new rocket model comes out-”

“Bye Danny.” Jazz fucked off faster than Johnny’s shadow at dawn, absolutely Not wanting to stick around for another geeky space rant. Danny’s shit eating grin followed her out the door until it clicked shut, suddenly dropping back into the deadass tired face of a student who was entirely convinced that consistent sleep schedules were a myth.

He was not okay, ooooh he was so not okay.

Falling asleep again had been a mistake, a GRAVE mista- no okay, no, that pun was just inappropriate. He’d just had not one, but TWO disgustingly detailed nightmares about Literally Everyone dying, death puns were OFF the table right now.

Regular puns were still on the cards though, he thought to himself as he plopped his Little Pocket Book of Puns on top of a deck of cards sitting on his desk. He was proud of that one, in fact he snapchatted it, his smug face squeezed into the corner of the shot by the words ‘passng chem is off the cards bt my puns arnt’. It was easy to fool people with photos, he only had to pull off one good smile and people thought he was fine.

The flood of horrified snapchats he received in return made him giddy. Everything from a two minute video of Valerie trying not to hurl to a picture of Dash’s middle finger. Danny grinned, his grin looked genuine, it was not.

“This is fine.” he lied.

*RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRING*

Danny barely made it through the door before the bell went off, he celebrated his victory with a very brief and offensively outdated dance move before Tucker threw a pen at his head and the teacher told him to sit down before he hurt himself.

Danny’s goofy grin remained plastered onto his face as he sat next to Tucker, who was giving him the kind of look that was usually reserved for the weird surrealist internet videos Nathan always tagged him in on Facebook.

“You are like…” Tucker started, fiddling with the broken nib of his stylus. “Super hyper today what the fu-”

“Language, Foley.” the homeroom teacher deadpanned from behind his book.

“Sorry sir! But seriously what the fuck dude.” Tucker continued at a still very perceptible volume. The teacher sighed heavily.

“It’s cool I’m fine I just got like two hours of sleep and drank five coffees in ten minutes I think I can hear colours.” Danny’s eye twitched.

Tucker didn’t laugh, Danny was trying to be funny but it was like, twelve year old funny. He sighed and lowered his voice.

“You’re having nightmares again aren’t you.” Tucker stared through Danny’s plastic grin with serious eyes. “We talked about this Danny, I told you to STOP faking this shit with me. You know what happens when you don’t get enough sleep, you get really fucking weird.”

“Did you get my snapchat this morning?” Danny asked as though he hadn’t heard a single word his best friend had just said.

“Yes, it was awful and I hate you.” The jab had no bite, Tucker couldn’t stand seeing Danny like this, it was like some awful parody of his friend amped up to eleven. He didn’t bother trying to talk sense into him, sense was gone, sense was out the window, sense was on the next plane to god damn Timbuktu.

Danny’s giddiness didn’t let up a single inch throughout their first couple of morning classes. He had stupid jokes and shitty puns hidden up every sleeve in the building, and the tiniest little thing would set him off giggling. Star smacked a fly with a ruler, Danny literally fell off his chair laughing.

Mr Lancer gave Tucker permission to drag Danny out into the hallway to calm down. Tucker grimaced in apology as he dragged along a snorting Danny by the sleeve, the rest of the class having a good laugh of their own.

“Do you think he’s like, actually on drugs or something?” Tucker heard Paulina whisper not even remotely quietly as they left the room.

The moment the classroom door had closed, Tucker slammed Danny against the wall.

“DUDE! GET. A. GRIP.” Tucker was not even in the general vicinity of fucking around right now. Danny needed to chill his tits before he got into serious trouble, the last thing he needed was a detention lumped on top of the pile of reasons Danny’s life was a train wreck.

Danny clenched his teeth, his eyes were wide, too wide. Then his mouth curled up and a laugh squeezed its way through taught lips. Oh no, not again. Not on Tucker’s watch. Before the next giggle fit could get into full swing Tucker had pulled out his drink bottle, uncapped it, and dumped the entirety of its contents on Danny’s stupid guffawing head.

A cough and a splutter later and Danny was sitting on the floor, the stupid grin officially washed from his face.

“Can we talk like actual human beings now?” Tucker asked, the plastic water bottle thudding emptily on the ground.

“I’m not an 'actual human being’. So no. I can’t.” Danny’s voice was short and clipped, his expression stony.

Tucker slumped to the floor next to his best friend, ignoring the puddle he was half sitting in. They sat in silence for a bit, listening to Mr Lancer’s muffled voice droning on about adverbs or something. A squeak from someone’s shoe echoed down the empty hall. A fluorescent light flickered. Danny winced.

“You wanna borrow my earphones? I’ve got some chill tunes if you need to like, shut everything out for a bit.” Tucker held the tangled cords out to Danny who promptly stuck them in his ears and buried his face in his arms. It was all just, just too much right now.

He threw his hands over his ears when the bell rang, Tucker put a gentle arm around his shoulder.

“C'mon, it’s about to get really loud out here.” he said quietly, taking Danny by the arm and leading him to their next class. It was history, they were watching a movie. Perfect. Tucker rolled up his jacket and put it on the desk in front of Danny.

“Try and sleep a bit, if you can. You can copy my notes later.”

Tucker was a good friend.

Danny put his head down, Tucker’s chill playlist still thrumming softly in his ears. He didn’t want to sleep, he didn’t want to see everyone die again, but his eyes could barely stay open. He read somewhere online that just laying down and resting was still good for you, even if he didn’t sleep he could still get some energy back at least, maybe.

He was out like a light the moment his head hit Tucker’s jacket.

The dream was never the same. Every time it started as just a regular weird ass dream, he was at the Nasty Burger, but he was sitting at his kitchen table. His friends were there, so was some guy he’d never met, they were talking about monster trucks or… something. The guy he didn’t know was showing him a song he wrote, it was gentle and calm, Danny liked it.

That was when the Guys in White showed up. They’d been there before, but not every time. Danny remembered the last dream he had, vaguely, he didn’t know he was dreaming now, but he knew what was going to happen next.

“RUN!” he tried to scream, but his voice came out strangled and quiet. Sam and Tucker kept chatting, they couldn’t see the danger, the strange guy started playing a different song, he had an acoustic guitar now and was on a stage that wasn’t there before.

The Guys in White aimed their ectoguns, knocking off shots around the entire Nasty Burger, Valerie collapsed behind the counter, had she always been there? Jazz was next, she was reading a book on the lounge that had definitely been there the whole time. Danny kept trying to scream, but his throat just couldn’t make anything more than a strangled rasping noise.

Sam and Tucker collapsed before him, the music changed again, the guy on the stage had a smoking hole in his chest, he was playing a cello now. The music was calm, soft and gentle, it hadn’t stopped during the shooting. The GIW agent at the head of the group turned to Danny, face splitting into an evil grin, flaming hair licking at his temples, it wasn’t a GIW agent any more. It had never been a GIW agent.

Danny tried to transform, he needed to save them, they were dead but he NEEDED to save them, if he could go ghost, if he could change he could fix this. His core felt so far away, the cold chill within him just JUST out of his grasp. Why couldn’t he change? WHY COULDN’T HE CHANGE?

Tucker sat at his desk in the dark classroom, taking halfassed notes about… something something president Washington. Hadn’t they already covered this? A flash at the edge of his vision pulled his tired gaze over to the sleeping mess beside him. Danny made a noise, a whimper? It sounded like he was trying to say something.

“Ru… ru-” Danny muttered, voice broken and, oh god he sounded so terrified.

Tucker’s heart splintered into tiny little pieces, and those tiny pieces shattered until his heart was basically just a pile of powder, really sad and devastated powder. Concentrated melancholy, in powder form. He nudged Danny.

“Danny, Danny wake up. Dude you’re talking in your sleep, WAKE UP.” Tucker was super worried, like beyond overprotective mother worried, if Danny said something incriminating in his sleep, if he said something about PHANTOM-

“Gotta… go-” a strand of silver began to creep through Danny’s dark hair.

Oh fuck.

Tucker shook Danny as violently as he subtly could, he needed to wake up. He needed to wake the fuck up right the fuck right NOW. FUCK. It was panic time, shit was getting dangerously identity revealing up in here and Tucker had to do something about it.

More silver was weaving through Danny’s hair, flickers of a dark, skin tight costume appearing for only the briefest of anxiety inducing moments. They were sitting in the back corner of the room, no one had noticed that anything was wrong yet, but someone would. Someone would notice SOON if Tucker couldn’t get Danny to wAKE THE HECKING FUCK HELL UP.

“Danny I swear to god if you don’t wake up I’m going to kill the rest of you. WAKE. UP.” How was Tucker supposed to wake him up without drawing attention to- oh good lordy fucK HIS HAIR.

Tucker pulled Danny’s hood over his head as quickly as he could nearly half a second after a flash of white overtook his entire scalp. Had anyone noticed?? Tucker glanced around the room, nobody was looking, thank christ Wes wasn’t in this class.

Tucker tucked the white strands into the hood as best he could manage before texting Sam as fast as his fingers would allow.

Sam was in the middle of copying some crap about photosynthesis that she already knew when she felt her phone buzz. It was from Tucker, and if his spelling was anything to go by, he was in trouble.

'DIASTRACTION NOWm’

Sam got the gist.

Pretending she was about to vomit everywhere was an easy way out of the classroom, and from there it was just a quick run to the fire alarm. It wasn’t the first time Sam had pulled off a fake emergency, she smashed the glass and hit the button with no hesitation, fuck the consequences. From there she just had to figure out where Danny and Tucker were, they all had copies of each other’s classes in case of just such emergencies.

History, they had history. She knew which room that was.

Sam took off running, boots thundering through the crowds of students filtering out of their classrooms. Sam could barely hear the alarm over the sound of her heart beat thudding in her ears, she didn’t have time to panic and worry, something was wrong and the most important thing right now was finding out what it was and if her friends were okay.

Someone noticed her through the crowd though. As she smashed through a group of kids coming out of a maths class, one guy caught her gaze, one guy decided to follow. Jesus shit she did NOT have the time for this.

Sam detoured down a seperate hallway, the tall redhead on her tail easily keeping pace, why couldn’t he just mind his own god damn business for once and, you know what? Sam thought, FUCK IT.

Another detour into an empty classroom and she had him. Bursting through the door after her, Wes looked around fervently, expecting to find Danny in some kind of juicy compromising situation. What he got was a surprise boot to the gut and he hit the deck like a sack of bricks.

Sam didn’t waste a second before bolting from the room, Wes had already taken up enough of her precious time.

Wes coughed and wheezed and tried to drag a breath into his aching abdomen, she’d clocked him a damn heavy blow and his body was not cooperating until it had a good few moments to recover from Whatever The Fuck Just Happened.

Damn it he was so close!

“Alright everyone, out onto the parking lot, like we do literally every other week.” The history teacher droned, his voice dry. He didn’t even bother making sure everyone left the room before walking out himself, it was probably a ghost attack anyway. These things lost their sense of urgency after the last fifty billion times, the only reason he didn’t make everyone get back into their seats was for legal reasons and honestly, he could really use the smoke break.

Tucker made a show of getting up to leave, but once he and Danny were the only two left he immediately dropped his shit and whammo’d his fists down on Danny’s desk.

“WAKE UP!” He yelled as Sam slid haphazardly into the room, clocking her hip on the teacher’s desk as she failed to reign in her momentum. She struggled with her footing for a moment before catching herself and racing up to the back of the class.

“Is he okay? What’s happening??” she asked, breathlessly.

Tucker lifted the hood from Danny’s bright-ass silvery hair.

“He’s transforming in his sleep and I can’t get him to wake up.” Tucker rushed out in one breath before grabbing Danny by the shoulders. “WAKE. UP. WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!!” Tucker screamed while shaking him with about as much tenderness as an irate Skulker on illegal performance enhancing ghost drugs. Finally, it was enough.

Danny jolted roughly, spasmed almost, and opened his fluorescent green eyes. Sam and Tucker took a quick step back in case he lashed out, but he didn’t. Danny’s hands gripped at the table hard enough to leave gouges in the sharpie-graffiti stained surface as his breath came out laboured and rasping. Tears smeared across his cheeks and dripped from his nose and chin.

He blinked, hard, before finally raising his head from the desk, looking remarkably disoriented. He was still flickering in and out of ghost form, disappearing from view entirely a few times as well, but it was slowing down as he took a few deep, shuddering breaths. Soon enough he was calm enough to stick to one form, human fortunately.

Sam breathed out a sigh and sat heavily on the nearest chair. He was okay and god she needed to sit down and catch the breath she’d left behind in science class.

Tucker sat beside Danny - who was now vigorously rubbing at his face - and took back his earphones, Sam could hear something that sounded like a cello playing through the small speakers

Tucker got through maybe the first two syllables of the standard 'are you okay?’ when he was abruptly cut off by a mildly lisping giggle.

Wes stood half through the doorway, phone out and trained on Danny’s previously unstable form. He looked a little pale and seemed to be having trouble breathing but that didn’t stop a wide shit eating grin from stretching across his freckled cheeks.

“Gotcha.” he sneered before turning on his heel and fleeing in unbridled glee.

Sam had recovered quickly from her previous run, she was on him like the Box Ghost on a roll of bubble wrap. Tucker heard the pounding of two sets of feet followed by a loud THUD, a squeal, and then what sounded suspiciously like a phone being heavily stomped on by a very firmly placed boot. The groaning came after that, punctuated with some extremely foul language that may have been spluttered through a bleeding nose and/or lip.

Sam came back into the room with a crushed phone in one hand and bloody knuckles on the other. She wasn’t dicking around, not today.

“You okay Danny?” she asked, getting only a tired glare in response. “Sorry, standard question.”

Sam picked up Danny’s backpack and put her hand out for him to take, he grasped it gratefully and she pulled him up from his chair as Tucker wound an arm around his waist. With the support of the two actual greatest people in the whole damn world, Danny walked out of the school and into the parking lot where an exasperated principal Ishiyama was counting heads and calling names.

“Equal Rites! What were you three still doing inside? Get into your- Mr Fenton are you alright?” Mr Lancer’s angry stride softened into a quick jog, concern weaving it’s way through his face at the sight of Danny’s red eyes and wet cheeks.

“He uh, had a head on collision with Wes on our way out.” said Sam, like a liar. “Took a corner too fast and copped a hit to the nose so his eyes got all teary, but he’s okay.”

“Wes might need a little help though.” Tucker added on. “We offered but he’s pretty much convinced we just rammed him on purpose and he threatened to tell everyone we beat him up sooo we kinda just left him on the floor.”

Lancer rubbed at his brow, exasperated. He did NOT have the time for Wes shenanigans. He took a quick look at Danny’s face, checking for any bleeding, satisfied when he could find none he sent the three on their way to get their names marked off before he headed back to the school building to find Wes.

“Thanks.” Danny squeezed Sam and Tucker tenderly, never wanting to let them go. He was so glad they were here, he was so glad they were alive.

“Sleepover at my place tonight.” Tucker declared. “No exceptions, there’s gonna be cuddle piles and maybe a pillow fort, but definitely lots of these.” he gave Danny a big ol’ smooch on the forehead and pulled him in for a tight hug. “You’re gonna be fine man, you’ll be okay.”

Sam jumped on and threw her arms around both her boys, pressing her lips against Danny’s cheek.

“We’re not going anywhere, okay? We’re gonna sleep right beside you and tell those fucking nightmares to fuck right off, just like last time.” Sam gave him a hearty thump on the back that might have knocked over a regular human, but Danny barely shifted.

What in Ring and Crown’s name did he ever do to deserve these two.

That night after a coma inducing amount of junk food and soft drink Danny passed out smushed between Sam and Tuck in what was pretty much the most affectionate and down right adorable Danny Sandwich either of them had ever made.

He dreamed of the three of them beating the shit out of Dan with Fenton Anti-Creep Sticks. He hadn’t slept so well in years.

[ourloveandtrials]

Starting out in nursing school: an updated guide.

So back at the end of 2014 i made a list of everything you’d need to start nursing school... the reality is that this list was made before myself had ever started. I knew i wanted to make an updated version after going to university so here it is 3 years later. It makes me laugh so much!  2014 Vs 2017 Not in original: 

Sense of humor Strong stomach Crazy Curiosity And immunity to bitch hierarchy BS!

But seriously....

  Planner - 1 page per day. Wall Calendar –for visualizing what is coming up each month.   Weekly to-do List – it feels great to be able to cross things off each week. Household Schedule – for keeping school in perspective with life. Paper -  pocket notebook for clinicals, loose leaf paper, printer paper and index cards 3x5 and 5x8.

Folders - 3-ring binder, display folders with plastic sleeves.                      Misc. - 3 holed punch, calculator, small stapler, staples.        Pens, highlighters and pencils– for note taking. Highlighting key ideas and for drawing diagrams for study aids.Technology/ devices.         Recorder – great for recording lectures and classes. Also comes in handy for recording any notes you make to so that you can reinforce concepts. It is important to make sure that your teacher gives permission for you to record as they may have a strict policy. More often than not they allow it for personal use and ask that you do not distribute it.   Most Lectures should be recorded onto an online system through your university where you can stream them or download to listen to as a study tools in your own time. Note: if your school does this, don’t think that you can get away with not attending as 9 times out of 10, the day that there is a system failure will be the day that your away.          Laptop/Desktop computer – important for accessing online content, doing assessments and checking emails. It is important to have internet access while completing nursing school, however if you are unable to have it at home, most public libraries and educational institutes provide computer labs to their students.        Printer/Scanner – for printing assessments and lecture notes. This is also convenient but not necessary, so if you are prepared to pay small fee at public libraries and other educational institutes they always have many on hand to access.        IPod/mp3 player – amazing for unwinding to your favourite music or even uploading recordings of notes and lectures for extra reinforcement while going for a run or walking the dog. I personally love listening while I’m cooking or washing up.  Nurse Stuff!!!  Water proof watch – must have a second hand So a wrist watch is actually NOT ok! You’ll need a fob watch instead (hangs from shirt) as a wrist watch is a major health hazard and you’ll need to be washing all up in there repeatedly. Stethoscope – Your school may have a particular one that they want you to use that is fairly cheap. If they allow other brands, Littman is very good and reliable and will definitely take you all the way through nursing school. However, make sure you have it engraved or don’t let it out of your sight as I have heard sooooooo many stories of them being stolen out of bags etc. Basically you can get away with not having your own …  most times you’ll need them will be in labs at school because everyone will be using them at once at it’s easier to just have your own, but out on placement there is always one with the obs gear and people aren’t running around with steths 24/7.       

Comfortable shoes – this is a no brainer. Nurses are on their feet all day and night so it is important to splash out where comfort and support is needed. Klogs, despite being some of the ugliest shoes to exist, are wonderful. Dansko are also really comfortable, as well as the brand Sanita which offers cute prints and colours. We just needed leather enclosed nurse shoes, something with support and durability.    

Durable bag - this one is also really important! A lot of people have said that a bag with wheels comes in good use when you’re lugging heavy books across campus. Please don’t use shoulder bags! You will wind up with an immense amount of strain on your shoulder, and they just aren’t practical. So I get away with my big ass handbag. I can throw my A4 notebook and bens in their as well as a snack and a bottle of water. Realistically you don’t have to take your textbooks with you to uni. They have them in the libraries do don’t break your body and cart the dead weights aound. 5.       Scrubs – Scrubs are a bit of a grey area as there will be variations in what is required of students from school to school. Mostly blue are used I believe, but I may be wrong. NOT REQUIRED!!!!    

Student uniform - this will be something you purchase from your school. It is important for when you are on placement so that you are recognised as a student from your school. Make sure you have pockets in your pants!  Also I have three of the shirts and three sets of work pants. Note: get yourself a few sets of compression socks and save your feet and legs the pain.       

Long sleeve tops – nurses have early starts and finishes so it is important to stay warm. Hospitals often aren’t the warmest of environments so having a few long sleeve tops to layer up with is definitely worth it.  Yeah… no! Your not allowed to wear long sleeves. Its bear bellow the elbow in most facilities so buy yourself a singlet and tough it out!    Penlight – penlights are like pens, you’ll start off the shift with a few spares but by the end you’ll be trying to trace your steps back to find one! They aren’t too expensive so whenever you, replenish your hoard! Haha Not really the case and only used for neuro obs. The first RN I ever worked with gave me his as a gift. He was lovely !      Bandage/Dressing scissors – these will be your best friend. There’s no need to go out and by a ridiculously expensive pair. Just the basics that do their job! This is maybe one of the less important items you need when only starting out.     Medical Dictionary – every student needs one. It is so handy for looking things up and often they have small diagram explanations. I actually picked up a seventh edition Oxford mini dictionary for Nurses which is great and it is the perfect size.       Latest Drug guide – this is an important friend to the nursing student as there are so many drugs that we come into contact with. Make sure that you get an up to date one as there are new drugs out all the time. Try and get a hold of a mimms. Even if its an older edition they give you a great idea of different drug classes etc. buying an up to date guide is expensive and not worth it with the amount of annual changes made to them.

Thesaurus – this is just a helpful one for writing essays. I find myself looking for new ways to say something all the time and having a thesaurus gives you lots of options for words. Most computers have one built into their document writing system if you decide not to get one. Computer has this built in.        Referencing Guide ­– as soon as you find out what kind of referencing your course uses for assignments, make sure you get a guide on how to do it correctly. You may pick up on it right away without needing one, but if you’re like me, it’ll help to be able to look it up whenever you need to. Note: never leaving referencing til last. Do it as you go!      NCLEX Q’s book – the earlier you get yourself acquainted with NCLEX questions, the better. There are so many of these books out there. My advice would be to ask someone at school in a higher year, or one of your instructors, whether they can suggest a good one to you and go by that.  Not useful until later on.       Required Textbooks – you will either get a list of these given to you or it will be in your course outline under core texts. Buying textbooks brand new can be super expensive so I suggest you try and get them second hand. There’s is absolutely no shame in this, in fact it is the smarter thing to do.  Check textbook exchange pages for your school on Facebook, look at noticeboards, gumtree. EBay, craigslist and advertise on these that you are looking to buy. If you know someone the year or semester ahead of you, contact them and offer to buy them for a reasonable price. Unless the course changes dramatically year to year, you will be able to get away with having books a few editions behind. If you have the money and you want to buy them all brand new, then do so! There is something satisfying about accumulating textbooks… I myself have many!In your bag.    Wallet – make sure you carry your student ID card, bus pass, drivers licence, cash cards and loose change for printing. Keep a photo of someone or something you love or that motivates you to keep going.        Keys – don’t forget your house keys, car keys and if your school has lockers, get one and don’t forget to bring the key with you to school!        Hand sanitizer – at nursing school lots of people turn into crazy OCD hygiene gurus, and for good reason! Travel size hand sanitizer is perfect to carry around with you whether it’s at school or on the floor!        Lip balm/Moisturiser – because hospitals are cold and dry areas it good to make sure you have a chap stick or some paw paw ointment on hand to stop any wind burn, chapping or cracking. Moisturiser is a must. You will be constantly washing your hands and using hand sanitiser upon entering a room so it is important to put some moisture and life back into your poor little hand. Any vitamin E creams or aloe Vera based moisturisers will do the trick!        Headphones - make sure you have a spare pair of ordinary headphones. Preferably not the apple ones as they don’t always work on school computers. Some computer labs or libraries at schools will sell these or loan them to students for a few dollars. Sometimes you’ll find yourself at university with a few hour between classes and you might want to re watch a lecture, but you don’t want to disturb other students in their study. You may simply just want to watch silly things on YouTube to cheer yourself up after a terrible day so make sure you are prepared.     Tissues – make sure you have a travel pack of tissues. There may be day where you just feel like crap or have had very little sleep and just have a little melt down so tissues or face wipes can save the day!      Water bottle – stay hydrated!! Try to stay away from caffeine where you can. We all know that the caffeine high is fast in reacting, but when you crash you crash hard. Just starting your day with a big glass of water can set you up for feeling good all day so carry it on through the day too! My university has refill places where you can refill your bottle without having to buy it or go to a bathroom.      Lunchbox – Always pack lunch!! You will go through so much money buying lunch every day. If you don’t have time in the morning, prepare the night before or even cook for the week on Sunday and pop something into a microwave safe container to heat up at school. Make sure you have a few pieces of fruit, a handful of mixed nuts and some form of carbs and protein. Make sure you have a few muesli bars for back-ups, and I often freeze a little tub of yogurt for later in the day. ;��N�*�uA �uQ�

[topicprinter]

Within the first 6 months of starting my first job in the startup space, I had the opportunity to be part of a team pitching at startup battlefield at TechCrunch, New York. Being very young and inexperienced at a time, I had no idea what to expect, how to get the most out of the event and how to make sure I really enjoy everything on the way. With so many startup conferences coming up this year, I thought my lessons learnt could help you also! Read on find out how to prep for your next startup conference to get the most out of it.Before the eventDefine ONE GoalThis is your starting point. Before committing to the event, you must set up a strategy and your goals. Ask yourself, what do you want to achieve from the conference? The main reasons why companies decide to have a stand usually are:* Acquire new clients* Make new investor relations* Recruit new staff* Product branding and awarenessTry to choose only ONE goal to focus on and plan your master-plan strategy around it. Why just one? Well, if you decide to equally distribute time for every goal, you’ll end up being all over the place without any set plan, no results and zero success. Choosing one main reason to attend the event will help manage your time much better and focus on building the right strategy for it.Set up a StrategyOK, so you have set yourself a goal – what’s next? It’s time to sit down and develop the strategy of how you are going to achieve it. Having a checklist is the best way to make sure you have everything planned and not drifting away from your schedule. For example, if your goal is to attract new clients, make sure to prepare handouts, business cards and invest in creating a visually attractive booth. One secret that every startup should know is – real relationship building happens at the event and not the exhibition floor. Instead of waiting for the clients to approach you, go and get them yourself – attend the speakers’ panel, interact with everyone, be knowledgeable and invite professionals to check out your booth when the exhibition starts. Mark Cuban at TechCrunch Conference in 2016 said – “There’s no sport as competitive as business”. This is the analogy that every startup company should go by. You have to prepare a plan of action and think strategically to get results.Plan your Pre-event OutreachAs most startups, I assume you’ve already established a small but solid client base and have a website with little traction. It never hurts to reach out to your existing customers and business partners to let them know you are attending TechCrunch. Pre-show marketing is serious business and can massively impact your ROI. Sarah Leung, Demand Generation Manager at Handshake, wrote a detailed blog post about the importance of planning your pre-show marketing strategy. She highlights the fact that 70% of attendees plan a list of booths to visit before the event whereas only a small number (10-15%) of companies invest their time into pre-event marketing strategy. Consider sending an email 2 weeks before the event with helpful tips and what to expect from your booth. Invite your clients to attend your booth at the event and set up meeting times with interested clients to avoid long waiting time. Be active on social media – post teasers, use relevant event hashtags on Twitter, Facebook, find and join TechCrunch / relevant event groups on LinkedIn and start chatting with other attendees. This will help you find out and connect with everyone, at the same time, you will increase your brand awareness so people will be more likely to check out your booth when they recognize your logo.Booth is the KeyIf you want to attract people to your product, be prepared to invest a lot into your booth. It has to be memorable and stand out from the others. At TechCrunch, it is a real challenge to get your business in the spotlight with all innovative displays and “loud” presentations all around the floor. Remember that every attendee is interested in a product they can benefit from – so don’t forget to ask yourself “WHAT my customer gets from my product/service?”Also, think of other aspects like:* Location of the booth* Spacing* Your “neighbour” companies at the show* Access to lighting and electricityAll of these points should be considered before you start organizing your booth and preparing for the event. Another really important thing that I’ve mentioned before (but it has to be stressed again) is to stand out from your competitors and design an eye-catching booth. Start with your own appearance – wear T-shirts with your brand logo, have a stand or a poster with your tagline and company logo, hang a screen showcasing your product demo.When I attended Techcrunch, I remember there was one booth who was doing drawings and caught my attention. Their tactic was to get you to sit down and let someone draw you and at the same time tell you about their product.Out of all of the 100s of business cards that I picked up, this was the most personalised message and relationship I built with any brand and so after the event, I signed up for their software to try it. If you want to go down this route of visual drawing, I would recommend looking into Live Scribing. A good friend of mine at Smart Up Visual can transcribe stories and pitches as you talk, with the end result really creating that WOW factor!As another example, take the inspiration from Toyota Prius who took part in TechCrunch Disrupt 2016 and offered painting in 3D virtual reality.The key is being innovative and thinking outside the box. One of my favourite booths at TechCrunch Startup Alley was Bizzabo, all-in-one event success platform for event organizers. These guys decided to be different from their rivals and offered people an opportunity to fly small helicopters and land them on the helipad. The results speak for themselves – each and every customer who played wanted to know what Bizzabo is and what their business does.I don’t say that running a competition, having a raffle or a giveaway is a bad idea but if you want people to talk about your product, you have to think of a unique angle.Prepare handouts and promotional materialsApart from an amazing booth display, you also have to think about handouts and promotional material. However, think of the product that would be both useful for the customers and be relevant to your brand. One of the most popular things to giveaway are pens and notebooks, USB sticks, mobile phone cases, stickers, folders, binders, your product samples, headphones, LED flashlights – and these are just a few ideas. Again, you don’t have to blindly follow the others and copy the ideas for promotional materials – stick to your brand and come up with something that would represent you. Don’t forget business cards, brochures, price sheets and flyers – you want to make sure potential leads have the details about your company and your phone number ready if they need to get in touch.At the EventPitching to New ClientsIt is always advisable to script and rehearse the pitch, prepare slides for demonstrations and make sure potential clients are not overwhelmed with too much information (it may scare them off so don’t be too pushy). I really liked a blog post by Hubert Palan, CEO of Productboard sharing his experience and DOs at the expos, there are many points you can take a note of. The main things that makes a good pitch are:1. Good timing – make several versions of the pitch, 60 second and 5 minute pitches will be just enough.2. Prepare alternatives – while you are speaking to an attendee, you should think how to engage with others waiting in a line to learn more about your company. Have a big LCD screen showing a presentation or live demo, bring some iPads and give them to waiting attendees so they can watch a video about your product.3. Be confident – people can feel when you are an expert of the product, so show confidence in what you do, be prepared and prepare your team to answer any questions about the product and your company.4. Be simple and specific – clearly define what your product does. People don’t want to hear all specs, ins and outs of your new tech product (unless they ask more details about it). Make it simple – select the coolest feature of your product and sell it. This is what grabs people’s attention and makes your company memorable.5. Have more than one person in the booth who is comfortable pitching. When things get hectic, you don’t want an important investor trying to wait for your attention, they will just move on.6. Have a backup laptop or iPad already loaded up with your pitch. Expect the worst at all times and be ready in case it happens.Showing instead of TellingThere’s nothing more valuable for people than face-to-face interaction and startup expos is a perfect opportunity to meet potential clients and investors to have live discussions. Also, instead of just speaking about the product, let them test it out. Use touch screens, headphones, have samples ready – your aim here is to educate people about your product, show processes and get some testimonials.Most companies now use gamification in their booths and creating mobile event apps. TechCrunch will have a lot of technology fans so having a display with game-elements and beautiful graphics will increase your chance to attract and engage with them.Be HospitableI know that you want your display to be all about your new and high-tech product but don’t forget the simple “human” aspect and hospitality. There will be lots of attendees, so having a place to chill and relax will bring a nice touch to your booth. Think of snacks and drinks you can distribute like mints or water bottles with your logo on. Throw bean bags or a few chairs, install a few charging points and wi-fi hotspots so your clients or anybody in the room can come and use it. What’s more, it is your opportunity to catch their attention and use it as an icebreaker before engaging with a potential client before pitching your product.Check your CompetitorsAt the event, don’t be glued to your booth, walk around and see how your competitors are doing. You can learn a lot about how successful or unsuccessful they are with their presentations, what’s memorable about their booth, the overall layout of the display, the visuals they’ve prepared and what promotional tactics they use. Don’t be hesitant to approach your competitors and have a friendly chat instead of trying to compete for the best product. Try to be open and see what comes out of it – you may collaborate on a project together and end up getting a peer in business?After Parties: Enjoy yourself, just not too much!You may think the hardest part is now done but actually, you are just getting started! At the end of the event, people usually get tired, thirsty and hungry. This is when executives, managers and investors are all gathering to a restaurant or a club to have a drink or two and discuss the highlights of the event. And, this is where the magic and real networking happens – you have a chance to make most valuable connections. Conferences are very proud of their after parties and these are my tips for making the most out of it:1. Enjoy yourself – You have just had a crazy day giving around two hundred 30 second pitches to visitors of your booth. You have probably been working into the night for the past couple of months getting prepared and now is your chance to have fun. Reward your team, have a cocktail and appreciate the moment that you are in. I remember having to pinch myself thinking that I had gone from telesales in a cramped office to partying on a New York rooftop and I will never forget that moment.2. Network – most probably, you are at TechCrunch to meet investors – so speak to people! The most important thing to remember is that investors are committing just as much to you as they are to your product and so this is your chance to introduce yourself and meet new people. There will be a lot of hype and excitement in these parties and it will intimidate you. So try and remember these things: What is the worst that can happen? You feel awkward? You make a fool of yourself? Who cares!!! Try and speak to someone of importance and introduce yourself and let your passion for your product really come through and you will be pleasantly surprised with results.After the EventFollow upA follow up is crucial to strengthen the connections you made at the show. Make sure to get in touch within 48 hours with all relevant connections to keep the momentum up and be smart with your emailing strategy. Investors are your focus point so email them straight after the event when the impression about your company is still fresh. Make sure to arrange a call – this is the best way to start building long lasting relationships.Don’t ignore interested “warm” leads because these are the people who may potentially buy your product or service. Send them a “thank you” email, add a little info about your product to refresh their memory and try to arrange a call. Another simple idea that works is adding a discount code or a special offer as a nice treat; or send a roundup blog post of your experience at TechCrunch with a photo of your company at the event – being real and honest will add a personal touch to your email and it will stand out from all traditional robotic and scripted pitch emails.Social MediaAfter the event, I believe you are left with a pile of business cards and contact details of new customers. Make sure to use this information effectively – engage with all of them on social media channels – add them on Facebook, connect on LinkedIn and follow them on Twitter (don’t forget to message them and remind them who you are). Secondly, share your experience, photos and outtakes from the event – basically, create a buzz on your social media. Write a blog post about the event and the lessons learnt and spread it across the web. You can search for relevant hashtags on Twitter and join conversations, share others’ tweets and post updates on Facebook and LinkedIn. Also, explore Quora for questions about TechCrunch, share your insights and personal experience – not only you add value as a helpful community member but also strengthen a positive brand image.Evaluate your performanceCheck how you performed against your goals. Depending on the goal that you’ve initially set up, you should answer the question: “How many potential clients did I get?”, “Did I get one interested investor?” etc.Next, check the activity of your social media accounts after the show – is there a change in traffic? Did you increase your number of followers on Facebook and Twitter? Did you get any valuable connections on LinkedIn? How are users reacting to your event posts – did you get lots of retweets and reposts? All of this information will help you measure you success rating and give guidelines for your strategy for the next event.Lastly, review your expenditures and see if you went above the estimated budget. It will give you an idea where you could save your expenses and what areas are worth investing in.Wrap upStartup conferences are essential for many startups to showcase their brand and attract attention and it is natural to make mistakes as long as you learn from them. My honest advice is to prepare your strategy in advance, consider several possible scenarios and have a very positive mindset, because really, what’s the worst that can happen? You are attending one of the best and innovative expos so relax, have fun and take the most out of it!Article taken from my blog: https://patrickpaulcollins.com/how-prepare-for-startup-conferences/