Gonna kill myself

Smoke Break - A Nace Fic

I’ve had about a million different Nace fanfic ideas rolling around inside my head lately, so last night I wrote one of them. I’m pretty sure this has been done before, but this is my take on the smoke break conversation Nancy mentions having with Ace in 1x01. Inspired by the fact I’m about to start rewatching the show for the third time before season 3 starts in the fall. Enjoy?

Smoke Break

The lunch rush almost did her in.

It was Nancy’s fourth day on the job at The Claw—and her fourth day of work ever—and she already wanted to quit.

Coastal Maine towns in the summer were a bitch, and Horseshoe Bay was no exception. The entire town was a tourist trap, and The Claw was the best (not to mention only) seafood restaurant for miles. Anyone visiting from outside the state just had to stop in for a lobster roll—which was mostly what Nancy served to people all day, every day. She had lost track of how many of her customers had excitedly informed her that eating a Maine lobster roll was on their bucket list.

What kind of person put eating a ridiculously overpriced lobster roll on their bucket list?

It was halfway through the exceptionally busy shift that George tapped her on the shoulder, hard—so hard, she wouldn’t be surprised if it left a bruise. “Drew,” she said, unsmiling. “Go take your fifteen.”

Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. The entire dining room was full, and there were at least five large groups of people waiting patiently outside for a table. This was the busiest she had seen it yet.

And the busiest she ever wanted to see it.

“Thanks, George,” Nancy said gratefully, earning nothing but a glare from her former classmate.

“Don’t thank me. It’s company policy. Now get your ass out of here. Your fifteen is now a fourteen.” Turning on her heel, she stormed off in the direction of Bess, one of the other newer waitresses, who appeared to be struggling with a large table of ten people that was half adults, half kids, and all chaos. It was probably going to result in a huge tip, but Nancy was glad she hadn’t been assigned to that party. She didn’t have the patience for that.

She headed for the back room and retrieved her phone from her locker before exiting out the back door. She was instantly hit with a blast of hot, humid air, and she almost contemplated going right back inside where it was nice and air conditioned. But despite it being almost intolerably hot, it was quiet outside—unlike the madhouse inside. All she could hear were the crashing waves in the water and the squawking of seagulls in the parking lot looking for dropped food, and she welcomed it.

Staring down at her phone, Nancy slowly made her way over to the lone employees-only picnic table that was inconsiderately located right next to the dumpster. She was about to sit down when a voice spoke behind her, startling her.

“Having fun yet?”

Nancy nearly dropped her phone before spinning around to see who had spoken to her.

Leaning up against the side of the building was one of The Claw’s dishwashers—Ace. She’d met him on her first day—another hectic, busy day—but hadn’t really gotten to know him yet. She hadn’t really gotten to know anyone yet. Just the way she liked it.

She’d been aware of Ace’s existence before meeting him at The Claw. They’d gone to the same high school together, although he’d been a senior when she was a freshman, so their paths never crossed. He looked different now than he had back then. He looked taller. His hair was longer. He’d filled out a little—like he spent at least a couple days a week at the gym. He was cute. No, wait. He was hot. Not really her type—he seemed like a bit of a stoner—but he was certainly easy on the eyes.

“Sorry,” he continued before she could answer his question. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Nancy said with a dismissive wave. “I was just a little startled. I didn’t know anyone else was out here.”

Ace nodded. “Yeah. George yelled at me two minutes ago to take my break.”

Nancy smirked. “You too?”

“Yup.”

“Does she yell at employees a lot?”

“All the time,” Ace said with a furrowed brow. He lifted his fingers up to his lips and it wasn’t until then that Nancy noticed he was holding onto a cigarette.

“You’re a smoker, huh?” she asked, wanting to immediately facepalm. He was holding onto a lit cigarette. Of course he was a smoker.

Ace took a long drag and shook his head as he slowly let the smoke back out of his lungs. “Nah. I only smoke when I’m feeling stressed.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “I’ve had this same pack for two months now, and it’s still mostly full.”

Nancy arched an eyebrow. “I take it you don’t get stressed too often, then?”

“Not really,” he replied. “For the most part, I like to keep things chill.”

“So, then, what are you stressed about right now?” Nancy asked, hoping she wasn’t coming across as being too nosy.

“George yelling at me,” he deadpanned.

Nancy chuckled. “Well, with the way things are going for me with George right now, I might have to bum one of those off you sometime.”

“Anytime,” he said, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it to put it out. “Sharing is caring is my motto.”

Nancy smiled. “That’s a great motto to have. But I was mostly joking. I don’t do cigarettes.” She motioned to her chest. “Virgin lungs.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Something about the way he said it—his voice soft and almost flirty—made Nancy pause. Although, there was no way Ace could be flirting with her. In the only four days she’d been working with him, she’d already been made very aware of his crush on Bess. George had grumbled about it under her breath when she didn’t know anyone was listening, but even if Nancy hadn’t overheard that piece of information, she would have quickly figured it out herself. The guy wasn’t exactly subtle about it.

“I probably won’t be here long enough to share too many smoke breaks with you, anyway,” Nancy said, turning her attention to her phone.

“Why is that?” he asked.

Nancy shrugged. “I just don’t think I’m cut out for this line of work.”

“What kind of work do you think you’re cut out for, then? Sleuthing?”

Nancy’s eyes snapped back up to him, narrowing suspiciously. “Why would you say that?”

“Uh, because you’re the Hero of Horseshoe Bay,” he said with a grin. “The famous Nancy Drew, girl detective.”

Nancy could feel a humiliated blush spread across her cheeks. He knew about that? Oh, right, of course he did. He’d lived in Horseshoe Bay his whole life, just like she had. And she’d made the news quite frequently growing up. She would have been shocked if he hadn’t known about that.

“You’re a pretty big celebrity around this town, you know,” Ace continued. “I’ve just been waiting for the right time to ask for your autograph.”

“Oh, is that right?” Nancy chuckled again. “I’d hold off on that request for now if I were you. Maybe I was famous as a ‘girl detective’, but I’m nothing as the girl who tanked her grades her senior year and might never get into her dream school.”

All traces of amusement left Ace’s face as he frowned. “What are you talking about?”

What was she talking about? This was the first time she had admitted it out loud to anyone. She couldn’t tell her father the truth. She couldn’t tell her friends either because those friends had already decided to move on with their lives without her. Apparently, staying behind in Horseshoe Bay to wait tables for a living instead of heading straight off to college was not sophisticated enough for them.

“I…” Nancy began but then stopped, clamping her mouth shut. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to tell that story.

Slowly, Ace made his way over to the picnic table and sat down beside her, although leaving plenty of empty space between them. He turned his head to look at her, waiting silently for her to continue.

She appreciated the fact he wasn’t trying to pressure her to elaborate. She could tell from the look on his face that he was very interested in hearing what she had to say, but he wasn’t going to force her to say it if she didn’t want to.

And, surprisingly, that made her want to.

“I…tanked my grades my senior year,” she repeated finally. “After she…after my mom died.” She lowered her gaze to her lap.

“Kate Drew,” Ace said softly. “Our guidance counselor.”

Nancy nodded.

“I liked her. I was sorry to hear about her passing.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, Nancy said, “Yeah, me too.” She paused for a moment before continuing. The death of her mother was still very raw. She still cried herself to sleep every night, hoping to wake up the next morning to find out it was all just a bad dream. “Losing her was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I just…I couldn’t deal. So, I gave up on all my schoolwork and I let my grades plummet. I suddenly didn’t care about trying to get into Columbia anymore or becoming an investigative journalist—which is, by the way, what I think I’m actually cut out for. I just gave up. And honestly? I don’t regret it. Even if it means I’m stuck in this town for at least the next year, getting constantly bitched out at work by the girl who hated my guts in high school.”

She paused for a beat, before sneaking a glance over at Ace. “You must think I’m pretty stupid, huh?”

Ace shook his head. “No. Not at all. Although, I’m not exactly in any position to judge, anyway. I mean, look at me. I’m three years out of high school, and I’ve been working here as a dishwasher the entire time.”

“Well, what about you?” Nancy asked. “Have you ever thought about going to college? Is there anything you want to be when you grow up?”

A small smile played at his lips as he stared down at the ground. “As a matter of fact—” he began, but then stopped and immediately wiped the smile off his face. Clearing his throat, he shrugged and said, “Not really.”

Nancy eyed him curiously. He was about to say something. But what? “Not really, huh?”

“Yeah.” The smile returned. “I don’t really care to have any life plans or aspirations right now. I’m sort of a…free spirit, I guess you could say. I just want to take things as they come.”

“A free spirit,” Nancy echoed before adding with a slight smirk, “And a deep soul.”

She wasn’t sure what exactly had inspired her to add that last part, but there was something about this guy that made her think there was a lot more to him than he was letting on.

He was a bit of a mystery.

Maybe if she stuck around long enough at this job and got to know him a little better, she could solve that mystery someday. As Nancy Drew, girl detective.

Ace turned to look at her and when his eyes met hers, she couldn’t help but notice how pretty they were, matching the color of the ocean that bordered their town. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out the back door flew open, and George poked her head out.

“Break’s over, you two,” she barked. She didn’t wait for them to respond before retreating inside the restaurant and slamming the door shut behind her.

Both amused, Nancy and Ace simultaneously stood from the bench.

“Ready for round two?” he asked her. “If you think the lunch rush is bad, just wait until the dinner rush.”

Nancy groaned. “Can’t wait.”

“Here.” Ace reached back into his pocket, retrieved the pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and handed it to her. “Take this.”

Hesitantly, Nancy reached up to take it from him. “I’m not going to smoke this, you know.”

“You don’t have to. Sometimes it helps just knowing it’s there if you need it.”

They began their short trek to the back door, where Ace proceeded to open it and motion for her to go in first.

“And hey,” he added, “if you do ever decide you’re ready to try it and you need a light, you know where to find me. I’ll be where the dirty dishes are.”

Another smile—this one almost too big to fit on her face—graced Nancy’s lips. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled this many times in one day. It had been a long time.

“Thanks, Ace,” she said, brushing past him through the open door. “I really appreciate that.”

Ace was right—the dinner rush did turn out to be way worse than the lunch rush. George yelled at her at least three more times before her shift was over, Bess broke at least three plates and two glasses, and one kid threw up all over the floor right in front of her. And she hated to admit it, but more than once, that lone, unlit cigarette in her locker called out to her, and she was tempted to see if it would help to cut down on her own stress levels. But Ace had already left for the day, so there’d be no one there to light it for her.

But she knew he’d be there tomorrow if she needed him. And for now, anyway, that was enough.

Feral Fatality

(Part 1)

So this has been in my works for a week now. You see, it was a typical day for me scrolling through Tumblr and visiting some....tags, and then a short drabble inspired me to write about a feral reader totally not because I was craving violence and murder no, which reached more than 4k words on the first draft so here we are! Shitty title, I know. The proofread work went over 7k, and it's not even finished yet. Once I'm done posting this and my main orc fic, I will get into the requests so please be patient!

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Brief blood and violence at the end of the first part

Contains: Swearing, mentions of neglect and abuse (not graphic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

-

Screams slit through the twilight as the frigid autumn wind blew harshly through the trees of Camp Crystal Lake. The rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs echoed as foolish teenagers attempted to escape, running for their lives when they were the ones who dared step foot in the place, tarnishing it with their sins.

Jason Voorhees, the innocent kid who died several years ago; pushed to the lake by his bullies and left to drown for being different and unsightly— all because the counselors were busy with their fucking business—, returned as an undead killing machine right after his mother murdered them and died. His sole purpose: to protect the land and purge the people who had no right to be here, sentencing them to a horrendous death.

One by one, they struck the ground, lifeless, either chopped into pieces, beheaded, or stabbed countless times by his trusty machete.

Limbs...ripped off with his bare hands.

-

The muffled snapping of branches reached your ears as the vehicle's wheels ran over them, stirring you from your nap. You rubbed your chilled skin under your clothes as you looked out of the window, thumping your forehead on the glass when you leaned forward the moment you saw the scenery. Trees, both ancient and young, their leaves varying in hues of green, orange and red, filled your line of sight. It was still early in autumn, your favorite time of the year, not hot but not too cold either. You watched in awe as the warm-colored leaves cascaded down from the branches and down to the ground, some carried by the wind farther from their origin.

The view did its best to distract you from a couple in session a seat before yours. They always seem to do that all the time, regardless of place or occasion.

This was a week-long getaway after graduation, they said.

Nothing but a white lie.

An excuse for the girls to hook up with their campus crushes, a week of fucking and smoking drugs.

You, however, just got invited —forced— by your "friend" Eloiza, the self-proclaimed hottest girl in the entire school, typical captain of the cheerleading squad; blonde and curvy. Her words were much too sugar-coated that even a deaf person could tell she had ulterior motives.

She only planned to use you as a tool to raise her fame. A stepping stone for her own gain.

That wasn't the only reason though.

Everyone knew who you were, but only by your name. News and rumors alike spread like wildfire through gossipy mouths. Your deeds were known throughout campus.

(Y/N)(L/N), top academic competitor and multiple-award winner, a straight-A student for five years in succession. Some believed you were a genius, the rest called you insane.

You wouldn't call yourself a genius though, you did not possess the obsessive need to acquire eternal knowledge and discover the secrets of the universe as most of them do, to effortlessly solve every problem that comes their way.

If that were the case, then you wouldn't be here in the first place.

You only love learning and indulging in the beauty of Mother Nature, plus a handful of hyper-fixations.

Fine, a buttload of hyper-fixations. And such came in handy in various situations.

You were unrivaled, not one of your peers could come close to your level of wit. Many people wished to have a brain like yours, and just as many hated you for even having one, praised you just as much as slandered your name and judged you.

Despite your reputation, the poor school didn't broadcast it, at least every time. The staff probably got tired of repeating the same phrase over and over again. Which caused more than half of the whole campus to never believe you to be the one behind all of that, laughing at your face when you said your name.

"You? The (Y/N) (L/N)? Ha! As if I'd fall for that! Everyone knows how she looks. You're the absolute opposite!"

"You got to be kidding me."

"You're a joker, aren't you? Is this a prank? If so please stop it, don't pretend like you're her."

Yep, and it goes on and on and on. They were right, you didn't look like someone who would win contests or excel in class.

You constantly wore clothes that hid your form, silent unless spoken to or asked to answer, distant and reserved, you preferred the company of books and nature to the rowdiness and prying hands of humans. A sociopath they deemed you. Quite an extreme word to use when you simply wanted to enjoy the only things that made you happy in this living hell.

You only know a handful of people who approached you first-hand and praised you genuinely, even asking for an autograph, which really surprised you.

Yet, they would never understand you even if you explained, because you can't, words evade you when it comes down to voice out what you feel. Even if you can, no one would care. And even if they did? You doubt it was real. Everyone wants to use you, and they seem to believe you'd let them. You didn't trust anyone. The last time you did only left you sobbing on the dirt.

You wanted to be left alone.

To connect with nature and get as far away as possible from your parents. Parents who kept shouting profanities at each other, the main cause for your depression and anxiety levels to skyrocket, the shaking turning into trembling, 7 hours of sleep to barely a blink.

That's why you agreed to go in the first place.

You hated your household—despised it— a mess of broken shards of bottles and ceramics littered your kitchen floor more often than not. You didn't bother cleaning it up anymore, your mother would just waste away her money on more things to break and throw them at your joke of a father when they fought anyway.

Not only that, you thought...No, you believed if you worked hard to be the best and win countless competitions, your parents would give you recognition and reconcile for your sake, but no, no, no. They didn't care one bit about you or your medals, it was as if you were never even included in their lives at all. Even birthday celebrations ceased to exist in everyone's books after your 13th.

So you gave up.

Down into the void, your wishful thinking went, that they'll become better people over time, that the attention and love you deserve will be given one day. Instead, you wallowed yourself in your studies, besting everyone in everything academic. Oh, but you weren't athletic. Far from it. Damn, you were getting thin and sleep-deprived from being neglected, dark circles under your eyes every time you looked at your reflection. People hating your existence wasn't helping, some teachers even suspected you of cheating.

There's no way in hell you'd let yourself get dragged down to end up like them! You were of legal age now, a fresh graduate from high school, you doubt your parents even knew that since they didn't fucking show up on your graduation day. You were moving out of that shithole of a town. Anywhere is better than where they breathed and spat their poison.

And so here you are. Standing in this breath-taking and mysterious place. Camp Crystal Lake, it is named, secluded, barely touched by modernization as it is hidden between mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. Not to mention its namesake, the lake, you imagined it would mirror the sky, be it day or night. You loved it, you adored the fresh, breathable air that went through you the moment you stepped out of the van.

You also knew about him.

Resolved to never go back to that goddamned house, you took everything you had and needed; the special little trinkets you've collected through the years shoved into a box, the few clothes you had, art materials, and your precious books carefully packed inside a big travel bag, along with your stocked up canned goods, convenience food, snacks, and toiletries.

And other, important things.

You hauled your baggage out of the van and got off, immediately moving to the side and away from everyone.

You got used to people ignoring you that you didn't care anymore.

Why waste your time with them when you can have all of it to yourself?

Eloiza led the group into the larger cabins, the others went straight into the lake for a swim. You even notice some teens disappear into the trees, most likely for a quickie.

In return, you stayed out of their way, fully satisfied being invisible and with your own company as you trudged to a cabin, the one you caught a glimpse of earlier in the van. It was a long way's separated from the rest, closest to the forest and hidden behind a few trees.

You were panting when you finally stopped in front of it, clearly not used to walking long distances and carrying stuff near as heavy as your weight.

Upon closer inspection, you found yourself gaping at its appearance. The wooden walls lost their color as they aged, white and brown mushrooms grew on the ground along with green moss sticking to the beams, and a few vines crawling their way up and on the roof. Despite all of that, the cabin looked sturdy still.

There's this "one with nature" vibe that drew you to it, like a string pulling you closer and inviting you. Ominous most would say, but you almost cried when the rich scent of earth and oxygen filled your lungs as you took one big inhale, sighing in content for once. It was a lot smaller compared to the others, but you didn't care. As long as you were left alone with your stuff you were a-okay.

Perfect.

You turned the knob and peeked inside, letting out a small gasp and opening the door wider to see the whole thing.

Old as it is, it was proper and neat, regardless of the tiny cobwebs on the upper corners. A small, square dining table sat in the middle of the first part of the place, two wooden stools placed underneath. There were cupboards on the wall and a simple sink with an empty space to the side. You went to the next room, doorless and separated with but a wall of thick plywood. It had a single bed in the corner, off-white cotton sheets sitting atop, not a wrinkle in sight. No pillow though. There's a decent-sized closet along with a small table on one side of the bed. One of the windows had a hole in the middle, a ray of sunlight streaming in through the cracks. It was too big for the size of a gunshot, so maybe a rock.

A bit hesitant, your fingers traced the wood, feeling the inconsistent texture. When you went through the back door, your smile reached your ears when trunks of trees and bushes greeted you...

Wait, is that what you think it is?

Stepping closer to the treeline, your jaw dropped when you spotted a thicket of fruit-bearing plants past them, gathered in a tiny clearing.

Blueberries.

Purple little cuties poked out of the green shrubs, sporting a vibrant hue that caught your eye. The sun shone overhead and providing the energy they needed. Blueberries managed to grow in the area despite the trees fencing them.

Tempted and suspicious, you crouched down, inspecting the shrub if it really was a blueberry plant and not a deadly doppelganger. Once you were sure it was, (it would be hilarious if you simply died from nighshade poisoning), you plucked one and brought it to your mouth. It was sweeter than you expected, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. You hummed in delight, wiping the juice with your thumb when it dribbled out, staining your finger and lips.

You didn't want to anger anybody. Hell, coming here was already trespassing, so you didn't push your luck and left it alone, hoping they'd forgive you for picking one. They surely didn't look wild with the way they lined up.

You scanned the rest of the area, eventually going back inside to unpack after your little evaluation.

-

The sun was a hand's away from setting when you finished. Pride swelled in your chest at the work you did, your things stocked and organized with care inside the cabinets and drawers. You won't have to worry about your food for now as cupboards were filled to the brim with them. You also had a decent amount of money left from your savings account that your parents weren't aware of. Prize money, allowance, and the salary you got from doing online jobs all went into it. The camp was a few miles off the road, and a couple more to the nearest gas station with a convenience store. Very far yes, but it's better than living with the people who made you do this in the first place.

You just hoped you wouldn't die walking.

Everything was worth it, anyways. You were free now, at least that's what you think.

You trudged to the bed, eyeing the cushions, wary and a little scared to touch the sheets that appeared to be cleaned just recently, you didn't even lay a finger on them ever since you got inside. Oh, but your tired muscles were screaming to just flump down and relax.

So you did.

You dumped yourself face first and inhaled. It wasn't smelly nor fragrant, just the simple freshness on the cotton fabric. You felt beat but ain't sleepy, yet, so you reached to the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a book to pass the time as you waited for the sun to go down and give way for the moon. Its spine and pages had creases, worn out and yellow-stained from age and use. It was a horror-mystery novel told through a first-person narrative, a story of a middle-aged detective and her Maine coon in their attempts to solve a murder case of a young European lady named Cassandra Chase.

You dozed off in the middle of chapter 21, the part where Dinnie, the cat, discovers a valuable clue to the crime, a rotten limb in the dried basement well.

—

—

Jason settled down on the stairs of his porch; shoulders relaxed and hunched as he leisurely sharpened his machete with a small whetstone. Lines of sunlight kissed him through the leaves of trees, the birds in the area chirped on their perches, and the grass swayed, gentle, as a cool wind passed by.

His day be so fine. No troublemakers to deal wi—

The alarm rang, announcing unwelcomed arrival. As if a switch flipped inside, he's already on his feet, making his way swiftly to their location.

A new batch of wretched youngsters, another day ruined. Hunting them down makes his blood thrum in his veins, yes, but they soured his mood, just when he was at peace. He's dead set on slaughtering them in the most gruesome ways possible, only then he could go back and enjoy the serenity the nature around him brings.

He surveyed the area, camouflaging with the wilderness, silent as he watched and counted the soon-to-be corpses, his mother's voice at the back of his mind, guiding him.

They decided to go either to the main cabins, or the lake...even into the trees.

All but one.

Jason already planned to cut down the couple later as they lose themselves in the forest, doing nasty, dirty things to his camp. The killer shifted his attention to you, curious as to why you didn't join the lot. Instead, you walked back down the road. He followed and saw you approach the small cabin, separated from the rest, your eyes widened...

Adoration?

You were quiet— except for the little gasps of awe you let out in between pants—as you looked around and over the place. The ones you came with were rowdy and destructive, a complete opposite. He hid as he observed you from afar, moving around to adjust his vision on you. You smiled every time you looked to the trees, he noticed.

Why were you smiling like that? Why did you pick this cabin? Were you planning on defiling it?

The last question in his mind made his blood boil. He'll kill you first if that was the case. That cabin you chose was special, it was where he and his mother used to stay. He occasionally visits that one to keep it clean and free of dust. If you even think of—

Jason, sweetie...look closer. She does not have such intentions.

His mother's words rang in his head. Even from where he stood, he could see what you did inside. You looked a little hesitant, touching and drawing back your hand before letting your fingers feel the wood as if it was something delicate. Despite the initial...shyness? You proceeded to make it your home, somewhat, dropping the large duffel bags you carried on your front and back, and a similarly large roller case on your left. It was as if you planned to stay for a long time.

Jason hears you take a long breath and sigh as you went out the backdoor. You grinned wider when you saw the nature around you. You stepped forward, straight in his direction...

For a moment he thought you saw him, seeing your jaw drop. You moved closer, and he just froze there, until you crouched down.

Oh, his plants.

He watched you as you gently picked a fruit, your gaze...soft. You brought it to your mouth, some of the juice spilling on the side and you wiped it with your thumb.

Cute.

You went back inside and continued to unpack your things, carefully maneuvering around the cabin.

Maybe he'll spare you if you continue to be good. You didn't do anything dirty, yet. It's only a matter of time before the camp is shrouded in darkness and his hunt will begin.

Let's see what you'll do before that happens.

-

Jason tracked down the three that went into the forest. He knew the place like the back of his hand, and it was easier to pinpoint them as he heard moans.

What he saw was utmost disgusting, two girls pleasuring a male with their mouths in broad daylight.

Kill them, my boy! Such foul beings need to die! Kill them, kill!

He circled them, steps soundless. Jason gripped his machete and brought it down the guy's neck, embedding the weapon into the bark, the head rolled down, oozing with blood, and fell against the women, drenching them in red. Not a single cry left from their mouths as he sliced both with one swing, blood pouring out of their throats and staining the ground. Jason dragged their bodies and tossed them into a pit he dug beforehand, making quick work in burying them.

A swift end. Now he waits.

Out of Body: Chapter 3

Didn’t really feel like writing much of a resus scene after recent events, but I already had some stuff written so I worked it in where I could while expanding the story a bit more.

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

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Jane The ambulance swung into the emergency bay of the major trauma centre, stopping a few feet beyond an assembled team of doctors and nurses. They were already in blue surgical gowns and with the coordination of professionalism and experience, they spread around the back doors and pulled them open, dragging the gurney out. Dave was still pumping the ambu bag while Jane, her sweat slicked fringe sticking to her forehead, handed over the IV bag and monitor to waiting hands before the team ran inside. “What have we got?” The trauma lead asked as he ran his eyes across Laura’s restrained body. His eyebrows raised slightly at the improvised chest tube. “Laura Beckett, 23. Involved in an RTC, sedan vs motorcycle. Fractured femur, query dislocated hip and knee. Fractured wrist as well. Multiple broken ribs and punctured lung, leading to severe haemothorax. Resulted in cardiac arrest, downtime of approximately 25 minutes, reversed after the pressure of the haemothorax was relieved. BPs still low and O2 sat’s barely over 80. Currently sinus tachy at 120.” “Beckett?” The doctor asked, not asking the question out loud. Jane simply nodded. “Ok, lets get her inside, fast beep radiology we need to get a full trauma series ASAP. Let’s get a proper chest tube in, get her on the vent and pack the rapid infuser with TXA, platelets and 2 units of O-neg.” “She’s A-positive.” Jane cut in. “Good, lets get 6 units of that up from the blood bank. Get in touch with cardiothoracics, orthopaedics and neuro for consults.” The rest of the team confirmed their orders as the gurney was pushed into the primary trauma room. After a 3 count Laura was lifted across onto the table, a flurry of action surrounding her as doctors and nurses perform the assigned tasks. The lead eased Jane back. “We’ve got it from here Jane.” She shook her head defiantly, but her voice came out in a whisper. “I’m not leaving her.” “You’ve done your job. And done it well, but you can’t help her in here. Go get cleaned up, you’ll be the first to hear when we have any news.” Jane lingered for a moment, gazing at her sisters body as nurses rapidly stripped away her clothes, discarding them into a bloody heap in one corner of the room. Then her shoulders slumped and her head bowed as she retreated from the trauma room, discarding her gloves into a bin. Dave tried to catch her attention, but she ignored him, heading towards the ladies restroom while pulling out her phone. Ashir Ashir sat at his desk, much of the room shrouded in the late-night darkness. The desk itself was lit by a powerful lamp that starkly highlighted thin tendrils of smoke as they were drawn into the small extraction unit mounted in the window. He peered through the microscope, gently applying more solder to the electronic circuit board he was working on. It wasn’t work that needed to be done right now, but he needed something to occupy his mind. He made a satisfied grunt and shifted the microscope out of the way. He leaned back, stretching and rubbing his eyes, while spinning on his chair. His gaze fell on the other desk in the room. Laura’s desk. It was cluttered, stacks of newspapers, photographs and journals were strewn about in a system that Ashir couldn’t recognise, but his journalist roommate seemed perfectly at home with the mess. The pin board hung on the wall behind the stacks was a different story. It was laid out like a true conspiracy theory board. Over a dozen profile pictures formed the centres of different sections and various colours of string linked articles and reports in a web that looked chaotic at first glance. Looking closer, and with only a small amount of guidance, it began to come together into a cohesive whole. Ashir sighed. He really hoped his roommate was wrong about all this. But even he had to admit the evidence was compelling when presented in the way she had laid it out. That was part of what worried him. She should have been back by now. Or at least have dropped him some form of message. At least she’d told him where she was going. He’d been able to get his own backups into place. She’d probably kill him if she knew about them. As that thought crossed his mind his phone began to ring. He let out a relieved sigh as he prepared to make his concern clear. That was when he saw the caller ID. His hand trembled as he answered. “Ash you were right. She’s in over her head.” Jane’s voice was tight. “What happened?” Ash was already on his feet looking for his keys. “She’s hurt Ash. She’s really hurt.” “I’m coming down there.” He pulled on his jacket then flicked off the light. “Hurry Ash.”

Laura

I heard the noises first. Alarms sounding. Orders being given. I opened my eyes, once again struck by seeing the world in that strange brightness. A nurse was above me, rocking backwards and forwards, her ponytail flicking to and fro with the motion, until she paused for a brief moment. I followed her arms, down to her hands that rested in the slight valley between my breasts.

“Still nothing, resume compressions.” Someone said. The nurses hands suddenly disappeared into my chest. CPR, I was getting CPR again. My heart had stopped once more. The way the nurses compressions passed through my ethereal form was still incredibly disconcerting, so I sat up and looked around. Doctors and nurses surrounded me, but there was a gap at my feet. I managed to scooch past them without passing through anyone, then turned to look my body.

I was naked on the table. And I didn’t look good. My chest was heavily bruised, with tubes sticking out of either side, Jane’s impromptu effort having been replaced by a proper chest tube, an identical one mirroring it. My broken arm and leg had both been splinted and bandaged, though the bandages were already stained through. A urinary catheter had been placed. I was slightly glad I hadn’t seen that happening, someone touching me in such an intimate place.

A large bore IV was in my leg, with other lines into my arms and another one near the base of my neck. Blood and saline were flowing into my body, though as I watched, a nurse pushed some drugs into the central line.

The ecg wires trailed across my chest, leading to a monitor that hug above the trauma table. The line on the monitor was flat. I looked down at my chest, seeing my lifeline still strong and thick. I also saw that my ghostly form was naked too. I instinctively tried to cover myself, despite no one being capable of seeing me.

I looked around for my clothes, shredded and discarded into one corner. I reached out to them, but of course my hand passed right through them. But there was something. A strange feeling, almost like a memory of sensation across my whole body. I reached out again, letting my hand linger within the bundle. The sensation became stronger, growing steadily, and it was almost like I could feel the clothes on me.

I took a deep breath, recalling the meditation techniques my therapist had taught me years ago. How visualising a result can help it happen. I had no idea if it would work, but I’d rather not walk around naked, even if no one could see me. I tried to hold on to the memory of my clothes as I pulled my hand out. I could still feel the clothes on me, and focused on that feeling, blocking out everything else. Slowly, I let out the breath and opened my eyes, looking down at myself. I was clothed. My dark grey t-shirt and similar coloured pants were whole, despite their real counterparts being little more than shreds before me. My black hoody was also on me, unstained by blood like the genuine article.

“We’ve got V-fib.” Someone shouted, dragging my attention back to my body. The alarm had changed, it was familiar enough that I knew what was going to happen next. A doctor, fully gowned and masked, held a pair of black paddles down against my chest. “Clear!” He said, a moment before my naked body jerked on the trauma table. I cringed at the way my legs spread slightly.

“No change. Let’s do another minute of compressions and shock her again.” A nurse immediately had her hands back on my chest, pressing it down, seemingly quite easily. Given how petite the nurse was, my ribs must be really soft.

It was almost enough to turn my stomach, and I instinctively took a few steps back. There was a momentary feeling of resistance, and suddenly I couldn’t see anything. I paused, realising that wasn’t quite right. I could see, there just wasn’t anything too see. Except the papery texture of the back of the plasterboard sheet in front of me, and the treated timbers that were the drywall studs. I was inside the wall. I took another step back, emerging into a corridor.

It was a quiet corridor, empty except for a cleaner at the far end. Yet I could still hear a voice. Quiet, but clear. It was counting. “15…16…17…18…” I grimaced slightly, then plunged back through the wall. The nurse was still pressing down on my chest, and she was mouthing the words, but more to herself. She wasn’t shouting by any stretch, in fact I would be surprised if her words would even carry to where I stood.

So, I can still hear what is happening to my body. Helpful. I glanced down, concentrating slightly to look at my lifeline. It was still strong and steady. How far can it stretch? I remembered Keith telling me to stay close, but the lifeline was thin then, insignificant compared to the almost cable thick line I could see before me now. I made up my mind. I strode across the room, towards the doors, unable to stop myself from hesitating just slightly before I walked through them. Again that slight resistance, more a reminder the wall was there, than something really stopping me, tugged as I passed through. And then I was in a different corridor, busier, but still quiet.

 I looked around, hoping to see Jane, but she was not there. I walked down the corridor, trying to figure out precisely where I was, or where I should go. I glanced at the signs, but most of them were mainly just numbers, hanging in front of cubicles or other offshoot corridors. Coloured lines were on the floor, branching out down the corridor behind me. Presumably, I thought, they must all come together at one starting point. I followed them back, dodging a nurse pushing a young man in a wheelchair, a large boot on his foot. Neither of them payed me even a sliver of attention.

 “Ok, that’s a minute. Let’s shock her again.” It was the voice of the doctor working on me. “Clear” he said a moment later. I stopped walking as I wondered if I was about to be wrenched back into my body. “Still no change. Load her up with epi, bicarb and amiodarone.” I considered going back, but my lifeline hadn’t changed. I was close enough to see the name plate on the nearby doors, ‘Reception’. Seemed like a sensible place to look for my sister.

I passed through the door and immediately sidestepped out of the way of a porter. It was much busier in here. I retreated to an out of the way corner and looked around for Jane. I couldn’t see her anywhere and was beginning to wonder if she had abandoned me and gone back to work when I saw a high-vis jacket come around the corner. It was her partner. Dave. I remembered. He held two coffee cups, putting them on a counter before reaching for his radio. I crossed the room, weaving around nurses and patients, cringing when a small girl ran through me.

Dave was already mid conversation. “…anks for sorting it. I’ll tell her then I‘ll run the rig back to base.”

“How’s she doing?” A voice said from the radio.

Dave blew out a breath between clenched teeth. “Honestly, not good.” He seemed to stare across at a pair of doors across the room. Toilets. “I mean, it is her sister after all, how many of us would be alright after seeing someone we love in that …” I left him behind as I crossed the room and plunged through the wall into the ladies restroom.

Jane stood there, leaning over a sink. Her high-vis jacket lay on the floor at her feet. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edges of the sink. She was murmuring to herself, enough to earn a sideways glance from another woman who quickly scurried out.

“…stupid. Stubborn. Why couldn’t you just listen to me. I begged you. ‘Don’t go after him.’ But you didn’t listen. You never listen.” As I stepped closer, I could see her aura. There was a bubbling of red, but it was mostly that sickly green. As the door swung shut behind the fleeing woman, Jane let out a great shuddering sob, and tears began to fall from her face. I reached out, but my hand passed through her shoulder.

I could still hear the distant sounds of the attempt to resuscitate me. A third shock delivered. “Back in asystole. Ok, hang another round of blood products and chase up the surgical consult, if we don’t get anything back in two minutes we open her up down here.” That sounded just delightful. I glanced down at my lifeline, but it didn’t look like it had diminished.

That’s when I noticed the traces of red in the sink. Blood. My blood. As if to distract herself, Jane washed out the bowl of the sink, tears still dripping as she took deep steadying breaths. I’d seen her do it before. Fighting to assert an iron control over herself. It had always driven me crazy, especially after what had happened to Mum and Dad. But then, something happened that I had never seen before.

She lost.

Her whole body was wracked with sobs as she sank to the ground against the wall. Her hands covered her face and she drew her knees up tightly. I didn’t know what to do. So I sat down beside her. For just a moment I passed into the wall, but I grabbed that moment of resistance, held it my mind for a few seconds, and suddenly the wall felt solid. I leaned back against it, looking at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I whispered. As expected, she didn’t respond. She continued to sob, and I could see tears leaking out. I sighed. “It was him. If you can hear me at all, hear that. It was him. Patterson. I was right. He’s a murderer, and he tried to kill me. Just like he killed them.” I could feel the anger building. I turned to look at her, as she lowered her hand, her sobs easing. “It was never your fault Jane. It was always him. He had mum and dad killed.”  

just friends?; cho seungyoun, kim yohan

part 1;

pairing: cho seungyoun x fem!reader, kim yohan x fem!reader

genre: university!au, fluff

word count: 1.9k

next |

“come on, y/n. loosen up a bit! It’s the first week of university.” seungyoun, your bestfriend begs you as he literally thrashes around in your studio room.

“no.” you deadpan, “i didn’t go to any parties during college. what makes you think i’m going to change this year just because it’s university?”

“but it’s the first week! you have to go out and make friends.”

you roll your eyes, scrolling through the hotel del luna episode list, pondering whether you should just watch it all over again from the start or only watch your favorite episodes; flashbacks of chung myung and man weol or when chung myung finally shows himself after 1,300 years. 

“i don’t necessarily have to go to clubs just to make friends.”

“just for once, please. you have to try living a university life since you didn’t live one during college.” seungyoun continues, this guy doesn’t know how to give up.

you groan, becoming frustrated, “for fuck’s sake, seungyoun. i said no and out of all people, you know the best that if i say no, it means no. just go have fun with others.”

“fine,” he sighs, “it would be a lot more fun with you.”

you eye him suspiciously, “you always went clubbing without me during college anyways.”

“okay, cool. i’m really glad you are not coming with me. thank god.” he scoffs, low-key offended by how you just denied his way of expressing his feelings.

knowing that he’s just messing with you, you just wave him off to leave your room quickly. he huffs, storming out of your room only after ruffling your hair. 

you have a pretty okay-size group of friends, consisting of 14 people including you. other 2 boys and you are the only ones who don’t drink, smoke and go out to clubs or parties.

people think you are scared of those kinds of places or you just have really strict parents but none of that is true. you just don’t like the idea of them. you don’t understand why some people pay to just dance with some strangers.

but again, everyone’s different. just like how you don’t understand the way your friends have fun, they also don’t get how you think watching movies and just staying home is fun.

back in college, you used to share a flat with four girls and you are not really close with them. you would greet each other when you see at the halls or at the shared kitchen but that’s it. 

when you first arrived, you tried making conversations but the answers were always cut short, making you conclude that they are just not very sociable but when you saw the four of them getting along with each other really well, talking in their own language, you realized that maybe it’s just the language barrier.

plus, you’ve never heard of them speaking in english. 

anyways, whenever seungyoun visits your room which is like seven times a day, your flatmates were quick to guess that he’s your boyfriend. it’s funny because it’s not only your flatmates who had that idea, literally almost everyone back in college thought that. 

you wouldn’t exactly blame them. you guys were best friends, literally always together. this year, thankfully, you are not sharing a flat with anyone but seungyoun of course, takes that as his advantage to stay in your room almost 24/7. him living on the same floor as you doesn’t quite make the situation better. 

you decide to watch episode 14 of hotel del luna and you are not surprised when you find yourself wanting to munch on something as you watch the drama. tesco is just 2-3 minutes walk away. therefore, you quickly grab your winter jacket and leave the dorm building. 

you came for two things; the packet of 5 chocolate doughnuts, the melted chocolate pudding and pringles. yes, you have a sweet tooth. your friends keep warning you that if you continue eating this much sweets, you might end up getting diabetes but it’s not like you can help it.

with your poor eyesight, you search for the pack of 5 chocolate doughnuts on the shelves after finding the other two items. those are often out of stock or they just run out quickly.

when you suddenly see a guy grabbing a very similar looking pack of doughnuts from the bottom row, an accidental “wait, no!” slips out of your mouth.

his movements freeze aside from his head which turns to look at you, “sorry?”

“sorry.” you apologetically smile, bending down to look if there’s anymore left.

sighing when you find none, you stand straight back up just to see the guy still standing in the very same position from a minute ago.

you blink, “everything okay there?”

“yeah, um, were you searching for these?” he asks, slightly waving the very sweet looking pack of doughnuts in his hand.

“yes,” you nod. “it’s fine, you can have it.”

“i didn’t say i was going to give it to you though.”

embarrassment floods into your system that very moment. right, he never even hinted that he was going to give it to you.

seeing your reaction, the guy chuckles, “i’m just kidding. you can have it.”

“are you sure?” you ask, hoping he would say yes.

he nods eagerly, “i just wanted to give it a try but seeing how much you want them, they must be really good.”

“they are!” you reply, jumping slightly and he finds it cute.

you don’t know that, of course.

“i will give you two. i will show you a whole new world.” you grin cheekily, striding your way towards the cashier to quickly pay for the doughnuts which are now in your hand.

you don’t even remember how they end up in your hand but that’s not important.

“how do i give you these?” you ask, stepping out of tesco with the guy whom you still don’t know the name of. 

“where do you live?”

you look at him wearily. he’s cute, actually really cute. he can even be an actor or idol right away with his looks. also, you are pretty sure he’s korean.

no, you are not a koreaboo. you are just pretty good at guessing people and their ethnicities. 

despite him being really good-looking and cute at the same time, it’s 11 pm. it’s still kinda dangerous for you to be telling him where you live and all that. what if he suddenly takes out a pocket knife and threatens you or worst, kills you?

if this was a kdrama, and both of you were the main leads, you would be shipping hard already, because you know, a bad guy and a good girl makes a good cringe love story.

but this is reality. if he does that, you are dead. there’s nothing else after that, no love, no romance.

“where do you live?” you throw back the question at him. 

“do you know the student dorm right at the top of the hill?”

“i live there too!” you immediately respond. too much for being cautious of a stranger, y/n.

but if he actually lives there, it’s not bad. is it?

“okay, i’m yohan. first year.” he suddenly introduces, holding out his hand.

“after like 10 minutes of talking --” you quickly cut yourself off, “y/n. first year as well.”

“i doubt it has been 10 minutes of talking.”

“i’m sure it has been 10 minutes or even more than that.”

“so,” he pauses as the both of you are now surrounded with the dormitory buildings. “which block are you in?”

“A, and you must be A too?” you ask, seeing the way his plump lips turn into a shape of o the moment you replied.

“let’s go!” he happily hops towards block A, looking back to see if you are still following him.

“i’ve never seen you in college.” you say, watching him press the elevator button after entering block A.

“i did a-levels so i didn’t need college.”

you nod, understanding, “no wonder.”

“what major are you doing, by the way?” he asks. 

“computer science. i have no idea why i chose that as well.”

“i chose --” his answer is interrupted by the sound of the elevator doors sliding open. and there stands a very familiar person in it.

both of you chorus, “why are you here?”  

“did you not go to the club?”

“i turned back,” seungyoun answers, eyeing yohan before laying his eyes on you. “you? why did you leave your phone in your room?!”

“i did?” you gasp, putting your hands in your jacket’s pockets to realize that you really did. “i forgot. i went to tesco in a rush.”

“you got me all worried.” he groans, but the relief evident in his voice.

seungyoun grabs your wrist softly and pulls you into the elevator with yohan following behind, already thinking that seungyoun must be your boyfriend.

because, what kind of friend reacts that way?

“oh, seungyoun! this is yohan.” you gesture between the two of them.

“are you korean?” seungyoun asks carefully, to which yohan nods with a big grin.

“yes!” he replies in korean, “i haven’t met any koreans since i moved in here.”

“oh, me too.” seungyoun chuckles, both of them now conversing in korean. “but i know with a few korean people.”

“a few, my ass.” you interrupt and seungyoun quickly shuts you off, “stop being a koreaboo.”

okay, so you do understand korean pretty well due to the amount of korean dramas you watched since 10 years old. but that’s it. you just somehow started realizing that you do actually understand korean and started watching some shows without needing subtitles anymore.

but promise, you definitely are not a koreaboo. seungyoun always like to tease you that you are though because he likes the offended expression you always give him.

“you understand korean?” yohan asks, looking pretty shocked and impressed.

“like i said, she’s a koreab--” seungyoun answers before you can but you interrupt him by elbowing him in the guts. 

you see how yohan opens his mouth to say something but the ding from the elevator indicates that you have arrived at the third floor, which is where both you and seungyoun live.

“see you later, then.” you wave at yohan and step out of the elevator, seungyoun mirroring your actions.

yohan watches the way seungyoun circles his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk away, as if it’s a habit or whatsoever.

even though he’s sixty percent sure you guys are a couple, he decides to not come to a conclusion quickly. with his good looks, it’s no surprise that girls are interested in him. 

but he only has guy friends. whenever a conversation comes up between him and a girl, it always turns out awkward. mostly, because, the girl is too shy and timid once she starts talking to someone this charming and good-looking.

yohan who’s a really humble person doesn’t think this. it’s always his friends who point out that he’s too good-looking for girls to not be shy when talking to him. 

y/n is a different story, all the way from tesco to the dorm, the conversation flowed smoothly. it almost felt as if they just didn’t see each other for the first time 15 minutes ago. 

and maybe, just maybe because of that, yohan wants to know you more.

Too much love will kill you

(part 3 of LOVE OF MY LIFE series; check out my masterlist for previous parts)

this one’s longer because I made all of you wait way too long

I'm just the pieces of the man I used to be

Too many bitter tears are raining down on me

I'm far away from home

And I've been facing this alone

For much too long

Last week was by far the most irritated with everything he remembered being. Every rehearsal has ended up with him either smashing his drums or starting a fight over whatever bullshit that could likely piss him off.

It could be anything. From Deaky’s sassy comments, through not enough cigarettes in the pack, Freddie being late, or a broken drumstick in the middle of recording.

Everything seemed to get on his nerves, and though others wouldn’t admit it, they were slowly losing their patience too.

“Roger darling, maybe you should just go, have a shag and relax. Cooling down won’t kill you.” Freddie exclaimed from the piano as Roger kept kicking his bass drum, in an attempt to focus.

“Oh fuck cooling down! I can’t play when I’m calm!”

“I’d like to point out that we haven’t recorded anything decent in a month, so clearly your rule doesn’t apply.” Deaky spoke coming up with 2 cups of coffee, one for himself, one for Freddie, at which Roger flipped him off with a huff. He knew they were right, but was far too proud to give in.

Nothing helped him to brush away the painful feeling in his chest. Seeing you has awakened some sort of bittersweet feeling that he’s been keeping hidden for the sake of carefree life. And there you were, glowing, shining even. So unaware of the pain you’ve caused him, so sweetly naive. Though he couldn’t blame you, after all he never said he got over it, maybe he just assumed you’d notice that he’s trying to be better. Better for you.

After hours of pointless sitting without achieving neither consensus, nor a single well recorded minute, Miami; with Brian’s help, dismissed Roger home. He wasn’t so happy about it, feeling as if he’d been betrayed, but decided it’s a chance for him to possibly get some sleep without those nagging thoughts he was getting at night.

Throwing his jacket and keys onto the sofa he gazed around the living room. If you could have seen that mess, you’d probably break up with him again, he thought.

Empty glasses and bottles were covering almost every piece of furniture, some of them were even scattered on the floor. Not to mention cigarettes. Horrendous amounts of them. He didn’t even think about opening the windows to let some fresh air in until that moment.

You would do that. You would force him to leave that smoky room every once in a while. You would care about getting things cleaned up. So maybe, just maybe he could do that for himself too.

Thinking about you again made that bitterness in his stomach sink even deeper, to the point of making him feel sick. Opening the balcony, he slowly stepped outside, dusty city breeze hitting him immediately and providing some sort of severe relief.

The sky was pretty grey, clouds covered the entirety of the skyline. Some kids were shouting from afar, sounds of water splashing from the neighbours’s pool.

Not looking away from the sky, his right hand wandered to the back pocket of his corduroy burgundy trousers. You hated them. You hated when he was smoking too, but since you two weren’t together anymore, he stopped trying to quit. And stopped caring so much about his appearance too.

He lit the cigarette and placed lighter he had bought on tour in America on the parapet.

Yeah, maybe he could get better. But it seemed so impossible when you weren’t the reason to.

Torn between the lover

And the love you leave behind

You're headed for disaster

'Cause you never read the signs

Too much love will kill you - every time.

He’s given you every proof that he still loved you, that he still couldn’t stop thinking about you when all you did was try to forget.

And it felt like shit. You were feeling like a traitor for making such a selfish decision, for leaving him, for giving him back your engagement ring. For putting him in your past, when in reality all he ever wanted was to be present in yours.

It was during the nights, when your mind wandered to the day of your breakup two years ago, when you had decided to end it all. The wind was blowing outside your window, not letting your thoughts drift away with sleep.

It was almost funny, how despite having a new partner, the one you planned to marry, all you could see was the look of sorrow on Roger’s face. The glistening of his disappointed eyes, the restlessness written in his brows and clenched jaw, his hollow cheeks and plucked lips, slightly open and almost trembling from the amount of emotions he’s been dealing with.

All because of you.

The more you were recalling, the more details you noticed. The more self doubts you were having.

“Brian? Umm, it’s _____.”

“_____! Long time no hear, huh?” It was past 4pm when you decided to call the person you knew and trusted enough with your concerns. You fiddled with flowers in the flacon as you thought of words to say. Brian was Roger’s long time friend, one of the best friends even, so without a doubt your whole plan was risky. Especially with the aftermaths of yours and Roger’s last meeting.

At the same time, who else could help you if not his best mate.

“Yeah, sorry if I’m interrupting! And... for not giving a sign of life for so long.” Your nervousness was clear, Brian didn’t need to see you to realize how difficult it was for you to call him. And it kind of broke him.

“No no! I actually just got back home, so you chose the right time.” Brian’s voice was so soothingly reassuring. Unbelievable how you two haven’t seen each other in a year or so, but he still managed to keep that friendly manner of his. Almost if nothing has changed. “It’s great to hear you.” A genuine smile appeared on your face and you could only wish he was able to see that.

“You too Bri. Still building guitars and destroying schemes?”

“Trying to.” He laughed. “Umm...What about you? I heard you’re, uh, stabilising soon?”

“He told you, right?”

“Well. It was hard not to hear when he forced everyone to listen to his drunk rambling one day.”

“Oh god.” You sat heavily on the sofa and exhaled over the phone. On the other side Brian leaned himself against the counter. Some time ago he’s promised himself not to get too engaged in Roger’s life choices and decisions. But even if he acted the opposite, he was more than devastated once he had found out about your broken engagement with Roger. “What did he say?”

Brian rubbed the tip of his nose with index finger as he struggled to choose the right words.

“That, uh... apparently you’re getting married and he didn’t realize it was for real until now.” Even if Roger never said that out loud, he kept his faith that one day you’ll change your mind. That it’s just a phase of yours, and that you need time. In a way, he was right. You did need time. But you no longer needed him. Or so you thought. “And that he, uh, he still loves you, which frankly speaking actually explains a lot of his recent behaviour.”

You took a deep breath. Back then, when you had decided to pack your bags and move on, you had thought that the hardest part is already behind you. What you did not expect, was Roger’s inability to let go. And that was leading you back to something you hoped to remove from your perfect breakup scenario. Doubts.

“Brian... I’m so sorry, I-I don’t even know what to say.”

“Oh! No need to apologize me _____. I shouldn’t even get involved in all this. This is your life after all.”

The phone line went silent for a while, none of you really keen on adding anything, mainly cause there was nothing more to add.

It was inevitable - no matter how much you wanted to avoid it, you had to talk to Roger.

“Um, I mean, you’ll do whatever you decide, and I’m sure you won’t regret it, but could I give you advice?” Brian’s voice was filled with both concern and care, something so brother-like.

“Of course Bri! God knows I need it...”

Brian chuckled at your words, but continued with serious voice. It sounded almost sad.

“Let your heart decide. I know how hard it is, I know you’ve been hurting, but remember those lessons and learn from them. I’m not going to convince you to anything, just know that sometimes rationality is not the best advisor. You’re strong _____. But don’t give up your vulnerability in order to keep it.”

You quickly wiped a tear that ran down your face with the back of your hand.

“Thank you Bri. I think I needed that.”

“Take care _____. And call more often! We all miss you.”

„You too Brian. Miss you all.”

That night you didn’t sleep. Your mind wandered elsewhere, through time you’ve lost, the one you saved, the time that was gone forever and the one that was ahead of you.

Like a twist of fate, your fiance was away so you’ve spent the night alone. Figuring out what to do with your indecisive heart.

~~~~~

next chapter in the works, so hopefully I won’t make you all wait as much next time!

(Comments, ideas and words of notice are always appreciated 💜)

SERIES taglist: taglist: @laubluered @ceruleanrainblues @rogersfalsettos @shae-is-not-ok @i-am-sarah @magicwithaknife @isabella-bby

Roger Taylor taglist: @rogersdrumkit @rogersfalsettos @erinhardytaylor @cyborgfromthesupermarket @sabbrriiinnaa @wolverinesbeer @simplyvictoria-93 @imamazzellhoe @shishterfackisback @rogerstambourinee @rockyroadthepastryarchy

(lmk if you want to be on/off the taglist!)

Hello, hello, everyone! My name is Susie, I am 21-soon-to-be-22, I live in the EST timezone, and this is the first of my two characters, Sam! If you’d like to plot, like this or IM me! This contains his basic info, backstory, info about what he’s currently up to, some misc. information, a small playlist, tropes that apply to him, and wanted connections. Yeah... I went a little hard.

☾  ↪  cillian murphy, male, forty, he/him.  ／  ❛  have you heard from samuel marx lately ？ yeah, the forty year old mechanic / drug dealer. pretty sure they’ve been here twenty years, and from what i’ve heard, sam can be kind of cynical  &  self-serving, but i caught them on a good day once, and they were pretty funny & clever. i’m probably overthinking it, but given all the crazy shit around here, i hope they’re okay. maybe they’re watching their favorite scary movie, i heard it’s child’s play.

trigger warnings: homophobia, parental/domestic abuse, self-harm, depression

BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Samuel Joseph Marx

Nickname(s): Sam (everyone), Sammy (his mother, close friends, or significant others only)

Age: 40

Gender: male

Sexual orientation: bisexual

Birthday: January 12, 1956

Zodiac: Capricorn

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Personality type: ISFJ

Family: Joseph Marx (father, deceased), Serafine Marx (mother, deceased)

Criminal record: shoplifting (3 counts), underage drinking (2 counts), auto theft (1 count), fraud (2 counts), possession with the intent to distribute (2 counts)

TROPES

Beware the Quiet Ones

Cornered Rattlesnake

The Cynic

Deadpan Snarker

Don’t You Dare Pity Me!

Even Bad Men Love Their Mamas

I Just Want to be Loved

I Need a Freaking Drink

Lower-Class Lout

Not Good With People

Perpetual Frowner

The Runaway

Smarter Than You Look

The Snark Knight

Sour Outside, Sad Inside

When He Smiles

FIVE-SONG PLAYLIST

“The Mute” by Radical Face

“Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage the Elephant

“Run Boy Run” by Woodkid

“The Kids Aren’t Alright” by Fall Out Boy

“Emperor’s New Clothes” by Panic! at the Disco

BACKGROUND

Sam was born and raised in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He had a small family -- just him, and his parents. His father was a police officer, and his mother was a housewife.

Sam never got along with his father. Never. He can’t remember a single time that he didn’t entirely despise the man.

Joseph Marx was a corrupt cop, as well as an abusive husband and father. The Marx household was frequently filled with the sounds of slamming doors, screamed profanity, and glass breaking. While he frequently took his anger out on his wife, Sam quickly became Joseph’s favorite target.

Sam was also a favored target of other kids. An incident during which two older boys held him under the water instilled an unshakable case of hydrophobia in him, and he was often beat up when teachers weren’t around. Many said he brought it on himself -- what did he expect, when he was so obviously queer, dressed in such ratty clothes, acted so strangely?

Unsurprisingly, he developed delinquent behavior early on, and was frequently in trouble for cheating on tests, stealing other students’ possessions, skipping class, smoking, drinking, and stealing cars for joyrides.

Bullied at school and abused at home, Sam had few friends, and spent as much time as possible out of the house. He’d wander the swamps and streets alone, only occasionally having a companion with him.

Finally, when he was sixteen, Sam hit a breaking point. A terrible fight with his father led to Sam being thrown into the kitchen window. The glass shattered, cutting into Sam’s skin. His mother tried to help him get cleaned up, but Sam had had enough. That very night, he packed a small bag and snuck out the back door. He stole a truck from one of his neighbors, and hit the road, never to return to Baton Rouge.

Lacking any sort of plan, Sam wandered from town to town, making money via odd jobs, shoplifting, pickpocketing, purse-snatching, and selling dime bags of weed. He had his fair share of scrapes with the law -- even spending six months in a correctional facility when he was eighteen -- but always managed to worm his way out any long-term consequences. 

While in jail, Sam finally wrote to his mother -- now that he was eighteen, he couldn’t be forced to return to his family’s home, so he could assure her that he was alive. While he kept in contact with his mother from then on, Sam never spoke to his father again, and refused to ever return to Baton Rouge, even after his father was shot and killed in the line of duty.

ARRIVAL IN HOLLOWAY

Sam got to Holloway at the age of twenty. He only intended to stay for a couple weeks, long enough to make enough money to make a cross-country trip. The girl he was dating at the time went to school in Maine, and he wanted to go visit her.

When the first Hollow Man murder happened, a couple weeks after Sam’s arrival, he was nervous. When it became evident that there was a serial killer in Holloway, he started thinking maybe he should just say “fuck the money” and skip town altogether. However, before he could, the police were asking to talk to him.

It had been discovered that a couple of the deceased had bought drugs off of Sam a few times. While they hadn’t thought much about Sam at first, this caused the cops to look closer at him. Upon further digging, the investigators found that Sam was a drifter who had dropped out of school and run away from home, had a history of behavior issues, an ever-growing rap sheet, a brief stint in jail to his name, a skittish and antisocial air about him, and an obvious hatred of cops.

Yeah. It did not look good.

Sam was interrogated many times. His story never changed. He did sell weed to two of the deceased. No, he didn’t hurt them. He never even interacted with them beyond the sales. He was asleep at the time of the murders. No, no one can confirm that, he was alone. No, he doesn’t have a hotel room, he’s been sleeping in his truck.

Despite a lack of solid evidence or a motive, Sam was still a prime suspect for the first few murders, and he was told not to leave town. Knowing it’d look much worse if he ran, Sam decided to get a job -- partially because he was stuck in Halloway for the foreseeable future, and partially because he knew he might have to hire a lawyer soon. He eventually persuaded the local auto shop to hire him as a mechanic. (Accused of murder or not, Sam is damn good with cars.)

No official charges were ever brought, and eventually, another murder took place while Sam had a clear alibi, having been drinking in a local bar in full view of at least a dozen people all night. He got busted for having a fake ID, but at least he wasn’t an official murder suspect anymore.

Key word being official. Some suspected that Sam had an accomplice, and that the whole thing was a set-up to clear his name. Despite rumors, whispers, stares, and even a few people accusing him of the crime to his face, he always maintained that he never hurt anybody.

After being cleared, Sam intended to get out of town as soon as he could. But then, the girlfriend in Maine he’d been planning to go see dumped him... via postcard. It was the cherry on top of what had been a shitty few weeks.

Sam decided to stay for a little while until he figured out where to go next. He was rather enjoying having a steady paycheck for once, and it wasn’t like he had a plan. “A little while” eventually turned to twenty years.

NOWADAYS

Sam has now lived in a half-double in town for many, many years. It’s small, but he makes it work.

While most have probably abandoned the idea that Sam killed anybody, he’s still not exactly Mr. Popular in town. He’s known to be a sarcastic, self-centered dick, who has no respect for authority. (Some things never change.)

He still works at the auto shop. The original owner’s son runs it now, but Sam is the longest-standing employee, as well as the best mechanic.

Sam still hates cops. If he could refuse service to them, he would.

He’s still selling weed on the side (his boss looks the other way -- so long as Sam doesn’t get busted while at work, he doesn’t really care), and can be bribed into purchasing alcohol for underage students. However, he refuses to get mixed up in anything harder than that.

He mostly keeps to himself, and isn’t known to be particularly violent. If someone else attacks him, he’ll defend himself, but he rarely throws the first punch.

He’s been in an even more melancholy mood than normal lately, because his mother died last month.

He honestly thought the Hollow Man business was behind him. But now that a new victim has been found, he can feel people looking at him sideways again.

And, no matter how much he says he doesn’t care what other people think... he doesn’t like it at all.

MISC.

Sam’s sexuality is not public knowledge. He’s not ashamed of it, but he also wants to avoid harassment, so he’s only ever openly dated women. The only people who know are men he’s been with in the past, and maybe, maybe a very close friend.

Despite his dislike of people, Sam is quite fond of animals, and even adopted a stray cat he found a couple years ago. He’s named him Hecate, and he is quite possibly the ugliest cat in existence -- he has one eye, crooked fangs, and scratches everything that isn’t Sam.

Sam suffers clinical depression, but is in denial about how serious it actually is. It’s driven him to make some pretty damaging decisions, and he’s had a habit of burning himself with cigarettes since high school. The scars are all over his shoulders, arms, and stomach. 

Sam was -- and still is -- a frequent target of classism. Due to his lack of education and working-class background, many assume the worst in him, and many underestimate his intelligence. While he uses it to his advantage, he is irked by it.

It surprises people to learn that Sam is actually very well-read, and a talented actor. In another life, he could’ve joined a Shakespeare company. In this one, he reads passages aloud to himself when he’s alone.

Sam claims to hate... well, everyone, but he holds a special contempt for bullies and abusers. One of the only times Sam’s been known to instigate a fight is when he got sick of listening to a drunk guy catcall a woman walking by, and just decked him.

Sam still hates water, and refuses to go swimming -- on the rare occasions he has to go near the water, he won’t put his head under.

Sam has a pitch-black sense of humor. The Hollow Man murders are one of the few things he won’t joke about.

SUGGESTED CONNECTIONS

Someone who still believes Sam was or is the Hollow Man.

Related to the above, some of the younger characters have probably been told by their parents to stay away from Sam. Whether or not they listened is up to you.

Friend with benefits.

Exes.

Someone who has become aware of Sam’s depression and is trying to help him -- whether he likes it or not.

Unrequited crush (from either party).

And anything else you can think of!

212.

one year ago, we left new york.

a week before we moved out of our apartment, i started cleaning. our kitchen was a straight-up disaster zone. when we first moved in, the AC unit in the kitchen was leaking underneath the tiles so everything was just….moist for awhile. for whatever reason, nathan refused to call maintenance whenever something was broken in the apartment so we lived with a wet floor for months until it started leaking in the apartment below us and they fixed it one day when i was at work.

because of that, there were weird remnants of amazon boxes that had melted and become a frankentile with the flooring. and we put off cleaning that for….the entire time we lived there. nathan’s whole concept of cleaning was “we can put it off until right before we move, it’ll be fine, we’ll still get our security deposit back.” i, however, could not live in a scum palace, so i would clean up once a week, but a lot of it slipped through the cracks. so the week before we left, there i was, cleaning all the cracks in the kitchen. i sat and scrubbed the kitchen floor for hours, painstakingly scraping up weird sticky spots and cardboard. there was a drawer that just had loose rice in it from a broken bag, and cleaning that was surprisingly tricky. i lysol’d the chicken shelf. i completely dismembered our stove to scrub underneath the burners. i swept up all of the onion skin and coffee grounds that had fallen in the crevice between the counters and the fridge. and then i moved onto the bathroom. while i wish i could have taken a match to the room, i just poured fabuloso all over the entire space, which is basically the same thing. my favorite part was when nathan came home one day and was like “wow, the bathroom looks so nice….why did you clean it?” and i was just like…..because, you idiot, we’re moving in a week and i’m trying to get a security deposit back. the only thing worse than having to clean all of the hair out of the sink was the period of time that our bathtub wouldn’t drain and i had to take a bath with every shower i took.

i’m a person who likes to be over-prepared. especially when it comes to things like traveling, or moving. i make lists, i get all my ducks in a row ahead of time and count them twice. nathan is the exact opposite. we left nyc on the morning of may 23rd, and i couldn’t quit work until may 21st, because i couldn’t afford to take any more days than that off. in my head, i anticipated that on the 22nd we would have been doing the final touches on cleaning and packing. we would have all our furniture out, all of the floors swept, everything we were taking back to texas in suitcases. the only thing we’d have out is the mattress so that we could go to bed at a decent time and be well-rested for our flight the next morning, the only thing we’d have to do in the morning is toss our mattress on the streets and leave.

but of course, that’s not how it panned out. the week leading up to moving, nathan did absolutely nothing in regards to packing. the only thing that got done was the prior cleaning i had accomplished. on may 21st, i got very drunk at my going-away party at work, came home at some stupid hour and fell asleep. i woke up at like 2pm on the 22nd, and nathan still hadn’t started anything. i had to go run an errand downtown, so i picked up the halal guys on my way back uptown. when i got back, we ate and then he went to the gym and then i was like uhhh ok i guess i should start getting shit together. so while he was at the gym i packed up all of my clothes. then, when i moved onto packing up the kitchen, i realized there was a lot of alcohol still left, and me, being a certified poor person, didn’t want to waste the money i had spent on it, so i started drinking while cleaning. when he got back from the gym, we accomplished my favorite part of moving- we slam dunked his nasty basketball shoes right into the dumpster.

we took turns throwing trash out into the hall, and leaving furniture down in the lobby. and eventually, around 4am, we had most of our garbage cleaned out of the apartment. also by this point, i had sobered up from drinking earlier in the night and was feeling dehydrated and terrible. all i wanted to do was sleep, but we still had so much to get done. by this point, i was getting stressed because we definitely were not close to finishing on time.

my breaking point was when we were trying to re-assemble our smoke detector. we disassembled it at some point early in our time living there because it would go off even if we were just boiling water. nathan struggled to put it back together for like 10 minutes and called me into the hallway to advise. me, being a person who’s done this before suggested, “oh so you have to flip that latch and then put the battery on top of it, then screw on the top,” and of course, immediately, nathan was like “no, that’s not right that doesn’t make any sense,” and after struggling for five more minutes i pushed him out of the way and was like, “oh my god let me do this” and i re-assembled it on my first try. because i was right.

we watched the sun rise over the GWB one last time.

our flight was leaving in 3 hours. we still had a couch, and a bed, and a table in the apartment. i had a headache. we hadn’t eaten in hours. so while nathan ran out to get bagels i cried for a solid 15 minutes out of exhaustion and stress.

i moved to new york with two suitcases. one for all my clothes/shoes, and one for towels, linens and pillows. somehow i thought i’d be able to leave new york with two suitcases, despite having accumulating even more stuff. i was shocked when i was actually able to fit everything that i owned and wanted to keep into one suitcase, my second one was basically just dedicated to nathan’s shoes and winter clothes.

when we were leaving for the airport i remember mentioning, “hey we should probably call an uber because i doubt all of our suitcases are going to fit into a taxi,” but nathan refused, so we walked two blocks to get a taxi and then had to spend a stupid amount of time playing jenga to get our suitcases into aforementioned taxi. two fit in the trunk, one was in the front seat, one was in my lap.

my suitcase was 10lbs overweight and southwest charges $75 for an overweight bag. so of course i lost my god damn mind and started crying and flung myself to the floor and started throwing things out of my bag and trying to shuffle things around to get it underweight. i was an airport goblin. here’s the thing: i’m actually very good at traveling. i’ve gotten my personal travel down to a science and i love flying and am usually very collected. but i was so stressed, i hadn’t slept in a day, and it truly brought out the worst in me.

once we made it onto the plane nathan told me that he never wanted to travel with me again because i am a disaster, and i promised that i’m not usually like that, but he definitely didn’t believe me- i’m so glad i made a good first impression. whenever we got to our parents’ houses back in texas i sent him a very nice text apologizing for being the human equivalent of a hurricane and he was just like, “it’s fine, you’re lucky i love you and also that i know exactly who you are.” which is true, i’m lucky that he knew and accepted exactly what kind of gremlin he was about to spend the rest of his life with.

despite paying a disgusting amount of money in rent, that was a dope little apartment. we had more space than we knew what to do with, literally half of our furniture in the living room was just a pile of nathan’s clothes because we needed something to take up some space. it was nice to have a doorman, even though there were a handful of times when i got stopped on my way into the building. my favorite time was when i rolled in at 3am after drinking with coworkers, and i had left my columbia ID in the apartment. usually this wasn’t an issue, but the person at the front desk stopped me for once and wouldn’t let me go upstairs without it. when you’re an actual columbia student, it’s not an issue because you can just give your student ID number to get in, but i was like “uhhhhh i don’t have one, i don’t go here, my husband does, please just let me into my home i want to be in my bed i am so drunk” and they were like “ok well he can bring your ID or he can sign you in,” and i was like “I PAY SO MUCH MONEY IN RENT HERE. MY ID IS UPSTAIRS, IN THE APARTMENT THAT I PAY RENT FOR, I CAN GO UPSTAIRS, TO THE APARTMENT I LIVE IN, AND BRING MY ID AND SHOW IT TO YOU” at this point, the doorman was DONE with me and was like, “well if i let you upstairs to get your ID, i’d still be letting you into the building without an ID and i can’t do that,” and i stood corrected, yeah ok touché, and then i had to call nathan to bring down my ID. luckily he was still awake, and since i was very drunk and love drama when i get stressed i started crying in the lobby while i was waiting for nathan to come downstairs. i would say this was my NYC rock bottom, but my NYC rock bottom was obviously the night i threw up in a mcdonald’s and 3 subway stations and lost my phone.

even though i was constantly stressed living in NYC, it was nice being able to come home to an apartment that wasn’t tiny, had a ton of natural light, and never had a rat (or carpenter bee) problem. i’m also so glad we got to avoid having roommates. we never really “moved into” our apartment- all of our furniture was trash we collected off of the streets, i never decorated anything, or even hung up all of my clothes. we knew we were going to be leaving new york after that year, so we tried to invest as little money as possible into the apartment. in fact, we invested so little money in the apartment that i didn’t have a mirror the entire time we lived there- we also had no overhead lighting. we found one lamp, so our bedroom got a lamp. if we wanted light in the living room, instead of just buying two lamps, we’d have to decide which room needed the light more and move the lamp accordingly.

when we moved to philly, even though all of our furniture was the cheapest we could find at walmart, we still actually spent money on buying matching furniture. pretty much all of our decor came from my old apartment in austin, but at least we tried to do some decorating. even though we put effort into having a kind of put-together home, it still felt less like home than 60 haven avenue did.

here’s a few pictures of our old apartment. first, the living room- where you can see “the pile” in its full glory. instead of folding and putting clothes away, nathan just dumped all of his clothing in a pile in the living room, partially because he didn’t care about organization and partially to just fill up some dead space. second, a corner of our bedroom- we fit a full mattress and still had a ton of space in the room. the window looked out at the GWB, which was my favorite part of the apartment. third, the bathroom- the only reason the shower curtain and bath mat look coordinated is because i brought them with me from my austin apartment. (the only reason we have a shower curtain is because i brought it. nathan didn’t think we needed one, and literally didn’t have one for a few weeks before i moved in). finally, the kitchen- it was pretty small but it did the job. this is a terrible picture of it, but you can see the amazon boxes that got fused to the floor when the floor started to leak. also pictured is a broom and dustpan, two items that sat in plain sight in the kitchen the entire time we lived there, but that nathan was still shocked to learn that we owned the first time he saw me sweeping the floors. 

Honest Review of the Pax 3 Handheld Portable Vaporizer by a Chronic Pain Patient

As a fairly recent convert to MMJ, it took me almost a year to lose my love affair with rolling a blunt and suffering the noxious smoke to medicate. Trying to subtly partake of much needed sweet leaf relief was a chore, dodging into the alley next to my home and trying to avoid the gaze of curious kids was proving stressful. It was more the image of their dad smoking than the substance itself, of giving them a bad mental image that allowed them to “smoke” was not good parenting. Plus I don’t want to feel like taking herbal medication is something to be ashamed of.

But a whole 12 months past before I got together the resources (saved!) to afford a decent pocket vape. My requirements were;

Discreet

Easy to use

Didn’t look too “druggy”

Did the job efficiently

Had accurate temperature control

I used to be a cigarette smoker, many moons ago but having never ‘vaped’ I was not sure what to expect.  I knew the device had to heat the dry herb to hit the off button on my considerable knee pain and I knew that three light-ish puffs on a ‘joint’ got the job done, albeit with that smokey aftertaste, aroma and fear that a neighbour may smell the err, medication.

So I did some research and decided that a Pax 3 was the ticket, I almost purchased an entry level eBay special but figured that £80+  could be totally wasted (ha!) and I should go with a reputable brand. After reviewing our various recommendations I went and bought a Pax 3 from a local supplier.

Shopping For a Dry Herb Vaporizer

Evapo is a vape shop in Guildford mostly given over to liquid non-MMJ vape-ware, vaporisers, liquids and accessories but there was one cabinet market “CBD” which, given this is the UK, was a subtle clue as to what the cabinet held. The choice was limited to a Pax 2 or a Pax 3. Given that I am an inveterate tech-head I opted for the app controlled Pax 3.

The salesman was a cheerful upbeat sort who talked discreetly but knowledgeably of the features/benefits and what a dry herb vaporizer did. Plus, Evapo had a 15% off deal that weekend which reduced the ticket price from £219.99 to £186.99. Seemed a bit steep for a first time vape purchase, I mean, what if I didn’t like it? What if I didn’t get the relief I am seeking? Hey ho, figured in the name of research it was worth the spend. Five minutes later I exited the proud owner of one spanking brand new Pax 3, and instructions on how to pair it up with the app, more on that in a moment.

Unboxing the Pax 3 Herb Vape

When I got home I opened the box, which is as stylish as the Pax 3 itself, very Apple design led. You slide the box out a sleeve, and it opens with a satisfying resistance provided by hidden magnets. I can see why they get the price they charge.

It contains charger & USB charge cable, cleaning materials (pipe cleaners and pipe brush), a keyring that doubles up as a scraper, an oven like compartment with a holder for concentrates and waxes, a second half-charge oven lid, raised silicon mouthpiece and a stitched material sleeve and of course the device itself. The enclosed documentation is quite slim on any actual operating instructions, but does give you the limited instructions in many different languages. Plus a safety booklet, again, bereft of any instructions but telling you of the many dangers a device like this can inflict.

Once released from its plastic coffin the device is pleasingly heavy in the hand. The heft gives it a solidity, again the comparison to Apple cannot be overstated. It’s solidly built up to a standard not down to a price.

I choose a matt black finish and thus with one click on the top of the mouthpiece, the LEDs stood out like runway landing lights. I set up the device to charge, it already had 3 of the 4 lights lit, and within 20 minutes the remaining light blinked on and we were good to go.

Pairing the Pax 3 With The App

By the time the charge had finished I was ready to pair the Android version of the app with the device and had gotten to the point where you shake it to pair it. Try as I might my Google Pixel 2 XL running Android Pie (9.0) was just not having any of it, tried different settings on the phone and despite the phone stating it was paired, the app itself refused to play ball. I am guessing this is a Android Pie bug, maybe? I had only installed Pie on the phone a few days earlier so I am guessing app bugs are a distinct possibility. Many of the reviews however also noted pairing difficulties, so perhaps not? Later I downloaded the iPhone iOS app onto my iPad and that not only paired without trouble it also controlled the device well.

First Use and Impressions

Anyway, to the first trial, my ‘herb’ was ground and packed into the oven chamber, it took a relatively little amount, I would say half a single skin joint. I thought this seemed like a very minor amount given that the device allowed for several hits on one fill, but I went along with it. Within a couple of minutes I was ready to go, with a fully charged Pax 3 that was now also fully charged with bud I hesitantly hit the ‘on’ button. The device heats quickly 20 – 30 seconds and the flashing purple LEDs turned green notifying me that the Pax 3 was ready to dose me.

I’d opted for the highest heat setting, I just felt that if I was going to try it then I should really give the Pax 3 a run for its money. I took a tentative first pull. The taste was not what I expected, a floral, greenery taste with a slightly timber smoke edge to it, not burning but that kind of smell you get in a wood on a hot day. I guess that’s the oils and the waxes boiling off their terpenes which give the bud its flavour profile. As the flavour died back and I exhaled it suddenly gave me a taste of coffee grinds, not full on coffee in your mouth but that half smell of roasting you get as you walk past a coffee house.

Very pleasant, very smooth and much nicer than a pull on a ‘Fatty-Boom-Batty’. The specific stock I was smoking is not overpoweringly strong, but does do the job for my pain. As an example I can take a single pull on a one-skinner and have it hit the off button on my knee pain for a couple of hours but leave me focused enough to answer calls, write code and function without the distraction of grinding bone on bone action. I took a second tentative pull, and then thought, screw it, and took two much longer, deeper pulls.

The Pax 3 vs Knee Pain

It was Saturday night and I was feeling like kicking back a bit so wasn’t concerned if I overshot the runway when it came to switching off the red flashing pain klaxon. As per usual the hits took time to kick in, with my usual method of ingestion it takes around 10 minutes for the meds to make their way into my brain and do what it does. Oh-so much better than the mechanised approach that codeine seems to take. Wrapping everything in cling film and preventing you from feeling pretty much anything but the ‘ready break’ glow (US readers Google it, you’ll see how accurate that actually is) that Codeine gives you.

I usually then go make a cuppa, and settle into the sofa with my better half and wait for the pain to roll back and relief to roll in. Well, the Pax 3 definitely delivers, I was starting to feel the effects inside the ten minutes, and all was good. Everything suddenly felt very good with the world, in a way that pain seems to rob you of. Pain adds jagged pixelations to your every move, thought and sensation. It’s like you’re dealing with low resolution images and trying to pass them as 4K cinemascope.

Codeine always took away the ‘jaggies’ but delivered a vaseline smeared lens perspective of the world. All soft focused and fuzzy edged, you felt like the world was a bouncy castle made of marshmallow. However the Pax 3, not only delivered the usual relief but somehow it felt less punchy, like the difference between a $20 bottle of bourbon vs $120 bottle of premium single malt scotch. You can see why the Pax 3 gets the reviews it does.

Controlling Dose with My Second Use

Lets just say 30 minutes later as I am lying on the sofa, totally baked, I tried to have a chat with my other half and ended up giggling away as she laughed at me, not with me. I remained quite lucid, but was just very relaxed by the whole body sedation which is not how my current supply usually hits. The effect lasted at least 4 hours, in fact I went to bed and slept soundly, I usually wake early, 6:30 or 7am, woken by the knee pain, but I overshot that by at least 2 hours. Woke feeling fresh although a little fuzzy but coffee and breakfast sorted that for me.

Therefore I wanted to avoid this with my second use, which was much more controlled, after a little bit of reading online. Just 2 short pulls and the device turned down to a less intense heat at 3 LED lights. I think this might be the sweet spot as the effects again took 5-10 mins to become very noticeable but there was much less of a body sedation, in fact I felt a clarity in my thinking and it just neutralised my pain.

Gone.

Not a trace.

Before medicating I would put the pain at a 3 on our pain chart, far from unbearable but definitely ’nagging’ and niggling at me. So the two hits were a good amount to kill the pain but not dull my entire brain. In fact I would now consider a single pull at 3 lights during a working day. Maybe.

Final Impressions and Overall View

I would give the Pax 3, 5 stars, but I have no other benchmark other than self-rolled all-weed blunts, joints and the occasional bong rip. I feel like I did when I upgraded to my first smart phone. Suddenly I had a computer in my hand and felt like I was ahead of the curve. The Pax 3 is very similar, having previously burnt a tube of rolled up dry herb I now have control and can set the temperature to the exact setting I want and get much more measured doses from my choice of pain meds. The only remaining variable of course is the plant material itself.

I suddenly see that devices like the Pax 3 are invaluable in allowing pain patients to get closer to a proper dosing regimen and if they feel like having a little more fun on a Saturday night, then at least it is a choice. That, for me, is what Cannabis should be about, the choice, the choice of your medication, the choice to choose your own safe pain meds. That it is your body and therefore making a choice of herbal remedy vs the output of an industrialised process, is your right.

I wish I had tried a vaporiser earlier, the Pax 3 is a very good product that does the job without fanfare, but does it stylishly and without announcing to the world you partake. The only small downside was that after I had fiddled about with it, trying to get it to sync with my Android phone, and then using it to heat my herb it got a little warm. Not uncomfortably, or dangerously, but it did warm noticeably, which given its function is not unreasonable, but it got a touch warmer than I thought it would. Put that down to user expectations perhaps, but one to consider. I am exploring a silicon sleeve for it, just to make it the perfect portable medical device.

The Pax 3 is a total winner and I am very pleased with the value for money and recommend it to you if you are considering using a vape. If you have pain, don’t leave home without it.

Click Here to Order The Pax 3 

The post Honest Review of the Pax 3 Handheld Portable Vaporizer by a Chronic Pain Patient appeared first on Cannabis for Chronic Pain.

source https://canna-base.com/pax-3-handheld-portable-vaporizer-review/

You Take My Breath Away~ Reddie Fic

Summary: Eddie and Richie have never met in their life even though they are both friends with Beverly Marsh. Eddie loves skating at the local roller rink close to campus, its his way of expressing himself as well as coping with his anxiety. Richie is in need of some money after his parents cut him off, and its a good thing the local roller rink is looking for a new D.J.

Pairings: Reddie, Stenbrough, Benverly

Rating: Mature

AO3: {READ}

Chapters: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5]

Notes: AHH ITS FINALLY HERE! I have been working so long on this story and I am excited to finally share the first chapter with you!  I want to shout out @eddie-kas and @welcome-assholes for being so encouraging and helping me make this story come to life. AND I WANT TO MAJOR SHOUT OUT @cestleprobleme for helping me edit and pushing me to write this I honestly couldn’t have done it without her! Anyway heres the first chapter of You Take My Breath Away! 

CHAPTER 1

Crunch… crunch… crunch.

           That’s the only sound Richie could hear as he roamed the campus streets on this Friday afternoon. The campus was known for being a “suitcase” college; students would vacate to head home for the weekend, leaving the campus streets abandoned and dorm halls hauntingly empty. Richie never went home, he liked staying on campus during the weekends. He was free to do what he wanted, and that included playing his record player as loud as he wanted without his neighbors getting pissed.

           Richie made his way across campus to the designated location where he met up with his friend Beverly Marsh for an afternoon smoke. He could see her already in their usual spot and he quickened his pace shoving his hands deep in his dark denim jacket.

           “Jesus, took you long enough Richie.” Bev said good-naturedly, taking out her pack of cigarettes shivering a little.

           “Sorry Bev, but these tight ass pants really restrict my movements.” Richie remarked with a smirk while adjusting his crotch to get his point across.

           Bev shook her head smiling; it was hard not to smile while Richie was around. He was always the light of the room wherever he went. Richie sat beside Beverly and took out his own pack of cigarettes and lit one up, taking a big drag, feeling the nicotine fill his mouth and lungs.

           “Long day?”

           “Yah, the rents called today. They are cutting me off so I gotta find a job. They said ‘Rich, you need to learn to be more independent and stop relying on us, blah, blah, blah.” Richie said, moving his thumb and forefingers in a mocking gesture of his parents’ speech, flopping down on the decaying grass.

           “Well, I mean you are a junior in college and you have yet to have an actual job,” Bev replied slowly lowering herself next to Richie. “And before you say anything back, no, selling stolen shit is NOT a job.”

           “Aye! I never steal I just find and keep to sell later!”

           “Still not a job Rich.” Bev smiled back, pausing to take a drag from her cigarette before excitedly turning towards Richie. “You know the roller rink downtown is looking for a DJ! That’d be a perfect job for you!”

           “People actually still go there?” Richie scoffed.

           “Yeah! I go sometimes with a group of friends to skate, plus Ben works there.”

           “I am not working there.” Richie took another drag from his cigarette.

           “Oh come on, grumpy pants, lets go over there now and grab an application.” Bev said stubbing out her cigarette and standing up.

           Richie sighed heavily. He did need a job, and this would work well since he did want to go into the radio business. Plus, getting to sit around and play music? He basically already did that in his free time. Might as well get paid to do it, right? He stubbed his cigarette out as well and grabbed Beverly’s outstretched hand, and she pulled him up. Beverly didn’t let go of his hand as she led him eagerly down the street to the run-down looking roller rink.

~

           The music was blaring inside the rink as Eddie laced his bright white skates up. His skates always stood out compared to the over-used, dusty brown skates that most people rented. His were a pristine, well-cared for white, still looking brand new even though he got them years ago. Soft baby pink laces worked their way up to the top of the skates, tied off in a perfect, practiced little bow. His wheels, however, were brand new, and were the same shade of baby pink as the laces. Both looked absolutely perfect with his white skates. He didn’t care that they looked like women’s skates, he loved them.

           Eddie had always loved skating, it was as close to ice skating as he could get since his over-bearing mother never let him near an ice rink for the risk of him getting sick from the cold temperatures, even though plenty of other kids managed just fine. Despite the uncleanliness of roller rinks and the potential of falling, his mother did let him skate at least once a week as a kid. Being able to skate was his way of expressing himself without ridicule from either his mother or the asshole kids at school. It was also a way for him to cope with his anxiety. Being out on the rink…all his problems disappeared and it was just him, the music, and his skates.

           He stood up from where he was sitting and did a few stretches to make himself limber before he made his way over to the rink. He looked up to see that Ben was working the music booth since the DJ had quit over a week ago so Ben was in charge of the music until they were able to find a new DJ. Eddie smiled and gave a little wave to Ben as he circled around the rink, slowly at first to warm up.

           Eddie circled the rink a couple times doing some weaving to get his legs lose and up to their usual strength and flexibility before he would really lose himself in the music. Since it was a Friday afternoon, the rink was vacant of its weekend evening rush. Eddie gracefully slid up to the booth and gave a list of songs to Ben to play while he skated, which Ben happily took and began queuing up the tracks for Eddie. First to play was one of Eddie’s favorites to skate to: When I Grow Up by The Pussycat Dolls.

           As the song started, Eddie smiled and started skating backwards towards the middle of the rink. The music was pumping loudly through the giant speakers, and Eddie could feel the vibrations thrum throughout every inch of his lithe body. Sometimes he thought skating was better than sex, the way it filled him up so completely with euphoria and made him feel so good. The music always changed Eddie completely, he was able to be free, a whole new person. He could never control what moves he would do while skating, his body just took over and moved so perfectly to the beat with the music, almost like he was in a trance.

           He began to skate around the track, starting to work up to the perfect speed to get him dancing in his skates, and when he got there, his body took over. He began to spin, weave, skate backwards, drop it low, skate on one leg, nearly go into the splits, and at one point he was moving his hips so smoothly it could make absolutely anyone melt. The song was coming to an end as he started to skate normally, feeling the sweat prickle on his forehead between his brows. He ran his fingers through his hair fixing his always perfectly styled hair, adjusting it to maintain its usual quiff swept back from his forehead.

           The music had stopped and he could hear small applause at the opposite end of the track, and turned to see Ben, Beverly, and someone he didn’t recognize clapping and whooping. He could feel the blush creep up his already reddened face. Had they seen the whole thing? He made his way over the other end of the rink.

           “Damn, Eddie, where did you learn those moves!” Beverly said winking and nudging him.

           “Oh…uh, just stuff I’ve seen others do.” Eddie replied shyly, the blush prominently displayed on his cheeks now.

           “Not going to lie, I have a boner right now over that.” The dark curly haired boy said with a wink leaning in to rest his elbows on the rink’s side.

           The breath was sucked from Eddie’s lungs as many conflicting feelings flooded over him all at once: disgusts, flattery, confusion. He could feel his heart in his throat as he just stared blankly at the mysterious man before him. His head was a mop of black curls that fell around his face and neck almost perfectly. Bulky glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and Eddie could see his magnified eyes that hid behind the thick lenses. His eyes were a soft, welcoming brown, his eyelashes were so thick and long Eddie wondered what they would feel like brushed against his cheek. Freckles were dusted across the bridge of his nose, and Eddie wanted to trace them into constellations.

           “That’s fucking disgusting.” Eddie choked out, trying to cover the multitude of reactions he had had save for the disgust.

           Richie smirked, pleased with himself, and beamed back at Eddie before peering at him over the edge of his glasses, “whatever you say, Eds.” Richie gave a subtle wink down at the smaller boy.

           Eddie could feel himself tense up, he had never felt so simultaneously disgusted and attracted to someone before in his entire life. “Don’t call me that.” Eddie said, before skating quickly backwards away from the three standing there, and taking off.

           Richie looked over to Ben and Beverly, smiling with content. He watched the small boy skate around the track before once again beginning to lose himself in the music. Eddie was wearing the shortest pink shorts, tantalizingly, in Richie’s opinion, exposing his toned thighs. And his ass…man did his ass look perfect, no more than perfect, in those tiny scraps of fabric. They showed the clear definition of Eddie’s similarly toned, pert ass, and it made Richie’s knees weak more than he was willing to admit. Eddie’s torso was covered by an oversized white sweater that hung loosely about his shoulders, and would frequently slide off at least one, exposing bare skin and part of his collarbone. Richie felt like a creep, but he could not stop staring as he watched Eddie skate around, weaving and spinning and dancing in his pearly skates. Richie would be lying if he said that the way that Eddie moved so gracefully and effortlessly didn’t turn him on an alarming amount.

           “Hello? Earth to Richie?” Ben said waving his hand in front of Richie’s face. “You want to follow me so we can fill out that application?”

           “Oh, yeah,” he said, shaking his head slightly to refocus his attention, “Lets go, something has to be done about the music in this joint, it’s fucking terrible.” Richie said stepping away from the trackside, following after Ben. The Rink was small, and had probably seen much better days, but besides that, Richie found that he surprisingly loved the place. The carpet was a dark blue with neon geometric shapes all over it, the booths, bright red with silver accents, looked like they came out of a 50’s diner. And the smell...this is the smell Richie lived for: a mix of candy and pizza and a hint of a musky old smell, distinct but not unpleasant. The smell brought back memories of when his parents would take him bowling every other weekend.

           Richie filled out the application on the spot as Beverly sat beside, him helping him with some of the questions. Ben went off to help some people rent out skates as the night rush was beginning to roll in. The application took about ten minutes before Richie excitedly finished. He was actually kind hopeful and a little elated, the atmosphere of the place definitely swaying him away from his previous apprehensions. He actually really wanted this job now.

           Richie walked out of the rink, looking briefly behind him to see Eddie smiling dazzlingly, and laughing with a look of pure happiness carved into his features. Richie smiled himself, and stuffed his hands in his pocket as he walked out of the building, wanting nothing more than to see Eddie again, and hopefully he would.

Vexation ch. 3- Small Talk

FINISHED A NEW CHAPTER OF MY LAPIDOT AU! This is my favorite chapter SO FAR

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12048483/chapters/30697680

It’s already an hour and half into the nightshift, and there were already a lot of things to do for the two employees to cope. Peridot sauntered out of the counter and headed to the part of the store where it looked like a tsunami washed up half the precinct. It wasn’t too far from the counter, nor was it too easy to look at. Before she decided she was going to take the chance and clean everything up herself, she made sure Lapis was comforted and taking her rest after being provoked by Ronaldo.

“Peridot, I don’t need to sit behind here. I feel calmer already” Lapis said fretfully.

Peridot stared openly at her. “Nope. You need to relax perfectly. And besides, I can still see your fist clenched.” She said. “…You’ve been working harder than me all night and all I’ve been doing is sleeping on the job.”

“Yeah but it’s only been an hour.” Lapis spoke again. “We can just continue on with that we were doing before and stop making this a big deal.”

The petite employee sighed. “Look, Lapis, I know when my girlfriend is troubled and now is the right time for you to take my place.” Peridot said cordially. “Maybe if you just let me clean up instead, I’ll stop making this a ‘big deal’.”

Lapis turned her eyes to the opposite way and solely considers. Of course Peridot would act like this, and sure as hell she felt secure about her overprotectiveness. Maybe it was best to just let her go ahead anyway. “Well…okay then. I’ll rest.” She said.

“Good!” Peridot kissed her on the cheek and ambled out of the counter. Lapis watched her gait while grinning and telling herself not to blush the hundredth time from her needless caress.

Peridot hums and drives her glasses up, trying to review the clutter. First thing she had to do was pull, or maybe push back the store shelf to stand up again. So she skulks to it and tries to NOT accidently step on a chip bag and pop it. The metallic shelf was now below her sight, also occupying a whole isle space to walk on as from what Peridot realizes. “Why the hell did that Fryman guy thought that this was a lever?” she thought.

Breathing in, she kneels down and puts her fingers underneath the downed shelf. Her limbs were now rising up along with the mantelpiece she was now carrying, and at the same time she was groaning high pitched. Gradually yet effectively, the shelf was back to standing up on its base. And Peridot had some parts of her hands paired to make sure it was not going to tumble. It looked like she had this power which was controlling the metal object. Then soon, it was finally upstretched and followed with a gasp.

“You’re stronger than you look, Peri.” Lapis thinks.

Now there were the dispersed bags of snacks muddled here, there, and everywhere in the area. But before Peridot could pick up one of them, someone intruded.

The two employees glance at Pearl’s office door that creaked and was opening gradually. Their manager was finally exiting her room and checking out what had happened, skulking and sticking her head out first. Then she gasps, terrified at looking at the dispersion. She quickly ambles out and panics frantic. “WHAT ON EARTH HAPPENED HERE???” she exclaims.

“You mean you didn’t hear all the shouting and crashing from your office a while ago?” Lapis says cynically.

“Of course I heard that! That’s why I came out of my office.” Pearl replies.

“But why didn’t you come out sooner? We were nearly aggravated to death.” Peridot inquires.

“Enough of your questions you two…!” Pearl was amending her forehead and sighing frustrated. “Look just…one of you briefly explain to me what happened.”

Lapis chooses to do the explaining. “Well, an insane customer came in and thought this place WASN’T a convenience store, so he started trashing the place.”

Peridot slides into the clarifying. “But then she scared him off good. Now I’m cleaning up this mess.”

The pink haired manager respires again in both anger and confusion. An insane customer? Scaring them off? Pearl needed more contexts after that but she did not want to ask right away. “I was really close to calling 911 until I heard Lapis stopped exclaiming …” Pearl expressed. “…At least both of you look okay. Is there anything else to report?”

The employees shook their heads. Pearl takes one last gape at the dispersed snacks, glasses, etc. and faces the office door. “Your breaks are in 6 minutes. I’m going to write a record about what happened after this is all done…” she says. The doorknob was stretched and she walks back inside without notifying anything else.

“She didn’t even bother asking if I needed help…” Peridot complains. “Oh well…Back to work.”

She grabs nearest chips named CHAPS and puts it on the shelf. And then another from the other side. She knew that this was going to be one hell of a tedious job the more she returned every chip bag continuously, until her hand was suddenly seized. She looks upwards and sees that Lapis got out of her seat in the counter and tried to stop the petite employee from doing HER job.

“I have a system here when I’m arranging shelves. You’re clearly doing this wrong.” She utters. “I’m not going to sit around watching you work Peri. Let’s just clean up together.”

“Alright…”

6 minutes later and it was time for the two girls’ breaks and the store was surprisingly spotless again. Well, almost spotless anyway…There were still Sunchip packs by the end of the shelf and six minutes of time wasn’t really enough to clean. But they could forget overtime and those could be sorted up afterwards. It was time to do whatever they pleased.

“It’s 1:30 now. I’ll be outside.” Lapis realizes the break time and stands up. “Meet me there if you want.”

Peridot also rises from the isle and watches Lapis exit the store. The blue haired girl doesn’t amble too far from the entrance as she stops where they parked in the parking lot and lies beside the pickup truck. She doesn’t usually spend her breaks outdoors though, unless she just needed to smoke or something. But outdoors was something Peridot likewise needed after spending time inside a bright and quiet store. So she chooses to meet her outside.

Minutes later, Lapis overhears the entrance opening from the door’s bell chime. She was confident and content to know that it was Peridot coming to meet her. She didn’t feel like spending 15 minutes in a parking lot alone anyway. Peridot stops beside her and offers a small cup of a French vanilla cappuccino to her girlfriend. “Here you go.” She says with the cup in front of her vision and was then taken.

“This is like my 3rd cup of coffee by now, Peridot.” Lapis says.

Peridot leans on the truck beside her and then sips on her own cup of caffeine bliss. “It’s a cappuccino. They’re two different things.” Peridot says. “I know consuming too much caffeine is a little unhealthy, but it’s one way to keep us awake.”

It was quieter in the parking lot than it was in the convenience store, and also quite colder than the store too. Ventilation and static from the lightbulbs provided some sullen white noises. Meanwhile outside, there were crickets and light winds, and it took a while for any of the two girls to engage in some kind of conversation. This was more or less the perfect setting for Peridot to have a fetching conversation with her roommate. But what to talk about anyway? Probably something that isn’t too stubborn anything else awkward.

A handful of silent minutes have passed and Peridot sipped her hot drink before engaging to express what she now wanted to inquire. “Hey uh, Lapis…” She says without gaping at her. “I don’t know if you mind me asking this but…Remember those times before we moved in together?”

“You mean like how we first met and everything after that?” Lapis asks?

“Mhm. Those were pleasant moments, right?”

“I guess? We were seniors and you were taller than me.” Lapis says and chuckles. “And even though we barely knew each other at the time, you sure asked me a lot of questions immediately like I was your informant…” she recalls.

“I was new in the school! The principal told me you knew more about the place than I did so we just saw each other right on the spot!” Peridot protests.

“You weren’t really the most sociable type of person when we first met either.” Lapis says and Peridot replies with a grunt.

Their relationship goes way back to when they were around their high school years or so. Lapis was a sophomore and was in the school’s former swim team, and Peridot was new and was bound to be the smartest girl in school sooner or later. Peridot was pretty analytical when she and Lapis met in the principal’s office and began a small tour of the facility. And as for Lapis, she was a bland conversationalist for a tour guide. Every classroom Peridot was introduced to, the blue haired girl would give little to no information about the quarters other than what it was called. It was supposed to be an easy job until Peridot inquired all the contents, space, breathability, possible dangers, etc. And not only was it pointless, it was frustrating.

Both of them once stopped into the gym where Lapis had her swimming practices. “This is the pool. It’s where I go to swim.” She said.

“Hmm, has there ever been an occurrence where someone has drowned here?”

“Please don’t let me answer that. I have no idea.”

“…How often do you come here to swim?”

“I don’t know. Daily? Why do you care?”

Despite any blemishes, they were captivated by each other when the petite saw her future partner walk into the room and the other saw her seated nervously though. Lapis had the most impossible and stunning blue tresses that Peridot has never seen before. And for Lapis, Peridot’s blonde hair was just as immense as hers, and her freckles and glasses were just perfect blend adjacent to her dark green eyes. But appearances apart, nothing would really mesmerize them completely until they’ve spent the whole year together.

“We somehow ended up being in the same class, too.” Lapis says.

“I was pretty happy that we were together in the classroom.” Peridot says. “Well, I’m pretty sure you were in deep hell when that happened.”

“I was, but it’s obviously all good now.” Lapis downed her drink and began contemplating with Peridot. “But dang, it’s been a while now…I can’t remember what happened after that or how we even started hanging out.”

“I can recall what happened…” Peridot remarks. “We share the same interest in watching Camp Pining Hearts, even back then. And a week after we met, you caught me streaming Season 5 on my own in the cafeteria, and you were pretty intrigued. But you weren’t so caught up on the show than I was so, I let you watch with me.”

“OH YEAH. Now those were good times. And then we became friends.” Lapis says engrossed.

“Then we became BEST friends. And now, we’re dating and we live with each other!” Peridot acknowledges and both of them chuckle affably.

Lapis and Peridot developed their relationship closer from that story. Both of them already stopped recollecting their moments, but the story still continues. Eventually, Peridot would come to every swimming competition Lapis had and would be one of her biggest supporters, Lapis would partake and Peridot’s art and learn to make fanart with her, and continue to bond until they realized how much they enjoyed their own company. It was a euphoric sensation when the two opposites, yet so alike, would meet up weekly and daily. And now they were in college and all grown up, romantically dating each other and live happily in an oversized apartment doing the same things they did during their sophomore year.

Lapis checked her phone and saw what time it was. She was enjoying her time in the parking lot with her petite partner, and luckily they still had enough time to be outside. She looks up into the black firmament and found that it was as clear as ever. No clouds were obscuring the sky to become a dark abyss, and the stars were finally out just like what Peridot said earlier coming here. She walks nearer to the tailgate of the pickup truck and puts her almost finished cappuccino cup inside. And then she proceeds to put herself in the trunk by hopping in. Peridot hears her huff and turns to gawk at her.

“Lapis, what are you doing?” she inquires.

“Gonna go stargazing.” Lapis replies.

“On our truck?” Peridot asks.

“Mhm. I’ll be lying down on the trunk.” Lapis says, already lying down on her back against the base. She gawks at Peridot who was watching her outside the truck, and then goes to extend her hand to her roommate. “Join me, Peri.”

Peridot looks at her open grasp and grins lightly. She did not want to go stargazing since they were limited to how long they could watch the night sky. But anything for her blue haired girlfriend, and anything for spending time right. She clutches Lapis’ hand softly and climbs into the back of the pickup truck too. She was given some space to lie down beside one another and takes a few seconds to get cozy. Now it was just them and the pure night heavens.

“I looked this up one time. Another name for the trunk of a pickup truck is called a ‘bed’” Peridot elucidates.

Lapis chortles. “Huh, I wouldn’t mind putting a mattress here though.” she says. “Maybe we could put our TV on the tailgate edge too.”

“You’re a genius, Laz.” Peridot jestingly complements.

“But I’m not a bigger dork than you are though.” Lapis teases and suddenly wraps her in her arms, wrangling the petite’s hair that causes her to squirm and chuckle. She sighs in relief and looks upwards, grasping the sensation of their circumstances. “This is what I need right now. A good ol’ break with my smol girlfriend.”

Both of them try to identify which hemisphere were they facing from the truck. They were familiar with a bunch of constellations from both segments, and chiefly identified as Space Gays for their somewhat needless yet handy knowledge of stars. But tonight, all they could see were twinkling little dots connecting to nowhere. A star map could have been as convenient as their store to bring earlier.

“All I can see is Andromeda.” Peridot says. “I don’t know anything else without my tablet.”

“At least we found a galaxy.” Lapis says. “Do you just want to make up our own constellations?”

“That’s hard work but, sure.” Peridot replies. She points her finger to reach the sky and tries to make her own game of connect the dots. If only she were an actual astronomer so she could officially declare any random assemblage as a constellation. “Hmm…That one looks like a…giant hand.” Peridot says still pointing. “It looks malevolent and maybe wants to land somewhere? I’d sure want to control something like that.”

Lapis squints and tries to distinguish Peridot’s finding. “I…think I see it.” She says. “This one is mine. I’m sure you will recognize this.” Then she points her own hand into the sky and outlines the vague dots for Peridot to tell.

“Is it your tattoo?” Peridot inquires.

“Yep. I knew you would figure it out quickly.”

Lapis’ tattoo was located on her back. It was below her neck, right in between her shoulders, and literally just at the center of her back. It resembled a big tear drop but had a shining lighting that made it look more like a gem instead. Peridot thought it looked amazing the first time she saw it, and by now she has seen it numerous times for multiple reasons why. Lapis had planned on putting something really extra like putting wings coming out of the gem. That would really astonish Peridot for sure.

12 minutes have passed from their break now, and there was definitely not much time left either. The two girls had enjoyed their break outside in the parking lot in their pickup truck, having some small talk and pointing at random stars. If they thought about it, this was the best shift break they had in a while. Peridot relished the grasp of Lapis’ arm enfolding her body as they laid down on a cold tailgate. And the blue haired girl adored listening to her blonde partner chatter about nerdy stuff or stories of their past. This was exactly how they wanted everything to be…Bonding, caring for each other, and not worrying about anything at all.

One last question popped inside Peridot’s mind and needed to be answered.

“Lapis…” she says. “Have you once thought of leaving me alone…? As in if you were angry, would you just run off and never see me again…?”

Lapis felt some uneasiness hearing that. Of course her heart would break terribly, but this just proved how concerned both of them had to be. “Even if I could, I would never leave you out of a sight. I love you too much for that.”

The White Princess Diaries- Ep 2

This is how the Yorks do York!!

The White Princess –Episode 2 but feels as if it should be Episode 14…

And he’s still not in it – even as a ghost…

 Good news TWP diary readers!  

This one will be a lot shorter!

Partly because I got bored half way through and decided to find out how long it took my colour-changing kettle boil water.  Honestly!

BUT – I had been told my most favourite guy (next to Aneurard) would be making a star appearance – which was very magnanimous of him as he never appeared anywhere in TWQ (at least not in the Starz version eh diary readers…he! he! he!)

 So – I girded my loins, poured a very tall drink, and began:

 Warning! Social media revelation!

 Remember that little craze about the ‘is the dress black and blue or blue and gold?’  I bet you didn’t know it was a Tudor invention.  Mini-Lizzie-ish wears one gown throughout the whole of this episode, despite getting rounder with a big- but big- but definitely a bit bigger baby.  I was so relieved to see that the Battle of Bosworth made very little change on the budget for women’s clothing (apart from a significant reduction in the size of Cecily’s hat collection and the fact that Henry now seems to be clad in the finest carpet)

 Going back to said gown (yes we are) What is interesting ( to me anyway) is that the top of the gown was blue (I think) and the bottom of the gown was gold ( I think) and to me it seemed in danger of merging totally into one colour as she got bigger.  

Or – it could have been a cleverly crafted represented her transition from the House of York to the Bungalow of Tudor – so she sort of became a Yudor - not to be confused with Yoda! (Jedi is she? In the wrong production she is).

 That’s that lot off my chest, so here we go,  *strains of all too familiar music are heard ..*

 Well – King Whoenry appears to be wearing a smoking jacket (pity its not blazing) and Mini-ish Lizzie s in said confused about its identity dress. (apparently now available to buy £40 should do it).  All to show you that he now really fancies the bloomers off her and she is playing all hard to get (see that attitude disappear by episode three…) #spoileralert?

 Oh for George of Clarence’s sake – now we have the Battle of Bosworth being reenacted in a bird cage. Honestly!  It’s a bird cage! ‘How cheep’ I hear you say!  And you would be right to twitter!  I think they made it out of all the spare wood from the trees they hauled into Bruges – er I mean – Westminster –when Eddie had that marvelous masked ball!  You know! The one where his wife wore a unicorn head and his brother went beserk!

 But who is that by the door? Oh my god – its Moaning Morton – we know it is him because he tells it is and is very helpful by also reeling off all his titles because he is also very peeved that he was not in the earlier episodes.  After all, did you know it was him who actually persuaded Rory of Buckingham to have that awful haircut!  

 Now Dr Whoenry is going on a royal progress. An ideal time for the flowers in the attic (which is where Woodiwitch and her children now appear to live) to regale us with lots of little details that we would not know have happened since King Richard was killed (sob sob sob wail! I will never get over that….obviously)

 Apparently Stafford has not bent the knee (well there were two of them really so there would be four to bend)

 Hang on!  Cursed Codpieces!  Francis Lovell did what?  

Now apart from all you first time TWQ watchers who may be going “Who?”  I can assure you that Francis Lovell (King Richard’s best mate and part-time camoflague expert) NEVER EVER EVER bent his knee to Tudor.

 Now – I admit. He may have wanted to bend his knee and plant it squarely in the royal jewels area of a certain Chewdor bloke, but that’s it.  Now it appears    “Lovell is our man and when we find him…”

Well best of luck with that then as I searched all ten episodes three years ago with a tooth comb and a magnifying glass and never got a sniff!  But, for dramatic licence I bet Nokia Ned may suddenly have his GPS turned on and find him with no trouble at all #spoileralert

 Now they are all getting dressed in up in everything to go everywhere (Yes they are EE Mobile) – but not York.  It seems there is no service there.  Or no one wants to pay service to him.  King Henrywho decided to wear black (very fitting) and even found a sword to play with. Even if he wasn’t quite sure which was the sharp end.

 Shirking Stanley loves his new velvet beret so much he has hardly taken it off at all since he bought it.  And I bet is it reversible!

 Even the horses are decked in gold plastic – sorry – expensive gold armour.

 King Whoenry is in a real strop because he keeps telling us there is NO WAY he is going to York as they are all bad men up there who loved a man who according to some historians never ever went further than Warwick.  But Mini Lizzie-ish is determined he will go to York, because she is secretly writing to her ex-lovers very best ex-mate who you haven’t seen before and asking him to kill the husband she now has and making him an ex-husband! This series is almost ex-rated. (its certainly not ex-citing)

 Because King Whoenry is scared, he puts his best crown on and crows on about Margaret of York (last seen in 1468 exiting over the channel) has attacked two ships with the aid of Captain Jack Sparrow – and has obviously done that because Henry is such a clever usurper he has stopped all her trade restrictions  (God this is painful and apologies – I invented the Capt Sparrow bit in there just to liven up the script. It was actually Capt Birdseye)

 The silent ladies-in-waiting can't be bothered to wait and all bugger off somewhere to be silent somewhere else but no one realises – or cares.

 Now there’s rather a lot of royal mail – and no where near enough of a certain royal Male –as there are letters flying about all over the place.  To Francis Lovell, and Harry Stafford (the dead one?) and my sainted the king’s lady mother.

 Ooh look – just in time! it's Nokia Ned. And he has a letter saying Henry’s no good in bed – does no one realise he could have just sent a text and stayed in the stables?

 Lizzie-Mini-ish is now off to York because King Whoenry has been told if he doesn’t go to York he will have to go to bed with no dinner.  

 Everyone is worried about Mini-Lizzie-ish because although her child is blooming no-one can even see it beneath the very slim 22 inch waist encased in the gold-not blue-not gold gown. I’m not. She is not pregnant – obviously – only in this epic – sorry episode!

 But now she can’t go because of the swearing sickness – oh sorry – it’s the sweating sickness – its just this episode which is making me swear.  So instead of her daughter the older Lizzie-ish decides she is going to York and even packs a nice flock suitcase –and uses Nokia Ned to print off her bedding – sorry – boarding passes.

 I then got very confused – but maybe because my kettle actually started to boil colourfully!  There were some children, the sight of King Henrywhos chicken legs in bed and then the children appeared to be being attacked by Cardinal Moaning. (Well  we didn’t see any of that in TWQ did we ladies! Hmnnn?  What does that say about a Tudor court?)

 Basically Lizzie-Maxi – is now a prisoner to prevent her going north of Warwick and Moaning Morton will pray for her - like bugger he will!

 Can I summarise this next bit? Please?  Great!!

1.    Henry has a cloak by Axminster. It certainly isn’t a shag pile!

2.    His armour appears to be gold PVC

3.    Everyone is getting sick (I know the feeling)

4.    Lady Elizabeth De La Poodle (geddit?) is shocked when she is told she can no longer ride side-saddle because times have changed!  Bloody hell! Thank god for the Tardis!  We are obviously now in the 19th Century!

 So they all sod off to York (other northern cities are available)

 Lizzie Maxi is now ripping up her underwear, writing on it with blood, and giving Nokia Ned another ring. Unluckily this time, he doesn’t pick up. He’s a bit thick and it takes his horse – Shergar – to tell him his phone is ringing (sorry – show him where Elizabeth’s ring has landed in the long grass!)

 Suitably engaged (he! he!) – she now flings her underwear out of the window so that Nokia Ned can hoof it up to a nice country mansion where Francis Lovell may well have been living since 1473.

 Now that King Whoenry has left London – Moaning Morton is shutting the whole of the city down and leaving everyone in the dark.  Teddy (the Earl of Warwick – not the dead one tho) wants to play “Fox and Geese” but Moaning Morton has hidden all the toys away.  Bloody spoilsport!  I bet that is because even Teddy could have beaten Dr Whothehellishe at board games.

 Now The Duchess of Hatlessfield is back and so goes to visit everyone in the dark and is so pissed off she decides she is going to Burgundy because that’s where all the booze is!  

 But meanwhile…somewhere in leafy England… the postman has arrived…..Nokia Ned rings a bell ….a door opens… an old man with an Aneurin-Bur coloured beard answers the door and takes a letter from him…no one speaks a bloody word mind you during this scene…..so this could be a completely different programme or the adverts…but then, the letter says….something like…

 “Dear Francis Lovell, I know you really have lots of important titles as you were the most influential man in England apart from the King in 1483-85 but I am rapidly dying of blood loss and have already written 40,000 words.  We are so sorry but we won’t be able to meet you in York now as my battery is flat and London is completely in the dark.  As we can’t get there would you mind awfully forgiving Emma Frost and Philippa Gregory for leaving you out of The White Queen completely and for not casting Henry Cavill in your character now they have realised you actually existed - and go and stab Henry for me.  Thanking you in anticipation. Ex Queenie and her sprogs”

 Now I know we didn’t see Aneurard’s best mate inTWQ (neither did he) but I know a few things about Frank (we are on good terms!)

a)    He was not older than Aneurard – or King Whoenry – in fact he was about the same age as King Whoenry.

b)    If he had a beard – it would not have been that one.  

c)    He did not spend his months after Bosworth living in a house, a very nice house in the country….he spent most of them in sanctuary

d)    He did not bend his knee….oh, done that one.

 So – after a lot more of whatever went on – we are in York!  And the good people of Yorkshire have already heard about King Whoenry as the mayor ( I assume) steps up – looking all northern in the best Starz tradition – ie he is wearing a pork pie hat – and hands over all his money to the king. You didn’t see that in TWQ either #justsaying

 There is a flurry of activity, Gandalf in a blue cloak – oh sorry I think that is supposed to be Francis – and because King Henrywho can’t hide behind anyone this time he gets wounded. Disclaimer – other versions of this historic visit to York are available.

Cue horses riding about in Sherwood Forest ( aka Yorkshire) Bells ringing – a very dark church where the king takes refuge and a sudden clarity when he remembers he is 28 years old. Nice to know they got his age right here – they couldn’t make their minds up in TWQ.

 So, the rebels with a bloody good cause ride north and are chased by Stand Up Stanley. But him and his 30 men are stopped by 5 rebels parked across the road and as Francis disappears into Sherwood forest in his hood ( this is how legends start girls and boys) Stanley – or it could have been Grasper Chewdor – bored now - decides that 30 against 5 is not good odds for him so they let them go.

 They then report back to King Whoenry that they lost him at Middleham.  Where?  Is a entire audience now looking around at each other and saying “Where’s Middleham?” OK – think north of Sheriff Hutton…sorry Woodville Manor North Yorkshire!

 And still Francis has not said a word as he rides of back to Bestwood…with his merry rebels and a friar – they are so tired they need to find some tuck….

 Well that excitement over – heres the rest in a nutshell…

      I.         Lizziemini is still in the same frock

     II.         People are dying of the swearing sickness – I call it that because Dr King Whoenry swears it was nothing to do with his mercenaries brought out of prision to usurp a country

   III.         Lizzie maxi is playing Rapunzel in a Tower

  IV.         A priest is smoking in the diddly diddly cloister

    V.         Henry can write (see below)

  VI.         Lizzie ish pisses off Moaning Morton by breaking into the treasury and stealing all Henry’s (well Aneurard’s really) gold

VII.         Breathing in very deeply is apparently a medieval form of abortion

VIII.         Teddy and his sister give all the gold away to the poor ( Hurrah for the Yorks)

  IX.         Everyone is now playing ‘Fox and Geese” at least they are all wearing beaks

    X.         Lizzies (x 2) are both fed up of being cooped up ( I told you HortonhearsaWho was a chicken!)

  XI.         James of Scotland needs a wife – so Henrywho thinks it could be Lizzie (which one? Who cares? It doesn’t happen!)

XII.         Mad Cags is told to stop flirting with NotGrasper

XIII.         Princess Cecily doesn’t do much but at least she’s got off the bed but is writing secret letters to Mad Cags – well no one else want to hear her whinge

XIV.         All of the people are suddenly cured and thank MiniLizzi for it – which pisses of her mum because she wanted everyone to die, whoever was left to blame the king, and whoever was left, probably Francis, to kill Dr Who.

XV.         Yes, I am losing the plot. And the will to live (and what plot?)

XVI.         King Henrywho suddenly realizes Teddy is not so bare of lineage as he thought – remembers he is a York – and locks him up in the Tower.  That will be the last you see of him – until he is at least 54 and meeting Perkin Warden

XVII.         Oh yes – where has he gone?

XVIII.         The peasants are revolting ( the old ones are the best)

XIX.         Dr Whoenry is so frightened that Mag Cags is going to knit him a personal bodyguard.  

XX.         The king is not at all happy that his wife is more popular than him and people shout out for her in the street (note to Lizzie – avoid Paris and Mercedes Benz cars)

XXI.         Francis is now in Burgundy – I hope he has taken his Visa-card with him as if he ends up in the wine bar with Duchess Dyson it could be expensive. I bet she sucks up some drink!

XXII.         Grasper and Strange – or it’s that Strange Grasper are being sent to Burgundy (psst don’t mention the trade restrictions!)

XXIII.         Stanley is pissed that he wont get the chaunce to shew erf his accent and his nuu beret!

XXIV.         As it is now raining the king is in a pac-a-mac.  Its not just any pac-a-mac – it’s a designer leather pac-a-mac.  Its DickheadNY!

XXV.         Suddenly Not so Mini-Lizzi is nine months preggers and it is time for her confinement.  The bloody lycra in that blue-but gold-but blue dress is amazing!

 The end – I can’t wait for Ep 3 – apart from I can-  just to see what happens when the booze cruise hits Burgundy.

 Appendix 1

 “Dear Mrs King Whoenry, this is your husband writing to you from York.  Well, its my scribe writing actually as I don’t now how to and all the furniture has disappeared and so I am stuck with standing up, swanning around in my best Berber, and glowering at everyone like a sulky teenager.  A man you will never have heard of called Francis Lovell has stabbed me in the flesh! Yes! Me! I have flesh! Ok I know it looks like scales but I am using medication and hope it will get better soon….anyway… so I am wounded.  Not mortally. In fact, its barely a fleshwound.  More of a scratch really. In fact, it probably never happened at all. So, I am coming home. Its raining, my carpet is very wet and heavy, my plastic armour chafes and as I have eaten my fill of Yorkshire Parkin.  In fact if I ever hear the word ‘Parkin’ again, I will have someone’s head.  Honest! Your Tudor husband, Doctor King Henry the King of Kings. PS…will you still be wearing that blue-but gold-but blue dress when I get home you minx?  You know how partial I am to a bit of parti-coloured damask!”

 Appendix 2 –

Dear Francis Lovell

If you fancy a pint, I can hop on the next P&O Ferry!

Much love – your favourite diarist (and author of Desmond’s Daughter).

A NIGHT TO TRANSGENDER - PART II (Scare-BNB) I woke up early this morning to get my 'Dear John' letter ready to write to Kaska so I could make my escape. I woke up the two of them and said they could take the bed as I saw they were shivering on the floor with the window open. I hurried my packing, got clean, and even placed the note in a somewhat hidden spot behind the TV. I could hear Kaska rustling about and she came out of the room 15 minutes later and said, "We were off our tits last night weren't we?. Did you sleep ok?" I was nervous and must had that guilty look on my face when I responded, "Nah, it was great". Her eyes immediately started staring in the direction of the TV, "What's this?", she asked. Christ! She picks up the letter and begins reading it: " Dear Kaska, thank you for this amazing time, I feel like I have been an inconveinence and so I think it's best that I go and explore the city on my own. I thank you for everythng you've done and wish you and your art career the best. Signed, Rene". She looks up at me and says, "Were you going to pull a runner on me?". For a second, I thought this is where she snaps and mystery exposes itself; fattened for the kill, I was ruining her plan to sell me into that Polish sex ring. "Oh no...." I nervously responded, " I just didn't want to take your bed, and doesn't seem like you really have the space...". "Nonsense", she replied, "You're staying", we were going to make art like we said." Just then, Jezebel tears through the room, "Has anyone seen my bloody skirt and bra, I have to get to my electronics class!" I was defeated and told Kaska that I would stay another night but I'm going to go out for a bit and then meet her at the studio. I left thinking that I just ruined the whole thing and this may cause a new awkward energy. Who knew that a girl that had been drinking since the morning before would have the wits to detect a 5x7 notecard from across the room. Her senses were impeccable. I met Kaska at the studio around 4pm where she had already been working on her newest piece. It was nice to know this place was actually real and that it wasn't another hang out for the dead end boys or a sex hostel. My mood was apprenhensive and a bit annoyed at this point. I went under the rolled top door into the studio thinking I would just stay for a short time. It was cold and debris was everywhere, it felt like a squat, and I shouted to see exactly where she was. She yelled from up the stairs and that is where I found her painting and smoking. There was loud dancehall music coming from one of the studio spaces below, but for the most part the place was empty. She said, "Do you want to meet my favorite person?" We went downstairs towards the dancehall music and past the huge clouds of marijuana smoke which were hiding a thin Scottish man in his 50's working on editing photographs. This was Stephen, and he was an artist and a very nice man. We had a great talk about art and Los Angeles and New York. We even discussed Francis Bacon's studio which Kaska had never seen. He quoted Picasso and mused about how dumb it is for artists to be fearful of modern tools like Photoshop to help them make their pieces. I agreed and this talk settled me; I was feeling inspired now. We went back upstairs and Kaska says, "So you want to paint?" "Yes", I replied. Originally Kaska and I were going to colaborate on a portrait but I was more inspired by Jezebel - she was such a character. Kaska gave me an old canvas that had a dumb bird that Liam painted on it and I began working. We painted in the cold air of the room with only one dim light and some ambient glow that came in from the overscast outside. We painted for about two hours and I finished my piece. Kaska was nice enough to let me use all of her paints and materials to do this piece. This was good. I had paint on me and I was smelling linseed oil....and I was happy. We decided to take a cab back to her place and on the ride we started to talk. Sober, Kaska and I had more in common and were able to discuss things like showing our work and the inspirations of artists. It felt more like a give and take between us and the madness of yesterday had washed away. On our way home she asked if I wanted to see the Necropolis (cemetary) and I said "Sure". We strolled through the cemetary as the clouds and sun sunk into the dark. It was raining in the distance and the gravestones looked amazing. I had not been inspired to paint anything with Kaska until we were in this cemetary. I started getting ideas and was upset that I hadn't bring my gear. It started to rain, and so we left for food. She asked if I Jezebel could join us and I told her i can't really do another night of debauchery. She said, "Don't worry, I feel sick, and I know Jezebel has Jury Duty on Monday." Jury Duty?! She is a busy one isn't she? Jezebel joins us and despite having a her third hair of the dog, she was quite tame. We sat and talked about the differences of living in Glasgow vs London; Jezebel says, "I love London, but there are far too many immigrants" Kaska goes, "You're a tranny and you have issues with accepting immigrants?" At this point, I was glad that I stayed. There were both present and I felt connected to them. I even said, "Wow guys, this has been great to meet the two of you, how long have you know each other?". Laughing, Jezebel says, " I only met this b**tch a week ago. I started going out to pubs after my girlfriend commited suicide." Kaska and I were shocked. Me, because I thought they were old friends, and Kaska because she thought he liked dudes, and they'd been spooning all night. Let alone, the fact that he girlfriend recently died and he seemed as normal as anyone you'd meet. Kaska goes,"I'm sorry, wow you seem not affected, are you ok?" Jezebel responded with telling us it had been hard and started to pull up a picture of his girlfriend, the first one of her face, and then the second one of the gaping slice to her wrist. Kaska jumped back and said, "Why the hell do you have that?" "Because she sent it to me before they found her." Kaska and I couldn't speak. Right there, In that moment, I saw a relfective side of Jezebel; a deep sadness was on her face as she stared at the picture. I could tell she drank to cover the pain she'd endured in life and that the picture she carried around, while morbid, was somehow comforting to her and the last intimate connection with her ex of 3 years. I think we were all exhausted at this point. We went back to Kaska's and they decided to watch some TV while Jezebel talked about how she advertises for Johns and how it's a lot of straight men who request her. Kaska put on Taggart for me, a famous Scottish detective show like our Columbo. They both told me how popular it was and i was happy that it was unintentionnaly hilarious. The acting and the people were so bad in it. The plot line was about a bunch of murders happening in the gay community. The show runners obviously took these episodes as a chance to comment on homosexuality. Everyone in the show seemed to come out of the closet, the policemen, the old businessman and his lover, the kid stealing boy porn in the shop, and the erotic way the dead bodies were arranged. We kept making jokes that there was no actual plot and they just wanted to show gay things. They both started falling asleep, and so they went to bed, leaving me to find out who the gay killer was - I was entranced. The killer was revealed to be the one American they put into the show. Of course, that is perfect, the American dude hates the gays because he fears he may be gay. Was this all planned? Kaska said if I don't watch out, I may turn gay. Then the friends, Jezebel, and this? Even thoughGlasgow didn't turn me gay, it did surprise me. We woke up that next morning and did some filming back at the Necropolis. I hugged both Kaska and Jezebel goodbye and told Jezebel she could keep the painting I did of her - she was elated. As I walked away, I thought how amazing this whole experience had been. Will Kaska become a big artist, will Jezebel convict whomever she has on her jury, and will I ever seen Tranny Nun Bangers? No one knows, that's what makes life worth living. Next stop, Edinburgh.

#ChooseYourPuzzle - Writing challenge by @your-highnessmarvel

Prompt: Bruce banner on a front lawn right after the rain, “when I was young...”

Warnings: lil bit of Angst, smoking?

A/N: Okey so first of all I procrastinated posting this like hell because I didn’t properly write in like a year so excuse my rusty writings. Also this doesn’t fit in the canon. ALSO I’m sorry I’m late!

Do you have what it takes?

You’ve been a colleague, maybe even a friend of Natasha Romanoff. You worked together before her time with Shield and she kept you close afterwards. It wasn't like you were that important in this game of heroes and villains, gods and demons. You were just a small fish in this big pond, a mere associate of associates.

For that reason you never understood why Natasha didn't ditch you.

Obtaining risky information was your work field and made your skills more valuable than yourself. Despite that you kept your head down, only working on smaller jobs, changing location after every paycheck. Some would call that paranoid but for you, it was a simple necessity. Even little jobs required an awful lot of work-most of it wasn't exactly legal. You looked innocent though, and that was luck enough to be successful.

When Natasha called you, you were, quite frankly, surprised and more important, anxious. She never reached out for contact after Shield has been compromised by Hydra. At that time Natasha knew something was up, and she asked you if you could dig trough some files, ask around to find out if the feeling in her gut was right.

It usually was.

You personally weren’t interested if Shield fell and Hydra would rise. Both sides paid well and you weren't someone with a moral code other than to not have unfinished business.

But Natasha was somewhat a friend of you and while you weren’t the most friendly criminal on Earth you deemed yourself quite loyal.

Loyalty is always hard to find and it had opened many doors for you. People trusted you and it's easy to backstab trusting people. You wouldn't dare to backstab the Black Widow though.

When Natasha called you, she asked you to do something for her. She didnt exactly tell you what. So logically it was something you wouldn't agree on it just like that.

Still, you were curious why she called you just now.

The avengers were hunting down the last remains of Hydra and Natasha suspected you knew where high ranked agents hid, what their next moves were. you didn't knew a damn thing. People knew your connections reached far. And that, with you, sometimes informations traveled from one side to another and back.

You agreed to meet up with her and discuss just what exactly Natasha could possibly want from you.

On 4pm sharp a black car parked in front of the hotel you were currently staying in. You were already waiting outside, umbrella in one hand and with the other you tried to keep your skirt from flashing people. It had been raining in NYC for nearly a week now, and Spring was nowhere in sight.

A man stepped out of the car and introduced himself as Agent Davis. Agent Davis was a tall, broad, tanned man. Blond hair, blue eyes, he could work as a Hilfiger model. Why would a man like him work as an Agent? Was it that well paid? It must have been like that because you couldn't imagine another reason to risk his life for one of the most problematic group of people in this century.

Yes, of cause they saved the world from aliens, from robots, from downright evil people and a whole lot other problems. But, and thats where the Avengers started to get problematic for a lot of people, those problems mostly existed because of them. If there were no shield, there wound't have been a half god come to Earth trough a portal to conquer it with an army of aliens. Wound't it have been for the Avengers Sokovia wouldn't have been ripped apart by a 8ft tall Robot. Just to name a few hero-made problems. So there couldn’t possibly another reason than a whole lot of money to put a target on ones head.

On the ride to the meeting point you weighted out pros and cons to ask Agent Davis why he would work for the Avengers.

The cons outweighed the pros. You wouldn't start a conversation with two Agents mostly for the reason to maintain as anonymous as possible, but probably also because your mind was to occupied with guesses of what could have possibly moved Natasha to contact you.

When, after an one hour long drive, the car made its way up to the Avengers HQ compound, you were sure it was something serious. Way too serious for your liking.

The compound rested on top of a hill outside New York City, it was white and if the sun would hit just right, you could make it out when you were in downtown Manhattan. It was like a sleeping giant, packed with heroes, weapons and secrets and the thought of stepping into this monstrosity made your stomach turn.

Way too big, everything was way too big, way too serious.

You hoped for a little coffee shop to meet Natasha in, a little bit of shit talking and you ultimately politely declining her offer, crying about having some other business. You couldn't decline this though, you were sure of it.

If you had accepted an offer from a European mobster two weeks ago you would have been half way to Italy by now, enjoying expensive champagne on a private plane.

There would be no champagne at the compound.

The car came to an halt right in the front of wide stairs leading up to an enormous front of glass. People went in and out by the second. You didn’t imagine the compound this busy.

On the last plane of stairs Natasha waited for you. Crossed arms, wide stance and an unreadable expression on her face. If it wasn't for the busy people around her and the HQ in the background you would have thought you travelled back in time.

Agent Davis opened the door for you. You thanked him and said your goodbyes, your voice shaking a little bit. You were caught off guard. Agent Davis didn't say a word, but he spared a smile.

"Y/L/N. Long time no see." As the car drove off and you moved up the stairs Natasha greeted you with a similar serious voice like when she called you. It wasn't the best of signs.

"You don't look a day older than the last time I saw you.” She smiled now, just a little bit, and not for long but it was enough to make you feel a bit more safe. You smiled back closing the umbrella as you took the last stairs and stepped inside.

"So, Natasha, what is so urgent that you had me brought here?"

"Patience, dear. It's so good to see you again."

"You never bothered to call me."

"I was busy."

"So am I. I have business to attend, so can we get this over with?"

"Not really, you don't." She smiled, and you were caught off guard once again. You should have prepared better.

"You have been watching me?"

"Since you came back to town. Didn't see much business you attended to." You sighted, closed your eyes as you two were moving up yet another flight of stairs. Geez this building has more stairs than heroes pent up.

"Besides, I don't think you have any more businesses to attend after I explained you our offer." She mocked you. Good old Nat.

"Our?"

"Dear, I work in a team now." with that sentence, she opened a darkened glass door to what seemed like a conference room.

You excused yourself two hours later for a break, having to think over. everything you just got told.

You stepped outside. Next to flight of stairs you entered the building over earlier was a patch of grass, some may consider it a front lawn. You just thought it was a sad attempt to make the block of concrete a little bit more friendly.

It stopped raining and you lighted a cigarette. Bad habit of yours but you never considered stopping. Made an awful lot of things easier, or so it seemed.

Bruce Banner had followed you outside.

Natasha probably sent him, trying to sympathize with you. But you just needed a break.

"You can decline the offer if you want to, you know." Is not the sentence you expected but you could certainly work with it.

"I'm not so sure about that.” You took a drag from your cigarette.

"And I'm sure you know that."

He smiled. An honest smile. You weren't expecting that. "Nat can be a bit... demanding at times. But I'm sure you know that." He knew about the relationship between you and Natasha. You weren't expecting that either.

"What did she told you about me?" You were uncomfortable now. People knowing stuff about you made your skin itch.

"That your skill and expertise makes you valuable for a whole lot of people. That you like it to keep everything for yourself, she said you like to work on your own. And that you don't keep information from wandering off if the right price is offered." He retold you everything Natasha did tell him, but he didn’t seem to be that much interested in this kind of information. Nevertheless your skin was burning now.

"Then why call me for something this important?" Your cigarette was half gone and you didn't intend to keep talking to Bruce after it burned down completely, thrown away and left to dissolve onto the puddle sprinkled grass.

You didn't need small talk right now, no winning over by a kind soul. Businesses needed to be attended to, you had a timetable and you were running behind 3 appointments already. Or so you told yourself.

But, and this made you question yourself, what did Bruce had to say about you? What did Natasha tell him that made him seek a conversation with you, when you clearly weren't up for it.

"Why did Natasha send you of all people, after me? If you know so much about me what made you think that you could possibly win me over for your cause?"

"Nat didn't send me. I'm here on my own, you know? And I personally think you could help us a lot... If you want to."

"I’m a criminal."

"We all are to some extend."

You started to think that maybe, just maybe, he was genuinely interested in your person, not just your abilities.

You smiled into your cigarette. You didn't knew exactly why, but a smile seemed fitting in this situation. No business, no working matter to discuss about. Just to people talking.

"When I was young I wanted to help people. Didn't matter what or who, l just wanted to give support to people in need. I can listen, I can comprehend. Keep stuff organised. I was the go to person for rumors in high school. And in the blink of an eye I found myself between criminals and information that makes you puke out your intestines. And now I help the cruel fulfill their cruelness. I never thought helping people could be bad, but here I am; an international fugitive with no moral code and currently talking to an avenger!"

You were railed up. This whole situation just seemed so ironic. Getting offered a job with the opportunity to finally help people and, potentially, kinda maybe help the world out.

It's just...

"So just for the sake of helping people you threw everything else out of the window?"

"in a way...?”

"Well maybe you don't have to it this time."

Your cigarette has been burned down some time ago, but you clinched to it like it was the last thing that kept you from dying.

Oh, the irony.

Your whole life people cared only about what you could or couldn't do. They questioned you. Whats the price? How long will it take you? Are you able to do it?

And now this man, out of all people, the man with the monster inside him. The man with the ability to wipe out whole cities, the man who’s judged and hunted for what he’s able to do instead of being celebrated to keep it contained, to not destroy everything around him.

This man is telling you, that you can pick out your dream from the street under the window you threw it out of such a long time ago, if you just had the guts to leave the comfort and security of loneliness.

You didn't have them.

You gave that up a long time ago.

"Thank you, Bruce. But tell the others I'm not interested."

And with that, you stepped from under the roof out on the soggy grass. Your heels were boring themselves into the mud. It had started raining again. You didn't care.

"At least let me call you a car to bring you back!"

"I'll find my way. Goodbye."

You didn't turn around.

It's bad for business. Or so you told yourself.

How to Wear a Bright Yellow Blouse 5 Days in a Row

http://fashion-trendin.com/how-to-wear-a-bright-yellow-blouse-5-days-in-a-row/

How to Wear a Bright Yellow Blouse 5 Days in a Row

Born in London and raised in Ghana, Natasha Nyanin is the creative mind behind The Ecstatic Flash. In this installment of 5 Days 5 Ways, she chronicles the journey of one yellow Tome blouse over the course of a recent work trip to Costa Rica. Scroll down to see how it went.

Despite my desire to be the perfectly put-together traveler who struts through the airport clad in imperturbable grace, I am, instead, the one you see at the check-in counter immersed in my hurried ritual of rearranging my clothes in an attempt to defy the laws of physics and reduce the weight of my luggage — because I am also the one too cheap to pay the penalty.

I am Natasha Nyanin, a writer and creative consultant who does not know how to pack light. When Amelia approached me with the idea of styling one item of clothing five different ways for five days, the memory of hand-carrying a six-pound silk taffeta robe aboard a flight from Casablanca to New York was still fresh. I thought it would present the perfect opportunity to whittle down the weight of my luggage on a work trip to Costa Rica.

Of course, I picked the lightest item possible — a yellow silk Tome shirt with blouson sleeves — and then proceeded to weigh down my luggage with myriad options with which to style it. So, you see, I defeated myself from the onset. At least I had an excuse: Four projects, one story to research and a wedding to attend in the space of five days demanded a girl have her options. Photographer Colby Blount and I stayed at Florblanca resort in Santa Teresa, Costa Rica: a conglomeration of villas a stone’s throw from the ocean’s roar. Inspiration abounded.

Day 1: Travel Day

I am living what I like to call my “Year of Yellow,” and as such, the hue had to make its unalloyed debut in the drama that is Travel Day. I usually travel in some form of a suit, but I don’t always do so as an incarnation of Katt Williams. This time I did, going full-tilt monochrome yellow in a Zara suit and comfortable Rothy’s flats. My travel suits are, in my private little fantasy, a petit homage to Yves Saint-Laurent’s Le Smoking and the influence that moment in fashion had on me personally.

The Tome blouse here exists only as a whisper, a suggestion, yet enough to make a statement. To address the small matter of the bitter New York cold, I broke up the sunny color and added texture with a brown teddy bear coat from Ducie London.

Most importantly: How was I going to transport a working closet to Costa Rica? Enter three carry-ons that I find as perfect in their practicality as their presentation: Lotuff Leather’s No. 12 Weekender is androgynous and all-American; Mansur Gavriel’s new travel bag speaks deliciously to my delusions of being a minimalist; and the suitcase sample from Globe-Trotter is steeped in history and yet somehow quite modern. I find each piece of luggage speaks to aspects of my personality and the confluence of the three serves the practical purpose of allowing me to pack far more than I could ever need for a short trip. And so the stage is set for the comedy that is traveling United Airlines.

Day Two: Lounging

To say I have no aversion to color would be an understatement, but I live for the simplicity of monochrome ensembles in crisp white or dominating black. Our home for the stay, Florblanca, inspired this look, which brings together the freshness of white and the joie de vivre of print: large swaths of uninterrupted color pitted against a swirl of pigments in a headwrap by Brazilian swimwear designer Adriana Degreas. The wrap skirt, with its whimsical ruffles, seemed apropos for Costa Rica. The white Zara crop top (acquired for £5 in a long-ago sale), worn back-to-front as a bolero, was a spur-of-the-moment addition as we walked out of the door of our villa.

Day 3: Married to Yellow

“I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way.” – John Keating, Dead Poets Society

This corny quote is a cardinal point in my style. I don’t have a huge wardrobe — in fact, most of it’s in storage as I make a transition from my life as a Centers for Disease Control Scientist in Atlanta to a What-Exactly-Am-I? in New York. So I re-wear my clothes with pride, and am not married to what an item is advertised to be. I wore this yellow dress — which my Atlanta seamstress, Miss Anh, fashioned out of six yards of Marc Jacobs silk chiffon in the spirit of Rihanna’s ruby red Giambattista Valli dress — while Colby and I were working in Tuscany last autumn. When I was invited to an old friend’s wedding in Costa Rica (which I used as an impetus to devise this working trip), I loved the idea of wearing it against the greens and blues of a tropical beach.

Inspired by the prior day’s look, I decided the Tome top could be worn as a headwrap to re-contextualize the dress. (One of the best things about being African is learning the joy of headwraps at an early age.) I don’t wear earrings often, but I find this pair, given to me by Brazilian jewelry designer Bia Daidone, to be elegant with an unmistakable presence.

Day 4: Horsing Around

Borrowing Delpozo’s notion of unexpected color-play (or perhaps inspired by a pack of Starburst), I paired this geometric jacket, which the brand loaned me, with yellow and pink and ecru and navy and a hint of maroon for an afternoon spent riding through the Costa Rican rainforest. In the spirit of equestrianism, I thought the Mansur Gavriel travel bag would make a fine complement; it reminds me of the rigidity of saddles and saddle bags. I did not wear heels to ride (though the ridiculous idea did cross my ridiculous mind), but had I been sporting this ensemble on any other terrain, my much-loved navy No.21 bow mules would have been the shoe of choice. For all its cliché-laden implications, riding my mare, Blanquita, against the backdrop of the setting sun was the perfect benediction to our quick stay in Costa Rica.

Day 4, Part 2: Not Fishing for Compliments

In my opinion, there’s little quite so ladylike as a blouson sleeve. Ocean-bound for a morning of fishing, comfort and sophistication had to find their middle ground. The Tome top is worn here in its purest form over a white, wide-legged jumpsuit by Cinq à Sept. The hope with this look is that sophistication is borne of simplicity. But still, for a bit of added spice (and to keep the sun out of my eyes when I wasn’t saving the hat from the wrath of the wind), I added this jumbo hat seen ubiquitously atop the heads of market sellers in Ghana, which I implored my mother to source and send to me before a trip to Chile last year. Who knew yellow matched tuna so well?

Day 5: City Mouse

Back in the city and hitting the pavement running with one more day of yellow-blousing to go, I reverted to my uniform. I wear these black stretch leggings from Club Monaco like it’s my job, just as I do these sensible Jimmy Choo boots, which are the only pair of boots I own.

To mask the unflattering waistband of the leggings and to break up the blouse and the bottoms, I added a velvet and gold belt from Tara Jarmon, which I adore for its vintage-feeling clasp. But this look is truly anchored by the coat, which was made for me in 24 hours by the sweetest seamstress in Fès, Morocco named Bouchra. I’d been ambling through the medina searching for lining for a cape (long story) when the fabric merchant, Rais, pulled out 2.5 meters of striped wool to entice me. The minute I saw the wool, all I could see was a coat, and so Bouchra sewed the dream into reality.

Wearing the same blouse all week was more than an exercise in creativity, it was a study in sustainability: a reminder that I can make so much out of one thing. Most importantly, having to analyze my approach after the instinctive process of throwing things together made me realize just how incidental clothes are in my life (well, as incidental as something so deliberate can be). I’ve always thought of getting dressed as a situation in which the whole transcends the sum of its parts. Yet, in parsing the parts, I found that the memory each piece carries within it — whether a crazed day in Fès or the sound of a piano at my first Delpozo fashion show — holds the most water. Realizing that these pieces culled from all over are the threads that link my world and dissolve its borders brought me so much joy. It reminded me of my favorite quotes from The English Patient:

“We die. We die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we’ve entered and swum up like rivers. Fears we’ve hidden in – like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. Where the real countries are. Not boundaries drawn on maps with the names of powerful men…That’s what I’ve wanted: to walk in such a place with you. With friends, on an earth without maps.”

Photos by Colby Blount. Follow Natasha at @natashanyanin.

How The Juul Changed My Life: 5 Stories From Former Cigarette Smokers

While the Juul may be a new and trendy nicotine vaporizing device, it’s much more for people that use the device to quit smoking cigarettes. Using the device for this purpose is often overlooked. That’s why here at JuulWraps, we wanted to remind people of the true beauty of the Juul, and how it’s changed people’s lives for the better.

Esther

“I started smoking at 13. To be honest, I can't even pin the blame on peer pressure. Maybe it was my teenage desire to rebel; maybe I just wanted to look cool. I'm not sure why I started, but I know that I've never been able to stop. And I haven't had a day without a cigarette in at least 14 years. I've owned four e-cigarettes over the past three years, and despite my efforts to transition to vaping full-time, none of them have been able to replace tobacco for me. They have nonetheless been a good supplement, filling in when I'm unable because it's forbidden, to smoke the real thing. But now Pax Labs, the company behind the vaporizer of the same name, which claims it's solved all my e-cigarette issues with its first attempt, $50 Juul. An analogy I fell upon for where Juul fits in is the dreaded Nespresso machine. Laughed at by those who obsess over their "real" espresso machines and high-tech presses, it delivers a consistently good experience, way better than you'd get with a spoonful of Folgers instant in the morning, and way more convenient than a full-blown pump. That's Juul in a nutshell -- a beautifully designed system that gets close enough to the real thing for me to settle for the convenience. Nespresso begrudgingly won me over years ago, and Juul has won me over in just a week. I’m going to stick with the Juul because it’s already helping me smoke fewer cigarettes than I used to.”

Seth

In just 2 months of using the Juul, Seth did something he never thought he could do and this is his story. Born in Jacksonville, Tennessee, Seth has been a heavy cigarette smoker since the tender age of 14. Seth’s mother used to smoke around him all the time as a kid so he kind of just picked it up. When asked if he’s tried quitting before he said “I’ve tried many vapes and alternative nicotine delivery products but always went back to smoking within a couple days. One time I tried to ‘cold turkey’ it and that was hell. I found myself scratching and not being able to relax until finally, I smoked another cigarette. About 2 months ago I got my Juul in the mail and started using it. At first, it was annoying and didn’t really feel like it was doing much, but I slowly started to notice that I wasn’t having that constant need for a cigarette. Today it's been one whole week since I’ve had a cigarette and I’ve never felt better! Unfortunately, I'll be relying on my Juul until I can get off the nicotine for good, but hey I'm happy. I’m even thinking about buying my mom one.” Seth went from smoking 3 packs of reds a week to one full week without a cigarette thanks to his Juul! While Seth is content, he isn’t stopping here, Seth plans to quit nicotine entirely by moderating his use of the Juul.

Ahmed

Born the eldest of 3 sons and growing up in an orthodox Islamic household, Ahmed has always been held to a higher standard by his parents. He was about 15 when he smoked his first cigarette and claims he was instantly hooked. “After I finished coughing my lungs out from the first drag I got very lightheaded. But the weird thing was that I actually enjoyed it.” Since then the now 19-year-old Ahmed has been smoking cigarettes on almost a daily basis up until early March of 2017. “My dad caught me smoking.” he said, “It was pretty bad and he hasn’t let me hear the end of it. He told me that if I didn’t quit by the time I was 20 he would kick me out and disown me. That’s when I found out about the Juul pen from one of my friends and I instantly ordered one. Best choice I ever made. Now I don’t even think about smoking and I’m not constantly spending money on packs of cigarettes a week and my dad finally got off my back.” The Juul pen helped Ahmed reduce his intake of nicotine, save some money every week, and stay in his parents’ house.

Aurelio

“My whole family smokes. My mom, dad, older sister and even my grandparents. So I never really thought much of it when I started smoking. After about a month I started to get really bad. I was smoking 5 ‘cigs’ a day and when I couldn’t buy them I just bummed one off of my mom or dad. I never felt the need to quit because no one in my family had cancer so I figured I was good you know? Then one day I was coughing real bad. I mean I was wheezing and spitting and out what looked like oil from a well! That happened about a week before I turned 17 so I asked my mom to buy me a vape. When she gave me the Juul I was confused because I never heard of them before and honestly I didn’t think it was going to work. At first, I would use it a few times but still smoked a ‘cig’ too. Now I don’t even think about cigarettes anymore! I haven’t coughed up the oil spit since the last time, and I even got my sister to buy a Juul too. Now let’s see if I can get my parents to stop.”

Mikasa

Mikasa is 27 years old and works as a bartender in downtown Fort Lauderdale, Florida. She’s been smoking habitually since she was 18 and has never tried to quit before. Her mother was diagnosed with stage 1 lung cancer in May of 2016. “When she told me I was so heartbroken I didn’t know how to react. I couldn’t even say anything. My poor mother has never picked up a cigarette in her life,” says Mikasa, “The only time she was around smoke was whenever we went out together. I can’t forgive myself and she just keeps telling me not to worry.” After a week went by Mikasa ordered a Juul pen online and threw out all her lighters and packs of cigarettes. “When it came in the mail I felt like a kid on Christmas. It had been 5 days since I smoked and I was about to break. I started using it and I was shocked at how much it felt like an actual cigarette, only less smelly. After a couple weeks of using the Juul, I stopped wanting real cigarettes. My mom was so happy. She never liked me smoking anyways. Now it’s been a year and a half since I smoked and the doctor just told us my mother’s cancer has gone into regression!”

The Juul device has the capability to completely change a cigarette smoker’s life for the better. Convenience, discretion, and better feelings are just a few of the benefits that the Juul can provide compared to cigarettes. Current Juul users that want to change how their device looks can visit JuulWraps.com and use the promo code “WRAPITUP” for 15 percent off their entire order. Team up with JuulWraps to help wrap up cigarette smoking for good!

from JuulWraps - Blog http://ift.tt/2ifIYke