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lavenderwatercolor · 4 years

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Cranberry Vodka, Arthur Fleck x Reader

Prompt: “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”

Warnings: Cursing, drinking.

Pairing: Arthur Fleck/Reader

A/N: I wrote this for the #arthurfleckjokerwritingchallenge hosted by @arthurfleckjoker2019, I thought it was a cute fluffy one-shot and I hope you all enjoy!

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You have a history of getting a little out of hand when you drank. Nothing crazy like getting into fights at the bar or parading naked through the streets, but you were a little… enthusiastic about things. Like when your neighbors brought over peach cobbler to welcome you to the neighborhood you cried and called them beautiful and told them you loved them.

And when you met Arthur, you were a little more than tipsy. You were at a comedy club with your friends and sat down at the only table available, which was his. After a few more dirty martinis you were chatting up a storm, asking him every question you could think of.

When the show ended you gave him his number and that started a beautiful friendship, and you tried not to drink around him after that.

You and Arthur had a very interesting friendship. It was quite obvious he had a little crush on you, you could tell because of the way he looked at you. He snuck glances at you when he thought you didn’t notice, with this look in his eyes. Like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

It would be far from the truth to say you didn’t feel the same way. Maybe not in the way he was so deeply enthralled by you, but you did think of him as more than a friend. How could you not? He was so kind, so sweet, he would do anything for you and you knew it.

Arthur never had a friend. Sure, he had ‘friends’, but none of them were in it selflessly. At work, they’d call him their friend, but only to butter him up for favors. Other people that he saw often in his life were in no way considered his friends. His social worker, the woman at the pharmacy who would give him his prescriptions, the manager of his apartment, they were all just side characters in his own sad novel.

But you. He adored you. You were his only true friend. The only person to help him when he needed help, the only one to check up on him out of the blue and make sure he was okay, the only one that didn’t get uncomfortable when he laughed.

So, you tried not to ruin it with your drinking.

One night though, your neighbors brought over a bottle of vodka, assuming from their first meeting with you that you enjoyed alcohol. You very much loved alcohol, you loved to drink, but hard drinks like vodka were one of the worst things you could consume. You always got lonely and invited people over, and if you were with people you became way too flirty.

It just so happened, you were alone on a Friday night and opened the bottle. The cork popped open and you made yourself a Cape Cod, your favorite mixed drink. Cranberry juice and vodka, with a lime on the edge.

After your first two drinks, you reached the lonely stage and called up Arthur.

It took a few rings, but he picked up.

“Hello?” He answered, sounding as if he didn’t expect a call. You looked at your watch and realized it was nine P.M. You hoped you didn’t wake him or his mother.

“Hi, Arthur. It’s (Y/N).” You smiled into the receiver, laying back against your couch while you took a sip of your drink. It was smooth, sweet, with a little surprising tang.

“Oh, (Y/N).” His tone brightened and you felt your heart warm at the change in his voice. “How are you, how was work?”

“Work was fine, boring, as usual.” You found yourself twirling the phone cord around your finger, grinning like you were a high-school girl talking to her boyfriend late at night. “How was your day?”

“Uh, fine. It was fine.”

“Are you busy? Or anything?”

“Uhm, no. No, I’m not busy. Why, is something wrong?” The sudden concern in his voice was evident, new nervous thoughts running through his head.

“No, not at all. I was wondering if you uh, if you weren’t busy maybe you could come over?” Your mind raced to think of an excuse, normally when you asked him over at night it was for dinner or if you had a funny story about your day. But your day was uneventful and you had eaten dinner in town. You didn’t even have left-overs to offer.

“Sure!” He said before you could lie your way out of awkwardness. “My mother, she just went to bed. So sure, I can come over.”

“Okay!” You breathed out a shaky laugh, taking another sip of your drink in an attempt to calm yourself down. “Okay, well, I’ll see you soon!”

The two of you hung up and you went to freshen up your makeup and pour yourself another drink. He took a while to get to your place since he walked, and you would have offered to pick him up if you hadn’t been drinking.

Arthur rang your doorbell shortly after you prettied yourself up and drank two more cocktails.

“Arthur, hi!” You beamed as you opened the door, welcoming him into your house.

“Hey.” He smiled sheepishly and walked past you, taking his coat off and hanging it by the door. “I saw a cat on the way over.”

“Aw, a kitty?” You swooned over the thought and closed the door behind him.

He raised a brow at your strange dreamy attitude but said nothing about it, only nodding. “Yeah, a brown cat. Looked old.”

You led him to your living room and quickly picked up your empty glass, not wanting him to know you were drunk. In your state of oblivion you had no idea that it was painfully obvious how drunk you were. Not to mention the sweet smell on your breath and the way the cranberry juice had stained your lips. He gave you the benefit of the doubt though, since you weren’t acting nearly as out of control as the night he met you.

“So, how was your day?” You drew out your words, which of course, didn’t go by Arthur unnoticed.

“You already asked me that. On the phone.” He was amused by the way you were acting. The way you slurred your speech and stumbled around the room was funny to him, you acted much different than his coworkers when they drank. Randall invited him out once to drink with them. Accepting his invitation was a decision he regretted almost immediately.

You were much nicer, though, much more warm and comfortable.

“Oh, right.” Your laughter, oh how he could melt just listening to it. “Well, do you wanna watch a movie? Halloween is coming on soon.”

Arthur was a bit confused as to why he was there, every time he had come over to your house, it was for a specific reason. No one had ever invited Arthur over to just ‘hang out’. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t happy, though, it meant you enjoyed his company enough to have him over for no other reason than to just be with him.

“Yeah, sure.” He shrugged, not even trying to keep the bashful smile from his face.

You sat close to him on the couch, maybe too close to him, judging by how stiff he sat. Every time your arm would accidentally brush against his, he would tense up for a few seconds. It was adorable. And the fact that you were well past drunk only made him more appealing to you.

“Ease up, Arthur.” You said after a while of him doing this over and over. “It’s just me.”

The way you spoke only made him more nervous. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to say something, but his throat felt far too dry to speak. He barely managed to croak out an ‘I’ before he choked on his own words.

Did you truly make his that nervous so easily? You could have toyed with him a bit, been cruel and made it worse for him, but you couldn’t bare do something like that, not when you were in the state you were in.

You didn’t see your next action as malicious. Really, you didn’t think much of it at all. You only wanted to be closer to him. But if your goal had been to relax Arthur, you had done the complete opposite. You leaned in closer to him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He smelt so good, aside from the smell of old cigarettes. You could barely put up with that.

Arthur fucking froze.

“What cologne do you wear?” You asked, turning your head so you could smell him better. Doing so, your nose brushed against his earlobe, sending sinful chills down his spine. He had no fucking idea what cologne he used. It was the same bottle his mother had bought him for Christmas all those years ago.

“It smells so good.” You continued when he didn’t answer, only nuzzling your face further in his neck.

He had no idea what to say. He was a thousand miles beyond nervous, his heart was slamming 200bpm against his chest, and his right leg bounced uncontrollably. He’d never felt his heart beat like that before. He imagined this was what cocaine felt like.

Apparently, leaning your head on his shoulder wasn’t close enough for you, so you looped your arms around his waist and curled into his form.

Okay, it was time for Arthur to start asking questions. “(Y/N),” His voice trembled as he spoke. “What are you doing?”

What were you doing? Wasn’t it obvious? “Do you not like it?” You asked, ready to move if he so wished, but for the moment you remained where you were.

He answered immediately, tripping over his own words. “No! I mean, I like it just fine, I just, don’t know why you’re… being like this with me.”

“Uhm,” You laughed, looking up at him. “Because I like you. And I want to.”

His heart jumped to his throat. “What did you just say?”

“I said… what did I say?” You giggled, trying to play with him a little. You’d always been a playful drunk.

But Arthur was having none of it. “(Y/N), please,”

The tone of his voice was enough to make you understand the seriousness of the situation for him. “Okay, I’m sorry.” Leaning up so you could look him in the eyes, you smiled. “I said I liked you.”

If you could burn one image into your head for the rest of your life, it would have been the look on his face when you said those words. His features went slack, all but his lips, they twitched into a smile of disbelief. Seeing him go through a range of emotions at once was an experience all on its own.

“Wait,” Suddenly, he didn’t look so happy anymore. “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?” He furrowed his brows, glancing down at your cranberry reddened lips.

“A little.” You admitted, biting your bottom lip. “But, a drunk mind speaks a sober heart.”

His eyes scanned over your face, searching for anything he could use to help him understand what the fuck was going on. You were drunk, he had known that since he walked in your house. So what did that mean? Were you lying? Was it the alcohol talking?

“Arthur, you’re thinking too much.” You sighed and reached up to brush a stray brown curl from his face. “It’s not hard to believe, is it? I mean, I invite you over for dinner all the time, we go out together every weekend-”

Arthur leaned forward, his heart racing, and kissed you.

You hadn’t expected him to be so bold. You kissed back, boy, did you kiss back. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and sighed, thankful he had made the next move.

When you pulled back from his lips he was silent for a moment, only to lick his bottom lip and chuckle. “You taste sweet.” Before he even realized what he was saying he had said it. For a split second he panicked, but when you giggled and leaned in to kiss him again his fear subsided.

“I’m actually really glad I’ve been drinking.” You admitted once the second kiss was broken. Arthur listened intently as you sat back in the couch, resuming your position of cuddling him. “I don’t think I would have told you that if I was sober.”

Arthur smiled to himself as he felt you relax against him. Yeah, well, in that case, he was really glad too.

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck fluff #arthur fleck x reader fluff #joker #joker x reader #joker fluff #arthurfleckjokerwritingchallenge

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vanchlo · 4 years

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The Assistant / Chapter Thirty One, “Timing”

Find all chapters to this story here!

Check out the character survey from Becky’s POV I did recently! :-)

Warnings: Very brief mention of IVs (needles)

Song Inspo: My My Love by Joshua Radin (Click to listen)

Sneaky Peeeeeeeeeky!

“A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one inch mark.

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats.”

“No. W-what are you doing here?” I stutter, unable to control my words. Or my thoughts. Or my emotions.

At the drop of my words, Harry’s face falls. His eyebrows. The budding smile on his lips. And the brightness in his eyes. But he masks it quickly. And it escapes my mind when he crosses the distance between us. His black slacks, teal geometric-patterned button down, and curls are a blur in the seconds that follow. Suddenly, his arms are around me and pulling me into him. With sleep still clinging to my mind, and unsure of what to do, I freeze.

“Please don’t tell me you left work to drive 3 hours to come to Madley,” I confess quietly into the damp shoulder of his black peacoat. Shivering, his fingers run trails up and down my back.

“Shuddup, I ‘ave a case t’morrow nearby in Wolverhampton . . . Jus’ lemme do sumthin’ nice fer ya,” he says, his soft words drifting over the top of my head.

“I-I’m sorry. I just woke up and you caught me off guard,” I apologize meekly, feeling myself relax. My arms wind around his waist and lace themselves together over his coat.

“‘s okay,” he hums. His hands pause and I feel them brush my hair away. “I know ya hadda rough night- well couple o’ days,” Harry murmurs, his lips brushing against my hair. My lungs still and I wait, wondering if he’ll kiss my head. But it doesn’t come, and I try to will away the disappointment beginning inside of me. I’ve become so accustomed to it that it doesn’t want to leave this time. Then it’s joined by the happy disbelief appearing wet in my eyes.

“Couldn’ stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, an’ figured I had t’ come up ‘ere t’morow mornin’ anyways. Wha’s an extra night hurt?” The first few words do it for me, and there I am spewing tears all over his shoulder. They’re not a waterfall, but the emotions growing inside of me feel that way. And they’re here, because he is.

He holds me tighter against him, and I feel his cheek rest on my head. Holding on tight to his coat, I let myself and everything I’m feeling melt against him. “You don’t know what it means to me that you’re here,” I confess in a trembling voice interrupted by sniffling.

“I think I do do, ‘coz you were there fer me tha day o’ tha funeral when I needed a friend. An’ at tha hospital. Ya showed up fer me, Becks, an’ I wanted t’ do tha same fer ya,” Harry reveals softly from above me. My lips bend into a happy smile amongst the tears that come harder at his words. “I brought dinna, ‘cuz I knew ya prolly hadn’t eaten. ‘s luck that I found ya atta vendin’ machine.”

His precious laugh greets my ears as his fingers tickle up my back. The bunches of fabric leave my hands, and I step away to search for those green eyes. After a few seconds, I find them staring down at me. They’re blurry behind the tears, but soon his smiling face sharpens.

“No mo’ tears, ‘kay? Le’s go eat some dinna an’ find sumthin’ good on tha telly,” Harry whispers, running the pad of his thumb along my cheeks. Nodding, his hand envelopes mine and we go to find a sitting area.

The halls are deserted besides a few nurses checking in on patients. Familiar medical-sounding beeps sound throughout the hallway. After guiding the way for Harry as I wipe my cheeks, we soon find our dining table. Or rather a sofa with a little table.

“I hope fish an’ chips ‘s alright,” he says, doubt filling his words.

“Of course they are. Did you get them from Maggie’s over on Fifth?”

“Yeah, I think so. Li’l shop with photos coverin’ tha walls?” he questions as he unpacks the brown paper bag.

“Yep, that’s the one. They make the best fish and chips I’ve had. And I would know, because I grew up eating these ones my entire life.”

“Well I guess ya would know then,” Harry relents, shrugging his shoulders with a toothy smile.

Whispered ‘thank yous’ float between us as we pass each other food and napkins. With two cups of water from the cooler a few steps away, we dig in.

“No kiddin’, these are good. ‘s always tha family owned shops that make tha best ones, innit?” Harry mumbles with a mouth full of food. I reply with an ‘mmmhmm’, trying not to laugh at the crumbs speckling his chin.

The crispy, buttery cod melts on my tongue. With my free hand, I grab hold of the gray remote sitting on the table beside me.

“Hey, ‘s my turn t’ pick what we watch,” Harry whines, stealing the remote from me.

“Rude!” I retort, but any words I had left to say collapse into laughter. Licking his thumb, he peeks over at me. A sly grin stuck to his lips.

Shaking my head, I look away and pick up a chip from the paper tray in my hand. When my eyes return to him, a ketchup-covered chip sits in his hand. Meanwhile, his face is screwed up in concentration at the telly. I smile, and then notice his reflection in the dark window on the other side of him. Kicking his foot with my right, he turns to the left to look at me in confusion.

“Just pick something!” I tell him, my palm turning up to help me talk. His dark curls dance atop his head as it goes from side to side.

“Oh hush, you. Cantcha letta man think?” he quips before feeding the chip past his cherry lips.

“No, not when it takes you an hour to pick what to watch,” I reply, yanking it from his hands.

“Heeeey! I was jus’ gonna pick that episode o’ Friends!”

“Wait, you like Friends?!” I nearly yell, my head snapping to look at him.

“O’course! Who doesn’t? I grew up watchin’ that show with me mum an’ sista,” he answers. With those words, my heart does a somersault in my chest. Oh my fuck, I’m falling again. “Wha’? Do ya not like it?”

“No, I-I love it. I grew up watching it, too. It’s like my comfort show - I watch it when I’m happy, sad, mad, excited- you name it,” I reply slowly, engrossed in gathering ketchup onto my chip. When I hear his murmured ‘me too’ from a mouth full of food, the devil and angel inside of me go crazy. For once, they seem to root for the same team.

“Favourite characta?” his words greet the air effortlessly. He licks the salt and grease from his thumb, and I suddenly regret looking up. The things you do to me, Styles.

“On the count of 3?” I ask, and his chestnut ringlets bounce with a nod.

“1 . . . 2 . . . 3.”

“Phoebe!” we both say in unison, sending us into fits of giggles.

“There’s nuthin’ betta than her on dat show. She’s hilarious, plays guitar, ‘s a surrogate fer her bloody brotha, an’ ‘s gorgeous,” Harry explains, and I’m following with every word. And with each one, I feel the butterflies in my tummy flutter again. For possibly the tenth time already tonight.

“All of the great jokes and catchphrases from the show are from her: Regina Phalange, Smelly Cat, Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, ‘I don’t even have a pla’, Gladys the framed doll, and that stupid taxi. She’s blunt and so funny, but she’s so sweet and would do anything for her friends,” I continue, watching him nod emphatically as he picks up another chip.

“Couldn’ ‘ave said it betta meself. Oh I love dis episode where they’re stuck at tha beach house. Poor Phoebs findin’ out tha truth ‘bout her mum dat way, tho’,” Harry comments, his mouth falling into a delighted and then sad O. My eyes follow his to the screen of the telly where our attention is held for the next twenty minutes.

My shoes only stop squeaking when I stop in front of the garbage bin. After tossing the greasy paper bag, I rub a pump of hand sanitizer into my hands. I wince at the awful sounds my shoes make as I try to walk quietly down the tiled hallway. The snoring greets my ears before I see him, but when I do, I smile. With careful steps, I pluck my backpack from the couch before leaving the room.

“He still sleepin’?” Harry asks, looking up from the Friends marathon from the telly. We scored!

“Yep,” I answer, plopping down onto the sofa beside him.

“Good,” he answers, slumping down further into the gray cushions. My backpack drops with a thud to the floor after I got what I needed. “What’re ya doin’? ‘s eleven-thirty, love. Tha’s no time t’ be doin’ homework.”

“I know, but I need to submit an assignment before I forget. It’s due at midnight,” I answer, seeing his nod out of the corner of my eye.

My laptop wakes with its usual jingle, and I watch my browser load. The audience laughter fills my ears at a humorous line from Chandler. Surprise, surprise. The maroon and navy blue colors of my uni’s website appear in front of me. Within a few moments, I’m on the web page for my course.

“Wha’s tha assignment?” Harry inquires, his eyes never leaving the telly. A laugh creases his cheeks, making me smile. But I’m not very sad I missed what’s so funny, because he makes up for it.

“Um, it’s an essay about Thomas Cromwell and his theories and stuff,” I reply, opening the page for assignments.

“Ah, I see they ‘aven’t changed coursework much from my day. Cromwell ‘s bloody obvious when ya start talkin’ ‘bout British law.”

“I know, it’s like the professor didn’t even try when drafting this assignment,” I comment with a small titter. Relief washes over me when I get a message saying my submission was successful. And something else too from being able to talk to him about law so easily. Something akin to how a hot chocolate makes you feel on a winter’s day.

I glance up and find Harry losing it with laughter. There’s a fleeting temptation to ask him to clue me in. But a laugh tingles on my lips when I find what he’s laughing at. Monica’s crying as she holds onto Chandler’s arm, an ocean scene in the background.

“Can’ believe Joey actually peed on Monica.” The words leave Harry’s mouth in between chuckles rather sloppily.

“He was just trying to help!” I comment, unable to stop laughing either.

“But it doesn’t even help! They say it makes it worse even,” he laughs, rubbing his forehead.

Shaking my head, my eyes fall to my laptop screen. After a few clicks, lines of text cloud my eyes. My eyes roll into the back of my head at their appearance. I find it nearly impossible to hold back a groan.

“What’re you gripin’ ‘bout ova here?” Harry questions with teasing in his tone.

“I have to read the entire case of Haughton v. Smith for a test, and it’s so confusing. I mean, working with you brushed me up on a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. But still, a lot of it doesn’t make sense to me,” I huff, my chin falling into the palm of my hand.

“Alright, lemme see what part yer at,” he says in a quiet voice. I try to ignore the regret budding inside of me at what I said about working at his firm. And how it makes me feel, and probably him, too. I don’t know why I ever bring it up, because sometimes it feels like when somebody else brings up the ex-boyfriend, or something. The sofa cushion dips as he closes the space between us. The angel and demon inside of me erupt into synonymous cheers when his arm goes around me.

“God, did you forget your glasses or something, Grandpa?” my question sputters from my lips in a cackle, watching him squint at the screen.

“Oh shuddup, an’ I mean it,” Harry quips, looking away for a moment. When I see the reason why, instead of a laugh consuming my thoughts, something else does. For some fucking reason, my heart warms at the sight of him unfolding a pair of mottled brown Pantos glasses. He tucks the brown case into the inside of his blazer, his peacoat on a chair. “Ya ya, laugh all ya want at me an’ me readin’ glasses.”

But when he looks down at me with them settled on his nose, I don’t laugh. “Why aren’t ya laughin’ anymo’, hmm?” he questions.

“I think they look really nice on you. They make you look handsome and sophisticated,” I tell him slowly, and it’s undeniable the pink that pinches his cheeks.

“Well ‘s ‘bout time fer dat t’ happen, only took me twenty-nine years,” he jokes, bringing a smile to my lips. My head goes from side to side as I close my eyes, my cheeks bunching from happiness painting my lips. Yeah, it’s about time for a lot of things right about now. “Alrigh’, lemme look what part yer at fer real now.”

I nod, trying to get comfortable on the sofa. Pitching my head back, I feel it bump into his arm. Nevermind my fucked neck, I return my eyes to the screen to try and forget that his arm is around me. But they immediately refuse and slowly trail to Harry, his face mere inches away from mine.

Okay, no, stop thinking about his lips and what they could do, I tell the demon inside of my head.

Becky, you could. You so know you could do it.

Shut up! He’s just helping me with my homework, that’s all this is.

Oh yeah? And when are you going to let yourself think about the real reason he’s here, huh?

I can’t do that right now.

Yes, you can! Maybe if you think about it, you’ll realize how good of an idea it would be to let yourself kiss him. I’m sure he’s thinking about it too.

Just stop!

His thumb and forefinger knead his bottom lip. It bunches together in little waves as his eyes flit across the screen. Whiskers the shade of his curls are scattered across his face. They’re dense atop his upper lip and around his chin. And God, I can’t stop thinking about them. Wanting to touch them. Feel them on my face- okay stop it, Becky.

“Well yer mostly at tha end, so wha’ doesn’t make sense t’ ya?” Harry finally says, turning his head ever so slightly to look at me.

“I know, but I feel like I don’t know what I just read. And the verdict is contradicting to me,” I answer with a shrug of my shoulders.

“Well maybe it’d make more sense t’ ya if ya weren’t lookin’ at it at almos’ midnigh’, love.”

“Yeah, well it’s kind of the only time I have lately with everything. I’m afraid to email my prof again saying I need an extension when it’s due tomorrow. I’ve needed a lot of them lately. I just wanna get it done,” I respond quietly, looking to the telly awkwardly. It’s always hard when the truth comes out, and the emotions that hang on to it.

A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my left eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“Kids used to make fun of it when I was little. They’d call it a worm under my eye, because of its shape. It used to be more pronounced and bigger when I was little, but it’s still pretty noticeable,” I answer, adding in an eye roll that he laughs at.

“Aww, poor Becks. But if it counts, I don’ think it looks like a worm. ‘s cute on you,” he adds seriously, pinching my cheek. That makes me look over at him, and I already know that I’m blushing.

A small ‘thanks’ leaves my lips before my eyes dip to my laptop. Close to a minute of silence grows between us before he breaks it. “‘Kay, so Haughton vs. Smith found that ya can’t commit tha crime o’ handlin’ stolen goods, if tha goods they’re talkin’ ‘bout weren’t actually stolen. ‘s an important case t’ know, cuz it was ‘ventually ovaturned by tha Criminal Attempts Act o’ ‘81. Ya’ll neva be able t’ forget tha connection between tha two, issa given. Ya don’ need t’ worry ‘bout that law now tho’, they basically mean tha same thing.”

“Thanks for explaining it, I hope it’s enough to help me pass the test on it,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly.

“Open tha test, an’ ‘ll help ya with it.”

The second my eyes land on Joey’s body covered in sand on the telly, they whip back to Harry. “Really, you’d help me?”

“‘Course I would. Tha’s what ‘m here fer. An’ it wouldn’t hurt t’ see if I still got it.”

“You’ve been a lawyer for years, and this is pre-law, so of course you do. And not to mention, ranked as one of the best in London,” I reply smiling, clicking open a new tab. I suspect how my words will make him feel, because they fill me with the same emotions. Pride. Happiness. Astonishment. And more pride.

“Well, I do me best,” Harry titters proudly. A cocky hum leaves his lips as he brushes off his chest. A laugh sputters from my lips that I can’t contain. “Heeeey, don’ be laughin’ at me.”

“Sorry, I just can’t control myself when you start dropping dad jokes,” I respond nonchalantly, clicking on the tab labeled ‘Assessments.’

“Just pull tha bloody test up an’ le’s get it ova with,” he huffs, amusement still lacing through his words.

“Awww, is it past your bedtime already?” I pout, turning my eyes to him. His lips smush together and I hear the smallest of squeaks get past them. “You know you like my grandpa jokes, don’t lie.”

“Shuddup, li’l one, an’ open tha goddamn test already,” he huffs. If anybody else heard him, they’d think he was mad at me. But even as my eyes cast over the column of tests from this course, I know different. I can hear it in his voice - the joking, the molasses, the affectionate teasing, and the friendship.

Wow, nice choice of words there, Ms. Denial.

Shut up, devil.

“I am not little!” I retort in a high voice, making my two tabs appear as two windows on my screen. Side by side. Cheating time!

“Becks, yer like 5’5, if that.”

“No, I’m not! I’m 5’6, you liar!”

“Ya, cuz that one lousy inch really does a whole lot, doesn’t it?” Harry counters, his voice melting into a goofy one. I respond to it with a hearty laugh that is soon accompanied by his. “Yer still a li’l one t’ me, love.”

“Fine, Grandpa Harry.”

The annoying sound of a laugh track pricks at my ears. Blinking hard, the room around me is blurry. But after a groggy minute of blinking, it begins to sharpen. I don’t remember the lights getting turned off, but the telly screen burns my eyes. Rubbing them, I moan from tiredness. Dropping my arm, I feel it hit something. Looking down, I’m confused. When I lift my head from whatever it was resting on, I find what I was laying on. And well, what was also laying on me. Still is. Her face scrunches adorably before relaxing, nuzzling her head against my shoulder once more.

Becks.

After combing my hair off of my forehead, the lock screen of my phone wakes me up a little more. Especially when I see that it reads 1:18 am. Fuck, I need to get to my hotel and go to bed. I have my case tomorrow. But when I hear a noise and find the culprit, all of those thoughts wash away. An incoherent sound runs off of her lips, ones that are so close to me. Fuck, again. But when my eyes scan the rest of my body, I realize that she’s all over me. Well, almost. Her right hand rests on my chest as she leans against the back of the sofa. But her pretty little head of dark hair is laying on my shoulder. My arm is around her, holding her close to me. I can feel her other arm tickling my side.

Memories float to the surface, and suddenly I’m back at the hospital in London. In December. A phone call woke me from my slumber beside her on the sofa. The both of us curled up on opposite sides. Sleep clinging to my eyes and begging to me to return to it. Her shoulders rising with every soft snore, but it was the most daintiest one I’d ever heard. It felt like my heart was being squeezed tighter with every move I made to leave her. When I draped the second blanket over her. And how much it hurt to move the hair off of her face. To press a kiss to her unknowing head. But nothing compared to the anguish I felt grow with every step I put between us.

Blinking hard, the dark room materializes around me again. Her precious snores welcome my return to the moment. A smile brings my lips upwards as I watch a crease grow between her eyebrows. She’s too goddamn adorable. And that’s why I came, isn’t it? Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t resist her. I can’t say no to Becky. When she called me crying and a mess worrying about her dad, I didn’t know what I was doing until I was putting the town of Madley into my GPS. I guess The Beatles were right with that one song, and plenty of others. She’s really got a hold on me. And before I could begin to stop myself, her skin is like velvet under my thumb. I rub the crease away with the pad of it, and suddenly my head dips. My lips barely brush her hair when she groans below me.

“Harry?” she murmurs, lifting her head from my shoulder.

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

She yawns, moving away to look around sleepily. But soon she returns back to my arms, cozying up to me once more. And I couldn’t be more thankful, or conflicted. The latter word drills into my mind as I rub a hand down her back, sleep trying to coax me back in, too.

“We fell asleep,” she mumbles, her honey voice coated in that very word. Fuck, does it make me feel things. Things that I’d much rather not.

“Yeah, ‘s one in tha mornin’.”

“Shitttt,” she sighs, sitting up fast. Her growing locks pour over her shoulders covered by a crewneck jumper. Faded pictures of balls from different sports are scattered across the heather gray fabric. Like something my dad wore when I was a tot. “You have your case tomorrow.”

“‘m fine, I already dropped me stuff off at tha hotel an’ got me key,” I tell her, missing the warmth of her against me. And I miss the fact in those words alone of what I’m missing. Her in my arms. “But ya should prolly get sum sleep, too. Seems like ya’ve been missin’ it lately.”

“I’m okay, just lots of homework,” Becky says, running her long fingers through her wavy hair.

“‘d offa me hotel room, but ‘s half an hour ‘way in Wolverhampton. An’ there’s only tha one bed,” I tell her, unsure of why. I blame it on the sleepy brain.

“Thanks, but I’m okay. I’ll just sleep on the couch in his room. It’s not too bad once you get used to it,” she assures me. Her arms crack as she stretches them toward the ceiling. I can’t help myself when the baggy jumper rides up, exposing the slightest of her milky white tummy. Fuck. But just like that, it’s gone in a flash. If only my feelings worked that way.

It’s like she has some sixth sense that I’m thinking about her, because her eyes cast over to me. It’s hard to make out their ocean blue in this dark, but I know they’re there. I can picture them if I need to, because I do it all the time - trying to make myself remember what they look like. The exact shade. The speckles of darker blue amongst the color.

“Yer welcome,” I return. The tired smile I get in return melts my insides like butter. But that’s how I feel when I’m around her, and that’s how much of a hold she’s got on me.

Shocks of electricity dance across the back of my hand. I don’t need to look down to know her hand is on top of mine. And how it’s making me go crazy. She’s only a few inches away. I could do it. Before I stop myself, I begin to lean in, and she watches me do it. But with only a few seconds left, we jump apart at the sound of a ringtone.

Embarrassment covers me like a dark cloud, among other nasty emotions. My head falls, hiding the heat rising to my cheeks. Pulling out my phone to distract myself, it doesn’t do that great of a job as I hear her talk to somebody on the phone. Dammit, I was so close. With a hand in my hair, I scroll through emails. Deleting some and saving others.

“Sorry, that was Robbie. Just checking in, since I forgot to update him, I guess,” Becky tells me, lifting my head with her voice.

My head only goes up and down, avoiding eye contact. Because I can’t muster it after what just happened, or what didn’t.

“‘s late, ya should get sum rest,” I announce, getting to my feet. Picking up my coat, I slip it on before I dare to look at her.

She smiles shyly at me, sleep hanging around her eyes. Even rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her jumper is precious. And her legs jittering in her faded blue jeans. Vans the shade of her favorite color donning her feet.

“Yeah, you too,” is all she has to say.

Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. For a mere second, I entertain the thought of trying again. But fuck it, she’s so far away right now, figuratively and literally. I can catch a hint of her scent sticking to me, and it makes me sad to realize.

“Go get sum sleep, ‘kay?” Are the only words I can think of as I walk up to her and pat her arm.

“Yeah, you too, Harry. Careful driving.”

“Thanks, Becks, I will. Sweet dreams, love,” I mutter, looking at her over my shoulder.

And I keep walking, and leave her behind. Regrets coursing through my ears, and emotions tugging at my seams. The tiredness coating my every thought and action, only make it all the worse. I’m not sure if I want to wake up more for the car drive to the hotel, because then it will all feel even more real. And discouraging.

“Harry?” stopping in my tracks, I hear her call my name. Spinning around, I feel her before I see her. Her arms surround around my waist and her head comes to lay against my chest. All within seconds. “Thank you . . . for coming.”

A pain sounds in my chest when I hear the emotion in her voice. And it takes all of me to not echo it, because I know I could. And that I would. Instead I say, “Yer welcome, Becks,” and I do at least one thing I wanted to do tonight. Dipping my head, I smooth down her hair and press my lips to her hair for more than a few seconds.

The sweet smell of orange blossom greets me, and my smile is havoced by pain. Her warm breaths tickle the skin at my neck as my hands lace together at the small of her back. Her arms squeeze me around the middle before releasing, and she lets go of me. I think about trying again, but the thought is fleeting when she begins to walk away from me.

And I let her do it. Once again.

The burbling of the running water fills my ears. Well, besides the sound of the football match. Surprise, surprise. And the next sound. His cheering. It makes me smile as I wipe my hands with a paper towel.

“What’s the score now?” I ask, walking back into the room. His eyes don’t go to me at the question, instead they remain on the screen.

“Six-two. It doesn’t look too good for ‘em,” my dad replies snarkily, a devilish glint in his eyes. But it’s there, and that’s all that matters. It’s what makes the smile stick to my face.

“Don’t let your food get cold,” I say, bending over to dig into my backpack.

“I’m done eating. You can have the rest, Ree,” he replies just as I feel the smooth handle I’m searching for.

“I’m okay, thanks. I was probably going to check out the special in the cafe.”

“Oh so only I have to eat the hospital food?” my dad whines, pouting at me when I look at him.

With a laugh, I remark, “I’m eating their food in the cafe too, you dork.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, chemo brain,” he replies, tapping a finger against his head. A striped green hat keeping it warm. His arm returns to the white blanket pulled up to his waist. Light shines in his eyes and his arms lift into the air when they make yet another goal.

Whoops and hollers leave his chapped lips. But this morning, they’re pinker. And so is his skin. If only in the slightest, I notice them. Running the brush through my knotted hair, I yawn as I watch him. A patterned hospital gown covers his upper half, with the sleeves just coming to above the IVs in his left arm. Fluids and meds. The antibiotics. Yippee.

But the thoughts are mulled over when I look to his plate sitting on the moveable tray beside him. It was scrambled eggs, toast, applesauce, and milk this morning. And he ate nearly half of it, even if it took about half an hour. But I want to blame part of that on the football match his eyes are stuck to.

“I’m going to see if I can find your doctor. I had a question,” I tell him, dropping my hairbrush back into my backpack.

“Ree, don’t worry about it. He’ll come by later,” my dad insists, but I stand from my chair regardless of his answer.

“It’s fine. I need to stretch my legs anyways.”

He hums a reply I can’t decode, but I hear his teasing about blocking the telly when I walk by. Over my shoulder, he flashes me a small smile before returning to yelling lazily at the referees. Nurses and doctors pass me, going to and from rooms to the nearby nurse’s station. Tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear, I search for the shock of white hair of my dad’s doctor.

But no such luck.

As I approach the nurse’s station, sounds of beeping, call lights, and murmuring voices fill the air. But another sound stands out from the rest. And I hear my name, or well my last name. It takes me a second to locate where it’s coming from, but when I do there’s a flutter in my chest. And I know I’m in trouble, or maybe that I’m just realizing it now after all of this time.

But I don’t save him right away, and instead I observe. Confusion sews his eyebrows together over those misty green eyes. One lone curl tickles his forehead, breaking free from his damp hair. His black peacoat is draped over his arm clad in a warm violet blazer. A dusty rose button down peeks out from its collar, and I smile. I don’t even know why. But as the seconds tick by watching him talk to the nurse, I think I know why.

“Looking for me, Styles?” I pipe up, stepping forward with my hands hidden away in my hoodie.

Harry’s eyes fall from the nurse and pan over to me. A lazy smile works its way onto his face quickly, only interrupted to thank the nurse.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, turning to walk towards me.

“What are you doing here? You have your case today, you said,” I respond, playing with the sleeve of my black hoodie. The cracked decal of Robbie’s old band covers the front.

“Came t’ bring ya out t’ brekky. Me case doesn’t start ‘til tha aftanoon, bug,” he responds with half of a smile, pinching my arm affectionately. And there’s that nickname, again, I think as my insides turn to mush. “Well jus’ down t’ tha cafe if tha’s alright. I saw sumthin’ ‘bout biscuits ‘n gravy, an’ sumthin’ smelled mighty delicious when I came in.”

“That sounds great,” I say, a smile inching its way up my lips. The wet ends of my hair knock against each other, and my chin. “I’ll just let my dad know,” I tell him, turning around to walk away.

But after only a few steps, a sudden thought brings me to halt. It wills my feet to turn around and look at Harry. “Would you like to meet him?” I ask tentatively in a meek voice. “He’s doing a little better this morning, but I think that’s thanks to the Arsenal match on the telly.”

With what appears to be a shaky smile, he replies, “‘d love t’. Hope ‘s not me Manchester United boys playin’ ‘gainst ‘em.”

Waving a hand towards me, he closes the distance between us. His leather boots squeak from the last bits of melting April snow. It’s only a few moments before I peek my head into his room, and low and behold, he’s still transfixed by the match.

Rapping my knuckle against the door, I get his attention before saying, “Hey, can I steal you away from your precious game for a few? There’s a friend of mine I’d like you to meet.”

“Yeah, sure,” he responds, adjusting his blankets before the telly’s volume falls. Over my shoulder, I shoot Harry an encouraging smile. He returns it, but I can see the nerves showing through.

Pushing open the door fully, I walk in and he follows from behind.

“Dad, this is Harry Styles. My uh, former boss I’ve told you about,” I fumble for words, giving a magician-like wave to him. Well, the right words. “He stopped by last night and brought me dinner. He has a case today in Wolverhampton, and we’re going to get breakfast downstairs before.”

A weary smile curls at the corners of my dad’s lips. Nodding, his dusty pink lips part, “Ah, so this is the fella you were with until all hours last night,” he jests, pulling nervous laughter into the air. “Yes, it’s about time we met. I’ve heard a lot about you, son. Thanks for everything you’ve done for Becky, and for your well wishes. It’s meant a whole damn lot to me, and I know for her too.”

Okay, dad, let’s not board the emotional bus yet. Or maybe, ever.

Happy laughs float around the room as Harry steps forward, rubbing hand sanitizer into his hands. “‘s a pleasure t’ meet ya as well, sir,” he rasps, reaching out to shake my dad’s hand firmly.

“Call me Chuck, Harry. I’m not that old yet, although sometimes it feels that way,” my dad jokes, widening the smiles on all of our faces.

“Yes, ‘course, Chuck. I’ve also heard loads ‘bout ya, all good things, so no worries. Ya’ve been in me prayers an’ thoughts ova tha last 7 months. Sure raised a great daughter, ya should know.”

A permanent smile warms my cheeks as I shyly look over to Harry. He meets my eyes and smiles back at me. Winking, he shove his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Thank you, son. That’s mighty good to hear, although I’m not too sure about that son of mine sometimes,” he laughs, soon getting a scoff from me.

“Oh I mean Robbie, too. I’ve only met tha bloke once or twice, but I was impressed. Certainly since I was surprised t’ find out Becky hadda twin,” Harry comments, his eyes burning a hole into my cheek.

“Yes, I think I’ve heard that story. Their mother and I were pretty surprised to find there was two, also,” he chuckles. “But Ree likes to do that sometimes.”

Shaking my head, I look away and to the Spring sunshine. It seeps in through the cracks in between the window shades. Their soft laughs fill my ears before Harry’s voice does again.

“Yeah she’s a spitfire, alright,” he comments, and finally I meet his smirking eyes before they return to my dad. “But ‘m glad t’ hear yer doin’ a bit betta. Hopefully they can get a good handle on dis soon, an’ you lot can go home.”

“Thank you. We hope so too,” my dad nods, running his thumb along the buttons of the tv remote. “I truly appreciate you taking the time to be here with Becky . . I know it means more than words to her.”

Looking away to the floor, his words find the chink in my armor. I feel the lump rise in my throat along with memories of last night. Luckily, the tears stay away and I get away with it.

“‘Course, ‘m glad I was able t’ come an’ be with her. Dunno if she told ya, but she was there fer me when my grandad was in tha hospital befo’ he passed. An’ well, I know how much it means t’ ‘ave sumbody there,” Harry murmurs, almost giving a reason for the tears to make an appearance. But they don’t, and I’m repeating ‘thank yous’ inside of my head.

“I’m pretty proud of my little Rebecca Ann, and it only grows more every day,” my dad comments, flitting his eyes over to me. His words make my cheeks tingle with a new blush and because I know another pair are on me, too.

“Yeah, she makes it ratha easy,” Harry agrees softly, pulling my attention to him. The gentlest smile sits atop his lips, and a sad sweetness twinkles in his eyes.

“Well, we’ll let you get back to your match. We’re going to grab breakfast before everybody else gets the same idea,” I pipe in, unsure of when and how to sever the moment. But the look in Harry’s eyes does something to me, and I don’t know what to do with it.

We exchange short goodbyes before I’m following Harry out of the room. The rising volume of the football announcers voices send us on our way.

“Rebecca Ann, huh?” Harry smiles beside me, the nurse’s station in our rearview mirrors.

“Go ahead and make jokes about it. It doesn’t even sound like my name, I don’t know. I’ve only ever went by that for forms, when I got in trouble, or like on the first day of school and graduation. And the Ann is just my middle name, I don’t have a two parter,” I explain hurriedly, surprising myself when I don’t hear one of his delightful giggles. Tearing my eyes away from the poster at the end of the hallway, I look to him. And he isn’t laughing, which confuses me.

“There’s no jokes t’ be had. I think ‘s pretty, yer name. Figured ya were a Rebecca, but wasn’t sure. Nor did I know yer middle was Ann. Tha’s my mum’s name, ‘ve always loved it,” he tells me, coming to a stop in front of the gunmetal colored doors of the lift. The sickeningly sweet look on his face sends the butterflies in my tummy to flight. Again.

“Oh thanks,” I almost blurt, pressing the button to go down. But then as we step into the welcoming lift, more come to me. “It was my grandmother’s name. It always made me feel closer to her, like I always had a piece of her with me.”

“Tha’s nice. ‘ve always liked it when parents carry on family names like dat. It makes me think ‘d like t’ do tha same with me own kids one day,” Harry continues as I watch the doors shut, cutting us off from the rest of the world. If only for a few minutes. But still.

“Me too.”

“So nobody ever calls ya Becca?” Harry inquires, catching my attention.

“Eh, not really. Maybe Skye sometimes, and my grandma Ann did, but not much anymore.”

“Hmm maybe ‘ll hafta use it then,” he quips, but then he wears a confused smile he pulled out of thin air. “Eh I dunno, actually. Ya’ll always be me Becks,” he finishes, making my heart do a dance. And fueling the angel and demon having a party inside of my head.

“Yeah, I agree. Anything else would sound weird.”

“Ya look like ‘im, ya know. Tha eyes, tha hair, and tha shape o’ yer face - bloody spitting image ya are. ‘Specially Robbie,” Harry acknowledges.

“We get that a lot, but thanks, I like to hear it. Sometimes I can’t see it, though,” I recall. “Which parent do you look like?”

“Um, dunno. I get comments ‘bout lookin’ like both o’ me parents. I guess I mostly ‘ave people say I look like me dad with sum o’ my mum’s features. Which sounds wild.”

“Yeah, I can relate with people saying I look like my dad. It’s like, oh thanks for saying I look like a boy,” I laugh. Turning to look at him on my left, a small one sputters from his smiling cherry lips.

“I know, ‘s weird.”

“I can see it, though. How people think you look like him,” I tell him. When I watch his lips settle into a silent, straight line, I feel instant regret. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, ‘s okay. Jus’ hard hearin’ people say ya look like sumbody ya don’ like.”

A small ‘oh’ passes over my lips before I can stop it. My eyes leave him and go to the changing red number above my head. Words bubble up inside of me, and I tell them to stop. But then I can’t.

“I think I know how you feel,” I murmur, daring to look over at him, her face flashing in my mind. His far away eyes lift from the floor and pan over to me.

I try not to lose myself in their infinity of green, but it’s worthless. And soon I am, and thoughts of last night leak from my memories.

I know it’s at the back of his mind too. That almost kiss. The one he tried to initiate, and the one I want so bad. Five months ago, I don’t know if I would’ve. But now in this moment and in this elevator, all alone with him, I couldn’t want something more.

Or somebody.

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oakwyrm · 7 years

Text

Glowing Waves

My entry for the 2017 TI Big Bang.

Read on ao3

HTTYD AU Nolvin beta read by @authorofthelabyrinth Artists: @darkstormcrystal and @usuallysublimepenguin Thank you all very much.

@tibigbang

The morning air was cold, properly cold. Not the pleasant chill of summer mornings, the kind of biting chill that told of winter's fast approach. It was silent, too. That eerie kind of silence where the few noises that could be heard became deafening. The metal handle of the lantern creaked; a fish jumped up out of the water, creating a slight splash, and waves gently rocked Colvin's little boat.

He sat quietly for a moment, oars pulled aboard as he floated on the water. The air was heavy with the promise of rain, further proven by the dark blanket of clouds that covered the sky. The sun wouldn't rise for a while yet and no light of star or moon was strong enough to find its way through the clouds. The rawhide lantern at the front of the boat burned steadily, the only true light in the darkness.

With considerable effort, he wrenched himself out of the sluggish heaviness that lay on his limbs and noted that he had floated a fair ways away from where he had cast his net. He wasted no more time in rowing back and pulling up his catch. It was a decent one, two large cod and a few smaller, oily fish had gotten themselves stuck in the net. They would definitely be good additions to his stores for the winter.

This year had been kind to him. He was relatively secure in that he would not have to ration his food too heavily this winter. Of course, a flock of Terrible Terrors could show up at any moment and attempt to ruin that plan, or the winter could be longer and harsher than usual, so he wasn't about to let himself relax completely.

Once the whole catch was in the boat he set about swiftly making his way back to his island. The trip was short since he never cast his nets far from his home. Partially because the further out he fished the more likely it was he'd lose both the fish and the nets to a dragon. He reached the shore within minutes and jumped out of the boat, pulling it a fair way up and securing it to a tree. Once the boat was secure he grabbed the net and the lantern, making his way with springing steps up to his house.

It was more like a small cottage than a house, really, but he only needed room for himself and his cat so that wasn't a problem. He hung the lantern from its hook on the outside wall and started to clean the fish in the light provided by the dim fire in the hearth. This was always the most time-consuming part of the process, and he had grown adept at the steps over the years.

He worked fast, and the catch was small enough for him to be done by the time the heavy cloud cover above him started to gain some light. The dawn that settled over the world felt more like a blanket than anything that was supposed to wake him up, urging him to go back to sleep. He'd be lucky if it didn't rain, so for the moment the drying cod would have to survive in the wood shed, rather than out on the cliffs, where they were a little more vulnerable to Terrors if he wasn’t careful, but exposed to better air. Once he'd left them there to dry in peace he quickly set about starting to smoke the rest.

Inside the walls of his home, it was now blissfully warm. Message jumped down from her perch on one of the shelves, watching intently as he set up the smoking rack. The look on her face was, of course, one he knew well by now.

“No, Message those aren't for you,” he said, crouching down and scratching her lightly behind the ear. She meowed and shoved her head against his hand. This did not sway him. Conceding defeat, she jumped up onto the bench in front of the fire instead. Colvin wasn't far behind, sitting down soon after to let warmth properly seep back into his body.

Clearly, he had chosen the right moment to return to the shelter of his home. He had barely been inside long enough to be wholly warm again before the rain started abruptly, heavy rain drops falling quickly. Colvin could hear it hammering down on the world outside even through his overgrown roof. It was unlikely he'd do much more outside today. Message didn't seem to mind too much. She was very content where she was. Her rumbling purr along with the crackling of the fire and the fall of the rain outside made for a soothing combination of sounds.

Colvin breathed out slowly and deliberately, centring himself and focusing inward. He closed his eye and let the sounds envelop him entirely. He let his mind wander as he breathed as steadily and evenly as he could. Message shifted, shoving herself against his leg slightly. He continued to meditate as the rain pattered outside.

It was around midday when it finally stopped. The world outside was soggy. Heavy droplets dripped from branches, thudding where they hit the ground. Still, that nature after rain smell hung in the air. A clean yet earthy scent, as was expected so late in the year. Colvin stepped out of the house, taking a moment to enjoy the freshness of the air before picking his way carefully down to the beach where he had left his boat. With some effort he grabbed hold of the still slippery side and tipped it, letting the water run out and onto the rocky shore.

His foot slid against the dangerously wet rocks of the shore as he straightened. He flailed for a moment, almost losing his balance before he managed to find safe ground with his other foot and save himself. With a small skipping type of motion, he stood up and continued on his way back towards the cottage, unfazed.

Message was waiting for him on the roof. She watched his approach carefully with a kind of feline calculation and Colvin prepared himself to receive a tag along. Just as he passed below she leapt down onto his shoulders, quickly finding a comfortable perch. He reached up and quietly pet her head.

The rest of the day was quiet, for the most part. Most days were. The only time Colvin saw other people was when he sought out trade ships on their way to more important harbours. No Terrible Terrors tried their luck at his stores. It made for an excellent day to sit back and just think. His tiny island was, of course, also perfectly suited to this. It was called the Isle of Truth after all. To be fair that was the name he had given it. No one else had been there so he had taken that duty upon himself.

As he sat deep in his thoughts, he missed Message walking up to him. So, naturally, when she jumped into his lap and gently smacked him in the face with her fluffy tail, his concentration was broken with a start. She didn't seem to care about this, curling up contentedly in his lap. He smiled and obliged her, petting her soft fur. It was in this unfortunate position that Colvin fell asleep, sitting cross-legged on a bench in front of the fire with a purring cat in his lap. Comfortable in the short term, but it would not remain so.

***

When Colvin awoke he first noted was that his back was killing him and his legs were stiff. He had, at some point, managed to actually lay down, but he had been on a bare bench completely free of the usual fur bedding, which was still tucked away in a box under the seat. He sat up slowly, most every part of him protesting in some way. Message raised her head, looking at him from across the room.

Slowly, he got to his feet, stretching and looking around for anything that might be out of place. Things seemed normal, nothing was out of place in the house, the night outside was quiet, from what he could hear. More than likely it was just the uncomfortable sleeping situation that had woken him.

He relaxed somewhat, kneeling down to pull the furs out and set them up so he could get some proper sleep. Message perked up, her eyes following what he was doing with interest. He laid the bedding down as he usually did, working by the dim light of the fire. He glanced back at it with a small frown.

Perhaps it was a good thing that he had woken up, after all. He got to his feet again, walking to the fire. It was definitely dying down. Quietly, he walked to the entrance, pausing when Message jumped down from her perch, padding over and fixing her eyes on the door. He recognised her suspicion for what it was and frowned.

Carefully he listened. A noise from outside was his first clue, coming from the shore if he were to guess. It sounded like something moving, probably not a small animal. Looking about again he spotted a faint light shining on his wall. A blue-ish light, different from any moonlight or aurora he had ever seen.

Slowly, he returned his attention to the door, pushing it open to peek outside. There, by the sea, as he had guessed, sat a dragon with her head in the water. Eating, it seemed. More impressive still, both she and the sea below were glowing with that blue light that now shone more brightly into his home. The door creaked as Colvin pushed it further and he winced. The dragon stopped, lifting her head and turning around. Her teeth, though short and few in number, looked deadly sharp and her eyes, situated near the front of her snake-like triangular head, were a pale blue and nothing else. A skin-covered horn was situated right between them, bending backwards over almost the entire length of her head. Her wings were folded but he could still clearly see the long, trailing pieces of them that would move unnaturally as she flew.

Before Colvin could react properly, she had bounded up to his cottage, her snout concerningly close to his face. Without a thought, Colvin pulled back his fist, prepared to defend his home. Now, what he hoped to accomplish by punching a dragon this size he was unsure, but he never got a chance to land that blow. Sensing his hostility, the Flightmare reared back, opening her mouth and breathing a chilled mist in his direction. Message gave a startled yelp of a meow and jumped quickly out of the way as Colvin was frozen in place.

On the other side of the island, Narn was snapped out of their near-sleep by Blueberry's alarmed roar. In an instant they scrambled to their feet and headed over towards the source of the sound as quickly as they could. They came to a halt on the other side of the small island, taking a moment to survey the scene.

A cottage door stood open, a stranger, the owner of the house no doubt, stood frozen in place on his doorstep, looking as if he had planned to fight Blueberry with his bare hands. The dim light of a dying fire shone out from the doorway. Blueberry had taken a good few paces away from the cottage.

“I...i...i thought this island was deserted...” Narn mused aloud, walking up to Blueberry and gently scratching her under her chin. “My apologies.” She laid down, curling up, but kept a watchful eye on the person she'd just paralysed. Narn turned to look more closely at the unfortunate victim.

They moved forwards, taking their glove off of and reaching forwards to touch the stranger's neck, though they doubted Blueberry had actually killed the guy. A brief check proved them right, his heart was still beating. Slowly, for the moment, but he would recover.

A hiss brought their attention from the stranger to a small figure, perched on a nearby shelf inside the cottage. A grey Norwegian Forest Cat in an obviously hostile position, back arched and her fur standing further on end. Her eyes, an odd colour, veering more towards purple than any cat Narn had previously encountered, caught the light and gleamed in a somewhat threatening way. Narn stopped and raised their hand but she didn't back down so they obliged her and backed off, sitting near Blueberry and beginning the wait for the stranger's paralysis to wear off.

Once the intruder moved to a suitable distance Message jumped down from her perch, landing on Colvin's shoulders and curling up.

Narn could feel the cat's stare burning into their back. Blueberry shifted restlessly, opening one of her eyes to stare up at the cat. Narn placed their hand on her head quickly, making a soothing sound in an attempt to dissuade her from any further action. Blueberry shook herself slightly and settled back down with a soft growling noise. The cat hissed but didn't leave her post by the stranger's side.

***

Colvin came to with a strangled noise of surprise and a graceless fall out of the house and onto the ground below him. His entire body felt heavy, but still he rolled over, staring up at the clear night sky above him. He focused for a moment on merely breathing. As he saw it, trying to figure out how he was alive could wait for a moment.

“How do you feel?”

Colvin jumped at the unfamiliar, raspy voice, sitting up quickly and turning to look in the direction it had come from. A tall figure, armour-clad, and decently intimidating, sat calmly next to the Flightmare. Their armour covered their entire body, only their gloveless hand currently visible. The helmet that hid their face went on into chainmail to cover their chin and neck. A blue pattern was painted above the eyes and down where their nose probably was. Their other arm seemed to be entirely made of metal if the way it rested at their side was any indication. Around their shoulders a red cloak was wrapped. Message hissed, placing herself between Colvin and the stranger.

“Ah, right. My name is Narn.” They stood up and Colvin realised he might have underestimated how tall they actually were. “Sorry about Blueberry, she was startled.” The Flightmare raised her head and looked in Colvin's direction.

Colvin got to his feet slowly, dusting himself off as best he could. Message walked behind his legs, looking out at the strangers with suspicion and hostility, but finding it safer to be behind him now that he had proven he could stand.

“Colvin,” He replied, still collecting the pieces of his scattered brain. “This is Message.” At the mention of her name the feline sat, continuing her steady stare in Narn's direction.

“I don't think she likes me,” Narn said, peering down at Message. Colvin laughed, crouching and gently petting Message's head.

“I think it has something to do with your formidable companion,” he said, eyes moving to Blueberry where she lay, carefully observing her surroundings. “How did you train her?” he asked, standing up again. Despite not being able to see Narn's eyes, or any part of their face, really, he could sense the strange look they were giving him.

“Most people don't react like this,” they said. “Do you want to meet her?” Colvin hesitated for just a moment before approaching Narn and Blueberry. On the doorstep Message made a complaining meow, but when it became clear that she couldn't dissuade him she settled for sitting down and worrying from a distance.

Standing beside Narn, Colvin assessed Blueberry. She was easily the biggest dragon he'd ever been so close to, and she didn't even belong to the largest dragon species out there. Flightmares were on the small side if Colvin was remembering correctly.

“You don't have to be scared of her, she won't harm humans. Even if she was wild, Flightmare mostly live off of algae, don't you?” Narn reached down and gently scratched the underside of Blueberry's chin. In response she raised herself up somewhat, a content trilling noise resonating from somewhere in her throat.

“What do I do here?” Colvin asked, looking up slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of Narn's eyes, or any part of their face really, behind the helmet they wore.

“Just hold out your hand. She'll do the rest,” Narn said, taking a step back to give him space. Colvin stared at Blueberry for a second before extending his hand. Curiously, she padded forward, sniffing his palm and eyeing Narn out of the corner of her eye to read any signs of alarm. When nothing pointed to Colvin being a genuine threat she closed her eyes and gently bumped her snout up into his palm.

Her skin was cold, scaly and smooth. Her breath hit his arm, a great puff of cool air. Very carefully he moved his hand, gently caressing. Colvin felt vaguely like he was floating. He trusted himself enough to judge that this was real, but it still seemed too amazing to be true. Behind him Narn stood, a wide grin spreading slowly over their hidden face.

“Are you hungry?” Colvin asked, turning in Narn's direction. They took a moment to respond. Of all the words they had been expecting Colvin to say, food wasn't high on the list.

“Yes... why?” they cocked their head to the side slightly, the chain mail part of their helmet clinking slightly as it moved.

“Then you can tell me more about Blueberry over a meal.” He grinned. Narn looked from Colvin to the small house, where Message was still sat on the doorstep, her tail shifting slowly in warning. Colvin caught onto their unspoken concern and walked back to his house, gently coaxing Message up into his arms.

“She'll warm to you eventually,” he assured, stepping out of the doorway and indicating to Narn that they were free to enter if they wished. They shrugged and with a few long steps they were at the door. Message gave them a highly displeased look as they ducked their head slightly and entered the small house.

“Nice place,” they mused as they settled on one of the benches. Colvin nodded.

“Thank you, I built it myself,” he said, placing Message back down and turning towards the woodshed, going to gather more firewood to revive the fire. Narn and Message stared at each other. Neither one of them moved for a moment that seemed to stretch for longer than it had any right to.

Finally, as Colvin's footsteps signalled his return, Message jumped up onto the bench opposite Narn, her suspicious cat stare still digging into them. Colvin's return was a welcome break. Message turned her eyes to him and meowed happily.

He paused for a moment to pet her before he set down the firewood in its corner and took the suitable amount from the pile to revive the sputtering flames in the fireplace. Narn watched in relative silence as he continued to move about the house, taking down the small table that hung in the rafters and pulling various containers off of shelves.

Not long after Colvin had set down a plate in front of Narn and taken his seat across from them. Quietly Narn removed their helmet and set it beside them on the bench. Thin dreadlocks hung around a narrow, dark brown face. In the firelight the amber in their eyes grew stronger, mirroring the flame back at itself as they quickly brushed their hair back. Despite Colvin's suggestion that the two talk more while they ate, the actual meal passed in silence, both of them finding that upon reflection, they were too hungry to focus on a conversation at that moment.

It was Narn who finally broke the silence, once they had finished their meal “Why do you live out here alone?” they fixed their eyes on Colvin, leaning their chin in their hand as they waited for an answer. Colvin leaned back against the wall.

“I'm not alone, I have Message,” he said, without missing a beat. Narn glanced at the cat, who seemed suddenly to have quite the smug air about her.

“She's very protective of you...” Narn grinned. “A good quality.” Colvin gently placed his hand on Message's head, scratching behind her ears.

“How did you get here?” Colvin asked, facing Narn. He did have his theories, obviously, but he wanted to hear Narn's story to see if they matched up.

“On Blueberry,” they replied with ease. “Her saddle is on the other side of your island, if you want to see it.” Colvin jumped to his feet almost before they had time to finish their sentence. Narn rose quickly with a kind of fluid elegance one wouldn't expect someone to be able to achieve when clad in so much armour, picking up their helmet and putting it back on their head.

As the two of them walked out of the house with Message following close behind, Blueberry raised her head and took notice. Narn made a strange noise that seemed to come out of the back of their throat and Blueberry got up, walking up next to them and matching their stride.

Colvin had to hurry his steps somewhat to keep up with Narn, but he did so easily. Narn seemed to take notice of this but didn't comment and Colvin was too focused on their goal to notice Narn's swift glance in his direction.

The saddle Narn had mentioned was hanging from a high tree branch, protected from possible rain and from the dampness of the earth by thick evergreen branches. Swiftly Narn moved forwards and picked it off the branch, setting it down against the trunk. Colvin came up beside them, carefully looking the mechanism over.

It was fairly plain, designed for practicality above all else, clearly. Blueberry perked up, pushing her snout against Narn's back. Colvin took a step away, watching with interest as they turned and began securing the saddle to her. She stayed completely still as they moved around her until they gave what Colvin could only assume was the signal that all was well.

At that she shot up, eager to get going. Colvin sat on the nearest big rock and continued to watch as Narn got into the saddle and the two shot off into the sky, sending a shock of wind in his direction that blew all of the hair out of his face.

They flew through the early dawn only just beginning to light up the sky. Blueberry's path was easy to follow, shining with a clear blue light in the still dull morning. Colvin sat spellbound by the display. Both dragon and rider seemed in sync with the other, creating a seamless display of teamwork and power.

A trail of mist hung in the sky behind them, creating a spiral pattern. Her relatively smaller size and the shape of her body made Blueberry very fast, something Narn appeared accustomed to, as they rode with their body low to avoid wind resistance as much as possible. With a final spin Blueberry balanced out to a slower flight and Narn sat up, looking down towards Colvin.

Despite being almost entirely protected from the wind by armour Narn still felt slightly windswept when Blueberry slowed down again. They surveyed the land and sea below them. The trail of glowing algae had moved on, floating east towards the sunrise. Colvin sat on the rock they had left him on, though they couldn't quite make out his facial expression from where they were.

With a brief word to Blueberry they descended back to the island. Colvin looked somehow more windswept than even they felt, his hair was somewhat in a disarray, more so than it had already been, and he seemed stunned. With a grin they dismounted and took off their helmet, shaking their head to reorganize their hair as best they could.

“You want to come along?” they asked, nodding in Blueberry's direction. Colvin frowned slightly, clearly going into deep thought for a moment.

“No, I don't think humans were meant to fly,” he said finally, though his tone directed no judgement towards Narn. It could easily have been taken as such but Narn, instead, looked slightly surprised.

“I'm not flying,” they said. Colvin's brow furrowed further. “Blueberry is the one who flies.” They stated this plainly, as if it was the most obvious truth in the world. Colvin leaned back slightly.

“You're moving through the air without anything to connect you to the ground. That's flying,” he said. Narn sat down quickly, crossing their legs.

“I am riding a flying creature, yes, but I'm not actually doing any flying,” they countered. Blueberry laid down, plainly recognizing this was going to take a while to resolve, if it got resolved at all. Colvin looked thoughtful. This was not a question he'd had any reason to contemplate before, mainly because he had never thought it possible.

“You work so closely with each other, though. From what I could see you become part of the flight.”

“That's just knowing how to move with the dragon to get the best speed and manoeuvrability, I'm part of the flight but I'm still not doing any flying.”

***

Aryn groaned quietly, letting her head fall onto the back of Firestorm's head. The great dragon that bore her high above the archipelago barely even seemed to notice the sudden shift. She really should be used to this by now. Whenever Blueberry needed to refuel on the glowing algae that was her main food source, she and Narn would vanish without a trace. They'd always leave with a promise to return before sunrise, sure, but more often than not they failed to uphold that.

Not that they were ever that hard to find, in the end. Firestorm was a Typhoomerang, she covered distance well and her eyes were sharper that Aryn's could ever hope to be. Blueberry usually also helped, with her glow freshly brightened from the glowing algae she wasn't exactly hard to spot, even in daylight. Still, the fact of the matter was that it was almost noon. She had been up in the air since the early morning and still no sign of Narn. She had barely eaten anything and the hours were beginning to weigh on her.

“You'd think with the longer nights they'd actually manage to get back by sunrise,” she muttered against Firestorm's scaly skin.

As if called by her complaint, a familiar roar made her look up. Blueberry had drawn even with them and gotten Firestorm's attention. Normally Blueberry showing up without Narn would have alarmed Aryn, but she was showing no signs of distress or hurrying them along in any manner, so Aryn felt she should hold off on judging the situation just yet.

“Lead the way,” Aryn said, looking to Blueberry, though she didn't really need to. Blueberry had already turned around and started leading them towards what was no doubt Narn's location.

Aryn hadn't been far off, actually. It wasn't long before Blueberry started to descend towards a small middle-of-nowhere type island. It would have looked deserted, had it not been for the thin line of smoke rising out of what appeared, from her vantage point, to be just a mossy hill. She frowned. Usually people were a deal breaker when it came to Blueberry’s grazing areas.

Firestorm landed shortly after Blueberry, laying down as best she could without crushing any trees or dipping too much of herself into the water. This island was definitely not meant for dragons of full grown Typhoomerang size. Firestorm’s other passenger, however, rolled down and onto the ground with much delight, pawing at the moss and making small noises not all that dissimilar to a kitten. If a kitten were the size of a sheep.

Spark was the baby Moldruffle which she had taken under her wing, much to Narn's obvious delight. They were terrible at hiding their glee whenever it came to convincing someone dragons were not all that was wrong with the world and more. Blueberry huffed, clearly waiting for Aryn to follow her.

“One second.” She turned back to Spark and lifted him up without much trouble. He squirmed slightly for a moment but settled down soon enough. Firestorm lifted her head and watched as the three considerably smaller beings made their way into what little forest this small island contained.

It didn't take long to reach the small cottage Aryn had spotted from above, more obvious now that she was on the ground. The door stood open and voices floated out to greet her. One was definitely Narn's, the other a stranger. In the time it took her to reach the door she had managed to figure out the topic of their conversation. She was less than surprised.

Not that she had actually come across Narn debating the technicalities of what did and what didn't count as flight with a stranger before, but it was definitely not something she'd put past them provided they found the right stranger. She almost regretted that she would have to interrupt their conversation. Almost.

With a cough and a sharp knock on the door frame she made her presence known, snapping Narn and the stranger out of their debate. Narn stared at her in silence for a moment, as did the stranger, though their silences were markedly different. Narn was waiting for her to speak, the stranger was trying to figure out who she was.

“It's midday,” she said finally in as flat of a tone as she could manage.

“Time got away from me,” Narn replied. “This is Colvin.” They gestured to the person sitting across from them. Aryn looked him over once more.

“Aryn,” she said, expecting no reply.

Without another word she walked away from the cottage, leaving them to resume their debate if they so wished. Clearly they did as she had barely found a comfortable place to sit before they started again. Quietly, she rolled her eyes and wondered if she was going to have to spend the next week on this tiny island.

Luckily, she did not have to wait quite that long. It was late in the afternoon when she and Narn left the island. Colvin had conceded after a good-natured arm wrestling match, the victor of which was Narn, that a human riding a dragon was technically not the one doing the actual flying, though he still remained adamant on that he would not actually be joining Narn for a ride unless they could give him some reason apart from fun.

***

Perhaps the idea that nothing about his life would change after his encounter with Narn was silly. Actually, scratch that, it was frankly ridiculous. One did not discover such earth-shattering things as the fact that dragons could be trained and just go on living life. Moreover, when Colvin looked back on this period in his life years later, he would often wonder how in the world he managed to convince himself Narn would go about their business and forget about him.

Then again, that could be chalked up to not knowing them well enough at the time. Whatever the case, the fact remained that Narn returned less than a week later.

Colvin was quietly meditating in a soft patch of grass when he heard the flap of wings and felt a brief shock of wind as Blueberry landed. He opened his eye slowly to look at Narn as they dismounted, removing their helmet, grinning down at him.

“Are you joining me for dinner?” he asked, closing his eye again as Narn sat down in front of him.

“Are you offering?” they questioned. Colvin hummed a response that honestly could either have been a denial or a confirmation. Narn shrugged and laid down, staring up at the sky as the clouds rolled by. It was because of this that they missed the angry grey blur bolting in their direction until Message had jumped over them and clambered her way up onto Colvin's shoulders, glaring her very best cat glare at Narn.

They sat up, staring back, somewhat perplexed. While they didn't expect Message to be instantly friendly with them when they returned, they hadn't expected her to hold this much of a grudge. Colvin didn't seem to react much to Message's presence though, so this might just be a normal thing for them that Narn was intruding on.

The rest of the day proceeded much the same. Narn would try to help Colvin with the cooking, Message would come in as a bolt of grey lightning from a clear blue sky and steal any and all tools Colvin gave them. Narn tried to talk to Colvin about what interested him, Message pretended to pick a fight with Blueberry. Narn tried to tell Colvin more about Blueberry, Message got herself stuck up a tree. Though that one might actually have been accidental, Narn wasn't fully sure.

They watched with an irritated look on their face as Colvin descended the tree with Message in hand. At this rate they would never find anything that interested Colvin enough to get him up into the air. Why exactly they felt such a strong need to show him the world from the back of a dragon they weren't entirely sure. Because he had accepted dragon training as a reality so quickly, perhaps?

“Narn?” Colvin's voice broke them out of their thoughts and they looked back up at him. “I'm handing Message over to you.”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Narn replied, even as they reached up to receive the cat that Colvin was slowly lowering to them. As predicted Message was not happy, but Narn got away with only a few scratches on their hand as she wriggled herself free of their hold. Any other part of them she might have tried to get her claws into was still armour clad, save for their face, but she was more concerned about removing herself from their presence than actually trying to do serious damage.

Colvin quickly descended the rest of the way after that. Once he was on the ground, he took hold of Narn's hand and inspected the scratches with a critical eye. Narn had, of course, received much worse over the years, but they didn't entirely feel the need to mention that.

“These aren't bad,” Colvin said finally. “But I can treat them if you want.” Narn looked from Colvin to the scratch and nodded.

Inside the cottage, Colvin sat them down and started going about the slightly stinging process of treating Message's scratches. As he was doing this the culprit herself turned up and curled up in Colvin's lap, staring up at Narn with judging, disapproving eyes. Their next line of action became clear to them then. They needed to befriend Message.

As if she sensed their thoughts she quickly jumped off of Colvin's lap and ran out the door. A few seconds later Colvin pronounced the cleaning of the small scratches done and Narn stood up, walking over to the door and looking around. Message was sitting near the shore, staring at the house, though the moment she saw Narn she turned away.

Colvin watched Narn from his seat in the cottage and was, understandably, taken by surprise when they began to methodically remove their armour. First the left arm, followed by everything else. As Narn stood there and stretched slowly, freed from the weight and bulk of their protective gear, Colvin found himself questioning reality for the second time in a week. This time how a stretched out beanpole of a person was the one inside of so much armour. Before he could comment, however, Narn had vanished from the door.

Narn made their way down to where Message was sitting, taking a seat a bit away from her.

“I'm sorry Blueberry paralysed Colvin?” they tried. Message ignored them. A very purposeful kind of ignoring, too. They sighed. “I'm not going to steal him away if that’s what you’re worried about.” Again, no response. They leaned back slightly, staring at the back of her head. They remained seated there for a while until Narn eventually gave up, standing up and going back to gather their armour before mounting Blueberry and taking off, back towards where they and Aryn had set up camp.

***

“Aryn.” Narn's sudden calling of her name and even more sudden rising from what Aryn had thought was a deep sleep made her jump with surprise. She squinted at them over the fire, halting her gentle scratching of Spark's head for a moment.

“Yes?” she yawned.

“One of your dragons acts like a kitten, how do I get a cat to like me?” Aryn frowned.

“What?”

“Message, Colvin's cat. She doesn't like me. Spark acts like a kitten. Tell me how to fix this.” They were staring at her now, in that slightly disconcerting way where they didn't ever seem to blink.

“That's... not even nearly the same thing,” she said, but she knew from the look on Narn's face that they were not backing down. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, staring down a Spark where he gently dozed. “Bribe her with food and then leave her alone. Now can I get back to going to sleep?” Narn nodded absently, clearly already working on their plan. Aryn shook her head and sank down into her sleeping bag, quickly falling into a dreamless slumber.

She woke the next morning to the smell of roast duck. Slowly she sat, staring at Narn. They were, from the looks of it, just about finished cutting the meal into suitable cat sized pieces.

“Did you sleep at all?” she asked. Narn looked up from their work and blinked. From the look on their face and the redness of their eyes she judged the answer to be no.

“It's very hard to find a duck this late in the year,” they said in place of a proper answer. Definitely a no, then. She didn't even want to think about how far they'd had to fly to get their hands on the duck.

“Why is this so important to you?” she asked. Narn stopped cutting up the duck for a second to look at her before resuming.

“He needs to see it,” they said. Aryn laid back down and stared up at the sky.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because he does,” Narn answered. Or rather didn't answer. Aryn decided that she was too tired to keep badgering them for more details at the moment. Let someone else deal their weirdness for once. Though Colvin had seemed fairly weird himself so maybe he was equipped to handle someone like Narn right from the get go.

***

The sound of Blueberry landing, Colvin suspected, would soon become very familiar. A few seconds after the final noise of wings stopped Narn knocked on the door. Colvin set down the beginnings of a new, bigger and better net that he was making, and walked over to the door, opening it and looking up at Narn, who had this time chosen to forgo their armour entirely.

“Can I give Message some roast duck?” they asked. Colvin looked at them for a moment, taking them in and noting that yes, they did smell of roast duck.

“Go ahead,” he said, stepping out of the way and letting Narn in before heading back to his net making.

Message looked up at their entrance, interested in the smell of the plate they were carrying, but still with a heavy dose of scepticism aimed at Narn. They gently set the plate down in front of Message and backed away.

Message stared down at the roast duck in front of her. It was rare that she get a treat like this. She sniffed one of the pieces experimentally and, plainly, could find nothing wrong with it as she quickly bit into it. Not long after the plate was entirely clear, though Message still didn't acknowledge Narn's presence as they retrieved it. Still, it seemed to be a somewhat less hostile ignoring.

Narn sat down next to Colvin. They would be lying through their teeth if they pretended they weren't a little bit relieved their duck cubes had been accepted. Colvin looked sideways at them but didn't say much, continuing to work on his new net. A few moments passed in comfortable silence as the fire crackled merrily.

“Winter's gonna be here soon,” Colvin commented. Narn nodded somewhat absently. “Do the dragons keep you warm?” he asked. Narn sat up a little straighter.

“Firestorm does. Spark will when he's grown a little I think.”

“Blueberry's too cold?”

Narn nodded. Before they'd met Aryn winters in the archipelago had been a bit challenging, but they liked the cold. They were used to it. Still they weren't going to pretend having Firestorm around wasn't a huge help.

The two of them lapsed into silence again as Colvin continued to work on the net.

***

Winter started soon after. Or rather, there was absolutely no question that it was no longer autumn, but the first snowfall seemed to be staying stubbornly away. Narn's visits continued, and at this point Colvin would have found it strange if they stopped coming around. Message still didn't like them, though the duck may have convinced her they were worthy of reevaluation.

Colvin’s surprise when a familiar glow joined the Northern Lights in the sky one cloud free evening was minimal. Blueberry landed and quickly Narn jumped off her back, shedding their armour easily as they approached Colvin and sat down next to him. In his lap Message bristled slightly but remained calm.

“Do you ever think about how small we are?” Narn asked, ignoring any more traditional greeting as they stared up into the vastness of the night sky above them. More stars than anyone could ever hope to count accompanied by a dance of dazzling colours.

“Do you ever think about how big everything else is?” Colvin countered. Narn chuckled.

“That's the same question I asked,” they said. Colvin's lips twitched.

“Seen from a different perspective. I like mine better.” He held out his hand towards the sky, blocking part of it out as he stared into the distance. He would have said he was trying to solve a riddle, but he rather felt that in this case he didn't have the entire riddle clear, just some meagre scraps of the whole puzzle. Narn hummed thoughtfully.

“Marvelling instead of shrinking before things so big we can't really understand them,” they said. Colvin nodded.

“Do you ever feel like the Gods are watching you from somewhere behind the stars?” he asked. Narn shrugged.

“I don't think about the Gods much,” they said, also staring deep into the abyss above them.

“What if we could actually travel among them?” Colvin said quietly and Narn could not in truth tell if he was speaking to himself or to them.

“I can get you a little closer to them, you know,” they said, looking towards Colvin. “The stars.” Colvin sat up suddenly, an expression on his face like he in all seriousness had never considered that before. Narn grinned, standing up and extending their hand to Colvin, who took it without question and let himself be pulled to his feet. Message jumped off of his lap with a displeased noise.

Narn let go for a moment and sprinted to the cottage, grabbing Colvin’s winter cloak from inside and on the way back stopping to snatch the cloak that usually served only as decoration on their armour. Colvin grabbed his cloak, throwing it on as Narn did the same with theirs. Blueberry, noticing the activity, stood up, reading the situation correctly.

Narn took their customary seat on her back and looked to Colvin, who seemed to be trying to puzzle out exactly where he should sit. Narn gently patted the spot right behind themself and Colvin obliged, mounting and wrapping his arms around Narn's waist to secure himself to the spot. Narn grinned and with a soft word to Blueberry they were off.

This flight was much different than the one Narn had shown Colvin the first day they met. That one had been showing off, and Narn would never deny that because there was no point in doing so. This one was... well it was still showing off, but in a different way. They weren't showing off their skills, or even Blueberry's, they were showing off the world from a new angle.

Colvin opened his eyes after the first initial rush of wind, when everything seemed to have evened out. He wanted to look up first but his eyes were drawn downwards. His first reaction was the initial shock of just how high up he was, the second was one of wonder. They were well above the archipelago, and Colvin's island wasn't exactly isolated for all that he was its only human inhabitant. They could easily see others, lights flickering in peaceful ways on islands Colvin had never been to, both close by and far in the distance. Signs of life dotted so many of them, though some of those fires were different, created by dragons rather than humans.

His eyes moved skyward and his grip on Narn tightened just a little. Above him, still seeming as far away as they were on the ground, the stars shone, accompanied by the colourful twists and turns of the Northern Lights. Despite the distance, though, this was different. He wasn't on the ground. He was caught between the stars and the world below him and for once in his life he didn't know what to think. He was entirely caught up in the moment, a feeling of awe washing over him and leaving him stunned.

“Do you ever think about how small we are?” Narn asked again. Colvin leaned his forehead against their shoulder and shook his head, laughing.

“Narn we're gigantic,” he said.

“Well I know I am,” Narn said. Colvin snorted and pushed his forehead further against their shoulder as they laughed. They supposed Colvin had a point. From up here human life, to them, had always seemed so fragile and small, but looking over it now they could see how perhaps the opposite could also be observed.

Several villages persevering in this world where, for the most part, dragons and humans were at war. The size of the settlements, the size of the populations, all the tiny fires that meant life. That people were able to not only survive, but to thrive in this environment. It was a rather breathtaking sight.

“I don't think you ever told me why you live alone,” Narn said, looking back at Colvin. He raised his head and looked up at the stars above them again, not breaking his silence. Not that Narn minded if he just ignored the question, they could live without the answer, and they would rather he remain silent than tell them anything he didn't want to share.

Colvin would be lying, truly, if he said it didn't feel like he could have tumbled into the stars at any moment, falling the wrong way off of Blueberry's back. He'd felt it before, when looking at the night sky from his roof or a particularly high tree, but never like this. At those times there had always been a direct connection to the ground present. He wasn't entirely sure which feeling he liked better. Before he would have said he didn't mind the thought of tumbling into an endless night where all he had to do was think. Would have preferred it even, if it hadn't meant leaving Message behind. Now he was less sure of that.

He felt a soft laugh bubble up in his chest. Wouldn't it be so terribly ironic if his most powerful tie to the solid earth ended up being the person who convinced him to leave it in the first place.

In front of him Narn bent down slightly and spoke to Blueberry. A short sentence in a voice that seemed to carry a hint of tiredness. Blueberry obliged them and swiftly descended, bringing them back to Colvin's island.

Colvin swiftly dismounted, heading for his home to make sure the fire was strong enough to keep him warm through the night. Message got to her feet, taking one good long look at Narn and Blueberry before deciding that Colvin looked unharmed enough for her to give them a pass.

Narn stretched, yawning and trying to blink a surprising exhaustion out of their eyes. Blueberry gave them a quick nudge and they stumbled. Gently they turned and gave her an affectionate scratch under her chin before shaking their head to clear it of any more ideas of sleep and heading for Colvin's tiny cottage.

Colvin heard Narn come in as he was coaxing more life into the fire with his back turned to the door. Of course he knew it was Narn, they were the only other biped on his island after all. Still their gate was probably distinct enough for him to have recognized it without that fact. They seated themself on one of the benches, a little closer to the door and Colvin rose, sending them a quick glance before he settled on the other bench and Message jumped into his lap, demanding more of his attention.

Neither one of them had intended for Narn to stay the night. It just sort of ended up that way, like such things sometimes do. Colvin looked up again after a while to find Narn had dozed off, leaning their back against the wall of his small cottage. He could have woken them up, true, but he found he didn't particularly want to.

If they were tired enough to fall asleep sitting up he probably couldn't trust they'd make it all the way back to Aryn without falling off of Blueberry's back, anyway. Not that he doubted she'd catch them, but he didn't really want to make them take that risk at all.

As quietly as he could he pulled out his box of furs, taking the largest one he hand and draping it over Narn as they slept. It didn't quite cover them, but it would do. He was very careful not to wake them as he slowly shifted their position into one that wouldn't leave them in quite as much pain come morning. They didn't so much as twitch.

***

Colvin and Narn woke early the next morning, within a few minutes of each other. Colvin yawned and stretched, looking over at Narn. He was still in his night time clothes while Narn, naturally, had slept in their daytime wear.

“I definitely don't have anything big enough to fit you,” he said finally as he tugged his nightshirt off, heading towards his own daytime clothes to change. Narn noted with some curiosity the many scars that crawled across his torso. Most of them from dragons, definitely. Terrible Terrors, judging by the marks the small teeth had left, but there were one or two there that definitely came from man-made weapons.

Their musing was cut short as Colvin pulled on his tunic and tied his usual belt around his waist. He looked around, a small frown creasing his brow and Narn noted that the piece of cloth that usually covered his right eye wasn't in place.

“I haven't seen it,” Narn said, before he could even open his mouth to ask.

Colvin sighed and raised his hand to tug at a strand of his hair as he glanced around again.

“Help me look for it?” He glanced in their direction again. Narn got to their feet and joined the search. The house was small, of course, but that didn't mean things couldn't get lost. No matter how small the space things always seemed to be extraordinarily good at doing that.

The search took longer than Narn honestly thought it had any right to. It was almost time for the day meal by the time Colvin made a sound of triumph and pulled a long piece of blue fabric out from inside the box of furs, where it had nestled down comfortably near the bottom. Colvin sighed a relieved kind of sigh and quickly tied it back in its usual place.

By the door Message meowed. Colvin turned to her and she looked from him to the door. With a quick, long step Narn was at the door and had pushed it open. Message gave them a rather affronted look before quickly darting out into the fresh air. Narn pushed open the door further a blinked at the sight that greeted him.

Aryn was seated with three dragons curled around her, which was not that impressive, and Message calmly setting about settling into her lap, which was much more impressive. Narn stepped out, followed close behind by Colvin. Aryn looked up, leaning calmly against Firestorm’s back.

She gave Narn a look. Narn sighed and sat down. Colvin looked between Aryn and Narn, trying to decide if he wanted to stay and listen or get his day started. The latter won out, quite quickly at that, and he vanished back into his house.

“So.” Aryn crossed her arms. Narn cocked their head to the side.

“So?” they asked. She sighed, gently petting Message as she looked at Colvin’s door.

“Well at least I don’t have to scour the whole archipelago for you anymore,” she said in a musing tone. Narn was relatively sure her comment hadn’t actually been directed at them so they didn’t feel the need to answer. Which proved a good enough choice as Colvin came out a moment later and dropped a plate into their lap, handing Aryn one as well.

“I’m running out of dishes,” was all he said before settling down with his own meal.

“I’ll make you some more,” Aryn said between bites, glancing at Narn as she did so. “I get the feeling you’re going to need them. While I’m at it I should bring you more food, too. Before Narn eats you out of house and home.”

Colvin shrugged and the rest of the meal passed in silence.

Aryn and Colvin stayed just long enough to help Colvin wash up before leaving. Colvin watched thoughtfully as they vanished into the distance. Behind him Message had curled up on the warmest spot of floor she could find. Shaking himself off, he retreated back into his home and headed directly for the small collection of books that he had.

He had had every intention of rereading his newest addition for the tenth time, but his hand stilled as he reached for it and he stopped, taking a seat and staring up at the ceiling instead. Message looked up at him with a lazy kind of curiosity, but didn’t move from her spot. Absently, he picked up the closest object, a knife as it so happened. He stared down at it, not really properly registering it as he slowly turned it over in his hands. His thoughts drifted in the direction of a wide grin and amber eyes set in a thin face.

So, as he so often did, he began to contemplate life. It wasn’t often these thoughts veered in towards his own life, that had up until recently been simple and straightforward. He frowned. Narn had comfortably settled into his routine by now and he found himself recoiling at the thought of returning to his old life. Moreover the thought left an uncomfortable feeling in the centre of his chest.

Colvin set the knife down beside him and stared into the centre of the fire in the hearth. Clearly this warranted more examination, but for the moment he would content himself with the fact that Narn had positively impacted his life and that he didn’t like the idea of his life without them anymore.

***

Narn stared at Aryn for a long moment, trying to figure out if she was kidding or not. They were leaning towards not, judging by the look on her face as she stood above them, holding out a sack of ingredients in their direction.

“I don’t know what to do with this stuff,” they said flatly, turning their stare on the bag. Aryn rolled her eyes.

“You say before you even know what’s inside it,” she countered. Narn raised an eyebrow.

“Not anything I can just throw up to dry, smoke, or grill,” they guessed, quite accurately. Aryn sighed and sat down, leaning her chin in her hand.

“You can make a good stew, and I got enough for a few failed attempts,” she said, tossing the bag over. It landed with a heavy thud next to Narn. Spark raised his head and padded over, sniffing at the bag curiously. Narn gently directed his attention away from it while still staring at Aryn.

“I don’t think that’s for a stew,” they said, pointing to the emergency stone oven Aryn had put together. She leaned back and crossed her arms, sending a pointed look at the bag but saying nothing. Narn sighed, recognizing that she would not budge on this, and grabbed the bag.

“Besides,” Aryn added as Narn opened it to take inventory. “You can ask me for help.” Narn looked up at her again, holding a smaller bag from inside the big one.

“You don’t know what to do with this either,” they said. She shrugged.

“We’ll figure it out together. Besides I got a recipe off one of the traders.” She threw one of the coins she had still been holding up into the air for dramatic effect before putting it back in her coin pouch. Quickly she jumped back to her feet and dusted off her hands.

***

Colvin, as a rule, woke up by himself. Sometimes Message would judge that he’d slept long enough and come wake him, but usually he managed to wake up by himself before this. So his surprise at being awoken by a knock at his door was reasonable, even though knocks at his door had become a common occurrence as of late.

Message squirmed out from under his arm and stretched, jumping quickly up onto one of the shelves instead. Colvin sat up, pushing some of his hair out of his face. He grabbed a log on the smaller side and threw it onto the fire before stumbling out of bed. He grabbed his eyepatch and tied it in place, but ignored putting on more suitable clothes as he approached the door and opened it.

Narn and Aryn stood there, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. He stood up straighter and stared out over a light cover of snow on the ground. Light flakes were still falling from the sky in a twirling dance, determined to cover as much of the world as they could in a cold, white blanket.

“Morning,” Aryn said, looking him over once. He leaned against the doorframe and yawned as he gestured for them to come in. They squeezed past him without much trouble and shook off what little snow had managed to cling to them, Narn removing their armour and Aryn taking off a very warm-looking winter cloak.

“We made you something,” Narn said after they got out of the last of their armour, picking up a previously discarded thing wrapped in cloth and handing it to him. Colvin blinked and took it, noting with some curiosity that it was warm to the touch. He unwrapped it carefully, the smell of fresh baked bread filling the cottage almost immediately.

“I know this kind of bread is pretty useless for long storage but I figured you’d need something nice as a thank you for putting up with Narn,” Aryn said in a light and teasing tone. Narn laughed as they walked over to one of the benches, seating themself in front of the fire. Colvin handed the bread back to Aryn before removing the table from its usual place in the rafters.

She set the bread down on the table as soon as it was on the floor and Colvin went to fetch what was left of the soup from last night. It was a little early for the day meal, sure, but he didn’t care. With quick efficiency he’d cut up three slices of bread and shared the soup into three bowls, or things that would pass as bowls anyway. One of them would have to make due with a mug.

“I’ll take the mug.” Narn spoke up from behind him before Colvin had time to raise the question.

“Well, that settles that,” Aryn said, grabbing the bowl with the large chip missing from one side. Colvin couldn’t really remember what had done that anymore. He shrugged it off and took his own bowl and handed Narn the mug along with a piece of the bread before seating himself next to them.

Curiously he took a bite of the bread without dipping it in the broth of the soup. Narn tried to make their watch for his reaction go unnoticed, but Colvin was fairly sure Narn had never in their life managed to make a direct look in someone’s direction unnoticeable. The bread was good, at least. Not that Colvin would have lied to spare their feelings if it hadn’t been.

“I like it,” he offered before continuing his meal. Narn smiled and fixed their concentration back on their own food.

“It was Aryn’s idea,” they said. On the other side of the room Aryn shrugged.

“Neither of us ever baked before,” she admitted. “Took two failed attempts before we got this.” Colvin looked down at the piece of bread in his hand with a new appreciation, but said nothing more.

“Does Message like snow?” Narn asked after a moment of silence. Message’s tail twitched slightly and Colvin looked up at her. He was relatively sure she’d gone back to sleep up on her shelf.

“She doesn’t hate it,” he said. “I don’t think she cares.” Aryn laughed.

“Good, I’d hate to see what would happen if she were cooped up in here for the entire winter.” Colvin nodded sagely.

Above them, Message stirred, disturbed by their talk. She got to her feet and stretched, looking down at them before quickly leaping from her perch. She used Narn as a stepping stone on her way to the floor and Colvin got up, opening the door for Message. She quickly ran out into the snow and over the pile of curled up dragons, settling herself next to Spark. Colvin watched for a moment with a smile before a chill wind blew past him and reminded him he needed to close the door again.

“I think you’re the only one she doesn’t like yet,” Aryn gestured at Narn with her spoon. They leaned back, setting their empty mug down on the table.

“She’s warming to you,” Colvin said, retaking his seat and leaning back against the wall. Narn inched slightly closer to him. Aryn hid her knowing smirk by biting into a piece of bread. Now was not the time for teasing.

The day passed in a quiet, tranquil way. Narn and Aryn ended up staying on the Isle of Truth longer than they had intended, but Message seemed pleased that the strange, large kitten wasn’t leaving so soon. Colvin was pleased, too. He enjoyed their company, and they were very helpful in clearing the now thick layer of snow, carving out the pathways that he would need. When evening came, the snow was falling again. Message had returned to the warmth of Colvin’s home to curl up in front of the fire. Aryn sat in one of the corners, taking care of her sword as quietly as she could as Narn and Colvin quietly dozed, leaning against each other as they did so.

#TI Big Bang 2017 #Thrilling Intent #ti httyd au #Nolvin #oak writes

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inkedskinpaperwings-blog · 7 years

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An incomplete list (but already way too long) of stalker/obsession films for... no reason at all. Keep in mind I got all these from online lists, so if some of them aren’t actually stalker films, I cannot be held accountable for it.

The Roommate (2011) - “When college freshman Sara arrives on campus for the first time, she befriends her roommate, Rebecca, unaware that the girl is becoming dangerously obsessed with her.”

One Hour Photo (2002) - “An employee of a one-hour photo lab becomes obsessed with a young suburban family.”

Play Misty For Me (1971) - “A brief fling between a male disc jockey and an obsessed female fan takes a frightening, and perhaps even deadly turn when another woman enters the picture.”

The Fan (1996) - “Three-times MVP baseball player Bobby Rayburn joins San Fransisco Giants, and obsessive fan, whose profession is selling hunting knives, Gil Renard is excited over that. But Rayburn plays the worst season of his career and Renard tries to do everything to help him, but goes too far.”

Dear Zachary (2008) - “On November 5, 2001, Dr. Andrew Bagby was murdered in a parking lot in western Pennsylvania. The prime suspect: his girlfriend. As the saga unfolded, Andrew’s oldest friend began making a film…”

Hidden (2005) (might be in French?) - “An upper-middle class Parisian family starts receiving anonymous video tapes of their house. There’s no commentary, no threats, but the message is clear: You’re being watched. Slowly, dark revelations come to light…”

Enduring Love (2004) - “On a beautiful cloudless day a young couple celebrate their reunion with a picnic. Joe has planned a postcard-perfect afternoon in the English countryside with his partner, Claire. But their idyll comes suddenly to an abrupt end.”

The Loved Ones (2009) - “When Brent turns down his classmate Lola’s invitation to the prom, she concocts a wildly violent plan for revenge.”

Body Double (1984) - “A young B movie actor’s obsession with spying on a beautiful woman who lives nearby leads to a baffling series of events with drastic consequences.”

The Gift (2015) - “When married couple Simon and Robyn unexpectedly encounter Gordo, an acquaintance from Simon's past, little do they know that their perfect lives will be thrown into a terrifying tailspin.”

The Good Son (1993) - “Mark, a young boy who loses his mother, must stay with his extended family while his father is away on business. Mark becomes acquainted with his cousin Henry. However, the extent of Henry's depravity soon becomes clear.”

Remember My Name (1978) - “Neil Curry is living a happy life with his second wife Barbara in California after abandoning his first wife, Emily, in New York. Their life of domestic bliss is interrupted when Emily comes back from prison, where she served a 12-year sentence for murdering Neil's former lover.”

The Resident (2011) - “A landlord becomes obsessed with a doctor who moves into his building.”

Reviving Ophelia (2010) - “No one listens when a teenager suspects that her cousin is in an abusive relationship.”

Hear No Evil (1993) - “An Oregon woman's new friend helps her elude a corrupt policeman who wants an item she unknowingly holds.”

Hell Hath No Fury (1991) - “The wife of a slain man is framed by the killer, a warped woman whose identity she knows.”

Creep (2014) - “Aaron answers an online ad and drives to a stranger's house to film him for the day. The man wants to make a movie for his unborn child, but his requests become more bizarre as the day goes along.”

Sleeping With The Enemy (1991) - “After faking her death in order to flee from her violent husband, Martin, Laura Burney leaves Cape Cod and moves to Iowa, where she adopts a new identity and starts dating a local teacher, Ben Woodward. Martin, meanwhile, unearths evidence suggesting that she isn't dead, and when her mother confirms this, he tracks her to Iowa.”

Stalked at 17 (2012) - “An abusive man promises to kill his girlfriend when she threatens to end the relationship and take their baby.”

Stalker (2010) - “A troubled writer retreats to a country house to work on a new project, but her new assistant may be hiding a sinister agenda.”

The Strangers (2008) - “Kristen and James are expecting a relaxing weekend at a family vacation home, but their stay turns out to be anything but peaceful. First, a mysterious and dangerous woman arrives at the door while James is out on an errand. After a time, the real danger does show up - in the form of three masked torturers, leaving Kristen and James struggling for survival.”

Lady Beware (1987) - “A Pittsburgh window dresser gets tough with a deranged lab technician who stalks her.”

Dark Summer (2015) - “Alone under house arrest for stalking, a teenager experiences a terrifying brush with the supernatural.”

Eye Of The Stalker (1995) - “A wily legal consultant maneuvers within the letter of the law to be near the object of his obsession, a judge's daughter.”

Fear (1996) - “When 16-year-old Nicole Walker meets 23-year-old David McCall at a Seattle nightclub, she falls in love. David is exciting and charming, and despite the wide age gap, he wins over Nicole's family -- except for her workaholic father, Steven, who's suspicious of David from the start. His concerns are realized when David turns out to be a violent sociopath who sees Nicole as his possession.”

Fear Stalk (1989) - “A producer from Beverly Hills is shocked when someone steals all of her belongings out of her purse. The thief begins to make threatening phone calls and withdraws money from her accounts. The stalker becomes more and more dangerous until he finally tries to kill the producer.”

The Paperboy (1994) - “Small-town deaths are the result of a 12-year-old boy's obsession with a divorced mother.”

The Perfect Guy (2015) - “With a fulfilling career and a loving relationship, lobbyist Leah Vaughn seems to have it all. Then Dave, her long-term boyfriend, questions her future plans for marriage and a family. The resulting breakup leaves Leah heartbroken, until she meets Carter Duncan. Soon, the budding romance turns dangerous as Carter reveals his volatile nature, forcing Leah to turn the tables on the man she thought was Mr. Right.”

P2 (2007) - “Angela is working late on Christmas Eve. When she finally decides to leave, she goes down to the parking garage to get her car, but it won't start. Thomas, the garage's security guard, offers to help. He also invites Angela to dinner, but she refuses. Thomas, crazed, knocks her out. She wakes up in Thomas' office, chained to a chair and in different clothes. Now Angela must fight for her life in order the escape from the garage.”

Obsessed (2009) - “Things couldn't be better for Derek Charles. He's just received a big promotion at work, and has a wonderful marriage. However, into this idyllic world steps Lisa, a temporary worker at Derek's office. Lisa begins to stalk Derek, jeopardizing all he holds dear.”

Unforgettable (2017) - “Barely coping with the end of her marriage, Tessa Connover learns that her ex-husband, David, is now happily engaged to Julia. Soon, Tessa's jealousy starts to consume her, and she will stop at nothing to turn Julia's paradise into the ultimate nightmare.”

Unlawful Entry (1992) - “Michael and Karen Carr call the police after a failed robbery. Officer Pete Davis arrives and helps arrange the installation of a new security system. The grateful Carrs have Pete to dinner and strike up a friendship. Pete invites Michael to ride with him during a night's patrol and gives him the chance to beat up the burglar. Michael refuses and tells the disturbed cop to stay away, but Pete begins stalking the terrified couple.”

Alone With Her (2006) - “A stalker named Doug uses hidden cameras to spy on Amy, the beautiful object of his obsession. With knowledge gleaned from his secret surveillance, the young man manipulates her, first into friendship, then pushes for a romantic relationship.”

The Crush (1993) - “Writer Nick Eliot moves to a new city for a magazine job and rents a room in the house of Cliff and Liv Forrester, whose 14-year-old daughter, Adrian, instantly makes her attraction to Nick clear. Nick has trouble fending off Adrian's advances and as her obsession with Nick grows, Adrian becomes angry at being rejected and starts attacking his property and friends.”

Split (2016) - “Three girls are kidnapped by a man with a diagnosed 23 distinct personalities. They must try to escape before the apparent emergence of a frightful new 24th.”

Gone (2012) - “A woman is convinced her kidnapper has returned when her sister goes missing.”

My Soul To Take (2010) - “A serial killer returns to his hometown to stalk seven children who share the same birthday as the date he was allegedly put to rest.”

Cyberbully (2015) - “A British teenager is forced by a computer hacker to do his bidding. If she refuses, the hacker will leak compromising photos of her to the public.”

Stalked By My Neighbour (2015) - “A mother and her 18-year-old daughter move to suburbia to help recover from a traumatic home invasion, but a sinister shadow seems to be stalking them.”

Ratter (2015) - “A young graduate student is tormented by a stalker who hacks into her electronic devices and monitors her every move.”

The Perfect Teacher (2010) - “A spoiled, selfish teenager becomes infatuated with her teacher. She befriends his daughter as a way of worming her way into the family, and sets about manipulating every aspect of his life.”

Cyberstalker (2012) - “Thirteen years ago, Aiden Ashley's world was torn apart after an online stalker followed her into the real world and broke into the Ashley family home to claim the object of his desire.”

Valentine (2001) - “Five women are stalked by an unknown assailant while preparing for Valentine's Day.”

The Wrong Girl (2015) - “A budding friendship with a new student takes a sinister turn when the girl starts to disrupt the lives of her family.”

Disturbia (2007) - “A teen living under house arrest becomes convinced his neighbor is a serial killer.”

Kristy (2014) - “When a college girl who is alone on campus over the Thanksgiving break is targeted by a group of outcasts, she must conquer her deepest fears to outwit them and fight back.”

Open Windows (2014) - “A jilted fan soon finds himself pulled into a deadly game of cat-and-mouse after he accepts the opportunity to spy on his favorite actress via his laptop.”

Cry_Wolf (2005) - “Eight unsuspecting high school seniors at a posh boarding school, who delight themselves on playing games of lies, come face-to-face with terror and learn that nobody believes a liar - even when they're telling the truth.”

Blackway (2015) - “An ex-logger comes to the aid of a woman who returns to her hometown in the Pacific Northwest and finds herself harassed and stalked by a former cop turned crime lord.”

Choose (2011) - “A journalism student tracks a killer with the help of her detective father and a therapist.”

Amusement (2008) - “Three women are stalked by a killer with a grudge that extends back to the girls' childhoods.”

Truth & Lies (2015) - “Teens band together to investigate the source of anonymous messages that threaten to expose their secrets.”

Night Rain (2017) - “An actress is unwittingly hired by her stalker to make an independent movie about a famous unsolved Hollywood murder, but she and her group of young indie filmmakers soon find themselves the subject of their own terror.”

Voidfinder (2017) - “A supernatural stalker pursues a super model to steal her soul with his demonic camera.”

#FollowFriday (2016) - “Students and Faculty on a college campus are targeted by a killer using social media.”

Urban Legend (1998) - “A college student suspects a series of bizarre deaths are connected to certain urban legends.”

The Good Neighbour (2016) - “A pair of mischievous high school kids create the illusion of a haunting on an unsuspecting neighbor. While keeping his every reaction under surveillance, they see much more than they bargained for.”

When The Bough Breaks (2016) - John and Laura Taylor are a young, professional couple who desperately want a baby. After exhausting all other options, they finally hire Anna, the perfect woman to be their surrogate - but as she gets further along in her pregnancy, so too does her psychotic and dangerous fixation on the husband.

#Misc: keeping to the shadows (ooc)#long post #long post tw #gabriel makes movie lists

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nursey-nursey-please · 7 years

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world's okayest

It’s a bad night. Nursey can feel it looming in the air around him. The kind of all consuming heaviness he thought he was used to. He always thinks he can anticipate it, somehow predict the swinging pendulum of emotion like it’s a regular thing. Maybe it would be easier if he cared enough to monitor it. But it lies under the surface so often, a disquieting murmur in the back of his brain. He wonders vaguely if he should get this checked out, if he can every get up again. He knows objectively that he’ll probably be able to stand at some point but the task seems so monumental in this moment, as he rolls over to face the wall. “What the fuck, Nursey?” He hears, far away. It reminds him of the beach house his parents own in cape cod, the distant crash of waves on the rocky beach from his bedroom. He sees the light turn on in the back of his eyelids, the sudden, spotty bursts of light that make him wince. “Why are you in my bunk?” The disjointed voice appears closer than before, familiar in a non distinct type of way. Nursey clears his throat, the cottony feeling lingering in the back of his mouth, “Sorry.” He cracks open an eye, watches himself be moved before he feels it. “Nursey? Are you sick, dude?” Dex’s voice is horrible, jarring, and Nursey hates it, hates sharing a room with the world’s loudest, meanest boy, hates showing him this. “I’m chill,” Nursey says automatically, a refrain that keeps him from thinking too much about it. “Uh… shit. Okay, hold on-” Dex says, his footsteps fading rapidly. He also turns the light off, which Nursey thinks is nice of him.

Some time later, Nursey’s not sure when, something that smells like lemongrass and mint weighs down his bed, dipping right behind his back. “Is it okay if I touch you, Nursey?” It’s close, but not unbearable. Chowder’s voice is soft. It makes Nursey’s stomach feel vaguely better, if a sound can do that. “No,” Nursey whispers, and Chowder says, “Ok. Is it okay if I’m here?” “Yeah.” “Cool.” Chowder says. Nursey doesn’t hear much else after that. But somehow, his presence is comforting. Nursey shuffles a little, “You can lay down if you want,” he mutters, finally, after awhile of thinking it. Chowder does it, his head right next to Nursey’s on a bed that feels endless. Nursey scoots down slightly, turning over onto his side. Chowder moves his arm slowly, up underneath the pillow Nursey’s head is on. “Is that okay?” Chowder murmurs, and Nursey nods. He ends up moving in closer, close enough that he can feel Chowder breathing on his forehead. It’s warm, and he’s sweating, but he hates the alternative way more. “Yeah, C. It’s the okayest.” Nursey mumbles, and Chowder presses his lips to Nursey’s forehead, his smile imprinted on Nursey’s skin. - (Nursey wakes up in the morning draped over Chowder, with a surprise Dex squeezed in between the wall and Nursey’s back. When Nursey asks him about it, Dex says, embarrassed, “It’s my fucking bed, Nursey. It’s not fair that everyone gets to sleep in it but me.”)

#im sure someone has done this #whatever #dibs got me fucked up #depression #nursey #chowder #dex #chowsey #nurseychow #kinda polyfrogs i guess #mini fic #mine #omgcp fic #in which things that happen to nursey are things that happen to me #except with much more love & affection :')

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kartlikilit1-blog · 4 years

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Ways Limit The Energy Usage

About last month I was watching the nightly news when I saw a person's interest story begin, "The So and So's wear their coats inside the property all day long." I thought to myself, "Wow, a story about a group that lives like we all do." The reporter went round the say, "They wear their coats because their thermostat is determined at 63, chilly levels of severity." I laughed a haughty, disgusted laugh. The thermostat the home is defined at 54 degrees all of us don't even wear apparel! Of course, since we often don't possess heating oil at all, the thermostat setting does not matter. While it may be set at 54 degrees, on a cold, Maine winter morning, it isn't uncommon will be able to wake up to and including house can be 38 certifications.

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Dual-flush lavatories. Most new toilets use about seven or eight litres water every time you flush. Older toilets use 9-12 litres. However, you don't need this much water to get rid of a washroom.

We also don't shower or bathe day by day if it is not needed. I am more apt to bathe everyday than my husband, because I do love my bathtub. I also know that as summer season heat, and sweat comes, that intend to provide all be bathing or showering every day, an excellent I recognise that I am clean, I skip my bath every second day to save energy and water.

Electricity is probably the of the most hotly debated commodities. Without one our life would be miserable. Without it we cannot perform things magically. As being a fixed a part of our monthly bill, is actually also wise when i all just how to to save electricity. Here are good old tips discover do. If you are away for a longer period of time, you're able to 'turn off' or unplug your appliances or lamps. You likewise consider replacing your old appliances with energy-saving musical instruments. These intelligent items consumed much less expensive energy. Virtually them carry labels being an energy saver.

During the summer days, might avoid using all electric appliances until it gets coller at night. These appliances such as, dishwasher, washing machines, and dryers must work much harder when it is hot away from. Another way is to insulate your house better. Get energ saver company efficient windows and blinds installed. Keeping the heat out can greatly help your house become more resistant on the hot summer days.

If you want to save water, replace your toilet along with a dual-flush variation. Dual-flush toilets have one flush for water waste, and another for colours. Naturally, you need less water to purge out water consume.

There are dozens of other actions to take to cut down on your energy use too. Turn off lights when you leave the room, unplug electronics make use of power despite that not in use.Do things by hand you don't need electricity for. Take more time outside and fewer time facing the Tv. Buy smaller electronics that use less juice. Buy appliances with the Energy Star licence plate.

We went for 3 years without having heat oil at pretty much all. This year, thanks on the low income heating oil assistance program, we've had 200 gallons of heating oil perform with. The family have no heating oil, we heat the house with the wood burning, antique cook stove with the cooking. On a morning that starts out with a 38 degree indoor temperature, it might take day long to get the area to which we surpass 50-54 degress fahrenheit. However, since our great room is a loft directly over the kitchen, and also the cook stove, that area quickly reaches a temperature that we consider comfortable around reading this.

Cape Cod houses were originally built as simple, functional homes for fishermen around morrison a pardon 17th 100 years. Typically Cape Cod homes have steep roofs, decorative shutters with the top door is situated in center for this Kartli kilit front of your home. Almost always made from wood Cape Cod homes also used wide shingles and painted clapboards.

If online you need to give your own vehicle the ultimate in security, may refine find a whole host of in car cameras online. You are browse illustrated catalogues at the vendors' websites and choose right model for you've got. After placing your order, your camera will be delivered promptly. Be sure to thoroughly test the feed your camera sends in order to sure it's clear and stable. You'll be able to can rest easy knowing car is under round the time surveillance.

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gretasaville94-blog · 5 years

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In The Area.

The French Nation style of designing is actually one that has come to be well-known over the last few years for the cooking area, and once and for all factor. White cooking area cabinetries have actually remained in design for recent 20 years as well as show no signs of going out of the type patterns to time. This nation asks for that every ethnicity should measure itself due to the United States criterion. Unicef looks at risk-free, available as well as economical water and also cleanliness an individual right - yet clean water is still not available to manies countless individuals worldwide. You wish to refer to the poisonous substance that he infused right into the American political unit by possessing his project run by Lee Atwater, as vile a critter that ever before violated the nation with a scabby penis and also that really did not perish in adequate discomfort and also be sorry for? Life in the Abruzzo hasn't changed a lot throughout the years, and also looking into listed below feels like roaming in to a gentler, kinder yesterday, a time with little bit of or even no criminal offense and also next-door neighbors that watch out for one another. 5) Expense of generation of energy: For the working of hydroelectric power station extremely couple of people are actually called for given that a lot of the procedures are actually automated, thereby functioning prices of hydroelectric power source are actually reduced. Carrie Undergrowth participated in the Institute of C And W Awards at the MGM Grand Garden Sector in Sin City on Sunday night, April 7, 2013. Although United States is one of the best diverse countries on earth, our prejudiced devices have confederated to provide us an image of a person of International heritage whenever the condition American" is actually made use of. David Stringer was actually grabbed on audio calling non-native English talking students a concern," claiming dark folks don't go" and also regreting a supposed white colored flight" in even more assorted areas of the nation. Sunshine's initial thought and feelings was that area living had actually certainly not agreed with her. The green-white-orange flag often contacted the Irish tricolor" was actually adopted by the rebels of the Easter Rising in 1916, and has been the sign of independent Ireland since. The strategy possessed, as a matter of fact, been actually lot of times theoretically put down through thoughtful pupils of Southern life. After that there is actually the federal authorities's planning to make it possible for Syrian evacuees right into the country, furthermore the extraction of the Confederate war flag from statehouses all over the South after Dylann Roofing, a self-made white colored supremacist encouraged by white-pride rhetoric, allegedly got rid of nine individuals at a primarily black church in South Carolina. The spots judgment aims to clean up air top quality in the nation's most significant urban areas. Experimental ventures created to unnaturally manage human actions by the use of medications, torment or even libido were actually being applied around the country leaving dozens lifeless or emotionally maimed United States consumers in their wake up.

I understood, too, that this was the very first time in the whole entire history of the that a participant of my race had actually been actually asked to speak from the same system with white colored Southern men and women on any type of significant National event. In easier terms, social imperialism describes the adoption of Western Side or even united states social values click through the next article people in other countries. The brand-new All-American pair were noticed walking hand-in-hand while splashing around in the water in Cape Cod, Massachusetts on Friday (August 17, 2012). Due to the fact that of it, you would not want silk drapes taking in all that dampness as well as degrading. Country type kitchen space window curtains commonly cover just fifty percent of the home window, as well as the top fifty percent is covered by a nation curtain.

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meanwhileinoz · 7 years

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This Guy Decided To Train And Eat Like The Rock For 30 Days, Here Are His Results

If you are really bored of your daily routine from waking up and going to work, gym and back to bed which if you think has hardly improved your fitness program. Then you must read this story of Mark Webster who decided to shake things a bit out of his regular routine and succeeded to maintain a legendary physique.

In order to maintain a legendary figure like Dwayne Johnson- aka ‘The Rock’, Webster decided to spend a month trying to eat and train like Dwayne. Challenging himself with Johnson’s incredible discipline, he chose to test himself if he could walk in The Rock’s shoes or not.

With a strong dedication, he followed Johnson’s eating routine. He consumed 5,000 calories spreading over seven meals a day. He found that keeping up with Johnson’s diet is not as easy as he was thinking before. His meals for a day include 2-3 pounds of cod a day with eggs, chicken, steak, vegetables, and potatoes.

For all his appetite, he spent around $1,262 on food costing him $42 a day with $18 of it as purely cod. The main challenging point in keeping up with this intimidating diet was that he had to spend around an hour and a half in preparations of meals.

He stated that ‘The biggest thing with the eating is the interruption of your day. Every few hours, you have to stop and eat again.’

Webster also followed The Rock’s hard training sessions of cardio and 90 minutes of weight training for six days a week. After a month’s practice, he noticed that his weight had barely moved but he has gained a solid amount of muscle mass. He observed that his strength has now increased by 10 to 15 %.

By the end of the month, Webster noticed a good transition and he shared his thoughts with media how his experiment affected him.

He stated:

‘I’m 37, I got little aches and pains all the time but I have none of those anymore. I feel better than I did before I was doing this. My resting heart rate has dropped like four beats per minute over the past month. I feel fantastic.’

Webster’s challenge got Johnson’s attention, who then also shared his views on Twitter stating that he is really impressed with his discipline.

Johnson mentioned that ‘The fact that he looks like this and trains like this every day of his life while making his movies, being on set 14 hours? That kind of discipline to me is absolutely amazing.’

Well, The Rock himself is appreciating the efforts of this man. As far as the results are concerned, we know that the man has improved his muscle strength. It’ll be interesting to see his growth as a body builder ahead.

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dorothyd89 · 7 years

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That Time I Worked For the Sugar Industry…

Hey, I was young. I didn’t know any better!

And the money was good. So, how could I turn it down? As a high school kid, you make money any way you can, even if it’s something you’re not thrilled about.

And that’s how I ended up spending two summers with my older brother Jack working for Coca-Cola, which I talked about on Steve’s Instagram:

That’s right, your boy Steve – a guy who once wrote an article explaining why Sugar is Worse than Jar Jar Binks – used to work for the enemy!

For two summers, my brother and I would wake up at 5AM, put on the sweet Coke polo shirts pictured above, hop into our Coca-Cola cars (old station wagons with Coca-Cola logos on the side), and stock shelves full of Coke products for 50-60+ hours a week on Cape Cod.

Now, hopefully you know that the above “enemy” comment is in jest.

If you happen to be currently employed by Coca-Cola or a company that sells products or services that are unhealthy, I don’t mean to pick on you or your employer…kind of. After all, Coca-Cola is a company that aims to make a profit by selling products that are delicious. I get it. Give me an ice-cold Mexican Coke made with real sugar in a glass bottle on a hot day, and it’s heaven. I also know they donate lots of money to charity, employ thousands, and do plenty of good things, and blah blah blah.

Okay! Now that that’s out of the way…

Twelve years after working indirectly for Big Sugar and seven years after starting Nerd Fitness, I now know just how detrimental sugar can be to our health, and it brings me to the point of today’s article!

We know sugar is bad for us (right? I hope?), but I wasn’t aware just how insidious this stuff has become in society and until I learned the history behind sugar’s rise in our day-to-day lives – and the rise in our obesity rates.

The History of Sugar

The history of sugar is both fascinating and pretty messed up. For starters, in the 1960’s the sugar industry actually paid scientists to downplay the connection between sugar and heart disease and instead promote saturated fat as the culprit.

Screw facts and data; there’s money to be made!

This is how we ended up with hilariously depressing ads like the one below from the 1970’s, touting sugar as a great path to weight loss and healthy living:

If you know anything about sugar, you can’t help but look at that ad and start laughing. “Use sugar to help you BUILD willpower? And NOT overeat.” Seriously!?

Fortunately, these days we’re MUCH better off and way smarter, and silly tricks like that can’t work anymore.

Right?

Wrong! As pointed out in “The Case Against Sugar” by Gary Taubes: “Academic researchers in 2015 were doing the bidding of Coca-Cola by taking its money to fund a Global Energy Balance Network and ‘shift blame for obesity away from bad diets, and instead only focus on not enough exercise.’”

We know here at NF that you can’t outrun your fork (it’s one of our Rules of the Rebellion), and you can’t out-train a bad diet, so telling people to ONLY focus on exercising more without worrying about what you put in your bodies is horrible advice.

Luckily, this group was shut down amidst widespread scrutiny and pressure by the public!

Also, pesky things like “facts” and “experimentation” kept getting in the way.

With all of the information coming out about how unhealthy soda can be in recent years, soda sales have steadily dropped to 30 year lows. This is AWESOME news, but don’t expect Coke and Pepsi to go quietly into the night.

Like any animal or company that’s been cornered or attacked, they’re adapting and fighting to stay relevant.

Thus, the strategy they’ve adopted is marketing “healthy” soda alternatives to find another pathway to connect their sugar water with our bloodstreams.

If you’ve picked up a Vitamin Water, a Naked Juice: Green Machine, or a Smoothie King fruit smoothie lately, and patted yourself on the back for making the healthy choice, your head is in the right place…but your blood sugar level will say otherwise!

These beverages, despite everything you’re told on their labels and what they advertise, are as bad for you (or worse) than drinking a soda:

20 oz Vitaminwater Power-C: 120 calories and 31 grams of sugar

20 oz Smoothie King “Pure Recharge” Mango Strawberry: 210 calories and 50g of sugar

20 oz Naked Juice Green Machine (100% real juice, no sugar added): 270 calories and 53 grams of sugar

At least when you drink a soda you know you’re making an unhealthy choice!

Shame on these other companies for convincing you their products are pure and healthy when they often have as much or more sugar as a can of Coke.

If you’re currently pissed off that you’ve been dutifully chugging Vitaminwater for the past few months instead of soda, assuming it’s healthier, I don’t blame you! The marketing and packaging leave you no choice BUT to assume it’s healthy and good for you.

What’s as funny as it is depressing is that even Coca-Cola executives themselves know their “healthy” marketing of these beverages is horseshit.

In 2015, when taken to court over the unsubstantiated health claims of Vitaminwater, Coca-Cola actually used the following defense (seriously): “No consumer could reasonably be misled into thinking Vitaminwater was a healthy beverage.”

I read that quote and my eyeballs almost fell out of my head. Are you furious yet? I am. Let’s fix it.

How to Not Let Sugar Run Your Life

I get it. Sugar is awesome. It’s delicious and makes us happy…temporarily.

It also makes us fat.

And holy **** is it addicting. It targets the pleasure centers in our brains, and is more available now than it has ever been in the history of our species. Unfortunately, our lizard brains have not adapted to its widespread availability instead of scarcity, which means our bodies can’t say “no” or “just a little.” This means we can ACTUALLY get hooked on the stuff. There are even studies that claim sugar can be as addicting as cocaine.

So the solution is simple: do more cocaine, less sugar!

Hahahaha, kidding. I’m not a doctor, and I don’t currently have pants on as I type this, but my advice would be to probably avoid both sugar and cocaine as much as possible.

Unfortunately, avoiding sugar is more than just giving up soda (though that’s a DAMN good start!). Other problems arise because sugar is in EVERYTHING and often hidden.

Why can’t we just tell the truth, people?

We talk a lot about a nefarious shadow organization making us fatter and lazier in our monthly story-driven adventure, Rising Heroes.

I thought it would be fun to create a dragon to slay. However, when you read that stuff above about:

scientists being paid off

calorie sugar bombs being marketed as healthy

companies claiming “there’s no way anybody could consider these drinks healthy,”

It’s like there really is a conglomeration of bad guys aiming to make us unhealthy.

Here’s how you can fight back. Follow these 4 quick rules to keep sugar from ruining your life:

1) Whenever possible, minimize liquid calories. This includes frappucinos and sodas, but also “real fruit smoothies” and “healthy” Naked Juice drinks, Gatorade, and even things like apple juice, orange juice, grape juice, cranberry juice, etc. Every once in a while? Sure. Just make it a rare treat (“treat yo’ self!”) – you’ll actually enjoy it more and be healthier!

I personally prescribe to the “out of sight, out of mind” philosophy because I have the willpower and restraint of a 5-year kid in a candy store. I don’t keep sugary beverages in my house so I’m not tempted and have to waste willpower trying not to drink them.

I’ve found that drinking sparkling water like LaCroix can really help me THINK I’m drinking soda, and provide me with the same level of happiness and fizzy satisfaction – without the sugar.

To answer your next question: here’s a whole article on “Is Diet Soda bad for me?” High five!

Still here? Good. Here’s a picture of a puppy:

Okay, back to business.

2) Don’t trust the front of the label, and learn to recognize sugar’s aliases. A label is required to list ingredients by amount, so by adding multiple types of sugar with weird names, a company can get away with moving sugar down the list.

Look for the following names: Agave nectar, Brown sugar, Cane crystals, Cane sugar, Corn sweetener, Corn syrup, Crystalline fructose, Dextrose, Evaporated cane juice, Organic evaporated cane juice, Fructose, Fruit juice concentrate, Glucose, High-fructose corn syrup, Honey, Invert sugar, Lactose, Maltose, Malt syrup, Molasses, Raw sugar, Sucrose, Sugar Syrup.

If you only look at two numbers on the back of a box, look at grams of sugar and total calories. You want minimal sugar and fewer calories. Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good. Do the best you can!

Oh, and if a product says “no sugar added” on the front of it, you can bet your life savings on it having a RIDICULOUS amount of sugar.

Note: please don’t bet your life savings on this.

3) Be skeptical, because sugar is in practically everything. When in doubt, eat things with fewer ingredients. We consume 130 pounds of sugar per year on average (holy crap), which means the white stuff in in way more foods than we realize. Not just candy and soda, but practically everything.

Nature Valley Granola Bars? Plenty of sugar. In fact, most “protein bars” have tons of sugar. And, until outraged customers complained, “Nature Valley” Granola Bars were made with high fructose corn syrup. Mmmm, nature.

Pasta sauce? Should just be tomatoes right? Nope. Add in heaping tablespoons of high fructose corn syrup too and you’re getting closer.

Wheat bread? That’s gotta be healthy, right? Check the ingredients. I bet one of the top 5 is “high fructose corn syrup” too.

Hell, look at what’s advertised as a “balanced breakfast” these days on TV! Cereal and skim milk, fruit, a glass of orange juice, and toast. Or, in other words: sugar and sugar water, sugar, sugar water, and pile-o-carbs.

4) Track your sugar intake, and minimize it over time. As I cover in “Star Wars Explains Why We’re Fat,” everybody has a different amount of “gimme gimme gimme” in our brains that craves instant gratification.

This means we all have different abilities to get addicted to things, including sugar. Some people can eat sugar (or have one drink, or try drugs) and not get hooked, while others struggle with addiction instantly – once is enough to get hooked for life.

This comic explains human behavior and addiction quite well…with dinosaurs.

If you are somebody who is actually hooked on sugar, start by tracking your sugar intake each day (actually look up the sugar content of everything you consume!), and see how many grams you’re eating every day. Don’t worry about total numbers, just focus on eating less sugar than the day before. Repeat.

Michael Pollan, author of the Omnivore’s Dilemma said it succinctly: “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants.” Eat real food (meat, vegetables, unprocessed stuff), keep your calorie total down, and stick to mostly plants along with healthy protein. Done!

We’ll continue digging into this battle against Big Sugar, shadow organizations, and false advertising in future posts. It’s amazing how heavily the deck is stacked against us when we try to be healthy, and how tough it is to find the actual truth!

I have no problem with sugar and people making choices that don’t line up with their health goals occasionally.

What really grinds my gears is when sugar is snuck into products and falsely marketed as healthy. We’re going to fight, and it starts by educating ourselves on how much sugar we’re actually eating.

Over the next week, your mission is to read the labels on the food and beverages you’re consuming. Specifically keep an eye on how many grams of sugar you’re consuming. Then over the next few weeks, try to drop that amount down by 10% each week. And then let me know how you did!

I want to hear from you: did you find this post useful? Hit reply and let me know if this article is actually gonna help you start to remove more sugar from your life!

-Steve

PS: We’ve recently overhauled our monthly story-driven experience, Rising Heroes. We’ll be opening doors for it next Monday, a few weeks later than normal – if you were waiting to get in, sorry for the delay. I promise it’ll be worth it – we’ve unrolled some big updates! 🙂

PPS: If you want to learn about the history of sugar and a contrarian viewpoint to “calories in, calories out no matter what they are,” check out Taube’s book “The Case Against Sugar.” It’s thought provoking and entertaining.

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photo credit: Julien.Belli: Always Coca-Cola, wuestenigel: Macro of Decoration Crystals

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johnclapperne · 7 years