Jeff & Annie + Instagram
(Aesthetic images via Tumblr // Cast images via Google)


One of my friends always hear me talking about my art and often ask me if they can see it. I always say no because since I see them often, I think they would judge me and I wouldn’t even know how to reason with them ._.


Since I rarely smile, they find it surprising. When I tell them the reason, they look at me as though they lost all respect for me. Tumblr is my happy place, geez. >H>

I went to this ‘party’ to play a ballsport pétanque (idk in english) and I knew none of the people except two grandparents but keep in mind I’d never seen these people, it was such a mess…

1) I’ve been misgendered 3 times (1 really when someone refered to me as 'your son’ and two others like indirect like ill explain in the tags)
2) Someone thought me and my brother were dating
3) A lot of people were drinking like a lot
4) The whole evening there was loud rock/metal music playing

I’m so tired tbh

Holy hell nothing like accidentally dialing 911 at 1 in the morning @ myself how the actual hell did you even do that

Being Classy

When someone saves your life, when does paying them back end? A life for a life, a death for a death? Or is there no metric at all, and you keep on paying until they decide you are done. I don’t know. I just know I got the phone call, and Lia asked for my aid. She did not demand. She did not compel, nor even bring up how she saved my life at all. I don’t know her; I don’t know if she simply didn’t think of doing so, or just assumed that I would remember and act accordingly.

It has been over four years since I saw her, since I was saved from a monster inside me that was going to consume me from within. I’m no longer dying in the way I was. I even have friends. I just wish it felt like enough, but for some reason it won’t. You almost die, and you expect everything to change, but life just returns to a kind of stability. The boat rocked, the boat settles, and it doesn’t even gain a new sail. She offered no details, just an address, that a boy named Noah would be waiting, and he’d need help with fitting in at school.

That was it. Not asking if I fit in, or how my own nature impacted school life. Maybe it just never occurred to her to ask; I don’t know, and I’m not about to demand she answer anything I would ask. I knock on the door of a normal house in the normal suburbs. Not a place I’d associate with Lia, but maybe that was the point. The punchline seems to be the kid who opens the door. He’s thin – the kind of thin that makes you wince to see it – but it takes a few seconds to even register it. First is red hair, and freckles to match. So many freckles that it feels like someone with OCD would go mad trying to count them, and then acne and acne scars on top of that.

The freckles alone would draw bullies. Hell, for some red hair would be enough. Then there’s him being so thin, his right hand looking odd – burns, maybe – and he carries himself nervously, scared and trying to hide it as he whispers his name, and then a timid hello.

I look him over, not trying to hide it at all, and he squirms visibly. “Anya. We’ll probably share some classes. Sorry if I’m early: I’m not that fast a walker.”

He glances down, noting no cane, no odd-looking feet, but he just nods when he looks up. “Neither am I,” he says.

“That goes without saying,” I say dryly. Noah starts visibly, picks up a small backpack to cover for his surprise, says good bye to people inside and follows me. He carries the backpack in one hand rather than on his back, and his pace is even slower than my own. His coat has a hood: he doesn’t have it up, though I’m pretty sure he wants to.

“Most people wear backpacks,” I say.

Noah shoots me a nervous glance. “I’m not that strong, yet.” He licks his lips. “And I have acne on my back: the bag would hurt it.”

I consider options. “Lia told me nothing about you. So –?”

“I went to school until I was eight. My parents kept me home after; I didn’t get out much. From my room, the house, any of that. Lia helped me.” He is quiet a bit, then: “You?”

“I have Lupus.” I wait; he doesn’t make a single joke about it not being Lupus, which wins him points. “A few years ago it got really bad, and Lia helped me. I said I owed her, even then, but never expected to actually be asked to pay the debt. I assume you got bullied before, given those freckles?”

He nods. “The acne was after, and – and my arm too. I don’t know what will happen now,” and he sounds so miserable I want to hug him, even if that would probably hurt him.

“Glenview isn’t that bad, as schools go. There are bullies, but they have – a few targets they focus on, so the hate is spread out. And teachers try and stop it when they can.”

He nods and offers up nothing else unless I speak. Used to being quiet, or forced into it I think, his pace slowing even further as he stares at vehicles, homes, trees. Drinking the world in like a banquet for the senses. I’m not surprised Lia got him to stop hiding in a room, nor that she convinced him to go to school, but even so Noah stops dead as we reach the school proper.

The front of Glenview is old brick, the back two-thirds later cement additions that at least try and look old as well. There are at least a couple hundred students milling about. Greetings, exchanging things, general conversation. A couple of people spot me and wave; I wave back, which they know is a signal I’m having a good day.

“Hey,” I say softly.

Noah turns. His eyes are wide and pale. “Sorry, Anya. Just A lot –.” he gets out, looking at the mass of people and then back at me without moving. Given Lia has him living with her, I figure he’s not normal. I just hope it’s a not-normal that doesn’t ruin the school, but Lia wouldn’t do anything like that.

“I didn’t think of that,” I say in the same soft tone, holding his gaze. “Just follow me.”

I cross the road, looking about and head around the corner and past the main entrance. Noah follows. People stare at him. Some of the looks are wholly because he’s a new kid. The snorts of disbelief, laughter, and a few cold whispers aren’t, but he follows me without looking around, keeping up to my fast pace that is almost a normal walk. We avoid any problematic entanglements, and I’m relieved that Wilbur is at the side entrance already as we round the corner.

He’s normally here, but it’s still a relief to find him waiting for the school to open: he’s missed more and more days of school of late. I have talents, but his are far more useful for Noah. Mine tend to only cause fear and pain, which helps no one in high school. Not that you’d know that by some of the teachers.

“Hey. Wilbur, this is Noah. Noah, Wilbur. He’s new, and spent a few years home-schooled in the sense of being locked up in a home so he’s a bit gun-shy around people and, well, you can see the rest,” I say briskly to Wilbur before turning to Noah. “People won’t bother you as much if you’re around Wilbur. He tends to get noticed more.”

Noah looks puzzled, having no idea if I’m joking or not, shaking the hand Wilbur offers timidly before wrapping his arms about himself and looking back toward the mass of movement and noise that is a high school. I have talents, but nothing that can help with this. I can scare people, sometimes. It’s not as useful as someone might think.

“Noah?” He looks back at me. “I have to get to classes, but Wilbur can take you to the office, help with everything like that.” His eyes widen. “It’s okay; Wilbur’s good people,” I say, and Noah relaxes a little at that. Having someone trust me when they barely know me is weird at the best of times, but Lia must have vouched for me.

Wilbur chuckles and stands, which draws Noah’s gaze. Wilbur is big: at least four hundred pounds, last I knew, short and very, very wide. Him standing gets noticed, even if one is trying not to stare. The door doors open and he gestures for Noah to follow him with a grin. “This way: there’s stairs, so I need to get an early start.”

Noah blinks, then just nods and follows, taking Wilbur entirely at face value. They’ve gone less than a dozen steps before other students spill inward from the main entrance. I watch Noah twitch all over, then relax when no one takes a photo of him on a phone or makes a single joke. He stops, letting Wilbur get ahead, feels eyes tracking him and hurries to catch up. No freak out, no disbelief: he definitely has some talent of his own, though I have no idea what it is.

Mine is to make an emptiness that scares people, among others. Wilbur hides people. If anyone is near him, people notice him instead. It’s not perfect, and it doesn’t make it impossible to find people, just somehow turns the average gaze away. Almost no one else is aware it’s an actual talent, or even what talents really are, but I think it’s one reason who Wilbur has quite a few friends. Mine is one of the reasons why I don’t.

I head to my first class, hoping things go well for Noah. Lunch will be a test, and after school test more: not even Wilbur is going to be able to hide him from Suzie and her clique, not on a first day. All I can do is hope that Noah is made of sterner stuff than even he thinks he is.

anonymous asked:

Is that Kieran and Leo hugging next to the couch on page 33 Nikki you're not seriously having us ship BACKGROUND CHARACTERS I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT (I really love it though ๐Ÿ™„๐Ÿ™„)

LOLOL!!! YELLS! YES IT’S THEM… HUGGING jk they’re actually making-out… omg. I thought I got away with it??? No one said anything, I thought I was in the clear. I COULD’VE LIVED MY LIFE, PEACEFULLY… how did you even tell… LMAO