#anyone else remember taylor swift as a coursing river?

[ad-astra-per-aspera-1389]

a leap of FAITH

a leap of...TRUST

a leap of...

✨️pixie dust✨️

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (VI): Getaway Car.

Imagine this is a modern world and Aemond Targaryen runs away with you just in the very moment his family needs him.

Warnings: smut, sexual tension, bad mouth, drama.—fluffy endings because Aemond deserves to be happy, ok?

***

This evening dinner is set at his sister’s household. Rhaenyra welcomes her stepmother, father and siblings all in her new apartment located at the upper east side of King’s Landing. Aemond is there mostly because he’s obliged to, never bonded with his elder siblings, although Baelon is a good brother to him and Helaena must be protective at all costs.

He has some issues with Aegon as well as Rhaenyra’s, but all for all he is a polite man. He just wishes he is somewhere else.

This meeting has a purpose, though. Viserys has a big company and needs to ensure his children have a share of it—the old man wants to retire, therefore he needs to make sure all is right as it should.

But Aemond has other interests—as if anyone asked him what those are—, he doesn’t pay his mind too much in this reunion. In fact, he’s slowly engineering a plan to escape it.

“Are you sure you want to do it?”, a voice asks him and that sure could be his conscience’s.

Aemond turns at Helaena and puts a grimace in response.

“Have I become too obvious, sweet sister?”

She smiles at him, poking his sides playfully.

“I know you well, Mon, that is all”, she uses the affectionate nickname that only she can use. “I really would like you not to meet the Rivers again.”

Helaena refers to Aemond’s ex—and sometimes lover—Alys and her twin brother, Johnny, both famed for their…uh…bad behavior.

“I was thinking about somebody else, though”, he smirks when seeing that, for the very first time, he surprised her.

“Who?”

“Y/N, of course. She’s my best friend. And I would have gladly brought with me had father not been so…”, Aemond sighs.

“He wants to gather his family, Mon”, Helaena thinks it’s her duty to be the peacemaker of the family. “If it was up to mother, Y/N would be welcome here. We all love her.”

Aemond rolls his eyes, understanding the subtly line Helaena innocently brings.

“She’s just a friend, not a girlfriend or anything of the sort”, he snorts.

“Of course she is”, Helaena smirks.

And then they are summoned to the table…

***

It was the best of times, the worst of crimes

You are quietly walking home after work, having refused going out to the pub with your workmates. You are still upset how they mocked your lack of love life, preferring books to the company of others. Hence why you refused the invitation. You don’t need alcohol or men to prove others you live your life.

Quite moody thus you pick your phone when Aemond calls you.

“Hey, A. Have you remembered your friends or has Alys dumped you this time?”, you snort at him.

He raises his eyebrows epically.

“Whoa. Is someone on PMS or what?”, but then Aemond feels a sort of need to justify himself. “For what’s worth we haven’t been together for a couple of months.”

“Sometimes I think you just got yourself with her to rebel against your parents”, so you say.

Aemond hates how right you are. Worse, how well you know him.

The ties were black, the lies were white. In shades of gray in candlelight. I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason…

“Anywho, where are you? I hear some noises in the back, so this means you are going home.” And then he realizes. “Wait. What happened at your work? You sound upset.”

You have a bad response in the tip of your tongue, but you sigh and decide not to take all on your best friend. It’s not fair.

And once you tell him what happened, you hear a smack at the steering wheel, producing a beeeee.

“What are you boozing for?”

“These motherfuckers you work with”, Aemond scowls. “They don’t know you like I do. How sexist to make such a claim. You know what? I’m going to kidnap you, Y/Nickname.”

You are still laughing out loud for how protective he is—as he’s always been—when he calls off the phone. Unsurprisingly, though, he’s managed to get at your apartment before you do. All because you were upset by what you’ve been told that you felt the need to walk all the way home instead getting a bus or even an Uber.

And here he is, your favourite bad boy leaning against his fancy car, dressed all in leather.

“Walking again? You poor thing”.

You roll your eyes at him but eventually you cede in and rest your head in his shoulder as you hug him back.

“What’s wrong with me?”, you ask. “Is being a sensitive that big issue?”

“No, it’s fucking not. You have a good heart and this bothers people fucked in their heads”, Aemond strokes your hair, pleased to see his words get some chuckle out of you.

“Are you running from your family again?” You ask, reluctantly parting from the embrace, noticing how well he smells.

“How obvious is that, eh?”, Aemond snorts before shrugging his shoulders. “Get in the car. We need to have a ride.”

“May I just get a pack of clothes?”, you don’t know why you even ask.

“Just get in the fucking car, Y/Nickname”, he laughs quietly, basically pushing you to the other side of the car, so you take a seat next to his. And you just comply.

Why?

You fear to find the answer as you buckle the belt.

“Where are we going?”, you ask him. “I hope I am not an excuse to run from everyone.”

“We all need excuses to run at some point”, he winks at you. “Don’t feel so especial, my darling.”

You blush and turn your head at the window.

“Always rude, Aemond. How do we even get along is a good question to me.”

That makes him laugh so hard that you unwillingly smile.

“You know, Y/N, we should have some fun”, Aemond smiles at you. “What do you think about that?”

You side smirk at him.

“You are the one driving, my dude.”

“I hate when you use that slags”, Aemond laughs as he tiptoes the wheel.

“How funny of you to say that, Mr Gang WannaBe.”

“What Gang Wanna Be?”, he chuckles as he casts you a glance.

As you open the window and you put your hands outside, playing your fingers with the window, you smile and Aemond likes the view.

He notices how beautiful you look specially when you are not overwhelmed by daily tasks or hurt by people. But even so, you are radiant. Damn it, you do.

But he doesn’t admit the spark of attraction.

“Why, when you were with Alys and her twin weirdo, you walked with bad people… and didn’t they once tell you that I was too righteous to walk with you? I mean…”

He rolls his eyes at that.

“Who did even tell you this bullshit, Y/N? If that was even true, we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

And then so typical of Aemond Targaryen, he turns the radio on and puts to a station that, coincidently, is playing a song that you both love and start thus to sing loudly at the same time.

“SHOT TO THE HEART AND YOU’RE TO BLAME, YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME!”

And forgetting about previous difficult months, in a getaway car, you two share a laughter.

“That’s my girl!”

So it begins…

***

Nearby King’s Landing, close to Aegon’s Hill, there is a pub known for its alternative style. There he takes you, and you feel an outsider as there are many punks and goths, a style you don’t follow. 

“Uh, AM”, you call him affectionately. “I know you like to be this bad boy underground prince, but…”

“Come now”, he puts a hand around your waist. “Don’t be silly. This is a place I like to come because I can be myself. And here’s a good environment to stay away from worldly concerns.”

As you follow him, eyeing dark walls with red decorations—some going from false skulls to perfect imitations of dragons—, music out loud putting people to dance all the whilst waitresses serve different drinks prepared by bartenders, you start to understand what he means and relaxes once you two slide in a corner table.

“I’d like two cups of gin”, he asks, ignoring the protest rising to your eyes…

…and eventually making to your tongue.

“Are you out of your mind?! I don’t drink alcohol!”

“I shall drink for you then, my dear Y/Nickname”, he winks at you again, pleased to make you blush. “Just at least have one sip in case you feel like tasting…”

You cast him a long glance, seeing something in Aemond’s purple eyes.

He poisoned the well, I was lyin' to myself. I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed…

“Are you going to tell me why you are running away from your family?”

Aemond heavily sighs, but as he inclines in the back of the seat, he knows he cannot truly flee from you.

“I hate how you read me so well. Can you wait for me swallowing a few drops of alcohol first?”

You laugh quietly.

“No. Come on, you can talk to me.”

He finds himself uncomfortable when sensing the weight of your gaze on him. Alys never looked at me like that.

Aemond sighs once again and even in the middle of that mess, he confides you his secrets. And you hear him patiently so, never judging, never posing arrogantly.

Though your surroundings are completely noisy, it feels as if the world stops spinning slowly. Almost unconsciously you take his hand and tangle your fingers with his. And this small gesture does not go unnoticed by him.

Aemond smiles back at you.

“Thank you for seeing me, Y/Nickname”, he caresses your wrist with his thumb. “Above all, for listening. It means a lot.”

“That’s what I am here for”, you smile warmly. “And that’s why I did something crazy by running away with you.”

Aemond laughs quietly, taking a sip of his gin, locking gazes with you.

“You are my partner in crime. My poor lamb”, and then he stands abruptly. “Come, let us dance.”

You shake your head, unbelievably following him without second guess. And as he pulls you closer to dance accordingly, your heart skips a beat.

I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed. We never had a shotgun shot in the dark (oh!)

Aemond knows by now you have unresolved feelings for him, and he sees it so does he. But the Targaryen bad boy is unsure, taunted by a shade of insecurity that has never occurred him before.

As he watches you dance freely, his mind begins to fear of breaking your heart, of losing you. But when you turn at him, shaking his shoulders playfully as you make him dance, everything else is forgotten.

You know it’s dangerous to let yourself involve like that, especially when his hands slide into your waist and the distance between you and him is short.

Your reason warns you that he doesn’t love you the way he loved Alys and this thought may be the motive why you suddenly steps away, breaking the spell.

“I need some air”, you excuse yourself, quickly going outside.

Aemond frowns, unsure what the hell just happened. Seeing it’s time to leave, however, and ignoring the phone calls of his mother, he pays the check and finds you outside, close to the car.

“Hey, Y/N”, he softens when seeing you slightly pale. “Are you well? What happened?”

“Oh it’s all good”, you lie, and it’s so evident that you do that he folds his arms. You blush, disconcerted. “I was just… all right, being paranoid.”

“That’s better than lying. Come, it’s time for us to go.” As he opens the door for you to slide in, he adds: “We are talking about it soon.”

There is, however, a sudden awkward silence that hangs between the two of you, though. Aemond senses your eyes on him as he drives with no destination in mind.

You were drivin' the getaway car. We were flyin', but we'd never get far. Don't pretend it's such a mystery. (…) There were sirens in the beat of your heart.(…)

“What has you overthinking?”, he asks you, avoiding your gaze for now. Aemond suspects it, but he wants to hear it from you.

You know by his tone there is no need to speak untruth thoughts.

“You are not the only fugitive here”, you begin.

He stops by eventually at a hostel. For a moment, neither speaks and you hate how you ruin the good vibes of this journey.

“Aemond…”, you begin, trying to reach out for him.

“We need to spend night here”, he tells you when sensing your inquisitive gaze. “I think that gin was not really good.”

“Oh, so that’s why you are acting weird?”, you don’t even conceal the relief, which makes him chuckle.

But he doesn’t answer you right away. Now at the hall, he asks for one bedroom with two beds. To your embarrassment, however, the receptionist lady informs you that there is only one bedroom with one bed.

“It’s a very good suite, though”, says the woman who attends by the name of Sheila.

Opting not to see your face going red, Aemond smiles at the woman and says:

“That’s perfect, love. Thank you.”

**

“There are two bathrooms here”, he informs you. “Once we are clean, I believe we can speak.”

You detest how awkward this is getting.

“No”, you contest him. “Aemond, I am sorry. I ruined our moment, didn’t I? I was just afraid…”

He turns at you and seeing your fears in stamped clearly in those y/c irises, he cannot help himself. Aemond approaches you, taking your hands into his, drawing you closer.

“I fear you are slipping away from me, sweet Y/N.” He cups your cheeks. “What’s going on inside this head of yours?”

“I am not like Alys”, you blurt out. “I am not as bold, as free spirited as her. I am not a bad ass woman like her. I don’t… I….”

To your dismay, Aemond bursts into laughters. You fold your arms and frown at him.

“What’s so funny about it?”

“I’m sorry, love. I was just…” He smiles warmly. “Is this what worries you, my darling? I ran away with you, isn’t it clear?”

You tilt your head, confused. Aemond rolls his eyes.

“Aren’t you slow, my dear Y/Nickname? I’ve always wanted you. Not her. I love you, not that bloody woman.”

It’s a very sweet scene to watch: the moment your lips slowly open in a smile, the way your face lightens up, beaming at him.

“My dear Aemond”, you throw your hands around his neck and kisses his cheek. “I love you too. You took too long…”

“Indeed, my lady.”

He smiles wide at your blushing upon his chivalry towards you. And then, of course he kisses your lips passionately.

**

You are planning to sleep well, but when he comes up, shirtless, and slides next to your side of bed just after turning the air conditioner on… it gets difficult to find some sleep.

Aemond can tell he affects you somehow, noticing how your white blouse poorly covers your breasts, able to spot, therefore, your hardening nipples, which promptly arouses him.

But the bad boy prince takes his time.

“Come here, princess”, as he’s next to you, he cups your face and kisses your lips slowly and passionately. “I still cannot believe we’ve taken so many years to admit we have feelings for each other.”

As your hands are wrapped around his neck, gently pulling him over you, you smile weakly at him.

“You chose that woman, if I remember well.”

“You remember wrongly because I’m with you now, aren’t I?”, and without waiting for response he drowns in your lips.

As you kiss, his hands move to your waist, gently resting around your hips before going upper your back, inside your shirt.

You begin to be bothered by this heat that, for long years now, hasn’t burned you like it does at the moment. You spread your legs so he fits in between, moving your fingers down to his neck and to his shoulders and chest.

Aemond succeeds in breaking the kiss so his tongue starts to explore your weak spots. As it dances around your neck all the whilst his hands lift your shirt, he starts to hear your short breaths out, which only gets him rigid in pants.

“Aemond…”, you mutter his name, already breathing in anticipation the moment his fingers cup your breasts and there begin to play. “Oh Maker!”

He stops a moment what he’s doing just to watch you close your eyes and give in to his caressing. Aemond gently presses his erection against you, getting harder as you rub your feminine parts against him.

“Dear Lord”, he groans low before lifting your blouse and mouth dropping in your exposed nipples.

Oh how hungry you’ve been for his touch, how famine your soul has been for his love!

It does not really help when his hands remove your shorts and right there works wonderfulness in you. To the point where you forget yourself and turn the tables on, completely surprising him.

“Oh baby! You are my drug and I intend to keep it to me”, you confide him, naughtily so, before sliding to your knees.

And Aemond finally knows what’s like to get to Heaven…

***

Should've known I'd be the first to leave. Think about the place where you first met me. In a getaway car. No, they never get far. No, nothin' good starts in a getaway car

The phone rings. It’s an unknown number, but even then Aemond picks up—aware of who might be behind the line.

“Who’s this?”, his rusky voice is heard in a whisper, but his eyes are glued in your nude frame, against which he was tied until now.

“Son”, it’s Viserys, his father.

Almost immediately Aemond freezes.

“Dad”, he speaks in full tension.

“Where have you been, my boy? I miss you.”

Too paralyzed to speak, no word comes out of his tongue. Viserys knows it, so he continues his speech:

“Come home. I haven’t been a good father lately, I know.” He seems to choke with something, and doesn’t really help that the man comes to tears. “Your mother, a very good woman whose character is so sweet and noble, certainly more than I deserved, told me what’s been going on with you. Please my child, come home. We must speak. I cannot bear the burden that so unfairly has been placed over your shoulders because of me. Let us mend this. Together.”

There are many words crossing Aemond’s thoughts and few are kind. Nonetheless, underneath the anger, there is a boy hurting. And aware that the man is probably dying, he sees getting away has done nothing but turned him into a fool.

We cannot escape our issues. Our wounds remain open and bleeding. Perhaps I got addicted to pain.

“Son?”

“Yes, father?” It’s all he manages to say, his own voice embargoed.

“Come home. Please.”

Aemond then looks at you, sleeping peacefully, only partly aware of why you two went anywhere but King’s Landing.

“There is no need to get away from me or your mother. We are family.” He insists in such a melancholic voice that Aemond cannot fight back.

Without realizing it, his own tears are verging on his purple eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

“I will be a better father with the time’s left.” Aemond listens bitterly.

“I am going back”, he sounds defeated. Loyalty has always bound him to family, and it’s not as if he wanted his attention. “Today.”

Aemond doesn’t want to listen any further. Therefore he picks off the phone before Viserys thanks him immensely for it, which would be more embarrassing.

We were jet-set, Bonnie and Clyde until I switched to the other side, to the other side. It's no surprise I turned you in cause us traitors never win…

“I’m sorry, YN.”

In silent tears, every merriment has been left to past, a memory that is not going back. In truth, Aemond has his own issues in regards to settle down.

Despite your good and comprehensive nature, his own claims to be a fugitive. Therefore, that is what he does, no matter the consequences.

Aemond runs away.

***

And when you wake up some hours later, cold has already taken the place in every possible meaning. It’s no surprise that you find your bed empty.

But this doesn’t mean you didn’t have expectations. In fact you did. When rewinding the past few days, you could not understand where everything went wrong.

It hurts and it angers you all the same to think you put your hopes and dreams in this man.

“I should’ve known better”, you think out loud, refusing to waste your tears for him.

You pack your own things and leave the hotel, but the more you try to shield yourself, the more tears threaten to overcome you.

Your phone buzzes a few times but you don’t check it. You instead get a taxi to the train station and there you get a train back to King’s Landing. But in the middle of the way, you change your mind, opting to rent a car and drive it all the way.

It shouldn’t take this long, right?

You open your window, turn the car and, as you get on the road, you accelerate.

Every memory comes in like a dust storm. You know you shouldn’t race. But you shouldn’t love him.

And when your brain listens the motives he had to run, your comprehension leaves your reason. You scream instead.

“YOU STUPID ASSHOLE!”

No pride is enough to hold back a waterfall. And now you drive slowly because your eyes are but a puddle of tears and you refuse to be imprudent, even if the road is empty.

I was ridin' in a getaway car. I was cryin' in a getaway car. I was dyin' in a getaway car.

You are still sobbing by the twilight, when you reach King’s Landing. But your face dries at last by the time you get home.

Heartbreaking is never easy to deal with. Little wonder why you chose to bury yourself in work. As you get your phone, you see there are a few missed calls.

“Fuck you, Aemond Targaryen.”

And you turn off your cellphone.

***

Aemond stops by in front of your household feeling as guilty as a criminal. He tips his fingers against the steering wheel, still inside his car, as he waits for you to go back from work.

It’s an autumn day. You haven’t spoken for two months. You’d act like he was erased from your life and this was worse than he’d expect. In comparison to the burning rage of Alys, you could be snow cold. And he was one judged for his apparent detached behavior.

And then you finally come to his view. Dressed in your fluffy robes, that is to say a red bonnet that matches your red with black stripes gown and Mary Jane shoes, you hold some binders tight as you press the button to get inside the apartment.

Sighing heavily, for even he notices your dispirited demeanor, he knows he cannot delay any longer. In a matter of five minutes, he manages to catch you.

Right before you walk in.

“Aemond!”, you exclaim startled when feeling someone pushing your arm to get your attention.

“Y/N”, he calls your name, staring at you with a deep shade of sadness that so rarely you’d spotted in these irises. “Can we speak?”

Your unreasonable part wants to storm off, to make a scene perhaps, accusing him of so many names. But this is a behavior you, in your late 20’s, cannot tolerate.

“Yes”, you lead him to your apartment, but he can tell how tense you are, how much you are holding back. “Be quick and don’t waste my time.”

When you finally turn at him, Aemond sees the internal rage you were never really good to explore. He knows you well, you’ve grown together.

“I…” his voice chokes, but he must do it if he doesn’t want to lose you for good.

“Well?”

Ignoring your impatience, Aemond takes his mask off. Wearing nothing that is his not broken self, he shortens the distance between you two and then tell you all that’s been happening with him.

Little by little, your rage is knocked down. You have been a side witness of the Targaryen inner mess and the scars this left on your dear Aemond.

“Wounded people wound others”, you remark after he tells you at last and you embrace him, as he breaks in tears. “You know, of all people, I’d understand what you had to do. I would have never asked you to stay. I understand all this weight you were forced to carry… The thing is that you never had to carried alone.”

As you two embrace, a silent, mutual understanding comes. Serenity washes away distress and towards the end of tunnel a light sparks.

“I shouldn’t have gotten away”, he says after a while, looking for your eyes and your knees go weak when spotting vulnerability in them.

“No, my darling, you should not.”

“Will you take me back?”

“Will you stay this time?”

“Yes”, Aemond says firmly this time as he cups your face. “You’ll be my fucking wife, this I know.”

You laugh quietly at his familiar imprudence, but a blush creeks on your cheeks.

“You haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend yet.”

“The time we spent together has counted as relationship.”

Your laughter echoes in the room and Aemond smiles at the sound of it, warming his heart and sweeping away his fears.

“Aren’t you funny, Aem?”

You rest your forehead and rub your nose against his. He gives you a puppy look that inspires you to kiss his lips gently so.

After a while like this, though, he asks:

“Is that a yes or no?”

You giggle like a silly girl. Burying your head onto his shoulders, you feel as if your heart is about to burst.

“Are you serious?”

Aemond rolls his eyes, but you can hear his scoff.

“Of course, I am, woman. You’ll meet my parents this weekend.”

You reluctantly step back, staring at him with eyebrows raised.

“…I am already acquainted as Mr and Mrs Targaryen.”

“Not as my future wife, I’m afraid.”

You laugh again, a sound that is most dear to Aemond, who looks at you with sincere devotion.

“Well then, woman? What do you say?”

“How unusual of you, Aemond. But I wouldn’t expect the other way around. Therefore…”, you smile wide. “How can my answer be other than yes?”

And just like that he spins you around and kisses you dearly. It so appears that your well deserved happily ever after has finally knocked at your door.

[willowfolksong]

You need to play love right

- Manjiro "Mikey" Sano x Reader

- SFW

"He's going to kill you" your friend informs you, munching on her crackers.

You gape at her.

For someone who's best friend is about to be murdered by the leader of a violent gang, she doesn't looks at all concerned.

"Ahm..." you stutter, looking around wildly. No one in the classroom is aware of your predicament, everyone chatting happily and enjoying the fact that your teacher has a cold, and couldn't make it "But why would he do that?"

Your friend stops chewing and blinks at you, slowly lowering her hand "Oh, you don't know?"

"Know what?"

"The Toman disposes of the people they don't have any need for anymore"

You blanche, and hold onto the edge of the table to avoid falling off the chair and collapse "What?"

"Yeah" she keeps going, grabbing her card of juice to take a sip, and completely ignoring your growing panic "Everyone knows that. They throw their bodies to the river"

"The river?" you whisper, feeling your blood run cold "You mean... the river that runs near my house?"

"Yeah. That's the one"

You don't pay attention to the class you have next, too busy trying to remember how to pray.

You met Mikey out of pure luck— or not, if you're to believe your friend's words. He had fallen asleep over a desk, during one of those tutoring sessions for students that don't do good in some subjects. The teacher was nowhere to be found, he was alone, and you were there because you had forgotten one of your pens by your desk. So you had approached him, ever the curious cat, to see if he had gotten the questions on the board right.

He only had his name on the paper. And even that was wrong.

So you had slowly taken the sheet of paper from under his arms, and answered everything for him.

Because, you know.

Be kind to strangers.

You were having a really good day, and you wanted to give back some of your luck by helping someone else.

By the time you were done, you had looked up to find him staring intently at you, fully awake, his head resting on his hand.

"Say" he had said, eyeing your curiously "Would you like to do my homework from now on?"

And that was that. Of course, you had later found out about the Toman, and the fact that you had helped its very own President, but you were not judgmental.

Until, of course, the threat of imminent death hangs over your shoulders like a Damocles sword.

You follow your friend out into the hallway like a robot, with your books clutched to your chest and your eyes trained on the floor. She's rambling about her favorite show, while simultaneously complaining about the new subjects you'll have during the upcoming semester. You nod at everything, and push your books inside your locker without a second thought, slipping on your shoes and wanting to scream.

And you do, when Draken's face appears by your side after closing your locker's door.

Your friend jumps, surprised.

You take a step towards her.

Draken arches an eyebrow at you.

"Hello" he greets you "Are you going home already?"

"Yes" you rush to say, and then look back to find your friend eyeing him hungrily. Great timing for simping "With her"

"Oh, but it's fine" she says, raising her hands and stopping you from following after her "If you need to talk to her, I'll go ahead and walk by myself"

"It's not me" Draken explains, crossing his arms over his chest and noding at your friend "It's Mikey. But thanks"

Your friend winks at him, and then shrugs off your iron grip on her arm "Anytime"

"What are you doing?" you whisper angrily at her "I don't want to die"

"Girl, I don't want to either"

And then she's leaving you, and you're trembling from head to toes, as you slowly turn around to face your doom.

Draken frowns "Are you alright?"

"Ahm... yeah"

"If you say so" he says, after a couple of seconds "Follow me, please. Mikey's waiting outside"

You do as he says, looking around to see if anyone can jump in and save you. Maybe there's someone who you can yell for help.

Everyone seems to step away from Draken tho, and so by the time you reach Mikey's bike, you've lost all hope.

He's leaning against it, casually sucking on a lollipop. His eyes light up when he sees you, and he straightens his back before smiling widely "Hey!"

You raise your hand in greeting.

Draken huffs "There you go. Now let's go"

"Actually we'll be going ahead" Mikey says, and pats the seat on his bike "Come on"

You stay rooted in place "Ahm..."

"What?"

Draken sighs besides you "Mikey, she's probably never rode a bike before"

The Toman leader whistles, looking at you "Really?"

You nod.

He shrugs, and then a second later he's taking you in his arms and placing you on the seat, as if you weighed absolutely nothing. You can't help but squeal, and grab at his jacket tightly. "Relax, I'll be going with you" he reassures you, and then nods at Draken "See ya, Kenchin"

He rides away from school, leaving small houses and parks behind. You hold onto him for dear life, the wind blowing on your face as you watch the town quickly pass by your eyes.

"Where are we going?" you ask, after finally finding your voice.

"Somewhere" he shrugs, and when your arms start to slip away, he looks back at you over his shoulder, his mouth only inches away from yours. You could grab the stick of his lollipop if you wanted "Don't do that"

"Do... what?"

"Let go of me"

"Oh"

He stops the motorcycle in front of the river.

The river.

Then jumps, turning off the engine and clearing his throat. You stay in place, looking for anyone. No one is around.

You're alone with Mikey from the Toman and no one is around.

And now you're going to die.

"Look" you start, and he tilts his head to the side to watch you clutch the seat "I can still help you with other subjects"

"What?"

You gulp, and feel all the hairs on your body stand on end when he takes a step towards you "I mean... we won't be having Biology anymore, but I can... I can help you with anything else? Anything!"

"But... I don't want help from you anymore" Mikey says, his arms snaking around your waist to tug you away from the bike. You refuse to bulge.

"Please don't kill me!" you plead, closing your eyes and grabbing on his shoulders to push him away "Don't throw me in the river!"

Mikey stops pulling at you, his hands on your waist, shaking. After some seconds of silence, you peek one eye open to see him trembling with suppressed laughter. "Mikey?"

He burst out laughing then, doubling down and actually wheezing, and you don't know how to feel about him laughing in the face of your fears.

His hands are still around you, as well.

"Why would I kill you?" he finally asks, wiping tears from his eyes "And throw you in the river? That's like, the dumbest way to get rid of a body"

"So... you've had to get rid of a body before?"

He doesn't answers, opting to come even closer instead, squinting his eyes at you. For the first time, you see dusts of color swimming on his ever intimidating black. You also think you smell a faint strawberry scent. "I brought you here because I wanted to tell you something"

"Ahm... yeah?"

"I want you to be my woman"

You stop breathing.

What?

"I... excuse me?"

Mikey pulls the lollipop out of his mouth and brings it closer to your mouth. It's indeed strawberry flavoured, and you don't have any other choice than to part your lips to take it, once Mikey pushes against them, his eyes trained on the way your tongue lolls out to have a taste.

"I want you to be woman" he repeats.

You suck on the lollipop without thinking, ignoring it was just on his mouth "Because... because I used to do your homework?"

"No" he answers firmly "Because it's you. That's all"

"That's... all?"

"So" he drawls, and pushes the stick aside to bump your head against yours "Are you going to be mine?"

🧣RED Love Story Collection

Part XXVII - Next is All too well (10 min version)

[honklore]

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham.  Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Karl.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[kurts-still-here]

SongFic #3 Of The “Kurtbastian Singing Adam Lambert” series. “Sure Fire Winners”

This one is just Sebastian and Kurt having fun and being sexy together 😎😎. Songfic #4 will be up in a few days most likely but I hope you enjoy!!

Please leave any comments you have etheir on here or on A03 or FanFiction.Net !! 😁😁🤗🤗 Thank you!!

Archive Of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32874553

FanFiction.Net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13927358/3/Kurtbastian-Singing-Adam-Lambert (Chapter 3)

“We are so going to win this,” Kurt exclaimed as he walked out of the bathroom stall and looked at his outfit in the mirror. He was wearing a black leather jacket, a skintight black shirt, black leather pants and black, knee-high laced up boots. He had on sunglasses even though it was indoors and his hair was spiked up with hair gel. He had drawn a star on his cheek and had blue and purple glitter on his face along with guyliner.

“Well they might as well just give it to us now with the way we look,” Sebastian said, walking out of his stall and up to Kurt. Him and Kurt were matching except Sebastian wasn’t wearing the laced-up boots. He looked his boyfriend up and down and smiled. “We look hot.”

“I know we do babe,” Kurt said, kissing him on the cheek. “And our performance is going to be even better, I know it.”

“Yeah well we better get going, don’t want to keep everyone waiting. Do you think Mr. Schue and Artie have everything set up?” Sebastian asked. They had asked Mr. Schue if they could have some special effects and props for their performance and their teacher had happily agreed.

“I don’t know,” Kurt said, taking out his phone. “I’ll text Artie and ask him.”

The week’s assignment in the glee club was to sing a song about victory and Kurt and Sebastian had admittedly known the perfect song for them to sing. It was upbeat and full of energy. The assignment was a competition and whatever group won got the duet at Sectionals. Sebastian didn’t really care about winning since he had been the lead soloist for the Warblers and had sung solos at the competitions but he knew that Kurt wasn’t as lucky as him even if he was the most talented performer in the group. He knew how much a duet would mean for Kurt so they went all out with costumes, make-up, special effects and props. They also came up with matching choreography and Sebastian had to say that it was the most work and effort he had ever put into anything. But it was all worth it because he knew they were going to win and he really wanted that duet for Kurt. His boyfriend deserved it.

Kurt had told him about the glee club’s duet competition last year and about how he ended up singing a duet by himself because Finn didn’t want him to sing with Sam. It had just hurt Kurt even more when Sam and Quinn had won the competition and Kurt had told him that even though he loved singing “Le Jazz Hot” that he was glad he had a partner this year. Sebastian had seen the video of Kurt’s performance and thought that Kurt would be the only person in the world who could pull off singing a duet as a solo.

His costume was so creative and so was the background he had designed. He had also designed costumes for the Cheerios he had paid to act as background dancers for him and the choreography was stunning. Sebastian thought that he should’ve won but Kurt told him that Finn and Rachel were acting fishy the whole time so they probably had something to do with Sam and Quinn’s win. Not that they didn’t deserve to win but even Santana and Mercedes’ performance of “River Deep, Mountain High'' was mind blowing. Kurt didn’t care about winning so much as having someone to sing with and made a joke saying that he may be able to sing a duet by himself but that he didn’t want to have dinner by himself. But last year didn’t matter anymore because this year they were going to win a duet at Sectionals and not some stupid dinner at a cheap restaurant when Sebastian could easily pay for his own date and could take Kurt to a 5-star restaurant.

Plus this time the group couldn’t vote for themselves so as long as they blew it out of the park then they were for sure the winners. They were the last to go this week seeing that they had spent so long preparing themselves and that they had just finished up their performance the previous day. Brittany and Santana had sung “Try Everything” by Shakira, Finn and Rachel had sung “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus, Sam and Puck had sung “Victorious” by Panic! At The Disco, Tina, Mercedes and Quinn had sung “Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift as a trio and Mike and Artie had sung “On Top Of The World” by Imagine Dragons. All the performances were good but Sebastian thought that the only competition they really had was against Sam and Puck since they had picked a song similar to theirs, the only difference was they didn’t put in the extra effort. They had it in the bag.

“He says they're ready,” Kurt squealed. “Oh, I’m so excited, Seb, just imagine us singing a duet at Sectionals. Together. It’d be so romantic and fun and we would win the competition for the New Directions.”

“Well you won’t have to imagine much longer. You deserve this more than anyone else Kurt. Don’t go down without a fight, okay?” Sebastian told him. Sebastian thought that sometimes Kurt went too easy on his friends and let them push him to the side when Kurt was a star. He needed to stand up for himself more and go after what he wanted.

“I won’t, I promise.” Kurt said and grabbed ahold of Sebastian’s hand. “Now let’s go win this duet.” He cheered and they grabbed their stuff before walking out of the bathroom.

They walked to the choir room hand in hand, mentally preparing themselves for their song. They couldn’t help but worry a little too much, especially Kurt. The choreography was a little complicated and it had taken them some time to really nail it down but it would be worth it in the end. It was fast, just like the music and they had to mind the spacing in the choir room also.

Once they reached the choir room they stood outside of the doors, Kurt to the right and Sebastian to the left. They were planning to come into the room when the music started to surprise everyone and to add an effect. They would storm into the room, grabbing everyone’s attention and the lights and the costumes and the choreography and the singing would be a crowd pleaser.

“Okay, why am I so nervous?” Kurt asked, pacing back and forth, fidgeting with his hands.

“I don’t know, why are you?” Sebastian asked. Kurt had no reason to be nervous right now. He was amazing and he could and would pull this off. “Hey, look at me babe,” He told Kurt and took his hands to hold them. “We’re going to win this and we're going to perform at Sectionals. Don’t worry about it, you’re going to psych yourself out.”

“I know,” Kurt nodded. “I just… things are never certain and I really want this Seb. It’s my last Sectionals and I want it to be really special.”

“I know you do and I want this for you too so just calm down, focus, breathe and get your head in the game.”

“I will,” Kurt said, doing what Sebastian told him to do and taking a deep breath. “Artie says that he’ll text me when they're ready inside but the band is still setting up.”

Sebastian nodded and gave Kurt a kiss before going back to the other door to the choir room. Inside everyone was talking to each other about the setup of the room.

“Of course this is for Lady Hummel and Fivel, gays always go full out,” Santana said, looking around the room.

“Well doesn’t this seem like a little too much?” Rachel asked the group who just shrugged in response. “I mean it’s not like they’re going to win over me and Finn.”

“You know what Man-Hands,” Quinn snapped. “Just for that I’m not voting for you. And The Climb was the worst. How is that about victory?”

“It’s about overcoming obstacles in life. My obstacles being you guys and how hard it is working with people who are less talented than you.” Rachel said, nonchalantly.

“Rachel, babe, you can’t just say things like that.” Finn told her. “It’s not nice. But anyways, this does seem like something Kurt would do. Remember his “duet” last year?”

“You mean the duet he did by himself because your homophobic ass couldn’t handle him singing a song with Sam?” Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow. “I remember and he nailed it. You guys better watch out because now he has Sebastian and we all know how badly he wants a duet.”

“Hey, I wasn’t being homophobic, I was looking out for the team. Sam knows what I’m talking about right dude?” Finn asked Sam who shrugged.

“I don’t know man, some of the shit you said was really offensive. And I was all set to sing with him and then you talked to us and he set me free. I would totally have still done it if it wasn’t for you.” Sam explained, narrowing his eyes at Finn. Sam liked Kurt a lot and they were really close with one another. Sam treated Kurt like he was one of the guys and they had only bonded more when Kurt had helped him out the previous school year with his siblings. He had really wanted to sing with him but then Kurt had let him go and Sam was too worried about his popularity at the time to try and get Kurt to keep their arrangement. Up until now Kurt and Sam had only sung one or two lines together in a group piece and Sam had always thought that maybe he could still see if Kurt wanted to sing with him. He’d have to ask him.

“That’s not what I meant, it’s just…” Finn’s voice trailed off and threw his hands in the air, frustrated. “... you just don’t get it,”

“It doesn’t matter now anyway. Kurt has a partner this time and it’s obvious that he’s in it to win it with Seb,” Tina said. “He should’ve gotten this a long time ago.” She rolled her eyes at Rachel.

“Yeah well he could’ve gotten a solo at Sectionals two years ago if he would’ve hit the high F but he couldn’t despite saying he was able to. It’s not my fault that I have a superior vocal range.” Rachel sneered.

“You know what Berry I’m sick of your shit,” Santana yelled, pointing her finger at Rachel. “Let me give you a little newsflash here. First of all, half the people in this room like Artie, Mercedes and I have a better vocal range than you. Kurt can sing just as good as any of us but no one ever gives him the chance to shine. He can hit that note, he’s hit it several times before right in front of you but you never noticed because your ego’s ten sizes the size it should be. We weren’t going to tell you because we didn’t want to risk you throwing a hissy fit and blabbing your mouth but we already decided that we’re voting for him. He deserves this and he’s the only member of this club that hasn’t had a chance to shine yet. So shut up, suck it up and deal with it you selfish bitch.” Santana fell back in her seat and folded her arms across her stomach as she watched her friends' (and Rachel’s) expressions.

All the girl besides Rachel looked proud of her (and why shouldn't they be), the boys looked surprised and shocked (which they shouldn't be because that wasn’t the first time she had told Berry off) and Finn and Rachel looked like she had just slapped them (and they were lucky that she didn’t because she really wanted to).

The room was silent for a few seconds before Artie and Mr. Schue came out of Mr. Schue’s adjoining office. “Okay everyone, I think we’re all ready to watch our last performance from Kurt and Sebastian. Artie you can get Kurt to tell him that we’re all ready for him.” Artie pulled out his phone to text Kurt while Mr. Schue continued talking. “Now after they are finished we’ll be voting to see who wins the competition and remember, you can’t vote for yourselves this time.”

“Is there even a point in voting?” Rachel muttered and everyone except Finn shot her a death glare.

“Okay, he says that they’re ready,” Artie said. “Let’s start up the smoke and then he says they’ll come in when the music starts playing.”

“Alright then,” Mr. Schue said, going over to the smoke machine and staring it up. “Hit it you guys,” He said, referring to the band who started playing the background music for the song.

“Wait,” Kurt said. “I hear the music,” He told Sebastian. “Ready babe?”

“Born ready babe,” Sebastian assured his boyfriend. “Let’s do this,”

And with that they opened their doors and walked into the choir room like they had planned to. They admittedly started singing while going through the choreography like they planned. The scene was perfect. They were blue and purple lights flashing around the room and Mr. Schue and Artie had properly set up the smoke machine so that the room was misty. Kurt and Sebastian felt like they were at an actual rock concert which got them in the mood for their performance even more.

We're coming up like killing machines

Our big guns gonna shatter your scene

It's pandemonium on the floor

'Cause everybody wants a little more

They wanna ride on the rocket ship

Ride around the moon for a velvet kiss

'Cause all the girls and the boys wanna know

How far this bad wild child's gonna go

Everyone seemed to be enjoying their performance already except for Rachel who had a stony expression on her face and who sat there in her chair with her arms crossed. They kept dancing and Kurt felt a sort of high when he realized that they were hitting the moves exactly like how they had planned. Kurt turned into Sebastian and then Sebastian took his arm and spun him back out. Then they had prepped themselves before going into a roundoff back handspring in the choir room, earning clapping and cheering from their friends.

We are the sure fire winners

Uh-oh yeah big time hitters

We are the sure fire winners

Uh-oh yeah big time hitters

Bringing the heat and the word is out

Giving you something to shout about

We are, yeah, we are, we are the sure fire winners

Sure fire winners, sure fire winners, sure fire winners

They both sang the chorus and walked around the room and interacted with their audience, Sebastian high fived Puck and Sam while Kurt danced with Quinn and Brittany. ‘So far so good’ Kurt thought to himself, excitedly. He was so happy that they seemed happy about him being so extra about the performance and that they seemed to love it. He was just a few minutes away from winning the duet, he could feel the feeling of victory already and the song just pumped him up even more.

Flick the switch and the missile will fire

I'm a heat seeker when I'm full of desire

We're all drawn to the heat of the flame

'Cause you wanna be a star in the hall of fame

I was born with glitter on my face

My baby clothes made of leather and lace

And all the girls in the club wanna know

Where did all their pretty boys go?

The boys went back to the center of the room and Sebastian quickly glanced over to Kurt and was happy to see how into it he was. He was moving along with the music, adding his own pizazz to their dancing. He put his hand on his face and dragged it down his face to emphasize the glitter and then took his jacket off his shoulders slightly, matching with the lyrics. On the last line they stood back to back and sang it together as the audience continued to cheer and holler.

We are the sure fire winners

Uh-oh yeah big time hitters

We are the sure fire winners

Uh-oh yeah big time hitters

Bringing the heat and the word is out

Giving you something to shout about

We are, yeah, we are, we are the sure fire winners

Winners winners

They started singing the chorus again. They stood on opposite sides of the room and swung one leg forward before forcing it back and flipping over into a backflip. Then Kurt slid to the floor in a split and swung his legs forward to spin himself around on the floor. Sebastian walked over to him and took his hand spinning him around in the floor before helping him up off the floor. Kurt stood up gracefully and Sebastian dipped Kurt back. They held the pose as Sebastian took over the lyrics and then Sebastian lowered Kurt down so he could fall into a backbend. He let go as Kurt kicked himself over and then they started singing the bridge.

Ooh yeah, take a walk on the wild with me

Gonna take you to the top to the brink of what you believe

Never gonna stop 'til we reach the top

Never gonna stop 'til we reach the top

You'd better get out of the game it's never gonna be the same

Move over 'cause a new boy's calling it time

They both hit the high note and Kurt had to resist the temptation he had to ditch the choreography and to jump up and down with excitement. They walked around the room, clapping their hands together and the rest of the glee club even Rachel joined in on the clapping. There was no way they weren’t going to win. Everyone was loving them and they were doing amazing. They were on fire, they were pumped up and they were going to finish out strong.

We are the sure fire winners

Uh-oh yeah big time hitters

We are the sure fire winners

Uh-oh yeah big time hitters

Bringing the heat and the word is out

Giving you something to shout about

We are, yeah, we are, we are the sure fire winners

They pumped their fists up in the air as they sang the lyrics. Mercedes, Tina and Quinn were singing the lyrics along with them, Mike, Brittany and Santana were doing their own moves in their seats, Puck, Sam and Artie were pumping their fists along with Kurt and Sebastian and Finn and Rachel were quietly observing the scene but Kurt could tell that they were both impressed with him and his boyfriend.

Ooh yeah yeah-oh yeah yeah yeah

Mr. Schue’s expression was the best though. He seemed shocked with Kurt’s and Sebastian’s dance moves and singing, like he didn’t know they had it in them. There was nothing more that both boys loved more than proving people wrong while also proving themselves.

We are the sure fire winners

Uh-oh yeah big time hitters

We are the sure fire winners

Uh-oh yeah big time hitters

Bringing the heat and the word is out

Giving you something to shout about

Yeah we are, yeah, we are, we are the sure fire winners

Kurt walked over to Sebastian and they stood next to each other as they finished out their dancing, ensign off with a series of complicated footwork. They got it right, matching it up with music and ended their song, posing, back to back again, with their arms crossed and their heads bowed down a little so that their sunglasses slipped down to the bridge of their noses.

Gonna take you to the top to the brink of what you believe

Gonna take you to the top to the brink of what you believe

Gonna take you to the top to the brink of what you believe

The music faded out and they held their pose as they got a standing ovation from their friends. Everyone cheered and clapped for them and Kurt finally gave in to his temptation and jumped up and down, holding hands with Sebastian. They hugged each other and Sebastian lifted Kurt off his feet.

“Wow,” Mr. Schue exclaimed. “That was amazing boys. The costumes, the special effects, the energy, kudos to the both of you.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said, still full of energy. He was so happy at the moment, he wouldn’t even be that upset if they had lost. Of course, they weren’t going to though because they had kicked ass but nothing was written in stone yet.

“What do you say guys?” Mr. Schue asked his students. “Are we ready to vote?”

“Actually Mr. Schue, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Rachel said, standing up. “We all decided that we want Kurt and Sebastian to sing at Sectionals. Kurt really deserves it and I think that his performance with Sebastian just goes to show that even more.” Everyone nodded their heads in agreement and Sebastian squeezed Kurt’s hand. He was getting his duet!

“I couldn’t agree more Rachel,” Mr. Schue said as he turned back to the two boys. “Well, congratulations you two, you won the duet. Start brainstorming some ideas and we'll talk about it tomorrow. Oh, and try to incorporate some of those moves. That’ll guarantee us a win alone. Well done gentleman.”

“We did it Seb,” Kurt said, hugging him again. “We did it. We’re gonna sing at Sectionals. Oh my god.” Everyone laughed at how excited Kurt was and clapped for the boys again.

“I know, I know,” Sebastian told him. “This is great. You did great. You were amazing babe.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Seb” Kurt smiled and they kissed each other before going to sit down in their seats. They would have to do this all over again and they both couldn’t wait.

[the-hopeless-haze]

Somebody Hurt Me Too Deep (Being Alive Ch 14)

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A/N: I AM BACK omg ok like I’ve been through it in the last month..... yeah. This was of course based on “Being Alive” but also “champagne problems”... thank Taylor Swift for any emotional distress I cause :)

CW: talks of mental illness, brief mentions of past trauma and car accidents

Taglist (thank u all for reading ily): @caked-crusader @thatesqcrush @law-nerd105 @blackeyedangel9805 @moon-river-drifter @the-baby-bookworm @dianilaws @xecq @lv7867 @arabellathorne  @teddybluesclues​ @averyhotchner​ @houseofthirst​

“Carino? I’m home,” Rafael says as he steps through the apartment door, placing his briefcase down on the recliner. It was only 3pm, early for him to be finished with work for the day, but he had been getting out earlier recently to accompany you to physical therapy appointments. You were doing well, at least physically. It had been a long six weeks, but today might be the appointment that cleared you to go back to work full-time and maybe get out from behind the desk a little.

Mentally, though, it was a mixed bag. Some days were easier than others, and that was to be expected, but it was hard to tell the squad you were doing better when you couldn’t even bring yourself to text them back. Still, he pleaded otherwise, said every day was a new day and carried on even if they didn’t believe him.

Today, though, today was the turning point, he could feel it. You were doing so well, and eventually, your brain would have to catch up with your body. So tonight, he booked a reservation at a restaurant… not any restaurant, but the Cuban restaurant he took you to the night you asked him out and he barely used your first name and he swore he hated you with nearly every fiber of his being.

Right. As if he hated you even then.

You’re in a good mood, albeit not as elated as he hoped, but the physical therapist approves you for work but to “take it easy” and you’re laughing at his wry remarks and squeezing his hand in the back of the taxi on the way to the restaurant. His nerves almost dissipate, but they don’t. And maybe that should’ve been his first sign that tonight was not going to go as planned.

Rafael was never a superstitious man, but you order the same dish you ordered the first time he took you out, and he can’t help but think this is a sign to push forward.

“Oh, fuck it,” Rafael murmurs, a surge of anxiety overcoming him. “I was going to wait until after dinner… but…. I have something I want to ask you.”

And just like that, your face falls, but Rafael can barely take that in, he just keeps talking, his mouth moving faster than the neurons in his brain that tell him to stop, now isn’t a good time.

“I love you so much, (y/n), and I know these past few months have been so hard, and this isn’t the way either of us have wanted this year to start, but… we got through it together. I never thought I’d be in a position in my life, with someone who I love… that I’d be willing to do this, but… (Y/n)... will you marry me?”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds, but it feels like hours, days, months. “Can you get up off the floor, Rafael? You’re embarrassing us,” you finally say hollowly, and it’s true, the whole restaurant is stopped in their tracks staring at the two of you. Rafael couldn’t possibly care less, though, he couldn’t comprehend anything that was going on - he was just thinking “well, she hasn’t said no…” and then you’re getting up, throwing your napkin on the table, shaking your head, saying “I can’t do this.”

Rafael gains some of his senses back, enough to follow you outside into the tempering late February air. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, Rafael, I don't,” you say stiffly without turning around to face him. “I’ll get my stuff in the morning. I need to be alone right now.”

“I just… I didn’t know you weren’t happy,” Rafael says, his voice breaking, and that gives you enough impetus to turn around.

“You didn’t know I wasn’t happy? Goddamn, Rafael, do you even live with me? I’ve been unhappy for months.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you know?”

“Jesus, (y/n), maybe because I’m not a fucking mind reader?”

“Right. You honestly thought we were in a good enough place to propose tonight?”

“Obviously! Or I wouldn’t have done it!” he snaps. “You honestly think we’re in a bad enough place that you couldn’t say yes?”

“Obviously! Or I would have done it!” you throw his words back at him, and god do they sting.

“You never told me anything. You just withdrew.”

“Yeah. Maybe that should’ve been a sign. Look. I’m moving back home. I was going to tell you tonight.”

“What? Is that all it was? (Y/n), if you want to move back, I could work something out--”

“No. No, you can’t, Rafael. You’ve never been able to work anything out in your life because you’re too scared to! You just operate on fear - and this is no exception. You thought I was going to die six weeks ago and that’s the only reason you’ve been acting this way, and I’ve been slipping away recently and you’ve just been trying to consistently deny it so you just get on one knee and think that’s going to solve everything, think that’s going to make me stay. That’s not how it works! I’m not happy. I need to go home.”

“Oh no. You know what it is? You’re afraid. Don’t try to put this on me. You’re the one who’s walking away. You’re the one who’s running back home.”

“Fuck you, Rafael. Your family is all here. Mine isn’t. My brother’s getting a job for the first time, my mom just got on disability, I miss my dad… I’ve spent too long here. I’ve spent too long with you.”

“What happened? What the fuck happened?”

“What the fuck happened every other time, Rafael? You’ve gone through this plenty of times before.”

Rafael scoffs, shakes his head, leans against the outside of the restaurant. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m fucking sick, Rafael!” you’re screaming now, your cheeks turning red, your eyes leaking angry tears. “All this time, since the accident, I’ve been fucking drowning and you didn’t even notice!”

“Sick?”

“Depressed, Rafael. Anxious. Liv wanted me screened before I came back and the therapist said so. AGain. For the fucking umpteenth time in my life. But this time, I thought I had someone who cared--”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know if you didn’t tell me?”

“Couldn’t you see?”

Rafael shakes his head slowly, but now it comes back to him, all these subtle signs, the days you wouldn’t make it out of bed until 3 pm, all the days and nights you spent staring listlessly at the walls, the inability of anything he said or did to make you feel better. But it came and went, and Rafael just took it as you being upset sometimes at the limitations placed on you by your injured leg. Never did he think there was something more serious going on. Or maybe he just didn’t want to think that, and he ignored every signal.

“I’m sorry, (y/n),” he whispers, but he knows that’s too little, too late. Both of you were at fault - that was clear to him now - but was it clear to you? “I really didn’t know.”

“Evidently,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“But you can get help. We can work this out.”

“I just… Rafael. I’m not ready. You of all people should have some sympathy for that.”

Ouch. You were going for the jugular now, hurting him where only you could, rejecting his proposal, leaving him crestfallen on one knee in the middle of a restaurant, but somehow your words hurt worse. Anyone could reject a proposal. Only you could psychoanalyze him and hurl the worst remarks his way, things no one else would be able to come up with.

“Then okay,” he sighs. “We won’t get married yet, or ever, if that’s what you want. But you really want to throw this away entirely?”

“I don’t know, Rafael. I don’t. Look, I’m sorry too. I just… I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Do you think… do you think maybe--”

“I don’t know,” you say firmly. “I don’t even know if I really want to go back home. I just know I don’t want to live like this anymore, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“But it isn’t going to drop. I just fucking proposed. I’m in this for the long haul. And fuck it, if you want to go back home, I’ll work it out.”

“This fake optimism isn’t you.”

“This lack of optimism entirely isn’t you! What happened to the woman who got through some of the worst shit imaginable and landed on her own two feet? You got into a car accident, (y/n). You lived! You should be thankful, not sitting here sulking like your world’s gone to shit.” Again, his mouth moves too fast to register the look on your face as it falls, and tears start to stream down your face. He can’t stop but push it further, hurt you in retaliation.

“Seriously, Rafael, how insensitive can you be? I tell you I’m struggling and you invalidate my feelings? Fuck off.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“Why’d you say it then? You know what, I’m done. Goodbye, Rafael.”

“But--”

“No. Give me space. You owe me that.”

He does. And god, it hurts to watch you walk away, his abuelita’s ring burning a hole in his pocket when it should be on your finger. But maybe.... maybe this isn't the end. Maybe all you need is space.

Maybe Rafael's wishing on a pipe dream. He doesn't know anymore. All he knows is the sting of this pain.

-----

You walk alone in the dark, your leg still aching slightly, and you just feel like utter shit. You can’t remember ever feeling quite this low, but you can’t remember feeling rage like this, either. No one’s hurt you like Rafael.

But that’s because you loved him enough to let him.

You still love him even now, but spending day in and day out with him coddling you, you couldn’t handle it. And maybe you should’ve acted like an adult and told him and stopped pretending everything was fine when you knew it wasn’t. If only you weren’t so fucked in the head, right? Just how it always went, your life, cycles of feeling fine and cycles of feeling like you’re scraping at the bottom of a barrel for a will to go on. And yeah, sometimes even you would question why you were taking this so hard - so what, it’s a car accident, you were lucky to have lived - but Rafael didn’t understand and you didn’t know how to make him. How were you going to get in a passengers seat again without having a panic attack? Would your leg ever fully heal? You’d wasted six weeks staring at the walls of Rafael’s apartment, doing menial paperwork for Olivia that anyone could have done. How could you not feel entirely worthless? And then for Rafael to make it seem like you were overexaggerating like you should just get over this… you hated him.

But you didn’t, really. You know deep down he’s just angry the night didn’t go the way he wanted it to, with you promising to be his for the rest of your life. Still, rage is a truth serum of sorts, like cheap wine, and it makes you wonder how deep that resentment runs. How could he not notice you were upset, though? That’s a hell of a blind eye to turn.

At least back home you had Ben if nothing else.

But here, you had everything else. The squad, your career, Rafael… You couldn’t even begin to think about marriage right now - Lord knows Rafael isn’t ready either - but did you really want to throw in the towel? How do couples move past a rejected proposal, though? Hadn’t you hurt him deeper than anyone else could have? And would he ever figure out how to propose again?

Maybe to someone else, you think, someone who didn’t have all these fucking issues.

Before you know it, you have a cigarette in your mouth and a lighter in hand and you’re leaning against the side of a convenience store, watching girls walk by in stilettos hanging on to their men or giggling with their group of friends, the taxis blurring past. Then you realize you broke the first promise you made to Rafael: you bought cigarettes in New York.

Had he really wanted to collect on that promise? It wasn’t like you were addicted, it was just a stupid habit you started in high school to take the edge off, but you supposed some people had the inclination to start and never stop, but you always could when you wanted to.

Your vice wasn’t cigarettes, no, it was love. You gave all you could to whoever would take it because you were so used to people wanting nothing to do with you since you isolated yourself due to your past trauma. Once you got to college, you refused to hide in the background, and you took chances you weren’t used to taking and loved in color, you loved until it made you blue when the boys would cheat or your so-called friends would find different cliques.

You were still like that, albeit in so much a desperate way, and you had been loved in return, now, not just by Rafael but by the squad too - even if you had your squabbles. You loved them to death and back.

But friends were easier to keep than lovers.

Maybe it is scary to think Rafael was going to be the end. That he’d be the last man you ever kissed in love or passion. That you’d be the last woman standing in his long list of ex-lovers - the only one who didn’t get crossed off.

How do you love someone that much? You always said you wanted that, but the thought always terrified you anyway, and maybe it’s why you did push people away when they felt too close because you felt like you didn’t deserve it, like you were still atoning for some sin you didn’t remember committing but you still feel guilty for all the same. You wonder if Rafael feels just as guilty.

You inhale the smoke, feeling the familiar, carcinogenic burn in your throat, causing yourself pain to cause Rafael pain only to cause you pain in return; an endless cycle of hurt.

With ambivalence, you put your cigarette out and hail a cab, and tell him to drive you to your apartment which you haven’t seen in weeks. There’s dust on every surface, it’s freezing as hell, and you don’t know how you’re going to sleep tonight, alone, so you light up another cigarette, sitting solitary with your nerves running haywire underneath your skin. What the hell were you going to do now?

[goddamnitkastle]

A Distraction from This Hellscape™ Questionnaire

Thanks for the tag @carry-the-sky! Am I filling out this questionnaire to avoid my very pressing, very real world problems? I won’t tell if you won’t 🤫

Name/Nickname: Megan/Meg

Pronouns: She/Her

Star Sign: Sagittarius baby ♐️✨

Height: 5′3″

Time: This will be posted at 3am (The queue time is a reference to The Punisher fwiw) but I am honestly filling out this questionnaire throughout the day. Time is a construct people.

Birthday: November 30th

Favorite Bands: Florence + The Machine, Fall Out Boy, Mumford & Sons, The Civil Wars, Evanescence, Counting Crows, Fleetwood Mac, The Goo Goo Dolls 

Favorite Solo Artists: Dermot Kennedy, Hozier, Halsey, Taylor Swift, Sara Bareilles, Charlene Kaye/KAYE, Noah Gundersen

Song stuck in my head: Well before my life became consumed with apartment hunting shenanigans, this cover of Johanna Quartet from Sweeney Todd by SUF/SOND was on repeat.

Last Show: Shadow And Bone is so good! Also Prodigal Son is the shit, please don’t let it die a cancellation death 🤞🏼

Last Movie: Those Who Wish Me Dead. It was alright, Jon was the best part obviously.

When did I create this blog: July 2016 so the Kastle train was already chugging along and I hitched a ride lol

What do I post: My Kastle gifsets and edits, my subpar Kastle fanfiction, Kastle insp posts and songs, and a lot of questionnaires.

Last thing I googled: Shopping for a desk and chair to buy for my WFH set up in my new apartment.

Other Blogs: If you head over to my main blog, meganerin, 99% of my content lately was me going feral over Prodigal Son (WHY WAS IT CANCELLED SERIOUSLY 😭).

Why I chose my URL: Because this ship. Goddamn it.

Do I get asks: Not a lot but I love when I do!

Following: I am following 469 blogs from my main blog, meganerin.

Followers: I have 247 followers on my main blog and I have 1,793 followers on goddamnitkastle.

Average hours of sleep: Getting like 7 1/2 - 8 hours now? A corporate job will do that to you ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Lucky Number: 2

Instruments: I would be scared to see how much I still remember at this point but I still consider myself remedial/basic level on piano and guitar.

What am I wearing: Leggings and a tank top. My official Summer WFH uniform.

Dream Trip: Ireland and Italy are my top two. But I cannot wait to start traveling again, I want to go to all of the places.

Favorite Food: I’ve been craving sushi lately. But this is such an impossible question to have a definitive answer to, I’m sure it’ll be different if you ask me again in a day or two lol

Nationality: Like my pal Haley, I am also unfortunately an American 😬

Languages: English

Favorite Song: Love Gone Wrong by Wild Rivers was my other song obsession before I entered this apartment hunting hellscape and God, they just do not miss.

Last book read: Still terrible at reading but I have gotten super into podcasts over the course of this global panorama. Check out Guilty Pleasures, Song vs. Song, and MusicalSplaining.

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in: Please propel me to the Shadow and Bone universe stat, I want to be a Crow and kick ass. I would also not mind being propelled to either the Star Wars universe or the Avatar: The Last Airebender universe.

Tagging (no pressure!): @thevampirecat @brenli @witchygagirl @joanofarkansass @evilbunnyking @152glasslippers @captainkilly and anyone else that wants to do it!

[purplesurveys]

811

What do you like to drink in the morning? I’m not really a drinks person and I’m fine having all my meals with just water. I like coffee, but I usually drink it in the afternoon or at night. What color is your favorite hoodie? Don’t have one. My favorite sweater is gray though. Do you have a string of lights in your room? No. I remember wanting those as a teenager but I figured it was such a waste of electricity just to make my room look a little cuter, so that turned me off from the idea lol. Do you know what you are going to do today? Yeah, well today I was going to finally register for a social security number online, but given that I’m from the Philippines and the government only gives their 15% in everything they do, the website is absolute garbage and I can’t get past the first step of the process. Not surprising anymore. Other than that, I don’t have anything else to do. Does your heart hurt? My heart is missing so many people at the moment, but it’s not really hurting.

Who is not in your life that you wish was? I wish that my late maternal grandfather was still alive, if he counts. Who hurt you last? Probably Gabie. She doesn’t have a good hold of her emotions when she’s mad and tends to spit out hurtful things without thinking if it would affect me. I plan to have a talk with her about it once we can see each other again because it’s beginning to suck. Can you see the moon out your window right now? Continuing this survey four hours later, except now I’m tipsy as fuck haaaaaa. I dunno, I probably won’t be able to. It’s been raining all day and evening so I might only see clouds if I look out.

What makes you feel inspired? Seeing other people with insanely good work ethic. Are you mad at a friend right now? Nope, no reason to be. Do you have a friend who hurt you and doesn't care? I mean I’m pretty sensitive, so yeah I’ve had some friends say stuff to me that they probably didn’t think anything of, but hurt me in actuality. Is your room clean? Sure, it’s not too cluttered at the moment or anything like that. Can you see the sunrise from your window? No, it doesn’t happen on my side of the house. If you were a writer, would you have a pen name or use your real name? I’d use my real name. Idk, I’ve always found pen names to be a tad bit confusing. Did you go to Goodwill yesterday? I didn’t, and I don’t, because we don’t have whatever that is here. What is your friend's cat's name? I don’t have friends who have cats.  Do you celebrate your pet's birthdays? Continuing this survey 15 hours later because I was too dizzy to continue typing, lmao. I typically buy him a dog-friendly cupcake from the pet supply store at the mall near my school, and I serve him more food than usual for lunch and dinner. March is a busy month for me with school and stuff, so I haven’t gotten the chance to throw him a party. :( As a kid, did you celebrate your dolls' birthdays? (if you're a girl) I never liked playing with dolls. But no, I didn’t celebrate the ‘birthdays’ of my other toys. None of them lasted that long with me anyway haha. Are you wearing a hoodie right now? Nope. It’s chilly right now, but it’s not wear-a-hoodie cold. Did you ignore the last facebook post that bothered you, or did you comment? I had to ignore it because it was from my grand-aunt, and old people like to throw fits when you call them out so it was going to be a waste of my time if I commented. Do you need to go to the pharmacy today? No, no need for meds anymore yaaaaaay. Are you realizing that one of your friends isn't a real friend? Not at the moment. I’m happy with the circle I currently have. What was the name of one of your stuffed animals as a kid? I didn’t like stuffed animals either. This is more of my sister’s turf. Do you have a car? If so, did you give it a name? I do have a car but I’ve never given it a name. With my dad having plans to sell it soon, I’d rather it stay nameless for the remaining time it has with me so that I don’t get any more attached to it. If you were a famous singer, what would you want your hit song to be about? I’d want it to have an important message so I’ll probably write something about the bullshit that the government keeps pulling on us.

Did you skip church last week? No, unfortunately my mom makes us watch YouTube recordings of masses from a certain church. I usually hold up one of our couch pillows so that I don’t have to see the TV screen, but nevertheless I’m part of the audience and 30-45 minutes of my time are always wasted every Sunday. Do you have any big regrets? Just one big one. If you had to re-design an alien, instead of making them green with slanty-eyes and an egg-shaped head, what would you make it look like? I’m not creative enough for this question, so pass Do you have anyone who loves you, besides God? Do you have anyone who cares about you, besides God? Do you have anyone who you can go to for support? Yes, there’s a number of people I can think of. Do you normally write in cursive or print? Print, I write faster that way. Does your heart ache for something? Right now I’m kinda wanting pizza actually lol. Do you fit the millennial stereotype? I’m not even a millennial, dude. Would you want your first child to be a boy or a girl? Girl. I don’t want sons. If you were to write an article for a magazine, what would it be about? I’m in the mood to write an opinion piece about, again, the government. Do you have a blog? I have this Tumblr but it’s really more of a journal than anything else, so no, I wouldn’t say that I have an active blog. I did have several classes where our projects required us to make blogs and I never deleted those, so those blogs are still up albeit untouched for years now. If you were to start a blog, what would your first post be about? I can see myself starting a food review blog where I journal all the restaurants I dine in. Do you think you are good at writing poetry? I absolutely suck at it and hate when I’m required to make poems. Have you ever tried a science experiment that didn't work? I don’t think so. Have you ever had a teacher who looked like an alien? I dunno what an alien is supposed to look like but I also haven’t had a teacher who I thought looked weird. Do you take gummy vitamins? Not since I was 14 or 15. Are your feet wide? No. At least I don’t think they are lol. If you could do research right now for an essay, what topic would you choose to right about? Welp today is our Independence Day, so keeping in line with the timing it’d be nice to do a paper on something about Philippine history. What are your strongest attribute? Personally, I like the fact that I’m detail-oriented. That trait has been responsible for presentable Powerpoints, has saved otherwise careless co-workers, and has made sure that all research, written articles, etc. are free from critical errors, be it in data or grammar. Have you ever been tempted to commit a crime? Of course. I think we’ve all been tempted to do something like that at least once. Have you ever started writing a suicide letter? I’ve written a couple ones throughout the years. ...and then realized you wanted to live? No. Do you know anyone who had to evacuate for the latest hurricane? Not the last typhoon, no. But my friends in Marikina have had to evacuate for past calamities many times because they live right beside a river, and one that easily overflows at that. Do you write letters to friends? Only for special occasions, like for Christmas, retreats, if they were graduating, etc. Do you like to write letters? I do but it can get so tiring, especially because I prefer handwriting my letters. I used to write 40+ handwritten letters, one for each of my classmates, every year when we would go on retreat. The practice was super tiring though so now I typically just write letters for Gab. As a kid, did you find diagramming sentences fun? The what sentences??? I’ve no clue what you’re talking about. Whatever those are, I’m positive we never did that in school. What is your dream? Money. Where would you travel if you could? I’d go absolutely everywhere, but I’d start by finishing off Asia first. When it comes to traveling, I’ve always imagined myself taking my sweet time going local first before venturing out to farther countries. That being said, I’d love to go to Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Brunei. Do you feel all alone in the world? No. Do you own a piece of jewelry with an owl on it? Haaaaaaaaa, no. That’s such a Tumblr-in-2010 trademark. I did have owl stuff before, though. If you have a class ring, what color is the stone? Not a thing here. Does looking at the starry sky make you feel peaceful? It does. But if I’m really hellbent on feeling peaceful, I’d rather look at either a skyline at night OR into the sea during the day. Do you have a pen pal? If not, would you ever want to have one? No and no. Like I said, I’m pretty much retired from handwritten letters after writing 40+ of them every single year for around a decade lol. Do you drink hot chocolate? Only La Creperie’s San Gines hot chocolate. Sometimes I’ll drink hot chocolate at hotels too. Do you like apple cider hot or cold? I don’t drink that. Are you hurt by something a friend did to you recently? No, none of them have done or said something hurtful to me lately. Are you under 30? Yeup. Have you made a "30 Things to Do Before I'm 30" list? No. I don’t like keeping myself under a deadline. Do you paint rocks and hide them in your town? I’ve never done that before. Do you have a secret crush? Nope, am very vocal about my crush heh. What was the name of your first crush? Andi. Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? Yes, groan. Do you like parodies? Not always. Some of them can be a little too cheesy for my liking. Are you a Taylor Swift fan? Not a chance. Have you ever kissed a picture? I probably have. Do you use window clings (stickers for your window)? No. Do you decorate for fall? We don’t have fall. What do you want to be for Halloween this year? Not really sure yet...I don’t even know if we’re getting Halloween this year. Has suicide crossed your mind a lot lately? [trigger warning] Not these days, and I’m really thankful for that. I’ve self-harmed twice during the course of the quarantine and while that’s disappointing at least I haven’t thought about being dead, and that’s what matters to me. Do you have supernatural abilities? ............No. Do you get enough hugs? Definitely not these days. I haven’t been hugged since March. I think I might cry when I get my first one. What labels do people try to put on you? I don’t know. You’d have to ask others because this isn’t the sort of thing people say to your face lol. Who do YOU (or rather, who does God) say you are? Are you happy? I’m not happy with the Jesus questions on here lmao but kidding aside, I wouldn’t say that I 100% am. I just feel like I’ve only been floating or existing recently, but not fully happy. Have you asked yourself recently, Why am I here? I hate questions like that, so no. What family member did you get your hair color from? Everyone of them. Filipinos have the same features. Have you ever found a secret compartment? No. If you designed a house, would you give it a secret room? I’ve seen some interesting ones on the internet that make me want a secret room of my own, but I think it’ll stay as a fantasy. Do you read horror stories? When I come across them, sure. I don’t actively look for them though. Do you ever comfort eat? Yeah, I did it a lot before quarantine. Yabu’s a great example of me comfort eating haha. Does stretching feel good? Yesssss. Do you have your wedding planned in your head already? I have scenarios that play in my head but I don’t have the specifics – color scheme, flowers, centerpieces, location, etc – mapped out yet. Would you ever adopt a child? Not my first choice. Are you ok today? I’d say so, yeah. It’s not hot today so that’s already good enough of a day for me lmao. Was the last book you read good? It was okay. It holds a great life story with okay writing. Wrestlers write autobiographies ALL THE TIME which means that not all of them will be a home run, and AJ’s was neither earth-shattering nor bad. I definitely didn’t appreciate the unintended-but-casual sexism/misogyny in it or the extreme hyperboles, but it’s AJ and I love her work nonetheless.

[shiftyskip]

Darrell Cecil “Shifty” Powers

Because you all knew this was coming.

The Real Shifty Powers: 

Darrell Cecil Powers was born on March 13, 1923 to Barnum and Audrey  Powers. In many of the public records his name is listed as Cecil D. Powers, I am not sure why. He was born in Clinchco, Virginia and had two brothers. Barnum (Barney) was around to years older and James (Jimmy) was around 3 years younger.When Shifty was around 7 years old, his mother gave birth to his sister Gaynell. They later would have their youngest son Franklin (Frank or Frankie) in 1933.

Clinchco was a small coal mining “camp” (as Shifty called it) and the town owned a coal company. Barnum Sr. worked in the coal mines. This income left seven people eating on a dollar a day. Shifty got his nickname from his younger days. He used to play basketball and got his nickname from his swift movements.

Barnum Sr. was also good at shooting and taught Shifty everything he knew. As a child, Shifty would shine shoes to earn money for the shells. Shifty’s father took him hunting very often and during squirrel season (which last two weeks), they hunted every day. This gave Shifty an advantage over most Easy Company men. The skills he picked up improved his shooting and taught him how to be aware of his surroundings, which helps in combat. Shifty claims that during this time he learned to tell by the shake of a branch whether it was a bird or squirrel moving. Shifty’s skills reached the point where he could throw a coin into the air and shoot it before it reached the ground. He had started from a silver dollar and eventually worked his way down to a nickel. He was close but never could hit a dime, although he tried. He believed he wasn’t a good shot because he was told by a friendif he couldn’t shoot a dime, he wasn’t that great of a shot. 

After he finished up high school. Shifty enrolled in a vocational school in Norfolk, Virginia. He took a machinist course along with Popeye Wynn. The boys became good friends and after finishing the course went to work at some shipyards in Portsmouth, VA, together. After learning their jobs would make them remain in the states throughout the entire war, the boys went to enlist.Both of them volunteered for the paratroopers. When they came back, the person in charge of the shipyard called up the registration office to remove them, but the damage was done.

There are two records for his military service. The first one is his registering for the draft. Shifty registered for the draft on June 30, 1942 in Norfolk Virginia, where he had been working in a ship yard after finishing high school. At the time he was 5 feet and 11 inches. He described himself as having a dark complex (I am hopefully assuming he meant he is tan), brown eyes, and black hair. He officially enlisted on August 14, 1942. These records state he was semi-skilled in machinery. 

Shifty was soon one of the original Toccoa men, under the command of Sobel. Like most men in Easy, Shifty did not like Sobel. He believed that if Easy went to war with the man, they would all die because of his failure at tactics. But Shifty did admire Sobel in some ways. He said that if Sobel asked you to do anything, he’d do it as well. That was a factor of Sobel that Shifty always admired. Later in life, Shifty thought back on Sobel and Easy and realized that Sobel made Easy Company what it was. He turned them into an outstanding company.

Winters described Shifty as quiet and withdrawn, but said he loved a good laugh like everyone else. One such example Shifty remembered was when Private Gordon gave Tab his last cigarette but then charged him a dime for the match. 

During training, Shifty became an expert rifleman. Because of his status as one, Sobel offered anyone who gained the official honor a three-day pass. Shifty and one other man, Buck Taylor, gained the honor. Popeye Wynn asked if Shifty was going home for those three days. Shifty told him he couldn’t afford it. Popeye told him he’d handle it, and he did. Popeye got a spare helmet, announced the situation, and tossed $5 into the hat. Everyone else pitched in a small amount and soon Shifty had more than enough to go home. Popeye asked how much he had and when he found out Shifty had more than enough, he asked for his “damn five dollars” back. Shifty gave it to him. 

Back to Shifty’s shooting skills, he became highly respected for his skills. Bill Guarnere describes him fighting in Carentan in his book with Heffron, saying: “At some point, Shifty Powers picked off a couple of snipers. When there was a sniper, you sent Shifty in to take him out. Shifty was a damn good soldier in 3rd Platoon. He was from the mountains in Virginia, born and raided with a gun in his hand, not like us city slickers. He was like an Indian, lived off the ground, was very observant, was in tune to nature. He could pick out movement a mile away.” Heffron echoed Guarnere’s praise for Shifty, “A couple of German snipers were taken prisoners and killed. Shifty Powers took out a couple of them. He was the guy when you had snipers to take out.”

Shifty and Easy went overseas to Aldbourne to prepare for their final step in the war. Shifty described it as “a small village in a rural area”. He also comments that they were preparing to be invaded by the Germans, but all they had was gardening tools to fight with. He was extremely grateful that did not happen because the Germans would’ve wiped the village out. He assumes the people there felt safer with the American soldiers there, though that’s only his opinion.

Shifty jumped into Normandy with Easy. Shifty believed he was lucky to be jumping out of a plane and not storming the beaches. After the jump, he met up with Buck Taylor and Bill Kiehn. They were all lost, but figured they knew the general idea of where to go. So they started walking and eventually grouped with the 82nd. They stayed with the 82nd for most of the night.

When morning came, the boys discovered a glider with a jeep stuck in it. The boys wanted to ride the jeep to the beaches. They decided to try to cause a mini explosion to free the jeep. What they didn’t realize is that the jeep had been leaking out gasoline and when they lit the fuse to free it, everything blew up. Kiehn turned to Shifty and said: “Good thing Sobel didn’t see that.”

Speaking of the dreaded Sobel, Shifty met up with Sobel once after D-Day. Sobel was standing next to a river and Shifty shuffled down to him, saluted, and spoke with him for a bit. When Sobel asked how everything was going, Shifty told him that Popeye had a hand grenade popped on his ass. Sobel, harsh as ever, responded with “Serves him right.” Which as harsh as it is, Shifty understood that it wasn’t directed at Popeye personally, but rather a shame that someone had gotten hurt after being so well trained.

Not much is said about his time in Holland. He has one story he remembers about Holland. Easy was sent in to take a town full of Germans but they arrived late and couldn’t take the town before dark. They dug foxholes and stayed the night. In the morning, someone shouted about two German soldiers who had taken American prisoners and were walking down the road. Shifty spotted them and was planning on shooting them before realizing the town was full of Germans. If he fired on them, the Germans in the town would instantly kill the prisoners. He decided, after a lot of debate, to let them go. He recalled that moment often and trusted he did the right decision. 

Even less is said about his time in Bastogne. Shifty didn’t like to talk about it much. In his own words, “Bastogne- I hate to talk about that place. It was a lot of fighting, just a lot of fighting.” That’s all Shifty would say about it. In Stephen Ambrose’s book (which is highly wrong on pretty much most of its info), describes a moment in which Shifty spotted a tree that was not there the day before, from over a mile away with no binoculars, in the middle of a forest. Lipton observed and noticed movement. It turned out to be a part of Germany anti-Aircraft and heavy artillery group. They sent heavy artillery into the German forces and forced them to desert. 

After Bastogne, they arrived at Mourmelon. They received their back pay there but there was no place to spend it, so they spent most of it gambling.Shifty claims he wasn’t a great poker player but he did enjoy playing it. Shifty and his group would play poker, and were so focused that another soldier removed the powder from a grenade, put the cap back on, and loosened the pin. He then went to join the poker game, but fiddled with his grenade so it dropped off its pin and hit the floor. The soldier yelled. “Live grenade!” The boys ducked for cover, scattering cards and money, while the soldier ran off. Nobody dared to take the money though, it was just to annoy the poker players.

Shifty was there when Easy reached Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest. One of the things he remembers is that Hitler’s champagne was extremely good. He had fought everyday with Easy, he had been there for every loss, every gain, every movement, Shifty was with Easy. But he was never wounded in combat, no matter how close of a call he had, he was never injured. When the war was drawing to a close, Shifty’s and three others names were drawn out of a hat to be sent home early for a furlough.

 On the way, a drunk driver crashed into their truck. Shifty was severely injured when he was sent flying out of the truck. He broke his pelvis and his wrist. He was given morphine at the sight of the wreck and sent to a field hospital. A nurse was taking off his clothes, Shifty was waking up. He had bloused his pants...with condoms (a typical thing within Easy), the nurse screamed and Shifty went back under.

Shifty’s loot was all taken from him at the hospital by the time he woke up. He felt sorry for himself until he looked over and spotted another soldier in a full body cast. That’s when he started to view himself as fortunate.

Shifty was sent to Reims, in France, to recover. According to Winters, Shifty was overseas for the next year in recovery. He was eventually sent home on a ship. He was discharged in a small camp in Virginia and returned home. 

When he got home, Shifty had strange urges to eat dill pickles. He claimed he’d once driven 20 miles for some. He used to joke that he was pregnant for the year that his craving lasted.

Shfity went to work in a coal mine, picking slate. He worked there for a while until the company opened a machine shop. He worked there for a few years. He had married  Dorothy Stamper and had two children, Margo and Wayne, before he moved to California. There he worked in a machine shop for several years before the company lost it’s government contract and was laid off. He returned to Virginia, where he returned to his job in their machine shop. He continued to work for them for more than 20 years. After he retired, he began working in the garden. But in his later years, Shifty’s health began to decline and his family believed he was depressed. They feared his time would soon be over.

Shifty had long been retired by the time Ambrose published his book.He ran into people he knew, even at simple places like Wal-mart, and they asked him why he hadn’t mentioned any of his experiences. He replied, “I never told anybody. Nobody knew anything about those years.” Not even is family knew about his memories of the war until the book came out.

It seems that suddenly, Shifty was being pulled out of his depressed state and came alive. He received mail and calls from all over the world. He began reconnecting with the men of Easy. He traveled everywhere he could, even going back to overseas to Germany. His family claims that Band of Brothers saved his life. Shifty lived to see his children grow up and get married and have children of their own. He even lived to see his great-grandchildren be born.

(photo credits belong to Marcus Brotherton, full credits to him but I just had to use this image because it’s the only photo of Shifty and Skip Muck- my two favorites.)

Shifty for the remainder of his life enjoyed taking things slow. He believed that he should earn everything he had and he would often enjoy the simple things like nature and his family. 

In his later life, Shifty had developed lung cancer. He died in his home on June 17, 2009, after struggling to beat cancer. He was 86 at the time. 

[sheslostinreality]

“Mine” Series: Part 1: We’re Taking On the World Together

A/N: This is a three-part series based on Taylor Swift’s song, “Mine.” A summary [without giving too much away] would be: this series is about the evolvement of yours and Harry’s relationship-- the excitement and the struggles, the pits and peaks. No matter how crazy life gets, your each other’s safety nets.

Message me HERE for requests, questions, and feedback... they’re always welcome and appreciated. Much love. x

It was a view you had only ever seen on television or in photographs. It was surreal. You and Harry were at the top of the highest mountain, overlooking valleys, trees, and a long, clear blue river that wrapped around. The sun was setting and the sky was all sorts of beautiful. Orange, pink, lavender colors decorated the sky. The photos you took on your phone didn't do the view justice. All you could do was remember its beauty.

You loved it on the mountain with Harry. You were secluded and alone. There was no noise but the sounds of your breaths. It was the most peaceful, relaxed, and intimate the two of you had been in a long while.

It was definitely needed. You and Harry needed to pull away from the chaos that surrounded your lives and take a moment for yourselves. You needed to spend time with one another without any distractions or interruptions.

Life had been in full speed the past several months. You had gotten accepted into Law school. Your courses were extensive and required a lot of time to be dedicated towards working on assignments and reviewing for tests. It was a type of pressure different from undergraduate school. On top of that, you were also working as an assistant at a law firm. Harry, on the other hand, was booked every single day, going here going there, promoting his album and playing shows. He would leave for days, even weeks, at a time. You lived under the same roof but it was as if you never saw each other. On the days Harry would be home, you were either working, at school, or too busy burying your nose in textbooks studying. Other days you would stay up and wait for Harry to come home but he was already exhausted from a long, tiresome day all he could muster up was energy for a kiss then head straight to bed.

Something had to be done. You and Harry needed to put life on pause before things fell apart. Things had gotten so chaotic you began to neglect one another. So you and Harry cleared your schedule for the next three weeks, booked a flight, and been disengaged from the rest of the world since. It was the best thing the two of you had ever done.

Your three weeks were rejuvenating. It relit the spark that had been overshadowed by busy lives. It reminded you and Harry why you fell in love with each other. The three weeks brought back the feelings you had on your first date, the first time you spent the night together, the time the two of you moved in with one another… It was like falling in love all over again.

"I don't want to go home," you said. Your eyes were focused on the view in front of you as your head rested on Harry's shoulder. "Neither do I, luv," he whispered.

You and Harry had three more days left on holiday. Three more days to appreciate the peace, the quiet, the privacy. There were no cameras or photographers. There were no screaming fans or demanding bosses. There were no business meetings or classes or assignments. Just you and Harry.

"I'm glad we did this," you looked up at Harry, his green eyes locking with yours. He smiled, his dimples pronounced. He leaned forward and pressed his rosy lips onto yours. He laid it there for a moment, leaving no empty space between you. He pulled away slowly and whispered, "I love you, Y/N. More than you will ever know."

"What happens when we get home? Is it going to be the same way again? Me at school and you gone?" you had a hint of sadness in the tone of your voice Harry picked up on.

"No," he assured you. "We'll do it better this time, luv. We'll fix it."

"How can you be so sure?"

He pressed his lips onto your forehead and you closed your eyes at the touch of his soft lips. Every time Harry touched you, it sent a wave of electricity and excitement through you, but also a sense of calmness and security. "Because I never wan' t' lose you, luv," he answered.

"You won't." You nuzzled the top of your head into the crook of his neck and hugged his arm. "You won't."

"I know," he responded. "There's something I want’d to do before we went home…"

"What is it, babe?"

Harry pulled away from you  and wiped the dirt off from his bottom. He reached a hand out toward you to pull you up. "Would you look at that bird," he pointed behind you. "It's beau’iful."

You spun around and your eyes searched the sky for what you thought could be an eagle. But the sky was empty. Your eyes shifted to the tall green trees but there was no sign of life. You spun around defeated, "Harry, I don't see---"

You stopped the moment you saw Harry kneel down. He had a small purple, velvet box in his hand that lit up when it opened. Inside was a large diamond in the center and smaller diamonds around the band. You were speechless. You couldn't believe it.

"Y/N Y/L/N, I have never loved anyone so deeply and so intensely as I have loved you," Harry spoke slow, careful not to choke up. "I have never been so afraid of losing someone my entire life. You keep me grounded. You make me happier than I ever thought I could be. You are my anchor, my peace… my home. I never, until the day I die, want to go a day without you." His green eyes became glossy, tears threatening to spill.

"Harry…" you smiled from ear to ear, every inch of your front teeth displayed.

"Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?" he proposed.

"YES! A million times, yes!" you shrieked in excitement. You jumped towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your lips so tightly onto his. Harry fell on his back with you on top of him. He wrapped his arms around your body. There was no feeling he loved most than his world inside his arms. "I love you, Harry Styles."

"I love you, too, Future Mrs. Styles," he chuckled. "Let's put on your ring?"

You nodded and got up off Harry. The two of you stood up and you watched in awe and Harry slipped the large rock on your ring finger. "Harry, it's beautiful," you said. You held your hand in front of you and examined the beautiful ring. You then stepped to the edge of the mountain. You looked over your shoulder at Harry had nothing but love and admiration in his eyes. You reached out your hand, "Wanna do it with me?"

He chuckled and nodded. He walked towards you and took a hold of your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He placed himself right beside you.

You began counting, "One… Two… Three…"

"WE'RE ENGAGED!!!" The two of you screamed at the top of your lungs.

You jumped into Harry's arms, your arms locked around his neck and your legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed you so passionately you felt butterflies inside your stomach. Butterflies you never wanted to die.

You and Harry were full of laughter and joy, knowing you were going to spend the rest of your lives with one another. You were best friends, lovers, and partners for life. You were each other's source of encouragement and strength. Despite the troubles and stresses in life, in each other, you would always have a home. A heart to have and to hold.

The next three days went by in a blink of an eye. The following day was spent inside the stilt house as a full day of "celebrating" your engagement. The other two days were spent celebrating by the ocean, on the sand and in the water. You weren't afraid of returning to reality anymore. You knew you and Harry would find a system around the madness. It didn't matter how long your days were. As long as you came home to one another.

Actually, the two of you were excited to return home and share the big announcement. You knew the family, the fans, and the media were going to have the field day. You could hear the screams from Gemma and Anne. You could already picture the front cover of the magazines-- "Harry Styles proposed to girlfriend, Y/N, on secret getaway."

"Could I get you anything else, Mrs. Styles?" the flight attendant asked you, eyeing the shiny rock on your finger.

You held back from correcting her. "No, I'm okay for now, thank you," you said instead.

"Mrs. Styles," Harry smirked at you, raising an eyebrow.

"I like the sound of that," you winked, taking a sip of your champagne.

"I think I'm gonna head to the loo," Harry said suggestively. His eyes were all over you, still enticed. "Care to join me, luv?"

You set your glass down and followed Harry into the private plane's lavatory. You locked the door behind you and the rest was magic.

Part Two: We’ve Got Nothing Figured Out

Part Three: You Are the Best Thing That’s Ever Been Mine

Epilogue

[resmarted]

here i am again, smashing the crystal vases and good china, ravaging the beautiful dining room and chucking antiques across the room. i want to be done here, i want to be done here! i want to move on, but to what? i can’t remember how to even be a person, i can’t find the light and this tunnel is so dark and endless, we don’t even have headlights to guide us. i came here to bring you on a date in the stylings of nineties classic it takes two starring kirstie alley and the olsens, except instead of mka we are switching them out for young taylor swifts, that’s right two of them, which is all i could think about the entire time i rewatched it again. so here goes nothing, we open on a street corner in philly because this is our version and the ahhccents are gonna be mewr sewth philly than ahhhnything. taylor swift number one, let’s call her taytay the scrappy orphan that has self-professed lousy english like aintcha gonna wanna git ewta here before they catcha? nobody even blinks and in pigtails and a worn out backwards baseball cap on her head, this ten year old who is probably played by an eight year old swift bc coming from a fellow tall person we just sprout from the crib it’s nuts, i’ve always looked older than i was from being tall. so eight year old swift is playing ten year old scrappy orphan taytay who is always chewing gum and has a baseball bat as kirstie alley (YOU.) look out the window and yell at her like, cmahhn tay! you got an appt with the butkis’ and i told u not to get that dress dirty! and tiny taylor chewing gum is like awww cuhmuhhhhhn doi-anne! just lemme knahck this one outta the pawrk first! that’s not the line it’s something else referencing the fact that they’re playing in the middle of the street of their inner city neighborhood. she is the pretty white girl of the orphanage so it makes no sense she hasn’t been adopted but is of course the star athlete of the kids and favorite of the social worker you-kirstie alley. she is accosted by kids and called a reject and lil taytay’s all why i awwwghta! she’s making her best >:| face, and pop goes the weasel she hits the ball and probably breaks a window or something and as she runs to the cab the kids are like, the butkis ppl are creeps that collect kids! and taytay is tayrrified before threatening the other kids with her fists in the air as the cab drives away. cut to a close up of a nineties cellphone and private plane landing, and taylor number two is wearing a practical pantsuit in beige and just won another piano competition, and she overpronounces all of her t’s at the end of her words. let’s call her fancita. yes i’m serious, i’m already so tired and bored of this story, it was way more exciting after rewatching the other night. whatever this story is just a remix of the parent trap anyway and that’s why we have two baby swifts and don’t ask me why, don’t ask me why i’ve taken you this far down the rabbithole but let’s just keep going until we find each other. so fancita is an aristocratic princess that plays tennis and i don’t know, i’m just trying to get to the part where they are like omg let’s get this social worker and rich man who has a cell phone company before that’s even a thing, and while orphan taytay is in danger of becoming the next adopted butkis - which in this version is just straight up trafficking ring i mean come on, they were pedos and it was heavily insinuated in the movie, but basically she’s in danger of being adopted into an abusive hellhole and fancitay is like hey girl hey! when her butler arrives to pick her up from her private jet. the nineties always portrayed wealth with these long ridiculous limos and british butler limo drivers, which as we now all know rich people are just driven in cars w tinted windows and the only people riding in limos are seniors in high school, but i digress. she meets her new soon-to-be stepmother, also played by taylor swift, present day style. she’s all, when i was your age i had already been through three stepmothers, you’ll be in a tibetan boarding school as soon as the wedding is over tomorrow! for this she is in her satanic red high priestess dress from lwymmd, golden snake rings at all. actually let’s just say at some point she’s bathing in diamonds as well, i mean there are many versions of her current snake-embraced image that we can use for this but that’s not the point, it is that im not even in love with grown taylor swift! i am just trying to fill the void of my dead wife who loved children and built a camp conveniently across from the literal castle we live in. i haven’t been there since, pushes back hair like sigh, since she died ten years ago right after fancitay was born. i’m all, cell phones, i hate the damn things. back when i invested in them everyone thought it was just something out of star trek and now i’m a lonely billionaire marrying snake taylor in a haze of confusion and thinking that’s what i should do, fancita needs a mother after all. you’re a tough talking protective mama bear that wants to adopt orphan taytay but you’re just a social worker and what? the butkis’ already had the paperwork go through to adopt her?? i come to find you after a failed horse meetup planted by the taylor twins to apologize for leaving you to get yelled at by steptaylor, and you’re like look keep your fancy cell phone company lifestyle and keep it moving, bucko! in the movie they get into a food fight but i’m not trying to go that deep, but basically we fight until you, an enraged four foot two version of kirstie alley okay you’re actually just a tiny goth and i’m a clumsy ogre, that part never changes. you push me with all your might, not necessary trying to push me into the river but it happens and i’m all, oh my god i feel like a kid again! this must be love! okay but seriously, that part’s the realest. i do feel like a kid again, and this must be love, mustn’t it? what will our tiny taylors tell us? we don’t know what it is or why, but it makes sense because we feel it, i can feel you. even when you say to your fellow social worker friend (played by your bandmate and beloved drummer) guys like that only date girls with food names like candy or muffin or cookie, and princess taylor disguised as orphan taylor turns around from her archery practice, greatly offended and snapping back, his dead wife was a teacher that loved kids and built this camp and she wasn’t a food her name was kathy with a k played by kourtney in a brief shot of her glamorously in a casket but dripping in jewels and hands delicately crossed over her chest. whatever, goth kourtney fantasies are not the point ok i know that. you look at princess taylor disguised as pauper taylor and are like well excuse me jeez, you don’t gotta bully me over it. sigh so then the state comes for her and accidentally send my daughter to some terrifying child sex ring that nightmares are made of and turned into dateline episodes, and this one is no less horrifying. orphan taylor shows the butler various scars and marks and bruises to show that she’s a fraudulent child that happens to just be another cute blonde that adults didn’t look closely enough at and notice bc they aren’t actually twins in this story, they’re just strangers that look alike. which honestly is prob when they first really started making the olsens insane irl like, pitting them against each other by pointing out fraternal differences and how one was the cute one the other was just the sister oh, don’t even get me started, dear. steptaylor comes home with ultra long extensions like repunzel after sneaky orphan taylor put gum in her hair. the original she gets it all cut off and suddenly her loss of beauty is signified by a short haircut which is so dumb and we just can’t agree with something so stupid, so in this she comes back with thousands of dollars worth of hair that isn’t hers just to prove her worth and appeal, which honestly is much sadder than a short sassy do any day. we get to the home of the butkis’ but no one answers and a neighbor who in the actual movie looks exactly like mike, like no shit just put a bass on him and it’s like every dude in a band probably but him specifically - unless i hallucinated it, the point is! he originally says oh that guy works those kids into the ground at the factory all day, or something like that, but in this version maybe he just shudders bc everyone just gets the pervy vibe from this butkis guy. the door gets kicked in as they are just about to initiate her into the butkis cult of abuse, and i don’t know i think it just ends with like, kirstie alley and the dad kissing? like they don’t get married or anything i don’t think. which leaves so many questions open like, if they do end up getting married, will the taylors become friends? will fancita resent taytay for taking up space and attention away? or will she be so grateful for good mother that everything will be fine and normal and fall into place? it seems like they’re all destined to end up on doctor phil. i mean, what happens when this bonehead (me) doesn’t continue to invest properly and his dumb luck cell phone business inevitably plummets because by the late nineties they’re a dime a dozen and each one is a sinking ship. what happens when they go bankrupt and all have to be poor, will they stay together? will princess taylor be like this is all your fault you’re bad luck with your poor people vibes! bc she can’t understand the crashing economy and how this is just what happens to people, one day you can be rich and the next totally broke, and it’s not really anyone’s fault. are you going to still love me even though i am horrible at saving money is what i’m asking? like, can you just quietly move money around in my accounts for me and put stuff in my savings when i’m not looking? because if i see literally any extra change i’m going to be like time to go eat giant cheeseburgers and drink ourselves into a coma! i got a groupon for a hotel stay in florida, let’s road trip! i know what your biggest concern is besides money and it’s because i know you like the back of my head (not at all), but the answer is no, steptaylor drowns in a sea of snakes at some point because i don’t have time for a decent end for her. i feel like it should be more feminist, like maybe she gets a job slinging mary kay and in the process realizes not only is she a boss at making her own income but that she doesn’t even need the amount of makeup she had been using before. she has like her own spiritual journey in the background somewhere far, far away from us and our super exclusive love, as well as our twin daughters taylor one and taylor two. i have completely forgotten their names by now but i’m just here to see if you even still love me. well? do you??? i’m just trying to prepare you for when i’m like, starting every other sentence with “you know when my wife died…” at really inappropriate times like, to a cashier in the checkout line or just in bed when we are having a romantic evening that i was bound to spoil in one way or another, so it may as well be with dead wife talk. you will probably just laugh and attempt to smother me with a pillow for being so, so embarrassing. i miss you i love you i hate you i don’t know you. i want you. do i ever even say anything else anymore? i mean it is halloween season so technically i don’t have to be original, right? you are the only ghost i could ever truly love, and that’s saying a lot seeing as how i arrived to this world haunted. pls tho, don’t ever stop being my best boo.