#even if I could write down a million gah. But yeah I got carried away again as per usual. Mobile users pls forgive me. ]]

[dansiere]

LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS

Just a fun little character game. Fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. Repost & tag away !

TAGGED BY: @reantte & @chaoswilled, who both like to see me suffer. TAGGING: it’s a wonderful meme thus I encourage you all to go ahead & steal it [just tag me when you do]; @handspoken / @balletshoes, @huntershowl, @kissafist, @spiraledheart, @mettatoniic, @inhumanistic, @breselin & @carvedbones get a tag nonetheless.

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

001. Nostalgic; struck by an all-consuming kind of grief.

002. Passionate, severely dedicated.

003. Compassionate; loving & caring fiercely.

004. Insecure; self-depreciation is her greatest vice.

005. Courageous, recklessly so.

GREETINGS:

001. a small wave, brisk & efficient.

002. a handshake, maybe; usually of the awkward kind.

003. a petite nod, occasionally; whenever she is busy or otherwise occupied.

004. greeting someone by saying their name or an enthusiastic “hello / good-morning / good day” etc.

COLOURS:

001. pastel pink, any shade of pink & even red really, but its pastel version holds the greatest value.

002. peach; perhaps even shades of orange.

003. (pastel) blue; several shades thereof. Turquoise & a tint of green.

004. ivory; see her skin, the base colour of sheer fabric.

005. grey & variations thereof. 

SCENTS:

001. freshly washed laundry.

002. the ocean; the scent of the sea.

003. lush forests; a Spring breeze, bit of an earthly hue.

004. flowers; anything rose-y, really. 

005. polished steel.

CLOTHING:

001. as a servant / Homeworld: typical leotard & sheer skirt + ballet slippers kept in white, black & shades of grey (while serving White Diamond), later frilly, multi-coloured dress with sheer fabric wrapped around her hip & a pink underskirt, ballet slippers & juvenile, “rosebud” shaped hair (while serving Pink Diamond).

002. during the rebellion / War for Earth: major change in attire; tight grey sheer top + blue vest underneath combo, peach coloured shorts & orange-tinted boots; sleeveless. Wild, unkempt hair resembling her earlier “rosebud” cut but far more dishevelled; sabre in hand.

003. post-war: hair a tad more ‘tame’, same tight shirt & shorts combo but a shift in colour with sheer sleeves + overthrow worn across the shoulders. Legwarmers paired with ballet slippers, heart-shaped cleavage.

004. post Rose’s death: same shirt with slight variations; star on her chest, sleeves again gone. Colour shifted to bright turquoise with sheer skirt & pastel coloured shorts worn underneath (reaching down to her knees), low cut socks + ballet slippers, very, VERY neatly kept hair with not a single strand out of place. Later, she dons a swift alteration thereof; the star on her chest is more strikingly depicted, sheer skirt replaced by a ribbon / bow tied around her hip; yellow shorts instead of pink. Hair a tad more unkempt.

005. post “CYM” / Future: wears a denim-esque jacket with a star on her back. Long, high cut trousers revealing her shins in addition to pink ballet slippers. Wears a turquoise, shoulderless top underneath the jacket with a heart-shaped cleavage. Hair resembles her war-haircut; more dishevelled, rebellious.

OBJECTS:

001. various swords & sabres neatly cared for & stored either in her gemstone or room. She has amassed quite the collection of ancient & legendary weapons over the centuries, ranging from simple marine sabres & battle axes to Excalibur (which she, at some point, pulled out of the stone).

002. her gemweapon, aka lances & variations / modifications thereof. 

003. a mobile phone she got shortly before “CYM”; one of the few items she does not store in her gemstone.

004. dried roses at the back of a journal; one she wrote & sketched in back before the war. Hidden deep within her gemstone. 

005. an array of other, different items stored in her gemstone (first-aid items, car keys, tools, various instruments, telephone numbers, various weapons such as shotguns, etc). 

VICES / BAD HABITS:

001. Inferiority Complex / Low-Self Esteem. Pearl automatically deems herself inferior to others or simply not good enough, falling victim to hysteria whenever failing to succeed on her first try. -- this usually triggers sentiments of extreme self-decrepitation or emotional fits. Additionally, these feelings of deeply seated insecurity & self-hatred turn her bitter / petty & coerce her to crave validation in any shape or form. She can come across as a know-it-all, as condescending or arrogant given how she will continuously bring up her achievements, knowledge & countless justifications as to why (e.g) she did what she did or why sth. did not work to counter these ever-looming feelings of utter worthlessness.

002. Obsessive / Borderline Neurosis. A vice that goes hand in hand with 001; Pearl is obsessed with the past (may it be in the shape of mistakes or ‘happy memories’), symmetry, cleanliness & people per se; especially Rose has always been a sore topic in that matter. In fact, her obsession went as far as to turn into a serious neurosis / the unquenchable urge to hyperfixate on something & mercilessly obsess over it in turn. Without something to obsess over, Pearl breaks apart. While she loves fiercely, this kind of behaviour is prone to “smother” those in her care. May it be through overprotectiveness or overly critical / a “mother knows best” kind of demeanour.

003. Terrible Coping Mechanisms / Living in Denial. Pearl is guilty of  “trauma compartmentalizing”; she represses her traumatizing experiences & memories in a self-destructive way. As demonstrated in “A Single Pale Rose”, her mind is structured in layers; the deeper “in” you go, the more she unravels & falls apart; on the surface, she tries to keep it all together but is well-aware of the mess waiting on the brink. -- Pearl additionally keeps amassing problems / trauma rather than facing any of them.

004. Stuck in the Past / Unable to Let Go; Probably a given one that does not require further explaining given what I already detailed further above. -- ever one to fondly remember the War & the role she had in it, she cannot let go of what once was. This is especially true whenever the casualties of war (guilt complex) or Rose Quartz are concerned; the latter coerced her to live the greatest half of her life (post Steven’s birth) trapped in a perpetual state of grieving & yearning for all she has lost.

005. Liar / secretive. Pearl has been prone to lie & twist her words ever since she was given to Pink Diamond 8000 years ago. What started as an attempt to protect Pink from the Diamond Authority soon turned second nature. While she usually lies out of a good reason, partially due to having been “forbidden” to talk about certain matters, lack of social skills + her compassion & eager will to spare e.g. Steven from harsh truths or to protect herself, it is a terrible vice she cannot shake.

BODY LANGUAGE:

001. gestures quite a lot; may it be with her hands or expressions. Usually underlines her points by sweeping arm or hand movements; prone to “put her whole body into it”.

002. Arms wrapped around her body, predominately her waist. Usually a sign of discomfort or tension that she simply cannot brush aside. Often paired with her glare wandering aside / avoiding eye contact.

003. Broad stance / legs apart as opposed to her feet usually positioned in First Position. Radiates rare moments of confidence, often paired with her hands either on her hips or wrapped around her lance / sword. She usually places said weapon on her shoulder or sprawled across it. 

004. Head held up high (e.g.: confident / disapproving) or head kept low (e.g.: insecurity / doubt); a gesture often affecting her entire stance - spine straightened & shoulders squared whenever poised, posture hunched whenever insecure.

005. balled fists out of anger / arm lifted & body positioned in front of someone she ought to defend.

AESTHETICS:

001. The Art of Slowly Falling Apart. “everything is perfectly fine”: a cursed phrase on the tip of your tongue; repeated endlessly. The paradoxical sentiment of deeming onself above all else. -- above the past, the pain, your former life -- & failing to realize that you are anything but, that control has long slipped from your grasp; that threads hold your broken self together, that you are so close to falling apart & yet play pretend.

002. All-Consuming Love. ever devoted, passionate / obsessively loving with all your heart. The yearning, mutual & unconditional dedication to something beautiful but fragile. You live in a fantasy alongside her / the kind you dreamt about ever since you freed yourself from Homeworld’s shackles. -- it is the kind of love that demands & demands & demands all you willingly give.

003. Dance. a part of your very identity, even the part of the past you ought to loathe; a fact that leaves you aching. It is embedded in your very code. A love for beauteous choreographies even integrated into melee combat; pristine, elegant, flawless; dancing to the mellow melody of some piano piece playing in the background. 

004. the Ocean. may it be the aesthetic of giving oneself to the depths or wuthering emotions crashing down threatening to smite you into pieces / but also its power, the very effect the scent of salt & the sound of cascades have on you. -- something you ought to oppose but can’t. 

005. the Battlefield / Revolution. swords clutched in aching hands; breathing heavily. The thrill of battle, the dirt under your nails; ever listening to the beating of a drum at the back of your head. You are Fire, Passion incarnate: cutting the cord, shattering those that wronged you, overcoming opposition & the conditioned voice inside your head, fighting against all odds / one step away from a cracked gemstone. Breaking the chains, literally.

SONGS / PIECES:

001. Running up that Hill -- Kate Bush.

002. Both Sides Now -- Joni Mitchell.

003. Eight -- Sleeping At Last.

004. Romeo -- Until the Ribbon Breaks.

005. My Boy Builds Coffins / Blinding / Over the Love -- Florence & the Machine.

Bonus: Cut the Cord -- Shinedown; not her style but boy does this give me Renegade Pearl vibes.

[captainschmoe]

I Will Survive [Beta] - Chapter 5: Flash of Fire

[A/N: It’s going to get violent. I mean, it’s an Anti fic. Of course it’s gonna get violent at some point. The Nice Guy GlovesTM are off. Also, I’m going to give myself extra time for the next chapter. I need to both write it and also figure out some background/spoiler things. :D]

[Summary: In which somehow Bio Inc. gets uploaded anyway. Neurological violence ensues.]

[Previous - Next]

Beepbeepbeepbeep!

“Gah.” Sean floppily rolled over and gave his alarm clock a good whack. He lay with his arm dangling over the edge of the bed. Ugh. He did not want to be awake right now. He had to be, of course. Always shit to do. A good cup of the ol’ dirty bean water should help refresh him. As it always does. As should some breakfast. He was starving, hunger shakiness and all. Well, of course he was fucking starving, he never got to digest that sandwich.

Hopefully he could digest the eggs he could smell from the kitchen. So hungry. So caffeine-deprived. His feet automatically carried him there, where he found Signe, already dressed to take on the day, doing exactly what his nose predicted she was doing. Ooh, were those sweet potatoes getting put into the other pan? Yeeesss.

“You want some?”

“Yes, please.” Sean groggily started up the coffee pot. He leaned against the counter, hands at his sides gripping the edge. His eyes drifted shut. Mmm. Such good smells all around him. And sounds - the whirring of the coffee pot, and the sizzling of breakfast in the pans. It helped his eyes flutter back open for a moment.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just super hungry. Puking didn’t help.” The coffee started flowing into the pot with its signature satisfying babbling.

“I’m sure this’ll help wake you up, too.” She transferred half the contents of each pan onto each of the two plates she’d set out on the counter. Sean wasted no time grabbing a fork and scarfing down half of his serving right then and there, to Signe’s shock and amusement. “Oh my God. Don’t choke.”

“I wasn’t kidding,” he said with a little bit still in his mouth. Wow, he felt better already. Maybe he could slow down now. He swallowed what he had. “Plus eggs get cold fast.”

Signe started on her portion, too. Probably figured might as well, as long as Sean was eating here. She shook her head and laughed. “Not that fast.”

Sean took the initiative to grab mugs as the coffee pot finished filling. “Want some?”

“Sure. Just a little.”

Sean could feel the steam kissing his face as he poured her cup. Way too hot to drink right away. Signe agreed, blowing tiny waves into her drink, and flinching away when her efforts proved fruitless. She set it aside for now - as did Sean - picking up her plate and finishing her food. She leaned back against the counter, casually engaging in conversation.

“I think I’m going to go out today. It might help clear my head.”

He nodded, polishing off his last bite and setting his plate in the sink. “I think that’d be good for you. Where were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. Probably nowhere specific.” Signe finished her food and set her plate down on top of Sean’s. “I’ll know where I want to go when I see it.” She picked up the coffee mug again, blowing on it again and taking a tentative sip, and drinking more now that she was able to. Sean tested the temperature of his with the tip of his finger, not wanting to burn his lips or tongue. Still a tad hot. Would take a while longer since there was more in his mug.

“Even better. Just wandering around the city. It’s nice.” Sean took a test sip in the pause. Still pretty hot, but tolerable. “You heading out right now?”

“Yeah. I’ll be a couple hours, probably.”

“Well, you know where you’ll find me. Screaming my fucking head off.” He leaned down for a goodbye kiss. “See you later, babe.”

“Bye. Love you!” She set off with one of her classic cute waves that never failed to bring a smile to Sean’s face.

“Love you, too.”

Once alone again, Sean’s gaze drifted out the window, which he opened to let the breeze in. Nice and warm, but not too hot. Not bright or sunny, but that was okay. That was normal. He drank up his coffee, taking a bigger mouthful now that it cooled off enough for him to not scorch himself. The familiar comfort of the bitterness on his tongue and the heat expanding in his belly helped wake up and raise his spirits. Maybe he could make today a good day despite Anti’s fuckery.

...

What if it was all just a big prank?

If Anti followed the rules of Sean’s characterization of him - which may not be the case, he was willing to accept - then the possibility that he was merely out to fuck with everyone rather than actually harm them was a possibility that existed. What if he was getting worked up over nothing? What if they just warned dozens of people, who had little to nothing to do with any of this, of worse things to come that was actually coming? Felix and Marzia, at least, seemed to take it pretty seriously. Not the Felix would ever admit it, but Sean could hear the slightest twinge of fear in his voice as they talked. Normally he’d poke fun at him for it. This wasn’t a normal time.

It was weird, as scary as the whole thing was, no one had actually gotten hurt. Yet. As far as he knew. There was still that doubt with Mark, gnawing at the back of his mind, to consider.

He suddenly remembered that odd... dream? From last night, that conversation with that voice. Who were they? Anti? No, they didn’t seem malicious. He couldn’t remember all of what they talked about, but he did know that it was pleasant and calming. Nothing at all like Anti. Sean tried his best to remember what the voice sounded like - if it was identifiable to one he knew in real life. He didn’t remember it sounding like Anti’s, either. But he didn’t remember it sounding like anyone’s he knew. Maybe his memory was just bad. Didn’t they say they’d see him again soon? Maybe they’d show up again tonight?

Sigh... There was nothing he could do about any of this. Nothing beyond taking it one step at a time. One day at a time.

One recording at a time.

It’s time to start the day.

Whoa, look at this! Whoa, look at that!

That was pretty much all this recording session was going to be. God damn, this community made so much good shit. Look at all this art of him, of him and the Whoosh, of him and his friends, of all the egos...

“Aw, we should make a video game with them all, with all the characters.” That would be amazing. Especially an RPG, seeing how the community fleshed out and developed and interpreted the characters.

Who was this guy on the far right-hand side?

Jack the Magnificent, huh? He never gave the magician guy a name, did he? It felt a little weird, though, having three characters with “Jack” in their names. Jackieboy Man he could leave alone, since that was already a name he’d officially given him. Well, back in the video he showed up in, the name “Marvin” was the name that was given, right?

“That’s his name! That’s what we’re gonna call him from now on: Marvin the Magnificent! You all helped, ‘cause we did Marvin’s Magic.”

This was fun, making more characters! The community was gonna love this, having a new little baby to call their own. So was Sean!

Sean gradually sidled up next to Signe on the sofa. Bit by bit. Inch by inch. Until he was practically merged with her. While she let the game she was playing keep running - she could afford to, it was the middle of a Pokemon battle - the visible pause in her hand movement served as her acknowledgement of his playful pestering. She slowly turned her head towards him. Sean gave a wave, a smile, and a “Hi.”

“Do you mind?”

“Nope.” He peered over her shoulder. “Did you catch ‘em all yet?”

“Getting there.”

“What do you mean, ‘getting there?’“ He leaned back out of her personal zone, opening up Twitter on his phone. “You should’ve finished that a long time ago. You’ve been playing nonstop for, like, a month.”

“Have not.”

“You put in, like, three hours an hour.”

Signe flung her arm towards the window. “I went outside earlier! You saw!”

Sean shook his head and started scrolling through Twitter. “Probably out trying to find Rowlets on a power line.”

...Wait, what?

“You can’t get Rowlet in Pokemon Go.”

Hang on.

“I’m happy with my little Cyndaquil, though.”

This conversation was going to have to be dropped. Something was horribly wrong. These tweets...

Towards the end of the new Bio Inc I was getting migraine headaches. lol what if Anti’s real?

> same here??????

> Thirded. Like really bad too. And double vision.

“What the fuck?”

“Sean?”

“God,” he muttered under his breath, “the ride just doesn’t fucking end.”

Signe shut her 3DS and leaned over his shoulder.

“I never fucking finished it,” Sean said, largely to himself.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re all talking about Bio Inc. And they’re all getting, like, headaches and shit from it, apparently.”

> My sister had a literal seizure after watching it!!! No family history of epilepsy or nothing, shes never had a seizure before!!

> headaches with aura and nausea. the fuck is happening Jack!?!?!

> wow everyone’s feeling like that? holy shit im scared D:

Sean opened Youtube in a new tab. There’s no fucking way. There couldn’t be. He was more willing to believe that Anti was making shit up on Twitter than actually uploading an entire nonexistent video to Youtube and giving millions of people migraines and seizures from it.

And yet, there it was. The newest upload. Not Suicide Guy as was intended, but rather:

KILL JA̠͎̭̕CKSEPTICEYE | Bio IN҉̱c. RedempT̡͟I͘on #5.

Then again, he had to admit, Anti uploading a video wouldn’t be the craziest thing to have happened thus far.

“Wa-pssh! Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, laddies! My name is Jacksepticeye, and welcome back to Bio Inc. Redemption!”

So at least it started off normally. Jack quickly became nauseated, desperately trying to hold back vomit, and ran off camera, with Dr. Schneeplestein appearing in his place. All as Sean originally wanted. It looked as though it was genuinely edited from what he did manage to successfully record. Even the mini bloopers with his face mask. But Sean knew better. Something had to be different.

Something such as the Anti moments that rapidly filtered in. Sean had planned for them, he did. But of course... it wasn’t finished. He didn’t record the little blips yet. Robin didn’t edit the Anti moments yet. There’s no way they should have been there. Yet they were. Sean’s head and vision pulsed with every blip.

Or another something such as Schneeplestein taking off his hat at the end, and Anti’s evil laugh filtering in. As if taking over the doctor’s body. Sean didn’t plan for that.

“I need your help!” Schneeplestein cried. “Save him! Save Jackse-”

“Anti.”

“I’m feeling dizzy,” Signe said. Sean wrapped his arm behind her, stabilizing both of them. Her breathing turned quick and shallow.

Schneeplestein suddenly tried to strangle himself with the headphone cable, correcting himself with a “What am I doing?” For a moment, Sean swore he could feel his own throat closing on itself.

His heart raced.

As Jack’s condition worsened, the screen decolorized. It was growing more and more obvious that Schneeplestein was operating under Anti’s control, with Anti breaking through as his name was inadvertently mentioned within “antidepressant” and “anticoagulant.”

Jack ultimately died - as planned, Sean wished he could say. And in his place...

“Ẃell, ͜lo͢o͘ḱ ͏who'͞s͡ ba͟çk!”

Sharp ringing pierced Sean’s ears and black splotches formed and disintegrated in his field of vision. Signe flinched as well. Jesus Christ. The community weren’t fucking kidding.

“I’m tired of playing pr̸̨ȩt̀en͠d́! Sick of it!” Anti’s hair started flickering between green and red - giving Sean a bit of a headache - gradually remaining red for longer blips of time as his demonic speech carried on. “And y̴ou th̶òug͝h̵t ͏you h͠ad ͡h̛i̕m ͝b҉ac̡k͜...” It reverted back to green.

“What the fuck is this?” Signe cried. She doubled over, hands clamped over her ears, breathing quickening even more to the point of hyperventilating. She ripped herself from Sean’s grip and took off before saying anything more, and before Sean could stop her and ask if she was okay.

“ I've k̴e͢p̶t͏ c̛ontr̀ol all this time.” Anti ran his fingers along the edge of the blade. Almost... seductively. Sean felt like he was suffocating. “N̨͝o̡̡͜͟t̵h̛́͟i͡҉͠n̷̷̢g̸̷͞ gets rid of me!” A shock blasted up his spine, throwing his head backwards against the back of the sofa and sending the phone flying out of his grasp. He may not have smacked against a wall, but it still hurt like a bitch. From the other room, he heard a thud and Signe yelping in pain at the same time as his head smash. Please be okay... Vertigo kept him trapped in place, and his vision turned dark again.

Anti’s voice continued, now seeming to come from within Sean’s own head as much as from the distance. “Mo̡c͞k̶i̛n͜g̢ ̢m̸e with your ‘glitch bitch’...” One of his evil laughs followed, and shocks ran through Sean’s body again, this time pinning his limbs down. His jaw, too, locked shut. Was this what having a seizure was like?

“P̨̛ò͘w͟͜e̷̷͘r͜le̕s̸s̴̸̷!̸͢͢”

“Sean!”

Signe’s shriek made his blood run cold. He desperately wanted to respond. He couldn’t.

“Wh̵o͝ do̡ you̡ ͏th̴i̕nk ��y̷o͘u̧'̵v̴e ҉be͜e͠n҉ ̶w̸a͝tch͜in͢g all̸ t͞h͟is͡ tim̷e? My p̴̨u҉͟p̷͜͝p̛è͘t̷s̢.”

Fuckfuckfuck... Let me up! Signe, no...

“I̧f͏ ́y҉ou ̕wan̶t͡ h͠i͠m̕ b́a͝c͟k̀ so badly, then why don’t you ̶sav̸e ̵hi̵m̛?”

“Sean, hel-” She was silenced mid-sentence.

Signe! He tried with all his might to break out of his locked joints. To no avail. No!

“There are no̢ s̛tr̛i҉ng̸s͞ on me.”

His brain was screaming. Ringing. Pulsating.

...

And then all was silent.

“And for you! This isn’t over.”

Sean couldn’t get up. His joints felt released. Relaxed. His breathing and heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Too relaxed.

“I wonder what will happen to your favorite boy next time.”

Why did Sean feel so calm?

“See you soon.”

...

God damn, Anti was pissed this time around. All of the fun of his last two appearances was gone. Despite being a fictional character, Alyssa felt a significant quiver of fear in her chest after watching Bio Inc. Or maybe it was the drugs the doctors ordered for her. Who knows. It wasn’t pleasant to watch either way. Not that it was bad. The video was phenomenal, as always. A ray of sunshine on her fourth gloomy day in the hospital. It was so obvious that Jack and Robin had a blast creating this character, and the fun really rubbed off on Alyssa.

One, two, Anti’s coming for you~

It was Anti’s voice, unmistakable. But it sounded like it came from within her own head? Her eyes flicked around the room, scanning every corner; her ears opened in a vain attempt to catch another sound from him. Was she just going crazy? Was it just a side effect of whatever drugs they gave her?

Suddenly her nose and throat were forcefully blocked by a searing mass of thick fluid. Black mist flecked with green spanned across her field of vision. Something grabbed and squeezed her whole body like a giant’s hand, even holding her a few inches off the bed. Shocks shot through her spine and head. She needed to scream, but couldn’t. The fluid was real. Her arm was pinned to her side, unable to reach the call button that was otherwise right there...

It felt like the fluid in her lungs burst out and ripped down through the rest of her insides. Like her body had been hollowed out and filled with magma. Her spine bent backwards farther than she’d ever thought possible. The pain was mind-shattering. So much that she couldn’t even think about her imminent demise.

The first nurse on the scene about fainted at the sight. Staff crowded around, speechless. Alyssa’s father waited just outside the door, receiving no words of comfort about his baby girl.

This was no mere code. There was no resuscitating this one.

The next thing Alyssa knew, she was somehow alive, but alone, greeted by a gray, twilit sky and the hospital’s equally-monochrome edifice.

[unending-happiness]

My lovely, your gift is up I'm only telling you this because it doesn't seem like the tagging is working (you know, to your blog). Not like I'm actually jittery and anxious for you to read it or anything, pshh Again, I hope you like it, I went for pretty much everything you said you liked 😘😘😘

Hey, you! Oh, my darling gifter. I am so glad that you stopped by my inbox. BOYYYYYY do I have some things to say to you about my gift! So full disclosure, I actually read this FUCKING AMAZING fic earlier today. My friend saw that it posted and sent it to me. We both freaked out over this word perfection.Then I had to run off and start my busy day. I have been thinking about this all day and waiting for the moment when I could be back at my computer so I could sit down and attempt to thank you for this incredible gift. Soooo, I’m home now, and I just read it a second time, and can I just say WOW!!!!!! lsdfhjkfdhjdfshdfshdfshjhdfsjhfsdjfdshjfds 

I am still just absolutely stunned at how well you hit it out of the park on this! I don’t think there are enough words to tell you what this means to me, but allow me to try.

For starters, your message to me at the beginning was so damn sweet! I am so very glad you got me too, because we definitely needed to know each other. I cannot wait to find out who you are so I can keep interacting with you. You have been such a joy and so kind to me and I look forward to talking to you more. Seriously, this giftfest has been such a fantastic thing, and if it’s brought me such a lovely new friend, then there couldn’t be anything better.

Then………My eyes went back to the title of this fic and let me just tell you that I have a special weakness for 5 times + 1 time fics. I don’t think we talked about that, but I absolutely adore them. Also, my ears perked way up at the thought of jealous Alec and I was absolutely dying to know what last situation would not have him witnessing it.

This is so well written. That’s an understatement. This is the kind of writing that makes you think “fucking hell I’m never writing again!” (Not really, because writing is fun, but damn you are GOOD) I am DYING to know who you are and if you have more things I can read. Maybe I’ve even read some of them before?! Maybe I’m already a huge fan of yours. If I didn’t read so much damn Malec fanfiction I might be able to figure out who you are based on your writing style, but no such luck atm. Seriously, you HAVE to be a well loved fic author in this fandom. You just must be. If not, then you need to be asap. And I am now your number one fan, and I will be singing your praises from the rooftops and supporting all of your writing from this day forward. GAH. I cannot wait for this reveal! 

I don’t want to leave too many details here, so as to not ruin the fic for others who haven’t read it yet, but I’m gonna need this to go on AO3 so that I can leave you an essay length comment detailing every single thing that I thought was amazing about it. Please. But for now, some things I’m just flipping the fuck out about:

Listen, I know we talked about some things I like, but I SWEAR YOU ARE MAGIC. You DID go for everything I said I liked (you overachiever, you!) but you also included so many things that I know we didn’t talk about that are absolutely tailor made for me. Seriously, it’s like you are one of my really good friends. HOW?! How did you do this?! For instance, that first part? It has been absolutely driving me insane that we missed what happened during that missing scene on the show. And your version? PERFECT. Absolute perfection. It couldn’t be better.

Jealous Alec is my jam, man. I didn’t even know I needed this in my life like this, but I am HERE FOR IT. Battle Malec?! Hell yes. HELLLLLLLL yes. 

Mkay, I’m so sorry, but you have a dirty mind like me and I kinda just fell in love with you. Yeah. That’s a thing that happened. And anyone who uses curse words in their writing immediately gets my love and adoration. So there’s that. You are my ideal writer. Hands down. 

So, how about we talk about these absolutely on point characterizations?! That is so incredibly important to me, and you absolutely crushed it. I’ve written these two at length and I swear we have the exact same perception of them as I do. WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?! How is that possible? Yet another reason why I think you have to already be one of my favorite writers. 

CLUB MAGNUS? DANCING ALEC? Are you trying to kill me?! Oh my holy Jesus. Have I mentioned how incredible you are!? Because I cannot say that enough. 

Now you listen here, this just kept getting sweeter and making me more emotional, but for real I about died when Alec was assertive and strong and straight up carried his beautiful boyfriend away from someone making advances. DEAD. I am dead.

Raph?! YES. YES. YES.

CAT?! Thank you. Thank You. Thank you.

Ok, so Max and Rafe?! Dads Malec?! You have just won the key to my heart.

That +1?! Oh that +1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My heart. That was the perfect ending to this already perfect fic. 

So, again…..please put this on AO3 so I can leave a ridiculous long comment listing every single thing I love about this, but I’ll leave you with one last thing, and that is that LOVEisLOVEisLOVEisLOVE and you clearly get that. You get that so well. It’s just a non issue in your writing. It’s completely normal for men and women alike to hit on Magnus and nobody even thinks twice about that. I don’t know why, but that just struck me so hard. That world is the one I want us all to live in. I’m so fucking emotional about this. 

It’s brilliant. You are brilliant. A million thanks would never be enough. I’ll cherish it always and reread it often. I would so love to be friends. You are beautiful. Thank you. 

[leslieohdamnjr]

Dark Amber Eyes (Jordan Fisher x Reader)

Word Count: 4705 (FUCK YEAH) Request/Summary: This one wasn’t requested, I just got the idea and couldn’t stop thinking about it. Tis College AU. Warnings: Cussing should be it. (:

A/N-  A special thanks to @hamilton-noodles for proofreading, remember I owe ya one. 

Okay, I know it’s been forever since I’ve posted any writing but hopefully this will bring me back into the swing of things. Also Jordan in glasses. You know it’s my weakness. I had to. Enjoy (:

Tagging- @lionhearte-d ​

1

Like most nights, tonight, sleep was… elusive. You let a short sigh slip from your lips before reaching over and turning on the lamp, shoving your glasses onto your face. You sighed again and slid out of bed, the cuffs of your over-sized pajama pants dragging on the carpet behind you as you shuffled to the door. With a sniffle, you grabbed your favorite mug from the cupboard and wandered out the door.

You turned on the faucet and tucked your mug under the flow until it was sufficiently filled. After sauntering over to the microwave, you reached for the handle, but your hand bumped into another. “Oh.” You spoke quietly, looking up at the young man next to you. This was a community kitchen for your floor but it wasn’t often you found someone here at three AM. He smiled politely, “You can- I’m not-” You told each other simultaneously before you both fell into nervous laughter. Your laughter soon turned into a fit of coughs. “Are you okay?” He asked, bumping the frame of his glasses to push them back up his nose. “Yeah-” You coughed again, “I’m just a little-” Cough. “Sick.” Cough. “I was going to make some tea.” You glanced down at the mug in your hands. “Hot cocoa.” He replied, gesturing to his own mug. You nodded as a few moments of awkward stillness passed by, the endless thrumming emanating from the lights above you becoming increasingly more annoying.

“Do you wanna…” You nodded toward the microwave. “Oh.” He nodded. “Sure, thanks.” He pulled open the microwave door and set his mug inside, setting the timer for two minutes. The microwave hummed next to you, the only thing keeping you from another bout of awkward silence.You met eyes through both your sets of glasses and let them stay there for a few moments before the microwave’s beeps snapped you both out or your unheeded staring contest. A tiny smile pulled at his lips as he opened the door to the microwave and took out the now heated milk that was inside. You placed your own mug in his mug’s former place as he set his on the counter, pulling out a small white packet from the pocket of his sweater. You watched while he tore off the top and poured the chocolate powder into his cup, taking a spoon to stir it in. The scent of the warm chocolate drink wafted to your nose and after you’d sneezed, you could smell it. He snickered lightly before lifting the mug and bringing it to his lips. “What?” You asked, your brow furrowing with confusion. “What what?” He responded curiously, raising his eyebrows. “You laughed.” You pointed out. “Why did you laugh?” He shrugged, “Nothing.” You narrowed your eyes at him, scanning his face. As if weakened by your gaze, he finally spoke up, “It’s just… your sneeze is cute.” He shrugged again. You sniffled as the microwave beeped and you pulled out the water, dropping the tea bag into it. “Thanks?” You mumbled questioningly. “Well goodnight.” He smiled. “Good… night….” You answered hesitantly.

2

“You sick again?” He asked as you entered the room with a cough. You nodded sullenly. “It’s only been a week since the last one.” He chuckled. “I know.” You moaned, getting to the microwave and pulling open the door. “So what’s your excuse stranger?” You sniffled. “What d’you mean?” He asked as he finished stirring his hot chocolate. “I mean,” You started, letting your eyes drift over his face. “It’s three in the morning, and I’ve now seen you here twice at around this time.” You explained. He sighed, taking a sip of the cocoa that was wrapped in his hands. He had nice hands, the way his fingers curled around the mug and laced together, the way he held said mug close to his chest, as though it was somehow passing on it’s heat to reach his heart. As if his heart needed more warmth.

“I guess,” You let your eyes snap back up to his face as he began speaking. “I just can’t sleep often. The hot chocolate reminds me of home.” He answered, a minuscule smile brushing his features as he stared sentimentally into the cup. You suppressed a fit of laughter, which soon turned into another slew of coughs. He frowned at you before speaking up, “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing.” You giggled. He raised his eyebrow, “It’s just really cute of you is all.” You caved. He rolled his eyes but you could see the amusement sneaking onto his features, whether he wanted you to see it or not. The microwave beeped and you pulled out the water, dropping the teabag in and beginning to walk away with it. “Goodnight!” The stranger called from behind you. You looked over your shoulder at him with a smile. And the world seemed to freeze for a moment, he was breathtaking. Draped in gray sweatpants and an over-sized cardigan, standing behind you with a mug of hot chocolate nestled in his grip, glasses slipping slowly down his nose. There was something about him that made your breath catch. Something that almost made it worth it to be sick that day. Something that just begged you to ask for a name, a number, anything. “Goodnight.” You almost whispered.

3

“You got the kind of look in your eyes as if no one knows anything but us. Should this be the last thing I see, I want you to know it’s enough for me. ‘Cause all that you are is all that I’ll ever need. I’m so in love…” You stopped dead in your tracks as the voice finally carried to your ears. You hesitantly stepped closer to the door the singing came from, pressing your ear to the wood. “You look so beautiful in this light, your silhouette over me. The way it brings out the blue in your eyes is the Tenerife Sea. And all of the voices surrounding us here, they just fade out when you take a breath…” You carefully pushed on the door, slipping through the small opening you’d created for yourself. The stranger stood there singing as the microwave whirred behind him, undoubtedly heating up some milk to make hot chocolate. You decided that if you were going to interrupt at any time, now was that time.

“Have you ever considered singing as a career?” You asked. “Shit!” He cursed, jumping at your sudden presence. You giggled and joined him next to the microwave. “Seriously though, you’re really good. Have you thought about it?” You continued as he pulled his cup out of the microwave. “I mean I guess.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to end up putting everything I have into something to find out that I can’t live off of it or anything.” He went on, meeting your eyes.  “Kid- hold on, I need a name.” You prompted. “Jordan.” He answered. “Jordan. Even if you don’t end up getting anything out of it, if you love it, it’s so worth trying.” You placed your mug inside the microwave and set the timer. “If you don’t even try, someday, you’ll be sitting in an office, humming Tenerife Sea until your coworkers get annoyed enough to yell at you. And you’ll sit there, and you’ll wonder, what would’ve happened if I’d done what Tea Girl said? Do you want that life for yourself, of do you want to follow your passion?” You finished, making sure you had his eye contact as you finished the final line of your lecture. Those deep brown eyes that seemed to hold thousands of unsung melodies, millions of silent lyrics. You were already drowning in those dark amber eyes.

“Wow.” Jordan interrupted your thoughts. “Inspiring.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t be sarcastic with me.”

“I’m not.” He shrugged. You pulled your water out of the microwave and dropped the tea bag in. “So yeah. If you love it, go for it.” You punched his arm lightly and began walking off. “Hey wait!” He stopped you. “Yes?” You turned to face him again. “I never got your name.”

“Y/N.”

4

“Are you sick again?” Jordan asked, raising his eyebrows as you shuffled into the kitchen. “No.” You sighed. “To be honest, I kind of just wanted to see you again.”

“Oh.” He smiled. He stepped forward and let has arms fall around you, pulling your body close to his chest. “Gah! What are you doing?”

“I’m a hugger. It’s my nature. You can’t stop me.” He told you. You let yourself melt into his embrace, staying there in his arms just for a few seconds. The silence dragged on between you. But this time it didn’t feel awkward, this time it felt… comfortable.

5

“Y/N?” Jordan’s increasingly familiar voice pulled you out of your sleep as he carefully shook your shoulder. “I gotta study.” You muttered, lifting your head from  the textbook that sat on the table in front of you. “Why are you studying here?” He asked, rubbing your back, his palm created a small circle of comfort just between your shoulder blades. “I wanted to see you.” You answered, too tired to place any type of filter on your words. “C’mon. You gotta go to sleep.” He ordered, tugging on the sleeve of your sweater. “I did.” You stated childishly. “No in your bed.” He chuckled, tugging again. “No.” You shook your head. “I have to finish.” You pressed. “You have to sleep.” You stayed put, burying your nose in your textbook again. “Look, I’m sure you’ll ace this test, but only if you sleep” He persisted. “You’re one to talk about sleep.” You grumbled. “What do you mean?” He asked, sounding mildly offended. “Jordan, I consistently find you here at three AM.” You told him, your voice still slightly sluggish from sleep.”Only on Wednesdays.” He shrugged. “You only come here to make hot cocoa on Wednesdays?” You raised your eyebrows as he succeeded in bringing you to your feet. “Well I used to go just, whenever,” He closed your textbook and fixed his glasses by budging the frame lightly with the side of his hand. “But then I started making sure I came on Wednesdays since four or five weeks ago.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s when you come.” You smiled, “C’mon. You have to go to bed.” He spoke before you could respond. He tucked the textbook under his arm and dragged you out of the kitchen. “Ugh. I just realized. My roommate’s boyfriend is over.” You remembered. “Save me from this hellish existence.”

“Why?” He asked, walking down the hall with you. “They’re loud.” You answered. “Oh. You can crash at my place?” He offered. You turned to him with raised eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s just down the hall.” He shrugged. “My roommate’s at his girlfriend’s place, so it’d just be us.”

“For all I know, you could be a serial killer.” You narrowed your eyes. Letting him begin to lead you down the opposite direction of the hall. “I’m not.” He shrugged again. “How convincing.” You drawled sarcastically. He chuckled- god, how adorable was that low little laugh? “Wouldn’t I have already killed you?” He reasoned. “Maybe you’re waiting. And for all you know, I could be a serial killer.”

“You’re too cute for that.” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s just a facade.” You pressed, glad you were behind him so he couldn’t catch your tinged cheeks. “How about we just both agree not to kill each other?” He proposed. “So if I don’t kill you, you won’t kill me?” You clarified. “Exactly.” He confirmed, unlocking the door to his dorm and pushing it open. “Sounds like a good plan.” You lifted your shoulders, following him in.

6

“How’d you do on your test?” Jordan asked as soon as you walked in. “Actually did pretty good.” You told him. “Thanks again for letting me crash.”

“Anytime.” He smiled another silence sat in the room, giving you a chance to look at the singer again. Your gaze fell on his eyes once more. Those eyes that you couldn’t seem to stop staring into. Those eyes that that seemed to strike a kind of heat into your heart, that just begged you to be closer. 

7

You strolled into the kitchen, an over-sized batman shirt donning your torso with tight shorts almost hidden beneath.

“Hi.” Jordan spoke quietly, still waiting for his hot chocolate to finish it’s run in the microwave. “Hello.” You responded, your voice’s volume matching his. You two both waited in silence.

Jordan couldn’t quit staring. No matter how hard he tried to stare at the wall in front of him, his eyes kept drifting over to you, his gaze would continue to find it’s was back to you. The way you set your hands on the counter, your fingers drumming quietly- gorgeous. The way you let your own stare wander throughout the room- breathtaking. The way you’d sniffle lightly and fix your glasses- adorable. The way you’d brush your hair behind your ear every time a strand fell in front of your face- beautiful. The microwave’s sharp beep caused Jordan’s breath to catch. Tearing his gaze away from you, he pulled the mug out of the microwave, setting it carefully on the counter. God. You were stunning.

8

“Sora!” Jordan’s voice filled your ears before you could even make it to the kitchen. Much to your surprise, a small pug came barreling between your feet, nearly knocking you to the ground. Jordan turned the corner in front of you, likely chasing after the dog. “Hi.” He panted, jogging past you. “Do you need any help?” You called after him. “I’m fine.” He responded. “Okay.” You giggled. You shook your head and stepped into the kitchen. After getting water, you set your mug inside the microwave and turned it on.

Just as you were putting the tea bag in the water, Jordan joined you in the kitchen, the pug you’d seen earlier nestled in his arms. “This is my dog.” Jordan stated. “He slipped out when I was leaving to get my hot chocolate.” He explained. “His name’s Sora.” He told you, staring lovingly at the dog. “He’s cute.” You commented, stepping forward and petting the pug.  “How come I didn’t see him when I slept at your place?” You wondered. “He was staying at my mom’s at that point.” He expounded. You gave him a half smile, moving your eyes from Sora to Jordan. He smiled back and you stood there together for a few seconds. Those fucking eyes. “You’re pretty cool Y/N.” He said quietly. You beamed at him, “You’re pretty cool too Jordan.”

9

You dropped the tea bag into the hot water, watching as the red color created clouds inside the mug. “How was your day?” Jordan’s voice interrupted your blank stare into the mug and you turned to face him. “It was okay. How was yours?” You answered. “That’s not an acceptable answer.” He protested. “How come?” You asked, furrowing your brow. “You have to tell me about your day. ‘Okay’ isn’t enough.” He explained. “Okay fine. I woke up, I went to classes, I did homework, I took a nap, and now we’re here.” You told him. He thought for a second before shaking his head. “I need more detail.” He told you. “Well you’re not getting it.” You said defiantly. “How was your day.” You demanded more than asked, picking up your tea from the counter. “It was okay.” He imitated as you leaned against the counter, sipping your tea. You rolled your eyes as he reached over and hugged you from the side, his arm curling around your waist. You stiffened slightly before letting yourself dissolve into his side.

10

“I’m sick again.” You groaned. Jordan didn’t skip a beat to wrap his arms around you and pull you close to him. You would’ve been completely happy staying there in his arms for a while. Just the two of you in the room, complete silence besides the mechanical hum of the lights above you. Bliss. But alas, there was a small issue of being ‘contagious’. “No, you’ll get yourself sick.” You protested, pushing on his chest gently. “I won’t. You need healing.” He replied, pulling you back into his arms. You allowed yourself to relax in his arms. “And your hug is going to heal me?” You retorted sarcastically. “It always works.” He responded nestling his nose in your hair and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

11

“You got me sick.”

“It’s your own fault.”

12

“How goes it?” Jordan asked just as the door opened, before you could even walk in. You sniffled and made a beeline for him. You collapsed into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, choking back your tears. “Don’t be.” He responded. You felt his familiar embrace fall around you. “Bad day?” He whispered, his low voice comforting you like honey tea to a sore throat. “Yeah.” You answered quietly. “What happened?” He asked you, beginning to sway slightly as he stroked your hair absently. “I-” You dropped of early, shaking your head as the tears finally came. “Here.” He gently pushed you out of his arms, taking his mug from the counter and handing it to you. “Sit down.” He spoke under his breath, pulling out a chair for you. You did as you were told, plopping down in the chair and running a hand through your hair. He took the chair next to yours, turning it to face yours. You took a sip of the cocoa he’d made, its heat relaxing you.

“I’ve been studying to become a journalist.” You started. “A journalist?” He asked, “A journalist.” You nodded. “I… I was an intern- I’ve been working for this my whole life.” You shook your head. “I was an intern and I thought I was doing good. I thought I was in a really great rhythm.” More tears spilled out, he reached over and took your hand his. His skin was smooth against yours, warm and reassuring. “But my boss. He just sat me down and told me I wasn’t good enough.” You met eyes with Jordan, his concerned stare was replaced with a new, disbelieving expression. “I mean, those weren’t his exact words but it’s the gist of what he told me. And, I know it shouldn’t mean anything to me, I know… or, I thought I was a good writer.” You downed another taste of cocoa. “I just- I’ve wasted away so many years of my life on this and maybe I’m really not good enough? What am I going to do? What about all the time I threw away on it?”

“Don’t listen to him. If you aren’t good enough, get better. He has no right to trick you into thinking you’ve done something good and then tell you it wasn’t good enough. And don’t let him tear apart your career. If you’ve been working toward it your whole life, then you’re probably pretty damn good at it. If you love it, then you should keep at it. If you don’t keep going, someday, you’ll be sitting in an office, scribbling down notes helter-skelter. And you’ll sit there, and you’ll wonder, what would’ve happened if I’d done what Hot Cocoa Boy said? Do you want to let this guy ruin you, or do you want to follow your passion?” He spoke in this voice. You didn’t know how to describe it. It was stern, but it was comforting. It was like a storm of warm raindrops that you’d want to spend the entire day dancing in. You thought for a moment before nodding in agreement. He was right. “Thanks.” You breathed. “I needed that.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Whenever you need it, I’m here, ‘kay?”

“Ditto brotha’.” You giggled in response. He stared at that smile and how your eyes crinkled, that adorable way you’d lean forward just a little bit when you laughed. And how easily that smile spread to his own face. “Hey Y/N?” He asked, the words tumbled out of his mouth, almost without his consent. He didn’t even know what he’d wanted to say. “Yes?” You prompted. Was it to tell you how beautiful he thought you were? “Nothing.” He murmured.

13

“Jordan always wins.” He pouted, furrowing his brow and crossing his arms across his chest childishly. You broke out laughing, “Well this time you lost.”

“But I always win!” He complained, his jaw dropping. “This time I won.” You shrugged. “Alright.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to get you next time.” Before you knew it he was out of his chair and had his arms wrapped around you, dragging you up from the chair and lifting you onto his shoulder. “J!” You squealed. “What’re you doing?”

“We’re getting another game.” He laughed. “The one you brought was obviously meddled with in your favor. I win games, that’s what I do.” He began walking down the hall to his dorm, you still laying limp over his shoulder. “You just can’t take a loss.” You voiced. “I don’t have losses to take.”

14

“Best kids movie ever. Go.” You challenged, drinking your tea slowly. “Hmm…” Jordan hummed, bringing his own mug to his lips. “I have to say… Emperor’s New Groove.” He answered decisively. “Oh my god I love that one!” You said excitedly. “We should watch it together sometime.” He smiled. “Now.” You nodded. “Now?” He raised his eyebrows. “Now. We’ll use my parent’s Netflix account and we’ll annoy the shit out of my bitch roommate. What d’ya say Fisher?”

“Let’s do it.” He grinned.

15

“You were a gymnast?!” You asked in disbelief. “I was.” Jordan laughed. “A gymnast?” You asked again, he nodded. “No way.” You shook your head. “Yes way.” He nodded again. “I can’t believe it. Jordan Fisher. The gymnast.” You imagined. “Since I was two.”

“Wow.” You breathed. “But enough about me. What about you? What don’t I know?”

“You know everything.” You shrugged. “I have no secrets.”

“C’mon there’s gotta be something you haven’t told me. Tattoos?”

“Nope.”

“Sports?”

“Nada.”

“How about any scars?”

“Oh! I have one on my left knee from when I was little and became both Jack and Jill. I fell down a hill.” You finally answered. “Well there’s something.” He smiled. “There’s something.” You mirrored, rolling your eyes affectionately.

16

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Jordan begged, still trying to get you to go to a party with him and his friends. “I don’t do… people.” You crinkled your nose, though I wouldn’t mind doing you. you added internally. “And we never see each other outside of three AM on Wednesday mornings. It would just be weird.”

“You’ve known me for,” He paused, stopping to count for a few seconds. “Sixteen weeks now. It wouldn’t be completely insane to come meet some of my other friends.” You looked at him warily.

“Fine.” You sighed.

17

“Okay. I’ll admit. It was mildly entertaining.” You confessed, walking into the kitchen with him. After partying with him and his friends, you hadn’t returned to your dorm room until three AM, which was your usual time to meet Jordan anyway. “Ha! I’ve broken you.” He teased. “Oh hush, I said mildly.” He held up his hands in surrender, “Alright. But your saying you’ll go next time?”

“I’ll go next time.” You nodded, taking his hand to pull his arm around your shoulders and leaning into him.

18

“Oh my god, your fucking dog snores so much.” You groaned, pulling the pillow up around your ears. “It’s never bothered me before.” Jordan responded. You rolled over in your place on his couch. “He’s louder than my roommate.”

“Then sleep in your own place!”

“Her boyfriend’s louder than Sora.” You answered. Jordan groaned at your antics as you giggled. “Go to sleep.” He laughed.

19

“You’ve never watched Friends?” Jordan asked in disbelief. “Not one episode.” You shrugged. “Not even one episode? What was your life?” He continued over dramatically. “I don’t know.” You shrugged. “We have to watch it now!” He concluded urgently. “I have a test tomorrow.” You laughed.

Oh fuck. That laugh. He couldn’t get over your smile. He couldn’t get over your laugh. Every time you laughed it felt like he was floating. The force of your smile was like basking in the sun. He had to tell you. He had to tell you how beautiful you were. He had to tell you about how often you consumed his thoughts, how often he’d zoned out in class since he’d met you, your eyes, your smile, your heart. He had to tell you.

“I…” He started. But how. It wasn’t so easy when he was standing there right in front of you, watching you sip your tea. It wasn’t so easy when he could so clearly imagine you rejecting him. It wasn’t so easy when he could create such a detailed picture in his mind, he’d finish his sentence and you’d smile understandingly. You always understood, he loved that about you. Then you’d tell him you didn’t feel the same. The next Wednesday he’d show up in this very kitchen and he’d wait for you, but you would never show up. He couldn’t bear the thought of ruining what he had with you for that stupid flutter in his heart.

“Yes?” You pushed him to finish speaking. “I forgot what I was going to say.” He muttered, shaking his head and waving dismissively.

20

You shuffled into the kitchen only to find it completely empty. “Jordan?” You asked quietly, your voice echoing through the small room. “J?” You asked again. You let a short sigh slip from your lips and began making your tea. It felt eerily silent without him there and you were left to wonder where he was. Maybe he was finally getting some sleep.

21

Still… missing.

22

Not even hot chocolate residue on the counter.

23

Was he dead?

24

Maybe he just hated you.

25

“What the fuck?” You shouted. Jordan almost jumped out of his skin. “I looked everywhere for you! I thought you were dead! It’s been fucking weeks Jordan! Weeks! Where were you?” He opened his mouth to respond. “I went to your room too! I knocked and no one answered. You better have a damn good excuse.” You added before you he could speak. He stayed silent for a few seconds, making sure you were done talking.

“I was… scared.” He finally said. You raised your eyebrows. “I was terrified of- I didn’t know- I wanted to-” He struggled for words. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react and I didn’t know how to tell you, and I turned into a complete douchebag because of it.” He explained, his eyes drifting closed as if weighed down by his strife. “Yeah, you were an idiot.” You added, “I was.” He admitted. “The point is. Y/N, I like you. I really, really, really like you. I might even love you. I don’t know.  And I totally get it if you don’t feel the same, I just… I had to tell you and I’m sorry I avoided you because I was having an internal crisis.” You shut your eyes tightly, trying to process the information he’d just disclosed. “Like… like like?” You swallowed. “Yes.” He answered confidently.

“I’m mad at you right now. But I really… I really like you too. “ His eyes snapped open, meeting yours in an instant. “What?” He croaked stupidly. “I hate you but I really like you, you idiot.” You restated. You massaged your temples for a few seconds before opening your mouth again, “Can I kiss you?” He blurted before you could say anything. “Later. I’m mad at you now.” You stated. You began to walk away but quickly turned back around, pressing your lips roughly to his. Before he could even react, you had pulled away. “Okay, now I’m storming off.” And you did.

[joe-whiteside]

post 4 - insomniac

1

It was August when it happened. The 8th or 9th, I don’t remember. I had just gotten through with the day’s overload of work and was closing my computer to get ready to go home. I like to be ready early. I was glancing between the clock and the door, clock and the door, clock and the door. I could tell my meds were wearing off. My ADHD makes me jittery. The medicine worked fine, but only from morning to about 4:30, and here we were: 4:55. I was jittery. I started shaking my leg. I wasn’t nervous or anything, I just couldn’t sit still that day. Probably because I had a small breakfast and there wasn’t much to dissolve the Adderall in. 

It was 4:57 now. 

I couldn’t help but wonder why the clock seemed to move so slow when you’re looking at it, but when you’re working, it’s at a regular speed. This thought would have puzzled me even more if I hadn’t noticed the hand move again. 

4:58. 

I sat there just watching, waiting, shaking. My hands had the nerve to pick up the pen on my desk and start clicking the end. I knew this annoyed my coworkers so I usually tried my best not to but today, I couldn’t help it. It was just so relieving for some reason. 

4:59. 

“I swear, if that clock moves any slower, I’m going to lose my mind,” I thought. At least, I thought I thought it. There’s a chance I said it under my breath without even realizing that I had done it because, at that exact moment of thought, Chris (the guy in the cubicle next to mine) said,

“Me too, Kurt,” 

He sighed.

I remember once, while I was out drinking with some buddies, this woman came into the place dressed like a complete whore. I must have said something about her out loud because when the woman walked by, she gave me a dirty look. I didn’t mind. I was just out to have a beer anyway. I think it’s nice when people say what’s on their mind, though maybe not if they are without basic filters. (I speak of myself, chiefly.) I look back at the clock. It’s 11 seconds until 5. 

Now, nine. 

Six, 

four, 

two... 

finally. 

It’s time to go home.

2

I wasn’t particularly excited to go home that day, nor any other day for that matter. I haven’t got much at home but a bed, a cat, and some of my dad’s old jazz records that I put on from time to time. When he and my mom retired, they moved out West. Montana, I think. They have a large camper and their life right now is best described as an over-extended road trip. At least they’re happy. Anyway, a day before they left, my father came by the house with a box.

“Your mother isn’t a fan of jazz and we don’t have space on the Winnie. You want ‘em?”

“Sure, I’ll take them,” I said, knowing full-well he’d leave them with me no matter what I said. Good thing I like the classics.

It was a rather uneventful drive home that night, and good too because my meds were really coming down now.  I’ve been experimenting with micro-dosing of hallucinogens to help keep me focused even more throughout the day. Those were wearing off too. I was at the point where I’d start counting the lines on the road just to stay focused on driving but I’d always get distracted. And it’s not like it was a long ride home either, just ten minutes, with the traffic of course. But today was a Friday evening and the surrounding businesses all closed early. But not Schlafen Office Supplies. No, we’re open, nine to five, Monday through Friday, all but two days of the year. Christmas and Thanksgiving. And sometimes, it’s just Thanksgiving.

I pull into my driveway and rush inside. It was raining outside and I forgot my umbrella at the office. I unlock the door, greet Samuel, he’s my cat, and turn a few lights on in the house. I give Samuel his dinner and order some China King. Lo mein, an egg roll, two crab rangoons, a Dr. Pepper, and a fortune cookie. I have a page in my kitchen where I write down what I normally get from restaurants because many times, it takes me too long to decide. Then, I go to lie down for a nap and allow the doorbell or Samuel to wake me up. Whichever comes first, I guess. 

As I’m lying there, Sammy jumps up on my chest and I gently put him on the floor. He always seems to know when I don’t want him around. I lie down again. Two minutes later, he’s jumping up onto me again and this time he uses his claws to really ‘stick’ the landing; (I hate that pun). I push him off and he wanders away. I continue reclining and just as I am getting comfortable, Sammy is running from one end of the house to the other, over and over, because that’s what cats do and it would have been fine if he didn’t jump up on me a third time, again, sticking the landing. I stand up and he falls into the sofa and manages to rip the suede cushion covers on his way down.

“GAH! What the hell is wrong with you?!?”

The doorbell rings. I whip around and stub my toe on the coffee table as I mutter and open the door. I sigh.

“I’m sorry, how much do I owe you?”

I pay him the $11.59 he required and gave him a four dollar tip because he looked only sixteen or seventeen and I felt bad for him.

I shut the door and went to the table to eat. 

Damn, I forgot to ask for soy sauce.

As I’m eating, Sammy comes and starts rubbing up on my leg, signaling that he’s sorry. I picked him up and pet him with one hand and held my egg roll with chopsticks in the other.

3

That night after cleaning up dinner, I walked into the bathroom, flipped the switch, and realized the lightbulb had gone out. I didn’t have any extras, I just used the last one on the pineapple lamp my parents got me as a housewarming gift. 

I gotta buy more lightbulbs soon.

I took my evening meds, being sure I took only the prescribed dose, which was hard because I had a million things racing through mind and to make matters worse, my hands were shaking. Next, I took my evening eyedrops. It burned more than usual. After brushing my teeth and flipping the lightswitch (because habits), I went to bed.

4

Whenever I can’t sleep at night, I’ll often read. It relaxes me in a way I can’t exactly describe. That night, it was Through The Looking Glass by Lewis Caroll. I was reading through The New York Times Bestsellers for Classic Fiction list.

I was starting on chapter nine tonight when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look but it was gone. I can’t put my finger on it. Just a movement. I went back to reading. I could hear my clock ticking, somewhat louder than before. When I looked over at its face, it seemed to be like water, with ripples and waves about, above the hands as if somebody filled the front of my clock with an ocean. Startled, I turn back to the book that was now warm in my hand. All of a sudden, I’m falling. I shut my eyes, afraid. 

When I finally gain strength to open them, my walls have become darker and my pineapple lamp has acquired an aura of warm-daylight glow. I look down at the book in my hands and see that nothing’s changed. Nothing except for... is it breathing? 

As it pulses in and out and as the words stretch beneath my fingertips, I panic. Hard. I throw the book across the room. In the meantime, my duvet has become an increasingly bold shade of red even though I knew it was blue. I fell against the pillows but I seemed to sink into them as if they were consuming me, no... melting me. 

I manage to pull myself together enough to get up and get a glass of water. Walking into the kitchen, Sammy brushes past my leg and in the pale, blue moonlight, I see a three-foot-tall Sammy sitting on the floor, licking his paws as his ears shoot little orbs of light and sausage above his head. I fill up my water glass telling myself it’s only a dream, praying to God it’s only a dream.

The glass breaks in my hand. 

I scream. Charging into the living room, I yell and stomp and jump and howl until, out of exhaustion, I pass out on the floor, exhausted, hitting my head on the coffee table on the way down.

5

Bright lights. 

White walls.

The cold smell of hand sanitizer.

I’m in a hospital bed hooked up to a dozen machines or so. After a few minutes, a short man in a lab coat and glasses walks in.

“Ah, you’ve come to. My name is Dr. Jefferson. Can you tell me where you are?”

“Ugh...it’s a hospital.” I groan. It hurts to speak.

“That’s right. Do you know your name, sir?”

“Yeah. Kurt. Kurt Osbourne.”

He writes something on his clipboard. 

“Well, it’s not quite as bad as we first thought Mr. Osbourne.”

“What’s not so bad?”

“I thought you might not remember.”

“Remember wha-ahh!” A sharp migraine hits. “Could you get me some water please?”

“Yes, Mr. Osbourne. In the meantime, there’s somebody here to see you.”

As if on cue, a tall, thin black woman in a lilac cardigan, yellow top, and blue jeans walks in.

“Hey, how ya feelin’?”

“Never better,” I hiss sarcastically. “Who are you?” 

“I’m your next-door neighbor Shauna Green. I moved in about a month ago.”

“Oh, I remember you.” It came out more rude than I meant it to. “What happened?”

“Well, it was around 1:30, 2 o’clock last night when I heard you. I had my windows open and you were yellin’ and screaming’ and carryin’ on like and I thought to myself, ‘That man is crazy. What is he doing yellin’ and carrying on like that? I got two kids to take care of.’ Pretty soon, I found myself, in a bathrobe, in front of your door. I was about to give you a piece of my mind when I realized you weren’t angry, you were...” she trailed and her eyes got big. “...you were something else.”

“Something else?”

“Scared, I guess. When I walked to the door, I heard you drop. And you got quiet. I called 911 and they sent over an ambulance. You’ve got a nasty gash on the back of your head there. Don’t touch it, honey, just know it’s there. They picked you up off the ground and I volunteered to stick around seeing as I was the only one who knew what had gone on.”

“Thank you,” I said dully. My head pained again. Through clenched teeth, I said, “Is that doctor back yet?”

“Why, yes I am.” he chimed, walking in as if we both knew he wasn’t listening.

Dr. Jefferson then handed me a glass of water a pain pill (which I was eternally grateful for) and he started his spiel.

“We found an alarmingly high amount of psychedelics in your bloodstream. Do you know anything about this?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Patient-doctor confidentiality applies within the law also.”

Glancing around, I say, “I only use ‘em to stay focused at work along with my Adderall. I have ADHD. I’m not an acidhead, I just do it for my concentration.”

A pause.

“How much did you find in my system?”

“Well, there was enough to make you think you could fly. And probably enough to make you try. Luckily, we don’t think you did.” He chuckled at this last statement. I resented him a little for it.

Thinking, I said, “Wait, I only take them in the morning before work. In microdoses,” I asserted. “How did they get so potent?”

“Our observations show an extremely high amount, if not all, was ingested through the eyes.”

“That’s impossible. Who uses LSD on their eyes?”

Then, it hit me. 

The lightbulb was out. I grabbed the first eye-dropper I felt. I’m such an idiot.

Just then, my face felt hot. I blushed and felt the most shame I’ve felt ever. In the moment, I was reminded of the time I went to the public pool with my family. I was a small kid so not everything always fit so well. While swimming, the knot on my shorts came undone and I hadn’t noticed. The inevitable happened when I went to dive off the diving board. I went head-first into the water. In the air, I was a swan. When I hit the water, my shorts came loose and slipped right off my little 12 year old body. I didn’t notice until I climbed up the ladder and exposed myself to a group of old women sunbathing.

Yeah, all that came back real quick.

Getting up, “I have to go. I have to get out of here.”

“Hold on there fella, you can’t leave yet,” Dr. Jefferson says, putting his remarkably large hand on my chest, holding me down.

“Let...me...go!” I say as I struggle with him to get out of the bed. I am rather weak.

“Nurses!” he calls.

Three large women come through the door. Two of them tie me to the bed with nylon straps while the third adds something to the IV.

That’s when the melting started again...

-joe whiteside