#literally almost forgot to update it because i am so fucking exhausted

[skiitter]

Chapter Six! Synthsilk gloves, a posh party aboard a starliner, and a touch-starved Din spiraling at the barest amount of human contact can be found therein.

[nugnthopkns]

i’ll tell you i was wrong if you dance with me

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, slightly unhealthy relationship moment (lack of communication), mention of infidelity, cursing, alcohol consumption, a fair bit of angst

recommended listening: fred astaire | adam brock

a/n: communicate with your partners!!! also yeah this is the song from lady bird. it’s a banger

This seriously isn’t happening. 

You never fight with Travis. Communication comes easy between the two of you, but you also make it a priority to talk about your feelings. It keeps things from boiling over; both of you are known to unleash wicked tempers on occasion and have found being direct stops issues from occuring. Arguments still occasionally happen, but they’re typically over trivial things like what movie to watch or where you’re spending the holidays. Travis apparently forgot about the fact you talk to each other about things. 

He’d been upset when he came home from practice, but you were pretty sure he was fine after he woke up from his pre-game nap. Knowing he’s a superstitious person and has a lot of pressure on him to put up points, you had made the choice not to ask about what was bothering him. Throwing off his routine could have detrimental consequences. Tonight's game is tighter than it should have been, but the Flyers come out on top. Travis spends a bit more time in the penalty box than you would have liked, but everyone was getting chippy by the start of the third period. Claude tries to talk to him on the bench but he gets shut down. Whatever Travis was upset about before is still clearly bothering him, and it’s affecting his game. 

You’re following Travis home from the game, and can tell he’s uptight from the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. As you wind through downtown Philadelphia you try and prepare yourself for any bomb that could drop. Chances are that when you reach your apartment things will explode. Maybe it’s nothing; Travis is fine and just wants to be a responsible driver for once. You pull into the free spot beside his car and see him walking towards the elevator, suit jacket balled up and tucked under his arm. This won’t be good. Trying to buy yourself some time, you take the stairs. Seven flights later you arrive outside your door; he left it unlocked, which gives you a sliver of hope things will be fine. 

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” you call into the darkness of the apartment. Your sneakers are left at the door and to retreat towards the bedroom, looking for a sign of life. You find one in the bathroom: the light is on. A gentle push on the door reveals your boyfriend is in the shower and ignoring you. 

“Trav?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, words muffled by him tossing his head back to rinse the shampoo of his hair. Apparently the shower isn’t as relaxing as he had hoped. 

You don’t bother to tread lightly, upset that he’s acting like a child. “You’re being an asshole. I get that you had a bad day, but you can’t take it out on me. I just want to help.”

Travis turns the water off suddenly. “Can’t help if you’re the problem,” he scoffs. 

His statement doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing out of the ordinary the past couple of days; nothing that would warrant the behaviour you’re receiving. “What do you mean?”

Shouldering passed you to exit the room, Travis doesn’t bother to respond. You’re beyond frustrated: partners in healthy relationships communicate, not show emotions like grade schoolers. “You’re not giving me the fucking silent treatment Travis. You gotta talk to me.” The bedroom is dark when you enter and you flick the overhead light on to see better.

“You really don’t know?”

“Of course I don’t know,” you seethe. “If I did know we wouldn’t be in this predicament because we’d be solving the issue.”

The glare you receive is sharp enough to cut stone. He pulls on a t-shirt, anger clear in the aggression he does it with. “Why did I have to find out from Carter that you’ve been getting coffee with your TA?”

You’re shocked. In no way is it what he thinks it is. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you sigh, upset that Travis would take someone else’s words at face value and not talk to you about it. 

“I’m dead fucking serious Y/N. You preach communication, but it looks as though you’re the one who hasn’t been doing enough talking.”

The room around you starts to spin. You can’t comprehend what he’s insinuating. “Wait, you think I’m cheating on you?” you ask. There has been a gross miscommunication error somewhere; never in a million years would you think of having an affair.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well what the fuck did you say?”

Travis tugs at the roots of his hair in frustration. He doesn’t answer immediately, pacing the length of the bed a few times. “I just–” he struggles to articulate his words. “I just said that you’re being a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? You’re standing here yelling at me because I didn’t voice my concerns, but you haven’t been talking to me about what’s going on in your life.” Travis’ tone is sharp, and it stings. 

It’s your turn to show how upset you are. Your hands curl into fists at your side, and you squeeze your nails into your palms before releasing them. “I do tell you what goes on in my life Travis,” your breathing ragged as you try to not lose your cool. “I ran into my TA at the coffee shop yesterday, and he paid for my drink because my card wouldn’t work. Didn’t think it was breaking news, sorry I don’t send you every single fucking life update that happens. What’s gotten into you?”

“You could have been cheating!” 

“But I wasn’t!” you scream, no longing caring about keeping up appearances. You can’t believe Travis would think that. It hurts. “And I never would! You know this”

He turns his back to you, like it pains him to look at you, but you don’t understand why. You're not the one suggesting infidelity. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” he seethes. 

“That’s all there is to say! There’s nothing to explain, no secret to uncover. I’m not in the wrong here.”

“And you think I am?”

You look at Travis like he has three heads. “Are you serious? You’re the one who’s so fucking upset over a situation that could have happened to literally anyone.” Your tone suggests that you’re exhausted with the conversation, and Travis gets the hint. 

He slinks towards the door, still visibly angry. “I’ll take the couch tonight,” he grits out before tightly gripping the doorknob and shutting the door with more force than needed. 

The bed doesn’t look appealing, full of much happier memories, but fighting with Travis has knocked any and all energy out of you. You gingerly pull back the covers and slip underneath. Tears trickle down your cheek as you toss and turn, trying to fall into some sort of slumber. However, your mind has other ideas, replaying the blowout. You can’t begin to understand why Travis is so bothered by the instance, and more importantly why it caused him to disregard a fundamental part of your relationship. There’s little movement from beyond the door, but you can hear the faint noise of a Johnny Cash record playing from the speakers in the living room. After hours of staring at the ceiling your eyes close and a fitful sleep follows. 

You might have gotten nine hours of sleep, but you wake up feeling exhausted. Fighting with anyone drains you, but fighting with Travis is especially terrible because it rarely happens. There doesn’t seem to be any movement from the other side of the door; maybe he’s still asleep. You refrain from heading into the kitchen, unsure of what will happen if you see him. After nearly twenty minutes you can’t wait any longer to start your day and pad into the main living space. It’s empty: no sign that Travis has been there for many hours. Guess you don’t have to immediately deal with the fallout of last night. 

A post-it note is tacked onto the fridge handle and your heart skips a beat. In Travis’ chicken scratch it reads I’ll see you at the gala tonight. We’ve got media all day and I won’t be back in time for us to go together. There’s no mention of the fight, and you can’t judge from a two sentence note whether or not he’s still pissed off. 

“Fuck,” you groan. “The gala.” Tonight’s the annual Flyers Give Back gala, and you’re expected to be in attendance. It’s not even a charity event; the organization is offering a chance for business men to chat up the players in hopes they continue to donate. You find things like these unbearable and tedious, but Travis does his best to make them enjoyable. Not knowing what page you’re on with him is going to be terrible. There’s a pretty good chance he’ll ignore you if he’s still upset. 

As if someone is reading your mind, the better halves group chat starts to explode. Everyone is chattering excitedly about tonight, and under normal circumstances you’d be excited to see them in such a relaxed setting. It’s been a while you’ve all hung out, but you can’t find yourself to contribute to the conversation. You mute the notifications and do your best to move on with your day. The rest of the morning is spent working on your thesis; mind numbing work that almost makes you forget about everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Once you’ve hit an acceptable word count for the day you shutdown your computer and make lunch. 

The grilled cheese sandwich you eat while watching a John Mulaney comedy special fulfills your appetite but doesn’t curb your dread. You decide to call your sister, hoping she can be a welcome distraction. Dialling her number you sink further into the couch cushions, wrapping yourself tightly with a blanket so that only your head is poking out. “What’s up?” she asks, and you hear her shuffle in the background, presumably to move somewhere more private. It isn’t normal for you to call her unannounced. 

You hold it together for approximately two seconds. The tears start and they don’t stop. Every emotion you’ve felt since getting home last night comes to the surface, and before you know it you’re sobbing into the receiver. 

“Woah, slow down,” she says. “Y/N, take some deep breaths.” When your breathing returns to a somewhat regular level she continues speaking. “What happened?”

It takes you nearly twenty minutes to tell the whole story because you’re so distraught. No detail is spared, and you go back much farther than is probably needed. You recount what happened after yesterday’s practice, pretty much the entire game, and the fight that followed. “I just don’t know what brought this on,” you sniffle. “We don’t fight, we talk about things. I’m not sure if I’m more upset at what he insinuated or at the fact he broke a cardinal rule.”

Your sister sighs, and you hear her breath fan in slight annoyance. You’re worked up about something kinda stupid, you know, but you can’t let it slide. “It’s probably a bit of both. So, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I know that we need to talk about what happened, but a public event is not the best place to do that. I also can’t not show up or ask Trav to ditch in order to figure this out. We have to be there.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out then.”

You really don’t. “What happens if he ignores me the entire night?”

She laughs and tells you to not to anything stupid, and to take your mind off of things tells you a story about your nephew eating dirt. It does the trick; you’re momentarily distracted and forget about Travis. You talk for a while longer before she has to go. “Miles is crying, will you be okay if I let you go?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. A glance at the clock tells you it’s time to start getting ready. “I’ve gotta shower and start the process. Beauty is time consuming you know.”

Against your better judgement you open your text messages to see if there’s anything from Travis. His text thread is the same as it was yesterday and you’re disappointed. You had hoped that maybe he’d get bored between interviews and check in. With no new notifications you exit out of the application and pull up a playlist you hope will brighten your mood. The steam from the shower relaxes your tense muscles and warms you up. It’s comforting in the way a cocoon is; you practically have to drag yourself out of the bathtub. 

Your bedroom is cold and doesn’t offer the same respite as the bathroom. The music continues to float in from the hallway, and you allow yourself to get lost in it. It’s been a while since you danced around your room; it worked to cure sadness when you were a teenager. Hopefully the magic hasn’t worn off. You flail your arms, not caring how silly you look since no one is here to see you anyways, and scream along at the top of your lungs. After a few songs you feel better and return to the task at hand. The dress code is labelled as ‘black tie’ on the invitation, but that isn’t what you’re worried about. You own a million dresses for situations like this after being with Travis for so long. You don’t know what he packed to wear, and there’s a decent chance you’ll be pushed together for photos. Clashing colours will look terrible.

A quick glance through his side of the closest leaves you no clues, so you decide to be as literal as possible. Black is a flattering colour and works well with every colour combination. There’s a jumpsuit hanging in the back that catches your eye and you think it’s the perfect choice. After pulling it on you move back into the bathroom to do your hair and makeup. Everything is natural and relaxed; once again for the sake of potential photos. The clock strikes on the hour and you realize it’s time to leave. A pair of heels are slipped on and you order an Uber before locking the apartment and heading to the lobby. You had thought about driving yourself, but on the occasion that things don’t end well with Travis you’ll probably have more than a couple of drinks. 

The entire way to the venue your leg bounces up and down. It’s been years since you’ve been this nervous about being around the team. You’ve been with Travis for a few seasons now, and the organization has become a second family to you. No one is going to know about the fight and you worry they’re going to talk about your solo arrival. The outside of the convention centre is sharply decorated, and your driver lets out a low whistle at the extravagance of it all. “Thank you so much,” you gush, and exit the car. Thankfully no photographers are set up outside, and you dart inside without being seen. 

Once in the main event space, you scan for the bar. There’s no sign of Travis, which should make you more relaxed but doesn’t. What if there was an accident on the way to the venue? You have no idea where he was all or who he came with. Overthinking distracts you from your original goal, leaving you standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. 

“You look like you might need one of these,” Ryanne chuckles, handing you a champagne flute. You gladly accept and down it in two gulps. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, eyes scanning to see if your boyfriend has made an appearance. 

She sees right through your facade of calm and wraps you in a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

For a second time today you explain what happened last night. There’s no judgement from Ryanne as there might have been from your sister because she understands. Dating a professional athlete isn’t easy; things like this happen much more frequently than you’d expect. Perhaps it’s all the time spent apart that makes the occasional lapse in communication so apparent. She listens quietly, full attention on you. To your credit you don’t cry this time, slightly more numb to the situation to due more time passing. It still hurts a tremendous amount. 

“He’ll come around,” Ryanne insists. “TK is a little moronic sometimes, but he’d never jeopardize his relationship with you. You’re quite literally the most important thing in his life.”

 “I know. I’m just upset because the whole thing could have been avoided.”

She offers you a sympathetic smile. “I know.” Ryanne links her arm through yours. “Let’s go find something to snack on.”

You spend most of the night with Ryanne, and occasionally Claude when he can get away from the hot-shot businessmen. Travis eventually came in, flanked by Nolan, but was immediately pulled into the politics of the night. The two of you occasionally sneak glances at each other and you tell he’s uncomfortable. You can only hope it isn’t because of your presence. It’s nearing eleven; the party has become a much more relaxed affair, and the DJ is playing sappy love songs in an attempt to get the media team some good photo ops. An intern asks the Giroux’s if they’ll dance for an instagram story and they both look hesitant. “Go on guys, I’ll be fine,” you reassure. It’s the subtle push they need to enjoy a quiet moment together. 

As if he can sense you’re lonely and feel out of place, Travis approaches you. It’s tentative, like he’s petrified you’ll turn him away, but he comes regardless. Drinks are in each of his hands and he extends one to you. When you don’t take it he sets it on the table behind you. “Hi,” he says sheepishly, fiddling with something in his pocket. 

“Hi Travis.” You’re determined not to let his presence crack your resolve; last night illuminated a big issue and it needed to be dealt with. It’s proving to be difficult because he bumps a shoulder against yours and all you can think of is kissing him senseless. 

The song changes to a Bruce Springsteen ballad, and you recognize it instantly. It played at the coffee shop on your first date with Travis all those years ago. One look at him tells you this isn’t an accident, that he had requested it specifically for the two of you. “Dance with me?”

You sigh deeply, looking him in the eyes. “Trav, this isn’t going to magically fix things.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he pleads. “I fucked up so bad last night because I was being an idiot. I wrote down everything I would do differently if I had a time machine, look.” A hand reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper filled with his nearly illegible print. “Just one dance, and then we can go home and talk about it like I should have suggested in the first place. Let me know we’re still okay.”

If you hadn’t been in public you’re sure Travis would have been in tears. It’s not necessarily a good look to cry in front of hundreds of sponsors. He has a reputation as the goofy boy who takes no shit to uphold. “You have a lot of talking ahead of you,” you say, and let him drag you onto the dance floor. Swaying in his arms you realize things are going to be just fine. Travis loves you and you love him; there’s nothing the two of you can’t work through. 

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[drawlfoy]

Mirror, Mirror P.5

masterlist (<- to read parts 1-4) request guidelines want to be tagged? 

pairing: draco x ravenclaw!reader

request: nope!

summary: y/n has admired draco from afar for a hot minute. what will happen when they’re finally paired up to do rounds together and run into the mirror of erised?

warnings: language, mentions of being very very ill, my terrible editing skills, way too much dialogue

a/n: here it is :) it’s been a bit. the finale will hopefully be posted this tues! i hope all of you guys have been continuing to social distance and i hope everyone reading this is healthy! also, important update: the first part of just a call away has been postponed until this monday (i originally expected it to be posted tomorrow but i’ve hardly been able to work on it at all). enjoy!

word count: 2.3k ;)

music recs:

permanent tags:  @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn

tags for mirror, mirror:  @theres-a-dog-outside-omg​ @mey-rapp @kaibie @blackpinkdolan @sugarbby99

“Rena, I am going to kill you!” 

Y/N’s roommate looked up, the fear of Merlin struck into her eyes. The Transfiguration study guide in front of her lay entirely forgotten as she watched her friend slam the door and flop on the bed. “Oh?”

Y/N flung off her robe and tossed it on the floor. “When were you gonna tell me that you talked to Malfoy about me?” 

Her roommate narrowed her eyes, leaning forward in her chair and propping her chin up on her hand. “What are you talking about? He approached me and asked if you knew what the mirror was. I said you did. That was it.”

The venom seeped out of Y/N’s expression as the realization crept in.

“Oh. Oh, Rena, I’m sorry. I had no idea. He told me that you told him ‘everything’.”

“And you took a Slytherin’s word? Malfoy’s word? Honestly, Y/N, you give me a headache.” Rena sent a gentle smile her way. “What happened? Did you tell him?”

A sour feeling crept into Y/N’s chest as the memory she had suppressed on the walk to her dorm surfaced like bile in her throat. The rest of their shift was tense at best and downright agonizing at worst. Malfoy was uncharacteristically quiet, wringing his hands over and over again and scratching the back of his neck when he exhausted his wrists. Y/N knew that she was bright red by the time that they said their goodbyes--which really wasn’t much of a goodbye, just an uncomfortable nod before they parted ways to their respective dormitories--and cursed the fact that their ending spot was right under a torch. 

She would much rather prefer him to just straight up tell her he wasn’t into her; however, she supposed he technically did, that week or so ago in the Great Hall when he had told her he wasn’t into Ravenclaws.

Maybe I’m the one that needs to pull back. Maybe I’m actually the git in this situation and I’m making Malfoy feel uncomfortable.

“Yeah. I did.”

“And?”

“That’s it. He doesn’t feel the same way.” The words left her mouth feeling like heavy lead, weighing her breath down.

Rena stood up from her chair, her face softening. “He said that?”

“He didn’t say anything, really.”

“Well that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the same way,” said her roommate. Her voice was painfully cheerful for Y/N. “Maybe he’s just nervous.”

Y/N offered a weak smile as she pulled her hair out of her ponytail and got up to rifle through her drawers to find something to sleep in. “It’s over, Rena. I don’t know why I’ve entertained this for so long. It wasn’t even a thing to begin with. I just want to go to bed.”

“All I’m saying is that he’s Malfoy, Y/N. I’ve literally never seen him flirt before in his life. I don’t think he knows how. Maybe he’s just being mean because he doesn’t know any other way?”

“I think I just want to stop thinking about it.” Y/N began changing into her nightclothes quickly with her back to Rena. “I want to go to bed and forgot about it and get my O on the Transfiguration exam tomorrow and just never think about rich daddy’s boys again. No matter how cute they look!”

Y/N tossed her old robes in her hamper, turning to Rena one more time with a blazing expression on her face that said I dare you to disagree.

“All I’m saying,” Rena said slowly, “Is that Malfoy didn’t seem like a total rat when he came up and asked me about you. It just seems strange that he would do that if he had no interest in you.”

“The only interest he has is in antagonizing me,” Y/N snapped. “He’s a class A git and I hate him.”

Rena raised an eyebrow, her expression slightly amused. “Whatever you say, Y/N. We can talk tomorrow morning. I think you need some sleep.”

oOo

Y/N’s dreams were torturous--just a loop, replaying over and over again, of her interactions with a certain Slytherin. She was dragged through her memories against her will, feeling the initial admiration of seeing him read in the courtyard for the first time, crumbling under the anxiety of their shift assignments, suffocating through the tension of their final meeting, reeling at the way his hair looked under the torch lights…

It was too much. She awoke with a pounding headache and a throat so sore that she may as well have swallowed a healthy spoonful of fire over the night. Her eyes hurt to open, like the edges of her eyelids had been lined with Dittany. 

“Merlin, Y/N, you look like shit.” A voice that sounded suspiciously like her roommate wafted from her right side, but she couldn’t be sure. “I’ve gotta get you to Madame Pomfrey.”

“Rena?” 

“Y/N?” 

If she hadn’t felt like she was toeing the line between the dead and the living she would’ve been sure that the tone in her roommate’s voice was tinged with amusement. She tried to croak something more out.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Rena cut in before she could try any harder. “I’ll be back in just a minute. Don’t try and get up, alright? You need your strength.”

Y/N nodded--or at least, she tried--and turned back into her pillow to sleep. A part of her mind registered that she had a Transfiguration exam today and then rounds that night with Malfoy, but as a cold bead of sweat ran down her spine, the thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind. He could wait. He’d already taken up her entire night by filling her dreams and she was not eager to see him again any time soon.

“Y/N?” The door creaked open and her roommate’s voice dragged her back to lucidity. “Hi girly. Can you walk?”

Y/N forced her eyes open and winced at the light filtering through the curtains. It was hardly light out, but the weak morning light sent pangs through her head. The heavy quilt that she had been burrowed under was lifted up off of her...and the shivers started.

Her entire body began shaking, her teeth clattering together so hard that she was afraid she would break them. She wondered if anyone had ever chipped their teeth from fever chills.

“Just swing your legs around the edge...yes, just like that…”

Rena’s hands held her shoulders with a firm grip as she shakily made her way to her feet, swaying slightly. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re absolutely shaking…”

“Mmmhmmm” was all Y/N had the sense to use as a reply.

“All you need to do is make it down the stairs. I can put you in a wheelchair and push you the rest of the way.”

“Love you,” Y/N mumbled as her friend guided her down the stairs. Even though she’d been walking up the stairs to her dorm for years, everything felt oddly foreign to her through her feverish haze.

“Love you t--whoa! Easy.” Rena caught Y/N from near demise as she almost missed a stair. “You’re almost there, doll. Just hold on a bit more.”

“I need you to....” find someone to cover my rounds tonight she tried to say, but the words caught on what felt like daggers in her throat as she felt the wall. 

“Focus on getting down the stairs,” Rena interrupted. “You can tell me once we’re on the way to Pomfrey’s.”

Finally, she made it down onto the last step and allowed herself to be guided into a seat. Exhausted from her trip, she slumped back in the chair and forgot about her request as she drifted back off into her feverish dreams.

This time, they were different. Instead of interactions that had actually happened, her brain took her through a different whirlwind of events. A flurry of sensations met her--a thumb dragging across her slightly parted lips, a chaste kiss placed on her neck, a hand softly squeezing hers, a warm breath fanning across her cheek, a pair of just barely blue eyes staring down at her with so much affection that her heart skipped, a rough hand shaking her shoulder, the sting of something pressing into her wrist (a wand, she thought absently), voices around her calling her name…

Her eyes shot open as she recoiled from a burst of unbearable cold across her chest. The ceiling of the infirmary wing greeted her. Her torso was wet, and once she cast her eyes down to the end of her bed, she could see why.

Madame Pomfrey stood next to Professor Trelawny and Headmaster Dumbledore, brandishing an empty bucket in her hand. 

“Thank goodness! She’s awake!”

Pomfrey sent Trelawny an irritated look as she rushed forth, muttering incantations and running diagnostic tests on Y/N’s body. 

“What...what happened?” she managed, trying to sit up.

“Stay down,” Pomfry commanded, turning to her nightstand to mix a concoction of various potion ingredients. 

“I just had the flu.”

Trelawny moved to the side of the bed to clasp her hand firmly in hers, a kind look in her loony eyes. “Miss Y/L/N, I’m afraid that wasn’t the case. You had an acute case of Dream Sickness. We’re lucky that you were able to wake up when you did. You’re even luckier that your roommate noticed and brought you down here.”

Y/N knitted her eyebrows together. “I’m sorry. Dream...what?”

“Dream Sickness,” the headmaster finished. “A very rare affliction that primarily affects the overthinkers in the wizarding community. Naturally, you Ravenclaws are at a higher risk than other students.”

“So who gave it to me?”

“No, dear,” said Trelawny. “It’s not contagious. It can happen to anyone, but it’s more common if you spent time around powerful magical artifacts. Have you?”

Y/N cringed at the thought. 

“Er...yes, I guess I have. I ran into the Mirror of Erised on one of my prefect rounds. I never lingered, though.”

“That would do it,” Dumbledore mused. “The mirror has a tendency of...inflaming emotions. I ought to locate it and put it in a safer place.”

“So I’m okay? I can go back to classes? I have a Transfiguration exam today, and I’d really like it if I could make it.”

“McGonagall’s Transfiguration exam, I presume?” he asked. 

“Yes. It’s later in the afternoon. I promise I’ll be careful!”

The adults beside her shared uncomfortable glances.

“Dear,” Trelawny began, “You’ve been here for two days.” 

The air was sucked out of her lungs as the realization kicked in. “But that’s impossible! I was only sleeping for a little bit. And I had rounds! How did I miss my rounds?”

Pomfrey seemed mildly sympathetic as she emptied the mixture she had been stirring into a crystal goblet and offered it to her. “It’s normal to be disoriented after a bout of Dream Sickness. Professor Flitwick is sure to understand the situation, and if he does not, I am willing to vouch for you. Now drink. You have some recovering to do.”

oOo

Rena Severjyn was always the confrontational type. It had been a shock to her as well as her family when she’d been sorted into Ravenclaw (with all the bookworms and the teachers’ pets, as her older brothers said to her) instead of Gryffindor, but she’d grown to love her house. Studying came more naturally than cliff-jumping, or whatever it was that Gryffindors did, but when it came down to it, she had no problem with telling someone off.

So when she ran across a deliciously alone Draco Malfoy reading in the courtyard, she had no trouble walking right up to him.

“Hey, arsehat.” She plopped down next to him as he started, nearly dropping the book on the gravel walkway. “We need to talk.”

“Severjyn,” he greeted, his tone even but his eyes flickering nervously. “Do you know where your roommate is? I had to do my rounds alone last night.”

“She’s in the hospital wing. But no matter. I want to know why you’re being such an intolerable prat to her.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, clearly trying to cope with the fact that he was at a loss for words.

“Spit it out, Malfoy. I don’t have all day.”

“Is she okay? Did something happen to her?”

Rena rolled her eyes. “No, she just decided to spend more of her time around Pomfrey. Yes, something happened to her. She’ll be fine. You’re not answering my question.”

“I don’t understand.” The crease between his brow deepened with worry.

“She said she told you how she felt and you didn’t say anything about it!”

“I’m sorry. I just got nervous.”

“Are you dense?” Rena’s voice became shriller. “You told me yourself you fancied her, and you can’t even manage a measly ‘me too’? Even though you had the whole of fucking two hours to do it?”

A blush spread across his fair cheeks as he slammed his book closed and stood up. “It’s not that easy. You know it isn’t.”

“It’s never that easy. But she was able to do it, and you even told her that you weren’t into her! Honestly, I cannot believe you.”

“Please just…” Draco evaded eye contact, dropping his eyes to the floor and grinding his toes into the gravel. “Just leave me be. I promise I’ll talk to her once she’s better. Just don’t tell her, okay? I want to do this myself.”

Rena rolled her eyes. “You better.”

final a/n: finale is coming out soon! let me know what you thought :)

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 40

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34|| CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his -4.3k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

READ AM CONVERSATIONS AGAIN ON WATTPAD HERE

- notes: i hope this isnt too much and that youre still enjoying this story! its almost over tho, so if you have any request please send them asap! I have a few more chapters planned but I could always add a few filler chapters if you guys send me ideas. so yea, thank you!

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : here are the requests i used. im sorry about the Julia one, they couldnt have a very big and deep talk because it was Liv’s chapter but I still wanted to add her in because i really like her :) hope its okay!

TAKE A LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS HERE

Chapter 40 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

May 7th, 2018

It was quite late but we were both packing our things in silence. I had waited last minute to do it while Niall had to wait until he was back from his concert, which resulted in us doing it together. I missed going to see him play and sing and the thought made something stir in my stomach. I couldn't believe I stopped myself from going to see him do what he loved the most to do in the entire universe just because I was scared of what some losers could write in an online article. The more I thought about it, the more I found that completely ridiculous. I was about to mention something about it when I heard Niall talk, breaking the silence.

"Oh, I totally forgot to give you that." He leaned closer to me and handed me a small box that was wrapped in pretty pink paper. I frowned but took it in my hand anyway as he shrugged. "A fan told me to give it to you. Apparently, she was really sad when we broke up."

I stared at the small box on y hand and licked my lips. I knew most of it were just rumors, but I also knew that some people believe everything they'd read online. Still, this time, I couldn't blame them since it was the truth. I quickly unwrapped it and grabbed the note first, reading it out loud.

"We thought Niall was the biggest One Direction fan in the world, but we've seen you multiple times with random One Direction merch and we thought you may enjoy this."

I frowned more but when I saw the necklace, I let out a louder laughter. It made Niall frown too and I looked up at him with a smirk, bringing my hand closer to him. Around my fingers was hanging a necklace with his face on it. It seemed to be very old merch, probably from 2011, and I saw him grimace.

"No, Liv!" he whined as I put it around my neck and I chuckled again.

"Hey, it's a gift!" I argued. "Besides, I didn't have this one. I love it."

"You're such a pain." he joked, making me laugh this time.

I didn't see it coming but he literally jumped on me and I fell on the bed with a high scream. He pinned me down and started tickling me, holding both my wrists with one hands as the fingers of the other squeezed my waist, making my body jerk.

"Noooo! Niall stop!"

I squirmed, kicking him and hitting him without really knowing or controlling what I was doing. It took him a few seconds to stop and he stared down at me with a smirk as my lips were parted. I was panting low, not even able to enjoy his body on top of mine.

"Please, let me wear the necklace." I almost begged in a low voice.

His eyes roamed on me for about a minute and finally, the left corner of his lips raised up and he nodded once before moving closer to kiss me.

I had decided to follow him in Spain even if I had no idea when I'd have to fly back to California. We still had a few episodes to film but I was hoping Niall could come with me. He only had a few concerts left before he'd be off for a few weeks and even if he had to fly to the UK at the end of the month, I was thinking he could spend almost two weeks with me. I knew all we did was live in our luggage, going from airports to airports but at the same time, we were together and it's really all that mattered to me.

His lips moving slowly against mine made my heart twist in my chest. I loved him so much, I always would and I knew it. I was starting to trust him again, so much that the tiny ball of fear that seemed to live permanently in my stomach was now gone. I had decided that I wanted to live this plenty, to not hold grudges of fears that came from our past. I wanted to move forward and I knew that we had both changed for the better.

May 8th, 2018

We woke up early to catch our flight and I put my sunglasses on because I knew I looked exhausted. They were heart shaped but were black instead of my usual pink or purple ones for the simple reason I thought it would be less obvious to the people around that I had puffy and tired eyes. I didn't mean travelling if it meant being with Niall, but that didn't mean it was it wasn't sucking up all my juice.

I didn't expect the airport to be crowded but it was, and I moved my head down, trying not to catch anyone's attention. The fans started screaming, the paps started yelling at Niall to look their way, and when one of them moved too close to us, I felt my heart jump in my chest and without thinking, I grabbed Niall's hand. I realized my mistake and quickly let go of it only to feel his fingers tighten around mine. I could swear the flashes became even more intense right after and I glanced at Niall, licking my lips as I heard similar questions being yelled around us.

"Are you two back together?"

"Did you cheat on Dylan and Heidi together?"

"Are all the rumors true?"

We both held each other's hand tighter at the sound of all these questions being thrown at us and we kept walking as they followed us. I could feel my heart beat so hard in my chest that I felt like it was about to escape. I swallowed hard trying to relax a bit as I kept glancing at my boyfriend.

"Does that mean we're official?" Niall asked me, squeezing my fingers even more after he stopped walking, and moved closer to make sure I was the only one who heard.

I turned his way and licked my lips, trying to ignore the flashes and the sounds of the cameras. I was not used to that much attention, or at least, not as intense as it was being at that moment, but even if it was a bit intimidating, I was not scared.

"Do you want us to be?"

His gaze moved on my face as he studied me before sending me a fond smile. "Yes, I do."

I sent him a gentle smile that turned into a very big one. "We're official then."

"Fuck yes." he whispered, making me chuckle.

He pulled on my hand and we started walking again but as we were about to pass the gate, he quickly and roughly moved our hands up to show our intertwined fingers and it surprised me so much I felt my heart skip a few beats.

"FUCK YES!" he repeated in a yell, making me burst into laughter this time.

If I wasn't sure Niall loved me, I definitely was now. The fact that he literally told the world we were together proved much more than anyone could believe. I knew he was private, and so was I. I also knew he didn't like his private life to be in the spotlight, or talked about, or known, and him showing everyone, fans and paps included, that we were an item by throwing our hands up just showed me how committed he was. People would talk about us and the wrong things we did to Dylan and Heidi, people would definitely criticize us as individuals but also as a couple and I knew that for a while, people would stop talking about his music and my tv show only to blab shit about our love, but he thought it was still worth it and even if I was a bit surprised, it touched me more than I thought it would. And just like that, the blinded trust I had for Niall until he broke up with me was back, and I knew that this time, it would be different.

                                                          ---

We took a nap when we arrived at the hotel and when I woke up, it was the middle of the afternoon and Niall's arm was wrapped around me as he was laying on his stomach. I ran my fingertips on his arm and reached his back, making him groan slightly. He looked so good, his eyes closed, his bottom lip a bit over his upper one in a cute pout and his hair a bit messy. It made something come alive inside me and I realized that we went through so many things to get back pretty much where we used to be. The difference was us and the way we had grown, and I knew that what we lived when we were away from each other was needed to have the relationship we had at that very moment.

I tried not to wake him up and sat up slowly and gently in bed, rubbing my eyes and yawning before grabbing my phone. I knew he didn't want me to but I searched for his name and mine in google and a bunch of pictures from the airport appeared. My lips curled more at the picture of us walking away while Niall held our hands up together. I stared at it for a few minutes and pressed my lips together, feeling suddenly ecstatic and a bit dizzy. It was really happening. I was back with Niall and we were happy together. In all the months we were apart, I had wished for it, but I never thought it would really happen at some point.

"What are you looking at?" he mumbled low, taking me out of my thoughts. "You're smiling."

I turned to him and my excited smile turned into a fond one. His eyes were half-closed and his face was still pressed on the pillow. In fact, I was pretty sure he hadn't moved at all and looking at him made something stir in my stomach. There was nothing I loved more than waking up with him, except maybe falling asleep in his arms.

I tilted my head and let the left corner of my lips raise up before turning the screen his way. It took him a few seconds to let what he was seeing sink in and he smiled too.

"Oh look, that's us telling the world we're back together." he pointed out slowly and in a low tone, an amused smile curling his lips. "I'm sorry, I'm never that impulsive normally. But I've been waiting for that for a while." He paused and I felt his arm hold my waist tighter before he squirmed a bit and put his head on my lap. "It's okay though, because this is meant to last, so everyone may as well know now. What do ya say?"

I brought my hand to his head and ran my fingers in his hair gently, making his eyes flutter. "I agree." I whispered, making him smile more.

"We're gonna get married and have a few kids. And dogs, too. I love dogs."

This time, I chuckled and licked my lips. He had mentioned marriage a few times in the past weeks and I loved it. He used to be so scared of commitment and the future and now he was literally planning it for us.

"You know what we should do now?" he asked, making me shake my head. "Stay in bed all day. Order food, watch tv, and make out. Champagne and you. That sounds perfect."

I smiled widely. "Gotta celebrate the fact that we're official, now."

"Damn right."

After a few hours, we were done eating and the bottle of champagne was empty. We were still laying in bed but I had stopped following the movie and kept staring at the ceiling. What took me out of my thoughts, once again, was Niall's voice. I blinked a few times, trying to get back to my senses, and he raised his eyebrows at me.

"Mm?" I asked, making him laugh.

He stopped the movie quickly before grabbing the sheets of the bed, pulling them over our heads and once again locking us together in our safe place. I smiled at him and turned my body his way as he did the same. It was always a bit stifling to stay under the covers for a while but at the same time, it made me feel secure like nothing else did.

"How hard did that champagne hit?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Mm, i'm tipsy." I admitted, laughing too.

"Me too." he let out, his eyes roaming on my face. "You know I want to marry you for real, right? I want to promise to be yours forever. I want to literally show everyone that no one else will ever mean to me as much as you mean to me."

"I want it too. I want to be your wife. Niall I want it more than anything."

I felt my heart jump in my chest at my confession and we kept looking at each other for a few minutes in silence. He found my left hand and brought it up to his eyes level before running his thumb gently on my ring finger. I bit my bottom lip, trying to imagine what it would feel like to be his wife, and I swallowed hard, almost ashamed that I let my mind wonder so far.

"One day..." he just murmured before looking up in my eyes. "How many kids?"

"Five." I let out, making his eyebrows raise.

"Jesus Christ, do you want to kill me, woman?"

This time, I started laughing and he pulled me closer with a groan, letting his lips press against mine before pulling slightly away. I waited until he spoke again, my lips curling more and more with every passing seconds.

"You're not serious?" he just asked, making me laugh, this time.

"How many do you want?"

"Two, maybe three." he admitted before I kissed him again, sucking gently on his upper lip.

"Then two or three we'll have." I breathed out against his mouth as he held me closer.

"And we'll live in London, and keep a house in Cali, how's that?" he proposed in a murmur. "I'll bring you to Las Vegas to get married. We'll have the best honeymoon because I'll make you cum twenty times a day for a whole week."

I started laughing against his mouth and he smirked. "Where are we going for that?"

"Bali?" he suggested.

"Mm, don't tempt me." I joked as he laughed again, deepening the kiss and making me close my eyes. "What's on your mind, Horan?" I asked lower and more seriously.

"Well, how about we practice making those two-three kids now?" he offered, making me chuckle. "I really want to make love to my official girlfriend and future wife."

"Hey, I didn't say yes just yet." I joked as his lips traveled on my jaw and neck.

"But you will yea? You just accepted to be my official girlfriend so it's a good start. You'll be my wife and marry me?"

"If you want to spend your life with me, how can I say no to that?"

"That's what I thought." he just said, giving himself a swing and making me laugh even more as he got on top of me.

I spread my legs a bit as he nibbled on the skin of my neck and I groaned when I felt his hard dick press on my inner thighs. I was tired and still a bit tipsy but the way he whispered, the sound of his voice, the feeling of his body on top of mine... all of this was too good and I felt like I never had enough of him. Even after all this time, I wanted him as much as I used to, even more, probably, and the way he was all over me made me think he felt the same.

"I want to bury my cock so deep inside you right now." he whispered, bringing his mouth back on mine. "You're so fucking beautiful. I love you so much, Olivia. You made me so happy today."

I reached for his boxers and pulled them down as much as I could, his words making my heart twist and jump in my chest. I didn't think Niall could love me as much as he seemed to, I didn't know he could want to be with me to the point where he would literally hold my hand and show everyone that we were together in a crowded airport. I had no idea he was waiting for this, I didn't know that it would make him react like that to be my official boyfriend. All of this made sense, of course, but it was just hitting me that Niall really loved me as much as I loved him and that he didn't want to lose me again.

"Please Niall, just do it." I begged him in a murmur, reaching between my legs and pulling my panties aside before grabbing his cock and lining it up.

His hip movement was slow and as he pushed himself inside me, I felt my eyes roll back and a moan escaped my lips. I moved my knees up as he lied on top of me, holding himself on his elbows as he started thrusting in and out of me slowly. It felt like torture but at the same time it was so good I moved my chin up, feeling his lips leave kisses on it.

"I love you, can't believe you're my girlfriend again." he whispered, his lips brushing against my skin.

"I was always yours, Niall. I've always been yours. Since I was 6 years old. I knew I belonged to you." I replied just as low and without thinking. "I was just scared you didn't belong to me"

He pushed himself deeper inside me and it felt so good I let out an other whimper. He remained still, waiting for my eyes to open again and meet his, and I felt one of his hands slip in my hair while the other moved a lock out of my eyes.

"I belong to you." he confessed, making a shiver run across my back. "All this soulmate shit? I believe in it now. I have to."

I bit my bottom lip, making him glance at my mouth before looking back in my eyes.

"I love you. I fucking love you." I had barely finished my sentence that he was pressing his mouth against mine again, this time fucking me harder and faster.

My back arched after a few minutes and I moaned in his mouth this time, right before his thrusts became unsteady and a bit sloppy. The orgasm felt amazing and I gripped his arms as I felt his muscles tighten. I pressed my thighs on each sides of him, pushing myself against him in motion with him as he came. Nothing felt better than that post orgasm feeling with Niall on top of me. His lips found mine and he kissed me slowly but deeply for a while until we both got down of our highs and even a little bit after.

"I'm so happy you followed me here." he admitted with a smile as I tilted my head on the pillow.

"Me too." I licked my lips and raised my eyebrows. "Are you gonna follow me back to Cali in a few days?"

"Nothing will stop me from going with you. Nothing."

He rolled off of me and I pushed the covers to breathe fresh air, just realizing that I needed it. Niall grabbed my hand and I focused back on him as he stared at my fingers, making me try to suppress the smile stuck on my lips.

"Please come to my show tomorrow." he just let out, his fingers brushing gently against mine, exactly where a wedding ring would be. "We're officially together now, so we don't care who sees you or what they see."

My heart skipped a beat and I licked my lips nervously. It would be a good start but it stressed me to think that people would start judging us even more, now that we were official. I knew Niall was not going to start kissing me or anything in public but I still felt nervous.

"Okay." I let out low feeling myself tear up. I swallowed my tears but I could see my boyfriend getting emotional too and I sniffed. "I love you Niall. I don't ever want to be away from you anymore."

He brought one of his hands to my cheek and I felt the warmth of his skin against mine as he moved closer to lean his forehead against mine.

"I'm never leaving again. I promise on my life. I'm here to stay. What we have will never die, okay?"

I nodded quickly and bit my bottom lip as I felt a tear run down my cheek. I could swear he was tearing up too and I pressed my parted lips against his. "Okay."

May 9th, 2018

I hadn't realize how much I had missed watching Niall sing and play. He was always the kid who was singing, dancing, or playing guitar when we were younger, and it always brought a bunch of people around him. He seemed so untouchable, even for me, who was his best friend. Now, with the literal crowds and album selling, it was even more obvious, but a lot less scary. The fact that I knew he loved me definitely helped but watching him do what he's always loved but this time, as a living, was just breathtaking. He was breathtaking.

I chuckled when he winked at me subtly and I rolled my eyes with a smile until I felt a hand on my arm. I jumped slightly and turned again to look at Julia who was smiling widely at me. I thought I knew what she was going to say but instead, she pulled me close into a tight hug. It took me a few seconds to answer it but when I did, she jumped a few times, bringing me with her, and finally pulled away.

"I saw the video!" she said happily, her lips curled into a bit grin.

"The video?"

"Of you two at the airport!"

I felt my cheeks turn a soft shade of red as they burned a bit and cleared my throat, looking away. I knew there were pictures but I was not aware someone was filming. Come to think about it, it was not surprising, after all. I felt two strong arms wrap around my neck from behind and I smiled immediately, recognizing the touch and the perfume. It was crazy how he still affected my moods but I could also see that I influenced his, and that made our relationship so much better.

"Niall!" he let go of me to hug Julia and I smiled, taking a step away. "I'm so happy for you! I knew it would happen! I told you you had to keep hope!"

Niall's eyes found mine and his smile faltered as his embrace around his friend loosened.

"I sort of... confided in Julia." he admitted, licking his lips as mine parted. "I know you wanted me to keep the secret, but I didn't know what to do, and I felt like shit... I needed to talk to someone."

He looked at me with fear in his eyes, as if I was going to turn on my heels and leave, but I just tilted my head on the side while staring at him.

"Hey, I understand. She's one of your closest friends." I pointed out with a shrug before sending him a smile. "I talk to Louis about almost everything." I shrugged again. "Besides, I like her."

Julia smiled more and grabbed my arm, pulling me closer to them to hug both of us at the same time. I laughed and after a few seconds, she pulled away and smiled again.

"I'll wait for you guys backstage. We're going to celebrate right?" she asked as Niall and I glanced at each other, a bit unsure. "It's one of my last shows! We have to go grab a drink together!"

"Sure, we'll do that."

She left with a big grin and I turned to Niall who was smiling fondly at me. I frowned, my lips still curled, but I had to admit that the way he was looking at me made something twitch in my stomach.

"Thank you." he whispered, bending down to kiss the top of my head.

"For?"

"For wanting to get to know my friends. I know you get along great with all our childhood friends, and my cousins and all, but I've made great friends while doing this job, and you never really seemed to be interested in befriending them too, well, except for Harry, Louis and Liam.”

I shrugged a shoulder and looked away before looking back at him and raising my nose in a small grimace. "You used to hang out with many celebrities, especially when you were dating Heidi. I don't know, Niall, to me, it's a bit intimidating." I admitted. "I never felt like I fitted with them, or belonged with those famous faces. It's just weird to me."

"I'd love to present them to you. I promise they're great."

I stared at him and after a while, my lips curled again. "Sure, I'd love to meet them." I just gave in and by seeing the smile on his face, I knew it made him happy. "Let's start with Julia. I already know I love her."

Niall laughed and cupped my face, tilting my chin up before reaching for my mouth with his. "And I know I love you."

[hyukiee]

Chapter 1: Destiny

warnings: cussing, drug use, mental illness (future fluff, smut, angst, etc.)

this is my first story i’m writing on tumblr, I hope y’all like it. I’ll probably update once or twice a week. I plan on this not so lovely love story to be pretty long.. and angsty. Enjoy :)

Dreams are one of the most unknown things we experience, yet no one questions our lack of knowledge about them when we lay in bed at night. Not everybody dreams. Some people only dream when their happy... or sad... or scared... or it just happens every blue moon for no reason at all. You dream every day, to the point where you feel a little depressed if you don’t have one. They never take you to wonderland, their never right, something is always off but you liked them anyways. They gave you an escape from reality, until reality started showing up in your dreams. The reality that you’re slowly killing yourself when really this was supposed to be the peak of your existence. The reality that you literally gave the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, the ugliest look in downtown Hollywood and the reality that you know you will ruin his life or get close to it.

‘That stupid fucking asshole, I can’t believe that no good piece of shit left me to fend for myself. It’s so fucking hot. Fuck off Karen, my face is easier to look at than that awful sweater. Fuck. I need to sit down.’ You stopped walking and you look at yourself through the reflection of some enterance to a cafe, it smells like. Jesus christ, those eye bags look like black eyes. You went to your closest friends party the other night, you didn’t want to go so that explains the oversized grey hoodie and grey sweats that... have dirt on them? How the fuck- you know what, you’ve seen worse. You can’t go inside the cafe looking like this though. The shady floor will do for now. Everyone is wearing work clothes so you must of slept through all of Sunday. Alone. Because your dick head of a friend abandoned you, god knows when but for someone that slept through an entire day, you’re tired. Maybe it’s just the mental exhaustion you live with but god you could use a nap. “E-eguse me ehm here you go,” you look up and see the most perfectly built man you have ever seen, holding a.. $10 bill? You unknowingly glare at him after noticing his arm holding out the money to you. He looked nervous, and foreign as fuck what accent is that? “I’m not homeless, fuck off.” Who the fuck is he to assume your homeless? Cant someone sit in piece for a little? Prick. You stood up, hitting his shoulder as you walked away, not ever looking back at his beautiful face.

Wake up, go to the beach, take a xans, go to work, go home, sleep, wake up, eat, sleep, and wake up to repeat the process. You always hated living by a constant schedule, but at this point you do anything you can to hurt yourself. The weekends are different though, its always spontaneous. Will you snort a line with the crackheads down the street or will you go to a party because you know the college kids adore their new interest in drugs? You really don’t need drugs. You’re fine. Depression put you in this place and god you feel like a coward. People go through so much more and stay away from drugs. Coward. Your thoughts consist of things like this often, even when your supposed to be hearing your idiot friends excuse for abandoning you last week. “Y/n, seriously, I could of sworn you were dead.” “Wow, thanks Julian, i’ll make sure to leave your lifeless body instead of calling 911 like a sane person when I get the chance.” You both rolled your eyes in sync. You loved Julian, he’s such a dumbass but despite saying he’s your closest friend, your hardly friends. You met before you dropped out of college, he was your dealer, one of the nicest ones you’ve met. You ran into him often and bought from him often as well so you would talk but the reality is he only stays because you’re his best costumer and you frankly don’t care because you are too lost to even care about someone else.

“Y/n, I think you should lay back on your habits a little bit,” Julian broke the silence you both had on the pier. You both liked to meet up at the pier and smoke a little. “Oh please, don’t act like you care. Drop the act and be a fake friend to me, please,” you spoke unemotionally, making eye contact with him. “I’ve never met someone asking for a fake friend.” “Real ones require you to love and deal with them. I can’t do that for you Julian but I know that’s not what you wanted anyways. I practically pay your rent, just thank me and change the topic.” He sighed. Not a disappointed one, a relived one. Julian has been a dealer for a very long time, he stopped caring about his costumers decisions. He didn’t truly care for your health, it was the sad truth. He did get worried that night at his party but only because he isn’t heartless. You knew that though, you seemed so lifeless and incapable of feeling anything to him. He wondered about your story at times but he knew somehow he would never get it. You’re easy to talk to though, it’s nice. “Thank you.”

Ever since you were little you wanted to live in a big city like L.A. Although, you imagined you would be going to UCLA and going to study on a beach just because you could. Standing next to Julian in line at Coachella, you just now take in how completely different your life turned out but at least you did end up here. Julian gets into Coachella for free every single year so your always his +1. You love gatherings like this but this one is just a little too Pg for you. You always end up spending most of your time at the food trucks. But according to Julian, ‘so many people would kill to be around this many celebrities’ so maybe you could get a drink or two in and mingle or whatever. It won’t kill you. So here you are, waiting to get a margarita because god knows you can’t be any type of social while sober. “I guess you weren’t homeless after all, my apologies,” you turn around and see the beautifully built man leaning down towards you. You could run. You’re not to far from the exit and it would be impossible to run into this guy for a third time... right? “Are you following me?” That was supposed to stay in your thoughts.. Is he though? How the hell do you see each other in two different cities? Sure, everyone knows about Coachella but how does he recognize you, you look good today, not homeless or drugged up, whichever works. “Ah, sorry, my english bad,” He stood up straight rubbing his hand on the back of his neck nervously. Right. Foreigner with a unknown accent. “What language do you speak?” It’s not like you’re going to understand his language but your curiosity is getting the best- “Korean.” You know it really isn’t too late to run. This man could be lying, trying to kidnap you and sex traffic you. What are the chances he just happens to speak the one other language you do as well. He could be faking this for all you know. “Hello,” You haven’t spoken in Korean since high school. You dont know why you even let that out. “You speak Korean? Wow, hello!” He bowed to you slightly with a box like smile on his face. That’s cute. It’s different. “I really am sorry for mistaking you the other day, do you mind me asking what happened?” “I was on a lot of drugs at a party and my friend abandoned me because he thought I overdosed.” You learned a long time ago to leave your addiction to yourself. People look at you differently when you do drugs, even your closest friends. That’s one of the first lessons you learn as a drug addict, keep it to yourself. The only people that know you do drugs are the ones that do them too. You could of lied to him, but the self destructive part of you couldn’t help but push this stranger away. You turned around to look at him after it got awkwardly silent. “What? You surprised? Scared? No harsh feelings, I don’t even know you.” You held in a laugh from his shocked and awkward expression. “Your right, we don’t know each other, I’m Taehyung,” He held out his hand replacing his taken aback expression back to his box-y smile, pretending what you said just never happened. ”Y/n,” You sighed. He won’t give up whatever this is. Fantastic. “Well actually, i’m supposed to be talking with famous people or something like that so I should get going,” You didn’t know how to get out of this situation. You felt like you couldn’t breathe with him standing so close to you. This conversation gets more and more awkward everytime you speak. “Then why are you leaving?” You both stared at each other, surprisingly not awkwardly. It was comforting looking into his eyes. “What? “You know what, I actually should go before i’m late, i’ll see you later,” he gave you one last smile and patted your shoulder before leaving you. “But- Why? What?”

“I just had the most uncomfortable conversation of my life with this insanely perfect looking man,” you spoke almost out of breath, finally finding Julian in the crowd. “Yeah, i’m pretty sure I saw who you’re talking about when I left you,” Julian is such an old soul. He responded while looking ahead at the stage, almonds in one hand like a football dad. “Who’s performing next” “Uh, BTS.” You hardly listen to music these days. Music that doesn’t fit your ‘fuck life, love drugs’ aesthetic. BTS doesn’t ring a bell so you probably won’t like it but it’s not like you have anything else to do, you’ve had enough with weird interactions. “Remind me why we’re sober,” you sighed, starting to feel the pain from standing for so long. “I’m sober, you’re drunk.” Julian glanced at the margarita in your hand. Right, you almost forgot. “Oh, don’t judge-“ “Sh sh sh their coming.” He hit your shoulder a couple of time looking at the stage like a child. You hate when people tap on you it’s so annoying. You sighed for the one thousandth time and focused on the group of people coming to the stage. Asians, how convenient. You know if life really hated you they would be Korean just like- “Ey, isn’t that the ‘insanely perfect looking man’ you were talking about? I can’t tell.” You have got to be kidding. That’s why he asked why you were leaving. He’s fucking famous. “I need another drink,” You sighed.

[heresathreebee]

Garrote part 3

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez X Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Word Count: 2,700 words

Warning(s): Rated Mature, language, partying, mentions of sex and drugs. Previous Masterlist Next

AN: I am constantly mere clicks away from releasing everything I have at once but I know if I do I will lose momentum for the plot. 

Edit: I. Forgot. The tags again.

@nicke0115 @1zashreena1 @mental-bycatch

The week that followed was heaven and hell. Diego went back to throwing parties nightly, fucking girls coked out of his mind, and in general trying to forgot all about Healy and his pretty bait, but Tommy Eagan was threatening war over a dead partner unless Alicia met his ridiculous demands. Thanks to Tommy's new right hand man, there was an opportunity to gain instead of lose now. All they had to do was wait and see if Dre could pull through. 

There were two new numbers in Diego's phone. One unsaved that sent cryptic messages about their deal, and the other marked as an emoji rather than a name. Jazmine's texts seemed forced– like she was reaching out on behalf of Healy's instructions. So of course Diego elected to simply ignore them both. They were buzzkills anyways. 

Diego was showing something important on his phone to his sister when Jazmine sent another text. 

Remember when you scared off Haagen? I miss that every time I see him. 

On the other end of the line, Jazmine felt pathetic sending the text. Healy hadn't even asked her to write this time, she was just so… bored. She hadn't been sleeping well, pulling double shifts involuntarily since her boss found out she closed the store when her coworker didn't show up. She carried her stress in her shoulders– the tightness in her neck caused her daily migraines and there was a new pinching sensation between her shoulder blades to accompany the rest of her pain. In the shower, she massaged whatever she could reach and thought of Diego's big hands doing it for her. 

She literally shook herself to clear the thought and pelted the shower curtain with water in the process. Diego Jimenez wasn't some faux bad boy with a secret soft side– he was the leader of a cartel. If he hadn't killed people himself, he definitely had people killed for him. He was beyond dangerous to even fantasize about. 

DING-DING. 

Her phone called out to her from the bathroom counter and she realized it was past time to get out. Her fingers were pruned to the point of over-sensitivity and there was a rapidly closing window to apply the leave-in conditioner to the best of its use. Still, she wiped her hands on the towel to read the text. 

Come out and party. Wear something nice. 

Alicia boxed his ear over the last sentence but he brushed her off. Jazmine declined anyways claiming exhaustion and went to bed. There were people to socialize with already– what was the absence of one little minimum wage laborer going to do?  Apparently she was important enough to occupy a corner of Diego's head. He was still bent about the way she had reacted to his identity. Who the hell did she think she was? As they discovered in the ungodly hour after the party ended, she was also important enough to drag Healy out of whatever hole he hid in. 

"Diego, we need to talk." 

Alicia had gone home– Diego expected she would likely never attend another one of her brother's parties as it wasn't her brand of debauchery– and she'd cleared the place out in her disgust, so his penthouse was empty for once. 

"What's the matter," Diego poured himself yet another drink, "am I not being a good boyfriend?" 

"We don't care what you do when you're not operating," Healy reprimanded. "But we need you to cooperate. Be a presence in Jazmine's fake life. You've been established as a rival for her affections, and you need to become an obstacle standing between the bait and the target. Jazmine walks home from work every single morning by herself. I don't know if you noticed it's been pouring buckets for three days straight." 

Healy almost sounded like he was shaming Diego. It wasn't his fault she was poor. She wasn't his real girlfriend and therefore not his real problem. "Please don't make me regret making this deal, Diego. We will never get an opportunity to dismantle Haagen like this again. Need I remind you that you've got a missing child on your hands?" 

Diego glared fiercely over the rim of his cup. Healy smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt and returned to his neutral position as righteous commander. 

"Schedule more time to spend with Jazmine, especially in public spaces. We have it on good authority that Haagen is going to put a detail out to give him updates on Jazmine in the near future, and he needs to see you in these updates." Healy turned on his heel and reached the elevators, stopping them from closing dramatically and fixing Diego with a stare. "And no more ignoring us." 

Jazmine woke up the next morning to one new notification. 

I'm coming over. 

"Oh shit." The woman threw herself out of bed and looked around. This wasn't fair. Cleaning day was a bi monthly ritual where she took a day off to deep clean the entire apartment, blasting music and stepping around her dog to get things done. Hercules wandered into her bedroom looking chipper as ever. "I guess we better get started then, huh?" 

The fucker showed up on her doorstep not ten minutes after she got out of bed– she wasn't even dressed for the day. Her hands nervously tried to cover the broth stain on her jeans as she cleared a space for him to sit and wait while she finished her morning routine. She worried while brushing her teeth that Diego might be a psycho like her last boyfriend. Psycho enough to kick her overly friendly pet, but no sound of yelps filtered through the paper thin walls and when she finally emerged, the pit-bull was settled with her head on his lap. 

Diego turned his head at the sound of a huge sigh. Jazmine was gazing at him but quickly turned when she realized she'd been caught. She began to flit about the room, picking up lost things and piling them up until she could figure out what items went where. He watched, making absolutely no move to help other than keeping the dog out of the way. Hercules– as the tag on her collar read– laid as much in his lap as he would allow. 

"Buena perro," he muttered, and if she still had a tail, she would have wagged it. Growing bored, Diego rose and stalked over to the fridge. "Do you have anything to eat?" 

The white void in the fridge answered for her, but she still called out, "no, it's empty." 

"I'm ordering pizza." 

"What about Chinese?" 

Diego looked at the lonely, days-old Chinese boxes in the fridge and shivered. "I'm getting pizza." She didn't complain. He returned to the couch to do just that. Distractedly, he admired the curve of her spine as she bent over. She wore jeans again and another band shirt, this time it was a baggy Chicago thing. He licked his lips thinking about taking them off her. 

Healy’s meddling had repercussions– mainly that it would made taking girls home harder, or at least less frequent. Diego still felt great suspicion towards this Jazmine, but it didn’t stop his body from wanting her under him. Or over him, on him, riding him… he tried to blink the images out of his head. 

“What kind of dirt does Healy have on you?,” he found himself asking. “My sister and I have been dying to know.” 

Jazmine shrugged, keeping her back to him. “No dirt.” 

“So you’re just helping out of the goodness of your heart?” Pizza arrived in time for her not to answer, and they returned to their positions for further interrogation. “Anything to get that creep Haagen away from you for good? Or are you an agent as well?” 

“No,” she said. She slipped rubber gloves on to begin maintenance on the tower of dishes piled on the side of the sink. She seemed to live alone– there was no reason to have so many dishes. Maybe he had been wrong in his assessment from earlier? Or maybe she was just a hoarder. “To tell you the truth, I’m about as fond of Healy as I am Haagen. I take that back– Healy’s a step up but not by much.” 

“Because you don’t trust him?” 

“I don’t know…” That mountain of plates and glasses seemed to disappear quicker than he expected and she began to scrub out the sink and the cleared counters, grunting with effort as she did so. “I trust I know the kind of man Haagen is, more so than I do with Healy. Partnerships like the one I have with Healy– they’re subject to change, and not always for the better. He’ll always do what’s in his best interest. What’s good for him is good for me.” 

For Now. The implication that she may harbor the same feelings towards Diego was not lost on him. In fact, he stood up from the couch and approached the windows with their blinds down to peek out at the street. There was nothing quite so conspicuous as a black SUV with a mean mugging thug staring back at him. Even his own protection didn’t roll that sloppily. 

Jazmine objected to the windows being opened but Diego insisted. “Need our relationship on display, right? Haagen’s got to know I’m here.” 

She relented quickly and threw her gloves aside, plopping her butt on the couch to rest a moment. The leftovers in the box were room temperature but she hardly seemed to mind. God, he wanted to run his hand up her shirt just to see if she was wearing a bra. They twitched in his lap and he realized there was no way she missed the hunger in his gaze as he did. 

“Did you bring those beers,” she laughed as she noticed the case on the coffee table for the first time. “Can I have one?” 

The beer seemed to quell the tiny tremor in her fingers. She kicked her feet up on the coffee table permitting Diego to do the same. "What the hell are we even doing? Hanging out? What exactly is this accomplishing?" 

Jazmine gave it some thought as she took a pull from her drink. "Putting on a show. We need Haagen to think I'm in love with you, like you're no good but I'm not ready to let you go for something 'better.'" 

"And Haagen is something," Diego put his fingers up like claws, "better." 

"He certainly needs to think he is." She noticed Hercules whining and let her out the door unaccompanied. "We've got his 'gentleman' ego to work with." 

Diego followed her to the window and grasped her hips from behind. She half turned, gazing up at him with a question in her eyes. He leaned into her space to whisper into her ear. 

"Those eyes Healy thinks Haagen sent to watch you? Well they're watching right now, and they're not being subtle about it." 

She doesn't try to look like he expected her to. Instead, she stepped away from him and pointedly crossed her arms. "You don't look very comfortable if you're still wearing that." 

She nodded her head at his coat. 

"So take it off me." 

That startled her. Jazmine's eyebrows lifted, and her feet shuffled when he gave her nothing but a smirk in return. Finally, she did as he suggested. She did not miss the way his hands seemed to brush lightly over her rib cage. These small, fleeting touches that left her breath audible and her stomach warm. He didn't even give her a chance to put the coat on the hangar when he dragged her back against him. 

"What are you doing?" She didn't mean to sound breathless, turning her head to the side and exposing more of her neck at the behest of his pushy nose and allowing him to trail kisses on her skin. 

"Putting on a show," he said against the shell of her ear. 

He felt her stiffen a little against him. The tent on his pants was preventing a lot of important blood from entering his brain, but he was conscience enough to feel how conflicted she was. Diego slipped his hand up her shirt like he wanted, cupping her bare breast and sucking a mark into her neck. She allowed it, but it felt more like compliance than enjoyment. All at once and against the protest of his body, he let her go. He watched her shoulders relax and her hands find a home beneath her armpits. 

Jazmine nodded in answer to a question left unasked. She did grab his hand and pull him away from the window, backwards into the tiny hall separating the front room from the bedroom and bathroom. She dropped his hand as soon as they were out of sight of the window. 

"I appreciate the enthusiasm," she said. "Just hang out for twenty more minutes and you can leave. I'll text you tomorrow and we can makes plans for another 'show.' You can stay in my room while I clean the bathroom." 

Diego sat heavily on her bed. Just as he was about to get comfortable, someone knocked at the front door. Jazmine brushed invisible dirt from her knees as she got up to see who it was. He followed from a distance. The peep hole was almost out of her reach, but she stood on her toes to see outside. Suddenly, the woman looked back at him with wide eyes. It's Haagen, she mouthed. As soon as her head was turned to the task of confronting him, she missed the part where Diego began to undress. 

"Hey!" She flung the door open and yelped when Hercules barreled through her legs to get inside. "You... found my dog!" 

"Indeed," Haagen said, folding his hands over his heart. "I saw this poor creature wandering and I returned him using the address on its collar. I am astounded to learn that he belongs to you." Nice cover story. The man continued, "since you have the day off, I was wondering–" 

Haagen's wondering was cut off by the appearance of a half naked boyfriend. Diego wound his arm around Jazmine and leaned down so he could engulf her clothed nipple with his hot mouth. She gasped, pushing his head away on instinct and he pressed her into his side like a vice. 

"Come back to bed, baby," he purred, then pretended to take notice of Haagen watching in the doorway. "Oh, you're that guy, right? James, Jeff, Jebediah or whatever." 

"Jeremy," the man hissed through his teeth. "Hello Di-e-go." 

"Right right right." An embarrassed Jazmine buried her face into Diego's nude shoulder, acting unconsciously but playing into her role perfectly. "Kinda crazy how I start hearing about you and then all of a sudden you're showing up on my girl's doorstep, isn't it?" 

Haagen made a move to defend himself but Jazmine was quicker. "He found the dog, honey! Jeremy was just bringing her home, he didn't know I lived here." 

"Right," Haagen cleared this throat. 

Diego's smile bordered on a threatening mania-- there were far too many teeth displayed to suggest any sort of friendliness. "Life is so full of strange coincidences…" 

No one missed the way he squeezed Jazmine harder. It sent a message to be sure. Vague enough for Haagen to infer whatever he deemed necessary to the story in his head. It was quite brilliant actually. 

"Well I ought to," Haagen swallowed, "leave you to it then. I'll see you around the shop, then?" 

"Bye–" she barely managed to say before Diego dragged her into the apartment and slammed the door shut. He kept dragging her all the way back to her bedroom, and all the while she protested being treated like a misbehaving child. It wasn't until he'd slammed the door and collected his shirt from the floor that she realized what exactly had transpired. 

"Oh." She brushed the frizzing curls invading her eyes, "oh that was perfect. Healy was right to pick you." 

Diego rolled his shoulders once his shirt was tucked back into place. "Come over tonight. I'll text you my address and we can capitalize on this. Wear something nice." 

She was about to protest his leaving but realized it wouldn't matter. If Haagen expected a fight from the noises he'd heard, he would probably just assume it had ended quickly if he saw Diego storm out alone. He crafted his own version of events. She let the pieces fall where they lie and made arrangements to meet Diego tonight. 

[thanksjro]

Spotlight: Orion Pax - Because Hasbro was Getting Antsy About Their Golden Boy Having Faffed Off into Space

Oho, you thought we were done with Optimus Prime, did you?

You fools.

This is Transformers- we’re legally obligated to have Optimus Prime in some form or fashion running around at all times. This is just Hasbro catching up.

Fun fact: this was published on December 12th, 2012!

Our issue opens up with Orion Pax strapped to the top of a shuttle that’s careening towards a city.

But that’s the hook, so we won’t get to see what that’s all about just yet. No, first we’ve got to see just what all led to this point.

Earlier in the day, Orion Pax got refitted with a hot new bod, courtesy of Wheeljack, and now he’s showing off his new look to historical constant Rung and Kaput, who are here to assist in acclimation.

This is Kaput’s first appearance in the comics, but it’s not his first entry into the IDW continuity. He was introduced in the  Last Stand of the Wreckers prose story Bullets, where he diagnosed Ironfist with dead, in so many words. Kaput’s here currently because he specializes in sparks, and he’s going to make sure that Orion’s doesn’t explode in his chest thanks to the frame change. No word on whether the wheel was something he came into the world with or a modification.

But enough medical nonsense, let’s see the star of the show.

That’s not how reflections work!

Orion’s first point of contention is the fact that his lucky faceplate is missing. Wheeljack replaced it with a proper face, because that’s the new hotness right now. I guess when you’re a race of space robots who can change their bodies the way humans change their clothes, fashion is a lot more work. I wonder if faces out out of vogue in the present- there’s a lot of guys without one on the Lost Light.

Rung offers Orion some reading materials to help him cope with the sudden change, but it isn’t necessary. Orion fully intends to switch back to his old bod after his mission is over.

If you couldn’t tell by this point, this whole “frame change” thing is a plot contrivance to explain away some of the design clashing between comics set during this time period.

This is Zeta.  

Yes, really, they’re the same guy. I don’t think Senator Shockwave would have had him modified for Matrix carrying if he’d known how tacky he was going to be about it.

Zeta Prime seems to think that haute couture is exploding a Galapagos turtle and then strapping the smoking remains to your back.

Zeta leads Orion over to where Nightbeat’s waiting with a slideshow he spent hours on. Nightbeat, at the time of this story, is a hostage negotiator, and today his mission, as well as Orion’s, is to retrieve our beloved Ratchet from a Decepticon terrorist cell hiding somewhere in the Rust Spot. The Rust Spot’s some heavy duty danger, hence the reformat for Orion.

They’ll also be bringing on Alpha Trion, #1 Rust Spot navigator, philosopher, polymath, polyglot, historian, and all-around grandpa.

His beard gets a D+, however.

Note the quotation marks on “he” here; it looks like even Roberts was sick of the Furmanism that is “genderless robots that all appear to be male”. We’ll get more into that sticky situation later on. What I want to focus on right now is our artist for the issue, Steve Kurth.

Kurth is from Wisconsin, and doesn’t have a ton of pencil credits to his name in the Transformers franchise. He mostly does work for Marvel, and while it appears his art blog hasn’t been updated in a few years, the publishing company still has a tag for him. He’s done the Avengers, if that’s your thing.

Anyway, so nobody knows who’s in the back.

I gotta say, Alpha Trion, you got some brass fucking balls to insinuate that the cops forgot to put the hostage tradeoff in the trailer, in front of said cops.

The fellas transform and roll out, Orion pulling the trailer because anything else would be blasphemy, as Alpha Trion guides them to the meet up point. As they drive, the old man regales the young whippersnappers with his tales of friendship and adventure alongside Metroplex the Titan. They were, like, best friends. Seriously.

Storytime gets interrupted however, as our heroes are attacked from beyond the mists.

You know, when I was a kid, my mom had a car that looked exactly like Nightbeat here, paint job and all.

Alpha Trion got so wrapped up in blathering away, he forgot to mention that they were in Slicer territory, and might want to be on the lookout. Thanks, Alpha, way to be a pal.

Nightbeat refers to the creatures as “throwbacks”, something that’s never elaborated on, but I’m going to guess it means something along the lines of being primitive, or perhaps animalistic.

Holy fucking shit, that’s terrifying.

These awful things start swarming Orion, Nightbeat, and Alpha Trion, who all start punching and shooting with wild abandon, making short work of the mass. Orion gets a few paper cuts for his troubles, but they’re all more or less alright.

The trailer can’t say quite the same though; the door’s popped off, and the contents have either escaped or never existed in the first place.

Schrodinger wept.

Alpha Trion pulls the prisoner out of the fog… and then so does Nightbeat.

It’s a two-for-one sale at the Hostage Emporium.

Rack and Ruin haven’t really done anything to warrant being worth a whole entire Ratchet, so Orion decides to have a little chat and see what’s up.

Oh, that’s what Nightbeat meant by Ruin being the ugly one.

Orion’s chat reveals these two chumps to be even bigger losers than they first appeared to be- their only talent seems to be instantaneous conversion, which involves shutting off all the safety protocols for one’s transformation cog for a faster switch.

Orion switches trains of thought, asking about the Decepticon cause and its whole deal. This is a bit after the events of the heist, so the rhetoric has become a bit more violent by this time, and he wants to know what the hell happened.

But there’s no time for philosophic musing, because that’s when the Decepticons show up. Thundercracker escorts our group to the hideout to meet Bludgeon, and the exchange is made, albeit with a pro bono thrown in.

Well, shit.

This was why the Decepticons wanted to meet in the Rust Spot; because they knew only Alpha Trion would be able to guide the cops to the tradeoff point. But what are they going to do with robot grandpa? Why, use him to find Metroplex, of course!

There’s a rumor that Titans have the capabilities to create space bridges inside them- we as the reader know this to be true thanks to the 2012 MTMTE Annual, but let’s not tell Bludgeon about all that, yes?

Orion, please, this is hardly the time.

Luckily for Alpha Trion, Orion stuffed some guns into the bottom of the trailer, as is made apparent when he starts throwing them to his buddies. Why he and Nightbeat weren’t carrying any weapons on their person isn’t addressed, but at least the idea here is kind of cool.

Alpha Trion  easily escapes his bonds, because a noose isn’t really worth much to a species that doesn’t breathe and can literally survive not having a head.

We are just laying it on THICK today, aren’t we?

Rack and Ruin lead the other not-Decepticons into the tunnels towards safety- not sure how exactly, considering they’ve got their sensory deprivation helmets back on- as Orion Pax is dogpiled into submission.

Bludgeon might need a hobby. Might I suggest jigsaw puzzles?

Orion’s about to hit the loop that was created by the first page of this issue, so he tries to stall for time to think of a way out of all this. He halfway succeeds, in that he gets a little more time, but doesn’t come up with anything. Down on the ground, all his friends watch the shuttle shoot into the sky, probably wondering what all that’s about.

Bludgeon was aiming for this shuttle to hit a populated area, but it would appear that he’s an idiot and overshot by a wide margin. Cool beans.

Ah wait, we still have another three pages of story to this.

Hey, y’all remember Hoist’s tragic backstory, where he wandered the Rust Spot alone until he almost died of exhaustion?

Yeah, that was Orion’s fault.

The Fault of Our Star, if you will.

(I’ve never read anything written by John Green, what the hell am I doing?)

Because he just bounced off the underside of Hoist’s shuttlecraft, Orion’s hurtling towards the downtown section of Iacon, which is absolutely a populated area and exactly what Bludgeon was going for. Orion’s going to have to think fast if he’s going to get out of this one. Good thing Rack and Ruin told him their super secret transformation technique.

Thinking quickly, Orion transforms into a truck, breaks his bonds, somehow manages to not fly off the side of the shuttle due to wind pressure, transforms back to root mode, shuts off the autopilot, slams into a wide open field just outside of town, and survives well enough to be more concerned about Wheeljack being mad he scuffed up his new body than his own safety. Good on you, Orion! You saved the day!

To celebrate, he takes an old hubcap or something and shoves it over his face, because I guess only he gets to know how he’s feeling.

Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault the story just kind of ends here.

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 8

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo reveals what he's learned to Demyx, who begins to remember. They decide whether or not to act on the bond.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

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They walked back mostly in silence. By the time they finally got back, it was very late and Ienzo was exhausted, his feet hurting awfully. The light in the window of the townhouse was on. Ienzo took a moment to compose himself. “Are you going to come in? Visit old friends?”

Dilan chuckled. “Maybe another time.”

“So leaving me to explain this on my own, then.”

He smiled. “Oh, I know you can talk your way out of it. Until we meet again.” He disappeared almost soundlessly into the night.

He hadn’t fully opened the door before Even was on him, grasping his shoulders. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” All the anger was gone.

“I’m fine. I’m simply--very tired.”

“Where were you? Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“I needed some air.”

“It’s after dark--you could’ve gotten hurt, or worse--”

“I was fine.” He started towards the stairs. “Even, I can… defend myself.”

“At the cost of setting a beacon for all Xehanort’s many eager ears.”

This felt like a conversation he’d had many times. “We can argue about this in the morning. I need rest.”

He sighed. “Very well.” Even shut the light.

Ienzo took a warm shower. Once he was in bed, despite his exhaustion, he struggled to sleep.

Meet the resistance. Be the face of it.

To do something. At last.

What about Demyx? They were… quite literally… soulmates. Ienzo felt that rush of heat in his magic again, but it wasn’t lust. At least, not entirely. Had Ansem truly not known about this? Even seemed to think so, Dilan didn’t. Who was right?

Ienzo wished he could ask him. If Ansem had known… why had he made this decision? He, who openly encouraged Ienzo’s willfulness?

(Or was that encouragement all an act?)

He began to understand what Demyx had meant when he said he wasn’t sure if anyone in his life actually cared for him… No, Ienzo, stop being dramatic. If Even and the others didn’t care about him, they could’ve abandoned him, or worse, long ago. They did care--even if their care was smothering, misguided--

He took a deep breath, and then another, and another. No use getting worked up.

He wished Demyx were here with him.

Ienzo sat through class in a haze the next day. He had Demyx’s pendant, as well as the other, in his pocket (he refused to think of it as his , but yet also could not bring himself to put it back in its little silver box). He’d only managed to sleep for a few hours, too wound up to do anything other than fret and toss and turn. His calves were aching from the long walk both ways. Had he always been this physically weak? Maybe that should change, especially if he were considering meeting this aqueous resistance. There was a gym on campus, free to use with his tuition. Might be worth scouting out.

He again had the class Demyx TA’d for. He couldn’t help the small smile seeing him, and found it returned. But then, with a flash--he was going to have to tell Demyx what he’d learned. A wave of anxiety made him physically dizzy, and his magic threatened to wake up. He held it at bay and tried to focus on the lecture, about the neoclassical movement. Instead he found himself scribbling in the margins of his notebook.

This was all so bizarre.

He barely knew Demyx, yet here their lives were intertwined. Perhaps the rushes of feeling he was having were predetermined. He tried to hold onto that rage of having this choice taken from him, yet, it was so soothing . So almost instinctive. He hadn’t even known he was gay prior to this, had perhaps thought he was nothing . Was he even meant to be with anyone else? Perhaps this was what was called "demisexuality", something he'd read about aqueously when he'd researched gender all those years ago--

This romanticism was somewhat pathetic.

Demyx immediately joined him after the class was over. “Hey,” he said. “How are you doing?”

“I am… tired,” he said. “And yourself?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about… stuff,” he said evasively.

“Do you have a few moments?”

A small smile. “For you? Any time.”

And he knew that the simplicity of this phrase should not have made him melt --gods, Ienzo hated this. “Is there somewhere private on campus we can talk?”

Demyx pursed his lips. “Sure. Come on.” He led him to the older section of campus. Despite the dreariness of a sky threatening rain, the light still seemed rosy, warm. This time, when Demyx slid his hand into Ienzo’s, Ienzo didn’t pull away. He liked the way the calluses fit against his own soft skin.

They approached one of the ivy-covered structures. Its face had a sandstone arch, and old glass doors. Ienzo saw closed doors leaving to what was presumably an auditorium. Demyx took him to the left. “Music and music ed have most of our classes here,” he said. “It’s kind of… old, I know.”

As they passed classrooms, Ienzo saw what Demyx meant; the whole building had that slightly sweet smell of old wood. The empty classrooms had blackboards instead of the smartboards Ienzo had seen elsewhere, and the desks were mismatched. Some doors were propped open with doorstops where their hydraulics had failed. A few wooden upright pianos were scratched, their finish faded.

“It’s funny,” Demyx continued. “The concert and recital series bring in a ton of money for campus, and they can’t even bother to remodel the place.”

“Where does it go, then?”

“Did you see that fancy new engineering building?” He sighed. “Listen. Science? Is great. But people aren’t going to listen to science on their commute and they’re not going to see it when they turn on their TV. Science won’t help you through the bad times.”

Ienzo bit his lip; it had been Ansem who steered them culturally towards the sciences. “It’s a shame,” he said instead.

Demyx took him up one more flight. He took a keycard out of his wallet and tapped it on a closed door. “Et voila,” he said lamely. “One of the only real perks of being a TA.”

It was a small, square room, with black soundproofing foam mounted on the walls. There was an electric keyboard, a few black metal music stands, and a chair or two. “A practice suite?”

He nodded. “We’re supposed to do lab hours, but… honestly a lot of us just use them to hang out. Or… other stuff.” He winced. “Not that this is why we’re here.” He pulled two chairs over from the wall. “So… what did you want to talk about?”

Ienzo took a deep breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Demyx’s pendant. “I wanted to give this back to you,” he said softly. “Moreover…” He took out the second. Unceremoniously, he fitted the two together.

Demyx’s expression had gone blank, his eyes wide.

“We’re not just pairbonded,” Ienzo began. “We’re soulbound. My… guardian told me about it. Apparently… your people offered you to me… as protection, and in a wayward attempt at peace. That all of you might help pacify the unrest in Radiant Garden, and stave off revolution during a period of reform.”

Demyx’s hand snapped to his mouth.

“And allegedly, this was done because of the ways our souls resonated with one another. So this half… is mine.” He offered it back to him, but Demyx didn’t take it. “I know this is a lot to take in--believe me, I didn’t react half as well.”

His hand shot from his mouth to his temple, and he let out a pained gasp.

“Demyx?”

“I--I, um…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I think I… remember--”

“Remember what?”

“God, it fucking--” He rocked back and forth slightly. “Oh…”

“Are you alright?”

When Demyx finally opened his eyes, they were wet. “Got it,” he said simply. “I was… picked.” He said it with the air of something new and yet known. “My parents… my mom was really sick, and… they would be provided for if… I went with them.”

“With who?”

“The… choosers, the chief of our… colony.” There was something distant and horrified in his eyes. “I was… sold? So my mom could get medicine?”

“They were pairbonded,” Ienzo murmured. “Easier to lose you than her… I’m so sorry.”

“And then, I…” He stood up suddenly, and went over to the window. “They took me, said I had somewhere important to be, and then I saw you.”

“That was when you saved my life,” Ienzo said.

“Yes, but… after that…” He tapped his forehead. “They… cut off my form, and they were going to… send me to you, I think, more directly, but…” He leaned heavily against the sill. “All of sudden the colony was being sieged, and everything was being…” A moan. “I just ended up on the beach… and I forgot.”

“And then someone found you.”

“And adopted me. And I lived normally, and Riku and I looked into it when he started getting magic, and then… is now.” He turned to face Ienzo, tears running freely down his face.

“I’m so sorry,” Ienzo said. “I’m so--” It didn’t feel awkward or uncalled for to go over and draw Demyx into his arms, to comfort him as he cried and stroke his hair. Like they’d done it dozens of times before. Ienzo had never been able to make a choice before, and yet still his existence was hurting people.

After a while, Demyx calmed down. He wiped at his eyes. “This is all so weird. Why did they do this to us, Ienzo?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for any of this. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.” He took a deep breath and realized he, too, was upset. “All along our choices have been taken away from us, and now--” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “There has to be something that can be done. There has to--” In it, a certainty.

He was going to go to the resistance.

“Demyx?” he asked softly. “I think I know a way to stop all this. To give people choices back. Will you help me?”

He bit his lip. Then, “Yeah. I will.”

Ienzo leaned forward and kissed him. Too quickly it became hotter, more intense; Demyx still tasted like salt, his skin damp. Ienzo drew his hands up through his hair. Demyx’s hands trembled where they rested on his back. He ran his tongue along Demyx’s lips and felt them part.

He hated how natural this felt, how good, his magic waking up, his nerves all too raw. If he’d had a choice, would he have chosen Demyx?

Almost at this thought, the other man pulled away. “Do you want to…” He began. “Do you want to go back to my place?”

Ienzo felt the blood rush to his face. “Yes.”

Demyx picked up his pendant from its place on the chair and slid it back on. Ienzo couldn’t help but stare at the other. “You don’t have to,” he said.

Ienzo nodded, and put it back into his pocket.

They walked off campus together in a sort of silence. Anticipation had his heart racing. He had no idea what he was about to do, if anything, but this resolve made him eager to explore. They were going to get through this together . Demyx’s hands, when he undid the lock, were still shaking. “Um, it’s through here,” he said. “My room. I mean.” The color in his face warmed his tan skin. They took off their shoes at the door.

Ienzo followed him in a haze. The room was relatively small; it barely fit the double bed, the desk and dresser, and a bookshelf full of CDs and records. Ienzo wasn’t sure why he was surprised it was clean; in fact, he could smell fresh laundry and floor cleaner. Blinds made the light even rosier. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, an instrument--he guessed it was Demyx’s sitar. It was clearly very old, and well loved; the varnish worn off in places, though it had a place of honor by the window on its own stand.

“Oh yeah… there she is,” he said softly. He sat on the bed.

“Perhaps you’ll play for me sometime,” Ienzo said. He turned back to him.  It took a moment of culling his nerve before he was able to sit down next to him.

Demyx touched his cheek. “So,” he said in a low voice. “Look… if you ever feel uncomfortable with anything, at any time, just tell me.”

He nodded. It was hard to breathe, and he was sweating under his cardigan.

Demyx leaned in to kiss him, gently, softly. Ienzo kissed back a little more deeply, reaching over to feel at his back, finding his suspicions were right; Demyx was wiry under that loose shirt.

He pulled away and kissed at Ienzo’s jaw, his throat, so slowly , the feel of it making him gasp for air. He could hear Demyx breathing quickly, unevenly, his hand sliding up under Ienzo’s thigh, bringing with it a rush of goosebumps, the magic quivering around him in little waves. He let himself be eased back onto the bed, which smelled so like Demyx. Suddenly Ienzo was feeling at his arms, his sides, his chest. His hands were so much more sensitive now.

He should fight this. Wait, as they’d said. But would it really be so awful to see this through if it were unbreakable anyway?

For a moment they broke apart. Demyx brushed away Ienzo’s bangs. “That eye’s blind,” he said, as explanation. “Too much… magic use, at one point in my life.”

“Oh.” He traced his finger along Ienzo’s lip, making him shudder, and kissed his eyelid. “Would it be okay if I--” He reached for the hem of his own shirt.

Ienzo’s heart just beat all the harder. “Yes.” Even in this dim lighting, he found himself caught staring at him, his lean toned body. Ienzo longed to taste that skin, so he did, pressing his lips Demyx’s shoulder, his collarbone. He breathed that salt, that sweetness. Demyx pressed him down against the bed a little more, close enough that their bodies were touching, that he was certain he could feel Demyx’s dick. It was rubbing up against him, not quite between his legs, making his clit throb. Ienzo pushed up, wanting to feel more of it. Demyx slid an arm under him to help.

He hadn’t ever quite felt like this before. It was a feeling that was somehow so new and so old at the same time, familiar yet not. They drank each other in with a sort of urgency. Demyx’s hand slid up under Ienzo’s shirt. “Can I--take this--”

“Yes.” Ienzo struggled out of the sweater; the cooler air of the room was welcome. For a moment Demyx just looked at him. Then, he traced one trembling hand along Ienzo’s side, running it along his flat chest. Ienzo gasped a little.

Demyx leaned down and kissed his nipple, teasing it gently, and Ienzo nearly swore out loud. He’d never wanted so hard, not even as a hormonally confused teenager. “Is that good?”

He could only nod. Demyx kept at it, moving all along his skin before so tentatively sliding one hand up along his inner thigh between his legs. Ienzo thought he might faint.

“You’re alright?” Demyx asked.

“Yes.” All he could manage; not exactly eloquent.

Demyx touched him slowly, and having it muffled through the clothing was almost more than Ienzo could take. He had to either stop this now, or let it run its course; he was on the verge of falling apart completely. At least this was a choice he could make.

Ienzo pulled his hands away from Demyx’s hair and reached for the button of his jeans, startling him. “I don’t think I can… do the whole thing,” he said thickly. “But perhaps we can--”

“Right. Yeah. Sure.” He laughed a little and helped Ienzo out of his own pants. “Little too hot under the collar?”

“I feel I may combust.”

Demyx pressed a kiss against his cheek, his jaw, his throat. “Maybe I can do something about that.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

Despite being in this heightened state, it still took a moment or so of finding the nerve before Ienzo was able to touch Demyx too, wondering along the shape of his dick. Demyx gasped. The skin was feverish even through the fabric of his boxers.

“Fuck,” he spat. “Ienzo, I--” His hips strained a little. “Could I--touch--”

“Just do it already.”

Another small laugh; Ienzo did too, despite himself. How strange, to be so comfortable with a near-stranger, to open this part of himself to him. Demyx kissed him on the lips, teasing him once or twice more before finally sliding his hand down Ienzo’s waistband. Ienzo couldn’t quite breathe. The moment was so surreal as to be vaguely nostalgic, like it had been done before, the magic making every nerve feel almost twice as much. This is what you wanted, he thought towards it. Well, here.

Demyx felt at him for a moment before he found the clit, almost making Ienzo moan out loud. “God, you’re wet.”

Ienzo just grabbed him and kissed him. Demyx began to stroke him in earnest, a steady, smooth motion, which did not provide relief so much as turn him on more. “I feel so much,” he muttered, without meaning to.

“Me too.”

He couldn’t quite reciprocate as much as he might have liked, only able to fumble at him a few times. Even his most intense personal sessions could not compare. Ienzo was acutely aware that it was the soulbinding making him experience this so strongly.

“Relax,” Demyx whispered.

He tried to listen. He was shaking. Demyx moved his hand a little faster; Ienzo could already feel the tightening beginning in his stomach, his thighs. He resisted it. He felt both out of his body yet so in it, in awe of the soft sounds they were both making, the way it tasted to kiss him. He pressed harder against Demyx’s hand. The subtle scratch of the calluses along the too-sensitive part of him became all he could focus on.

This really is happening, he thought dazedly.

“Does this feel good?” Demyx asked him, his voice somewhat distant.

“Don’t stop.” So he was capable of speech.

Lips against his throat. He could hear his own breath, heightened and strange. He felt Demyx tease the actual opening, and after a moment, slip a finger up into him, causing him to spasm. “Does that--hurt?” Demyx asked. “I--”

“No. It doesn’t--” He bucked his hips against it, and feeling the push and pull, Demyx still working his clit with his thumb. “Oh…” Not so much a moan as a sort of realization.

Even after so much buildup, it came as a shock to him, little waves breaking over him. Ienzo wasn’t able to do anything but let it happen, a warm release in his magic making the world fuzzy. Demyx pressed a kiss against his forehead. “Did you just--”

“...Maybe a little.” He swallowed, feeling tears in his eyes, of all the things. The sensation of warmth hadn’t faded, and again all his senses felt raw, as though anything insignificant had peeled away.

“I thought I felt it.” He squirmed a little. The color on his face had reached his collarbones.

“Lay down,” Ienzo said.

“You don’t… I mean, it was your first time ever , so--” It seemed difficult for him to speak.

“I want to.”

Demyx complied. Ienzo eased off his underwear and took his dick into his hand. Demyx moaned. “Just kind of--here.” He adjusted Ienzo’s hand.

A sort of embarrassment almost broke the pleasure he was feeling. How often had he fantasized about having one of these himself, only to not know how to properly deal with it? But after a moment or so, Demyx was making these small beautiful noises, his eyes shut tight. Ienzo tried to kiss him too, to find the spots that excited him. Doing this flooded the magic with another sort of pleasure. Demyx clutched the sheet with one hand. He felt Demyx’s cock tense a little, and he moaned, and Ienzo felt the sticky heat of it against his palm. A heartbeat after this, he thought he felt Demyx’s energy brush against his, that same moment of release.

Oh.

For a moment they both struggled to catch their breath. Ienzo knew without being told that his hair was again glowing; he could feel it on his scalp. “Are you alright?” Demyx asked him. Then, “here.” He handed him a tissue to wipe off his hand.

“I’m… fine.” Demyx threw it out for him. “I feel like we’ve… done this before.”

“Me too.” He settled more naturally against the sheets and drew Ienzo against him.

“You’ve had sex with other people. Does it feel like that?”

He laughed. “No. Not even close.”

Ienzo did not know the feeling washing over him. He rested his head against Demyx’s chest. The other man began to play with his hair.

“Does this happen every time you come?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never particularly noticed. I think this was… special.” His lip curled.

Another laugh. He took one of Ienzo’s hands into his. For a few minutes they just enjoyed each other; it took Ienzo too long to realize that what he felt was safety . He did not have to worry, right now, about consciously reining the magic that always threatened to explode from him. Demyx took care of all that. “You know…” He began. “This… soulbond stuff. Do you think you and me would have picked each other otherwise?”

“I… am not entirely sure,” Ienzo said. “But… if any of what they’ve told me is true, then… we were chosen because our souls resonated , not because we’re two powerful people. That means on some level… we must be intrinsically compatible. Better to think that… than the alternative.”

“I still don’t really know you,” Demyx murmured. “...And so much for waiting.”

“Quite. Well.” He took a deep breath. “We’ve got time… relatively speaking.”

“And I should actually buy you dinner.”

Ienzo chuckled a little. “That would be quite nice.”

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 4: False Alarm

(from the Flatmate Trilogy: Two Hearts, One Home)

…in which their cat’s gone missing and Y/N doesn’t know what to do.

Word count: 3.7k

Chapter 3: Handcuffs - Niall can only think of one way to solve his best friends’ conflict.

Wattpad link

A/N: For those who did not know, I went through a terrible week and couldn't write, so I had to postpone this update until Sunday. This chapter is shorter than the previous ones, but the next will be as long as usual. Thank you for reading! Love, Allie. (Btw, who loves Breakfast At Tiffany’s and Audrey Hepburn?)

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“No, no, no, this is not happening to me!”

When Layla heard Y/N’s scream, she was in the living room watching Breakfast At Tiffany’s. Normally she would just shrug it off because it could be another cockroach in the tub. But as Y/N shouted out her name specifically, she had no choice but to click pause and go see what it was.

Her best friend was sitting on the bedroom floor, back pressed against the closet. Once she spotted Layla, she rose immediately to show her the phone. “I missed my period,” she cried out, looking utterly distraught. “I haven’t checked the app in so long and just now realized I’m two weeks late. I can’t even remember the last time I was late!”

“Okay, calm down.” Layla raised her hands, taking a deep breath. “As far as I know, stress can cause irregular and missed periods, and you’ve been working your ass off lately. No wonder.”

“But I threw up yesterday and this morning too.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that...” Y/N paused, shutting her eyes as if she was afraid if she said it, it would come true. But she couldn’t avoid the thought forever, she had to tell somebody. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“Don’t joke like that.” Layla snorted, but Y/N was quick to seize her arm.

“Harry and I had sex without a condom on our honeymoon once and I forgot that I wasn’t on the pills!” The girl said in one single breath, but Layla could hear every word loud and clear. Her eyes bulged out as her jaw dropped. She took a few seconds to figure out how to react to this news.

“How could you fucking forget, dumbass?!” She raised her voice, smacking her best friend on the arm. Y/N jumped away, rubbing the sore spot as she pouted. “We were on the beach and...and there were stars and...it was very romantic and—”

Layla cut her off by putting up one hand. “Spare me the details, please. I’ve seen enough in the last five years, I’m surprised I’m not traumatized yet.”

Y/N huffed and ignored that joke as she went on, “but the point is, I already took the emergency pill in the morning!”

“Those pills don’t always work you know.”

“I know, I just...don’t know what to do now?” The distressed girl collapsed onto her bed, her face was pallid, and her heart was pounding so hard that her chest might explode. “I can’t...I can’t get pregnant now. My husband is drowning under a pile of work, and I just got promoted.”

Standing with her back against the closet, Layla glanced up at the ceiling. She thought for two seconds and looked back to Y/N. “Have you taken a test?”

Y/N propped herself up on her elbows, frowning as she mumbled, “n-no.”

With no hesitation, Layla jumped right at her and dragged her straight towards the bathroom door. “Do you have one of those pregnancy sticks?” Y/N nodded, her mouth turned into a frown. “Good. Now get your ass in there and pee on it, then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

“But what if I’m really pregnant?”

“Just fucking get in there!” Layla grumbled as she pushed her best friend into the room and shut the door. The problem was temporarily solved. Now it was time to go back to her favorite movie.

Every one of Layla's friends knew how obsessed she was with Breakfast At Tiffany’s. She couldn’t recall how many times she’d watched that film and fallen in love with Audrey Hepburn all over again. So when Y/N asked her to come over for a movie marathon Sunday, she had been so excited, knowing her best friend had never seen this one before. But here she was, watching it alone because Y/N was taking forever in the bathroom with that pregnancy stick.

“You’re gonna miss the iconic scene! Holly is putting on her lipstick!” Layla shouted with a mouth full of popcorn and muttered along the famous line “a girl doesn’t read this sort of things without her lipstick,” while grinning from ear to ear.

“Layla...”

The soft voice pulled her attention away from the TV screen. She meant to scold at Y/N for interrupting her, but as soon as she saw her best friend’s pouting face, she knew something had gone wrong.

“H-How was it?” She immediately stood up and walked up to Y/N, who gave her a slight shrug. Y/N didn’t say a word, still, Layla already had her answer. What else could it be when Y/N seemed this agitated? A positive. Definitely a positive.

Frowning, she wrapped both arms around Y/N to pull her in and lay a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry..." she said. "You’re gonna be a great mum."

“But I—” Y/N could barely begin when Layla shushed her with a wave and turned back to the screen. Audrey’s character Holly was now crying in the rain because she’d lost her yellow cat. This was Layla's favorite scene, there was no way she could miss it.

“Cat! Cat!” She mumbled along with Holly, placing both hands on her chest. No matter how many times she had watched this one, she always got emotional as if it was her first. However, her mood was ruined by another scream so loud, that her ears went deaf for a few seconds. She widened her eyes at Y/N, who was now looking from left to right like she was going insane.

“Where’s Treasure?!” She shouted.

It was then that Layla remembered she hadn’t seen the white cat that entire morning. She scanned her eyes around the room, looking slightly concerned. “You told me you were gonna give the cat a bath. But then you screamed, and I came in to see you on your bedroom floor.”

“Right...I was...I was about to give her a bath...” Y/N tried to steady her breath while pacing back and forth. Immediately, she stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw fell slack as she pointed a finger to the front door which was wide opened. “Who opened that door?!”

“You did!” Layla scoffed. “You told me you burnt something in the kitchen, so you let the door opened for the smoke to fly out.”

“Shit...no, no, no!” Y/N wailed, her face contorted. Nam had been cat-sitting Treasure for so long and never had there been a problem. But as soon as he took a day off and let Y/N do the job, Treasure ended up missing. How could she be so careless? If something happened to her cat, she would hate herself forever. Harry would hate her too. She couldn’t let that happen. And so she freaked out and told her best friend, “We need to go find Treasure!”

“Calm down, she’ll come ba—” Layla didn’t get to finish her sentence. Y/N pushed her aside and ran out of the flat in a heartbeat.

“Meow!” 

The sound caused Layla’s head to spin. For a second there she had hoped it was Treasure. But unfortunately, it was from the movie. Holly Golightly had found her yellow cat in the alley, and while in tears, she hugged her pet as soft music began to play. Layla exhaled, rolling her eyes. She knew she’d be damned if Treasure never came back again, and so she paused the film to follow Y/N out of the flat.

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As the girls got to the lobby, they bumped into Ben, who was on his way to visit them. The smile on his face slipped just as Layla screamed “Treasure is missing!” and Y/N pushed him aside to rush towards the door. Confused, he snatched her arm and pulled her right back.

“Let’s all calm down now. Treasure’s a smart cat. She won’t go far,” he tried to reassure the nervous girl, but those words seemed completely useless as she hissed and brushed him off.

“She’s my cat okay? You don’t have a cat, you don’t get it!”

Y/N’s aggressive reaction left Ben confused. Eyes widened, he turned to Layla, shooting her a look of concern as he assumed she would know what was going on. But her mouth snapped shut instead of giving him an answer. Something about their behaviors made Ben think Y/N’s lost cat wasn’t the biggest problem here. He stepped forward, gently rubbing her arm and leaning down so their eyes met.

“Hey, just take a deep breath and—” Y/N barely let him finish. She grabbed his shoulders then shook him violently. “I spent five minutes with my cat and now she’s missing! How am I gonna look after a human baby?!”

“Okay, dude, stop. You’re scaring him.” Layla literally had to drag her away before she ripped off Ben’s shirt. It took the man around five seconds to figure out what she meant, and once realization dawned on his face, he gasped, covering his mouth.

“Are you pregnant?”

“No, I am not!” Y/N answered, but Layla quickly clarified. “She’s still in the denial phase.”

Ben’s reaction to the pregnancy news was entirely different from the girls had expected. He clasped his hands together, bouncing up and down before reaching out to caress Y/N’s belly. His eyes literally lit up when he smiled at her. “Is it a little Y/N or little Harry?”

“Oh my god, does anyone with a dick know how pregnancy works?” Layla cried out as she smacked his hand away, and he instantly shot her a glare.

“Someone with a dick who’s not into dicks might.”

“Enough with the pregnancy talk!” Y/N raised her voice, sounding exhausted and frustrated at the same time. She knew if she let these two argue it would never end, thus the best solution at the moment was to stay calm as Ben had said. There was plenty of time later to worry about being pregnant. “Now.” She sighed. “Let’s split and find Treasure before something happens to her.”

.

.

.

The search had gone on for almost three hours. They had been to every place in their neighborhood where they assumed the cat might be, but it was hopeless. How could they find such a tiny creature in a city as big as London? A child might be easy to spot, but Treasure was a cat. God knew where she might be. She could've been kidnapped and nobody would've cared or noticed. That, however, was the last thing Y/N wanted to think of right now.

Heartbroken and disappointed, Y/N returned to her building, trying to catch her breath while sweat was dripping down from her forehead and soaking her entire back. There she met Layla, who was also in the same nervous state.

“Y/N, I’ve looked everywhere, can’t find her.” Layla breathed, both hands on her hip as she looked around, squinting her eyes. “Let’s just hope Ben returns with good news.”

That didn't calm Y/N's nerves at all. She slowly released a shaky breath and flopped down on the step behind them. Hugging both knees, she muttered, “this is all my fault. How am I supposed to tell Harry?”

Layla could only sigh as she took a seat next to her friend. With both arms around Y/N’s shoulders, she spoke, “this isn’t your fault. It’s just the pregnancy hormones that make you feel this way.”

But Y/N shook her head. Layla didn't understand that response, yet she had a feeling there was something else she did not know. Without waiting for her to wonder, Y/N blurted out, “I...I didn't take the test.”

“What?" Layla’s green eyes shot open. “What the fuck does that mean?!”

“I-I was about to but I got scared...”

“Fuck, dude…” was all Layla could whisper before letting the silence sink in, and they sat like that, both were thinking on their own. It did sound like a bad thing at first. Y/N let Layla and also Ben believe the test was positive, thus they had been worrying all for nothing. But as Layla thought again, she realized this could be better. She tapped her best friend on the shoulder to get her attention. “But hey, it means you might not be pregnant. We still have hope.”

“Actually…” Y/N’s voice was so tiny Layla could barely hear that word. "That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Huh?”

Y/N sighed, chewing on her bottom lip as she pondered before speaking up. “I know this may sound insane but...we had a pregnancy scare before and...and it was a false alarm. So if it happens again, I think...” She paused right there. Just like before, she was afraid to say something and have it become a reality. But she trusted Layla, and she knew if she was going to confide in anyone other than Harry, it should be Layla.

“What if I can’t have babies?” Y/N spoke at last. Her voice shuddered, and the anxiety was clear in her tone. “I know I said I didn’t want to have kids now...but what if when I’m ready, I still can’t?”

Layla’s expression softened at once. She put a hand on Y/N’s shoulder as a tiny smile formed on her lips. “Hey, don’t be so pessimistic, everything will be fi—”

“You don’t get it." Y/N shook her head fast, her chapped lips pressed together as her eyes swam with tears. “That’s all Harry’s talked about since our wedding. How am I supposed to come back tonight and tell him I’ve lost our cat and I cannot have babies?”

“He’s not gonna leave you because you can’t get pregnant. Harry’s not like that.”

“But he’ll be disappointed…” She shook her head, her eyes were filled with tears. “I don’t want Harry to be sad and disappointed. I want him to be happy.”

“Hey.” Layla exhaled as she cupped her best friend’s face. “I’ve known Harry for five years, and I‘ve never seen him happier than when he’s with you. That idiot loves you. He’s gonna love you if you go bald and lose all your teeth. You think he gives a fuck if you cannot have babies?”

“No…”

“Say it with confidence, bitch.”

“No,” Y/N spoke louder, trying not to laugh as she wiped away her tears.

Layla giggled, rolling her eyes. “And let’s not make assumptions so soon. We don’t know for sure if you’re pregnant, or if Treasure is really missing. Want me to call H?”

“No, don't.” Y/N shook her head slowly, now more relaxed than before. “He’s having lunch with his suppliers...I don’t wanna bother him.”

Layla said nothing else as she nodded. They sat there for a little while, watching people passing by and waiting for Ben to come back, hopefully with some good news. But the thing about living in London was that, one second it was sunny, and in a blink of an eye, it was raining cats and dogs. That Sunday was no exception. It began with a raindrop on Layla’s arm which instantly caught her attention as she lifted her face up. She opened her mouth to warn Y/N about what was coming for them, but as soon as the first sound escaped her lips, the rain came down like a giant waterfall.

“Shit!” She cursed, standing up quickly, yet Y/N was still sitting there, unbothered by the unexpected shower.

“Hey, dumbass, stand up!”

“No, Treasure can’t be out there in this rain!” Y/N shrugged her best friend’s arm away, keeping her hands above her eyes so she could with water was splashing down on them. Layla kept repeating that Treasure would be fine, but neither of them knew if that was true anymore. They didn't want to think of the worst scenarios because it would break their hearts to even imagine. However, the rain turned out to be their stroke of luck. A familiar purr made their heads turned to the other side of the road. This time, Layla was sure it wasn’t from any movie scene.

“Treasure!”

“Meow!”

The white fur ball hopped off the brick wall and ran across the street to jump right into Y/N’s arms. Y/N forgot about the cold as she pulled the wet creature to her chest, giving her soft kisses all over. “I will never let you out of sight again,” she promised, squeezing Treasure tightly.

Standing on the sidelines, Layla ignored the rain pouring down on them three. "My favorite scene," she mumbled, her lips curved into a peaceful smile. The moment was beautiful and warm. But then a yellow cat jumped right out from the bush behind them, causing Layla to scream and almost fall down into the puddle at her feet.

“Tiger?” Y/N raised both eyebrows as the creature approached her and rubbed its face against her leg.

“Jesus Christ, how many cats do you secretly own?!” Layla shouted, making her best friend giggle.

“This one isn’t mine, it's Mason’s.”

“Harry's hot cousin?”

“You mean ‘annoying’?” Y/N snorted. “Yeah.”

That was when Ben came back, holding a black umbrella and looking startled to see the girls standing in the rain. All out of breath, he announced with an enormous grin, “that lady over there said that she saw Treasure with a yellow cat, they were heading to the park and—Hold up!” The man halted when he saw those little troublemakers staring back at him. The look on his face made both Y/N and Layla burst out laughing.

“Okay, Romeo and Juliet,” Y/N sighed as she picked Tiger up with her other hand. “Let’s get you both dry and cleaned.”.

.

.

.

As soon as Harry got home, he dashed into the bedroom. His hair was wet from the rain, but fortunately, his clothes were mostly dry. With a sigh of relief, he leaned against the door, smiling as he saw his wife and their cat snuggling up together while watching a movie. As soon as Y/N spotted him, she cheered, “daddy’s home!” And Treasure meowed in joy when he came in to kiss both of their heads.

He stroked his wife’s cheek in concern. “I ran into Ben earlier. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it was a false alarm.” Y/N nodded, pressing her moist lips into a gentle smile. “She was only going on a date with Tiger.”

“Mason’s cat?”

She nodded again, and both of them turned to look at the guilty one.

“Guess I don't have to wait until we have a daughter to worry about her and the boy next door.” Harry chuckled while shaking his head. He expected Y/N to laugh along like she normally would, but instead, she kept a straight face. It wasn’t her not finding his joke funny, it was something else, he could tell.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he met her eyes again. Instead of telling him the reason, she responded with a question which left him surprised.

“Did Ben tell you about the other thing?”

He stuck out his bottom lip, shaking his head slightly. “What other thing?”

“That I thought I was pregnant, but I wasn’t?”

Harry felt his entire body go numb as he heard that. He didn’t know how to respond because he couldn’t read her expression, so all he could do was stutter and end up shaking his head. “He um…no, he didn’t mention…Are you okay, love?”

“Layla took me to the hospital. All those pregnancy symptoms were caused by stress,” she whispered and blinked her sweet eyes at him. Harry had no idea why she seemed so sad. She had been rambling on about how they couldn’t afford a child at this point. He thought she should be happy instead.

“Oh, that’s a relief, right? You don’t want to have kids now,” he said while rubbing her back as she scooted closer to rest her head on his shoulder. She was quiet for a while to think before she spoke. It was always bad news when Y/N was quiet. He knew her well to realize when something was bothering her.

“Yeah, well...I...” She hesitated. “Maybe...I won’t ever...have kids.” As she pulled away to see how he reacted, he tried to remain calm, yet ended up gawking at her. She gulped, reaching out to squeeze the hand he put on her lap. Her voice shuddered as she went on. “I have high FSH levels, which means low chances of getting pregnant.”

“Oh” was his instant reply. That was a terrible comment to your wife saying she might never have children, but he wasn’t in his clear mind to come up with something better. He was shocked, yes, but he wasn’t upset about the news, not even the slightest.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke quietly, giving his hand another squeeze.

That was how he knew, she forgot. She forgot how much he loved her, and they were married, and nothing in this world could change the fact that, they were together in this forever.

“No, don’t be sorry, love.” He pressed his forehead against her, watching her eyelids flutter as she held his gaze. “This doesn’t matter to me, you do. Besides, having low chances doesn’t mean impossible.”

"But it’s still unlikely...I’m so sorry," she apologized once more, despite knowing he hated it when she blamed herself for something that wasn’t her fault. Still, she couldn’t help but feel like it was. "We’ve talked about having kids since forever, and now I’m telling you that it might not happen, I—"

“Hey.” He grabbed her face with both hands, forcing her to pay attention to his words instead of her own. “This isn’t your fault. This doesn’t change how much I love you. Told you at our wedding, didn’t I? I’ll love you forever, and that means with or without babies. We can always adopt ours, like Brad and Angelina, yeah? We’ll be a family of ten if that's what you want.” With tears in her eyes, she nodded fast, exhaling a warm laugh that got him chuckling as well. “Let’s not lose hope,” he reassured her. “I’m sure we’ll get kids of our own one day.”

“You believe that?”

“Yeah.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips. “But I’m happy with the way things are now. We’re already a happy family. You, me, and—” Sighing, he turned to Treasure, who was patiently waiting for her name to get mentioned. “And this little lady who left home with the boy her parents had warned her about.”

Y/N giggled, hugging the cat close to her chest and pulling her husband closer to kiss him passionately. The film on her laptop was still playing, and she knew Layla would be so mad that she didn’t watch until the rolling credits. However, everyone knew how it would end, with Holly Golightly kissing her lover Paul while holding her cat.

[distant-rose]

I just read the last chapter of Once and a Future Thing and it was amazing! I was wondering if you could maybe tell us or write about Beth's adjustment to the world and the rest of her family's reactions? Thanks so much for your awesome writing! I always love when you update Little Pirates and I always enjoy your other stories!

Notes: Okay, I owe you the biggest apology. This has literally been in my inbox for half a year? I honestly don’t remember when this entered my inbox but I know it was a long time, so long that whoever sent this probably forgot all about it. I wouldn’t be surprised. Anyway, I hope you can forgive me for how long this fucking took. I was inspired to work on the Jim and Beth reunion by @clockadile and I knew that I couldn’t work on it or post something new OAFT-related without doing this. Now, I don’t really have Beth adjusting to life in Storybrooke, so much as her family’s reactions to her return, namely Harrison’s because he is legitimately the sanest and most well-adjusted member of the Jones family, and I say that objectively. He is. So, I felt his POV might be best for this chapter or coda or whatever. Anyway, a special thanks to @shireness-says and @optomisticgirl for allowing me to spam them with this nonsense. I hope you enjoy it. There’s a bit of Arabic in it, but it’s translated at the bottom.Summary: Beth’s quest for vengeance against her boyfriend’s killer goes a bit haywire when she and her former best friend Jim Hawkins are sent into thirty years into the past. Now, they must figure out how to find a way back to the future without wrecking the first meeting between Beth’s parents, Emma Swan and Killian Jones. Rating: T+Chapters:  One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Epilogue | Coda IWord Count: 4,300+

–

The large clock on the wall said 6:30am and years ago that would have meant that it was way too early for him to be up, but Harrison Jones didn’t sleep anymore. Time had simply muddled together and all that mattered was that he got at least one cup of coffee on the hour or his brain was going to ooze out of his ears. He wasn’t quite what he was going to die from first – his heart exploding or exhaustion.

His fingers tap impatiently against the kitchen counter as he stared down the ancient machine gurgling to life. He never liked coffee, in fact he hated the very taste of it, but it become so integral to his daily functions that he no longer gagged at the bitter taste.

Feeling agitated, he began rummaging sluggishly through the cabinets in search of the sugar. When he found the container in the back of the spice shelf completely empty, he threw it against the wall while muttering dark curses under his breath. He knew exactly who was behind this crime against humanity. No one had a bigger sweet tooth than Wes and he had a tendency of finishing off products without replacing them.

He hoped his younger brother’s wifi wasn’t working this morning. The asshole deserved it.

Bitter and disappointed, he put as much cream into his coffee as he could. Taking a seat at the breakfast table, he picked up his kindle and began reading the last few chapters of his Ken Follet novel. The house was quiet at the moment and he was going to enjoy it while it lasted. As long as he had been alive, the Swan-Jones house had been one prone to chaos and any lull of silence was worth its weight in gold.

“Holy Christ, Harrison, you still live here? At twenty-seven? Jesus.”

The coffee mug slipped from his fingers, missing the table by a fraction of a hair and falling to the floor with a loud crash. Pieces of ceramic glass shattered as they made contact with the hard tile, scattering everywhere.

Harrison barely registered it.

He was too busy staring at a ghost.

She looked so much older and impossibly thinner than the last time he saw her, but there was no mistaking the green of those eyes and that riot mess of untamed dark hair. His sister, whom he hadn’t seen in three years, was standing in the doorway in a probably the most dramatic pirate gear that he had ever seen.

“خرة,” he breathed out in disbelief.

“What did you just swear at me?”

“In Arabic, yes,” he responded faintly.

“I’ve never been prouder of you,” she laughed merrily, tossing her hair over her shoulder. He continued to gape at her, unable to process what exactly was happening.

“I swear. Always have. I’m not a saint, despite what you all think.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father move past his sister as if everything was normal and ordinary. Without even commenting on the broken mug at Harrison’s feet, Killian Jones made a beeline for the coffee machine and made himself a cup. He offered no comment on the fact his long-lost daughter was standing in his kitchen.

“Are you going to just gawk at me like an idiot or are you going to say something?” His sister asked somewhat impatiently, crossing her arms in front of her chest and arching her eyebrow at him mockingly.

“You’re alive?”

“Did you think I was dead?” She snorted in amusement at the question, but Harrison didn’t find anything about this to be funny.

“Well, yes.”

“Well, considering I’m standing right in front of you. I can assure you, I’m alive.”

“Considering how sleep deprived I am, I was convinced you were a hallucination.”

She scoffed at him, stepping forward. She rose up on the tips of her toes and poked him between the eyebrows like she used to do back when they were kids; back when she was trying to get his attention away from his guitar. It was annoying then and Harrison found it even more annoying now.

“I can’t believe you thought I was dead. I’m insulted.”

“Well, I haven’t heard from you in three fucking years, Beth. What the hell was I supposed to think?”

“That’s…fair…I guess,” she replied. She took a step backwards, shifting on her feet uncomfortably. The move reminded him of when they were younger. She always did that whenever she was caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Simpler times.

Her eyes shifted back towards their father who was still leaning across the cabinets, watching them both with tired eyes. She seemed to be silently pleading with him.

“Don’t look at me,” he said to her as he took a sip of his coffee. “This is your hole to dig out of, not mine.”

“Thanks Dad,” she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“No problem, minnow. I told you this wasn’t going to be easy.”

“Yeah, you got that right.”

“Well, honestly, Beth, what did you expect?” Harrison replied, raising to his height and crossing his arms in front of his chest, anger fueling him faster than caffeine could ever have. “I hate to be repetitive, but it can’t be ignored. It’s been three years. Three fucking years. No phone call. No note. No nothing. You just vanished. As if it was nothing. As if we were nothing.”

“I understand why you’re mad. Look, I get it —"

“No, Beth. You don’t get it,” he interrupted, nostrils flaring in anger.

She flinched at his words, but he having a hard time feeling sympathetic. Her disappearance had nearly torn them all apart. He still remembered the sound of their mother crying in the back room of the police station, the amount of times he had to walk their father back to the house because he had drunk himself into a stupor on the docks waiting for her to come back and how they had put Ned through counseling because he thought it was all his fault. He could see Wes in his mind’s eye running himself ragged trying to find the right locator spell and how he had torn through her room trying to find a single strand of hair to use.  He could still recall the nights of he stared blankly at sheets of paper, unable to write music because his mind kept drifting back to her and the maelstrom of emotion she had left inside of him. His knuckles were still scarred for the times he had tried to beat his self-loathing and anger into a punching bag until it broke, and sand spilt onto the floor of his basement. She owed him at least seven bags.

“You don’t get it,” he repeated. “And you don’t get to say that because you weren’t here and that isn’t okay. This entire family almost crumbled when you left. Ned almost failed out his senior year and almost didn’t get into college.”

“Ned’s in college?” She whispered in disbelief.

“Yeah. He’s in his second year and if you were here, you would have known that!”

“That’s not fair, Har.”

“No. What’s not fair is that we’re still picking up the pieces that you left behind and now you think that can be just swept under the rug.”

“Harrison.” Their father straightened himself up, giving him a warning look. “Enough.”

“Are you kidding me right now? I know she’s your favorite but this is ridiculous! She broke our hearts! She broke your heart, Dad!  You drank yourself into the bottom of a bottle waiting for her to come back! You’re just going to let bygones be bygones?”

“I don’t have favorites, Har.”

“Bullshit. Look me in the eye and tell me if I pulled the fucking nonsense she did that you wouldn’t punch me in the face if I dare showed my face afterwards.”

A muscle in Killian’s jaw ticked and there was a dangerous look in his eyes, but Harrison stopped being scared of his father the minute he was taller than him.

“Don’t go putting words into my mouth, lad. I never said any of that. There is a time to address things. And that time isn’t now. Right now, let’s focus on the fact that your sister is home.”

Harrison worried at his jaw, glaring at him. He took three steps forward, away from his sister and crowded into his father’s personal space. Any other man would have shrunken away from a fight with a man of Harrison’s stature, but not Killian Jones. He met his son’s gaze with his own furious blue eyes, straightening his shoulders and refusing to backdown. For a brief moment, Harrison thought his father might actually punch him.

“Good morning everyone.”

The tension in the room was immediately cut by the appearance of Nasira. She gave them all a tired smile as she walked into the kitchen, their three-month old son cradled in her arms. Harrison immediately turned his back on his father and ignored the choked noises Beth was making in the background. His focus was on the love of his life and his infant son.

“هلتتصرفبنفسك?” She asked him, raising her eyebrows at him as she rose up on her toes to kiss his chin. He was making an effort not to be insulted by her insinuations about his behavior.

“دائما.”

She gave him a look like she didn’t quite believe his reassurances but didn’t say anything to him as she adjusted her hold on their son and turning to address his sister.

“Hey Beth. It’s been awhile. When did you get in?”

All three Joneses jolted at Nas’s nonchalance. Her tone held no underlaying sarcasm or anger. It was a friendly, casual remark, as if she were talking to someone that she had seen almost every day of her life. Killian nearly spat out his coffee while Beth stared at her, clearly shaken by the question.

“She got in this morning,” Harrison answered tersely, scowling still.

“توقف,” Nas responded, striking Harrison across the abdomen in reproach. She then turned her attention back to Beth and smiled at her. “Your brother can be an ass.”

“I’m well aware,” Beth managed to croak out, still looking a bit uneasy. “You’re too good for him.”

“Absolutely not. I can be an ass too. We’re just the perfect amount of ass for each other,” Nas responded with a laugh. “But how have you been?”

“Busy. But you seem to have been busy as well…” She gestured to the child in Nas’s arms.

“Yeah, yeah, I definitely have,” Nas beamed. “Between him and his brother, I’ve been very busy.”

“B-brother?” Beth’s eyes went wide. “You have more than one?”

“Yep! I had Sam nearly three years ago. He was a bit of a surprise, but we loved him so much that we decided to have another. We’ve had Kam for three months now and he seems pretty good, so I think we’re gonna keep him.”

“You have babies.” Beth looked like she was one second away from having a panic attack.

“Yep!” Nas responded brightly, deliberately ignoring his sister’s obvious discomfort. “They’re great. I would ten out of ten recommend.”

“I don’t think that’s in the cards for me.”

“Nas, my love, my jewel,” Harrison spoke up, giving Nas a tight smile. “I’m so glad you’re happy and proud of our children, but I feel the need to point out to everyone, because clearly seems you’ve all forgotten, but Beth has been out of our lives for three years. She left us. For three years. Without a word.”

“Harrison, my love, my sweet, gentle, understanding man,” she responded, giving him the same time smile and now speaking a sugary tone that belayed a message that was more steely than sweet. “I’m so glad that you’re happy for my happiness, but I feel the need to remind you that this is Storybrooke. We deal with all sorts of things from time-traveling witches, cursed gems, megalomaniacs and not to mention brothers who try to pull political coups to try and steal your kingdom. This family drama? It’s honestly just a blimp on the radar. We’re getting married. Your sister is going to be in the wedding party. I’m not having the groom feuding with his sister.”

“You guys seriously aren’t married yet?” Beth asked in disbelief.

“No,” they answered at the same time, Harrison sounding angry while Nas was wistful.

Beth immediately turned to their father. Killian merely shrugged his shoulders at her and sipped his coffee.

“I don’t know why you keep looking at me for answers. You’re all adults. I have no control over your decisions.“

“We just haven’t found the right time,” Nas replied, giving a placating smile.

It was then that Kam started crying and Nas began making shushing noises, bouncing him up and down in hopes of calming him. Harrison envied his infant son’s ability to be so free with how he felt. He wanted to scream too.

Harrison opened his mouth to make a comment but was stopped when the front door opened loudly, and a very familiar voice called out.

“Good morning Vietnam!” Wes shouted merrily, making his way towards the kitchen. Harrison winced at the volume, afraid that his brother was going to wake his still sleeping three-year old and their mother.

Wes seemed to be in good cheer, chuckling to himself as he swaggered in. He was dressed in a black leather jacket and the tightest pair of pants that Harrison had ever seen. The smell of cigarettes immediately filled the kitchen and it was quite clear that he had come to the house straight from closing up the bar.

The smirk died the second Wes’s eyes land on their sister. For a brief moment, the entire room was silent, save for the tail end of Kam’s whimpering. No one spoke as Wes stared at Beth. Their eyes met for exactly five seconds. Harrison counted them.

“Nope,” Wes said quietly, shaking his head and turning on his heel.

“Wes!” Beth shouted, stepping forward to run after him.

He stopped at the sound of her voice. He turned again to face them, his face pinched with concern. He tilted his head and took a tentative step towards her.

“Guys,” he said slowly, still staring at their sister. “Don’t get mad at me, but I think I might be a little high from getting hotboxed all night at the Hole…because I’m legit seeing Beth right now and there’s no way that could possibly be happening right now.”

Beth scoffed, rolling her eyes at him.

“Good to see you haven’t changed a bit.”

“She’s snarking me right now. Fake Beth is snarking me, guys.”

“Fake Beth is Real Beth and she’s five seconds from punching you in the face.”

“And now, she’s threatening me!”

“We know,” Nas snorted. “She’s real and we can hear her and so help me, Westley Jones, if you’re high around my children, I will castrate you with a rusty spoon.”

“Oh,” Wes blinked dumbly before turning to look at their father. “Dad, I’m going to need your flask, because…damn.”

“Sorry, it’s empty,” Killian responded, not looking up from his coffee. It was very clear to everyone in the room that he was lying.

“Okay,” Wes responded, drawing a shaky breath before heading towards the sink. "This calls for drastic measures.”

He bent down and took out the emergency bottle of rum that they kept behind the dog treats. He uncorked it and placed it down on the counter before grabbing a clean glass from the drying rack. He contemplated it for about three seconds before placing the glass back down and deciding to drink straight from the bottle. He took a long drag from it before turning to address them.

“Okay, good,” he said, smacking his lips. “Good. Now I can deal with this.”

“Are you going to share that?” Beth asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely not. You owe me at least ten years of alcohol.”

“I was gone for only three!”

“Yeah, three years plus the seven extra years I’m going to spend talking about this in therapy. Welcome home, sis.”

“You’re an ass.”

“So are you,” he replied, taking another sip. “It runs in the family.”

“Why am I not surprised that you’re taking this so casually?” Harrison snapped, feeling irritated.

“Well, to be honest, I’m still not convinced I’m not hallucinating right now and it seems kinda silly to argue with a hallucination.”

“Trust me, I thought she was a hallucination too, but I got past that pretty quickly.”

“Yeah, well, you’re more well adjusted than me. I’m a little mad at my subconscious right. I mean, seriously? My sister? Why couldn’t my hallucinations be more hot? Kate Hudson? Sienna Miller? Giselle? Something I could actually enjoy seeing?”

Beth moved forward and hit Wes across the shoulder. He let out a yelp of pain, massaging his shoulder and glaring at her.

“See? Not a hallucination.”

“God, I forgot how vicious you are.”

“You’ve gotten soft without me.”

“Well, it’s not like I have any good sparing partners. The last time Harrison and I fought, he picked me up and tossed me over the fence like I was Benny Booth.”

“Benny Booth?” Nas asked, frowning in confusion.

“The asshole who nearly knocked up our sister. Harrison threw him over a fence, except he didn’t quite clear it and Moe French had a fence with an ass shaped cut out for like three weeks,” Wes explained with a quirk of his lips.

“He didn’t nearly knock me up,” Beth scowled.

“Henry bought you a pregnancy test. He nearly knocked you up,” Wes volleyed back at her.

At that comment, their father spat out his coffee and began to cough profusely. Harrison gave him a healthy whack on the back.

“He did not!”

“He did!”

“He. Did. Not.”

“Yes. He. Did. Your eggo was almost preggo.”

“Ugh! Stop talking! To think I actually missed you!”

“You actually missed us? Wow, maybe you’re the one whose gone soft.”

“Beth?”

Their mother was standing halfway down the stairs, staring at her daughter the same way Harrison and Wes had previously – like she was looking at a ghost. Beth returned her gaze with one of her. This time she didn’t look self-assured, however. She looked on the verge of tears.

“M-mo-mom?”

“Beth? Is that you? Is that my daughter?”

Emma didn’t wait for an answer. She raced down the stairs, nearly tripping over the final step. The stumble seemed to wake something inside of Beth because she finally regained her senses and was scrambling past Wes to meet her. Their mother grabbed onto their sister’s arms and yanked her almost violently forward. Beth fell into her arms and a loud, almost inhuman sob sounded through the entire kitchen as the two embraced each other, rocking side-to-side in a forceful but erratic sway.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Beth’s voice was muffled by Emma’s shoulder, but Harrison could still hear her words as she kept repeating them like a broken record.

“You’re home” was their mother’s mantra. He could tell by the waver in her voice that Emma was also crying.

Harrison couldn’t stand it.

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He couldn’t handle this any longer. If he stayed, he was going to break something. His father and Wes’s easy acceptance of Beth had been hard enough to swallow but seeing their mother tearful and happy to see the daughter that had abandoned them was just too much.

Nas seemed to sense this.

“هلانتبخير?” she asked, looking at him in concern.

“Can you give me the baby?” he asked in a barely measured tone. “I’m thinking he could use some air.”

Nas studied his face for a moment, frowning. He briefly thought she might not comply with his request, but she gave him a curt nod and handed over their son without a word. Kam was whimpered loudly, clearly unhappy with being given over to his father.

“Thank you,” he murmured, bending down to kiss her cheek before making his escape.

While everyone was focused on the reunion between mother and daughter, Harrison made his escape with his son in his arms. He went out the back door and leaned against the deck railing, staring out into the backyard at the old rusted swing set. It had been a long time since anyone had used those swings and he tried to think of the last time Lucy had used them.

It was equally surreal and frightening to think that his own children would soon be old enough to use them.

“Do me a favor, bud, and don’t grow up too fast,” he murmured to the infant.

Kam stared up at him crankily but waving his arm in displeasure and hitting him across the nose. Harrison jolted at the unexpected contact, rearing his head back away from his son. He adjusted his hold so he could massage his injured nose. He felt equal parts proud and embarrassed about getting whacked in the face by a mere infant. It was almost comical.

“You might have more Jones in you than we realized,“ he mused aloud, trying to appease his unhappy son.

“Which is a bit shocking considering he’s your kid and you’re a helluva lot more Charming than you are Jones,” a voice called out.

Beth.

She was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her chest and looking at him with pensive expression.

“Aren’t you supposed to be chatting with Mom?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“You know when you do that, you look disturbingly like Dad. Like really disturbingly like Dad. I didn’t really see it when we were kids, but I can see what everyone was saying now. You look a lot like him.”

“So I’ve been told,” he responded, eyebrow lifting even higher on his forehead. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

“I am,” she nodded.

“You know, when people ask questions, they kinda expect a response.”

“Those people should get used to disappointment.”

“They already have.”

Beth flinched, staring down at her feet and biting her lip.

“Look, I know you hate me, but —”

“Beth, I don’t hate you,” he cut her off. “I honestly wish I did. Things would be easier then. If I hated you, I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t have lost sleep worrying about you for the last three years. I wouldn’t have cried. I wouldn’t have let Nas stall the wedding for you.”

“Nas stalled the wedding? What!” She looked horrified.

“She accepted my proposal and refused to plan the wedding without you,” Harrison responded, trying to keep his voice even. “She said if you weren’t there, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You can be sorry. I’m glad to hear it in fact, but that doesn’t mean I have to forgive you…”

“I know,” she sighed. “I know. And I don’t blame you.”

“I love you. You’re my sister and you’re always going to be my sister, and someday I’ll probably forgive you, but I can’t today. Not today. There’s been too much pain, Beth. I can’t just forget that. I can’t look at you without thinking about how Dad destroyed his liver over you, how Mom threatened the Dark One to find you and how they tracked to track you for years despite the fact you obviously bought protection spells against that. I can’t just forget that Ned went to actually depression and almost stopped playing baseball, which he loves more than life itself. Henry worried himself sick enough he had ulcers. And Wes? Wes was so focused on finding you, he forgot to shower and Gideon begged me to come over and literally force him away from his research. I can’t just get past that. I’m not like that them, I can’t forgive and forget like that. I know you guys like to call me perfect and if I was, I could forgive you, but I can’t.”

“Oh, Harrison, they haven’t forgiven me,” she laughed bitterly. “No one is letting me off the hook. They’re just in shock right now. Like you said, I’ve been gone for three years. Once that shock fades away, the anger will be there. Just you wait.”

“That anger is justified.”

“I know that,” she snapped, hot angry tears spilled down her cheeks. “Lord knows, I know that. I know I deserve it. I half expected to be disowned upon arrival.”

“We don’t do that.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” she replied, wiping her cheeks and turning away from him. “I’ve come to except the worst.”

“Expect the worst but hope for the best.��

“Hope is a very dangerous thing. Nothing worse than false hope.”

“Dangerous, but powerful. A little hope can go a long way, Beth. You’ve proved that, yourself.“

"You really are a Charming. You legit sound like Grandma.”

“I know you’re trying to mock me but I’m being serious,” Harrison replied, slightly frustrated. “The thing about hope is that…it can drive you, but it can’t take you all the way there. You have to put the work in too…No one is going to forgive you unless you actually try. Don’t just say you’re sorry. Show us you’re sorry. Until you put your money where your mouth is, nothing is going to get accomplished. I can’t forgive you until I see it.”

“That’s what Dad said…That the path to forgiveness…I need to put the work in.”

“He would know better than anyone else,” Harrison said gently. “And I’ve never known you to back down from a challenge.”

“Never,” she responded fiercely, eyes flashing with determined. And for the first time since he saw her, Harrison felt a flash of warmth. He had missed her fire.

“Good.”

He pushed himself away from the railing, tightening his hold on Kam as he did so. He made his way towards the doorway, his sister watching him warily. He bent forward and placed a brief kiss on her cheek.

“Nice to see you, Beth.”

“Nice to see you too, Har.”

–

خرة - shitهلتتصرفبنفسك - are you behaving yourself?دائما - alwaysتوقف - stopهلانتبخير - Are you okay?

[mnemehoshiko]

I Really Should Just Invest In Naps + TMI: HEALTH STUFF (x-posted DW/PF)

I'm so tired. I really need to think of a better way of starting these beyond, "hi hello. i am tired. ONCE A FUCKING GAIN."

My parents came Thursday evening to help my brother move on Friday. He's moving apartments and i'm lowkey jealous because he has

TWO ROOMS!!!

A REAL BATHROOM!!

a fucking washer and dryer in unit

all utilities covered except for internet

for fucking 950/month. T___T

The only con is that he's farther from things compared to his, now, prior apartment. Also it's carpeted which is a downside for me (and probably him). But ughhhhh.

But he did most of the movie on his own before they showed up on Friday? So they didn't have a lot left to move.

Mama brought me pillows?? Which are Nice and Lovely and I like the Color but it was also just weird to go downstairs to let them in and have the exchange of

Me: SALAAM MOM

Mother: Salaam, I have your pillows. *thrusts garbage bag filled with pillows at moi*

Me:*blinks* (thinking....when....did I....ask....for pillows??? In retrospect, it was probably one of those things I like claimed when grandma posted stuff to the family WhatsApp group?? And I probably?? Forgot???) Mother: *squints* you just woke up didn't you. Me, who got dressed in like 3 minutes immediately after she called saying they were here: *takes pillows* =__= (I had Not Just Woken Up. I had woken up and then rolled over. VAST DIFFERENCE!! ....there is no difference.) (In my defense, my period has literally Just Started and I'm like Not Happy By This. T_T) They ask if I want to come to my brother's place to move stuff and I'm like, "i'll go on the second round." (also known as attempt to clean my apartment, haahhahaha) I help with the second round of stuff and we all pile into the mini-van to go my brother's place and it's NICE and I am Not Envious but I'm Not Not Envious. =___=

He has Actual Windows. T__T (my bedroom does not. my apartment...has A Lot of Flaws but It's Walking Distance From Many Things So I'm Paying for Convenience) (is this my current mantra? MAYBE.) Anyway, afterwards we go to Costco because like That Is What I Care About. And we Costco'd up. And had minor rage that a pack of 3, clinical strength "lady" deodorants were 12.99 vs 10.99 for 5 pack of "men" clinical deodorant. My brother concurred and has like also read up on the "pink tax" before and like if he ends up marrying a lady, I'M JUST LIKE??? CONGRATS?? WE HAVE TRAINED SOME SEMBLANCE OF A WOKE BLACK MALE. PLEASE DIRECT PRAISE TO MY MOTHER AND MY SISTERS. (no really, he can cook, clean, grocery shop, basically function as a decent human being and like LISTENS WHEN WOMEN TALK IN A THOUGHTFUL MANNER. He also is willing to openly weep during movies, so like congrats.) Anyway, then we went to Sprouts?? Which is like the Large Hippie Grocery Store in Durham and I uhhhh had never been there properly and now I understand why little brother sometimes grocery shops there. There were So Many Types of Almond Milk I Was In Heaven. (update: have discovered that Sprouts....instacarts to my area......as does Sur la Table. This Is Dangerous Information.) Then we went to the hardware store to acquire somethings for little bro's apartment and then we popped back to my place and my mother was like LET ME HELP YOU WITH THINGS. Me, aware my apartment is still disastrous: "That's....not....necessary." Narrator: The mother was undeterred. She did not have a conniption but she did go into Deep Maternal Worry Mode with Bonus Overbearing and Meddling Steamrolling. Internal Me: She means well. She means well. She feels guilty that she's not Around More Often Even Though I Made The Choice To Move Down South. Mother: are you okay? I know you have the anxiety and depression but has anything else happened?? You know?? You'd feel better if this place was cleaner. Me: *pained nods* Mother: Has anything else happened that you haven't told us??? I know you have the health things but anything else? Me: ...no??? (Beyond health and like my inability to like sleep properly, nothing else has happened but stress of my grad life. =_=_ Mother: LETS TAKE JUST 5 MINUTES AND TIDY THINGS UP A LITTLE

Me, who's hungry and still Has Not Eaten In Spite of It Being 5pm: mother Mother, with broom and dustpan and trashbag: COME ALONG. Internal Me: She means Well. At Least She Is Here And Alive. Appreciate The Time You Have With Her. She Means Well. *grits teeth* We clean. WE ALMOST THROW AWAY ONE OF MY ROTHYS BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T LOOK INSIDE  BOXES BEFORE THROW SHIT OUT!!! And then we go to the restaurant for dinner....where the kitchen messes up my little brother's order and has chapati on the plate and he has a severe wheat allergy. So he takes Benadryl and my mother....goes into....deep worry mode Again. SHOULD WE LEAVE HIM AT HIS APARTMENT BY HIMSELF???? SHOULD WE TAKE HIM TO THEIR HOTEL??

my mother, once again, making plans without idk ASKING EITHER PARTY INVOLVED: MNEME, YOU SHOULD STAY AT HIS PLACE OVERNIGHT!! HE HAS A WASHER AND DRYER SO YOU CAN DO YOUR LAUNDRY THERE FOR FREE!!! me, a known cheap but is fucking exhausted and trying desperately to Not Snap At My Mother Because That Is Not Respectful But Also Looking Forward to Flopping on Her Fucking Couch and Maybe Even Getting A Waterbottle for my tummy: ....yes mother. =___= My dad upon seeing my mother and I exiting the apartment complex with my laundry: ???? Me, wordlessly pleading for salvation: o__o My mother, once we get to my brother's apartment: ....you know I probably should have asked before making this plan... My brother and I having Just Accepted Our Fate: *crickets* I give my brother the air mattress to blow up until he gets a Real Bed, (the place came unfurnished--which is the other reason I haven't moved because i'd need to like Get Furniture And At This Stage of My PhD, It's Just Not Worth It--so he has No Furniture At All). I sleep on the floor instead of telling my brother to just scoot over and let me ALSO SLEEP on the mattress which is a Queen-sized mattress. Nor does it occur to him to offer it to me. *stares into the void at my back* (In her defense, she did message us apologizing and I know she wasn't doing it maliciously and she's over zealous at times because she feels bad that like I'm a few hundred miles away. Alone. By myself. Single and thus don't have like anyone who's there for emotional support which like does suck but also I AM DOING... Not Amazing But Not As Bad As Undergrad? So...yeah.) I do all my laundry except for like One set that I do in the morning because my father is slow as molasses for Anything and I Know That While My Mother Wants To Leave Early they will not be here early and I have accepted this reality. Mother: WE'RE GOING TO BE THERE By 7:30 AT THE LATEST Narrator: They arrived around 10ish. We still managed to get to the farmers markets though? WHICH IS WHAT I WANTED HER TO EXPERIENCE. NC may not have Many Good Things but The Farmer Markets are So So Nice?? And big??? I have also realized if you wear a shirt that says "Ask me, I'm a scientist!" Shockingly, people read it and like ASK. Me, who slept in this shirt and threw a cardigan on because I was Too Lazy To Put On A Real Adult Shirt: ????? ! oooohhhhh... i do science. yes. yes, i do. Also got my brother to change his address because the voter registration folks were there and like IT'S EASIER TO DO IT THERE then like Figure Out Where To Go, so like We Did Our Civic Duty Today. *finger guns* Got some loaves of GF bread from the bread seller that sells Actual Edible GF bread. Sadly, they were out of raisin because it was 11am and like they open at 7am. T___T

Then we grabbed my dad, who went to the coffee shop....to work. It's been almost a full year since his open-heart surgery and he's back to being a Workaholic. =___=

Then we went to Lowes because he needed something and my parents FAILED TO COMMUNICATE PLANS and he was like...."oh I thought we were going to do it on the way back to MD??". Either way, I now have an adapter to make a three pronged plug into a two pronged one? So yay?

Then we took me, and my laundry, back to my place. My mother gave yet more instructions. I just smiled and nodded and reminded that she meant well.

And then ran back to the car because SHE WAS SO INSISTENT ON LIKE MOVING MY LAUNDRY BASKETS THAT SHE ALMOST LEFT HER MEDS BEHIND!! Me, ....this...is why....i said.... i could do it.......

But they are now back safely in MD, along with my brother because he has an orhto appointment. I was debating going back with them but I uh can't because I have a meeting with my PI on wednesday. And thus, I stay here. But I have a lot of article revisions and analyses to do so it sadly makes sense.

Maybe I'll try to go NY in Aug or mid-July?

IN FUN HEALTH THINGS, new game that I hate; "is this blood from my period or from my ass?" Spoiler: It's both~~~." Which now makes me regretting uh telling the gastro office that "no, I don't have symptoms so I don't think the steroid is necessary??" But in my defense, I DIDN'T HAVE SYMPTOMS ON WEDNESDAY WHEN THEY CALLED. Also they uh, usually are 3-6 months apart not 1.5 months...apart. So that was an unpleasant surprise which led to me pass out in bed when my parents left because ahhahahaha blood loss is v v exhausting and I forgot to pack my iron pills last night.

-____-

So, my mother is coming down again in July to take me to my sigmoidscopy. In which, they'll see things. Or they won't. I hope they see something? Anything? I don't want UC but I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW

- why i've been constantly inflamed since 2015?

- i know what hemorrhoidal bleeding looks like and uhhhhh i'm sorry but I shouldn't be dropping Actual Clots Out Of My Ass

*lies down*

i just want to not be tired and my intestines to not hate me as much. =_=

Okay, I am Going To Actually Sleep After I Knock Back Some Licorice Tea for my throat. (it's....super sore for some reason which is Not Great since I have D&D tomorrow most likely.)

[oddeyecadia]

what if it’s us? (ch. 2)

a/n: okay so i didn’t notice i put “dorm” instead of “apartment” in the first chapter. my mistake. pidge lives in an apartment.

also posted on ao3 | ch. 1

Tired. Pidge was feeling extra tired today. So tired that it wasn't even a feeling for her anymore, it was her whole existence. Her eyes felt heavy, head spinning slightly. She had pulled several all nighters this week to work on papers and review for the upcoming finals. All nighters were her thing, she was used to it, the girl never slept. But everyone had their limits, and Pidge just reached hers.

"You should rest, Pidge. You look exhausted." The girl on the desk said.

Pidge responded, leaning her arms on the desk. "It's fine, Allura. I look like this everyday."

That made her co librarian giggle. Allura's smile was just so pretty. Wait, no, her whole being was pretty. No doubt, anyone who'd meet this woman for the first time would immediately fall in love with her and her beautiful dark skin, soft voice, long dyed white hair, and sparkly blue eyes. They weren't as sickeningly blue as Lance's though–

Shit. Not again. This was approximately the fifteenth time Lance just randomly popped out of her mind. Why was everything always had to be about that loud mouth? Stupid tired mind, stupid soulmate.

"I am truly sorry for not being able to help you these past few weeks. I'll make it up to you. I shall take shelf duties tomorrow if that's to your liking."

Ignoring the fact how, as always, Allura talked like one of those professionally written royal proclamations in old movies, Pidge responded with a thankful smile. "That'd be great. How's your foot though? Are you sure it's okay for you to move around?"

Allura and Pidge started working at one of their college libraries a couple months back for they were both part of a placement program for the Computer Science and Literature students that Altea University had. Pidge was originally placed at the tech desk, though that station wasn't very active in that particular college library so they just decided to also give her normal library duties along with Allura.

After their first week however, Allura had to take a few days off because of a terrible, heartbreaking accident– she fell off the stairs when she tried to run in heels, trying to prove to her friends that Cinderella's sonic run on the castle's massive stairs away from the Prince was impossible. She proved her point well. –that caused major injury on her left foot. The poor girl was supposed to let it rest for a month, and she did but she was still in the healing process, Pidge didn't want to let her do tasks that required a lot of walking on her first day back.

"Don't worry, it's alright now. Though I still need to keep the bandages for a couple more weeks, my doctor said that it would be best for me to do leg and feet activities and exercises."

Pidge tried to look at Allura's foot just to check and failed miserably for it was impossible to see with this huge desk in the way. "Okay. Shelf duties is yours tomorrow then."

"Splendid!" Allura said cheerfully. "So, anything interesting happened while I was gone?"

Pidge's expression immediately fell at the question. "Oh I have a lot to tell–"

"Pidge!" Speaking of.

"Lance." She said stoicly to the tall guy that just entered the library, carrying what seemed to be an old laptop.

"Oh thank God. Help me." He quickly slammed the laptop on the desk. "I think I accidentally put virus in– Well, hello there." His paniced expression was immediately replaced by a cheeky, suave look with that toothy grin of his as soon as his eyes fell on Allura. The shorter girl rolled her eyes. Typical Lance.

Pidge couldn't help but chuckle when Allura only responded by giving him a confused, uncomfortable look. "Allura, this is Lance. Don't worry, he's not as creepy as he looks."

"Uhm? Ouch."

"A friend of yours?"

"Unfortunately, yeah." The short haired answered, completely unaware of how fond she sounded.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." Lance turned to Allura with a flirty smirk. "So uh, you come here often?"

"I work here, as you can see."

Covering her mouth, Pidge tried her hardest not to burst out laughing. No wonder this boy was single. Using her other hand, she tugged on Lance's jacket. "You're such a flop. Let's go, lover boy, we're blocking the desk."

With a heated face, Lance took his laptop with him and let himself get pulled by his small friend.

"Okay. Back to my laptop." He said, a little aggressively, trying to take his own and Pidge's attention away from what just happened as he sat on a random table that was fairly far from the main desk. "Can you check if there's any virus or something? It kept crashing after I connected one of my group mates' usb in here."

Finally clearing her throat to end her non stop giggling, she then spoke. "Let me see." Pidge sat beside him, moving the laptop a little to face her. She hissed, her vision blurring slightly at the screen's blinding light. She literally felt like her eyeballs were about to fall off. "God, turn down the brightness." And she did with a few clicks. It was kind of ironic how her world revolved around computers yet it was also the one that just caused her pain. Technically, it was the lack of sleep but she lived for the ironies.

"You okay?" Lance asked in a very worried tone with the sincerest concerned look that made her heart skip a bit.

"Yeah." She said, trying to focus on examining the files and whatnot in his computer.

His eyebrows furrowed as he continued staring at her, slowly noticing the little things that clearly didn't scream I'm okay, like how extra pale she looked and how the bags under her eyes seemed to be darker than normal. "Oh really?"

"Yes, Lance. I'm perfectly fin–" The boy placed his forehead on hers. "W-What are you doing?"

Her body froze but her face heated up. Shit. Shit. Shit. Pidge thought. Just when she thought the situation couldn't get more embarrassing, she heard a student quote. "What the fuck? Is that allowed?"

Suddenly she wasn't as pale anymore. Lance placed his hand on the back of her head for steadiness. Closing his eyes, he let out a thinking hum, as if he was focusing on whatever he was doing. She felt his breath touching her face, sending shivers down her tiny body. Their faces were so close that she could then see the little freckles on his nose and cheeks. She didn't even know he had those. They were cute. He smelled really nice too.

Before she could even continue her observation and borderline creepy thoughts, Lance finally pulled away.

In her flustered state, she asked. "W-What the fuck was that?"

"You're kinda warm. But not too intense. Though, I can tell you're not feeling well."

"Who in the world checks someone's temperature like that?"

"Me and my whole family. Now, shush. How many hours have you slept last night?"

She scoffed nervously. "Mind your own sleep schedule, McClain."

That was all the reaction he needed. "Pidge, you need rest."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Because you can literally apply as a walking dead extra right now and they'll hire you on the spot. And because you do need rest. Which is why Hunk and I will be going to your place tomorrow night."

Her mind blanked for a moment. A few minutes ago he was just trying to mess with her heart with his unique method of feeling one's temperature, now he wanted to go to her place? "... What? You don't even know where I–"

"You'll take us there of course. You live in an apartment near the campus right? It'll be perfect. Hunk and I would always do something fun on fridays. It's kind of like our rest day. Y'know, away from all the stress and schoolworks. Which you really need right now."

Unbelievable. "No. Lance, I have a shit ton of projects and papers to do."

He shrugged. "So do we. Do you have anything to pass on saturday or sunday?"

"No. But–"

"Great. Take a break with us then. We can watch a movie or play videogames, anything that isn't studying."

"How is that going to help me rest? I–" A groan.

Sighing in defeat, she looked back at his laptop and started updating his anti virus.

Tired. Pidge was too tired to argue and tired enough to deserve a break. She knew it was over once the word videogames came out of his mouth. A little break from school didn't sound that bad too. "Fine." She said unenthusiastically, though deep inside that little body of hers, there was definitely excitement.

Either she was excited about the video games or hanging out with Lance. She hoped it wasn't the latter.

Little did she know that a certain tan skinned boy was ten times more excited than her.

"Your laptop doesn't have any virus, by the way. But you have too many files, that's why it keeps crashing. Seriously, you should get a new hard drive or something. And delete some files that you don't need, you have too many selfies here."

Lance screeched so high it hurt everyone's eardrums. Thou shall not see his unflattering photo booth selfies. "Hey!" Grabbing his laptop from her, he pouted. "You'll never know when I need them."

It was when a few shushes reached him that he once again was reminded of where he was. He was about to apologize when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Reading the text, he cussed. "Shit. Hunk texted, I'm late for practice."

The girl beside her raised a brow. "Hunk's in the dance team?"

"Nah, he just likes watching Shay. I'll see you tomorrow, Pidge!"

Lance then stood up and walked away.

Oh no, wait, he came back. "Oops. Almost, forgot." He grabbed his laptop. "Thanks for this by the way. Bye!" And he was gone.

With a fond smile on her lips, Pidge thought. What a dork. ___

It was about 8:30 PM when Pidge came back to her apartment. She was about to go back to stressing her mind out thinking about school works when the smell of burgers hit her nose as she entered the apartment, making her stomach rumble. Lazily dropping her bag on the couch, she then walked to the kitchen. To her surprise, her roommate was cooking rather than preparing some left overs or take outs like they'd usually do.

His mullet was tied in a small ponytail to avoid pieces of his thick raven hair from covering his face and burning the whole kitchen down again. Long story. "Whatcha cooking?" Pidge asked, leaning her side on their kitchen glass door.

He gave her a quick glance before answering. "Some instant patties I found in the fridge. Have you eaten yet?"

"Nope. Nice scrunchy."

"You gave it to me for my birthday."

"That's why it's nice because I picked it. Red suits you." He could already see the smirk on her face without looking.

"You bought it because you'd literally buy everything that you could make a Heathers reference with."

"Oh, but you loved the movie, Keith. Don't lie."

Saying that Keith and Pidge were best friends would be an understatement. The two didn't immediately get along when they first met at their school's conspiracy club, they went through a whole lot of disagreements and fights. Now, one couldn't even live without the other. No one would've thought that the two most socially inept kids would be this close, but here they were.

Keith was a couple years older than Pidge though, they were the same grade, thanks to her above average intelligence. Thus, they graduated together both with honors, Pidge being their class valedictorian. The two went to different universities but decided to share an apartment for their unis were fairly near each other, they thought it'd be much more convenient if they'd just share an apartment rather than paying a shit ton for a dorm –for it wasn't really part of their scholarship– and force their anti social asses to interact with a random stranger they'd call a roommate. Plus, none of them would admit it but they didn't really want to spend college, or the rest of their lives, without each other.

"By the way," Pidge started, sitting down by their kitchen table as Keith finished preparing their dinner. He took a seat across her. "Matt's visiting next week."

"Oh." She didn't miss the way his body flinched.

"Oh?"

"That's... nice." Keith did a good job keeping a straight face but still failed to hide his emotions for there were tints of pink appearing on his cheeks and ears.

"Try harder." She blurted out. He took a bite of his pattie, violet like eyes avoiding her gaze.

Laughing lightly, she added "Also, a couple of my friends are coming over tomorrow. Get your headphones ready, one of them is obnoxiously loud."

He chuckled teasingly. "You have friends?"

"The fuck do you call yourself then?"

"The JD to your Veronica."

"You know we could be JD and Veronica but you're gay."

Shrugging, he responded. "Yeah, but we're still–"

Keith was then interrupted by the sound of her fork dropping. He was about to ask Pidge if she was okay when she suddenly bent down to grab her left foot, letting out a strangled yelp and startling her best friend. He immediately rushed to her side. "Pidge, what happened!?"

"M-My ankle. It hurts, I-I can't– ah!" Another shot of pain, now in her whole foot, interrupted her panicked explanation. Her ankle and foot throbbed as if the muscles there were twisting roughly by themselves. The worst part was she couldn't remember what caused this. She didn't hit her foot anywhere, she was just eating peacefully when she suddenly felt like something on her ankle popped.

"Shit, what did you do?" Keith asked with obvious concern and panic in his voice.

"I don't know! It just happened!"

"It's probably your fucking soulmate then."

For a moment, the girl was distracted from the pain as she let Keith's words enter her head. A word stood out.

Soulmate.

"Keith, get my phone." He obliged without questioning and gave her the device laying on the table. Once she had it, she quickly searched for a certain lanky boy's number and pressed call.

She waited for about ten seconds before finally losing patience and called Hunk instead. He answered after the second ring. "Pidge!" He said rather joyfully for some reason.

"Hunk!"

"Ah, great timing. Are you okay?" "Is Lance okay?" They spoke at the same time.

A pause.

A realization.

"Oh that's some good evidence right there." Hunk broke the silence.

"What happened to him?"

"The dance team were doing this really dangerous stunt, Lance was a flyer and uh, it happened too fast, I didn't really see but something went wrong with their formation, Lance landed on the wrong foot and might've sprained his ankle." Pidge barely understood what he said for he sounded very shakey and out of breath.

She winced, now feeling the pain spiraling across half of her leg. Keith stayed by her side the whole time. "Where is he now?"

"His team is taking him to the infirmary. I can't catch up cus I hate running and I have his bag but we're on our way."

"Hurry up then! It hurts like hell."

"Okay, okay. At least you got the big evidence you needed right?"

The thought of telling Lance about the whole soulmate thing made her groan and end the call. She felt more worried about him than anything else, however.

She remembered her mother saying that people could only feel 80% of their soulmate's pain. If she was hurt, she couldn't even imagine how much more painful it was for him.

"Lance?..." Pidge heard Keith say. "I hope you're not referring to McClain."

With widened eyes and apparently a sprained ankle, she asked. "You know him?"

"Oh, I do." A horrified expression then formed on his face. "Fuck, don't tell me– is he your?..."

Oh she had a lot to tell him.

___

Rubbing her feet together under the main desk, Pidge clicked her tongue in annoyance, dissatisfied with how she couldn't scratch an itch on her "injured" foot. She really couldn't do anything to ease it for it was beneath her converse, sailor moon socks, and the bandage that Keith forced her to put around her ankle. He was no expert but unlike Pidge, he paid attention to that one basic first aid lesson they had in high school.

Her foot didn't hurt that much anymore, thankfully. It took approximately ten hours for the pain to finally fade enough so that she could walk properly without limping, although her ankle would still feel some tenderness when touched. She thought perhaps it was only a mild sprain. Keith suggested it'd be better if she kept the bandage for a couple more weeks though, just to make sure.

"It'll be helpful to your dumbass soulmate too since they say people's injury would heal faster if their soulmate would also take care of it from their side." She remembered the dark eyed saying while wrapping the thick cloth around her lower foot and ankle.

Keith had been bad mouthing her soulmate since he started giving her multiple random bruises on various parts of her body almost every week when they started college. It was pretty understandable now that she knew her soulmate was on a dance team. Keith was still salty though. It became worse when she told him about who her soulmate was.

Keith was a member of Daibazal University's basketball team. They frequently had matches with Altea and both university's dance team would sometimes do opening performances for said matches. Apparently, Keith and Lance met in one of those matches, in the most unpleasant way that was.

Keith told Pidge about how Lance was so hyped on his seat one time, cheering loudly for Altea and booing too aggressively whenever Daibazal would get a point. His friends were telling him to shut up for once the referee heard him, Altea could lose a point because of the team's audience misbehaviour. He wasn't listening though and Keith just happened to pass by the bench –his coach called for him to rest, for he clearly was exhausted, and let the sub play– causing him to hear the dancer's borderline disrespectful chants. Keith politely asked Lance to turn his voice down or the referee would hear him but the boy was just so hyped that instead of just saying no, he even tried to start a fight. Thankfully, the other members of Altea's dance team were there and Keith wanted to save his energy and adrenaline for the game.

Needless to say, Lance didn't leave a very good first impression on her best friend.

Fortunately, Keith texted her earlier that he would be staying at his calculus partner's dorm to finish a project. Who knew what he would do if he met Lance at their apartment later. He was already in a bad mood when she told him Lance was one of the friends that'd come over at their place tonight. Keith obviously didn't want her alone with the boy. And if she'd be honest, Pidge didn't want that too. She didn't think her heart could take it, having to be alone with her soulmate.

Why? She wasn't sure. But he made her... feel things. Pidge didn't like it when she would feel things before she even knew what the feeling was.

Thankfully, Hunk would also be there.

"Pidge! You ready to go?" The obnoxious legend had entered the library once again with a bright smile.

She shushed him stoicly and waited for a certain food enthusiast to follow. He didn't appear. "Where's Hunk?"

"Oh. He said he couldn't come cause he wasn't feeling well for some reason. Didn't he text you?"

The smaller brunette gave him a confused look before looking at her phone which was on silent. A message from Hunk.

1/2 team punk (6:35 PM): I can't come *cough* *cough* I'm sick 😷

1/2 team punk (6:36 PM): Have fun with Lance tho 😉

She was going to kill him.

Hug him to death rather, because he was still a soft devil and she loved him.

boo u hor :(((

Pidge managed to reply and complete his mean girls reference with composure.

Great. She was stuck with Lance. For the whole night. It confused her how the thought of being alone with him could make her heart pound on her chest like crazy. Before she could even complain, he spoke again.

"Looks like it's just you and me, Pidge."

Something in her stomach fluttered.

"Pidge?" Said girl turned to see Allura approaching the desk. "Do we suppose have any Environmental Science books left?"

Pidge made a quick check on the library computer– which brightness she turned down earlier as to not mess with her tired eyes once again –ignoring how Lance tried to greet her co librarian in the lamest, most flirtatious way possible. Allura only responded with a blank hello.

"We have three copies but only one haven't been borrowed. I don't know where it is though?"

"I'll go take a look. Perhaps it had been misplaced." The older librarian then glanced at Lance before giving Pidge an assuring smile. "If I'm not mistaken, you guys have some plans for tonight, right? You should go ahead. It is almost the end of our shift anyways. I got this."

A blink "You sure?"

"Of course."

She smiled back, feeling absolutely grateful for the angel. "Thanks, Allura."

Hanging her huge black and orange backpack on her slim shoulders, Pidge then stood up and turned her attention to Lance. She was about to ask him if he was ready to go but paused when she noticed him staring at Allura who was walking away. He wore this almost bewitched but thoughtful expression, as if he was internally solving an unknown puzzle, as he looked at her from head to toe. However, Pidge didn't miss how his eyes lingered more downwards.

"If you're staring at her ass, I swear I'll poke your eyes out." Pidge stated irritatingly. It was making her sick morally and emotionally. Mostly, emotionally. Why? Again, she wasn't sure.

"I wasn't! I–"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go." Instead of just going around the desk like a normal person would, Pidge hopped with her right foot, used her arms for support, and went over it. Their head librarian would kill her if she saw that. The strict old lady was on a vacation though, she thanked the universe.

She felt a light throb on her injured foot when she landed, however. It didn't hurt that much but it was there, making her bite her lower lip to prevent herself from reacting.

A wince.

It wasn't Pidge.

"Shit, this foot is killing me." Said Lance.

Oh. She forgot about that. Why she had the "injury" in the first place.

Lance was wearing blue flip flops, making the bandage around his lower left foot and ankle –that was very, yet more professionally done, similar to hers– stand out. Trying to play innocent, Pidge stared at it and asked "W-What happened to your foot?" The concern in her voice was far less from an act.

A light laugh escaped him before responding. "Stunt went wrong, basically. I hope my soulmate is okay."

That last sentence made her stiff slightly. He really did care about his soulmate, didn't he? Technically it was Pidge but he didn't know that. She convinced herself that he only cared about the soulmate that he created in his mind, not Pidge.

"That looks painful." It hurt a lot, actually. She thought. "You sure you can walk? My apartment's a few blocks away."

"Aww, Pidge, you do care."

"I'm leaving you–"

"I mean, yeah! I can totally walk, this is just a mild sprain, no big deal. Let's go!"

The two finally left the library but once they exit the building, Pidge got another text from Hunk that would surely mess with her mind up for the rest of the night.

1/2 team punk (6:45 PM): Btw, please tell me you're going to use this opportunity to tell Lance that you guys are soulmates? I purposely missed a hangout friday to give you this chance! 😩

[phancystuff]

Trying to Remember How it Feels (To Have a Heartbeat) 1/7

Pairing: Dan/ Phil (Phan) Summary: Dan moves into a new apartment in London and, though it’s a step up from his old apartment, his landlord gives him strange warnings while he’s touring the place-- something about the last renters leaving because of ghost sightings. But, Dan doesn’t believe in the supernatural. He quickly changes his tune when he meets Phil Lester, the ghost haunting his apartment. Well, if haunting means quickly becoming the best friend he’s ever had. (Title from Harry Styles’ song Two Ghosts) Notes: This is the first part of my Spooky Week Special! This fic is almost 100% already written and I plan on updating it every day until Halloween. Please note that, although this fic has the warning of major character death, it is not in any way graphic. Tags/ Warnings: ghost au, Halloween, major character death (obv. it’s a ghost au lol), depictions of panic attacks, angst, fluff, HAPPY ENDING, mentions of suicide (it happens in a movie they watch)

Read it on A03 Completed fic masterlist here

Dan woke up that morning in a mood, which is never a good thing when you’re supposed to do something particularly adult-y. Something like tour a new apartment because the one you’re currently living in is literally falling apart at the seams and your neighbors drill ridiculous DIY projects at all hours of the day. Dan’s YouTube channel had been doing pretty well lately, too, and he could finally afford a better apartment. He had made it hard on himself in the beginning by refusing to get a roommate, but he liked his space. It didn’t matter, anyway, it was finally time for him to move up in the world and trade his current hamster cage for a slightly bigger one. And yet, there Dan was, the morning of an apartment tour, on his third coffee, and still feeling like someone had hit him over the head and shoulders while he was sleeping. Sickly sweet Starbucks lattes weren’t even touching his exhaustion; it was that serious. So maybe that’s why, later when Dan was touring this potential apartment, he couldn’t be bothered with the stupid things that were coming out of the landlord’s mouth.

The white, middle aged man, who had introduced himself as Paul, had just closed the door to the master bedroom and was leading Dan to the kitchen when he glanced back at Dan. “Yeah, I just want to give you full, fair warning. The last renters left because they kept seeing a ghost.”

“You don’t say?” Dan hid his eye roll, answering uninterestedly. He didn’t know what the landlord was playing at, but ghosts didn’t exist and this was a nice apartment. He couldn’t be scared away from it. It was an old building, but it had recently been renovated and featured new, shiny appliances. The space wasn’t huge, but it would work perfectly for a 26 year old, single YouTuber. It had a great view of the city and an elevator to aid in the moving process.

“Yeah, ghosts! I mean, I never saw any ghosts, but I do get a weird feeling when I walk around here.” Paul rambled on and Dan leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at him. “From what I hear, the last landlord that owned this property didn’t carefully inspect the place and it ended in some poor bloke dying. Not really sure how; it was back in 2010. But, obviously, everything’s ship shape now.” The man trailed off, gazing around at nothing in particular.

“Uh huh,” Dan answered politely, but distractedly, crouching down to look at the controls on the impressive-looking stove. He wasn’t really listening.

“Oh, yeah! The stove is new and state-of-the-art--” as the landlord barreled into more information about the admittedly nice stove, Dan totally forgot about the weirdo’s ghost comments.

***

A week later, Dan was moving into his new apartment. He had spent a few days weighing his options, but had ultimately decided to apply for the flat that Paul had showed him. The application had been accepted quickly and now Dan was staring at his new home with a large, heavy cardboard box in his arms. Thankfully, his parents and younger brother were kind enough to give up their Saturday to help Dan out. They were hoping to get it all done in a day. Dan glanced back toward the street and felt overwhelmed by all of the boxes, furniture, and stuff in the moving van. As he made trip after trip from moving van to apartment, he felt increasingly thankful for the elevator in the building.

Dan, his parents, and younger brother were in and out of the apartment all morning with boxes and furniture. “Fuck, Dan, when did you get so much shit?” Alex collapsed on the sofa that the four of them had finally fit it into the far corner of the lounge. He glared at Dan, who just rolled his eyes at his moody teenaged brother. Dan couldn’t really say much; he was moody too when he was sixteen. Dan was just glad that he didn’t start his YouTube channel until later in his life. Less cringe-worthy stuff on the internet, that way.

“Sorry Lexy,” Dan put emphasis on his little brother’s childhood nickname, “How about you let me know what I don’t need and I’ll bin it. Would that make you happy?”

Alex puffed out a breath, “Yeah, start with the shoes. You have enough to make the average girl jealous.”

Dan crossed his arms, “sexist little punk.”

“Self-absorbed twat.”

“Wanker.”

“Assho--”

“Boys! Enough.” Their mum suddenly appeared at the opening to the lounge, looking at her offspring disappointedly. “Daniel, you’re 26, you should know better.” Dan looked down at his toes, feeling more remorseful that he was 26 and was still being disciplined by his mum. Alex just looked smug, until their mum turned to him and crossed her arms. “Alex, Daniel is your older brother and he needed our help today. So don’t complain. We’re family, we help each other. That’s what family does.” Alex rolled his eyes in response.

Dan collapsed next to Alex, letting a sigh escape his lips. “Thanks for helping me, you guys. Even though some of us are annoying little pillocks who should be locked in a room until their bodies are no longer being ravaged by hormones--” he looked pointedly at Alex-- “I really appreciate the help.”

“Well, of course you need help, it’s not like you can afford movers on a YouTuber’s salary.” Alex snipped, shoving his shoulder against Dan.

Their mum looked between them with exasperation, throwing her hands up. “I give up! Brothers! So nasty to each other!” She turned around, exiting the flat to get more boxes. Alex giggled.

Dan looked at him unbelievingly. “Did you really just giggle?”

Alex met his stare with furrowed brows, “No, I didn’t fucking giggle. Why would I giggle? The only funny thing here is your career path.” Alex shoved himself off the couch, “come on, you lazy fuck. You aren’t gonna pass all the work off on us.”

“Will you stop being such a prick?” Dan also pushed himself off the couch, already forgetting about the giggle that he had very clearly heard. Instead, he was thinking about offering to order pizza for everyone so they could have a much-deserved lunch break.

***

Later that night, Dan worked in his new bedroom, making his bed and unloading the boxes that had been haphazardly stacked about. The whole process of bringing in his stuff had taken the better part of the day and then his family stuck around to help Dan start to unpack. They didn’t really get far with it, before Dan was insisting that he could handle the unpacking part and that his family had done enough for him. Of course, Alex had made a relieved sassy comment that Dan had ignored and Dan’s mum checked and double-checked that Dan was ok to do it alone. Dan’s dad suggested going out to dinner and everyone had been more than happy to comply.

His family left long ago and Dan was alone in the apartment. It seemed so big and empty. Every footstep seemed to echo. Dan hated new places. It would get better when his stuff was unpacked and arranged. Until then, Dan just blasted some Vampire Weekend and rifled around in the boxes marked ‘bedroom.’ Whenever Dan moved somewhere new, he set his bedroom up first. The bed was the most important thing, especially since it was pushing 10:00 PM and Dan had gotten up disgustingly early that morning. After the bed was made, Dan went through the process of setting up his computer. Connecting to the internet was blessedly easy, but that was because the internet provider had already been in a couple days ago to install the router and ethernet jacks. Dan had stressed to them how important it was to get everything sorted and they had complied.

Fixing up his bedroom also included building his video background, which was always one of his favorite spaces to decorate. Of course, the iconic butt chair was there. He hung fairy lights around his bed frame and delicately put various knick knacks on display on his bedside table. Posters were hung, clothes were folded and stuffed into his chest of drawers, books were fitted into his new bookshelf, bedsheets were smoothed down, and slowly the boxes disappeared. Dan broke them down and slid them in the hallway, promising himself to take care of the pile rather than trip on it for the next two weeks. Before Dan knew it, it was 1:30 AM and he was crashing, quickly.

Dan silenced Ezra Koenig and tore off his clothes, changing into soft pajama bottoms. He lay down on his bed, groaning at the feeling of his aching body sinking into a blessedly comfy memory foam mattress. Dan had paid a small fortune for the bed, but it had been so worth it. He slept like a baby in it. Dan got out his phone, checking his social media accounts for any important updates. He reblogged some fanart on tumblr, watched some of his friends new YouTube videos, and liked some tweets. Dan himself tweeted, ‘of course the first thing i set up in the new flat is my bed. it’s where all the magic happens and by magic i mean sleep.’ Dan spent a few minutes replying with sassy comments to fans, before feeling his eyelids start to drift closed.

“Ugh, the lights. Gotta get the lights.” Dan murmured to himself, forcing his eyes open. He rolled to the left, aiming to get out of the bed, when the lights were suddenly off. Dan perked his head up, looking around in the room that had just been plunged in darkness. He couldn’t see a thing. He groaned, thinking about how he would already have to contact the landlord about electricity problems. “Stupid faulty electricity,” Dan pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Whatever, it can wait until morning.” Dan pushed the bedcovers down, wiggling under them. They were barely over his body when sleep overtook him.  

Dan slept late and when his eyes finally cracked open, the sun was obnoxiously brightening the room. Dan put ‘dark curtains’ on his mental shopping list and pushed the covers off his body. He lay there for a second, observing the ceiling (and praising the lack of cracks in it).

Moments later, his feet touched the floor and he remembered the electricity the previous night. Curious, Dan pushed himself out of bed and padded over to the light switch on the wall. He flicked it experimentally and watched the overhead lights come on and off, on and off. They were working perfectly. There must have been a brief, scarily coincidental, power outage the previous night.

Dan went into the kitchen and made a coffee and popped some toast into the toaster, thanking both his past self for packing some food to sustain him as he moved in, and his mother for unpacking the food immediately. Dan got out his phone as he waited for his breakfast and sent a quick text to his mum. ‘Bless you for unpacking my food.’ She sent him a heart emoji without hesitation and asked him about his first night. He made light conversation about unpacking and sleeping, but quickly said goodbye to her in favor of breakfast.

Dan opened up the notes app in his iPhone, looking at the list of video ideas he had going. Although he had tons of unpacking to do, he was due for a new video soon. He didn’t want to spend a lot of time with a script or with editing, so he figured it was time for another video in his “Quick and Dirty with Dan” series. For these videos, he would essentially set up a camera and rant/ philosophize about a subject for five minutes. He only edited out the “um’s.” They were fun. People cared about his opinions on things, surprisingly. Dan composed a quick tweet: ‘any requests for a quick n dirty?’ and he watched the responses flood in. Of course, plenty of his fans suggested lewd things, inspired by the name of the series. Several tweets said ‘Donald Trump’ and there was no way that Dan was going to fall down that hole. Dan scrolled through his replies, munching on a bite of buttered toast. One tweet jumped out at him and he thumbed the text, liking it. ‘Talk about your experience with/ opinion about the supernatural! Like ghosts, not the show lolol.’ Immediately, Dan recalled the weird conversation he had with Paul the landlord about the ghost that apparently haunted this apartment. It would be a perfect story to include in his video.

When his toast was eaten and cup of coffee was drained, Dan tottered back to his bedroom, maneuvering around boxes. Dan made his bed and changed into his signature black outfit. He set up his camera and lighting equipment and sat down in his chair, checking the viewfinder to make sure that his video background looked agreeable. Dan pressed record, speaking his regular greeting of “Hello internet!” and barreling into the topic of the supernatural.

Three or four hours later, the video was being uploaded onto YouTube. Dan’s more scripted videos took much longer to create, which was why he really liked this series. Dan left the video to do its thing and went to unpack the kitchen, blasting Britney Spears and singing along badly. “Toxic” came on and Dan picked up a wooden spoon, holding it to his mouth and purring out the first words of the song, “baby, can’t you see?” He danced around the kitchen. About halfway through the song, Dan noticed that he was hearing double. There was another voice under Britney’s that wasn’t his own. It wasn’t a particularly good voice, either. It missed some of the notes entirely. Dan furrowed his brow and picked up his phone, checking that Spotify hadn’t accidentally given him a weird, cover version of the song. It hadn’t. Dan paused it and silence enveloped the kitchen. He pressed play again and the song was back to normal, Britney back to her sensual self. Dan felt a little unnerved, thinking about the electricity and the weird mystery voice. He considered exploring the apartment a little, checking closets and corners for possible squatters. In the end, he didn’t do anything of the sort, laughing at himself instead. He needed to get the place set up, then maybe Dan wouldn’t feel so jumpy.

Dan paused Britney and checked the status of his video. He was surprised to find that it had already uploaded successfully. He was impressed with the internet speed. He scrolled through YouTube comments, liking a few clever ones. He rarely replied to YouTube comments, unless one was especially funny. He didn’t find any funny ones, but did notice quite a few that looked exactly identical.

‘Umm wtf ghost at 1:33??????’

‘YOU BETTER BELIEVE IN GHOST STORIES, DANIEL, YOU’RE IN ONE!!!11! 1:33’

‘1:33 Ghost. Ghost. Ghost.’

‘Seriously, what the fuck is that at 1:33??’

Dan rolled his eyes at the comments. These weren’t new on the world of YouTube. People loved creepy things and once one person commented a timestamp and a ghost sighting, it was like a disease. Dan clicked the timestamp on one of the comments, fully expecting a shadow or stuffed animal falling over.

Instead, Dan felt like his heart stopped.

He paused the video. He suddenly felt hot, heat prickling across every inch of his skin. In the video, in the dark doorway of his bedroom, there was an unmistakable figure. A man. He was barely a glimmer, but, boy, was he there.

Dan stared at the screen, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was literally no fucking reasonable explanation for what he was seeing. Dan tried to rationalize it, but was coming up with nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Instead, he was thinking about the landlord’s comments, the mysterious giggle that he thought was Alex, the electricity problem, the strange voice he heard while singing “Toxic.” Dan started shaking. He was afraid to play the video and watch what the figure would do. But he had to. Curiosity ate at him. Slowly, shakily, Dan pressed play and watched the entryway. The man looked up at Dan in the video. Dan blanched at the man’s pale skin, dark hair, and piercing eyes. He didn’t look unfriendly, watching Dan with curiosity. In the video, Dan was saying something about “the idea of ghosts scaring the diddly heck out of him,” and Dan saw the ghost’s mouth quirk up in a smile, before he was simply phasing out of frame.

Dan paused the video and released a breath that he had been holding.

“Sorry for intruding on your video.” Dan screamed, actually screamed, jerking violently in his chair. It pitched back and he crashed to the floor. The room echoed with the sound of the loud crash and Dan felt momentarily dazed. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if someone had slipped him hallucinogenic drugs without him knowing. Alex would probably get a kick out of doing something like that. Suddenly, a figure came into Dan’s view, looking at Dan upside down. It was the figure from the video. The ghost? The hallucination? Dan’s eyes widened at the man. He looked… concerned. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Are you all right?” Dan noticed the voice had a Northern tinge, and now was really not the time to notice such a fucking stupid detail.

“Me? I-I-- well, I-I. Are y-you? Ghost? Who, who, who are you?” Dan stuttered pathetically, trembling all over. He felt cold and hot at the same time. He wondered briefly if he had a fever. Maybe he hadn’t woken up yet and this was a dream.

The figure covered his translucent face in equally translucent hands. “Oh god, I’ve really muffed this up. Of course you would be frightened.” He removed his hands from his face and stared down at Dan. “Won’t you get up? We could go to the lounge? I’ll introduce myself properly!”

Dan just lay there, trembling. He blinked his eyes over and over, willing the ghost to disappear. He wasn’t awake. He was asleep. This was a dream. He pinched himself. It didn’t work. He slapped himself in the face. Nothing happened.

“Hey! Don’t hit yourself!” Dan jumped again. He stared into a pair of ghosts eyes a moment longer and decided that he should at least pick himself off the floor. He did so, probing the back of his head and wincing at the tender spot that was definitely bruised. Methodically, he picked the chair up off the ground and tucked it under the desk, trying to breathe evenly. It was a losing battle. Finally, Dan snapped, and the floodgates opened. He began breathing harder, the unmistakable feeling of panic sweeping over his body. He felt lightheaded and numb. Dan sat down on the floor, hard, breath coming faster and faster. He pushed himself against the wall of his bedroom, trying to get as far away from the ghost as possible. His breath wheezed out of him, specks of spit flying out of his mouth. Dan pressed his head in between his knees as he lost feeling in his fingers. He didn’t feel real. He was terrified. What was happening to him?  “Hey, hey, now. It’s ok. God, I’m so sorry, Dan. It’s ok. Breathe. Slowly, slowly now.” Dan knew that the voice was coming from the object of his fears, but it was good advice. He tried his best to take it, trying to control his lungs. He used every trick he had learned throughout his life of living with anxiety. He imagined that his lungs had legs and were running away and he imagined himself running after them, catching them in his hands. He listened to the soothing repetition of “it’s ok, shh, slowly now” coming from the mouth of the fucking ghost across from him. Dan picked up his heavy hands and brought them up to his own neck, dragging his fingers along the sensitive skin there. Anything to ground him. Anything to make him feel real again. Minutes later, Dan’s breathing began to slow. He focused hard on forcing it to stay slow. “There ya go, good. I’m not a bad guy. I couldn’t hurt a fly, I promise.”

Dan looked up at the ghost who had crouched down in front of Dan’s crumpled form. He would have looked like a completely normal guy, if not for the see-through skin and the slightly hovering body. This was the first time Dan was getting a good look at him and he was surprised, to say the least. The man in front of him was more like a boy. He had long, black hair that was cut into a style resembling cool 2007 emo myspace kids. Interestingly enough, he was sporting a worn, blue shirt and grey sweatpants. He had piercing blue eyes.  “You’re a ghost.” Dan’s voice was shaky and monotone. He felt exhausted. Dan realized that his face was wet with tears. When he had a panic attack, he often couldn’t tell the difference between hyperventilating and sobbing. It all blended into one disastrous experience.  

The figure looked embarrassed and Dan thought he saw the ghost’s face turn red. “I am a ghost. I’m sorry.” The ghost scratched at the back of his head. “Dan, I feel terribly. I should have realized that you would have reacted like this. I accidentally drove the last renters out and I never even purposefully revealed myself to them. God, I’m just an idiot. I just couldn’t believe that you were a YouTuber and I got so excited to see the camera and--”

“--Ok, ok. It’s, um, ok, I guess.” Dan cut the ghost off. He blew out a shaky breath. “How do you, um, know my name?”

The ghost looked embarrassed again. “Oh, I heard your family call you Dan. That sounds so creepy. Sheesh,” he refused to meet Dan’s eyes. “I wish I could leave you alone forever, but I-- uh-- am kinda tethered to this place. Can’t leave.”

Dan nodded slowly, deciding that, if this was happening and this was reality, he might as well be cordial. “Oh. Well, do you have a name?”

Phil clapped his hand over his face and Dan couldn’t help but jump a little, body still on edge. “I’m really cocking this up. Yes of course I have a name, I’m so rude. Phil Lester, at your service!” Phil stuck his hand out at Dan who just stared at it. Phil slowly retracted it, “sorry, habit.” The ghost coughed, “sorry.”

“Right. Um.” Dan chewed his lip and stared at Phil with wide eyes. What was the proper etiquette when it came to ghosts? He couldn’t offer Phil some tea and cakes, for chrissakes. Dan suddenly remembered something Phil had said only seconds before. “You know YouTube? How?”

Phil smiled a sad smile and crossed his legs. He looked like a monk who had achieved enlightenment with his hovering. “I had a channel back in the day. I had a lot of fun with it.” Phil stared at his legs, picking at the fabric covering his knee.  

“Oh! Wow, you were a YouTuber?” Dan couldn’t hide his disbelief. What were the odds that the ghost tethered to his new apartment had also been a YouTube when he was alive? Dan wasn’t even going to dwell on how weird that sentence was. “What was your username?”

Phil met his eyes and smiled shyly, “oh, um, it was amazingphil.” Dan raised his eyebrows. “I know, I know. I made it in 2006.”

“That’s fair; everyone had quirky usernames back in the day.” Dan remembered his first youtube channel name and was briefly thankful that he never made a single video on it. He couldn’t imagine what kind of professional life he could have with a name like ‘danisnotonfire.’

“Yeah, I guess. But mine was particularly silly, huh?”

“Not as bad as danisnotonfire,” Dan said, laughing a little.

“That’s your channel name?!”

“Oh no, no. But it was the account I made when I was 16. I never used it to make videos, thank god.” Silence followed Dan’s comment and he was struck by the sudden realization that he was having a fucking conversation with a ghost. “Hey-- did you turn off the lights last night?” Dan tilted his head to the side slightly and Phil looked abashed.

“Um, ah, yeah. You had just worked so hard and looked so comfy. I just flicked them off for you, it wasn’t hard.” Phil cleared his throat, “electricity is one those things that I can manipulate.”

Dan hummed to himself. “So you were watching me last night?”

Phil’s eyes widened. “Sorry! Sorry! Bad habit! I don’t see many people. It’s just nice to--” He cut himself off. “I think it’s about time for me to leave you alone. You need some space,” Phil nodded to himself, “I need to get out of your space.”

“Phil! Phil, wait! I still have--” and then the ghost was gone, as quick as he had appeared. “--questions.” Dan finished lamely.

Dan looked around his bedroom, almost surprised to find that it hadn’t changed; only Dan’s perception of it had. Everything was too bright and crystal clear, like he had been swimming underwater with his eyes open until that moment. Dan shakily got up off the floor and made his way to the bed, collapsing on it. He didn’t bother to put on different clothes or get under the covers. So, a ghost was haunting his new apartment. What was he supposed to do about that? Let the landlord know? The landlord already knew; he had bloody warned Dan. Tell his parents? His subscribers? Well, his subscribers had already seen it. Curious, Dan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through his replies on Twitter. The ghost was literally the only thing that any of them were talking about. Dan checked the views on his video and his mouth dropped open. It was almost to one million views, which was pretty normal for him, but it always took a couple of days for the views to add up to a million. His video was going viral. Dan locked his phone and placed it on the bedside table. What was he supposed to do about this? He began to drift asleep, the exhaustion of his panic attack weighing him down into the mattress. Phil had been a YouTuber when he was alive; maybe Dan would ask him his opinion. Before Dan could consider how odd of a concept it was, he was asleep.

Chapter two

[awindowintothisworld]

May 9th, 2019 - Thursday

Hello again.

I know I left off in a weird spot, and I don’t think I’ll be revisiting it just because I’ve got something that I really need to get off my chest really quick before I go into future plans. Now, I now I’ve mentioned Alaina and how we don’t exactly get along. She messaged me the other night that really rubbed me the wrong way, and for good reason.

Alaina has had a marathon planned for CF fundraiser. It’s suppose to be held on the 18th and we were all suppose to sign up for it. I completely forgot, despite all the reminders, and I didn’t sign up. Due to that, I was also scheduled to work that night so I couldn’t do anything at that point. (I would have asked to switched, but I’d have a better chance of winning the lottery then have someone switch me a Saturday night.) She sent me a personal message saying that I needed to sign up asap, but I told her I was scheduled to work that night. And then she sends me this:

“ I want you to know that it really has upset me lately how little you come around. You live in Kaysville and I NEVER see you. Your niece has been hospitalized 5 times and you didn't come by once or even ask how she was. She's a year old and you've met her MAYBE three times. I feel like your family is really low on your priority list. I love you and we all want to know you're still alive. Its ok that you can't come but at least try next time.”

My heart sank, because I know that. I know I don’t come around very often, but the reason for that is because I work nights and my days are completely switched. I don’t think someone wants a visit at 2am, or a message. And due to my problems I’ve been having with my health, (because of exhaustion due to me trying desperately to stay up during the day,) I’ve chosen to just be a fly on the wall and read the family group message to keep updated. I’ve tried to keep up everyone and try to see if they’re alright, and come to family functions, but I’ve ended up making myself sick! My response was:

“ I'm sorry that's upset you. Please know that I do care and I'm always reading up on the family thread, but please understand that with the hours that I work, I'm not awake when stuff is going down, so it's hard for me to be more involved! I care about the family and little Della's well-being, but working three, sometimes four nights makes it difficult to be more involved. I'm not making excuses, that's just how it is.”

To which she responded:

“ I know and I understand that. Which is why I never say anything. But Braden works 70 hours a week and still makes our family a priority. He makes it to almost every family function just by planning in advance. I understand that it isn't possible for you to always make it to things or check in all the time. But you literally have never even asked how we were doing. And that really is hurtful especially considering that your niece is literally dying. I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I'm mostly upset because I gave all of you literally months in advance to take time off for this huge event....”

Hun, I’d kill to only work 70 hours. I work 12 hour shifts each time I work! Not only that, there are only 3 of us that work as security guards, and one of them can only strictly work 2 days out of the week! If the other full-time guard is out of town, I’m the one that has to pick up those shifts! I’m no stranger to working 90+ hours a week at times! Yes, not getting the day off was completely my fault, and I’ll own up to that. I messed up in that regard. But she also has to understand how hard it is for me to check in all the time. It may not seem like I care or that my family is not a priority, but damn it, I do! I’m just quiet about it! I don’t have anything to report to the family since I’m literally just working and sleeping every day! I visit when I can, but that usually is not very often! She doesn’t understand how hard its been just living normally! My social life, my dating life, my family life- all of it is being effected because of how fucked up my schedule is! I’ve already mentioned in the last entry how working here has effected me physically and mentally, and why I’m having a hard time leaving! She doesn’t understand, and it makes me angry and upset. She’s so unwilling to lower her blinders and see that the world does not revolve around her. Yes, your baby has a fatal sickness, I get that 100%! But you also have to understand that I have my own life to worry about as well! I care about you and your family, Alaina. Really. As much as I do everyone else in our family. But it’s hard to keep up.

I talked to my dad and he said he’d speak with Alaina, which I don’t know if that will do anything. I was fairly emotionally compromised the day I read those messages, so they seemed a lot worse then they actually are. I cried my eyes out when I read them and ended up going to my mom’s grave to just sob for a while before needing to get to work. We’ll see what happens the next time we see each other. (Whenever that will be.)

Anyway, the rest of this week is going to be fairly chill. I have a D&D game tomorrow that I’m the DM for, and I still got to prepare for that. I have an idea what’s going to be going down, but I need to make sure everything is solid and entertaining. It’s a strange thing, being a DM, and I’m not entirely sure if I prefer it over being a player. I like being able to tell a story and create multiple characters with deep backstories, but I’m also not a huge fan of all the preparation that goes into planning a single session. Maps, characters, monsters, stats, numbers, going into every last detail for just in case everything derails- it’s a lot and I’m not sure how I’m going to steer this in the direction I want this to go. But the first session we had with my campaign, I don’t feel like, was too bad... I mean, it seemed like, for the most part, everyone was having fun... except for the part where literally half of the party was left out because they decided to stay behind and watch over the character they were helping. I’m going to need to keep that in mind for just in case the party splits again. It was really unfair for the other people.

Anyway, so I have that happening on Friday, and then me and my roommate, Erin, are going to be going to a Rein Faire on Saturday. The theme this weekend is fairies, and we recently finished some Disney fairy costumes for Salt Lake Fanx this year, so we’re totally prepared! Except Erin decided she didn’t want to get her costume dirty, so she’s going to go as an original character. She went as Fawn and I went as Zarina, and I think I’ll be pulling her out again for this faire. I’ll need to replace her skirt since it was so haphazardly put together, so maybe I’ll do that as soon as I get off work. (I’m working right now.)

We’ll be going again next weekend for their Pirate theme. I’m pretty excited! I’m itching to try some Honey Mead for my first time. I hear it’s super nasty, but I still want a mug of it just to say I tried. It’ll be a lot of fun.

Mother’s day is coming up here pretty quick and I’m not all that excited for it. My mom passed away a little over a year ago from a heart attack. It came as a complete surprise and I’m still hurting from it, and probably will be for the rest of my life. I don’t mean to sound edgy or whatever, but it’s so hard losing a parent, especially one that you were super close to. My mom was my best friend. Losing her was the hardest thing I’ll ever have to go through... Man, even just saying that is so weird. It still doesn’t seem real, that she’s not here, that I can’t just call her up and ask her how she’s doing. I miss her with all my heart... I’m going to try really hard not to get too emotional since I am still at work, and the last thing I need is for someone to walk in on me crying like an ugly baby. So I’m going to move on for now, but I’ll be sure to make a special entry for her once that day rolls around... I think it’s on the 12th this year. I’ll try to hold myself to that. I’ll be sure to share some photos as well.

Well, I need to get some preparation done for my session tomorrow, so I’ll write again soon. Later. 

[foodorflight-blog]

OCD, orthorexia and voices in my head

"Eat to live, don't live to eat." I wish this was easier said than done. I've come to realize recently how much of my life I've wasted in the past year. I believe it is safe to say that the majority of my thoughts throughout the day are either reflecting on the "imperfections" of my last meal, or suffering from anxiety from the next. I am mentally exhausted. I'm trapped. My mind cannot stop obsessing, but my soul is screaming. I want to be free. I'm torn in two. I don't care, but I care so damn much about what I eat. I am vegan. I have been vegan for almost a year now. I love it. The orthorexia and veganism do not correlate, however. I have no trouble avoiding meat and dairy. I was vegetarian for many years before when I was 10 years old. I could care less about my body, but I was a child who grew up in a family that didn't make a big deal about what was put in our bodies. I choose to be vegan for moral purposes not dietary. But, I am sure, many people going vegan also found the popular vegan YouTubers promoting weight loss with vegan HCLF diets and all of that crap. I had been self-conscious about my weight before going vegan and did calorie restriction which made me go crazy, so of course, I'd quit. I have never been fat. I've always been average. Typical BMI of 20-21 or so. But, I have thick parts of my body that I am self-conscious about. Finding out that I could be vegan AND lose weight was pretty cool initially. Kill two birds with one stone (ironic statement because one of those birds happened to be the act of not killing animals by consuming meat and dairy). Anyways, I started following HCLF to little luck. Big plates of fruit, little satiation even after a big meal. Couldn't take it. Binge on vegan junk food. And yet, for some reason, I'd go back to HCLF. It wouldn't work, so I completely gave up oil and salt and basically only ate fruits, veggies and rice. It was good stuff, but I felt socially isolated. I gave up the "pain" of being """"""overweight""""""" for just being an outcast for such an unnecessary reason. I pretty much forgot what it meant to be vegan. Veganism is for the animals not for the body you obtain. Well, some people obtain. I lost weight from veganism, but it wasn't incredibly significant because I was a normal weight to begin with. Extra fat, I suppose. I'm pretty much the same as where I started though and it's been a year. A year of trying extreme diets. Here I am now. This unorganized vent. I am suffering in silence constantly. My thoughts are becoming unorganized, but I don't expect people to read this anyways. I don't know why I'm writing this. I think I'm afraid. I don't want to wake up tomorrow and have to think about food. I'm tired of it plaguing my mind constantly. Why can't a just be a normal vegan? Doesn't have meat or dairy - eat it, relax. Why do I obsess over the small things? I am going on vacation for spring break, and rather than get excited about going to the mountains, my home, the west. The west is where I find tranquility. Rather than be excited about this, I'm having awful anxiety because I haven't a clue what I'll be eating. Who gives a shit. WHO GIVES A SHIT. I'm genuinely so angry at myself. I am on the verge of tears. I almost always am. I have had OCD for as long as I remember. In different forms too. When I was little, I had a compulsion to touch the thermostat every few minutes to an hour, and if I didn't I would just go crazy. I remember it vaguely, but it was so strange. Next, I had harmful compulsions. I wasn't suicidal or anything. I wasn't depressed. I would just have a voice in my head telling me to do something fucking insane. As I write this, I am regaining memories. Some I didn't want to remember, but I want to add them. I must have been 8 years old at this time. I remember it was in the summer because I had just gotten back from swimming. I came home and had this overwhelming compulsion to choke myself. I feel so uncomfortable and gross writing this. My god. This is true though. I kept putting my hand down my throat. Eventually, after going into the bathroom several times a minute, my mom came in to see what was going on. She was pretty shocked and confused. She was just as confused as I was, in fact. Simply stating, "Don't choke yourself." And that was that, I guess. The next compulsion, LITERALLY a day later. Busy summer, yeah? My next compulsion was to bite the inside of my mouth as hard as I could. I'm getting uneasy writing this because I feel so alone. Did it once, hurt like hell, left scars and blisters. I can still feel the scar in my mouth. I lived in constant fear. This sounds so silly, I know, but no one will ever understand. I had this voice in my head telling me to bite myself, and I would cry and cry. I would sit in bed terrified of the voice. Now, the voice controls food. I don't know what to do anymore. Is this even OCD? I am diagnosed, however, is his different? I know orthorexia falls into the OCD category, but the voice is what concerns me. I think I'm going insane. It seems petty, but I feel like two different people in one body and they don't like each other. They don't like myself. I can't control myself, and it's terrifying. I feel little joy with things I do anymore. My dad says it's depression, and I'm sure that's a bit of it. However, I wouldn't doubt it being the fact that every fucking second I'm anxious about food. Looking attractive is so god damn important, isn't it? For what? FOR FUCKING WHAT?? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have no self-worth in my two-selves eyes. I fear that I'll end up killing myself when things get worse honestly. I'll keep this blog updated because this feels good. Please tell me someone else is suffering from some OCD like this.