#malcolm shares his love from afar

[notgonnarememberthis]

Pillars

Surprise!!! I didn't have intention of publishing a oneshot but this popped into my mind a couple of hours ago and it was just too good to ignore. I don't write Ainsley much so it was a lovely change to have her voice in my mind for a change and it was really fun to explore a more vulnerable aspect of her. Especially since her weakness appears to be her family being in danger. It was really fun to write and I hope y'all enjoy this as much as I did

Ainsley wakes up to the sound of a scream. It’s so loud it pierces through the walls. She startles, feeling her heart pounding in her ears. It takes her a few seconds to realize it wasn’t from her dream. The scream is very much real. She’s never heard anything like it, so full of pain and terror. Then she realizes it sounds very familiar.

“Mom.”

The rate at which she’s on her feet and running is dizzying. She almost rips her phone from the wall it’s plugged into with her urgency to move. Her bare feet echo on the floors as she races down the hall. She curses her urgency for privacy from when she moved in almost a year ago, insisting that she’ll need her own space since she’s been used to living alone for so long.

Her mother’s scream still echoing in her head makes her hate every step that she was too far from helping.

Her fingers shake too much as she tries to work her phone. Dialing the number almost absentmindedly from memory as tears stream down her face, panicked breaths too short to fill her lungs. 

She should call 911, there could be an intruder or a fire or. She should call 911.

“Malcolm Bright, leave your name and number and I’ll call you back.”

His voicemail taunts her as she tries to school her panic. She can’t call anyone but him. She needs Malcolm. He’d know what to do. He’d know how to save her. He’d get there faster than any cop would.

Except maybe Gil.

Finally she’s in front of her mother’s door. She doesn’t even bother knocking, instead reaching for and twisting the golden handle. Yet, it doesn’t budge in her grip. She tries again, then once more before the horror truly sets in. Her door is locked and Ainsley can’t hear anything coming from the inside.

Not that she can hear much over her own heartbeat.

“Mom!” She pounds on the door, tears flowing freely imagining everything horrific her mind has to offer. Her mother choking on blood, stabbed in the stomach collapsing just out of reach of the door, a gun trained on her temple if she tries to scream. Ainsley throws her weight against the door but it’s no use, the wood is expensive and she just bounces painfully off it. She ignores the flare of pain resorting to pounding again with her good arm when the door swings open.

She freezes when a very tired and very concerned looking Gil answers. She thought he’d come fast but this is ridiculous.

Her rational mind comes to as her panic ebbs momentarily. Gil had dinner with them last night, she retired for the night before he left. He had a few drinks, there was no way her mother would let him drive and insist that he stay.

“Ainsley? Is everything ok?” She glances over his shoulder not seeing her mother anywhere behind him. She must have slipped into the closet, probably sitting at the vanity. 

“I heard-” She thinks for a moment. Was it all a dream? She could have sworn… It sounded so real. “I heard a scream.”

His shoulders drop, a soft look of understanding passes over the man’s features. “A nightmare.” He assures her.

“No. I know what I heard. I heard-”

“No, Ainsley.” He stops her with a had up. “Your mother had a nightmare.”

She tenses, confusion knotting her brows. She’s no stranger to someone waking up screaming in the night. Hell, she grew up familiar with the sound of Malcolm’s night terrors. A scream, the sound of running, a struggle, and then her mother’s gentle voice coaxing him awake again. 

It was always Malcolm though. Never her.

“I don’t understand.”

“She just had a nightmare. I’ve got her, kid. Don’t worry.”

She almost scoffs at his words. Don’t worry? Not even when she was faced against a literal serial killer did she hear her mother make more than a yell. A challenge against her opponent. She always fought back. Always. How the hell would she be able to stop hearing that scream? She sounded so… helpless.

She’s never known her mother to be helpless.

“I can’t.”

“Ains.” She stops, only Malcolm calls her that but it’s enough to disrupt her thoughts. “She’s safe.”

Her face sinks with realization. “The pills.” Gil’s expression only confirms it. The sad almost guilt that passes over him, and she knows. Her mother had talked to her and Malcolm about it before. How she planned to get clean. No more relying on pills and booze to survive. She didn’t want to miss another moment. Those were her words.

Ainsley has had only a small peek at the bottles before when her mother was sulking over Malcolm’s treatment of her. Ones she expected, having seen from Malcolm were there. Valium, Ativan, Marplan. Yet the one bottle screams in her memory now.

The sleeping pills.

“She never…” Guilt clenches in her chest. “I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t.” He assures her gently with a sad smile. “She would never have let you or Malcolm know.”

“Is she…”

“At the vanity.” He nods, understanding her question. Sitting at the vanity is almost never good. After moving in Ainsley often found her there, so locked in her own thoughts she didn’t hear or see her come in. She understands why, in a way. It gives her space to think, where the walls never feel too much like him. The closet was always her space. Ainsley remembers it almost looking the exact same as when she’d run in to play makeup with her.

She wonders if the familiarity is a comfort or a punishment.

“You want to see her?” Ainsley chews on her lip, thinking. Would her mother want her to see her like this? Probably not. Yet she had to have heard them talking. She doesn’t hear her protesting either. She would not be shy to request her time alone. She nods. “Come on.” Gil guides her into the room, softly knocking on the door before opening it just a little. “Jess, sweetheart. Someone wants to see you.”

No protest again. Ainsley shuffles forwards, suddenly feeling very much like the shy five year old who came to check on her older brother after he had a nightmare. She always had her favorite stuffed rabbit ready to share to keep away the bad dreams. She wishes she had the bunny right now. To wordlessly pass to her mother without needing the explanation. Without having to say what they both already know.

Her mother turns to her, eyes dark from lack of sleep. Ainsley wonders how long it took her to work up the courage to close her eyes. How long it took for them to fly back open in terror. They’re red rimmed too, from tears, she recognizes. She’s never seen her mother cry. The thought terrifies her.

Yet when her mother sees her, the expression changes. A soft look of guilt and understanding. “Oh baby,” She reaches out a hand and Ainsley goes to her. More tears she didn’t know she had left spilling down her cheeks. She rises from her seat meeting Ainsley in the embrace. She wraps her arms as tight as she can around her mother, her face burying into her shoulder. All the fear and sadness she felt melts out of her at once. The slow stream of tears turning into full body sobbing in the comforting touch. Fingers comb at her tangled blonde curls, separating the knots from her own restless sleep. “I’m so sorry I scared you sweetheart.” She whispers in her ear.

She shakes her head trying to reject the apology. Yet the crashing realization that her mother isn’t this pillar of strength and bravery weighs heavily on her. She wonders if Malcolm even knows. 

Oh god, she’s going to have to explain her crying voicemail to Malcolm.

“Are you ok?” She finally asks when she has the strength to talk.

“Oh my sweet girl.” She breathes, pulling away just to trace her jaw. “I’ve got you right here, I’m more than ok.” She places a kiss on her hairline enveloping her in a hug again. “It was just a nightmare. I’m ok.” Ainsley bites her tongue at the thought of what her nightmares could possibly look like. Malcolm’s were terrifying to hear about and he has suppressed memories.

Her mother knows every face, every name. Every single image.

Gil’s knock interrupted her second wave of panic. “I talked to Malcolm. Figured he might see Ainsley called and panicked when he woke up.” She feels her mother nod in understanding.

“He’s not coming, is he?”

“No. I managed to convince him everything was ok.”

“Good.” She pulls away from the hug, though her fingers still linger on his arms. “Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” Ainsley looks between her and Gil. A selfish part of her wants to nod, curl up next to her mother and keep her safe from the nightmares just like she did for her after the memories of Endicott started resurfacing. 

“It’s ok kid. I’ll sleep in a guest room tonight.”

“Nonsense.” She scoffs. “The bed could easily fit all three of us plus Malcolm. That is, if you’re ok with it.” Ainsley realizes she’s talking to her and nods. Gil had always felt like a father to her, even when his focus was on Malcolm. He always asked if she’d like to tag along to a baseball game or a trip to the planetarium. Anything to make them feel like normal kids.

She still has the stuffed astronaut he bought her.

“Is that ok with you?” Ainsley asks Gil and he smiles, wide and warm. Nothing like Martin’s.

“I’d like that.”

They fit comfortably back in the bed. With Ainsley hugging her mother close to her. She’s more than used to the octopus grip and settles in, manicured fingers scratching her back in smooth lulling patterns. Gil takes place behind her mother, safely cushioning her between the two of them. This way she’s protected from both sides. Ainsley smiles at the image but it does calm her when she sees him offer his arm to lay on to her mother.

They both fall asleep before she does. Neither stir while she listens to the soft noises of the quiet slumber. She hopes, against everything that has happened, that they get to keep this soft moment. After everything that’s happened her mother deserves to be happy. She thinks with him, she could be.

Maybe they all could be.

[chironshorseass]

I u want, could u mayhaps write about annabeth seeing percy after a long time apart and realizing his voice grew deeper? I saw a post about it once and I think u would nail it perfectly<3

TIME PASSES SO QUICKLY AHH but here it is! I also got another request of pre-relationship percabeth and let’s just say that y’all read my mind. Also sorry that I can’t seem to write anything under 1k words 😩

read on ao3

“So I heard Percy’s coming today,” Silena said casually, holding a basket against her hip.

Annabeth yanked one of the strawberries so hard that its leaves came along with it.

“He is?”  

She didn’t try to shroud her excitement like she would’ve done, not too long ago.

“Yeah. Charlie told me.”

She felt a twinge of jealousy that Percy hadn’t even mentioned it to her, but she quickly clamped it down. It wasn’t his fault. Not entirely, anyway. They’d IM’d at the beginning of their semester as freshmen, but then it had gotten to the point of him mentioning Rachel all the time, and then the year had gotten busier, and…

Well, they’d lost contact.

Realizing she’d zoned out, she blinked away the fog from her eyes.

“But honestly I wasn’t supposed to tell,” Silena was saying. “He said something about it being a surprise or whatever. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

Annabeth must’ve been doing something strange with her face, because Silena gave her a smug look, raising her eyebrows. She was used to her doing that, so she didn’t mind.

Well, maybe a bit.

But the daughter of Aphrodite already knew everything there was to know about her feelings for Percy. Probably before even Annabeth first realized that she was in love with her best friend. So again, it was pointless to hide from her.

“So.” Silena bumped her gently on the shoulder. “What are you gonna wear?”

Annabeth lifted her sun hat and stared at her for a couple of seconds. The latter looked as perfect as ever, despite the grueling sun. With her pink crop top, mini shorts, perfect makeup, and her dark hair pulled back into a low bun, Annabeth had little doubt that she could help her choose a different outfit other than her torn camp wardrobe. But, still, this was Percy.  

Her best friend.

“Mmm...no, it’s fine. We’ve got to finish the south side of the strawberry fields, so, we can’t lose time, ya know?”

Silena gaped at her, then scoffed.

“What am I going to do with you, Chase?” she muttered, crouching to the ground again and shoving her hands into the foliage. “But whatever—it’s your call. Like, you’re so pretty that you actually look good in that sorry excuse of an outfit.”

Her eyes roved over Annabeth’s shirt and jeans. She felt herself blush at the attention.

“Hey, is that blood?”

“Uh...Maybe—but it’s old! Don’t worry.”

“A lost cause, I tell you.”

:

It had been too long since she’d caught a glimpse of that tell-tale curve of the shoulders and those raven curls.

Percy was early. Most of the summer campers always came the next week or so from this one, but she wasn’t complaining about his untimely arrival. Not when he looked that cute in his school uniform and with that ridiculously messy hair.

She regarded him from afar as he chatted with Beckendorf by the Big House porch, a bag slumped over his shoulder. Something about him—in the way he laughed or how he suddenly looked taller—made her stomach drop like a volleyball, made every blade of grass seem brighter.

Running up to him, she yelled, “Hey, stranger! Why so early?”

He turned to the sound of her voice, flashing her that crooked grin of his. Gods, she’d missed him.

“Hey yourself!”

When she finally reached the two boys, she skidded to a halt in front of Percy and gave him an exaggerated once-over.

“Why’d you still have your uniform on, Seaweed Brain?”

“Do I?” he gazed down at his white shirt and gray pants. His eyes flicked to her again, smiling sheepishly. “Oh. Kinda forgot I had it on, I guess.”

“Man, I’ve already told you,” Beckendorf said. “Leave the fancy shit home.”

“I forgot, okay? You know I hate this stupid uniform.”

In her honest opinion, the uniform seemed to be quite the opposite of stupid. Really, it should've been a crime to look that good in white and rolled up sleeves.

“Yeah, whatever.” Beckendorf glanced back and forth from Percy to Annabeth. He smirked and patted Percy on the back. “Anyway,  I’ll leave you to it.”

She watched him stroll to the Big House and step inside. He’d probably been here—with Percy—in the first place because of a favor from Chiron.

They stood there, letting the silence build up.

His eyes were warm, green like the shallow sea. Annabeth had always thought that she’d get used to that color, that luminescence. But she never did. Every time she peered up at them, it felt like the first time all over again. She could drown in those eyes and beam up at the fading sky and not beg for breath.

But now, it was worse. It was worse because she could tell that he’d grown. Actually grown. She didn’t quite know how to feel about the fact that his voice had abruptly dropped at least an octave lower than from last summer and that from now on, she’d have to lift her chin to meet his eyes.

“You’ve changed,” she blurted out.

She probably winced a little. Hopefully, she’d sounded casual.

“In what way, exactly?” His mouth twitched into a grin, cheeks dimpling, and her nervousness faded to a quiet buzzing. “That I’m finally taller than you?”

She pushed him away lightly to cover up the flush that was surely painting her cheeks a light pink. This was stupid. He was just being stupid. It was just Percy, for gods’ sake.

“Yeah, taller than me by like, an inch.”

“Admit it, you’re jealous.”

“I hate you.”

That was a lie, and Percy knew it.

“No, you don’t.”

“How am I supposed to keep things out of your reach, now?”

“See, that’s the point. Now I get to pick on you. Shortie.”

Annabeth stuck her tongue out. “You’re such a child.”

He laughed again, giving her whiplash from how different the sound rang in her ears. His laughter had always been a comfort to her, something that made her chest warm and gave her the motivation to try and let it out of him, again and again.

And it still was.

But this new laugh, however, had a richness to it that she felt down to her toes. He threw his head back, eyes crinkling like they always did. And yet, she found new angles to it. Saw a strange glow. He stood under the spotlight of a brand new theater, making everything he did seem like something new and foreign.

It dawned on her that she was staring like an idiot, even after Percy’s smile had faded to a lingering tug of the mouth.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, plain and honest. In many ways, he hadn’t changed. Not really.

“Me too.” Their eyes stayed interlocked for a couple more seconds. She cleared her throat. “Have you, uh...told Chiron you’re here?”

“He already knows.”

“Psh. So am I the only one that didn’t know about you coming here?”

She didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but there was no backing out, now.

He ducked his head. It was barely recognizable, but she could always tell when he was blushing.

“I...well, you know, wanted to, um—surprise you.”

Another awkward pause.

Percy scratched the back of her head. “Do you, uh...wanna walk with me? To my cabin?”

“Sure.”

:

“You know,” he said. “My mom made you cookies.”

“Are they any good?” she teased.

He turned to give her an incredulous look. “This is my mom we’re talking about. Of course they’re good.”

“Okay...well, what are you waiting for? Hand them over, Seaweed Brain.”

“In a sec. I’m too lazy to open my bag right now, in the middle of camp.”

As they walked, Annabeth noticed how heads turned when the campers got a good look at the two of them together. Most of them just stared at Percy. They passed by some of her siblings carrying spears; she saw Malcolm wink and felt herself blush again.

“Anyway, you wouldn’t have guessed what I got on my finals,” Percy was saying.

She glared pointedly at Malcolm, then whirled her head to look at Percy again. “What’d you get?”

“Guess.”

“Oh my gods, Percy. Just tell.”

He smiled and gave her a sideways glance. “You’re no fun.”

But even if he said it casually, the comment dug deeper than she would’ve liked. Did he think Rachel was fun? She decided not to dwell on that.

Annabeth was the one talking to him. Not Rachel.

He glanced at her once, but seemingly decided to fix his gaze forward. His eyes sparkled in a way that she knew meant he was trying to hold back a grin. He’d failed in the attempt, though.

“Okay, I’ll just say it: A ‘B’ plus.”

Her jaw dropped. “Percy!”

“Yeah,” he laughed.

“Oh my gods!”  

Clarisse, standing by the Ares cabin, mimed Annabeth, mouthing her words and making kissy faces. She mostly ignored it, too distracted on what Percy had just said.

Her heart swelled at the thought of all the work he must’ve put himself through.

She grasped his arm. “I’m so proud of you, Perce.”

“Yeah, me too. Paul helped, though. And mom.”

“Give yourself some of the credit.”

He sighed happily. “I guess I can say that I didn’t cheat. Well, maybe a little.”

She tried to shove him, but he danced away.

“Ohh, don’t tell me that you’ve never cheated on anything.”

“Okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Like maybe once or twice.”

“See?”

“But whatever. You got a ‘B’ and that’s what matters.”

“Yeah. It is.”

They smiled at each other for a second, then, he shouldered his bag and stopped by cabin three. The abalone shell seemed to glow brighter when he stood next to it.

Before she could stop herself, she said, “We should celebrate.”

He lifted one of those thick eyebrows of his and leaned back against the door frame. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” she kicked some of the stray pebbles from the ground, suddenly flustered. “Your grades. It deserves a celebration, don’t you think?”

His face lit up once more. “Oh! Yeah, like a picnic or something? We could eat the cookies Mom made—unless you want them for yourself, which is fine—”

“No!” She bit her lip. “I mean—sharing is cool. I’d like that.”

Annabeth decided it best not to visibly cringe at herself. Who’d even say “sharing” and “cool” at the same time?

Luckily, Percy nodded along with her. “Okay. Cool. Wait—that reminds me…” He unzipped his bag, hands already roaming around inside it. “Ah, here it is.”

He took a take-out like box with red flowers painted around the sides. They looked handmade. She accepted the gift with a smile.

“Who made these?” she asked, examining the paintings closer. “They’re pretty.”

When she saw his smug look, she didn't have to think twice about who had decorated it.

“I did,” he said. Her expression must’ve still been akin to impressed shock, because he chuckled. “What? You think I can’t be artistic?”

She shrugged. It was a simple fact, really. “Since when did you learn?”

“Uh, Rachel taught me.”

“Oh.”

He nodded tightly.

Right. While she’d lived on the other side of the country, alone and with a family who still wasn’t that comfortable around her, he’d been off with his new mortal girlfriend. And how much time must it have taken for Rachel to teach him how to do those precise brushstrokes? To combine those colors properly? Days or more, she knew.

They’d been busy.

She pretended not to care, anyway, opening the box to check on the cookies. “They, um...They look good!” She met his eyes so that he could see just how sincere her words were—because they really did look divine. Divine and blue. “Give Sally my thanks. And you must’ve worked really hard on this. So, thanks also.”

Annabeth noticed how he relaxed at the change of subject. Idiot.

“I will. And nah, it was nothing. I just really wanted to, um, to contribute with the gift. I guess. And mom loves you, so…”

“Loves me more than you?”

He snorted. “Probably.”

The edges of her mouth quirked up. “So...when are you up for that celebratory picnic thing?”

“Uh...from what I remember, I think my schedule’s got like, free time at around five. That sound good?”

Her mind buzzed through her list of daily activities, relieved to find something else to think about other than the awkwardness that now lingered in the air.

“Yeah, I think I’m free at five, as well. Tomorrow, right?”

“Sounds good to me.”

:

It wasn’t the same. That, she could tell.

She bit the inside of her cheek, watching him fight with Clarisse. So they’d go on a picnic together. Big deal.

She’d just barely stepped outside cabin three when Silena had dragged her away, begging for every detail.

Annabeth wasn’t going to lie: she was excited. More so than she’d let on. And yet, she wasn’t sure if he liked her that way.

Not with other girls fanning over him, now. Girls like Rachel.

How could she have let him go so easily? How was this the first time in months since she’d last seen him?

She’d spent the day pretending it was fine. Her heart ached whenever he was near, but it also hurt when he was gone. She couldn't have it both ways.

So yes, everything was fine.

Maybe if she said those words enough, then she'd start to believe it and stop with this feeble act of hers. This pretending that none of the shit they’d been festering against the other mattered. And in the process, also pretend that these new feelings she had for him—that didn’t feel so new—never existed in the first place.

Then again...what was she thinking?

This was her best friend. Her best friend whom she’d tried to kiss about a year ago and who hadn’t even breathed a word about it since. Who talked to her like he was stepping around eggshells. Who was clearly not interested in her in that way if what she suspected about Rachel was true and who had suddenly become one of the most attractive guys in Camp Half-Blood.

She hated this. This sensation of her heart beating faster, her breath coming short. Her brain fading any thought away, leaving it lustrous with the image of Percy. Percy this and Percy that. His stupid smile and his stupid laugh and—

Ice-cold water struck her skin, stopping her thought process short like a shock wave.

“Sorry,” Silena said, not actually sounding sorry. Stray water dripped from her hand. “You were spaced out for a while.”

Their canoe boat rocked back and forth along with the gusts of wind.

“Okay,” Annabeth said, glaring at her friend. She wanted to wipe that cheeky grin off her face. “Now you’re just asking for it.”

With a sharp, practiced tug, she flipped them over. Silena’s screech died when they hit the water.

She resurfaced, spluttering, splashing Annabeth again and again.

“You little shit! I am going to kill you!”

“What?” Annabeth laughed, choking on water. “I thought your makeup’s waterproof!”

Silena threw more water at her.

“Your point?”

And okay, maybe they looked like fools fighting in the middle of the lake, laughing and joking around. But it was fine; no one was there to witness it except perhaps the naiads and the cicadas that roared in the woods along with the rogue monster.

Well...there was one person.

But the girls didn’t have the mind to notice him.

Percy sat on the back of the pier and smiled, shaking his head.

Maybe someday, they could move on from this strange faze. From skipping around each other, then acting like friends all over again.

Someday.

The sound of the conch horn in the distance brought a reluctant stop to the chirping of the crickets. Dinner time.

He stood up and made his way back, wishing that just maybe, he could be brave enough to tell her how he felt. To unashamedly look at her and no one else as though she were the fading sun, inviting for the naked eye to gape at directly as it caressed the sea and the tree tops while coloring the sky a deep purple. To kiss her in front of all those stupid people and hug her and make her laugh and smile, all golden and beautiful.

Rid himself of the worries, once and for all.

But it couldn’t be.

Maybe, just maybe…

Someday.

[katelyn--renee]

Jealous Heart

Title: Jealous Heart

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Characters: Alex Karev, Reader, Meredith Grey, Christina Yang, Izzy Stevens, George O’Malley, Malcolm Ramsay (OC)

Pairing: Alex x Reader

Words:  ± 1600

Description: Alex’s jealousy leads to something interesting.

Created for @anyfandomgoesbingo​ Square Filled: Jealousy

Rating: Rated M for Mature.

Warnings: Nothing really; maybe a bit of fluff. A bit of bullying/teasing.  Author’s Note: There is no beta and this is my first Grey’s Anatomy fic. I hope you enjoy! Please comment your thoughts and share the love! Your feedback gives me life! :)

A shout out to @writeyourmindaway​ for the amazing dividers! Thank you!

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

“Careful, Evil Spawn, your jealousy is showing. People might actually think you’re human.” Christina Yang taunted, teasing her colleague and tossing a piece of popcorn toward him. It hit Alex in the arm and dropped to the floor beside the wheelchair he occupied. He glared at the assaulting food as the other interns snickered and smirked, their laughter filling the empty hallway. 

Karev scoffed and rolled his eyes at them, sneering at Yang. “Yeah. Whatever.” He grumbled, gripping the handles of the wheel chair a little tighter, and swiftly turning away from the other interns. He heard them muttering and giggling behind his back, and so he turned back, face red with annoyance. “I just - I don’t get it, what does that guy have, that I don’t?” He argued, gesturing wildly behind him toward the entrance of their hideaway. “The dude is a tool!” 

The four other interns exchanged thoughtful looks, very much enjoying their antics. “Good hair,” Izzy chimed in first with a shrug, stating the fact as if it should have been obvious. She smacked George in the arm, who nodded in agreement, “Great hair, actually. Like, it’s always just so perfectly, well-groomed…” Izzy made a few hand motions for added effect, touching her own head of blonde hair. She made a few more side comments about his rugged good looks and broad shoulders.

“Talented hands.” Meredith added to the list, but then quickly corrected herself before anyone got the wrong idea. “He’s a world-class surgeon.” She shrugged, glancing at Alex who shook his head, feeling betrayed. He scoffed again.

“A heart.” Christina stated bluntly, stealing a laugh from Meredith who shook her head and instantly tried to hide her smile for Alex’s sake. “A soul. Decent human emotions.” She continued, the laughter bubbling up again around them.

Alex had heard enough and he stood up, “Screw you guys.” He grumbled, storming off in the opposite direction. This only made Christina laugh even more, mocking him with a pouty lip and fake teary eyes.

“I’m sure he doesn’t give people syphilis either!” George called out after Alex, who replied with a few choice words of his own, flashing him the finger over his shoulder.

He couldn’t believe them. They were supposed to be his friends! They were supposed to be on his side and agree with him, not make him feel worse about the whole situation. But maybe they were right? What chance did a guy like him have against a guy like that? 

As if the universe were mocking him, a portrait of Dr. Perfect stared down at him at the end of the hall. He sneered at it before turning down the next hall, heading for the lobby at the front of the hospital.

He paused at the main nurses station, collecting a patient’s chart in an attempt to distract himself with work. He looked over the information and tried to make sense of the numbers in front of him. But, no matter how hard he tried to focus, it did little to ease his racing mind and jealous heart.

With a huff of annoyance, he closed the chart and put it back into the slot, clenching his jaw. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to force away his frustrations. He scratched at the stubble accompanying his jawline. What the hell was he doing? He shook his head, annoyed and angry with himself. 

A familiar, adorable giggle reached his ears and seized his heart; it was a sound he’d recognize anywhere. He followed the beautiful sound and glanced in the direction of the grand staircase, spotting (Y/N) standing near the bottom of the steps with none other than the tool himself, Dr. Malcolm Ramsay; Dr. Perfect. 

Alex watched their exchange from afar and his lip curled with anger as the jealousy bubbled up inside of his chest, making his blood boil. It coiled and twisted inside of his stomach, making him feel sick. She looked so excited and bubbly and happy and it pissed him off knowing that it wasn’t him who made her feel that way. How could he?

He watched with disdain as the man touched her arm, affectionately squeezing it. She giggled and scrunched her nose up, making it crinkle cutely. Alex clenched his hands into fists at his sides, his jaw set. He had to look away, his stomach - and heart - couldn’t bear to watch anymore. 

Leaving the nurses station, he rounded the next corner and paused, making a decision. He couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to know; for his own sanity, he needed to know why she felt the way that she did and why it had to be him.

He waited impatiently for her, pacing the small section of hallway and earning himself a few odd looks from nurses and passing doctors. He would turn expectantly at every passing set of footsteps, only being met with disappointment. One particular set of footsteps caught his ear and when he turned to confront them, he was met with the (Y/E/C) that he adored so much.

Grabbing her by the arm gently, yet firmly, he tugged her into a nearby supply closet and shut the door with a loud bang. “Alex, what the hell?” (Y/N) gasped with a confused expression on her face. She rose a curious brow at the other intern, his back still to her. “Alex, what’s going on?” She asked again, hesitant to know the answer. Something was wrong.

“(Y/N) we need to talk.” Alex finally spoke, his voice agitated and a bit shaky. He turned to face her then, his expression hard and serious. He had his hands on his hips and his breathing was erratic, his chest rising and falling quickly, but he said nothing else.

(Y/N) made an impatient face as the silence built between them and she folded her arms under her breasts, sighing “Okay?” She questioned, dragging out the word with annoyance, “Alex, you’re being weird. What the hell is going on?” She asked with a huff, her lips pressed into a solid line. “Look, Alex, I’ve got work to do. Bailey is going to kill me if I don’t get these charts finished. Spit it out.” 

His stomach was in knots, doing cartwheels in his abdomen. His tongue felt like concrete in his mouth, too heavy to move. Fuck. Man up! Talk to her! “Why do you like him?” Alex blurted out suddenly, his brow pinched together and his eyes stern.

(Y/N) frowned heavily at him, “Excuse me?” She asked, confused and slightly offended by his assumption. “Like who, Alex? You’re not making any sense.” She rolled her eyes at the man.

“Don’t act like you don’t know. I saw how cozy you just were with him, giggling and doing that nose scrunch thing you do.” He stated, gesturing to her nose and face, clearly upset. 

“What?” (Y/N) scoffed at him and shook her head, her (Y/H/C) swaying with the motion. “You’re being ridiculous.” She muttered and moved to step past him, but he stepped in her path. “Alex.” She huffed, annoyed by his antics. 

“Answer the question; why do you like that tool? I need to know.” Alex insisted, his eyes searching hers for an answer. 

“Alex, move.” (Y/N) tried again, but Alex kept his stance firm and planted his feet. It became very apparent to her Alex wasn’t about to let this go any time soon. She looked away from him, her tongue making an annoyed clicking sound in her mouth before she huffed, giving in. “He’s not the one I like, Alex.” She admitted, forcing herself to look into his eyes.

Alex frowned at that, his confusion only growing stronger. “W-what, who then?” He asked, his tone not as harsh as before. He crossed his arms, trying to rack his brain and figure out who this mystery guy is. His face was scrunched and pinched between his brows, straining.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, her expression softening a fraction. She studied his face, her eyes wandering over his handsome features and eyes full of so much emotion. “Do you really not know, dummy?” She stated, the softness of her voice catching his attention. There was another drawn out pause. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” She smiled a little at him, raising her brows in an attempt to silently fill in the blanks for him.

Everything began to click into place and his face began to relax at the realization. Alex swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat with her confession, his eyes falling to her lips briefly before meeting her eyes. A hint of a smile hitched up the corner of his mouth before he closed the distance between them, his hands cupping her face. Their lips met, hard and desperate to taste each other. They’d been dreaming of this day, the pair of them dancing around their feelings for months and now… now it was actually happening.

Alex’s heart was racing inside of his chest, pounding so hard he thought it would burst from his chest and flop onto the floor. He had to break away, but didn’t go far, their foreheads still pressed together. He smiled and laughed softly, sounding a bit breathless. Her hands were on his chest and he wondered if she could feel his heart pounding there. He rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs, his fingers cradling the back of his neck. 

“Does that answer your question, dummy?” She muttered and laughed softly, her lips connecting with his again in an affectionate peck. After a moment, she laughed again, “Wait, were you really jealous of Dr. Ramsey?” She questioned, teasing him with a raised brow. 

Alex rolled his eyes playfully, “Shut up.” He replied, silencing her giggles with another kiss.

Thanks for reading!! 

[tjlikesprettythings]

Ooo I've got one! Prompt: write about what one of the characters (your choice who!) thinks about when THEY drink alone (lol).

Hey Anony, not sure which fandom you’re from but I decided to write for both Prodigal Son and Macgyver cause I loved this prompt, but I will post the Macgyver with a prompt paste. Thank you. <3

Prodigal Son: Malcolm

It was a long day, throwing his keys down and hanging his coat, Malcolm walked towards his wet bar cart. Pouring himself two fingers of the Macallan he usually reserved for something to celebrate or when he’s had the worst day. It was usually saved for the latter, but since his return to New York and joining the team, he found himself having more of the victory drinks. Though tonight it was for an altogether different reason. He pressed play on the sound system and let the soft melodies float through his apartment.

He sat down on the chesterfield and threw his head back letting it rest on the back of the sofa, staring at his ceiling as he thought about the day. While the case was an easy open and shut case, the players in the said case were what had him feeling uneasy. 

Dani was unusually friendly with Detective Henri Fontenot of the 32nd precinct who joined in their investigation for the murder of a young couple. As he would later find out from JT who happened to be in a bit of a gossipy mood that Fontenot had asked Dani out just weeks before Malcolm joined their team, and as far he knew that date went well cause Dani hadn’t seemed annoyed after the said date. JT shrugged and then simply deduced that since Malcolm has joined the team they have been kept on their toes and maybe Fontenot had fallen through the cracks of Dani’s schedule. 

Malcolm’s mind flashed to the way Dani had smiled at the other detective outside of the building, tucking some hair behind her ear. Malcolm found himself faltering in his steps as he walked towards them to join the crime scene, in the time he’s known her she never reacted quite so...charmed? Her usual reserved but amiable demeanour kicked up a notch as she chatted away, smiles and shy glances at the man standing across from her.  

He couldn’t place a finger on why it made him feel a bit uncomfortable to see her like this, but he pushed it aside as he walked up to them deliberately going to join her rather than where Gil and JT stood speaking with the officer on scene. He bounced up to her, his normal excitement for a case returning. Only she straightened herself and smiled a tight smile, he could see she looked startled by his presence as if she had been caught?

Malcolm remembers his own smile faltering very quickly at her reaction. He interrupted something. He turned to look at the man who very obviously had Dani engrossed in conversation, introducing himself and learning his name and figuring that he had a creole background from his name and a slight accent to his speech. Detective Henri Fontenot was definitely a charming man with appealing features. He turned to look at Dani who still looked like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar and smiled, she was obviously attracted to Fontenot and that revelation brought an easy knot to Malcolm’s stomach. 

He sighed, taking a large sip of his drink, squeezing his eyes tight, he shook his head. But all he saw behind his lids were Dani, smiling, nodding at him with knowing eyes. Teasing him about something. His mind dissecting each expression to match with the ones she had for Fontenot. He wasn’t someone who felt possessive about people in his life, to be fair he didn’t have many people to feel that way about. But Dani...she was special.

Malcolm sat up and looked at the glass of amber liquid, it was surreal that Dani wasn’t part of their team, his team. In this particular situation, she was paired with Fontenot and that knot in his stomach grew with each smile they shared or even the banter that flowed between them. The visible flirtations made Malcolm internally roll his eyes. Fontenot could work on his pick-up lines. 

It definitely didn’t help when they finally arrested the supposed best friend of the woman who was their murder victim, apparently, he lost it when she told him that she was in love with her current partner and they would be getting married and she was expecting his baby. Malcolm did not miss the sympathy that crept in the back of his mind, as if he understood their killer on a whole other level. 

After the wrap-up, when he was packing his bag for the night, he watched from afar as she laughed again at something Fontenot said, head thrown back full-blown laughter, not even he was able to get that kind of reaction from her. He was so deep in his observation of his friend and the object of her affection that, only noticed Gil when he heard him slurp rather loudly from his mug standing behind him.

“Looks like Dani’s gonna be busy on her day off,” JT wiggled his brows playfully as he joined next to Gil. 

“Nah, he’s not all in yet. He’s definitely close though.” Gil stated. “If he were, then she wouldn’t have dropped him after the first date.”

“I think Fontenot is already in, have you ever seen our girl laugh like that?” JT said pointing the file in his hand in the direction of the couple in question.

Gil shook his head, “I dunno,” still not convinced. 

JT turned to Malcolm, “what do you think?” 

Malcolm shifted uncomfortably, “I think this is not any of my business, Dani wouldn’t like the speculations.” 

“Really? Now you have boundaries?” JT shook his head teasingly as he walked away. 

Malcolm caught the sly smile on Gil’s lips as he turned to go back into his office. He looked on for a second longer and nodded to himself. It’s none of his business. 

Macallan deserved to be sipped and appreciated but he took another long gulp of the drink. He was annoyed with himself and with Dani irrationally. Why did she have to be so perfectly friendly, and caring, and...beautiful? Why did she embrace him and bring him into her fold?

He knew he had to address the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach but for now, all he wanted to do was drink his very expensive scotch and overthink about whether Dani was out with Fontenot.

[damn-anotherangel]

Redwood and Rowan

  It didn't take long for me to fall in love with a broken down abandoned inn hidden away on a small hill shaded by the canopy of immense trees. Standing before it, I could remember gazing at its sloping roof and seeing into its spacious, if messy and partially reclaimed main lobby. I could imagine a soft golden light spilling out over the well-travelled highway overlooking the sea. I saw the potential to have my own little lighthouse. My waypoint for weary travellers, and maybe a little something deeper for those that asked the right questions.

  Yes, Falling in love didn't take long at all. What took longer was bringing my image and the inn to life. I had resolved rather mulishly to reinvent this space without disturbing the wildlife around it. Asking permission took some doing, with long hours of gentle ritual, gathering the Wilds’ attentions and eventually being able to plead my case. Even then, the forest had only done its equivalent of a shrug and a general feeling that amounted to “The building was here before. Better it fall to you than someone who won’t spare a thought to the rest of us." I had resolved to use no magic in actually building aside from muffling the hammering and cursing I did while making my improvements. I did need to frequently ask for help for some of the upgrades, and after five months of almost nonstop work, my very own café was set to open for business.

  Since then, I've had frequent visitors; Elderly couples eager for fresh and exotic teas, bureaucrats seeking spiced coffees that boast energy with no crash, college students yearning for tastes of home in a small tart or pastry. They open the door and are met with a view of hanging canvasses from the deserts, masks from the islands, and scents from fragrant plants grown in my own backyard. All thanks from travellers and gifts from the forest, each of whom I thanked in kind. I added a personal touch in the floating glass and crystal spheres, lenses and prisms that allowed the light to dance in my little sanctuary that I named the Gatto Spettro.

   The cliffside town nearby yields most of my regular patronage, commuters to work in the cities a long way off. I make sure to leave a ready steaming cup with their name on when I hear their arrival. If they have time to stay and finish their tea, I even may tell them their fortunes from their tea leaves. We part mutually grateful for the exchange, and their fortunes in some way or another are certain to pass. They leave my cafe, its incense and low music lifting their spirits for their day or week ahead.

  My constant companion, not to mention the Café’s namesake, is the ghost of a black cat I call Tezca. He rarely shows himself off to customers, since his milky pupilless eyes and spectral body tend to be off-putting, but nobody can tell from afar, and he can be frequently seen resting his svelte ghostly form on the large window above the front door.

   It was on the twenty second of May,  following a rather momentous occasion where I was able to feed a stag from the forest, a massive twelve-point god of a beast, that a new customer entered my cafe.

   He was quiet, and asked simply that I share a cup of tea with him. I had been empty for two days, and wasn't expecting anyone to wait on, so I obliged. There was something about this man I couldn’t place one detail or two out of true with the rest of the world. He was well-dressed, and though he wasn’t unkempt, he still looked rugged somehow. There was always that feeling, like the heat of a fire trapped behind sheets of ice...He didn't speak much in the beginning other than to introduce himself as Rowan Malcolm. He had far to travel and simply seemed content to enjoy the atmosphere for a time. I too, had very little to say. I waited though, for it seemed he had a sentence on the tip of his tongue, a story waiting to spill forth with each purposeful inhale... And then, suddenly there was a cat through the sugar.

He'd landed lightly, of course, like a falling leaf. Gazing directly at this man, who looked quite surprised, but unflustered as he gazed right back.

"Interesting," I murmured, "Tezca doesn't often come down from his throne above the door unless I'm alone."  The man Malcom smirked a little as Tez gently pawed the air in front of his nose, begging for pets. I watched as he slowly raised his hand, and the spectral feline met it with a soft nuzzle, as solid as a living cat.

"You're so gregarious today, Tez. are you sick?" I chuckled and got a face full of tail fluff. So it continued for about an hour, and the incense was running low, as was the tea. We had chatted softly about the cafe, and the comfort of the woods, until the smoke from the incense stopped. Noting this, he seemed to gather himself.

"That looks like my cue," he grunted, and he pushed back his chair, set his teacup on the counter, and walked out the front door. I waved slowly, lamenting, the air empty of a story, and glance down at the empty cup where the dregs settled. I remember my heart skipping a beat, and jogging to the door to a chirp and a "sorry Tez."

I swung around the door and shout,

"Rowan!" as he turned, halfway down the steps to the lot. "Take the long way there, yeah?" he raised an eyebrow. "Trust me. Long way's better."

He chuckled, held a thumbs-up, and powered up his old Volvo. I headed back inside to the cup, presently under Tezca's watchful eye and I double checked to see a stag's head in the pattern, twelve points, two of the farthest connected by some stray dregs. One of the other prongs' line looked broken and blocked.

I petitioned the Forest for an audience that evening with Tez perched next to me on a post. I felt I needed council about this man, and I had clearly made some kind of connection. The Forest was kind but gently grim. It offered me an image of Rowan frozen mid-stride aimed into the trees, barely not-there enough to be obviously a glamour. He looked back at me, and in his blue eyes I saw the ice in his eyes crack, and the fire come forth, It was a look I’d seen in warriors, soldiers. The glance yielded not an answer to the call of battle, or not ONLY that, oh no. It spoke of survival. Of being the ONLY survivor from a last stand. A battle with no winning side, and no report of heroism. Echoes of a memory, “You didn’t see them, you didn’t hear them!” That trauma leaves a darkness in you, the image seemed to say. 

”You don’t know what they asked me, no BEGGED me to do!”

From the whisper of the breeze and the stirring of the water I hear

Those he leaves behind may need refuge...

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 30

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

Thursday (very, very late)

“I have something for you,” Malcolm murmured, kissing her ear.

“Huh?”

He’d cleaned up the worst of the mess they’d made, and now that the sweat had cooled and dried, they were snuggled together under the blankets, her back to his front, their arms entangled and folded together beneath her breasts.  Thoroughly sated, warm, comfortable, and happy, she was almost asleep when he spoke.

He rolled away from her, and by the time he came back she had turned to face him, pillowing her head on her arm as she watched him.  His hands appeared, one clenched around something, and her breath caught. “What-”

“Rose,” he cut her off, not unkindly, “you… you are a breath of fresh air.  You-”

Unable to help it she yawned, face scrunching with the size of it- it seemed to go on forever, and by the time it was over, he was biting his lip, watching her with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“Mhmm, you’re not,” she promised, snuggling closer, “but I’m exhausted.  My husband had me up ridiculously early to watch the sunrise this morning, then he shagged my brains out.”

“Sounds like quite the catch.”

“He is.”  She grinned up at him.  “And I’m going to return the favor and blow his mind- well, something- as soon as I’ve gotten a kip.”

Malcolm hummed. “Well, I’ll let you get to it, but first- I’ll save the drawn-out romantic speech for when you’re more awake, but…”  Holding out his clenched hand in front of him, he turned it over and opened it to reveal a ring, with a decent sapphire stone set in gold.  It was beautiful, and delicate, and she loved it.

“Oh, babe,” Rose gasped softly.  “That’s wonderful.”

“Do you really think so?” Surprisingly shy, he held it out to her. “If so, I want you to have it.  If not, there’s plenty more in the family vault, but- I wanted you to have this one.  I’ve wanted you to have it for… a while.”

“Are you sure?”  She took in carefully, holding it up to her eye to examine it better.  “It looks old.  Not in a bad way, just in a valuable way.”

Her husband slid his hand over her waist, pulling her closer.  “Yes.  I didn’t give you an engagement ring, because… but now that our feelings have been resolved, that it’s all out in the open, I want you to have a pretty ring to show off.”

Rose looked down at the simple gold band she’d been wearing for the last week, and felt her heart melt. “I’m very happy with the ring I already have,” she told him softly, “because you gave it to me.  I think this will be a perfect addition.”  Then she handed it back.

“Wait, what?”

Rolling her eyes, she held out her left hand to him, grinning.  “Go ahead, put it on me.  ‘S only right.”

He did, carefully guiding it up her finger and over her knuckles, settling it at the base of her wedding band before bringing her hand to his lips and kissing both rings gently. “Perfect.”

“I agree.”  Bringing her hand to her face, she admired how they looked together – like they belonged next to each other.  “That wasn’t necessary, but… thank you.”

“You deserve the world,” he shrugged one shoulder.  “A ring- a family heirloom at that- is nothing.”

Smiling, she leaned forward, kissing him sweetly.  “Let’s get some sleep,” she sighed against his lips.  “Then when we wake up, I’ll thank you properly.”

He kissed her back. “No thanks necessary.”

“Oh, I think it’s very necessary.”

-

Friday (very, very early)

Yawning, Rose padded back to bed from the loo, on her way eyeing the clothing strewn across the floor, abandoned where it had fallen.  At first glance it would be impossible to mistake what had happened, and she felt awkward at the idea of the maid finding them like that.  Sending a longing glance towards the bed, she quickly gathered up the items and piled them on the chair so they didn’t look quite so much like victims of torrential passion – as they had been.

Climbing back into bed, she snuggled down next to Malcolm in the hopes of falling back asleep, but it was soon clear that that wasn’t going to happen.  Her mind was wide awake, and a heat low in her belly begged for relief. Grunting in frustration she opened her eyes, taking in Malcolm’s profile in the moonlight.  In his sleep he’d rolled onto his back, one arm bent above his head, the other across his chest.  The sheet had slipped down to his hips, and she licked her lips at the slight tenting occurring there.

Glancing back up at his face she found him sleeping soundly, and debated whether or not to wake him up. On the one hand, she saw no reason they should both be awake just because she couldn’t sleep.  On the other, if they were awake anyway…

-

Malcolm drifted towards consciousness, hazily aware of a wet warmth on his stomach.  Stretching his arm out beside him, his eyes shot open at realizing he was alone in bed, Rose’s side cool and empty.  He didn’t have to wonder long, though, before solving both mysteries at once – his wife was stretched out on her side perpendicular to his waist, drawing shapes on his stomach with her tongue as she propped herself up on her forearms.

“Good morning,” he rasped, threading his fingers through her hair, eyes following the tip of her tongue. “Having fun?”

“Technically, it’s not morning,” she replied with a grin, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his navel. “But, I figured you wouldn’t mind. Tit for tat, and such.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest with a mere, “Oh?”

Her grin morphed into a smirk, and she tugged at the sheet covering his hips; it didn’t move, just pressed down against him, accentuating the tenting happening there.  “I mean, if you’re up for it.”

“I could probably be persuaded to be a team player,” he drawled.  “For the right price.”  Anticipation had heat pooling low in his belly, but he was enjoying the game- he loved how playful she could be, how she brought that same quality out in him. Sex with Rose was fun, in a way it had rarely been throughout his life.

“Is that so?”  Freeing one hand, she trailed her fingertips along his length over the sheet, making his obscured erection bob and his stomach clench. “I’ve been known to broker a fair deal or two in my day.”

He stole her abandoned pillow, using it to prop himself up to better see what she was doing- and what he desperately hoped she would be soon.  “Rose.”

Rose snickered, and he flushed at his inadvertently-whiney tone.  “Yes, dear?”

She drew the sheet away from him, and he helped kick it down to the end of the bed, far out of the way. The cooler air of their bedroom felt wonderful on his heated flesh, and he watched with pleading eyes as she examined his length, abruptly realizing that though they’d been intimate a handful of times now, she’d never really seen him- not like this, and he eyed his sometimes-errant member with suspicion.  Don’t ruin this for us, he warned it- no need to remind her that he was officially closing in on ‘middle age’.

Apparently, though, he didn’t need to worry.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, making him twitch in response.  “Lovely.  Really.” Leaning forward she flicked her tongue against the head, drawing a sigh from him.  “And big.  Who knew you were hiding this in your trousers all those years?”  Her tongue darted out again, and he sagged back against the pillows, hand returning to her hair and combing through the loose strands, gently untangling them.

He let her tease him for far longer than he would have liked, her soft kisses and licks doing nothing but making him ache for her, despite the sensual beauty of the visual. She was on her hands and knees next to him, breasts hanging freely.  His eyes lingered along her smooth side, taking in the pert bum wagging slightly in the air with her movements.  She was the epitome of art, and were it not so personal and he so possessive, he would insist that her likeness should hang in any of the great art museums in the world, so anyone and everyone could marvel at her sheer, erotic beauty.  Eventually, though, the tension became unbearable, and he shifted restlessly on the mattress, his focus narrowing to the imminent pleasure.

“I’m starting to think you’re all talk.”

His beautiful bride looked up the length of his chest to meet his eye, gaze taking its time to peruse the view on the way.  “Is that all men think about?” she asked, biting her lip, unable to hide her smirk. “Getting their cock sucked?”

“It is when a beautiful woman promises to do so then doesn’t.”  He arched his eyebrows.  “You’ve made your husband a promise, Mrs. Tucker, and I expect you to see it through.”

She laughed.  “Mrs. Tucker.  I like that.”  Her fingers wrapped around him, starting a lazy glide along his skin.  “You know, this is only fair, after how you tortured me last night.”

“Tortured you?” he said indignantly.  “I didn’t know orgasms were considered torture.  I won’t make that mistake again.”

Arching one eyebrow up at him, she dipped her head and finally, finally, slid her lips over the head of him, sucking lightly as her tongue explored him.

“Guh.”

Her chuckle was almost silent, but the vibrations from it were amazing over his aching flesh, and he grunted, fingers tightening in her hair.  It had been a long time since his last relationship (if one could call it that), and to be here, with the woman he’d quietly loved from afar for so long, still felt dreamlike.  He hoped he never lost that feeling.

Rose pulled her hand and mouth off of him then, grinning at his involuntary protest.  “I’m just making myself comfortable,” she soothed, shifting around to settle herself between his thighs, kneeling over him. “I suggest you hold on.”

This time, when she lowered her mouth to him, it was without any of the languidness of before- taking half his length in on the first pass, she began a seemingly-complicated rhythm of bobbing and sucking, her hand pumping the parts her mouth couldn’t reach, all of which worked to short-circuit his brain and send him spiraling towards the abyss.

“Oh, Rose,” he groaned, fisting the pillows next to his head, trying to keep himself from spending too quickly.  “So good. Too good.”  The suction she was able to generate was incredible, his eyes rolling back into his head in delight.

In response she just took him deeper, his tip bumping the back of her throat twice before she pulled off, coughing.  “Okay, can’t do that,” she giggled, breathing deeply.  “How do you want to…”

He had to fight to open his eyes, especially once she returned to sucking at his head.  “Ngh.”  Thought was difficult, all his senses focused on the pleasures of her mouth, but he decided he didn’t want to come alone.  “Fuck me.”

“You sure?  I can-”

Malcolm reached for her, catching her hand and using it to pull her up his body.  “Please.”

Straddling his hips, she rose up for a moment to line him up before sinking down onto him, taking all of him in one go.  “Mhmm.”

“Yes,” he grunted, gripping her hips and starting to thrust up.  “C’mon.”  She started slow, her movements more of a rock then a thrust, before she leaned forward, bracing her hands above his shoulders and dipping her head to kiss him. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, drowning in pleasure.  “So much.”

“I love you too.”

She wormed her tongue into his mouth, flicking it against his own as her hips began to pick up speed, rolling over him in a delicious counterpoint to his own thrusting. Letting go of her hips he wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her against him, as his right hand slipped between them, finding her clit and rubbing it desperately.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Rose keened softly, head bowing as she rode him harder.  “Mhmm, yeah.”

“Come, Rose,” he pleaded, rhythm stuttering as he fought to hold on, waiting for her to catch up. “Please.”

“Hang on.”

He stopped instantly, and panting for breath, she shifted over him, straightening up and setting her hands on his chest as she got her feet under her.  His limbs trembled, unsure how much more he could take, but she tossed her head, hair flying behind her, and opened her eyes.

“Okay.”

And then she was riding him, all finesse lost in favor of chasing release.  For a moment he forgot to start moving himself, captivated by her beauty- her sweat-slick skin shining in the moonlight, the building pleasure on her face, her breasts bouncing with the force of her movements.

“Malcolm,” she whimpered, and he sprang to life, one hand returning between them to pleasure her, the other reaching up to pinch and twist a nipple just the way she liked.

She broke with a sob, freezing above him, head thrown back, body shaking with the strength of her release, before collapsing down onto him.  Rolling her onto her back and settling above her, he hooked one knee in the crook of his elbow and began to move.  It only took another half-dozen or so thrusts before it was his turn, gasping her name as he finally found sweet release, sagging down to cover her body with his own.

“I love you,” she whispered, face buried in his shoulder.

“I love you too,” he sighed, enjoying the looseness in his muscles and peace in his heart.  Nothing in the world felt better against his skin than hers, wrapped up in each other as they were, and he couldn’t have left her in that moment for anything.

She pressed a kiss to his clavicle, one arm weakly wrapping around his waist.  “We’re gonna have a brilliant life.”

“Fucking right we are.”

[verdiprati]

Upcoming Performances by Dame Sarah Connolly

[NOTE: this post is now out of date. Check the schedule tag on my blog for the most recent version of this list.]

After the jump: an unofficial schedule of Dame Sarah Connolly’s future performances. Those of you in Britain may catch a performance in London, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Cardiff, Leeds, Gloucester, Exeter, Chipping Campden, or Helmsley (York). Those on the Continent may see her in Berlin, Madrid, Paris, Vienna, Köln, Rotterdam, Katowice, Bergen, Aix-en-Provence, or Zeist. Don’t live near one of these places? Take in a concert from afar: I am adding online broadcast and livestream details as they become available.

The season of season announcements has been in full swing for several weeks now and I have been able to add a bunch of new performances to this list since the previous edition. The announcements aren’t over yet, though, so bookmark this list (or find it under the schedule tag on my blog) and check back for new developments as we get into April and May.

This is not an authoritative list. These are the upcoming performances by Dame Sarah Connolly that I have been able to learn about from Dame Sarah’s new website, Dame Sarah’s agent's website (Askonas Holt), Operabase, Bachtrack, Dame Sarah's Twitter, and generally ferreting around the web.

I sometimes list concerts that are not yet officially confirmed; you should of course check official sources before making plans and be aware that cast changes and cancellations can happen at any time.

I have added links to venue, ticketing, and broadcast information where available. Tips on new information are always welcome! Please contact me via email (verdiprati [at] selveamene [dot] com), Tumblr messaging, or ask box (plain prose only in the ask box; anything with links or an email address will get eaten by Tumblr filters) with corrections or additions.

Recital with Robin Tritschler, Anna Huntley, and Malcolm Martineau at the Wigmore Hall, London, April 24, 2019. The program features Robert Schumann’s Myrthen song cycle in the first half and a mix of the composer’s other songs in the second. The Wigmore website, where Anna Huntley’s name was just recently added, notes that Huntley "will be joining as an additional mezzo-soprano” while the “programme remain[s] the same,” suggesting that Dame Sarah’s expected participation in the recital has been reduced for some reason.

Recital with Joseph Middleton at the Festival Katowice Kultura Natura, May 14, 2019. Works by Schumann, Debussy, Zemlinsky, Wolf, and Roussel.

Berlioz, Les nuits d’été at the Chipping Campden Music Festival, May 21, 2019. In a program with orchestral works by Fauré and Mendelssohn. Thomas Hull conducts the Academy Orchestra.

Recital at the Internationaal LiedFestival Zeist (Netherlands), May 25, 2019. With Sholto Kynoch. Songs by Brahms, Wolf, Debussy and Zemlinsky. The LiedFestival Zeist announced on May 23 that due to illness, Dame Sarah would be replaced by Paula Murrihy.  

Elgar, The Dream of Gerontius with the Hallé and three choruses at Victoria Hall, Leeds, June 1, 2019. Barry Banks and David Soar are the other vocal soloists; Simon Wright conducts.

Mahler, Das Lied von der Erde with the Bergen Filharmoniske Orkester at the Grieghallen Bergen, June 5, 2019. With Toby Spence singing the tenor part and Edward Gardner conducting. As of this writing, the orchestra’s website still lists Ekaterina Gubanova as the mezzo soloist for this concert, but the engagement appears in Dame Sarah’s diary on her own website as well as on her agent’s website.

[New! Special event] “An Evening with Dame Sarah Connolly,” fundraiser event for the Opera Awards, London, June 10, 2019. The Opera Awards website is light on details for this event but I expect it will consist of a purely spoken interview, with no live musical performance. Tickets are £195 and include dinner.

[New! Special event] ENO Gala, London, June 12, 2019. The English National Opera promises a “special guest performance” by Dame Sarah during the dinner service at this fundraiser; repertoire is not specified. Pure speculation on my part, but I imagine she will sing two or three songs or arias. Baritone James Cleverton is also scheduled to perform earlier in the evening. Tickets for the gala are £399.

Mahler, Des Knaben Wunderhorn (extracts) and Janáček, Glagolitic Mass at the Maison de la Radio, Paris, June 20, 2019. With the Orchestre National de France and the Choeur de Radio France, conducted by Jukka-Pekka Saraste. The other vocal soloists for the Glagolitic Mass are Simona Šaturová, Mati Turi, and Christof Fischesser Mischa Schelomianski.

[Broadcast] This concert will be broadcast live on France Musique.

[New! Special event] A public "conversation” at the Oxford Festival of the Arts, Magdalen College School, Oxford, July 3, 2019. Dame Sarah is scheduled to appear “in conversation with Oxford Festival of the Arts Director, Dr Michelle Castelletti” at an untitled event. The description says that “The evening will be illustrated by excerpts from some of her most glorious performances”; I believe this refers to the showing of videos, not any kind of live musical performance. 

Mahler, Das Lied von der Erde at the Festival d’Aix, Aix-en-Provence, July 13, 2019. With the Orchestre de Paris conducted by Ingo Metzmacher; Andreas Schager sings the tenor part.

Michael Betteridge, Across the Sky (community opera) at the Cheltenham Music Festival, July 14, 2019. The performance is only an hour long and the nature of Dame Sarah’s participation is not totally clear to me from the festival’s website; she is not specifically named as a vocal soloist. Anyone drawn to this event by the fact that Dame Sarah’s name is attached to it should also take note that she is performing in the south of France the night before and factor in some risk of travel delay.

[New!] Recital at the Ryedale Festival, Duncombe Park, Helmsley, York, July 18, 2019. With Christopher Glynn, the Festival’s artistic director. On May 7, the Festival announced on Twitter that Dame Sarah would be singing this recital in place of Ian Bostridge, who is withdrawing from concerts (elsewhere as well) during his recovery from heart valve surgery. (Get well, Ian!) My thanks to an alert reader for sharing the Festival’s tweet with me!

Recital with Malcolm Martineau at Wigmore Hall, London, July 23, 2019. Part of Dame Sarah’s yearlong residency at the Wigmore. Repertoire to include works by Robert Schumann, Gustav Mahler, Frank Bridge, and Benjamin Britten.

Bob Chilcott, A Christmas Oratorio (premiere) at the Three Choirs Festival, Gloucester, August 1, 2019. With Nick Pritchard, Neal Davies, and of course the Three Cathedral Choirs; conducted by Adrian Partington. Note that this is an afternoon concert, not the main evening concert for August 1. (Multi-mezzo fans may want to stick around to hear Anna Stéphany Kathryn Rudge do Les nuites d’été in the evening.) Tickets go on sale to the general public on April 24.

[Broadcast, details TBA] According to the Three Choirs website, “This concert will be recorded for future broadcast.”

Berlioz, Les nuits d’été with the National Youth Orchestra of the USA at the Konzerthaus, Berlin, August 6, 2019. Part of a concert conducted by Sir Antonio Pappano. Tickets are available via the link above or on the Konzerthaus website.

[Livestream] The Konzerthaus website mentions “Dieses Konzert wird live auf arte concert gestreamt”—this concert will be livestreamed on Arte Concert. Arte livestreams are sometimes available worldwide, sometimes geoblocked, but given that this is the National Youth Orchestra of the USA performing in Europe, I have hope that it will be available worldwide.

[New!] Berlioz, L’enfance du Christ with the Hallé, London, August 14, 2014. Co-starring Allan Clayton, Roderick Williams, and Neal Davies; conducted by Sir Andrew Davis. The work is being billed with an English title (The Childhood of Christ) but I see no indication that it is to be sung in translation. Part of the BBC Proms.

[Broadcast] The BBC Proms are generally broadcast live on BBC Radio 3.

[New!] Elgar, The Music Makers with the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, London, August 29, 2019. In a concert conducted by Sir Andrew Davis. Part of the BBC Proms.

[Broadcast] The BBC Proms are generally broadcast live on BBC Radio 3.

[New!] Gluck, Orpheus and Eurydice (Orpheus) at the English National Opera, London, October 1, 10, 12, 17, 24, 31, and November 14 and 19, 2019. With Sarah Tynan as Eurydice and Soraya Mafi as Love. Wayne McGregor is the director and choreographer, with dancers from his company participating in the production; Harry Bicket conducts. Public booking opens on April 24.

[Details TBA] Performance with The English Concert at Exeter Cathedral, October 15, 2019. The Two Moors Festival has tweeted news of the gig but has not yet formally announced its 2019 lineup nor made tickets available for purchase. Keep an eye on the websites for the Two Moors Festival and The English Concert for their full season announcements.

Mahler, Symphony No. 2, Resurrection, with the London Philharmonic Orchestra, Royal Festival Hall, London, October 19, 2019. With Sofia Fomina, the London Philharmonic Choir, and the Philharmonia Chorus. Vladimir Jurowski conducts a concert also comprising Colin Matthews’ Metamorphosis.

[New!] Max Reger, “An die Hoffnung” with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, at Usher Hall, Edinburgh, November 1, and Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, November 2, 2019. Part of a concert also featuring Reger’s “Serenade” and Saint-Saëns’ Organ Symphony, conducted by Neeme Järvi. For details, see the PDF season brochures for Edinburgh and Glasgow respectively.

[New details!] Recital with Julius Drake at Temple Church, London, November 25, 2019. Although I still don’t see this concert listed on the Temple Music website, I have found a brochure online that gives details of Dame Sarah’s recital along with other performances scheduled for October through December, 2019. The repertoire includes Robert Schumann’s Frauenliebe und -leben, Gedichte der Königin Maria Stuart, Judith Bingham’s Adieu Solace, and “songs by Alma and Gustav Mahler.” The Judith Bingham piece is apparently based on the life of Mary Queen of Scots, as are Schumann’s Gedichte.

Elgar, Sea Pictures with the London Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican, London, December 12, 2019. In a concert conducted by Sir Antonio Pappano that also includes instrumental works by Tippett and Vaughn Williams.

[New!] Wagner, Die Walküre (Fricka) at the Teatro Real, Madrid, February 12, 16, 21, 25, and 28, 2020. Co-stars include Tomasz Konieczny (Wotan), Ricarda Merbeth (Brünnhilde), and Stuart Skelton (Siegmund). Pablo Heras-Casado conducts; the production by Robert Carsen is a revival from Oper Köln. If booking tickets, be sure to note the dates when Dame Sarah is performing; Daniela Sindram takes the role of Fricka on other nights. Single tickets go on sale November 4, 2019 if I read the Teatro Real website correctly.

Oskar Fried, Verklärte Nacht with the BBC Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican, London, March 13, 2020. With Stuart Skelton; Edward Gardner conducts.

[Details TBA] Recital at Wigmore Hall, London, March 19, 2020. Repertoire and accompaniment remain TBA. Listed in the Wigmore Hall preview brochure for the ’19-’20 season.

Mahler, Das Lied von der Erde with the Philharmonia Orchestra, Royal Festival Hall, London, April 30, 2020. The piece is being billed as The Song of the Earth but there is no indication that it will be sung in translation as well. Andreas Schager sings the tenor parts; Xian Zhang conducts the concert, which includes a Mozart symphony in the first half.

Mahler, Symphony No. 2, Resurrection with the Rotterdams Philharmonisch Orkest, De Doelen, Rotterdam, May 14, 15, and 17, 2020. Chen Reiss sings the soprano part; Lahav Shani conducts.

[New!] Mahler, Symphony No. 2, Resurrection with the Rotterdams Philharmonisch Orkest, Köln Philharmonie, May 27, 2020. Chen Reiss sings the soprano part; Lahav Shani conducts. (A repeat of the program from Rotterdam, above.)

[New!] Recital at the Musée d’Orsay, Paris, June 6, 2020. With Malcolm Martineau. The program includes Ravel’s Shéhérazade, Elgar’s Sea Pictures, Debussy’s Trois chansons de Bilitis, and various works by Hugo Wolff, Alexander von Zemlinsky, Charles Villiers Stanford, and Cecile Chaminade.

[New!] Mahler, Symphony No. 8, Symphony of a Thousand with the Wiener Symphoniker at the Musikverein, Vienna, June 12 and 13, 2020. Three Vienna choirs add their forces; Philippe Jordan conducts. The other scheduled vocal soloists are Camilla Nylund, Irène Theorin, Martina Janková, Michaela Schuster, Burkhard Fritz, Iain Paterson, and John Relyea. Casting the monumental Mahler 8 with a complete team of singers who will make it through rehearsals to the final performance is said to be uniquely challenging, so if you’re wedded to hearing this particular cast, keep a close eye on it. (The last time I was keeping an eye on a particular Mahler 8, five of the originally cast eight soloists had changed by the time of the actual performance.)

Wagner, Götterdämmerung (Waltraute, Zweite Norn) at the Opéra national de Paris, November 13, 17, 21, and 28, and December 6, 2020. Part of a new complete Ring Cycle production directed by Calixto Bieito. The 2019-2020 season will include the first two Ring Cycle operas, with Siegfried and Götterdämmerung to follow in October and November 2020; the complete cycle will then be performed sequentially twice in “festival” format during November and December 2020. (The festival performances are being ticketed as a four-opera package; curiously, at the upper end of the price scale, a festival ticket gives you a small discount as compared with buying the four operas separately, but at the lower end of the scale, you pay a premium for the festival. Concise ticket price information can be found on page 168 of the season brochure PDF.) Dame Sarah’s co-stars in Götterdämmerung include Andreas Schager (Siegfried), Ricarda Merbeth (Brünnhilde), Johannes Martin Kränzle (Gunther), and Jochen Schmeckenbecher (Alberich).

[Unconfirmed / details TBA] Handel, Agrippina at the Dutch National Opera. In June 2018, opera critic Hugh Canning tweeted the news that the Royal Opera is planning to offer Barrie Kosky’s new production of Agrippina with Joyce DiDonato in the title role during the ’19/’20 season; in a reply that has now been deleted, Dame Sarah mentioned that she and Alice Coote would do the same production in Amsterdam and Munich. (If you are a member of the Sarah Connolly fan group on Facebook, you can scroll back in time to June and see a screenshot there.) Subsequent discussion revealed that Coote would get the Munich gig (in July 2019), so Connolly must be the Amsterdam Agrippina. Agrippina appears in neither the ’18-’19 season nor ’19-’20 at the DNO, so presumably we must look farther ahead.

[Unconfirmed / details TBA] Brett Dean, Hamlet (Gertrude) at the Metropolitan Opera, New York, sometime in 2021-22. Allan Clayton, who starred in the title role of Brett Dean’s Hamlet at Glyndebourne in 2017, mentioned in an interview with the Telegraph that he would be reprising the role at an unspecified date and venue in the US. When prompted on Twitter, Dame Sarah indicated that she would be participating in the revival, too (“I shall be misunderstanding my confused boy again”). In a later interview with Opera News, Clayton reportedly specified that he would reprise Hamlet at the Met. The Future Met Wiki places the production at the Met in the 2021-2022 season (as does this New York Times article). Hat tip to Christopher Lowrey, who sang Guildenstern in the original production at Glyndebourne, whose tweet praising Allan Clayton brought the Telegraph interview to my attention. (No indication whether Lowrey will also be cast in the American revival.) Additional hat tip to the Tumblrer who submitted information on this topic via the ask box.

Previous versions of this list can be found under the schedule tag on this blog. This list published March 29, 2019. Edited April 3 to add Orpheus and Eurydice. Edited April 4 to add the Mahler 8 in Vienna (thanks to a tip from a friend!). Edited April 12 to reflect the change of bass for the Glagolitic Mass. Edited April 17 to add the two BBC Proms and the Teatro Real Walküre. Edited April 29 to link to the Two Moors Festival’s tweet. Edited May 9 to add the Ryedale Festival recital and the three special events (Opera Awards fundraiser, ENO Gala, and Oxford Festival of the Arts appearance). Edited May 10 to add new details to the Temple Music recital. Edited May 18 to update the link for the Ryedale Festival. Edited May 19 to add the recital at the Musée d’Orsay. Edited May 23 to reflect Dame Sarah’s withdrawal from the recital in Zeist. I may continue to edit this list as I receive new information.

[ncttrashaf]

What If I Make You Cry?

 A/N: I couldn’t help but write something for you all before my exams start on the 11th of this month. Please wish me luck, keep me in your prayers, and let me know how you feel about this little thing I wrote in a hurry :(((

~Admin Ayu ♥

Characters: Mark x Reader x Johnny Genre: Angst, Romance. Warning: Language, Mentions of sex (idk is that a thing?) Word count: 2,896

Mark wished he could kick himself.

  Right in his shin, just below his calf. Donghyuck had once kicked him in his calf and it didn’t hurt much. So he should settle for his shin. He looked at Johnny who was smiling at his phone, the curve only spreading across his face as his thumbs stormed away on the screen. ‘That could’ve been me,’ Mark thought to himself. But he knew, it was too late.

  Mark had met you on your 18th birthday, an addition to the small, homely party that he was unable to avoid due to his closest friend’s incessant persistence. Mark hadn’t felt the nervousness till he stepped across the threshold, realising he had just stepped inside a completely unknown household in a very personal celebration. Mark felt sick with guilt and embarrassment and was subtly planning his friend’s death later that night.

  Mark barely knew at that moment that the one whose deathbed was readied in his mind would become the one Mark would become the most thankful to; because he had introduced Mark to a person who changed a lot for him later on, who made him feel an entirely new feeling, an entire new anxiety.

  He had introduced Mark to you.

  You weren’t the least bit fazed by the idea that your easygoing and impulsive cousin was bringing along a friend you had never even exchanged greetings with. You were open to meeting new people and also took great delight in getting to know people. You liked being associated with every sort of person, it added to your experience.

  So when you received Mark warmly, handing him a glass of frappe you had made yourself for the evening, he felt relieved to say the least. He visibly let his stiffened shoulders down with a loud sigh and turned to his friend, exclaiming that he was worried he’d be a displeasure to his aunt’s family and his relatives.

  “What? No!” his friend cooed, “We’re cool people, we like crowds.”

  Mark later realised that you didn’t. You didn’t mind people, but you weren’t particularly fond of crowds either. You were a very balanced blend between a very outgoing person and a reticent soul. He liked talking to you, he liked exchanging regular texts, snaps, and smiles.

  He liked you.

  And so did the man who always made up for the emptiness he constantly felt living in a country thousands of miles away from his family.

  Johnny liked you, too.

  Mark could kick himself for having invited you over on his 18th birthday, which was months after yours. Mark could kick himself for having introduced you to the older members, when he could’ve only let you hang out with the younger members. Mark could kick himself for having let you share interests with Johnny, though he had no control over that.

  Mark just watched from afar as you conversed away with the older man who had hopped a little when he realised that you were an adult, also months into it.

  “I want to pursue a career in journalism, I want to write books whether it be fiction or non-fiction, I want to be a public speaker. I can’t explain how much I want to do!”

  “You know, my favourite author’s like that too-”

  “Malcolm Gladwell,” they announced together, indulging in a rather small, but hearty fit of laughter.

  Mark politely interrupted, “You both are getting along well.”

  You had opened your mouth to politely reply in affirmative, however Johnny took it to another level as he called you ‘his sorta person’, making Mark quietly disappear.

  Even though the blush was apparent in your cheeks, your smile did falter when you noticed your friend resorting to helping Taeyong cook, who politely shoved the younger boy away saying that he should enjoy his party when the actual reason was that Taeyong wanted to avoid setting the kitchen on fire. Mark felt incapable, untalented, and boring. He felt that his company was too lackluster to even be associated with your presence. So he chose to keep away from you throughout the evening, playing with the kids.

  Johnny and you exchanged numbers. Johnny and you texted each other. Johnny and you talked over the phone. Johnny and you exchanged snaps. Johnny and you became friends. Johnny stole you from Mark, and Mark let him. After all, Johnny had promised Mark that he will help set you two up. Mark felt threatened, but he trusted his older friend.

  “Johnny, I really, really like her.” Mark confessed to Johnny one night, a month into the new reliance you and Johnny had found in each other.

  “You… like her?” Johnny’s eyes were widened out of proportions, his usual relaxed form was then sitting straight as his grip on Mark’s arm tightened.

  “Yeah… why are you so surprised?”

  “Because,” Mark felt his thumping heart relax as Johnny’s grip loosened, “I would love to help you two out!”

  Johnny went on for a month talking to you, telling Mark that he was just making sure you felt the same way for the boy who had his heart set upon you, assuring him that he won’t let any opportunity slip by. Every day, for a split second, Mark would question himself if he could trust Johnny.

  ‘Of course you can!’ Mark would scold himself in his brain, ‘He’s your brother, he’d surely help you!’

  One night when Mark was writing his raps, absorbed in his blank pages, Johnny texted him. Mark bolted to his door and left it unlocked for Johnny, who walked in after a minute.

  “Hey Mark,” Johnny apologetically got to the point after having spent minutes talking about Taeyong and Donghyuck fighting, Ten and Doyoung fighting, and Ten crying, “I’m- I’m sorry bro… she doesn’t feel the same way. She told me she likes this other guy, but she won’t tell me who it really is. When I asked her if she possibly had any feelings for you, she laughed it off… I’m sorry bro.”

  Mark smiled and let Johnny know that it was okay, that he could deal with a little crush and get over it, that it was not that big of a concern.

  Mark was lying.

  You and Mark were still good friends, but not how you both once were. Things had changed. Mark couldn’t bring himself to be as frequent with you as he once was. And you had pulled away from him as well. Mark realised you both had drifted apart, and he was struggling very hard to accept it.

  A week before your birthday, Johnny called Mark in his bedroom. The latter boy genuinely thought it had something to do with their comeback or work, however, he felt the sky break down upon him as Johnny informed him.

  “Mark… I really like her, and I think she likes me, too… since you had said you’ll get over her, I wanted to ask you; are you?”

  Mark thought for a moment about how restricting your love life from expanding was going to be of no help. Thus Mark said he was very much over you, happily helping Johnny plan a small surprise for you on your birthday with a heartfelt confession.

  By the end of the week, you and Johnny were dating.

  Mark had promised himself that he won’t ever frown upon your relationship. He felt happy that two of his favourite persons, two persons he genuinely loved and admired, had reciprocated to each others’ feelings. Two of his favourite persons had feelings for each other, were happy with each other, and smiled together. He was happy for you and your boyfriend. But somewhere deep in his heart, he felt empty. Because, he had lost two of his favourite persons, he had lost them to each other.

  Johnny and you got along well and everyone could see it. Everyone was happy when they saw you both off for the evening to celebrate your 200th day. However, when Johnny came back to dorm earlier than he was supposed to that night, undoubtedly livid, everyone realised the problem.

  Mark couldn’t help but eavesdrop as Johnny ranted away to Jaehyun and Doyoung.

  “It’s been over six months Jaehyun, six fucking months! She won’t even let me touch her hip!”

  “Johnny, you’re four years older! She may be an adult, but you have to understand she’s still pretty young. Give her some time, I’m sure she will open up with time.” Doyoung lectured.

  “I can’t believe you were expecting sex tonight.” Jaehyun laughed bitterly.

  “I’m sorry I’m a man with a healthy sex drive. You’re one to talk, being the one who goes to bars every week for a fuck.” Johnny spat at Jaehyun, shoving his hand off his shoulder.

  Mark felt dejected at Johnny’s disappointment, and enquired how you were doing. You were a crying mess when he called. You were sad and just as disappointed. Mark could feel an impending breakup, and he was ashamed to admit the little hope that had bloomed in his heart already.

  However, you and Johnny made up in a week and resumed as usual. Johnny promised you that he won’t ever rush it, that he won’t ever try to initiate something that could cause you discomfort.

  Mark was crestfallen, to say the least.

  However, he was observant too. He noticed Johnny and Jaehyun’s outing every week for a ‘walk’, and always insisted to join them. His insistence had gotten to a point where Jaehyun and Johnny were almost sneaking out every Friday night.

  As a friend, he felt liable to you. You had every right to know that your boyfriend was seeking sexual pleasure from strangers at a bar just because you had set some restrictions. You had every right to know that your boyfriend had resorted to other women to obtain release, which he couldn’t get from you. Johnny was cheating on you, and you had every right to know.

  It took Mark an hour to convince your cousin to take you to the bar on a Friday night, but he complied. Mark had given his friend a hint which was enough to rile him up, further requesting him to not attack ‘that tall jerk’ physically, since he wanted the two people actually involved to sort it out among themselves.

  “THERE’S NOTHING TO SORT OUT!” Mark heard your scream from behind the closed door, “Johnny, we are over.” You were crying frantically by the time you had ran out of the dorm, your sobs still audible. Mark wasted no time to run off behind you after a very small but heated exchange of words with Johnny.

  After a stressful and tiring five minutes of wandering, Mark finally caught you in his arms. He brought you back to the dorm and let you in his bedroom as Donghyuck quietly slipped in Taeil’s. He sat you down in his bed and waited for you to ease from your cries, to relax slightly.

  “Johnny told me that was the only thing he could do to keep our relationship healthy and alive…” you quietly told Mark, “He said that he is still emotionally attached to me, but he couldn’t help getting in some other woman’s pants… if he actually liked me at all, why would he cheat on me like- like this?” you whimpered, hiding your face in your hands as your started crying again.

  Mark recalled the little fight he and Johnny had had before Mark had run off to bring you in. Johnny had angrily retorted, “I will treat her however the fuck I want!”

  If Johnny could not treat you any better, Mark could. He didn’t think twice before he told you how he actually felt about you.

  “I like you… I like you very, very much, y/n.”

  You stared at his face as your jaw fell, your tears drying on your cheeks, “Since… since when?”

  “It’s been almost two fucking years, y/n… I couldn’t tell you earlier because you didn’t feel the same way, because you liked him. But… I had to tell you now, I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

  You stared at him for five minutes straight, before sighing long and resting your head on your palms, “I- I can’t believe this…”

  Mark stared at you as you laughed to yourself, afraid that something had possessed you, or that you had lost your senses from all the shock you were constantly receiving.

  “We got played… real hard! Oh my goodness, oh my…” you quietly mused to yourself.

  “What- what do you mean?” Mark asked you as he kept his hand on your shoulder, still somewhat in denial of what he doubted he was to hear.

  “I- I didn’t like Johnny, I liked you Mark. I had feelings for you!”

  Mark stared at you agape as his hand fell from your shoulder.

  “Johnny had told me that you liked someone else… he was there for me when I was rotting in the misery of having lost you to some other… model or idol or something! I grew attached to him since he was so nice and always there for me, and I started dating him. I-”

  “What do you mean?” Mark’s shook you softly, his eyes tearing up as the truth unfolded before his eyes.

  “I won’t say I never developed feelings for him, I- I did… but I always liked you Mark, I ALWAYS liked you…” you were on the verge of tears as you concluded, “He lied to both of us…”

  The next day you broke up with Johnny, telling him you didn’t want to base your relationship with someone off lies and deceit. Mark let Johnny know through a text that from then on they would only share the professional relation of being members; nothing more or less.

  Johnny was left desolated by his own choice. He felt guilty, finally all his actions weighing down on him. He barely talked to anyone and mostly kept to himself. The only time he was ever on his phone talking was when his mother would call, and he would mostly cry to her.

  “I messed up big time, Mom. I lost my best friend and my girlfriend.”

  And you and Mark were into a prospective relationship by then. You both got closer with time, helped each other out with even the littlest of issues, and became each others’ most trustworthy friend. You both were inseparable by the end of three more months.

  Doyoung set you two up for dates, finally getting you both to give in to each others’ emotions and start officially dating.

  Johnny had walked in on you both when you both had had your first kiss, leaving him with no other option but to request for a break to the company. He couldn’t endure the pain that he had brought upon himself, so it was apparent that some time away from all this, from you and Mark in particular, would be very helpful. Seeing you both together could only worsen him, thus he opted to finally go home and sleep in his bed like he had once  said in an interview.

  After two weeks Johnny took the earliest flight he could, after settling matters in Korea, to Chicago. He didn’t bid you two goodbye, and that somewhat hurt. You and Mark were in the living room, complaining over how Johnny didn’t even care to leave a text, trying to avoid the pain dwelling in both your hearts.

  “Kids!” Doyoung called out to you both as you two chatted away, “Well… Johnny left you two a note, a letter… would you like to read it?”

  Mark was hesitant, but you jolted up from your seat and took the letter from Doyoung’s hand, hurriedly thanking him as you sat down by yourself and unfolded the letter, not even caring to show Mark.

  Mark placed himself gently beside you as you read the letter out loud, Doyoung quietly leaving as he sensed the tension brewing in the atmosphere.

Mark and the girl I love,

Excuse my tackiness and read on.

I am very, very sorry. I cannot even explain how bad I feel about all this. I wish I could end my life for messing up so much. I don’t know what had gotten into me… I really don’t. As I write now, I’m still crying, I’m still in pain, and I am very much sorry. Please, if you have it in your hearts, please forgive me.

I hope you two remain happy together. I kinda ship you two now, if that’s any consolation… but again, that’s the least I could do after all I actually did…

Mark buddy, stay well.

Y/n, I love you.

From your one and only, Johnny Suh.

  Mark just watched as you broke down to tears by the end of the letter. You couldn’t comprehend as to why you felt so heartbroken for a moment before you finally realised that, though you had initially developed feelings for Mark, somewhere in between you had fallen a little bit in love with Johnny as well, enough to feel all the pain, enough to feel miserable to a point where you couldn’t even function properly for days. Johnny is very good at comforting people, Mark isn't. He only stared at you as you cried on.

Mark wished he could kick himself. 

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Warm Me Up pt 19

Let’s see how this goes, huh?

This time I listened to Echoes of Love by Jesse and Joy, Not Easy by Alex da Kid and others, and Unconditionally by Katy Perry :)

Click Here for Ch. 1 

Click Here for Ch. 18

Will was counting down the days to spring break. He wouldn’t be able to be home the whole week since he had his internship, but he would be able to go back Thursday night until Sunday afternoon. And Nico would go with him. He was anxious for his family to meet him.

He had another week and a half of classes left before break would start, and he was busy with school work and his internship. He spent as much time as he could with Nico, but the amount of dates they went on had dwindled.

It didn’t help that Nico had slipped into another episode. Will hated not being able to be with him for it, but Nico kept assuring him it was fine.

He was leaving the hospital again and Malcolm offered him a ride back to campus since Will hadn’t taken his car. He directed him to the campus and got off on the main avenue that connected most of the campus. “Thanks, Malcolm.”

“No problem. Don’t forget to rest, Will.” He frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. “Don’t make me regret suggesting the job for you.”

He smiled tiredly and nodded. “I can do this. Don’t worry about me.” Malcolm nodded and gave him a small smile. He shut the car door and watched as Malcolm drove away. When he started crossing to get to the café building, he saw Nico and some of their friends outside.

Nico’s eyes were on him, but Will couldn’t discern the emotion behind them. He had a cigarette in between his fingers, his eyes looked tired and sunken. Will wasn’t sure what he was doing with the group of friends if he was obviously not up for socializing.

“Hey, everyone,” Will greeted as he went up to the crowd. He smiled at Nico. The corner of his lips twitched slightly. “Hey. What are you doing out here?” he whispered while the others carried a conversation.

“Smoking,” he answered. Will furrowed his eyebrows. “Leo figured it’d be better to be outside than alone in my room.” He shrugged. “Don’t have the energy to argue.” Will glanced down and saw several cigarette stubs littering the ground around Nico. He raised an eyebrow and looked at him questioningly.

But Nico wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at his friends. Though it seemed more like he was looking through them. It scared Will when he got like this. He seemed so disconnected, and Will had no idea how to make it better, how to pull him out of the darkness. He could only try to keep him from drowning.

“Well, why don’t you put that out? We can watch Friends or order some take out.” Nico’s cheek twitched enough to form a small grimace. “We could take a nap?”

“I was asleep from noon to five,” he answered. “It’s fine.” Will nodded and settled for wrapping his arms around him.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he whispered as their friends rambled on about a party over break.

Then Nico pulled away from him and sighed. “It’s okay to not make me feel better, you know? You don’t have to fix it each time or succeed in getting me to smile or vent about the shit in my head. Sometimes it’s better if you just pretend I’m not acting like this.”

“Okay then tell me that,” he snapped back, painfully aware of the fact that the other conversation had faltered in order to pay attention to them. “I can’t read your mind, Nico. I can’t tell when you want to talk, when you just want to sleep, or when you want me to pretend nothing’s wrong.”

“Well, I just told you, so can we stop now?” Will clenched his jaw and looked at him, angry with him for snapping in front of everyone. Nico sighed and shook his head. “I’m going to mess with my guitar or something,” he mumbled as he turned away.

He continued smoking as he walked away and Will was trying to ignore the glances the others were giving him. “You okay?” Piper asked.

He nodded silently. “You know Nico, dude,” Leo offered. “He’s short-tempered.”

He nodded again. “Will?” He hummed and looked at Annabeth. “Is everything okay between you two?”

He glanced at their inquisitive expressions and frowned. He didn’t want to tell them about his relationship problems. Those were between him and Nico. And the only other person he trusted enough to vent to.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I have to go see a professor. I’ll see you guys later.” He waved and started for the dorm hall.

Paolo was the only person who was Will’s friend without also being Nico’s. Granted, so was Cecil, but Cecil wasn’t a close enough friend. He texted Paolo that he was at the hall and a few minutes later his Brazilian friend had come down to meet him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Was there a problem with the group paper?”

“No,” he answered. “It’s not school related.”

Paolo nodded. “Ah,” he said comprehensively. “Nico related?” Will bit his lip and nodded. “Come on,” he gestured. Will followed him up to his dorm and let himself fall into a beanbag chair Paolo had beside his desk. “What’s going on?”

He took a breath and began biting his thumb. “Remember how I said Nico was being distant? Like since we got back from break?” He nodded. “I mean, he’s affectionate and stuff, but… he just sort of stopped talking about whatever bothers him. He hasn’t told me anything about break, he hasn’t mentioned his dad, he hasn’t even complained about classes. He just… won’t share anything. But he’ll ask me for every detail about the hospital or classes or whatever conversation I had with my parents. He’ll tell me all these things about how much he likes me.”

“So… it bothers you that he asks about your day, but won’t talk about his own?” Will frowned and nodded. “I mean, maybe he’s just being selfless? Trying to focus on you more?”

“It feels more like… he’s distancing himself and trying to hide it by talking about me. And it’s a little frustrating.”

“Well, sometimes people like to ignore their problems by pretending they don’t exist. That might be what he’s doing.” Will shrugged and nodded. “Where is he now?”

“In his dorm. I saw him outside and went to ask how he was doing, but he got angry and left.” Paolo’s eyebrows scrunch together and Will tried to ignore the sense that there was something more to it. “I’m sorry I keep coming to you with my relationship,” he apologized.

“Don’t worry about it. If I dated, I’m sure you’d do the same.” Will smiled and sunk lower into the beanbag chair. “So are you just going to leave him in his dorm?”

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me right now. And I’m worried if I keep trying and he keeps blowing me off, I’m just going to start overthinking. You know?” Paolo nodded. “I just hope he’s better by the time I have to go see my parents. He’s supposed to meet them.”

“That’s a big step,” Paolo noted. Will nodded, trying to decipher if anyone thought it was too soon. They had been dating for about four months now. How did anyone know what was the right pace? “When are you meeting his?”

The question had blindsided Will. They had actually never talked about that. Nico never mentioned his father, never took the idea of Will meeting him seriously. The one time Will had asked, Nico had brushed the question away by saying he wouldn’t want to meet his father.

Did that mean Nico didn’t take the relationship as serious as Will? Or was his father simply that horrible?

“I don’t know,” he answered finally. “He doesn’t like talking about his home.” Paolo nodded understandingly. “You know, I think… I should go work on my homework. I’m really behind, and I’m just distracting myself. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Are you sure you want to go?”

Will looked back at his friend. He was being honest. He wasn’t annoyed with Will and his problems. But Will had to get his mind off of everything before he panicked. “Yeah,” he answered with a smile. “I’m sure. Thanks, dude.” Paolo nodded and gave him a small smile as he left the dorm room.

As Will started walking across to his dorm, he passed Nico’s. For a second, he debated going to check on him. But as he decided against it, he heard the rev of a motorcycle. A sleek black motorcycle with white flames pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the building. Nico’s motorcycle.

He watched from afar as Nico took off his helmet and put the kick stopper out to leave the bike there. His face was stoic, emotionless, unreadable, especially from the distance Will was at. But his tense posture was enough for Will to recognize it was best to leave him for a while.

He walked to his own dorm and sent Nico a text.

Let me know if you want me over. I’ll just be doing some homework.

Nico didn’t reply, but that wasn’t new. He usually didn’t answer if he was in a mood or if the response was redundant.

Instead, after about an hour of working on his assignments and essays, he received a text.

Could you come over? You can bring your homework.

Will smiled and packed his things up as he left his dorm and headed to Nico’s. His doe-eyed boyfriend looked a bit sheepish as he opened the door and motioned for him to come in. His cheeks were flushed, his eyebrows furrowed, his lower lip between his teeth.

“Are you okay?” Will asked, unsure of his expression.

Nico nodded and draped one arm over his shoulders. “I missed you,” he whispered. He pulled him into a kiss and Will’s eyebrows went up in surprise. He dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around Nico, pulling him closer.

When Nico pulled away from the kiss, he wrapped his arms around him and Will could feel his hands grasping him almost desperately. “Did something happen?” he whispered, not wanting to anger him with too many questions.

There was a weak hum at his ear. “Mhm.” He pulled away and took Will’s hand in his. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice stronger. “How much homework do you have?”

“It’s not due for a while,” he answered, ignoring the actual question. “What have you been doing?”

Nico shrugged and glanced around. “I messed with my guitar a bit. Fell asleep. Took a shower when I woke up.” He scratched his head and kicked at the floor. “Nothing really.”

He hadn’t mentioned his motorcycle. And Will noticed he wouldn’t meet his eyes. Nico would look everywhere but directly at him. He tried not to let it bother him. “I’m sorry for snapping at you in front of everyone,” he continued. “I was on a short fuse after Leo dragged me out there. Then listening to them talk about all these stupid little things just kept bugging me. I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you.”

Will smiled and tilted his head so he’d look at him. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before Nico busied himself looking at something else, only flickering back to him enough to let Will know he was still listening. “It’s okay,” he assured. “I know how shitty these moments can be for you. It’s just… like I said. I can’t read your mind. You have to tell me what you need from me.”

Nico sighed and shook his head, his features contorting into a grimace. But before Will could ask, Nico’s lips were on his again, erasing every worry, every doubt, every insecurity. He wanted so desperately to tell him he loved him.

But part of him was still wondering if he really loved him or if he was just too invested in his first ever relationship. More than anything, he was scared Nico wouldn’t say it back or that he would without meaning it. He didn’t want it to be a lie the first time someone told him they loved him.

“Kiss me,” he breathed. “That’s what I need from you. I need you to kiss me.”

Will looked at his face. His eyes were shut, his eyebrows furrowed together, his cheeks flushed, his hair falling in his face messily. He was beautiful. Every bit of perfection Will could fathom.

So he kissed him. He kissed him with as much emotion as he could muster and placed his hands on either side of his face, the movement of his jaw under his hands. He pulled him up so his legs wrapped around him. He sat him on the bed and Nico kept him in place, trailing kisses down his jaw and along his neck.

Will gripped his hips and pulled him closer. His hands slid under Nico’s shirt, causing him to gasp softly. Will kissed the base of his throat, biting gently, eliciting little whimpers from Nico that drove him crazy.

As his hands moved to unbuckle Nico’s belt, his calloused hands gripped his wrists and stopped him. “Hey, it’s okay. We don’t have to do anything,” he whispered when he saw Will’s confused expression. “I just want to be with you. Nothing else.”

Will bit his lip and nodded. Nico pulled him into a hug again and sighed. The behavior was strange even for Nico. But Will didn’t mind it. He liked the sense of being present, of holding Nico and being wanted by him. It made him feel… special. For once, he knew someone who didn’t have to have him around truly wanted him around as much as possible.

“You have homework,” Nico muttered. “You should probably do it.” Will grimaced and kissed him lightly. “I’m serious,” Nico told him with a small smile.

“I will. But you have to promise me you’re okay. I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.” He pushed his hair away from his face only for it to fall back.

Nico frowned and scoffed. “I’m fine,” he croaked. “I promise.”

Of course, Will didn’t believe that. As much as Nico put on a brave face, Will knew something was bothering him. He also knew that insisting on knowing wouldn’t get him anywhere, so he didn’t ask. He cupped his face and gave him a smile. “Well, I’m right here. For anything you need. Okay?”

If it were possible, the words seemed to deflate Nico. “I know,” he murmured. “Thank you.”

There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of Will’s stomach, but he had no idea how to get rid of it. He was with Nico, and Nico had apologized for his outburst. He has asked Will to stay. There was no reason Will should have been feeling so disgruntled. Aside from Nico’s strange expressions and tone, of course.

That night, Nico didn’t let Will leave. He asked him to stay and sleep beside him in case he had a nightmare or couldn’t sleep. Without hesitation, Will stayed. As he laid beside Nico in the small dorm bed, Nico wrapped his arms around him tightly, almost like he was afraid Will would get snatched away.

***

The next day, Will and Nico were sitting outside the café with their friends as they discussed their plans for spring break.

“We should go to an amusement park or a water park,” Annabeth suggested. “That first weekend, that way everyone could go home by Monday.”

“Or, all of you can come see me in Houston and we can all check out the rodeo!” Leo exclaimed.

“Or,” Will added. “Come to Austin with me and Nico and we can go to the South by Southwest music festival.”

Nico stood suddenly and without looking at anyone, muttered, “I have to do something. Bye.”

He left and Will watched him in confusion as Nico left and lit a cigarette. He looked back at the others who had continued their conversation for the sake of not making the moment awkward. Ten minutes later, Will had to go to class, and he still hadn’t heard from Nico.

Once class was over, he texted him if he was alright, but he got no reply. He suspected it would be like the day before- Nico would text him later asking to see him. And until he fought his way out of the current episode, Will would be there for him. Then they could go back to normal.

The day passed and Will didn’t get a response. He didn’t get a text.

Then somewhere around ten thirty at night, there was a knock on his door. Frowning, he went to open it and saw Nico standing, staring at the staircase next to the dorm with an almost angry expression. “Hey. What are you doing?” he asked in confusion. “Did you text me?”

“No,” he answered, his brown eyes flitting to the phone in Will’s hand.

“Well…. Come in, I just finished an essay.”

He stepped away from the door expecting Nico to follow. “I don’t think I should,” he said, causing Will to turn back around.

The blank expression on his face made Will nervous. “What’s… going on?” he asked.

Nico bit his lip and took a breath, his eyes still flitting anxiously, looking at anything but Will. After a few seconds that felt like eternities, he said, “I think we need to break up.”

It took Will a long time to process the words. They didn’t make sense. “What are you talking about?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Nico clenched his teeth and huffed. “What, you want me to spell this out for you? It’s not working out, we need to stop dating, we’re not compatible, it’s over, we’re through. Get it?”

“Don’t give me that attitude,” he snapped. “Where the hell is this coming from?” Nico narrowed his eyes and glared at the wall beside the door. “Nico!”

He jumped slightly and groaned. “I just don’t want to be with you anymore okay? Half the time you’re at the hospital with that internship anyway. We just… we’re too different! We argue all the time, we’re either apart or falling asleep on each other, you know it’s just not a good relationship.”

“That’s not true,” he whispered. “Nico, look at me.” He wouldn’t. “If it bothers you so much, I can quit the internship. I have another three years to bother with it.”

That caught his attention. His brown eyes were wide, finally looking at him. “What are you talking about?” he scoffed. “No. No, you can’t do that. That internship matters to you, okay?”

“Well if it’s making us get to the point where you’re trying to break up with me then-”

“No, Will stop! I’m not trying, okay? I’m doing this. I’m breaking up with you. And wow, okay, maybe I’m just using that stupid internship as an excuse.”

Will scowled and cupped his face, forcing Nico to look him in the eyes. “Why don’t I believe you?” he choked, his throat tight.

Nico shoved him away and took a shaking breath. “Because you only believe what you want! You believed you could make things better for me, that you could fix me, but you can’t. You believed we could work out and we don’t. And now you believe I still want to be with you. I don’t.”

Will swallowed, trying to keep himself composed in the face of Nico’s stoic expression. “Then what the hell was yesterday?” he murmured. “All the kissing, the ‘I want to be with you’ shit, what was that?”

Nico scoffed and rolled his eyes, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “I was just trying to see if maybe, just maybe I might still feel something for you. But I didn’t. I tried, and I didn’t.”

Stubborn, Will shook his head and reached for him, but Nico stepped away. “Nico, please. Please, you don’t mean that. You can’t even look me in the eyes and say it. You don’t mean it.”

His dark eyebrows furrowed together. For a second, Will thought he saw a hint of remorse or sorrow. But then he took a single deep breath before looking him in the eyes. “I don’t want to be with you,” he snarled. “I’m breaking up with you because I don’t feel anything for you anymore and I’m sick of pretending.” He laughed bitterly and shook his head. “I mean what did you expect? That I’d actually fall in love with you? That we’d have some happily ever after? You with all your stupid insecurities and hovering- don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t go there, don’t do this. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you. It’s over.”

Will’s lips parted in shock, and his entire body froze. His eyes were filled with anger and his words were steady, each one hitting him like a brick. Before Will could think of anything to say, Nico turned away and walked down the hall to the elevator.

Everything else faded away. Will could only hear those words and the quick beating of his breaking heart in his ears. His vision went blurry and his entire body felt heavy and shaky. He was nauseous and knot in his throat had turned into bile.

Without really thinking about it, he began following him. His limbs were heavy, moving slowly. "Nico," he whispered. "Nico?" he kept calling his name, though never loud enough to stop him.

By the time he reached the elevator, it was closing, and his hand reached out to touch the cold metal of the shutting doors.

"No, no, no," he moaned. Nico had broken up with him. Nico had left him. Nico didn’t want him.

How was it possible that every kiss, every touch, every date, every sweet little moment… meant absolutely nothing with a single phrase? It didn’t make sense to Will. He just couldn’t grasp how Nico’s emotions had changed so suddenly and so drastically.

All he knew, was that the boy he loved wanted nothing to do with him. And that pain alone was enough to send Will into shock.

Suddenly, someone’s hand was at his shoulder. “Will? Hey, why are you crying? Oh God, what happened?” It was Cecil. Will hadn’t realized how much he’d been crying until he saw Cecil’s blurry figure in front of him.

He shook his head, and pressed his fists against his eyes trying to stop crying. “He broke up with me,” he choked out. Saying it aloud only made him feel more pathetic, and in turn, made the crying worse. “Oh my God, he broke up with me.”

Cecil’s eyes were wide with shock and confusion, maybe even anger. “What?” he demanded. “Wh-why? When? What the hell?” Will ignored the questions and hurried to his room where he buried himself in his pillow, trying to stop crying, trying to stop thinking, trying to stop feeling his heartbreak.

Cecil hadn’t followed him, but when he got back, he had Paolo and Leo with him. Will grimaced, and wiped his eyes. He didn’t like anyone seeing him cry.

“What the hell happened? Is this for real?” Leo asked. Will glared at him, not trusting his voice. Paolo frowned and pulled himself onto his bed. “Will, what… what happened?”

“Leo, give him a sec,” Paolo said. He put a hand on his arm. “Hey. Breathe.” Will did.

But the images in his mind wouldn’t stop. Just a few weeks ago they’d spent Valentine’s Day together. Just yesterday, Nico was holding on to him like his life depended on it. It didn’t make any sense.

He didn’t want to believe it. There was no way it made any sense. But what he’d said in the hall was merciless, and bitterly honest. He’d looked him right in the eyes and said it all. He didn’t want him. He didn’t like him. He was sick of him. He’d been pretending.

“I don’t get it,” he whispered hoarsely. “I don’t get it, I don’t get it.” He screwed his eyes tight as the tears began again. He hated himself for crying. He hated being this fragile, he hated that he’d depended so much on Nico’s reassurance and affection that now, without it, he felt stupid and humiliated.

Paolo wrapped his arms around him and patted his arm comfortingly. “No way. There is no way.... No.” Leo had begun pacing, his expression frustrated like he was trying to figure out the workings of a machine. “Nico wouldn’t just do this. It’s not like him. He wouldn’t do something like this out of the blue.”

“It wasn’t necessarily out of the blue,” Paolo said softly. Will’s breaths caught. “He was getting distant. Snapping at Will, ignoring him. It wasn’t that sudden.”

Will shoved him away and shook his head. “No! You don’t get it! You don’t understand him like I do! And I know that’s a really stupid expression, I know everyone uses it, but I mean it! I know how he gets when his depression acts up. Just yesterday he was with me, he wanted me with him! It was sudden.” He gulped and shook his head stubbornly. “I offered to quit my internship and he didn’t let me. I know that meant something.” Even Will recognized that he was grasping desperately for something to convince him that Nico hadn’t meant what he’d said. “I mean, if he’d let me then that would’ve been selfish right? It would’ve shown that he didn’t care about what I want. But he didn’t let me, he said it meant too much to me. He cares.” He looked at the three of them in turn, hoping one would agree.

But they all looked unsure, uncomfortable, and confused. Will wiped his eyes again and scrambled off his bed. “Could you guys just… go please?”

“Yeah, sure,” Leo said softly. “We’ll stop by in the morning, okay?” Will didn’t answer but Leo and Paolo left the dorm.

When he turned back to get into his bed, Cecil put a hand on his shoulder. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know okay? I know how much it hurts.” Will nodded and returned to his bed, pulling the covers over himself.

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make any fucking sense.

***

The next morning, Will was out of bed early in the morning. Cecil woke up and frowned, wondering what the hell he was doing awake so early on a weekend especially after what had happened the day before.

But instead of staying in bed, Will was up and out the door by eight in the morning. He ran through campus, with music blaring through his ears, refusing to stop for even a second to think. He had to keep moving. He had to move and keep himself occupied or else he’d be stuck in bed and moping over someone who didn’t want him. He didn’t want to feel more pathetic than he already did.

By the time he returned to his dorm, he saw Paolo and Leo talking to Cecil, and the both looked at him in confusion.

“Can’t talk, have to shower,” he said, waving them away. He ducked into the shower and put music on his phone again, making sure to omit any songs about love or heartbreak. When he was done, he walked to the café, his earphones still in his ear as drums and guitar drowned his thoughts out.

He placed his backpack down and started working on his homework, focusing completely on the words of the page. From how strange a word sounded when he broke it apart and analyzed it, to the minimal details of printing on the page. He flooded his thoughts with the words in the textbook until his brain was fried. And it was only a quarter past noon.

He left the café and saw Annabeth, Piper, Jason, and Leo talking all at once to a very frustrated, stoic-faced Nico as he smoked. The talking dwindled as they turned to him. Will felt frozen as he looked into empty brown eyes, lusterless and cold as they regarded him.

His breaths began to come fast and short. He could feel his body reacting to Nico’s presence, the nervousness, the physical pain that came with the emotional hurt. So he turned the volume up on his music and started to hurry away from the café and the tables outside.

He ran right into someone whose arms immediately enveloped him. “Hey. It’s okay.” Paolo. Will clenched his jaw, his eyes wide as he tried to keep them dry. “It’s okay to be upset, Will.” He pulled back and looked at him worriedly.

Right before Will could break, he pulled away. “I’m fine,” he lied. “I have to go. I have a shift at the hospital.” He turned away, risking a single glance back.

Nico was lighting another cigarette. He grabbed his things and walked away from the group of people interrogating him. He didn’t even look at Will.

Swallowing the knot in his throat, Will walked to his car and tossed his backpack in the back seat. He drove to the hospital, and turned the music up so loud, his car vibrated with the bass. When he got to the hospital, he took a deep breath and tried to remember that his personal life had no business in the building. He had people to help, things to do, he had to focus.

He shut off the engine and went into the hospital, greeting the nurses and doctors as he put his nametag on his scrubs. “Hey Will, good to see you,” Malcolm said. Will smiled and nodded. “Here, there’s a kid that needs a checkup on the third floor. She had a seizure, but she’s stable. She should go home today.”

“Got it,” he answered.

For the next five hours, Will submerged himself completely in his work. He focused fully on his patients, making sure to remain happy and inviting for each of them.

At one point, Will had gotten so dizzy so suddenly, that one of the nurses had stopped him after he’d checked on another patient. “Will, honey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just…. I haven’t eaten today, so that might be it.”

“Well, go down to the break room and eat something. We can’t have our best intern passing out.” She gave him a kind smile and five dollars so he could get something from the vending machines. But Will couldn’t stomach anything at the moment.

When his shift was over, he got into his car and continued doing his best to keep himself distracted. But when he got to campus and turned around to get his things from the backseat, he saw a familiar sweater lying haphazardly underneath it.

Nico’s sweater. The one he’d worn on their last date.

And just like that, every emotion he’d been fighting off hit him at once. Sobs racked his body and in his agitated frustration, he began hitting his steering wheel until his hands were numb. Then he leaned forward and rested his head against it, wondering when things had begun changing for Nico.

Through the pain in his chest and the unanswered questions in his head, he could only come to one conclusion; he hated Nico di Angelo.

Click Here for Ch. 20

[notgonnarememberthis]

Parasomnia

Malcolm isn't the only one haunted by nightmares

_______________________________________________________

I gotta admit for a long time I watched the prodigal son fandom from afar. Yet when there wasn't enough jessica and gil fics a girl has to take matters into her own hands. Hope y'all enjoy this snippet that I couldn't get out of my head bc I had an absolute blast writing it. I look forward to writing more here because I'm just so in love with all the characters and now that I've looped my friend into watching, they'll want a lot of content. Enjoy!

Truly this is a comedy of errors. Jessica Whitly was never late for a family dinner a day in her life and apparently she is starting today. First she’d been cornered by Cricket who’d insisted on catching up despite her desperate attempts to get away, then the car had broken down as Adolpho was coming to fetch her, and to round it all off she had to rely on an Uber in order to get home at a reasonable time. Not shocking that people weren’t too keen on offering rides to the ex-wife of a serial killer but it was rude nonetheless. 

Still she’d managed to charm two bottles of bourbon from the host who pitied her enough to offer so she counted that as a win. The two bottles can serve as an apology of sorts.

She checks her texts again as the man pulls up to her estate. Still nothing from Malcolm or Ainsley. She supposes she can’t be angry if neither of them are there or if they’re late themselves. Malcolm has shown up more than an hour off schedule so she’s used to it. However, she wishes they would at least text her back. She offers a polite thank you ignoring the eyes on her as she steps out. 

The walk feels like it takes forever but hearing the playful banter from her children coming from an open window puts her at ease. She strides through the house, her apology already thoroughly planned. She pushes open the dining room door with her hip, bottles raised in an offer of good will.

“Jessie! So lovely of you to join us.” The voice drops her heart to her stomach. Martin sits at the head of the table with a sickening grin on his face. His cardigan covers his psychiatric ward uniform, stained with spots of crimson.

Her eyes flash to Malcolm, then Ainsley. Both were sitting perfectly posed still facing each other, unaware of her arrival. She can tell from across the room that their skin is pale, colorless. Their eyes stare emptily at one another, sad and horrified.

“Why don’t you take a seat?”

She wakes with a start, her scream caught in her throat. She can only be thankful for that much as she feels the other person in her bed stir slightly before settling into sleep once again.

She sits up forcing her heart rate to slow as she stares at Gil’s sleeping form. Thank god the man sleeps like the dead.

Since he was released from the hospital she insisted that he stay with her and recover. That’d been almost a month ago now and they were actively sharing a bed. She’d been so good about taking her sleeping pills in order to stave off the nightmares so Gil wouldn’t see. Last night she’d just been exhausted after the benefit. She’d barely the energy to dress down before falling into bed where he’d already been set up reading. She had fallen asleep while he absentmindedly played with her hair. She’d hoped that she was so tired that she’d fall into a dreamless void. 

Clearly that had worked wonders.

She grabs her robe off the nearby chair slipping out of the room as quietly as possible. Dealing with Malcolm’s night terrors through his adolescent years had taught her well enough about sneaking around in the dead of night.

She finds herself in the kitchen, fingers hovering in front of the liquor cabinet. She badly craves a drink but since what had happened with Endicott, she’d regretfully taken the route of trying to have a clear mind. Between Ainsley having no memory of what happened and Malcolm’s distant insistence that she’d done it because he had a gun, she needed to at least be present if her children need her.

She ends up grabbing a glass of water instead, noticing the slight tremor of her hand. She places the glass down, flexing and shaking her hand in an attempt to gain control over the involuntary movement once again. Yet another trick she’d learned over the years of being strong for her children. Finally when she’s steady enough she takes slow sips allowing her mind to wander.

Martin being transferred from Claremont to Rikers, the riot, the transfer back. It’d all been a living nightmare. At least in Claremont she had some confidence that he wouldn’t weasel his way out somehow. He was secluded to his one room there. Rikers was a god damn shitshow from start to finish.

Between Gil’s injury and Nicholas she’d hardly even thought of Martin until recently when the other two seemed to be settling ok. Yet it leaves her processing too many unknowns at once. She can practically feel herself shutting down, she doesn’t even notice when Gil comes in the room. 

She can only bow her head and try to steady herself with the facts. Ainsley’s actions were in self defense, Martin is back in Claremont, Gil is alive, her children are safe. She repeats these words in her mind like a mantra rocking back and forth on the smooth tile.

“Jessie.” Two hands grab her by the shoulders and once again she’s back in her nightmare.

She’s pulled back immediately by the sound of glass shattering and the pain shooting through her hand.

“Fuck Jessica. Stay there.” She watches him helplessly as he grabs the broom and a dustpan, sweeping up the glass she’d broken. He’s more than familiar with where she keeps supplies during his stay and he navigates the home with ease. Once he deems it safe for her to walk again, he guides her gently to sit on the couch so he can tend to her hand.

“You didn’t have to… You should’ve called for…” The words simply seem to escape her. Not a single thought pieces together other than, “I’m sorry.”

Worry crosses over his face as tears involuntarily spill down her cheeks. He gathers her into her arms shushing as apologies spill from her lips. He shouldn’t have had to clean up the mess, she shouldn’t have woken him, and he shouldn’t be worrying about her when there’s so damn much to be worried about.

He holds her tighter as she crumbles into a sobbing mess. She finally allows herself to weep over the absolute chaos that gripped her life. He doesn’t let go until she calms herself once again.

He wants to ask her what happened, she knows he does. She steadies herself as he cleans her hand and wraps it. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” He denies, she can’t decide if it’s the truth or not. “I woke up to you not in bed and I came to find you.”

“I’m sorry.” This one was barely a whisper.

“You had a nightmare.” He sighs. She nods, eyes falling to the floor. “Why didn’t you wake me up? I could’ve helped.”

“You called me Jessie.” The nickname slips from her lips with venom. The nickname had been used by Martin innumerably throughout their marriage. He was the only one allowed to call her that. She’s had a disdain for it ever since.

“Fuck.” He drops his forehead against hers. “I was just worried and it slipped. I heard you crying and I couldn’t get your attention. Jess,”

“If you start saying you’re sorry we’re both in for it.” He chuckles and she brings up her good hand, tracing the edge of his smile with her thumb. “It was a slip up. But just like always you have poor timing.”

“Jess don’t.” She sighs knowing she was caught. Deflecting with sarcasm was her weapon of choice. It was easier than allowing herself to be so vulnerable, especially with him. “Talk to me.”

She breaks the embrace settling into the couch. Part of her wishes she could sink into the cushions and never surface again. “I was running late for dinner.”

“That’s a nightmare in and of itself.” She shoves him lightly but it worked; he managed to break down some of the tension threatening to strangle her.

“I came home and… he was here. Smiling, as if nothing were wrong in the world.” She chews on her lip forcing the tears not to start spilling over again. Malcolm and Ainsley they were…”

“Jess, he wouldn’t hurt them.” She nods, knowing he was telling the truth but the sight haunts her.

“They were so still.” He tugs her closer so she’s almost sitting in his lap. The feeling of him pressed into her grounds her to the present. He called me Jessie so when you did it-”

“I scared you. I’m-” He stops himself when she glares at him. “Martin is back in Claremont. There’s not a chance in hell of him getting out of there, not with his privileges that he had from Endicott being stripped. As for Malcolm and Ainsley, they’re working their way through their own issues but they’re safe.”

“For how long? All that can seem to come from Martin is horrific people. All looking to destroy us.”

“Am I hearing you doubt yourself?” He drops a kiss to her shoulder smiling against her skin as she rolls her eyes. “Malcolm was trained by the FBI; Ainsley can protect herself like no other; and their badass mother smashed a serial killer’s face with a plate, crashed my car into an assassin’s, dragged my ass out of the trunk, and got me to the hospital all in heels. Am I really hearing you doubt yourself?”

“I still owe you for the damages to your car.” He chuckles and she lets the sound wash over her. “Or I can at least get your Le Mans repaired for when my son fell onto it when I thought he was on vacation.”

“Remind me to never let Ainsley near my car. You Whitly’s are dangerous.” She smiles, the anxiety of the night finally fading. “Now, will you come back to bed before your son wakes us up at the crack of dawn to rant about the city’s latest murder?”

“Fair enough.” She lets him guide her back to the bedroom, thoughts of Martin far away.

[blkwidowsweb]

A Conversation with Summer Oasis Guest DJ Righteous!

In a musical world that's full of egos and attitudes, it is refreshing to come across a talented, humble spirit that's hungry to do his thing. DJ Righteous embodies all of that.  Born and raised in Chicago and now making his home in Detroit, DJ Righteous is excited to be making his Summer Oasis Debut! I had a chance to chat with him about his career, his background in Spoken Word and his thoughts on his Summer Oasis Debut!

Black Widow:  Did you have a lot of music in your home growing up?  What were some of those influences?

DJ Righteous:  My grandmother always played Latin music like Celia Cruz and Tito Puente and my mom was an avid jazz enthusiast. I personally love Stevie Wonder, Roy Ayers, Earth Wind and Fire and of course, Chaka Khan!!! I love her forever! [Laughter] Those were all big influences.

Black Widow:  What was your introduction to House Music? When did you decide you wanted to DJ?

DJ Righteous:   I’d have to say Ron and Nate Carroll and these guys who were aspiring DJs in my neighborhood, The Harris Brothers.    Ron Carroll used to bring records to school whenever we would have our parties.  He would play these songs and we just fell in love with them.  Then of course, I was listening to the radio WBMX and the Hot Mix 5. 

Black Widow:  Are you a self-taught DJ?

DJ Righteous:  I learned by putting records together. [LAUGHTER] Definitely self-taught.

Black Widow:  In doing these interviews I always find it interesting to listen to how DJs select music. Typically, the longer someone has been DJing they tend to have a very specific process of how they choose and select music.  You come from the era were DJs were actually looking for music, going thru crates and such.

DJ Righteous:  Oh absolutely, you had to dig and look for music. There was an art to digging for records. You didn’t want to play what everyone else was playing. You wanted to find that nugget and play that.  You tried to find something fly.  You start off digging through your mom’s stack and your dad’s stack. Then when you were able to afford it, you got to digging in the records stores.   I was always looking for records. I still do. 

Black Widow:   How does that affect how you choose music now? It’s different since we are mostly digital nowadays.

DJ Righteous:  Honestly, I very seldom go to Traxsource unless it’s something I just have to have. 

Black Widow:  Like a Black Widow release! [LAUGHTER]

DJ Righteous:  OH FOR SURE! All your stuff! [LAUGHTER]  I try to go to different sites but I also still dig.  I play a lot of digital music but I also still buy vinyl. I order vinyl. It’s just a lot of stuff that you just cannot get digitally. It doesn’t matter where I go; I try to dig for records!  I don’t want to sound like anyone else and for me, especially coming back into this scene, I thought that was the formula. I thought I had to sound like “this” in order for people to book me. When I really found my own voice and flipped the script, that’s when things really started happening for me.

Black Widow:   I definitely relate.  When I started doing poetry, I thought I had to sound a certain type of way.  When you are new and coming into this scene, it can be a challenge if you don’t find your voice.  

DJ Righteous:  Yeah I got that a lot as a poet too!  You and I have similar stories!  That’s why I used to call my stuff “Unapologetic poetic”.  You either accept it or reject it but you gotta respect it.  People I grew up with had no idea I was an undercover lover of Haki Madhubuti, Sonia Sanchez, Nikki Giovanni but I grew up on the south side and we weren’t spitting poetry in the streets you know?

Black Widow:  Absolutely!   Finding your voice and your own style comes with time as you evolve. There has been a lot of discussion about the categorization of house music.  It’s disco, soulful, classics, afro etc.  Do you subscribe to that? If not, what are your thoughts on the sub genres of house music?

DJ Righteous:   For me personally, I love unscripted melodies. It’s disco, house, soulful, afro beats. It’s everything.  I like my sets like gumbo.    I want to take people on a journey of sounds. I like to give them textures. For me that’s has helped my evolution as a DJ.  

Black Widow:   It’s about giving your audience a good mix and honestly, it’s such a personal thing. I see it in my friends who are DJs.  I can see them through the music they play. That’s what gravitates me to certain DJs. They give me a piece of them when they play.   I don’t want a DJ to just give me what I want. Give me you.  It the same as a writer/poet, I want to give you a piece of myself thru my art.  That requires a certain amount of vulnerability. 

DJ Righteous: That’s that authenticity!  I completely get it!

Black Widow:  A lot of people don't know you have an extensive background as a Spoken Word Artist. 

DJ Righteous:  Yeah.  I'm known as Righteous Knowledge in those circles.  I remember my 1st open mic was on 35th & King Drive in 1999/2000.  I wasn’t spitting at the time I was just coming because I enjoyed it.  About two years later, I really started writing and we had a group called Third Eye Open Poetry Collective. We started our group on May 19th 2002 and we used that date in particular in the spirit of Malcolm X and The Last Poets.  I remember meeting Umar Bin Hassan from The Last Poets and he said that the only way we could use that date was if we show and prove we were worthy of that date. We started performing at festivals and open mics and a year later we had our anniversary show with The Last Poets.  It was so dope!  Fred Hampton Jr and his mother came.   From there, I traveled all around the country performing at colleges and universities, opening up for Common, Eryka Badu, KRS One, ICE-T, Big Daddy Kane, Public Enemy.  I’ve performed at the Essence music festival twice.  My spoken word history is deep.  

Black Widow:  Wow!  Has you being a spoken word artist influenced you as a DJ? Do you approach DJing differently because you have a writing background? 

DJ Righteous:  From a writer’s perspective, I write my poems like puzzles. It's putting those pieces together.  As a DJ selecting music I approach it the same way. Sometimes, I challenge myself not to play a particular song, even when I know it will get the people going.  You don’t want to be the DJ that people know what you are going to play before you play it. You don’t want to be predictable.  With writing and selecting music, it’s a very similar process.  I don’t have a folder or formula.  I go with what I feel. That is what helps me the most in both, playing and writing exactly what I feel.  Like I said earlier, I used to think I had to play and sound a certain way. When I started to just play what I felt, the people felt it as well.   If I ain’t feeling it, I’m not playing it.   How are your people going to feel it if you don’t?  I’m going to rock out whether it’s 10 people or 1000s of people.  I have to.

Black Widow:  Let’s talk about Summer Oasis.  What makes Summer Oasis special and different?

DJ Righteous:  Because I’m a first timer. I’ve watched from afar. I think what makes it different is that it’s not in your usual location.  This is a location that is historic for us. This is the Martha’s Vineyard of the Midwest, where the heavy hitters came to play back in the day.  It has serenity to it.  When you wake up and look at the lake in the morning, it’s breathtaking and it gives you peace of mind. The fact that I get to play music that started in my hometown at a festival where the greats have all been…it’s just surreal. I get to play house music in Idlewild with people I respect and have been fans of for years.  I feel like a kid in a candy store. I’m just honored and humbled to be a part of this.  I really am!  I can’t wait to express and share my vision with people who may have never heard of me. 

Black Widow:   You know when I was researching Idlewild and its history I was shocked to discover that my grandfather performed regularly at the Idlewild clubs and jazz festivals. Do you have a personal connection to Idlewild as well?

DJ Righteous:  WOW! That’s dope!  Yeah I do actually.     My great grandfather owned a club called Lead Sensations in Detroit.  They used to take artists from Detroit to go to Idlewild all the time.   I’ve also performed in Idlewild twice with the Last Poets.  We did poetry in the woods with The Last Poets and Savion Glover. I’ve been fortunate enough to perform there twice in a different capacity.

Black Widow:  What does the future hold for DJ Righteous?

DJ Righteous: I just want to continue to get booked! I want to do some traveling and have other people hear me play!  I’m just trying to do my best and give my all in what I do. I want to continue to build the brand that is DJ Righteous and continue to learn and grow in this thing called house. 

Black Widow:   I have no doubt that you will. Thank you so much for speaking with me today.  I’m looking forward to hearing your set at Summer Oasis!

DJ Righteous:  Oh no doubt. It was my pleasure!  I’m really looking forward to it.

The countdown to Summer Oasis is ON!!! I hope you enjoyed this interview with this talented artist! The Summer Oasis Festival Blog Series continues this week with more interviews and a special article on creating the perfect camp kitchen, complete with receipes! Stay tuned to the blog and subscribe to get every article delivered right to your inbox! 

Until next time!

See you at Summer Oasis

Black Widow

[jenmedsbookreviews]

Been up to much this week? No? Me neither.

Actually, I tell a lie. This weekend I celebrated my birthday. Not a particularly special one. 43. Neither here nor there really, just a number. Could be worse. I’m the baby of the family. I could be my sisters’ ages  … 

Oh yes. And I bought a bookcase. Just a small one although I bought to larger ones as well. I just need to assemble them. I did a quick job of putting the shorter one together on Wednesday night/Thursday morning while suffering a bout of insomnia so at least not all my reference books are upstairs in the office near to my desk. Also got to mount my two prints on the top temporarily, so it may be half empty but looks pretty.

Not that it will be half empty for long because I have more books. More books than you can shake a stick at. Well, you could shake a stick at them but I don’t really know why you would want to … Why? Well because I went to Harrogate this weekend, and the Theakston’s Crime Writing Festival. This is my second year and what a difference the weather makes let me tell you. Blue skies (the occasional bit of cloud and some minor rain showers) but nothing like last years torrential downpours. It made it a completely different festival for me. Really different.

Now if we are Facebook friends or you follow me on Twitter, you may have seen I was in the verge of a mini meltdown mid week about attending. Despite being in this blogging game for two years now, I still feel like a newbie, a fraud and someone who shouldn’t really be here. I know I attend a lot of festivals and launches etc, and I may appear confident and all that but all I can say is that I am a bloody good actress. I hate group situations. I always feel as though I am being judged. On everything. I cannot make small talk. I have no idea what to say. The idea of approaching someone, even someone I have met (vaguely or in real life) and saying hi petrifies me as I think they do not want to see me and are going to be just thinking WTF are you bothering me for.

I am an insular person in real life. This being online, being public, is not something I do naturally. If you saw me at home, and my family can attest to this, I am more likely to be found on my own ignoring the whole world than I am arranging meet ups and the like. I push myself to go to them because I know I need to change and I need to be more confident in this area. Also most of them are either more intimate with smaller crowds, or more driven by panels where you are simply a face in a small dark room, or, in the case of the book launches, it’s all about the authors. I may talk to a few folk (and I typically only go where I will know at least one other person) or I don’t. Went to the Orion tour the other week and it was only because Sam Eades took pity on me and introduced me to another blogger that I spoke to anyone all evening.

I am not shy in talking about my nerves – my lack of confidence – I published a long post about last years Crimefest and how I couldn’t face even going down to the bar to meet people I’d arranged to meet. Well, Harrogate is like Crimefest’s bar on steroids. the ultimate in social gatherings for the Crime (book) loving community. Everyone knows everyone, they are all in their groups chatting and you feel stupid and awkward in approaching them and saying hi, even if they have told you to do so if you see them and even if you know them already. Well I feel awkward and stupid … I am sure I am not alone but most folk make it look easy. I just usually stand and stare at people and probably look like a psycho ready to commit some kind of weird stalking/murdering spree. Quite possibly not far wrong but that’s an entirely different story …

But … this year I have said sod it. Well, a little bit at least. I have had my moments of itchiness (I have scratches in places you would not believe and are never, ever, going to see), my moments of refusing to go and say hello even though I know I should do, and my moments of just needing to watch the world go by. My nails are bitten beyond the quick, the skin around them raw and ragged where I have chewed them to pieces and I am now typing this post with my knuckles as the rest of my fingers are ruined. But I have also been brave. taking a leaf out of the lovely Jill Doyle’s book and acknowledging life is just too short. Like me.

I said hi to Jenny Blackhurst like I promised after several failed attempts to do so previously. I said hello to Sarah Hilary, mostly in passing, but it’s a start as I’d normally have just snuck on by with perhaps a nod of the head or one of my trademark weird stares from afar. I had a chat with the lovely Mel McGrath who shares my pain at social groupings and we were joined by Ann Cleeves. Ann Cleeves! I even managed to speak to her without making a complete arse of myself or exploding so that was nice.

More embarrassingly I talked about knocking myself out with my boobs and using the phrase titty lip in a review (don’t ask) with Mark Billingham … Yes I am a truly classy lady.

And I did pictures. Not a lot admittedly but still. Pictures. With me in. That I instigated. Here is the proof.

Yes. Me. With people. Going from top left, Mel McGrath, Ann Cleeves. Rachel Abbott, Lee Child, James Oswald and Will Dean. I like how Lee Child doesn’t bend down for the picture and I can pass this off as him being really tall rather than my lack of height. Will, bless him, really can’t make it more obvious lol.

It’s okay. I really am that short.

So yes, alcohol was consumed. All that did though was stop me from sleeping so if there are typos in this post that is why. I’m tired (not drunk) and will probably suffer for the rest of the week from late nights and post festival hangover syndrome. Its a real thing! (It also helped me survive the embarrassment of having Happy Birthday sung to me in the tent but that’s something I will never get over …) But I would like to say thank you to the lovely folk at Harrogate who were so kind and welcoming and who made a point of saying hi to me. I may not have photographic evidence but there were so many great moments and great bloggers, authors and, most importantly, friends to share the weekend with, that it made it all that little bit easier. So a big shout out to Mandie (because she bought me cake and she’s my sister and I have to), Vicki Goldman, Katherine Sunderland, Joy Kluver, Jacob Collins, Abbie Osborne, Jill Doyle, Susan Hampson, Joanne Robertson, Kate Moloney, Tracy Fenton, Mary Picken, Emma Welton, Janet, Jacky, Susan, Darren, Kim, Noelle, Sharon, Kate E, Anne, Sarah, Alexina, Claire, Steph, Liz, Ellen and all the other fab folk I have forgotten (too many to mention.)

It was also great to see all the fab authors, especially the lovely Mel McGrath, Libby Carpenter, Sam Carrington, Caroline England, Jack Steele, Jane Isaacs, Bernie Steadman, Tom Bale, Will Dean, James Oswald (who rather kindly stood and talked Coos even though he probably thought we were mad), Louise Mangos, Malcolm Hollingdrake, Jenny Blackhurst, Amer Anwar, Amanda Robson, Felicia Yap, Marnie Riches, Chris Whitaker, Patricia Gibney, Mel Sherratt, Caroline Mitchell, Graham Minett, Alison Belsham, Graham Smith, Jackie Baldwin, Louise Beech, Dave Sivers, Susi Holliday, Steph Broadribb, Karen Sullivan, Sarah Hilary, Sam Eades, and not forgetting Rachel Abbott. So lovely to finally meet her and to hear about my namesake in her next book. I am going to love reading the next Tom Douglas book. It will be a hoot.

That probably makes it sound like I did far more partying and interacting than I really did but Harrogate is one of those kinds of weekends where you see everyone and no one and still come away exhausted. It is mentally draining for someone who doesn’t like crowds, people, human interaction, but it is still heartwarming. Give me a few weeks and I’ll hopefully be back to normal (whatever that is) but as I have Bute noir in two weeks and Bloody Scotland a few weeks after that, I’m going to need to get my game face on again pretty quickly.

So … that was my nerves in a nutshell (coconut shell). More on the festival and the books in part two …

  Rewind, recap: Weekly update w/e 22/07/18 – Part 1 Been up to much this week? No? Me neither. Actually, I tell a lie. This weekend I celebrated my birthday.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 6

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

Monday

Rose hummed to herself as she started the kettle, waiting for her computer to boot up.  She’d woken that morning determined to arm herself with knowledge, as she struggled with the impossible decision.

“Morning.”

She yelped, jumping and spinning to find Malcolm standing beside her desk, watching her with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile, not fooling her for a moment.  Though his lips didn’t move his eyes brightened, a clear tell, not that she would ever admit to knowing it.

“S’okay,” Rose settled herself in her chair, typing in her password before peering up at him.  “Coffee’s on your desk, tea’s just starting. You’ve got a nine o’clock who should be here shortly.  Anything I can- Anything I should know?”

If he caught her change of phrasing he didn’t let on, merely shaking his head.  “No, thank you.  After I’m finished with Ben, let’s meet and go over the details for the Gala – I want to know where we stand, and I’ll let you know which of the samples I’ve picked.”

“Sounds good.”  Rose watched him enter his office before sighing softly.  Things were no less strange, and she missed the easy way they had once had, one that had vanished upon the reading of Wallace’s will.  Will getting married bring it back, or will we forever be so awkward around each other?

Turning her attention first to her emails, she prepared for their Gala meeting while waiting for Ben Jackson, who, with his wife Polly, ran a charity that oversaw more than a dozen orphanages spread throughout the Commonwealth.  Their organization was to be the main recipient of the Gala’s proceeds. Every year Malcolm (and Rose, by extension) tried to pick a different group with a different mission to benefit from the Gala, though most were annual grant recipients anyway.

An instant message popped up from Mickey stating BJackson on way, alerting her that Ben would shortly be arriving, and by the time the man himself buzzed into the office and made his way to Rose’s desk she had a mug of tea ready for him, already prepared to his taste.

“You are an angel, Rose Tyler,” he declared, grinning, taking a sip before sighing softly and closing his eyes.  “Perfect.  You ever get tired of working for Malc, come see me first, okay?”

“Yeah, all right,” she agreed readily enough, laughing.  “Though my dad might have something to say about that, and besides, I don’t foresee ‘getting tired’ of Malcolm, so don’t hold your breath.”

Taking his mug towards Malcolm’s office, he threw a wink over his shoulder.  “I can dream, though.”

Rose watched him go, smile slipping as she considered her answer.  It had been glib, said without thinking, but she realized it was true.  She didn’t want this to end, loved her job, her life.  From where she sat she could see the London Eye and Westminster behind it.  Everything she did went towards helping people, making a real difference in their lives with the grants the Foundation gave.  The only way to keep things from changing is to change them completely.

Turning back to her monitor, she bit her lip before sighing.  Opening a new tab in her browser, she hesitated only a moment before typing into the search engine Viscount Gallifrey, and clicking on the first link.

Let’s see what exactly that means.

-

Malcolm shook Ben’s hand and thanked him for coming in, waiting until the door swung shut behind him to sink back into his desk chair and close his eyes.  It was impossible to concentrate; the only thing his mind would focus on was the sticky situation with the will.  The only variation on that was the memory of Rose’s bedroom, how it had been such an authentic expression of her.  Soft pinks, solid cherry furniture, it was elegant and understated, and if he’d been given a hundred photographs of bedrooms and told to guess which was hers, he would’ve been right.

Shit, I’ve gone to mush, he lamented, unable to quite bring himself to care or feel guilty for it.  He’d truly accepted his feelings a year or two earlier, and was slowly losing the war against them.  You could just tell her, the insidious voice in his head whispered, as it had been doing for ages now.  It’s not her fault, and it’s not her problem, he argued back.  She didn’t ask for this, hasn’t done anything deliberate.  I can’t burden her with my feelings.  That was the last thing he wanted, her pity or apologies.  This was his personal hell to bear, loving her from afar.

“Malcolm?”

The tap on the door made him jump, and he looked up to see the subject of his thoughts in the doorway, holding her tablet and portfolio folder with an uncertain expression.  “Is this a bad time?”

“No, no, c’mon in,” he waved, and she did, letting the door slip shut behind her.  She settled at the chair across the desk from him, and he grit his teeth against the flare of annoyance at the change of behavior – when they’d had this same meeting the previous Wednesday they’d spent two hours sitting on the couch nearly hip to hip, his heart aching for her – now she was farther away than ever, both physically and emotionally.

Damn you, Wally.

“So, you made your selection from the samples?”

“Uh, yeah.”  Malcolm shook his head to clear it, finding the appropriate folder and handing it over.  “Here.  I appreciate you filtering the list down; if you disagree with any of my choices, we can discuss.  How is everything else coming along?”

Rose opened her folder organizer, sliding the manila folder he gave her into the back.  “I’ll take a look at those and confirm, though I’m sure it’s fine.  Venue’s good, we just sent the second deposit.  They handle the catering, and we signed off on the menu last week.  Same for flowers.  RSVPs are flowing in nicely, right on target.  Once I get these final selections to Monica everything should be settled.”

“Good, good.”  He’d expected nothing less, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs and wondering at how low he had sunk, making up a meeting just to see his own assistant.  “Anything else I should know about?”

“You haven’t said if you’re bringing a- a plus one.  For headcount purposes, of course.”  Her eyes were a little too innocent to be convincing, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Uh, no, not planning on it.”  That was truthful enough; the event was five weeks away.  By that time, either she would be his date as his new bride, or he would have no need of one, it being the last official event of the Foundation as they closed up, having missed the inheritance requirement deadline.  “Well, Clara’s on the guest list, right?”

Rose nodded.  “‘Course.  She’s already replied- she’s bringing Danny.  Our table’ll be them, my parents, the Jacksons… and us.”  She flushed slightly, and his ears reddened in response, embarrassed by how much he liked hearing her call them us.  Pull it together, Tucker.

“Sounds like a solid plan.  Anything else?”  Then, unable to resist getting confirmation despite her implication to the contrary, he asked, “Are you bringing anyone?”

She let out an unlady-like snort, shaking her head.  “Um, no.  I’m so busy the night of anyway, wouldn’t make any sense even if I had a bloke.  Nah, I’ll force you onto the floor if I want a dance.  Much less embarrassing than with my dad.”

“Okay.”  He took a moment to picture it, them swaying on the dancefloor together, having the excuse of the music to hold her close as he did every year.  It was, quite possibly, one of his most favorite nights of the year.  “That’s good.”

They sat in silence for several moments as he cast his mind desperately for a topic of conversation, before sighing.  “If there’s nothing else-”

“There’s not,” Rose leapt at the chance, rising quickly and picking up her folders.  “Lots to do, of course, but nothing for you to concern yourself with.  Don’t forget to call Ace – she’s having trouble with the billing, I told her you’d ring her to help.”

“Will do, thank you.”

“Thank you.”

And she scurried away, leaving Malcolm feeling terribly alone in his office.

-

“Thistle Foundation, this is Rose,” Rose answered the phone using her headset automatically as she hit send on her email.

“Don’t you ever answer your mobile?”

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to bite back a sigh.  “Hi, Mum.  What’s up?”

“You’d already know if you’d answer when I ring you!”

I do not have the time or energy for this bullshit.  “I’m at work, and it’s been busy.  What’s going on?”

Jackie huffed down the line, setting Rose’s teeth on edge.  “I wanted to remind you- and Malcolm- that we’re moving the cookout up to this weekend, since we’re away the next.  Your father expects him to bring some more of that special whisky he brought last time – from Gallifrey, or something, wasn’t it?  Doesn’t sound Scottish though, more Irish. Though why would a Scot have Irish whisky?”

Thanks to Rose’s earlier search, which had informed her of the whisky distillery on the estate she would soon potentially be Lady of, the name drop wasn’t a major surprise, though she did feel a little jolt at realizing Malcolm’s preferred brand was, indirectly, made by him.  “I’ll tell him,” she said, and if her voice was faint, her mother didn’t seem to notice.

“Good.  Tony’s requesting your special mac’n’cheese.  You’ll be there around eleven?”

“That’s the plan.  Um, Clara’s bringing Danny, by the by.  Hope that’s all right.”

Jackie clucked her tongue, but merely said, “Sure, we can squeeze him in.  I’m just waiting for the day you bring a bloke to these cookouts.  I’m not getting any younger, Rose, and I want grandchildren before I’m eighty.  You’re not getting any younger either.”

“Uh huh.  Listen I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you Sunday.  Say hi to Tony and Dad for me.  K, thanks, bye.”  And she hung up without waiting for a response, lowering her head to the desk and groaning.

“All right?”

“My mother,” she replied, voice muffled, not bothering to lift her head.

His ah perfectly encapsulated her own feelings on the subject, and she appreciated, as always, his understanding.  She loved her mother, she did, but God she could be a pain in the arse.

“She wanted me to remind you the cookout’s this Sunday since they’re away, and Dad wants more of that whisky.”  Her head popped up then, and she peered at him.  “You never mentioned it comes from your estate, by the by.”

Malcolm shrugged.  “Didn’t seem worth mentioning.  Besides, that’s only a technicality – it’s independently operated.  They use our name, our land, our river, and our barley.  In exchange, they harvest all the crop, not just what they use, pay ten percent of net profit in rent, and we get plenty of the final product for free.  Doesn’t sound like much, but they pull in a tidy sum, enough that our portion is more than we would get in rent from anyone else paying a straight fee on the land.  It’s mutually beneficial, and reasonably equitable.”

Rose nodded, processing that.  Free whisky – that’s worth a pretty penny.  Then she realized where her mind had gone, and swallowed hard against it.  Not that I’m actually considering this, or anything.  “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she said honestly.

His lips twitched almost into a smile before smoothing out again.  “Thanks.  Anyway, I can do that – might as well bring him a case.  I’ve got a few in transit, figure I might as well stock up while I can.  Though God knows where I’ll put it after- anyway.  I’m meeting Ace for lunch at half past noon at the place near- you know what I mean.  Can you make a reservation under my name?  I’ll probably be gone a few hours – her accountant’s gotten the billing all fucked up.”

“Can do,” she said, already half-way through placing the reservation by the time he finished speaking.  “I’ll let Graham know. Anything else?”

“That’s it, for the moment.  Thanks.”

And he was gone, disappearing back into his office, while Rose sank back into her chair and replayed his throwaway statement several times.

-stock up while I can.  Though God knows where I’ll put it after-

He thinks I’m going to say no, she realized with a jolt.  He’s already making plans to that effect.

But of course I’m going to say no, a voice argued in her mind.  I can’t marry him.  That’s absurd.

It was absurd, and yet the longer she thought about it…

I don’t know what to do.

She tried to ignore the whisper in the back of her mind that said yes, you do.

[verdiprati]

Upcoming Performances by Dame Sarah Connolly

[NOTE: this post is now out of date. Check the schedule tag on my blog for the most recent version of this list.]

After the jump: an unofficial schedule of Dame Sarah Connolly’s future performances. Those of you in Britain may catch a performance in London, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Gloucester, Exeter, Chipping Campden, or Helmsley (York). Those on the Continent may see her in Berlin, Madrid, Paris, Vienna, Köln, Rotterdam, Bergen, Basel, or Aix-en-Provence. Don’t live near one of these places? Take in a concert from afar: I am adding online broadcast and livestream details as they become available.

This is not an authoritative list. These are the upcoming performances by Dame Sarah Connolly that I have been able to learn about from Dame Sarah’s new website, Dame Sarah’s agent's website (Askonas Holt), Operabase, Bachtrack, Dame Sarah's Twitter, and generally ferreting around the web.

I sometimes list concerts that are not yet officially confirmed; you should of course check official sources before making plans and be aware that cast changes and cancellations can happen at any time.

I have added links to venue, ticketing, and broadcast information where available. Tips on new information are always welcome! Please contact me via email (verdiprati [at] selveamene [dot] com), Tumblr messaging, or ask box (plain prose only in the ask box; anything with links or an email address will get eaten by Tumblr filters) with corrections or additions.

Mahler, Das Lied von der Erde with the Bergen Filharmoniske Orkester at the Grieghallen Bergen, June 5, 2019. With Toby Spence singing the tenor part and Edward Gardner conducting. As of this writing, the orchestra’s website still lists Ekaterina Gubanova as the mezzo soloist for this concert, but the engagement appears in Dame Sarah’s diary on her own website. UPDATE: this concert has now disappeared from the listing on Dame Sarah’s website as well as on her agent’s website. (A tip of the hat to the friend who pointed this out to me.) Earlier, I thought the discrepant listings signified that Connolly was replacing Gubanova, but it must be the other way around. 

[Special event] “An Evening with Dame Sarah Connolly,” fundraiser event for the Opera Awards, London, June 10, 2019. The Opera Awards website is light on details for this event but I expect it will consist of a purely spoken interview, with no live musical performance. Tickets are £195 and include dinner.

[Special event] ENO Gala, London, June 12, 2019. The English National Opera promises a “special guest performance” by Dame Sarah during the dinner service at this fundraiser; repertoire is not specified. Pure speculation on my part, but I imagine she will sing two or three songs or arias. Baritone James Cleverton is also scheduled to perform earlier in the evening. Tickets for the gala are £399.

Mahler, Des Knaben Wunderhorn (extracts) and Janáček, Glagolitic Mass at the Maison de la Radio, Paris, June 20, 2019. With the Orchestre National de France and the Choeur de Radio France, conducted by Jukka-Pekka Saraste. The other vocal soloists for the Glagolitic Mass are Simona Šaturová, Mati Turi, and Mischa Schelomianski.

[Broadcast] This concert will be broadcast live on France Musique.

[Special event] A public "conversation” at the Oxford Festival of the Arts, Magdalen College School, Oxford, July 3, 2019. Dame Sarah is scheduled to appear “in conversation with Oxford Festival of the Arts Director, Dr Michelle Castelletti” at an untitled event. The description says that “The evening will be illustrated by excerpts from some of her most glorious performances”; I believe this refers to the showing of videos, not any kind of live musical performance.

Mahler, Das Lied von der Erde at the Festival d’Aix, Aix-en-Provence, July 13, 2019. With the Orchestre de Paris conducted by Ingo Metzmacher; Andreas Schager sings the tenor part.

Michael Betteridge, Across the Sky (community opera) at the Cheltenham Music Festival, July 14, 2019. The performance is only an hour long and the nature of Dame Sarah’s participation is not totally clear to me from the festival’s website; she is not specifically named as a vocal soloist. Anyone drawn to this event by the fact that Dame Sarah’s name is attached to it should also take note that she is performing in the south of France the night before and factor in some risk of travel delay. UPDATE: as of early July, the Cheltenham Music Festival has announced that “Dame Sarah Connolly is no longer able to appear at the performance owing to unforeseen scheduling complications. She will be replaced by Thalie Knights.”

Recital at the Ryedale Festival, Duncombe Park, Helmsley, York, July 18, 2019. With Christopher Glynn, the Festival’s artistic director. On May 7, the Festival announced on Twitter that Dame Sarah would be singing this recital in place of Ian Bostridge, who is withdrawing from concerts (elsewhere as well) during his recovery from heart valve surgery. (Get well, Ian!) My thanks to an alert reader for sharing the Festival’s tweet with me!

[New details] Recital with Malcolm Martineau at Wigmore Hall, London, July 23, 2019. Part of Dame Sarah’s yearlong residency at the Wigmore. Repertoire to include works by Robert Schumann, Gustav Mahler, Frank Bridge, and Benjamin Britten. UPDATE: On July 14, Dame Sarah tweeted in regard to this recital, “I’ve slightly altered the programme to include some Frank Bridge & Howells.” As of July 18, the program on the Wigmore website now includes works by Brahms, Mahler, Wolf, Bridge, and Howells.

Bob Chilcott, A Christmas Oratorio (premiere) at the Three Choirs Festival, Gloucester, August 1, 2019. With Nick Pritchard, Neal Davies, and of course the Three Cathedral Choirs; conducted by Adrian Partington. Note that this is an afternoon concert, not the main evening concert for August 1. (Multi-mezzo fans may want to stick around to hear Kathryn Rudge do Les nuites d’été in the evening.)

[Broadcast, details TBA] According to the Three Choirs website, “This concert will be recorded for future broadcast.”

Berlioz, Les nuits d’été with the National Youth Orchestra of the USA at the Konzerthaus, Berlin, August 6, 2019. Part of a concert conducted by Sir Antonio Pappano. Tickets are available via the link above or on the Konzerthaus website. UPDATE: Carnegie Hall, the sponsor of the Youth Orchestra, has announced that Dame Sarah is withdrawing from this concert and being replaced by Magdalena Kožená.

[New details! Livestream] The Konzerthaus website previously mentioned, “Dieses Konzert wird live auf arte concert gestreamt”—this concert will be livestreamed on Arte Concert—but it’s now being advertised as a Medici.tv livestream.

Berlioz, L’enfance du Christ with the Hallé, London, August 14, 2019. Co-starring Allan Clayton, Roderick Williams, and Neal Davies; conducted by Sir Andrew Davis. The work is being billed with an English title (The Childhood of Christ) but I see no indication that it is to be sung in translation. Part of the BBC Proms. UPDATE: ENO announced on July 18 that Dame Sarah has withdrawn from their fall production of Orpheus and Eurydice due to a diagnosis of breast cancer. The company relayed a statement from Dame Sarah saying, “Imminent surgery means I must withdraw from ENO’s ‘Orpheus and Eurydice’ and ‘L’enfance du Christ’ at the BBC Proms. I hope, however, to fulfil all my other concert and recording commitments over the coming months.” Julie Boulianne will sing the mezzo role in this concert instead.

[Broadcast] The BBC Proms are generally broadcast live on BBC Radio 3.

Elgar, The Music Makers with the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, London, August 29, 2019. In a concert conducted by Sir Andrew Davis. Part of the BBC Proms.

[Broadcast] The BBC Proms are generally broadcast live on BBC Radio 3.

Gluck, Orpheus and Eurydice (Orpheus) at the English National Opera, London, October 1, 10, 12, 17, 24, 31, and November 14 and 19, 2019. With Sarah Tynan as Eurydice and Soraya Mafi as Love. Wayne McGregor is the director and choreographer, with dancers from his company participating in the production; Harry Bicket conducts. UPDATE: ENO announced on July 18 that Dame Sarah has withdrawn from this production due to a diagnosis of breast cancer. The company relayed a statement from Dame Sarah saying, “Imminent surgery means I must withdraw from ENO’s ‘Orpheus and Eurydice’ and ‘L’enfance du Christ’ at the BBC Proms. I hope, however, to fulfil all my other concert and recording commitments over the coming months.”

[New details!] Concert of baroque arias with The English Concert at Exeter Cathedral, October 15, 2019. The Two Moors Festival released their 2019 brochure on June 17 and Connolly’s program with The English Concert looks glorious: she is to sing arias from Charpentier’s Médée, Gluck’s Orfeo, and Handel’s Alcina, Theodora, Solomon, and Giulio Cesare. The orchestra will introduce each half of the concert with instrumental excerpts from Rameau and Handel. General booking opens on July 18, and students under age 30 can get tickets for just £5 (that is a SUPER deal!).

Mahler, Symphony No. 2, Resurrection, with the London Philharmonic Orchestra, Royal Festival Hall, London, October 19, 2019. With Sofia Fomina, the London Philharmonic Choir, and the Philharmonia Chorus. Vladimir Jurowski conducts a concert also comprising Colin Matthews’ Metamorphosis.

Max Reger, “An die Hoffnung” with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, at Usher Hall, Edinburgh, November 1, and Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, November 2, 2019. Part of a concert also featuring Reger’s “Serenade” and Saint-Saëns’ Organ Symphony, conducted by Neeme Järvi. UPDATE: The RSNO announced on October 9 that Dame Sarah had to withdraw due to her treatment for breast cancer and would be replaced by Catriona Morrison in both concerts.

[New link!] Recital with Julius Drake at Temple Church, London, November 25, 2019. This recital has finally appeared on the Temple Music website, and ticket sales are open. The repertoire includes Robert Schumann’s Frauenliebe und -leben, Gedichte der Königin Maria Stuart, Judith Bingham’s Adieu Solace, and “songs by Alma and Gustav Mahler.” The Judith Bingham piece is apparently based on the life of Mary Queen of Scots, as are Schumann’s Gedichte.

Elgar, Sea Pictures with the London Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican, London, December 12, 2019. In a concert conducted by Sir Antonio Pappano that also includes instrumental works by Tippett and Vaughn Williams.

[One new date!] Wagner, Die Walküre (Fricka) at the Teatro Real, Madrid, February 12, 16, 21, 23, 25, and 28, 2020. The show on the 23rd was previously assigned to Daniela Sindram, who shares the role of Fricka on other nights, but seems to have been re-assigned to Dame Sarah. Co-stars include Tomasz Konieczny (Wotan), Ricarda Merbeth (Brünnhilde), and Stuart Skelton (Siegmund). (James Rutherford, Ingela Brimberg, and Christopher Ventris appear in the roles respectively on the 23rd.) Pablo Heras-Casado conducts; the production by Robert Carsen is a revival from Oper Köln. If booking tickets, be sure to note the dates when Dame Sarah is performing. Single tickets go on sale November 4, 2019 if I read the Teatro Real website correctly.

Oskar Fried, Verklärte Nacht with the BBC Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican, London, March 13, 2020. With Stuart Skelton; Edward Gardner conducts.

[Details TBA] Recital at Wigmore Hall, London, March 19, 2020. Repertoire and accompaniment remain TBA. Listed in the Wigmore Hall preview brochure for the ’19-’20 season.

[New! Special event] Conversation with Mahan Esfahani at Sir John Lyon’s Theatre, London, March 20, 2020. Part of a Royal Philharmonic Society series presenting musical artists in conversation. The event is free and open to the public, but requires advance booking, and RPS members get first crack at the tickets.

[Broadcast/paid access] According to a report on the Rhinegold website, “All talks will be filmed and available for members to view online anywhere in the world.” Membership starts at £5 per month. As far as I can tell, there is nothing to stop you from canceling after one month.

[New!] Mahler, Symphony No. 2, Resurrection, with the Sinfonieorchester Basel, Basel Minster, April 22, 2020. Christina Landshamer sings the soprano solo; Ivor Bolton conducts. Also with the MDR-Rundfunkchor.

Mahler, Das Lied von der Erde with the Philharmonia Orchestra, Royal Festival Hall, London, April 30, 2020. The piece is being billed as The Song of the Earth but there is no indication that it will be sung in translation as well. Andreas Schager sings the tenor parts; Xian Zhang conducts the concert, which includes a Mozart symphony in the first half.

Mahler, Symphony No. 2, Resurrection with the Rotterdams Philharmonisch Orkest, De Doelen, Rotterdam, May 14, 15, and 17, 2020. Chen Reiss sings the soprano part; Lahav Shani conducts.

[New details!] Recital with Joseph Middleton at the Chipping Campden International Music Festival, May 22, 2020. Repertoire remains TBA, but at least we now have a date for this previously-teased recital. The festival website still shows the May 2019 performance schedule as of this writing in late July 2019, but I got an email with the 2020 schedule. Bookings open in January 2020. Administration of this festival seems to be less technologically up to date than average, and postal bookings are processed before online bookings open, so I really recommend getting on their mailing list if you want to make sure you don’t miss the booking dates and mail-in form.

Mahler, Symphony No. 2, Resurrection with the Rotterdams Philharmonisch Orkest, Köln Philharmonie, May 27, 2020. Chen Reiss sings the soprano part; Lahav Shani conducts. (A repeat of the program from Rotterdam, above.)

Recital at the Musée d’Orsay, Paris, June 6, 2020. With Malcolm Martineau. The program includes Ravel’s Shéhérazade, Elgar’s Sea Pictures, Debussy’s Trois chansons de Bilitis, and various works by Hugo Wolff, Alexander von Zemlinsky, Charles Villiers Stanford, and Cecile Chaminade.

Mahler, Symphony No. 8, Symphony of a Thousand with the Wiener Symphoniker at the Musikverein, Vienna, June 12 and 13, 2020. Three Vienna choirs add their forces; Philippe Jordan conducts. The other scheduled vocal soloists are Camilla Nylund, Irène Theorin, Martina Janková, Michaela Schuster, Burkhard Fritz, Iain Paterson, and John Relyea. Casting the monumental Mahler 8 with a complete team of singers who will make it through rehearsals to the final performance is said to be uniquely challenging, so if you’re wedded to hearing this particular cast, keep a close eye on it. (The last time I was keeping an eye on a particular Mahler 8, five of the originally cast eight soloists had changed by the time of the actual performance.)

[Postponed] Recital with Julius Drake at Sant Pau Recinte Modernista, Barcelona, October 2, 2020. Part of the LIFE Victoria series of recitals; originally announced for November 27, 2019, but postponed due to Dame Sarah’s treatment for breast cancer. The theme of the recital is “Alma Mahler i la Viena del tombant de segle” (Alma Mahler and the Vienna of the turn of the century). The program is easier to read in this tweeted image than on the LIFE Victoria website; it includes works by Brahms, Wolf, Alma and Gustav Mahler, and Zemlinsky. 

Wagner, Götterdämmerung (Waltraute, Zweite Norn) at the Opéra national de Paris, November 13, 17, 21, and 28, and December 6, 2020. Part of a new complete Ring Cycle production directed by Calixto Bieito. The 2019-2020 season will include the first two Ring Cycle operas, with Siegfried and Götterdämmerung to follow in October and November 2020; the complete cycle will then be performed sequentially twice in “festival” format during November and December 2020. (The festival performances are being ticketed as a four-opera package; curiously, at the upper end of the price scale, a festival ticket gives you a small discount as compared with buying the four operas separately, but at the lower end of the scale, you pay a premium for the festival. Concise ticket price information can be found on page 168 of the season brochure PDF.) Dame Sarah’s co-stars in Götterdämmerung include Andreas Schager (Siegfried), Ricarda Merbeth (Brünnhilde), Johannes Martin Kränzle (Gunther), and Jochen Schmeckenbecher (Alberich).

[Unconfirmed / details TBA] Handel, Agrippina at the Dutch National Opera. In June 2018, opera critic Hugh Canning tweeted the news that the Royal Opera is planning to offer Barrie Kosky’s new production of Agrippina with Joyce DiDonato in the title role during the ’19/’20 season; in a reply that has now been deleted, Dame Sarah mentioned that she and Alice Coote would do the same production in Amsterdam and Munich. (If you are a member of the Sarah Connolly fan group on Facebook, you can scroll back in time to June and see a screenshot there.) Subsequent discussion revealed that Coote would get the Munich gig (in July 2019), so Connolly must be the Amsterdam Agrippina. Agrippina appears in neither the ’18-’19 season nor ’19-’20 at the DNO, so presumably we must look farther ahead.

[Unconfirmed / details TBA] Brett Dean, Hamlet (Gertrude) at the Metropolitan Opera, New York, sometime in 2021-22. Allan Clayton, who starred in the title role of Brett Dean’s Hamlet at Glyndebourne in 2017, mentioned in an interview with the Telegraph that he would be reprising the role at an unspecified date and venue in the US. When prompted on Twitter, Dame Sarah indicated that she would be participating in the revival, too (“I shall be misunderstanding my confused boy again”). In a later interview with Opera News, Clayton reportedly specified that he would reprise Hamlet at the Met. The Future Met Wiki places the production at the Met in the 2021-2022 season (as does this New York Times article). Hat tip to Christopher Lowrey, who sang Guildenstern in the original production at Glyndebourne, whose tweet praising Allan Clayton brought the Telegraph interview to my attention. (No indication whether Lowrey will also be cast in the American revival.) Additional hat tip to the Tumblrer who submitted information on this topic via the ask box.

Previous versions of this list can be found under the schedule tag on this blog. This list published June 2, 2019. The recital at Chipping Campden 2020 added June 3, 2019. Updated June 4 to cross out the Bergen Mahler gig. Edited June 14 to add the Basel Resurrection. Updated June 17 to add newly-available details to the Exeter concert. Updated June 23 to add the LIFE Victoria recital. Updated June 28 to add Dame Sarah’s conversation with Mahan Esfahani in the Royal Philharmonic Society series. Updated July 2 to add more details to the RPS program with Esfahani. Updated July 5 to reflect Dame Sarah’s withdrawal from the Cheltenham Music Festival community opera. Updated July 15 with regard to the repertoire for Dame Sarah’s July 23 recital at the Wigmore Hall. Edited July 18 to reflect Dame Sarah’s withdrawal from L’enfance du Christ at the Proms and the ENO Orpheus, as well as the latest program updates for her July 23 recital at the Wigmore. Edited July 22 to add the date of the Chipping Campden recital. Edited August 2 to update the Berlin Nuits d’été livestream information. Edited August 4 to reflect Dame Sarah’s withdrawal from the Berlin Nuits d’été. Edited August 11 to add a link to the Exeter Cathedral concert. Edited August 15 to update links for the Glasgow and Edinburgh concerts with the RSNO. Edited October 23 to reflect Dame Sarah’s withdrawal from the RSNO concerts and postponement of the LIFE Victoria recital. I may continue to edit this list as I receive new information.