#now i just gotta put anxiety aside for a moment to be able to record myself answering three questions

[the-kipsabian]

i got an email inviting me to do video replies for job interview questions

huh

[libermachinae]

Cradle

Available on AO3 Summary: Post-battle roll call. Notes: For @soundwaveweek, prompt was ‘poetry.’

---

The MTOs were stressed. He could understand that, and in fact had little choice but to. Coming online in a crashing shuttle was a less than ideal way to begin life, and the hours of listening to gunfire and artillery going off just outside their prison-slash-shelter almost guaranteed the sorts of injuries no tool could fix. Soundwave had no idea whether the silence that followed the Decepticon victory would have been a welcome reprieve or the most hellish stretch of the experience, but his torch cutting through the crumpled hatch had broken its hold on them, and now they were frantic.

Their thoughts cut him like millions of grains of sand caught up in the exhaust of a shuttle launch. There were questions, the standard Who is that?, Am I going to die?, and Is that supposed to happen? Then the observations, It’s dark, It’s light, He’s blue, He has a gun, and I have a gun.

Mostly, though, they were giving off impressions that could not be condensed so neatly into words, not without at least a few days’ practice to understand the ebb and flow of language. Without it, Soundwave could feel the crush of the darkness, the burning slice of the light. When he announced himself on arrival, his voice came back to him thirteen different ways, shivering or sliding or in boxes, an impressive feat for a group whose sum total life experiences were the inside of a dead shuttle and each other.

The volume increased as he approached them, both due to proximity and their own increasing anxieties. Their thoughts were loud enough to be knocking against his helm, adding to the cacophony the echo of his own internals, but he soldiered on, approaching the first cradle, its occupant staring at him with a mouthless expression that nevertheless seemed to snarl.

“Designation,” Soundwave demanded.

“Megatron.”

Hisses and whispers and flares. Soundwave wished he could turn down his sensitivity, but with all the cassettes investigating other casualty reports, he couldn’t risk making himself that vulnerable, even if it meant he would be taking a splitting processor ache to berth with him that night instead of recharge.

“Your designation,” he said, with no patience to start with.

The MTO stared at Soundwave, optics glancing first over his face and then the length of his frame. He started to speak, aborted the effort, attention straying to his comrades before snapping back to the officer. His thoughts were bright, sour, and runny, becoming more disorganized the longer Soundwave stood waiting for an answer. Now he was tearing through his data packs, the disorganized folders spilling open with instructions on how to shoot, who to shoot, which way to run—

“No designation,” Soundwave concluded, feeling a part of his psyche slump with resignation. “Serial code.”

The uncomprehending stare slid again to the other MTOs, whose own thoughts echoed the globular confusion. A few of them were in the same process of upending their entire storage libraries, and although any one of them could have accurately pinpointed the coordinates where their plummeting ship had disappeared off the edge of the battle map, not one of them could provide him the very basic information he needed to complete this task and leave these soldiers for the recovery teams to salvage.

Soundwave made a quick visual inspection of the MTO, who tried to lean away—not far, given that he was still suspended in the cradle—now that his defensive bluster had dried up. No printed serial code, nor was there on the MTO beside him, a quiet mech who barely glanced at Soundwave as he came close. No serial codes, either printed or coded.

“Any identification markers?” Soundwave asked the room at large. A flicker of movement: Soundwave looked down to the mech at the end of the starboard row, the one installed opposite the sole casualty, aside from the ship itself. His thoughts had been quieter than the rest, colorless and inflexible in a way that had suggested a concussion, but Soundwave’s question had provoked a brief flare. He was looking up: on the ceiling above his squadmate was painted the number 2.

That, unfortunately, was something that could be plugged into a database, checked against the shuttle manifest and production logs, and be used to reverse engineer a serial number. Success, though, depended on this being a legitimate deployment, and certain signs were suggesting the opposite, though none so definitively as to trigger a full investigation. Soundwave put out a recall signal to Frenzy and Ravage, wary of how isolated the shuttle’s final resting place was, and tuned his sensors up higher…

Only to immediately turn them down again as the minutiae of the newbuilds’ thoughts flowed like acid rain through fresh gaps in a roof. He could read the rudimentary threat assessments they were running on him and taste the swell of emotions too new to differentiate yet; the bravest among them had started to free curiosity from the mass, and they plugged it into every observation they made, building questions on top of each other until the thoughts were heavy enough to bend under their own weight. Within the shuttle, everything felt compressed and heavy on top of him.

“Calm down,” he commanded, and winced at spikes of anxiety impaling him from multiple directions.

What a waste, he thought as he recovered from the burst, of his time and their lives. Nova Point was captured, the Autobot base overrun, and Starscream’s choice to put him on recovery meant vital logistics standards were being delayed. The already lengthy identification process would easily be doubled if this much of his processor remained dedicated to his hypersensitivity sensors, and he was vulnerable as long as the soldiers’ thoughts were filling his audio feed. Soldier was even a generous word for the mechs he’d been tasked with risking his life for. Their minimal data packs and emotional instability would make them ill-suited to the promotions occasionally offered to MTOs. They would be getting hauled out of one wreck only to be pressed into another, one that would more likely than not reach its intended destination.

Soundwave did not fault Megatron for leading a chunk of their forces off to the distant front lines on other worlds, but he did long for his leader at times. Megatron would know what was best, whether to forge ahead with the recovery efforts or leave them here to—

“A new row of unlit lanterns is marched in, And I can’t remember what my world looks like In the dark.”

The recording was poor quality, torn from a processor moments before it went offline. Soundwave kept hoping to find the rest of the poem, but bots who survived that time were few and far between, and they guarded their secrets fiercely. Because it was short, he let it play out, and when it finished the attention of the MTOs had narrowed.

“What was that?” the first one asked.

“Untitled,” Soundwave said, which wasn’t entirely accurate. He had a recording of a secondhand account that referred to the poem as ‘The Chain Runners,’ but had never been able to confirm it. He could have asked, but then he would have to tell Megatron he kept the old poem, and that wasn’t a conversation he was ready to have yet.

“But what was it?” The MTO jerked in his cradle; despite the clatter of plating, it did nothing to free him.

“Identification: a poem.”

The complete absence of understanding was a hole Soundwave could have fallen into. A couple accepted that as an answer—a poem must have been another form of marching order, the only communication style they had been brought online to understand—but the others prodded him with their curiosity, audials straining to catch another blip of that strange voice.

“That wasn’t you,” one of the others said.

“Negative,” Soundwave said. “Speaker…” He stopped, remembering how the first MTO, now gazing at him with useful curiosity, had snarled the poet’s name. Had that been out of a sense of pride? A desperation to answer the question, using the only scrap of information they had? Or had it been in worship, choosing his lord’s name to be his first word to the real world? The clashing, violent thoughts did not readily bear an answer to Soundwave, but they did give him pause as he considered his response, long enough that the MTOs’ anxiety rose up once more in a wave.

“What’s it mean?” one of them asked.

“Definition subjective,” Soundwave said. He still had so much work to do. “Silence requested.”

“It’s a code.”

“Negative.”

“Then it’s gotta mean something.”

Soundwave grasped uselessly for words, wishing Ravage were there already. He was better at this. Soundwave wasn’t good at conversation, but most of the time he could get out of it by virtue of the fact that the people he ran into were either his subordinates and afraid of him, or at about equal level and jealous of his proximity to Megatron. It was so rare for him to enter a room without his reputation having already made the rounds for him, he had no basis for navigating this.

He couldn’t come up with anything, and the longer he let the silence drag out the louder the background of thoughts grew to compensate. At a loss and desperate for relief, Soundwave dove into his archives and pulled a file at random, plugging it into his speakers without even scanning the contents.

“The revolution failed because the lords were unamused. The smoke that rose from the burning corpses of their clerks Soured their palmful drinks, And the chants which rose to their balconies, Calling for their heads, Were out of tune with the afternoon symphony.

(The first chair would be tossed out at intermission, And the crowd would suck closed empty fuel lines While inside, the lords sipped in peace.)”

Even with his speakers playing at a high volume, the relative noise inside the shuttle dropped instantly. Their minds were still working, turning over each word like they could find the meaning hidden underneath, but without the fear of the unknown it was quieter and reflective.

“If you still say your knuckles ache, Lay them here, on my knee. I cannot take from you That pain, But I will map the seams of your palm. I will memorize you, Memorialize. I will chart your construction And between your seams find…”

Crunching data while listening to Megatron’s voice was second nature by now. Soundwave stood in the center of the wrecked shuttle, seeking out the identity of the MTOs, while around him they leaned and twisted in their cradles, hunting down the poems like the twinkle of an enemy across a battlefield.

[noctisfishing]

The Last One Wins | 03

01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Notes: This chapter is mainly why I’ve included the warning for minor Kizuna spoilers. And, not really a spoiler, but I made sure I got the name of Koushiro’s company correct in this. We have Kou/Izzy to thank for everything that happens in this chapter. <3

Hope you enjoy this one!

Chapter 3: The Admission of Defeat

It took a few weeks for Matt to get used to living in space. Even after a few years of intensive training, he found it interesting to get a grasp on the absence of gravity, and being used to being suspended midair.

Before taking off, Matt and his fellow crew members were surprised to find out that they would be the first group to test out video conferencing capabilities in the International Space Station. All five agencies, including JAXA and NASA, had been working with Izumi Corporation for implementation by the time the next crew arrived at the station. Matt wouldn't have thought that Izzy would reveal that it had been a top secret project even to him, but it was nice to chat with a friendly face occasionally while they were both on the job.

Matt had gotten along with the group of crew members with him, but he always looked forward to his weekly video calls with Sora. He had to hand it to Izzy - six months without being able to see the love of his life, and otherwise communicating minimally through email and video recordings would have been a very lonely time.

There was one particular call a few months in space that Matt had been both looking forward to and dreading at the same time.

It was always a joy for him to see Sora's eyes light up the moment her face appeared on screen and she realized he was looking at her on his side of the atmosphere.

"Hey, Sora," Matt said with a smile. He was dressed down to a casual cotton shirt and jeans since it was his day off.

"Well, if it isn't the 'space man'!" Tai said from the top corner of the screen.

"Matt?!" Mimi's face appeared. "Oh, look at you!"

"Hey, guys!" Matt replied as the whole gang of faces, including his brother, his friends, and their respective spouses, of which the female counterparts had enlarged bellies at various stages of their pregnancies. He had known that Yolei's baby had the earliest due date, thereby making Ken win the Takari Bet, but there had been other news that he had been waiting to tell everyone until that moment.

Izzy was there, too, giving a friendly wave, and even Joe had shown up; he usually made a rare appearance since he was so busy.

But Matt was amused at how Sora managed to convince every one of their friends to gather together this time around.

"Sora must've given you a convincing reason to show up today," Matt said with a chuckle.

"Why wouldn't we be here?" Davis chimed in, seeming to squeeze in between Tai and Izzy. "We wanted to talk to Mr. Cool Guy In Space!"

"It is pretty neat to see how normal it can look up there," Iori observed.

"Aside from that pen floating by his head," added Kari.

Matt looked to Sora who had been smiling but keeping her lips tight. He flashed a knowing smile.

"Sora, why don't you tell them what's really happening?"

"What?"

Every head turned to Sora, and her smile grew from ear to ear.

"Everyone," she began, after taking a deep breath. "I'm finally ready to tell you - I'm pregnant!"

The cheers erupted on Sora's end of the call. Mimi was the first to leap toward Sora to hug her. Matt laughed as he watched Tai, Davis, and TK cheering in excitement.

Matt was relieved that it was out in the open. He was the first to find out about a month into being in the International Space Station, when he and Sora cried with joy together over video chat. Seeing her glowing smile as she hugged all of her friends urged him to break into tears once again.

"I... guess I'm having... a kid last then...eh... Matt?" Tai said, putting his arm around Sora after they exchanged a hug.

Matt hoped that his glare pierced through Tai all the way from space. He knew that Tai's dragged out question was to emphasize his smug acknowledgment of achievement. Matt had known all along that he wasn't going to win the Takari Bet. He had already mentally accepted defeat; the only thing he dreaded was the moment that Tai discovered his inevitable victory.

Besides that, Sora still hadn't known about their competition, and Matt wasn't about to let Tai tell her about it now.

But Sora raised her brow as she looked at Tai's smirk.

"I wouldn't be surprised, given that you're a kid in a grown man's body," Sora replied.

Matt couldn't have been happier to see the change of Tai's expression.

"Hey, I got married, didn't I? That makes me a grown up."

"Yeah," said Matt. "She still married a kid."

"Matt's right," Tai's wife said in the background.

Sora and Matt began to laugh as Tai was at a loss on how to respond next. He and his own wife - he loved how they made a great team against Tai.

Their laughter was cut short, however, when they heard an odd groan from off camera.

"Whoa, honey, you alright?" Davis asked as he and the others turned to the direction where the sound came from. Sora and Tai disappeared and Davis followed quickly. TK appeared on camera next.

"TK, what's going on?" Matt asked.

But Davis' loud announcement answered for him: "We've gotta go. Her water just broke!"

Davis' words were of cheer, and Matt swore he heard some mischievous cackling. Although no one else said anything, Matt knew why. The due date for Davis' baby was set for after Yolei's baby. At that moment, Yolei screamed as she jumped up out of her chair.

"No!" she cried, and everyone fell silent as they looked at her. "...way!" she added.

"Don't start this now, Yolei," Matt heard Ken say as he grabbed her shoulders and walked toward the door where everyone else was headed. Ken had put his brave face on, knowing how this affected the Takari Bet. He also seemed to show a slight tinge of annoyance, but Matt could only empathize with the other man who also had to admit defeat.

Then Kari appeared on screen, and Sora popped in next to TK soon after. "Hey hon," Sora said. "Looks like the party's over. We're all heading to the hospital soon."

"Okay, then," said Matt. "Love you."

"Love you!" Sora said before disappearing again. "TK, turn off the camera?"

"Hai, Onee-san!" said TK.

"Aren't you both going, too?" Matt asked TK and Kari next to him, who grinned with giddiness.

"In a bit." TK then shared a glance with Kari before looking at the camera and lowering his voice. "Listen, when you get back, do you think you could spare some yen?"

Knowing this was referring to Ken's loss, Matt responded with, "You can make 5000 yen easily, TK."

"It's 25,000," Kari replied.

Matt grimaced. "That's still money you can make, but you really put that much money for your bets?"

"I bet the 5K on Ken being first.. And you know me and Kari, we go all in for our big bros."

Matt rolled his eyes as TK smiled with his tongue sticking out.

"Sora said to turn off the camera."

"You love me, right?"

"We'll talk later, TK. Bye, Kari."

Matt ignored the air smooches that TK and Kari scrunched their lips together side by side as Matt pushed to end the call.

~*~*~*~*~*~

About a month before Matt was set to return to Japan, Sora sent a message for him to get in touch with her as soon as he could. It had become the norm for them to have weekly video chats, so having a call in the middle of the week was out of the ordinary for him.

In fact, Matt was worried about why she wanted to talk to him so soon. He wondered if something went wrong back on Earth; maybe, if she found out some news about the baby.

When her face appeared on the video call screen, he couldn't read her expression.

"Hey, love," she said. "I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

"No, not at all, Sora," Matt replied, trying to hide his anxiety as he waited for her reason.

"There's someone I want you to see."

Someone? His eyes immediately moved to her stomach, where he saw that she was still carrying their first born inside of her belly.

Sora laughed as she recognized where he was looking. "I knew you'd assume it was the baby. We've still got a ways to go."

Matt had to laugh in relief. He expected to be at her side the moment their child was born and he wouldn't have missed it for the world.

"Okay, then, who is this someone?" he asked.

That was when Sora moved to the side from the camera and Matt drew in a long breath of surprise.

A familiar face appeared and drew closer to the screen, her bright blue eyes blinking and her beak seeming to touch the screen from the other side. Her pink feathers nearly covered the whole screen.

"Matt! Sora? Can he see me?"

"You don't have to stand so close to it, Biyomon," said Sora, giggling.

Matt was at a loss for words.

"Do you remember how Izzy said he would find a way to bring our Digimon back to us?" Sora asked Matt. "He found a way, Matt. He did it."

Matt's eyes began to sting with tears while he saw Sora wipe her eyes with the back of her hands. He remembered the very moment his own Digimon partner was gone, and those times afterward when he cradled Sora in his arms as she cried about losing hers.

"And now Sora has a Digi-Egg in her tummy!" Biyomon chirped.

"Is that what you told her?" Matt asked Sora, laughing as he wiped his tears away.

"I promise to help take care of your daughter in any way that I can!"

"Before you ask, Matt," Sora added. "She's not the only one who wants to help."

Matt couldn't believe his eyes with what happened next. Sora and Biyomon turned to look off camera, and Sora spoke a name that, even as he'd hoped, Matt didn't think he would hear again.

"Gabumon, why are you so far away?" Biyomon asked.

"Sora said not to stand so close to the camera," Gabumon said with a pout.

"Come over here, so that Matt can see you!" Sora said.

As soon as the blue furried Digimon appeared on screen, he blinked and he smiled cheerfully.

"It's so good to see you, Matt," he said.

"Gabumon…"

Matt couldn't stop crying. He wondered if he was crying as hard as he did when Gabumon disappeared before his very eyes. His tears blurred his vision, and he might have been convinced that Gabumon would disappear as soon as the tears washed the unbelievable sight away.

"Gabumon, are you real?" Matt had to ask.

"As real as the Digi-Egg inside of Sora!" Gabumon said with a grin.

"She told you that, too."

Matt was laughing now with his tears streaming down. That moment was enough to believe that Gabumon was real, and so was Biyomon, and the fact that only Izzy would find the miracle to bring the Digimon partners back. He couldn't wait to return home to hold Sora, and to hug Gabumon, two figures of his life that made him feel whole.

[writing-appreciation]

Broken Boy

SYNOPSIS: After losing your father, you don't go to school for two weeks. One night Ned begs you to come back because apparently Peter is in pretty bad shape. Nothing could've prepared you for when you saw him. One day it all just snaps.

WORD COUNT: 5793

WARNINGS: ☡ ENDGAME SPOILERS ☡ Panic Attacks ☡ Night Terrors ☡ a poor attempt at angst ☡ Stream of conscious writing ☡

PARING: Stark! Reader X Peter Parker

GIF NOT MINE: @tommybabyholland

"Ned, what are you doing here. It's 2:56 in the morning." I grumbled as I answered the boy's frantic knocks. "I'm worried about Peter." I said as he quickly entered my house and sat on a couch. "Why? What's going in with him?" I asked, now slightly worried myself. "I don't know, but he's just different." He replied. 

"Ned, my dad died 2 weeks ago. Peter's definitely still gonna be feeling som…" "No, you don't get it because you're not seeing him. Something is wrong." Ned interrupted quickly. "Ned, that was his choice. He said he didn't want to see me." I stayed calmly. "Please, just come to school tomorrow and you'll see." I debated it. I hadn't really spoken to Peter since dad's funeral. According to him, I reminded him too much of my dad and he just couldn't deal with that right now. Originally, I was going to ignore his request. I knew we could've helped one another through the grieving process; but ultimately I decided to give him some time. I was able to mourn with Pepper and Morgan, but now that I'm thinking about it: Peter didn't really have anybody to share his grief with. Besides me, who did he have? May and Ned could've sympathized with him, but I could empathize with him in a way they just couldn't. Maybe, I shouldn't have listened to him. "Fine." I said while crossing my arms. My thoughts made me worry about him. The state Ned was in didn't do much to ease that worry. "Oh, thank you." He let out a heavy sigh and quickly hugged me. "Now get out of here before Pepper calls the cops." I gently nudged him out the front door.

--The next Day--

I anxiously fiddled with my outfit. I haven't physically been to school in three weeks. It was scary. The staff knew why I was gone, but only select students knew I was a Stark. To the rest, it probably just looked like I was using the snap as an excuse to not return to school. "You sure you wanna do this?" Happy asked from the front seat. "No." I answered truthfully. "But I gotta start somewhere." He sent me a small smile through the rear view mirror. As he pulled up in front of the school, I suddenly got overrun with anxiety. Happy caught on when it took me more than 30 seconds to open the door. He continued and parked in a staff parking spot. I saw him open his door and step out. I took a deep breath before he opened mine. "Scooch." He said and made a motion with his hand. I did. "(Y/n). I'm getting flashbacks to your first day of school." I faintly smiled. That was certainly an interesting day. I refused to get out of the car then too. "Listen, I know you're scared of people seeing you again, but it'll all be okay." He smiled. I couldn't help but hug him. Happy's always been there. When dad wasn't available, I had assurance that Happy would be with me to be the fatherly figure I needed. Even now, he's been 100% dedicated to us. "If you don't want to go, then I will gladly turn this car around and drive you straight back home." He said, still hugging me. I looked out the window for a second. I saw a boy that I thought looked like Peter. Expect he was skinnier. His hair was messier. His eyes looked dull and bags were piled under them. It didn't hit me until I reflected on what Ned told me last night: That was Peter Parker. "No, Hap. Thanks for the offer though." I ended our hug. He slid out of the car and held the door open for me. As I exited, I continued to look in Peter's direction. Happy followed my eyes and also looked in disbelief. "He's not going too great." Happy said while handing me my backpack. "I see that." I breathed out. Suddenly he took off. He sped walked in a completely different direction. My assumption was to class. "Alright, all set?" He asked. "Yeah, see you at 2." I said and began walking towards the school. I looked back briefly. I saw him still standing there. He gave me an embarrassingly goofy wave. I laughed and continued on.

I walked in with Peter on my mind. It helped ease the looks I was getting. I received quite a few greetings in the halls. Most from students I never even noticed until now. Strange. I walked down the hall where my locker used to be. I only assume our lockers were the same. "(Y/n)!" I heard a familiar voice call to me. I turned around and was instantly 10 times happier when I saw MJ. "Michelle!" I greeted her with a simple wave. I still remembered that she didn't like touching people. "Hey, so a lot had happened since the last time you were here." She said quickly. "Well, hello to you too." I joked, "Our lockers are still the same or not?" "Yeah, but that's not the point." "Well, walk and talk then." I said as I continued for my locker. It looked like there were papers tapped to it. As I got closer I noticed some were pictures of dad. "MJ, what the hell is this?" I asked when we were standing at my locker. "There's more inside." She replied quietly. I did the combination and watched as dozens of cards, letters, and photos, slid out of my locker. I wanted to cry then. "How did they find out?" I asked MJ, panic now growing by the minute. I could feel the students in the hall watching me. No doubt some were recording me. "Students, carry on!" I heard another familiar voice. It was Dr. Kemp. Our principal. Suddenly the hallway was empty, save for MJ, myself, and two teachers. "Welcome back Miss. Stark." Dr. Kemp smiled kindly. "(L/n)." I corrected bitterly. "You two better get to class. We wouldn't want you to be late." His condescending voice echoed the hall. As he clicked away, I stared at the mess of papers piled around my feet. "(Y/n), I don't have a first, you can put this stuff in here and I'll write you an excuse for being late." "Thanks Mrs. Amber." I replied smally and began to pick up some of  the papers. There were too many to pick up all at once. "Do you need help?" MJ asked. "Nah, it's fine. I'll see you in 2nd." I blankly said. She hesitantly left for class. I sighed and walked them to Mrs. Amber's class. "Here, just put them in your lab drawer. You can pick them up at the end of the day." I thanked her and dumped the stuff in the drawer. I went back out to the hall. Somehow there appeared to be more items. This was going to take a while.

-----Peter's POV----- I quickly walked into class before the first bell rung. It helped to be early. It helped the noises settle in more rather than just walking into a loud room. I saw Ned was already sat in his seat next to me. "Dude, did you hear, (Y/n)'s back?" He asked excitedly. I blanked. She was back? Great. She was going to hate me. "Peter, Hello?" Ned waved his hand in front of me. I couldn't help it. I quickly grabbed his arm and twisted it away. I didn't really even process what I did until I heard Ned's little yelp of pain. "Oh my God. I am so sorry, Ned." I said, immediately releasing my grip. "No, Peter it's fine. Just chill, we're in class. You can't be Spiderman here." He whispered to me. I took his words seriously. There was absolutely no reason for me to be Spiderman at school. Not one. We were safe here. But weren't safe when half the school was snapped out of existence. Were we ever really safe? Anybody could just walk in here and kill students. I had to be ready at a moments notice to be Spiderman. I wasn't going to fail again. The first bell ringing made me flinch. I prepared myself to hear everybody walking into class. 

'Loud. Loud. Some gossip about (Y/n). Squeaky shoes. Opening a locker, slamming another. Ned's breathing. The heartbeat of a kid who just ran into class. Pencils falling to the ground It was all so loud. Too loud. '

It was hard to focus in lessons because of the noise. Today wasn't any different. 30 minutes of class went by and I didn't see (Y/n), but knew she was here from the conversations I was over hearing. She apparently had opened her locker and the cards fell out of her locker. According to some girl in the class next to us, the stuff was everywhere. I felt responsible for it. It was my fault everybody knew about (Y/n). It's only a matter of time before she found that out and ended our friendship. I felt it. With five minutes of the period left, Mr. Kerzic allowed us to pack up. It was fine until the hairs on my arms stood up. Something was about to happen. Suddenly a soft knock on the classroom door caused everybody's attention to move. I could hear her holding her breathing and smell her light perfume from here. There was no doubt it was her, but I needed confirmation. When Mr. Kerzic opened the door he smiled and said, "Welcome back." He stepped aside and let her in. (Y/n). Just how deadly silent the room fell was overwhelming to me. I couldn't imagine what she was going through. She avoidied all eye contact as she made her way to her old seat. She sat on the other side of Ned. She silently sat and pulled out her phone. The air began to taste salty. Tears. She had likely been crying. I began fidgeting with my fingers in an attempt to distract myself from the noises. "Peter." I heard her voice as if she said it right next to me. I turned to the left to see her. Her face instantly fell when she saw me. When the bell rung I debated between talking to her and running to class. Ultimately I decided to head to class. She didn't seem to be in a mood for conversation. ----------(Y/n)'s POV---------- Mrs. Amber did all she could, but I still was required to check in with my 1st period class to not be considered absent. I took a deep breath as I walked to my Trig class. I was trying regain my composure. If there's one thing us Starks are good at, it would be repressing our emotions to oblivion. So I did. Save for a few stress tears. I refused to believe MJ, Ned, or Peter would let my secret out, so that meant a staff member leaked the information. I made a mental note to ask MJ about it during lunch. I was beyond pissed. I stood in front of Mr. Kerzic's door. There were still 10 minutes left in class. I didn't particularly want to show up for that much time. Time meant students could ask questions. So I waited until there were five minutes left. I hesitantly knocked on the door and debated taking off when I did. Mr. Kerzic opened the door and welcomed me back. I gave him a small nod and walked by him. I made my way to my old seat, next to Ned. The whole time I was avoiding the stares by staring at the back of the room. I couldn't help but notice Peter's intense stare at a book he had in his hands. His left leg was bouncing up and down frantically. His eyes were also shaking. I can see what Ned was talking about more clearly now. I sat down and immediately pulled out my phone to look busy.  Usually, I scolded people for doing this, but I needed something to keep people from talking to me. I figured it would be a good idea to check in on Peter. I opened my text messages and texted FRIDAY (After some modifications, yes, she was accepting texts now) to check Peter's heart rate. "110 bpm." I looked at her response in disbelief. Why was he so nervous? No, scared. He's definitely scared. I looked to my side to see him now twiddling his thumbs watching the clock anxiously. "Peter." I barely whispered. To any normal person, they wouldn't have heard me, but I knew Peter heard me. His gaze fell to me briefly. Now that he was looking at me, I could make out just how tired he looked. He obviously wasn't getting much sleep. Then he ran off as soon as the bell rung. Before a crowd of people could begin to talk to me, I called Ned. He turned around and helped block off people from me. "What the hell was that?" I asked when we left the class. "He's not doing well, (Y/n). He's not sleeping, barely eating, and has been burying himself in bei…" "Ned, shh. We've talked about this." I warned him. 

He was, yet again, say something about Peter being Spiderman. It's how MJ found out. Ned Leeds had a problem with indoor voices. 

"I'll try and talk to him during Chem." I said as he stopped by his locker. "I think that will help a lot." He said while grabbing his english book.

I smiled softly and leaned against the lockers adjacent to his. I saw people "sneakily" snapping photos of me as they passed. 

"Ned, how do they know?" I frustratedly asked while trying to hid my face with his locker door. He close his locker and avoided eye contact. He definitely knows something. "Ned, who was it? I'm not mad, I'm just frustrated." I tried to ease his conscience. Maybe he'd tell me he knew I wasn't planning on getting them fired. "Get lost you greedy bastards!" I turned around and saw MJ telling the developing crowd off. "Everybody to class now!" I couldn't tell who's voice it was, but I wanted to thank them. "People suck." She stayed simply as she began to walk with us to class. 

MJ, Peter, and I had British Lit this period, but Ned had English Lit. We all still walked together though as the classes were side by side. 

"I'm over it. I should just have Pepper call me out today." I sighed. "No, you said you'd talk to Peter!" Ned exclaimed. "Oh thank God because he's slowly killing himself." MJ interjected. I cringed. I figured Peter would be going through a tough time, but it was almost ridiculous just how messed up he was. As we reached our respective classrooms we waved bye to Ned, and MJ led the way in. Brit Lit was a much smaller class. Myself, MJ, and Peter included, there were only 12 students. Most of which were upperclassmen. Nobody particularly paid much attention to us sophomores, but today was different. As we entered an abrupt cheer erupted in the classroom. I noticed Peter flinch at this sudden explosion of noise. Shouts of; "Long live Stark!" "Your dad's a hero!" "Your dad died a hero!" "Were you there when the fight broke out?" "Are you going to be the next Ironman?" The questions, while they did bother me, didn't set me off. It was the flashing. This also seemed to affect Peter. He took off. He pushed past me and ran out of the room. I quickly looked at MJ. "Go." She said and turned her attention to the crowd. As I took off I heard her say something about them being asshats. "FRIDAY, find me Peter." I said while tapping on my glasses. "Courtyard at the south side of the building." "Thanks, FRI." I went in the direction of the courtyard. Before I even opened the doors I saw Peter gripping his knees and rocking on a slab of pavement. He was hidden by a few bushes. Without my glasses, I undoubtedly wouldn't have seen him. He's well hidden there. I tried to pull open the doors, but they wouldn't budge. "FRI?" I asked, annoyed. "Peter appeared to web himself in there." I sighed and tapped on my nanotech bracelet. This make a small glove for me. I used a laser to cut around the webbing. "Hey, FRIDAY, remind me to pay to have this fixed." "Of course." I slowly approached Peter. He was mumbling something to himself. It wasn't quite clear. He was just blankly staring at the pavement just above his shoes. "Peter?" I asked, lining myself in his line of sight. This only caused his breathing to quicken and he rocked himself more. "(Y/n), two classes teachers are approaching." I got up to inform the teachers of the situation, but Peter stopped me by latching his hand on my right arm. "Don't go." He shakily pleaded. With my other arm, I grabbed onto his shoulder. I realized he was having a panic attack. I knew I had to anchor him. "Peter, breath." I commanded. He tried. He inhaled for 2 seconds, but began breathing unevenly soon after. His eyes were wondering again. His hand squeezed my arm harder. "Good, okay, try for longer." I moved my hand from his shoulder and to his curls. I noticed his grip on my arm loosened a bit. He was calming down slightly. "Okay, out for 5." I guided him. His eyes were now burning deeply into mine. He nodded and breathed out. After a few rounds of this he was breathing at his normal rate. Through the screen on my glasses, I saw his heart rate was now down to 89 bpm. Not ideal, but much better. When he released his grip I took the moment to sit beside him. "Peter, what's going on?" I asked, still lightly running my hand through his hair. It seemed to calm him the most. ----------PETER'S POV------------- I couldn't take it. The class planned this welcome back party for when (Y/n) returned a while ago. But I didn't expect for it to be so loud. So sudden. So bright. I heard Her, MJ, and Ned walking together. All their breathing made it obvious they were together. Ned has the most uneven breaths. They're never consistent. MJ's breathing was deathly silent. I often wondered if she actively held her breath. And (Y/n) actually does hold her breath. Especially when she's nervous. I wanted to jump up and warn her about what she was about to walk into, but I was busy preparing myself for the commotion. Then MJ entered first. Followed by (Y/n). When she came in, the yelling began. I struggled to cope with the noises, but they weren't the worst part. The flashes were. They reminded me of the battle. I couldn't take it, I ran out of there. I ran down the hall and to the south courtyard. Without even thinking, I webbed the doors behind me. I needed to be alone. I needed time. I walked to a corner that nobody could see me in. I sat down and hugged my knees. "You're okay. You're okay. You're okay. You're safe. You're safe. You're safe." I mumbled to myself through shaky breaths. My brain wasn't believing it. "Peter?" I didn't move. She came to me. She forced herself to be directly in front of me. I heard FRIDAY say something, but my own breathing drowned her out. Whatever it was, it caused (Y/n) to get up a begin to walk away. I didn't process that I grabbed her arm until I was begging her to not go. I felt her grab my right shoulder. The tight grip helped a little. "Peter, breath." She said with authority. I tired to breath in, but I let go. This only made my breathing become more uneven. "Okay, good, try for longer." She moved her left hand to the top of my head. This instantly began to calm me. Just the back and forth movements she was doing were enough to significantly soothe me. I met her eyes. Her usual (E/c) was more dull than I remember. Her sparkle was still there, but not as prominent anymore. They were always so calming. They still are. After a few breathing exercises, I felt normal again. For the first time in 2 weeks, I actually felt okay. "Peter, what's going on?" I watched her sit by me. She kept her hand in my hair, still slightly running her fingers through my hair. "God, how are you?" I asked. She was a bigger victim than me. She lost her dad. I only lost my mentor. "Peter, I'm fine. And I say this from a place of love, you look like crap." She wasn't wrong. Since that day, I haven't had a good night's sleep, my grades were starting to drop, I wasn't eating as much. "It's nothing." "Peter, clearly it's not nothing. Ned convinced me to come back because he's worried about you. Now I am too." Oh God, she came back for me and she's going to hate me. I'm going to lose her too. This caused my breathing to speed up again. I couldn't bare to lose her. We've been friends for years. Losing her would be just as bad as losing Mr. Stark. "Peter, please, talk to me." She turned my face to face her. She dropped her available hand and grabbed a shaking hand. This and her eye contact grounded me momentarily. "I can't. You'll hate me." I choked out, trying to keep my composure. "Peter Parker, I could never hate you." She smiled.

God, what I wouldn't do to keep that smile there. But I knew it would be better for her to find out straight from the horse's mouth than from somebody else. "It was me." I said quickly, avoiding her gaze again. "What was?" She asked, cocking her head to the side in adorable confusion. "I accidentally let it slip that you're Tony's daughter." Her hand fell from my hair. It hit my shoulder on the way down. She immediately looked hurt. "What?" She whispered, tears now ready to fall. Panic. I went back into panic mode. "It was an accident! After I got back to school, I was talking to Ned about everything. I mentioned that it was Mr. Stark that saved the universe and how you weren't gonna be at school for a while because of it, and somebody overhead me. Then everybody spread rumors, then Dr. Kemp confirmed it all. I am so sorry." I said, now lightly crying. She was too. I realized I couldn't lose her, but I was clearly about to. After what I did, I probably don't even deserve her. But I hate that years of friendship is going to end like this. I still haven't even told her about how I feel about her. No doubt that would matter now. "Everyday, Morgan has me tell her a different story about him." She spoke up. "I'm afraid of the day that I run out of stories to tell her." I looked at her in surprise. "You're not mad?" I asked while wiping my tears away. She let out a breathy laugh. "No, Pete. I'm not mad. I just wish I could've done it my way, you know?" She said. After a beat she lazily tucked her head on my shoulder. I felt my heart rate increase.   "Could you…" She paused. Probably thinking. "Do you think you could visit and tell Morgan some stories about dad one day? She loves them so much, and she misses you, and...." "Yeah, of course. I'd love to." I replied and laid my head on hers. 

Two weeks without her and I missed her like crazy. I was stupid for suggesting not seeing her. I just figured she'd want to cope with Pepper and Morgan, not me. 

"But we seriously need to talk about you and this little thing called self care." I laughed and suddenly realized just how bad I must've looked. "We can do that later. I actually have a gift for you." She excitedly said and took her backpack off. "(Y/n), you didn't have you get me anything." I stopped her by gently grabbing her hands to stop her from rummaging through her bag. "It wasn't mine to you. Dad worked on all sorts of projects during those five years. I went through his files and found them. He actually had a few for you in Particular." She took a folder out. The label read 'Mark II 17A.' I remember 17A being the code for my Ironspider suit. 

"It still needed a few modifications. So I worked with it, but I remember him saying something about wanting you to learn how to build suits, you know, before everything went downhill. So, if you want we can hash this out together sometime." She nervously rambled on. "Plus, I saw you in that gang bust, how the extra legs just snapped off. So you do kind of need a new one." She quickly added. "Yeah obviously I want to, but I don't know when I'll be free though." I frowned.

I missed hanging out with her. To us, those who snapped away, only minutes passed. But being told we were gone for five years still notably impacted people and their relationships with others. Not to mention, the last time we hung out was when Tony was still alive. It was a basic movie night. Ned, (Y/n), and I would always try to find a day in a month to binge watch crappy movies. (Y/n) always hosted because she had a whole private theater to herself. Ned and I always suggested our places, but we couldn't argue with a popcorn bar she could supply. This was actually the day before everything happened. I remember Tony and Pepper came home late. Tony made some offhand comment about his daughter being on a date with her two nerd boyfriends. She laughed and threw popcorn at him. He insisted they would join as soon as he and Pepper would get changed. They did. Little did any of us know it was the last time we would all be together and having fun. When the New York attack happened, (Y/n) had been sleeping on the bus. When I saw the huge flying doughnut, I figured it would be okay to wake her up. When she opened her eyes, they went wide. She immediately said we had to be there to help. I agreed and we went. Except eventually we got separated. Next thing I knew I was in Space and she was light years away from me.

As I got all dusty, I asked Tony to tell her I loved her. He just nodded and smiled. He definitely already knew. But obviously as (Y/n) also dusted away, she never got to hear it. 

"Hey, FRI, can you call Happy? Tell him Peter and I want to leave."   I chuckled. Her confidence pulled me back to reality. There's no way Happy would willingly pick us up when we're at school. Especially if there's no special reason for it.

"Mr. Hogan said he will be here in 20 minutes." She smirked at my disbelief. "What? Did you doubt me, Parker? Now let's sneak out." Yep. She definitely is a Stark child. -----(Y/n)'s POV)------ Getting him alone allowed him to speak freely. I discovered that after Happy dropped us off at the old Avengers Tower. The tower was beginning to be furnished again, but some floors still appeared barren. Fury began to settle in for a new HQ for something. I didn't bother to ask. The labs were equipped though. They always were. It was something dad always made sure of. In case a lab were to be destroyed, like when Ultron hit, we still had another. More recently when the Upstate HQ was blown to high hell, we still had this lab. "What do you want to eat?" I asked. It was an honest question, but still had some intent behind it. I wanted to see Peter eat. If he would eat a complete meal. "Uh, whatever you want is fine." He said absentmindedly. He was engrossed in the blueprints of his suit. "Thai is it then." Still no response from him. Even if Thai was his favourite. This worried me a bit. "You know, food can wait for later." I said, still gauging his reaction. "No, (N/n), you should get something to eat." Interesting. Telling me I should eat, but clearly isn't as excited about food anymore. Extremely strange for him. Peter has always been a food junkie. I mentally checked that off of the Peter Parker self care list. ... 12 hours. We spent 12 hours working on Peter's suit. From 10:30 in the morning to 10:30 at night. I was beyond tired at this point. It was harder to tell if Peter was tired. He already has severe bags under his eyes, any new ones wouldn't cause a difference. "You should get some sleep." He said while slightly shaking my shoulder. Apparently I fell asleep at the table. "Are you?" I raised my eyebrow. "No, not yet." "Then, I guess I'll go on a coffee run." I yawned. "(Y/n), you're obviously tired." He took a seat next to me. "As evident by the bags of bags under your eyes, you're not sleeping. So you're undoubtedly tired too." I snapped at him. He tilted his head at my comment. "I can't sleep. People may need Spiderman." "And Spiderman may accidentally screw up due to sleep deprivation. Seriously, Peter have you even slept well since?" I knew the answer, but I needed him to open up to me before I try to help him. His silence was evidence enough. "That's what I thought." I jumped off the stool and turned to face him. "Well, come on." I said and waved him over to a monitor I was walking to. 

I went into the settings and pulled up music playlists. My dad and I previously made these ages ago, but never told anybody about them. It was kind of a joke. In a sort of messed up Stark way anyway. "Pick one." I said and stepped aside for him to mess with the screen. 

I saw his eyes flick to the 'Sleep Soundly brat' playlist. He also perked up at the '(Y/n)'s top picks for an old man who is obsessed with ACDC and needs to expand his music choices :). ' We had a lot of playlists with ridiculous names like that, but that was part of the joke. He looked at the selection for a good minute. He finally chose 'Stark Songs Selected by the Starks.' "Nice choice." I smiled softly. We made that specific playlist after he became my legal guardian. "What now?" He asked, now "subtly" twiddling his thumbs. "Sleep." I said and made my way to the lounge just outside the lab. 

It had pillows and blankets and couches so we were set. It was also a good thing we both decided to dress lazily today. He was wearing his school sweater with sweats. I was in an oversized jumper and leggings. Both equally cozy outfits. 

"(Y/n), I don't know. May's probably worried about me, and I…" "Peter, I already texted May. She said you needed a night to chill. So please, just chill. Catch up on sleep. Happy said he'd bring us a change of clothes for tomorrow. For now just rest." I explained as I sat on one of the couches. 

He still looked reluctant, but did eventually sit on a couch opposite from me. As soon as he sat down he commented on how comfortable the couch was. Almost immediately after he was out. I dragged myself up and gently covered him with a blanket. It was supposed to be colder tonight. I didn't want him catching acute frostbite. I smiled and tucked a stray curl off of his forehead.

I missed him. Truly. But I wanted to give him time to grieve. I know how close him and my dad were. He definitely needed time to process. So did I. But to go two weeks without seeing somebody you previously saw everyday was a lot. 

Seeing him now at peace was different than before. Before he just had simple problems falling asleep. Nothing a quick TV show binge couldn't cure, but now he looked exhausted. It was nice to see him have some semblance of peace in this moment. I was about to doze off myself until I heard mumbling coming from Peter. "No… stop. Let h..er go." I didn't want to eavesdrop, but it was distracting. "No.. (Y/n), get.. out of the way…" "No!" He shouted and threw himself up. The action made me jump up and run to him. "Peter, hey. It's  (Y/n.)." I snapped my fingers near his ears in an attempt to wake him up. His eyes jolted open and his hands tightly locked on both sides of me. His breathing was rugged and hard. He did a once over. I assume he was checking to see if I was alright. Before I knew it he pulled me in for a bone crushing hug. I patted his back softly as I heard his sobs fall out of his mouth.

"You were… and he just s-hot you." He said in between breaths. "Hey, I'm okay." I pulled us apart for a second and observed him. 

His eyes were bloodshot, which made him appear even more exhausted. His lips were quivering. He was broken. I could only imagine the past two weeks have been filled with his night terrors. 

"I can't lose you too." He said in one breath. It only prompted him to fall into a fit of sobs again. 

I just held him. I placed my chin on the top of his head. I didn't know how to fix this. If it was even possible to fix. The once hopeful, joyful, optimistic Peter Parker was currently buried beneath so much carnage that all what remained was the empty husk of who he once was. How was I supposed to help him when he can't even sleep for 3 minutes without his subconscious attacking him with worst case scenarios? I don't know. And that scares me.

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A/N: I couldn't figure out how to format this for some reason. Tumblr started acting up, so sorry for the inconsistent spacing. 

[mccoys-killer-queen]

@axelandriab​ thank you so much for tagging me in this bc seeing brand new questions I’ve never answered before is like a breath of fresh air

Do you prefer writing in black or blue pen? black

Would you prefer to live in the country or the city? I think about this often and I always used to say city but I’m feeling more country now

If you could learn a new skill, what would it be? guitar... please... if not that then I’d like to speak German fluently...

Do you drink tea/ coffee with sugar? nope (unless you count honey as sugar for tea, then yes)

What was you favourite book as a child? I honestly don’t remember reading books/having books read to me but it was probably Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown

Do you prefer baths or showers? I haven’t taken a bath in a good 6 years so I forget what it feels like (I don’t fit in my bathtub anymore... I’m too long) so I gotta say showers by default

If you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? either some sort of fairy, nymph, or shapeshifter 

Paper or electronic books? Paper

What is your favourite item of clothing? my denim jacket with all my patches on it

Do you like your name? nope :3) I think Rachel is a very boring, generic, uncreative White Girl name and if I ever get famous (which ain’t gonna happen) I’d totally go by a pen/stage name

Who is a mentor to you? pssh just any of my Rock and Roll Dads (i.e. Joe Elliott, Brian May, Kevin Cronin, Nikki Sixx, etc), I feel like They guide me somehow

Would you like to be famous? famous for something good? Yes. I’m such an extrovert like 60% of the time and I love oversharing and sometimes feel like I’d be good at handling fame. Plus honestly I don’t feel like I’ll be able to survive long in life unless I somehow get famous bc let’s face it I’m never gonna have a “real career” or be satisfied with any job or be able to make a living by constantly working (but then again I don’t have any talent that can make me famous either oops)

Are you a restless sleeper? yeah more often than never :3)

Do you consider yourself a romantic person? aesthetically romantic, sometimes, but I identify as aro. Romance irl just feels wrong, like it doesn’t mix well with me, like when you put a certain metal in water and it explodes

Which element best represents you? Earth? Either earth or water

Who do you want to be closer to? “My favourite musicians ;(” <<stealing this too :c just all the Leppard bois pls

Do you miss someone at the moment? Nope

Tell us about an early childhood memory? I had a computer class in kindergarten, and I remember on the very first day of it, the teacher taught us what a floppy disc was when introducing us to all the parts of a computer. This was in 2006, and I still have yet to use one.

What is the strangest thing you’ve ever eaten? Probably chicken and waffle pringles, but dipped in chili (GOOD)

What are you most thankful for? the money I have in the bank (even tho I try not to touch it), my driver’s license, not having a job right now, my therapist, my music, my hamster, being surrounded by green

Have you ever met anyone famous? Yes, Rick Ray of Sunshine Allen :3 that’s it :’3

Do you keep a diary or journal? Nope, even tho my therapist told me that journaling my thoughts is a big help, I kinda don’t wanna go back to doing that

Do you prefer to use pen or pencil? Pen bc it flows easier

What is your star sign? Pisces

Do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? Crunchy all the way, soggy cereal is a HUGE pet peeve of mine

What would you want your legacy to be? someone who was very interesting and did a lot of things

Do you like reading? What was the last book you read? honestly, reading is overrated. Even if the book is good, reading isn’t as hyped up as everyone on this site thinks it is. I do like reading sometimes, but I barely do. I read a lot in high school bc I had so much free time on my hands in class, but outside of school I can’t do it. The last book I read was a reread of The Princess Bride by William Goldman

How do you show someone you love them? *Lisa Simpson staring at plate* ??? Error 405??

Do you like ice in your drinks? yeah but not a lot. Maybe just one or two cubes to keep it cold but not to dilute it a lot

What are you afraid of? being stuck where I am forever, never escaping my family, never finding my path in life, whatever the hell is wrong with my mentality getting worse and impacting my life in a huge way, any health related problems, I could go on :3)

What is your favourite scent? Old Spice

Do you address older people by their name or surname? ...what exactly is this question asking? Depends on how casual I am with them/how well I know them

If money was not a factor, how would your life be different? I would NOT be living here that’s for damn sure :3) I would’ve been to so many different places by now and maybe I’d actually have a real life and actually BE an interesting person

Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? pools, bc the ocean is too salty and choppy and doesn’t smell as good as chlorine imo

What would you do if you found $50 on the ground? “I’d pick it up, and if I saw the person who dropped it, I’d give it back to them” << true but then if i couldn’t find them then I’d probably go buy some records with it and put the change aside into my Concert Fund

What is one thing you’d want to teach your children? honestly I don’t think I’m ever gonna have kids, but I’d want them to understand that gender roles don’t exist, and neither do the opinions of society

If you had to get a tattoo right now, what and where would it be? ...I’m actually getting a tattoo next week... it’s going to be on the side of my right shoulder, a silhouette of a pine tree with an outline of a crescent moon above it

What can you hear now? The sound of the fridge runnin in the room behind me, my mom getting something out of a drawer

Where do you feel the safest? in my bedroom

What is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? whatever’s fucked up in my head like anxiety and trauma, etc

If you could travel back to any era in time, what would it be? if I had to travel back anywhere and stay there for the rest of my life, I’d probably go back 1979 to see the dawn of the 80s and live through them. If I had to go for a day then I’d probably pick the summer of 1988 or something

What is your most used emoji? probably 🤙

Describe yourself using one word? tough

What do you regret most? not going to see Def Leppard and Journey when they were less than an hour away 2 years ago. Yes, I couldn’t drive back then, so there was really no way I could’ve gotten there and back (and I could’ve BARELY gotten a floor ticket to begin with, it would’ve cost like half the money I had to my name), but with the Stadium Tour being delayed ANOTHER year I feel like 2 years ago was the only chance I’ll ever have had to see my favorite band :c so even though it was basically impossible for me to go, and a lot of the factors of that were out of my control, I still feel like I blew it, and wish I tried literally everything I possibly could’ve done (like just buy the ticket and figure out how to get there later, call everyone I could think of to try and hitch a ride). Even if I did so, there was still a VERY, VERY slim chance that I could’ve ended up going by some goddamned MIRACLE okay I’ll shut up now sorry I’m just still very upset even so much time later

Last movie you saw? in theaters? Rocketman last summer. In general? Uhhhhh I really don’t know, I think it was Love, Simon

Last TV show you watched? on tv? Rick and Morty. In general? I was watching The Young Ones on youtube today

Invent a word and it’s meaning? Scress (we actually made this up like 2 years ago)- it’s a game where you play chess on a Scrabble board while also playing Scrabble

[fancifulwritings]

The Song Remains The Same

Chapter Fifteen

     The question as a mere formality. They both knew that. Calypso couldn't say no to him. Not like she wanted to, anyways. Where would she go? Upstairs to his room, in his house, alone? Or just stand and watch him? Neither option seemed even somewhat polite.

     Saying no hadn't really crossed her mind. She wanted to spend as much time with him as she could. Alone time seemed like it would be few and far in between.

     The cleaning they did was relatively surface level. Robert wasn't going to try and tackle the mess himself. All six of them had made the mess. All six of them would have to clean it in the morning. Everyone would be doing their fair share; he'd make sure of it.

     The two of them did clean a few plates. Granted, they were the ones that already looked clean, but it would help. Food was removed from their pots and plates and put into the fridge. Whatever hadn't been eaten yet could be their lunch tomorrow. Robert didn't have enough food to supply a whole new meal.

     This went on for a few minutes, until Robert wiped his hands on a towel. "Looks good enough for me, for now at least. How about you darlin'?" He asked with a smirk. Calypso felt a small shiver go up her spine.

     "I'm hardly one to order you around your own house," she said.

     "That's what I was hoping for." As he spoke, he picked her up and placed her back onto the counter. Without hesitation, her arms and legs wrapped around his neck and waist.

     It felt like she was in a dream. This whole situation was already so easy for her. Calypso couldn't believe it. A domestic life with Robert Plant hadn't ever occurred to her as possible, it shouldn't be. Now it was all she could think about. It was sickening how it consumed her. Nothing seemed to be holding her back; and that was what seemed to be the most terrifying.

     "Hmm, such a pretty little vixen," he said. She laughed as he did before she silenced him with a kiss. A direct move, something that was rare from her. She often lacked the courage. But now she hadn't felt like waiting for him. Everyone else had fully disappeared from her mind.

     Robert wasted no time in taking control. She might have started things, but Robert rarely left the ball in anyone else's court. It seemed impossible to him.

     His hand went to the back of her head so he could move her where he wanted her. Calypso put up no fight to this. Why would she? With the new body, Calypso could only imagine the wicked things he had in store for her. She was excited. Never was she more thankful for their first couple days together.

     Before all this, he had been hard to handle. Calypso felt like she had always been a bit behind. Now she was sure to be left in the distance. The ease between the two would help. It would mean that she at least wouldn't be left in the dust.

     The wild ride she had unknowingly signed up for was accelerating. Robert tugged on her hair, meaning she couldn't focus on that. Effectively, he had tugged her back into the real world. It was hard to believe that this was her real world now. Calypso just sighed into the kiss and moved with him. Undeniably, he demanded more as he pressed closer to her. She was more than happy to relent.

     For some time, they stayed like that, only lips and hands moving between them. For them, time had simply ceased to be. What rush did they have?

     It wasn't until Robert's hands were snaked into Calypso's pants that they were drawn out of the daze. She pulled back. It wasn't an objection to the action itself. God, it felt like a natural procession.

All she wanted to feel was him between her legs, inside her. She was already wet, that much she could tell. A few more seconds and she would be begging for him.

"They're still here!" She hissed gently. One of their guests, in their far off room, had coughed. It was a gentle reminder that they weren't alone. They couldn't just fuck in the kitchen like animals.

"Are you saying you'd like to stop?" He cocked his eyebrow up as his finger traced her up and down through her panties. A soft moan escaped Calypso's lips. She couldn't help herself, as she managed to hold back so much more.

"Not here!" She barely managed to stammer out, face flushed red. The things this man could do to her… She'd be lucky to survive tonight, forget the week.

"Such a shame," he chuckled. His finger was unrelenting. "I would have taken you right here, right now," he said. "Mostly because I can," he whispered into her ear. She could only blush more and swat at his chest.

It seemed as if he already had his next move planned. He wasted no time in acting on it, in such a calculated way. Calypso almost felt like it was a play in his head. She would hardly object to him playing director a bit.

Robert picked her up, quickly, and hooked his arms under her ass to keep her pressed close to him, and walked straight up to his room.

"Showing off today?" She asked in between his endless stream of kisses.

"Only for you, just for you," he said with a wink. He placed her down gently on the bed, right in the center. Then, with a turn on his heels, he went to put a record on. Calypso barely noticed what he was doing. She only noticed he was gone as she spread her legs.

Whatever he threw on hardly mattered. Robert had mumbled what it was. Both of them hard more pressing matters at hand. He, especially, had his mind focused on so many other things.

It was a slow walk back to the bed. It felt almost like a show as he stripped off his clothing. Nothing could have ever made her wetter. Calypso couldn't help but gasp once he was fully naked.

The view in front of her was one of a God. She felt truly blessed to be able to see him like this. Calypso hadn't realized her good luck this morning.

The morning had been rushed, unlike now. They had been preoccupied with other thoughts. It had all been one been distraction. They had needed to work quickly. Now was a different beast. It felt like the world had stopped. There was no need to rush, tomorrow wasn't coming that quickly.

Any anxiety they might had felt, that she might had held, seemed to have simply melted away. Not to say that all the anxiety was gone forever. This feeling of ease was a talent of Robert's, she was realizing. No matter how bad anything had gotten, he had seemed as if he could just push it aside. Leave it behind, if just for a moment.

"You look more surprised now than you did this morning," he said with a chuckle. He crawled up the bed, and up her body. He hovered just above her.

"You would be too," she mumbled. Who wouldn't be surprised by all this? As she leaned up to kiss him, he began to pull her pants down.

"Babe, I swear, I'm never letting you leave this bed again if I get the choice," he whispered in her ear. She gasped and rolled her hips up against him. "My little Greek goddess," he said as he pulled off her shirt.

"Calypso was a muse," she mumbled. That, at first, seemed to only draw a grin from Robert.

He leaned into her, his lips barely an inch away from hers. "A muse, perhaps even more fitting," he said before kissing her. His fingers gently pushed up on her chin, forcing her to stay where he wanted.

His kisses quickly moved from her lips to her neck, eventually all the way down her body. Robert didn't stop until he spread her thighs apart.

"Now, would my muse mind? I believe I need a bit of inspiration," he said. He ran his finger down her slit as he looked up at her with a smirk.

Words were lost to Calypso. The sight between her legs, the feelings erupting from between her legs, were too much. Her brain and mouth were at a complete disconnect, and Robert knew this. Robert could see this. All she could manage was running her hands though his hair and smiling. Hopefully, he would take this as his yes.

Not that he would. She doubted things were ever easy right off the bat with him. It certainly seemed that way. He placed more kisses on the insides of her thighs. Clearly, he was teasing her. She knew this and just groaned. She squirmed in an attempt to get what she wanted.

He wouldn't give, though. "My dearest Muse, I am afraid I have to hear your beautiful voice to find my inspiration," he said. Robert looked up at her, both their eyes wild with lust.

"Who am I to refuse my Golden God?" She said after a few seconds. She wasn't sure where it came from, but she was grateful for it.

Robert, in return, only smirked. All at once, he was where she needed him most, licking and sucking expertly at her folds. Calypso's head rolled back against the pillow and her fingers grasped at his hair. Their teasing all throughout the evening had finally caught up to her.

She forced her hips up further into his face and wrapped her legs around his shoulders. It was the only way she could think to trap him there. Leaving her now might just kill her, she figured.

Just as she got to the edge, where she so desperately wanted to be, he pulled back. Calypso's hips canted up in an attempt to follow him, to follow her own pleasure. She just whined and looked down at him.

"What my dear?" He asked with a bit of a tut. Calypso didn't like this already. Now he had the stamina to keep up with her. More importantly, he had the stamina to keep up with his thoughts. That could be dangerous. She was at his mercy. Mercy of which she was sure no longer existed for her.

"Robert!" She whined as she arched her hips up a bit more.

"I can't read your mind, Calypso, babe," he said with a wink. "What is it that you want? You've just gotta ask." A wicked grin was painted across his face.

Her response, yet again, was to roll her hips. Maybe, she thought, just this time he would get the message? Or at least listen to it. Nothing could have prepared her for this. She needed him. He knew that, and yet she wasn't getting it. It was torturous.

"I want you," she finally mumbled. It was obvious that she wasn't getting anywhere without talking. The rules were to be made by him. She just had to play along.

"Is that so?" He said with a grin. Robert tossed his head his hair to the side as he moved to rest on his forearm. "What exactly do you want from me?"

Internally, Calypso could only groan. Once again, she arched her hips up to him. No fair, she had played by his rules. Now he had to give her what she wanted. At least, that's what she thought. Robert grinned as he slipped a finger inside her.

Calypso hadn't been entirely prepared for him to move so fast. She gasped and began to grind against his finger.

Robert chuckled as he began to pump his finger in and out of her. Her hips stalled, unable to keep up with the pace he was setting already. He slipped in a second finger, and then a third not long after.

Calypso, completely and truly, was lost for words. Thoughts were gone from her brain. Her head was rolled back as she let out moan after moan. All she thought about was cuming. It was all she wanted. She was so close; she could practically taste it.

Just as the ledge was about to slip out from under her, Robert stopped. She whined again, frustration building in her body. What the fuck was he up to now?

Robert kissed his way, slowly, back up her body. "As much as I'd love to watch you squirm and beg all night," he pressed a kiss to her lips, "I'm dying for you, babe."

This time, she didn't think Robert was asking for words. If he was, he'd be shit out of luck. Calypso spread her legs for him. Robert wasn't looking for words. Wasn't looking for anything more past that. He moved and she wrapped her legs around his waist, trapping him this time.

Robert guided himself in. There wasn't a single intention of stopping anywhere in his body. He bottomed out after a couple seconds, clearly teasing both himself and her one last time. She grasped and reached to pull his face closer to her.

For the first few thrusts, and the matching kisses, it was gentle and slow. Neither of them wanted that. They both knew what they needed. He began to pound into her, hard and fast, Calypso unable to do anything but moan in his ear. Their guests were now long forgotten to her.

It was just a few minutes more before they both finished. Robert fell over his own edge just seconds before Calypso. If she could talk, she would have called him greedy.

For some time, they just laid like that, Robert on top of Calypso, still inside her. None of this really made sense to her. Her brain was having a hard time processing and accepting the events of the last few hours. She was hardly complaining.

Once he came to, Robert began to press gentle kisses all over her face before rolling off, and out, of her. Calypso just giggled. "Suppose you get the real 70s experience now, magic included," he said.

Calypso could only roll her eyes and laugh. Her hand came up to play gently with his hair. "I certainly didn't expect all this when you offered," she said.

"Neither did I," he said with a chuckle. It was a little bittersweet, she supposed. "I should be used to this sort of thing by now," he said. She could only bring herself to laugh a little. What exactly had they gotten up to back in the day? Calypso hardly doubted anything could make a logical jump to this nonsense.

"I can't ever imagine getting used to this kind of life," she said. It had broken a few moments of silence. The words themselves surprised her. They seemed to just erupt from her body, as if they broke off from some part of her subconscious.

"You should, if you plan to stay," Robert said after a moment. His voice was soft. Perhaps he was just as shocked about the words as she was. It was hard to say. She felt so unsure of what he meant.

Before Calypso could say anything, Robert beat her to it. "We don't have to talk about it now, or ever, if you don't want to have anything explicit," he mumbled.

"I know this isn't what you expected. No one could have warned you, or even thought of this," he said. "I had to press for a week, after all," he chuckled.

She opened her mouth to speak, to fight him on that point. But he silenced her by placing his finger to her lips. "Not tonight, tonight is to settle and get adjusted. Float for a bit, if you will," he placed a kiss to her lips. "Stay, don't give me a time. Never give me a limit. Just stay, for as long as you'd like, a permanent guest, if you will."

Tears watered a little in her eyes. It'd been so long since she had heard someone to ask her to stay. She couldn't refuse his request. Not that she ever would, this was her miracle.

Here Robert was, offering her essentially eternity. There was no way to refuse that! This was the stuff of her wildest dreams. Calypso couldn't turn him down, never would turn him down. The last thing she wanted to do was tie him down. What if he bored of her? What if life changed for them?

"Just say yes," he mumbled once again. He could see the uncertainty in Calypso's eyes. It was clear she was stuck between her own thoughts. Robert wished to bring her out from that.

"Yes," she mumbled as she looked up at him. Robert pulled her close, not saying another word after that. There was none left to exchange. Anything else they could say on the subject would work against his rules. They weren't too worry about anything tonight. Calypso wouldn't bring anything up until he did.

As they laid there, in each other's embrace, Calypso felt sleep begin to creep up on her. Her body was tired. The day had been long, both emotionally and physically. She closed her eyes, ready to slip into a peaceful night.

Just as she was almost to the point of no return, she felt Robert shift against her. He was rock hard already. It wasn't hard to notice, as he began to gently rock himself against her body.

"Already?" She teased before wiping any sleep from her eyes. He just laughed and covered her body with his.

"Always."

[harry-leroy]

Opera 2020: The Rake’s Progress (1/99) 

So I’m gonna do a little post for each of these operas that I watch and give some thoughts on it (kinda like I do when I finish a Shakespeare play, but possibly a little more organized? we’ll see...). I figured that I would start with The Rake’s Progress, since I am still interacting with that work, even though I listened to it at the end of 2019. I’m not going to do a post for Xerxes because I saw that opera nearly a year ago (so if anything, I’ll listen to it again once I’ve listened to the others). 

                                                             * * * 

Alright, y’all. I won’t lie. I’m a little obsessed with this work now. If you haven’t listened to The Rake’s Progress and you enjoy some opera, I highly suggest having a listen. There are also wonderfully staged performances that you can watch on YouTube that have been so fun for me to watch because I adore this opera. It’s just a fun, seductive, flirtatious thrill ride with tomfoolery and hell-raising for two and a half hours, (with an ending that seriously messes with my entire emotional state). 

In fact, I’ve enjoyed listening to this opera so much that I’ve begun to do research on the opera itself, as well as some academic questions related to the work. On a larger scale, this project that I’m unofficially undertaking involves the stock character of the rake and the literary (and possibly the musical)  imagination. It is something that I’ve only just begun working on, and am possibly poking at the idea for my thesis, but I am still unsure as I thought I would be doing that on something Shakespeare related. For now, I am looking at Stravinsky’s work (which premiered in 1951) under the lens of a few questions that I want to apply to other works as well (and these are just preliminary research questions - aka things that came into my head as things I wanted to think about - some of these might be rather dull): 

- What is it about The Rake’s Progress that excites us as an audience? To put it differently, what is it about that story that works? Is it the extravagant setting? The high-stakes hell-raising that takes us on a jostling roller-coaster ride to a 180 degree cliff face from which we have nowhere to go but down? Or is it the inevitable moral at the end? The relief that we’re not in the same position as Tom Rakewell? In experiencing Rakewell’s story second-hand, is there a kind of fascination there with looking in on a world that almost appears fantastical? Some combination of these? Which elements stand out more than others as being successful? 

- What inspires an author to make their main character a rake? What inspires them to go down the road of the ‘progress’ once more? Do these authors always have a restoration type setting in mind for their work? Why are we so easily able to move out of that time period? 

-Based on the different representations of the rake and his progress, can we develop a traditional trajectory for how his story will go down? Is it more similar to Hogarth’s artistic interpretation or more different? What changes have had to be made due to the circumstances under which the author wrote, or were made for other reasons? Were these changes successful considering the medium? 

For Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress, the work takes a kind of neoclassicist  approach, in which Stravinsky refers to the work as a “period-drama”. He intended for his opera to be set in an eighteenth-century setting, but from what I’ve seen being staged, it certainly has not remained that way. The elaborate restoration setting (something out of Hogarth) actually seems to reveal something interesting about the characters, and reveals that this opera is something quite post-modern. 

What happens in The Rake’s Progress is that we have some characters that are actually aware of their existence in the opera itself, some feeling somewhat trapped by that limit of just being in a show (in which their course is already set for them), and some taking it for what it is, or even taking advantage of it. Some characters are not aware of this at all. Tom becomes more and more aware of his existence as a character as the show goes on. He hopes that his written fate is a good one at the beginning, then in trying to take control of it in a state of maddened anxiety, destroys his other self (Nick) and subsequently goes mad. He falls into the first category of characters, as one who is trapped. Baba is totally aware that she’s just in an opera, and she’s going to make the best of it. She even recognizes it in her libretto during the epilogue (”Good people, just a moment”), “all men are mad, all they say and do is theatre”. She takes the situation for what it is. Nick takes control of it and like Tom, tests its limits, though that later comes to his downfall when he is dragged back down to hell for suddenly changing to rules and allowing Tom a chance to destroy him. He also laments this fact in the epilogue, “day in, day out, poor Shadow/ must do as he is bidden./ Many insist I do not exist./ At times I wish I didn’t”. However, this line comes across as more comedic than tragic. Anne and Trulove do not seem to recognize that they are only part of an opera, though this is somewhat contradictory given the nature of the epilogue in which the five primary characters sing a song very clearly addressing an audience who has been watching them this entire time, in which Tom has come back to life to do the same (clearly out of story-line). So not only does the epilogue help the moral of the story: “for idle hands, the devil finds work to do”, but it also shows that these characters are aware that they are characters and that they are putting on theatre. 

Another thing that has interested me was the relationship between Tom and Nick, and the possibility that Nick is a part of Tom, being his “Shadow”. This becomes somewhat complicated because on stage we see them as separate entities, separate bodies, and they sometimes act independently of one another. As far as the audience is concerned, they are two different characters, and visually they are two different people. However, when one applies the thought that Shadow is only just a part of Tom, all sorts of questions can arise. For me, it makes Tom an even more unstable character. Having done a little bit of score study, his lines are often tonally in opposition with the orchestra, or sometimes he’s so nervous that he doesn’t start right on the downbeat of a measure, but an eighth note behind it. This is especially apparent in the Graveyard scene. Additionally, Tom’s nervousness and instability is shown in his constant key-changes, the way his key pushes against the music played in the orchestra. In the first scene in which he is mad (”With roses crowned”), he sings Nick’s melody that he sang in the graveyard scene: three eighth notes followed by a dotted-eighth, sixteenth pattern, losing sight of his own melody that he had (which in itself was highly unstable, once again having many phrases that did not start right on the downbeat, though some did). 

Regardless of score study, the idea of having these two characters be a part of Tom almost makes me want to toy with the idea of Nick being a vision to him throughout, a vision that is more handsome, less hesitant, and more willing to exercise free-will. (I was joking earlier that Shadow’s either gotta be really creepy or really hot, but now I think it’s whether you want him to come across as a devil or as the other, more-reckless part of Tom). It makes me think that the whole graveyard scene could be some drawn out suicide attempt rather than an opposition between man and devil, which if allowed the luxury of a film version, could possibly be done. In such a case, it could be argued that Tom’s been on the verge of madness this entire time, but his destruction of Shadow finalizes it. However, again, having two figures on stage during that scene playing this elaborate card game would suggest that we are to imagine a card game with the devil, rather than a man imagining his other self threatening him. 

It also calls into question how much sympathy we should (or shouldn’t) have for Tom by the end. If we believe that he is cursed to madness by a devil figure, then perhaps he is more likely to gain our sympathy than if this was caused by his own hand pushing Shadow back into hell, or perhaps into non-existence as is mused by the epilogue. Furthermore, the opera does not end as Shadow is defeated, but after Tom’s (Adonis’s) death. In between these two deaths, we get a heartbreaking reunion between Tom and Anne, in which Tom as Adonis is asking his Venus for forgiveness. “What should I forgive?” she responds with almost too much innocence. Despite the fact that Anne was tossed aside during Tom’s wayward adventures in London, his love for her never seems to fade. Even when he is married to Baba (for that short and wild time), Anne is always in the back of his mind. In Bedlam, we are almost brought back to the Elysium of the woods. It’s almost out of a pastoral, but then we are bitterly reminded that these are no idyllic woods, but rather “a common darkness... in a night that never ends”. So perhaps the question is not of a moral choice of whether we should or should not have sympathy for Tom, but rather do we have sympathy for Tom. The answer for me will always be a yes, and I think that is one of many things that makes The Rake’s Progress an effective work. 

Of course, there are a lot more thoughts I have on this particular opera. The other posts about these operas that I’m going to be listening to will not be as long as this one. I’ve just taken a deep interest with The Rake’s Progress because, as I said before, it’s an absolute joy-ride. I highly recommend giving it a listen. There’s an excellent recording with Ian Bostridge as Tom Rakewell (and I am so upset that they didn’t make an entire production out of it because they should have - it’s scary good). There’s also a fun production on YouTube that was done in Aix in 2017 starring Paul Appleby and Julia Bullock that I love because it’s 9000% more extravagant than it needs to be, but I’m 9000% here for it. The staging is wonderful, to say the very least.

[allivegottodoislove]

The Song Remains The Same

Here it is, chapter fifteen! It’s on the nsfw side, so read at your own risk

    The question as a mere formality. They both knew that. Calypso couldn't say no to him. Not like she wanted to, anyways. Where would she go? Upstairs to his room, in his house, alone? Or just stand and watch him? Neither option seemed even somewhat polite.

     Saying no hadn't really crossed her mind. She wanted to spend as much time with him as she could. Alone time seemed like it would be few and far in between.

     The cleaning they did was relatively surface level. Robert wasn't going to try and tackle the mess himself. All six of them had made the mess. All six of them would have to clean it in the morning. Everyone would be doing their fair share; he'd make sure of it.

     The two of them did clean a few plates. Granted, they were the ones that already looked clean, but it would help. Food was removed from their pots and plates and put into the fridge. Whatever hadn't been eaten yet could be their lunch tomorrow. Robert didn't have enough food to supply a whole new meal.

     This went on for a few minutes, until Robert wiped his hands on a towel. "Looks good enough for me, for now at least. How about you darlin'?" He asked with a smirk. Calypso felt a small shiver go up her spine.

     "I'm hardly one to order you around your own house," she said.

     "That's what I was hoping for." As he spoke, he picked her up and placed her back onto the counter. Without hesitation, her arms and legs wrapped around his neck and waist.

     It felt like she was in a dream. This whole situation was already so easy for her. Calypso couldn't believe it. A domestic life with Robert Plant hadn't ever occurred to her as possible, it shouldn't be. Now it was all she could think about. It was sickening how it consumed her. Nothing seemed to be holding her back; and that was what seemed to be the most terrifying.

     "Hmm, such a pretty little vixen," he said. She laughed as he did before she silenced him with a kiss. A direct move, something that was rare from her. She often lacked the courage. But now she hadn't felt like waiting for him. Everyone else had fully disappeared from her mind.

     Robert wasted no time in taking control. She might have started things, but Robert rarely left the ball in anyone else's court. It seemed impossible to him.

     His hand went to the back of her head so he could move her where he wanted her. Calypso put up no fight to this. Why would she? With the new body, Calypso could only imagine the wicked things he had in store for her. She was excited. Never was she more thankful for their first couple days together.

     Before all this, he had been hard to handle. Calypso felt like she had always been a bit behind. Now she was sure to be left in the distance. The ease between the two would help. It would mean that she at least wouldn't be left in the dust.

     The wild ride she had unknowingly signed up for was accelerating. Robert tugged on her hair, meaning she couldn't focus on that. Effectively, he had tugged her back into the real world. It was hard to believe that this was her real world now. Calypso just sighed into the kiss and moved with him. Undeniably, he demanded more as he pressed closer to her. She was more than happy to relent.

     For some time, they stayed like that, only lips and hands moving between them. For them, time had simply ceased to be. What rush did they have?

     It wasn't until Robert's hands were snaked into Calypso's pants that they were drawn out of the daze. She pulled back. It wasn't an objection to the action itself. God, it felt like a natural procession.

    All she wanted to feel was him between her legs, inside her. She was already wet, that much she could tell. A few more seconds and she would be begging for him.

    "They're still here!" She hissed gently. One of their guests, in their far off room, had coughed. It was a gentle reminder that they weren't alone. They couldn't just fuck in the kitchen like animals.

    "Are you saying you'd like to stop?" He cocked his eyebrow up as his finger traced her up and down through her panties. A soft moan escaped Calypso's lips. She couldn't help herself, as she managed to hold back so much more.

    "Not here!" She barely managed to stammer out, face flushed red. The things this man could do to her… She'd be lucky to survive tonight, forget the week.

    "Such a shame," he chuckled. His finger was unrelenting. "I would have taken you right here, right now," he said. "Mostly because I can," he whispered into her ear. She could only blush more and swat at his chest.

    It seemed as if he already had his next move planned. He wasted no time in acting on it, in such a calculated way. Calypso almost felt like it was a play in his head. She would hardly object to him playing director a bit.

    Robert picked her up, quickly, and hooked his arms under her ass to keep her pressed close to him, and walked straight up to his room.

    "Showing off today?" She asked in between his endless stream of kisses.

    "Only for you, just for you," he said with a wink. He placed her down gently on the bed, right in the center. Then, with a turn on his heels, he went to put a record on. Calypso barely noticed what he was doing. She only noticed he was gone as she spread her legs.

    Whatever he threw on hardly mattered. Robert had mumbled what it was. Both of them hard more pressing matters at hand. He, especially, had his mind focused on so many other things.

    It was a slow walk back to the bed. It felt almost like a show as he stripped off his clothing. Nothing could have ever made her wetter. Calypso couldn't help but gasp once he was fully naked.

    The view in front of her was one of a God. She felt truly blessed to be able to see him like this. Calypso hadn't realized her good luck this morning.

    The morning had been rushed, unlike now. They had been preoccupied with other thoughts. It had all been one been distraction. They had needed to work quickly. Now was a different beast. It felt like the world had stopped. There was no need to rush, tomorrow wasn't coming that quickly.

    Any anxiety they might had felt, that she might had held, seemed to have simply melted away. Not to say that all the anxiety was gone forever. This feeling of ease was a talent of Robert's, she was realizing. No matter how bad anything had gotten, he had seemed as if he could just push it aside. Leave it behind, if just for a moment.

    "You look more surprised now than you did this morning," he said with a chuckle. He crawled up the bed, and up her body. He hovered just above her.

    "You would be too," she mumbled. Who wouldn't be surprised by all this? As she leaned up to kiss him, he began to pull her pants down.

    "Babe, I swear, I'm never letting you leave this bed again if I get the choice," he whispered in her ear. She gasped and rolled her hips up against him. "My little Greek goddess," he said as he pulled off her shirt.

    "Calypso was a muse," she mumbled. That, at first, seemed to only draw a grin from Robert.

    He leaned into her, his lips barely an inch away from hers. "A muse, perhaps even more fitting," he said before kissing her. His fingers gently pushed up on her chin, forcing her to stay where he wanted.

    His kisses quickly moved from her lips to her neck, eventually all the way down her body. Robert didn't stop until he spread her thighs apart.

    "Now, would my muse mind? I believe I need a bit of inspiration," he said. He ran his finger down her slit as he looked up at her with a smirk.

    Words were lost to Calypso. The sight between her legs, the feelings erupting from between her legs, were too much. Her brain and mouth were at a complete disconnect, and Robert knew this. Robert could see this. All she could manage was running her hands though his hair and smiling. Hopefully, he would take this as his yes.

    Not that he would. She doubted things were ever easy right off the bat with him. It certainly seemed that way. He placed more kisses on the insides of her thighs. Clearly, he was teasing her. She knew this and just groaned. She squirmed in an attempt to get what she wanted.

    He wouldn't give, though. "My dearest Muse, I am afraid I have to hear your beautiful voice to find my inspiration," he said. Robert looked up at her, both their eyes wild with lust.

    "Who am I to refuse my Golden God?" She said after a few seconds. She wasn't sure where it came from, but she was grateful for it.

    Robert, in return, only smirked. All at once, he was where she needed him most, licking and sucking expertly at her folds. Calypso's head rolled back against the pillow and her fingers grasped at his hair. Their teasing all throughout the evening had finally caught up to her.

    She forced her hips up further into his face and wrapped her legs around his shoulders. It was the only way she could think to trap him there. Leaving her now might just kill her, she figured.

    Just as she got to the edge, where she so desperately wanted to be, he pulled back. Calypso's hips canted up in an attempt to follow him, to follow her own pleasure. She just whined and looked down at him.

    "What my dear?" He asked with a bit of a tut. Calypso didn't like this already. Now he had the stamina to keep up with her. More importantly, he had the stamina to keep up with his thoughts. That could be dangerous. She was at his mercy. Mercy of which she was sure no longer existed for her.

    "Robert!" She whined as she arched her hips up a bit more.

    "I can't read your mind, Calypso, babe," he said with a wink. "What is it that you want? You've just gotta ask." A wicked grin was painted across his face.

    Her response, yet again, was to roll her hips. Maybe, she thought, just this time he would get the message? Or at least listen to it. Nothing could have prepared her for this. She needed him. He knew that, and yet she wasn't getting it. It was torturous.

    "I want you," she finally mumbled. It was obvious that she wasn't getting anywhere without talking. The rules were to be made by him. She just had to play along.

    "Is that so?" He said with a grin. Robert tossed his head his hair to the side as he moved to rest on his forearm. "What exactly do you want from me?"

    Internally, Calypso could only groan. Once again, she arched her hips up to him. No fair, she had played by his rules. Now he had to give her what she wanted. At least, that's what she thought. Robert grinned as he slipped a finger inside her.

    Calypso hadn't been entirely prepared for him to move so fast. She gasped and began to grind against his finger.

    Robert chuckled as he began to pump his finger in and out of her. Her hips stalled, unable to keep up with the pace he was setting already. He slipped in a second finger, and then a third not long after.

    Calypso, completely and truly, was lost for words. Thoughts were gone from her brain. Her head was rolled back as she let out moan after moan. All she thought about was cuming. It was all she wanted. She was so close; she could practically taste it.

    Just as the ledge was about to slip out from under her, Robert stopped. She whined again, frustration building in her body. What the fuck was he up to now?

    Robert kissed his way, slowly, back up her body. "As much as I'd love to watch you squirm and beg all night," he pressed a kiss to her lips, "I'm dying for you, babe."

    This time, she didn't think Robert was asking for words. If he was, he'd be shit out of luck. Calypso spread her legs for him. Robert wasn't looking for words. Wasn't looking for anything more past that. He moved and she wrapped her legs around his waist, trapping him this time.

    Robert guided himself in. There wasn't a single intention of stopping anywhere in his body. He bottomed out after a couple seconds, clearly teasing both himself and her one last time. She grasped and reached to pull his face closer to her.

    For the first few thrusts, and the matching kisses, it was gentle and slow. Neither of them wanted that. They both knew what they needed. He began to pound into her, hard and fast, Calypso unable to do anything but moan in his ear. Their guests were now long forgotten to her.

    It was just a few minutes more before they both finished. Robert fell over his own edge just seconds before Calypso. If she could talk, she would have called him greedy.

    For some time, they just laid like that, Robert on top of Calypso, still inside her. None of this really made sense to her. Her brain was having a hard time processing and accepting the events of the last few hours. She was hardly complaining.

    Once he came to, Robert began to press gentle kisses all over her face before rolling off, and out, of her. Calypso just giggled. "Suppose you get the real 70s experience now, magic included," he said.

    Calypso could only roll her eyes and laugh. Her hand came up to play gently with his hair. "I certainly didn't expect all this when you offered," she said.

    "Neither did I," he said with a chuckle. It was a little bittersweet, she supposed. "I should be used to this sort of thing by now," he said. She could only bring herself to laugh a little. What exactly had they gotten up to back in the day? Calypso hardly doubted anything could make a logical jump to this nonsense.

    "I can't ever imagine getting used to this kind of life," she said. It had broken a few moments of silence. The words themselves surprised her. They seemed to just erupt from her body, as if they broke off from some part of her subconscious.

    “You should, if you plan to stay," Robert said after a moment. His voice was soft. Perhaps he was just as shocked about the words as she was. It was hard to say. She felt so unsure of what he meant.

    Before Calypso could say anything, Robert beat her to it. "We don't have to talk about it now, or ever, if you don't want to have anything explicit," he mumbled.

    "I know this isn't what you expected. No one could have warned you, or even thought of this," he said. "I had to press for a week, after all," he chuckled.

    She opened her mouth to speak, to fight him on that point. But he silenced her by placing his finger to her lips. "Not tonight, tonight is to settle and get adjusted. Float for a bit, if you will," he placed a kiss to her lips. "Stay, don't give me a time. Never give me a limit. Just stay, for as long as you'd like, a permanent guest, if you will."

    Tears watered a little in her eyes. It'd been so long since she had heard someone to ask her to stay. She couldn't refuse his request. Not that she ever would, this was her miracle.

    Here Robert was, offering her essentially eternity. There was no way to refuse that! This was the stuff of her wildest dreams. Calypso couldn't turn him down, never would turn him down. The last thing she wanted to do was tie him down. What if he bored of her? What if life changed for them?

    "Just say yes," he mumbled once again. He could see the uncertainty in Calypso's eyes. It was clear she was stuck between her own thoughts. Robert wished to bring her out from that.

    "Yes," she mumbled as she looked up at him. Robert pulled her close, not saying another word after that. There was none left to exchange. Anything else they could say on the subject would work against his rules. They weren't too worry about anything tonight. Calypso wouldn't bring anything up until he did.

    As they laid there, in each other's embrace, Calypso felt sleep begin to creep up on her. Her body was tired. The day had been long, both emotionally and physically. She closed her eyes, ready to slip into a peaceful night.

    Just as she was almost to the point of no return, she felt Robert shift against her. He was rock hard already. It wasn't hard to notice, as he began to gently rock himself against her body.

    "Already?" She teased before wiping any sleep from her eyes. He just laughed and covered her body with his.

    "Always."

[aahhlliiss-writes]

I’ll Come To You (Requested)

“Could you write something based on the song "half the world away" maybe where harry is too far away and y/n cannot stand to be in her hometown anymore?”

Adjusted this slightly, hope you still enjoy!

Let me know what you think, and if you have any requests for future oneshots, you can ask me HERE.

You sighed, shifting restlessly under your duvet a couple of times before rolling over to check the time on your phone. 2.34am. You’d been tossing and turning since you’d turned off your light at 11pm, desperately trying to fall asleep. You had a huge day the next day, and you needed to get some sleep. Without Harry next to you though, a good night’s sleep was hard to come by.

You two had been living together for six months now, and you’d gotten used to sharing your bed with another body. He was warm, he snored a little, and he often trapped you under his heavy limbs, but he was yours, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Something about his presence comforted you, and you always slept uninterrupted when he was there. 

He’d disappeared off to Jamaica to record his album exactly a month ago to the day, and while you spoke on the phone at least once a day and you were almost in constant communication via instant message, it just wasn’t the same as having him there. Being this far apart was hard on you both. When he had filming for Dunkirk it had been difficult, but you hadn’t been living together yet. Once he had returned, you had both decided that you wanted to move in together, and when the day rolled around for him to leave for the trip, it was the hardest goodbye you’d ever been through.

Quite simply, you missed him.

You had no idea what time it was in Jamaica, despite Harry’s attempts to teach you how to calculate the difference, but you just couldn’t wait to hear Harry’s voice any longer. It was the only thing that would get you to sleep, and so you gave in to yourself. You dialled his number, preferring to type it out even though you could just find his name in your contacts list. There was something so intimate about having memorised his number, and you loved reminding yourself of that fact.

The phone rang a couple of times, and then-

“Hey love.”

You let out an audible sigh as Harry’s familiar drawl filled your ears, slumping back against the pillows before answering.

“Hey you,” you murmured, breaking into a smile.

“Y’alright? It’s… what, gotta be 2am where you are little one. What’s got you awake at this time?”

“Just couldn’t sleep. Missed you.”

“Oh, babe. I miss you too. You in bed?”

“Yeah,” you answered, nodding even though Harry couldn’t see you.

“Comfy?”

“Yeah. Just a big Harry sized space next to me,” you murmured, your voice quivering a little despite your attempts to keep it steady.

“Oh sweetheart,” he answered, his words coming out a sort of tired sigh. The sadness in his voice only encouraged your tears, and before you knew it you had a steady flow streaming down your cheeks as you desperately tried to keep quiet.

“Don’t cry,” Harry soothed.

“M’n-not,” you whimpered, brushing your tears from your cheeks as best you could.

There was a moment of quiet, and then-

“I love you. T’the moon and back. You know that right?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you whispered back, your voice still a little shaky. “I love you too.”

“Just… snuggle up, put on one of my t-shirts, and close those beautiful eyes. Okay?”

“Okay. Love you,” you said again.

“Love you more, sweet girl,” he murmured, pausing a moment before the pair of you reluctantly hung up.

You hesitated a moment, shuffling to sit up, before dialling another number.

“Hello? Hey, Jeff, it’s me. Yeah… Listen, I wanna come there. Can you help?”

##

Five sleepless hours later you were in a taxi on the way to Heathrow airport to catch your flight to Jamaica. Jeff had sorted it all for you, your flight departing London at 10am and arriving in Jamaica at 2pm. It was a direct flight into Montego Bay, and you were eternally grateful that there was so stop over. You just had to get through those 9 hours of flying and you would be there.

Jeff had been more than willing to get you over to Jamaica as soon as possible, enthusiastic as the two of you discussed your travel plans. He reassured you over and over that Harry was just as desperate to see you as you were him, and he was relieved that you had made the suggestion. Harry was apparently in a bit of a creative slump, and Jeff was sure that a little visit from you would help get him going again.

The check in to your flight and depositing of your luggage went by in a sort of tired, excited haze, and before you knew it you were boarding your flight. You slipped into your seat, foot tapping anxiously as you waited impatiently for the flight to take off. You were never good at waiting, your mum always telling you time and time again that “good things take time”, and now especially you were as impatient as ever.

9 painfully slow hours later, you were landing. Caught up in the excitement and anxiety of the trip, you had forgotten that you were going to be seeing Jamaica for the first time. Harry talked about it like it was the most wonderful place in the whole world, and it began to dawn on you that you would get to experience it too, your eyes wide as you stared out the window at the tropical surroundings.

It didn’t take too long to get off the plane and collect your bags, and you realised that another joy of Jamaica was that it was so much less busy than the London life you were used to. People moved a little slower, and their expressions were a little kinder. Most importantly, no one knew who you were, and if they did, they didn’t care. Being with Harry for as long as you had been meant that you were recognised pretty much everywhere you went, so it was nice to be able to just get on with your airport activities without any interruption.

The drive to the house Harry was renting felt much longer than it actually was, and you tried to distract yourself by taking in your new surroundings. There was something about being in this new, slow, hot place that made you feel a little emotional. You didn’t know what it was, whether it was the way you were being treated, or the climate, or the idea that a life existed for you outside of the frantic one you lead.

The driver pulled up in front of a modern, white villa, and you let out a sigh as you took it in. You were here, you were going to see Harry. This was happening. A sudden wave of nerves hit you as you scrambled out of the car, sweaty palms shaking as they smoothed over your cotton dress. What if he didn’t want to see you? What this was a mistake? What if he didn’t want you hear.

Trying desperately to push your thoughts aside, you tugged your suitcase up to the front door, knocking a couple of times against the wood. You heard the mumble of voices, some familiar, and you chewed your lip anxiously as you waited.

“Harry, you should get it,” you heard Jeff call, his voice a little muffled on the other side of the heavy door. There was a pause, the sound of familiar footsteps, and then the door swung open. Harry’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open as he took you in, and then before you could say anything, he burst into tears. Heavy, ugly, heaving sobs, his hands moving to cover his face.

You abandoned your luggage, arms wrapping around him immediately as you cuddled him close. His hands left his face as his arms returned your embrace, lacing around your frame, his wet face nuzzling into your neck. Your hands rubbed over his back soothingly, lips pressing kisses to whatever part of him you could reach, just holding him as he cried.

You had only ever seen him break down like this once before, and it broke your heart to think that he had been holding this in, your own tears rolling down your cheeks as you cried with him. The pair of you stayed wrapped in your emotional embrace for a long while, before eventually breaking apart, your forehead finding his as your hands moved back and forth over your shoulders.

“S-sorry,” he stammered, his breaths coming out in wet hiccups as he tried to fill his lungs.

“Shhh love… No need to be sorry,” you murmured, your voice cracking a little, thick with emotion. You pressed your lips to his, the action of kissing soothing you both as you relaxed into the comfort of each other, enjoying the familiarity of the action.

“I’ve been struggling without you. I’m so glad you’re here,” he mumbled against your lips, smiling weakly.

“I’m glad to be here,” you murmured, pecking his lips before pulling away a little.

“Can I show you round? I wanna introduce you to everyone… You can meet Mitch!” he smiled, wiping his face before grabbing your hand and leading you into the airy villa.

You spent the afternoon meeting the band the recording team, and Harry made sure to show you around the whole of the house. You all ended up sprawled out in the living room, chatting about the album and getting to know everyone. It was lovely, and it was slow. You and Harry stayed glued to one another, and you couldn’t help but notice he was being much more clingy than usual, determined to be touching you at all times. You relished the attention, glad that he seemed to have missed you as much as you missed him.

“Right,” Harry yawned from behind you. “I think we’re off to bed,” he chuckled, kissing your temple as you yawned right after him, your eyes blinking sleepily. “Travel taken it out of you, huh babe?” he mused, a hand finding your back. You nodded a little, the pair of you saying goodnight to everyone before heading up to bed.

You changed into your pyjamas together, crawling into bed and cuddling close, your legs tangling together in an attempt to be as close as possible. Your faces were close as you gazed at one another, and it felt so good to be here with him, basking in his presence.

“Baby…” you whispered, hesitant to break the moment.

“Mm?” Harry hummed in response, ghosting a couple of kisses along your jaw.

“You gotta tell me if you’re feeling like how you’ve been feeling. I know I’m miles away and I can’t always just pack up and come here to see you, but it kills me think you’ve been feeling so low all by yourself,” you murmured, your hand cupping his cheek, a thumb moving over his cheekbone.

Harry hesitated before replying, brow furrowing ever so slightly. “I just didn’t want to worry you,” he answered lamely.

“I know love, I know. But… I’d much rather know, okay? I love you, and I wanna know where you’re at,” you explained, your voice soft and soothing. Harry nodded, sighing a little.

“M’sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you smiled, answering immediately. “C’mere.”

You rolled onto your back, opening an arm for him to scoot closer. He shuffled in against you, his head finding it’s place against your chest, an arm and a leg draped across you as he burrowed down. Your hand moved slowly over his back, lips pressing the occasional kiss to his head of curls.

You forgot sometimes that as hard as it was on you being apart from him, it was just as hard for him. He was so good at keeping it all bottled up and being strong for you, and you were glad that this time round he trusted you with his vulnerability. You felt him begin to go slack against you, sleeping beginning to take you as well, and you knew you were both about to have the best sleep either of you had had in months. All wrapped up safe in each other’s arms.

[sweetnestor]

You Look Happier | Chapter 5

university au, teamiplier + jack

platonic/romance/angst/(smut at one point but it’ll only be on ao3)

previous chapter

“It was awful!” I rambled, anxiously pacing around my living room. “Oh god, it was going so well and then it just fucking - ah!” I rubbed my hands together, my mind buzzing horribly.

“I didn’t know Hollywood Hills had business hours,” said Jack, who was sat on the couch. “Did you get a fine?”

“No, but I did have an anxiety attack,” I groaned.

“Oh no.” Jack sat up. “What did Ethan do?”

I cringed as I remembered the irrational crying and hyperventilating. God, it was so embarrassing and stupid, I was trying not to reduce myself to tears. “Nothing. He didn’t know what to do! He just rubbed my back and told me to breathe!”

“So he didn’t do anything wrong?”

I shook my head. “But it was so stupid! Everything was perfectly fine until I ruined it!”

Jack then stood up and went to me. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t ruin anything, and I’m sure Ethan told you the same thing.”

“Yeah, and how long will it be before he gets tired of it? How long do I have before he starts rolling his eyes at me?” I asked, knowing exactly how insane I sounded, but I couldn’t stop these thoughts from spilling out.

“You need to trust him,” Jack firmly said. “And it sounds impossible, but it’s not. It just takes time.”

I sighed. “I don’t want to be afraid of him. I don’t want to run away from him… I don’t want to be sad anymore…”

“I know. You won’t always be said, you have to know that.”

This was exhausting. How long was I going to be like this? When would I stop being such a stick in the mud? When will everything just stop?

Jack gently hugged me as I started to cry. I wanted all of this bad stuff to be over. I wanted to give up, I wanted to stop fighting. It was more tiring than just being depressed and anxious all the time. At least I know what to expect with the latter; It was easier to stay on the ground.

“No one said recovery was easy,” he told me. “You have to take the good with the bad. And you have to remember that this is only the beginning. You have plenty of time, and you have plenty of people who want to support you.”

I didn’t realize that I had said any of that out loud. I didn’t care. None of this was worth it. It was always going to be this way.

“No, it won’t,” Jack reassured. “And it’s completely worth it. You’ll have your good days and bad days. That’s how you can appreciate the good.”

He kept telling me these things as I cried Things were hard to hear. My knee-jerk reaction was finding a reason to stay in my private, comfy sinkhole of depression. In that moment, I couldn’t believe that I could get better. I was broken beyond repair.

However, once the worst of it was over, I wondered why I acted like that in the first place. Yes, Ethan and I got a stern talking-to by a Hollywood Hills security guard, but it wasn’t that big a deal. Yes, I was trying to get my shit together, I had done this before in the past. I knew from prior experience that I couldn’t just expect everything to be better overnight… as much as I wanted it to be like that.

~

I had forgotten how consistent you had to be when it came to communication in relationships. Ethan sent me a text a few days after the Hollywood Hills incident that made me feel kind of like an asshole.

“Hey, you’re not mad at me are you?”

Of course not. I’ve just been too exhausted and embarrassed to talk to specifically him. How does one say that without sounding crazy or rude?

“No lol I’ve just been kinda busy,” I typed before sending. Then, as an add-on, “Sorry for the silence.” Then I realized how cold and distant I sounded, so I sent some emojis following my two messages. That was three. I just triple texted.

Although, Ethan didn’t take ten years to respond this time.

“Okay, just making sure. Besides that, is everything okay?”

How can he tell? What did I say? Was I really that obvious? Was the storm cloud above my head actually visible? I was hesitating. I didn’t want to lie to him, but I didn’t want to be a burden either.

“Sometimes I’m bad at keeping in contact, even if it’s people I really like.” I sent it before I could panic.

My heart pounded as I read his reply.

“Aww… I’m the same way lol… I really like you too.”

FUCK. ABORT. RUN AWAY!

“Ay, no seas pendeja,” I mumbled to myself, catching my immediate reaction before it could spiral. “We’ve been at it for this long, we’ve already established this crap. C’mon Bella, no seas chillona.”

I sent back the monkey covering its eyes and the blue heart emojis. Then, I filmed a video to distract myself. Thankfully, I was able to be by myself again, which meant that I could film a cover while Jack was away on campus.

While I was doing my makeup, I got another text from Ethan. He was what I was doing, and I told him. Then, he asked if he could listen somehow, and I was convinced to let him in on a Skype call.

“Hey!” he greeted when his face popped up on my laptop screen.

“Hi! Don’t mind me, I’m just putting on my actual face,” I told him. “I’m nearly done.”

“Take your time,” Ethan said, resting his chin in his hands. “Work your magic.”

I took my laptop over to the bathroom and moved my products aside. Then, I continued with my routine, not really conscious of the fact that I was being watched. Strangely enough, I didn’t really mind people watching me do something I knew I was good at. Plus, I was sure Ethan would get bored of me and open another tab until I was ready to sing.

“How do you do the wing?” he asked, much to my surprise.

I paused, letting that surprised feeling pass over. “Um… I’ve had to sacrifice all my babies,” I finally answered. “I also had to summon like, five different demons with the blood of a virgin.”

“And who did you murder to get that contour?” he egged on.

I sighed as I applied highlighter to the tops of my cheekbones. “You know too much already.”

Ethan giggled. “Well, I’ll stop asking questions, Miss Makeup Artist Person Expert.”

“Yeah, stay in your lane, Mr. Gamer Person Man.”

I finished up with my makeup routine by spritzing some setting spray onto my face. For a second, I forgot I was being watched, and I had a moment of… “feelin’ myself.” I turned my head from side to side, watching my highlight catch the light. I appreciated the sharpness of my winged liner and the flawlessness of my eyebrows.

Suddenly, I heard a shutter sound and snapped out of my vain moment. I turned back to Ethan on the screen, my eyes widening.

“I’m not doin’ nothin’,” he said, feigning innocence.

“Oh god. I can only hope I look good in that screenshot,” I said timidly.

“You always look good.”

I rolled my eyes and put on my best “white girl” accent. “Aw, thanks boo!”

Then, I took my laptop back to my room. I set it down on the bed and went to get my keyboard. I stood it in front of my bed, since I didn’t have a proper bench. After, I went to grab my lights that I left in the living room.

“What are you gonna sing?” Ethan prompted.

“I’m thinking Dodie,” I replied as I went to grab my camera and tripod. “Or something else, I’m not sure.”

“Dodie,” he said. “You gotta sing Dodie.”

I hesitated as I turned on the camera and lights. “I’ve been practicing ‘When’ but I don’t know if it’s good enough.”

“Let’s hear it then. I’ll tell you if it’s good.”

It was more nervewracking knowing that Ethan was the one hearing me sing. I always needed to sing for someone before posting on my channel, but since it was going to be the guy I liked this time, I was a little nervous. I also found the song because of him, too. I could only hope I would do it justice.

Nervously, I sat down on the bed and placed my fingers on the keys. After breathing deeply, I played the first few notes of the song, but I had to start over a few times. To be honest, I was just stalling, but I got to it eventually.

“I think I’ve been telling lies, ‘cause I’ve never been in love Everyone falls for the sunshine disguise Distracted by who they’re thinking of”

The vocals were a little too soft for my liking, but the lyrics and Ethan’s persistence are what won me over. The more I sang it, the more lost I got in it.

“Am I the only one wishing life away? Never caught up in the moment, busy begging the past to stay Memories painted with much brighter ink They tell me I loved, teach me how to think”

Part of me wished for the day I would find a happy song that I could relate to.

I sighed when I finished the song. Sheepishly, I turned to Ethan, who had a huge smile on his face. He started with a slow clap.

“You’re so talented!” he exclaimed. “Ah, your voice is so nice! I love it!”

“Thanks,” I replied, blushing furiously. “That should go on my channel, then?”

“Yes! Record it and post it, like, right now,” he excitedly told me.

“Ahh, should I?”

“Do it. Do it, and… then we’ll go out after?” Ethan said the last bit slowly and softly.

Honestly, that was all it took for me to hit “record.”

~

This time, we went to the beach. It was cold as hell, being mid-January. But it was quiet and lacking of other people. It was also getting dark, which only made it colder. I was comfortable.

“Leggings were a bad idea,” I commented as we walked on the sand. “You’re gonna have to cut off my legs later.”

“You should’ve told me sooner,” Ethan replied. “I would’ve brought a chainsaw or something.”

We both stayed silent. Then we looked at each other and laughed. Thank god we had a similar sense of humor. It was easy to be around him.

“Hey, so,” Ethan said, changing the subject. “I… I overheard Mark saying that he was talking to you again?”

Spoke too soon.

“Uh, where did you hear that?” I asked in response.

“He was telling Tyler at the office,” Ethan explained. “I just happened to… be in the room. So, it’s true, then?”

“We’re making amends,” I told him, looking out at the distance. “It’s just that… we were friends before we dated and… we want to get over the things that happened. And, I think if I don’t try to work out these things, then I’ll wind up making the same mistakes in other relationships.”

Ethan didn’t say anything at first, which prompted me to ramble.

“I’ve known Mark for two, almost three, years,” I added. “We have a lot of history. I still want him to be my friend. A-And like I said, I don’t want my past mistakes to happen in this relationship.”

“I get it,” he finally said. “That’s good that you still wanna be friends.”

“Yeah, I probably should’ve told you sooner,” I said. “I feel like that’s something you deserve to know.”

“It’s okay. I mean, he doesn’t know about… this.” Ethan gestured between the two of us. “So I guess that’s fair.”

I wanted to ask what we are but… you know the cause by now. All I knew was that we definitely weren’t just friends.

“You wanna get food and eat in the car?” he asked after a while.

“Absolutely.”

_______

next chapter

[texanredrose]

Celebrity Matchmaker (Part 4)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (here) / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Weiss watched as the blonde took her spot, greeting both Blake and Pyrrha with hugs and a quiet little quip that made the former smile and the second give a surprised laugh. It brought a smile to her face, watching them interact like good friends who'd been together years rather than effective strangers a mere four months ago. Meals throughout the past week had the same air of familiarity hanging about them, all four trading jokes or raving about the food- Yang and Pyrrha had a knack for cooking, surprisingly, and they were more than willing to teach Blake and Weiss- and it had quickly turned into perhaps the best week the movie star had ever experienced. Aside from one-on-one segments and the aside interviews, the four spent the majority of their time together, watching movies or sporting events or reading.

Well, not reading together; Blake, Pyrrha, and herself would each be engrossed in their chosen literature while Yang idly picked at her guitar, pulling a melody from thin air to fill the room. Every now and then, Weiss would join in with humming, weaving a counter melody between the notes, and once or twice the Faunus had chimed in with a soft poem. The redhead sometimes joined in as well, tapping a beat with her fingers, but more often than not preferred to remain silent and simply bask in the impromptu accompaniment to their quiet time spent together.

The prospect that those lazy afternoons were now a thing of the past made her heart ache in her chest. Once she made her decision and Remnant confirmed it, they would depart the manor permanently, except for Weiss who would be called back to host the next season; she wasn't sure if Coco volunteered for the position or if the producers made that decision in the end but, she supposed, it didn't matter. Her return to the show was part of her contract, so she would be there again regardless. The manor wouldn't be the same without Blake sitting in a corner somewhere, Pyrrha on the couch engrossed in her shows, Yang running down the hallway laughing maniacally after pranking someone- without any of them, it would feel even more empty regardless of how many people physically inhabited the space. It hadn't felt empty until the four were separated for the last aside just before the finale aired, when she had only the camera crew for company while the others were taken for fittings and rehearsals; in regular episodes, they would take the entire week’s footage and chop it up, but a live finale meant they only had one try for everyone to hit their marks and follow the scripted flow. Then, once she’d recorded her final thoughts, it was a rush from one thing to another, preparing for them to go live- fittings, rehearsals of her own, a last minute check with the producers. To some extent, these  long, drawn out portions where she was given entirely too much time inside her own head were fraying her nerves, but she managed to hide it well enough that lilac eyes didn't fill with concern when they fell upon her briefly, though the blonde's smile pulled a little wider.

"Alright, Yang," Coco said, patting the rock star on the shoulder. "I'm sure I'm going to regret this but- any final thoughts on your experience the past sixteen weeks?"

"Well, it wasn't a world tour, but I definitely feel like I've gone around the globe a time or two," Yang replied, spreading her hands. "I mean, some of these beautiful ladies are out of this world! It was a total trip to get on their level."

The host shook her head amid laughter from the audience and contestants alike, a few people joining her in reluctant sighs. "That's about what I expected."

"Hey, don't say that!" She frowned, pushing a few errant locks of spun gold out of her face. "People might start thinking I'm predictable! That's not good for my wild image, you know."

No more ironic statement could be made as she stood there, in a pressed suit and with her hair tied back, obviously putting forth the effort to appear like she was taking the situation seriously. Weiss had no doubts to that; even if she'd shown up wearing her beat up leather jacket and aviators, it wouldn't diminish her sincerity.

"Right." Coco laughed, turning her attention to the camera. "Well, on that note, we're going to take a look at the final thoughts of our remaining contestants and the woman whose heart they’re trying to win. And after that, a quick commercial break. So stay tuned, Remnant, as our three finalists make their last, heartfelt plea to our charming romantic lead, and have those devices on stand by for the live voting coming up so you can be... a Celebrity Matchmaker!"

The crowd cheered while they were counted out, the green light signalling them off air as crew members began setting up the nearby gazebo for the last portion before the big reveal. Weiss could feel her stomach attempting to tie itself in knots but shoved it aside; she'd spent enough years working in front of a camera, pushing through illness and injury, to not be bothered by something as mundane as anxiety.

Even if it was nigh overpowering.

"Weiss?" She blinked, turning to notice concerned amber eyes turned her way, the Faunus flanked by her two co-finalists while Coco and the eliminated contestants were gathered in the center of the stage, trading last minute pleasantries and keeping just about everyone else from noticing the slight bend in the rules. Technically, they weren't supposed to interact at all until the commercial break ended and they were live for the final pleas, but she supposed a little leeway wasn't entirely unwarranted. "Are you alright?"

"I suppose there's no use in lying, now is there?" She offered the trio a rueful grin. "Just a tad nervous."

"You needn't be." The redhead smiled, eyes sparkling like the emerald gems dangling from her ears. "Whatever decision you make, we'll support you."

"Yeah, Princess, lil Miss Amazon over here's right." Yang gave her that megawatt smile, the one that could brighten even the darkest room. "We've got your back. And, uh, ya know, this isn't goodbye." She coughed into her hand, trying valiantly to hide the slight flush creeping into her cheeks while fiddling with her hair. She never did like having it tied back, for any reason. "I mean, we can still hang out after this. No one's stopping us from staying friends."

"It'll be difficult," she said, having had far too much time alone not to contemplate what the end of the show's run would bring. Every scenario, every outcome playing in her head at light speed in an infinite loop, but she pushed those thoughts away for the time being. "We all have very demanding schedules. Coordinating time to simply 'hang out' may come few and far between; we'll need to exchange e-mail addresses and scroll numbers, and-"

"Then we'll do it." The blonde offered simply, stymieing the flood of considerations and measures that had begun to pile up in the back of her mind. "You ain't getting rid of us that easy, Babe." The moment the word left her lips, Yang's expression faltered, her gaze drifting off to the side. "Guess I gotta kick that habit. If I'm not the one, I mean-"

Quick as lightning, a lump formed in her throat, preventing her from offering a response immediately. Blake stepped up, though, speaking where the movie star couldn't and saving her from whatever mess might tumble from her mouth otherwise.

"Let's not get into that right now." The Faunus gently nudged the woman beside her with her shoulder. "Wherever things go from here, regardless of the outcome, we can still all be friends."

"Absolutely." Pyrrha nodded, clasping her hands in front of her. "It's been truly delightful getting to know the three of you; I think it'd be rather silly to disregard that."

Lilac eyes darted to her for a moment. "So... no hard feelings, no matter what?"

Blake and Pyrrha nodded, all three looking towards the movie star for final approval. To be frank, it was something of a relief to hear that agreement, the idea that her choice wouldn't negate the wonderful moments she'd shared with each of the three before her something of a soothing balm. Although she might've started the show with a cynical point of view, her opinion had changed drastically, and the very thought of turning her back on the ones she'd chosen to be with her here at the end... no matter what any tabloid might claim, not even she could pretend to be so heartless.

But that would also be more difficult in some ways, wouldn't it? Would it hurt worse? Having them with her, but not like when they were in the manor; having them as friends and nothing more. It seemed like a cruel twist of fate, and she silently wished she'd been able to keep herself at arms' length if only to spare herself the torment.

Because right here, right now, she didn't have a clear choice, no obvious answer shoving its way to the forefront of her mind. She admired each of them, their strengths and faults, and she'd fallen in love with all three. She loved Blake's quiet laugh, the way she tried to keep a cool head but acted with her heart more often than not, her clear passion and quiet murmurs. She loved Pyrrha's firm and steady hands, her unwavering dedication, her sweet encouragement, and even her humble disdain for the way others portrayed her. She loved Yang's smiling eyes, her brash demeanor, her gentle manner of caring, and even her ridiculous, stupid, groan worthy jokes and puns- some part of her couldn’t believe it. All three held a piece of her heart.

And she could have but one in return.

"No matter what," she said, smiling at them and willing the storm in her mind and heart to calm for just long enough to get through the rest of the night. No matter how little she could sort through at the moment- or over the past week, or three, or however long since she’d rather suddenly found herself hopelessly infatuated with the three all at once- time marched on regardless and the commercial break would be over far too soon. She couldn't even tell if she wanted it to be over and done with or some cataclysmic event to stop the proceedings dead in their tracks, because she didn't want to confront the niggling sensation that, no matter which choice she made, it would be the wrong decision.

But the three beaming smiles she got in response- all different sizes, unique to the one who wore the expression but conveying the same emotion regardless- calmed her somewhat, steadying the twisting in her gut long enough to be surprised when Yang reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder and pulling her forward. Before she could process it, she was in Blake's arms, the Faunus giving her a firm hug while the other two women joined in from either side, surrounding her completely.

"Group hugs are awesome." The blonde chuckled, pulling affirmative hums from the other two.

"You dolt, you'll ruin the moment." Her halfhearted scolding carried no weight, though it did bring a sting of tears to her eyes. 

How could she possibly choose between them when every embrace felt so right?

"Hey, you four, knock that off!" A raised whispered pulled them from the moment abruptly, all turning to see Coco throwing a glance around. "Geez, we're twenty minutes from the big moment, and you guys choose now to start the PDA-fest?"

"It's not our fault she's so huggable!" Yang offered in response, reluctantly pulling away.

"That's not really a word." Blake lightly admonished, though she followed the rock star's lead.

"Though apt regardless." Pyrrha did the same, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "I suppose it's time to take our spots?"

"Yeah. Yang's first up; we're going in reverse order for the last stands." The fashion-designer-turned-host adjusted the ascot around her neck, lips curling into a small grin at her little joke. "We'd better hurry up. Less than a minute until we're live again."

While Pyrrha and Blake went to wait a little ways away, in a little sound proof booth so they couldn't improve on a previous contestant's material, Weiss followed Yang over to the gazebo, which was decked out in the most cliched of romantic trappings- rose petals on the ground, ivy and baby's breath strung throughout the latticework, candles lit to provide ambient light. Were it not for the inherent artificiality of it, she might find the effects charming.

"Hey." The blonde quickly stepped close to her, lowering her voice as they walked towards their spots. "Don't get lost in your head, okay? Listen to your heart." She winked. "You've got a good one, I know it. It'll steer you true. And you'll have all of us, no matter what."

She couldn't help but let a chuckle slip past her lips. "Thanks for the pep talk, Firecracker."

Although Weiss was loathe to do so, she continued on into the gazebo while Yang hung back, waiting for her cue to approach. Her heartbeat spiked as she stood there, the anticipation of what was to come making it all the harder for her to keep herself in check. But, she'd handled countless award ceremonies before this one, and she'd managed each with the grace and dignity befitting her lineage. If there was one thing a Schnee could accomplish, remaining poised under the scrutiny of Remnant certainly topped the list.

That didn’t mean it was easy or that she could think of at least ten places she’d rather be at that moment, though. But she also didn’t have much of a choice.

For clarification: I’m genuinely unsure if ‘huggable’ is a ‘real’ word. I’ve seen it used in fanfiction and country songs, neither of which are exactly reliable, but I’ve found evidence it’s been used since about 1863. At the same time, every word processor I have insists it’s spelled wrong and the English language is just awful at adhering to its own rules. So... I’m going with it’s not a ‘proper’ word, so Blake wouldn’t use it in her writing.

[alexanderhamllton]

First of Many [Jasmine Cephas-Jones x Reader]

[write-a-thon tag]

Summary: Everything changes when your manager sets you up to be Jasmine’s fake ‘rebound’ relationship. 

Word Count: 6,144

Warnings: None, this is pure fluff y’all.

A/N: SECOND DAY Y’ALL!!! I got REALLY into this prompt so I’m sorry if this is super long, also HUGE thanks to Elissa @tempfixeliza with the outlining and Mickey aka @down4usnavy for helping me with the end (i feel like i’ll thank her even more in the future because she saves my ass ALWAYS), anyway hope you guys like it! <3

askbox | masterlist

“I’m not going to be someone’s fake girlfriend, Sheila!”

“C’mon [Y/N], this is a big deal!” You manager would do anything to convince you, and you were willing to see her try. “She’s on Broadway, for Christ’s sake!”

“Good for her!” You stopped walking around your living room and sat down on the couch, now closer to the phone that was laying on the coffee table with the speaker mode on. “I came to New York to become an actress, that was the deal. I am so grateful for everything you booked for me so far, but... You should know this isn’t for me, this isn’t what I do!”

“[Y/N], you have to work with me on here. You got an ensemble role-”

“Understudy.” You corrected. “I’m an understudy.”

“Okay, then! You’re an understudy role on a new show that, let’s be honest here, won’t last for too long. She’s a Broadway star on the biggest hit since Les Mis, being around her will make easier for me to make your life easier.”

You took a deep breath, grabbing the phone before turning off the speakers. “Okay, then. Tell me more about it.”

As you listened carefully to what you would have to do, you took note of her name to google her later that night. Your manager booked a meeting with the girl in her office the very next day, and it was hard not to overthink the whole situation. “It’s her day off, and you’ll be able to get to know each other better, maybe create a backstory for how you met and all that stuff, okay?”

“Fine.” You were thankful Sheila wasn’t able to see your face in that moment: it was a mix of disappointment at yourself and the unbeatable feeling of defeat, but as your father used to say, you gotta do what you gotta do.

“Great! You won’t regret this, I promise.” The call ended and you threw your phone on the couch, between the Target pillows your mother bought when you moved to New York City: ‘This is the start of your dreams coming true’, she used to say.

Yeah, right.

Growing up, all you wanted was to be a Broadway star. As you mother blasted cast recordings at your childhood home in New Jersey, you couldn’t remember a moment that you didn’t want to be the voice in those CDs. Vocal coaching, drama club and dance practice became all you could manage while keeping your grades up in high school, all the effort resulting a scholarship to Juilliard, in which you graduated in four years. You became a professional actress then, with a diploma to prove it, but opportunities in the big city weren’t as easy as you thought they would be: Many auditions resulted in your manager, Sheila, seeing potential in you and putting you under her wing: she got you minor roles in some tv shows and commercials shot in New York for a few years and they helped you pay the rent and bills, but they were not what you wanted.

So she started to look for auditions on Broadway for you. You tried for many shows, getting an understudy role on a small show that was moving to Broadway after a year running off-Broadway. It wasn’t ideal, but you were able to walk through Times Square on your way to work and that was all you could ask for.

Well, not all you could ask for, but you were really thankful for what you got.

After pushing those thoughts aside, you took a quick shower before getting to bed, your laptop waiting for you as you searched for the name Sheila mentioned.

“Jasmine Cephas-Jones.” You tried the feeling of the name on your lips while typing on the search bar before dramatically pressing enter. “Wow, she’s pretty.”

You decided to stop talking to yourself like a crazy person and started to read about the girl you would be ‘dating’ for a while. Twenty seven years old (Only a couple years older, okay), graduated from Berklee (great music program, her voice is probably amazing), Grammy award-winning for Hamilton (oh, her voice is definitely amazing). After that, you decided to go to image results: many photoshoots, promotional and backstage pictures from Hamilton, some pictures with her father (HER FATHER IS ON LUKE CAGE!), and some with a freckled-face guy, many, many pictures with the freckled-face guy. You opened one that was marked as recent and read the article attached to it:

'Hamilton' actress Jasmine Cephas-Jones ends relationship with former co-star Anthony Ramos

After a relationship created inside of the Richard Rodgers theatre, the original Peggy Schuyler/Maria Reynolds ends relationship with her former co-star Anthony Ramos, best known for his roles of John Laurens and Phillip Hamilton in the same Broadway show. According to sources close to the couple, the relationship ended by agreement of both parts, as a result of the different life and career choices made by them after their departure from the hit musical. While Ramos got casted on the newest production by Netflix, Cephas-Jones stayed in New York to pursuit her now smashing singing career. Rumors affirm that the relationship ended months before the official statement on Jasmine’s instagram account, and the pictures of Anthony Ramos with an unknown lady in the streets of Los Angeles only proves he is already moving on.

So you were the rebound relationship.

There was no positive sides to that situation coming to your mind. You'd be the first person Jasmine would be seen with since the break-up, which meant hate and attacks from the ‘Janthony’ shippers that were already flooding the comments on the article’s page as you scrolled down. You also saw the pictures of Anthony with a bodacious latina, that in your personal opinion wasn’t nearly as pretty as Jasmine.

You closed your eyes for a second before turning off your laptop and grabbing your phone. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but you knew you were going to make all your social media private eventually.

“Jasmine, please, make yourself comfortable.” You heard Sheila’s voice while she opened the door for a random man and Jasmine, that entered the room wearing a long cardigan over black jeans a black top. “This is [Y/N] [Y/L/N]”

Jasmine smiled awkwardly as you got up from the chair you were sitting. “She’s a girl.”

“Yeah, you told us you were bisexual and-”

“I am, I just… Didn’t think that you’d consider a girl for this.” Her confusing eyes, combined with crossed arms, made you look at your feet for a moment wishing you never accepted Sheila’s offer. She apparently noticed your lack of excitement, turning to you before completing her sentence. “No offense, by the way.”

“Not taken.” You quietly replied.

“Of course we considered, honey. I told you: being seen with someone is the best way to show you’re better than ever after your breakup, and with a girl, especially one as pretty as [Y/N], I’m sure the tabloids will forget you even dated Ramos.” Sheila was on fire, her fingernails tapping against the tablet in her hand as she spoke to the both of you.

“I highly doubt that, but if you say so...” Her voice cracked for a second and it was clear to you she wasn’t over Anthony, but it wasn’t your place to say anything. “So, how will this work?”

“We’ll let you guys get to know each other better for a few moments, when you’re ready just tell us, we’ll be waiting outside.” Jasmine nodded and you took a deep breath as Sheila and the random man exited the room.

“So-” you started.

“First of all, I want to apologize. This wasn’t my idea, I hate to do this.” She said, falling on the chair behind her. “I just wanted a solution for people to stop talking about Ant and-”

“It’s okay.” You replied, sitting on the chair in front of her. “It’s not my favorite thing either. Not because of you, but because, you know.”

“Because being someone’s fake girlfriend is not exactly the job you were looking for?” she asked. You nodded. “Yeah, I figured. But this can be fun, right? I mean, we can be friends, you look like a nice, decent person.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Your fast reply made Jasmine giggle, and you couldn’t help but smile with her. “So, do you know how ‘this’-” you signaled yourself and her, “works?”

“I guess we start posting stuff together, maybe instagram and twitter…Uh, I have this interview with GMA about me leaving Hamilton and some shows I’ll be doing for the next month. Paparazzi are always there, you can go with me, maybe?” Her leg was bouncing in a clear sign of anxiety, and you couldn’t help but think about the fan comments you read the night before.

“Okay, that looks… Pretty easy, actually. But we need a story.”

“A story?”

“Of course! How we met, how we got together, we can’t tell our manager set us up.” Jasmine agreed, a smile starting to show on her face. “So, do you have any ideas?”

“Uh… Maybe a workshop? Something small, that people don’t remember?”

“Works for me. Maybe we met there a few years ago and reconnected now so it won’t seem weird that there’s nothing about us being friends anywhere?” You suggested while your mind started running a thousand miles per second, thinking of any possible situation where you’d need to remember this. You’d have to get to know her.

“I have to get to know you.” Jasmine’s voice reproduced your thoughts, and she probably noticed the surprised expression on your face, because the giggle that followed seemed as genuine as it gets. “We can go out for lunch, maybe shopping, so we can know more about each other.”

“Sure, sounds like a good idea.” You replied, silence falling between you both after that. As she observed the office and the view, unsure what to say next, you decided it was enough of the ‘getting to know each other’ moment. “I should probably tell them to come in...”

“Yeah, of course.” You and Jasmine got up from your seats once again, Sheila storming in the second you opened the door.

“So, girls, did you hit it off? Marcel already gave me your schedule so I can put you and [Y/N] in sync, okay?” You looked at Jasmine in confusion as she whispered ‘assistant’. “Jasmine, I noticed you have a GMA interview on… Friday?” She nodded. “Great! [Y/N] can go with you and hopefully we’ll get some candids of you together, a few fan tweets.”

“Told ya.” Jasmine whispered again, making you giggle. “Sheila, we were thinking about going shopping tomorrow or whenever [Y/N] is available, do you think you can manage that?”

“Of course honey, what can’t I do for you?”

You side-eyed Jasmine, that had a fake smile in her face. Maybe you found the only other person that noticed Sheila’s fake enthusiasm: the woman was dead inside from working so much but nobody seemed to notice.

The meeting ended after Sheila went over privacy issues and disclosure agreements, with you and Jasmine exchanging phone numbers afterwards and taking a cute selfie, that later on she posted on her twitter with #mygirl attached to it. Subtle.

As the day passed, you started to see your follower count on twitter and instagram, the constant tagging on posts compelling you to change the notification settings on both apps so your phone wouldn’t crash. Replies were nice and cute, mostly because the picture could be considered platonic. You got a few message from co-workers on how you were, quote, “hanging out with Jasmine - and Peggy - Cephas Jones?????”, and you replied with ‘we are old friends!!!’, not being able to tell a word about what was really going on.

The next day you got up earlier to prep yourself for the date with Jasmine. Texts from Sheila warned you that ‘maybe’ some paparazzis would be around, so you made sure to look your best without looking forced. Hopping off the Uber, you noticed a few guys with cameras.

They were definitely not waiting for you.

Stopping near the door, the cold slowly getting to you from under your cashmere sweater, you texted the number Jasmine gave you the day before:

To: Jasmine Cephas-Jones Just got here. You on your way?

The second you hit send, the voice of one of the photographers caught your attention. When you looked up, you got a glance of Jasmine hopping off the backseat a black SUV with her sunglasses on and a fur vest over the dark green shirt. You couldn’t help but be amazed with her presence. She smiled at the photographers and lifted her sunglasses once she saw you, picking her pace.

She opened her arms and threw them around your neck, pulling you into a tight hug. “Just- just go with it.” Her warm whisper against your neck made you shiver, and you automatically wrapped your arms around her waist, staying that way a second longer friends would. Once she pulled away a few inches, one of your hands moved tenderly to her hair, removing a curl that was tangled in the sunglasses. “You think that’s enough PDA for Sheila?”

You smiled before bringing your hand down, entwining your fingers with hers. “Now it’s enough, let’s go.”

She let out a little laugh before you went in, leaving the hired paparazzis outside. The day went by smoothly as you shopped for GMA and just randomly tested makeup on MAC and Sephora. She showed you tricks she learned about finding the perfect shade of lipstick and you made her try out a red dress she saw on a mannequin - “Who cares if you only use once? it is beautiful, treat yourself!” - and after having lunch together, you couldn’t help but feel like she was an old friend of yours already.

As the weeks went by, you both started to hang out more often. The fans also started to pick up on Jasmine’s ‘new relationship’, meaning your follower counter was going up, as well as the mentions on all your social media accounts. So that’s what being famous feels like.

You were trying not to get used to the whole relationship thing: there were nights when Jasmine would invite you to just hang out with her after your shows and you’d meet in a diner located not too far from your theater, mostly because you’d only do matinees and stay around for rehearsals. Before you knew it, you were hanging out at each other’s places as well, watching movies, talking about whatever you felt like doing it and leading you to the great discover that Jasmine got really emotional and chatty after a few glasses of wine.

“I just… I just don’t get it. Because I was there the whole two years, two years!” She exclaimed, moving her wine glass around and almost spilling it. “How much is 365 times two?”

“Uhn… 700 and something.” You replied, also slightly drunk. Your legs were tangled with her under the blankets while you sat in opposites sides of your living room’s couch, Friends playing on tv while you ate popcorn and Jasmine complained about her ex-boyfriend. Again.

“And like, he’s in Los Angeles now with that latina version of a Barbie? She’s not even famous, and I bet she’s not as good as I am in bed, anyway,” she complained, pouting right after and making you almost spit your drink. “You know? I don’t even know why I’m complaining, I have a girlfriend. An amazing one, much better than his,” your eyes widened as she called you her girlfriend without anyone else around to hear it. “Okay, maybe we are not actual girlfriends, but you’re still much better than her and you’re super cool. And pretty. Fuck him.”

“Fuck him,” you repeated, raising your glass to Jasmine and getting the same action from her and a laugh in response. God, she had the most contagious laugh. “And hey, you’re amazing, and I know I’m biased, but he didn’t deserve you I mean… Look at you.”

“What?” Her voice was giggly and her cheeks flushed, in which you blamed the alcohol.

“You’re funny and your voice is beautiful and let’s admit: you’re hot, Jas,” you said, mentally blaming the wine for the compliment shower you were giving Jasmine. “If Anthony can’t value that, you’re better off without him.”

“You know, you may not be my real girlfriend, but you’re one hell of a friend, [Y/N], thank you,” she placed her now empty glass on the coffee table, awkwardly leaning towards you before engaging on a hug, in which you had no choice but to reply as she fell over you, laughing. “This is not as graceful as I pictured.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” you laughed, helping her get comfortable. Before you notice, her back is against your chest as she sits between your legs, focusing on the TV.  She doesn’t seem to mind the proximity, grabbing the popcorn bowl as you take a deep breath, carefully placing your wine glass on the coffee table as well before mindlessly playing with her hair until you both fell asleep right there.

“An OBC reunion? Daveed, I just- I know, but you know what happened, everybody does.” You watched as Jasmine paced around her living room while speaking on the phone. “I don’t think I can face him yet, it has only been a few months… I know but-what? Unbelievable. No, I’m okay, totally fine. Okay, I’ll let you know for sure. Miss you too, bye.”

“So… A reunion?” You asked, pulling your hair in a bun because of the heat.

“Yep,” she replied, popping the ‘p’. “Daveed wants to do a reunion since Lin is coming to New York for the Fourth of July, almost everyone will be in the city and-”

“And Anthony is going,” you guessed.

“And bringing his Malibu bitch with him, yes,” she completed, rolling her eyes.

“You have to go, Jas. I mean, they will always be your second family and you can’t let Ramos ruin that for you.”

“You’re right, as always. I’ll miss not having you around as much once this is over,” Jasmine smiled, falling in the chair next to you. The whole fake girlfriend was scheduled to be ‘finished’ in just a few days, according to the NDA you signed back in the day you met Jasmine: a six months relationship and a peaceful breakup, just enough to detach her name from Anthony as much as possible. It was working so far, but the whole reunion was not on the schedule. “Are you available on thursday?”

“I’m always available after the matinee, Jas.”

“Oh, right. Um… We can go buy an outfit for the night right now, if you want. I’m free until like, six.”

“Wait, I’m going?” Your eyes widened in surprise, making her laugh.

“Of course! I can’t show up there without my girlfriend,” she joked, pulling her phone up and pointing at you. “Say hi to the instagram people!”

“Hi, instagram people!” You replied sarcastically, waving to the camera as Jasmine giggled before stopping the video. “Haven’t posted anything about me in a while?”

“Few days. Also you look nice so why not,” she agreed with a smile. You were used to the PDA now, Jasmine would often add pictures with you and talk about you, the same thing happening the other way around. The fans loved it and so did you, there was no way to hide how fond of her you became, and you were afraid the whole fake break-up would affect you more than initially expected.

The week went by in a flash, before you knew it was already Friday afternoon and you were at Jasmine’s place, blasting music and getting ready for the small reunion at Daveed’s. Her curls were already shoulder-length again at this point and she looked flawless; as she applied her signature red lipstick, you pulled your phone up and started filming her. “Hamilton reunion! She’s going full-on Maria Reynolds, y’all.”

You laughed as she did a little dance to the camera before starting laughing herself. You captioned as “#flawless” and added to your Instagram story. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” she shrugged. “I’m glad you’re coming.”

“Me too, I’ll meet Lin-Manuel Miranda!” You giggled, making Jasmine chuckle.

“You’ll love him, he’s amazing. So is his wife, I think Vanessa will be there too… You know? I miss them. I’m glad you convinced me to go, [Y/N].”

“Me too,” you smiled. “Now let’s go, otherwise we will be late.”

The place was electric. Jasmine did warn you about Daveed throwing the best gatherings, but you had no idea how he turned his apartment into a party with a bar, dance floor and neon lights. You both got greeted by him once out of the elevator, and soon enough many former castmates were surrounding your ‘girlfriend’. You recognized all of them right away, after all, you did your homework when getting to know about Jasmine and her career. Before you were able to do anything, Phillipa, Renee and Carleigh were interrogating you about how you and Jasmine met, as well as trying to get to know you a bit better.

“So when I finally made my way to Broadway, I just felt like I needed to catch up with her, so I sent an email and exchanged numbers after that,” you told them, with a smile on your face and Jasmine’s hand in yours. “The rest is history, I guess.”

“I have to admit I thought you and Ant were endgame, Cephas, but I really like her,” Carleigh commented, with a smile. “Well, speaking of the devil...”

You both turned to the door, where Anthony was coming in with his blonde girlfriend by his side, them soon enough surrounded by the male castmates, Anthony exchanging handshakes and hugs with them. Out of instinct, you wrapped your arm around Jasmine’s waist and turning her away from the scene and back to the conversation. She didn’t need to see that and neither did you.

The next hour was a blur: You met the rest of the cast while keeping an eye on Anthony, mostly because you wanted to keep Jasmine away from him. Lin and Vanessa were as great as you pictured, as well as Oak and Javier. You were chatting with the latter two while Jasmine got you drinks at the improvised bar when your phone vibrated on your back pocket: It was Sheila, your manager. You excused yourself and went to the bathroom to answer it.

“Sheila, I’m kinda busy right-”

“You got it,” she interrupted. “The main role, Samantha is leaving next month.”

“What?” You swore your brain was playing tricks on you, there was no way.

“You heard me! You won’t be an understudy anymore, [Y/N], they want you to take over the role,” she affirmed, making you squeal and make a small happy dance. “They wanna know if you can do the Saturday shows, to see how you do a two-show day, sounds good?”

“Sounds...Sounds perfect, yes, of course!” You could feel your excitement running through your veins like electricity as you thanked Sheila and hang up. As you exited the bathroom and headed towards the group of people you were talking to before, Lin noticed your huge smile: “Hey, good news?”

“Yeah! I got… I got the part. The one I’m currently an understudy for?” You told them, earning a few whistles and congratulations from the group. “Have you guys seen Jasmine? I’m really excited to tell her the news!”

“She’s... She’s in my office,” Daveed replied carefully. “Talking to Anthony.”

“What?”

“It’s fine, really, they needed to solve some things,” Phillipa assured, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I- I’ll check on her, if you excuse me,” you said, the smile suddenly vanishing from your face. You shouldn’t be too worried right? You just cared for Jasmine and wanted her to be safe and happy, away from Anthony, away from harm. Right?

As you got closer to the office, you noticed the door slightly open. When your hand was millimeters from knocking, you heard Anthony’s voice slightly altered. “You think I don’t see that, Jas? You think I don’t see your posts with [Y/N] all over the internet only months after we break up?”

“You’re such a hypocrite, Ramos. You were the one that went out with that blonde bimbo in the first place!” Her voice cracked by the end of the sentence, and your hand fell by your side as you gave up on knocking. Yet, something stopped you from leaving: you just needed to listen.

“I DIDN’T WANT TO!” Anthony’s pitch was high and you could listen to the tears he was holding back. “I didn’t want to, okay? Luis told me to.”

“What does your manager has to do with this, Anthony? For fuck’s sake, you’re such a terrible liar,” you heard her heels clicking towards the door and took a step back, suddenly afraid of getting caught listening to the fight.

“I’m not lying, Jasmine! I’m not-” his voice stopped and he took an audible deep breath. “I’m not dating Carmen, okay? It was all for the media.”

The silence fell in the room and you could almost picture Jasmine’s eyes widening. After a few seconds, you heard her voice, almost a whisper: “What?”

“Yeah, she’s… She’s a model. Luis thought I needed to detach my image from yours and I was frustrated so I agreed but damn, I miss you Jas. I miss you and now you’re dating and-”

“[Y/N] has a contract too, but-” Her words felt like a punch in the throat. As you leaned against the wall next to the door, biting your lips to stop any tears that you felt building up, you decided to just leave. After taking a few steps you hit your elbow against a column, muttering a few swears.

“Fucking hell.” You recomposed yourself and headed straight to the door, not letting anyone stop you in the way. As you waited for the elevator, Daveed’s apartment door slammed open.

“Where are you going?” Jasmine asked, a worried expression all over her face.

“Well, you clearly got your things right with Anthony so I think you don’t need me here anymore,” you answer sounded more bitter than you intended, but you were not taking it back.

“What are you talking about?”

“I… I heard you both talking. I know it’s wrong but I did, and I heard you telling him everything,” you started, looking up for a second before turning back to face her. “How stupid of me was to think that maybe, just maybe you could’ve actually grown to like me outside that goddamn contract, right?”

“But [Y/N], I-” Jasmine started, but you cut her off.

“And just when I was about to tell you the most amazing news… Guess what, I’m not an understudy anymore! I start performances on Saturday! I was going to invite you to come see the show because I felt like somehow I owed it to you, but nevermind. The contract expires on Saturday anyway, so don’t even bother.”

The elevator doors opened and you turned on your heels to enter it. Jasmine ran to go in too, but you stopped her. “Please, just… Stay.”

You pressed the button to close the doors as she nodded, tears falling down your face.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

When you got home that night, you noticed a few of Jasmine’s stuff on your bedroom, which you ignored when throwing yourself on your bed and crawling under the covers. The next morning you woke up because of your alarm clock, but you wish you didn’t: six missed calls from Jasmine and a text message.

From: Jazzy Hey, please talk to me, call me whenever you can.

You threw your phone to the end of the bed, getting up and ignoring the whole subject: You had rehearsals that you just couldn’t miss, so you took a quick shower before putting on comfortable clothes, grabbing your bag and heading to the theatre; putting your phone on silent was a no-brainer.

That afternoon was one of those moments where you were thankful for your way to cope with things; while many people you knew could get distracted by the events of the night before, but not you. Your mind was focused on rehearsal, blocking out anything and everything that could distract you. Your movements were sharper, your voice was more projected and you didn’t miss a step in the whole choreography. Needless to say, your director was impressed.

After taking a shower and changing clothes, you decided to check your phone: Another three missed calls, two of them being from Jasmine, the last one from Sheila. You took a deep breath, deciding to call her back: “Sheila, if this is about last night-”

“What were you thinking, [Y/N]? Making a scene in the middle of the most important cast on Broadway? Are you insane?” Her voice was altered and you could almost picture her arms wiggling in desperation.

“I’m sorry, I just… Heard some things, I had to leave. It shouldn’t have been a big deal,” you explained yourself, trying to not get into details. Your manager took a deep audible breath while choosing the right words to not just snap at you.

“You have a big day tomorrow, focus on that and… We can solve it after the show, okay? Just… Try to work things out with Jasmine, she called me like five times and I don’t have time for this.”

“I… I don’t wanna do this right now, Sheila. The contract expires tomorrow anyway,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’ll figure this out, after Saturday, okay?”

“I’m trusting you, [Y/N], don’t blow it.” You heard Sheila hanging up before letting out a loud groan.

The rest of the day flew by, as well as the next. Before you knew you were heading to the theater for your first performances on a saturday: the excitement was almost forgotten in the back of your mind because of your nerves. As you did your makeup and put on your costume, your confidence grew, as you prepared yourself to get on stage you were ready, the only thing missing was… Jasmine.

Jasmine was with you during the last six months, when you perfected your performance and she helped your singing voice, as well as emotional support when you thought they would fire you after a big mistake on stage. They didn’t, so you both celebrated. Jas was with you every step of the way to that specific moment, it felt not only wrong but also ironic that she wasn’t witnessing that.

Or at least that’s what you thought.

After the end of the performance, while the whole cast was taking their bows, you heard a familiar voice in the microphone. It was your castmate, Jordan: “Now folks, if we could just steal one more minute of your time,” he grinned into the microphone, trying to hush the audience. “You may be aware, it’s our girl [Y/N]’s first show as an official leading lady!”

You blushed as the crowd stood from their seats, cheering for you. You blew a kiss to Jordan who winked at you.

“So! In honor of her amazing performance, to which we hope she has many more to come, we have someone who’d like to say a few words,” he said as the crowd cheered again. You shot him a confused look that he guiltily ignored.

You soon realised why.

“Hi everyone,” you heard an all too familiar voice say quietly into the mic. Loud cheers again echoed throughout the hall; you felt your heart drop as you turned to see the ridiculously gorgeous woman emerge from stage left with a bouquet of flowers in her arms.

Jasmine. Her eyes were on you, a small smile on her face and a million apologies in her eyes.

“I’m Jasmine, I’m… well let’s just say I’m a huge fan of [Y/N],” she smiled, earning ‘awww’s’ from the audience. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her, no matter how angry and hurt you felt. “I, uh, did this a million times over in my head and I suddenly can’t find the words.”

You heard the audience laugh, your eyes still glued to Jasmine. She was nervous. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the mic, her eyes momentarily flickering across the audience as she gulped. Her eyes met yours again and she tucked a few curls back behind her ear, a signature nervous tick of hers. You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the tears welling in your eyes.

“I don’t want to take too much of your time, but I do want to say this: no one deserves this more than [Y/N] does,” she said into the mic, her voice strained. Your breath caught in your throat. “She is incredibly talented and she works so hard and she is just so amazing.”

She broke into a smile as she said that, the audience chuckling, relieving some tension. You smiled, too, your heart swelling as you saw her eyes fill with hope.

“But she is also more than that,” she continued, pushing through her nerves. “She is… the best thing in my life. She is kind and she is compassionate and she is loving and, well, she is more than I deserve.”

You bit your lip, fighting back the tears in your eyes. You wanted to be mad, you wanted to never speak to her again. But her eyes were on yours and your heart was pounding and you realised all you really wanted was to be the one who tucked those curls behind her ear for her. You wanted to run across the stage, to close the impossible distance.

“So, a warm ‘welcome to Broadway’ to [Y/N],” she said, tearing her eyes from yours and smiling at the crowd. “Congratulations on your first time in the spotlight… and may it be the first of many.”

The crowd roared in applause as she disappeared into the wings, Jordan taking back the mic and bidding the crowd goodnight. You quickly bowed, taking a moment to look out at the crowd beneath the stage lights, cheering and clapping.

You were finally where you wanted to be. You were just missing one thing.

You smiled, running off the stage and into the wings. The grin on your face grew as you flew past stage managers and the ensemble. You burst into your dressing room, stopping cold in the doorway as Jasmine turned around, a heartbreaking expression on her face. Your smile did not waiver.

“I know it was your big night and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and- why are you smiling at me like that?” she pouted, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I’m just really happy you’re here,” you said softly, slowly taking a step towards her. She grimaced.

“I fucked everything up and there is absolutely no reason you should be happy to see me,” she sighed, her eyes falling down your frame before guiltily snapping back up to yours.

“But I am,” you grinned, stepping in front of her. She frowned at you.

“What’s up with you? I totally fuck things up, you ignore my calls, I crash your opening night and you’re… happy to see me?” she asked, as you giggled, placing your hands on her waist.

“Are you still into Ant?” you asked.

“W-What?”

“Are you?”

She scanned your eyes, brow furrowed. Suddenly, her face softened, a small smile pulling at her red lips.

“No.” Your smile grew bigger.

“Did you miss my opening night even though I’ve avoided you for days on end?” you asked. She rolled her eyes, the smile still present on her face.

“No.”

“Well, in that case, it is officially 12:03am,” you said, nodding to the clock you had on the wall. Her eyes never left yours, the look of love in them unwavering. “My contract is officially up.”

And with that, she kissed you. Her soft lips crashed into yours as you both smiled; you tangled one hand in her curls as she pulled you closer, her fingers softly cupping your cheek. You both pulled back, giggling quietly as she leaned her forehead against yours.

“And may that be the first of many,” she winked, the two of you bursting into laughs as you kissed her again and again and again.

[somethingsimilartosnow]

back on my bullshit

hello tumblr

wow my online diary coming to a full circle here! Haven’t posted on this page since maybe I was ... 20? Well, hello, here I am, now 24, and life has HAPPENED. I just am so in need of a place to write down my thoughts, my feelings, my life happenings, so it’s not just all scrambled up in my head to spew at my therapist every other Tuesday. So therefore, we turn to the beautiful world of tumblr and my ~secret blog~. I once thought this was so edgy and risky and what if anyone found this (even though I wanted everyone to find it at one point technically) and now I just need a table to vomit my emotions all over!

Anywho - today I’m here to talk about, not Tyler, not Rob (DEFINITELY not Rob, but maybe I will write all about him when I’m ready to, just for my record keeping), but a man named Dillon. Now I met Dillon about 2/2.5 weeks ago on a dating app (gotta love hinge lol - yes past self, you did have to resort to online dating for a time at least!!! will keep ya updated as to how THAT goes) and we met up at Crooked Can on a beautiful, sweaty summer evening. 

Now I should preface - the harmonious timing of everything falling into place whence meeting Dillon is just uncanny. We had exchanged some quick back and forth messages via this ‘app’ and he said he’d be back from Boston in about a week, and he’d text me when he returned to set up a time to meet. Pretty forward considering we had pretty much only talked about pineapple definitely belonging on pizza how he didn’t understand what I do for work. So I thought ‘uh ok!’ and didn’t stress. At this time, I was still so hung up on ROB (stupid! rob!) that I didn’t really think about Dillon much. Then occured That Fateful Night(TM) with Rob, at the Guest House, with a Hummingbird (this is my play on the game Clue! It’s funny - future me will think I’m a smug comedic genius). INSERT STORY ABOUT THAT FATEFUL NIGHT HERE - coming in a post soon maybe idk lol. OKAY ANYWAYS. Saturday morning, I woke up, went to Star Wars land - I have a cool job - and messaged Rob, being mature and wanting to talk things through. Several housed passed, no response, several more hours, no response, and next thing I knew it was Sunday morning and I had never heard from him. My heart clenched into a writhing ball of stress anxiety over the unknown - what did this man now think of me? What did I do wrong? What’s wrong with me? No, no, no - WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM? But you know who I did receive a message from that same Saturday? You guessed it - Dillon. 

Yes, this is still a story about Dillon and not about Rob, that’s where we pick up at the Crooked Can the following Thursday evening.

Having pretty much laid my anxieties about Rob aside, I was preparing to unfriend, unfollow, and detach myself from him that coming weekend. In the mean time, I primped and puffed myself to go meet this man, who I knew virtually nothing about except that he worked in marketing. I made myself a drink, drove to the bar, and 4 hours later, was fairly surprised. ‘Not usually the type of guy I go for, but very nice and obviously a good person,’ I thought to myself. In reality, I couldn’t believe I had gone on a second successful first date in a matter of months! Me! A dating girl! What is going on! So we exchanged some pleasantries as we walked to our cars, he hugged me and we parted ways. 

Cut to about a week later, we both are looking forward to seeing eachother again and decide to grab some food, head to a rooftop bar, and just hang out. It’s easy with Dillon. I don’t stand waiting for him and wonder if he’ll like me that time or if he will freakout and want to leave. I don’t have heart-writhing-and-wrenching anxiety leading up to seeing him. It’s simply fun and exciting. (OMG HES SO CUTE TOO AND LIKE STRONG??? HE HAS MUSCLES??? I am HARDLY ATHLETIC so idk what is happening!!!!!!) So here we are back in downtown Winter Garden, munching away chatting eachother’s ears off, and just having a good ol’ time. He was suggesting I come running with him and his close friend/almost roommate that weekend (lol um no? no, running with a cute athletic boy is a recipe for embarrassment - and I already just naturally embarrass myself anyways so lets not put myself in a situation to force even more of that um thanks byeyeyye). I was busy that day luckily, but I invited him to come and see a 90′s cover band with my work friends and I at the House of Blues - next day. A little bold to suggest he’d want to see me two nights in a row, and I suppose even more bold just throwing it out there that I’d want to see him two nights in a row. I mean, we’ve only known eachother for a week, let’s not be crazy! He says ‘you know, I’m watching the UFC fight with my friend,’ and my heart softens a little and I understand he’s busy, has his own life, etc. etc. Then he says, ‘But let me see if he’d want to do that instead.’

CUT TO - INT. HOUSE OF BLUES BALCONY.

We’re dancing! We’re vibing! And we’re having such a great time! He is kind and sweet, he’s holding my hand and has his hand on my back and everything is beautiful. I have my left hand on his right shoulder, and my chin is resting on top of my hand. He says something snappy looking right at my eyes, and I’m looking at his and he quickly glances at my lips.

God, I love kissing. I love it almost more than any other physical thing. I love learning how other people kiss, I love that scratchy feeling of a man’s face at the end of the day all prickly against my skin. I love feeling their jaw and their tongue and their body against mine. I love the tension of it - what happens next? How far do we go tonight? How much can I make you want me? All of this relates to later so please consider this a footnote (1).

House of Blues is great - and I can tell I’m going to see him again. As we’re walking to get our uber, I say to him something silly about the stars and the universe and everything in life coming together and “intersecting” I say.

“Intersecting?” He repeats.

“Intersecting.”

“Intersexing? Rachael!” 

I curl my lower lip over my teeth and say, “That...is NOT what I said.” Boldly, I decide to say to him, “You have something on the mind, Dillon?”

He giggles and takes a pause, “Oh I’ve got a lot on my mind. Most of them are about you, some of them aren’t.” The tension hangs in the air like a bioluminescent force stringing us together as we’re walking in front of the group. “Mainly how you didn’t take me to Star Wars!” He exclaims, cutting the tension with a knife, and we’re back where we started.

So that’s Saturday, we kiss goodnight and he drives him and his friend home. And here’s the good news, I do hear from him again.

Not being able to drink beer, as I inevitably get sick every single time I consume it for some godforsaken reason!, I tell him he must come to my house, retrieve the drink, and help me clear out my fridge. (holy crap this post is long, sorry future self, especially if it all goes south after i post this lol yikes crispies) So here we are again, on a Thursday evening, almost exactly two weeks from the day we first met (actually, exactly two weeks) and I am yet again primping and puffing myself to see him. This is yesterday btw!!!

I couldn’t believe how far I had moved from Rob - completely cutting him out and him doing the same to me caused incredible healing for my heart. I have to tread lightly though, because I now know how I react to things in relationships and how strongly they can affect me. That’s why I have my intuition, though. She guides me through all of the struggles in my life. Maybe it’s the holy spirit. Can’t confirm - will do more research and get back to you.

He arrives, and we eat dinner. Well, I really hardly eat anything because I’m talking so much or so intently listening to him talk that I essentially forgot the plate of food was right in front of me. He offers to do the dishes - which is very kind. I refuse, though, and vow to myself that I must do them tomorrow. I should probably also note that I had two drinks prior to him coming because I wanted to be loose and relaxed and have fun! In my own home. We’re hoping this doesn’t tumble out of control. Hahaha! Anyways!!!

First and foremost following dinner, he teaches me how to bat, weird. But funny, I hit out of the park and we high five and settle on the couch. We ramble and go on and on about the cars we drive, or the work we do, or the music we listen to. He loves Mumford and Sons, and he puts on the Lumineers as the score to our conversation. We watch some silly comedy shows that we tell eachother about, and I am giggle central (three drinks in at this point I guess?). I goto the restroom, and decide there while staring into my bathroom mirror, I have to ask him about the dating world and what he does and why he does it.

 Dating is tricky - people are under no obligation to be with you and you alone. And with someone like Dillon, he is so outgoing and extroverted that I could only assume he’s fairly um, unmonogamous? Spelling? He spent 4 years in a bad relationship where the girl ended up as a lesbian at the end of it, so I can only imagine he just wants everything to lay low for a few years in terms of commitment and really tying yourself to someone. 

So I flounce out of the bathroom and plop myself on the couch, my legs twisted up and I’m curled into a ball - which I still am surprised I can do with the size of my legs, but I suppose it makes me feel small in a comforting way. “So, I’m going to ask you a more serious question, and it’s kind of weird and I don’t want you to freak out,” I say.

“Ask away.” (Um this is all conjecture bc I’m a little tipsy at this moment so - not while typing this, I mean at the time I brought this up last night)

Essentially, I asked him (I could never be an author, my tenses are all mixed up) if he dates monogamously, what his vibe is right now with it all, if he is into me I guess?

This is going to get a little more mish mashed and less narrated because I kind of just need to write all of this part down to get it on the table and survey it all. I’ll let you know when we’re getting back to the fun narrated part. 

He said he usually dates around, he can’t really commit to anything right now. His life is very busy and hectic and whatever, but that he is really enjoying hanging out with me. He said “You know, it’s not for like the sex or the attention, it’s to know people and meet people and make connections.” He kept saying, “I just don’t want you to get hurt, I don’t want you to get hurt,” and I kept saying “Okay, listen, I know myself, I know my boundaries, I know where to draw my own lines.” At one point he even said “It’s so sexy how well you know yourself.” THAT GOT MEEEEE. He said the last girl he dated, their 5 year plans really didn’t line up - she wanted to be married expecting children in two years (she was older - 28), and Dillon, being a 24 year old, young, attractive man was obviously not about that! He knew he has to end it because it wasn’t lining up. I said to him that I think it’s perfectly fair for him to date around, it’s perfectly fine for him to say all of this, and I didn’t say this, but I really was not at all surprised that he said any of this. Like I said, it’s fitting with who he is and his character. I guess I get nervous that he kept saying “I don’t want to hurt you,” or “I don’t want you to get hurt.” As though he feels he will inevitably do so or? Unsure. That’s what Rob kept saying on That Fateful Night(TM), which is why I feel a little triggered by it I guess. So the next question I asked, and I prefaced with “Just because I’m curious, and I want to know where you’re at, are you currently seeing anyone else?” He took a pause. “No, I’m not right now. I don’t know, when I met you something just clicked.” My heart fluttered. “You’re very different than the type of girls I usually date, but I like that.” I reassured him - you are no arrogant artsy jerk who’s going to just up and ghost me - so I also am in the same boat. I said to him that that’s kind of the beauty of it, and meeting new people that are so different than you and connecting with them is so wonderful. He said that his friend said something like “Wow, so you’re seeing this girl two nights in a row?” and he kind of was like “Uh, oh yeah I guess so!” kind of insinuating that there’s something special and different happening here. He said, “I’m enjoying myself, you’re enjoying yourself, obviously this is going well, let’s just take it slow.” I agreed, but uhhh you know. I’m trying to make out with him a little obviously and so somehow it got brought up, and I said, “I mean, we can just have fun, make out a little, right?” And he smiled, “Yeah, we can do that.”

Ok and I think this is where I’m going to try and be narrative again! Dang, am I a novelist chica?

I leaned in and kissed him, his scratchy face pressing into mine. It’s slow and intimate at first - and we fully know what we’re getting into. His mouth is minty and refreshing (almost like...he ALSO was wanting to makeout....hmmmmmmm.....) and he’s kissing me so wonderfully and I love the way his lips feel against mine. My right leg gently slides over his lap and his arms are wrapping around my waist and I go up. His hands move over my belt loops and around my hips and to my stomach, and mine are holding his jaw to mine and I don’t want him to ever let go. We look at each other and he’s smiling at me. I bite my lower lip. And then he says THE MOST DIRECT THING A MAN HAS MAYBE EVER SAID TO ME “I do want to have sex with you...” OH MY GOD?! “Ok, so what are we going to do?” I respond. He kisses me again, “We’re going to wait. I’m going to see you again.” “Okay,” I say and lean in and start kissing him again. I may at one point have said “I want to rip all of your clothes off,” but uhhhh we’ll deal with that another time hehe. I pull back and look at him, and startled he yells, “WOO okay time to go before anything else happens!” I get off of him and he puts his arm over his head, his eyes large and shocked. Quickly, he stands up, adjusts his shirt, pushes his hair back and says (again OH MY GOD) “Gonna walk downstairs with a boner!” OH MY GOD?!!! 

“Sorry...” I say, obviously not sorry, obviously very satisfied with myself. “Okay, I’ve gotta go, I will see you. I need to leave now.”

We kiss goodbye, and then I holler at him down the stairs to come grab the beer his friend left at my place. He comes up and takes it, leans in and kisses me again, and down the stairs he goes.

And that’s it. That’s where we are now. Here I am this morning, letting the Lumineers serenade my creative work flow as I try to calm myself down from the um, excitement of last night. I need to be careful, and I need to protect myself. I am saying I can protect myself and I need to make sure that’s true. I’m not going to stop living my life the way I always do. Tonight, I’m seeing Erin, tomorrow, I’m getting brunch with my girlfriends and then going to game night at Kayla’s apartment, and Sunday, I’m going to church. This is my life and he is a fun addition that I’m so excited about. Oh my god!

[tinyscribblefairy]

One must always grow from mistakes made regardless of how damaging it may feel at the time. 

If things were to happen for a reason, I am already negotiating how to handle this one. 

Let me just start with one true fact. I have been fired from almost every single job I have ever had. I have learnt from each firing how to grow from each one. 

Two of these jobs, I really loved. One was a cook’s assistant in a company kitchen and the other one was as a fitness instructor for a women’s only circuit gym. 

I will not name the places or people involved to respect privacy and such. 

My main ambition, since I was a child has always been to become a published author, a writer, novelist and also wanted to be an actress and I have not given up on any of these dreams even if I have set them aside without really giving it a real go. Without giving myself a chance for the sake of society’s obsession with “Wake up, you gotta make money” and earning a living without sacrificing it all for a what some would call a pipe dream seemed incredibly foolish, unlikely and too risky. 

For three years I was not working at all and decided to give stand-up comedy a try and I still perform today in open mics, however every time you leave the scene or put yourself on the back burner, you kind of have to prove yourself on stage all over again. Just like any business, consistency and perseverance does eventually make a difference. No guarantees, but I have personally seen careers bloom and people actually getting to a point where they were earning their main income from comedy and various television appearances. 

It’s not impossible. It’s a hustle and it’s hard for the average Joes and Janes to understand, since very often they are hellbent on security, building families and buying mortgages and it does not fall into their spectrum of what they believe to be realistic ambitions. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with wanting or being content with an average life. It’s a choice and the more people you have with you or depending on you, it’s a logical, safe, practical and responsible choice. 

We need practical, logical, responsible people. Sometimes I envy them. 

Because practical, logical people don’t get fired. They don’t lose their jobs. 

I feel it would be important to tell you, as I am wiping tears of my face after typing that last line that for close to 2 years I have held another job, a job I have grown to love and been really good at. 

I’m a barmaid. My job involves serving clientele promptly, making drinks, pouring beers, also preparing food. The social aspect of the job is something I excel at, we have a regular clientele and all seem to be very happy with me. The administrative, inventory, cashing out part of the job is my Achilles heel. 

Focus has never been my forte.

Also, what made it difficult is mindlessly allowing myself to get distracted by my phone. Fell way too far into the Facebook vortex and got sidetracked, almost neglecting the job I am paid to do. 

 I have probably one of the most understanding, patient bosses in the entire universe but everyone has a breaking point. 

I’m pretty much what you could call a social media addict and I have also created a Facebook page for the bar where I work and have enjoyed some success with my posts. Nothing viral, but I take pride in anything creative that I do. 

You might be thinking, “Where is she going with this?” Well, since it just happened a few hours ago, I am still trying to process how to explain what happened. 

I work Mondays and Tuesdays from noon until closing, which occasionally means really late like after 3. 

The mistake was an err in judgement, I am also bipolar which means I am aware of certain situations that can trigger mania or hypomania . 

I had a particularly busy weekend, did not sleep very much and that’s never good as far as triggers are concerned, it can create an imbalance and—bingo!—fertile ground for lacking judgement and making irrevocably dumb choices.

While I was counting my cash and dealing with inventory, somewhere in my brain I thought it would be a really fun idea to go Live on Facebook which unlike Live on Instagram, it doesn’t disappear as soon as you finish recording.  

Also, I clicked on share. (Rolling my eyes as I wince thinking of how horrible I feel about this. As with every other mistake, I have learned to focus on the solution and the lesson. What’s done is done)

I did realize from comments I received that I should probably delete it. I did. Only, the damage was done. My co-worker, also the assistant manager, called me to inform me to delete it. 

I had already done so.

My boss, on vacation, had been contacted and understandably livid and furious. He mentioned, in anger, that my job is now in jeopardy, this was not to be overlooked, things were gonna have to change, no more phone use at work and also discrepancy with my register reading and the cash. I am basically facing a very real possibility of being let go. Fired. Given the old proverbial ax. 

What stung the most was when he said “I won’t be able to keep you and I really don’t know who else would hire you” 

I’ve always felt more than a little inadequate when it comes to employment and the fact that I was just unfit for most jobs. It’s not like I have not really tried—and succeeded at times—to be an upstanding, honest, hard-working member of society. Until I came undone at almost every single job. Something would happen and I would have to start again.  Find another job. A clean slate. Even after I was given chances, it would inevitably come down to being told “We feel we have done everything we could and given you all the chances we could afford to give you.” Some were more abrupt than others. Some were horrible bosses. Others I miss dearly and feel sad I could not live up to what they wanted, which was never unreasonable. Which added to my insecurity regarding being ever able to keep a damn job! 

I feel very shameful of my behavior, something I don’t often feel. Shame usually involves valuing what others think of you, which I avoid doing.  I wasn’t thinking properly at the time. When mania, anxiety and distraction such as a mobile device are in play, recipe for disaster. At the very limit, it could be compared to being on drugs. I was not. Not this time.  

Sitting here with stones in my chest. Feeling crushing disappointment with myself because up until that point, I have been doing relatively good. Things were looking up. I was maintaining some balance. 

Ups and downs. Most have them. People with bipolar have both in spades. 

Again, it’s always the case when mental illness/mental health is concerned, the battle is never completely won and if you take your eyes off yourself for one second, that moment where you forget to remain self-aware, can be your downfall. Your demise. 

I can see why younger generations are into Snapchat, less record of any possible stupidity to go potentially ruin something they have worked hard to achieve and maintain. 

I am reflecting on my behavior. There is such a thing I call the three-day snowball effect, including lack of sleep, accelerated thoughts, excitable energy, potentially mixed up with irritability, anxiety and can bring paranoia. 

…Aaaaand BOOM! It all culminated in the catalyst event of this morning.

Still shell-shocked from how I allowed this to derail so quickly but just as with any other recovery; admitting, being honest with yourself and making an active change is the first step to growth and success, right? 

It’s like a guitar, I need to fine tune my instrument. Maybe get new strings. 

Back to the drawing board. Accept the consequences. Whatever they will be. It’s still unsure at this time. If they do take me back,  I will do my best to be impeccable. Definitely no more phone at work. I feel like I should have applied this already.

 Could’a. Should’a. Would’a. Still can. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

As an adult, I am very much able to admit when I failed and accept what I did wrong as one more lesson in wisdom.

This is one cautionary tale about how quickly things can derail when caught up in overshare on social media.

[redlemonz]

Day #3

Fuck everything. I can’t deal with this, what’s even happening. Ugh, all I have is this continuous warm, stabbing-like pain inside me which won’t just go away, following what felt like a bitter end to last night. Being human absolutely sucks to begin with, but even more so when you’re just a sensitive and emotionally vulnerable asshole with a chemical imbalance in his head which tells him everything is way worse, and you should deserve to feel way worse.

Day 3 - upside down & inside out

The above basically sums up the morning so far today. I woke up and punished myself, and will probably continue to, (trust me, it’s not really a choice I can make) for my actions last night. I’m an on-going detriment to myself as it is, so the real question is, why am I being one to her - even more than I already was. Just leave her alone & stop finding literally any excuse to contact her, even if it’s with good intentions - It’s not about you and it doesn’t matter anymore. Give her what she wants for a change - not you. She put up with your bullshit undeservingly for long enough.

Work. It’s a Thursday.. inching closer to the weekend - ugh, screw the weekend. Finding it difficult enough today to keep myself in tact at my desk as it is, let alone in my own lonely presence at home. I even shifted my scheduled yet unscheduled shower crying session to a different location - my car during the drive to work. Gotta change things up after all. Prior to leaving though, for some unknown reason today I decided to reattach my detachable hood to the coat-jacket-thing I’ve been wearing to work for the last couple years. Of all days, I feel like I needed it today. Not because it’s raining or anything - it’s actually a beautiful day (in which I picture myself walking BBT with her at One tree hill after work, hand in hand - great). Aside from being a wondrous fashionable alteration, I believe it’s probably more the fact that the hood gives me a false sense of security, as it shields me ever so slightly from the cruel world. I can keep to myself, only looking ahead and not having to expose myself to more, unnecessary features of society in what’s around me. Fashionable change aside, a change in myself is what I need fullstop to try get use to life without her. I can’t be the same guy I once was, as it’s all too familiar to my daily life with her. I have to be someone else.. I have to be something else (homage to the fictional guy who’s identity I’m saved on her phone under as). Which brings me to the daily cup of coffee I drank at work with the other two. No sugar or milo mixed in today (self made mocha recipe). I wanted to hate myself like the rest of the world and taste the absolute bitterness of life literally, and it definitely didn’t disappoint in that regard. I don’t deserve the sweetness. During this coffee time, I was also now starting to fail in my facade of chipper-ness. In fact I couldn’t help but openly admit to the other two, that unlike yesterday where I was trying my best to be upbeat and fine about things, that I’m not. I’m broken. I know it’s what thy wanted to hear as they saw right through me the last couple days anyway - and it’s time to start facing my own truth.. even if it’s slowly and steadily. Thankfully I was able to contain the tears. Im getting by through making small talk with other colleagues who don’t know about these circumstances, and being genuinely happy for them where I can. Glad to hear that your back injury is improving and that you’re attending all your medical appointments. Glad to hear your pregnancy is going swell as ever now, after everything you’ve been through. Glad to hear you’ve finally promoted to another team - you deserve it. Glad to hear that you think the new Doctor on the show being a female isn’t actually a problem - you’re fantastic. And so on. I just want to be able to be glad for her. Which once again it dawns upon me the constant emphasis and repetitive reminder that I need to exit her life.. to make things easy for her. Considering easy is what she wants. Pretty sure it’s quite distinguishable by now with everything written thus far that I don’t fit that/her criteria. I’ve never really been good enough when it comes down to it. I feel exhausted. It’s been a long as hell day at work & my anxiety has picked up, though still controlled as it’s still a small dose (which I am extremely thankful for). Somewhat ironically she’s actually helped me gain enough strength during our relationship to battle it - for now anyway. Let’s see, another memory to blabber on about just sparked (obviously it did - because this whole damn thing is about her and almost anything, as insignificant as it may seem, can form a link or be symbolic if your mind & heart are assholes to you) as a result of a colleague asking one of the ‘the three’ to borrow his umbrella as she broke the other one of ‘the three’’s umbrella and still owes him a replacement. Back when I was still stuck in the friendzone yet still head over boots for her, I had this cool umbrella with a samurai sword handle. She accidentally broke it through tripping down a small, not-very-steep hill on one of our many mountain walks together. I was just glad that she was alright. Then she stabbed me with said broken part of umbrella. Yup. Another accident (I hope), which caused my left thumb to continuously bleed. Never in my life I was so psyched to have brought an umbrella, and especially have the events follow in the way they did (with the exception of her falling). She so cutely wrapped up my thumb and first aided me with her scouting skills, with a bunch of leaves and whatever else she could find. My heroine. To top it all off, my thumb received a couple kisses from her, and eventually so did my cheek when we parted ways that beautiful day. From that day I still have a voice recording of her at the summit of the mountain as she was singing/shouting out the lyrics to Kelly Clarkson’s “since you’ve been gone”, of which the lyrics are now more than appropriate (yes I know, most songs are about relationships and love, if not bitches and money - which in a way are also their own relationships?). Her hair tied, black and white polka dot top & light blue jeans with a purple cardigan wrapped around them - looking as beautiful as always.. but nevertheless, back to the point at hand - She still owes me an umbrella. Though not really - the kisses I received that day and her company make up for it pretty well, and can generally make up for anything she breaks.. even a heart.

Back home (yes I’m currently living a very exciting life as you can tell). Just watched a bit of an episode of Friends - Ross still in denial though clearly crazy about Rachel, whom is unaware and worried about their history together being weird if she were to consider moving in as his flatmate (which he desperately desires). The ultimately classic television adaption of the most special kind of love between two human beings - a balance of being best friends, lovers, partners and perceptively & potentially, even soulmates. Looking back again at my recent wonderful weekend (+sick day monday) in which my failed attempts to win her back for longer than that precious time we had cherished together, I sunk low, although true to my own geeky belief, by utilising that very TV reference of us being Ross & Rachel. Definitely didn’t click straight away as to why she bursted out laughing about my overly geeky and lame reference comparison, until she made me realise I admitted to being Ross. Fuck. Long ago my group of friends had this ongoing debate with me that I was the Ross of our group, which I took as an insult at the time comparative to the other characters, cause well, it’s Ross. I overly defended my case for ages, and to this day am still firmly of the idea that I’m a combinative representation of all the main characters. Let’s break it down. Like come on - the under-appreciated punny comedy of, yet easy to pick on, Chandler (obviously my favourite as mentioned first). The obsessive Monica who can’t handle dirty dishes & has to make scheduled plans. The mainstream, basic bitch, Rachel (oh shit, please note this definition does not at all apply to 'her’ being Rachel as per my geeky romantic acclaims above. She is waaay more). The randomness and open weirdness offered by Phoebe. The comic idiot, Joey (although I don’t even have to act the part). And fine yes, the hopeless romantic, and sensitive Ross. Wow - What an positively arrogant bastard I just became during my usual scheduled time of despairing and regretting stuff. Though I don’t mean to be arrogant - as the point I was trying to bring across is that we all have various qualities and attributes from each of the Friends. They all reside in each of us to some extent, so you can’t just be fitted to one. Back to her - she just snapped me? What in the world? Okay calm down dude, relax you idiot. Don’t ruin this moment - it’s not a big deal - it’s just a snap (even though it visibly means so much considering your little bit of anxiety subsided without you initially even noticing, and you’re grinning like an idiot at her name popping up on your phone). And open! Oh the absolute bloody hell. It’s a snap of the same episode I just watched, on the plus one channel certainly enough, because it’s an hour later. The caption - “hi friend” on top of a very distinct character’s face. I’m Ross. That cheeky yet adorable little minx (Minx? What? So I tend to say non-sensical stuff & my brain freezes more than usual quite often when it comes to her). So I switch over to the same channel, grab my phone & send her a “hey friend” snap right back - and you can probably guess quite easily.. that it was on top of a portrait view of Rachel. So we snapped and chatted ever so slightly more this evening - and my whole day turned upside down - which means I’m the right way up now.

Finished writing up my little pub quiz for tomorrow at work. Snuck in a question right at the end about the snowy mountain I was at with her on the weekend, which I couldn’t resist. Well I mean I guess I could have, but didn’t want to. It just felt right and left me with blissful content, ending the quiz on such a beautiful note. Just like us. It all get quite unintentionally poetic, and I loved it. Plus people need to learn more about the Country they live in, so I’m really doing everyone favours here (says the hypocrite). What makes this night even better is that she just did my quiz. I know she didn’t probably care to talk to me or anything, which doesn’t matter because she did my quiz & I’m full of smiles as a result. I kept to my word and didn’t call her though. We made it work as I sent her real time snaps of each question on my TV, blanking out the rest of the background or hiding other questions with various random emojis. One by one. She even cutely reaffirmed the 10 second rule of answering without me having to mention anything. The smartypants ended up with 6/10 (even a 6.5 really - heh, as she chose correctly on one of them the second time but I strictly took her first answer). I can guarantee its gonna be higher than the average amongst large groups tomorrow when I conduct this live. She even cracked a few of her classic puns for one of the questions which wasn’t surprising at all, and kept this stupid smile glued to my face. Then we wished each other a nice weekend and night ahead & parted our ways. Though it was a simple experience, it was a momentous feeling - especially with that last question. I wonder if she thought back to our weekend also because of it. Maybe it made her smile? I hope so. It certainly made me.. did I already mention that? Well shit, this can’t be good.