#thank you music for existing and helping me navigate the weirdness of my life lately

[acephodel]

To help with Brain Boredom at work I've spent this week assembling a playlist with one song per letter of the alphabet. I did this by combing through my entire library of liked songs on spotify (over 3k songs) and narrowing it down to my Number One Favorite song per letter.

For some letters it was very immediately apparent what one I would choose (looking at you, Normal Song) but for other letters, trying to cut it down to only one song felt like I was murdering my own children.

Surprisingly, there are no Florence, Evanescence, or Fleetwood Mac songs on the list at all. May have to re-evaluate my entire life (moreso than I already have been the past several months lollllll)

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Can we get a fic of Everyone's first reaction to snowflake?

“Everyone was used to supernatural bullshit and as the toons already existed for several years now, they already knew that the Ink could create life. So while there was a bit of shock for some at the thought of the Janitor being the new father of a toon of his own, they mostly congratulated Wally on his new son and/or gave him parenting advice.”

...Sorry, this feels like a cop out, so we just gotta throw a child into a different dimension for kicks and giggles and character development.

Knowing the magic user's history with this kind of thing, Snowflake couldn't help but feel nervous when he saw Joey painting a large circle on the wall and intricate symbols within the said circle.

"G-grandpa Joey, what are you doing?"

"Opening a portal to a different dimension." The animator replied nonchalantly. "An important key ingredient for several reversal spells no longer seems to exist in this one, so I'm getting more from the closest one that has a lot of it before the Ink starts acting up again."

"Oh?" The little devil looked intrigued, the last time a visitor from another dimension came to their own, he was strange, but friendly! And wondered what the rest of that dimension, or other ones like it were like. "Can I come? I-I'll be good I promise!"

"Well..." Joey brushed his mustache in thought as the portal started to open. "Other dimensions can be quite unpredictable, especially ones where magic is much more secretive than it is in our own, I don't think the studio on the other side even has living toons yet!" The animator fidgeted with his collar. "And given the track record other Joeys have with their own studios and magic, I don't think it's smart for me to take you..."

"Pleeeeeaaaaasse!" the imp begged. "I promise that I'll stay close and not run off! ...unless it's an emergency."

"Hmm..."

The magic user narrowed his eyebrows and continued to stroke his mustache as he thought about the potential consequences for bringing Snowflake along. The thought of a distraught Wally discovering that he had taken his son somewhere dangerous and the kid got hurt as a result had made the man immune to the imp's otherwise irresistible puppy eyes, but the Ink behind the imp slowly rising from a puddle to a featureless figure that was making threatening gestures made him quickly realize that the consequences for NOT bringing Snowflake along might be even worse than taking him.

"Okay."

"Yay!" the little devil cheered, taking Joey by the hand and pulling him through the portal. "C'mon! Let's go see what other dad's like!"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," the old man gave a sharp tug on the speckled imp as he tried to run off and knelt down to be closer to his eye level. "This is *just* a last-resort errand run, nothing more, nothing less. Now that we're here, we are going to find the ingredient, get it and get out. Ideally, we won't even come across our alternate selves, let alone speak to them!"

"Why?"

Joey looked around nervously before bringing his voice down to a whisper and gestured for Snowflake to do the same.

"Because of the butterfly effect we'll bring here! How do you think the Wally on this side will react when you tell him you're his son from a different dimension when where he's from, magic is genuinely not real for him?"

"...He'll freak out?"

"Yes! Not only will he freak out but he'll probably tell everyone he knows! Including this world's Joey, who judging by his nickname; "That shi- shoot heel puppeteer", is the last person who needs to know about magic, let alone how to use it..."

"Oh. Yeah, that doesn't sound good..." the imp agreed as he suddenly regretted his decision. "Do you think it's too late to throw me back-"

The pair gazed at the now blank spot on the wall where they came from.

"...Unfortunately yes, so stay close and put on a disguise."

"I-I didn't bring one..." the imp sheepishly responded. "...Sorry, I got too caught up in the excitement."

Joey sighed deeply as he took off his glasses and sweater vest, putting them on the kid toon instead.

"It's not the best, but it'll do for now as long as we don't stick around long enough for them to see past it, so let's hurry out of here!"

Snowflake nodded and guided Joey as he tried to navigate the similar-yet different studio. (The man did not wear glasses for the sake of aesthetic.)

The layout seemed similar enough, but there were less pipes running through the building, the colors were duller, the stale smell of tobacco, old coffee, sweat, and a coppery-earthy scent that reminded Joey of blood but wasn't quite similar enough for him to call it that lingered in every single room they entered, the employees that they passed might as well have been reanimated corpses with how drained of energy they looked, all of them didn't even so much as acknowledge the pair's presence.

That was, until, an unfamiliar-looking yet familiar sounding janitor took notice. The man didn't look like Snowflake's dad, he was a lanky fellow and wore the same hat that his own father wore to work, but the similarities in appearance stopped right there. This world's Wally had shaggy, dark brown hair, eyes so dark that they looked black, a crooked nose, and when he smiled at them, Snowflake could clearly see that the man was missing a tooth.

"Hey, how'd you two get in 'ere?"

Joey cursed under his breath before answering the other Wally.

"Well, I was just-"

The dimension-traveling duo suddenly felt dozens of angry eyes on them, which had melted into confusion and mild intriguement as they realized that the man who spoke looked more like a kindly grandpa with an odd-looking Bendy doll with him instead of their sleazy boss. The pair of outsiders were afraid they fucked everything up before to the relief of the pair and the horror to everybody else, they heard the voice of Sammy in the other room shouting "God dammit Joey! I told you time and time again to stay out of the music department!" followed by the revving of a chainsaw.

The animator was quick to realize his mistake as he cleared his throat and did his best 'sounds like a normal voice but isn't MY normal voice' voice.

"-I was just looking for a herbal shop nearby but got turned around. If one of you fine folks could give my grandson and I directions, we'll happily get out of your hair."

Wally frowned in confusion as he looked at the very obviously not-human creature who smiled meekly at him and waved. He shrugged off the mild weirdness as he remembered that he did know where an herbal shop was.

"Dat's all? No problem! Herbal shop's right next to a really good burgah joint, has a statue of a knight wranglin' a unicorn right outside da place, ya can't miss it, an' by extension, ya can't miss da herbal shop eithah."

"Why thank you, you're too kind..."

"Oh and uh, Sorry if da musicians 'ere freaked ya out." The janitor adjusted his hat, it now covered the man's eyes. "Our music director recently got re-hirahed but nobody's willin' ta forgive da boss ova what he put him through, not dat I blame 'em, I get jitteahs every time I think about it happenin' ta me too!"

Joey nodded sympathetically as he reached for his companion's hand and internally panicked as he couldn't find it.

---

Snowflake ran off, the eyes on his back and by proxy, the pressure of knowing that the fate of this world and his own was on his back was far too intense. In his mad rush, he had only made his situation worse with everywhere he ran as he had lost Joey's glasses on accident, which was a vital part of the disguise.

"Holy sheit! is that a bloody livin' toy?!"

"What in the goddamn... Bertrum! Come look! You gotta see this!"

"My word! What has Drew done?"

"Okay, this time I'm finally going to quit for real! I swear, these hallucinations are just getting worse every time I come into work!"

"It... it worked! Tom, look!"

"Or at least, this one looks better than the first model- Hey! Get back here!"

It was terrifying thinking about how these alternate versions of the people he knew and grew to love, ones who shared their voices and careers, but not appearances, memories, and experiences could very well be his enemies. Most chilling of all, he heard Joey's voice in the crowd.

"Well done Tommy! At least this one looked halfway presentable!"

He shuddered at the thought of that Joey getting his hands on him. He didn't even know where he ran off to, only that he had to escape from them, he then squeezed himself into a small crack in the wall, an easy feat for a boneless ink creature, not so much for anything else.

His heart pounded loudly against his chest, the little imp tried to hush it, and prayed that the noise wouldn’t give him away he just needed to calm down. But his prayers went unanswered as the 'click-clack' of a pair of high heels passed by, and a woman crouched down, possibly hearing him.

“Now how on earth did you manage to wedge yourself in there, little guy?”

He recognized that voice all right, he scooched deeper into his hiding spot, hoping she’d leave him alone. The woman, the Susie Campbell of this world judging by her voice, might’ve looked at him with concern, but something about her just felt… wrong to him. He knew of alternate realities, good ones, bad ones, and downright weird ones, but this one felt uncanny to him and he just wanted to go home, it wasn't outright worse than most dimensions, but it seemed so bleak and miserable.

Hopefully he was wrong, but as of right now, it felt like this was a world that wouldn't even so much as bat an eye at its own destruction.

"I-I shouldn't have asked in the f-first place..." he muttered to himself. "I s-should've j-just left Joey to do his errand and s-stayed out of it..."

"Hey," the woman gently knocked on the wall, all the imp could see of her was her face, a face that looked mostly normal except for her left eye, which looked glassy and didn't look at him like her right eye did. "Are you okay in there?"

Snowflake stayed quiet.

"Oh no..." the woman muttered to herself. "Don't panic, I'll go get help!"

She said as she left, but her words didn't make the little guy feel any better.

He slowly crawled out of his hiding spot, ready to hunt down another one while fighting off the guilt that came with making the other Susie worry about him, while her eye was weird, she seemed just as nice as the one from his own dimension.

What seemed less nice however, was the sudden cold, yet firm grip on his shoulder.

"You know, it's very rude ta ignore folks who's just tryin' ta help you."

"Eep!"

The imp spun around to face a man with a familiar voice, he was a tall, dark-skinned, older man with an eye patch on his right eye, had a thin frame, and attire that vaguely reminded Snowflake of a comic about a western vampire hunter that Buddy showed him.

"Awfully jumpy, aren't ya, kiddo?" Norman chuckled as he knelt down to his eye level. "I get that a lot from people. But in all seriousness, we can't just have yous wanderin' around wherever you please, this here studio's a dang deathtrap, even on the best of days."

"S-sorry Norman..." Snowflake adjusted Joey's sweater vest as a realization dawned on him: judging by the studio workers' lack of a surprised reaction to him, this world might be more magical than his own world's Joey assumed. "Hey, wait a minute, are toons real h-here too? Can I find Bendy, Alice and Boris around here?"

Norman raised an eyebrow in confusion, but thankfully for the imp's sake, he stayed calm.

"Mr. Drew's tryin' but he ain't got a dang thing ta show for it. Although, I'm kinda hoping he can't, it doesn't sit too right with me. Just call it a gut feelin', but I don't trust that anythin' good will come from him messing with things like that."

"Y-yeah..." Snowflake nodded. "I've been here for less than f-fifteen minutes and I think I can see exactly what you mean. This place's Joey seems so much worse than my Joey."

"Sorry ta hear that little guy..." Norman knelt down to the little demon. "So, would ya mind ta tell me about this 'other Joey?"

"Oh, sure thing!"

---

True to her word, when Susie returned, she brought over three people; Wally, Joey who was now wearing his slightly broken glasses (Who Snowflake was relieved to see), and a shirtless, long-haired man with a chainsaw in his hands.

He was tall and broad, had dark brown hair and tan skin, his eyes were a stormy gray, and they were sharp with a steadfast determination that made Snowflake feel nervous, the little imp felt like there was something deeply terrifying about this man, and not just because he was currently carrying a dangerous weapon. Although, he couldn't deny that he felt a sense of familiarity with this man that he had not felt with the others in this dimension.

Snowflake felt like he's met this man before.

"Alright, and he should be right here..." The voice actress trailed off as she saw the timid devil shyly wave at her, very much freed from his wall prison and seemed to be chatting with her favorite projectionist. "Oh! Hi Norman! Thanks for getting him out for us and keeping him company!"

"It was no problem, the kid wasn't half bad company."

"Ya know kid, we're glad ta see ya okay, but your grandpops and I was lookin' everywhere for you! Not gonna lie, ya gave us both a scare when ya ran off alone like dat."

"The fuck is that thing?"

"Sammy!" The woman elbowed the shirtless man in the ribs. "Be nice!"

"Alright..." The man rolled his eyes and gave a forced smile that showed off black gums and yellowish-grayish teeth that creeped Snowflake out (the smile itself, not the man's gums or teeth, judging by his smell, he was an avid smoker and it was at least normal for him to have a mouth like that, the smile however... he doesn't think a man's smile should be that wide.). As he lifted the little devil up by the shirt like a scruffed kitten, he presented him to Joey. "Now then, is this your lost little lamb?"

"Yes." Joey reached for the imp. "Please don't hold him like that."

"Nearest exit is down the hall, take a right turn when you reach the giant broken pipe that's leaking everywhere and hasn't been touched for at least a week." The man gestured fluidly as he still held up that creepy smile. "As... lovely as it was for you two to visit us and our little studio, we really should be getting back to work before Joey decides to fire and blacklist everyone in this room for loitering or something."

"Uh... thanks?" Joey suddenly snapped upright. "Wait, how are you all so calm about this?! All of you are barely even reacting over a living cartoon character right there!"

"Speaking of which do you know who doesn't need to know about that? Our boss. You claim you're not here for a meet and greet and I don't think this should turn into one. You got the information you came here for, now get what you needed from here and get out."

"Wow, you're a rather blunt fellow, aren't you?"

"You could say so."

"W-well, I-it was scary, but it was also nice meeting all of you! Maybe we should visit again later so we can know each other better!"

"Oooh! I'll look forward to it!" Susie smiled warmly. "Good luck with your ingredient hunt, boys!"

Sammy started to shove the pair down the hall as he felt they wouldn't leave otherwise.

"Yeah, yeah, goodbye and all that, see you soon, I won't forget to write... Have yourselves some happy travels! Goodbye again."

The musician led them out of the building and dusted off his hands as he returned to the others who did not look happy with him.

"That was very rude, Lawrence..." Susie scolded. "They just wanted our help!"

Wally shook his head but didn't add anything.

"And we gave it!” He hissed. “Do you really think it would be safe for them to stay and talk with the shitheel around? Especially after what he just did to us?! Do you want HIM to know that there's a different version of him who got everything he's wanted and more? What do you think he'll do to them when he finds them? Do you want to find out?"

Susie's face scrunched up in realization as the other two men uncomfortably shuffled in their spots.

"I thought so..."

"...Think they'll come back?" Norman piped up. "I kinda wanted to talk with that other Joey."

The musician shrugged.

"Do ya at least think we'll find a way ta get ta 'em ourselves?"

"Maybe? If they would a way here, I wouldn't be surprised if we could get there."

"Wanna look for a way there? Ya gotta admit you're curious what the other us are like too!"

"Hmm... Well, maybe after hours."

[star-six7]

Young and Reckless (It’s Just Past 8)

Frank Iero x Band Member!Reader (Gender Neutral), Bullets era.

Words: 1234

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction. No part of this story is meant to be libel, slander, or in any way derogatory towards any character’s real life counterpart. I’m not delusional; I know that these characters are simply based off of a public persona and may not actually resemble the people behind those personas. Any additional characters that you do not recognize are entirely fictional, unless otherwise stated. And finally, if you got here by Googling yourself, whatever happens next is 100% on you.

Touring could get weird. It was tough being away from friends and family for months at a time, sleep could only be found at the oddest of times and places, the food was questionable at best, and showers were practically non-existent. All of this combined with the nervous thrill of trying to play a killer show every single night sometimes made people act out in weird ways. Moods varied from cranky to hyper to withdrawn, often all within the same night. When My Chemical Romance began to tour more and more often in support of their debut record, this was something you had to learn to love- you were one of the band’s original members, after all. Therefore, one quiet afternoon during the heat of summer, it really didn’t come as a surprise when Frank randomly started pinching your arm during a particularly long stretch on the road.

“Frank.”

Pinch.

“Frank, I swear to god. I am trying to read.”

Pinch.

“If you pinch me one more time-” you glared down at Frank, who was curled up on his back with the top of his head pushed against your hip. He grinned right back up at you, the picture of innocence. However, you (and anyone who had known him for more than 5 minutes) were well aware that “Frank” and “innocence” should never be used in the same sentence.

“If you kids don’t stop fighting, I will turn this car around; so help me God,” Gerard called idly from the driver’s seat.

Pinch.

“Okay Frank, really now, what’s up?” you said, keeping your voice down so that Gerard could focus on the road. You shut your worn novel and twisted in your seat to look down at him. He just smiled again and turned over, already on the way to falling asleep.

---

By the time you were midway through the set at that night’s club, you had completely forgotten about the confusing and mildly infuriating incident with Frank. On stage, everything else seemed to fade away - except for the guys and the music you were working so hard to bring to life. However, what had happened earlier that afternoon was brought to the forefront of your mind when Frank started throwing picks at you from across the stage.

At first, it was easy to chalk it up to his chaotic stage persona- he was always doing whatever he could to get a rise out of you, Mikey, or Ray. However, it soon became clear that tonight he was zeroed in on you, taking every short break between songs to launch picks and water bottle caps at your back and the side of your head. You tried to catch his eye a couple of times, wondering if you had done something to genuinely piss him off, but he just laughed and refused to meet your questioning stare.

---

After the show, when the endless barrage of small projectiles had ended, you tried to corner him while you were supposed to be helping load up the van. You cut him off just as he came out the back door of the club, glaring at him with your arms crossed.

“Hi, um, excuse me, Frank, but what the actual fuck,” you demanded.

Instead of explaining his sudden fixation with mildly attacking and greatly confusing you, or even addressing you like a normal human being and speaking to you directly, he dropped the box of cables he was holding at your feet. Grinning wider than before, he ran across the parking lot, spurring Ray to chase after him, laughing. You sighed, picked up the box, and started carrying it towards the van when the glint of a familiar pair of glasses caught your eye. Instinctively, you glanced in their direction, and saw Mikey observing the entire situation with a carefully bored expression.

“Mikey, what’s going on with Frank? Did I do something?” you asked plainly. Mikey was the one to go to if there was conflict within the band; somehow, he always seemed to know everything that was going on.

“I don’t know,” he said, almost smirking. “What do you think’s happening?”

“I honestly have no clue. He’s acting…” you frowned, realization dawning on you. “He’s acting like a third grader with a crush!”

Mikey said nothing, and simply turned around to continue loading the van.

The idea that Frank might have a thing for you… was jarring, to say the least. You had spent the entirety of the last several months carefully constructing a mental wall between your friendship with Frank (for the sake of the band) and your feelings for him. Since the first time you had watched Pencey play in a crowded basement, to opening for them with My Chem in the next state over, and finally, Frank joining the band just before the release of Bullets, you had only fallen deeper and deeper for him. The idea that maybe, just maybe, the secret that you had been harboring for almost a year didn’t need to be kept secret anymore made you feel like a third grader with a crush too.

After that mildly earth-shattering revelation, all of Frank’s weird behavior quickly turned from being confusing and frustrating to endearing. You felt giddy, giggling every time Frank made a big show of stealing a fry off of your plate at the diner the band had chosen for a late dinner that night. Though you were eager to find out if your suspicions were correct, you knew you needed to wait until the two of you were alone. Luckily, it happened to be Frank’s turn to drive next, and you had won the right to shotgun that night after beating Ray in an intense game of license plate bingo.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur, and before you knew it, you were watching the streetlights fly past as Frank navigated the van back onto the freeway. For a while, the two of you drove in silence, not wanting to disturb the other four who were clearly trying to get some sleep before the next bathroom break. Clearly, the playful, teasing mood of earlier was gone, though the companionable silence wasn’t unpleasant.

After a few minutes, Frank cleared his throat. “Why don’t you put on some music?” he suggested.

You flipped through the stack of CDs in the glove compartment, settling on one that you knew both of you loved. After turning down the volume to an appropriate level, you kicked back in your seat, occasionally checking the rearview mirror to make sure everyone else was asleep. You also noticed Frank glancing at you out of the corner of his eye every so often.

It was now or never, you thought. “Frank,” you started.

“Yeah?”

“So, about earlier…” you watched as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “You were really acting up, huh? Trying to get my attention?”

He nodded, turning scarlet.

“Well, you didn’t need to act like a lovesick fourth grader,” you laughed. ”You already had it. You have since the day we met.”

You watched his face as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “I do?”

“Of course you do, so why don’t we skip to the part where we hold hands underneath the slide?” you grinned.

Smiling, he took one hand off of the wheel and gently rested it on yours.

“I think we can do that.”

A/N: Thank you for reading my work! If you enjoyed it, please comment and let me know what you liked about it or what your favorite part was! Also, feel free to send in requests! :) 

[peach-jaehyunie]

Everybody Hurts

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader, Jaehyun x OC

Genre: Polyamory, friends with benefits, angst, one-shot

Warnings: swearing, sexual situations, unhealthy friendship

Rating: 18+

Words: 3,490

Jaehyun is just a FWB, or that's what you tell yourself. Seeing other people is okay; you wanted to be uncommitted...right? When Jaehyun hooks up with someone you're close to bad memories gradually resurface.

A/N: Not sure how I feel about this one...just needed to get some angst off my chest.

Friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. Keeping it casual. Amid a busy work schedule, a desire to be uncommitted until you were sure, and a burgeoning sex drive your love life consisted of booty calls. There were only about 3 regulars: people you went out with, spent time with, and, yes, at the end (or sometimes the beginning) of the night had sex with. Spending the night was optional but comfortable. None of them knew each other, but they knew of the other’s existence.

You kissed Maria goodbye, explaining that you couldn’t stay long because you needed to go home to be with your roommate who was going through a bad break up. On the way home, you went to a bakery and bought some sweets to take to Lara, as well as ordering her favourite meal to be delivered to your shared apartment.

Lara hadn’t texted you, but she should have been home from work by now you thought as you climbed the stairs to the 4th floor. You heard music playing as you unlocked the door and walked into your home—looking up to catch Jaehyun’s eyes as he was balls deep inside your roommate.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You quickly blurted out, feeling your face heat up uncomfortably, as you ducked out the door. Lara’s eyes never leaving you in your retreat.

You swallowed, trying to process what you had just seen.

“Food delivery,” a young woman called, waking you from your stupor outside your door.

“Thank you,” you said to her as she left.

You sat the food down, and the little confectionary box on top of it all outside the door. You could hear Lara and Jaehyun fucking. In a few minutes you were sitting in a deserted café, the barista was taking your order. You sat facing the window that overlooked the entrance of your apartment complex. It was your day off: you felt sore from rock climbing with Maria, you felt hungry thinking that you probably need that cake more than Lara right about now, but most of all you felt very shitty. Sure, you knew Jaehyun slept with other people, just as you did! But that had never, under any circumstance, prepared you for the day you would walk in on him shagging your roommate. Lara was also, technically, your best friend. You considered that she and Jaehyun have had sex on your couch, but you and Jaehyun never had. It was all okay though because it was just three consenting adults living their life how they please. No harm was done, no one was hurt (well, you were, but that would mean exploring feelings and circumstances you were unsure of). He did nothing wrong. The minutes seemed like hours as you waited for him to leave your house. After an hour you were worried that he might have decided to spend the night. You got up and paid for drinks, relieved to see Jaehyun exiting your apartment building when you next looked out the window. You hoped to find Lara in her room when you got home.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said to you as you walked in.

You internally grimaced seeing her sitting on the sofa—clothed now— drinking a steaming cup of tea. You forced yourself to smile at her.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” You decided to pretend that you didn’t walk in on anything earlier and you were just coming home to console her as originally planned.

“I’m...” a slow smile broke on her face “Actually feeling pretty good.”

Lara patted the seat next to her, and you sat down offering her a hug: she smelled like coconut shampoo and Jaehyun’s cologne. Was it selfish that you just wanted to be in your room right now?

“Oh! I have something for you,” she twisted around to grab an envelope off the coffee table. “Jaehyun dropped by to see you and give you this.”

You opened the envelope: two tickets to the theatre and a little note that read—

Happy early birthday! I know you wanted to see this and it premieres right before your birthday. There are two tickets, I hope you choose me as your date but it’s okay if you don’t.

-Jaehyun

He had signed a messy heart next to his name. You carefully returned the tickets and the note to the envelope.

“It’s a pair of tickets to a play for my birthday.” You told Lara in monotone.

“That’s so sweet! Y/N, when Jaehyun came over to see you, I was such a mess. I felt so bad that I was crying all over him, but I just couldn’t help it. He was so sweet though, and he really comforted me, it was so nice.”

Lara smiled and squeezed your hands. She hesitated before she went on, but she must have been encouraged by the fake smile you gave her.

“Agh, okay, I’m just gonna talk about it! I feel so much better after sleeping with him! I feel like I should maybe just see people casually like you guys do for a while. Just to get back out there, you know?”

No, you didn’t know. You didn’t have multiple relationships to try and break into the dating scene. To your chagrin, Lara began to talk about the sex. She told you all about how it happened (she had kissed him first, and how Jaehyun had been reluctant at first because she was going through a break up), and little things that he had done that her other lovers had never. You felt as if she spoke to you like you hadn’t had sex with Jaehyun multiple times a month for the past year and a half.

“That’s so wonderful, I’m glad you feel so much better. I’m always here if you’re not okay and just want to talk, okay?” You say to her as you part ways in the hallway to your separate rooms. Lies.

Your stomach hurts, maybe from not eating, maybe from feeling stepped on and looked over. You lay in bed, licking your proverbial wounds. “When Jaehyun came over to see you” Yeah, he came over to see me—not you, bitch.

Your stomach churned when you thought of a month ago when you had gotten drunk and told Lara how Jaehyun made you feel. You had told her that he was your favourite—not just in bed, but all around as a person he made you feel happy. You had said that you wanted to still see other people, but you always wanted to see Jaehyun most. She had asked if you loved him. “Of course” had been your reply. But it was not the same type of love that one is accustomed to reading in any two-lovers story. You were not two lovers, you were a myriad of lovers. Each one different, each one bringing something special to the table.

_________________________________

<<Thanks so much, let’s go together!>>

You texted Jaehyun when he asked if you had gotten the envelope. Lara walked around the apartment humming, checking her hair and slipping into her coat.

“You look really nice, where are you headed off to?” You ask her from the kitchen.

“I’m going over to Jaehyun’s, I didn’t want us to keep you up!” She laughed as if she had just been told a very funny joke and shut the front door behind her.

Was it because she was your roommate? Was it because she was your best friend? Why did you hate it so much that Jaehyun was sleeping with Lara. You thought of the model that Jaehyun sometimes saw—you had never met her, but you had seen her pictures in magazines; why didn’t you feel sad about her?

A few days later when you and Lara were watching movies and snacking you realized one reason why:

“Do you think...Jaehyun would ever commit to someone, like do you know if he exclusively dates?” She posed the question to you.

“He has in the past, so I don’t see why not.” You hear yourself say.

You were nothing more than a FWB, you knew that. Someday he was bound to move on with somebody else who was more ready to commit to a socially standard relationship than you.

On Thursday you and Jaehyun met for your usual lunch near work. It was the first time you had seen him since last week.

“Okay, so should we go out to dinner before or after the play on Saturday?”

“After will be kind of late, don’t you think?” You scowled for a second, “Actually, let’s skip dinner, you’re probably busy and I don’t want to take up your whole evening.”

“I’m not busy,” Jaehyun looks across the table at you.

You’re acting weird, and when he tries to put his hand on your knee below the table you pull away saying that the waiter is watching. You feel awful and sad for pushing him away because he did nothing wrong! That’s what you tell yourself every day: they did nothing wrong, but you’re wrong for being upset about it.

——————————————————

“You look really nice.” Jaehyun leans over to kiss you as you settle into the passenger seat. You turn your head at the last second and his lips connect with your cheek. If he is disappointed he hides it well.

“Thank you for this again, I’m really happy I get to see it.” You smile over at him, it feels like an apology and leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

It feels like a date...but it also doesn’t. The two of you have been on dates before and the atmosphere you have created is different. You hold him at a distance; a separation that had never been even when you first met. You and Jaehyun chat comfortably about the play and about your days during intermission, but you feel tension between the two of you.

“Did you like the ending?” You walk a step behind him, navigating your way down the icy steps into the parking garage.

“Yes, but they never said all that they felt. If they had communicated more they could have maybe saved themselves from some of the pain and arguing.” Jaehyun doesn’t say this quickly, he considers his words. You wonder if he’s just talking about the play.

“Not everyone communicates really well with everyone else; neither of them could really talk to the other honestly or in an environment where they actually felt like they were speaking and being heard.” You counter it’s sometimes too easy to see the flaws in another relationship and criticize it. The car unlocks, and with a press of a button from 15 steps away Jaehyun has it running.

“I’m hungry, are you sure you don’t want to go out to eat somewhere?” He looks over at you while putting on his seatbelt. “Or we could just go to my place and order food,”

“Um...” you can feel his eyes on you, waiting for an answer. “Let’s just,” you can’t go home with him; you knew Lara had been there many times now. “Go out and eat.”

Jaehyun nodded his head, “What do you have in mind?”

“Oh anything,” you shrugged.

“It’s your birthday present, you can choose anything you want.” He persists. You name the first thing that comes to mind for food, eager for this night to be over but also resenting that you’re not spending more time with him.

“Wait,” Jaehyun stops you as go to open the car door when he pulls up outside your building.

“What?” You turn your head and his lips meet yours. It lasts a few seconds, lips moving against one another and familiar heat builds in your body. You pull away from him, staring out the windshield: lost.

Jaehyun clears his throat, “What changed? What did I do?” He looks over at your profile.

“Lara’s my best friend,” you start, licking your lips and trying to come up with any plausible explanation. “And my roommate. And, ultimately, as much as I love her I don't wish to include her in my sex life.” Yeah, that was kinda part of the reason. What were you going to say; that it made you feel shitty?

“That’s it?” Jaehyun finally says.

“Yeah,” That’s it.

“Do you want me to not see her anymore?” He’s not looking at you anymore.

“No!” Yes. You fake a smile, “I want you and Lara and you and whoever to have a great time. But for me, Lara is a little too close to home. It makes me uncomfortable, so I’m removing myself from the equation.” You wave your hand as if the whole situation is really nothing to you. As if it hadn’t made you lose sleep.

“So you’re not asking me to choose between the two of you?”

“No!” You insist, he sounded annoyed when he just spoke.

“I don’t get how this is different from when it’s other people: I sleep with other people and you sleep with other people, and it’s never been a problem.” He says, suddenly sounding defensive.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not exactly passing myself out among your friends. I already told you it makes me uncomfortable, so I think I can choose not to fuck someone who’s fucking my best friend.” You jerk the car door open, nearly falling out as your foot missed the curb.

“So you are saying ‘choose between us’!” Jaehyun calls after you, opening his door as you slam yours.

“It’s just sex, Jaehyun!” You tell him shrilly. He stands by the driver's side door, watching as you try and hold it together on the small sidewalk. “You can get it anywhere and from anyone, and I just don’t want to anymore with you!” If you say another word tears will come.

“Nights like tonight? They were never ‘just sex’. Hanging out and talking was never about just sex. Our weekly lunches were never about sex at all! It was about us enjoying each other’s company, and finding each other attractive.” Jaehyun scuffs his shoes against the pavement, shaking his head and looking away from you for a moment before speaking again: “Or was that not how you saw it? If I stop—“

“No!” A coldness rises in your stomach, and your eyes burn as they become blurry with tears. “I don’t know what I want, but I know that Lara and I aren’t sleeping with the same guy again.” You sob, turning away and hurrying into your building.

In the elevator, you give over to the tears of humiliation, anger, but mostly self-pity. FWBs don’t ask you to stop hooking up with other FWBs—or at least not any that you know of. Cut the ties before you really get hurt. They’re not wrong, you’re just too attached. That’s what you remind yourself. That’s why Jaehyun was getting upset, you tried to reason.

“What happened?l Lara quickly says when you walk through the door with tears streaming down your face. It all felt like a bad movie, except it was your life.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong—“ Lara quickly got up off the couch to try and console you. No matter your rush she reaches you before you can slam your bedroom door behind yourself.

“Don’t touch me!” You cry, pushing her hands away “Learn to be unhappy for five minutes like the rest of us, you selfish bitch.”

As soon as you are alone in your room you sink to the floor, sobbing. They don’t ever choose you. At first, it was Minho in high school: he had been your crush over a year...and then Lara had slept with him. But you couldn’t blame that on Lara; Minho just didn’t like you that way. Or when you, Lara, and your at-the-time boyfriend, Peter, had all been living together and after about 5 months Lara came sobbing to you one night because she felt guilty about having been carrying on an affair with Peter for the last 2. But you couldn’t blame that on Lara: Peter had been a shitty boyfriend and preyed upon Lara’s emotional vulnerability at the time. Did you believe that? Or did you think that she might have thrown herself at them because she was feeling sorry for herself. Where her actions self-pity for the sake of self-pity, or sabotages of your happiness disguised as self-pity.

You laid on your bed, curling up plagued with painful memories of the past. Why did you sweep it under the rug every time? Maybe it was because Lara cried more, and begged for forgiveness while saying she felt so guilty and scared about losing you as a friend. No one else treated her with enough kindness, but she told you that you did. Maybe it was because she knew your every secret, and every misdeed and always accepted each one with open and loving arms.

“It’s not fair,” you mutter to yourself, straggling tears running down your face. Lara’s pain was always treated as more painful. When she was hurt, somehow you would always get hurt too. She couldn’t be alone or unloved, but if you felt that way it was okay as long as someone was with Lara and she was loved and given attention. It felt twisted, but losing Lara felt like losing part of yourself. You would apologize for calling her a ‘selfish bitch’ and she would cry telling you how much you hurt her.

...And once again, your feelings would be kept to yourself because maybe if you told Lara how she made you feel you would hurt her. That was the crazy thing, even your feelings would be made about her.

—————————————————

You love your days and nights with Maria and Junha, but it’s not the same without Jaehyun. You miss him: the lunch dates, the regular dates, talking about shared interests.

Lara decides the casual sex isn’t for her soon after you tell her that you’re not seeing Jaehyun anymore. The convenient timing of this admission leaves you bitter. At least she could have made your pain and inner turmoil worthwhile and seen him for a few more weeks. It’s a bad circus trick, and you’re the sad clown that nobody likes, or wants to look at. You spend your days trying to make up for saying hurtful things to Lara. She says she’s sorry and didn’t mean to hurt your friendship or relationship with Jaehyun. You’re not sure whether or not to believe her anymore. You want boundaries in your friendship. The unhealthiness of the relationship between you and Lara was gradually eating away at you.

——————————————————-

It’s a Tuesday in March when you’re sitting in a familiar restaurant eating a familiar lunch. Your phone dings: a text from Lara of photos of her dinner last night with a friend from work.

“Is this seat taken?” A familiar voice asks.

Jaehyun gestures to the chair across from you, his expression soft and hopeful.

“No—it’s not taken.” The moments before you spoke you felt as if you hadn’t breathed. Your lungs welcome air after the shock of seeing him again—it shouldn’t be a shock; this was a familiar place for both of you. He had sat in that chair at this table, across from you before.

The waiter brings a side dish that you ordered.

“Will you be having anything?” They ask Jaehyun. Jaehyun’s eyes search for yours, and you give him an almost imperceptible nod of your head. Jaehyun waits for you to finish eating before he speaks; you can’t avoid his questions by chewing. Not that you want to avoid them, but sometimes you weren’t sure how you felt anymore.

“How have you been?” He’s slightly tense, which is a rarity.

“Very well, and you?” Very formal, and colder than you had meant to be.

“Fine,” there’s an awkward silence. You can tell he wants to say something, but he distracts himself with eating for a moment. He looks as if he has decided to speak again, but changes his mind at the last minute.

“I, um...l—“ Jaehyun mumbles something into his bowl.

“What?” The word falls lightly from your lips, not wanting to mishear him.

“I chose you.” He looks across at you. A frown forms by habit on his face and he must realize because he quickly changed his expression to something more stoic.

He must be waiting for you to speak, but you don’t. You don’t know what you feel, you don’t know how much is okay to feel. No one had ever chosen you; what happened now? Did you choose him back?

“I wanted you to ask me to choose you; I wanted you to say you wanted me, too. I called Lara up the day after and told her that she and I couldn’t see each other again.”

“You broke it off with Lara?” You’re a bit stunned, had she lied about that?

“I still choose you.”

[artificialqueens]

we might be hollow (but we're brave) [jan x jackie] - pinkgrapefruit

A/N - hey! incase you hadn’t noticed i’m in love with this ship and I had these lyrics and timestamps in my google docs for months with branjie but it just wasn’t fully fitting. thanks to Alex for betaing and i hope you enjoy it! let me know what you think <3

*

we might be hollow (but we’re brave)

We’re never done with killing time

Can I kill it with you?

‘Til the veins run red and blue

1 7 0 7 - 0 3 - 1 5 - 2 0 0 9

The car hums, low and hoarse as Jackie waits in the school lot. She’d offhandedly promised to pick up her english partner and all of a sudden she’s regretting it, twenty minutes late and low on fuel. She switches it off, flicking the key, and then back on again, hoping not to burn out the fragile engine.

She runs out of the school sweaty and flustered, gym bag slung haphazardly over her shoulder and for a second Jackie is fixated on the way Jan’s baby hairs have plastered themselves across her forehead. The smaller girl slings her bag through the open back window, watching with a smirk as Jackie cringes - sending a warm smile in gratitude.

They play the music loud and keep the air con on low, just cool enough to dry Jan’s hair without the native New Jerseyan complaining about how it’s warmer in the arctic. Jackie’s from Canada, she doesn’t really care.

Jan gives vague directions to her home as and when she sees fit, often directing Jackie to take turns she didn’t even know existed when they’re already almost past them. It drives the brunette mad as she abuses the car’s delicate steering, all to navigate the New Jersey suburbs.

What she does notice is they end up barely two streets over from her own house. A standard three bed, two bath, decent garden house that looks just as identical as every other one in the neighbourhood.

It’s painted blue. Jackie thinks it fits.

They spend the early evening reading excerpts of Romeo and Juliet to each other on Jan’s porch. The blonde reads on the porch chair as it swings aimlessly in the warm early spring breeze. She’s still in her cheer uniform and Jackie doesn’t have a chance to ask how she manages both cheer and soccer. Jackie barely manages hockey.

They eat homemade ice cream sundaes and watch the sunset over the eerie glow of the street lamps until Jan complains she can’t see the pages anymore and Jackie has long since stopped making notes on prose and characters.

They don’t talk about school tomorrow because they won’t see each other. Jan asks if she will pick her up. Jackie says yes.

We come around here all the time

Got a lot to not do, let me kill it with you

0 7 3 2 - 0 4 - 0 2 - 2 0 0 9

Jackie gets a text at half past seven telling her quite emphatically that Jan is running late. There is no question posed that Jackie can discern on the Nokia n95 screen - the glare from the early morning screen compromising her vision anyway - but she grabs her rucksack and the keys to the car and swings round the corner anyway.

She rationalises it by telling herself that it’s on the way to school anyway. It is.

She pulls up and Jan is sat on the porch steps in a pastel pink denim miniskirt and a glittery letterman jacket. She skips to the car and slides onto the front seat with a telltale squeak of bare legs on leather, throwing her bag onto the backseat in a way that still makes Jackie cringe even after two weeks. She smells of lemongrass and vanilla.

The blonde giggles and Jackie catches her mouth curving up in the reverse mirror, so she lets Jan pick the music and just focuses on the gear stick and anything else in her control.

She watches as the blonde sways to Fifteen by Taylor Swift, belting out the lyrics like she can feel them in her soul. They’re sophomores but they were freshmen last year and to be honest, from what she knows of Jan, she wouldn’t be surprised if that was her life.

They pull into the school parking lot to the sounds of Fearless and even Jackie cracks a smile at the way Jan is beaming. They have five minutes before they need to be in school and Jackie averts her eyes as Jan twists awkwardly to grab her bag from where it ended up on the floor, skirt riding up so the brunette can see the plum lace of her panties. She gulps and pulls out her well worn copy of Little Women instead. Not watching as Jan quickly reviews her AP Biology textbook.

“Thanks Jackie! You’re the best,” Jan calls as she slams the rickety car door on the third attempt.

“Anytime Jan.” And Jackie finds she means it.

You pick me up and take me home again

Head out the window again

We’re hollow like the bottles that we drain

0 1 2 5 - 0 7 - 1 7 - 2 0 0 9

Jackie’s phone vibrates under her pillow at one in the morning on a friday. They’ve been on summer break for a month and Jackie hasn’t really done much but she’ll admit she’s missed Jan. Until she woke her up that is.

She answers it with a defeated sign, tugging on her oversized Van Halen t-shirt until it feels decent even though no one is going to look into her tiny bedroom. The light filters through the window in a way that makes it feel like she’s in a weird horror film and she remembers why this is called the witching hour.

“Come over Jack, I’m bored,” comes the whine from down the phone and Jackie has to stifle a laugh even though she knows how much trouble she could get in for this. She sighs. She can’t really argue -  doesn’t want to. She’s always been called boring. She doesn’t want to be anymore.

“I’m coming Jan, gimme five.”

She tugs on an oversized jacket and pulls a pair of gym shorts under her shirt, grabbing the running trainers from the bottom of her closet and spritzing a couple of squirts of sandalwood and shea from her almost empty perfume bottle. When she’s pretty sure she looks okay, she pushes up her window and thanks the gods she’s over the porch. It’s well structured and surprisingly easy to climb both up and down (her brother proved it to her last week) and she slides the window shut behind her as she shimmies down stained wood into the crisp summer night.

It’s not cold and the summer moon means it’s not dark either so she manages the walk quite calmly, feeling a freedom she sometimes forgets she has.

Jan’s sat on her porch steps in a pair of grey joggers and a black sports bra, draped in a tartan blanket and with what is unmistakably a bottle of wine gripped between her thighs.

They don’t actually talk for a while, just pass the bottle between themselves taking swigs of it like it’s water until Jan is giggling at a sparrow - the moon making her blonde hair glow in a way Jackie deems completely unfair. She’s ethereal, godlike in this light and Jan wants to tuck some of the escaped strands back behind her ear so she can watch the shadow in the curve of her upper lip.

She wants them to talk about boys, or talk about girls - to delve into who they are because surely that’s how you should spend wine time at two a.m but the wine is all gone and Jan’s cheek is soft on Jackie’s padded shoulder and somehow their fingers intertwine.  

She starts humming something under her breath, something old - a song her dad used to sing her to help her sleep and Jan tugs at her hand to make her sing it louder until Jackie is serenading the sleepy neighbourhood with Mama Cass.

She shakes Jan awake just after four as the sun rises down the wide street. Their knees are stiff but Jan stands up, tugging Jackie by the hands into a hug. She’s not sure what it’s for but it’s welcomed and when Jackie clambers back through her window she can smell vanilla.

You drape your wrists over the steering wheel

Pulses can drive from here

We might be hollow, but we’re brave

0 5 0 2 - 0 1 - 0 1 -2 0 1 0

She’s clad in a hoodie and leggings when she pulls up to the big house. The party she was at finished hours ago but she’s told Jan to text her if she needed her and apparently she needs her so she’d put the heating on full blast and grabbed a blanket out of the trunk to wrap the smaller girl in when she came out.

She watches as she walks carefully out of the house, feet bare and stiletto heels in her hands. Jan slides into the front seat quietly. She carefully drops the heels into the foot-well and puts an awful lot of effort into fastening her seat-belt just right until she looks up at Jackie and something snaps.

Her eyes are red and raw and her lipstick is smudged across her chin and she looks so tired Jackie wants to bundle her up, hold her close and never let her go. But she doesn’t.

She places one hand in her lap and drives calmly to an empty house down the road, pulling into the drive and turning the engine off.

Jan is gripping her hand like a lifeline, clammy fingers twisted around soft flesh. In the light of the streetlamp, there are scratched on Jan’s bare thighs and Jackie gulps on reflex - choking back something that could have been a retch if what she’s thinking is true.

She takes a second to compose herself, brushing through Jan’s hair with her free hand. “You okay baby?” She asks quiet and still - trying to keep the situation as tranquil as she can.

Jan takes a huge snotty inhale, broken by sobs, and shakes her head. She tries to speak but she isn’t breathing enough to form words and all that’s coming out is a choked whimper.

“Hey, Jan honey, you’re safe,” she murmurs, “look at me babe.” She repeats it until the blonde will look her in the eyes, her cerulean orbs pooling. “Can I touch you?” Jackie asks, her tone soothing, and Jan nods slowly.

Jackie places a cool hand on her shoulder and feels the sticky sweat against her dry skin. The smell of cheap vodka, beer and mens cologne is filling the car and it makes her feel sick. She’s not a partier or a massive drinker but by the smell alone she doesn’t understand the appeal. She moves quickly, whipping her head around as she remembers the water bottle she keeps in the door. She places it in Jan’s lap and gently coaxes her to take a sip.

After a little while longer Jan rolls her shoulders back and squeezes Jackie’s hand appreciatively. She nods to herself while trying to find her words and Jackie rubs slow circles on her back.

“It, it was twelve and everyone was cheering,“ she starts, slowly, methodically. "And he- he wanted a kiss, which was fine because everyone was kissing and I’d joked last week that I’d kiss him so it was okay,” She pauses, justifying things that don’t need justifying, setting off alarm bells in Jackie’s head to the point where she’s mentally screaming and the story hasn’t even begun.

“But then,” she continues after a sip of water, “at like three, he pulled me aside while Jaida and Gigi were dancing and asked me for a kiss and I said yes because it seemed like the right thing to do.” She’s got silent tears running down her face again and Jackie wants to tell her she doesn’t have to keep going but she’s frozen in place. “But then it, it took a while and he took my hand and he put it down his trousers and he started kissing down my neck.” The words aren’t given tone anymore. They’re cold hard statements of fact that are rattling through Jackie’s ribs, making her fight every urge she has to vomit because Jan’s become her best friend.

“And I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t like him like that and I just wanted a fun kiss. But he made me touch him and I didn’t want that at all.” Jan starts to shake so Jackie pulls the blanket back over her, Keeping one steadying hand on her knee - steadying for the both of them. “So I pulled away and he called me a whore and then I trapped myself in a bedroom and then I texted you and it was awful Jackie. It was terrible and the worst part was I just wanted you.” She sobs openly but the tears run clear now - the mascara washed off her face and she seems lighter and that’s all Jackie could ask for.

“You are so brave Jan,” Jackie says with as much confidence as she can muster. “You are so brave and that man is a coward and a dick if he thinks he can do that to a woman and you are the strongest person I know, don’t you forget that.” She leans her forehead on the side of the blonde’s head and sighs.

“I’m so sorry baby."

“Me too,” Jan murmurs. “Me too.”

I love these roads where the houses don’t change (and I like you)

2 2 5 6 - 0 5 - 2 2 - 2 0 1 0

“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,” mutters Jackie, knees bouncing, clammy palms on the leather seats.

They’re racing down the empty street, lamps flickering as they pass. If it was any lighter, neighbourhood watch would have caught them out by now because this is almost certainly not within legal speed limits for the suburbs. Jan passes house after house as they try frantically to make it for Jackie’s eleven pm curfew, the wind low and whistling as it cuts the car. They know the stakes.

Jackie’s face has turned a pale shade of white in fear of the reaction she will face, scraping in just under the time agreed. How her mother will react to Jan driving the family car back home, kissing her gently on the cheek and walking two streets to her own home.

They pull up at ten fifty-nine and Jan almost bursts into tears.

“See you tomorrow?” She asks softly, wistfully.

“Yeah,” Jackie exhales, tomorrow.

Where we can talk like there’s something to say (and I like you)

2 3 5 8 - 1 2 - 3 1 - 2 0 1 0

Jan makes Jackie pull over when she notices the time. They’re both too drunk to be driving and too sober to be alone and they’ve got the windows down as the sea breeze tunnels through the car. It smells of sunsets and saltwater and ice cream sundaes and Jackie’s hair and Jan is hooked.

The old car clock ticks quietly above the hum of the engine and the barely-there sound of the waves and Jackie finds pleasure in watching Jan’s eyes fixate on the hand. It swings around, red against the clock face.

Jan catches her staring and her eyes burn blue into Jackie’s deep brown. It’s a cold night but they’ve both pulled the blankets from the back seat and suddenly the blonde is aware of how small the vehicle is because there is not enough room between their faces and-

Their lips touch. Spark. Flicker. Ignite.

And then she’s warm and intoxicated and just a little bit in love but she thinks the dopey smile suits her - heads lolled back on the headrests, hands intertwined.

I’m glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway (and I like you)

1 6 2 4 - 0 2 - 1 4 - 2 0 1 1

Jackie drives them to the beach at sunset. They sit in the boot of the car on a picnic blanket in a parking spot that overlooks the crashing waves and it’s an illusion of stillness Jackie struggles to find anywhere else.

They hold hands because no one can see them - drink a bottle of champagne stolen from Jan’s Mom’s wine fridge. The blonde is bundled up in Jackie’s chunky knit cardigan and she looks warm and cosy and just a little bit like home.

“Hold me,” Jan asks, with eyes like saucers and a tone rolling in sugar. Jackie blinks slowly - capturing the image of her girlfriend in this moment before reaching to pull her into her arms. They don’t have much room but Jan somehow manages to straddle her - a hand on each cheek as Jackie grips her hips. The brunette bites her own lip softly and suddenly their mouths are pressed together and she’s not sure if it’s the sea air, the girl or a little bit of both but it tastes like magic and she doesn’t ever want to let it go.

“I love you,” she exhales into her hair - just above her ear.

“I love you more,” Jan whispers onto her collarbone.

“Sure Jan,” Jackie giggles, pulling Jan closer, burying her face into her hair. “Happy Valentine’s day baby.”

We move in the tree streets

0 8 3 5 - 0 8 - 2 8 - 2 0 1 1

“We’re only gonna be four hours away,” Jan mumbles, fingers finding Jackie’s with ease. “Why does that feel like the whole universe?”

They’re sat on Jan’s front steps - she has to leave in an hour if she’s going to make it to NYU for move-in but she’s not quite sure how to put one foot in front of another. Her life is packed up in boxes behind her but her world is holding her hand.

“Four hours baby. That’s all,” Jackie coaxes, “we can do it.” She says it with so much confidence but her bottom lip is trembling frantically. She got a place at Penn State and she’s happy. It’s what she wants -  to be away from her family - to grow. Unfortunately that means being away from Jan too.

“Will we make it?” Jan asks - and it’s so earnest it breaks Jackie’s heart.  

“Yes.” Jackie says. And this time her lip is still.

I’d like it if you stayed.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #464

Top Ten Feelgood Moments in Movies

Serendipity’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I’ve been planning to make this week about feelgood films since, oooh, late November maybe. I mean, we’ve had enough misery since 2016 to last us an entire Middle-Earth Extended Edition boxset. We need our Pelennor Fields moments wherever we can get them, and Joe Biden being sworn in as President is a good a moment as any right now. So anyway, that was the plan, and then along comes good old Empire magazine with a month dedicated to top cinema moments. They’re not all feelgood, to be fair – there’s the chestburster scene from Alien for a kick-off – but it’s one of those instances of curious synchronicity. What I’m saying is, I didn’t rip them off, okay? This was percolating since the Tangerine Nightmare lost Georgia.

Anyway: feelgood.

This was surprisingly hard, because the moments that I cherish aren’t always feelgood. Even in Lord of the Rings, even in the Pelennor Fields, the whole Ride of the Rohirrim stuff is laced with tragedy. The best bits of those films – “Fly, you fools!”, “For Frodo,” “I can’t carry it but I can carry you,” “Go away and don’t come back” – they’re all melancholy, aren’t they? It’s a saga about people being heroic under duress, and in those cases quite often people don’t make it back all in one piece. Think about Pixar, what are the great moments? “Thanks for the adventure, “So long partner,” “Take her to the moon for me” – they’re all about loss. Or rather, new joy from loss, hope from despair, that kind of thing. They’re terrific, they always make me cry, but they’re not exactly feelgood if you know what I mean.

So here we are. Moments of utter joy, that’s what I’m after. Heart soaring, tears pouring, euphoric moments of extreme happiness. I’ve tried for the most part to avoid joyous moments of excess: there’s one explosion and one bit where a dude gets stabbed in the face, but for the most part I’ve eschewed “feelgood violence” for want of a better word. These are scenes that are supposed to make you smile.

And y’know what? We could all do with smiling more in this day and age.

Good luck, Joe and Kamala. Do a good job. Take us to the moon.

(P.S. spoiler alert for, well, pretty much every film in the list)

“Happy birthday, Aunt Lucy.” (Paddington 2, 2017): after ninety minutes of watching Paddington bring out the best in everybody just by existing, we all feel he deserves a happy ending. And everyone pulls together and gets it for him. Everyone he’s helped, everyone whose life he touched, they’re all there, leading Paddington – and us – to the door. As an adult, you know what’s coming; kids are less sure. But it’s a joyous moment of nothing but true happiness. Two CGI characters hug with such sincerity you can feel the warmth from the screen, and then comes those last words – quiet, whispered, almost thrown away. It’s perfect.

“When you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” (When Harry Met Sally, 1989): romcom endings are very hard. You’ve navigated a couple’s relationship, generally speaking you’ve split them up in act three, and now they need to get back together in a big, extravagant way, that undoes the plot machinations that separated them. No one does it as well as Harry here, delivering a soliloquy on what it means to be in love, loving a person’s quirks and foibles and how they occupy your mind, ending with that superb line. Sally says it best: when he says stuff like that, he makes it impossible for us to hate him.

“On your left.” (Avengers: Endgame, 2019): Captain America stands alone, battered and beaten, his unbreakable shield broken. The vast armies of Thanos stand before him. He faces certain death, and the probable destruction of everything. He grits his teeth, tightens his shield straps, and then… Sam Wilson’s voice, delivering a line from several films ago, a moment of levity and shared continuity. His friends arrive, slowly at first; Black Panther, the Guardians, Spider-Man. Legions from across the cosmos. “Is that everyone?” asks Doctor Strange. “You wanted more?!” replies Wong. And then giant Ant-Man bursts through a building, with Hulk and co. An army of good from across the galaxy to face the forces of evil. Cap calls forth Mjolnir (and that moment was so nearly my choice), and then… “Avengers… assemble.”

“That’ll do, pig.” (Babe, 1995): Babe is one of those films that’s mostly joy: feelgood throughout, really, despite moments of drama or sadness. But after some nail-biting scenes as Farmer Hoggett and his piggy bud do their sheepdog act, we have a moment of angsty silence before the crowd goes ballistic, cheers everywhere, women crying, top marks. And then very softly, oh-so-tenderly, Hoggett’s great catchphrase. It’ll do. It’ll always do.

“Indiana… let it go.” (Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, 1989): a film built on witty repartee and full-throated spectacle, Crusade lingers in the memory due to the subtle character work between father and son. They mend their fractured relationship over the course of the movie, but it’s really symbolised when Henry saves “Junior” at the expense of rescuing the Grail, calling Indiana by his chosen name for the first time in the film. It’s a great character beat, and is followed shortly afterwards by the protagonists literally riding off into the sunset.

“I am no man!” (The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, 2003): as I alluded to above, the Rings trilogy is full of incredible moments of awe, pathos, tragic heroism, and bittersweet joy. But arguably the biggest cheer is reserved for when Eowyn of Rohan dispatches the Witch-King of Angmar courtesy of a Shakespearean loophole in his whole “no man can kill me!” schtick. Coming between the awe-inspiring Ride of the Rohirrim and the death of Theoden, it’s a terrific punch of joy and satisfaction.

“E.T. phone HOOOOOME!” (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, 1982): E.T. is another of those films full of joy, but it’s also tinged with sadness. Melancholia bleeds into the film like sunlight through Elliot’s blinds. E.T. himself spends half the film getting sicker and sicker, until he appears to die, all pale and cold-looking. But then! The flower comes back to life! His heart glows bright red, visible through his weird hyperbaric chamber/coffin thing! Elliot flings back the lid, and E.T. barks his catchphrase euphorically. God, it’s great.

“Andy Dufresne, who crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side.” (The Shawshank Redemption, 1994): it’s a bit of a grim watch, Shawshank; this isn’t a Paddington-style joy-fest. Andy is wrongfully impression and then spends twenty years being brow-beaten and abused before making his escape. But what an escape; not just the audacity of it – not just the fact he gets out at all – but how he ingeniously tunnels his way out over the decades, steals the warden’s ill-gotten money, exposes the scandal at the prison, and – as Red says – crawls through a sewer. It’s a beautifully put-together scene, everyone getting their just desserts and deserved rewards, and is capped off shortly after when Red himself is released and gets to retire alongside his friend.

“You’re all clear, kid, now let’s blow this thing and go home!” (Star Wars, 1977): I almost had the mothership explosion from Independence Day on this list, because I remember how much that impacted me as a teenager; seeing the baddie aliens get theirs was just great. But really it’s a replication of this, the grandaddy of all “beating the bad guys” big bangs. Luke, whiney teenager from nowhere, ends up flying an X-Wing against the evil oppressive Empire’s mighty Death Star. When all hope seems lost, Han Solo returns, proving his heroism, knocking Darth Vader for six and leaving our hero free and clear to use the Force, Luke. Cue phenomenal fireball. Joy!

“I’m singin’ in the rain…” (Singin’ in the Rain, 1952): musicals are joyous, aren’t they? A proper old-fashioned feelgood sing-song can be transcendent. “Singin’ in the Rain” – as in, the song/dance number – is about a bloke so bloody happy that he doesn’t care if he gets wet. It’s a euphoric statement of intent, a declaration of both love and supreme serenity in and of itself. And as a piece of cinema, it’s all that and more; an escalating dance routine, as the music soars and the camera lifts up, and we take in the splendour of this one bloke kicking in puddles. It’s daft, it’s funny, and it’s just, well, feelgood.

[tabby-shieldmaiden]

Another one for Friday Night Fights! The challenge hosted by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor . This one is a little weird, and admittedly was both inspired by me binging Girl Defined response videos, as well as my experiences at Church. It’s also written in second person, with the viewpoint character being a ‘nice church girl’. So, just a heads up.

Be a nice church girl. 

You wake up Sunday morning, early enough to watch the beautiful sunrise that God had painted across the sky. Cheerfully, you get out of bed. You didn’t even have to set an alarm clock, because getting up at dawn on Sunday is just a habit to you. Of course it doesn’t bother you at all. You plan out your entire week around the couple of hours you spend in Church. Obviously you’d have slept early the previous evening. It is for your Father in Heaven after all.

You brush your pearly white teeth, carefully scrubbing over each one. They were white and shiny teeth. Of course they had to be. In Church, you could only be seen smiling. And no other expression could really be sufficient there. Before God, you simply had to present your best self, and what better way is there to exist in? Happy, cheerful, a delight. You simply were overjoyed to be there.

Your hair and makeup done. Perfected. Just feminine enough to be perceived as a perfectly charming woman. But not too flamboyant to the point where you would stick out. You pick out your outfit next. A simple dress. Floral patterned. A matching baby pink cardigan. White ballet flats of a fairly modest design. Nothing too sparkly, nothing too flashy. Just something simple but feminine. After all, it’s not like you go to Church to draw attention to yourself. All of this is to simply honour God. This was what everyone in Church wore, because it was modest, but presentable. And most importantly, no one would stick out. No one would individuate.

From your dresser, you reach for a simple gold chain. Then a simple set of earrings. They were fake pearls, which did make you a little upset. Because you knew a number of the other girls in Church had real pearl earrings and you knew you couldn’t exactly afford them. You prayed that God would help you with your sin of envy. After all, at the very least you did have those fake pearl earrings. Cheap-looking and uncomfortable as they are. You sometimes wished that you didn’t need to wear them. But alas, the look simply wouldn’t be complete without it.

You subconsciously catch yourself chewing your nail, but once you caught yourself you stopped. It was a bad habit. You knew. And after all that work you put into painting your nails, taking care of them, you really wanted to keep them in good condition. Just like how every other woman in Church had nice nails. They all sported evenly painted, unchipped nails. Your hands still shook every time you painted them.

People commented on your nail biting. How it was unhygienic, unsanitary, gross. You knew they just wanted what was best for you. It wasn’t like they were unconcerned. And anyways, they did have a point, didn’t they? Nail polish smelled horrible, but you soldiered through it to apply it on anyways. Maybe someday, you’ll get good enough at nail polish, so that when you see your nails, you would not feel the need to chew them.

You eat breakfast, and when you do you don’t drink coffee. Who really needs sustenance like that? All you really needed in life was the energy which God provides you with. Every day, you can just sleep your planned eight hours, no problem. God provides you with the discipline to stick to your daily schedule. This was no problem. Nothing was impossible for God.

Hail a cab to Church. Quickly, you made it. Everyone there is smiling, dressed in their Sunday best. 

The men looked handsome and dashing in their suits and ties. The women looked beautiful and charming in their modest skirts and dresses. Everyone grins at you when you arrive. You talk about current events. Your families and your jobs; their children, nephews, nieces; sports; the weather; any gossip about other members of the congregation. All very engaging topics which you never used to be particularly interested in, but have found to be absolutely fascinating to talk about. The gossip especially, was a bad habit. But well, we all do fall short of the glory of God. He would surely forgive you.

You found it difficult to differentiate the people around you. You walked up to someone in an orange dress with shoulder length wavy hair, expecting it to be your friend Clara. Instead, it was Elizabeth. You walked up to a tall man with neatly gelled hair and a red tie, and you thought that he was Michael. But it was actually Joseph. It was a little embarrassing. But they were all good sports about it. That was something difficult you frequently had to deal with. Especially in Church. Navigating everyone, because for some odd reason you often had trouble differentiating the people around you. 

Well, some people were easier to differentiate than others. Case in point...

In the corner, reading a book with a smiling dragon on the cover, sat a young girl in a baggy hoodie and a pair of ragged jeans. Her earphones were firmly plugged into her ears. She was listening to music. No one was talking to her, and she didn’t seem particularly bothered by that.

You could only sigh when you saw her. She had been like that for a long time. There had probably been a time when she was a cheerful, sociable child. But now all she did was hang back and keep to herself, which would not do at all. God had commanded us all to be a friend. So you figured you really ought to go over and talk to her. You think you remember her name - Rebecca, if you’re not wrong - so you head over to her, a wide, pearly white grin on your face.

“Hi, Rebecca,” you say. Your voice chipper and loud enough so that she may hear you over her music. It worked to get her attention. She looked up from her book, and pulled out her headphones. You smile. That’s at least some progress. She’s paying attention to the world around her now. 

“Hi,” she said. She closes her book, but places a finger on the page where she left off. She shot you a fairly neutral expression. Neither a smile nor a frown could be seen on her face. Her lips were instead a perfectly straight line. Behind her glasses, her eyes just looked puzzled at why you were there.

You continued smiling. She smiled back, but only by slightly turning the corners of her mouth up. That was another step in the right direction! Smiling was good! Especially smiling in the house of God! Surely, no one had any real reason as to why that was supposed to be a bad thing. You slide beside her, sit next to her at the pew, and continue talking. “So, how have you been lately?”

“Okay,” she said. And then nothing else. Not a ‘how about you?’ or any other elaboration beyond that. That was upsetting. You remember a time back in your past when you were like that. But you soon learned the proper way to talk, hold a conversation. Thanks to all the people who taught you how to talk correctly. Soon, maybe Rebecca would catch on too.

You figured that, at least for now, maybe it would be a good idea to talk to Rebecca about something she was interested in. “What book are you reading?” You ask. It had a dragon on it, so it was probably a fantasy novel of some sort. Most likely a book she has owned for quite a while, since the spine was cracked and the pages were all dog-eared. 

You were never all that into fantasy. When you were younger, you very much preferred science fiction. And though you frequently found yourself yearning at the new science fiction books on display at the bookstore, you knew you shouldn't get too caught up in reading them. Years ago, you used to stay up late reading all those books. Way past midnight. You wouldn’t even crack open your Bible. But now, you’ve made a commitment towards going to bed on time and reading your Bible every day. And though admittedly, some parts of your personal Bible study made you bored, or made you conjure up some terrible questions (no doubt just Satan attempting to make you question your faith), you keep pushing on. Those science fiction novels may be alluring, but they surely aren’t nearly as great as the treasures which would await you in Heaven. 

Rebecca glanced at you, then showed you the back of the book. “It’s called ‘The Thief and The Knight’,” she said. Without any other comment.

You looked at the blurb at the back of the book, which read:

“What, no thank you? I went out of my way to help, you know, I didn’t have to.”

“You almost got me arrested!”

“But you didn’t, so there shouldn’t be a problem. Ungrateful!”

Tenia is a knight in training. Serious, clever, and an overall teacher’s pet, all the people in her life certainly had high hopes for her and her future. 

Kavlin is a mischievous young thief. With nothing but the clothes on his back and his trusty dragon, Gason, he lives every day barely getting by, stealing whatever he needs to live.

The two of them couldn’t have lived lives more different. But one day, when their paths met in a market, they soon found their fates entangled permanently. Now Tenia needs to make a choice. Follow her head and continue her knight training, or follow her heart and walk a new path with Kavlin? 

You sigh. This doesn’t sound like a particularly godly story. You recalled reading several similar stories like that when you were young, and it would always end with the obedient young woman leaving her neatly laid out life for some reckless, hedonistic man. That was definitely not how God intended for young women to live their lives. 

But maybe there’s a twist in this story. “Hm, that sounds interesting. Does she go back to studying hard to become a knight?” You ask. Smiling in as kind a way as you could. 

Rebecca shook her head, which was slightly disappointing for you. “She falls in love with him. They continue working together, she quits being a knight, and together they’re now thieves working to make the kingdom a much better, safer place for the poor.”

“But surely she could have done that while still being a knight? Without becoming a thief?” You ask. “The Bible says that we must use our gifts to help others in need. She could have done good for the poor using the gifts which made her such a promising knight, instead of going on to become a thief. There’s ways of helping others without disobeying the law.”

Rebecca looked at you, biting her lip. You hope that that’s a sign that she’s reconsidering reading something like that. God did say that we should be careful about what we read, and what we think about. If your words would convince her to stop reading something so immoral, that would only be a good thing. 

She took her book back, and held it close to her chest. You shot yet another smile at her, hoping that she understood that you were only concerned about her and the state of her spirit. Hopefully, she will get there soon. You remember how hard it had been to forgo your sci-fi novels. Even to this day, you still kind of miss them. But you could live without them. You could live only on the word of God alone, without any other book. That was something you had to remind yourself almost every day. But it was worth it. It had to be worth it, to be God’s faithful servant.

“At least consider it,” you say. “I’m only concerned for your spiritual well-being, and I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong ideas from the wrong places.” Rebecca still stared at you, her face still seemed fairly expressionless. But maybe, with some prayers, she’ll have her heart and mind changed.

You thought that you heard someone call you, and so you turned back around. “I’m sorry Rebecca,” you say. “I think I’m needed elsewhere now. So I’m going to have to go.” Such a shame. You were hoping to chat with her for a bit longer. Now what she’ll do is slip her headphones back on and bury her nose back into that book of hers. You should know. That was what you used to do back when you were her age.

You tried to recall. Why did you used to do that? Socialising with others in Church was such a pleasant thing. You loved to go every week, and listen to them talk about all the minor life updates that they have. Their new houses and cars. Their children winning participation trophies. Surely, those things were always far more interesting that any book one could bury their nose in. You try and think back, why did you like to read and hide away so much from the world. But you could not dwell on that question any further, because soon you ended up swept away by the crowd. Your train of thought halted. And you got sucked, like a whirlpool, into a sea of identical pearly white smiles and modest dresses.

[alamanyar]

Now available on AO3 yayy joy; a skam italia fanfic words: 6.637 character’s pov: martino ships: martino x niccolò; martino & mamma rametta, martino & giovanni summary: a glimpse into the near future of martino’s life and his relationships with the people he cares most about. it’s funny, he feels like the luckiest boy in the world, and yet he worries about not being good enough. Luckily, there are people in his life, who remind him that he’s wanted.

joy ☆．。．:*･° It’s been a couple of weeks into the New Year and Martino couldn’t be happier. It seemed as if life finally made sense, as cheesy as it sounded; and yet. Most of the time, he found himself living in a content bubble. There was his new found identity, which gave him so much energy- sometimes he didn’t know what to do with it. His relationship with his mother kept improving with every day and he didn’t lie to his friends anymore. Well, only if it had something to do with Niccolò. He couldn’t count the times they had sneaked off to the bathroom on the second floor of the school building. They even ditched some meet-ups with the boys, because they rather stayed home to spend time alone together. But other than that, there was no need to lie anymore. Martino liked boys and he liked one boy especially. Nico never failed to keep him on his toes. He was quirky and challenging and he came up with the weirdest ideas. In January they had gone to the Villa Borghese gardens and when Nico unpacked his drawing tools, he spotted a marble statue he wanted to sketch− together with Martino in the picture. After a couple of minutes of ridiculous arguments, he gave in: Nico, with that smug look on his face kept drawing for what seemed like hours. His boyfriend always ended up directing him to pose like this or that, but mostly it was just fun, and watching him get excited over it was an expierence he would cherish forever. He only called it a day, when he started to freeze his ass off, after all, it was winter and all this posing and standing didn’t keep him warm. So basically, whenever he thought the boy he was lucky enough to be with had a weird idea, he ended up loving the idea. Easily.Nico embodied what he called loveable energy, sometimes lovable asshole energy, to add, and Martino wouldn’t have it any other way. He liked Nico the way he was. However, at the beginning of Feburary, his boyfriend started appearing a little bit uneasy. He didn’t get that far to call him restless, but he was somewhat alarmed. Actually, he always worried about him in the back of his head, but he could tone down the worry most of the time and just be a normal supportive boyfriend. Whatever normal was supposed to mean. He didn’t mention anything, because he felt like he would put pressure on him by doing so. And that was the last thing he wanted to do, so he remained silent and hoped being here with him was enough. On the last day of school into the second week of February, they went to his house to relax. They had no plans with the boys, so they decided to keep it quit. Nico was sketching on his bed while he sat on his desk researching for the Radio. Never in a million years had he thought that his Friday afternoons could come close to something like this. The thing was, they had talked about the new topic “Age of Discovery” for the Radio on the way to his house. Nico was hooked on geographical maps at once. There was something about getting lost in the imagination to go anywhere he wanted, even if it was only in his mind. Martino could understand that well. His mind had often drifted off to an imaginary world where there was no need to worry about coming out. A place where it didn’t matter whom he loved. A place where everything was easier to handle. But now that he was with Nico, he didn’t dream to escape from the real world anymore, only if it meant going someplace together with him. Perhaps that was why he ended up reading articles about the discovery of magnetic compasses and how it changed the world of navigation. He found that oddly fascinating. One day, he hoped they could navigate a ship together. There wouldn’t be need for compasses, for they were guiding each other. Just like now. Between Nico’s pencil flying over the sketchbook and his occasional typing on the keyboard, while Vespa noises interloped through the open window dancing together with indie music softly playing in the background. He floated through space it seemed, until he noticed Nico had stopped sketching eventually. He turned around from his desk and saw that his boyfriend had dozed off. He was lying on his side, drawing utensils still in his hand. A tiny bundle of black hair, halfway wrapped up. Martino wasn’t sure how long they had worked on their respective things, he kind of had lost track on time, but it obviously had been tiring for Nico. Or maybe, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, Nico was more tired than usual. And that could mean something else was up. He tried to burry that thought. Vehemently. Just stay calm, he told himself. Pay attention, but stay calm. He was starting to get hungry, but he wanted to lie down beside Nico for a while, so he went to his side of the bed and mirrored his boyfriend’s position. He was intent not to wake him when he got under the covers, but when he carefully took sketchbook and pencil from his grip, Nico mumbled something unintelligibly. “You were saying?” “Nothing.” “Oh? Then I have a ghost lying in my bed?” “Funny.” Marti chuckled and moved closer. He nuzzled his nose against Nico’s and kissed it softly. “It’s okay, we don’t have to talk. I can just sleep, too.“ “I wasn’t sleeping.” Then, after a pause. “I’m sorry.” “What for?” He nudged his shoulder gingerly. “I’m not really talkative today.” “What are you saying? We’ve talked.” “Not really since we got here.” “So?” Nico exhaled loudly. “You don’t have to talk all the time. Or do stuff. You know we can just lie here together.“ “You’re not worried?” “Why should I be worried?” He tried to sound causally, but instantly felt a rush spreading out on his cheeks. “That I’ve been sleepy lately.” “So you think I should?” “I don’t know, Marti. I don’t−” “Hey.” He put sketchbook and pencil under his pillow and started caressing his boyfriend’s cheek. “I don’t mind.” “What if, what if−” He listened to Nico struggling to get the words out. He knew, he knew what he was about to say. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it. When Nico suffered, something deep inside of him stired. He continued stroking his cheek and witnessed a tear coming out of his eye. If there was a possibility to give him the world, he’d outright do it. “Hey, com’ere”, he mumbled and drew Nico to his chest. “Tell me. Are you worried?” “I’m worried about hurting you”, he half-whispered in reply. “Why?” “Because I already have. It could happen again. ”“That’s in the past. And if, you wouldn’t do it deliberately.” He planted a kiss on the top of Nico’s head and let his lips linger there for a while. “What if I do it again?” He felt his boyfriend disappear into his chest, as if he wanted to hide there and never face the real world again. Never face his fears and worries. He hugged him a little bit tighter and started to draw lazy circles on his back. “I don’t know. Let’s not worry too much about that, okay?” After a while, a hoarse whimper escaped Nico lips. “I don’t want to draw you into my mess.” “Don’t be ridiculous. I happen to like your mess.” Nico chuckled. It was soft, almost not audible. Maybe it happened out of pity. But it was there.Baby steps, he reminded himself. “You’re too good to me. You’re too good for me”, he heard him mumble drozily. “Well, I don’t think there exists something like being too good, but I’ll take the compliment, thank you.” Nico answered him with what appeared to be a failed nudge into his chest, followed by a deep grumble of him and then, a ghost of a kiss, planted where his heart was supposed to be. His hand found the back of Nico’s hair and he started running his fingers through them. “It’s okay, just sleep for a bit, hm?” After a while, Martino went back to drawing circles on his back. Lines and curves and what not followed, until he felt Nico fall asleep on his chest, breathing steadily with his face burried in the crook of his neck. He continued to hold him, yet when his stomach started making low rumble noises, he carefully untangled himself from Nico’s embrace. He made sure his boyfriend was covered comfortably when he left his room. ☆．。．:*･° He found his mother in the kitchen, who seemed to look for something inside of the fridge. “Hey ma”, he greeted. She turned around and gave him a smile. “Hey you.” “What are you looking for?” He pointed to the fridge. “Well something we can have for dinner. I don’t think we have enough for the three of us.” “No? Well, I don’t think Nico will eat with us today.” “He left without saying good-bye?” “No, no, he’s sleeping”, he calmed his mother down who was definitely shocked of the mere possibility. He grunted. “Why are you laughing, eh?” “No, I’m sorry. It’s just your face.” “Ah, so my face is funny now, too?” She laughed now as well, and he couldn’t help but crack up.“You know what?” “No, tell me.” “I’m happy you were offended that he’d leave without saying good-bye.” “Well, it’s not like him to do something like that, is it?” “No yeah, it really isn’t. It’s good to, uh, it’s good to see you get along well.” “He makes it rather easy. That boyfriend of yours and his charm. It’s really something.” “Yeah.” He looked down, grinning from ear to ear, before he lifted his head up again, looking at his mother, who was still standing in front of the fridge with her face aligned to him. She looked content. It was his favourite look on her, without a doubt. If only he could make it to never go away. “So listen, you don’t think he’ll be hungry when he wakes up? I could rush down to Samir to get some more ingredients.” “I’m not sure he will wake up anytime soon. He seemed really out of it. He’s probably sleeping through the night.” “Rough day at school?” “I’m not sure. More like a rough week, I think.” His mother closed the fridge and walked over to him still standing in the door. “What’s up, my love?”, she asked carefully, but with this fierceness of her that made him shiver. It was typical of his mother to know that there was something up with him and sometimes he wished she wasn’t capable to read him like a book. But she was, and so they were standing on the treshold looking at each other when he felt his eyes swell up with tears. He gulped. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine, Marti, just tell me.” She caressed his cheek and he gave in, cautiously at first, and then, an instant later, he hugged her to his chest. “Ouuff!” „Sorry. Sorry, ma” he breathed out. There was only dry air in his lungs. At least it felt like it. „No, no, it’s okay. Come, sit down.“ She tried to guide him to the table in the living room, but he held on to her. „Hey, hey“, his mother tried calming him down stroking his back and some short time later his hair. He suppressed a sob and only as he gained control of his breathing, he was ready to let go. After they settled down at the table, chairs facing each other, his mother took his hand and stroked it gently. It felt as if minutes passed until he could talk. „I’m… I’m worried he’s not feeling good. That… that something’s not right again and that I… that I can’t do anything to help him.” He suppressed another sob and looked into his mother eyes which a part of him regretted since she looked back at him worriedly. He had promised not to worry her anymore, didn’t he? Why couldn’t he keep his damn promise? „Marti, oh, my boy.” She enclosed his hands with her own, giving them a squeeze. „You’re doing enough, believe me. Your’re so good with him. Don’t doubt yourself, okay?” He tried to answer with a nod, but he was absolutely sure he failed regarding in that aspect, and so he gave his mother’s hand a little squeeze, so she’d know he had heard her at least. „Ma, I have been terrible to you when you were… suffering. And I’m so sorry for treating you badly then. I hope you know that.” He touched his brow and rubbed over the tiny hairs there to gather himself. He didn’t dare look at his mother. He was certain, he wouldn’t continue talking; so he straightened his back a little and carried forward. “I’m trying to-to be optimistic now, but what if he gets sick of that? What do I do when that’s not helping? Maybe I don’t understand him enough. I want to make him feel better and I know I can’t really do that, you know? It’s not up to me. Not entirely anyway.” He put his hand back on his thigh and immediately found it enveloped in his mother’s hand. „Marti, you’re doing wonderfully, believe me. Nico appreciates everything you do; I can see it in his eyes. If you are afraid, you’re being too optimistic or whatever it is, you can ask him. But listen, what matters most is that you stay true to yourself while trying to help him, okay? I think he wouldn’t feel comfortable sleeping in your bed right now, if there was a problem with what you’re doing.” „You really think that?” He finally looked up and found his mother gazing at him. She beamed with certainty. „I do. He can be himself here with you and that is all the answer you need. At least to me.” „He thinks he’s getting me down with his moods. With his disorder.” He wiped away a tear. And another. „Well, that’s normal I think. I mean, he’s afraid he’ll drown you with his sorrow and he wants to protect you from that. But those are moments he has, you know, it’s not always like that. He doesn’t have those kind of thoughts all the time. He doesn’t want to lose you, sure, but mostly, he just wants to feel better.” He glanced at his mother, who was giving him an encouraging nod.„Do you feel like that, too? When you are being down?“ She took a moment to answer. „Well, I always feel a heavy amount of regret. It is as if I have no control over disappointing people, especially you. I feel like I’m letting you down. I feel ashamed that I don’t have the power to make myself happy.“ He squeezed her hands. “You know, it isn’t your fault.“„And it isn’t Nico’s fault, nor yours. There’s nothing at fault here. It is what it is.“ He pondered a while over his mother’s words while she losened her grip on his hand. A moment later, he felt her caressing his cheek. It tickled. He smiled at her. „You really think I’m doing the right thing? Maybe I could be more thoughful?“ She softly tugged at some of his loose curls, before she brushed them to the side. „If you ask me that, then I think you’re precisely in the right place.“ He frowned at her. „Listen, ma, I know you understand Martinese, but I’m not sure I understand your own version of it.“ „Oh you little shithead.“ She pinched him in the cheek which he answered with a fake cry of hurt, more or less. „Listen, you are questioning whether you’re reacting correctly or not and I think that says it all. I am positive you shouldn’t change your behaviour, but I don’t have an answer to everything. So, I’d say go ask him, if you find the courage.“ „Okay.“„That boy of your needs reassurance. He doubts he’s not good enough for you… when he has these moments, alright? And I know it’s not always easy reassuring someone, especially those who are closest to you, but try to remember, he doesn’t do it in order to hurt or annoy you.“ „I think I understand what you mean.“ He gave his mother a little smile. „Marti?“ „Yes?“ She was at his hair again, before she took his face into her hands. „I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that. I haven’t said it often enough I think, and I’m sorry. But I am so very proud of you.” She nodded as if to support her message. “My brave boy.” He sensed a sudden warmth spreading out on his back and on his cheek. It flowed through his whole body, almost igniting him with fire.„Ma…“ He felt tears on his cheek, running to the corner of his mouth in speedlight. She gave him a kiss to the forhead and he almost lost the rest of his self-restraint. If it weren’t for her firm grip, he would have melted right on the spot, tumbling to the ground. „Let’s have dinner, yes? What do you say to pasta with pesto? There are enough ingredients to make it. We can always leave enough for Nico, if he decides to eat later.“ He hadn’t regained his composure yet, so he just nodded. When his mother stood up to leave for the kitchen, he tugged at her hands. „What is it? You don’t want to have pesto tonight?“ He smiled sheepishly. „You know I could eat that kind of pasta every night.“ „Well?“, she asked with a chuckle. He gave her hand a squeeze, something he had done quite a lot tonight, but this wasn’t one made of gratitude. He took a deep breath, and then, with as much wholeheartedness he was able to manage, he told her what he wished he had told her more frequently. “Ma, you’re the best mom one could hope for. I hope you know that. I love you, I really do. With all my heart.“ It’s funny, he thought, when he noticed the tears forming in her eyelids, he never felt more happy to have said those words. Never more grateful. For his mother’s eyes were shining with bliss. “Marti…” He stood up. „Okay, I think we cried enough for the day. And I’m really starving by the way. All this talk about my fave pasta?“ „Let’s make dinner, then”, she nodded, still regaining her composure. „You know, we could also watch something together.“ „Sure, if you feel like it.“ „Okay, but not this weird show you’ve been telling me about. I don’t wanna watch that.“ „And what do you wish to watch?“ „I don’t know.“ „Well, let’s talk this over, then.“ They walked back into the kitchen and started preparing everything for his favourite pasta. He sensed her glancing at him from time to time and he almost called her out on it, when she invaded his space − yet again − to give him another kiss on the cheek, telling him how much she loved him back and that he meant the world to her. Not with despair like it happened so many weeks ago, but with serenity and sincerity. Had his relationship with his mother ever been this good? Maybe, when he was still a child, he didn’t remember anymore. He wished he had been a lot nicer to her on many occasions, but maybe they were meant to lose their connection for a while. Just so they could be there for each other at this given moment. He knew he’d never dare hurt her again as he used to. He’d never hurt anyone like that again. He vowed this silently to himself, when he pestled the basil in the mortar. ☆．。．:*･° His mom had dozed off here and there into the third episode of ‘Medici: Masters of Florence.’ There were some scenes he’d rather had not watched with his mother being in the room, but other than that he enjoyed the storyline of the show. The Medici’s ambitions were inspiring and a bit scary at the same time. The visuals were breathtaking and Cosimo de’ Medici reminded him a bit of Nico. They both were attracted to art. In this dream-like kind of way, almost dissolving, yet always hungry for more. On the one hand he wanted to continue watching the show, but his mother had to go to bed and he himself felt getting tired as well. It also had been a while since he’d checked up on Nico and he had a guilty conscience about it. So, he wished his mother a good night’s sleep and started tidying up the kitchen. Just as he had finished putting the dishes into the dishwasher, his phone buzzed. It was Giovanni. {-Hey bro, what’s up? We spontaneously went out to this bar we talked about earlier. Do you guys wanna come? Luchì is already drunk as fuck. He is making weird dancing moves.-} Enclosed was a picture of Luca with what appeared to be coasters on his head. His friend’s hair was sticking out in all directions. He suppressed a chuckle and started typing a reply. No, fuck it, he thought and dialed his best friend’s number. “Pronto?” “Hey, what did you do to Luchì?” “Nothing! I swear! He just gets drunk super fast, you know that.” He heard Elia in the background bellowing profanities. “Alright alright, I believe you.” “So? The bar isn’t far from your house. You could be here in twenty minutes.” A pause. “If you guys want. I mean, is Nico still at your place?” “Yeah. Yeah he is. He’s sleeping though.” “Ah okay. Everything alright?” “Not sure.” “What’s up?” “For now he’s just tired, I think.” “You need anything?” He was leaning against the counter and took some time to answer. Shit, he really had the greatest best friend in the world. “Yo, you’re still there?” “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’m not… I’m not sure what you could do? I’m gonna go to bed soon, you know.” “Okay, bro. I’m sorry.” “What? Don’t worry.” “No, yeah, I mean we haven’t been here long. It kind of escalated quickly. I wanted to call you earlier, but I didn’t want to interrupt you guys or anything.” “Interrupt us?”’ “Yeah, I wasn’t sure what you guys were up to today, so.” He cleared his throat. “No, we were just- we weren’t really doing anything. Nico was drawing and I− wait, did you think you could interrupt us during sex?” He heard Giovanni making a weird voice, he wasn’t sure what exactly it was, but it sounded weird. “Like I’d be able to answer the phone then.” Giovanni snorted with laughter. “Sorry, bro. No. I mean yes, I’m not sure. I guess I just wanted to give you some space.” “Wait, why?” “I don’t know. I just− we’ve been doing a lot of stuff together. You know, with Nico, too. And I know you guys sometimes wanna hang out together just the two of you.” “Okay, but we already do that. I’m not sure I’m following you here.” “Listen, man−“ He heard Luca and Elia giggling in the background. “Wait a sec.” After a couple of seconds later, Giovanni was back at the other end of the phone, chuckling. He felt a weird knot in his stomach. They seemed to have fun. He spent many wicked nights just doing shit with the boys which he supposed they were doing now. It wasn’t as if he wanted to join them. Perhaps he did, but not like this. Not with Nico sleeping in his room or maybe not sleeping, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps he was twisting and turning under the blankets right now, hell, he didn’t know. If the day had been different, Nico would be standing with him in the kitchen, listening to the conversation and probably dragging him out to join the boys this instant. “Yo, bro, what is it with you and your pauses today?” “Sorry! I didn’t know you were back in the line.” Giovanni breathed into the ear cap audibly. “What’s up, Marti? I can hear you think.” “Oh God, you’re so annoying, you know that?”, he blurted out. “Come on, bro. Just tell me.” “It’s nothing. And by the way, you haven’t answered me yet.”Giovanni seemed to think about what he meant for a second, but he was quickly back on track. “Ah, about earlier. Well, I didn’t want to interrupt you guys, because I thought it was possible Nico would just sleep at yours. Like, I don’t know man, he looked fucking exhausted earlier.” “Yeah?” “Listen, it was obvious. And I know you noticed that. Of course, you did. And I respect that you don’t want to talk about his health with us. Or me.” “I’m not- I’m not excluding you, am I?” He touched his chin and rubbed over the skin a bit. “What? No, no, bro. Forget it.” “I’m not sure what’s happening right now anyway, but look, I’m sorry, if I am being weird about it.” “You’re not, relax. I mean it’s not that we don’t talk about it at all, you know? It’s all good. But just so you know, I know something’s up with you, too. And you can talk to me about it- if you want.” It was really obscure. He felt tears forming in his eyes for – he didn’t know for how many times – of the day. Giovanni continued talking. “You know, if you’re not sure what’s happening with Nico right now, why don’t you ask him? He won’t get weird about it. You talk about this stuff, right? Listen, he’s not gonna run away, because you’re not sure what’s up with him. Like this is so typical of you−“ “Fuck, you’re like my mom, I swear”, he interrupted his best friend. “I’m sorry, WHAT?” Giovanni failed to sound offended, he could clearly hear the amusement in his best friend’s voice. “Yeah. She told me something similar earlier. Like she thinks I’m handling it fine and all that, but I’m not sure.” “Well, she’s right. You know, you should listen to her all the time, dickhead.” “Fuck you.” “Right back at ya. So, maybe we can hang out tomorrow or on Sunday.” “Yeah, sure. What about FIFA? I think you need a nice lose.” “Hilarious. Listen, Elia started doing weird stuff now, too.” “Well, good to know a mom is with−“ “Fuck you! You better have called Nico’s mom, remember when−“ “I did that earlier, thank you very much.” His best friend chuckled at the other side of the line. “Okay. Later, bro.” “Giò?” “Yeah?” “Thanks, man.” “Welcome.” “Say hi to the guys.” “I will. Ciao, bro.” “Ciao.” As soon has they had ended the call, a sudden burst of fear hit him hard. It was something Giovanni had said and he lost track of his breathing just thinking about it. What the hell, Martino. Get it together. He managed to clean up the rest of the kitchen. He didn’t know how he did it, his mind kept going back to Giovanni’s words. Come on, you can do it. Face it. He went to brush his teeth in the bathroom and splashed water in his face. When he looked into the mirror, he didn’t like what he saw. He felt tired and that was exactly how he looked. Whatever he had to face, he couldn’t face it in this state. His phone buzzed on his way to his room and with a quick glance he saw that he had received a message from Filippo.j his can wait until morning, he thought, but ultimately decided against it. Filo had been a rock for him on many occasions. He was there for him when he was left all alone in Milan, and maybe it was his anxiety talking right then, but if it was an emergency, he’d never forgive himself. So, when he opened the message with a picture of a brown-haired man with the caption {-Whatcha think?-}, he breathed out a somewhat pathetic sound of relief. Goddamn, get it together. He replied with {-about to fall asleep. but he’d look good with you x-} and then muted his phone. Before he pressed down the doorknob, he breathed in and out a couple of times. His room was painted in low light since he didn’t turn off the lamp on his desk when he left earlier. Nico was lying on his belly with a pillow tucked underneath his torso. His dark curls were slightly illuminated and he took his time to look at him. His boyfriend had moved closer to the left side of the bed which he tended to do when he slept alone. His stomach made a flip. He felt a lot of things at the same time. Sadness, surely, because Nico wasn’t feeling so well. But most of all, he felt gratitude. Nico was here, lying in his bed. It was a miracle. Nico was his miracle. He continued standing in the exact same spot for a couple of minutes just looking at the beautiful sight in front of him. He was also waiting for the tears to stop. Quietly, he had started crying again. He wasn’t sure what it was that made him spill those many tears today, but they kept coming out of his eyelids with no restraint whatsoever. Maybe he stayed there for five minutes, maybe ten minutes passed until he moved to his closet to change into his pyjamas, he couldn’t tell. He thought about lying down in his nook beside the window, because he was afraid he’d wake up Nico when he’d join him under the blanket. It was just that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Which felt strange to say the least. Any other night, he would just lay down next to Nico no questions asked, but tonight it all felt so fragile. While he was grateful that Nico was here with him, he was also afraid. I don’t wanna lose him. His brain really went nuts today, he thought, as he tried shaking off any feeling of trepidation. With caution, he finally slipped under the blanket and waited to get warm. He arranged the pillow a bit and felt something poking his head. Nico’s sketchbook and his pencil. Right, he had put them there earlier. He fetched them and placed them on his bedside cabinet, with the pencil inside the book. It made the pages stick out a bit and he could catch a glance of what appeared to be a thread trailing through mountains? That’s what it looked like. He moved a bit closer to the bedside cabinet, when he heard Nico move. “Hey, whatcha doing? Stealing glances at forbidden goods?”, he teased groggily. “Hey, no. I−I was just putting your stuff away. It’s not very comfortable sleeping with them under my pillow, you know?” “You’re such a liar.” “You know nothing”, he answered and moved back to lay on his side, looking at his boyfriend. “Hey.” He touched his cheek cautiously and rubbed his thumb over the skin a bit. “Hey.” Nico put the pillow under his head, smiling sleepily, before he took his hand and enveloped it in his own. “How are you feeling?” “Exhausted.” “What can I do?”Nico kissed his hand which took him somewhat by surprise. He wasn’t sure why. “You’re already doing enough.” “Yeah?” “You’re like a fresh ocean’s breeze on a hot summer’s day.” He chuckled at his words. “How’s that?” “Well, you know that feeling, when it gets so hot during the summer you struggle breathing? And you’re looking for something to cool down? You’re at the beach or making a stop at a bar trying to escape from the dry air on the streets. And when a breeze brushes your face, it’s the best feeling in the world. It makes you feel alive again.” Nico pressed a kiss into the palm of his hand. His lips stayed there for a while, until he spoke again. “And you’re that breeze that never fades away that day entirely. Or on any day. You always come back.” Nico’s words left him stunned. He wasn’t as eloquent as him, so he did the only thing he could think of in that moment. With as much gentleness as he could muster, he rolled on top of Nico and took his head into his hands, balancing his weight with his elbows. He started with a kiss on his forehead. The soft skin under his eyes were next. “You know, I’d never leave in the first place.” He then kissed his nose, his upper lip, his cheeks, and finally, a kiss fully on the lips, hoping Nico could feel the promise he’d just given him. “If you don’t want me to leave, I won’t.” He smiled timidly at his boyfriend and then he positioned himself back on his side. Nico grabbed at his hand. “If I don’t want you to?” “Yeah.” “Marti, why should I want that? Why should I want you to leave?” He saw confusion in Nico’s eyes and he could have kicked himself. “Yeah, I mean…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I- sometimes I’m afraid I’m doing something wrong… or you know, choose the wrong words. Maybe I’m too cheerful when you’re feeling down, maybe that will annoy you sooner or later, maybe I’m not thoughtful−“ “I can’t believe you’d say something like that. You absolute idiot.” He stayed silent and just looked at Nico who wore an incredulous look on his face. “Have I given you the impression that I don’t appreciate what you do? For me? I’m so incredibly thankful for everything; you have to know that, Marti. I know I’m impossible to handle at times, but I swear, I’d never want to make you uncomfortable. I swear…there’s no way I’d want you to leave. I swear…” He listened to Nico’s accelerated breathing and felt like the dumbest idiot. “I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “You did nothing wrong. It’s me. It’s my brain that thinks I’m not being good enough. I’m sorry.” He choked back tears. Nico mirrored his position without letting go of their entwined hands. “Marti…” “I’m sorry I put this weight on you, Ni. It wasn’t my intention. I just, sometimes I feel a little helpless. I haven’t handled my mother’s depression very well. I’ve been mean to her. I can’t be mean to you. I don’t ever wanna be mean to anybody again.” Nico moved closer to him until he could lay his head on top of his upper body. “You’re not, I promise.” He took a deep breath. “Hey, would you do me a favour?” A nod. “If I ever say something weird or inappropriate about your mental health and I’m too dumb to notice, will you tell me?” Nico puffed out a bit of air. “Okay. But there won’t be need to.” “Well, I’ve done it in the past. So, you never know, right.” “Marti, amore…” “I still need to learn a few things, I know that.” He felt feather-light caresses roaming over his chest. He took a moment to breathe it all in, and then his hand wandered to the back of Nico’s head and he started messaging his skin there. “That’s nice. You’re nice,” Nico mumbled after a while. “Well, I hope so. You’re not too bad either, you know.” He traced the shape of a heart, but the hair made it difficult. “Good to know.” His boyfriend emerged from his position somewhere between his upper body and upper arm. It was a good thing he hadn’t turned off the light, for Nico was full on grinning one of his extra bright smiles he seemed to reserve for him only. “I’m very much in love with you.” He felt the corner of his mouth skyrocket. “Ni, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He moved down to him so he could capture his lips with his own. Nico’s arm wandered to his shoulder where he tugged at his shirt. Soon, his boyfriend caressed his neck with his thumb and he sensed this incredible sensation there that also made his toes curl.Nico’s thumb wandered to his jawline, when he suddenly stopped. “Marti, you’re crying.” “I am?” They looked at each other and Nico started tracing his tears with a worried expression. “Ni.” “Marti, don’t cry.” “Ni, look at me.” He complied with his request, yet still carrying worry in his eyes. “Those are tears of joy, Ni.” There was something ghost-like in Nico’s expression, when he looked into his eyes, but they softened rather quickly.“Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Tears of joy?” “Tears of joy”, he chuckled. “Okay, that’s good, right?” A hesitant smile. “I suppose it is.” “Those are tears” – he traced the path of them on his cheek – “tears of joy, because you’re so godamn lucky you’re with me?” It wasn’t really a question, more like a challenge. Nico looked smug. He smiled benignly. “Yeah, just like I said, dumbass.” And Nico’s body trembled of laughter. Softly, because it was a long day and he still looked very exhausted, but when his laughter emerged from deep inside of his belly, well, it was his favourite sound and he’d do anything to hear it. See it. Feel it. He tugged at Nico’s arm. “Come on, let’s sleep.” “You’re bossy today.” “Oh? But it’s part of my job, remember?” He felt Nico wrap himself up on his upper body again. “I don’t want you to think of this as a job, you know.” “I don’t see it like that. I’d never treat you like that. You know that, right? This is just my dumb humour.” “Ah, here we are. You finally admit you’ve got a weird sense of humour.” “Ha. Just go to sleep will you.” “You’re really something, huh?” Nico’s words became slurred again. He hugged him tight to his chest feeling his own exhaustion wash over him. “We’ll talk tomorrow if you want. Maybe I have a question or two for you.” “Sure. But don’t cry again, okay?” “I’ll try.” “Only tears of joy, Marti.” “Okay, Ni.” “Goodnight.“ “Goodnight.” He planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Sleep well.” He sensed a kiss grazing his neck and a sigh escaped his lips. It was fascinating how fast Nico fell asleep on his chest. It didn’t take long and he was listening to his steady breathing. While he was tired out himself, he didn’t fell asleep right away. No, he concentrated on Nico’s breathing instead which made the rest of his uneasiness disappear bit by bit. He drew circles on his back occasionally thinking how lucky he was that he could be here with him. Tomorrow, they could talk more seriously, if Nico was up for it. Perhaps he’d been a bit overprotective. But he didn’t want to think about that anymore. There was no rush. The boy he fell in love with last autumn was lying in his arms and all was good in the world again. He turned his head so he could lay it down on Nico’s, and right before he drifted off, he sensed wetness emerging from his eyes. But he smiled. He smiled, because those weren’t tears of sadness. Not at all, no. ☆．。．:*･° fin ☆．。．:*･°

[byjayr-blog]

Divine Femininity, Power of Her Aura - Ella.

I’ve been in the arts and music industry for about 4 years or so now, and inevitably saw how the rise of women in the creative industry hasn’t been getting as much attention, so I’ve decided to start a series based on women all around the world who are in the creative industry. I ask them to share their story with me (and you :) ) as to how they got to where they are today. The series will introduce a new divine woman once a month, as my first post to this series I’d like to introduce July’s divine woman my friend Ella.  

Ella is a Fashion Model currently based in Montreal, I’ve asked her to share her story with me, enjoy.

byjayr - Walk me through your story, and can you recount any specific pivotal moments (as much description as you can remember on where you were and how you were feeling)?

Ella - My story is a long one. I guess it’s not just one story at all, there’s a lot of events and challenges that have led me to where I am today. For this interview I’m going to specifically talk about the part of my story that concerns the journey I’ve been on regarding my physical appearance & health.

I’m not really sure how to start this, so I guess I’ll start at the baseline. I was a happy person. Grew up without financial burdens in a suburban white family. I kept honours in all of my classes at school, loved theatre, had very high muscle strength for my size from ballet & gymnastics, was super fit and healthy, conventionally attractive person. Everything changed in November of 2011 when I had to become a tough bag of knuckle and grit, being flown by air ambulance to Halifax for an extremely rare auto-immune disease (Rapidly Progressive Glomerulonephritis) that had given me stage 5 (end stage) kidney failure. I was a young body filled with dreams but my body disagreed with me. You lose a lot of trust in yourself when your own body turns on you.

For the first three months or so of my sickness I was undergoing chemotherapy as a method of trying to suppress and reboot my immune system in order to get my kidneys to work again. During this time, I had huge diet restrictions (basically all I could eat was white bread, gummy bears and water) and became extremely malnourished. On top of that, I was on high dose steroids with horrible side effects, making me extremely weak. All I know is that I spent the last hours of 2011 sitting on the floor, staring at my legs, being astonished by skinny they were. I was strangely proud of how undernourished and skeletal they were, I had always wished I had the will power to intentionally be that skinny- but that’s another story. Both physically and mentally my functions were imbecilic. That night I blacked out and received the a blood transfusion that saved my life, but gave me a rash from hell. Physically, you honestly couldn’t recognize me.

The transfusion helped me in gaining my strength back from the months of crawling on the ground like a helpless baby. Despite my new found dividend of health, everything I was going through at this point made me ugly. Chemotherapy had taken away my thick, luscious locks of strawberry blonde, it took away all of my fingernails and toenails. The rash that covered me head to toe was gruesome. My entire body kept shedding it’s skin like a snake, leaving behind fragile pink tender skin that wasn’t even ready to be exposed to air. I felt like an unflattering cardboard cutout of an ugly caricature of myself.

I stopped leaving the house for a solid chunk of my precious time.  Alone and sad, waiting for the day I could finally close my eyes for the last time. I don’t think I saw anyone but my family and my friend Mia for at least three months. No photos exist of this time. Evidently this made it hard for me to keep up with my then “boyfriend”. In fact, I remember him asking if I’d take him back when I recovered, but all I said was “I’m not getting better”, and proceeded to ignore him. I couldn’t accept that he had the nerve to still adore me, I was so painstakingly un-sexual. How dare he want to kiss me. I knew I was no longer the girl who was all the perfect fashion, and eventually I really started to mourn for myself. I would never be glamorous, I thought, but at this point I desperately sought being able to be something completely ordinary and unremarkable. Staring at my familiar, tragic limbs- I believed my cold pink hands would never again feel pretty.

One very vivid memory I always think about is when I left to go to the mall for the first time since being sick. I slathered on a coat of the makeup watching actual centimetre parcels of skin peel like a million meaty sunburns that oozed out makeup. I started peeling and picking off the scabs but the more I peeled the more I bled. I came to the conclusion that I would have to peel off my entire face if I wanted to even out the texture of it, so I gave up. I slathered it in vaseline to glue the drooping flakes back onto my face in attempts to mimmic a smoothness and then used half the bottle of foundation to even out the colour. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror for what felt like hours. My face was the texture of a golfball; but more uneven and porous. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t even close to me. Even my eyes had grown so passive, my lids that were once a flirting device batted still- but with their sparsely fallen out lashes they were so dim, so dead.

By late February of 2012, they realized my kidneys just weren’t going to start working from the chemotherapy. They stopped the chemo and I was put on peritoneal dialysis. In a nut shell, that means they put a tube in my belly, the tube connected to a machine every night at home and ran for 8-12 hours, depending on what the circumstances were. Essentially, dialysis does the work for your kidneys, but its more of a temporary thing, and as I found out the hard way, it has lots of complications. Years went by and I had plenty of brushes with death. Plenty more stories to be told about that. But this story is about the growing pains of my confidence & beauty, not my psychical pain.

It’s 2019 and it’s been five and a half years since I received my life saving kidney transplant. My mind has a weird complex built up around how I see myself in the mirror. I often find myself comparing myself to who I was before I ever got sick. I have this way of idealizing who I was before the sickness came, and I’m always seeing the world through rose coloured lenses when I think about my childhood. Sometimes I take a look at myself in the mirror and it’s really hard. I’m so quick to notice how frayed I am at the edges like I’m some kind of hand-me-down lace. Sometimes I just feel like all of my bones are too old for me, that they creak like a dusty house full of empty photo albums because I lost so much opportunity to fill them up with all the teenage  memories I had to miss out on. People tell my all of these experiences make me strong but for the most part I just find myself thinking they make me heavy. I had to grow up too fast and it hurts. It hurts but it’s going to be okay. The ocean is fucking heavy, mountains are fucking heavy, but they’re so perfect and beautiful and that’s all I should be seeing about myself too.

Today I feel secure, complex, and empowered. Maybe I won’t tomorrow, but taking things day by day is the best way I’ve learned to navigate through this world. There will always be people who take me for face value & my looks alone. It takes serious courage to love yourself in a world, in an infrastructure strategically set up to make people who have suffered trauma feel isolated, unworthy, and heavy. The caliber of experience I have endured has done nothing but expand my emotional intelligence, even if it isolates me. Our dominant culture is filled with violent myths. Break them.

J - What inspired you to do what you love?

E - The internet, contemporary situations, and people I surround myself with can be a source of inspiration/influence, but they can also be a huge form of intimidation/comparison. I used to try so hard to impress people but ultimately it just created huge insecurity blocks. Seeing other people competing for acceptance is toxic. I think it’s important to keep some things to yourself. Deconstruct the social construct of what “talent” is. You don’t have to cater to other people. The world doesn’t have to be this finite, limited space you think it is. Don’t let people devalue your creative ability and worth just because they don’t understand it. It’s their loss. My mom is the biggest loner I know and she inspires me every day. I think I work best alone and I get that from her. Maybe this sounds selfish to you but I think that more than anything, I inspire myself. My life has been one dark struggle after another and somehow I crawl my way out of it every time. I’m strong enough now to realize that being alone isn’t a bad thing at all. Isolation breeds individuality. Once I realized that, the world became a safer place for me.

J - What do you find yourself daydreaming about, and can you recount a specific daydream you’ve been having lately?

E - I want to be somewhere new. I’m so tired of Montreal. I dream of being somewhere  where absolutely nobody knows my name or where I’m from or how I got there. I don’t want to talk about myself. I want to learn about other people. To get inspired by them. Lately I’ve been working on music lots. It’s something I’m really passionate about and I can’t wait to share it with people who are open to listening. All I daydream about is being somewhere warm and somewhere exciting. The last few years have been really hard on me. I struggle with a lot of issues that I’m not going to delve into right now, but my biggest dream is just to be happy. To be able to look at myself and be proud, and to make my friends & family proud too. Life moves really fast and I’m making lots of changes. Things are changing for the better, I have to believe they will. <3

Thank you Ella for sharing your inspirational and moving story! <3

Come back next month to see August’s Divine Femininity. :) 

[winteriron-trash]

About Me/FAQ

Hey, welcome to my blog! This is my -well, usually- Marvel-centric blog that has everything WinterIron, Bucky Barnes, and Tony Stark, as well as some general shitposts of my own wild adventures. I figured it’s best to keep up this trend of updating my ‘About Me’ page every follower milestone. So thank you all so much for over 3,000 followers, I never expected to break that many followers, let alone in less than a year on Tumblr. I appreciate each and everyone one of you, so really, thank you for sticking around with my bullshit.

Per the usual, I don’t do drama, I don’t do discourse. If you have a serious problem with me or anything I’ve written/done on this blog, please take it up with me personally. I will delete anon hate (if I get any, I haven’t gotten any yet…) and I think it’s all just pointless. I can be salty and derpy sometimes, but I will never purposely say something malicious. I’m not here for that negativity.

Now, to the FAQs.

Do you have an Ao3/Pillowfort/other social media?

I do have an Ao3, you can find me at Gothic_Lolita. I don’t cross-post everything, and a lot of my stuff on Ao3 isn’t WinterIron or even Bucky or Tony-centric, so if you’d like to see some other stuff I write, feel free to check over there. I don’t have a Pillowfort, nor do I plan on getting one. It took me forever to get this platform right, I’m not in the place to bother learning how to navigate a new one. I don’t do Snapchat or Instagram or Twitter because I am not nearly basic or cool enough for that stuff. The only social media I use is Tumblr and Pinterest, and trust me, my Pinterest is nothing interesting enough to be worth linking.

Do you have a tagging system?

I’m… trying, honestly. I’m trying to adjust my tags and systems because of the… wildness Tumblr is having with blocking and purging certain tags. I try to be funny in my tags, and I swear a lot, and apparently ‘fuck’ is being filtered out of the tag search, so that’s fun and completely screwed me over. As it stands, the important tags are ‘winteriron-trash writes’ (my writing tag), ‘shitposting with becca’ (any wild shitposts of my own sad creation), ‘not about marvel’ (any posts that are my general bullshittery and not Marvel related), ‘becca gives mediocre writing advice’ (a new tag I’m trying to use that’ll tag any post that I give writing advice on), ‘becca spills the tea’ (a tag for whenever I post my metas or opinions on Marvel characters, plots, etc), and the citrus scale which I explain in a post here

Do you write original fiction?

Yes, but I rarely, if ever, post it. I think I have all of one poem on Tumblr, any absolutely nothing original on Ao3. I write original works all the time, especially poetry and novels, but I’m super shy about being vulnerable and putting my stuff out there. I do wanna post my original writing somehow, but considering a fandom blog and Ao3 aren’t really the place for it, I’ll just keep it all hidden inside of me, and one day I’ll die. You’re more than welcome to ask me about any of my original writings, trust me, I am always willing to ramble about the shit I write, it’s pathetic.

What type of fanfiction do you write?

For this blog, mostly WinterIron fics or gen fics focused on Bucky or Tony. I do write about OT3s on here occasionally, but they usually include WinterIron in some way. Most of the time. I’ve somehow gotten to writing some weird stuff lately, to be honest. I’ll work with MCU, Sony Venom, and Spiderverse characters and canon, with the occasionally comic canon shoved in there. I have occasionally written crossover content with DC characters, but that usually relies on comic versions -or at least my own remixes of them- rather than the DCEU. On my masterlist, you can check out all the things I’ve written!

What are your ships besides WinterIron? NOTPs?

I’ll ship almost anything, and I’m a huge fan of rarepairs/interesting relationships simply to explore the possibilities of it, particularly when they include Bucky or Tony. My top OTPs besides WinterIron are currently Phlint, FalconShield, and BlackPepper. As for NOTPs, I strongly dislike Stucky, Stuckony, Thorki, and Staron for reasons of just not being able to see those characters together romantically. Feel free to send me the wildest rarepair your mind can think of, chances are I’ve probably already thought of it myself so I’d love the chance to ramble about/write for it. I’m a big fan of weird OT3s as well, just see the weird shit on my masterlist.

Are you in any fandoms besides Marvel?

I’m into DC, Star Trek, classic literature, Percy Jackson/HoO/Kane Chronicles, She-Ra, Carmen Sandiego, indie gaming, Supernatural, vulture culture, HYDRA Trash Party, and musicals. Yes, I’m aware I was born to be a geek. Trust me, I’ve grown very used to it.

Do you take prompts?

Honestly, sending me a prompt/headcanon/idea is a shot in the dark. I have prompts sitting in my inbox that has been there for about a year that I’ve been meaning to write. Chances are if you send me a prompt yes I’ve seen it, yes I think it’s lovely, but god I do not have the time. Occasionally a prompt will really grab my eye and I’ll just have to write something for it, but sometimes even that can take months to finish. Don’t be surprised if you send me a prompt and I randomly fill it seven months later. I’m prone to doing so. I love being tagged in existing prompt/headcanon posts and asked to write it (as I have a bad habit of hijacking posts to write stuff for them to begin with…) just know that once again the chances of me writing it are about a 50/50. Also, make sure the OP is okay with you asking me to write it, it’s never my intention to steal someone else’s spotlight, I just want to take cool ideas and throw my two cents in.

Is there anything you won’t write?

Drugs and alcohol are hard nos for me. They’re personal triggers that if you really want to know more about, you can send me an ask or message about. If I’ve listed something as a NOTP, I will not write anything with it. I strongly dislike writing kid fics, mundane AUs, damsel in distress Tony fics, and A/B/O, but I’m willing to work with an idea if it’s good enough. It really depends on the situation.

Do you offer writing advice/reviews?

Yep! I’m down to answer any questions on writing fanfic or just writing in general. I love talking about writing and all that. Seriously, I like talking about writing almost as much as I like talking about Marvel. I’m more than open to reading a few chapters of your fic or book or whatever and telling you my honest thoughts, but I probably won’t have time to read all of it if it’s more than 5k long, because I’m just a busy person. And I will be honest because I want to be helpful. Don’t ask me for my honest opinion if you just want your ego stroked.

Can I ask your opinion on [insert topic here]?

Always. I am always open to sharing my honest opinions, regardless of backlash I’ll receive for it. I’d rather be my honest self online -the one place I can be my honest self- then a fake mask made to please others. Whether it be fandom ships, in-universe meta, or non-fandom related topics, feel free to ask me. I love talking meta, or just general thoughts and opinions on random stuff. Trust me, I’m far too opinionated for my own good. Ask literally anyone who’s met me.

How long have you been writing?

All seventeen years of my sad, sad life. I loved writing stupid little stories when I was a kid, that slowly morphed into shitty “books”, then I went through a poetry phase in junior high, and when I was about 14 I wrote my first fanfiction. I posted my first fanfic when I was 15, and have been posting fanfiction for over a year and a half now. I started Tumblr in late February but didn’t start writing fics here until about March because I am a shy bitch.

Aaaaaaand now for some stupid shit about me you didn’t ask for.

My name is Becca, or Winter, or Dumbass, whatever you prefer, and I’m a dumbfuck 17 yr old lesbian from upstate New York. (The ‘upstate’ part is important. Don’t ask me if I live in NYC. Just don’t.) I’m a junior in high school and planning to study English and Marketing in college, to hopefully become an editor. Hopefully. I’m actually a pretty boring and dumb bitch, which makes it all the more concerning that I am steadily gaining popularity on this hellsite. Someone help me.

I mentioned some of my interests above, but some other stuff I’m into includes knitting, playing piano, tea, collecting (hoarding) notebooks, photography, editing, music, and being a general idiot. I’m a wild child in ripped jeans and a leather jacket, which should not fool you because I’m far too shy and afraid of everything to be cool like that. I sound a lot cooler online because I’ve gotten so used to online interactions from making friends and running my own Discord server, but in real life I am unrecognizable. I’ve been in a grade of 60 people with the same people since kindergarten and some of them still don’t know my name.

I’m mentally ill and all that, but we’re working on getting… better. Writing schedules are a mess from me and sometimes I’m falling apart so, that’s fun. It doesn’t usually affect my blog because I internalize that shit, but occasionally the self-deprecating humor can get to be a little too close to the truth. And just the general spastic nature of my blog reflects the utter chaos of my mind.

So anyway, that’s me, please be my friend. Also, because this seems to come up more and more. Please don’t be afraid of me/intimidated by me. I know I look all cool and popular, but I am literally a hot mess just like the rest of us. If you want to climb your way into my messages and just,,,, scream at me about something you think I’d like, or just scream in general, go ahead. I really won’t mind, I promise. I need… friends, or so my therapist tells me.

Oh, and here’s a face reveal.

Yes, I am that absolute idiot of a person, lying splat in the middle of my elementary playground field for,,,, reasons???? I don’t really remember the story behind that picture tbh, but it’s my entire personality in a single picture, so I dig it.

And here’s my actual face, with a cheap ring in my mouth and a fox filter because I thought I looked cute, okay? Leave me be.

Tadah.

I swear I’m funny and talented sometimes, please like me.

As always, feel free to send me an ask or a message about anything you’d like. 

Check out my Masterlist if you want, and join my Discord Server.

[theonlyjelly-iwillput-inmybelly]

Escapade- Chapter Two

A/N: Hi, friends, here’s chapter two! You can read the full fic here on my AO3 (this link will take you to the beginning), or you can read Chapter One here on my Tumblr (this link will take you only to Chapter One). Reblogs are deeply appreciated! 

Please let me know through a comment, reblog, or message if you want to be added to the taglist! Chapter Three is scheduled to be posted this Saturday

Tagging people below the cut

After Roman had shut the door to his room, he took a deep breath and shook his head. The ache in his heart had acutely throbbed when he had turned his back on Virgil. Despite the warm rays of sun that filtered down onto his uniform, he felt a distinct chill around the areas Virgil had touched. He licked his lips, tasting a faint trace of cookie, and sighed. Spreading his shoulders back, he strode off into the direction of his stables.

It had been decided unanimously by all the Sides to keep from Thomas the knowledge that Roman had a horse called Maximus. There was, of course, a reference to Tangled in Roman’s choice of name. Roman found it a little difficult to merely sink into the darker corners of his kingdom, a corner of his room that fell into the darker portion of Thomas’s mind. Whether it was because he was harboring a well hidden fear of that corner of his kingdom, or whether he had too poor of a mental map of the area, Roman loved an excuse to ride his horse just like the stereotypical prince he was.

Maximus was a powerful white steed who stood at a solid fifteen hands high. His coat, mane, and tail were snow white. He was, of course, another child of Roman’s mind, so he had some good qualities unusual to other horses. Roman sensed that the horse possessed a certain level of intelligence abnormal to his equine brethren, and that he was empathetic and brave. This notion was often questioned whenever Maximus was frightened by his own shadow, or walked into posts. Despite his clumsiness, Roman knew Maximus was an intelligent creature.

Roman took the time to explain to Maximus their mission as he readied his gear for the long journey through his kingdom. Maximus always watched him with careful eyes whenever he spoke, his ears pointed forward, and he nickered at all of the right places. However, the horse’s eyes usually strayed to the saddle bags full of supplies for the trip; the horse knew that a number of treats lay within those bags.

Within ten minutes, Roman had stepped up into the saddle, and urged Maximus to a gallop as they headed West into the sunset. The cliche was not lost on Roman, but it also could not be denied that it lent him a great thrill.

As the sun began to set and the familiar terrain began to be cloaked in shadow, Roman became lost in thought. It was easy for him to daydream as he rode a horse. He knew he was an expert horseman, and Maximus was an easy horse to handle. The pounding, repetitive rhythm of the horse’s hooves was conducive to deep thought.

He found himself worrying about the Dragon Witch.

Roman had faced many a foe in his day, but none was ever so difficult to face as that vile serpent. He often came back from battles with her battered, bruised, and recovering from her various charms and spells; all she had were mere scratches. However, the most impressive damage Roman had inflicted on her was blinding her in her right eye.

She, in return, had torn a terrible gash along his back. Fortunately, Roman always carried a Dragon Witch first aid kit, in which he was able to stitch himself up and stop himself from bleeding to death. The wound had taken a while to heal, yet none of the other Sides had seemed to notice his stiffness and unwillingness to take off his shirt, as he often did when he slept. Virgil was the only one who knew of its existence, due to his recent upgrade from ‘friend’ to ‘ lover’.

Roman was slightly apprehensive of his imminent encounter with the Dragon Witch, but something in his gut told him that this would be his last time venturing to the Witch’s lair. The wounds he inflicted on the dragon’s body seemingly could not be healed by magic; as the ruler of this world, Roman had his own version of magic, and he had enchanted his sword so that the wounds it inflicted could not heal.

After a long while of galloping, Roman slowed Maximus down to a swift trot. The horse seemed to protest by a sharp flick of his mane and a tug on his reins; he wanted to keep going. But Roman knew his limits, and resolutely kept him at a trot. Roman focused on the terrain around them; the area was scrubby, with low growing shrubs and and knots of of sage. There were occasional groves of ash trees, and a twitch of movement could be attributed to a rabbit frightened by the powerful hooves of Maximus. A chilly breeze swept across the land. Roman shivered slightly, pressing his arms closer to his sides. A slight twinge in his chest reminded him of how warm Virgil’s embrace had felt just hours before.

He already missed him.

Maximus nickered, turning his head slightly to look at him. Roman smiled softly, once again certain that the horse possessed deep emphatic mindsets. He patted the horse on the neck.

“Thanks, pal- Merlin’s beard! ” Roman said, ending his sentence with a swear and a cry as Maximus stumbled down a shallow bank and into a creek. The horse whinnied with fright, and bucked several times, splashing up sprays of chilly water.

Roman, recovering from his shock quickly, leapt off of Maximus, and with a calm voice and soothing gestures, calmed the stallion back down.

“How about we stop for the night, buddy?” Roman suggested, shivering as he stood in the chilly flow of the creek. Moonlight quivered and quaked on the slight trickle of the water.

Maximus blew into his hand, and under Roman’s lead, walked onto the pebbly banks of the small creek. Roman did a quick inspection of the horse to make sure he had not injured himself in the slight tumble. Satisfied that he was fine, Roman unpacked a picket line from Maximus’s saddle bag as the horse gracefully lowered his neck for a drink. Unhitching and caring for Maximus was a simple task for Roman, so he found his thoughts wandering again. As he curried the sweat from Maximus’s sleek coat, he wondered how the others were doing.

Logan was probably in his room, an arch of notebooks, books, and crumpled papers littering his desk, a pen skittering enthusiastically over notebooks, post-it notes, and graph paper. He would rocket back and forth between his vast desk and his whiteboard on his wheeling stool, working on one of the great mysteries of the universe, enjoying every moment in his weird, nerdy way.

Patton was probably just cleaning up from dinner, washing the dishes and not at all feeling bitter that Logan usually disappeared directly after dinner to work on some idea that had been fed to life by the sustenance. Roman occasionally helped with cleaning, but he too often had a rush of ideas after eating. It was sort of a ritual of Virgil and Patton’s to wash up after dinner. Though Virgil would never admit it, it was their bonding time. The two were probably quietly talking about how cute or dorky (depends upon who you asked) it was that Logan always put his whole soul into his work, or that Roman always worked on his ideas from the bottom of his heart. After cleaning, Patton would probably return to his room, tidy up, and settle down to nostalgize or play on his gameboy.

Virgil, after helping Patton clean, would also return to his room. Depending upon his mood, he would either go straight to bed, or stay up to browse the Internet while listening to music. Roman now knew that he also sometimes wrote little stories or poems, but he had been sworn to secrecy. He would stay up late into the night and early into the morning, naturally being a night owl. Roman alway had to fight hard to stay awake with Virgil as they lay together in the living quarters of Roman’s room. That was one fight he was willing to lose.

Roman blinked as Maximus nuzzled his hand softly, his nostalgic train of thought interrupted. He hadn’t noticed that he had stopped currying until Maximus had licked his hand, the other of which was clinging tightly to the horse’s soft mane.

Roman sighed. “I’m sorry, old friend,” he whispered. “I just...miss him, is all.”

Dejected, Roman packed Maximus’s gear away and scrounged around the surrounding area for wood. He could hear the soft breeze whistling over the stones, and the grinding of Maximus’s teeth as the horse picked and chewed the sweet grass.

Within half an hour, Roman was settled against Maximus’s side, the horse having laid down beside the fire, his ears pricked and alert. Roman was snapping twigs and tossing them into the small flame he had going. The sound of summer crickets and katydids chorused quietly in the air.

A chilly breeze blustered from the west. Roman inhaled deeply, closing his eyes; the scent of the darker corner of Thomas’s mind hit his nose. He faintly smelled the characteristic scent of burning and decay. He shuddered, bringing Patton’s care package up to his face; it smelled of cookies and of the moral side’s sweet caramel and vanilla scent. He smiled, feeling slightly closer to home. Roman rooted around in the package, withdrawing a first aid kit filled with excess gauze, sutures, disinfectant, and morphine syringes (Virgil’s gift), a small, handmade pamphlet on navigation (Logan’s contribution), and two treat apples for Maximus (Patton had a special spot in his heart for the horse).

Roman dug around one last time in the satchel, listening to Maximus making delighted horse noises as he nibbled the apples, and pulled out a bag of Patton’s home baked cookies. They were already opened. Roman smirked as he imagined Virgil unable to resist the urge to steal a cookie even as Roman was saying goodbye. The man never could deny a sweet.

As Roman settled down to read the manual on navigation he had read a hundred times already, as this was not the first time the pamphlet had made its way into the Roman’s care packages, he suddenly felt a chill that was unrelated to the eerie breeze to the west. Even though Maximus’s living warmth was keeping his shoulders and back warm, and his feet were warm in the heat of the flames, a distinct chill roamed his midsection.

Roman closed his eyes and listened intently; all of the sides were deeply connected, and they could feel one another’s presence if they listened hard enough. It was a simple heartbeat that they heard. Roman was listening for Virgil’s.

Virgil always had a quick heart rate. This was hardly surprising, as he was the literal embodiment of anxiety. But as Roman focused, he noticed that Virgil’s heart was pounding unnaturally fast, and that it occasionally skipped a beat. Roman knew at once what this meant; Virgil was having an anxiety attack.

Hot guilt and shame washed over the prince as he curled closer to Maximus. He wished he could be there to comfort his boyfriend, but all he could do was listen to his heart. So he did the next best thing; he took deep breaths to steady his own heart, and sent out an aura of reassuring vibes, hoping that the anxious side would listen. If the sides listened hard enough, or if one of them was feeling something particularly strongly, they could feel what the others were feeling.

Soon, Maximus began to grow restless. He whickered quietly, licking Roman’s ear to gain his attention. The prince turned, and saw Maximus nudging the care package.

“No more apples, Max,” Roman said, taking the bag and turning it upside down to demonstrate its emptiness. To his surprise, a small, plump book tumbled out, along with a scroll of hastily torn notebook paper tied with a strip of fabric.

Roman raised an eyebrow at Maximus, who immediately lost interest in everything Roman was doing and contented himself by watching the stream go by, and snatched up the letter before it was lost to the breeze.

It was tied closed with a long strip of fabric. In the dark of night, Roman could not read the note nor see the fabric or the book, so he leaned forward to the light of the flames.

The scroll was tied shut with a thin strand of purple plaid.

Roman tore it open at once. He recognized Virgil’s untidy scrawl: Here’s some better reading material, because Logan has no taste- V.

Roman, grinning like an idiot, picked up the book and saw that it was his favorite; a volume containing the tale of King Arthur and his fellow knights on the search for the Holy Grail. Virgil must have snuck it in when he was stealing a cookie.

Setting the book aside, Roman tenderly tied the strip of purple plaid around his wrist. A lover’s favour to their knight. Suddenly, he felt a distinct warmth spread through his chest. He focused back again on Virgil, sending all of his gratitude and positive vibes. To his relief, he could feel a steady heartbeat and happy yet aching aura from Virgil. Roman sighed, patted Maximus on the nose, and curled back up to read.

The breeze continued to blow as Roman read, and despite the token on his wrist and the steady heartbeat he heard suggesting that Virgil was sleeping, he became achingly more aware that the space beside him was so, so empty.

Taglist:

@celiawhatsherlastname @monikastec @jordandobbertin @greymane902​ @lostgirlggwen @kittenvirgil @iamahumanwaitnothatsalie

[justinsearchofparadise]

Anastasia’s Letter

                                            Preface

      In the hopes that I really am, for the most part, a decent writer i’ll continue the ‘girl’ series. Maybe this will be one of my best series or writing collections. Maybe not. If you are at least able to get one thing out of my series and nothing more then let it be this; take the chance. This piece will be a little different. That’s a lie. All of the pieces in this series will contain something new. Whether it be the form of writing, tone, or impact on my life. Nevertheless, if you believe that you are one of these people odd’s are you might be right. Then again Staten Island isn’t that small so don’t be offended if there is no story on you yet. If we meet and it moves me in some way, you’ll get one.

      Huh, now where do I start with you Anastasia? We have not had so many encounters but for the encounters that we did have you sure did steal my focus. Albeit that maybe isn’t such a hard thing to do since by nature i’m a curious person. There was something about you though. Something that I saw in myself. I just knew in the moment I saw you that you had such a spark in you. A spark that comes from happiness in its most basic form.

                                                                  Part 1

       It couldn’t have been more than 2 weeks before graduation when we met. Our mothers knew each other from work and had formed a friendship so in due part I must thank them. My mother gets call on a Saturday evening. It’s from your mother. I over hear parts of the conversation because my mom had decided the best time to talk was during lunch with the kids. They talk for what could not have been more than 10 minutes. I know that because in the time it took my mom to finish the conversation I had already finished most of my lunch. I hear my mother say bye to yours over the phone. “Guess what” my mother tells me. “What’s up, who was that?” I replied. “My friend from work just invited us to a birthday party that she’s throwing for her son” mother says. “A birthday party? What do you mean by us?” I questioned. “The family! You, your sister and the baby.” she replied. “Oh ah. I have to check my schedule. You know since graduation is right around the corner I don’t want to miss out on anything important.” I told her in liar’s complete sincerity. Let me explain. Ever since I could remember I did not like going to parties. Parties just seemed like a waste of time to me. That and I wasn’t exactly the most social butterfly of the bunch. So with those things in mind I didn’t really have an interest in going to this birthday party. It would just be another way for me to see how bad I am at getting to know people. “Well, if you find out that you don’t have any plans that day I would really feel good if you went with me that way I won’t have to be alone if your sister cancels at the last minute” my mother replied.

                                                                     Part 2

             As the week went by I did my usual thing. Wake up late for school. Contemplate missing first period because i’m passing it with a solid grade. Take the lovely brisk morning walk or get dropped off by my mom even though I lived about 15 minutes away from the school so walking wasn’t really a problem but hey don’t judge me. Laziness is a very serious condition! School was really becoming greater and greater as each fleeting moment of it passed. It really is a shame that I didn’t appreciate all of those fleeting moments. Having forgot completely about the party I made plans with myself. I would sleep in the entire weekend and binge Netflix. Friday night comes around and as my mother gets ready to go to sleep she tells me “So you’re gonna come with me tomorrow to the birthday party right?”. “Oh, um, yes?” I replied. “Good, we have to be there by 12 so get up around 10:30 to start getting ready” she said. “Crap. I just set myself up what the hell am I doing. Ahhh” I thought to myself. As I cancelled my spectacular plans with my good ol friend pillow and Netflix, I know had to deal with the situation at hand. As I began drifting off into a state of sleep, thoughts began to pop up in my mind. Images of what the party would be like. A park full of people celebrating. Loud music. Good food. An awkward me. Then sleep hit me.

                                                                  Part 3

      It’s the day of the party and i’m still contemplating if I should just blow it off. “What the hell am I gonna even do there? I don’t even know the kid.” I told myself. As everyone in the house began getting ready, I was dragged into the mosh pit of that chaos and eventually ended up willingly going. That morning my sister and I had argued about a very touchy subject. I won’t tell that story now, i’ll save it for her story. Since the party was being held in the Bronx I volunteered to be the navigator for the trip. Never again.

                                                                 Part 4

      The trip to the party was a long one. I was half asleep and trying to not get us lost which made it even more of a struggle. When we eventually got to the location we spent about half an hour trying to find parking and eventually having one of the party guests come out to find us since we were on the wrong side of the park. What a great first impression! Following the party guest in his car we eventually ended up on the right side of the park. When we found parking it started raining. It’s like every force of life just did not want that day to end up being good. I guess the universe can work in mysterious ways. As my family and I walked over to the party we were being drenched in rain which made the situation even more weird. There were three parties being thrown in that park that day. One of those parties was a father's day get together and the only reason I know that is because they had signs all over saying how great it was to be a father and others that said having a great time with other dads. You know, the cheesy dad stuff. The second party was just getting set up but it seemed like a birthday party too. Maybe the balloons were for something else and I was just oblivious to the writing on them. The third party being thrown in that park was what my family came for; the birthday party of Anastasia's brother.

                                                             Part 5

      Walking up to the tent that their family had set up was a bit awkward. The floor was muddy since we were in the grass, our clothes was drenched because of the rain, and they had no idea who the hell we were. With the exception of my mother of course. I followed my mother and sister into the tent since I didn’t want to be the first person everyone stares at. Walking into the tent I looked around to see who was there and if I could maybe try talking too and that’s when it happened. A young lady who was sitting with her face towards the park suddenly turned around and had a giant smile on her face. That was the first time in awhile that a girl took my breath away. She had one of the greatest smiles that I had ever seen. She was a brunette. She was Spanish. She was beautiful! She got out of her seat and began introducing herself to everyone of my family members. “Hi nice to meet you. I’m Anastasia and you are” she told me. “Hi! Uh my name is um” I muttered. “I’m sorry, what was that?” she replied. “My name is Rick” I responded. “Nice to meet you Rick, you and your family can help yourselves to the food” she said. “Same here and thank you!” I replied. “What a good first impression Rick! You can’t even act normal around a girl like her, you’re hopeless!” I thought to myself. Having such a awkward first encounter with Anastasia I decided to not even run the idea of getting to know her. She probably thought I was weird or had some sort of social problem. For the next couple of hours my family and I spent the time sitting and conversing with each other and playing with my nephew. Anastasia’s family begins playing volleyball and ask us if we want to join in. “Yeah let me just take off my jacket” I told them. “Great! Now I have a chance to redeem myself and show them my awesome volleyball skills!” I thought to myself. I spent the next fifteen minutes trying to correctly serve the ball and failing each time. Then my mighty savior, my nephew, came running to my side and made me leave the game to go play with him. In hindsight, i’m not really sure why I agreed to play volleyball. I was horrible at it in high school and never took the time to actually learn how to serve. What made me think that I could show off my non existent skills? Oh yeah, I was trying to impress a girl. The party continued for a couple of more hours in which I enjoyed playing with my nephew and conversing with my family. One thing I forgot to mention. Throughout my time at the party I would catch Anastasia glancing at me. I didn’t pay too much attention to those glances because she had a man, who turned out to be someone attempting to get out of the friend zone, by her side the entire time! So being the gentleman I was, I tired my best to not look at her. Well at least tried not too. Then again those looks that we shared carried some weight. It was finally time to leave the party. My family and I shared our goodbyes and appreciation for the invite to the birthday party. I told Anastasia goodbye for the first and last time. Now you might be saying, “Did you really write an entire story around a girl that you met once!” and the answer to that would be yes. The story actually starts after we met, it isn't a long run but it is worth talking about because it made me realize that I did have boundaries regarding girls.

                                                             Part 6

      When we left the party I had already accumulated my list of questions for my mother regarding Anastasia. I began with the most obvious question “Who was that girl!”. “That's my friends daughter” my mother said. “She’s beautiful!” I replied. “I’m not sure you should be looking in that direction” she replied. “She has had a rough couple of years and has just recently gotten over a bad relationship” my mother added. “Wow, well I mean we could just be friends and not look into anything else” I told my mother. “She would really appreciate that. She needs friends in times like the one she is going through” mother said. So with all the intentions I had of maybe seeing something through with Anastasia I knew it couldn’t be anything more than a friendship.

                                                              Part 7

      A week after the party my mother calls me over to her room and tells me something that shocks me. “So my friend just called me and said that her daughter wants to come to your graduation” she said. “What the hell” I blurted out. I had just met this girl and her family and she wanted to join in on a family day! It caught me off guard but at the same time I was feeling extremely excited to see her again. It was going to be graduation so I was forced to look nice regardless but with this new information I was going to try extra hard to impress this girl because I knew that she would look beautiful so I had to match that! I spent the week leading up to graduation trying my best to think of the best conversation topics and anything that could make her interested in me. To my behest, life would throw me another curve ball. The day before graduation my mother gets a call from her coworker. The call lasts for what couldn’t have been more than 15 minutes. “My friend’s daughter got into a car accident, she’s not going to make it to your graduation tomorrow” mother said. Well of course something like that would happen! I have the best intentions for her and life screws it up! Graduation day comes and passes. At the end of the night my mother receives a call. She tells me that it's from her coworker. “Her daughter has a graduation gift for you and wants us to go pick it up” she said. We head over to their house to pick up the gift. On arrival my mother asks if I want to go inside with her and I told her no. “I've had a long day and I'm really tired, I'll just wait in the car” is what I said. “Sure thing! I'll be able to see how her daughter is doing and see if she's in need of something” is what I should have said. My mother comes back from their house with a blue gift bag that had a lining of glitter around the top of the bag. I waited until we got home to actually check what was in the bag. When we finally arrived at our house I decided to shoot Anastasia a text. It was a thank you message. Nothing more, nothing less. She responded back saying that it was no problem .It took me a week to open the gift from Anastasia. For whatever reason I just couldn't get around to opening it. Maybe I was afraid to see what was inside. Maybe I was looking to deep into what the meaning of the gift actually meant. Maybe I'm just an asshole. The bag contained two shirts. One blue and white horizontal striped shirt and the other was a static looking shirt, almost like the static you would see on old televisions. The black and white fuzz. The gift was a very kind gesture on Anastasia's behalf, probably one that I didn't deserve.

                                                                   Part 8

      I struggled to continue writing this piece because I didn't necessarily have a motivation to finish it. With my other pieces, something triggers a reaction in me that makes the writing come easy but it was different for this piece. Anastasia was someone who had a profound impact on me. Not in the fact that her looks could kill, but in the fact that I wouldn't be able to have a relationship with someone like her. Anastasia had an immense amount of baggage. This baggage shapes the person and gives them a new perspective of what to expect from people and what they don't want in a relationship. She made me realize that I couldn't be selfish in an attempt to dating someone like her. Someone with an immense amount of baggage. It would selfish of me to think that I could handle her needs and wants or give her something that she's looking for even though I know that I can't. Anastasia saved me from my own selfishness. One that could have led down a bad road. One with more deception or unmet expectations. That is why this piece exists. Anastasia showed me a part of me that I didn't know was there. A part of me that could rationally see that I wouldn't be able to make her happy and be fine with not exploring what could have been. The possibility of something good coming out of delving into the dynamic we had was too much of a risk. Realizing that I did have a good part of me that actually wants the best for the people I met was really eye opening, for the time being. I would later realize that the part of me that couldn't be selfish and risk hurting someone would be slowly pushed aside by a friend and show me something about myself that I didn't want to acknowledge.

                                   Don't fall for the illusion of a moment.

                                   For the sake of everyone, don't be selfish.

          ��                                                                                                        -R

[youngerdaniel]

Week Three in Hollywood North (With a Downer Second Half)

I chomped off more than I could chew.

For those who’ve been frequenting these parts for the last five or six years, that’s probably not at all a surprise. In fact, it’s been the M.O. for many of those years. I like to do a lot—and often a few (or more) of those projects gets bumped off the palette when the other ones become more unruly.

I’d been hoping to drop weekly entries on here to talk about the wonderful world of film school, what I learn, what I think of it, and general anecdotes to make you feel like you’re part of the ride.

THE GOOD

Well, a couple weeks late, and six-thousand dollars short, here we go! But, fair warning: if you’re expecting a detailed itinerary of the past 16 days, then you have seriously underestimated the amount of homework involved in a one-year intensive. And I’m not complaining, but I am busier than a penguin in a sardine cannery. Hence the brevity. Let’s call this the abridged version of Daniel’s First Two Weeks at VFS.

In a word, it’s awesome.

In a few more words, I’m home.

Maybe that’s not a surprise to you readers. And I get it; how many hours have I spent here blathering on about story and movies and the like? Well, I’d be embarrassed to count. The point is, I’m surrounded by about 27 amazing people who have all been drawn to the same concepts for different reasons. It’s like dunking your brain in a pool of your favorite cocktail. The instructors are world class, and clearly love what they do more than they love their dogs. The curriculum itself is exactly what any writer, either seasoned or green, would want. 

I can say with certainty that I’m in my element. 

In fact, I’ve hit moments where I’m so overwhelmed with excitement and a sense of homecoming that I’ve been moved to tears. I’ve got a few things in development. I’ve done some networking and have some interesting prospects for more writing on my plate... And I’ve got a metric fuck-ton of reading that I have been warned will only get heavier as the year progresses.

Challenges. Lessons. Comrades. Mentors.

The city also isn’t hard to look at.

Now, that’s the good. And to be perfectly clear: it’s a goddamned lot of good.

THE BAD

But never forget that nature loves itself some balance. If you haven’t learned this yet, let me warn you from experience: everything evens out. You win the lottery, your dog will die. You get a fancy car, your house burns down. Nothing—positively nothing—comes without cost. You don’t get a good thing without a dick-punch from the wonderful mistress called Life. It’s just the way it goes.

The most salient cost is that I’m a good 3000+ miles from the home base. And with that come all the trappings of homesickness and isolation (even among a stellar new circle of friends). As much as I’m in my element, I’m also out of it. It’s a weird soup to slurp.

And tragedy did not miss its flight on this round.

She deserves her own damn post, but I’m on the subject and drinking whiskey, and this thing has already bloated like a beached whale, so let’s do it. Sharp left turn ahead... 

***

My Aunt Jane always owned stupid dogs. When I look back at my childhood in retrospect, I think this might be the single kindest aspect of her personality. It’s a micro-photo of the way she navigated life: she dedicated every moment of her existence to taking care of people and other creatures—even the stupid ones. She and I had very different ideas on notions of religion; of familial duty; of faith and the way one should go through the world... But she was so unwaveringly herself; so devout in her convictions (and P.S. she had some pretty good convictions) that I always respected her. We were both musicians, and long ago she would let me play on her sinfully expensive guitar. She played lame gospel music because she loved god. I played post-hardcore and punk because I hated him. Somehow, through some incredibly tacit family grammar, we found a way to connect with each other. You can always find something to love in a fellow artist.

And fuck, how can’t you respect someone who spends their entire life taking care of sick people? And not only that, Jane would work daily as a nurse, and later higher up on the chain of command, and then she’d go home and cross the street and take care of her aging father and her mother who’d lost her mind to dementia, then suffered a stroke and found herself trapped in her own skull. A great many people—and if I’m honest, probably even me—would run from that. But Jane saw that she could help and gave literally all of her time to helping in situations where she could. I don’t know generally how I feel about sainting people, but in my eyes that qualifies as prime sainthood material.

Jane died the first week I was out here. And I don’t mean to be a bummer, but I’ve got to unpack this somewhere. Or at least attempt it. I’ve been mulling it over in my head and it doesn’t do a damned thing, because thinking works on grief the way that water works on ducks.

We weren’t best friends. We didn’t text every day. It wasn’t that kind of Aunt-Nephew relationship, but this is someone who I’ve known literally my whole life. She’s the religious lady with the big dumb dogs that attack people on the beach during family vacations. She’s the only family member that I allowed to call me “Danny Boy” without sniping with some nuclear sarcasm. And now she’s gone.

What do you say about that? 

I sat on the other side of a FaceTime conversation with my Dad, thinking of how I’d feel if I lost my sister, wanting nothing more than to be able to just reach through the phone and squeeze his shoulder. I wanted to be able to hug my sister as we both went through the photograph albums to prepare for Jane’s funeral. I want, more than anything, to just be home. 

At my maudlin moments, I think of how fucking awful things are back home, and I hate myself for being out here having an amazing time. I feel guilty. I think that any rational and somewhat sane person would. I also know that I shouldn’t. I know I should dive full-bore into this new life I’m carving out for myself.

This is what in Character class we would refer to as an inner conflict.

It’s the first family funeral I’ve missed. It’s the first time I’ve felt called to support my family and been handicapped by distance. Of course, the thing I feared most when I was deciding to come out here happened: some would be bad and I wouldn’t be around.

So, yeah. I get punched in the gut with these feelings at the most arbitrary moments. Plays right into that moody, broody, grump-persona I’ve carried for a couple of decades. I’ve gone from feeling like I’m home for the first time in my entire life, to feeling like I’ll grab the first ticket back to Ottawa in the morning. I have a lot of doubts; about my decisions, about my art, about my writing and my potential and my attitudes... The same garden variety self-doubt you’ve heard me whinge about for years now. And I know that’s a part of the process, and that we all go through it; and in fact, I’ve travelled perhaps the least-far of all my classmates, so I should probably stitch my trap.

There’s an old email account I check weekly for bills. At the top of the list is the last email Jane and I exchanged. It’s what’s keeping me here when I want to go home (And shut up, I already do a lot sometimes. I’m a sap. Fuck you.)

It says: 

“Thanks for the message Dan - I am really happy for you and this new step. God bless, love Jane”

I’ll miss you, Jane. I’m so sad you won’t get to see where the step takes me, even if it’s home. I’m gonna stick it out. And if there is a place where people get to look down on the living and smile, I hope you’re there, and I hope I can manage a smile from you.

[wander---woman]

Santiago –> Lima –> Quito –> Cotopaxi –> Baños de Agua Santa –> Quito –> Bogotá –> Cartagena –> Santa Marta –> Cartagena –> Bogotá –> Mexico City –> DFW Texas

12 Jan. 2017

Here’s something that can’t be Instagrammed or Facebooked: I feel so comfortable in my own skin. On this packed van chugging along the Ecuadorian countryside, next to an artist and an actuary from Cape Town, I’m happy. This is what I love about travelling – stripped of your own cultural clothing, you’re forced to look inward, to inhabit yourself fully. Here is where my home is. I think it’s something I think we all carry with us, but we can’t always tap into it. Moments like these are all the more precious for that reason.

3:09 pm

Me: So what did you think of the waterfall?

Tom: It was a bit underwhelming, honestly. I’ve seen so many now it’s hard to be impressed. But it’s not really ever about the waterfall, is it? I like walking in the mountains and jungle and feeling the lichen and moss and everything.

Me: And getting your ass muddy.

Tom: And that. That’s it, isn’t it?

And that is it – getting outside, meeting new people, falling flat on your ass. What else is there?

Travel tip: Secret Garden Cotopaxi is worth the extra money if you find yourself in Ecuador.

I just saw snow-covered Cotopaxi in the moonlight under the stars. I was awestruck. Struck dumb with awe. I tried to take a photo, which, of course, didn’t turn out well. Somehow, the inability to capture the moment on film felt right. To recognize the ephemeral nature of one’s own existence on this planet and to be filled with gratitude is a deeply personal experience that can’t be translated or shared with others.

But I’m going to try anyway… [Cotopaxi in the early morning]

13 Jan. 2017

Hiked to Pasochoa (alt. over 4,200 mts above sea level). It was rainy and muddy and jungle-y at times, but a nice hike overall. We could see Cotopaxi from the summit. A dog who came with us from the hostel got lost, so some folks stayed up there to look for him.

A nice Canadian couple and I took turns carrying the other dog through the jungle part because he was scared.

I love people. I love how the Canadian guy spoke so humbly about his musical abilities and then played beautifully and effortlessly. I love how Tom and Patrik hiked back up a mountain to save a little dog. I love how Caitlin showed me how to play ukulele and was so happy when I got the chords right. I want to pick up some instrumental abilities, but I also want to do what they do with music, with words. If I could describe the feeling I had when I saw Cotopaxi – the neck of the moon – under the stars, it would be like finally touching the thing I’ve been grasping for for my whole life.

How do you craft accessible, poignant fiction? I don’t know yet, but I think it might be like singing in the car until you get better. I guess I’m okay with writing shit until that shit-to-decent ratio improves.

14 Jan. 2017

Blissful harmony with humanity cut short. Misanthropic cloud has appeared.

On the way to our Cotopaxi hike, the Europeans said our local guide, Carlos, was too fat to climb the volcano. They said overweight people can’t hike. Fuck that. PEOPLE OF DIFFERENT SHAPES AND SIZES CAN DO ALL THE THINGS.

Turns out Carlos has been a tour guide for over 20 years and has summited the volcano countless times. He just had a bike accident and had to get 26 pins in his knee, which is why he’s slower walking at the moment. And yet he still goes to 4,800 mts altitude almost daily.

I asked Carlos what he thinks about tourism in Cotopaxi and how it affects the local community. He said it’s good to earn money and share Cotopaxi with people, but having a hostel or tour agency that belonged just to the community instead of being contracted by big businesses would be ideal. As of now, he only earns 25 % of the price the hostel charges us. This strikes me as largely unfair, given that he’s the expert. I wish I could do something to help, even as a backpacking tourist with no money.

15 Jan. 2017

“Psychology of the twenty-first century crowd: people like to capture the spectacle, own it. Call it a side effect of late capitalism, call it an attempt to stave off the ineffable transience of life.”

Is that what I am doing by taking pictures of my travels? Furthermore, is uploading photos, posting, and sharing on social media our collective attempt to stave off the transience of life? The inevitability of death?

Unrelated: Hice la wea más turistica de mi vida. I just did the most touristy thing of my life. I took one of those obnoxious tour buses blasting bachata and reggaeton that stops every 15 minutes to get people to buy things. I hated it. But I did get to see some waterfalls, like the Pailon del Diablo, the most famous one.

I hitched a ride down from La Casa del Arbol with some Ecuadorians who were super nice and we talked about everything from travel to family to work. It was nice to connect with people using Spanish. The woman’s niece, whom we met, was kidnapped and held for ransom in Venezuela. I am so fortunate to have always lived in countries where that isn’t commonplace. I feel incredibly grateful.

16 Jan. 2017

I am constantly astounded and humbled by the beauty of nature. I am so sad to be missing out on rafting and canyoning today, but I’m resting my ankle (sprained it at La Casa del Arbol) so I can go full throttle in the jungle tomorrow.

Turns out reading in a hammock under the sun for hours and talking with Jimmy (works at the hostel) wasn’t half bad. It’s given me a chance to reflect on the important things. Jimmy is 30 but looks about 20. I asked him what his secret was and he said laughing a lot and enjoying every minute of life.

My new architect friend, David, also gave me some good life tips.

Me: Tell me something about architecture.

David: When people design their own homes, they always forget to include a place where happenstance is possible, where they can just be. When you get home and take a moment to decompress and take off your jacket. An interstitial space, it’s called – where you can run into someone you haven’t seen in a while. You always need a place to just be.

Me: That’s beautiful.

David: I guess it is.

I went to buy fruit with David and we made awesome fruit salads with dragon fruit and uvillas. Then we went to the hot springs at La Virgin de Agua Santa. I liked them – I met tons of people and there was a gorgeous waterfall. David and I made guacamole and now I’m having a great conversation with some Argentinians about sexism in music and its effect on society.

17 Jan. 2017

Went to the jungle today. First we stopped at an animal rehabilitation center and saw pumas, toucans, monkeys, leopards and jaguars. Then we went in a canoe down the river into the jungle and hiked to a waterfall. Actually, before that, we went on a swing in a gorge very reminiscent of the Tarzan movie. Our guide, Gary, who is from Amazonia, gave us mud masks. The waterfall was breathtaking – and I caught a glimpse of a rainbow peeking through. I swam under it even though my ankle still hurts. After some lunch, we went to a kichwa community. A girl painted some symbols on my face (a boa) and we tried shooting traditional sedative blow darts. I was noticeably the worst – surely a sign from the universe that I’m not meant to be sedating or killing anything. I’ll stick to my plantains, thank you.

We drank the traditional chicha drink in a welcome ceremony and were encouraged to buy artisanal jewelry made from seeds collected in the jungle and beaded into necklaces and bracelets. It was fascinating (if somewhat sad) to see the effect capitalism has had on the Amazonian communities. I can only hope tourism (especially my visit) hasn’t had a negative impact on traditional cultures. But I’d be kidding myself to think otherwise. In any case, I loved hearing the kichwa language and seeing at least some traditions, even if they were only the ones sanctioned and commodified for tourists.

18 Jan. 2017

I’m on the bus from Baños to Quito. I’m looking forward to having 3 and a half hours to read and reflect on my travels thus far. Before I left the hostel, the owner and staff hugged me and took photos with me, saying they would miss me. I appreciated that. Elba made the comment that I’m going back to the US, back to reality, soon. It dawned on me that I’ll be leaving Latin America. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I’ve always been a planner, a long-term goal-oriented person. That’s worked to my advantage (academics, work), but it’s also caused me to sidestep/overlook/not take advantage of otherwise gratifying short-term opportunities that pop up on the road. What does failure look like to me? What does success look like? I think those are good starting points to work some of this out.

I went up Ichimbia and met a cool British guy and his husky on the way. Ichimbia was basically the San Cristobal of Quito. The views were nice, but paled in comparison to Cotopaxi. It made me realize I really like the campo.

Second Mercado Central run went well – red bell pepper, a ton of granadilla and pitahaya, and a weird alfalfa-guanabana juice acquired. Success.

Then I met a friendly veterinarian who lives near Vilcabamba. We navigated the public transportation together. That man sure seemed to have his shit together. Conversations like that and the one I had with Iralda from the hostel are what make traveling so worthwhile.

Flying Solo: Muddy Asses and the Overwhelming Joy of Ephemeral Existence in Ecuador Santiago --> Lima --> Quito --> Cotopaxi --> Baños de Agua Santa --> Quito --> Bogotá --> Cartagena --> Santa Marta --> Cartagena --> Bogotá --> Mexico City --> DFW Texas…

[alamanyar]

joy; a skam italia fanfic

words: 6.391 character’s pov: martino ships: martino x niccolò; martino & mamma rametta, martino & giovanni summary: a glimpse into the near future of martino’s life and his relationships with the people he cares most about. it’s funny, he feels like the luckiest boy in the world, and yet he worries about not being good enough.

disclaimer: english is not my mother tongue. i hope there won’t be any grave mistakes that will make you turn away from the story. if it’s the story(-line), then fine, that’s fair enough, but yeah i hope i didn’t embarrass myself. enjoy :’)

joy ☆．。．:*･° It’s been a couple of weeks into the New Year and Martino couldn’t be happier. It seemed as if life finally made sense, as cheesy as it sounded; and yet. Most of the time, he found himself living in a content bubble. There was his new found identity, which gave him so much energy- sometimes he didn’t know what to do with it. His relationship with his mother kept improving with every day and he didn’t lie to his friends anymore. Well, only if it had something to do with Niccolò. He couldn’t count the times they had sneaked off to the bathroom on the second floor of the school building. They even ditched some meet-ups with the boys, because they rather stayed home to spend time alone together. But other than that, there was no need to lie anymore. Martino liked boys and he liked one boy especially. Nico never failed to keep him on his toes. He was quirky and challenging and he came up with the weirdest ideas. In January they had gone to the Villa Borghese gardens and when Nico unpacked his drawing tools, he spotted a marble statue he wanted to sketch− together with Martino in the picture. After a couple of minutes of ridiculous arguments, he gave in: Nico, with that smug look on his face kept drawing for what seemed like hours. His boyfriend always ended up directing him to pose like this or that, but mostly it was just fun, and watching him get excited over it was an expierence he would cherish forever. He only called it a day, when he started to freeze his ass off, after all, it was winter and all this posing and standing didn’t keep him warm. So basically, whenever he thought the boy he was lucky enough to be with had a weird idea, he ended up loving the idea. Easily.Nico embodied what he called loveable energy, sometimes lovable asshole energy, to add, and Martino wouldn’t have it any other way. He liked Nico the way he was. However, at the beginning of Feburary, his boyfriend started appearing a little bit uneasy. He didn’t get that far to call him restless, but he was somewhat alarmed. Actually, he always worried about him in the back of his head, but he could tone down the worry most of the time and just be a normal supportive boyfriend. Whatever normal was supposed to mean. He didn’t mention anything, because he felt like he would put pressure on him by doing so. And that was the last thing he wanted to do, so he remained silent and hoped being here with him was enough. On the last day of school into the second week of February, they went to his house to relax. They had no plans with the boys, so they decided to keep it quit. Nico was sketching on his bed while he sat on his desk researching for the Radio. Never in a million years had he thought that his Friday afternoons could come close to something like this. The thing was, they had talked about the new topic “Age of Discovery” for the Radio on the way to his house. Nico was hooked on geographical maps at once. There was something about getting lost in the imagination to go anywhere he wanted, even if it was only in his mind. Martino could understand that well. His mind had often drifted off to an imaginary world where there was no need to worry about coming out. A place where it didn’t matter whom he loved. A place where everything was easier to handle. But now that he was with Nico, he didn’t dream to escape from the real world anymore, only if it meant going someplace together with him. Perhaps that was why he ended up reading articles about the discovery of magnetic compasses and how it changed the world of navigation. He found that oddly fascinating. One day, he hoped they could navigate a ship together. There wouldn’t be need for compasses, for they were guiding each other. Just like now. Between Nico’s pencil flying over the sketchbook and his occasional typing on the keyboard, while Vespa noises interloped through the open window dancing together with indie music softly playing in the background. He floated through space it seemed, until he noticed Nico had stopped sketching eventually. He turned around from his desk and saw that his boyfriend had dozed off. He was lying on his side, drawing utensils still in his hand. A tiny bundle of black hair, halfway wrapped up. Martino wasn’t sure how long they had worked on their respective things, he kind of had lost track on time, but it obviously had been tiring for Nico. Or maybe, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, Nico was more tired than usual. And that could mean something else was up. He tried to burry that thought. Vehemently. Just stay calm, he told himself. Pay attention, but stay calm. He was starting to get hungry, but he wanted to lie down beside Nico for a while, so he went to his side of the bed and mirrored his boyfriend’s position. He was intent not to wake him when he got under the covers, but when he carefully took sketchbook and pencil from his grip, Nico mumbled something unintelligibly. “You were saying?” “Nothing.” “Oh? Then I have a ghost lying in my bed?” “Funny.” Marti chuckled and moved closer. He nuzzled his nose against Nico’s and kissed it softly. “It’s okay, we don’t have to talk. I can just sleep, too." “I wasn’t sleeping.” Then, after a pause. “I’m sorry.” “What for?” He nudged his shoulder gingerly. “I’m not really talkative today.” “What are you saying? We’ve talked.” “Not really since we got here.” “So?” Nico exhaled loudly. “You don’t have to talk all the time. Or do stuff. You know we can just lie here together.“ “You’re not worried?” “Why should I be worried?” He tried to sound causally, but instantly felt a rush spreading out on his cheeks. “That I’ve been sleepy lately.” “So you think I should?” “I don’t know, Marti. I don’t−” “Hey.” He put sketchbook and pencil under his pillow and started caressing his boyfriend’s cheek. “I don’t mind.” “What if, what if−” He listened to Nico struggling to get the words out. He knew, he knew what he was about to say. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it. When Nico suffered, something deep inside of him stired. He continued stroking his cheek and witnessed a tear coming out of his eye. If there was a possibility to give him the world, he’d outright do it. “Hey, com’ere”, he mumbled and drew Nico to his chest. “Tell me. Are you worried?” “I’m worried about hurting you”, he half-whispered in reply. “Why?” “Because I already have. It could happen again. ”“That’s in the past. And if, you wouldn’t do it deliberately.” He planted a kiss on the top of Nico’s head and let his lips linger there for a while. “What if I do it again?” He felt his boyfriend disappear into his chest, as if he wanted to hide there and never face the real world again. Never face his fears and worries. He hugged him a little bit tighter and started to draw lazy circles on his back. “I don’t know. Let’s not worry too much about that, okay?” After a while, a hoarse whimper escaped Nico lips. “I don’t want to draw you into my mess.” “Don’t be ridiculous. I happen to like your mess.” Nico chuckled. It was soft, almost not audible. Maybe it happened out of pity. But it was there.Baby steps, he reminded himself. “You’re too good to me. You’re too good for me”, he heard him mumble drozily. “Well, I don’t think there exists something like being too good, but I’ll take the compliment, thank you.” Nico answered him with what appeared to be a failed nudge into his chest, followed by a deep grumble of him and then, a ghost of a kiss, planted where his heart was supposed to be. His hand found the back of Nico’s hair and he started running his fingers through them. “It’s okay, just sleep for a bit, hm?” After a while, Martino went back to drawing circles on his back. Lines and curves and what not followed, until he felt Nico fall asleep on his chest, breathing steadily with his face burried in the crook of his neck. He continued to hold him, yet when his stomach started making low rumble noises, he carefully untangled himself from Nico’s embrace. He made sure his boyfriend was covered comfortably when he left his room. ☆．。．:*･° He found his mother in the kitchen, who seemed to look for something inside of the fridge. “Hey ma”, he greeted. She turned around and gave him a smile. “Hey you.” “What are you looking for?” He pointed to the fridge. “Well something we can have for dinner. I don’t think we have enough for the three of us.” “No? Well, I don’t think Nico will eat with us today.” “He left without saying good-bye?” “No, no, he’s sleeping”, he calmed his mother down who was definitely shocked of the mere possibility. He grunted. “Why are you laughing, eh?” “No, I’m sorry. It’s just your face.” “Ah, so my face is funny now, too?” She laughed now as well, and he couldn’t help but crack up.“You know what?” “No, tell me.” “I’m happy you were offended that he’d leave without saying good-bye.” “Well, it’s not like him to do something like that, is it?” “No yeah, it really isn’t. It’s good to, uh, it’s good to see you get along well.” “He makes it rather easy. That boyfriend of yours and his charm. It’s really something.” “Yeah.” He looked down, grinning from ear to ear, before he lifted his head up again, looking at his mother, who was still standing in front of the fridge with her face aligned to him. She looked content. It was his favourite look on her, without a doubt. If only he could make it to never go away. “So listen, you don’t think he’ll be hungry when he wakes up? I could rush down to Samir to get some more ingredients.” “I’m not sure he will wake up anytime soon. He seemed really out of it. He’s probably sleeping through the night.” “Rough day at school?” “I’m not sure. More like a rough week, I think.” His mother closed the fridge and walked over to him still standing in the door. “What’s up, my love?”, she asked carefully, but with this fierceness of her that made him shiver. It was typical of his mother to know that there was something up with him and sometimes he wished she wasn’t capable to read him like a book. But she was, and so they were standing on the treshold looking at each other when he felt his eyes swell up with tears. He gulped. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine, Marti, just tell me.” She caressed his cheek and he gave in, cautiously at first, and then, an instant later, he hugged her to his chest. “Ouuff!” „Sorry. Sorry, ma” he breathed out. There was only dry air in his lungs. At least it felt like it. „No, no, it’s okay. Come, sit down.“ She tried to guide him to the table in the living room, but he held on to her. „Hey, hey“, his mother tried calming him down stroking his back and some short time later his hair. He suppressed a sob and only as he gained control of his breathing, he was ready to let go. After they settled down at the table, chairs facing each other, his mother took his hand and stroked it gently. It felt as if minutes passed until he could talk. „I’m… I’m worried he’s not feeling good. That… that something’s not right again and that I… that I can’t do anything to help him.” He suppressed another sob and looked into his mother eyes which a part of him regretted since she looked back at him worriedly. He had promised not to worry her anymore, didn’t he? Why couldn’t he keep his damn promise? „Marti, oh, my boy.” She enclosed his hands with her own, giving them a squeeze. „You’re doing enough, believe me. Your’re so good with him. Don’t doubt yourself, okay?” He tried to answer with a nod, but he was absolutely sure he failed regarding in that aspect, and so he gave his mother’s hand a little squeeze, so she’d know he had heard her at least. „Ma, I have been terrible to you when you were… suffering. And I’m so sorry for treating you badly then. I hope you know that.” He touched his brow and rubbed over the tiny hairs there to gather himself. He didn’t dare look at his mother. He was certain, he wouldn’t continue talking; so he straightened his back a little and carried forward. “I’m trying to-to be optimistic now, but what if he gets sick of that? What do I do when that’s not helping? Maybe I don’t understand him enough. I want to make him feel better and I know I can’t really do that, you know? It’s not up to me. Not entirely anyway.” He put his hand back on his thigh and immediately found it enveloped in his mother’s hand. „Marti, you’re doing wonderfully, believe me. Nico appreciates everything you do; I can see it in his eyes. If you are afraid, you’re being too optimistic or whatever it is, you can ask him. But listen, what matters most is that you stay true to yourself while trying to help him, okay? I think he wouldn’t feel comfortable sleeping in your bed right now, if there was a problem with what you’re doing.” „You really think that?” He finally looked up and found his mother gazing at him. She beamed with certainty. „I do. He can be himself here with you and that is all the answer you need. At least to me.” „He thinks he’s getting me down with his moods. With his disorder.” He wiped away a tear. And another. „Well, that’s normal I think. I mean, he’s afraid he’ll drown you with his sorrow and he wants to protect you from that. But those are moments he has, you know, it’s not always like that. He doesn’t have those kind of thoughts all the time. He doesn’t want to lose you, sure, but mostly, he just wants to feel better.” He glanced at his mother, who was giving him an encouraging nod.„Do you feel like that, too? When you are being down?“ She took a moment to answer. „Well, I always feel a heavy amount of regret. It is as if I have no control over disappointing people, especially you. I feel like I’m letting you down. I feel ashamed that I don’t have the power to make myself happy.“ He squeezed her hands. “You know, it isn’t your fault.“„And it isn’t Nico’s fault, nor yours. There’s nothing at fault here. It is what it is.“ He pondered a while over his mother’s words while she losened her grip on his hand. A moment later, he felt her caressing his cheek. It tickled. He smiled at her. „You really think I’m doing the right thing? Maybe I could be more thoughful?“ She softly tugged at some of his loose curls, before she brushed them to the side. „If you ask me that, then I think you’re precisely in the right place.“ He frowned at her. „Listen, ma, I know you understand Martinese, but I’m not sure I understand your own version of it.“ „Oh you little shithead.“ She pinched him in the cheek which he answered with a fake cry of hurt, more or less. „Listen, you are questioning whether you’re reacting correctly or not and I think that says it all. I am positive you shouldn’t change your behaviour, but I don’t have an answer to everything. So, I’d say go ask him, if you find the courage.“ „Okay.“„That boy of your needs reassurance. He doubts he’s not good enough for you… when he has these moments, alright? And I know it’s not always easy reassuring someone, especially those who are closest to you, but try to remember, he doesn’t do it in order to hurt or annoy you.“ „I think I understand what you mean.“ He gave his mother a little smile. „Marti?“ „Yes?“ She was at his hair again, before she took his face into her hands. „I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that. I haven’t said it often enough I think, and I’m sorry. But I am so very proud of you.” She nodded as if to support her message. “My brave boy.” He sensed a sudden warmth spreading out on his back and on his cheek. It flowed through his whole body, almost igniting him with fire.„Ma…“ He felt tears on his cheek, running to the corner of his mouth in speedlight. She gave him a kiss to the forhead and he almost lost the rest of his self-restraint. If it weren’t for her firm grip, he would have melted right on the spot, tumbling to the ground. „Let’s have dinner, yes? What do you say to pasta with pesto? There are enough ingredients to make it. We can always leave enough for Nico, if he decides to eat later.“ He hadn’t regained his composure yet, so he just nodded. When his mother stood up to leave for the kitchen, he tugged at her hands. „What is it? You don’t want to have pesto tonight?“ He smiled sheepishly. „You know I could eat that kind of pasta every night.“ „Well?“, she asked with a chuckle. He gave her hand a squeeze, something he had done quite a lot tonight, but this wasn’t one made of gratitude. He took a deep breath, and then, with as much wholeheartedness he was able to manage, he told her what he wished he had told her more frequently. “Ma, you’re the best mom one could hope for. I hope you know that. I love you, I really do. With all my heart.“ It’s funny, he thought, when he noticed the tears forming in her eyelids, he never felt more happy to have said those words. Never more grateful. For his mother’s eyes were shining with bliss. "Marti..."He stood up. „Okay, I think we cried enough for the day. And I’m really starving by the way. All this talk about my fave pasta?“ „Let’s make dinner, then", she nodded, still regaining her composure. „You know, we could also watch something together.“ „Sure, if you feel like it.“ „Okay, but not this weird show you’ve been telling me about. I don’t wanna watch that.“ „And what do you wish to watch?“ „I don’t know.“ „Well, let’s talk this over, then.“ They walked back into the kitchen and started preparing everything for his favourite pasta. He sensed her glancing at him from time to time and he almost called her out on it, when she invaded his space − yet again − to give him another kiss on the cheek, telling him how much she loved him back and that he meant the world to her. Not with despair like it happened so many weeks ago, but with serenity and sincerity. Had his relationship with his mother ever been this good? Maybe, when he was still a child, he didn’t remember anymore. He wished he had been a lot nicer to her on many occasions, but maybe they were meant to lose their connection for a while. Just so they could be there for each other at this given moment. He knew he’d never dare hurt her again as he used to. He’d never hurt anyone like that again. He vowed this silently to himself, when he pestled the basil in the mortar. ☆．。．:*･° His mom had dozed off here and there into the third episode of ‘Medici: Masters of Florence.’ There were some scenes he’d rather had not watched with his mother being in the room, but other than that he enjoyed the storyline of the show. The Medici’s ambitions were inspiring and a bit scary at the same time. The visuals were breathtaking and Cosimo de’ Medici reminded him a bit of Nico. They both were attracted to art. In this dream-like kind of way, almost dissolving, yet always hungry for more. On the one hand he wanted to continue watching the show, but his mother had to go to bed and he himself felt getting tired as well. It also had been a while since he’d checked up on Nico and he had a guilty conscience about it. So, he wished his mother a good night’s sleep and started tidying up the kitchen. Just as he had finished putting the dishes into the dishwasher, his phone buzzed. It was Giovanni. {-Hey bro, what’s up? We spontaneously went out to this bar we talked about earlier. Do you guys wanna come? Luchì is already drunk as fuck. He is making weird dancing moves.-} Enclosed was a picture of Luca with what appeared to be coasters on his head. His friend’s hair was sticking out in all directions. He suppressed a chuckle and started typing a reply. No, fuck it, he thought and dialed his best friend’s number. “Pronto?” “Hey, what did you do to Luchì?” “Nothing! I swear! He just gets drunk super fast, you know that.” He heard Elia in the background bellowing profanities. “Alright alright, I believe you.” “So? The bar isn’t far from your house. You could be here in twenty minutes.” A pause. “If you guys want. I mean, is Nico still at your place?” “Yeah. Yeah he is. He’s sleeping though.” “Ah okay. Everything alright?” “Not sure.” “What’s up?” “For now he’s just tired, I think.” “You need anything?” He was leaning against the counter and took some time to answer. Shit, he really had the greatest best friend in the world. “Yo, you’re still there?” “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’m not... I’m not sure what you could do? I’m gonna go to bed soon, you know.” “Okay, bro. I’m sorry.” “What? Don’t worry.” “No, yeah, I mean we haven’t been here long. It kind of escalated quickly. I wanted to call you earlier, but I didn’t want to interrupt you guys or anything.” “Interrupt us?”' “Yeah, I wasn’t sure what you guys were up to today, so.” He cleared his throat. “No, we were just- we weren’t really doing anything. Nico was drawing and I− wait, did you think you could interrupt us during sex?” He heard Giovanni making a weird voice, he wasn’t sure what exactly it was, but it sounded weird. “Like I’d be able to answer the phone then.” Giovanni snorted with laughter. “Sorry, bro. No. I mean yes, I’m not sure. I guess I just wanted to give you some space.” “Wait, why?” “I don’t know. I just− we’ve been doing a lot of stuff together. You know, with Nico, too. And I know you guys sometimes wanna hang out together just the two of you.” “Okay, but we already do that. I’m not sure I’m following you here.” “Listen, man−“ He heard Luca and Elia giggling in the background. “Wait a sec.” After a couple of seconds later, Giovanni was back at the other end of the phone, chuckling. He felt a weird knot in his stomach. They seemed to have fun. He spent many wicked nights just doing shit with the boys which he supposed they were doing now. It wasn’t as if he wanted to join them. Perhaps he did, but not like this. Not with Nico sleeping in his room or maybe not sleeping, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps he was twisting and turning under the blankets right now, hell, he didn’t know. If the day had been different, Nico would be standing with him in the kitchen, listening to the conversation and probably dragging him out to join the boys this instant. “Yo, bro, what is it with you and your pauses today?” “Sorry! I didn’t know you were back in the line.” Giovanni breathed into the ear cap audibly. “What’s up, Marti? I can hear you think.” “Oh God, you’re so annoying, you know that?”, he blurted out. “Come on, bro. Just tell me.” “It’s nothing. And by the way, you haven’t answered me yet.”Giovanni seemed to think about what he meant for a second, but he was quickly back on track. “Ah, about earlier. Well, I didn’t want to interrupt you guys, because I thought it was possible Nico would just sleep at yours. Like, I don’t know man, he looked fucking exhausted earlier.” “Yeah?” “Listen, it was obvious. And I know you noticed that. Of course, you did. And I respect that you don’t want to talk about his health with us. Or me.” “I’m not- I’m not excluding you, am I?” He touched his chin and rubbed over the skin a bit. “What? No, no, bro. Forget it.” “I’m not sure what’s happening right now anyway, but look, I’m sorry, if I am being weird about it.” “You’re not, relax. I mean it’s not that we don’t talk about it at all, you know? It’s all good. But just so you know, I know something’s up with you, too. And you can talk to me about it- if you want.” It was really obscure. He felt tears forming in his eyes for – he didn’t know for how many times – of the day. Giovanni continued talking. “You know, if you’re not sure what’s happening with Nico right now, why don’t you ask him? He won’t get weird about it. You talk about this stuff, right? Listen, he’s not gonna run away, because you’re not sure what’s up with him. Like this is so typical of you−“ “Fuck, you’re like my mom, I swear”, he interrupted his best friend. “I’m sorry, WHAT?” Giovanni failed to sound offended, he could clearly hear the amusement in his best friend’s voice. “Yeah. She told me something similar earlier. Like she thinks I’m handling it fine and all that, but I’m not sure.” “Well, she’s right. You know, you should listen to her all the time, dickhead.” “Fuck you.” “Right back at ya. So, maybe we can hang out tomorrow or on Sunday.” “Yeah, sure. What about FIFA? I think you need a nice lose.” “Hilarious. Listen, Elia started doing weird stuff now, too.” “Well, good to know a mom is with−“ “Fuck you! You better have called Nico’s mom, remember when−“ “I did that earlier, thank you very much.” His best friend chuckled at the other side of the line. “Okay. Later, bro.” “Giò?” “Yeah?” “Thanks, man.” “Welcome.” “Say hi to the guys.” “I will. Ciao, bro.” “Ciao.” As soon has they had ended the call, a sudden burst of fear hit him hard. It was something Giovanni had said and he lost track of his breathing just thinking about it. What the hell, Martino. Get it together. He managed to clean up the rest of the kitchen. He didn’t know how he did it, his mind kept going back to Giovanni’s words. Come on, you can do it. Face it. He went to brush his teeth in the bathroom and splashed water in his face. When he looked into the mirror, he didn’t like what he saw. He felt tired and that was exactly how he looked. Whatever he had to face, he couldn’t face it in this state. His phone buzzed on his way to his room and with a quick glance he saw that he had received a message from Filippo.j his can wait until morning, he thought, but ultimately decided against it. Filo had been a rock for him on many occasions. He was there for him when he was left all alone in Milan, and maybe it was his anxiety talking right then, but if it was an emergency, he’d never forgive himself. So, when he opened the message with a picture of a brown-haired man with the caption {-Whatcha think?-}, he breathed out a somewhat pathetic sound of relief. Goddamn, get it together. He replied with {-about to fall asleep. but he’d look good with you x-} and then muted his phone. Before he pressed down the doorknob, he breathed in and out a couple of times. His room was painted in low light since he didn’t turn off the lamp on his desk when he left earlier. Nico was lying on his belly with a pillow tucked underneath his torso. His dark curls were slightly illuminated and he took his time to look at him. His boyfriend had moved closer to the left side of the bed which he tended to do when he slept alone. His stomach made a flip. He felt a lot of things at the same time. Sadness, surely, because Nico wasn’t feeling so well. But most of all, he felt gratitude. Nico was here, lying in his bed. It was a miracle. Nico was his miracle. He continued standing in the exact same spot for a couple of minutes just looking at the beautiful sight in front of him. He was also waiting for the tears to stop. Quietly, he had started crying again. He wasn’t sure what it was that made him spill those many tears today, but they kept coming out of his eyelids with no restraint whatsoever. Maybe he stayed there for five minutes, maybe ten minutes passed until he moved to his closet to change into his pyjamas, he couldn’t tell. He thought about lying down in his nook beside the window, because he was afraid he’d wake up Nico when he’d join him under the blanket. It was just that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Which felt strange to say the least. Any other night, he would just lay down next to Nico no questions asked, but tonight it all felt so fragile. While he was grateful that Nico was here with him, he was also afraid. I don’t wanna lose him. His brain really went nuts today, he thought, as he tried shaking off any feeling of trepidation. With caution, he finally slipped under the blanket and waited to get warm. He arranged the pillow a bit and felt something poking his head. Nico’s sketchbook and his pencil. Right, he had put them there earlier. He fetched them and placed them on his bedside cabinet, with the pencil inside the book. It made the pages stick out a bit and he could catch a glance of what appeared to be a thread trailing through mountains? That’s what it looked like. He moved a bit closer to the bedside cabinet, when he heard Nico move. “Hey, whatcha doing? Stealing glances at forbidden goods?”, he teased groggily. “Hey, no. I−I was just putting your stuff away. It’s not very comfortable sleeping with them under my pillow, you know?” “You’re such a liar.” “You know nothing”, he answered and moved back to lay on his side, looking at his boyfriend. “Hey.” He touched his cheek cautiously and rubbed his thumb over the skin a bit. “Hey.” Nico put the pillow under his head, smiling sleepily, before he took his hand and enveloped it in his own. “How are you feeling?” “Exhausted.” “What can I do?”Nico kissed his hand which took him somewhat by surprise. He wasn’t sure why. “You’re already doing enough.” “Yeah?” “You’re like a fresh ocean’s breeze on a hot summer’s day.” He chuckled at his words. “How’s that?” “Well, you know that feeling, when it gets so hot during the summer you struggle breathing? And you’re looking for something to cool down? You’re at the beach or making a stop at a bar trying to escape from the dry air on the streets. And when a breeze brushes your face, it’s the best feeling in the world. It makes you feel alive again.” Nico pressed a kiss into the palm of his hand. His lips stayed there for a while, until he spoke again. “And you’re that breeze that never fades away that day entirely. Or on any day. You always come back.” Nico’s words left him stunned. He wasn’t as eloquent as him, so he did the only thing he could think of in that moment. With as much gentleness as he could muster, he rolled on top of Nico and took his head into his hands, balancing his weight with his elbows. He started with a kiss on his forehead. The soft skin under his eyes were next. “You know, I’d never leave in the first place.” He then kissed his nose, his upper lip, his cheeks, and finally, a kiss fully on the lips, hoping Nico could feel the promise he'd just given him. “If you don’t want me to leave, I won’t.” He smiled timidly at his boyfriend and then he positioned himself back on his side. Nico grabbed at his hand. “If I don’t want you to?” “Yeah.” “Marti, why should I want that? Why should I want you to leave?” He saw confusion in Nico’s eyes and he could have kicked himself. “Yeah, I mean…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I- sometimes I’m afraid I’m doing something wrong... or you know, choose the wrong words. Maybe I’m too cheerful when you’re feeling down, maybe that will annoy you sooner or later, maybe I’m not thoughtful−“ “I can’t believe you’d say something like that. You absolute idiot.” He stayed silent and just looked at Nico who wore an incredulous look on his face. “Have I given you the impression that I don’t appreciate what you do? For me? I’m so incredibly thankful for everything; you have to know that, Marti. I know I’m impossible to handle at times, but I swear, I’d never want to make you uncomfortable. I swear…there’s no way I’d want you to leave. I swear…” He listened to Nico’s accelerated breathing and felt like the dumbest idiot. “I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “You did nothing wrong. It’s me. It’s my brain that thinks I’m not being good enough. I’m sorry.” He choked back tears. Nico mirrored his position without letting go of their entwined hands. “Marti…” “I’m sorry I put this weight on you, Ni. It wasn’t my intention. I just, sometimes I feel a little helpless. I haven’t handled my mother’s depression very well. I’ve been mean to her. I can’t be mean to you. I don’t ever wanna be mean to anybody again.” Nico moved closer to him until he could lay his head on top of his upper body. “You’re not, I promise.” He took a deep breath. “Hey, would you do me a favour?” A nod. “If I ever say something weird or inappropriate about your mental health and I’m too dumb to notice, will you tell me?” Nico puffed out a bit of air. “Okay. But there won’t be need to.” “Well, I've done it in the past. So, you never know, right.” "Marti, amore..." "I still need to learn a few things, I know that." He felt feather-light caresses roaming over his chest. He took a moment to breathe it all in, and then his hand wandered to the back of Nico’s head and he started messaging his skin there. “That’s nice. You’re nice,” Nico mumbled after a while. “Well, I hope so. You’re not too bad either, you know.” He traced the shape of a heart, but the hair made it difficult. “Good to know.” His boyfriend emerged from his position somewhere between his upper body and upper arm. It was a good thing he hadn’t turned off the light, for Nico was full on grinning one of his extra bright smiles he seemed to reserve for him only. “I’m very much in love with you.” He felt the corner of his mouth skyrocket. “Ni, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He moved down to him so he could capture his lips with his own. Nico’s arm wandered to his shoulder where he tugged at his shirt. Soon, his boyfriend caressed his neck with his thumb and he sensed this incredible sensation there that also made his toes curl.Nico's thumb wandered to his jawline, when he suddenly stopped. “Marti, you’re crying.” “I am?” They looked at each other and Nico started tracing his tears with a worried expression. “Ni.” “Marti, don’t cry.” “Ni, look at me.” He complied with his request, yet still carrying worry in his eyes. “Those are tears of joy, Ni.” There was something ghost-like in Nico’s expression, when he looked into his eyes, but they softened rather quickly.“Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Tears of joy?” “Tears of joy”, he chuckled. “Okay, that’s good, right?” A hesitant smile. “I suppose it is.” “Those are tears” – he traced the path of them on his cheek – “tears of joy, because you’re so godamn lucky you’re with me?” It wasn’t really a question, more like a challenge. Nico looked smug. He smiled benignly. “Yeah, just like I said, dumbass.” And Nico’s body trembled of laughter. Softly, because it was a long day and he still looked very exhausted, but when his laughter emerged from deep inside of his belly, well, it was his favourite sound and he’d do anything to hear it. See it. Feel it. He tugged at Nico’s arm. “Come on, let’s sleep.” “You’re bossy today.” “Oh? But it’s part of my job, remember?” He felt Nico wrap himself up on his upper body again. “I don’t want you to think of this as a job, you know.” “I don’t see it like that. I’d never treat you like that. You know that, right? This is just my dumb humour.” “Ah, here we are. You finally admit you’ve got a weird sense of humour.” “Ha. Just go to sleep will you.” “You’re really something, huh?” Nico’s words became slurred again. He hugged him tight to his chest feeling his own exhaustion wash over him. “We’ll talk tomorrow if you want. Maybe I have a question or two for you.” “Sure. But don’t cry again, okay?” “I’ll try.” “Only tears of joy, Marti.” “Okay, Ni.” “Goodnight." “Goodnight." He gave him a kiss on top of his head. "Sleep well.” He sensed a kiss grazing his neck and a sigh escaped his lips. It was fascinating how fast Nico fell asleep on his chest. It didn’t take long and he was listening to his steady breathing. While he was tired out himself, he didn’t fell asleep right away. No, he concentrated on Nico’s breathing instead which made the rest of his uneasiness disappear bit by bit. He drew circles on his back occasionally thinking how lucky he was that he could be here with him. Tomorrow, they could talk more seriously, if Nico was up for it. Perhaps he’d been a bit overprotective. But he didn’t want to think about that anymore. There was no rush. The boy he fell in love with last autumn was lying in his arms and all was good in the world again. He turned his head so he could lay it down on Nico’s, and right before he drifted off, he sensed wetness emerging from his eyes. But he smiled. He smiled, because those weren’t tears of sadness. Not at all, no. ☆．。．:*･° fin ☆．。．:*･°