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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

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IUI - The Way I Love You

bear with me here folks

I know the Idiots are usually soft af. but my lovely spouse/fiance/soon-to-be-fiance and beta @dani-dandelino hit me with an idea and I added a dash handful of angst bc i couldn’t help it

Warnings: feelings of inadequacy, fear of breakup (no actual breakup I promise), miscommunication, drunk af Geralt, past shitty relationships, happy ending tho I promise, there’s tears but they’re happy I swear.

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Geralt only ever got sloppy drunk when Jaskier was the DD. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t trust anyone else, it was that he didn’t trust his drunk boyfriend not to goad him into something stupid.

The last time they’d both gotten fucked up outside of their apartment they woke up with three traffic cones and a “Speed Hump” sign in their living room. When they asked Triss what happened she sent them a video of them giggling as they tried to fit the sign into her trunk.

After hanging the sign in their apartment, they decided it may be best to take turns.

This particular instance, they’d dropped Triss and Yen off and were on their way home, Geralt’s head lolling against the window as he fought to stay awake.

“I’m not carrying your perky ass upstairs,” Jaskier laughed, snapping his fingers near Geralt’s ear.

Geralt grumbled but sat up straight and leaned into Jaskier’s outstretched hand, “Radio.”

Affectionately rolling his eyes, Jaskier pulled his hand away and flipped on the radio. Geralt immediately gasped and started singing along off key and slurred. The first time Jaskier heard Geralt scream along to Taylor Swift he’d been shocked, if extremely endeared.

“BUT I MISS SCREAMIN’ AND FIGHTIN AND KISSIN IN THE RAIN! IT’S TWO AM AND I’M CURSIN’ YOUR NAME! SO IN LOVE THAT WE ACTED INSANE, AND THAT’S THE WAY I LOVED YOUUUUUUUUU!”

Jaskier turned the volume down to a reasonable level when Geralt cranked it so loud his ears might start ringing. He rolled his eyes when Geralt started singing it to him, taking the shortcut home and trying to ignore the little pit forming in his stomach.

When the song ended Geralt turned the radio down and picked up his hand not gripping the steering wheel, “Jask?”

“Mhm?”

Even in the car, Geralt glanced around conspiratorially before whispering, “I have a secret.”

Fear flared in Jaskier’s chest but he took a deep, calming breath, reminding himself who he was talking to. His boyfriend thought secrets were fun. Mostly because Geralt’s version of a secret was keeping what he made for dinner a surprise until Jaskier got home. He’d even felt guilty not telling Jaskier he was seeing a therapist when they’d started dating. For all his gruff exterior and suspicion, Geralt really was an open book with those he loved and trusted. Jaskier had a very different idea of what secrets in a relationship meant.

“What’s that, love?”

Geralt giggled as he traced the edges of a magnolia on the back of Jaskier’s wrist, “That is the way I love you.”

Luckily for Jaskier’s car, they were rolling up to a stop sign. He had time to loose his breath for a moment and fight back the initial feeling of shame and anger with himself before he pulled his hand away and gripped the steering wheel as he punched the gas.

Through gritted teeth, he said the gentlest thing he could think of, “We don’t kiss in the rain.”

Geralt frowned, almost pouted at him, “I still love you.”

A part of Jaskier wanted to scream at Geralt, another part wanted to pull over and make him walk home, thankfully the loudest part reminded him the idiot was just drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying and he thought he was being sweet. There was also a good possibility he would cry himself to sleep in the passenger seat if Jaskier yelled at him and last time he tried to carry Geralt to bed his back hurt for a week.

“I love you too,” Jaskier sighed as he pulled into their parking spot.

He didn’t sleep well that night. Not because his sweaty, smelly, and fidgety boyfriend clung to him in his sleep, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about the ride home.

Jaskier had lived in relationships like that for most of his adult life. Hell, even in his teens. They were nothing but all consuming passion with no connection to support it and left both parties jaded and lost. When he left his mentor he’d sat in Yen’s chair for hours and hours, until his arm had gone numb, and the only thing he could think was ‘never again’.

And now Geralt thought he was being cute. The ridiculously meticulous and serious man was only ever sappy when he got drunk and now instead of reveling in it like he’d like, Jaskier was staring at the clock on his nightstand calculating how exhausted he’d be in the morning as the minutes ticked by.

Turns out, he was at least in the land of the living by the time Geralt shuffled into the kitchen with his hands in his hair and a pained expression.

“Feel like shit.”

Jaskier hummed in agreement as he sipped his morning tea and shifted in his seat to see better out the window.

After popping a few anti-inflammatories and nibbling on a cracker before giving up on food, Geralt lumbered up behind Jaskier and draped his arms over his shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

“S’nothing. I’m just being… touchy.”

Geralt pressed a light kiss over the hellebore tattoo on Jaskier’s neck, “I doubt it.”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as Jaskier laid his hand over Geralt’s arm across his chest, “I don’t want to lose this.”

“Why…? What makes you think you would?” Geralt was a little slower on the draw hungover, but he knelt next to Jaskier’s chair and rested a hand on his knee as he waited for a response. He only ever looked so worried when Roach had an abscess and it broke Jaskier’s heart. He didn’t want to say it and ruin everything.

After a deep breath in, he mumbled out his answer, “Do you really love me like that song?”

“What song?” Geralt breathed, his thumb brushing back and forth over Jaskier’s knee.

“The uh, Way I Loved You one.”

Geralt searched his face for a beat, the crease between his eyebrows only deepening, “Of course I do.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathed, biting his lip to keep it from wobbling as he forced all the air from his lungs in the hopes it would do something to stop the tears from falling. When it was clear he would lose the battle he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands.

“You… don’t want me to?” Geralt sounded close to tears himself, but he didn’t take his hand off Jaskier’s thigh.

“No- yes! No?” Jaskier sniffed and wiped at his face but didn’t lean back to look at Geralt, “I- Geralt I can’t just fill a hollow relationship with lust. We ha- I thought we had more? But if you want the- the fights and the hate fucking- I don’t- Geralt I don’t want that. Not with anyone but not with you. Ne-”

“Hey, hey,” Geralt tugged at Jaskier’s arm, gathering him to his chest when the brunette melted into sobs, “I don’t want that. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry I let you think that.” He cradled Jaskier’s head to his shoulder, pressing kisses into his hair between softly spoken apologies and reassurances. They stayed there until Jaskier’s tea went cold and his sobs were closer to little gasps.

Eventually, Jaskier lifted his head and met Geralt’s eyes, “H-how do you love me?”

Geralt licked his lips, his voice barely above a whisper, “Not- It’s not hollow.”

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to Geralt’s, “Please?”

One of Geralt’s hands came up to cup Jaskier’s cheek as he took a deep breath, “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you… I never wanted to be romantic with anyone until you. You… You make me feel… safe. I’m never bored of you or numb or sick of you. This is the first relationship I’ve had where I bother to fight, Jask. I love you so much it makes me do things I never thought to do and I’m glad and I never want to change anything about us. Never.”

A shiver ran down Jaskier’s spine as relief flooded his whole body. His throat ached from crying and his shoulders were sore from holding all that tension in a way they hadn’t for years, but he’d never felt so good. Geralt loved him. Him. Not some tumultuous relationship or the sex or the drama of it all. Someone finally loved him for him.

It hadn’t really hit Jaskier till then. They’d said ‘I love you’, sure, but he hadn’t really believed Geralt, just like he’d stopped believing the string of selfish lovers before him.

“Thank Mellitelle,” Jaskier laughed, just on this side of hysterical as he tightened his grip around Geralt’s shoulders, “I fucking love how boring we are. And you. Fuck I really really do love you.”

“Even when I smell like my regulars?” Geralt teased, intentionally huffing a little extra and dosing Jaskier in his horrendous hangover morning breath.

Jaskier wrinkled his nose but smiled and kissed him anyway, “Of course.”

“Mhh,” Geralt pulled away for a moment, brushing his thumb over Jaskier’s crows feet in a silent request for him to open his eyes, “Can we go back to bed?”

“The crying does it for you, huh?” Jaskier chuckled, his voice was still weak but his laugh was genuine.

“I’m so dizzy, Jask,” squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head ever so slightly, Geralt plopped back onto his heels. If Jaskier hadn’t witnessed just how much he drank he’d say he was lying, but Jaskier was truly surprised he’d even climbed out of bed this morning.

“Mkay, up. Back to bed then.”

They settled under the blankets and tangled themselves back together. Geralt hummed, closing his eyes and squeezing Jaskier a little tighter.

New, happier tears threatened at the corners of his eyes but he pushed them down, opting to trace the corner of Geralt’s buttercup tattoo peeking out of his shirt, “I love you.”

Geralt took a deep breath in before he sighed out a rumbling, “I know.”

“No, Geralt. Really,” Jaskier laid his hand over the yellow and green ink, “I’ve said these words more times than I can count but I don’t think I ever really understood them until you.”

“Jaski-”

“I love you,” Jaskier’s interruption was far smaller and far more fragile than he had intended. His words just continued to spill out, “You’re steady and calm and I’ve never had that. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like and I’m constantly scared I’m gonna fuck it up…”

Comforting fingers ran through his hair as Geralt murmured his reply, “Me too,” Jaskier just squeezed his shoulder in a bit of solidarity and a bit of selfish comfort, “But I think we’re doing alright…”

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” Geralt started, shifting so he was practically engulfing Jaskier, “we both still love each other, and...” his boyfriend pinched him when he trailed off, pretending to fall asleep in a way that always mad Jaskier giggle, “Ow- and you use the hooks by the front door.”

“I do, don’t I?” Jaskier sniffled, “And you used your words.”

“I’d use all the words for you.”

“All of them?”

Geralt really was drifting away this time, his words coming slowly as his arms relaxed and Jaskier felt their full weight over him, “Not well, but I would...”

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 2 years

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hey you should Say Some Things about Never Again and Small Potatoes (and also that one that you keep yelling about to me but I suddenly am deeply unsure of the name of dhdkd) hehe

send me an X-Files episode and I'll tell you a Thought

Never Again: mostly costuming on the brain rn, Scully is drenched in the color red for most of the episode: deep red lipstick, red suit, red lighting throughout the episode. it's significant considering how the previous episode ended, how the color of blood is about to become so familiar, and she wraps herself in it while trying to control her own life. her hair seems darker, too, maybe just in contrast, and her makeup is thicker and far more intentional than what we see anytime before or after — even throughout the cancer arc, where her makeup is fairly distinctive. she is trying very hard to hold herself together and give herself some modicum of control over her life, because she knows it may not be hers for long. she cannot, when it comes down to it, hold onto control. it's her life, but it also isn't only hers (and the cross around her neck is a reminder). she is surrounded by red.

Small Potatoes: I know I've already talked about how, somewhat counterintuitively, this episode breaks a lot of the tension of the cancer arc. and, rapeyness aside, the fact that Scully wants so much for Mulder to just... pursue her in some way? like yeah that gets brought up again in an episode I'm not very much a fan of (Milagro) but it's actually REALLY IMPORTANT!! she wants him to want to be with her in a romantic sense (and he does, he just doesn't show it, at least not in any usual ways) and she wants that so much at this point that it kinda blinds her to the red flags? she doesn't want to be the one to "make a move" at this point, probably bc she thinks it cruel to do that, ask that of him when she's dying and about to leave him alone forever, but she would have let him kiss her.

also, back to costuming for a second, I always love Scully's casual at-home outfits, but that little grey sweater? she is SO TINY. there's a lot of really subtle costuming choices in s4 that make her look smaller and like she's lost some weight — the closer-fitting suits, t shirts that are short enough to rest just at her hips and don't hug her curves (unlike the ribbed ones she wore in the earlier seasons), etc — and that sweater really does accentuate how small she is

4-D: there is absolutely no platonic explanation for all that

I can't think of anything coherent to say rn because I'm just very askdjsksnsska over the entire episode basically. like... Doggett just turning up to help Monica set up her new apartment? bringing her lunch??? their banter?? THE WAY SHE JUST WALKS UP AND WIPES THE CORNER OF HIS MOUTH AND HE GOES UTTERLY STILL AND JUST STARES AT HER????????? I am,,,, unhinged

the sheer amount of emotions Monica runs through in the space of that 45 minute episode is absolutely insane tbh. the entire plot is like... a slightly less weighty and depressing version of The Last (the audiodrama), and it actually does SO MUCH for the characters and their relationship. and the ENDING?????? Monica snapping back to herself in tears after the "reset" (for lack of a better term)?? Doggett getting REALLY concerned when he sees her upset???? THAT HUG??? I'm--

TL;DR I cannot with this I'm sorry, it's the year of our Lord two thousand and twenty two and I'm actually about to become John Doggett/Monica Reyes shipping trash

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strangest-loser · 4 years

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Fire in my Blood ~ Jasper Hale x OC ~ Book Two : Chapter Four

Twilight Rewrite

Book One // Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three

Masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jasper,

I always wanted to go to Italy, but this is not how I imagined it at all. I always thought I would travel the world with only one bag and live my life one day at a time, I would spend some time in Florence where the Medici family ruled hundreds of years ago, I would eat good food and walk the entire length of the historical city with the sun on my face, hell, I might have even auditioned for the ballet... just for fun. I had a plan, and until quite recently that plan was a solo one. Then I met you.

I miss you, I miss everyone obviously but not waking up next to you is a strange sensation that I hate. I feel equally crowded and lonely here. The Volturi have been respectful and to some degree kind in the past few months. My eating habits have been respected and I am free to hunt outside the city walls at night. I would be content if you were here with me, but It’s tolerable.

Aro is a strange character but there is truly no doubting his intelligence. He has taken a liking to me and I have no doubts its because of my persuasion. I am controlling it better than I was six months ago and when I am not out serving council I mainly use it to fuck with Jane, Alec not so much but that girl drives me insane. She seems angered that she isn’t the favorite anymore.

Caius has remained cold but if I’m honest did we really expect anything different. What is surprising though is the friend I have found in Marcus. He is calming and his extensive wisdom is something I try to expose myself to most days. It is really tragic what happened to his wife, who would do something so cruel to someone, ripping away the one person they are supposed to love for eternity.

How is everyone? I really miss you all. Aro Is sending me away for the remainder of my service, to Scotland. Apparently some of the highland vampires have been reckless recently and he wants me to bring it under control...

This will be my last letter for a while because ancient rural Scotland doesn’t have the best postal service. I haven’t got much left in my year until I can come home. I can’t wait to see you.

With all my eternal love,

Alessia.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Handwritten letters felt special to Alessia, they could be kept. Every single letter she had received from Jasper, Alice or Bella was stacked in a neat pile in one of the drawers of the desk that sat in her room in the castle. It was overcast and raining today so she could actually post her letter herself. Slipping on her black velvet cloak over her black dress was now a common task that she did while sliding the envelope into a pocket in her skirt, her black heeled boots clicking against the marble floors as she locked the door to her room with the large bronze key which then found its home alongside the letter. Walking down corridor after corridor wasn’t confusing anymore as she had been here for nine months now, the remaining three she would be spending in the UK before making her way back home. The family had moved back to Forks while she spent her time in Italy so thankfully when she came back she would be going somewhere familiar. A large door stood cracked open with a warm glow emerging from within. Alessia slid the door open and was greeted by towering bookshelves with titles dating back to the beginning of written history. The fireplace was lit and in it’s presence stood a silent Marcus. This is where he spent most of his time, reading or staring into the flames. Soft clicking alerted the man that he had company and without casting his eyes over his shoulder he greeted Alessia, knowing she would be the only other person to spend their time in the library. The last person who wasn’t her or Marcus to spend their days here was Carlisle.

Alessia knew what it was that Marcus was holding in his hands. The tiny statuette went everywhere with him. A small icon of Hera carved in marble, seemingly from a set. When she first asked about it Marcus cracked the tiniest smile and explained that it belonged to a shrine that was in his and Didyme’s home back in Greece in the 1400′s BC. It was horrific what happened to her and Alessia pitied Marcus, he lost his great love. “The flames are soothing to look at,” was all he said to the young girl who sat at the old man’s side. “I’m going to miss you Marcus,” she mumbled, trying not to sound too bothered by her leaving him “You have been a dear friend in this cold place.” She was met with silence but she knew that the man wished her a safe journey.

Despite the rain it was still humid walking around the square, hood pulled tight over her face as she navigated the old town streets. Three minutes later Alessia pushed open a wooden door with a gloved hand and walked into a small courtyard. The fountain in the middle still ran in spite of the raindrops filling the bowl. The post office had a warm light shining from the windows breaking up the dark grey atmosphere that the overcast day gave. The building was small and cozy as she opened the door, coming in out of the rain. The only other person in the building was the old man who ran the post office. “Buongiorno signor Rossi,” she let roll off her tongue. Living in Volterra for the past nine months meant she picked up on a certain level of Italian. A happy wave from the old man put a smile on her face, Mister Giovanni Rossi was a short man with a mane of fluffy grey hair, the deep-set laugh lines around his eyes and mouth could tell anyone that he had lived a happy life. “Ciao Alessia, un'altra lettera per l'America?” “si Grazie.” Handing her letter over felt like taking off warm boots and stepping barefoot onto a cold stone floor. Knowing that she wouldn’t be writing to her love anytime soon set a pit of discomfort in her stomach, Hopefully the next three months would go quickly. Biding a final goodbye to the gracious man she stepped back out into the rain and slinked off down the winding streets. The rain began to stop and the petrichor that filled the air calmed Alessia to a point of contentment. All happy feelings however disappeared as quickly as they came when she entered the doors of the familiar clocktower and saw a small blonde figure waiting for her. In no mood to deal with her on her last night in Italy Alessia strode past Jane completely ignoring the girl who tried to announce that Aro was looking for her. Alessia couldn’t wait to get away from this, there were some things she would miss when she returned home, but not enough to outweigh the things she was glad to be rid of.

Despite her innate dislike of the man she knew better than to keep Aro waiting. He gave her the assignment quickly, see to it that the Scottish coven began to respect the laws or destroy them. She had no intention of doing the latter but they didn’t need to know that. She could see the reluctance in his eyes, Alessia knew he wanted nothing more than to keep her for all eternity, but Aro was smart and he knew full well that she was powerful enough to destroy him, and no one was worth risking his power. So with a reluctant goodbye Alessia was packing her bags and soon found herself on a plane ready to endure her last few months of service to the Volturi.

The clothes she wore in Volterra were regal and elegant, dresses and cloaks with heels and fancy jewels, Alessia couldn’t be happier to be swapping them out for something a little more her own speed. She changed into a pair of black jeans and a cream sweater, black boots and a rain jacket also joined her ensemble and she felt more herself than she had in months. The morning was quiet as her plane touched down in Inverness, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon. The ground was a lush green, a sharp contrast to the pale stone city she had been trapped in. The run out of the city took merely minutes and Alessia immediately made her way towards Scardroy, Where a clan of vampires were unaware of her arrival.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Short enough chapter tonight because we are nearing the bridging point between New Moon and Eclipse. Alessia really just wants to get this over with but she may run into a few delays getting home to her mate.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

TAGLIST

@treestarrrrrrrr

@whattheheckisevengoingon

@fangirl1029

@iliveforthefandom04

@frozenhuntress67

@mikariell95

@jessabellaswan

@geekysimmerthings

@payourdebts

@theroyalbrownbarbie

@stacieisaloser

@jaxk-klixe

#alice cullen #edward cullen #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #original character #Rosalie Hale #rosalie twilight #twilight #twilight x reader #Twilight rewrite #Fire In My Blood

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chilling-seavey · 4 years

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What if Florence and Daniel got into a fight bc both of them are stressed out worrying about money and taking care of the kids?? How would my OTP resolve their fight??? 🤔

This was lowkey emotionally draining to write...wowey. 3.3k words later, here’s some proof that Florence and Daniel’s relationship isn’t as perfect and flawless as it seems... x

Monday, November 4th, 2024

Daniel let out a heavy breath as he got into his car after another shift, having spent most of it with his supervisor never being satisfied but that wasn’t new. He turned on the car and connected his phone to Bluetooth to call Florence as he always did before leaving. Strangely, he was sent to voicemail but a text came through instead.

Can you pick up diapers on your way home?

He sighed and replied with a quick ‘ok’ before pocketing his phone and putting the car in reverse. Closer to home, he parked outside the drugstore and headed inside, rushing down the aisles to find the diapers and grabbed the biggest package before bringing it to the cash.

“$37.45.” the cashier said after ringing up the item.

Daniel waved his card and was directed to the machine. He typed in his pin and waited a moment only to be met with card declined: insufficient funds. The glance from the cashier made Daniel feel even worse and he cleared his throat nervously, brushing a hand through his hair before shuffling through his wallet to only be met with a $10 bill and a few loose coins.

“Sorry… I, uh, left my other card at home.” Daniel said softly before leaving the store empty handed.

He sat behind the wheel of his car and tried to steady his breathing after being unable to afford diapers for his baby daughter. After a few moments of trying to calm down and trying not to cry, Daniel turned on the car and headed towards home.

The apartment smelt like burnt supper when he walked in and the noise was insane, the baby’s piecing screams topping it all. No one even heard him come in. Daniel set his guitar case and backpack on the floor in the doorway to the living room, taking in the messy kitchen and loud TV with Clementine sat admits a pile of toys trying to watch it, Penelope on the couch with her face in a pillow and her hands over her ears as she cried, and screaming Lucy in Florence’s arms as the dishevelled looking mother tried to put the dishes in the sink.

“Hey.” Daniel finally spoke, earning the glances of Florence and Clementine.

Clementine jumped up and ran for him as if he was her saviour from the chaos and he picked her up with a tired grunt.

“What’s going on here?” Daniel asked softly.

“Mommy burnt the house down!” Clementine said with a giggle as Daniel carried her towards the kitchen, his eyes lingering on Penelope on the couch for a moment.

“I just burnt the lasagna a bit.” Florence sighed, wiping her damp hand on her shirt that was already covered in tomato sauce and baby drool. Her hair was pulled back but still almost completely falling out of its tie and her makeup-less face looked like she hadn’t slept in days. “Did you pick up the diapers?”

Daniel cleared his throat nervously, setting Clementine back on the ground to let her run back off to the TV, “No, my-”

“Goddammit, Daniel, I ask you to do one thing.” Florence snapped as quietly as she could, tossing the pan in the sink a bit too hard, making Lucy scream louder in her arms.

“I tried, I just-”

“It’s not that hard to remember. Your daughter needs diapers. We have, like, four left but that’s fine; when we run out I’ll just tie one of your shirts around her like a freaking monkey at the zoo.”

“Florence, what is going on?” Daniel asked at her obvious stressed out state.

“I had to pick up Penelope only an hour after dropping her off this morning because the teacher called and said she had a meltdown and wouldn’t relax and everything is setting her off today. The damn oven beeped and she lost her mind. Of course Lucy’s crying only makes it worse and she won’t shut up because she’s teething.” Florence pushed her finger in the five-month-old’s mouth to get a look at her swollen gums and the baby just cried louder. “She also pooped all over everything today which is why we needed new diapers earlier than planned because her personal nuclear bomb ruined half the things on the change table.”

Daniel watched with wide eyes as she rushed over to grab the last two plates from the dining room table and tossed them in the sink too before turning on the tap and letting the water run over everything.

“And Clementine is demanding that she gets this new set for her doll that everyone has at school. She won’t even hear of it for Christmas because she needs it now.” Florence continued. “And she keeps testing me! Judging everything I do like she’s the adult. ‘Mommy, the lasagna’s burnt’. Like I didn’t know!”

“Okay.” Daniel sighed softly, reaching over the counter to take the crying baby from her and made his way to the freezer to take the cold teething ring out and held it out to Lucy. “I’ll take the girls and get them ready for bed and then we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk. I wanted you to get the diapers like I fucking asked.” Florence grumbled.

“Flora.” Daniel snapped sharply to shut her up.

His glare certainly helped, and she clenched her jaw before looking back to the dishes without another word. Daniel bounced the baby lightly as she kept screaming through the teething ring he desperately tried to put in her mouth as he headed back to the living room.

“Clem, angel, can you tidy up your toys and go get your pyjamas on please?” Daniel asked softly as he turned off the TV.

The almost six-year-old nodded and got up from the rug, starting to gather her things, “There’s a new set you can buy for my dolls, Daddy. It’s a whole car they can ride in and the radio even plays music! It’s really nice and all the girls in my class has it. I wanna get it so we can play together at school.”

“We’ll think about it.” Daniel said, trying to hold back his nausea from the harsh inset of reality. He wanted nothing more than to buy that stupid toy car for his daughter but it was no where near realistic. He set Lucy in her playpen with the teething ring before moving to tend to his middle daughter who was still face down on the couch with her hands over her ears. When he set his hand on her back she startled. “Just me, bug.”

Penelope rolled over, giving him a good look of her swollen red eyes and matted dark hair and tear streaked cheeks, and she held her arms up to him through a hiccup.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Daniel pouted as he bent down and scooped her up, the four-year-old cuddling right into him through her sniffles as he took her to her room to get her cleaned up for bed. He sung softly as he wiped her face clean with a damp cloth and got her into her pyjamas, something that always helped calm her down, and he took his time to help both her and Clementine brush their teeth and comb their hair before tucking them into bed.

Daniel grabbed Lucy for story time, all three girls cuddled up with him as he read them a bedtime story. Lucy fell asleep quickly, probably tired out from all her crying – same with Penelope – and he kissed the oldest two good-night before taking the baby down the hall to bed too. He let his eyes linger on the remaining three diapers in the basket before letting out a small sigh and took one out so he could change her into her pyjamas. Lucy was tucked into her crib with the teething ring beside her just in case and he pushed a pacifier past her lips, watching her for a second as she sleepily sucked on it for a moment, the plastic bumping lightly against her tiny nose.

The apartment was eerily quiet as Daniel closed the nursey door, baby monitor in hand, and made his way back down the hallway for a conversation he really did not want to have.

Florence had the kitchen cleaned up by the time he was back, and they shared expressionless glances as she closed the last cupboard.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” Daniel said, placing the baby monitor on the counter between them, “but you don’t need to take it out on me.”

“Maybe if you did what I asked, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“I tried.” Daniel protested. “It was a hard day and to top it off my card-”

Florence held up her hand to cut him off, “You go to work to play music for eight hours and then come home to a good meal that you don’t have to cook. You have it easy.”

“Easy?” Daniel gaped. “Are you kidding me? You know how much shit I do in my job and how many late nights and early mornings and weekends I put into this. It’s no where near easy.”

“Oh yeah.” Florence chuckled humourlessly. “When you don’t have to lift a finger around here, leaving me to practically raise your children.”

“You think I like never seeing my wife or kids?!” Daniel frowned. “It was bad when Lucy was first born, yeah, but we even had a whole discussion and I got much more time freed up. But I can’t just sit at home all day with you guys, this isn’t a fairy-tale.”

“I know but you act like I’m a psychotic bitch when I let it all get to me! I got shit on today! And walked over and hit and kicked and bitten and screamed at and I burnt my arm trying to get the charred dinner out of the oven. You just don’t understand what it’s like to stay home!”

“You have no idea what it’s like to work! To go out and earn a salary! You could have gone to school and gotten a degree and then figured out what you wanted to do with your life but instead you chose to cruise off everyone else. You didn’t even pay for your first apartment! Callum did! You have no freaking idea the value of money!”

“I was raising my daughter.” Florence seethed. “Fuck you for even saying that.”

“You could have made it work.”

“Sorry I chose to focus on her rather than shoving her in daycare to be pretty much raised by a stranger for the first four years of her life. I didn’t have the money for any of that. I barely had money to put food on the fucking table half the time and you know that.”

“So get over yourself! Stop being so goddamn selfish if you’re so finically-aware!”

“Fuck you!” Florence shouted, walking around the counter as if she were going to leave the room but she stopped in the middle of the living room and turned back to him. “I get that you have to work and I am thankful that you even have a job, but a little compassion isn’t a lot to ask of you.”

“Compassion? Are you serious?” Daniel scoffed loudly, taking a few quick strides across the room to stand in front of her, shouting back his rebuttal, “I nearly wait on you hand and foot and I drop everything whenever you need me and for years I always have! I have done nothing but work my ass off for you and our kids and you still have the audacity to say that it’s still not enough? I work too much and now I don’t work enough and then I don’t ‘understand what you’re going through’. Well, dammit, Florence, what the fuck do you want from me?”

“I want you to care about other things than your work!”

“I already cut my hours! We’re nearly fucking broke, Florence, I don’t know why you can’t understand that! We literally cannot afford for me to lose one more hour a week! Last months rent virtually drained us and we are surviving on a $10 bill and my fucking shoelace right now! I’m pushed to the fucking brim half the time trying to get all the shit done so I don’t have to work overtime so I can still come home to you and the girls and all I’m met with is attitude and snark and an ungrateful wife who scolds me like my goddamn mother when I walk in the door!”

Florence didn’t reply for a beat and the silence lingered heavy over the apartment. Her eyebrows furrowed first before her face scrunched up in anger and she jabbed a finger in Daniel’s face before yelling, “Fuck you! I am not staying home just to make you a supper and serve you a beer in a pretty pink dress and heels with a face full of makeup and a fake smile when you get in from work. This isn’t the 19-fucking-50s! I am allowed to have emotions, Daniel James, and right now you are tugging at every single last one of them! How dare you say these things to me!”

“You are freaking out for no reason!” Daniel shouted louder to top her. “You’re twisting everything I’m saying! Do you even hear yourself?”

“All I can hear is you being a selfish and ungrateful son of a bitch!” Florence screamed, throwing a couch cushion at him.

“Throwing things at me? Real mature, Florence. Real fucking mature! God, why don’t you understand?!” Daniel shut his eyes and threw his hands into his hair and tugged hard to try and rid his frustrations. “You’re so naïve sometimes, you drive me fucking crazy!”

They were already even listening to each other anymore, simply off on their own tangents trying to out-volume the other. Daniel and Florence didn’t fight often, priding themselves on their open communication, but everything eventually hits a bump and when they did, they really did.

“Just go play your pretty music, Daniel! Make some pretty music with your friends and put it online for everyone rave over and shut up. I’ll be here taking care of and being hit like a punching bag by your children.”

“You know what, I would appreciate it if you stopped fucking accusing me of being a shitty father because I have a job! I have been trying my best and if that’s not enough for you then I don’t know what to tell you!” Daniel put his hands up.

“What? You’re gonna leave?” Florence laughed humourlessly, throwing her finger in the direction of the door. “Fine! Go on! Wouldn’t be the first time! Leave when it gets hard Daniel!” She cut her screams, leaning in closer to him to whisper sharply, “Just like Matt did.”

Their fight seemed to echo through the apartment as silence fell again, her angry expression still glaring at him as his face melted into neutrality.

“Don’t say that.” Daniel said softly, trying to each for her.

“Don’t touch me.” Florence stepped back before walking quickly down the hallway.

“Flora, I’m not gonna-” Daniel started after her but the slamming of the bedroom door startled him to stop in place. He took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face to try and calm down, leaning back against the wall of the hallway. It was surprising that the baby wasn’t crying given the fact they just had a ten-minute-long screaming match.

Daniel composed himself enough to open the girls’ bedroom door and peak in, finding them both huddled up together in Clementine’s bed, frightened looks on their faces.

“Hey, my loves.” Daniel sighed, sitting himself on the side of the bed. “I’m sorry if we scared you. Mommy and I haven’t been talking as much as we should have been, and we got a little crazy. Do you forgive us?”

Clementine and Penelope nodded. Daniel kissed each of their heads and got them tucked in again in their own beds.

“No more yelling tonight?” Penelope asked.

“No more yelling.” Daniel promised, smiling sadly between his two eldest. He couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on Clementine a moment longer, remembering the night Matt walked out, leaving nineteen-year-old Florence and baby Clementine alone and a mess in their small apartment. She stared up at him with those same blue eyes he always remembered, and he gave her an extra kiss on the cheek, staying with them until they were drifting back to sleep, “Daddy’s not going anywhere.”

Daniel found himself back outside the master bedroom door with his hand on the knob and his forehead against the cool wood, taking slow breaths to keep himself calm to try the conversation again. He finally opened the door and slipped inside before closing it silently behind him. The light was on in the ensuite and he stopped in the doorway.

Florence glanced up at him from where she stood in front of the vanity brushing her hair. She silently turned back and continued what she was doing.

“Come here.” Daniel whispered, stepping closer and gently pulled her arms down from her hair to wrap around his shoulders and he tucked his own tightly around her waist, peppering a few kisses over her cheek and across her shoulder. “I love you. So fucking much. Even when you scream at me and swear at me and throw things at me.”

Florence sniffled a little, holding him tighter. “I love you too.”

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Daniel rubbed a hand over her back. “No matter what.”

“I’m sorry.” Florence mumbled, wrapping her fingers around the material of his shirt and buried her face in his neck.

“I’m sorry too.” Daniel sighed. “My card got declined today. It scared me.”

“What?” Florence leaned back with concern, holding her hands on his biceps to keep him close as she stared at his flushed face.

“$37 for diapers and my card was declined. I felt like a fucking idiot, like an absolute joke of a father…can’t even buy the necessities for my kid.” Daniel sighed, turning to lean back against the counter and hung his head. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do, Flora. I’m scared.”

“I know.” Florence mumbled, petting her hand through his hair. “Maybe we should talk to someone? Get a budget figured out until we get back on our feet. Worst case scenario, we ask your parents for a bit of a loan. We’re not going to lose anything from this.”

Daniel nodded, biting his lip as he stared at the floor, fingers holding tightly onto the edge of the counter behind him.

“I’m sorry.” his voice broke and he struggled to hold back a small sob, quickly hiding his face in his hands.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Florence frowned, wrapping her arms around him to let him cry against her shoulder, “I know how hard you work. You’re such a good dad and an amazing husband. I know you’re trying your best and I also know it’s slowly starting to destroy you.”

Daniel whimpered as he nodded, clinging onto her tighter through his tears as he muffled a sob into her neck.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” Florence sighed, running her hand up and down his back. “I took my own shit out on you. I needed any excuse to yell, I guess.”

“Better me than at the girls.” Daniel chuckled lightly, pulling back from their hug a little to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I love you.” Florence said strongly, taking his face in her hands. “$0 in your pocket or millions. Doesn’t matter. Don’t you forget it, okay?”

Daniel nodded and leaned in to kiss her once, lingering there a moment longer before pulling back.

“Now no more tears.” Florence said, taking a deep breath herself as she started to feel herself start to cry. “There have been to many tears in this house today.”

#daniel seavey #why dont we #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we imagines #why dont we music #anything but mine #imagines

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sirius · 4 years

Note

Could I get an imagine where the reader is a muggle American and she’s on vacation in London with her family and she somehow lost her family and she’s like freaking out and then she runs into Sirius on the streets and he like helps calm her down and helps her find her family? Sorry if this is a weird request

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans (mentioned)

Warnings: Swearing, stranger danger too, I guess.

A/N: so sorry this took so long! I loved the idea and I hope I did it justice. I might add to it later on or revamp it bc I love the idea but it’s a big maybe at the moment bc I’m so busy with uni and work and also my other wips. I hope you enjoy this though. Also I changed the request quite a bit bc I forgot what you originally wanted! So sorry!!

just want to add that I did something o probably shouldn’t and included my real life friends! With their permission, ofc. I also made a modern reference even tho it’s supposed to be the seventies but I liked it too much so I left it in ha ha. Also…pls don’t talk to strangers. This is fanfiction people not an advice column.

****

It’s another uncharacteristically warm day in London.

The sun showers blankets of warm golden light over the city, guilding skyscrapers and warming the sweet, honeyed breeze. Sparrows are chirping sweet, morning songs, dancing in the air with surprising grace. Squirrels scamper across lush green grounds in a park nearby, happily bidding you a good morning.

And not one of these motherfuckers are going to help you find your friends.

You wander aimlessly past the same park monument you saw just half an hour ago. Your legs are already aching, your feet are forming blisters that hurt the more you think about them, and the sun is slowly drilling into your soul.

You think you might die of thirst before you find your friends.

In retrospect, it wasn’t entirely Sophie’s fault. While it was her dumb shit idea to tag along with the sexy British tour guide, you, Matt, Aaron, Riley and Reuben had been far more interested in touring the British Museum. So it wasn’t at all surprising when Sophie rushed off with knockoff Colin Firth to have a jolly high tea or whatever it is British people do on dates. Still, it gave you an opportunity to visit the museum.

You hadn’t even walked through the front gates when Matt, Aaron and Riley wandered off to have a deep and meaningful (you had warned Riley that coming on the trip with Aaron would cause some tension between your group. Thing between you and Aaron were a lot more complicated than the five-night-stand you’d shared last year). Reuben, being his usual womanising self, started flirting with the hot receptionist and not wanting any part of that (last time you wing-womaned for Reuben, the chick thought you were seeking a third), you stepped out for some air.

Now, you’re trying to navigate through the urban maze that is London by yourself, struggling to find your friends who are scattered all over the city.

Slumping against a park chair, you take a deep breath and study your map again. A part of you is screaming at you to swallow your pride and ask for directions but you’re a stubborn New Yorker and if you can effortlessly find your way through the Big Apple, you can tackle London.

“You’re not from around here…” says a masculine voice behind you. You sit up straight, whipping around in the direction of the voice.

Holy fucking cucumber sandwich.

The most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes on leans against the trunk of an old oak tree, observing you with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. He looks like he chomps down magical donuts that grant him sexy powers. You stare.

A cigarette hangs from his kissable, smirking lips. His hair falls gracefully around his face, framing glinting gray-blue eyes, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He’s wearing a leather jacket and exudes all types mysterious-sexy-bad boy vibes. You’d bet a hundred bucks that he rides a motorcycle too.

Boys with motorcycles are usually trouble.

Your mouth goes a little bit dry.

“Please don’t be a serial killer,” you mutter and the stranger cocks a perfect eyebrow.

“What was that?”

You shake your head, “I mean — Is it that obvious?”

Sexy bad boy stranger shrugs, “I know a lost tourist when I see one.”

“Is this what you do, then? Lurk around parks waiting for lost tourists?”

Bad boy chuckles — a deep growling sound that rumbles at the back of his throat, “Maybe. Maybe I was just walking past and thought I’d help out a pretty girl in need.”

It takes all of your willpower not to blush now.

“So you’re just a Good Samaritan, then.”

“I’m whatever you want me to be.”

“What if I want you to go away?”

The handsome, young motorbike guy takes a deliberate step forward, “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You swallow. He’s good at this game. Something tells you that you’re not the first victim of his play-boy charms.

Desperately trying to reclaim your composure, you fold your arms across your chest and glare at him.

“What makes you think I need your help?”

British James Dean thinks for one attractive moment, “Well, you don’t have to accept my help but something tells me that if you don’t ask for directions soon, you’re going to end up wandering around London forever.”

He makes a good point.

You stand up from your seat, arms still folded across your chest, “Hypothetically speaking, If I were to accept your help, how would I know that you’re not a perverted serial killer who wants to collect my spleen and leave me in a ditch or something?”

Sexy stranger takes another step forward, “That’d be a shame. You’re too beautiful to kill, and I’m just beginning to like you.”

“That’s exactly what a perverted serial killer would say.”

“Touché. Alright, how about this: I drop you off at your hotel straight away, no detours and no taxi fees that you have to fork out to greedy muggl— erm, I mean, drivers.”

You consider this. He certainly doesn’t seem like a serial killer. Still, it’s hard to trust a charming stranger, especially one as handsome as he is. Then again, if he’s smart — which he definitely is — he’d never kill you in broad daylight in the middle of London.

You uncross your arms and hold one out for him to shake, “Alright, deal.”

Sexy stranger takes your hand and shakes it. His hand is strong and firm and electricity sparks in the warm space where your hands are clasped together.

“Sirius.”

“What?”

“Sirius.”

You blink at him, “Is that some kind of fungal STI that I need to be aware of?”

Sexy stranger chuckles again, “My name is Sirius.”

Sirius? Who the fuck calls their kid Sirius? You have to admit that the name suits him, and the way he says it — in a husky, velvety murmur — gives the name an alluring sex appeal, which sums him up completely.

You consider giving him a fake name but ultimately decide against it. That’s just weird and you can’t lie for shit.

“I’m (Y/N).”

Sirius repeats your name, tasting it on his lips. A more carnal part of you wishes he’d say it in a completely different context.

“Alright, (Y/N),” Sirius smiles, and he practically glows with charisma, “Lets get you home.”

***

You were right, of course. About the motorcycle.

Sirius’ carefully-polished motorbike is almost as sexy as it’s owner; gleaming in the sunlight and flaunting a sleek black paint job with plush leather seats. Several passerby’s stop to admire it (or Sirius, you can’t exactly tell), though Sirius doesn’t pay them any mind. One dudebro with a repugnantly bright tank top gawks at the motorbike while his girlfriend stares hungrily at Sirius.

“I’ve…never ridden a motorcycle before,” you bleat nervously.

Sirius hands you a helmet and smiles.

“Just hold onto me and you’ll be fine.”

Sirius mounts his motorbike and you awkwardly slide in behind him. You’re not sure where to put your hands so you place them on his shoulders. You think you hear Sirius laugh behind his helmet.

Sirius turns the ignition, revs the engine, and kicks the bike into gear.

“You alright back there?” He calls over the roar of the bike.

“Uh—yeah.”

“Hold onto my waist,” he orders, “You’ll be more secure.”

You’re about to protest but then Sirius takes off and you find your arms flying to his waist, gripping on tightly.

It’s exhilarating. Liberating. Intoxicating.

As Sirius weaves between London traffic, you feel a rush of adrenaline pulse through your veins. The air whips past, fluttering around the ruffled trim of your dress. Your hands soak in the warmth of Sirius’ body, his muscles firm beneath your touch.

You pass familiar landmarks and stores you passed when you and your friends took the double-decker bus from your hotel room. You recognise the buildings around you and realise the hotel is just a few kilometres down the street, on the right.

Suddenly, Sirius veers off to the left and zooms down a street you don’t recognise.

“What are you doing? The hotel is up that way!”

“I just have to make a quick stop,” he shouts over his shoulder.

“That wasn’t part of the deal!”

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

You clutch onto him, apprehension beginning to claw away at your lower belly. Where is he taking you? How could you have been so stupid to trust an extremely attractive stranger to follow through with a deal?

Sirius slows the bike down until it rolls to a stop and flicks the engine off, climbing off sexily. He helps you clamber awkwardly off the bike and you tear your helmet off, taking in your surroundings for the first time.

You’re next to a footpath with a view of the The Thames, lined with large ornamental pear trees. Its quite a romantic spot with a view of the entire city sitting pretty behind the flowing River Thames.

Sirius tells you to wait by the motorbike and stalks away, rushing toward a boy who looks about your age. He’s tall, has messy black hair, and half-frame glasses. He looks like a sexy professor with the body of an Olympic swimmer that all the girls have crushes on.

Why are all the men here so insanely attractive?

You’re just about to sink into a delightful fantasy of sexy Professor feeding you grapes when Sirius comes up behind you.

“Ready to go?”

You ignore his question, “Who was the god — I mean — guy that you saw?”

Sirius arches an eyebrow. You notice for the first time that there is a scar knitted into it, “That’s James. He’s a total prat, by the way.”

“Sounds like you two have that in common,” you quip and Sirius mocks offence.

“Anyone tell you that you’re cruel?”

“Everyday of my life.”

“Here I was thinking you were just another hot little American bird.”

For one half of a millisecond, your brain snags on the word ‘hot.’ Did he just call you hot? You heard that right? You recover with grace, grinning wickedly.

“You’ll get over it.”

A teasing smirk flirts around the corners of Sirius’ lips, a little crookedly, slanting lazily in a way that makes your cheeks warm. He looks amused by this verbal tug-of-war but also a little turned on.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way.

“You ever walk along the River Thames?” Sirius asks, sliding his strong, sexy hands into the pocket of his sexy leather jacket. He begins to follow the footpath, leading you past the knots of pigeons and moonstruck lovers.

“No,” you sigh, “Admittedly, I just came along for the underage drinking and the hot British guys.”

Sirius laughs, “How’s that working out for you?”

You shrug, teasing him with a flirtatious smile, “I’m still working on it.”

“If you want,” Sirius begins, clawing at the nape of his neck, “I can help you out with that.”

You quirk a carefully-manicured brow, “What, you know any hot guys like your buddy James?”

Sirius snorts, “I wouldn’t go saying that around his girlfriend.”

“Why, is she the jealous type?”

“No, she’s the ‘try-not-to-make-his-fat-Head-even-fatter’ type.”

You chuckle, intrigue plucking at your mind, “She’s my type of girl.”

“Lily is everyone’s type of girl.”

“Well now I just have to meet her.”

Sirius raises his brows, a spark of hope in his eyes, “Is that your way of telling me that you’re taking me up on the offer for free beer?”

“You never said it was free before.”

“I’m feeling generous.”

“Aw, and they say chivalry is dead.”

Sirius laughs easily in a way that is completely carefree, as though laughter bubbles just beneath his skin, itching to pour out. It’s mesmerising how he doesn’t seem to take life too seriously.

“You are something else,” he says, letting his eyes catch and linger on yours for a quiet, suspended moment.

A gust of warm, summer wind brings peach blossoms raining down. The gentle coo of a skylark echoes in the distance. Time slows to a stop to stare at the two of you.

He steps forward, like he’s about to kiss you.

You let him.

He tastes like liquor and rebellion, a little wild in a way you’ve never realised you’ve wanted, you’ve needed. His hands are strong as they wrap around you, pulling you flush against his chest. Your fingers roam through his hair, tangling, tugging, earning a low groan from the back of his throat. You feel drunk on him, your head spinning and your heart thumping, as though it’s trying to tear through your chest and leap into his strong, capable hands. Suddenly, you realise how weird this is. He’s a stranger you’ve known for an hour or so yet now you’re kissing him. It’s as though you’re somehow drawn to him, to his energy, to the way he seems to know you intimately, in ways you hardly know about yourself. You break away, taking a step away from him. Sirius looks like he’s five again and has just had his favourite toy ripped away from him.

““Are you—?”

Slap

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’re slapping him across the cheek, not hard but he feels it. You kissed a stranger. That is a thing you did. You also slapped said stranger, partly because of impulse and partly because you’re terrified of how quickly your feelings are beginning to stir for someone you hardly know. Sirius is stunned, silent, staring at you with shock and hurt that stings you more than it should. You stare back, drawn in by every fleck of colour in his eyes, suddenly aware that, sure, he may be a stranger but that doesn’t mean he has to stay one. Obviously, you have a connection.

So…connect.

You crash your lips against his again, throwing your arms around his neck.

Your friends can wait. You’ve found yourself a new tour guide.

#sirius black #harry potter #hp imagines #young sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #james potter #lily evans #jily #fanfiction #sirius black imagine #the marauders #the marauders imagine #remus lupin #georgie writes

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kayliemusing · 3 years

Text

cupboard – are you petty? - Not really

delilah – do you have any pets? - Two siamese cats!

misfire – do you want any kids? if so, how many? - Maybe. I change my mind a lot lol. I can see myself with 2-3 kids.

killer queen – what’s an outfit that makes you feel sexy? - I never feel sexy but an outfit that always makes me feel mostly confident is my ribbed sweater tucked into high waisted jeans with a blazer on top.

radio gaga – top five favorite songs? - All Too Well by Taylor Swift, Wild Heart by Bleachers, Saturdays by Twin Shadow, Sleep On The Floor by The Lumineers, and Exile by Taylor Swift ft Bon Iver

freddie – tell us about someone who has changed your life positively. - This might be lame, but Taylor Swift. Obviously she's not a person who is physically in my life lol but I've looked up to her my whole life as a writer and then also as a person, and I just think her music has enriched my whole life is so many different ways from just helping me cope, to providing me with inspiration for my own writing ventures, to just giving me a distraction from life when it gets tough.

brian – what is something you are passionate about? - Writing, love, and being good to people.

john – are you a creative person? - I think so. Sometimes I don't feel like I'm creative enough or in the way I want to be, but I do have a creative spark to me.

roger – what’s a common misconception about you? - I'm quiet and a little on the socially anxious side, so I think a common misconception is that I'm mousy or people can walk all over me and I won't say anything but actually I have really high standards and given the chance, I can be very direct with my expectations or feelings. Like sometimes I'll let things slide but if it continues happening, I'll usually be like "hey stop". On that note, I also think people don't ever expect that I'm really protective too. It's always fun when people think I'm quiet and then they're mean or disrespectful about someone I care about and I stand up for them because there's always this moment of surprise from people lol.

deaky – do you have any nicknames? - Not really. My aunt still calls me Kay Rae sometimes but that's an old one from when I was like super little lol. No one really has a nickname for me.

all dead – when was the last time you cried? - Yesterday.

don’t stop me now – what’s your go-to happy song? - Usually any upbeat Taylor Swift song like Shake It Off or ME! (Both of which get a bad rap for being "annoying" or "childish" which I respectfully disagree with because they're bops and they get the job done).

lover boy – are you a romantic? - Yes

maracas – what’s your prized possession? - I don't know if I really have one. Probably my phone I guess.

bites the dust – bassists or drummers? - I don't really have an opinion tbh. Maybe bassists?

live aid – what’s your dream concert line-up? - Probably like: Taylor Swift, Haim, The Lumineers, Conan Gray, The 1975, Of Monsters and Men, Halsey, and maybe Olivia Rodrigo. I've never really considered this lol.

clean machine – what’s your dream car? - Of all time, I would love to have like a 1970s chev convertible but realistically for me right now I want the Hyundai venue so bad.

mercury – if you could change your name, would you? - Yes, because I find my name childish sounding. I'm a writer and one of my biggest things about my name is that I don't think it sounds professional enough lol

drowse – how do you spend your lazy days? - Not doing my hair or makeup and just watching YouTube all day.

make love – what is your sexuality? - Heterosexual

hot space – what’s an unpopular opinion you have? - Ariana Grande's voice annoys me. I have no beef with her as a person, I just find her voice kind of annoying especially when she's doing that shouty notes thing or where she drags out her notes. It's kind of the same reason I don't like Carrie Underwood much anymore because of the constant up and down octaves. Drives me insane.

‘39 – what are you afraid of? - Spiders, loss, failure/not achieving my dreams, living an ordinary or mundane life in which I never find joy or fulfillment.

borhap – are you happy? - No

jim – are you in love? - No

mary – are you friends with any of your exes? - I don't have exes, because I've never dated *finger guns*

mustapha – how many languages do you speak? - Just English

flash – favorite movie? - Hm, probably Clueless. It's always the first one that pops in my head lol.

las palabras de amor – what’s the most romantic thing someone has ever done for you? - They haven't lmao

tenement funster – are you a good flirt? - No, because I'm shy so I only laugh nervously

rainbow – best concert you’ve ever been to? - I guess Marianas Trench in 2013. I haven't really been to a crazy good show but I remember really enjoying that one. (But via Netflix Taylor Swift's rep tour is the best concert of all time)

scrabble – do you and your friends have any traditions? - We used to get together every halloween night or the night before depending on our schedules and watch every disney channel halloween movie. It was one of my favourite things, but Friend A moved to Vancouver and Friend B isn't in my life anymore.

seven seas – where have you always wanted to travel? - NYC, LA, Prince Edward Island, France, and Hawaii are the big ones, but lately I've really been wanting to see Charleston South Carolina, Edinburgh Scotland, and The Lakes District in England.

keep yourself alive – what keeps you alive? - Taylor Swift's music tbh lmao

liar – are you good at sensing when someone is lying to you? - If they're being obvious or hard to believe, yes, but if they're good at lying, probably not lol.

modern times – if you could go back in time, what decade would you travel to? - I have this weird longing to see Victorian London, maybe around 1830-60s. It probably wasn't a vibe, but I'm in love with Victorian London architecture and furniture so it is what it is. Also would have loved to enjoy the 80s.

japan – favorite place you’ve traveled to? - I haven't been outside of Canada so my list is short. I'd probably say Victoria, BC, but I never was able to fully enjoy it because I had a stomach virus when we were there so every time I ate I felt sick which feels very on brand for me.

garden lodge – what’s your dream home? - I literally have an entire pinterest board dedicated to this. It would be a cozy farmhouse/french country style cottage out in the countryside surrounded by fields and wildflowers.

disco – guilty pleasure? - Buzzfeed quizzes and romance novels.

sunglasses – how’s your eyesight? - Okay. I wear glasses, but my prescription isn't awful. Bad enough that I can't be without my glasses, but good enough that I'm not totally blind if I ever lost them. (I can't see distance so I mean I probably wouldn't get in the car and drive if I lost my glasses but that's beside the point.)

1977 – long hair or short hair? - I'm currently in a phase of needing to grow out my hair, but I generally love cute short hairstyles.

smile – when you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? - I wanted to be in business.

cheese toast – favorite food? - cheesecake

blazer – do you share your clothes? - With my sister sometimes yeah.

lap of the gods – if you could meet anyone, alive or dead, who would it be and what would you tell them? - Taylor Swift, and I'd probably just talk to her about personal stuff and then how she's been an inspiration to me as a writer.

#survey

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homebody-nobody · 3 years

Text

these skeletons got ways of coming out

k so I actually published this a few days ago but tumblr was being a butt so I couldn’t cross-post it til now anyway This is a Pope Heyward character study that ABSOLUTELY NO ONE ASKED FOR and I wrote anyway bc I needed to fix him before I could use him as a character in the rest of this series. If you disagree with the way that I've extrapolated very little data into detailed headcanons, I don't blame you but also just like read elsewhere

title from "Brother" by Kodaline ------ ao3 ------

And that -- the intersection of John B and Kiara -- the overlay of his two best friends in his heart -- that’s what scares him.

Pope realizes some things after the Phantom goes down. Things that change the way he lives his life ------

I used to be free Of any fear of emotion But these skeletons got ways of coming out I used to believe That someday you'd see That baby you got devotion in every little motion

And I won't see the storm When the rain's coming down Never let you go Never let you go Even when the madness has broken you apart Even when the madness has broken you apart

Objectively, Pope is not an idiot. He knows this. He gets good grades, and he knows more about computers and physics and a lot of other things than the rest of any of his friends. He’s a smart kid. Even though he skipped out on his scholarship interview and his grades took a very sudden dip at the end of last semester, he has a solid GPA, a fantastic ACT score, and a glittering array of colleges waiting for his application in the fall. He’s spent his entire life waiting for his chance to get out of the Cut and prove all of those motherfuckers on Figure Eight wrong. He has potential. So why, when it comes to the simplest of things, does he feel so lost?

He was sure he was in love with Kiara. Dead certain. Everything lines up. She’s kind and beautiful and intelligent, everything that matters. He feels comfortable around her, natural, like he doesn’t have to try to be funny or charming, like he’s not constantly afraid of fucking up. Everything he’s read about being in love, all the books and the articles -- it all follows. And it’s a good story, one other people will nod their heads and smile at, high school sweethearts, best friends who found solace in each other during the most difficult part of their young lives. But there’s something about it that still feels -- wrong. Uncomfortable. Like there’s the Pope that everyone else sees and then the Pope that he is, and the one in love with Kiara isn’t the same one who lays in his bed at night and stares at the ceiling fan begging for his brain to shut up.

It’s strange, to feel so separate from himself and the life he lives. He doesn’t think it’s normal. He wishes he could talk to his friends about it. It’s not like they’re dumb, the rest of the pogues. Well, not fundamentally so, anyway. John B and JJ definitely make interesting decisions sometimes. But they all inhabit their bodies without question, so sure in their skin and the feeling that they belong with each other. He slips in and out of that too readily to feel completely comfortable at every boneyard party and through every misinformed adventure. The ease is less a standard and more a pleasant surprise; there are some nights when his friends fall quiet around a bonfire and Pope realizes he can’t stop smiling, that he loves every single one of them with his whole heart and he knows they love him, too. And then he starts doubting himself, and gets nervous and quiet and weird again, and they all brush it off as Pope being Pope -- but he’s an outsider even in their little chosen family and that starts to chafe, after a while.

Honestly, he was doing a pretty excellent job of not thinking about it until John B died. Or disappeared. Or whatever you call it when your best friend goes out in an open boat in the middle of a storm and disappears off the radio and the capsized boat is found three days later with no sign of him or his kook girlfriend. Pope’s angry at him, for that. He also really, really hates Sarah, for driving him to make that choice. For her. If it was him, he would have made John B turn around. He should have tried to stop him in the first place. He shouldn’t have helped get him to the Phantom , shouldn’t have let him go.

He hasn’t been haunted by guilt like this since JJ took the blame for sinking the wakesetter, and, for some reason, this is worse. It chews at him, a constant gnawing in the center of his chest that leaves him empty and hurting every second, swallowed by a hunger consuming itself. He hasn’t stopped thinking about John B since that deadly, neverending moment of radio static. Memories flash on a constant film reel through his head. Surfing at Rixon’s, parties at the boneyard, bonfires at the chateau, afternoons on the HMS Pogue. All the moments this summer when John B smiled and Pope followed, unquestioning.

Surfing the surge. That was so beyond stupid, and Pope knew it, even before they got to the beach and saw the huge, angry waves. But John B asked, with that insane glint in his eye that he always got when he caught hold of an idea, unable to let it go, so Pope went. Someone had to keep him alive when Kie wasn’t around. And that -- the intersection of John B and Kiara -- the overlay of his two best friends in his heart -- that’s what scares him.

The whole summer, he’d watched them, first their strange tension with an undercurrent of possibility that tugged at his stomach and made him feel sick, and then their familiar platonic intimacy as they finally became comfortable in what they were to each other. Jealousy pinched and prodded at every moment of eye contact, every kiss on his cheek or lighthearted shove of her shoulder. And the way his heart soared at the salvage yard when John B told them she’d rejected him. That had to have meant something -- and what followed logic was that Pope was into Kie, and he wished himself in John B’s place.

Right?

The night the Phantom goes down, Pope thinks he’s the one who should be dead. His parents arrive to take him home, talking to him about how worried they were, how happy they are to see him safe, but his head is still full of that gut-wrenching radio static. He doesn’t hear anything they say as he watches red and blue lights dance across their faces. They pull him into a fierce hug, JJ tugged in next to him, and all he feels is hollow.

Every step he takes echoes off the side of the tunnel of his thoughts, black and void. He stays as still as he can, spread-eagle across his bed, still dressed, just to avoid the clanging of the empty air when he moves. The barest stimulation is too much, the dimmest light blinding. His chest feels like someone has reached in and turned his ribs inside out, split them with a chest-cracker and opened him up on a steel table. In the far, unexplored regions of his imagination, he can see his own autopsy, surgery performed on a perfectly silent boy, hands at his sides, eyes still open, heart still beating.

Night falls around him, from grey dusk to the unforgiving ink-black you can only get in power outages on a tiny island fighting to breathe through the salt marsh. The only thing that drives him from his bed is the urgent cry of his bladder, and it’s easier to get dressed for bed once he’s already moving across the floor. The floorboards creak under his feet and while he would normally walk lightly for fear of being hassled for waking the house the next morning, his steps are heavy and dragging. Staring at the counter, he reaches for his toothbrush and squeezes toothpaste out onto the worn bristles. He puts it in his mouth and looks up, making eye contact reflection for the first time.

You love him.

The realization hits him as clearly as if someone had whispered directly in his ear. It’s like an icepick through the center of his exposed, defenseless heart. He lowers the toothbrush slowly, the silence of the house ringing in his ears like sirens. His breath quickens, his bare chest rising and falling as he backs away from the counter, fear and grief and disappointment and a thousand other things he can’t name swirling in him like the storm that ended life the way he knew it. The tears start, flowing down his face silently at first and then, as he loses all control of his breath and his hands find their way into his hair, accompanied by gut-wrenching, heartbreaking sobs, broken sounds of grief and loss in too many respects.

Heyward rushes down the hall, throwing the door open, fear for his son wild in his eyes. He finds Pope doubled over, hyperventilating, face a mess of snot and tears, eyes squeezed closed, as he shakes and sobs. After a moment in the door, he pushes in, pulling Pope into his chest, wrapping firm, solid arms built from hard work and weather-beaten skin around him. “It’s gonna be alright, kid,” he whispers as Pope shivers violently against him. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Pope doesn’t remember being folded into his bed, or how the glass of water and bottle of Advil ended up on his bedside table. He wakes up well into the afternoon, the room heavy and sticky with the day’s heat, the air conditioning rendered useless with the lack of electricity. The golden light fools him into a pleasant kind of ignorance for half a moment before the reality of the previous night crashes over him ,and suddenly the comfy nest of his bed feels like a prison, sucking him down like quicksand into the mattress. He puts his hands over his face, pressing fingertips into aching eyes, trying to keep himself calm by counting backwards from four hundred, a number with each breath. When he reaches three hundred and fifty four he feels like he might be able to move again, and he reaches for the water and gulps it down, a note stuck to the bottom fluttering to the floor.

He swings his legs out of bed to pick it up, recognizing his mother’s handwriting on the pink post-it note, smudged and running from the condensation. Breakfast in the fridge , it says, don’t worry about the store. Rest. We love you. It makes his skin itch, rather than being comforting. The storm in his head turns a tide toward guilt, like he’s keeping a secret that he just learned, himself. The bed calls, but he knows that if he collapses back into it he won’t move for the rest of the day, and that he should stand before he changes his mind. The ache in his belly forces him up, and he pads through the empty house, feeling halfway like a ghost. Eggs with peppers and cheese, sausage, and hashbrowns are on a covered plate in the fridge, and he unwraps it and puts it in the microwave, watching the food rotate as his mind comes to grips with consciousness.

He’s in love with John B. The boy that taught him how to play beer pong and smoke a bowl, the surfer that pushes him while they’re out on the water, daring him to bigger and bigger tricks, making him better. The idiot that chases gold and kook girls without a glance at impossibility, simply because he has no understanding of the idea. The John B that died last night.

The microwave beeps and he takes his food to the counter, hunched over it, twisting a fork between his fingers and feeling like his stomach might feel better on the outside of him. He takes a few bites, to see if maybe just the potatoes might go down easy, but they taste like ash, and he sits back from the plate, sore and exhausted. He wanders through the house and eventually back up to his room, standing in front of his closet, knowing he should get dressed but overwhelmed by even the simplest choice. Finally, he just pulls on a plain t-shirt over his basketball shorts, and, after catching a glimpse of his hair, puts a snapback on backwards. He doesn’t feel like sitting, so he doesn’t, tucking his keys in his pocket and sliding on a pair of flip flops, leaving the house without his phone or any sort of destination, just walking as his thoughts churn and crash over each other without being much of anything at all.

The heat sends sweat rolling down his temples and between his shoulder blades but he barely feels it, keeping his eyes on his feet as he shuffles down the side of the road. Normally, he’d be listening for any sound that might indicate Rafe or Topper coming up behind him, constantly judging the proximity of the cars, quietly bemoaning the blister forming under his left big toe from the strap of his sandal. But the only thing he senses is the slap of his shoes against the asphalt, carrying him aimlessly across the island.

His own denial fights vocally to be heard under the stifling realization, but it’s something he’s been pushing down for years, ignoring even as the obvious signs wiggled their way into his every day life, like the goosebumps at John B’s touch or the expansion of his chest when John B laughed. It was always there, waiting for him to see it, quietly growing and climbing its way like ivy from his heart to his head, finally bursting from underneath his skin at the worst possible moment.

He’s going to have to tell his dad. There won’t be any way to explain the grief crashing over him without the truth. That settles itself on his shoulders right next to the realization itself and everything else he’s been holding up for months. Knowing the name of it, at least, makes it easier to handle. He’s been carrying around his feelings for John B without knowing what they were, mis-assigning them to Kiara and fucking up what’s probably his favorite friendship. He’s gonna have to tell her, too. He’s not looking forward to that.

As he walks, it settles in, making a home along with all the other true things about him. Pope Heyward. Black. Sixteen years of age. Six feet tall. Pogue. And, he guesses, gay. Maybe bi. But probably gay. Looking back, no girl has ever made him feel the way that John B makes -- he swallows. Used to make him feel. With his stupid floppy hair and his kind brown eyes and that absurd jawline. Tears cloud his eyes and the path in front of him blurs. His best friend is dead . And it took that horrible, heart-shattering tragedy for him to figure out how he felt about him.

He keeps walking for a while, choking back tears and half-planning conversations with his parents and Kie, listening to the slap of his sandals on the cracked asphalt littered with long, dry pine needles and cracked seed pods, signalling the nearing end of summer. He feels, gratefully, a little more clear-headed, less freaked out than he thought he would be. He always feels better, having a plan, no matter how vague and ineffectual that plan may turn out to be.

After a while, he looks up, and finds himself in Figure Eight -- a very dangerous place to be, given the current social climate of the island -- not very far from Kie’s house. He heaves a sigh. Better now than later. Pausing before mounting the porch, Pope spares a second of a regret for his appearance. Kiara’s parents have never been keen on him or either of the other boys, and he knows that showing up in tattered shorts and flip flops won’t exactly help his case. Anna opens the door, looking surprised to see him, and Pope is momentarily relieved it isn’t Kie’s father.

“Good morning,” she says, wary.

“Hi,” Pope replies, lacking his usual magical parent-charming abilities, exhaustion and grief sapping the energy from his bones. There’s an awkward pause as Mrs. Carrera awaits the explanation of a rattily dressed pogue boy on her porch and Pope scrambles for one. He settles on the obvious. “Is Kie here?” He doesn’t know where else she’d be, honestly, but it’s the usual go-to for when they’re dragging Kie back to the Cut for nonsense and potential delinquency, and he’s hoping her mom won’t question it.

“She’s not,” Anna says, concern coloring her tone. “She isn’t with you?” Pope feels his eyebrows draw together, a betrayal of his own confusion, an immediate admittance of guilt.

“I, uh --” he says eloquently as panic overtakes Anna’s face. “I mean, she --” He’s saved by the girl herself riding down the sidewalk on a bike that looks like it’s seen better days, rattling loudly as she cruises toward the house. “There she is!” he says, with a disturbing amount of forced enthusiasm that puts the same expression on Kie and Anna’s faces. “So, we’re all good. Thanks, Mrs. C!”

But Anna isn’t gonna let her daughter slide so easily. “Kiara,” she says, “You weren’t in your room this morning.”

“I went for a bike ride,” Kie replies coldly. “I needed to think.”

“For three hours?” Anna asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kie shrugs. “I needed to think a lot.” Anna looks like she wants a little more information out of her daughter, but she looks at Pope, clearly reluctant to start a fight with him around. He feels caught, standing on the porch between mother and daughter, like he’s in a room with a half-constructed bomb. Kie’s hands fidget with the handlebars. “C’mon, Pope,” she says.

“No way,” Anna interjects. Kie opens her mouth like she wants to argue, but her mother’s words cut her off. “You two can hang out on the porch for a while, but when you’re done,” and here, she looks at Kiara like she might actually commit murder if her daughter doesn’t listen to her, “Come inside. We have a lot to talk about.”

Kie heaves a heavy breath. “Fine,” she says. Satisfied, Anna turns and goes inside. Pope drops off the porch and walks with Kie as she walks the bike over to the garage.

“Hey,” he says, his heart in his throat. This is a complete turnaround from the emptiness of earlier, every inch of him hyper aware of her body language, the changes in her expression and her attitude towards him. His entire life feels like a shipwreck, dashed against the rocks after careful years of building, after months of planning the perfect voyage. “Bike ride?” he asks, because he always knows when she’s lying.

She props her bike up against the side of the garage. “I was with JJ,” she blows out on a sigh. She doesn’t look at him as they walk around to the back porch. “At the Chateau.” Pulling her hair out of it’s ponytail, she splits it over her shoulders, fidgeting nervously with the ends. “I didn’t want him to be alone.”

He’s about to say that he was alone, that maybe he wanted to have his friends around him, too, but then he remembers his father catching him in the bathroom, waking up in his own bed, water and a note on the bedside table. JJ wouldn’t have gotten any of that. He can’t even go home, not after Luke Maybank finds out what happened to his precious Phantom . With John B -- gone -- JJ doesn’t have anyone left. Except for them. And Pope was too wrapped up in his own grief and bullshit to think about something like that. He takes a second to be grateful for Kiara.

They reach the steps to the Carrera’s back porch, and she sits down on the second-to-last one. “I have something to tell you,” she says, and she still won’t look at him. Half of him wonders what she’s upset about while the other hopes she can’t hear his heartbeat, it’s pounding so loud in his own ears.

Slowly, he sinks down next to her, the morning sun radiant across her skin, amplified by the reflection off the channel. He takes a deep breath. “I have something to tell you, too.” Her eyebrows draw together. He licks his lips. She pulls her knees up to her chest. He stares at his feet. They’re afraid of each other, and the awkward tension in the air makes him hate every wrong thing he said, every lie he told her, even though he believed them when he said it. She doesn’t say anything else, and he takes that as his cue to go first. He looks up, before he says anything, taking in her kind brown eyes, the soft lines of her kind, intelligent face. He wants one last picture of her before he changes everything. “I don’t love you,” he says.

Her face contorts in an expression of surprise and offense, and he rapidly backpedals. “I mean, I do.” he says. “Of course I do, but like, like a sister.”

“A sister,” she says incredulously, confusion rising in her eyes.

“Not -- Oh, fuck, that’s not --” He drops his head in his hands, his blood rushing so loudly in his ears he can’t hear himself think. “This is not going well.”

“No shit,” she says, but there’s a little bit of relief in her voice. This bumbling, tripping-over-his-words Pope makes a lot more sense than the one that lost his shit and nearly killed Rafe Cameron the previous day. (And God, was that only yesterday?) He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, and she notices his breath start to quicken. “Pope?” she asks, leaning forward and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Kie, I’m gay.” It falls out of his mouth like a boulder, hitting the ground and shaking the earth with its weight. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and it’s terrifying, to have it so concrete in front of him, no longer nebulous and trapped in his head. He can’t take it back, can’t lie about it anymore, to her or himself or anyone else. He has to live with that truth, now, no matter how he feels about it. Part of that, while intimidating, makes him feel just a little bit more free.

“Oh,” she says, and he’s too panicked to discern anything in her tone. “Okay.” He doesn’t want to look at her, doesn’t want to see the horror or anger or whatever else must be settling there.

He rushes to explain himself, like he didn’t hear. “I’m sorry that I thought I was in love with you,” he says, even as she feels a thousand worries slip from her shoulders like coming up from diving under a wave. “I just, I was jealous, and I thought that it was John B I was jealous of, but it wasn’t, it was you, and then he--” Pope blows by his name before he chokes on it, realizing what he’s said aloud, how dangerous and loaded a once-familiar thing has become. “It wasn’t him I was jealous of,” he repeats, lacing his fingers over the back of his head, dropping it to his chest. “It wasn’t him.” He squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing down the tears fighting their way up his throat.

Kie hesitates in reaching for him, but the moment her fingertips brush his shoulder, she falls against her best friend, wrapping her arms around him as best she can. “Oh, Pope,” she whispers, as tears well in her own eyes. “Oh Pope, I’m so sorry.” He falls into her embrace, all his anger and uncertainty dissipating like fog at dawn. They both cry for a while, her silently, him shaking. She does her best to comfort him, but his grief has taken on a different tone she can no longer imagine.

When his breath finally slows, he sits up out of her arms, wiping under his eyes. “You aren’t mad?” He asks, in true Pope fashion.

“Why would I be mad?” she asks, disbelief echoing in her words.

“Well, I was…” he sniffs, watching his hands fold over each other. “I was kind of a jerk about it.” He feels bad, about the way everything went down. He was drowning, in disappointment and confusion and a million other things he still doesn’t have words for that he wishes he could explain. He was an asshole to her when he should have listened and

She knocks their shoulders together with half a sly smile. “Yeah, you kind of were.” It feels good to be joking with him like this again, after the last couple of days of chaos and anger and disappointment after disappointment. They’re best friends for a reason, her boys and her.

“And then --” he swallows, remembering the moments at the Dump after John B disappeared into the marsh, moments he still doesn’t understand. “Y-you kissed me, and --”

The smile falls off her face. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she says. She shifts her weight between her feet, her knees moving back and forth as they sit side by side on the porch steps, picking at her nails. “That wasn’t --” she looks at him, and he looks back. “I shouldn’t have done that.” She stretches her legs out in front of her, knocking her sneakers together, her hands dropping to her lap. “I have my own shit to figure out, Pope,” she says. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into it.”

Pope leans over, “You wanna talk about it?” he asks pointedly. He knows she likes to talk things through, make sense of them by pushing everything out into the atmosphere so she can see it all, pick out the pieces that make sense. He also doesn’t want to talk about him, anymore.

“No,” she says abruptly. He leans back into his own space, holding his hands up a little, and she bites her lip, like she does when she’s thinking too hard about what to say next. “I’m sorry,” she admits. “I just --” she knocks her feet together again before pulling them back up to the last step, her chin falling onto her knees. “I gotta think about it some more, I guess.” She looks at him, screwing up her face in that way that makes everyone agree that she’s adorable. “I’ve got some more I’ve gotta work out.”

“You know you can still talk to me, right?” he reassures her. He used to be the best listener, before he went and fucked everything up. Kie would talk to him about things John B and JJ would never understand, usually about parents or family pressure, things she felt guilty discussing with either one of their practically-orphaned friends. Pope understood, and it was easy to let Kie just let everything out, answering her own questions, defining problems and putting together solutions in the same breath. It’s part of the reason he assumed they would end up together, before -- well. Before. She trusted him, and he fucked that up, and now he can only hope that he can earn it back.

“I know,” she says, folding her arms on top of her knees and looking back out across the channel. “It’s not because of --” she stops, unsure of how to define it.

“Yeah,” he answers. He doesn’t want to talk about it either.

“It’s just --” she goes quiet for a second, picking through words like the wrong ones are rotten, and he watches her, the slight breeze off the water picking up strands of her hair. Her shoulder drops as she moves her head, and a few curls shift enough that he can see dark red marks tracking up the side of her neck. Hickies? “I don’t think I have words for it yet,” she says, finishing her sentence. JJ , he thinks, her confession about her absence this morning circling back through his mind. The word is JJ .

Pope isn’t blind. He sees the way JJ looks at her. He always has. It never unsettled him like the shared glances between Kie and John B, and now he knows why. It’s a little relieving, to not have to manufacture false jealousy in the pit of his stomach, to have to lie to himself in order to make his constructed, false worldview make sense. JJ and Kie -- they’re going to be something else to handle, with the inherent chaos of how they both handle their emotions and the forced bravado they both put on, but he supposes they were… inevitable, in a way. Kiara was misinterpreting her own feelings, just like he was, forcing herself to believe she loved someone who made more sense, someone that was easier to accept than confronting the truth. John B was his truth -- JJ is hers. He’s grateful, in a way, that they’ll have each other, through this -- once she gains the same clarity he’s come to.

“It’s okay,” he says, as everything slides into place. He’s not gonna rush this, not gonna make her take steps she’s not ready for. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready.” She smiles at him -- a weak thing, but genuine.

“Thanks, Pope,” she says.

He shrugs. “What are best friends for?” She drops her head against his shoulder, and for the first time since Shoupe confirmed their worst fears, he feels like things might, someday, be okay again.

They stay like that for a while, and then she asks him if he wants to talk more about it, and Pope recounts the moment of clarity in the bathroom, his thought process on his walk across the island. Kie listens, because he’s still her best friend, and it’s one of his favorite things about her, the way she makes it so easy to let everything out, the way she makes him feel seen. She doesn’t say much, but she doesn’t have to, because everything is still so fresh and bleeding that he doesn’t know what he wants to hear, yet. She reassures him she still loves him, that she’ll stick with him no matter what, just like she’s always promised to do, and that seems to do the trick.

Eventually, Mrs. Carrera comes out and offers to drive Pope home, a very pointed instruction to the both of them. She goes to get the car, leaving the two of them to say goodbye on the porch. Kie stands with her arms crossed over her stomach, like she’s holding herself together. “My parents are probably gonna have me on lockdown for a while,” she says, biting on the corner of her lip.

“Mine too,” he answers, with some inkling of what she’s about to ask him.

“Do you think you could --” she starts, and she’s staring somewhere around his collarbones, because JJ means more to her now, and makes this request, somehow, different. “I mean, with service down, it’s gonna be hard to keep in touch and I just --” She sighs, frustrated with herself, that she can’t get the words out. “When his dad figures out what happened --”

Pope interrupts her this time, reaches a gentle hand out for her arm. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” he promises. “I’ll talk to my parents…” he says, automatically, his usual main resource for help or assistance, and pauses, remembering the note he left on with his father, how things might go without the overhang of a recent disaster. His parents. They’ll be out all day, at least, won’t know about his sojourn to Figure Eight. But they’ll be back, and he has a lot to face.

“Will you just make sure he’s safe?” she asks, small and scared, and, in true Kiara fashion, ashamed to be asking for help.

“Yeah,” he answers. He wraps her in a tight hug, grateful to have his friend back, to be centering somewhere at least slightly left of normal, to be spiralling down from the insane high of failure and the chaos of being half a fugitive. “Yeah, of course.”

Mrs. Carrera drives him home, and even though she tries to ask him how he’s holding up, he answers monosyllabically, avoiding small talk by staring out the window and doing his best to stave off the encroaching panic as he anticipates the upcoming conversation with his father. Anna watches him carefully, and he can feel her eyes on him. It makes him uneasy.

Watching Figure Eight slowly melt into subdivisions and condominiums and then, as houses get smaller and the weeds get wilder, into the Cut. In a matter of minutes, fantastic wealth descends into abject struggle and poverty, a jarring display of privilege and elitism that Pope and the others are no longer shocked by. They grew up in it, cut down over and over again by a system that simply wasn’t built for them, grew up before their time because the kooks never will, abdicating responsibility and ignoring the fallout. Pope’s thoughts wander to Topper’s wakesetter, bile rising in his throat. His impulsive mistake ruined JJ’s life at sixteen, and the Thorntons, well. They’ll just buy another boat.

When they reach the Heywards’, Anna cuts the engine, and Pope doesn’t move, staring at his family’s little house, shabby but well-kept, his mother’s vegetable garden in full swing, bursting with a physical manifestation of love and care in an explosion of green leaves and colorful fruits and vegetables. He thinks about the Carrera’s neatly kept lawn, the decorative plants placed carefully on their wraparound porch, the contrast between the two images. Chaos and love, wealth and precision.

“I love your mother’s garden,” Anna says, almost like she doesn’t mean to. “I wish she’d tell me her secret.”

You can’t have it , Pope thinks, selfishly. He wants this one thing, for his mother, for his family. Instead, he answers; “I wouldn’t know.” This, he realizes, is unfortunately true. When was the last time he helped his mother with her garden? Asked her what she wanted to do on a Saturday? He helps with the store, of course, but in that, he doesn’t have a choice. He’s spent so much time chasing John B, first his promise of adventure, and then his approval, and then, desperate to help him in his hour of need. When was the last time he helped with the yard work? Helped make dinner? Stayed in on a Friday night?

His parents love him violently, work hard to give him opportunities they never had. His father breaks his back, works the store, the delivery service, any hard labor job he can get, used to being a tool, something to be taken advantage of, a means to an end. He does it so Pope can go to school, have a laptop to do homework and apply for colleges on, have a phone to text his friends and stay in contact with his parents. His throat thickens with the realization that his father was right -- he has been ungrateful. He’s been disrespectful, and rude, and if it was him, he wouldn’t even let himself back into the house, much less comfort him, leave him breakfast and reassuring notes.

Anna takes the emotion in his eyes for something else, and she puts a hand on his shoulder that feels so distinctly different from Kiara’s that it’s fundamentally wrong, and he freezes under her touch. “I know this is hard,” she says, in a tone that tries for concerned mom and lands somewhere closer to patronizing school counselor. “But you’ll get through it. You have each other, and that’s the most important part.”

“Thanks,” he says coldly, reaching for the door handle before climbing quickly out of the car. When his feet hit the packed-dirt drive, he stops, feeling like an asshole. “And thank you. For the ride.” He goes to shut the door, but she interrupts him.

“Pope,” she says, and he looks up at her, making eye contact for the first time since he got in the car. “If you -- or your family -- needs anything…” She bites her lip the same way Kie does. “Just, don’t hesitate to ask.” Pope usually rankles under the suggestion of charity, pride bred into him alongside a stubborn willfulness that rivals even his father’s, but she knows life in the Cut, has faced the same things he and his family deal with every day. It’s an odd juxtaposition, her inherent compassion and her dislike of her daughter’s friends. It’s what, at the end of the day, separates her eternally from Kie.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Of course. Thanks, Ms. Anna.”

When he reaches the door, he hears tires twist in the dirt, and Anna Carrera drives away, back to her house, her daughter, her life on Figure Eight. Pope lets himself in, showers off the sweat from his trek to Kie’s, and sets about cleaning the house, both as a distraction and a desperate appeal for his parents’ forgiveness. The whole afternoon, he rehearses a million different versions of the same speech, apologies and admittances, going back and forth about copping to the sinking of Topper’s boat, afraid of his father’s wrath and the legal consequences, but still guilty and anxious to the point of nausea over it, desperate to do the right thing.

Pope was raised with a strong sense of right and wrong, a deep and little-discussed Catholic faith, and a strong sense of familial pride. What Heywards are and aren’t, what they do and don’t do -- it was all drilled into him from a young age. Heywards pay their debts. Heywards don’t complain, don’t argue, don’t talk back. Heywards work hard. Heywards work honest.

Heywards aren’t gay.

It was never said, but Pope knows his dad. He knows what counts as acceptable behavior, the future his father imagines for him. A college degree, a Good Job, a house, a wife, kids -- he knows what’s expected. He tries to wrestle with the disappointment that he’ll never own up to that image as he scrubs the stove, tears welling up as he works at a particularly stubborn grease stain. He’s already disappointed them so much, just in the past few days. What will they say? What will they think of him?

He knows he’s lucky, as a kid in the Cut with both parents still around, still willing to work, still willing to love him. There are too many kids like John B and JJ, left behind, ignored and neglected, the victims of vicious cycles and cruel tragedies. Pope still has a whole family, as small and broken as it may be. He should start acting like it.

He’s just finished dusting the living room when he hears tires in the driveway, the rattling engine of his father’s old pickup, and he freezes like a prey animal caught in an open plain. They’re home. His mother makes quiet comments on the improved state of the house as they toss keys in bowls and remove shoes, speaking calmly to each other, the soft noises of domesticity and routine. Routine he is about to monumentally disrupt, more than he ever has.

Pope has a speech planned. He has things he wants to say, sentences he needs them to hear in the same way he has them planned. Everything needs to follow the course he’s laid out, or it could be open to misinterpretation. He’s prepared. That’s what he does -- he plans, he structures, he researches and prepares. All of that disintegrates the moment his father walks into the living room.

“Pope,” he says. “You cleaned.”

“Dad, I’m sorry,” Pope says, and the words choke him, tears welling and spilling in the same instant, like a faucet turning on after winter. He tells him everything, about Topper’s wakesetter and the failed treasure hunt and the impossible hope that drew him from his scholarship interview, the desperation and the certainty that he was following, determined to be the final piece of the puzzle, the thing that saved his friends. He begs for forgiveness, crying and broken, looking for himself in his fathers eyes. Heyward doesn’t say anything for a long time, soaking in the information. His wife is struck dumb, at Pope’s heart breaks with the horror in his mother’s eyes, at his admittances of all he’s done.

“Please,” Pope begs. “Say something.”

The silence that hangs in the living room feels like a gun against his temple, his father’s finger on the trigger. “Well son,” Heyward says, “What are you gonna do about it?”

“What --” Pope’s brain stops, too overwhelmed to process this reaction from his father. There is grief and anger, guilt and fear, and a thousand other things he cannot name. He is out of words, out of ideas and out of power. He wants someone to tell him what to do, because cannot possibly summon the energy to determine a path himself.

“You sunk that boy’s boat?” Pope nods, dumbfounded, answering on instinct. Heyward looks tired. “You let your friend take the fall?”

“I --” It’s hard, to hear it in his father’s voice, to hear the disappointment there, to feel it, real, metallic, and cutting in the air. “Yeah.”

Heyward shrugs, like it’s simple. “What are you gonna do about it?” Maybe it is. Pope got himself into this mess, and now he needs to get himself out.

“I don’t --” he starts, with nowhere to go.

“You gonna do the right thing?” His father asks, his tone implying that there is one answer.

Pope straightens up, closes his mouth, swallows down all the tears, all the uncertainty and vulnerability. He has asked for guidance, and his father is providing it. There is no more room for weakness here. “Yes, sir.”

Heyward nods, and turns to Yvonne, who has tears in her eyes. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart,” He says to his wife. “We’ve got a good boy here. He’ll be fine.” He wraps his arms around her, folding her into his chest in a familiar, nostalgic gesture. Pope feels awkward, watching his parents comfort each other, but he knows that his feelings are not the most important in the room. His chest hurts knowing he’s the one who caused their pain.

But this conversation still isn’t over. “Dad, um,” he says, and Heyward looks at him with exhaustion in his wizened eyes. “there’s one more thing.”

Heyward turns toward him again, leaving one arm around his wife. “Well I don’t know if you can shock me anymore today, Pope,” he says, “so go ahead.”

The words dam up behind his lips, and his hands flex at his sides, clenching into fists and spreading out again, and there’s no way out of this, not anymore. It was easier with Kie, for some reason. “Dad, I’m gay.” It hangs there, bigger and somehow more terrifying than anything he’s said since his parents came home. The air in the living room doesn’t move, stale and muggy in the North Carolina evening, without the hum of the fridge or the air conditioner for reprieve.

Heyward blinks. Once, twice. Yvonne shakes on a silent sob, a noise that cracks Pope’s ribs open. “Okay,” his father replies.

It is somehow relieving and disappointing all at once. Pope doesn’t lie to his parents, at least, as much as he can help it. “Is that all?” he asks, because he expected -- something more? Something beyond indifference. Maybe rage, maybe affirmation. Maybe some indicator that this was just as big of a deal as he made it out to be.

“What else do you want me to say?” Heyward asks, knowing this is the most he and his son have talked about anything in years. The last mention at vulnerability came before the ill-fated scholarship interview, less than a minute of conversation before Heyward left his son to take a job. Sometimes he kicks himself for that, wondering about what might have happened if he’d waited, been there when his son made one of the most impulsive decisions of his young life. Could he have caught him coming out the door? Talked him down? What would today be, if Heyward had been there?

Pope looks at his father through a haze of tears, his breath somewhere other than his chest, uncontrollable and foreign. “You don’t hate me?”

Heyward shrugs. “You’re still my son, ain’t you?” Pope nods, sniffling and backhanding tears off of his face. “Well then, I guess I still love you.” Pope doesn’t remember the last time his father said that to him. “Pope,” Heyward sighs, heaving himself off the couch. “You’ve done a lot these past few weeks I don’t understand. I’m not gonna pretend I’m not upset with you.” Pope looks at his father’s feet, weary and sore on the threadbare carpet. “But you bein gay? That ain’t why.”

And that, that breaks the tenuous control he has over his emotions, and he sobs, loud and hard and echoing in the small living room. “I thought maybe -- maybe you might --” Pope tries, his arms at his sides, fists clenched, chest shaking. Heyward steps forward, wrapping his arms around his son, because he may not know what Pope is going to do, what he’s going to do as a father, as a man. Even though neither of them know how they’re going to get through this, how they’re going to deal with the police department, the Thorntons, John B’s death, and the rest -- they know this, they know the faith they have in each other, the love and respect that lives there, even after everything.

Pope’s father pulls back from the embrace, places his hands on his son’s shoulders and levels him with the same stare that Pope has known his whole life. “What are you?” he asks, the same way he’s asked a million times before. This is a routine, between father and son, in moments of desperation, a way of taking a step back up from the most crushing of lows, of taking back control, setting their shoulders and facing into the wind.

Pope knows the answer. “I’m a Heyward.”

#pope heyward #pope #obx #outerbanks #pope x john b #john b x pope #kiara carrera #anna carrera #heyward #mrs. heyward #outer banks #outer banks fic #my stuff #my writing #season 2 spec #angst

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robinskalechip · 5 years

Text

home - chapter one

robin buckley x reader

not really reader bc i put a name in place of it but its a robin x character that doesn’t actually exist

a/n: this is my first fic so bare with me, im also taking requests for mostly hcs and oneshots

not my gif!

chapter one - the first meeting

robin was into her second week as a high school senior and she was already ready to be done and over with the school year. everyone was moping around and pointing out all of their precious “lasts” of their high schools years while robin didn’t care much. band was the only thing that came to mind that she would miss.

after school, robin worked at the video store with steve and it was as if nothing had changed. she still kept count of how many times he failed at picking up girls. the kids still rushed in to see them, minus will and el who would have loved the discounted movie rentals. most of the time the kids didn’t even buy or rent the movies. they just had steve or robin put the movie of their choosing on the television in the store and they would sit there and watch while robin would keep on eye out for keith so they didn’t get in trouble.

robin was currently in the back of miss foster’s second period advanced english class, her head buried in a book she had been dying to read for a while that foster had gotten her hands on specifically for robin. miss foster could see robin perfectly and didnt mind that she didn’t have her eyes on the board because she knew robin was at least 60% listening and she probably could teach the class for her.

robin’s head shot up when she heard a subtle knock to her right. she looked up to see a girl in denium pants with a matching jacket that seems sligtly oversized. underneath she wore a simple pink tee shirt that was almost a peach color and a pair of black combat boots to tie the whole outfit together.

robin was always one to notice the details.

on her hands, she sported multiple simplistic rings and robin could barely see the leather bracelet that was being hidden by the jacket sleeves. her hair was messy, but in a way that made her seem put together if that makes sense. similar to robin’s, just darker and a bit fuller.

the stranger had her head peaking from the slightly opened classroom door and knocked once more.

“is this a bad time?”

robin had never seen miss foster’s face light up so quickly. she hurried her way from behind her desk to approach the girl.

the girl met her half way, her face now as bright as the sun with a smile as she received a tight hug from miss foster. foster then turned to the class, hand still on the girl’s back, and said “this is one of the good ones ” as she pointed to her, still smiling.

“what have you been up to”

the girl still carried her bright smile as she spoke, “i’m actually a junior journalist at the times”

somehow foster became even happier but was cut short when a student at the front of the class cleared his throat.

“can we get back to the lesson please”

robin didnt know the kid, not even his name. but she knew she didn’t like him. he was one of those kids that took high school way too seriously. as if he would die if a couple of minutes of the lesson were taken out. maybe he’s not as smart as he thinks he is because robin is doing just fine and she’s barely paying attention half the time.

the girl was polite about it, not showing any negative response. “i have a few other stops to make but i should be in town a while, i’m sure i’ll see you the next time i go to get a bagel or get gas”

foster smiled, “okay miss milani, stay out of trouble”

milani

robin felt the name was familiar. she could see some students from the other side of the room whispering amongst themselves.

the girl started to make her way back to the back of the room. robin watched her closely. she saw her smile drop slightly as she saw the students whispering and she guessed they saw her because the noise came to a sudden stop.

on her way out, her and robin’s eyes met for a brief moment. a small smile appeared on both of their faces as the girl exited.

robin had never felt more vulnerable yet more as peace then she had in those three seconds.

about ten minutes later the bell rang and robin quietly gathered her things and headed upstairs to mr. andrew’s advanced biology class, aka the one class she was struggling with this year despite it being one of her best subjects in prior years.

as she stepped through the doorway, her heart began to beat a little faster.

the girl who had previously interrupted miss foster’s class was now sat on mr. andrew’s front lab table. the two were talking and laughing. robin thought to herself, i guess she got on with a lot of the teachers here.

robin tried to remain calm as she searched her folder for her lab report she was meant to turn in yesterday. she decided to take care of dustin while he was home sick, today was steve’s turn. we love parenting. robin didn’t know why she was feeling so hectic but she tried her best to calm herself down as she walked to the front of the class, directly to mr. andrew, whose back was towards her as he spoke to the girl.

“andrew you got a patient”

mr. andrew turned around, arms folded and still smiling as he looked at robin. “ah miss buckley, we missed you yesterday.”

robin could feel the girl’s eyes on her as she tried to maintain eye contact with her teacher.

“im sorry, sir. i would have turned my lab in the day before if i had known i was going to be out-“

mr. andrew cut her off, “it’s no problem, really. i havent even started grading any of the labs yet.” he gave her a warm smile.

robin wondered why he was in such a good mood and her mind only went to one place; her.

mr. andrew took the paper from robin’s possession and went to his filing cabinet to place it in the current period’s file. in this process he was approached by another student as robin started to turn around to return to her desk until she was cut off once again, this time from the body on the lab table.

“you were in foster’s class, right?”

robin turned around slowly.

“yeah, you were the one who interrupted the class and made that imbecile have a cow”

the girl laughed, causing robin to as well. robin liked her laugh. it reminded her of the way the smith’s music made her feel; euphoric, even if for a short while.

the girl jumped down from the counter and extended her hand, “i’m sofia”

robin smiled as she took her hand, “i’m robin”

sofia

why does robin feel like she knows this name

“you’ve got two of the best teachers in hawkins, i hope you know that”. it seemed like no matter what this girl was saying she had a brightness to her, robin felt like she was going insane but in the best way possible.

“yeah i’m really enjoying them so far, it’s only been a couple of weeks but i think we all have a mutual understanding of each other. foster knows i don’t directly pay attention but i know what’s happening and andrew knows i am only a unit in and i’m already lost”

she laughed again

“biology was a bitch for me too. try asking for mrs. samuel in the library, she helped me out loads before i left. that was just for regular bio but she seems to know what she’s doing.”

“how long have-“

robin was cut off by the mr. andrew telling the class to take their seats as he wrote down the days objectives.

the girl had briefly turned her attention to him to say goodbye and then followed behind robin as she went to leave, stopping once she reached robin’s desk.

she picked up the book robin had accidentally left on her desk as she was searching her bag and read to quietly to herself, “the price of salt”

robin was still standing by her chair as she looked at the girl staring at the novel, feeling slightly uneasy about the reaction she might recieve. but all that anxiety was quickly whisked away as the girl smiled at her, book still in hand.

“it’s one of my favorites. its an absolutely beautiful love story”

her face seems even brighter somehow, perhaps she really liked the story.

the two looked at each other a little too long, but surprisingly, despite just meeting, had no “awkward silence” between them

“i’ll leave you to andrew but um..check out mrs. samuel and i’ll hopefully see you around”

the girl headed out of the door and turned her head slightly at the last minute to give robin another warm smile that which robin returned as if it was almost instinctive.

robin thought about that smile for the rest of the day.

next chapter

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #robin buckley #robin x you #robin x y/n #robin x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x reader

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

Text

Survey #254

“i hate that it seems you were never enough; we were broken and bleeding, but never gave up.”

What’s the best gift you’ve ever gotten? My late dog Teddy. Well technically, it was a container of puppy chow behind the tree, but in essence, him. Has there ever been a person you regret ever being friends with? I don't think so? Do you think you have a good understanding of love? Yes. What do you want to do on your honeymoon? Relax and enjoy quality time w/ my spouse somewhere great. Do you think Medical Marijuana should be legalized? Yes. If you were forced to dye your hair another color, what color would you get? At this current time, silver. What do you think of your parent(s)? I love them, a lot. Who do you talk to on the phone most often? Actually talk, Mom. But I text Sara more. What’s a song that makes you feel happy? Uhhh "</code>" by MIW came to me first. What celebrity would you like to meet? M-M-M-mARk What is your favorite clothing store? I can't really say. I like Hot Topic's content most, but they're really not all that broad in size range, so it seems unfair to say them. What’s a good idea you’ve had recently? Hell if I know, I don't make those. Do you like to wear high heels? No. What are you most excited about right now? Nothing. Would you like to live in a different country? If so which one? Honestly, if it didn't mean leaving Mom behind, I'd go to Canada by now. Recent events have me fucking livid with America's healthcare system. What’s your favorite song from a movie? Like, it was made for the movie? Man, I dunno. Probably something off Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, though. The soundtrack is magical. Where would you like to volunteer? Realistically, I don't know. A zoo would be incredible, but I handle heat incredibly poorly and also canfuckingnot pick up feces or touch vomit. So, that takes a big chunk out of what volunteers can do there. What’s the last song you listened to? "Another Life" by MIW is on repeat right now and I need to turn it the fuck off because I'm in a bad PTSD episode. Do you like being alone? Sometimes, yes, but not for too long. How do you find new music? YouTube recommendations, usually. What’s your favorite city? I don't have a favorite. I've only ever once been to an even remotely impressive one: Chicago. What’s the last YouTube video you watched? Some tarantula one. I'm fucking addicted to tarantulas now and need a Mexican red knee like now. Once we (hopefully) move, I'm gonna at least try talking Mom into it. Where are you going on your next trip? I don't know. If you had to make a six-hour cross-country journey, would you rather take the train, fly or drive? How come? Fly, if I had the window seat. It's relaxing. How long do your earphones tend to last before the connection goes and you have to replace them? Considering I'm like, constantly using them, Mom says they die fast, judging by how frequently I let her know I need a new pair. She got me a big box of them for Christmas, even. I've got one extra pair left. If you could dye your hair any color in the world, assuming it would look perfect with your coloring, what would you pick and why? Pastel pink bc aesthetic. Are you a fan of musicals? If you are, what ones have you seen live and which ones would you like to see? No. Have you ever had to give up something you were addicted to? Did you actually succeed? Yes. Have you ever had to work (or study) with someone that you really didn’t get along with? How did you deal with it (ignoring them, being nice, etc.)? Maybe at some point, idk. Have you ever had any problems with your wisdom teeth, or have they been taken out already? No. Which one of your senses would you miss the most if you lost it? Hearing, probably. That'd feel so lonely. Do you find your mood changes when you’re hungry or tired? Does eating or sleeping automatically cure you of a bad mood? I can definitely become irritable if I'm extremely hungry and/or tired. Sleeping helps me with a lot of problems, lmao. What’s the stupidest fight you’ve ever gotten into? Did you make up with that person or did you end up losing them over it? Oh idk. Probably something RP-related as a kid. Have you ever gotten really bad travel sickness? Has this put you off travelling or going by certain modes of transport in case it happens again? No, thankfully. What’s your opinion on prostitution? Should it be legal and regulated, or is it something that needs to be gotten rid of completely? I don't support it. Just leaving it at that. If it was a case of prostitution or being evicted from your home, which option would you pick (assuming you’d tried everything else to make money first)? Evict me. Morally, prostituting would kill me. I have family who thankfully I know would let me stay with them. Are you into piercings and tattoos? If not, do you judge people who are, and vice versa? Hell yeah, so I obviously don't judge people who are. What’s your opinion on places like Seaworld? Do you think keeping whales and dolphins in such small enclosures is cruel or a necessary evil? First: I'm not very educated on how similar *all* Seaworlds are. But in regards to keeping whales, it's inhumane as all fuck. They are WAY too big to be held in such a small space for our goddamn amusement. I support zoos who do what they do for conservation and educational purposes, but from my memory of Seaworld, that's not their primary concern. Who is one person that you no longer hang out with? Why did that association end? My former best friend. There's a novel on why I don't associate with her anymore, but the top reason would be she's just a drama magnet that does no wrong. Wonders why her life is so insane and tumultuous while never looking into herself as the potential reason. What was the last item you put into your pants pocket? I don't really wear pants with pockets, but I'm sure in the last case, it woulda been my phone or money. Who was the last person to endanger your life, whether it was accidentally or intentionally? Well I'm certain it was accidental, but idk what the most recent situation would be. What was the last thing you started over on? Job searching, I guess. What was the last task that you completed? Does eating breakfast count? Esp. when you really didn't want it but needed it? Have you ever failed at something extremely important to you? If yes, what? Ah, what a timely question. I dropped out of school for the third fucking time a few days back. When was the last time that you wanted time to move faster? Last night in my regular routine of waking up in the middle of the night twice/thrice. I sleep so poorly that I just want the morning to come at some point so it's "normal" for me to be up. ^Slower? Hm. I dunno. I don't have much reason to want time to slow lately. When was the last time you felt impatient with someone? Currently w/ Mom, but it's at a low level and probably isn't fair feeling impatient in the first place. Who was the last person that you called a “bitch”? I don't know. Probably playfully, anyway. ^Who, if anyone, was the last person to address you by that term? I also don't know. When was the last time you questioned whether or not you were making the right decision? Every time I make one lmao. Has a boy-/girlfriend ever suggested that you might want to lose some weight, or that it might make you look better? lol wow no. What is your idea of “too big” when it comes to weight? Once it comes to a point of infringing on your ability to function normally. ^How about “too thin”? Same as ^, really, it just goes in the opposite direction. Have you ever experienced an overly clinging boy-/girlfriend? Yeah, we lasted two weeks lmao. What is the most annoying thing your family members do on a daily basis, if anything? I only live with Mom, and she doesn't regularly do annoying stuff. With which family member do you get along with the least? The best? Least, my grandma. We've gotten kinda better though now that she's dying. Best, Mom. ^Why do you think that you don’t get along well with that family member? We have very, very averse beliefs and standards. Who is someone that you wish would be there for you more often? My sisters, honestly. Shit's going on with them, I always reach out to let them know I'm here. Something's wrong with me, I never hear a word. Have you ever felt like someone abandoned you? If yes, explain? BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH- How often do you find that you are bored? Daily, nearly at all times. This is gonna sound pathetic, but I tend to be so bored so regularly that I experience passively suicidal thoughts now and again because I just feel being dead would almost be more exciting. That's something I'll never act on, but yeah. I have mega bad anhedonia. What activity has the best chance of holding your attention for a long period of time? Hm. Playing a game, maybe. Or if I'm watching a really good video on YT. Have you ever decided that you like/dislike someone based on their survey answers? Yup. What previews did you see at the last movie you saw in theaters? Hell if I remember. How many things are you a fan of on Facebook? Wow, a fucking lot. Back in the day I would "like" lots of those pages that just had funny/relatable names, and man does it pay off (usually) now. I Got The Memes. Do you have more friends on Myspace or Facebook? Probably Facebook? I don't really remember the friending process on MySpace besides the "top 8" thing that destroyed friendships, lmao. Have you ever been to a movie that sold out? Maybe? Idk. Have you ever been to a midnight movie? One. What’s your state’s weather usually like this time of year? Too fucking hot. Do you get those leg cramps in the middle of the night? No. What movie last made you too scared to go to sleep? *shrug* Is your cell phone a qwerty (full keyboard) or no? Yeah. What was the last website you logged onto (besides the one you’re on)? PetSmart to apply for a position as pet trainer. I hate chain pet stores, but whatever, I'm desperate. What’s your home page? Google. Do you have split ends? No. When you’re on a laptop, do you hook up a mouse or use the touchpad? I prefer to have a mouse. If you’re learning a language, what year are you in? I'm not anymore. Do you think you’re done growing or will you grow a couple more inches? I'm sure I'm done. What’s your mom’s mom’s name? Cecelia. Have you ever encountered a creepy neighbor? OKAY at my old place where I used to ride my bike all the time, there was this old man way down the road that liked to talk to me but he creeped me out so much that I started turning back before I got in sight of his place. Do you like the foam soap or the liquidy soap? Foam. Do you tend to lean towards bright colors or more subtle colors? Bright. Do you use British spelling even though you’re not British? No; I even change it in surveys a lot, lol. When was the last time you attended a barbecue? I don't have a clue. I don't like them. Can you handle movies involving lots of bugs and insects? Yeah. Are you borrowing books from anybody at the moment? No. What is one similarity between your parents? Christ... they seem incomparable by this point. Do you keep scissors in your kitchen? If so, where? Yes, in the drawer beside the fridge. When was the last time you used a payphone and who were you calling? I've never used one. Have you met everyone who lives on your street? No. Do you have a boyfriend? No. When did you last write out your name? Recently for something at school. Do you like being kissed on the neck? Yeah. What friend can you tell everything to? Sara. Would you be shocked if the last person you had feelings for texted you? No. What if you had a baby with the last person you texted? We're both cis females so physically can't. And neither of us want kids. Who knows your biggest secrets? Mom, Sara, Jason. Do you have any hickeys on you? No. Is there anyone you wish you could fix things with? Yeah. Who is someone that puts up with you no matter what? My mom. When was the last time you cried? Two days ago I sobbed for a good while. Can you honestly say you’re okay right now? Not really. Is there a girl you would do anything for? Anything? No. Is there a boy you would do anything for? No. Who IMed you on Facebook last? My friend Ian, but I haven't read it yet. What color was the last swimsuit you wore? Black. Have you ever been to an auto show? Yooo I remember as a kid, my family went with our friends to a monster truck show, I think it was? I was so not digging it and wanted to go home the whole time. What was the last thing you cooked for dinner? I had one of those Banquet microwavable dinners last night. Spicy chicken and mac 'n cheese. It's fuckin GOOD and really filling. Do you live in the city/town you were born in? No. Have you slept for longer than usual today? No, I slept terrible. Have you ever smoked a cigarette? No. Have you consumed alcohol today? If so, what? No. What’s your go-to website when you’re really bored? YouTube is my general go-to. Who was the main cook of your Thanksgiving meal last year? My sister. Do you have a passport? If so, how many stamps do you have in it? No. Have you ever been dumped really harshly? WHEEZE Have you ever taken classes for a musical instrument? Yes. Have you ever been on vacation with someone other than your family? Yeah. Do you live with your parents? With my mom. Can you do a blackflip, or anything else of that sort? No. What moment in your life have you been most scared? The night of the breakup, particularly when Mom dragged me back inside and I just literally melted. Do you have any exes you can’t stand anymore? What happened to cause you to feel that way about them? No. Do you ever make your own surveys, or just take them? I just take them. Have you ever actually thought you were pregnant? Were you? Yes, but it was entirely illogical, so I obviously wasn't. Anxiety and being terrified of pregnancy is fun. Are you more of a phone or a computer person? Computer. Do you like to cook, or do you prefer when other people cook for you? I don't cook. How old do you think you’ll be when you move out on your own? Who the fuck knows anymore. Do you have a job? If so, where do you work? If not, do you want one? No; yes. Have you ever ripped your pants in public? I don't think so? Do movies such as Saw and The Grudge scare you easily? No. How many best friends do you have? What are their names? One; Sara. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever been dared to do? Did you do it? No clue. Can you drive? I mean I can, but I'm terrified of it, and my permit is expired anyway. What do you consider to be a good grade? What do you consider to be a bad grade? B; C and below. Have you ever had a teacher who hated you? No. Can you remember who your grade 5 teacher was? Did you like them? Yes, I adored them both. Do you know anybody that has severe allergies? Multiple people. Who was the last person you slow danced with? laskdjflka;jwe What’s your favourite song at the moment? Ah shit man idk. Do you prefer headphones or earbuds? Earbuds. Headphones aggravate my ears. Do you ever ride the city bus? How much does it cost you? We don't even have one here. How do you get to school? N/A What is the last book you read? Did you enjoy it? The first Wings of Fire book, and yes, very much. Do you scream out the answers while watching game shows on TV? Scream, no. I'll say them sometimes, though. Who in your life do you care about more than yourself? Mom, Sara. Jason, probably, as much as I hate to admit that. Would you ever consider adopting a child with a severe mental illness? HYPOTHETICALLY, if I even wanted kids, yes. I'm very empathetic and care a shitload about mental health, so I think I'd be a very good cheerleader for them. Which wild animal would you most like to have as a pet? Again hypothetically, a meerkat, but I DO NOT support them as pets and get very upset when I see them as such. What bill do you hate paying the most? I don't have any. When is the last time you got drunk and danced on a bar? Never. If you could move anywhere and take someone with you, who and where would it be? Sara to the mountains of NC. Favorite non-sexual thing to do with girl/boy? Play games together. Who from high school would you like to run in to? A handful of people.

#survey #quiz #questions #personal

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benhardyisdaddy · 5 years

Text

the breakup - part 6

WARNING: sexual assault

MASTERLIST

Ben!RogerxReader

Word Count: 1,913

(OKAY SO i had to cut this chapter in half bc it was gonna be way too long omg but I HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT ILY also ik the gif isn’t roger or even has ANYTHING 2 do with this chap but i had to use it cuz he’s so fckn cute oK & all i can say is get ready for the next chap OOF)

You were hardly able to sleep last night. You weren’t sure what you were most nervous about: the art show or Roger showing up. You had finally managed to only focus on the art show and not Roger. You couldn’t get distracted right now. This was important to you. You woke up earlier than usual. You rolled over and stretched your aching muscles. You didn’t want to get up, but you might as well. You weren’t going back to sleep. The butterflies in your stomach made it impossible. You slip from bed and slowly open your door. You take a few steps and peer over to the couch. Roger wasn’t there. You check around and he wasn't home at all. You feel your shoulders fall, but this is a good thing. You wouldn’t be even more distracted by him.

You walk to your painting and smile at it. It was really good. Realistic and different. Something inside you told yourself that Philip would like this. You turn and head to shower. You still needed to pick out your outfit for tonight. You wanted to call Mary, but she’s out of town with Fred. She was your fashion go-to person. You finish showering and walk to your closet. You need something cute yet elegant. This was an extremely fancy plaza you were going to. You did not want to be under-dressed,

You saw a certain dress buried deep in your closet and smile. It was a long, flowy gray dress that had a slit by your leg on the left side. It was tight on top as the straps fall down your shoulders. The top was angled a bit down, revealing a tiny portion of your chest. You held it up to yourself and cocked your head. This will do. You silently thank Roger for buying you all of these beautiful dresses for the parties he takes you to. Took you to. You walk to your bed and lay it down. You had hours to go until you needed to leave. You hoped maybe Roger would come home soon. You hoped he would go to the show, but you weren’t going to get your hopes up again. One heartbreak was enough.

You were making yourself a cup of tea when there was a sudden knock at your door. You place the kettle down as you rush to answer it, hoping it was maybe Roger. You fling it open and your smile half drops.

“Who’s excited?” asks Flynn, a smile plastered on his face.

He takes a step inside and looks around. He spots your painting and walks over to it.

“Is this it?” he asks, whispering. He looks to you and you nod.

“It’s… It’s beautiful. And sad. It’s perfect.” Sad. That had been what Roger said when he saw it. Flynn gently picks up the painting and looks to you.

“I’m going to go get this set up at the plaza for tonight. Remember 6 O’clock sharp. Is Roger going to be there?” he asks.

Oh that’s right. You hadn’t told him that the two of you were taking a break. You weren’t about to tell him that.

“Oh, um, I’m not sure if he is. You know, really busy.” you quickly say.

“Like last time.” he says, looking at your painting still. You cross your arms and look away. “Well,” he starts. “Big day today!” he says as he walks to your front door and closes it behind him. You take in a deep breath and rub your face.

_______________________________

You walk around the apartment half the day, not knowing what to do. You cleaned almost every inch of it out of pure anxiety. You couldn’t sit still. It was nearing 4 O’clock now when your phone goes off. You rush to it and answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart!” says Mary. You smile at her friendly voice.

“Mary! How are you and Fred doing?” you ask, plopping down on the couch.

“We’re doing fantastic! He’s just currently arguing with someone about about the difference between maroon and burgundy.” You can’t help but laugh.

“That sounds like Fred.” you say still giggling. “Hey, Mary?” you ask.

“Yes, love?”

You pause for a second before talking. “Um, have you talked to Rog today? He wasn’t here when I got up.” You can hear Fred saying something in the background.

“Oh, no babe. I haven’t. Maybe he’s at practice with the others?”

You look down and and nod your head. Maybe he was just at practice. Maybe he will show up. “You alright?” she asks, sounding worried.

“Oh, yeah. No, I’m fine. Just curious.” you say, clearing your throat. The two of you talk for forever about little things when you realize it’s almost 5 O’clock. You quickly say goodbye to Mary and rush to your room. You opt to leave your hair down so you saved time. You start on your makeup and make sure to get every little detail right. Not too heavy, but enough to bring out your eyes.

You feel accomplished with your looks as you slip on your dress. It clings to your body perfectly and is beautiful. You run your hands over it to smooth it out and look at yourself in the mirror. You look stunning. You half smile to yourself and walk to put on your heels. You grab your clutch and phone and lock up the apartment behind you. Your nerves were insane right now. Your heart was racing and you were almost shaking. You were taking deep, slow breaths as your cab pulls up. You climb in and give the man the address. You watch the city lights pass by as you think about Roger. What was he doing? And why are you so worried about him showing up? He owes you nothing. You were the one who wanted the break. He didn’t owe you anything. You rub the back of your neck as the plaza comes into view.

There were giant spotlights on either side of the building as people surrounded it, inside and out. The cab comes to a stop and you thank and pay the man. You get out and look up to the building. You were intimidated by the amount of people here. It was nearly doubled by the amount of people that were at the masquerade. You looked around and begin walking inside. As you enter inside, everyone’s eyes fall on you. You look like something straight from a fairy tale, with your long beautiful dress. You hold your head high and continue walking. You walk up to a few pieces of the art and admire them. There’s so many on the walls. Your piece suddenly feels very tiny and pathetic compared to theirs.

You walk around for a while longer when a waiter walks up and offers your champagne. You quickly think him and start sipping it. You catch yourself glancing around the room as you search for Roger. You force yourself to focus on the paintings instead. You turn a corner and suddenly spot Flynn. His eyes catch yours as you walk towards him.

“There she is!” he says loudly, causing a few other people to look at you. Your cheeks turn red as he hugs you.

“Y/n, I would like to introduce you to someone,” he says, taking your hand and leading you forward. “I think you know who this gentleman is.”

Standing before you is the one and only Philip Chartier. He’s taller than you expected and even more handsome as well. He has lushes blonde hair and the most charming smile. He reaches out his hand towards you and you take it. He pulls your hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it. Was this really happening?

“It’s very nice to meet you.” he says, still holding your hand.

You smile as your heart races.

“It’s nice to meet you as well.” you whisper.

“You are the reason why y/n wanted to be an artist, Philip.” says Flynn.

You look to him then back to Philip.

“Is that so? Well I’ve seen your work and it was breathtaking.”

He thought your work was breathtaking!? This was most definitely a dream. You were so starstruck right now. You didn’t even know what to say.

“You know,” he starts again. “I would love to go over some advice with you. If you would like?” he asks.

You perk up at his offer and smile.

“I- I would love!” you say.

He smiles and reaches out his hand for you to take. You slowly take it and look to Flynn. He watches you and raises his brows. Philip slowly leads you in between the ocean of people. You look around once more very quickly to look for Roger. You didn’t see him. You continue walking as Philip leads you to a blocked off section of the building. There was a red rope that he had moved to allow you access. You were far away from everyone as you glance around the odd area. Pieces of art filled the walls.

“Wow,” you whisper looking around.

“They’re all mine.” he says, watching you. “You see,” he starts. “This one reminded me of the piece you did. Do you see how sad her eyes are? How lost she looks. Yours resembled the same thing to me. Painting’s like these can only be created by those who feel it.”

You look up to him, your brows slightly furrowing.

“I knew when I saw your painting tonight,” he says, taking a step forward. “That the girl who made this was very sad.” You stare at him, slightly shivering. You were sad when you created it. You had put your heart and soul into it.

“And now that I’ve met you, y/n,” he pushes a piece of hair behind your ear and looks you up and down. “I can see it in your eyes just how truly sad you are.”

You shiver at his touch and slightly take a step back. The way he’s looking at you makes you uncomfortable. You peak over to the exit and then back to him. He takes a step forward as you take another step back, your back meeting the wall.

“Tell me, madame,” he starts. “Why is a girl like you so sad?”

Just then you can feel his hand on your knee and slightly raises up. You freeze in fear and finally try to shove him away.

“Please stop,” you whisper.

He doesn’t move, his hand only goes further up. You can feel tears pool into your eyes as you feel helpless. There’s nobody around. Nobody to witness what’s happening. You just wanted to leave. His hand moves behind your thigh as he raises it up even further. You turn your head and without hesitation you bring your knee up harsh in between his legs. He lets out a guttural groan and grabs himself. He backs up and leans over. You turn and make your way around the corner. You’re sobbing at what had just happened. You can’t catch your breath. The person you had looked up to for years had turned out to be the most horrible person you had ever met.

You whip around the corner fast and run into someone. Their arms wrap around you tight as you continue to sob.

“Y/n?” asks the person.

You look up to them and blink away a few tears.

Roger?

Tag List: @sweetlygwilym @rogerinascigarette @basics-andthesimplelife @through-faith @myprincesoftheuniverse @scoobydoosbooty @beanut-putter @pg-taylor-fltchr @shadycupcakefox @loudxxstar @zcars777 @amostpeculiarmademoisellerp @borhapqueen92 @lovethis-lovethat @queen-darlin @dashlilymark @schniiipsel @perriwiinkle @rogertayolr @llcalumllhoodll

#roger taylor #ben hardy #ben!roger x reader #the breakup #benhardyisdaddy #series #fic #angst #queen #chapter 6

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beihonglin · 5 years

Text

anyway i met bei honglin and he’s an actual angel and we don’t deserve him: a recap

also this is more than 5k words so like ! prepare yourselves!

fhdjjd okay so in april honglin’s hyh brought up his birthday party in his gc and I was like :——) that’s when spring sem ends I could actually make it

fast forward through a lot of encouraging by summer miss @91percentchaoze (sobs I rly owe summer my life) and a lot of anxiety about flights and a lot of other stresses in between

and June 2nd I’m in shanghai with mirthe miss @honglinsmacaroni and meggi and summer ie three of the cutest people in the world!!!

when we get to banana there were already other fans there waiting at the event space and the hyh was giving out seat numbers and stuff

so meggi was 10, summer was 11, mirthe was 14 and I was 15

and we started giving out the slogans and stuff we printed until the staff chased us out so they could set up

and so we were chilling first in Starbucks w the other fans fhdjjfjf they’re rly so cute I was finally able to put faces to weibo handles & they finally realised they were talking to someone who’s actually shit at speaking Chinese lmao

then when it got to 2 o’clock we moved outside near the entrance of the event space (since the event space was supposed to be open to us at 2)

but they got the time wrong and we ended up only being able to go in at nearly 3

which isn’t important anyway bc !!! we saw tangram walking in !!!

okay so we saw this white blob coming out from the main banana building and walking towards one of the side buildings and we were like

whomst

and it wAS JINGZUO JSDKAHFKJDH

and summer or mirthe waved at him and he was like bitch wtf and squinted

like ??? who the heckity is waving at me but then eventually he connected the dots and was like o yah fans so he waved back fhdchdkhcjdjf

and he just walked on what a king ??????

summer was right I was surprisingly more chill than I thought I would be fhdjfjfjjf I thought I would cry but I didn’t

so we waited around a bit longer, got suntans and sunburns and slightly dehydrated

and then honglin walks out

my god y’all he’s a whole goddamn angel he’s not real I’m telling you he’s unreal

I KNOW I said the last time that yanjun is rly unphotogenic and all the photos don’t do him justice but leT ME TELL YOU

THE ENTIRE BANANA FAMILY IS LIKE THIS THEYRE UNREAL

THEYRE ALL BANANA PEELS IN HUMAN SUITS THEIR VISUALS ARE ??? NOT HUMAN

but yah at first I was like o he’s gonna go through the back exit to the event space he’s not gonna come this way

AND THEN HE CAME THIS WAY

fhdjfjfj i didn’t take a video but if I did u would probs hear me go “o shit he’s coming” fhdjfjfj

and mirthe was like I’M GONNA TELL HIM UR WEIBO HANDLE I’M GONNA TELL HIM YOU’RE ASTROFIREWORKS and I was like NO so then we had a little back and forth for a while tHAT HONGLIN SAW FBDJHFJF

I don’t rmb a lot of it bc I was mainly in shock that he was in front of me so I was mostly like :——) heckie!

but he went through the front entrance and the moment he made it inside I lost my shit fbdjfjjff

mirthe sent a picture of me just kneeling at the entrance contemplating my entire life to the group chat fhdjfhdj apparently I said that I wanted to go home fhdjfjfjjf

and then zhixie and jingzuo came out soBS

ZHIXIE IS SO BEAUTIFUL IRL U DONT UNDERSTAND HIS CHEEKBONES ARE INSANE

also he had black hair again and the cuTEST HAT ON and we promptly lost our shit

Jingzuo,,,,, in a plain white shirt and blue jeans and converse,,,, someone PLEASE stop him

but they went in and we cried

and waited outside bc ruotian and chaoze still hadn’t gone in but then someone came to tell us chaoze was off filming for his show so he wasn’t coming & somehow ruotian had alr made it into the building without us noticing so eventually we all went in

and the chairs were so comfortable o my god they swivelled and they were like super squishy I love chairs

and then the best two hours of my tgm stan life started :—(

my god the moment honglin stepped on stage my entire heart melted he rly looked so good sobs

you’re completely right I’m dedicating an entire portion to his visuals

his eyes :—-( are so sparkly my god

and when he smiles his eyesmile???? he gets those rly deep wrinkles around his eyes and they’re actually beautiful????? ;;;;

he Radiates joy like i know i say this so often but their debut song??? radiant??? written For him,,,

also when he smiles it’s so warm like you find yourself smiling along bc he rly and genuinely means it and is happy and your heart just warms up bc he’s happy and i just

man i l*ve him

okay so the first segment zhixie was like “what do y’all love about beibei”

and everyone was yelling different things like “he’s so handsome” and “so talented” and “his vocals” and someone also yelled “he can eat a lot” and zhixie was like ??? bro whAt

also someone said “he spoils his fans a lot” and my god y’all it’s so so true but more in that at the very end of this recap

I couldn’t even say anything rip bc my entire brain was set in English and I was like ???? my god i wrote an entire post about the reasons I l*ve him but my mind is blankity blank

but then he was like well beibei’s great at pick up lines

so he did pick up lines based on scenarios zhixie gave fhdjfjfand most of them were old tsk

but he made up this rly cute one that went like 看花开不如看着你发呆 ‘people like looking at flowers bloom, but i’d rather look at you daydreaming’ and i UWUED SO HARD

and I didn’t realise this until meggi pointed it out after but when they put the scenarios on screen, they used a gender neutral “TA” instead of the gendered 她/他 ;;;;;

then they did this segment where honglin was supposed to go against three fans and do a tongue twister in the shortest time and in order of time they got to choose foods under cloches

honglin did so badly fhdjfjfj he got last place but idk if he did it on purpose so his fans could win

one fan got wasabi disguised as ice cream and zhixie was like EAT IT and honglin was like DONT

and he offered to eat the wasabi for her I’m sobbing he rly is so sweet

but zhixie was like NO SHE HAS TO EAT IT and everyone laughed bc he was so adamant fhdjfjfj i love zhixie with my entire soul

and thEN honglin goes okay y’all know how I posted that picture last night

(this picture)

my god I died when he posted it bc

1) I love that shirt what an expensive look

2) he was baking ;A;

and he made a half-baked cheesecake s o b s

he was like: “since i’m always posting vlogs and y’all always watch me eat I thought I’d make food for y’all this time” and I WEPT

and he was like oh give me a theme and i’ll decorate the cake around that theme

so they pulled out the box again and he picked random numbers

and they called out 4 and 15 and 27 to go on stage and I was like

wow I wonder who they are omg

and suddenly summer’s in my ear going MY GOD 15 IT’S YOU

me:

me: what

zhixie: STOP DREAMING IT’S YOU

me: WHAT

hdsflgkjhdfkhgjdsfgkhksfgkdjhdfgkjhsdgjh

and the entire time i was mouthing to mirf and meggi like I CAN’T SPEAK CHINESE I’M GOING TO GO UP AND FORGET THAT I’M BILINGUAL I’M GOING TO BE BYELINGUAL I’M

and they were mouthing back sPEAK ENGLISH and i was like oK

and then it was my turn and i was shaking so so so hard ????

like i’m so so so bad in front of crowds i’ve shaken my way through every marketing presentation ever bc i hATE public speaking and now i have to go up in front of two angels?????

mirf and meggi were like THAT’S ASTROFIREWORKS and i didn’t realise until i checked the group chat after that zhixie said yAY KJDHSKSJAHKJA

and summer was like SHE FLEW IN FROM NEW YORK kjdshfkahdgjfhagjd

and zhixie was like wait do u speak chinese

and i blANKED OUT I WAS LIKE YES BUT FAM NO

but he only took the yes and was like ok thaNK GOD I DONT HAVE TO TRANSLATE

inside i was like fAM WHO THE HECKITY DO U THINK TRANSLATES YOUR VIDEOS I CAN DO IT FOR U KASJDHFLSKJDHKH but outside i was just ah yes :—)

and zhixie and honglin said something about english but my mind was blank all i could do was stare at honglin like

y’all

i know i said he was unreal but

up close

he’s literally ??? a whole angel like ????????????? his eyes sparkle so much when he laughs my heart STOPPED

and when they asked me to step closer i was like

actually i can translate for u i’m-

and zhixie was like NO THERE’S NO NEED like akdsfhkjkjdshJKASDHK OK

then honglin asked what theme i wanted and i was likE FAM IDK I’VE BEEN BLANKING THE ENTIRE TIME STARING AT YOU

so i was like okay i know u rly like one piece so something maybe one piece related

and he was like fam that’s difficult sadjkfhalsKJSDHLKJASD

but the moment i opened my mouth

zhixie: ARE YOU SINGAPOREAN OR MALAYSIAN

me: uh i’m singapor-

honglin: uwu i can hear it

me: about to die

zhixie (in english): ur accent !

and god yall my entire heart burst into flames like

i’ve said it before here but i’ve spent quite a bit of time being ashamed of my accent bc when i first got to america nobody could understand my singaporean accent and everyone kept asking me to repeat myself and eventually i was like ok u know what it’s better if i just shut up and not talk

and so the reason why i’m so so so proud of zhangjing (and jj) is bc there finally is ?? some south east asian representation and there are even people complimenting his accent and calling it cute and it ?? finally felt like i shouldn’t be embarrassed about the way i speak??

zhixie: when i heard you i was like eh? it’s almost like i heard you zhangjing

and i

Cried

and then zhixie turned to meggi and mirthe and were like yall come from beijing?

like fam what

and meggi was like no we come from belgium

zhixie: malaysian? you?

about ten people correcting him: belgium

zhixie, again: malaysian?

kajsdhflasjdkhfkj

and then zhixie said some other words but yall i was

just watching honglin

his hands are so so so so beautiful like his fingers are rly nice and

his nose ??? work of art

also his hands looked so soft like :—(

he was just bent over the cake and he :—( rly truly a goddamn angel

summer took photos of me that i’m never releasing ever sakdfhaksjdhfds i look so COMPLETELY WHIPPED FOR HIM LIKE

and at one point he started plucking cherries and one stalk fell on the floor and i was like o no so i went forward to pick it up and he

looked up

and said ‘oh it’s okay’ and smiled and

my heart stopped i think i left my soul on stage

O SHIT OKAY AND THEN ZHIXIE WALKED OVER AND WAS LIKE

CAN I ASK WHAT YOU’RE THINKING U LOOK LIKE YOU’RE LOSING UR MIND

AND I WAS LIKE FAM U DONT UNDERSTAND I A M

and i was like ‘idk i’m just ?? very shookt’

and zhixie was like what??? shy????

me: 很惊讶 (very shocked)

zhixie: shy? ? ??

me, thinking: fam this is how i feel when i translate yall captionless vlogs

zhixie (in eng): is this ur first time seeing honglin?

me: my first time seeing you also !!!!!

zhixie, suddenly shy: ah okay thank u

UWU!!!

and then honglin was done and looked up and i might have died inside again

AND HE WALKED OVER AND I WAS LIKE FAM NO DONT IF YOU COME CLOSER I’M LITERALLY GOING TO DI E??????

and he was like ‘oh this is zoro’

the sane part of me: oh wait ur favourite character is zoro???

bc liTERALLY TWO DAYS BEFORE HE POSTED ABOUT SANJI AND SO MY SISTER AND I WERE LIKE OH HE PROBS LIKES SANJI

BUT HE

LIKES ZORO

(my sister, afterwards: wtf i feel lied to)

but he was so heckin close to me like fam my heart

stopped

honglin: i hope u like it uwu

me: heck !

honglin: take one bite!

me: HECKITYHECK

zhixie (in eng): i wanna see ur facial expression

aND THEN THEY WERE BOTH LOOKGIN AT ME LIKE FUCABJS,BCD

FUCINADJCNSAKJDKJ

honglin: is it okay? ;;

me: FUCIJNSKCSADJ YES TAKE MY HEART TAKE MY SOUL

and i finally FINALLY FUNIAJKNSSK FINALLY GOT OFF THE GODDAMN STAGE

zhixie: WHERE’S HER APPLAUSE

anD EITHER RUOTIAN OR JINGZUO UPSTAIRS STARTED CLAPPING AGAINST THEIR MIC LIKE ASDFAHKSDHFAKSJD SHUT UP

AND I WANTED TO DIE I WALKED ITNO A CARDBOARD CUTOUT RIGHT AFTER BC I WAS SO SHOOK

and honglin was like be careful! there’s a cardboard cutout right there! bc he’s a whoLE ANGEL

but also like GKASCKASHDHFAJDSHLFKJ PLS STOP LOOKIGN AT ME PLEAS E MY HEART IS WEAK I’M

my god

collapsed into summer’s arms right after thank god for summer !!!

okay then the next segment zhixie was like o yall know honglin’s position in the group is main vocal so next he can sing something for yall

honglin: actually i prepared an entire song for yall but music copyright means that i can’t sing it w a backing track

bc if he sings w a copyrighted backing track or if he sings more than half the song the livestream video would have to be taken down or something??

but it didn’t matter bc the moment he opened his mouth my entire heart STOPPED like

if he stabbed me in the stomach it would have hurt less his voice is so so sososos ososososososoosososo beautiful ????

and he sang without a backing track to like ????

i’m telling yall he’s a whole angel like he’s not real

and then honglin was like oh i also prepared another song but bc i now see there are overseas fans here i’m gonna sing an english song

and he sang when i was your man by bruno mars and when he hit the high note i think i ascended into the afterlife

about the 46 minute mark here i RLY AND TRULY RECOMMEND LISTENING TO IT SOBS HE SOUNDS LIKE THE PERFECT ANGEL HE IS

AND ZHIXIE HARMONISED AT THE BACK LIKE AHHHHH THAT’S MY BABE MAIN VOCAL TAGTEAM RIGHT THERE

and then zhixie asked if there was any other song we wanted and i was immediately like JJ!!

i’ve been ??? pleading for a jj cover forEVER ND HE

FINALLY PULLED THROUGH

honglin: i’m going to do Those Were The Days bc like the song says (那些你很冒险的梦我陪你去疯 - all those adventurous dreams, i’ll chase them with you), i’ve been chasing my dream and yall have been here with me every step of the way

and i think the moment he said it i DIED like ???? jj is one of my favourite singers and nearly all my faves have covered his songs at least once, astro included???

and everyone who knows me knows i love jj like nini miss @tanqram has literally made a tangram singing jj compilation that i watch religiously ??? and this is one of my fave jj songs?????

and the moment he opened his mouth like ???? i KNOW i said that i died the last two times he sang but

firstly he sounds so much like jj?????

and secondly everything was ???? perfect??????

like i judge jj covers hard bc i’ve listened to the originals so many times everything is ingrained and the moment something is off i cringe but

yall

honglin’s perfect honglin is Actually Perfect

ALSO HE SOUNDS SO MUCH LIKE JJ LIKE HE RLY WASN’T LYING IN HIS IP INTRODUCTION

and afterwards honglin was like lol jj said before that whenever he sings high notes he starts sweating and immediately jingzuo (???) was like TAKE OFF UR CLOTHES LKAJDHSFKASJDHFK

jingzuo chaotic good!!!

also i didn’t know until afterwards when the fantakens were out but ruotian was eating chicken wings and slurping noodles the whole time upstairs aksjdflhaksdjfhaksj why is didi line chaos

and then zhixie was like yall know what other things beibei is good at?

like fam he’s good at everything we rly can’t

also someone in the back was like he’S GREAT AT DOING THE SPLITS and honglin’S FACE AJSDFHKSJDHF

but it was languages and so zhixie was like we’re gonna make him say i love u in many different languages

and i could FEEL marta miss @honeyforzhixie going ????? isn’t that ur thing zhixie jsdgflasjdhf

and so they started discussing languages and zhixie was like o i know u can speak a little japanese bc i know u memorised the entire one piece theme song

and i SCREAMED INSIDE bc we literally juST TALKED ABOUT IT THAT MORNING WHEN WE VIDEO CALLED NINI nkfhakjsdhf we were like uwu we hope he sings a jj song but then we were like o lol what if he ended up singing the one piece theme song instead bc we bet he knew the whoLE THING AND HE DOES KNOW IT AJSDFHLAK

but then zhixie made honglin imitate maotong and say ‘i love u’ the way maotong would and my heart ached a little i miss my baby boy so much ??

but JINGZUO CHAOTIC GOOD JSDHLAKJ ‘could u imitate chaoze too’ jaskdlfhkjd

and so he did a couple different versions like Japanese (he and jingzuo screamed lines from one piece at each other ajdkhflksd) and korean (he took a line out of some korean drama?????)

and someone suggested french (was it mirf?????) and i lAUGHED rip his french vlog sorry honglin i swear i love u !!

and then they were like ok time to play his fan video

okay listen i have to preface this by saying that when i got the brief from the hyh she told me ‘it’s best if we make him cry!’ and i was like ok! sure!

turns out it made ME cry i stressed out over the video for two entire weeks sobs the moment my finals were over i locked myself into nyu’s computer lab until moving out day but still couldn’t finish it so i had to work on it on the plane ride home too sobs my roommate connie miss @ynajun saw the worst of it bc every time i came home from the lab i’d stress about it ???

but my god it was worth ??? everything ????

he ?????? cried??????

and like on one hand i’m happy that i managed to fulfil the brief but also i feel bad bc he cried but also mostly i laughed bc he’s such a sweet emotional bub

BUT ALSO BC HE CRIED MEGGI GOT TO OFFER HIM HER TISSUES!!!!!!!!

like we specially bought tissues before we left for banana bc we were like we’re gonna need them bc we’re gonna cry

BUT IT TURNS OUT HONGLIN NEEDED HTEM MORE AJSDKFHLASJDHFKAJ

zhixie: he cries every year during his birthday

zhixie: but also even when it’s not his birthday he cries he cried at my birthday too

and afterwards in chaoze’s birthday post he called honglin a crybaby too UWUWUWUWU

tangent but on his birthday when he came into the group chat he thanked us again for the video and i Died

okay this next part is purely speculation bc i honestly might just be overinflating myself and he might have done this purely coincidentally but when he thanked us for his video he looked at me and i ?????

when the video was playing nini and marta were yelling in the gc that they knew the video was done by me bc i overuse cc particle world on after effects jasdhlfksjdh but in that moment i briefly entertained the thought that he was familiar enough with my edits to know that the only idiot who keeps using cc particle world was me ??

but also as i said purely speculation and probably coincidence so

anyway you can watch it here

and then they played the birthday video messages from fans and i think i died from embarrassment let’s Not talk about it

but also i only realised it after they pointed it out in the gc but apparently zhixie and honglin were both singing along to the jj backing track i added to my video ajsdfhlaksjd

my god another tangent but on his birthday when he came into the group chat we were talking about the videos we recorded

and hh (one of honglin’s og fans she’s a whole angel too I love her !!!!) was like my gOD i rly am so unphotogenic (when she filmed her video she put a ‘FAT’ over her face sobs but like mood) and i was like yah same lol i had to record myself like ten times in times square bc i looked so bad in all the takes

and honglin was like HH WHY DID U CENSOR UR FACE UR CLEARLY SO CUTE and we collectively died for her uwu !!!!

then honglin rePLIED ME SAYING ‘OH BUT TIMES SQUARE HAS SUCH A GOOD VIBE’ and i died for the nth time ??? and then he followed up by saying ‘i rly want to go to times square i’ve gone to america a lot of times when i was younger but i’ve only ever been to the west coast’ jksadhlfkjshekj pls come i’ll bring u around east coast best coast

but back to the point he was like ‘i’ve said it before during ip (and he did!!! during the fanfan episode where he was talking to the rubbish bin he rly has said it before!!!!) but i rly try my best to remember every single person’s face and all my fan’s weibo IDs’ and my heART MELTED HE

and then it was his ending ment!!

he said something that rly threw my heart off a cliff he said that he’s so grateful for the hyh and fans for listening to him and donating to charities in his name instead of buying him extravagant gifts bc when he makes it big, if he makes it big, the thing he wants to do the most is to donate to children who come from a less privileged family background bc he knows what it’s like coming from a single parent family and ;n;

then they showed wishes from other idols!!!!!

there was wang ziyi, zhou rui, the twins my ip hEART

LISTEN I ??? when zuo qibo showed up my SWIN HEART EXPLODED I ??? MISS ??? MY SWIN ANGELS ????

AND THEN RUIBIN SHOWED UP IN ALL HIS UNKEMPT AND UNSHAVEN AND RAMBLING GLORY AND MY PRINCERUIBIN HEART WEPT I THINK I HELD SUMMER’S ARM SO HARD SHE GOT BRUISES AJKSDHFKSJD I’M SO SORRY SUMMER I LOVE U

and then cHAOZE APPEARED !!!! and everyone immediately melted he’s the softest leader alive i love my baby!!

and honglin was about to say something but ruOTIAN

ruotian showed up w a cake w sparklers???????? like fam???????

and eventually we had to say goodbye :—(

but honglin was like o i rly and truly thought that there would be lesser people at this birthday than there was last year and my heart ??? broke ????

bc the room they were in last year alr was so small and there were rly little roses but he ??? genuinely thought he had so little fans that he wouldn’t even fill up the room ;;;;;;;; bc there rly are v little active roses both on weibo like there are less than ten of us who actively post in his chaohua and at tgm events like they’re mostly lrt/jjz fans and there’s usually only one rose ;;;;

but listen honglin our entire gc would die for you we will never stop loving u until every last one of us is found dead in a ditch

and then we’ll love u into the next life

also after he said goodbye he was like sike!

he kept singing behind the cardboard cutouts and peeking around them to say hi again

at some point I poked my head over and went PLS COME TO NEW YORK and he said something back that I alas couldn’t hear rip

and then he started singing along to jj again sobs

but eventually at some point they left via the back door and I was like GOTTA GO THIS IS LITERALLY WHAT I’VE BEEN TRAINING FOR sobs going to the airport for yanjun and wenjun and jeffrey and ziyi and kunkun rly was to prepare me for one thing and one thing only and it was to practise getting good non-shaky fantakens without dying???

jingzuo rly truly looked AMAZING he rly rocks the white tee blue jeans and converse look jingzuo stans stay winning!!!

and honglin ;;;;;;; was holding my banner ;;;;;;;;

and he looked directly into my camera a couple times sobs and he shot hearts too I rly ???? Editing the photos made me cry so many times fbdjhfjf every time I got to those photos I lose my mind

ALSO ONLY AFTER EDITING THE PHOTOS I REALISED RUOTIAN WAS JUDGING ME SO HARD GHDJFJ my eyes were glued to honglin the entire time but looking at the photos again ruotian looked so unamused fhcjfhfbfhbf

speaking of ruotian my gOD editing photos with him in it is a nightmare y’all he’s either blinking or looks like he’s about to sneeze in nearly every picture fhdjfjfj summer and I generally make it a rule not to blur other members’ faces out of our fantakens but ruOTIAN RLY TESTING ME

but we made it to the banana lobby and I didn’t want to follow them and their fansites in so I stopped walking and honglin turned back to wave at me ;;;;;;;;;;;;;; and i think i died again

and so I went back to the event space where summer and mirthe and meggi were waiting and sat down and blanked out sobs

but it diDNT END THERE FHDJFJJF FOR SOME REASON HONGLIN DECIDED TO WALK OUT AGAIN A BIT AFTER

so mirthe and I were like omg gotta blAST so we speedwalked over

and he :—-( saw and shot signs at my camera again fhdjfjfjjf I ???

and then it was Actually Over god I was a shell of a person after that

still am tbh I’m not sure how I survived sorting through our 2000+ fantakens fhdjfjfj

but I’m so spoiled y’all I’m really truly so spoiled by him :—(

like I said earlier he rly spoils his fans so much????

that night he posted on Instagram and immediately summer and meggi and mirthe and I commented and he replied all four of us ;n;

earlier on in spring semester there was a third party event that Tangram was invited to but the organiser was a MESS and tgm wasn’t treated very well??? but honglin was worried that the fans who travelled to the event and didn’t get to see them were upset so he came into the group chat to console them ;;;;;

and I was talking to another fan and she said that even during other events he kept turning around to wave at the fans and acknowledge them and it’s ;;;;;; as someone who has ?? waited in the rain / stood for hours waiting for idols something as simple as a nod or a smile rly warms u up and makes the wind and cold worth it ;;;; and he makes sure to do it all the time ;;;;;;;;;

on his birthday !! his birthday !! when he was in Taiwan and should be resting and enjoying time w his mum and not thinking about us !!!! he still came into the group chat for an hour and talked to us ;;;;;;

and he named all his sort of more well known fans’ IDs, even the ones who weren’t online and sending messages at the time ;;;;; like he rly wasn’t lying when he said he remembers us ;;;;

also fhdjfjfjjf god I’m so spoiled he replied me so many times ?? like there was the times sq thing and the east coast thing ???

and when he said he was training for the next archery competition I was like “o are u shooting recurve or compound this time?” and he was like “o idk if I shot recurve or compound but it’s the one I shot the last time” and I fhdjfjfjfhfb

tangential but 1) my god y’all his form is beautiful my archery heart: exploded

2) his rhotics are so beautiful too my phonology heart: also exploded

also when he was about to leave the gc I was like “huh but u just got here, why are you leaving?” and he sent another voice message “astrofireworks, why are you becoming shameless too, when did I just get here, I’ve clearly been here for a long time already” fhdjfjdjfn fhdjjd

also my GOD He was reading some IDs and summer and lyla were like what about @astrofireworks and I was like fchjfbhjdf y’all it’s ok he’s alr said it in another voice message two months ago in the gc I’m alr so spoiled I ???? rly shouldn’t ask anything else of him or he’s going to hate me

but then he

sent

a whole

nine second message

“hey astrofireworks, I hope one day I can go to New York and maybe... I’ll meet you there, okay?”

and I ??,?? Sobbed

ndjdbfjvcchhxhdhfh

and then Connie went to send him off at the airport in Taiwan the next day and ?????

I’m not gonna say much because it’s rly conno’s story to tell and I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to say outside the gc but he rly spoils his fans so so so so much ????

anyway bei honglin rly and truly is the sweetest boy on earth we rly don’t deserve him ;;;;; this first week of June truly has been the best week of my cpop stan life and i ????? love mister bei honglin with my entire heart and soul ;;;;;;;;;;;;

#bei honglin #honglin #tangram #贝汯璘 #banana #my god i hope this posts it's so long

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corcordium1983 · 5 years

Text

I Couldn’t Be More In Love

this started out as a blurb. it is no longer a blurb, I don’t think, considering it’s over 2000 words long. it just took on a life of its own, ok? anyway, it was inspired by the picture above, because it makes me sTRESSED. (this is unedited fyi bc I rly need sleep but also wanted to get it up tonight)

The first time you realised he was a clumsy idiot was when he spilled his drink on you at an after party. He’d been trying to manoeuvre you into his lap with one hand while simultaneously wielding a drink in the other. Thankfully it was a clear spirit, and nothing that would stain, but you were still less than thrilled about reeking of alcohol. He’d apologised profusely throughout the rest of the night, and in his drunken state had offered you his shirt to wear instead. You’d laughed it off and peppered him with kisses, assuring him it was all right. And it was, because he was there, and that was enough to make just about any situation better.

You should’ve expected it, should have seen it coming, based on the countless interviews and gifs that had been sent your way after the news of your involvement broke. Your favourite by far was the one of him tipping backwards on his chair at a panel – you still shoot him a warning smirk whenever you find him leaning too far back on a chair, and it never fails to make him blush.

To be honest, he’s not too clumsy normally. It’s only when he’s exhausted, overworked, or – as in the most prominent cases – drunk that he turns into a bumbling, uncoordinated fool. So you’ve learned his tells, and you’ve taken it upon yourself to keep a watchful eye on him when you feel like he (and his clothes, and other people’s clothes) are at risk. It would be such a shame to ruin a decadent Ackermann suit, after all.

The first time you pluck a champagne flute out of his hand as he leans in to hug some big-shot producer, he gives you a puzzled stare over the man’s shoulder. You offer him a shrug in return and take a sip of the champagne, before handing the flute back once he’s at a safe distance from the producer. He doesn’t question you about your move as you thought he would, but instead seems to let it slip from his mind as others come up to him to mingle. You can’t say you blame him – being Timothée Chalamet seems like a busy life to lead.

The second time it happens, your reflexes are only barely quick enough to avert the disaster. You’re at yet another party, a house party of sorts. You’re not quite sure who owns the place, but whoever it is, they must be loaded. Timmy had disappeared earlier in the night, slipping outside with an acquaintance of his, and returning approximately half an hour later with eyes that were suspiciously red-rimmed and the sharp scent of smoke clinging to his sweater. You’d rolled your eyes, but really, who were you to judge.

The accident, or what would have been an accident, takes place later that evening when he’s more than pleasantly buzzed on both alcohol and other substances. You’re hanging out in what looks to be a living room, and Timmy spots someone he recognises sat on one of the sofas. He bends down to hug the girl, not remembering the drink in his hand, and as if in slow-motion you see the glass tilting towards the expensive-looking dress the girl is wearing. You might have let out a small squeak of horror as you just about managed to snatch the glass out of your blustering boyfriend’s grip in time. He doesn’t even seem to realise that the glass is missing at first, too engrossed in the conversation. After a while, however, he looks down at his hand, then over to the nearby coffee table, and then he glances around with the most adorably confused expression you’ve ever seen. The confusion turns to a sense of realisation when his gaze lands on the drink in your hand, and when he makes grabby hands in your direction you’re not sure whether he means you or the drink, so you give him both.

The third time it happens he’s surprisingly not drunk, just very, very tired. He’s been caught in a carousel of press events across the globe for a month and a half, and now that he’s back in New York the jet lag seems to have finally hit him, badly. You suspect he’s been jet lagged the entire time, but that it’s only really caught up with him now that he has a few days off. It makes your heart ache, to see him so run down. You know he loves his job, and that he’s grateful of all the opportunities that have come his way these past few years, but you gently try to remind him every now and then that you don’t have to love every part of your job, and that no job is worth running yourself into the ground for. Still, the bags under his eyes appear to be here to stay, at least for a little while, and when you bring them up he just laughs and tells you they’re Gucci.

When you find him fumbling with his shoelaces just mere hours after arriving back home (honestly, judging by the state he’s in you’re surprised he even managed to get the correct shoe onto the correct foot), you try to tell him that dinner with his parents can wait. He’s got a few days before he has to leave again, and his parent’s aren’t going anywhere. You’ve got time. He however, in typical Timmy fashion, is stubborn as a goat.

“We’ve had this scheduled for ages, mom’s probably started cooking already,” he argues, and that’s the end of that. You purse your lips as he leans into you for support after getting out of the car at his parents’ place, but you don’t say anything. You trust him to know his own limits, and to act accordingly when he feels he’s met them.

Nicole and Marc are as warm and inviting as ever. The second you step through the doorway Nicole envelops Timmy in a hug. Marc pulls you in for a hug as well, telling you it’s nice to see you again (even though you’ve been over for dinner once every few weeks while Timmy’s been gone). Out of the corner of your eye you see Nicole running her hands over Timmy’s shoulders to smooth out the wrinkles, before her hands come to rest by his neck while she inspects him more closely. You make casual conversation with Marc while Nicole frets over the state Timmy’s in, worrying about the bags and dark circles underneath his eyes.

Timmy shoots you an impish smile before retorting with “They’re Gucci”. Nicole sighs and deems him a lost cause, and moves on to you instead, drawing you in into the same motherly hug you’ve come to expect from her every time you meet now. When you lean into her embrace, you take the opportunity the shield of her body offers to conspiratorially whisper “he nearly fell asleep on the way over here”. She leans back a little, keeps you at half an arm’s length and nods in understanding, before giving you a brief kiss on the cheek. The smile she offers you is one of sincere gratitude, although you’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve it. Behind you you can hear Timmy and his father quipping back and forth in rapid-fire French, and although your French is nowhere near as good as you’d like it to be you still manage to get the gist of the situation. His parents are worried about him. He works too much. He’s kept this insane schedule up for years now, and he needs a break. You can’t help but silently agree as you work your way towards the kitchen in search of a drink.

Disaster doesn’t strike until after dinner, when you’re all seated in the living room. Timmy had been lightly dozing off every few minutes throughout the meal, so once you’d settled onto your loveseat Marc had brought Timmy an espresso in the hopes that it would keep him awake for a few more hours. You warily eye the tiny cup that Timmy’s been sipping from where it’s perched on his leg, not trusting his grip on the cup in the slightest. And sure enough, mere moments later, before you have time to react, there is black coffee seeping into the denim of his trousers, which are thankfully black already.

Nicole and Marc share a look that appears to communicate a million different things all at once, and then there’s a flurry of activity as Marc springs up out of his armchair in the search of paper towels to clean up the mess. Nicole leans in and plants a kiss on Timmy’s forehead, asking us if we shouldn’t maybe stay the night so that he won’t have to sit through the cab ride home.

“There’s spare toothbrushes upstairs, and you should still have some clothes here that fit you.”

This time Timmy appears too exhausted to put up much of a fight, and that’s how you find yourselves crammed into the tiny single bed in his childhood bedroom. Not that you’re complaining, though, because he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow and you’re just thankful that he’s finally getting some sleep. You’re also very thankful for the big breakfast that awaits you the following morning.

After that failed attempt at evading disaster you have a few successful ones, and it seems like Timmy’s finally clocked on to what you’ve been doing all this time. He doesn’t get angry like you feared he might; instead, he gets teary-eyed. You attribute it to the lack of sleep due to awards season, as well as the drink that’s currently in your hand, but that was previously in his. He can’t stop touching you the rest of the night, which isn’t completely unheard of behaviour for him, but this time it seems like he needs constant reassurance that you’re real. In the cab on the way home he leans his head on your shoulder and laughs when you tousle his hair.

“I couldn’t be more in love right now,” he says. The scary part is, you think he really means it.

It’s two months later, and you’re on your third cup of coffee of the morning. You had a deadline an hour ago, and didn’t manage to get more than two hours of sleep last night. Since the deadline has now passed, and you managed to get your script sent off in time, that means that you could technically be sleeping right now. The only thing stopping you is that you’re conscious of your sleeping pattern, and don’t want to risk messing it up now that you’ve finally gotten it sorted to conform with normal people hours. You’ve therefore resigned yourself to a day of chugging coffee in an effort to stay awake until the evening.

Timmy’s got a rare two weeks off, something you both seem equally grateful for, so it’s not long until he pads softly into the kitchen on bare feet. You’ve still got all of your work spread out over the kitchen table, as you’d resigned yourself to working there so as not to keep him awake all night, and you’re now struggling with closing all the open tabs in your browser and moving all of the books and notepads. You spent so long working on the project that it’s difficult to accept that it’s done.

Timmy’s arms around your waist and his cold nose buried in the crook of your neck, as well as the scratchy stubble of his chin dragging against your sensitive skin, appears to bring you out of this work-induced fugue state. He mumbles a quiet “good morning”, his voice still low and raspy from sleep, as he peers into your almost empty coffee cup and silently crosses over to the coffee pot to refill your cup, and to make a cup for himself. You hum gratefully as he sets your steaming cup in front of you, and pulls out a frying pan and half the contents of the fridge in order to make you breakfast. You’ve missed this, quiet mornings (literally quiet, neither of you are very good on the talking-front until you’ve had your morning coffee and at least an hour to wake up properly) of domesticity, of just having him around.

You talk about your work over breakfast – scrambled eggs on toast along with a fruit platter. He’s read the earlier drafts of the project, but seems eager to read the finished product as well. You’re not meant to show it to anyone, but you already know you’ll cave, so you set about drawing it up on your laptop. You don’t even see it happening, but before your brain even registers what’s going on, there’s a lithe hand grabbing your coffee cup and moving it far out of the way. With a slight twinge of panic, you realise that it had been about to topple onto your laptop, and would surely have ruined your precious device. You expect to be met with a grave look when you peer over at Timmy, but the look on his face is a pleased one. Maybe even bordering on smug.

“Finally I got my turn to save your ass,” and now you really want to wipe that smug grin off his face. Instead you just groan, too tired to think, and let your head rest on your folded arms on top of the table.

“C’mon, let’s just go back to bed. If you don’t want to ruin your sleep schedule, I promise I’ll wake you up in two or three hours.

You think it over for a second.

“Fine, but only if you promise to bring me a second breakfast in bed later.”

#timothée chalamet #my writing #writing #blurb #my blurb #CMBYN posts #timothée chamalet #the 1975

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lookwhatilost · 5 years

Text

i. i must’ve passed out unintentionally at some point. im not happy abt it. I didn’t take my makeup off yet. my teeth aren’t brushed. I do this a lot and I worry abt how damaged they must be getting, jst bc I’m stupid and drink too much. I dnt think I drink that much, I mean maybe in general, but not last night. I had, what? the flights at area two, the spiked seltzer and Moscow mule at cityside, the two beers when I got back to the apartment—wait, no, that actually is kind of a lot. im not sure when I got so desensitized. I check the clock—2AM—so i actually haven’t been knocked out for as long as I thought. two hours, probably. it could be worse. the cat is still awake and still being credulous with me. he’s warming up to me again, but it’s a little disheartening to redo this dance with him each time I see him. remember me, dammit. i remember you. I dnt think I’m being entirely fair to him, though. he’s a cat. i can’t rly apply my human understanding of anything to his behavior. either way, he’s waiting outside the bathroom for me when I go in to attend to my teeth and makeup. he follows me. he falls asleep next to me. i feel a little bit validated. part of me thinks being the kind of person that animals like effortlessly is the mark of some inherent goodness, but I know it’s illogical and this took effort. i want to jst believe there’s goodness here, and in my absence of any real examples, I’ll assign depth to something like this. sometimes it’s all you can do.

ii. the sun doesn’t have any business being up at five-something, but it is, and I dnt think there are shades in this room. well, I’m not sure, maybe there are, but I didn’t have the foresight to look for them or close them. llewyn has moved, he’s in his actual bed now, but he seems to have taken notice of the fact that I’m awake. I try to rest my eyes a little bit. i know i won’t be able to sleep with the sun in my eyes, but it’s restful anyway. I have a long day ahead of me and i want to ease into the morning. i think i drifted back off but I can’t tell. llewyn has moved again. it seems like he wants to cuddle now. impeccable timing, as always. ive heard ian’s alarm go off a few times in the other room but they’ve still not come out of it. i have to leave soon. i wanna actually physically say goodbye but I’m worried they’re avoiding me. the last time we had a goodbye moment, i kissed them on the cheek and that probably made them rly uncomfortable. I’m not even sure why I did that. i think they’re the only person im comfortable showing any kind of affection towards but that doesn’t make that action any less weird. especially given... i dnt want to think abt that shit anymore, actually. i can’t without feeling ashamed and very, very stupid. it’s not like that anymore, but i wonder how much has to happen and how much time has to elapse for something like that to not actually matter anymore. i wonder if it ever won’t. it’s probably not personal. not everything that affects me is abt me, sheesh.

iii. the iced coffee at cumberland farms tastes the same as the iced coffee everywhere else, but i can’t get it here often, and it’s very inexpensive. it can’t help but occur to me that 24 ounces of coffee is 7 calories, and the calorie counts are printed on the packages of the food I got—250 for the sandwich, 150 for the hash browns. i marinade on the thought for a little bit before deciding what to do with it. I eat my food and drink the coffee and try not to remember. I do anyway. I’m trying to think of different numbers. this is a pretty substantial takeaway breakfast for $3 and change. better than what i probably could have got at mcdonalds. the sandwich is kind of soggy but it’s not bad. the hash browns are better.

iv. five hours in the car fly by my nose and im back home, kind of. i think I’m still trying to figure out what “home” means. this place is familiar. it’s where i live. my roommate’s dirty dishes from yesterday morning are still in the sink. mail that the cat knocked off the counter on my way out is still sitting on the floor. 24 hours have passed since I was last here, but it looks like nothing has been touched. I may as well have just stepped out for a cigarette.

v. very rarely does anything change in a days time, but when enough of them pass, everything is suddenly different. i slept on this couch more times than I could count before i was even on the lease, like I’d known I’d someday live here and wanted to warm myself up to it. and I’ve lived here for a while now, going on 8 months to be exact, but it simultaneously feels much longer than that, and as though it hasn’t actually been that long. a lot has happened in that time, but mainly to evan. ive witnessed many things that he’s done but have branched out very little myself. i transferred at my job abt a year ago but im still doing the same work I’ve been doing since i was 19. i still have the same friends but i see increasingly less of them. i get into the same car and travel the same roads that take me the same places. i still drink jst as much.

vi. my body has changed a lot, but the things I’ve always hated abt it are still there and the changes have jst given me more to resent. i look in the mirror when I get out of the shower and it’s all the same. the face with the perpetually stupid, bovine look plastered on it, the same masculine jaw, broad shoulders, breasts that are too far apart, more noticeably so since they’ve gotten smaller, the laparoscopy scar on my navel, the clusters of freckles that are jst pigmented enough to make my skin look blotchy, the perpetually inflamed hair follicles on my thighs, the knobby knees, always covered in bruises, the leg that’s slightly shorter than the other. the counter in the bathroom is high enough that I can’t see my labia but I know they’re there. I want to go a day without debating whether to cut them off with the sharpest knife I can find. it’s not today. the weight loss did little to make me feel better abt the way it all looks—the size of my jaw and shoulders is more apparent now that they are less hidden, my eyes bug out, it’s hard to contort so that my ribs aren’t visible somewhere, my hipbones poke through my clothing. I dnt think I’ve ever looked so bad in my life. Im going to cover up.

vii. I look at the date on my phone and saw that it was the 24th and for some reason identified that this was the last time I’d see that number on a calendar before I turned 24 myself. It doesn’t seem to make sense that I’m that old now. I know it’s not old, too, but it doesn’t seem like that should be me. I still think I behave like a child in a lot of respects, and the thought conjures a memory of my old therapist insulting me, saying that I had the mental tendencies of a child in grammar school. when she told me this initially, I replied to her sarcastically: “well, shit. maybe I should see a therapist abt that” and she told me not to come back to her practice. I cried on the way home despite how cognizant I was of the absurdity of the situation. “grammar school”—who even calls it that? it stuck with me nonetheless. it’s hard to have a therapist fire you, even with the knowledge that the therapist in question was not very good, without wondering if you’re a basket case, if help will always be lost on you.

viii. my job isn’t the worst but the labor feels pointless and it rly intensifies my feelings that I’m fighting never ending monotony to wring out very little in the way of satisfaction. i think you rly have to love this job to do it as a career, or maybe you need to have a specific personality type that makes it easier to engage w. im not very good at socializing and i think im getting too old to keep making excuses for myself abt that. meg and ash are always nagging me to sell more but i dnt feel comfortable enough to make small talk w these people, let alone sell them stuff. i feel like i sound so stupid when I speak aloud. i use a lot of fillers in my speech and it’s rly hard to talk abt hair without sounding like a bullshitter. something is very insincere abt the language that’s involved. i know i know what im talking abt but I dnt know how to sound like i know what I’m talking abt, and it’s hard bc the latter is a lot more important.

ix. I can’t tell if people sincerely aren’t making sense today or if im foggy bc i kept waking up and going back to sleep. this guy keeps saying that the last woman who cut his hair used a 5 on the sides and a 9 on the top but she cut it all w scissors. that definitely doesn’t make sense. i dnt think they even make a 9. why would she be using clipper settings to describe a scissor cut? the top here is at least 3 times as long as the sides and back are. im not going—oh my god, i can’t deal w kids who scream during their haircuts—insane, right? stuff like this makes me rly doubt myself, too, like there are bigger gaps in my knowledge than—wow he rly jst is not tiring himself out w this screaming, huh—i feel there are. what if this actually is a coherent way to describe a haircut? maybe he rly is jst stupid, but I also think that when you write people off as “stupid” all the time, it reflects—god, why is his baby sister screaming now too? nothing is even fucking happening to her—worse on you than it does on them. it’s always the biggest idiots who are so self-satisfied to think that. but im not self-satisfied at all, im very insecure and it’s constantly apparent, but everyone is insecure abt a lot, and that doesn’t doesn’t equal intelligence. I wish I had a sounding board. and i rly wish that kid in Niya’s chair would stop crying.

x. everyone in the salon today seems like they’re in a bit of a weird mood, it’s not jst me for once. the phone is annoying me a lot more than usual today. i feel like it’s ringing every 20 minutes. niya is always very avoidant when it comes to taking haircuts, but meg is lagging today which is unusual. it was busy, too, but i keep getting shafted where tips are concerned. most of my regulars who were due to come in around this time came earlier this week, and usually they’re the ones who tip me the best. the radio station that’s on is very weird too, distractingly so—it’s gone from bowie, to panic at the disco, to nirvana, the police, florence and the machine, neil young, lord huron, rhcp, crowded house. it’s not intolerable, but i can’t seem to follow any sort of genre or time period theme and im paying more attention to figuring this out than i am what im supposed to be doing. it’s that point in the night where people generally stop coming in and I know I haven’t made very much. I’ve counted... $24. weird. are they playing “brick”? that’s a throwback.

xi. i remember my ex being rly into mystics despite not understanding them very well. i forget what he was doing w my natal chart, but he told me once that 24 would be a rly significant year for me. i asked him why and he said that’s all he could figure, there was nothing in the way of further details that he provided. i know I said something back to him abt hoping that id be married by 24—so stupid. granted, i would have been 18 or so at the time and 24 seemed very distant at the time. but that was 6 years at the time, now it’s less than 3 weeks. ive changed a lot, mentally at least, but my circumstances haven’t rly. maybe on superficial levels. yeah, i support myself financially and i have a job in a field i could realistically work in for the rest of my life if I wanted to do that. but im still jst as unsure abt what I want and what’s going to happen to me. i feel like I’m more “sought after” in a few ways, but my phone is jst as dry as it’s always been. i was hoping the move would have been good for me but im very scared abt doing it alone. and i might still do it, i jst dnt know what the timeline is going to look like and there’s no promise of me turning over a new leaf for real and finding my inspiration jst bc my scenery has changed. every time ive moved when I was younger, it jst dug me deeper into loneliness. but i was a child and it wasn’t my choice. but there’s no way for me to rationalize asking my actual lived experiences. maybe that’s the big thing that’ll happen to me at 24? or maybe instead of getting married, I’ll break a marriage up. i know that’s not going to get that far, you know, w kenny. i probably shouldn’t joke abt it, though.

xii. it looks like Evan is home from friday’s already and i rly dnt want to be around him right now. im still feeling rly hurt abt him pulling the plug on the massachusetts move without making any effort at all to sort his finances out or secure some additional income that wasn’t the precarious extra dollars he’s been getting from porn. he keeps sinking all of his money into bar tabs and impulse purchases and takeaway food. and his cars. i wish he would jst be honest w himself abt the cars already. he needs to sell the honda and be done w it before he has to replace the engine and drop another two grand on repairs. i dnt know why he never listens to me. im rly growing to dislike him, but we’re in this together whether i like it or not, and im not going to lead him astray when his financial problems are dragging me down w him. i think i am going to be a hypocrite and go out alone tonight. kenny’s bar is doing that bottle opening thing tonight, right? but i dnt rly want to be around kenny right now. but he might not be there. but i also get a weird satisfaction from being around him I’ll bet it’s going to be a madhouse there, too, and i rly hate crowded bars. but it’s something to do. maybe i will get lucky and someone will talk to me and we’ll have a decent conversation and I’ll never see them again after. why is that my ideal?

xiii. god, running out the last hour on the clock is always hell. no one ever seems to come in, so it feels like a huge waste of time, but when people do come in, i get very irritated. so I’m not sure what i actually want from my time here. i think im jst too fixated on how being stuck here until close almost every night is hurting my ability to expand myself socially. but what would i even be doing if i wasn’t here? i think i would jst be finding a way to waste time. id be sinking hours into doing nothing like I do all the time. i have a lot of time on my hands, in the grand scheme of things. i have literally no idea where it all goes. i drink a lot of it away bc i am generally too uninspired to participate in my hobbies, and i think that feeds the darkness bc they make me very happy. at least w cooking, yknow, i have to eat. i have an organic need to engage w that one. all else has been falling through the cracks, though. i dnt think ive picked my bass up in 3 weeks.

xiv. Kenny��s bar looks like it’s absolutely mobbed and I’d be upset if I went all the way out there only for me not to be able to sit down anywhere. it looks like Evan went back out. that works. i have beer at home. I’d be smarter to save the money anyway. i want to support kenny and the rest of the guys, even though I dnt have a lot of nice things to say abt him. his brewery is cool. it’s cool to have something with so much potential come out of your home town, even if i dnt entirely identify w that place as being my home town. but it’s better than saying that im from alabama, even though i feel like my childhood is more tethered to mobile. i think people would make weird assumptions abt me if I said that. people are rly unfair to what the south is actually like. i dnt know. but their growth has been nice to watch. seeing something you’ve supported since the beginning grow to the degree it has makes you feel pride even if it has nothing to do with you personally. and ive had so many good moments there, w ian, w my family, in general. i met justin there and im happy abt that, even though i dnt know what’s going on w justin. i dnt think justin knows what’s going on w justin.

xv. looking at my shelf of ian souvenirs is making me miss ian, even though we were jst together, even though we’re seeing one another again in 2 weeks. I wish I could engage w them in a more stable way. seeing them reminds me of being a teenager and breaking into the apartment i used to live in on governor’s island. and since the base went out of commission not long after we moved, i was the last person to live in that apartment. i went back into my first bedroom and the evidence that it used to belong to me was still apparent, but the floorboards had been warped and the wallpaper was very faded out. i felt weird being back, nostalgia and warmth pitted against the instinct that i wasn’t supposed to be there. i wasn’t supposed to see it—a rosy memory colliding w irrefutable proof of the passage of time. ive been very unfair to them, ian, in so many respects but it’s all very mixed and complicated. i look at this person, and i see so many years worth of history, but the familiar messy gold hair is framing a slightly different, slightly fuller face. they talk abt people i dnt know very well, stories set in a city ive spent very little time in. it’s disorienting. i feel like when im here alone, im always confronting their ghost, in places we used to go together, in things we used to talk abt doing but never did—a final hike on a trail that closed before we got the chance to go together, their name scratched in the wall of a dive bar, things they’d always point out on the side of the road, small pieces of their essence scattered across a place they are no longer a part of. i wonder what I did to deserve any preservation, too. i see this person who I truly am proud of, who i rly do think is going places, and that respect gets interpreted into feelings of inadequacy. that there’s no way someone like this can look at me and see anything other than an unstable failure. i dnt think any other person knows me more fully, for better or for worse. worse is dominant. i know it is. my intuition is always screaming at me that they hate me, that they left bc they wanted to get away from me. literally none of that makes sense. i know they dnt lie to spare my feelings, but i feel like they almost have to be. i wonder why i can’t trust that im cared for. i wonder why I can’t have an evaluation of another person that i dnt immediately relate back to myself.

xvi. it took two beers for me to realize that I haven’t eaten anything since i was in boston. i need to stop doing this shit, but im still getting my calories if im drinking them, right? i feel like it doesn’t make sense for recovery to be as difficult as it is, but my emotions have always interfered w my hunger cues, and my body is so accustomed to constantly being hungry that it’s not something i even notice that much anymore. I’ve been getting weird pins and needles feelings in what I’m assuming are my intestines as I’ve upped my intake and I’m afraid of them rupturing and me bleeding out internally when I’m home alone. such a pathetic way to die—having your own blood and bile and shit poison you. I doubt I’m on my deathbed, i think my system is jst on the slow path to returning to normal, but i wasn’t expecting physical symptoms aside from weight gain, which on its own, i could live w. my ednos was never as restrictive as it was until somewhat recently. my problem was generally concerned w binge eating and compensatory behavior, usually fasting or short periods of restriction or exercise. all punishment based. i can’t help but find it ridiculous that i ended up w an eating disorder despite never caring abt my weight. even when I was a high school freshman and overweight, i didn’t care. i think it’s because i dnt outwardly self harm anymore, and that self-destructive need has translated into other conduits. the scars this leaves are much more socially acceptable than what I was left w when I was younger and carved “dumb whore” into my thigh. i can’t believe i did something so stupid. im glad that finally isn’t visible anymore. i can’t believe that i’m almost 24 and still, to some extent, do shit like that.

xvii. i still have that vacation time that I took to look at apartments in massachusetts, and since that isn’t going to happen, i want to take a poorly planned solo vacation. i looked at places to stay in DC, in chicago, in nashville, but i left discouraged. nashville is too far, Chicago is too expensive, DC seems too dangerous. i think my perpetual anxiety prevents me from taking full advantage of my freedom. and I can be free. 24 hours ago, I was in Boston and I didn’t have to tell anyone I was doing that. I’ve navigated a strange place on my own. I lived to tell the tale, but I also wonder what the point is of stuff like this if I have no one to share it w. No one to reminisce w. it feels like a waste of money. almost nothing feels worth what I spend on it––time, money, calories, stop thinking abt calories.

xviii. i open another beer, basically on an empty stomach. i need to stop drinking like this, it’s not even negotiable anymore. i know this is a problem. i need to stop. i dnt know if I want to stop. i want to drown in bliss but I feel none. alcohol amplifies everything I feel, and when I’m feeling good, it’s generally very good, but when it’s bad, it gets very bad. i feel weird now so it’s amplifying the negatives. they do not need that. no, i dnt need that. i know this is an addiction. im scared, but not scared enough to do anything abt it.

xix. i still have Rebecca on social media despite everything. she’s moved, she’s no longer in my proximity, but i still have her on things even though I have no motivation to keep any sort of peace with her. I remember when things happened, when i was too drunk to stand up and she insisted on forcing herself on me anyway, after the fact she kept saying all this stuff to me abt how she wanted me to be her girlfriend and i jst sort of laid there and said nothing. i had nothing to say. i wasn’t processing what’s happened, i jst kept thinking “this is bad. that was bad” to myself. and then she never rly follows up, a small acknowledgment of culpability, maybe, but she’s moved in w some boyfriend now. it’s weird that people can do awful things to you and move on like nothing happened, and you have those moments stuck in your head, keeping you stunted, keeping you away from living uncorrupted, uninhibited, the way you should engage w it. i think of how demoralizing it is to have your perception shattered by a 30-something woman who still laughs at nyan cat shit. i think of how most discussions of sexual assault in the mainstream act as though only men are capable of it, as though it’s only ever happening in heterosexual contexts. i think of how everyone who bullied me in high school probably does not even remember it. i think it’s absurd to compare the two things but I dnt laugh.

xx. i want to talk to Justin but i have nothing to say. i dnt know what I should talk to him abt. i dnt know how you’re supposed to do this stuff. im comforted by the fact that, since he was w someone for 10 years, he’s rly out of the dating loop, and he have no idea what he’s doing either. but it’s a red flag, you know. I think we’re jst friendly. and I’m okay w that, I need friends. i want friends. i never see fati anymore these days. things w evan are polluted. ian is very far away. it occurred to me that i know very little abt him, aside from us getting along, but do we actually? how would I know? it’s not uncommon to have good conversations, for most people. but he knows more abt me than I do abt him. i dnt think i could name a single one of his interests if prompted. he probably couldn’t name one of mine that isn’t “drinking”. I’m not sure if I’m willfully ignorant of reality or if im jst assigning negativity to something without a lot of basis. i wonder why im incapable of living in the moment and not thinking too deeply abt what happens to me. i figured out what I’m doing w all the time on my hands.

xxi. everyone has been telling me lately that i should try to monetize my cooking and I dnt know if I believe them. i can’t imagine I’m as good at it as people say. i dnt trust it. im not even sure if it’s a passion, rly, i think my eating disorder has corrupted my relationship w food and i have to push harder to be interested in it normally, and this is how i cope. i might jst be on a kick. and if it actually is a passion, do i want to ruin it by making it into a living? i didn’t feel one way or the other abt hair when I went into it. it was a neutral activity. to grow to hate it is not a loss. i only care abt being good at it bc directly dealing w people makes my failures feel very personal when they happen. i know good food is something you can’t fake. i made ian spring rolls yesterday and they insisted I not watch them eat. i respected the request, but i needed to see the look on their face. I’m annoyed I didn’t. everything was eaten, I know they wouldn’t have done that if they hated them. but I only have my family to go off otherwise, and they would definitely lie to me. so i dnt know. i feel like support is untrustworthy. i know the people who won’t be honest w me, i dnt entirely trust praise from the people who I know who aren’t shy to say “it’s not my thing, I’m not crazy abt it”. i dnt know why i can’t accept that I’m good at anything.

xxii. there’s no reason for my scale to be out when i’m “trying” to “recover” but i will not put it away. i step on it anyway, and it looks like i’m 103lbs, fully clothed, stomach full of beer. i know it’s bad, but i get a weird amount of gratification from seeing it. it’s very hard to maintain a weight that low, so it feels like an accomplishment, even though it isn’t one. it’s been months since i had a period, and that adds to the sense of satisfaction. but it’s not good. obviously. it’s really getting in the way of me wanting to work out and actually improve my body. i’m fatigued. i’m foggy. i know the fact that i’m depriving myself is partially responsible for my terrible mood. i know i already had a heart problem, why on earth would i make that worse for myself? i’ve been having a few normal eating days, so i still won’t admit to myself that i’ve relapsed. i had a lava cake 5 days ago! there’s a quarter stick of butter in that! and an ounce of chocolate! i didn’t care, so obviously i’m doing something right. i know i’m not, entirely, but i’m staying positive. either that, or i’m extremely in denial. there’s still chocolate in the cabinet. no, of course i am not going to eat it.

xxiii. meg scheduled 6 people on tomorrow, so it looks like i’m not going to make any goddamn money again. my aunt is coming in, so i’ll get a little more from her, but the cash i take home there is so very inconsistent. i feel like the more money i save, the more i worry abt it, like i should have more by now. like i’m going to struggle forever. the stuff i’m buying now won’t matter in a few days, but that anxiety is always going to be over my head. i need a career change. i know that. i keep forgetting that pete gave me money for college, so my “i dnt want to be in debt” excuse is a lie. i keep telling people i’m considering going to college again but i know i never will bc i haven’t actually gotten any better at managing my time and being disciplined. i think i’m better at pretending i am, but i’m not. even if i seriously wanted to, i wouldn’t be motivated enough to actually take the steps required to re-enroll. it’s all too overwhelming. i feel like that feeling alone is a sign i’d fail.

xxiv. I’ve been saying this thing to myself a lot lately to self-soothe: “god’s in his heaven” and i dnt rly know what I mean by that. i dnt know if i believe in stuff like that, I dnt have any reason to believe that there’s any kind of order or force that presides over anything. is that what I’m talking abt? we’re all preoccupied w our own things, attending to our own futures, making our own peace to the best of our abilities? maybe? am i saying that we’ve all been abandoned, ignored? then why do I find it comforting? i dnt think my inner monologue makes a lot of sense, but i only ever talk to myself these days. maybe I’m talking abt myself in an idealized way, but I look back on the past 24 hours and see my good mood i woke up w descend, the 900 calories I’ve consumed today, the $24 I’ve made, the singular text thread I have w ian, the nothing I’ve done in the handful of hours I’ve been home, the three empty beer cans. i know i’m constantly in my own head, constantly picking myself apart, picking everything else apart. it accomplishes nothing. it’s useless self-flagellation. i’m constantly raking myself over the coals for shit that doesn’t matter, constantly agonizing over situations that aren’t actually that deep. i think that’s a way in which i lie to myself. i spend all day beating myself up over the inconsequential while never giving due attention to my actual flaws. even if i was, saying that i’m useless and stupid all the time still does nothing. it’s abt meaningful action, and i’m so bad at that, and i’m doing this exact thing again. i think i do it so i have something to point to, to say “i’m working on myself” when i’m jst being mean and self-righteous abt it. where has it gotten me? what do i want from it? do i think i can bully myself into change? do i rly think it will make me do anything other than resign to complacency? 24 hours, and a lot has happened, but i’ve still gotten nothing done. another will pass, and nothing will change. then enough days will pass, and i’ll notice everything is different, and i’ll still feel jst as stuck. i will be meaner to myself abt it. and that’s what i’ll do. over and over, until the end of time. Evan jst got home. he said something abt how sad i looked. he asked me what was wrong. i wish i had the guts to say any of it to anyone’s face, let alone his. it’s fine, it’s fine, i tell him, God’s in his heaven. whatever it is i actually mean by that.

#blog #literally do not feel obligated to read this. It is very VERY long #like my complete stream of consciousness from the past day #the stupid piece of shit bojack episode super extended directors cut #an essay in which i talk abt literally everything thats eating me and provide no solutions #the most disgustingly honest ive ever been on main #god's in his heaven

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opalgelance · 5 years

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HOLY FUCKING SHIT BATTLE OF HEART AND MIND WAS A LITERAL MIND FUCK

- WHITE DECOLORING GEMS

- THE DIAMOND FAMILY WAS REALLY FUCKED UP

- WHITE FUCKING BROKE STEVEN AND PINK LOST HER FUCKING MIND

- ROSE CAN NEVER COME BACK

- EVERY CRYSTAL GEM HAS A NEW OUTFIT I HAVE NO FAVORITE BECAUSE I LOVED THEM ALL

- EVERY CG + STEVEN FUSION WAS STUFFED IN HERE AS WELL AS MY TIED FOR FAVORITE WITH OPAL FUSION, OBSIDIAN

- FUCKING LAVA FUSION I LOVE HER SO MUCH THE CRACKS IN HER HAIR AND HER MAGMA SPIT THAT BECAME A FUCKING SWORD KILLED ME

- RAINBOW FEELS VERY FAMILIAR WHO VOICES THEM???

- SUNSHINE IS LEGIT A LOVE YOURSELF COMMERCIAL FROM THE 90S IN A CORPOREAL FORM

- FUCKING PINK STEVEN STILL SCARES THE EVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF ME HOLY FUCK

- WHITE HAS A WHOLE CHARACTER ARC IN 5 MINUTES

- SO DO BLUE AND YELLOW

- JASPER NEVER FUCKING TALKS BUT

- WE SEE A WHOLE FUCK TON OF GEM DESIGNS INCLUDING JASPER, BIGGS, CENTIPEEDLE, THE BEETLES, THE PUFFERFISH, AND A LOT MORE

- IM STILL NOT OVER THE PINK STEVEN THING IT WILL LEGITAMaTELY HAUNT ME FOREVER

- EDIT: I forgot to add how mindblowing the animation is in the Pink Steven scene?!?! I was just so stunned by the scene itself that I didn’t mention that the lines are SO clean and crisp, and the animation literally looks 3D, and that seems to be because the legendary James Baxter did it, and from what I saw from his work on the Adventure Time episode, he’s an absolute master in the art of animation, and I feel like I’ve been blessed seeing that animation with my own damn eyes

Ok, now that I’ve calmed down a bit, I have to say it felt really REALLY rushed but I still enjoyed it a lot! I do have a few gripes with it though:

- I wish we could have seen Sunstone, Rainbow 2.0, and Obsidian before this, or at the very least seen Sun and Rainbow before, with Obsidian being this big stressful event because as we’ve seen 4+ Gem fusions like Alexandrite can be very hard to keep stable, and they had one chance to fuse and keep it together

- Steven said one sentence to Pink Pearl, and White didn’t recognize CG Pearl, which is really weird. Pink didn’t even react to Steven, or realize that he had Pink’s Gem. We don’t learn what happened to Pink Pearl either. Steven seems to already have connected that White’s Pearl was once Pink’s, and when talking to White, it seems like he is understanding what his Pink dreams really meant, which is weird bc it seemed like he didn’t understand that they were memories before.

- I felt like with the exception of the Pink Steven scene, the Diamond fight at the very beginning and the confrontation between all 4 Diamonds, it didn’t really feel like the characters were reacting as much as they should have? Like, it takes a second for Pearl to figure out that she and Steven fused, and her reaction is kind of cut off, but Garnet doesn’t really react to fusing with Steven? I also feel like Obsidian should have been a bigger deal to everyone, but it felt like Garnet was like “ok, lets form obsidian then” like they’ve done it a thousand times?? Yeah, they’ve fused with Rose before, but Steven? And Alexandrite has always been a big deal, since she’s so unstable, while on multiple occasions in season 1 the Gems were pretty clear that fusion was for emergencies only. Obsidian is literally a White Diamond only level emergency, but while it was a big deal for the audience, the CGs (including Connie, Bismuth, Lapis, and Peridot) weren’t as shocked by this as I would have thought? Peridot says “they’re huge!” or smth like that, but not much else. For me it was really frustrating when Blue and Yellow, and ESPECIALLY Amethyst, Garnet, and Pearl, were drained of their color, it felt like it SHOULD have been a Keeping It Together level of horror, but it wasn’t on the characters’ faces, which was disappointing. It took me out of the action on my first viewing because it looked like the CGs weren’t that bothered by it. WHITE IS LITERALLY MIND CONTROLLING THE DIAMONDS AND YOUR FAMILY STEVEN WHAT THE FUCK I have to say that the Pink Steven scene was legitimately disturbing, and I applaud the storyboarders for that, I just wish it could’ve continued throughout all of the horrifying scenes.

- Steven didn’t tell anyone about his Gem being ripped out, possibly because there wasn’t any time left in the episode, and that was really weird to me. Like, you got HALF OF YOUR SOUL RIPPED OUT STEVEN. Like, White and Connie HAD to have said something, right? Was it just not shown?

- That brings me to how ridiculously rushed the ending was, because here’s what happens in the last 5 or so minutes (seriously, I’m looking at the time the ending starts)

- Steven gets home while Sadie’s having a concert on the beach

- WITH THE FUCKING DIAMONDS

- Lars also gets home with the Off Colors

- Sadie and Lars say hi for an awkward amount of screentime

- THE DIAMONDS HEAL THE CORRUPTED GEMS INCLUDING JASPER, CENTIPEEDLE AND A LOT OF THE GEMS WE’VE SEEN OVER THE SERIES AND THERES NO DIALOGUE BC STEVEN IS SINGING A SONG OVER THIS WHOLE PART

- The Diamonds leave, seriously, after less than a minute of screentime on Earth

- The CGs are on the beach, with NO recently cured corrupted Gems to be seen, and it’s kind of like the theme song, with Greg grilling hot dogs, and the CGs sit on the beach with Steven (just Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl now) and Steven sings a song. The End.

It just felt really rushed? So were the Diamonds’ “redemptions”, but this was insane. Every plot line in the whole series is supposed to be solved in 5 minutes? I mean, there’s a lot left unanswered, but it felt like they were trying to tie everything up with a nice bow, and it was rushed. Also, you know how everyone said that the Gem designs at the ball were lazy and that we only saw a few new Gem types because the crew didn’t have time to design new Gems? (I personally really liked the cog Gems bc I love gear designs but I know a lot of people didn’t like them and that’s valid) BULLSHIT LOOK AT ALL OF THE UNCORRUPTED GEM DESIGNS THEY LOOK AWESOME. But why could they not have done that before? They designed at least 10 new Gems for a minute or two long scene. Yeah, they were based on the already done corrupted Gem designs, but that’s fine! We could have easily seen Ocean and Biggs Jaspers at the ball, or even at the Zoo, in a flashback (like We’re Only Falling Apart, the war scene in Single Pale Rose, Your Mother and Mine), the ending of Legs From Here to Homeworld, but we didn’t, and I can’t understand why. Now it’s strange that we didn’t see any uncorrupted counterparts on Homeworld. What, is every single corrupted Gem part of a super rare Gem type? Yes, we’ve SEEN Jaspers before, and we HEARD about Nephrites, but even at the start of this episode we had some cool silhouettes of Gems, just like in The Answer, and they were never fleshed out into actual Gems. It’s just kind of strange that they had all of these templates but never used them. Plenty of fans have used the silhouettes and corrupted Gem designs to make Gemsonas, but the crew couldn’t? Just paste the color palette of Biggs or Ocean onto a Jasper base and you’re good! That’s essentially what happened this episode but I STILL LOVE THEM SO MUCH I will protect Ocean, the Beetle, the Centipeedles and the waterbear Gem with my life, BUT they could have appeared MUCH sooner as background Homeworld Gems

- EDIT: Since I’m always criticizing the animation and character models, I feel like I have to note how impressed I am with a majority of the animation in this episode. I felt like during the Blue vs. Yellow scene in particular though, Yellow’s expressions felt... odd. LET ME EXPLAIN FIRST PLEASE. See, for me, while I don’t like exaggerated facial expressions most of the time, I can get past them as long as it’s for comedy relief or to express raw emotion. The problem for me was that Yellow’s expressions were drawn as if she was supposed to be in a comedic scene instead of a heartwrenching, emotional outbreak uncharacteristic of Yellow, where you are supposed to feel with her, to feel her pain. But for me, it felt like she was pulling faces like she was trying to make a crying baby laugh, and I felt like Patti Lupone’s expressive, heart-wrenching voice acting didn’t match up with what I was seeing on the screen.

- As I said above, James Baxter’s Pink Steven animation slayed me, I’m still dying haaa

- OBSIDIAN WAS THE BOMB/COM THO her hair is so amazingly detailed, it had to be hard to animate that.

- Most of the lines were crisp. One of my main criticisms is how starting in season 3, while the animation and art quality went down, both were hindered further by the blurry lines, which I KNOW is because they resized the art. When I’m resizing an arm, or the head when it’s out of proportion, the resized lines become blurry whether you’re shrinking or expanding a section of a piece. But in this episode the lines were pretty crisp for probably 80% percent of the episode? And I’m counting all 44 minutes, and considering how bad it usually is, I’m very pleased.

tl;dr I LOVE THESE EPISODES TO HOMEWORLD AND BACK but there are a few issues I just can’t see past and some of these issues just threw me out of a great episode to ask myself why??? But also I’ve rekindled my love for Steven Universe and FOR ONCE I can see past some of the bad character models and animation because this episode was just so good!!!

#battle of heart and mind #steven universe spoilers #su critical #not all of it but some of it #I’m so nervous to post SU critical but I have a bunch of positives too so please don’t kill me with fire??

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