#I don’t talk about how much I love museums and thrift stores and everything a lot I don’t go to them often flr the above reasons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

If You Ever Wanna Be in Love (I'll Come Around), Chapter Seven (Branjie) - Athena2

Previously: Vanessa’s plan to kiss Brooke didn’t work out as Brooke pulled away from her Now: Brooke and Vanessa both struggle without each other as they grapple with their feelings

A/N: Really sorry about the ending last chapter! There’s a little more angst in this one, and then that’s it, I promise! I really hope you enjoy, and I’d appreciate any more feedback you have! The comments you’ve left are so amazing. Thank you so so much to Writ for betaing and helping with this one!

Brooke doesn’t get out of bed for the rest of the weekend. She sleeps and wakes and regrets, rolls over and does it all again, with breaks in between to stare at the picture from the carnival, wondering if she should delete it, try to erase the last few months from her mind. She has no idea what time or even what day it is, until her almost-dead phone buzzes with a text from Nina.

Nina: Are we still doing breakfast today?

Shit. It must be Sunday, then.

There’s no way Brooke can get up and have breakfast and pretend nothing is wrong. She just wants to stay burrowed into this pillow, wrap herself in sheets of sorrow and regret.

Brooke: Sorry, don’t think I can. Not feeling great.

Nina: You’re sick?

Nina: You never get sick.

Nina: Want me to come check on you? I can bring soup.

Brooke winces. Nina is always so nice, nicer than Brooke deserves. If Brooke tells her what happened, Nina will be too nice, will comfort her and offer advice, and Brooke just can’t bear all that sympathy heaped on her today.

Brooke: I’m fine, don’t worry about coming over. Just tired. Need to sleep.

She can picture Nina arguing with herself over insisting on taking care of Brooke, nursing her back to health, or leaving her to sleep.

Nina: Let me know if you need anything. Get some rest.

She loses the phone in the bed somewhere and closes her eyes again. But all she can see is the pain on Vanessa’s face as Brooke backed away from her. That was the only option, though. Brooke is sure of it.

Obviously Vanessa sees her as more than a friend. It makes Brooke’s heart race, but they’re just friends. Just friends, and it wasn’t right to kiss her back, lead her on like that. The kiss could’ve turned into something more, could’ve become a relationship, and Brooke’s not ready for that. She can’t lead Vanessa into a relationship she’s unsure of, because that’s not fair to her. It was too much, too fast, and Brooke couldn’t do that to Vanessa. But she knows it hurt Vanessa, and it’s making her own chest hurt, hurt so much she can’t even move.

Why does it hurt so much if that was the right thing to do?

Why did trying to protect Vanessa’s heart crush her own?

She can’t text Vanessa and try to fix things after such a big fuck-up, and she knows Vanessa won’t text her. Why would she, after Brooke hurt her like that? It’s over now. All of it. She’ll never watch Vanessa try on ugly thrift store sweater vests. They won’t laugh over coffee again. All the talking they’ve done, sharing things Brooke hasn’t told anyone, Vanessa understanding her like no one else–it was all for nothing, and it’s all over now.

Brooke rolls over again, but she doesn’t sleep.

—

Vanessa spends her weekend equally punching her pillow and crying into it.

A’keria plays mother hen for a while, bringing her tea and toast and talking to distract her. On Sunday morning Vanessa croaks out that she wants to be alone, and A’keria’s footsteps go away and don’t come back, and Vanessa feels worse than she did with A’keria hovering and trying to help. She hates being alone, but she doesn’t want to call A’keria back. And she better get used to being alone.

She’s out of tissues and her eyes are out of tears, breaths no longer hiccupy. She wishes her mom was here, but she’s visiting Vanessa’s brother. Vanessa needs her to come back so she can cry into her mom’s shoulder while her mom strokes her hair.

She rolls over and there’s the ring on her bedside table, mocking her. She should have never bought it in the first place. This mess never would have happened if she just left it at the thrift store where it belonged, let it ruin someone else’s life. She reaches over with a grunt and blindly hurls the ring out into the hallway, relishing in the ping of it against the wall.

She turns to her dresser, but there’s the Mary Oliver book Brooke gave her, the neatly-written note thanking her still tucked inside. Vanessa would throw that too, but she doesn’t want to get up, and she can’t throw a book. Not when she spends so many hours reading and re-shelving them.

This hurts worse than any break-up, and it’s not even a real break-up. This whole thing was supposed to fake. But Vanessa had to go fall in love with Brooke, who saw things as fake, like they were supposed to be. Life isn’t some rom-com where everyone lives happily ever after. This is her real life, her real heart that will never meet anyone who makes it stir like Brooke did.

It’s her own fault. She always falls too hard, too fast, can’t stop it. She should have waited instead of just throwing herself at Brooke on top of a mountain, but her heart wouldn’t listen, couldn’t be content with just being Brooke’s friend. She wanted to be in a relationship with Brooke so bad it ruined their friendship. Her heart had to be greedy, had to go for that kiss. It’s not the first time the damn thing’s gotten her in trouble.

It was her heart that got itchy poison ivy all over her legs when she was seven and trying to help an injured bird in the woods, that whole summer scented with calamine lotion. It was her heart that led her to blurt out Jessica’s name when asked who her crush was in middle school Truth or Dare, brushing it off as a joke and saying some popular boy’s name seconds after everyone stared at her. Her heart always leaps out of her chest and latches onto someone too quickly to stop it, too quickly to protect herself.

It would be easier if she had no heart, maybe. There wouldn’t be any pain where she thinks of Brooke’s laugh, or that time she made Brooke run in the grocery store with her and push her on the cart. No pain when she thinks of Brooke’s terrified eyes on the mountain, like Vanessa’s almost-kiss had ripped the ground from under her and left her falling all alone. She can’t claw the pain out, but she can dull it, so she shoves a pillow over her head and tries to sleep.

But all she does is dream of Brooke.

—-

Brooke supposes general misery isn’t a good excuse for missing work, and with the exhibit this Saturday, she really can’t take a day off anyway. Besides, it beats staying home with her thoughts and weekday marathons of some show about librarians that reminds her of Vanessa.

Usually when she comes to work, strolling past that stegosaurus fossil and plopping in her desk chair, her brain is fully alive. She reads through reports and analyzes possible collection additions and doesn’t even realize it’s lunch time until her stomach growls.

But the past few days, her mind stalls when she tries to focus, her whole body sluggish. It’s not like her to struggle like this. The clock stands still, and she reads the same email four times and still doesn’t grasp a word of it. There are five new ones in its place when she finishes like an email hydra, plus three unanswered voicemails and a sticky note reminding her to call and confirm the cake for the exhibit. Brooke pushes her chair back and sighs.

Everything is just too much right now, like trying to stay afloat in a whirlpool. How can she possibly get something as important as this exhibit together when she couldn’t even keep a friendship—one of the best she’s had—intact?

The office she loves so much, her home away from home, is suffocating her today. She needs to get out of here, needs air.

Maybe coffee will perk her up a little. She heads to a different cafe, not the one she’s been to with Vanessa. She opens the door just as Vanessa is stepping out. She must have had the same idea, to come to a neutral place without memories, a place where they didn’t make their agreement and split a giant cupcake once.

Brooke burns with guilt. It’s only been a few days since they haven’t seen each other, but it might have been years for how Brooke’s heart races. Vanessa’s not doing well, Brooke can tell. Her hair is in a messy ponytail, eyes cloaked with dark circles, her pink lipstick missing. It hits Brooke right in her heart. She hates seeing Vanessa upset, and it’s her fault Vanessa is hurting like this. Maybe it’s fate that brought them here. Maybe she can make it right.

Brooke’s throat is drier than a desert. “Vanessa,” she tries.

Vanessa shakes her head and steps around Brooke, quickly gone down the street.

Gone. Again.

Brooke’s fault. Again.

It’s really over, just like that. Vanessa won’t talk to her, can barely look at her. Brooke really has lost her. Not just their friendship, but Vanessa herself. She’s lost Vanessa’s deep, booming laugh. Lost her stories, lost her comfort that never made Brooke feel alone. Lost Vanessa’s hugs, the way she’d rest her face against Brooke’s chest.

Does it hurt this much because Vanessa is more than a friend to her?

Does Brooke love–

Brooke can’t be here anymore. She gets back to the museum and takes the afternoon off before running to her car and just driving, nowhere and anywhere. To a place that isn’t here.

Without meaning to, she finds herself at her mom’s. Her mom answers the door and Brooke is crying before she gets any words out. She’s shaking, and she lets her mom take her inside and rest her on the couch before sobbing into her shoulder. It’s been a while since she all-out sobbed like this. Brooke tries to remember how long it’s been. There was the stupid eighth grade dance she’d been forced into attending, ending with Brooke crying in the bathroom because one popular boy kissed a popular girl and she didn’t understand why she was so jealous of him for kissing her. Before that was when she came in second in the fifth grade spelling bee (she still has a grudge against rhinoceroses) and cried so much her mom took her for ice cream to cheer her up. By the time high school started, she was sick of her sister calling her a crybaby, and she vowed not to cry as much.

Her mom holds her, and Brooke knows she doesn’t deserve the comfort but takes it all the same, knows she’s safe in her mom’s arms. “Brooke, what’s wrong?”

“I lost her,” Brooke wheezes into her mom’s shirt.

“Lost who? Vanessa?” Her mom asks. “Did you break up?”

“We were never together,” Brooke wails, breaths shaky. She should be relieved to tell the truth, for all the time she spent stressing over her and Vanessa passing as a couple, wondering how she’d tell her parents they broke up. Instead, it just solidifies that not only is what she had with Vanessa over, but that it was never real in the first place. Can she really lose Vanessa if they were never together?

Her mom pulls away then, and Brooke looks into her confused eyes. “What do you mean?”

Brooke wipes her raw eyes and takes a deep breath, tries to keep her voice from cracking. “Vanessa got caught in this lie at work and needed someone to pretend to be her wife. So I did it, and then she wanted to return the favor, so I asked if she would pretend to be my girlfriend when I brought her here. It was only supposed to be one dinner, but you really liked her and we had to come back.”

“Brooke–”

“You always say you’re worried about me being alone,” Brooke sniffs. “I just didn’t want you to worry anymore.”

Her mom pulls her into a hug, gently rubbing her back, and it’s like Brooke is five again, with her mom sitting in the rickety old rocking chair she still has, rubbing Brooke’s back to soothe her into sleep after she woke sweating and crying from a nightmare, sheets twisted around her as she tried to run from darkness and monsters all by herself.

“Brooke,” her mom starts gently, “I always worry about you. I’m your mom. But I just want you to be happy. I don’t want you to think being alone is your only option because you’re so used to it. You don’t need another person to be happy. But if someone makes you happy, why not be with them?”

It makes sense, but Brooke shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter now. I ruined everything.”

“What happened? Why is it ruined?” Her mom asks gently.

“It was fake the whole time. It was supposed to be, anyway. But we started spending a lot of time together and we became good friends. Except Vanessa tried to kiss me, and I panicked. Told her it was too fast and I couldn’t do it. I mean…we’re just friends. I don’t know if I love her that way, so it wouldn’t have been fair to kiss her. Now we’re nothing. Not even friends.”

“Well, do you know how you feel now? Do you love her?”

“I don’t know,” Brooke insists. It’s the truth, and the uncertainty swirls around in her chest. Brooke doesn’t know if her feelings have changed in a week, doesn’t know if the love she has for Vanessa as a friend is the same love a girlfriend would deserve. How does anyone know for sure they’re in love? Why can’t a giant sign drop out of the sky and tell Brooke if she’s in love or not?

“I think you do know.”

Brooke shrugs helplessly, turning away from her mother’s knowing expression. Because deep down she does know. She can’t pinpoint the exact moment that things changed—it’s more so a bunch of tiny moments, moments that seemed small but that she knows are much bigger. The way Vanessa always listens when she talks, always understands. How she made Brooke laugh so hard she spit out coffee once. That time Vanessa brought her cookies that she tried to shape into dinosaurs, even if they looked more like horses. How she stopped at the grocery store with Vanessa once and Vanessa caused an avalanche of goldfish crackers that she’d insisted on getting from the top shelf on her own, grumbling that the store purposely put the good stuff on top. The babysitting and dinners and time together just added to those feelings, feelings Brooke hasn’t fully accepted or understood until now. How happy and warm she is around Vanessa aren’t just friendship.

She loves Vanessa.

She loves Vanessa, and it took losing her to see that. Now it’s too late, and it brings a fresh wave of tears, her lip quivering.

“Even if I do, it doesn’t matter. I blew it, and it’s over. End of story.”

“I don’t think so. Sometimes you mess up, Brooke, but sometimes you can go back and fix it. If you really do love her, and she really loves you, I think you can work it out.”

Brooke shrugs again. She wants to believe that, but doesn’t know if she can. “But…it’s scary. To love someone. To be in a relationship.” She hugs her knees to her chest, still a little kid. This would be the first real relationship she’s had in a year, and she doesn’t know if she’s ready for the changes it would bring.

“Maybe it is. But it doesn’t have to be.”

It’s so similar to what Vanessa said about love not being a chore with the right person that Brooke wonders if it’s a sign. She nods.

Her mother smiles at her. “Brooke, of the girls you’ve brought home, I’ve never seen you happier than you are with Vanessa. You were so natural together. There’s something there, and I think you can fix it.”

But what does it mean if she does fix it, tell Vanessa the truth? A relationship? She can imagine their future together in theory, cooking together and cuddling during movies, or going to the zoo to see the new red pandas, but can she take the steps to get there?

Most of what they have is already a relationship, Brooke thinks. She remembers the arm Vanessa threw around her their first time as fake wives, her way of making it look like a real relationship. But relationships aren’t just physical, aren’t just touching or kissing. It’s the way they had cooked together, letting their bodies flow around each other. The way they talked for hours, any self-consciousness fading away. How Brooke sees something funny or something that makes her happy and instantly thinks of Vanessa, wanting to share it with her.

I don’t want you to think being alone is your only option because you’re so used to it, her mom had said.

Brooke is used to it. She’s been independent most of her life, doing things she wanted herself. She likes being able to roll over and hog the blankets. She likes buying a box of cookies and knowing they’ll all still be there the next day, no sneaky fingers stealing them. She likes watching whatever she wants, no one there to judge her when Pride and Prejudice starts for the hundredth time.

But on the other side of that…someone to keep you warm, a reason you didn’t need the whole blanket. Someone to grocery shop with, worth sharing cookies with. Someone to watch a movie with, cuddling on the couch with popcorn.

She’s been alone so long that it’s scary to open herself up, put herself out there. But if she really does love Vanessa, why deny herself that happiness out of fear?

If she was going to have a relationship with anyone, it would be Vanessa.

Brooke stands up, steadies her uneven breathing, and wipes every last tear.

“I love Vanessa,” she says. It’s the first time it’s left her mouth and it feels so right. Like Brooke’s lips have just been waiting to say those words.

Her mom smiles.

“And I’m gonna get her back,” Brooke vows.

—

Vanessa is shaking when she gets back from her lunch break. What are the freaking odds that she’d have to run into Brooke? Just her luck, apparently.

All week, she’s managed, but not much beyond that. She’s shelved books and cut out construction paper lightsabers and just kept breathing, got through a minute at a time. If she really focused, she could go a few minutes without thinking of Brooke, and it was a damn victory.

But now Vanessa had to see her today. Brooke looked exhausted, like she’s barely slept this week, and Vanessa doesn’t want to be mean, but she’s almost glad. If her heart has been shredded this week, Brooke can suffer too.

“V.” A’keria coaxes Vanessa into the office, handing her a tissue and not reacting to Vanessa’s confused stare. Vanessa doesn’t know why A’keria is giving it to her, why she thinks Vanessa needs it, until…

Bringing a hand to her face, she feels the dampness on her cheeks and sucks in a ragged breath.

“I’m fine,” she insists.

A’keria stares at her pointedly, saying nothing, and Vanessa’s resolve crumbles.

“I’m not fine.” she grumbles, sitting lower in the chair and letting A’keria pat her shoulder. “I just…I loved her. And she doesn’t love me back.”

“Do you think if you’re this upset that maybe it means you should try to work things out with her?” A’keria asks quietly.

Vanessa shakes her head. “You weren’t there when I tried to kiss her. She was totally freaked out. There’s no way she wants me after that.”

“But maybe a freak out was all it was. Maybe she just panicked and needed time to think.”

“She needed time to think of whether she loves me or not?” Vanessa snaps. “Shouldn’t that just be something you know?”

A’keria shrugs. “Well, you didn’t know you were in love right away, either.”

Vanessa sighs. Damn A’keria turning into the voice of reason all of a sudden. But she can’t. She can’t take the chance of her heart being blown apart again, of putting herself through the pain of Brooke refusing her again. Vanessa can hardly look at her without her heart tearing and eyes watering.

She gets up. “Look, I’m gonna go work. I don’t want to think about this anymore.”

A’keria nods, and Vanessa marches out to the desk and starts to clean out her emails. She’s fine. She’s focused and she’s fine. Until she sees a tiny head hovering near the desk.

“Miss Vanessa, do you know what dinosaur this is?” The kid holds up a coloring sheet for her to see.

Why, of all the coloring sheets the library has–elephants and giraffes and superheroes and every singing creature Disney has to offer–did this kid have to pick a dinosaur? The universe really hates her today.

She looks down at the coloring, neat for a kid, and gasps. She knows the name, doesn’t even have to Google it, all because of Brooke. She barely chokes out that it’s a spinosaurus before she runs back in the break room and cries.

—

“You’re really not gonna go?” A’keria asks.

Vanessa shakes her head. The T-Rex exhibit opening is an hour away, and though just weeks ago she and Brooke had a fashion show to pick their outfits, she’s not moving off this couch tonight.

She should go, she knows it. Brooke has worked so hard, was so excited about it and how important it is for the museum. She should go, out of respect for Brooke and all her hard work, to hear her voice rise a few octaves the way it does when she’s excited.

But if she goes, she’ll see Brooke. And if she sees Brooke, she’ll want Brooke. And if she wants Brooke when she can’t have her, it will only rip the wound open again, just when she finally stemmed the bleeding. The dull ache in her chest will become a stabbing pain like it was on the mountain, and Vanessa doesn’t know if she’ll manage this time. She can’t go, can’t see Brooke in her purple dress, eyes shining with passion. It’s easier to stay away, try to forget that face. A clean break to get over Brooke. That’s the best thing Vanessa can do.

She flicks through channels and swears after coming across Jurassic Park three separate times. Are there no other 90’s franchises TV stations can air on a Saturday night? She finds some cooking show, and that’ll do. Nothing romantic about it.

She hasn’t touched her dating apps since she started this thing with Brooke, not wanting to be seen by a co-worker when she’s ‘married’. But now she can, and maybe this will help. Flooding her brain with people who aren’t Brooke. She can find someone else, prove she doesn’t need Brooke. The very first person she sees is a pretty redhead named Kameron. But as Vanessa looks closer, her cheekbones are a little too like Brooke’s. So is her smile, and maybe even her nose–Vanessa closes the app and hurls her phone into a couch cushion. What kind of bullshit is this? She can’t escape Brooke, no matter how much she tries. She just hopes the universe is haunting Brooke like this too. If this was a rom-com, it would be some sign that they’re meant to be together. But Vanessa is sick of stupid rom-coms. There’s no fated romance here, no ma’am.

Her phone suddenly buzzes, and buzzes again, meaning it’s a call. Vanessa peeks at the screen. Speak of the devil.

What could Brooke be calling her for? The exhibit opening is in an hour, and knowing Brooke, she’s probably already at the museum, double-checking the seats and refreshments, reviewing her speech like she doesn’t have it memorized. If she can picture what Brooke is doing, she knows she’s not over her, but Vanessa doesn’t care.

She watches the phone ring and ring, wondering what will happen if she picks up. Will Brooke apologize on the other end? Will Vanessa believe her, fall deeper in love with her, will they start anew? Or will Vanessa reject her apologies and move on the way she should, keep trying to forget Brooke?

Or she could just not answer. Avoid either possibility and not give Brooke a voice at all.

The phone gives one last ring.

Vanessa doesn’t answer.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #akeria davenport #branjie #lesbian au #fake dating au #if you ever wanna be in love #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission #s11

6 notes · View notes

hydra-collector · 5 years ago

Text

Let Me Go (Special)

AO3

Let Me Go

Pairings: Intrulogical, platonic Analogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Janus Sanders (small character)

TW: lots of self-deprecation, sex mention

Words: 1838

Summary: Backstory to Logan and Remus’s relationship in sophomore year.

Note: I wanted to write this for a while, but I mostly wrote it now because I needed an excuse to make a series out of this and boost it on AO3. Still not sure if it’s gonna work.

They just look so soft.

Logan desperately wanted to be with them. It wasn’t like anything he’d felt before. Sure, he’d had crushes, but Remus was on another level. It was odd, really, that he could be this infatuated with someone. Virgil had been trying to convince him to ask them out, but he couldn’t see why they’d want to date him. He was annoying, dumb, and ugly.

“C’mon, Logan. Do it.”

“Why would they accept?”

“Why do you think? They blush every time they see you. Y’all can’t even talk to each other anymore, you’re so in love.”

Logan and Remus had met last year, freshman. They’d argued back to the teacher, who decided to give them detention. Logan, however, believed that they’d made a strong point about the content of their learning in school (even though they suggested some… odd topics instead,) and he argued against the teacher as well.

That was the first time Logan Berry had gotten detention.

The second time was also for their sake, or rather, it was their fault. They’d passed a note to Logan, which simply read, “See you after school.” He obviously hadn’t understood what they meant until they started talking to him, out loud, randomly.

That was the second time the pair of them got detention.

Logan’s had been excused afterwards due to his explained circumstances, but that moment had released a bit of freedom in him. He’d gotten detention. He hadn’t followed the rules.

When he looked back, sitting in the middle of a nearly empty class with Remus next to him, their pretty face smiling, even in the crappy classroom’s lighting, just seeing the eyes and the person and the lips that had brought him here-

He fell in love.

Remus and Logan became friends, and everything changed. They taught him risks and adventure, that life didn’t revolve around being perfect and doing things right. They’d gotten him out of the, so far, darkest point of his life. They’d taught him creativity and experimentation, that he could do more than what school said, or history said, or anything did. He could experiment with how many water balloons you could pile on top of one another before they popped. None of the experiments were perfect or particularly scientific, but god did he have fun.

He started going outside, taking trips to old record shops, thrift stores, and malls, just to see everything. Remus had even convinced him to break into some old mansions and trespass on abandoned train tracks together. He never once took a picture. It was all for his memory.

They’d been each other’s compliment, and listened to each other when no one else cared what they had to say. They could talk and talk and never get bored of each other, just keep listening or adding on to what the other was saying. Sometimes they wondered where all these conversations came from, when all the topics in the world seemed to have run out, but still there was something to say.

Disagreements were never fights. Never. It was always a discussion, talking about how “I’m right and this is why,” while the other tried to change their mind. No one’s ever was, but disagreement is what kept them from doing many stupid things.

And it didn’t last forever, as nothing does. But those were some of the happiest times of his teenage years.

Logan hadn’t realized until Janus had told him that he was in fact, in love.

Remus had realized the moment they laid eyes on Logan and savored every minute they spent together after. They didn’t want to ruin the wonderful platonic relationship they had. And besides, Logan had friends who would convince him to confess if he felt the same way.

Virgil was right about barely being able to talk to each other. Ever since Janus had pointed out his obvious feelings, he’d been especially awkward. He hated it. He knew he should confess in order to retain a steady relationship, platonic or romantic.

But how?

“How do you suggest I go about doing it? I’d like to retain a bit of… me, but being in love is probably a very unlike me kind of thing.”

“No, it is not, Logan. You’ve had crushes on like, six people since I met you.”

“It’s different, though.”

“Why not just tell them ‘I love you?’ It’s simple and obvious and fits your style.”

“What if they take it the wrong way, assume it’s platonic?”

“I guess that could happen. What’s something that’s obviously romantic? ‘I wanna date you?’”

“It sounds odd, though.”

“Wow, picky?”

“I mean, it could work, but I’d rather something more memorable or meaningful.”

“I wanna fuck you?”

Logan tensed. “Ah, um, I’d rather, no.”

“Okay, okay. Do you want to kiss them?”

He thought for a moment, imagining their face, and the love he felt for them, their beautiful eyes and soft cheeks, squishy belly he wished he had the permission to cuddle. The arms that made him nearly collapse because of the wonderful feeling their hugs brought him, their short stature compared to his, and their beautiful lips, out of which so many wonderful ideas and opinions spewed out. He wanted to kiss those lips.

“...Yes.”

“You could use that.”

“I think… maybe I will.”

Today.

Today he was going to tell them.

He’d invited them over to his house, where he imagined over and over telling them, all the ways they might react, especially the negative ways.

He could barely talk to Remus as they walked to his house together, just listening to the endless ideas they came up with. Each word made him love them more and more. Endless possibilities for how the scene may play out repeated over and over in his mind as he panicked internally, hoping they didn’t actually hate him like his brain said they did.

The cold air nipped at his nose and fingers, so he rubbed his hands together in a sad attempt to warm up.

“Cold hands, Lo?”

They took his hands and held them in previously gloved ones, which were still warm. They held them there, trading positions to better warm different fingers every few seconds. Logan felt the heat in his cheeks as well.

When they got inside, Remus went to Logan’s cupboard to grab and make two hot cocoa packets.

“That’s extremely unhealthy.”

Remus said nothing, simply adding another packet to their cup, watching Logan.

“Remus-”

He sighed and let it happen. That was the least of his worries now.

Logan’s heart beat as Remus brought their hot cocoas upstairs to his living room, where he’d planned to confess. They sat down on the couch, putting their arm around him when he did as well.

“Remus, I’ve been meaning to tell you about something.”

“Once you do, do you wanna talk about ancient sea creatures? I read a really good article. Hey, are you alright?”

Logan was shaking with fear, excitement, anticipation, anxiety, everything one could be shaking with.

“Y-yeah.”

“Tell me what you were gonna say. I’m curious.”

What if they hate you? What if they don’t want to be your friend anymore? What if they think it’s weird to date if your asexual? How could they even love you when you are who you are?

He took a deep breath, hoping for the best.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Say no more.”

And Logan had been kissed.

Whatever scenarios ran through his head, this wasn’t one of them. There was one where they’d talked about relationships, one where they agreed and awkwardly asked to and then kissed, one where he was flat-out rejected, one where they thought it was a joke, but nothing like this. Where they just kiss him. He was glad it happened that way.

Logan had expected some kind of verbal reaction, at least. Something like “me too,” or a flirt, at least. But no, just “say no more.” And now he was kissing Remus.

He hadn’t expected to ever reach this point. To be kissing someone he really liked. He wished it would last longer than he knew it would.

He could always kiss them again.

After the few seconds their first kiss had been, both were blushing severely, broken apart. Neither of them said anything, so Logan took his chance to kiss them again. Remus wouldn’t have taken them for someone to initiate a kiss. They weren’t mad, though.

“Thanks.”

What?

“You’re welcome, I guess.”

They laughed it off and spent the next hour discussing the relationships of sea creatures. Probably to avoid talking about their own.

At first, nothing changed much. They still went out on ‘adventures’ together, had the same conversations, interacted with their other friends the same way, and more or less thought of each other the same as they had before.

Logan asked Remus on their first date.

They couldn’t ignore what’d happened forever, and while they weren’t against discussing it, it hadn’t come up naturally. Logan proposed it as a chance to talk about what was to become of their relationship.

“Would you like to consistently date, Remus?”

“I’d enjoy that.”

“My being asexual isn’t a problem?”

“Nah,” they sipped their coffee, “I fell in love with you anyway.”

That was a relief.

“What should we call ourselves, if anything?”

“At somepoint, probably partners. In crime.”

“Don’t remind me that that’s true.”

“I don’t know how I managed to get a date. ‘Specially with you. You’re so cute and all I do is talk about organs and weird creatures and make sex jokes.”

“I do that too, Remus. Usually not sex jokes, though. And I disagree, I’m quite ugly and frankly obnoxious to most people I meet. You’re pretty and lovable.”

“I suppose I’m not most people you meet, then. And I can’t even begin to explain how cute you are. Your glasses make it perfect.”

Logan asked Remus on most of the dates, mostly because wherever they would ask him was illegal or paid, often museums. Logan savored these days.

As they went on more dates, kissed more openly, cuddled more often, the consideration of each other changed from ‘dating’ to ‘partner’ and ‘boyfriend.’ The first time Remus gave Logan a pet name, he was initially adverse to it, but warmed up to them as they kept saying them. After a while, they probably used it more than his real name. He still refused to return affection in this form, however. Remus was sure he someday would (he denied it.)

They were happy together. Janus was glad to see Logan had expressed his emotions, for once, and it led to a lot more happiness. It wasn’t always going to be as happy as it was that year, but he had someone as close as a romantic partner to help him through it. A few years later, he would make decisions he’d later regret, but there was no regret for confessing his love that day.

And sophomore year, those two best friends became partners.

#sanders sides #sanders side fic #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #ts logan #ts remus #sanders sides fanfiction #ts sides fanfiction #tw sex mention #lmao the first part isnt bad and then it all went to shit #tw self deprecation #kissing #idfk waht im doing anymroe #platonic analogical #grays fics #let me go #tw cussing

6 notes · View notes

anewdiscipleofdiscipline · 5 years ago

Text

At last, the promised update

It’s been a wild few months.

Less happy news first: My dad continues to decline, and his state takes a great toll on everyone, physically, mentally, financially... He is like a toddler now. Even 4-5 months ago, he used to ask if we were okay, are you hurt, don’t strain yourself... now he doesn’t think about us anymore at all. Only himself, his wants, his desires... he’s not the same man at all. I told him that right out one night when he was being particularly demanding, and mean on top of that, and he gave us his classic “whatever!”.

He’s been on a new medication to treat the radio necrosis he got from radiation therapy, and his speech is a bit better... but that’s pretty much the only change I’m seeing from it. The other big issue is his climbing weight. He went from a hefty 330 to probably around 400 lbs now... that’s a big part of why his demanding to be moved all the time is so difficult. Even for me, it’s HARD and tiring. And TIME consuming. He is almost 3x my weight. He is OVER 3x my mother’s weight. And he doesn’t care how that affects us at all...

Anyway... to social stuff:

To recap, early November, a close friend of mine introduced me to a friend of hers, and we hit it off, really, really well. We’re both poly, but we’re both pretty focused on just us right now, which I’m a-okay with.

We now refer to the other person as “our partner”. She gave me a ring with her having the matching one. Mine says “DOM” and hers says “SUB”, so it signifies the power dynamic we’ve decided to have in our relationship... but we treat each other like equals in all things, communicate openly and honestly about everything... having even difficult conversations goes smoothly because we both approach communication the same way, and have agreed on ways of handling conflict, which we legitimately use (not that we’ve had all that many conflicts, but there’s been a few small ones, and it was comforting and encouraging to see how we navigated them together.

Last month, a friend of mine from Australia who I’ve been friends with for 14 (!!!) years came to Canada and I not only got to meet her for the first time, but got to take her to a bunch of touristy places in Ontario (Niagara Falls, the Ontario Science Centre, Casa Loma, we went to the Royal Ontario Museum for New Year’s, Ripley’s Aquarium, and the CN tower.) ALSO: FUN FACT, SHE BOUGHT A GOWN AT A THRIFT STORE AND WORE IT WHILE WE WALKED THROUGH THE CASTLE AND IT WAS HILARIOUS AND AWESOME AT THE SAME TIME and now I’m one of those annoying overly excited relationship people and I suddenly hate myself -___-

Well, as it turns out, my partner had never been to a lot of those places herself... so... since the OCS (Science Centre) is very kid-oriented, I suggested I take her and her kids there, we drop the kids off at our mutual friend’s (the one who introduced us) after, and then she and I could go to all of those places together.

It was a really nice weekend. I’m not big on kids and truthfully, avoid them as much as possible, but hers were okay. I watched them both like hawks while in the OCS. I’m paranoid, so sue me.

And OH MY GOD, watching her get SO EXCITED to pet the stingrays in the aquarium.... I cannot even describe the joy she was experiencing, nor mine at seeing hers. She talked about how adorable the stingray plushies were, so when she wasn’t looking, I snaked one over to the counter and bought it for her, and she glowed when I gave it to her.

And man, the SEX is really good. I don’t dissociate, I only get some PTSD issues rarely, and it happens barely ever compared to when I started seeing her, she’s EXTREMELY pleased and reactive with me. She calls my dong things like “the impossible dick” or “magic”, etc. I also keep trying to push back on the size issue, because from my view, it doesn’t look as enormous as she tries to tell me it is, but this weekend was kind of a “wake up call.” NORMALLY, I always finger/rub a LOT before any penetration ever happens... ONCE this weekend, I tried being a bit more dominant and going straight for it, and found out my policy of always attempting to give an orgasm or more before fucking was actually why I never ran into any issues. Nobody has ever had a problem with it before, guess I have an idea why now. Had to go real slow, so I let her do all the moving at first so she could moderate speed and depth as she needed.

I have also achieved what no other partner of hers has achieved in making her quit because “the orgasms became too much and all of her limbs were shaky and numb” and she was light headed from it lmfao.

Part of all this makes me feel slightly sad though. Like, there’s always the chance she’s faking or embellishing, but that’s not her way. She’s BLUNT. She revels in being honest and blunt. So I’m assuming she always telling me the truth.... and that’s what gets to me. I feel like I missed out on so much because of trauma or anxiety or depression... and given all of my experiences have been very positive when I’ve gotten feedback... I feel like i missed out on a lot of opportunity for pleasure, adventure and enjoyment. It’s not a huge thing, but it’s just a voice in the back of my head going “All of your researching, asking questions, learning, being attentive, etc has paid off... and you could have used it all at a much younger age and had so much more experience by now.”

But I’m not too-too concerned about it, because i have a partner with a voracious appetite, and a desire to help me make up for all the lost time.

I’m also fortunate in that we just enjoy spending time together. Whether it’s hours of cuddling, or just... shopping/getting groceries, I LOVE and ENJOY my time with her. We’ve talked about how people who say they’ve found the one... must be experiencing feelings like this... i told her right out... I finally get it, what those people must be feeling or thinking. If I were monogamous... she’d be my one. And she understands and feels the same.

It’s been a really good start to 2020, which admittedly makes me nervous about what may come next, especially as my dad’s time heads towards running out. It’s an inevitable conclusion. He’s not going to get better, and those tumours are just going to keep growing.

And then there’s the “whiplash”/”backlash” that’s going to occur after he’s gone. People are going to snap. Shit is going to implode, probably catastrophically.

I... just hope the parts of my life that are going well can be my shelters from the storms. I don’t need to rely on them, but I’m sure going to appreciate their comfort when I can have it.

3 notes · View notes

recalcitrantlycaffeinated · 6 years ago

Text

So apparently Reddit noticed me

I don’t know how to verify my identity there, so here’s some comments:

I’m not trans, and I don’t look even mildly androgynous. I look like the American Girl doll Molly and I was dressed that day like I had come from the prairie. I was also wearing the backpack I’ve had since college. I’m also four foot nine.

Those of you cheerfully giving advice on how to look 16 instead of 12: I’ve literally aged three years since this post originally went up, but people continued to think I was 12 until I cut all of my hair off. People have indeed started thinking I am 16 instead. I regret everything.

I did in fact hit puberty and in fact have all the appropriate proportions for my height, but the height is just...too much for adults to comprehend sometimes, especially when combined with my questionable fashion choices, which are 90% thrift store and 10% Target clearance racks.

I do also have a very young-looking face. People have been thinking I was a child for quite some time now. I filled elderly people at a hospital with consternation when I worked there. People who came to my various McDonald’s would occasionally question whether I was of legal working age. Then again, they also questioned whether I was Amish or not, so that should tell you part of why these misunderstandings keep happening.

I once dated a guy with a massive beard who looked way older than me. People used to give us dirty looks in public. I don’t miss that.

Sometimes I don’t get carded at all, but my best friends also look like high schoolers so when we all go out together we’re usually all assumed to be 19 or 20. My husband has Perpetual 5 O’Clock Shadow so he ages us out of middle school at least. One of these friends was with me in the airport that day, so us both being together probably exacerbated the problem.

The person who said people like me are part-hamster: I love you. This is the most ridiculous explanation I’ve ever heard.

To the person who said I probably looked like Ariana Grande in a sweatshirt and leggings, I love you. You can stay. You’re wrong but you can stay.

I have definitely been given a kids menu on a date before. It’s...not great.

You don’t understand how much I want blue hair. I have been working at jobs where blue hair was not allowed since I was 16. I am now 28. I am contemplating quitting my job in the next few years to Become a Parent and you can bet your butt I’m going to dye my entire hair blue the second that happens. Snapchat just came out with a colorful hair lens and I send my husband pictures of me with “blue hair” all the time.

I don’t have any genetic form of dwarfism, just super-small parents.

I’m a white person. Not so white that the sun burns me whenever I see it, but definitely way more Italian/Sicilian blood than anything else in me. So you can’t blame the TSA agent’s assumption on my race.

...if y’all were trying to imply that I have at any point conjured this young-looking image in order to gain attention from older men who are into children...y’all are gross. No one who has talked to me for more than fifteen minutes has thought I was a child.

I was not wearing makeup that day at all

I did not make this up. How dare you. I was just trying to share a cute story about a lovely TSA lady and y’all are trying to tell me my life is fake.

Pssst I’m not heterosexual but that has nothing to do with what I look like.

To the person who was sad there wasn’t a picture but then said “hmm maybe that would be a bad idea considering this is the internet”; I love you. I have gotten enough weird sex messages without there being pictures of me online. I’m tired of blocking people.

Y’all are saying I’m going to enjoy this more when I’m in my 30′s or 50′s or whatever. You’re wrong. I’m going to enjoy this most when I get pregnant and I still look like a teenager and I can offend every single person I see who doesn’t know me just by my existence.

I do buy children’s shoes, and also children’s workout gear, but by and large the current children’s fashions are not for me.

I don’t take advantage of children’s prices at museums, etc. but I was once in Europe on a trip with super religious people. The only time I have EVER seen them lie to get ahead was repeatedly lying about my age to get cheaper tickets.

Okay y’all who are doubling down on me being a liar: I don’t airport much, but I can tell you that the lady was already giving me instructions about what was coming up as she was holding my information but before looking at it, because apparently I looked like a scared rabbit or something. Then she looked at it and realized her mistake. Then I unzipped my shoes (...I’m not helping myself here am I) and went through the whole put your stuff in a bin and walk through a metal detector thing.

Any other questions?? Doubts?? Theories?? I’m here to answer things but I just don’t know how to Reddit.

#that one post #behold i wrote a thing #some of y'all were splendid and some of y'all can just stop

54 notes · View notes

jessefandomunited · 6 years ago

Text

bette davis eyes ( billy fanfiction) part 7

It had been three months since I met Moxie and it has been the most wonderful month of my life. We seemed to click so well and I learned so much about her. She love anything out of the ordinary , which is why she sometimes wears Lolita clothes. She told me it made her feel prettier than she was . Even thought I’ve told her shes adorable multiple times, she never accepts it, thought she does seem to brighten with every compliment. She has a lot of what she calls random anxiety which just popps up without any sort of pattern, she told me what helps it and I try to contribute any time I can. We went on a lot of outings together, thrift stores, the park, museums , random cafes we found. We were becoming the best of friends. I loved every minuet i have spent with her however I still haven't gotten to tell her how I feel, though I feel the time is drawing near. It’s just driving me crazy that during our movie nights I cant snuggle with her while we watch. Shes just beautiful and funny and adorable and I just cant take it anymore . “ Hello,” Moxie answered sounding a bit groggy. It was only 9 but she might have been trying to get an early start on sleep since her anxiety has been keeping her up. “ Oh sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” I stuttered, “ ill let you go back to sleep.” “ No no I’m up,” she said in her slightly sarcastic tone ,” what’s up?” “ Well,” I sighed, “ I was wondering if you wanted to go out tomorrow night, maybe to dinner.” She paused as if processing what I was saying, “ like where?” “ Like that sushi place you’re always talking about,” I said beginning to wring out my shirt from nervousness. “ Oh…..i mean I guess…wait alone,” She said a little surprised. I chuckled slightly, “ yes Moxie, I’m…..i’m asking you out on a date.” There was stunned silence on the other line. “ Are you still there,” I asked nervously. “ Yeah…I’m just….are you …are you sure,” She stuttered. “ Yes, and there is something I want to tell you, but I’d rather tell you in person okay,” I said simply, “ it’s nothing bad so no need to worry about it.” She laughed weakly, “ oh you know my anxiety is already full on that right?” “ I’ll make up for it tomorrow I swear,” I insisted, see you then. “ Goodnight Billy,” She said softly as she hung up.

I waited for her in front on the sushi place in a full out suit and tie, I don’t think she had ever seen me this dressed up and desperately wanted her to feel important. I hardly recognized her as she came walking down towards me. She had this tight red velvet dress with a slit up the side showing her in dazzling white high heels. She was wearing the pearl choker she had been wearing the day after the infamous night and had her hair in a tight bun. Her eyes widened as she saw me. “ Wow,” she gasped, “ you look amazing.” I had almost forgotten to talk I was so in awe of her beauty , “ thanks, you look, wow.” She blushed , “ thankyou , lets go.” I offered her my arm which she timidly took and we walked into the restaurant.

We sat down, ordered, and now , it was time. “ Okay, I don’t want you to have to wait any longer for what I have to say,” I said almost blurting everything out right then, “ I’m just going to tell you straight up, and if you want me to leave so you can finish this dinner in peace I’ll let you.” She nodded her head a bit confused. “Two weeks , after I broke up with Gemma, I met a girl at a bar, I was sort of attracted to her, and she was interested so I thought why not. I wanted to prove to myself I could get girls. I slept with her, and the morning after, I felt awful, just awful. I felt sorry for her, sorry for me, and I just got out of there as quickly as I could. After that I had sworn of dating, I sworn off love, I decided that I was best , single, then I met you. I saw you setting up your microphone for your set and I saw you dazzling, beautiful eyes look over in my direction, and instantly scowl as you saw I was sitting with Alfie.” She burst out laughing and I took this chance to look at her face, the start of tears were forming at her eyes. “ After that, moment, I knew I needed to talk to you, that entire time we hung out after was the happiest I had felt in a long time and I knew that this wasn’t a rebound, I had my rebound, this had to be real. I knew you didn’t believe me though, so I decided to play the long game. To wait until you knew that I wanted to be with you, because you were…you. And I’ve been waiting, patiently for three months to tell you this , and I think it’s time you heard it, Moxie I..” “ Wait stop,” She got up from the seat she was sitting in across from me and sat right next to me, grabbing my hand, “ I want to tell you something first.” “Yes,” I said a bit taken a back by this change in events. “ I told you that I would tell you when my wish came true,” She said softly, “ that first night, I wished on the star, with all my heart, that you would truly love me.” She blushed and looked down, “ I know that breaks the code of wishes but I thought it couldn’t hurt.” I smiled feeling tears come to my own eyes as I gently tilted her chin up so my eyes met hers, “ Moxie, I love you with all my heart.” Her face turned bright red and in an instant she had wrapped her arms tightly around me, hugging me. I hugged her back hearing her light sobs of happiness. “ I love you too Billy,” she sniffled leaning back so she could look at me as she said it. I looked down at her and sighed, “ I’ve been waiting long enough to do this.” I leaded down and gently kissed her on the lips. It was all I could have asked for I felt a spark shoot through me , it was like fireworks were going off,and suddenly I noticed, she had not worn any lipstick tonight like she typically did. She would wear it even when we were going out to eat. I smiled slightly, “ you knew what I was going to tell you didn’t you.” She looked up at me with this sly look on her face, “ I had no idea what so ever.” “ You are the cutest dork ever,” I said kissing her again. If I had to do this over again , I wouldn’t change a thing, If she had said she hadn’t believed my this night I would have gone to the ends of the earth to prove it to her. She was something worth waiting for.

#me and mrs jones #Robert Sheehan

8 notes · View notes

nethersphereadventure · 6 years ago

Text

Day 1182

Okay so I already done fucked this so let's go again here reee to deleting things.

It's been 3 1/4 years since I started this and so much has changed. Let's start at the beginning shall we. Last time we were here I was stressing about exam results and my place in the world. Here's my thoughts kinda ordered but also really not.

Leaving home; Well, the first and biggest event was leaving home to go live w my dad. Tbh I think the less said the better

Relationship; My longtime crush asked my out and I was crazy enough to not initially accept him! We all went together as family members to go see Cosmo Sheldrake which was incredible multigenerational experience even if I was exhausted

Swimming; This was not the greatest of days. I was so overwhelmed that I couldn't even get out of bed to go on a day I'd really looked forward to with my 2 best friends. I think I worried them but just ghosting out but I was really touched how they completely turned my day around. It was also during that period which we absolutely abused free cinema tickets to go see mamma Mia 2 and into the fade (weird German movie)

We got Harry and Peter

Prom, picnic: I'd had my hair and nails done with mog and it was insanely hot. well it all started with morrigan and finn coming over to watch the handmaiden. They stayed the night and it was lovely but I felt like absolute garbage the next day, which was when we were supposed to go on a picnic but I ended up on my dad's bathroom floor for most of the day. I still felt a bit woozy the day after for prom but I just had to keep drinking and I was okay despite nearly flashing many people including my tutor and head of year. I stayed at mogs but didn't go to the after party bc of the obvious shiteness. I had a lovely or not so lovely chat with finn on the floor. We all eventually passed out in a spoon train only to be awoken by Joanna throwing malteasers at us through the window.

Budapest; this meant I ended up going to London twice in about 3 days. The first trip was with finn and Dom to go see flight of the conchords. It was fantastic. Then came the trip to buda. We travelled to Lucy's House where we had amazing pizza and a fitful night's sleep. Then caught a taxi and an insanely early bus to Heathrow. We made it and the ended up having to pelt across Munich. When we arrived in buda the first mishap was Radley getting yeeted off of the bus by the driver and they had to sneak back on. Then we went to our lovely apartment and then did all the usual things of sightseeing, looking at museums, going to the baths and ruin bars as well as cat cafes. The house of terror and the hospital in the rock were really amazing experiences. Also surprisingly there were some really cool thrift stores! Then we came back and ended up getting stuck at Heathrow by missing our bus by like 2 minutes. Luckily radleys dad picked us up for the long journey back home.

Our birthday happened at some point maybe hereish?

Exam results; I was insanely stressed about these. I couldn't sleep the night before. Morrigan messaged me in the morning to say she'd gotten her results before ucas was technically supposed to open so of course I checked. I was able to tell my dad before we even left the house and he cried. We met my mum down at school to collect my actual results and then went for tea. I got a monkey card which was honestly the most exciting thing.

Greenman; we actually had tent poles this time and I married an alien.

Camping; we met up with some people we haven't met up with for ages and we basically had freedom to fuck around in Lyme Regis and the surrounding areas. I got a load of cool free badges from a vintage shop owner because I helped him sort them. There were so many other cursed shops it was great especially the penny arcade where we spent a lot of our time. Also I lost the end of my toe to a wall in Lyme Regis which was real exciting. On our way back the worst happened and I had to pee in someone's driveway.

Greenbelt; I've already kinda talked about this but I've never been to a place where I know so many artists. It was so nice to be independent but also have a great time with my dad and rest of the family. It was the first time we'd been there alone for a very very long time.

Uni prep; this was wild and I couldn't do it and kinda had a breakdown which included spreading my stuff all over the living room. Finn came over and calmed me down so much.

Coming to uni; my dad brought me up here to Manchester with all my badly packed stuff. We moved in and he gave me this real cute necklace and painting which made me cry which set him off. We set up my room and he left. I just sat down and didn't know what to do with myself. So I did the thing only a normal person would do and knock on every single door in my block in the hope that someone would answer and one person did! It was Emily. I felt so awkward the first time just like sat with her. Luckily I encouraged her to go around again and I met more people. When my family came up to see me we even dragged Dan and Albert out with us.

Freshers; this was incredible. I met so many people at jcr events in Vickies. It was so sweaty and crowded. There were two biggish events for me. The first one was the palaver of deansgate takeover. I forgot my ID. I tried to take the bus back but it took me to the wrong accommodation. Then found somebody willing to buy me an uber and come to my accommodation where we luckily picked up chloe as well. We then finally made it in. This was the night I met Gabriel. Secondly was the night I boycott the festival and met up with randoms in Plymouth . It was great fun even if we don't really talk. However this was all a little marred by Finns breakdown at freshers. We were all so worried.

First semester was just a time of getting familiar with everything and messing around, learning how uni and essays worked. I went to Swansea to surprise Finns for the weekend and he almost cried. Also travelling back from mogs at 2am we just got left by the bus driver which was interesting to say the least.

Christmas and New year: this was a crazy time, we had a really nice few Christmas days. The first actual one was with mum. We basically just ate and watched TV throughout the day. Then there was one where we met up with the cousins which was indeed lovely. Grandma went into hospital on new year's eve, we kinda knew it was the beginning of the end. This meant my entire new year's was nervous but I felt surrounded by friends still.

Now. The here and now. Everything this still crazy. I feel a load closer with my flatmates. We've laughed, cried and gotten drunk. We've danced all night and done all manners of dumb shit. There's been love and slightly less anger. We had an amazing dinner dance the other night and it was truly fantastic to be there with people. After was a also really good fun and we cuddled together until about 7am. Beside my flatmates I've met many great people through our Friday drinks. Aurora, zillion, luke, Danny, jess, gabby and karin etc. I've also got to see kash, aoife and phoebe again. Finn came to see me in Manchester for an entire week so he also met them. It snowed loads and was wonderful. We cooked, slept, messed around, watched films whatever and it was great.

The future-- for me in the short term its relatively simple. I just need to write essays and pass my classes and it's all gucci. However the day after tomorrow is brexit and the who really knows?

1 note · View note

firstdegreefangirl · 6 years ago

Video

youtube

It took me way too long to actually get all of this finished, but I used my road trip with @flyawayrachel for a video assignment for my TV class. Here’s that video, which I LOVE ((and that hardly EVER happens when I make things)), and the world’s longest highlights post -- including all three days of the trip, and also show notes -- is under the cut

Monday

Me walking from Rachel’s apartment to her campus because I needed a bathroom. Then the first building I found ((which did have a bathroom, thank GOD, because //someone// forgot to go while I was stopped in LFK)) being the one she’s traumatized about and can’t go into, forcing me to wait for her in a building where she weren’t, just because I needed to pee.

“I placed ‘toilet’ very high on my priority list”

We hadn’t seen each other since like July, so there was SO MUCH to catch up on

Side note: no more of this three-months-separated thing. We missed too many stories and it’s not OK.

Me texting Madison like “this is crazy but come to Denver with us right now today”

When my dad found out we went to KFC for lunch, the first thing he said was “I’ve eaten at that KFC with your mom before!”

That gas station I made Rach stop at so I could take another bathroom break. Y’know, the one with two stalls in one room and NO DOOR, just a little half-wall between them? Yeah, that one.

“Do we like Frank? Cool, I’m on Team Frank then.” In the words of one of my kids, “VILE FRIENDSHIP!”

“There we go, that’s an appropriate Hitler joke.”

“Do … something cute with the maps.” “Out here? Where people can see?”

Me: “This is gonna sound crazy, but let me text my dad. I think we stopped at this rest stop when we went to the Grand Canyon. I remember the museum.” ((closure time: I was right, we did. That trip was four years ago.))

Checking into the hotel on my corporate rate and then dissecting the agent’s check-in skills in the elevator.

Wandering into the hotel next door because it’s the chain I work at and I wanted to scope out the competition.

Then the look on Rachel’s face when I straight up told their agent “I work at another *brand name* and wanted to see what y’all have going on.”

Snapchatting my GM about the hotel we stayed at and her saying “I bet their FD girl isn’t as amazing as ours.”

Especially when she found out that we had to do the lobby wander of shame because no one told us where the elevator was.

Our hotel room had a little curtain separating the bed and the fold out and Rachel was SO EXCITED ABOUT IT ((see the video)).

Watching all of Indoor Boys in one sitting because it only takes like an hour and a half and Rachel needed to see it

How excited I was about the bedspreads being cuter than the ones in my hotel ((theirs are polka dot AND match the towels in the bathroom; my property’s are houndstooth and the towels are just plain white))

Me briefly thinking the bathroom had no door before Rachel saved the day

Rachel wanting a Frosty at 11 p.m.

Which was easily solved, because there was a Wendy’s in the parking lot.

A much harder one was my sudden and intense craving for curly fries.

Arby’s closed at 10, but Jack in the Box is 24 hour and has curly fries.

So off we went.

ONLY THE ONE WE WENT TO HAD A HANDWRITTEN SIGN ON THE DRIVE THRU THAT THEY CLOSED AT 10.

I called another store and the dude was high key judgmental that I didn’t just //know// they’re 24-hours, as if I hadn’t just been betrayed by a store that should have been and wasn’t.

But they did have curly fries, so I got my curly fries.

Also we went to 7/11 so I could try the Captain Crunch Crunch Berry Slurpee. Which tastes EXACTLY like the cereal. You decide if that’s good or not. I thought it was, Rach decidedly did not.

Tuesday

I literally ate just a bowl of oatmeal toppings for breakfast. No oatmeal, just the toppings bar.

Rach stayed up in the room and slept in, so I brought her some yogurt. Only I wasn’t sure what flavor she’d want, so she got both peach and blueberry fruit on the bottom.

OUTLET SHOPPING. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve been able to just leisurely wander around a mall and shop? Like without having a place to be at a time and/or a list of exactly what I did and didn’t need to buy?

Sam’s Lunch! ((which was then a total bust when they only had like two samples out))

“So hindsight, the Ulta looks further from here than it did from the highway.” “Yeah, you think so?”

The decision to ramen for lunch, which was then overridden when Tokyo Bowl was only one dollar sign on google and the ramen place was two.

Which was totally OK because the food was both fantastic and inexpensive

The part of the car ride where I caught up with my best friend since I was literally a year old.

High Street being just a little bit too fitting in Denver

The candy factory tour!! I’m a sucker for both free tourism and demonstrations. Especially when there’s free samples involved.

Fun fact: the flavored part of the fancy candy canes is NOT the striped part. It’s the inside layer.

Also that little kid in the group with us. “Do they send candy to Idaho? I am from Idaho.” “Do they help the elves make the candy?”

“Should I buy a whole pound of marshmallow scraps?” “It’s only five dollars.” “Right, but then I’ll eat the whole pound of marshmallows and we both know that.”

BRO-dway!

Me forgetting the theatre sharpie in the hotel room and making you circle back to get it, even if it was only two blocks

Our high-quality karaoke sessions in the car. What we lack in training, we more than make up for in enthusiasm.

Just the amount of screaming when we drove by the tour bus

Circling the block twice before we could get into the parking garage

We stopped at a fun little art exhibition thing between the parking garage and the theatre, literally just because the sign said “Under Study.” Then I looked at Rach and said “well, we always say understudies need more appreciation.”

I panicked as we crossed the train tracks NOT in the crosswalk, then again when we crossed the next set in the lines but I could distantly hear a train coming

((side note: Katie is NOT cut out for mass transit))

Tour bus photos are hard, but we made it work and they’re awesome!

I’m now the proud owner of my very own DEH cast hoodie, which I “conveniently forgot” to take home this weekend so mom can commandeer it until Christmas

Backstory: Katie is both afraid of heights and suffering altitude sickness, which results in lightheadedness and shortness of breath in … oh, I dunno, mile-high elevation

We had an extra ticket and decided to RAK it to someone who was sitting in an upper balcony so they could join us closer to the stage.

Which was/is a great idea, except that it required going to the upper balcony. Via the stairs. So by the time we got up there, the altitude sickness meant I couldn’t breathe. Leading me to step out to the little patio thing for some fresh air – usually slightly easier for me to breathe – while Rach scouted around for people.

Lack of forethought: BALCONIES ARE HEIGHTS.

So the first time I meet our new friend, it’s me zipping up behind Rachel and saying something about how I sure really would like to go back down in the elevator and get back to ground level.

Which we did, because Rach knows I’m like this and she’s wonderful and amazing

That made things … a lot better, and I was able to enjoy having a new theatre friend.

Which was wonderful, and she’s wonderful and that was such a neat thing to be able to do.

The Show

So we’ll start this one from taking our seats TEN ROWS FROM THE STAGE.

We’re gushing about how close we are to the stage and how great the view is and everything when I see someone coming up the back aisle who looks kinda familiar.

“Hey … is that Pasek and/or Paul?” “Nah, I don’t think so. Wait … YES IT IS!”

Cue us freaking out and shoving Rachel to the front of the group because I’m incapable of approaching people.

Long story short, we got autographs from Pasek and Paul, pics with Paul and Alex Lacamoire, and at intermission we got signatures from Michael Grief.

People kept asking us like “who those guys were” and we just went “they created the show!!”

Now this is where things are gonna get incoherent, because I spent 15 minutes gushing out thoughts as soon as the show ended and I got home, and I’m just going to type them out here.

Ben Levi Ross’s Evan and I do the same lil hands on face/neck/ears thing when we’re anxious.

Merrick’s Connor did the same little finger gesture thing I do at work when I give people directions to the elevator in my hotel during Sincerely, Me and I basically just DIED.

BLR’s Evan seemed so much less worldly than OBC, but Zoe was grown up AF

Larry was STUNNING and AMAZING

Tbh I got hella Leslie Knope vibes from Cynthia

Larry’s arms around Cynthia and his hand on her shoulder when they talked to Heidi and literally just Larry

Marrick’s rubbing and then sudden/intense nipple twist in Sincerely, Me

Everyone was SO GRATEFUL we were there to see the show

BLR hit the stage door in this amazing vintage pinstriped blazer. I told him I loved his jacket and I don’t know which one of us was more excited about that moment.

Rachel and I crushing each other’s hands the entire show ((it’s been five days as of this writing and the bruises are just now mostly healed))

Marrick missed a cue and the poor bab looked terrified

One word BLR said gave me like alarmingly intense vibes from the cast album, and it’s something I noticed right away, but now I can’t remember what word it was. But it sounded JUST LIKE Platt, in a very shooketh way

BLR tied the tie perfectly onstage and I’m shook. When I wear my tie to work, I have to get up 15 minutes earlier to have time to get it tied the right length

Jared’s Jared was 20/10. Amazing delivery and fantastic comedic relief

There were all these little costume changes from Broadway, since so many things had been thrifted

IT TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG TO NOTICE but Connor is wearing Evan’s hoodie, not the other way around, and I can prove it.

It’s on Evan’s bed during Anybody Have a Map?

I heard a voice behind me during Act Two, and my first thought was my usual “what kind if imbecile …” But then I realized it was Michael Grief, and like it’s his show, so he can do what he wants.

Same thing when Justin Paul used his phone as a light source so he could take notes on the show.

We mentioned to Arron at the stage door that we skipped two days of school and drove nine hours to see the show and he goes “It’s your life. You gotta live it.”

BLR finished the stage door line before Christiane did, so he passed behind her on his way back into the theatre and 10000 percent patted her ass football-style.

In For Forever I totally thought the original lyric was “life will be alright for forever,” not “LIKE WE’LL be alright for forever” and that hit me harder than it should have tbh

Dude, Larry hit me so hard at the beginning, like he recites part of the letter and it took me until now to realize how many times he must have read it over before that moment

Zoe’s wardrobe was so classy

Evan straight up hugging into Connor’s chest at the end of Sincerely, Me

At the stage door, Phoebe almost fell off her heels and said “that’s what I get for wearing stilts. But I’m out here with all these dudes, like I’ve gotta assert my dominance.

It was a Moment, especially when I replied “I don’t even need stilts to fall down. It just happens sometimes.”

FREE OPENING NIGHT HATS. I’m not a hat-wearer, but this hat might just make me into one.

We made friends with an eighth grader at the stage door, and she was so wonderful honestly.

The three of us referred to ourselves as “trash” and her mother looked so concerned

Post-Show/Wednesday

Rachel and I parted ways as soon as she dropped me off back at the hotel, so you’ll have to hit her up for her Wednesday stories.

But we were at the stagedoor when @crazygoblinfreakoutnoise just texted me like KATHERINE *lastname* so I replied like “can I call you and scream?” because that felt safer than texting her in mass caps while we walked alone in the dark in an unfamiliar city.

Then I woke up Wednesday at 4:30 a.m. ((kinda, I had so much post-show rush that I didn’t actually sleep much at all)) and ate my leftovers from Tokyo Bowl before I called an Uber.

Chattiest Uber driver EVER. It was a 45-minute ride and by the end of it, I knew about his divorce, how long his family has had season sports tickets, why he doesn’t go to the games, all the major highways in Denver, everywhere he’s ever traveled … the list goes on. But he did get me there safe

I’d left hella early because the TSA said Denver was super busy and had lots of delays at security. So I’m to the airport a full 150 minutes before my scheduled flight, full of excitement about being enough of an adult to manage my own road trip travels.

Then security took maybe half an hour. Not even that, but I’ll be generous.

Point is, I had lots and lots of time to explore.

And then they delayed my flight 40 minutes.

So I dropped seven bucks on a cup of coffee, trying to combat the two non-consecutive hours of sleep I was running on.

I did get to see the sun rise over the mountains with airplanes in the background though, and that view was incredible.

By the time I got to board, I really needed to pee, but I didn’t have time, and then both of my row-mates fell asleep before we even took off.

Also we sat on the tarmac for almost an hour. So by the time we landed I REALLY had to pee.

Finally got to a bathroom, and made it out to meet my dad, for a ride back to Rachel’s place to pick up my car.

We went for lunch before we did that, and longtime followers might remember the fries that changed my life back in April. I had more of those, and they’re still amazing.

I had to use two of my last four percent cell battery ((look, it’d been a really long day)) to re-reschedule a test. The plan had been to take it when I got back to campus, but then delays happened.

Happy ending: took the test the next day, set the curve with a 94 percent.

#seriously? best trip EVER #katie and rach: destination denver #the adventures of katie and rach #originalcontentfirstdegreefangirl #flyawayrachel #crazygoblinfreakoutnoise #my franns #irl franns #dear evan hansen #deh #deh tour #dera evan hansen tour #road trip #my face #my video #here's your one chance fancy

7 notes · View notes

artdjgblog · 5 years ago

Photo

Innerview: Cathy Fishel / Print Magazine August 2005 Image: Print Magazine Note: Interview for the Print Regional Design Annual.

Introduction: Cathy…Sorry you missed me. Sorry to miss you. Thanks for the message (sorry it cut you off in the middle of your phone number). Things are a bit intense as summer brings a new definition of BUSY. Work. Work. Work. Many thanks for the kind words about my work and I. It means so much. Yeah, I am sure it is chore to sift through all of the junk I’ve been dumping on the PRINT headquarters every March for the past three years or so…(I feel like a true failure if I send less than fifty entries). It is funny because just last week I was thinking about the upcoming PRINT Regional Annual and how I had not heard back on if I was selected…and I guess I have been…how many? And what? I am very curious. I had pretty much written it off. Thanks for informing me…I suppose I was supposed to receive notice upon that a while back…what happened there? Same thing happened to me last year. Out of curiosity I called somebody at PRINT last year and sure enough they had contacted me at the wrong address or something like that…I hope that wasn’t the case again. We need to get that straightened out…indeed. Certainly, I am thrilled to participate in this little questionaire. Wow, i’ve always wanted to. You don’t have to worry about smearing my name from anything said. I don’t care. Here we go… 01) How has the pace of business/number of jobs been in the past year as compared to the previous year? The pace is as thick as I want it and when I have sleep to deprive. I’ve always held other jobs and currently work a massive sixty-two hour weekly schedule as a groundskeeper and a janitorial supervisor…thus, cramming design into my pockets…and whenever I can squeeze it in my free time or find it under the pillow in the wee morning. I never actively seek my work due to time constraints and exhaustion…not yet, at least…and besides, the majority is word of mouth. Most of the time I just make stuff. Some of the time I get a nice little call or email and then just make more stuff. 02) Why is it up or down? The numbers (ups/downs) are slim if you stack them to my three previous so-called “professional” years…of course it’s due to my lack of time…fatigue…getting older…and mostly because I don’t really have a definite connection with my clients like I used to…and I don’t live with bands, attend concerts or am around my clients as much as I used to…(in case you’re wondering, my primary source of work is in the local independent music industry). Also, I am not as twenty-four-seven-gung-holike I was when I first started. I’ve accomplished most everything I set out to do at this point…(perhapsI’m just settling and need to mark a new planner?). 03) Has there been any surprises in the past year? Good or bad? Surprises in my work and thoughts come quite often. Sometimes it’s mush. Sometimes they come as sneakeries. The only real surprises come when I get random calls/emails from kind Print editors, designers requesting copies of posters, people wanting to put me in their books, seeing my work in books/magazines next to my inspirations/peers…and recent college graduates persuing job opportunities with my bedroom design operation. It’s all good…never bad…well, the only bad thing would be that I have to shell out good money for the good books that I’m in. 04) Has there been an influx of a new sort of work or client in your office? In the design community as a whole? Honestly, the only new things I approach are the things that come with each new day and in thought. I try to treat each design day new. Nothing I do is new to the worlds, other than in my own. I do thumb magazines a bit and I am a bit of a junky with design/culture and such…and I do keep my eyes open at all times…though, sometimes too much of it can make me not like design or anything. It’s getting to be way over-impacted with the idea that everyone thinks themselves to be a designer. Most of the only new sort of work that really kicks me (or I even consider new) comes from scraps of paper I find and hand painted ghetto signage. Though, if we’re talking professional work, I guess there is some good stuff coming out of the local climate. And of course I guess there is always good stuff coming out of the woods everywhere. Others might lump me in there somewhere. I don’t really know or care. 05) What is the economic climate like there in general? I was bummed when Quik Trip ended their “Cheap Drink Summer” so soonly…however, I’ve always got the Hostess thrift store two blocks away. I always find free junk in the streets and at work in the trash…and I always find great deals on paper and “whatevers” at thrift stores. No matter if I don’t cash in on design…I’ve always got cheap fuel to burn…and I will always barter for goods and services…if the price is right/not right. 06) Have any large clients closed or left the area? Who? Most of the rock ‘n’ rollers are skinny little dudes and I’m the one that’s gaining the weight around my belt and portfolio pit. There have been a few bands that have broken apart and some that have decided to play musician-designer to save money. And combined roles like that don’t always produce wickedly pretty offspring. 07) Has there been any changes in the ways that clients do business with designers (good or bad)? Not really any changes in clients. People still owe me money. Most people still don’t want to pay much or even pay at all for design…though, they are eager to push the products I slap myself onto and I give them free press in books/magazines. Oh well, that’s part of the deal and I knew that from the get go. It’s more than thant anyway. And I still love them…I am sure they still love me…I just don’t make enough from it to eat. But, I do have some wonderful clients that I hope to cradle and/or have them cradle me for a long time…we’ll see. 08) Is the design community tight-knit? Competitive? Friendly? What? I don’t really associate with other designers due to a lack of time and sometimes, simply want. I do have a few I check in on…but mostly I stick to my own guns. Therefore, I constantly hope my cats and girlfriend understand what the heck I’m talking about. It’s mostly mumbles I’m trying to say though…at least I’m entertained. In terms of the local design community…well, I guess the art/design here in Kansas City is looking pretty good. Even though i’m only in my fourth year, through the visual clutter I can see a few improvements. From what I understand, there is a tight-knit community that I’m not really associated with physically. From the outside, the knit appears to be extremely tight though. These days I like to sit at home and hunch my shoulders…and I like to think and be around people/places/things that aren’t necessarily directly connected to the design world, but they are in my personal one (whatever that means). In competitive terms I guess I fell victim to that last December. One of the best things I’ve ever done was stolen at an exhibition. Poor Mortimer was an only child and I’ve nothing to document him. Either I’m getting somewhat popular or I have a backlash. I’m also getting tired of most of the announcement boards to post posters being smaller than one of my posters (time to break out my little hands). 09) What exciting things are going on in the design community? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Well, I’m kind of excited to see where this city is headed to as a whole. There are a lot of expensive things being built…new downtown developments/arena…and a ridiculous addition to the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art that looks like a giant trash bin and/or trailer home. 10) What are you looking forward to in the next year? Any big changes? Anything that you hope will happen? Well, I am getting married this Fall and thus must condense my apartment. I must lovingly adapt to sharing my artifacts, junk, libraries, wall space and work space with a woman. I also plan to start sleeping on a real bed again…and to quit my night job. She is a good one though. 11.) Why is where you are a great place/lousy place to be a designer? Since I’m a one man show, I can take my design anywhere. Though, it helps to have an outlet to a music community…I guess…if I want to continue with that. I guess with this question, it’s mostly all behind the controller. You’ve really got to chop some trees down to be heard…or just put your head down, barrel through them and not really pay attention. And my real dream is to live in the woods outside of a small town near a big city and have the requests come to my porch via arrows…and to make things for myself. I’ve never been one to worry myself about if I’m in the right place or not. As long as my brain is not too sloshy and polluted, I will be fine. 12) What advantages does the midwest hold as a design source for clients? I was born and fed here. It is ok (at times a bit too honky and wonky). I’m happy with the way things have gone so far. I’ve got a meager following here that I suppose “gets it”…and the norm that says, “That’s different.” Though I haven’t really ventured off much in my design life, or simply, life in general. I hear it’s a mighty treat to get out. And I also hear good things about the midwest’s hospitality and friendliness from outsiders and/or people who get out. Perhaps I’ll pack it up one of these days and try some new turf to ooze between my toes. 13) What is the level of student/job applicant talent? Is young talent staying in the area or leaving? It’s really flattering, funny and somewhat depressing to me that I’ve received many offers from recent design graduates who desperately want to work for me. Some are really talented too…and I must paint my sad tale of no funds or time for me to even consider full-time employment with myself. Maybe I’ll just have them move in for therapy…or start my own school with fire poles to slide through the floors of my apartment building and heaping pile of posters to burn for warmth. -djg

#innerviews

0 notes

ticknart · 8 years ago

Text

Between Busses

Dipper Pines stood and stretched as the other passengers pushed their way into the aisle of the bus to try to be the first off. He yawned and scratched his stomach, watching those who made it into the aisle shuffle and trip over their own feet. He didn't understand why people had to rush. It would be so much easier if the people in the front of the bus got off first, then the second, and so on.

People didn't work that way, though. Logically, that is. Sometimes someone tapped the brake pedal and thirty minutes later there was a traffic jam, despite a lack of exits or accidents. Why did everyone for miles down the freeway have to push their brakes, too? Dipper thought that was an answer best left to the psychologists of the world.

He stretched again, picked up his backpack and checked to make sure it was zipped up before slinging it over his shoulder, and then he sat down. He'd already spent about ten hours, overnight, on the bus, what were a few more minutes? The all night bus ride was the only way he could finish his classes on Wednesday and make it home in time for Thanksgiving dinner. He'd have to do this again at Christmas, too, when the dorms closed. His parents had made it clear that he was no longer a caterpillar, but a butterfly that had been released to the world to find its own way. At least they kept him on their insurance.

He looked at his watch. The bus had arrived about ten minutes later then it was scheduled to. He looked out the window. Mabel, his twin sister, was supposed to meet him at the bus station. Of course, he didn't see her. If it hadn't been for him, she would have been late to everything for the last eighteen years.

He wondered if she was ever on time to her classes across the bay. Two lines into San Francisco went through the station nearest to home, so that shouldn't delay her. The station in the city was close to her school; she could walk without much distraction. The bus to the BART station, though, that would be her problem. It only came a couple of times an hour. If she missed the one she needed, she'd be late.

Less people were coming down the aisle. Dipper stood up and straightened his backpack before stepping behind a leathery looking woman.

As he walked he wondered if he should set some alarms on Mabel's phone while he was home. So she would leave for school on time. No, he should set the alarms for her. He wanted to help her even though he wasn't there with her. The real question was if he should ask her if she wanted the alarms. There were too many times in the past couple of years when she'd get upset at him when he offered help and she hadn't asked first. It was just another part of getting older and growing apart. Too often he missed the days when they were best friends.

There was a time when they were practically inseparable. When she wanted more paint, he would go with her. When he wanted to drool over telescopes, she'd go with him. They both went to the library as much as possible for a long time. They could talk about anything and one wouldn't judge the other. Best of all, though, was when they could just be in the same room together and simply be. It was those times when Dipper had felt the most comfortable in his life. Too bad they had to go to high school.

He smiled sadly as he stepped off the bus, out into the November air. The Greyhound station smelled like stale exhaust, but when a chilly breeze came through, he could smell the ocean. It smelled good and he took a deep breath through his nose to get as much in as possible. He didn't realize how much he missed that smell until this moment. His school was too far away from the ocean to smell that freshness. This was the smell of home and he hadn't known that until this moment.

He shivered a little and pulled the beany he wore down, covering as much of his ears as he could, as he looked around the station. Mabel was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the bus driver, who was supposed to open the storage so that passengers could get their luggage. Like waiting for most people to get off the bus before getting up, Dipper knew it would be easier to stand away from the bus and wait for most of the passengers to collect their luggage before he got his.

"dipper." he heard in the distance and turned his head toward the sound.

"Dipper!" he heard again and smiled.

"DIPPER!" he heard a third time, and started to move.

"DIIIIIIIIIIP-EEEEEEEEEER!"

"Mabel!" he said as soon as he saw her, raising his voice over the sounds of the station, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and just a little bit of anger. "I'm over here."

She turned to him. Her brown eyes lit up and she smiled, "Dipper!" Mabel ran and threw her arms around him. "You're home! You're finally home! I've missed you!"

Dipper felt his anger drop away as he hugged her back. "I've missed you, too."

"When did you get here?" she asked, stepping back from him. Without taking a breath she asked her next question. "Have you been waiting a long time? I'm sorry I got here late. Where's your suitcase? Did you leave it at school? Why would you leave it there? How much of your clothes did you leave at home? When did you start wearing a beany? I like your beany, but I think I liked your cap better. Why did you start wearing a ball cap again? You used to love that woodsman thing that Wendy gave you. You wore it all the time, even when it was hot, and then you stopped. Why was that? Do you want me to decorate a beany for you? I'm going to decorate one for you."

The questions came so quickly that Dipper didn't have time to answer. The best he could do was start to answer, but by the time he finished the first work Mabel was onto another question. She was always exuberant, but never like this. That meant she really was excited to see him. He smiled at her as she continued to bombard him.

Mabel looked good. Her long brown hair was in one think braid that fell halfway down her back. She always talked about cutting her hair short, but never had. Her eyes sparkled and shone due to some trick she had learned while helping with make-up at a local reparatory theater. She wore one the sweatshirts that she had decorated. This one was for Thanksgiving. It featured a family of dancing turkeys with their heads at their feet. He thought it was dark, but funny.

The sweater also fit her better than the ones she'd made and wore through high school. It actually made her look like a woman rather than the fourteen-year old boy her old sweaters made her look like. He'd seen her at home, he knew she had the only things that most boys were looking for, she just wore boxy sweaters she'd bought from thrift stores. Someone finally convinced her to buy at least one fitted sweater. She looked like the beautiful girl she'd always been inside.

"-as the trip? It was long, wasn't it? I bet it was. Did your bus have a bathroom? Did you use the bathroom? How do they keep the water from sloshing out? Is there wat--?" She paused. "What are you smiling at?

"I'm just happy to see you," he said. "I've missed being around you. I've missed your energy."

She blushed.

"I still need to get my suitcase," he said. "It's stored under the bus, but I didn't see the driver when I got off. We'll probably have to wait."

"Is it locked?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"You didn't check?"

"Why would I check? You're supposed to wait for the driver to pull the luggage out for you."

"That's just a suggestion," she said. "Which one is your bus? He pointed to it. She grabbed his hand and pulled.

"But Mabel," he said, "he wasn't there to unlock anything."

"Haven't you been watching the other drivers?" she asked, waving around at the station. "They all get off the bus, unlock the storage under the bus, and then run to the bathroom. We can get your luggage and go."

As they approached his former bus, she let go of his hand and pushed through the crowd of passengers. Once she reached the bus, she grabbed the first handle she saw, gave it a twist, yanked it open, looked inside, and then moved to the next. The crowed surged forward and Dipper lost sight of her as he waited.

It didn't take long before he saw her pushing her way out of the scrum, pulling a suitcase behind her. The suitcase had been gift from her for him to take to college. Mabel had taken a simple black case and turned it into the night sky. She didn't simply paint on white dots as stars when she decorated. Somehow she made a swath of the Milky Way across the front as it looks in the night sky. She took the time to put a true piece of art on a silly suitcase for him.

As she walked toward him, she said, "Come on, Dipping Sauce, we have a bus to catch. A bus that waits for no man."

He fell into step with her and they headed to the street.

The entire way home, Mabel peppered him with questions. Yes, school was hard. No, he hadn't made any friends. Yes, he got lonely some times. His roommate was a brilliant, drunken jackass who he couldn't get along with. Yes, there were buses and they were really crowded. No, he hadn't been to any museums. On and on she went and he answered everything he could. He tried to make is sound like he was having a great time all the time.

One question made him uncomfortable. She asked him if he "like-liked" any of the girls in his program. His answer was no, but Mabel had never show that kind of interest in his love life before. Unlike her, he hadn't really dated anyone in high school. He went to the big dances, but always with a friend and never with someone where romantic interest would follow. Being a beard for was a great way to get a non-romantic date for the evening.

And the truth was he hadn't wanted romance for over two years. That was the last time he spoke with Wendy Corduroy. The time she gave him a very special birthday gift. She was gone the next summer, when he and Mabel visited Gravity Falls and the only time he heard from her was when she sent an "I'm okay" e-mail. After Wendy he figured no one else could ever catch his interest. How often does your best friend become more than your friend but is still your best friend? How did you say that to your twin sister?

They got off the bus, Mabel still pulling his suitcase, and walked the few blocks home. She kept asking questions and he answered, but didn’t pay too much attention to her. Everywhere he looked while walking he saw familiar places. Houses where old friends had lived. Houses he was forced to go to for birthday parties. Many of the houses were empty because of the holiday. Others had extra cars lining the street because of the holiday. He wondered if other college freshmen felt this nostalgic after being gone for only a few months.

"Are you excited?" Mabel asked as they turned onto their street.

"About what?" he asked.

"Being home. Seeing Mom and Dad. Thanksgiving dinner. A weekend away from school!"

"I'm happy," he said, smiling at her, "but I'm not excited. I've been to Thanksgiving before."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"Dur, you're and idiot."

"No, you’re an idiot."

They turned up the walk to the front door.

"You are."

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh."

"Pfft," she said, opening the door and then holding it for him.

Dipper turned his nose up to her and said, "You should really keep your stinky mouth farts outside the house, thank you very much."

She snorted and started laughing. So did he. His laugh came from deep within. It'd been a long time since he'd laughed like that.

When she settled Mabel called out, "Muh-om, Da-ad, Dipper's home!"

No answer. The house was silent.

They walked over to the stairs and found a note taped to the wall:

Sorry kids. Mom was called in to cover a shift and there's a server emergency at work that I have to take care of. Turkey's in the fridge. Potatoes are on the counter. Don't hold dinner for us. I doubt we'll be back. --Dad

"Dangit!" said Mabel.

"It just wouldn't feel like being home if Mom and Dad had been here for dinner," Dipper sighed.

"Yeah, well," Mabel said, turning to Dipper. "Let's get your stuff up to your room then we can start cookin'."

"Okay, but we're not making the yams." He handed her his backpack and took the suitcase from her then started up the stairs. Mabel followed.

"I like the yams."

"You like the marshmallows."

"So what?"

"You don't need the yams to eat marshmallows."

"But they're not warm and crispy and gooey straight out of the bag."

They reached the door to his bedroom. He placed the suitcase just inside the room, out of the way of the door. She threw his backpack onto his bed. He cringed, thankful he had put his computer into the suitcase before he got on the bus the night before. They headed down stairs to go to the kitchen.

"You don't need yams to heat marshmallows."

"Then how do you do it?"

"Mabel, you've roasted marshmallows before."

"That's true," she said. "But tell me this, smarty pants, how do I roast marshmallows at home? I shouldn't light a fire in the middle of the kitchen, should I?"

"We have a gas stove."

"So?"

"You can roast marshmallow over the flame."

"Oh, I guess you can."

By this time, they had reached the kitchen. Turkey was waiting for seasoning and roasting. Potatoes were waiting for peeling and boiling. Cans of green beans were waiting to be opened and combined with cans of mushroom soup and topped with crispy onion things. And a pumpkin pie was waiting to be tossed into the oven to bake.

For Mabel, marshmallows were waiting to be roasted and eaten. She was willing to share, though.

Together, between marshmallows, the twins cooked a successful Thanksgiving dinner. The potatoes were lumpy, but full of flavor. The turkey was juicy and the gravy thick. The casserole was exactly the same as it always was. And the pie was a pumpkin pie, a little boring, but sweet and filling.

As they ate, they watched movies. Mabel choose Alice's Restaurant, as she did every year. It was a movie that rambled like the song that inspired it. The problem was that the movie went on for two hours instead of the twenty minutes of the song. Mabel liked it though and there were some funny parts and it actually took place at Thanksgiving, unlike his choice.

Dipper picked Little Women. Yes, he picked Little Women every year, but at least there were lots of versions of his movie. This year was the one with Katharine Hepburn as Jo. Probably the most perfect Jo ever in a movie. Jo was the reason he choose Little Women each year. She was the first crush he'd had, way back when he read the book in third grade. He'd loved how smart and funny she was and how she refused to live the life people thought she should and choose to live the life she wanted. Every time he saw her turn down Laurie's proposal he cheered. This year, Mabel heard his little cheer and gave him a look because she knew why he was so happy and thought it was silly. That was her word: silly.

After the movies they cleaned up. Dipper made sure to put together two plates of food for their parents. He had no idea when they'd get home. His mother was probably filling in behind a twelve-hour shift and if she had been home when Mabel left to meet him at the bus station then at the earliest she'd be back after eight, but she usually stayed later just talking, and this being Thanksgiving she would probably stay even longer. There was no way to estimate when his father would get home. Any time he had an emergency he called it a server problem because he didn't think his family would know what he was talking about otherwise, so there was no way to know what the problem actually was. His father also didn't say where he was working. Was it at the small office in San Francisco? Was it in San Jose? No way to know.

By the time he had changed into his pajama pants and brushed his teeth, it was still just him and Mabel at home.

Dipper walked over to Mabel's room tapped on the partially closed door, and pushed it open. She was working on her tablet. The stylus flew across the screen He wondered what she was drawing and if it was for school or simply for her. He hoped it was for her.

"I'm going to bed," he said.

"Not yet," she said, "come here."

He crossed her room, shuffling his feet so he didn't step on any of art supplies and clothes she had tossed on the floor. He pushed whatever he could off to the left and right to try and make an actual path from the door to her bed. He stood next to her and waited as she finished what she was doing.

She put the tablet down then looked up at him and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Come on, you rode the bus for, like, days and Mom and Dad aren't even here. And it's a holiday."

"They always miss holidays when we stay home," he said. "Work’s more important to them than us. I got used to that years ago."

"Well, what about-" she trailed off before she finished her question and looked away from him. She sighed, took a deep breath, and then said, "This morning you said that you got lonely at school and, well, I know how hard it is for you to make new friends."

He sat on the edge of her bed and said, "That's what I have you for. You make new friends for me."

"But that's the problem. You don't have me. You're hundreds of miles away. I'm not there for you. You need me."

Smiling, Dipper said, "I do."

She frowned.

"I do need you," he said. "You help me with the things I'm not good at. You help make me a more complete person. But I had to be on my own sometime and learn how to make friends on my own."

"But you're not. You haven't."

"I spend most of my day in labs and doing homework. I could be more like my roommate, he has a lot of 'friends,' but then I'd be drunk five nights a week and probably be kicked out of school at the end of the quarter."

"I just- I worry about you. The last time I talked to Soos he said the last time he heard from Wendy was in April and she's probably the only other person you e-mail besides me."

That was true, but he didn't want to admit it.

"I'm sure she's okay," he said, hoping to change the topic. "The last time I heard from her she was in Alaska working at a husky farm. Can you imagine her planting and watering puppy paw to get those things to grow?”

Mabel frowned, “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Okay then, imagine trying to feed all those fluffy puppies? A dozen or more. They probably jump all over her when they’re not frolicking in the snow."

"That would be the best job ever."

"I thought you'd like it."

"Can she take any to sleep with her at night?"

"I don't know. I'll make sure to ask her in the next letter I send."

"Can you imagine snuggling with two or three fluffy doggies every night? I'm so jealous."

Having successfully changed the subject, Dipper yawned and said, "It's been a long day, Mabes. It lasted all night. I need to get to sleep."

"Okay. See you in the morning bro-bro."

"See you tomorrow."

When he pulled her door partially closed, he saw that she had picked up her tablet and had started working again.

Friday, Dipper spent his day doing two things, washing the clothes he brought home from school and studying. Sure, midterms were over, but it was only a couple of weeks until finals and he wasn't going to start his college GPA lower than perfect. He copied the notes he took in class over to a second notebook, leafing through his text books to add context or clarification. When his phone buzzed he hopped up and headed out to the garage to clear out the dryer and move the stuff that had just been washed into dryer. He thought about folding right out of the dryer, but figured that it was better to wait until everything was clean.

Mabel was not okay with Dipper's plans and she made sure he knew how not okay she was. She wanted to do something. Anything. She thought holidays weren't for homework. Holidays were for fun, she argued. They should head into the city and visit the buffalo in the park or check out the new exhibit at the comic art museum or just get out of the house and stop doing homework. Every forty minutes or so, she'd interrupt him with a new idea. The only way he could get her to stop was to promise to do no homework on Saturday and go out with her to do anything she wanted all day long. He agreed right away because he wanted to focus on his work. It wasn't until Mabel had skipped out of the dining room that he wondered if he had made a mistake.

---------------------------------------------

"Dipper."

He heard the whispered word, but ignored it. It was just a dream.

"Dipper."

The voice was closer to him, but still whispered.

"Dipper."

Turkey breath.

The voice jumped onto the bed and kept bouncing. He knew, though, that if he didn’t move the voice couldn’t see him.

"Come on, Dipper. It's time to get up. I let you sleep all the way until eleven, but now it's time to" -- the bed stopped moving and he felt a body press into his -- "WAKE UP!"

"AHH," he screamed, his head jerking back, hitting Mabel in the chest.

"Ow," she said, sitting back and rubbing where she'd been hit.

"Serves you right," he said, rolling onto his side and looking at his sister. "There are better ways to wake a person up."

"Yeah," she smiled, "but the litter box had been cleaned before I could get to it."

"We don't have a cat."

"Why do we need a cat to have a litter box? Now get out of bed. Get showered. We're going out!"

He watched as she got out of bed and crossed to the door where she turned around and said, "If I don't hear that shower going within the next five minutes I'll drag you into that bathroom and scrub you down myself!"

Dipper got out of bed quickly, be he took his time in the shower. Unless he got up really early at school or took one at night the showers were always cold. Always. The dorms were built to hold dozens and dozens of people, who thought it was a good idea to put in a home sized water heater? Also, he wasn't exactly excited to go out with Mabel. All he really wanted to do was sit around and relax before he had another ten hour bus ride.

He didn't get down to the kitchen until almost noon. Mabel had made a sandwich for him. He was deep into his second bite when she came in.

She looked amazing. Her hair was loose around her shoulders. She wore a sweater that was simply a light purple -- lavender, maybe? -- Not decorated at all. It fitted her better than anything he'd ever seen her wear before. Below that was a darker purple skirt that came just to her knees. Her tights were blue and pink spots on black. And she wore her cruddy old sneakers on her feet. She used a light hand with her make-up, just enough to enhance her natural beauty. Her lips were a deep red, but when they caught the light right the red shown fiercely. People would be staring today and dipper felt uncomfortable for paying this much attention to how his sister looked.

He briefly remembered the first time he noticed that she wasn’t just his sister. They had been playing in the sprinklers in the back yard, running back and forth across the lawn. Sometimes it was a race and sometimes it was a chase. After running around for a particularly long time, he noticed that Mabel was breathing hard. Her chest went up and down in a way it never had before a way that his chest couldn’t. Before this moment, he knew that she was a girl, but he didn’t know she was a GIRL. It made playing in the sprinklers awkward for him. He spent the next several days reconciling the fact that she could never be just his sister again.

"When you're done, we're heading out," she said.

Through his third bite he tried to ask where they were going, but he couldn’t without sandwich leaking onto the floor.

"The Oakland Museum of California," she said, exited. "Pixar's got a new exhibit. One whole room is supposed to be full of the actual models they make before they sculpt on the computer!"

He had to admit, that sounded pretty cool. He stopped chewing long enough to smile at her.

"I knew you'd like it!"

They headed to the bus stop, chatting about what they hoped would be there. Dipper wanted to see a piece of the software they had designed in house to make their movie. That was art. Mabel hoped for something about the color and light and how they were used in the movies. They continued discussing the nuances of Pixar's art as they rode the bus and transferred and rode again. They only stopped when they got to the museum.

Some guy ran up to Mabel, picked her up, and swung her around. After he put her down, she kissed him on the mouth. What the hell?

Mabel laughed, "Andy, what all that for?"

"Just saying hello, sweetie."

The guy was tall, blonde, and ... not doughy. Dipper refused to think of any positive words to describe him. Mabel never had a physical type when it came to boyfriends. Her only type was fun and considering the greeting, this Andy guy must be fun. Dipper cringed.

"Andy," said Mabel, "come meet my brother."

"The one with the birthmark?" Andy asked.

Mabel nodded.

"Bro," said Andy, grabbing Dipper's hand, squeezing, and shaking it, "you gotta let me see that thing."

"Uh," said Dipper, "I'd rather not."

"You gotta," said Andy.

"Maybe later," Dipper said, pulling his beany down lower.

"I'll hold you to that, bro," said Andy.

Behind this Andy person Mabel was talking to an extremely tall, dark-haired young woman. Before this moment, Dipper had never understood how someone could be called "willowy." He understood, now.

"Dipper," Mabel said, "Come meet Zia."

He walked over to Mabel.

"Zia," said Mabel, "This is my brother, Dipper."

She reached her hand out and he took it to shake. "Nice to meet you, Dipper. How'd you get the name?"

She was taller than Dipper was. Her eyes were at the level of his forehead. He looked down at her shoes. She wasn't wearing heels.

He looked up into her eyes. They were dark brown, but he saw flecks of green and gold in them. On any other day her beauty would have stunned him into silence.

"Our parent's hated me," he said, flatly.

Zia's furrowed her brow.

"Ha ha," said Mable. Andy's arm was around her and hers was around his waist. She continued, "he got the nickname from his birthmark."

"Oh," said Zia. She turned back to Dipper and asked, "How does that work?"

He resisted grabbing his beany and pulling it even lower. He said, "My birthmark is in the shape of the big dipper."

"The constellation?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Cool."

“Not rea—“

"Come on you two, let's go!" said Mabel.

Dipper did not have fun at the museum. He spent most of the time fuming at that Andy guy and his stupid actions. Mabel kept laughing, but Dipper was annoyed by him. She shouldn't be with such an idiot. She deserved so much better. And this wasn't the normal protective brother thing, no. Andy was a moron who belonged in an alien zoo displayed as the common puer fraternitatem.

Zia annoyed Dipper, too. She constantly followed him and kept asking him questions. What did she care what his major was? Why did she want to know what he planned to do with a degree in physics? Did he like to travel? What did that have to do with anything? Was she planning to take him across the Pacific to the land of her ancestors?

His only question was why Zia wasn't spending more time with Mabel. They were friends, not him and her. He just wanted to go home.

He didn't, though. After the Pixar exhibit they looked at some paintings, Dipper had no idea what connected all the painting together in the exhibit. Next was a series of photographs of naked people and how they look at younger and older ages. Finally they went out into the gardens. As with most gardens, this one wasn't really worth seeing at the end of November.

As the sun began to set, Dipper started to feel relieved. Finally this was over. No more Andy hanging off Mabel and no more giants following him around. Time to go home. Time to relax and calm down before leaving tomorrow.

"Where are we going for dinner?" asked Mabel, practically hanging off of Andy.

"Let’s go into the city," Andy said.

Dipper suppressed a grunt.

"We could go to Zia's family's restaurant," said Andy. "Get the good stuff."

Zia laughed, "Fine, but no family discount.”

"We're not family anymore," Andy whined.

Dipper rolled his eyes and followed the other three to the nearest BART station.

Dinner took forever and no one cared except Dipper. It was Saturday night, the place was packed and it took them sixty minutes to get seated. Worse than that, while they waited they could order drinks from the bar. Dipper got a cola. No one else ordered a soft drink. Andy ordered a whiskey, Zia had a Manhattan and Mabel got herself a Long Island Ice Tea. She had to show her ID to get it. They all did. He wondered who at Mabel's school was selling.

None of them knew how to drink. Andy kept throwing back his whisky like it was a shot. Zia drank half her drink in a single gulp. And Mabel would fill her mouth up an swish it around before swallowing. This evening was not going to be fun for Dipper.

Zia ordered for them in Cantonese. Dipper was surprised and felt a little guilty for not trying to get to know her. After ordering, Mabel and Zia went to the bathroom. Andy and Dipper sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while before Andy said he saw a friend and left too. Dipper waved down the busboy that seemed to work this section. He gave the busboy a twenty, asking him to keep all the waters full, if he saw any getting close to half full Dipper wanted him to fill it right away.

The meal was the best he'd ever had in Chinatown. Nothing was like that breaded and fried American stuff you could get anywhere, the stuff that always tasted the same. There was some sort of fish, opened up so the ribs pointed in all directions that was sweet and salty. Green beans that still snapped if you bent it. Soup that wasn't quite like anything he'd had before. He wondered how many other places had food not on the menu that could only be ordered by people who spoke the language. Maybe he needed to learn Cantonese so that he could keep eating like this. Maybe he should learn every language so he could get the good stuff everywhere.

Mabel drank more and talked and laughed with Andy and Zia. The three of them were having a great time. Dipper watched the water to make sure it got filled and worried about his sister and about his sister's friends. He didn't know where they lived. How could he make sure they got home okay? It was hard enough to be responsible for Mabel. He really didn't want to be responsible for these other two as well.

The four of them received the family discount for the meal. All they had to pay for were the drinks, except for Dipper's cola. Before they left, Mabel insisted that they go to the kitchen to thank Zia's family. While Mabel, Andy, and Zia talked to the crew, Zia's aunt told Dipper that she loved Mabel like another niece. He looked over at his sister, telling a story and making everyone listening laugh. He understood. She was something special.

Zia left the group outside of the restaurant. Across the street was her cousin's apartment. He had to be in the restaurant early each morning for deliveries. He'd let her sleep over. Dipper watched as the willowy woman very carefully made her way through the crowd and across the street with a grace he never thought a drunk person could pull off. She disappeared around the corner of the building. He hoped she'd be safe.

"We gotta get the two of you to the BART station," said Andy, quite a bit louder than he needed to.

"Where do you live, Andy?" asked Dipper. "We should get you home first."

"No," said Andy, still too loud, "we gotta get the two of you to the BART station."

"Yeah," said Mabel, "the BART station."

"The Bart station!" Andy shouted, taking her hand.

Several of the people waiting pointed toward Market Street. Some said "that way," others spoke in languages he didn't understand. Dipper chose to believe they also said "that way" rather than something derogatory.

Andy and Mabel started walking before Dipper could thank everyone who had pointed, even though he already knew where he needed to go. They were leaning on each other, but Dipper was pretty sure that each was trying to take support from the other.

Dipper kept trying to get Andy to say where he lived. Each time he was asked Andy just said they needed to get to the BART station. Mabel kept agreeing.

A walk that should have taken no longer than fifteen minutes felt like it took hours, but they finally reached the escalators down to the station. On TV it was funny watching drunk people get onto an escalator. In real life, and when you twin sister was one of the drunks, it was scary. Dipper constantly thought she'd fall over, tumble down the moving stairs and break her neck. Fortunately it was only worry. Both she and Andy made it down without incident. They even step off with all the confidence a drunk could muster.

"The BART station!" Andy shouted. "We made it to the BART station!"

"How do we get you home, Andy?"

"We go over there," Andy said, pointing behind him, then pointing to the left, then pointing to the wall.

"I don't understand," said Dipper.

Andy looked thoughtful then shouted, "L to Sunset!"

"MUNI?" asked Dipper. "You need to get onto MUNI?"

"L to Sunset," Andy said again.

During this whole conversation Mabel had been sitting on the floor, tracing the spaces between the brick. Dipper squatted down, took her hands, and pulled her up. With one hand holding Mabel's hand and the other on Andy's back he worked their way to the MUNI Metro's entrance.

Andy bumped into the closed gate a few times.

"Give me your wallet, Andy," said Dipper.

Andy handed it to him. Dipper let go of Mabel to take it. It was made of zebra stripped duct tape. Dipper held the wallet over the sensor and the gate opened. Andy walked through and kept walking.

"Andy," called Dipper.

Andy stopped and turned around and waved. Dipper waved the wallet. Andy walked back over and grabbed it.

Before letting the wallet go, Dipper asked, "Where are you going?"

"L to Sunset," said Andy.

"Yeah," said Dipper, releasing the wallet, "you tell that to anyone who asks.

Andy nodded, turned around again, and walked away.

Dipper watched until he couldn't see Andy anymore. He figured Andy had made the trip home like this many times before, but he still worried about Mabel's friend.

The last one he had to help get home was spinning in the mostly empty station. It was too late for the family tourists to be traveling and too early for most people out on the town to go home.

Mabel saw Dipper coming toward her. She stopped spinning and walked toward him. She took his left hand in her right, held them up, and spun into him.

"Do you hear the waltz?" she asked, her left hand on his shoulder and her hips swaying. "Can we dance?"

He put his right hand on the small of her back and they danced. Mabel's smile was infectious. The station fell away. He could hear an orchestra. The universe was the two of them dancing.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Mabel said, resting her head against him.

He stopped. "We have to get down to the train."

"Yeah," said Mabel, "we have to go home."

Dipper got them down the train platform and into one of the cars. He was grateful for the time day because there were plenty of seats and if Mabel got sick her mess probably wouldn't get on anyone.

They sat as close to the exit as they could.

"I'm cold," said Mabel.

"Sorry, I don't have a jacket," said Dipper.

"Give me your beany."

"It's not going to help."

"You lose ninety percent of your body heat through your head."

"That's not true."

"Come on, Dipping Sauce. Please."

"Fine," he grumbled and pulled the beany off his head, static crackling in his ears.

Mabel took the Beany and put it on. He smoothed his hair down while looking at his reflection in the window. He wanted to make sure his birthmark was covered.

"You shouldn't do that," she said as she straightened the beany.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Hide who you are."

He looked away from the window and at his sister. "What?" he asked.

She reached up and brushed his bangs away from his forehead. "Hide who you are," she said again and began tracing his birthmark with one hand, the other holding his bangs back. She looked into his eyes and he felt like she was looking into the depths of his being. Part of him wanted to turn away, but he couldn't.

After she finished the tail she dropped her hands and looked out the window. Dipper watched the back of her head for a minute before facing forward and smoothing his hair over his forehead.

"Zia liked you," Mabel said.

"She did?"

"She thought you were smart and sweet and cute."

"When did she say any of that?"

"In the bathroom."

"Was this a setup?"

There was no answer.

"Mabel," he said, "tell me. Was this a setup? Were you trying to set me up with Zia?"

"Yeah," she said, sheepishly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think you'd come."

She was right, he wouldn't have.

"Why did you try to set me up at all?" he asked.

She turned to him and said, "I don't want you to be alone. To be lonely."

"And Zia was the answer?"

"No." She looked deep into his eyes again and said, "No, she was a beginning. Like training wheels. A safe way to get you started to do this on your own. So you can love someone and be loved and not be alone. Not lonely."

"Just because I'm alone," he said, frowning "doesn't mean I'm lonely."

"I know but-"

"Mabel," he said fiercely, then sighed and calmed himself down. "Mabel, at this point in my life, I've been in love with two people, but only sort of in a romantic way, kind of. One's disappeared into the giant world. The other- the other's just not possible."

"I just don't want you to hurt."

"Hurt's not a bad thing. Hurt is part of love." He put his arm around her.

"I can't be happy if you're not."

"You can, Mabel. I give you permission to be happy."

They sat in silence the rest of the ride under the bay. By the time they were waiting for the bus back home Mabel had moved out of the sad/thoughtful drunk back to the fun/silly drunk. He just wanted to get home. He was tired, physically and emotionally. He needed sleep to drive everything away.

They got home and Dipper had to push Mabel up the stairs. She had been saying she needed to pee for half a block, but she also wanted to dance again. She wanted to dance more than she had to pee. He didn't trust her enough to dance with her again.

When he finally wrangled her into the upstairs bathroom, he leaned against the wall across from the door and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. It had been a long day. Longer than that stupid bus ride. Maybe the longest day since his first summer in Gravity falls.

"It's your turn," she said as she opened the door. "And you can have this back." she tossed the beany to him.

The beany got shoved into his pocket as he went into the bathroom to do his business and try his best to not think about his life.

After he finished, he stepped out of the bathroom and yawned and stretched, reaching his hands up as high as he could. The lower part of his shirt lifted, causing the bottom part of his belly to show.

"Oh ho," Mabel said, leaning against the wall across from the bathroom.

She took a step and stumbled a bit.

He caught her. Her face was in his. She smelled awful, but she was smiling.

"Dipper," she said as he got her back on her feet. "Dippity do dah." She leaned toward him. "Dippity doppity doo." She drunkenly smiled at him, lifted his shirt up a little, and lightly moved her fingers over the hairs that ran down from his belly button. "I want you to know that I know where these lead." She put her lips to his ear and whispered, "I do." She dropped his shirt and moved toward her room.

He froze. His face and neck got hot, hotter than anytime he could remember. What the hell was this? How did that fit into this night? Into this life? Was this a joke? It had to be the alcohol speaking. Right? Just some crazy drunk joke.

When he could move again, he headed to his room. He shut the door and turned out the light. He climbed into his bed without changing his shirt or taking off his jeans or socks. He stared at the ceiling, but didn't see the glowing stars he’d put up there as a kid, not even his namesake. He didn't see anything above him. He could only see Mabel's drunken smile and feel the lightness of her touch. She hadn't touched actual skin, only the hairs. He shivered as he thought about it over and over. Never in his life had he imagined such a sensual experience existed, let alone that he'd get to experience it.

Sleep was a long time coming that night.

---------------------------------------

"I can't believe my head isn't pounding this morning," said Mabel as they walked to the bus stop. "I drank so much."

"Yeah you did," said Dipper. "I paid the busser to keep your water full. I knew that when you finished your tea you'd reach for the water and start sipping. Why do you hate having a full glass of water at the table?"

"I don't know. I just don't-" She shook her head. "I just don't like it."

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the bus stop. Dipper felt awkward because of what happened last night and he didn't want to talk about it. He hoped that Mabel didn't remember. He pulled on his beany, making sure it was in place, and looked over at his sister. She was wearing another nicely fitting sweater. This one was a dark blue and she'd lightly drawn in many of the northern constellations. His birthmark was right over her heart.

At the bus stop Mabel asked, "Did I barf?"

"Not while I was with you."

"The good ole iron stomach comes through again."

"You feel sick now?"

"No," she said. "Just tired and embarrassed."

"Why embarrassed?"

"Because I was so stupid."

"You weren't the only one."

"Maybe not, but you didn't drink at all, did you?"

"Nope."

"One of us had to be the smart one," Mabel said sarcastic.

"One of us doesn't have a fake ID."

"Uch. The smart one."

The bus pulled up and they got on.

After they sat, Mabel said, "You remember what you said the other night?"

Dipper's stomach dropped. Did she want to talk about last night now? They weren't far from the Greyhound station and him leaving. Why would she want to start something so serious now, right before he left?

"Remind me," he said, trying to play cool.

"You make me a more complete person, too," she said. "I think I need you even more than you think you need me." She rubbed tears away from her eyes.

"I'm only a phone call away."

"But you never answer your phone. You never call back."

"I always text or e-mail."

"Yeah," she said, sniffling. "Sometimes I just want to hear your voice."

"Then the next time I see that you're calling, I'll ask WWMD."

"What would Madonna do?"

He laughed. "No. What would Mabel do?"

"I'd pick up the phone."

"I know."

They got off the bus and walked over to the Greyhound station in silence. They both walked in and over to the ticket agent. Dipper handed over his printout and was pointed to the door out to the busses. Mabel followed him.

"Hey," they both heard, "you in the blue sweater. You can't go that way without a ticket."

"Sure," said Mabel, letting go of Dipper's suitcase, turning around, and walking out of the building.

Dipper stood there, dumbfounded, but not for long because the voice started saying he was holding up the line. Dipper didn’t see any line.

He saw Mabel again in front of his bus.

"What-" he started.

"You don't have to go through actual station to get to the busses," she said. "Remember how we left on Thursday. Straight out to the street."

He felt stupid.

"Kid?"

Dipper turned and saw the bus driver.

"Are you taking that" - she pointed to the suitcase - "on the bus with you?"

"No," he said, handing the suitcase over, "thank you."

The driver put the suitcase under the bus and locked the storage up then said, "I'll give you a minute to say good-bye to your girlfriend, but we're leaving on time with or without you."

"She's not-" started Dipper, but he was cut off by Mabel raising her voice saying, "Thanks. I'll make sure he's there."

"What was that about?" he asked.

"Just easier."

"Yeah but-"

"Don't worry about it. Now come over here and give me a hug good-bye."

He did. She squeezed him tightly, so he squeezed a little bit harder.

She let one of her arms drop and whispered, "I remember everything." She ran her hand over the bottom of his stomach. "And I love you very much." She kissed him on the cheek, but it didn't feel like the pecks his aunts had given him over the years. It felt like a promise.

She let go of him and gave him a little push. "Now get on the bus."

He turned away from her, stepped onto the bus, and climbed the stairs, his hand on his cheek. He walked down the aisle, still stunned. Could another best friend really love him like that?

He found an empty seat and stood at the window. The bus had started and Mabel has taken several steps back. The windows didn't open, but he wanted to get his attention. He hit the window and she looked his direction. Could she see in? Were the windows too dark? He held his hands up to his chest, curving his fingers, straightening his thumbs, and putting the two hands together to make a heart. Could she see it?

The bus started pulling away. She had to see him. Please let her see him, he begged the universe.

As the bus began to turn out of the station, he saw Mabel put her hands into the same shape on her chest then he couldn't see her any more.

Dipper Pines collapsed onto his seat and sighed.

This story was inspired by this picture by @in-your-face-elizabeth.

I could never do justice to such a fun image -- that's not the kind of writer I am, yet -- but it made me wake up at 3AM one morning with the idea for this story in my head and I couldn't get back to sleep.

Also, there's no way I can heap enough praise on the art and writing on her/his tumblr. The art over there is what started me reading this pinecest stuff because I could see that sometimes it was more about the emotional themes rather than the adult action.

#Gravity Falls #Dipper Pines #pinecest #Mabel Pines #fanfic #Original Character #Alliterative Association

67 notes · View notes

mishallaneously · 8 years ago

Note

Hi Nathalie! I'm going to be soloing it in Seattle for a couple of days next month and was wondering if you have any suggestions of where to go/the best ways to get around. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!! Thank you and hope all is well!

i’m so sorry this has taken me almost 3 week to get to but let’s see.

Seattle Must Sees… hm

welcome to

Nathalie’s Unofficial and Last Minute Guide to Seattle

the Obvious:

Pike Place Market: see them throw the fish, take a pic in front of the first starbucks but don’t wait in line cause there are 8 within walking distance that sell the same stuff, eat a pierogi and pierogi pierogi or some mac n cheese at beechers, see the gum wall, get a pizza at the alibi room next to the gum wall, buy some produce or just sample the produce, ooh also get yogurt at Ellenos (get a walkaround of marion berry pie it’s the bees knees)

Seattle Center: This is where the Space Needle is!! if it’s a nice day this is a lovely park to go to there’s a huge fountain! in this area you will find the aforementioned space needle ( he is the love of my life) which you don’t really need to go up cause lbr the view isn’t that great he’s not the tallest boy out there, the Chihuly glass museum which is rad if you like art and siqqq blown glass i rec that hard, and the Pacific Science Center which is nice, there’s an imax there but don’t see a movie there cause i have a better suggestion (MORE ON THAT LATER) also the EMP shit i mean the MoPOP

for VIEWS:

Columbia Tower: this is where you’ll get the best view of everything, it’s the tallest building in the city! you can pay to go up OR you can use the women’s bathroom on the top floor and get sick views for free

Kerry Park: one of the most photographed views of seattle, she’s a sexy one, it’s on Queen Anne and parking can be a bitch sometimes but worth the shot you’ll get. also if you like greys anatomy meredith grey’s house is like a block from here

Smith Tower: first skyscraper in sea-town and u can go up the top where there’s a speakeasy and you can walk around outside. it costs money but it’s rad, i went before i was 21 so i didn’t sample the booze so i can’t attest to how good the drinks are

Volunteer Park: this is in Cap Hill and it’s lovely and green and you can see all of downtown even the lil space needle pokin his head up. there’s this water tower you can climb up and it has some unique views. if you do this, i recommend stopping at Hello Robin before hand and picking up a couple of cookies and some 2% milk to be enjoyed as you take in the Sights! (hello robin is a cookie place in cap hill that is delicious, you can get straight up cookies or a cookie ice cream sandwich with molly moons ice cream in it) ((i recommend trying a Macklesmore cookie))

Gasworks Park: this is over the bridge across the montlake cut and lake union in wallingford, if you’ve seen 10 Things I Hate About You it’s where they play paintball. but it’s an old abandoned oil refinery (i think?) that was turned into a park and there’s a lovely view of seattle across the water, also if you trek up the hill ( Kite Hill ) u can see even more and maybe have a picnic. A great place to watch the sunset!

Alki Beach: also notable, this is in West Seattle so you get a different view. P nice beach but West Seattle is kinda deep if you don’t have your own transportation. If you do make it out there, definitely check out Easy Street records.

To Do:

shopping!!!: loads of places are based in seattle like nordstrom and REI so if you’re hankering for some retail those stores are huuuuge. also thrifting is huge in seattle (this notion popularized by the macklermore ofc), aside from value village and good will you can find some top notch thrifting locations all around with some googling. fremont and capitol hill are good neighborhoods to look!

hikes: idk if you’re going to have time or if you like nature but the pnw has some of the best hikes, definitely do a google search about what’s near by and what you could feasibly get to if you’re interested

tours: ok so the Duck Tours are kinda controversial cause they’ve killed some people before but it’s a great way to see the city. you can also do a Float Plane tour or a water tour of seattle that are both rad as well. I’ve also heard good things about the underground tour but have never done it.

Museums: the SAM is right downtown and is good for art, if you’re there on the first thursday it’s free but that already passed so i fucked that up for you. there’s also the SAM Olympic Sculpture Park that’s totally FREE and is outside and lovely. other than that we’ve got the Pacific Science Center which i mentioned and the MoPOP: the recently renamed Museum of Pop Culture. If you’re on tumblr and you follow me i think that might be a top choice for ya cause it covers a ton of sci fi shows and movies as well as music and it’s pretty dope if i do say so

Catch a movie at the Seattle Cinerama!!!!: do this pls i work here and it’s honestly one of the happiest places in seattle. We’re currently showing Guardians of the Galaxy 2 !!! go to the cinerama get some mixed regular & chocolate popcorn, if you’re of age get a drink, and tell them you’re Nathalie’s friend and they’ll give it to you for free. it’s a state of the art movie theater and i love it tell them i said hi pls

Kayak on Lake Union: if you find yourself in the University District there’s this place you can rent kayaks if it’s warm enough/nice enough called Agua Verde, they also have good Mexican food!

smoke weed legally: self explanatory, find a dispensary, weed is cheap, smoke a joint in my honor

To Eat:

I’ve mentioned a few things but can’t hurt to do some other stuff

Tacos Chukis in Cap Hill are the best tacos I’ve ever had and I’m from LA

Dicks: a drive-in burger that’s a Seattle staple and must have, get a shake too

((Other good burgers: Rain City Burgers in Roosevelt, Lil Woody’s in Cap Hill/Ballard, Red Mill Burger on Phinney Ridge, probably more))

The Pink Door: downtown in Post Alley right next to Pike Place is my favorite restaurant and the creators of the best lasagna i’ve ever had. go there for ambiance and italian food that will leave ur tummy warm and satiated. it’s about to reopen after being remodeled for the last couple of months so go christen it for me. ALSO they do burlesque shows there and other types of live performances

there’s so much other food i’m too lazy to talk about it. honestly, as much as i hate their reporting style and superior-than-thou attitude, you should check out The Stranger. it’s a weekly newspaper (if u can call it that) and they have a “things to do” section that never fails me.

other than that! go blow my house a kiss in the U District, tour the UW campus, see the Fremont Troll, take a ferry to bainbridge, tour the theo chocolate factory, get in a protest, pet a cat at a cat cafe, who knows seattle is the best i love her dearly

if any seattleites follow me and have additional recs feel free to share

#i have made seattle my home #anon #seattle #washington

18 notes · View notes

buckyismyaesthetic · 8 years ago

Text

Punk (Chap. 3)

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 3324 (I know, long. But it’s because idk when I’m gonna have more time to write the next chapterssss)

Warnings: Cursing, low-self esteem, chubby!reader x bucky, idk….

A/N: I’m overwhelmed with the feedback on the first 2 chapters! love you guys and i can only hope to live up to your expectations with this and all future installments!

If there was one thing you hated more than anything else in the world it was clothes shopping. OK, that’s not entirely true. Hydra was definitely up there…and commercials’ whose volume was louder than the show you were just watching so you had the crap scared out of you by some lady who was dancing and trying to get you to buy tampons so you’d ‘have a happy period’ (no such thing)… you really hated when you stepped in puddle on the kitchen floor while only wearing socks…any sort of insect…when you bought a book series but, for some unfathomable reason, the individual books weren’t the same height, because that’s just ridiculous. Why would anyone think it’d be acceptable to have books 1, 2, 3, and 4 to all line up perfectly on the shelf then have 5 be slightly taller only to then revert back to the original proportions for 6 and 7?! It’s was utter nonsense and the people responsible for inflicting such depravity on the literary world should—

Rap! Rap! Rap! “Get dressed!” Nat hollered from the other side of the dressing room door. “I’m going to pay for these. Meet me at the register.” The clinking of hangers and rustling of clothing signalled her departure as you hopped back into your jeans and slipped your “Talk Wookie to me” T-shirt back on. You let out a sigh at your reflection. Can’t wear this anymore, you thought dejectedly. It was your favourite shirt. Faded, thin, and baggy from having been thrown into the wash so many times it was a shadow of what it once was.

But this was your decision. You asked—begged—Natasha to get you some girlier clothes, and that she did. Though she had to drag you through the stores kicking and screaming. She was a real trooper. She’d found things that emphasized the boobs you don’t have, and dresses that cinched to give you some semblance of hips and a waist, and there were heels—God, where there heels. Heels with pointy toes and heels with opened toes. Heels with straps to hold you in and heels without straps designed for you to fall out. And the pants—why were they so freakin’ tight? Your legs felt like they’d been sausage wrapped. How were you supposed to sit or breathe or eat? And why was your underwear always showing when you sat down? And how come all those shirts were so flimsy and short and see through? You had to buy second shirt just to wear under the first one! The injustice!

But it really didn’t matter what she had picked out; you felt like wolf in sheep’s clothing nonetheless. Even when Natasha swore up and down that you looked nice in everything you tried on, you couldn’t see it. You believed what your eyes showed you, not what your friend said. You could still see the fat rolls fighting straining fabrics, pulling at the seams. Nothing looked like how you’d imagined it in your head. And everything just seemed too tight and uncomfortable. And though you were trying on clothes, you couldn’t help but feel naked and exposed as you glared at your reflection in the floor-length mirror.

With a heavy sigh, you trudged from the dressing room to meet Natasha. She handed you back the receipt and your credit card and you almost passed out in the middle of the mall. “This is obscene! This is a down payment on car or a home or a kid!”

“Could’ve just made Tony pay for it,” Nat sing-songed.

“No, no one can know about this!”

“Oh, yeah, because you suddenly walking around like Malibu Barbie won’t be suspicious at all.”

“Shut up, Natasha.”

Being the incredibly skilled spy that she was, Natasha managed to sneak you back into tower without running into anyone besides F.R.I.D.A.Y who didn’t really count as a person and who didn’t really care about operation-get-Bucky-to-fall-madly-in-love-with-you. Natasha didn’t know about the name…

Your bedroom was down the same hallway as Bucky’s and Steve’s, past the kitchen, but closest to the side balcony where Tony had set up a little garden. You liked to go there and read. Or sit in the sun with your fat black cat, Ferdinand, who liked to chase butterflies and lounge in patches of sunlight. And occasionally you’d wander out there to feed the pigeons which you and Bucky had dubbed “Sam’s babies” after you two had lured him out there, thrown a loaf of Italian bread out after him, and locked the door. He’d shrieked “Rat’s with wings!” for days afterwards, jumped whenever someone cooed, and twitched whenever a bird flew past a window.

But you didn’t have time for those sorts of shenanigans anymore, you thought wistfully as you flung the shopping bags into the closet, slammed the door, and listened to the bags crash against it. You’d clean it up later…probably…

A knock sounded at the door. “Yeah?” you called as you pushed against the closet door and glared, practically daring it to open and release the mess from within.

“Hey, Punk,” Bucky said as he stepped over the threshold. Punk. Ugh. What? No, hey Y/N, you’re looking exceptionally spectacular today. And by the way I love you. He eyed the shirt he’d seen you in a thousand times before and gave you a smirk.

“Hey, BB,” you replied with an embarrassed tug at your collar; it was the little pet name you had for him and only you got away with using it. Peter had tried once and ended up getting shoved off the end of the couch rather unceremoniously. “What’s up?” Bucky made himself comfortable on your unmade bed and, as it usually did when Bucky sat in your room, heat crept up your neck as your brain exploded with thoughts of oh my god he’s in my bed, he’s in my bed!

Ferdinand, as he was prone to do, interrupted Bucky before he could speak, chirruped and snuck out from having been hibernating in the dusty, dark corners under the bed for the majority of the day. He wound his way through Bucky’s legs and rubbed his face all over his boots. “Hey, Ferd,” Bucky chuckled, scratching the cat’s ears. Ferdinand purred like a motor boat and flopped onto his back, exposing his belly. Having fallen prey more than once to this so called show of submission, Bucky leaned over and rubbed Ferdinand’s tummy with his metal arm. Ferd pounced, claws and fangs extended, but not even the ferocious tenacity of a house cat could dent that metal and he huffed and hopped onto the bed, content with leaning against the soldier’s thigh and falling asleep. Bucky chuckled and pet his fur. You smiled. Ferdinand, like his owner, loved Bucky, though he was far more comfortable showing it. You often found them snuggling in the living room and, though he denied it, you were pretty sure Bucky slipped Ferd table scraps and was the one who got him hooked on catnip…

“What’s up?” you repeated. The awkward silence had extended long enough for your liking.

“Nothin’ much. Jus’ wonderin’ if you wanted ta come train. I’m meetin’ the rest of the boys down there in a few,” he said pulling the first stuffed animal he could find onto his lap where he tugged absentmindedly at its ears. The movement caught your attention and you groaned inwardly. Ugh! You’re stupid bed. Grown women had tasteful throw pillows and bed skirts…and sheets! Your room looked like the love child of a frat boy and the winner of a Dungeons and Dragons game. Nobody would walk into your room and think; hmm I bet some sexy supermodel lives here. No. Their first thought would be; please find the twelve year old boy who lives here and introduce him to a vacuum cleaner!

Distractedly, you looked around the room. It was your safe place…or at least it used to be. Where you could be Y/N. Where it was okay to have movie posters and memorabilia, where your costumed jewellery could be displayed like the Crown Jewels, where each video game system had a place and shelf, where the DVDs took up a book case all their own, where fantasy books could fill all the crannies and all the nooks. And though he’d been in here a thousand times before, Bucky’s presence, all of the sudden, made you embarrassed of this place and everything in it. Ashamed of everything that you loved because it wasn’t ‘cool’ enough, wasn’t ‘feminine’ enough, wasn’t ‘good’ enough…not for Bucky.

This room wasn’t like Natasha’s or Wanda’s. It wasn’t a woman’s room. It didn’t have a woman’s touch, or smell, or style. Instead it was filled with toys and posters and the sheets clashed with the pillow cases. Nat’s room, when not being taken over by Clint and his mess, was filled with guns and knives and grown-up books like “Zen and the Art of Assassination” and “How to Build Your Own Supercomputer without Really Trying”. Her room had candles and art. Real art. The stuff they hang up in museums. Paintings of cottages and fairies painted by old, dead, Italian guys. The pictures on her wall weren’t purchased at Comic Con. And Wanda’s room didn’t look like it was designed from a page in the kids section of the IKEA catalogue. The Sokovian’s bedroom was filled with puffy cushions and potted plants. Everything was soft and pale and radiated warmth. Her style was minimalist. Things looked clean; her room was clean. She actually vacuumed. And dusted! She used coasters! Her furniture matched; she’d bought a bedroom set. You, on the other hand, bought your night table from the thrift store and paid some college kid three hundred bucks for your mattress after hitting the first link you found on Craig’s List.

“Hell-oo?” Bucky’s voice pulled you out of your musings.

“Yeah, hi, sorry. Huh? What’s up?” you gushed, Good. No, that’s good, not at all weird.

Bucky smirked and you wanted to smack his stupid, beautiful face. “I asked if ya wanted ta come train but ya spaced out.”

“I did not.”

“Did too. Thinkin’ about Star Wars again?”

“No.” Though the new move was spectacular.

“That show with the dragons?”

“Game of Thrones, you know what it’s called you watched it with me. And no.” You pulled the stuffed animal from his hands and tossed it on the chair where you’d piled up all of the freshly laundered clothes you hadn’t bothered to put away for three days. Ferdinand opened one eye and gave you a nasty look. Apparently the movement had disturbed him.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky said with exaggerated understanding. “The one with the naked people! Is that what you were thinkin’ about? Porn?” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly and gave you sly grin before swiping his tongue over his lips.

“No!” you yelped loudly. That little tease of tongue got you all flustered. “I wasn’t!” Great, now he thinks I’m lying.

He blew out a disbelieving puff of air from his nose and said sarcastically. “Sure, sure.”

Your face heated up as if you were standing in front of an oven and you were pretty sure that he could see sweat stains forming underneath your arm pits. You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed, “Really, I wasn’t!”

Bucky, with a mysterious gleam in his eye, cocked his beautiful head to the side in thought. He’d recently cut his once long hair into a shorter more modern do that left a layer of soft, dark curls on top that made your fingers twitch with desire to card through. He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. You wouldn’t think about that stuff at all.”

The fuck that’s supposed to mean? You felt your eyes widen fractionally with shock and your brain went into overdrive coming up with interpretations to what Bucky could’ve possibly meant. What, fat girls can’t think about sex? Is that too repulsive of a thought? To think that someone who doesn’t have a body like a porn star could ever fathom getting down and dirty? You could be dirty. Hell, the things you imagined doing with Bucky, doing to Bucky were downright sinful. NC-17. Rated XXX. Not suitable for all audiences. The things you pictured he could do with those hands, that mouth, that body. Oh lordy, you spent many sleepless nights with visions of you two perfectly entwined, writhing together, gasping for air, moaning in ecstasy.

The silence stretched on for what felt like eons before Bucky slapped his palms on his knees, irritating Ferd who yawned and crawled up to sit on your pillows, and got back to his feet. “You okay, Punk?” He asked gently. The way his voice lowered in a soft whisper seemingly full of concern had your heart fluttering like a hummingbirds. But then he had to go and ruin it with that stupid nickname. The nickname that didn’t relay any hint of affection. Punk punk punk punk.

“Yeah, just tired,” you lied. “I was shopping with Natasha all morning.”

“We went over this; no more books until you get another shelf.” He motioned to the pile of books you’d arranged next to your bed since you’d run out of room on the book cases.

You smirked. He had a point. “We were clothes shopping, B.”

Bucky blinked his big, beautiful eyes stupidly at you. “What? Why? You hate clothes shopping. You never go clothes shopping.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “I buy clothes. I need clothes.” He glanced at the mountain of folded clothes on the chair and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Different clothes.”

“What’s wrong with the ones you got?”

Everything. So many things. They’re wrong. “Nothing, just—I dunno, tryin’ somethin’ different, that’s all.” It came out all mumbled and you refused to look him in the eye, instead watching your slipper clad foot graze the hardwood floor. Maybe you hadn’t thought all this stuff through quite right. Yeah, you wanted him to notice a change, why the hell otherwise wold you blow an entire pay check on a bunch of getups you didn’t even like? But you didn’t think he’d notice. Like ask questions. You thought it would be like in those teen movies where you walked down the stars looking all lust worthy and he’d stand there, mouth agape, at a loss for words by your breath-taking transformation into a certified bombshell. But noooooo. You hadn’t even put anything on and he was suspicious of you. Asking questions. Already looking freaked out. Faaaaacccckk.

“Okay, I was—” but he didn’t finish his sentence as his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Sorry,” he said, picking up the device and looking at the screen.

You smiled, remembering it was you who had taught him how to operate it. You’d found him a ringtone and showed him how to set up backgrounds, even forcing him to take a selfie with you and making it your icon for when you called him. Vaguely, you wondered if he still had it or if he’d decided to go back to leaving it blank, instead of having to look at your abominable face.

“Change of plans, we’re goin’ for a run instead,” Bucky grinned. “Relax, you’re off the hook. I’ve seen ya run,” he laughed lightly.

Um, what? What the hell’s that supposed to mean? Sure, you despised running in every form and you didn’t exactly keep quiet about it. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t do it, maybe not very fast or for very long, but that was beside the point; you could run. Immediately you became self-conscious. ‘I’ve seen ya run’. Oh god, did he see your thighs jiggle with every heavy step as you practically Hulk-stomped the pavement? Did he notice the slight waddle you did as your legs shook with the effort to keep pace? For the love of all things holy, please don’t say he noticed your thighs rubbing together or how you’d have to stop to pull up your leggings as your muffin top bounced loose and pushed the fabric down and under the roll. Subtly, you pulled on your shirt to make it baggier, so as not to emphasise the fat underneath.

“Anyway, I gotta go, Punk. We’re goin’ out tonight. ‘Round ten. You in?” He asked.

You weren’t up for a repeat of last night. Your self-esteem was already shot to shit and if you had to watch another flawless woman wrap herself around Bucky you might just spontaneously combust in a jealous rage or attack any woman within a ten foot radius of Bucky like a rabid dog. You sighed heavily. Just the image of Bucky with someone else had you feeling uglier by the minute.

“Uh, no thanks.”

“Really? Again? You always come out with us,” he argued.

“I have plans already,” you lied. “With, uh, Nat and Wanda. Girls Nite. We’re goin’ out.” Lie. Lie. That’s a lie.

Bucky nodded, lips pursed in amusement. “Since when do you do ‘Girls Nite’?” He made the finger quotes in mid-air.

His incessant questioning was getting on your nerves. You hadn’t planned on having to come up with so many lies so early in the game. This isn’t how it is in the movies! The dude isn’t supposed to ask so many questions! Just accept the metamorphosis and move on! You replied, annoyed with his over emphasis on ‘you’. “You don’t know everything about me, Bucky.” Oh, yeah! Be a lil’ sassy! Be mysterious! Natasha’s gonna be so proud.

Bucky smiled at that. “I know more than ya think, Punk.” He gave you a wink and your heart dropped into your butt. Oh god, does he know? Please don’t know. I’m not ready, I’m not ready. I haven’t practiced what to say or do, I was gonna make a speech and, fuck, I’m wearing this stupid fucking shirt— “Alright, I’ll see ya at dinner then. We’re orderin’ Chinese and rumour has it that there’s pie for desert,” he teased and gave you a poke to the ribs that made you squirm away, not wanting him to prod the blubber.

Ugh, he knows I eat! But, fuck, I do love pie.

“See ya later,” and he clapped you on the shoulder and strutted out the door. Mm mm mm! That walk! He was a typical ‘hate to see ya go but love to watch ya leave’ kinda guy. The sexy lean, the hip swivel, and hot damn that ass! You could watch Bucky strut his stuff all day long. He was one fine piece of man-candy.

You shook your whole body like a dog shaking off water. Calm yourself, woman! Be cool. Be cool. Once the Bucky fog lifted, you couldn’t help but dwell on your conversation and the conclusions you had drawn, mainly that you were fat and ugly and decidedly not sexy. It wasn’t news to you, but the fact that Bucky was even minutely aware of any of those things made you want to fling yourself in front of a bus…at least then your stomach might be flat.

And thinking of that, you looked down at your Pillsbury Doughboy tummy and poked it angrily. “Go away,” you scolded it. “You ruin everything.”

With a deep, resigned sigh you gave up and changed into workout clothes, keeping your back to Ferdinand so as not to give the little perv a chance to oogle. Maybe some kickboxing would make you feel better. You could imagine your face on the bag as you punched away. And while you were at it you could talk yourself into a night on the town—OH MY GOD I DIDN’T TELL NAT AND WANDA!

You raced out of your room, hoping that Bucky hadn’t already run into either woman and mention the plans you’d made for them without their knowledge…Operation-get-Bucky-to-fall-madly-in-love-with-you turning out to be a lot more complicated than you had originally thought.

TAG LIST: strike-through means the tag doesn’t seem to work. If your tag doesn’t work for some reason, send me a message and I’ll take a look.

@hymnofthevalkyries @andimadeitawkward @annadier@notsoprettykitty @4theluvofall @thewinterher0 @avengerofyourheart @fab-notfat @danimuhle @sleepretreat @sociallyimpairedme@iamwarrenspeace @markandjackaremysuperheros@unevenpages @itsjuliefloyd @grabdatgem@fantasticimpaladoctor@criminalist @reedsreadsreviews @duetly@crapythings@anxiouslittleghst@38leticia @Iroa46 @satanicedition @ro-52 @mora-firestone@plumsforbuck2016 @colouredwater@happelu970@spoopyjamesbarnes@magickm00nlady@amyyleblanc1999 @guiltyissues@lunarwolf13oo@rougedemigods @snow107@allheart36@bxtchybrie @lady-sloan@hek-diddly-darn @wintersdoll@sarcasticvodka@garibaypau @xllxni @nalatheblacklion @eileenlikesyou-maybe@mayfeather27@allofthesearetakendafuq @leoberosis@widowsfics@smilingkat @pretentiousaf @the–baroness@musichowler @lillian-paige @that-one-third-wheel3@oceanilserain @iyanahhhh@namastay-in-bed-2002 @immaturityisthekeytoimmortality @kaiyaisbae @cojootromuelle @chin-up-love @abigrumple@harrysbbby @k-nighttt @stephvera @accidentally-in-hell @givemethatgold @just-call-me-your-darling@winterboobaer @kissingwintergoodbye @chasing-after-rock-and-roll@sarcasmdressedinjeans @bootsthemonkeykat @my-little-texas-tornado @zohoffman @the-witching-hours12-3 @helloitspattes @tomlinsonlovers @superscrat @borntodieabitch @bitchy-tacos@summerbummer2001 @silent-yet-significant @jacks-on-krack @cry-me-a-fkin-river @mizzpzpink @basicallybucky @kaiyaisbae @stucked82@loveyourselfcreateyourself @brokenanxiety @smile-sugar @pederol@gallifreyanass @yesiamdeliciouslycaffeinated@sirtheoraeken @kelso7116 @cami23593@wydari @ancchor @theariel85 @lissabelle116@snugglebuck @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @bemself123 @promarvelfangirl @do-you-mind-if-i-slytherin1 @anitavalija @theassetseyeliner @mcuofstucky @feelmyroarrrr @sarahsassafras13@amrita31199 @abovethesmokestacks @tearsandbloodofmyenemies@thebabewiththepwr @mrshopkirk @callmebucky-doll @ursalaismymiddlename @nopevilleluas@thatawkwardtinyperson @theloveablesociopath @whintersoldiers @eireannhwb @wandering-at-midnight @lenia1d @marvel-lucy @confuzzled-panda @5-seconds-of-sebastian-stan @claryfray1698 @echelonwonderland

#punk #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x chubby!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky angst #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #avengers fic #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fanfiction

727 notes · View notes