#I doubt the play will last anymore than a few more weeks on Broadway

[sourkitsch]

My incredibly snobby opinion for the night is that there are certain kind of people who shouldn’t be allowed to view certain types of art

[skellebonez]

Why Worry At All?

I had so much trouble writing certain parts of this out for some reason, which makes no sense to me because I chose to write this on my own without a prompt. But I finally nailed out the in between parts that were giving me trouble! So... Billy Kametz can sing, huh?

Xiaotian knew what they were hearing. They knew it!

They'd heard Xiaojiao before and she wasn't that deep. They'd never heard Sandy but he had to sound much deeper if he could. Tang and Pigsy were out of the question, Tang couldn’t hold a tune to save his life and Pigsy never did more than hum at a much different octave. It couldn't have been Wukong, he'd still been asleep from overexerting himself in their last fight.

So that only left Macaque as the one who could have been singing outside the med bay door.

“But then I guess we know there’s blame to share... and none of it seems to matter anymore...”

It was such a soft tune, something that Xiaotian barely recognized from a video online he watched long ago. Maybe something Xiaojiao had shown him. Something soft and gentle, which made no sense given the possible culprit. Or the fact he heard it being sing just outside his mentor’s room while he was checking on him. But he was hearing it through the door nonetheless. Almost whisper like in how soft it was, it was too weak to have been heard belted from a distance, and muttered almost a bit off tune. That only left it being from someone right outside the door. But why not just come inside?

Unless the singer, who again Xiaotian was certain was Macaque, didn’t want anyone- even Sun Wukong- to know it was them who was singing and they didn’t realize that anyone was in the room with the power drained immortal.

So, like anyone who heard a mysterious singing voice would do, they pulled out their phone and started recording.

The song only lasted for another few seconds before silence, and then the almost deafening in comparison sound of running footsteps.

And as Xiaotian looked down at the recording on the phone, less than even 20 seconds in length, they were struck by a realization.

“... I can use this.”

~

“Well well well,” Macaque said with a chuckle, turning to face the person who joined him on the deck of the self piloting drone ship. Just where they knew he would be at this hour of the morning. “Didn’t take you for a morning person, kid.”

“I’m not,” Xiaotian grumbled, hair down and unkempt and clearly barely brushed just to keep it out of their face. "But I wanted to check on Wukong after what happened yesterday.”

This made the other’s fur stand up and his tail tense, though whether this was because he realized what Xiaotian meant or of it brought his mind back to the fight of the day prior they couldn’t tell. The fight that, for some reason, Macaque left himself vulnerable during. That left him wiped out and barely able to move out of the way of an oncoming attack. That make Sun Wukong rush in and save him much to the surprise of everyone involved, Macaque himself included.

The fight that Xiaotian was beginning to think was going to change a lot more than just knowing the de-powered duo’s limits.

“You’re going to be honest with me for once.” they proposed, joining the immortal monkey at the guard railing he casually leaned against.

“What makes you think I’m going tell you anything?” Macaque asked, chuckling boastfully and smirking that damn smug smirk he’d been wearing almost every minute since he had been taken onto the ship.

The longer Xiaotian saw it the faker it seemed to be.

“Oh, I dunno... maybe this?” They rebutted, pulling out their phone and hitting play on the open audio file they had pulled up long before the conversation, and they watched with their own smirk as a look of surprise and then horror and then something akin to “resigned but impressed” flashed on the ancient demon’s face.

After hearing the other speak there was no doubt that the two voices were identical now.

“Qi Xiaotian,” Macaque said, an almost cat like smirk gracing his face. This one seemed slightly more honest than the last one. “I didn’t take you for a blackmailer. Maybe I did have an influence on you after all.”

“Why were you singing this outside Wukong’s room?” Xiaotian asked, not in the mood for playing the other’s games this early in the morning. “Why were you trying to hide it? Why did you not realize I was in there? And...” He gestured to his phone, the soft gentle sounds of an almost uncharacteristically sweet song playing through his speakers. “What the hell is this song!?”

“Alright alright,” Macaque said, holding up his hands before he leaned forward on the railing. “No need to give the the third degree, great hero. It’s just a song I heard online.”

“You know how to use the internet?”

Turning his head, Macaque leveled the other with a very over exaggerated wilting gaze of disbelief. “I am honestly offended you’d think I wouldn’t learn how to.”

The tone of voice he had did not give the impression that Macaque even gave a shit, but Xiaotian muttered an apology regardless, to which the other simply laughed at.

“There’s this guy... Bill something? Kinds sounds like me, you know. Found him by chance one day and just kinda looked for all his songs and memorized them a long time ago out of boredom.” He shrugged, a distant far off look on his face. “Almost considered just being a copy cat voice for him once, way before I found out where our great King was, but I never followed through with that. Shame, though, knowing I’m on par with Broadway. Probably could have snagged a pretty decent amount of yuan from desperate fans. Don’t really have much use for money, though so eh.”

He shrugged, and for once he sounded... honest. Just honest.

“I wasn’t really trying to hide it, not from you anyway. Just... didn’t wanna deal with Wukong waking up and hearing me sing for the first time after. Ya know.” He waved his hand with another shrug. “History and all that. It was just a moment I had with myself, nothing more.”

Xiaotian took particular note that he avoided one particular question.

“You’re awful open about all this stuff,” the Monkie Kid mused, the two of them watching the horizon slowly move under the drone ship as the sun rise continued. Everyone else would be getting up soon enough. “Even for blackmail.”

“It’s not really effective blackmail,” Macaque admitted after a moment, tail lazily swishing behind him. “Not content wise, anyway. I was bound to be heard eventually no matter how much I hid. Think of this as more a... reward for you being able to catch me unaware. Take a lot of skill to do that with my ears.”

“I know most of your powers are gone too,” Xiaotian said bluntly, dropping the real piece of information he was here to hold over the other’s head out in the open, and that got Macaque to freeze instantly. “Not like ours are but... I dunno. I didn’t really think that far ahead. But if you still had most of them we wouldn’t be talking right now. You ran away instead of just whooshing into the shadows I know were in the hall. You’ve been wearing earplugs since we let you stay, I saw Sandy give them to you and you’re even wearing them right now, but even with your hearing dulled you would have been able to know I was in that room. You’ve been walking through doors instead of just vanishing. I don’t think I’d seem you walk through one except for at the shadow play before last week, and that was obviously to get my attention. I don’t think I’ve seen you make a clone or transform either, or manipulate a single shadow. Why not flaunt your powers over us, knowing we don’t have ours since you’ve made a point to annoy us about our lost abilities, unless you don’t have yours too?”

The elder said nothing, only growled and glowered out at the horizon before letting out a deep sigh.

“You really are a good kid,” he said with a humorless chuckle. “Smart, too, when actually you put your mind to stuff. But you’re only half right.”

“What do you mean?” Xiaotian asked in shock, amazed that the other was even still admitting to anything point blank at this point.

“I still have all my powers, it’s just... Not a good idea for me to use them too much,” he said vaguely, shrugging his shoulders and turning to walk away from the young man in a way that clearly indicated this line of conversation was over with. “I know you can keep a secret, kid, so do me a favor. Keep quiet about this.”

That same humorless chuckle, the one the young man now realized was more common from the demon’s mouth than not, sounded as he stepped into the forming shadows of the driver’s post from the rising sun and seemed to fall and melt into the floor in an instant.

Xiaotian couldn’t help the flinch that ran through their body at the implications of that final sentence. His training of Xiaotian. The second meeting. The Calabash.

The White Bone Spirit...

“Asshole,” Xiaotian muttered under their breathe, taking the door instead.

~

The very first thing Xiaotian was greeted with when they entered the communal kitchen was low and muttered but still the less than whispered tune of a song by a pop punk bank from overseas.

“Why do we worry at aaaaall,” Macaque sang just loud enough for everyone around him to hear, the baffled and in some cased impressed faces of everyone (barring the presumably still resting Wukong) looking in his direction as he seemingly ignored them to prepare his own fruit based breakfast. “Why, just tell me why do we worry? When worries never happen tell me why, why worry at all?”

When Macaque turned to look at Xiaotian he smirked almost playfully, winking at him.

And the only thing that ran through Xiaotian’s head was “there goes half of my blackmail... asshole.”

Though... when he looked closer...

Macaque seemed oddly tired.

Did he have the dark bags under his eyes during their conversation before?

[flyingkiki]

A Very Merry Christmas (2/4)

Full steam ahead! I'm back for more steamy TimRae content! Enjoy, my loves.

Chapter One is HERE. A Very Merry Christmas, Chapter 1.

~~

“Good morning.”

Raven tensed and immediately looked over her shoulder to see Bruce, dressed in pajamas, appear under the arch of the living room’ doorway. She blinked, surprised at how she was not able to catch his aura or emotions – but then again, that would be Batman for you. It stunned her at times how she could oftentimes read nothing from the man. She watched him walk into the room, his movements not making a sound.

“Good morning,” she replied, offering a small smile before involuntarily folding her arms across her chest. Tim’s soft sweater offering some comfort. “You’re up early.”

The corner of Bruce’s lips quirked just a little bit in response. “I’m usually up at this time to prepare for work and start the day,” he replied.

Raven hummed lowly in agreement and returned to staring out the window. It was still dark outside; sunlight would be in another couple of hours thanks to winter. The garden lamps outside illuminated the snowy garden beautifully and Raven had spent the last few minutes just staring blankly out the window and watching illuminated snowflakes drift from the sky.

“Tim’s practically the same. Though he usually stays up until dawn for work and catches whatever little sleep he can. It’s horrible,” Raven said, a fond smile playing on her lips at the memory of Tim hunched over a laptop in his bedroom back in Gotham. “Though he usually gets into bed with a few threats,”

Bruce sighed. “He works himself to the bone.”

“He does.” Raven agreed.

A heavy silence fell over them as Bruce and Raven continued to stare out the window. Raven shifted, pressing her arms just a little tighter to her chest as her discomfort grew. Perhaps it would have been best to have just stayed in bed with Tim. She shot Bruce a quick glance before watching a few snowflakes disappear into a rosebush.

“Thank you for taking care of him,”

Raven starts, looking up at the sudden confession. She blinked, feeling the faint whispers of emotions from Bruce. Her fingers curled into Tim’s sweater as she mulls over Bruce’s words. Raven tilted her head just a little bit and released a soft breath. “He’s been taking care of me too,” she replied, silently recalling her own personal struggles recently.

“We all went through some difficult times,” Bruce said, his voice low in the quiet of the room. Raven held her breath, watching as a few emotions flickered across his face. “Tim more so. I – I,” Bruce blinked and paused, visibly struggling with words. Inhaling softly, Bruce absently tapped the mug he was holding. “I have many regrets.”

Raven felt her stomach twist and she watched Bruce swallow. “You’re trying now,” she said after finding her voice. “Tim knows that. He’s trying too,”

Bruce stared out the window, seemingly lost in thought. Raven saw a broken expression flicker in his eyes briefly, before turning to Raven and offering a small smile. “I love my children though I’m terrible at showing it,” He told her. He inhaled softly and released a rueful chuckle. “I’d never imagine parenting to be this difficult,”

Raven tilted her head and smiled. “It doesn’t come with a user manual, does it?” Bruce returned the smile. Her lips quired at a thought. “Though I’d doubt you’d be type to read the manual.” A fond expression crossed her face and a smile played on her lips as she turned back to the window. “I’d think Tim would though.”

Bruce chuckled and nodded his head. He returned to watching the snow too. “That’s right.”

Raven dropped her hands from around her, tension leaving her. It was still pretty early, perhaps it would be good to return to bed briefly before everyone woke up. Bruce may like some time alone, after this rather strange heart-to-heart encounter. “I –”

“I’m sorry,”

Raven paused and stared wide eyed at Bruce. She held her breath, starting up at the older man expectantly. “Bruce,” she whispered. A swarm of mixed emotions blossomed in her chest and she watched as Bruce looked at her with a rare, apologetic look.

“13 years ago, we made a terrible mistake. We allowed our prejudices cloud our judgement and refused to help a 13-year-old girl asking for our help,” Bruce stared at Raven, for a moment seeing that distraught young girl. He paused and watched Raven’s surprised reaction. “We are an institution that is supposed to help. But we failed you. I have seen your work and the Titans you have built over the years, I’d like to think you’ve become a hero far greater than most of us. I deeply regret our decision – my decision – on that day. I know that trust is hard to build but, I’m sorry for what happened on that night. I hope you can forgive me for my mistakes,”

Raven inhaled softly and for a brief second she remembered that night at the Watch Tower and the silence she received from the Justice League. She remembered Batman and his empty emotions, and she looked up at the same man now and felt his emotions, regret, tickle her own. It took her aback. “Bruce,” she whispered. She blinked, pulling herself out of the memory. “I—thank you,” she whispered. She gave him a rueful smile. “You were being a parent, protecting his home,”

Bruce swallowed, an emotion flickering in his eyes. His lips quirked into a rueful smile of his own. “I’m a parent now trying to correct and learn from my mistakes,”

~

“I’m kinda hurt you didn’t tell me,” Dick shot Raven a playful smile over the kitchen counter as they helped Alfred prepare breakfast later that morning.

Raven rolled her eyes and transferred some fresh pancakes on a plate. “You didn’t tell us you and Star were dating. Just taking notes,” she shot back.

Dick snagged a strawberry from the plate she prepared, much to her annoyance. “Told you a week after,”

“Well, you know now.” Raven replied and pushed the plate of finished pancakes towards Dick. She raised an eyebrow as he eyed the pancakes skeptically. “Alfred made them,” she said. She had been delegated to plating duty after confessing to Alfred that she wasn’t very much useful in the kitchen outside from making tea and toast. Tim had been trying to teach her to cook, but what little time they had together was not spent in the kitchen, admittedly (more like the kitchen floor, but that wasn’t something she would openly admit to Tim’s family). Alfred had promised her to teach her to make Tim’s favorite cookies later though. She hoped they’d be passable.

Dick took another strawberry from the plate. “Yeah. Over a year late,”

They heard Alfred putter in the background, finishing up a final batch of pancakes. Raven dutifully waited by the counter for the final few pancakes for her to plate. “To be fair, nobody really knew.”

Dick propped his elbow on the counter and dropped his chin into his hand as he eyed her. His face contorted. “I feel bad that you felt like you had to keep it a secret,” he told her.

Raven shrugged her shoulders dismissively. She absently rolled a blueberry between her fingers. “Don’t be. We just wanted privacy,” she smiled. “It was nice keeping this just for us,”

“Something as precious as love is always best kept close,” Alfred offered Raven a pleasant smile as he placed a final stack of pancakes in front of her ready for plating. Raven returned the smile, the warm emotions of Alfred tickling her own.

Raven hummed in agreement and the three shared amused smiles. “Besides,” continued Raven and started distributing pancakes onto different plates. “I honestly did not want Gar or Jinx annoy the crap out of me with all their teasing.”

Dick made an agreeing sound in the back of his throat. “I’m still surprised nobody caught on.”

The corners of Raven’s lips quirked just a little bit. “I think Cyborg got suspicious at one point. He caught me once when I was not in the Tower. I leave my comms with the tracker in my room when I go out,” at the look of Dick’s disapproving face, she rolled her eyes. “And take my untraceable comms with me, every time. My tracker said I was at the tower but I wasn’t in my room. Cy got a suspicious. Told him I had to return a book. We were actually in New York,”

Dick raised his eyebrow. “New York?”

“Broadway.” Raven smirked. “Hamilton.”

Dick rolled his eyes at her smirk. “Cyborg’s going to blow a fuse.”

Raven chuckled and nudged all plates into his direction, ready for serving to the rest of the Batfamily. “To be honest, I’m kind of disappointed none of you caught on.”

Tim took this time to shuffle into the kitchen, still in his pajamas and looking disheveled and sleepy. “Terrible detective skills if you ask me,” he yawned and shot Dick a sleepy grin. Dick retaliated by quickly giving his younger brother the finger just as Alfred turned his back on them. Tim maturely returned the finger while crowding into Raven’s space and throwing an arm around her waist.

“Morning,” Tim offered Raven a sleepy smile and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I was wondering where you went.”

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” Raven shrugged and smiled. She handed Tim one of the plates with pancakes and blueberries.

Jason made a face as he entered the kitchen for his plate of pancakes. “Please don’t talk about your sex lives this early in the morning. We do not want to know what kept you up all night,” he shot Tim an annoyed look.

Dick looked scandalized and shot Jason a dark glare. “Jason!” The last thing he wanted to hear was that his little brother and one of his best friends were having sex. Dick felt a little sick.

Jason lazily leaned over the kitchen counter and pointedly stared at Dick with a bland expression. “Don’t say you didn’t too!”

“You are terrible,” Tim frowned and made a grab for the coffee pot.

Jason pointed a finger at Tim and offered him a wink. “I know it,”

Raven rolled her eyes and shoved a plate of pancakes for Jason to take. She watched him grudgingly take the stack and her lips quirked just a little bit. Despite the storm of emotions Jason usually carried with him, she could feel the light banter behind his words.

“Let’s have breakfast, shall we?” Alfred appeared at the foot of the kitchen island carrying a tray of coffee and hot chocolate. “I am sure Master Bruce and Master Damian are already waiting and hungry,”

They all nodded in agreement and shuffled around the kitchen island, picking up plates of pancakes and trays of fruits. Tim nudged Raven gently and they exchanged small smiles. “All good?” he asked her as they followed the rest of the group towards the dining area.

Raven hummed softly and nodded. She felt Tim’s gentle brush of concern and she nodded. Recalling the early morning conversation with Bruce, she realized what tension was left in her shoulders had disappeared. Offering Tim a smile, she juggled the plates of pancakes in her hands and nudged her concerned boyfriend with her shoulder again. “All good,” she replied softly only for them to hear. Entering the dining area, they joined the rest of the Batfamily at the table, depositing stacks of pancakes in front of everyone. Raven caught Bruce’s eye as she settled down next to Tim. The older man offered a small smile and nodded in her direction. Returning Bruce’s smile, Raven allowed herself to slowly let go of her worries of the past. All was good.

~

“And this is still Wayne property?” Raven asked, her voice carrying through the cold winter air. She surveyed the frozen forest, appreciating the sight of a pure white landscape. They were a good distance from the house, walking past a frozen lake and over a snowy hill.

After two days of just staying indoors, baking (and taking out fires that came with it), board games, and movies, Tim had decided they both needed a break from the rest of the group. While he loved his family and it warmed his heart to see Raven slowly take to the rest of the Batfamily, they both needed some much-needed alone time. There was just so much smothering and sex jokes he could take from Dick and Jason.

They decided a quick hike into the forest would do them some good. Raven suggested they take his old camera with them so he could do some photography. Most of the pictures he took were of Raven though, admittedly.

“Yeah, sort of?” Tim replied, lowering his camera after taking a photo of a snow bunny. He smiled as the little creature scurried away after catching sight of them. Turning back to Raven and watching her carefully step over a dead log.

“Sort of?” Raven looked up and eyed him curiously.

“I think this is the edge of the property?” Tim looked around in the clearing they were in, cataloging the trees and calculating the distance they had walked. “Yeah, pretty much the edge of the property.”

Raven stuffed her gloved hands into her jacket and bounced on her heels to get some warmth into her body. “It’s such a huge property,” she whispered and watched her breath condense. There was a winter snap lingering in Gotham and it had been snowing for days. Thankfully it had stopped snowing today. Raven looked around briefly, appreciating the snowy quiet.

“Apparently B’s great grandparents kept this place as a farm back in the day. There’s a really old barn at the back of the house,” Tim told her. He absently took a photo of the dead tree branches, capturing the spiny outline they cast in the sky. He threw an amused smile over his shoulder. “Farming didn’t stick with Bruce. It really wasn’t his hobby of choice,”

Raven chuckled in amusement and stepped up to him, watching as he took a few more landscape photos and clearly enjoying himself. She was glad they were able to do something he liked. “That’s good. I don’t think any of you would be great farm boys,” she teased.

“Hey,” Tim chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I’d invent something to speed up farm processes in no time. Shouldn’t be too difficult,”

“Careful,” Raven chided, purple eyes danced in amusement and she quickly sidestepped Tim as he tried to reach for her. “Your nerd is showing,”

Tim released a loud bark of laughter. Reaching out with his gloved hand, he tried to make a grab for her. Snorting at her playfulness and he watched her slip out of his reach. “Raven,” Tim whined playfully and dropped his camera to dangle over his shoulder. Quickly catching up with her, he caught her wrist and pulled her towards him. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he chuckled as she squirmed in his grasp and tried to elbow her way out of it. Tim grinned at her frustrated whine and tsked lowly in the back of his throat. “So mean,”

Raven let out a soft huff and stopped wriggling. Leaning into his embrace, she conceded to the fact that she was not slipping out of Tim’s embrace (though honestly, with a little fight she could, really). Inhaling Tim’s familiar aftershave, she slowly melted into his embrace and relished the familiar warm press of his body against hers. Coming up to her toes, she pressed a clumsy kiss to his flushed right cheek. “What are you going to do about it?” she whispered playfully into his ear.

Tim groaned. “Raven,” he whispered and held her closer, fingers digging into her hips. Adjusting his hold around her, he leaned forward and captured her lips into a needy kiss. He felt her breathy chuckle and wrap her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Ignoring the biting cold and the uncomfortable press of his camera into his ribs, Tim sighed and savored the kiss. Humming softly at the kiss, Tim slipped one of his hands down her back and cupped her ass.

Feeling his hot flare of emotions feed her own and the tantalizing grope of her butt, Raven inhaled softly and pulled herself away from Tim. “Tim,” she breathed and dropped her chin on his shoulder, steadying her heartbeat and quickly glancing around the empty forest. “Someone might see,” she whispered, and swallowed as Tim continued to press closer to her and hotly press a kiss into her neck.

Slipping his hands away from her butt and over her hips, Tim ignored her and shifted both their hips towards each other into a delicious press that simply made the freezing outdoor temperature disappear. Pressing another needy kiss onto the underside of her chin, Tim sighed against her skin. “We’re alone,” he whispered, and hands traveled again over her back.

“Tim.” Whispered Raven, her words disappearing into a sigh as she melted into another long kiss. Her gloved fingers curled into his thick winter jacket to steady her as she felt his slick tongue slip against her own. A warmth bubbled lowly within her, and she keened softly, knees growing week and desperately chased after his lips. The cold wind tickled her flushed, warm cheeks, seemingly adding fire to the heady emotions.

Raven gasped as Tim shifted them ever so slightly, one strong leg slipping in between hers and gently pressing against the growing heat between her legs. Teeth scraped against her jaw and her fingers dug deep into his jacket as she felt her emotions purr. She whimpered as she felt his soft breathing in her ear.

“Tim,” whispered Raven, eyes flying open as she heard the distant snap of a twig. She blinked, pulling away but holding onto the man in front of her and relishing Tim’s hot breath fan over her cheek. She briefly looked over his shoulder, just to make sure they were alone.

Tim chuckled softly, swallowing and catching his breath. Catching on her worry, Tim pressed forward and kissed her cheek gently. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Finding his center, he straightened and pulled Raven’s hands away from his back. Slipping his gloved fingers against her left hand, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s walk around a bit?”

Raven hummed and nodded, allowing Tim to tug her along through the snowy forest. They remained quiet for the most part, catching their emotions and enjoying the quiet noise the forest had to offer.

They reached another clearing with a massive tree off the center. Tim tugged her towards the tree and pointed at the large treehouse that sat up in the baren branches. “We built that when the little demon spawn came to live with us,” he told her.

The tree house was large, made of old, sturdy wood, and obviously built to last. It stood out in the white snowy background. Raven squeezed Tim’s hand and eyed him curiously. “You built that for Damian?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. He threw her an amused smile and pulled her towards the tree. “We thought it would make the eight-year-old brat less, uh, deadly. You know, give the kid a treehouse to have some semblance of a childhood, not that any of us really knew what that was, really.”

Raven’s lips curled into a small smile and followed Tim towards the back of the tree. “Did he like it?”

Tim brushed away some snow from the steps that were fixed to the side of the tree. He snorted and gave Raven a wry grin. “He knocked out Jason and left him tied up in this treehouse for 6 hours,” he told her.

Raven frowned and watched as Tim started to climb up the small stairs. “What are you doing?”

Tim threw an amused smile over his shoulder as he stopped his climb up the stairs. “C’mon. Don’t you want to check it out?”

Raven drew her brows together and eyed the large structure skeptically. “Is this even safe?”

“You of little faith,” Tim chuckled. He continued his short climb up the steps and pushed against the floor door to open it. When it released from its internal lock, he looked down and saw Raven at the foot of the stairs. “We built the Batcave. This is basically a fortress of treehouses,”

Raven rolled her eyes and slapped his calf. “Shut up. Your nerd is showing again.” She smiled as he caught her eye and laughed. Raven watched Tim jostle the door a bit more before pushing it open. He climbed throw the hole and turned around to stick his hand out and help Raven through the door. Climbing through the hole, Raven was sure she heard the old treehouse creak under their weight but kept quiet.

“Some fortress,” Raven said dryly, looking around the bare room. An old table stood in one corner of the treehouse. She watched Tim remove his camera from his shoulder and carefully place it on the table.

Tim rolled his eyes at her and walked around the space, looking out one of the two windows. “It’s a treehouse, what do you expect?”

“I don’t know. Maybe like a BatTreehouse?” she teased. She leaned against the window from of the other window and briefly looked out before turning back to an amused Tim.

Tim’s lips quirked into a silly smile and watched Raven in amusement. It was nice seeing her relaxed and with her guard down. “Aren’t you a tease today?”

Raven snorted and crossed her arms. Her purple eyes shone playfully catching Tim’s shift of emotions. Two could play that game. Tilting her head, she raised an eyebrow in mock challenge. “I am?”

Tim hummed his confirmation and moved away from the window, slowly crossing the small space. A familiar glint in his eyes. “Very.”

Raven raised a delicate eyebrow as she watched Tim draw closer to her. The emotions in the room shifted and it suddenly did not seem too cold. A pleasant warmth spread low in her abdomen and her senses tingled in anticipation. “Are you complaining?”

Tim chuckled, stopping in front of Raven and placing both of his hands on her hips. Smiling mischievously, he leaned forward and pressed a gently kiss on her cheek. “Hardly,” he mumbled into her skin. Shifting his hands, he drew her into an embrace, pressing her small form towards him.

“Good,” Raven mumbled into his shoulder, melting into the warm embrace and closing her eyes. Inhaling Tim’s familiar smell and relishing the solid press of his body and warmth against hers, Raven sighed in content. Despite her initial hesitations to go out for a long walk in the cold weather, she was glad to spend some alone time with her boyfriend and get away from all the new emotions at the house. Enjoying the quiet, Raven sighed softy and drew her arms tighter around Tim.

Feeling her shift in his arms, Tim tilted his head and eyed her curiously. “Everything alright?” he asked, voice low and carrying softly through the cold afternoon. He smiled when he felt her nod against his shoulder. Running his hand up her back, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Though,” Raven voice was mumbled against his shoulder. “I’m still disappointed that this is not a BatTreehouse.”

Tim laughed and his arms drew her tighter to him. “Hey,” he squeezed her waist and grinned at the soft chuckle from her. “I’ll have you know there are definitely weapons in this treehouse,”

Raven snorted and propped her chin on his shoulder. She smiled in amusement. “Of course,”

Rocking them gently, Tim squeezed her hips. He pressed his lips closer to her ear, earning a soft shiver from her form. “Such a tease,”

Leaning up and pressing into him, Raven relished Tim’s warm emotions. Curling her fingers into his upper arms, Raven leaned up and kissed the underside of his jaw. Her skin hummed in silent anticipation. Raven sighed. “I hear no complaints,”

Tim ran his right hand down her back and gently cupped her ass through her jeans. Releasing a soft chuckle, Tim easily caught her lips in a breathy kiss. “No complaints here,” he mumbled against her lips. He sighed softly as she readily responded to the kiss with her arms curling around his neck, drawing both of them closer.

Raven felt his warm emotions press into her and she readily responded in kind, raising to her toes and pressing into Tim’s lips. A soft moan escaped her lips as Tim pressed into her, pushing her against the old wooden wall. His strong fingers pressed through the thick layers of clothes into her hips, and she sighed softly at the pressure.

She felt him shift, hips pressing into hers greedily, and she felt her skin tingle in anticipation and her mind fog. Releasing breathy moan into Tim’s hot kisses, Raven pulled Tim closer. Heat started to pool low in her abdomen and Raven groaned as Tim tilted her head and kissed her deeply, parting her lips and slipping his tongue against hers.

Tim shifted them, greedily drinking in her softy sighs and pressing his right leg in between hers. Grazing his teeth against her jaw, Tim groaned as she shifted her hips and brushed against his own growing desires. “Raven,” he whispered into her neck, her soft scarf tickling his nose. He was faintly aware he was making out with his girlfriend in an old treehouse. How cliché. Tim felt Raven’s fingers curl into his winter jacket, and she shifted against him, hips urgently pressing into his. Fuck.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Raven whispered, lost in the fog of hot emotions. Eagerly lapping up Tim’s warm emotions, Raven leaned up and captured his lips in a heady kiss. She moaned softly as his tongue slipped against hers, teeth catching against lips. His right leg pressed into her, adding a delicious pressure in between her legs. She unconsciously bucked her hips, chasing after the hard pressure. Heat rushed through her and she sighed breathily.

She was vaguely aware of Tim pulling off his gloves. She felt one of his cold hands slip behind her head, threading into her hair and knocking off her black bonnet. Tim tugged her hair gently and titled her head up, kissing her deeply. Pressing into him and bucking into his leg for release, Raven heard Tim’s low groan.

She gasped loudly and pulled away from his demanding kisses as cold nimble fingers had slipped under her jacket and thick sweater and danced over the hem of her jeans. Cold fingers pressed into her heated skin and she whimpered softly. Unrelenting, Tim pressed forward and pushed her harder into the wall behind her. Fingers danced over the hem of her jeans as Tim instead started to kiss her neck, teeth hungrily scraping at the exposed flesh.

Raven felt like she was going to explode as heat pooled in her abdomen and teeth scraped against her throat. Throwing her head back and ignoring the sting of hitting her head against the wall, Raven released a soft moan. Tim’s fingers fiddled with the button of her jeans and his knuckles pressed into her abdomen. Her hips bucked in response. She faintly wondered how she did not burst into flames yet.

“Is this okay?” Tim whispered, voice raspy and needy. Despite the fog that clouded his mind, he was still vaguely aware that they were outdoors and just seconds away of potentially fucking their brains out in public. He felt Raven’s hips buck and his thumb pressed into her jeans button, ready to open a glorious treasure.

Raven inhaled deeply, lust practically purring. Cracking open her eyes, she caught Tim’s hooded stare. Lips curling and shifting her hips into his hand, she tried to pull him closer. “No one is here,” she whispered.

That was all the invitation he needed. In quick, practiced movements, Tim pushed the jeans button through its hole. Surging forward, Tim groaned and caught her lips in a heady kiss. Tongue hungrily slipping against hers just as his fingers slipped past the confines of her jeans and into her tantalizing wet underwear. He happily drank her keen as his fingers slipped into her wet heat. Groaning into the kiss, Tim felt her contract around his fingers.

“Ah!” Raven breathed loudly, head tipping back and hitting the wall behind her. Closing her eyes in pure ecstasy, Raven’s hips bucked into Tim’s hand as his fingers pumped into her in a steady delicious rhythm. Raven was sure her body was on fire as she felt her knees buckle. Her own fingers curled desperately into Tim’s shoulders, trying to keep herself upright. She moaned breathily as Tim curled his finger and hit that spot and she released a breathy moan.

“Raven,” Tim watched the emotions dance across Raven’s face. Pressing a kiss into her neck, he groaned as he felt her chase after his fingers. He felt her flutter around him. Tim sighed into her neck, his own need for release becoming painfully aware. His dick twitched in his jeans.

Tim’s fingers were relentless as they thrust into her and Raven mewled softly, heat close to making her body explode. Gasping as his fingers pressed into her, Raven grabbed Tim’s chin and caught his lips in a rough, heady kiss. She felt Tim’s burning emotions, begging for release pressing into her. She knew they both would not last very long – and while Tim’s fingers fucking her senseless were wonderful – her body was ready to explode.

As Tim roughly pushed into her, his body practically pressing her into the wall, Raven’s hand traveled down his chest. Tim immediately pulled away, and stared at Raven with wide eyes as he felt her fingers shakily work on his belt buckle. The distinct clink of metal releasing from the buckle could be heard over their heavy breathing. “Raven,”

Breathing heavily, Raven unbuttoned Tim’s jeans and swiftly unzipped his pants. Hearing his sharp intake of breath, her dark purple eyes caught his dark blue eyes heavy with lust. Her fingers slipped over his exposed boxers and danced over his hot bulge. “You’re going to fuck me into this wall,” It was more of a command than anything.

“Fuck,” Tim growled. He pulled his fingers out of her, enjoying the slick wet sound as he removed his fingers from her. Ignoring her groan, he grabbed her hips and roughly turned her around, making her face the wall. Mind clouded heavy with desire and his ears ringing loudly with his heavy heartbeat, Tim watched in satisfaction as Raven groaned at the rough action and arched her back. Pleasure spread through his chest in satisfaction – she did always like it rough. Surging forward, Tim groaned and pressed into her back, hips thrusting into the curve of her ass. Freeing her scarf around her neck, he hungrily pressed a kiss into the nape of her neck. He smirked at her breathy groan.

“Please,” Raven whimpered, hands braced on either side of her head and right cheek painfully pressed into the cold wood wall. She thrust her ass into Tim’s hip, seeking for release.

With a strangled grunt, Tim made quick work of pushing Raven’s jeans down her ass and legs. He listened as she inhaled softly as cold air brushed against her legs. His cold fingers ran up the side of her legs before reaching her exposed ass and giving the right cheek a hearty squeeze. After pushing her legs apart a little, Tim pushed down his jeans and pulled his throbbing member out of his boxers. He hissed as the cool air hit his warm dick and he gave it a few pumps. Stepping forward, he pressed himself into her back and allowed his dick to slip in between her legs and brush up against her wet heat.

“Tim,” Raven breathed and whimpered at the familiar feel of Tim’s cock brushing against her. She rolled her hips, hungrily brushing up against Tim’s cock. Bending over a bit more and pressing into the wall, Raven spread her legs further in anticipation. “Please,”

Groaning lowly, Tim grabbed Raven’s hips and with a one fluid thrust slipped into her. Raven released a strangled moan and pressed her cheek into the wall. The cool wall offered some relief to her hot cheek. She moaned softly as Tim filled her to the hilt, the pleasant stretch and fullness made her skin burn and her knees grow weak. She gasped as he began to move, thrusting into her and stoking a hungry fire.

His movements were fast and frantic, both desperately trying to chase after a much needed release. Tim’s right hand slid over her abdomen and towards her clit, and his fingers danced over her as he continued to press into her. Grunting into her neck, Tim rubber her clit while his other hand dug into her hip, guiding her with every heavy thrust.

Heavy breathing and the sharp sounds of flesh hitting flesh filled the treehouse. Tim groaned as he felt her flutter around him, he heard her breathing hitch as they inched towards the end. Despite how cold it was, he felt that his whole body was on fire, practically singing as he held Raven close. He groaned as Raven frantically met every thrust, catching him and pushing her soft body into him.

Raven tittered dangerously close to the edge, her body tingling and her emotions purring in satisfaction. She hungrily chased Tim’s emotions, catching his fiery need and gasping at each needy thrust. She dug her fingers into the wood and her back arched as she released a strangled groan. As fingers continued to dance across her clit and Tim’s hard thrusts filled her, she felt herself dangle close to the edge.

With a low growl, their movements become more frantic and the wet noise of sex filled their ears. Tim gasped and angled her hips just the right away, hitting her from behind that made her throw her head back in a satisfying groan. With a few more heavy strokes, Raven mewled and arched her back as heat just exploded inside of her and she toppled over the edge. Gasping and groaning, Raven tumbled forward as Tim chased after her orgasm and roughly pressing her into the wall, frantically riding out his own orgasm.

Their movements slowed down and their heavy breathing filled the cold air. Tim’s arms wrapped around Raven’s waist as her legs wobbled and he gently pressed her against his chest, supporting her. “I love you,” he whispered and pressed a kiss into her cheek.

Raven hummed softly. “I love you too,” she mumbled, heart still racing wildly in her chest. After a few more moments of stillness and trying to catch their breath, they slowly moved apart. Raven shuddered as Tim pulled out of her. Turning around, she leaned against the wall and inhaled unsteadily as she came tumbling back from her high.

Ignoring the freezing cold as it bit into his exposed thighs, Tim stepped forward and kissed Raven gently. A soft gust of wind slipped through the open windows making them both shiver. They worked quickly to pull up their pants, Raven fumbling with shaky legs. After Tim pulled his pants back up and closed his belt, he threw an affectionate look at Raven and gently helped her straighten her clothes and brushed some errand strands of hair from her face.

“Some walk,” Tim breathed with a soft laugh as they shared a look. Knowing that she needed to steady all her (and his) emotions, Tim gathered her in his arms and listened to her sigh into his shoulder. Adjusting their position, he leaned against the wall and felt her practically melt into him. “Excellent idea for a walk, Rae,”

Raven made a softy sound in the back of her throat and gently pinched his waist. Pulling away from his shoulder, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Having sex in your family treehouse really was not part of the plan,” she shot back. She made a face in sudden realization. “We had sex in your treehouse.” She said as she looked up at the old wooden ceiling. “There are no cameras here, right?!”

“Relax,” Tim breathed and brushed a hand down her back soothingly. He pulled her closer, enjoying her closeness. After assuring her, that no, there were no cameras hidden in the treehouse (maybe explosives? Who knows where Jason keep his shit), the two stayed up there for a little while longer, catching their breaths, and enjoying each other’s presence.

As she buried deeper into Tim’s embrace, she had to agree with him. This was definitely one of their best walks.

[callemreine]

It hurts a little bit too much

'It’s time to grow up. I’m finally doing something that people enjoy! Something that people take time to pay attention to! Why can’t you understand that!'

Au August

Day/Prompt: Day 2 - Acting

Ship: Prinxiety, brief platonic moxiety

Word count: 1780

Cw: swearing / yelling (I'm sorry) / self-deprecation / crying / La la Land spoilers? (some people haven't watched it)

A/N: This is solely based on La La Land but I changed a few things that may change the direction of the story than what was actually in the film and this is my first time writing something angsty so forgive me angst gods </3 Also, Roman wants to be a Broadway actor but signed as a pop band singer instead. Virgil is still like Mia but not as headstrong

@tsshipmonth2020

Virgil has been with Roman for quite a while now. Roman has recently signed a contract for a pop band with his old friend, Janus, despite their doubt about the guy. Virgil wasn’t exactly pleased with what he witnessed when he was invited to one of his partner’s concerts. With the single confused tear left on the venue floor, Virgil has been worried since then about what Roman has gotten himself into.

~*~*~

Virgil was returning home after his dinner out with his friend, Patton; the only person keeping him stable since Roman left for… Boston? Maybe Dallas? He stopped keeping track a while ago.

When he reached the porch of their apartment, he hears the faint instrumental of ‘Only Us’ playing inside. He continues inside to see his partner setting up the table, his back facing him. “Roman?” The man suddenly drops the pot he’s holding on the table and turns to him. Roman let out a sigh of relief before flashing a small endearing smile to Virgil. “Surprise?” The taller man says in a small breathy voice, almost a whisper. “I have to leave in the morning but, I just had to see you,” he continues.

Virgil freezes for a moment before rushing to Roman, dropping everything he’s carrying, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck to kiss him. Roman wraps his arms around Virgil’s waist to keep them steady.

~*~*~

“I’m so glad to be home,” The taller man says with a smile. “Stay,” Virgil replies with a hopeful look; only to be returned with the same look from the other.

The pair are now seated at the dining table across from each other, instrumental music playing in the background.

“How’s your play? Hope you’re not too nervous,” Roman breathes out as he notices the other’s mood shift as he mentions the play. “You know me. I’m nervous about everything,” Virgil jokes with a chuckle. “Plus, what if people show up? I’m gonna perform in front of them. They’ll think I’m terrible,”

“Fuck ‘em” They laugh a little before Roman continues, ”They should be lucky to see it. It’s gonna be incredible. YOU’RE gonna be incredible. I can’t wait.” Virgil looks down on his food with a sad smile.

“I have to leave early tomorrow,” As much as Roman thinks that the statement sounds wrong when it left his lips, he doesn’t want Virgil to worry. “Boise, right?” Virgil inquires still looking at his food. Roman hums in agreement and continues, “You should come,”

“Wish I could. I still have to rehearse cuz’, we’re not all gifted in acting like a certain prince-like man I know,” Virgil teases with a smile. Roman chuckles, “Well, if you wanted me to help you, you could’ve just said so, darling,”

“I guess it’ll have to wait until you’re done with the tour,” Virgil replies with a forced smile. Roman’s face falls. “When are you done?” Virgil continues. “Uhm. Well, we’re only touring so we can make the record. After we’re done, we’re gonna record then, we go back to tour that record…” He trails off.

Virgil processes this information and decides to just let his brain talk. His heart is too soft for this conversation but, it can’t continue hurting for months. Or years.

“Do you like it?” Roman was caught off guard with the question and was confused with what Virgil meant. “The music, the band, the tour, singing on stage. Do you like it?” Virgil clarifies.

“I…” he trails off. “I don’t know how it matters,” Roman doesn’t like where this is going. All this time. All this touring. He thought it was what Virgil wanted him to do. Roman looks Virgil in the eyes, “Do you like the music?”

“I do. I just didn’t think you did…” The pair fell in uncomfortable silence, letting Virgil’s last statement linger between them.

“Why are you doing this? I thought you wanted me to do this. This is what we’ve been waiting for,” Roman is deep into confusion at this point. He’s been in this band for a while, he just wants to know why Virgil hasn’t anything before he signed on the dotted line that would seal his life.

Virgil sighed, “I just wanted to know where you’re theatre is gonna fit into all of this.” He said in such a small voice that, Roman wanted to just sweep Virgil off his feet to make everything better again. “There’s a reason why there are no theatres here because no one is like me. No one likes musicals here. Not even you,” Roman explained.

Virgil can’t take how pathetic Roman thinks of this entire situation. Yes, it’s Virgil that usually overthinks these things and, it’s not entirely impossible for Roman to as well but, this is just pure non-sense to Virgil. “I do like them now, because of you!” He blurted out with a slightly raised voice.

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Wait for you to be successful only for me to build something no one likes? It- It’s time to grow up. I’m finally doing something that people enjoy! Something that people take time to pay attention to! Why can’t you understand that!” Roman exclaimed, determined for Virgil to understand his point of view, not bothering to look at the other.

“Since when did you care about being liked? Why do you care so much about being liked-”

“You’re not an actor! How would you know?!” Roman immediately regrets his statement, knowing he doesn’t mean it. To him, Virgil is the greatest actor he has ever seen and, nothing would ever change that. He glances at Virgil and, sees the destruction his statement has caused slowly unfolding.

“No. No- I- I didn’t mean that, Virgil. I’m sorry. I promise it’s not true-” he tried to reverse his mistake but, to Virgil, the destruction has always been always there, this was just what he needed for everything to fall apart.

“Maybe you just liked me because I made you feel like a better actor,” Virgil stated blandly in a matter-of-fact manner. Roman knew that he was never better than Virgil, as an actor or not. He was heartbroken to hear that his partner thinks that he was just being used. His statement earlier was just a slip-up but this… What Virgil’s feeling is all his fault.

“Are you kidding?” Roman can’t bear to lose someone that he loves so much. Tears well up in his eyes, tempting to let them fall.

“No,” Virgil calmly replied, keeping a stern face.

Both of them, heartbroken, stared at each other, not letting go of what’s left between them.

But before any of them could say anything, Roman’s phone, which he left in the kitchen, rang. His ringtone echoing through the apartment. Roman sighs at the sound but doesn’t stand up. However, Virgil does and eyes for the door. Roman stays frozen for a moment before going after Virgil.

“Virgil, wait-” before he could continue, Virgil had already slammed the door.

~*~*~

You guys can use your imagination to fill in what happens after the argument up to before the next part.

But, if you haven’t watched La La Land, basically, Virgil did the one-man play and Roman didn’t show up and only a few people show up then, he goes back home to his parents in a different state, leaving everything behind. I think that’s all you need to know??

~*~*~

It’s been a few weeks since Virgil came home to his parents. He was devastated to see his old stuff and how hopeful he was to become an actor. Yet, he can’t bring himself to take it all down.

Virgil had abandoned his phone and his laptop to the very back of his closet and sticks to using his mp3 in the meantime. He has been needing some time to rethink his life decisions before facing the real world again. Leaving Roman to pick up whatever he left in Los Angeles.

He was finally enjoying peace and quiet for the first time in a while, until…

HHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

~*~*~

“The fuck are you doing here?!” Virgil whisper-yelled as he walked towards the man, wondering what’s so important that Roman had to follow him all the way to another state.

“Thomas Sanders. The casting director. He was at your play-” Roman began. Just at the mention of the name, Virgil had become more troubled but hopeful at the same time.

“And he loved it so much, he wants you to audition for this HUGE-” Roman stated as he slammed his hand on his car for emphasis, startling Virgil a little. ”-huge movie that he’s got,” He continued with visible excitement.

Virgil shook his head with a little chuckle before running his hand over his mouth, “I- I can’t- I’m not going to that- That.. will kill me,” he continues to shake his head.

“WHAT?!” Roman exclaims, startling Virgil again. “What?! Shh shh! You have to be quiet cuz’ if my neighbors don’t call the police on you, I will,” He attempts to calm Roman down. “No. You have to make sense. You can’t stay here and be miserable for the rest of your life. You need to be reasonable here,” Roman persists.

“Because it’s just another goddamn audition!” Virgil explodes with all the hurt and anger he’s gathered through the years of auditioning for shows. “I’ve been to hundreds of auditions and it’s just the same thing over and over again! I’m sick of it! Yeah, sure, I get callbacks but, where does it end? Another fucking rejection! All of those countless hours of waiting for the phone to ring. Be- because maybe I’m not good enough,” Virgil pauses.

“I’ve been wanting this for years. And, now... Now that I don’t want it anymore. Now that I gave up on it. Another one fucking presents itself to what? Another rejection? I’m- I’m not giving myself another heartbreak, Roman. It hurts a little bit too much,” Virgil admits, already crying. It hurts Roman to see Virgil this way. He’s seen Virgil become so passionate about his play, he needs to let him see that this is not ‘just another audition,’ it’s the reward his hard work is all for. He needs to know.

“You’re a baby,” Roman bluntly states. “Maybe I am,” He couldn’t continue arguing anymore. “But, you said it’s time to grow up. And, I’m doing that so, why won’t you help me?” Virgil continues.

“You have an audition at 5:30. I’ll pick you up at 8,” as much as Roman wants Virgil to grab this chance, he can’t force him to if he doesn’t really want to. He loves him too much for that. At least he tried. “You’ll be out front or not. I don’t know,” Roman continues as he gets in his car and drives off, leaving Virgil standing in the middle of the road, staring at the library in front of him. The library that once helped him set his path to acting.

~*~*~

Perhaps Virgil was out front at 7:30 and got accepted in the audition.

Perhaps he wasn’t.

Told ya I'm not good at angst ;-;

[watchmegetobsessed]

Enchanted - Adam Sackler (pt. 2)

hi guys! this is a repost because something went wrong with the original one and it couldn’t be opened for some reason. let me know if it doesn’t work again! im also posting this story on AO3 so if anything happens next time you can always find it there! click here to see my profile

series summary: You are casted as Giselle in the Broadway adaptation of Enchanted with Adam as Robert.

word count: ~4k

Part 1

masterlist

Chapter title: Limo

“Let’s see one more time from the second verse,” Cynthia, your vocal coach instructs sitting back behind the piano, eyes fixed on the sheets before her fingers start working on the keys, bringing the song alive again.

Taking a deep breath your chest buffs and a moment later you are singing the lines you’ve been practicing for hours now. Your vocal chords feel tired, but you keep pushing and the notes come out almost perfectly.

“Amazing! Don’t forget to make the end of the second line a little more airy and sweet,” Cynthia reminds you when you finish and grabbing a pen you circle the word to remind yourself next time.

“Thank you, will do,” you smile as you start packing your stuff.

It’s been just two days since the table reading, so far you’ve had two rehearsals with Cynthia and two meetings with the animation crew that will be making the beginning of the story into animation, just like in the movie and it’s going to be projected to four different screens on the stage, giving a shorter version of the original one before anyone sets feet on stage in real life. You are beyond excited and thrilled to see the outcome of all these little pieces, but that’s gonna take a little longer.

As you say your goodbye to Cynthia you walk out of the room and head up to the office since Petra asked you to drop by for some more signing. One arm deep in your bag, you’re looking for your phone when you turn the corner in the hallway and you bump right into someone.

“Whoa there, Giselle. Watch out, this is the real world.”

Two large hands are on your arms as Adam’s low chuckle rings in your ear.

“Oh, sorry. I’m a little tired,” you shyly smile taking a step back and as your eyes find his gaze the picture of him spanking that girl in the short film appears in front of you, making your cheeks red as a tomato.

“It’s exhausting being a princess, right?” he jokes with a charming smile, brushing his hair out of his forehead as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “Where you headed?”

“I just, um… I need to sign a few papers in the office.”

“You done for the day?” “Yeah, I just had a rehearsal with my vocal couch,” you nod tugging your hair behind your ears, his intense look making your nerves tremble inside you. This man is really just something else and figuring out seems like the hardest task you’ve had to face so far.

“Sounds great, wanna grab something to eat? I feel like we should get to know each other better. Dance practices start tomorrow, I would hate to feel awkward when we are trying to look madly in love.”

He has a valid point, though you’re not sure if being alone with him is a good idea, but you just don’t want to appear rude, so you don’t have any choice than to accept the invitation. Adam walks you to the office and waits for you while you sign the paperwork, chatting up with a young assistant outside and when you return you have no doubt she has fallen for him under those three minutes you’ve spent inside.

“Alright, see you around Susan,” he salutes seeing you walk out.

“Bye Adam!” she giggles returning to her work and you can’t help but glare at her a little longer, watching her absentminded smile linger on her lips from the conversation with him.

“What?” Adam asks when the two of you are in the elevator and most likely your look on him gives away you are deep in your thoughts about him.

“Nothing,” you shake your head forcing your eyes away from his tall frame.

“Come on, I can tell you have something to say,” he chuckles tilting his head to the side.

“I don’t,” you insist. No way you are telling him what’s been on your mind.

“So you are the kind of person who just pushes everything deep down into herself and then at one point you’ll just explode?”

“I’m not pushing anything down, I just like to keep some stuff private,” you narrow your eyes at him. “Do you share everything you think about with the people around you?”

“Actually, I do,” he states as the elevator door opens and you walk out side-by-side. “I’m an honest person and I have always had a hard time filtering what leaves my mouth.”

“So you just blurt everything out?” you ask with an amused chuckle.

“Basically,” he nods holding the door open for you as the two of you step out into the chilly late afternoon of the city.

“That’s can’t be too beneficial sometimes.”

“Have I offended people with my words? Definitely, but at least you don’t have to worry about what I think about because you actually know,” he scoffs and you shake your head at him chuckling.

He suggests a pasta place near and you let him lead the way while the two of you keep up a rather light, nice conversation. When you finally sit at the table with your delicious looking carbonara spaghetti right in front of you, that’s when you realize how hungry you’ve really been feeling.

“So, I’m not really big on dancing,” he starts, eyes fixed on his plate as he twirls his fork around, getting the pasta around it before sticking it into his mouth. “I apologize for all the times I’ll crush your feet in advance.”

“How did you get the part if you can’t dance?” you chuckle.

“Do you think Patrick Dempsey was a great dancer in the movie?” he asks and you see his point. “Anyway, I’m just that charming, I guess,” he shrugs jokingly.

“Yeah. I’ll be doing the real work anyway.”

“All the singing, dancing and everything, it really is on your shoulders.”

You just silently nod, suddenly realizing the truth behind those words. The excitement and amusement have pushed everything aside in the past week, but the thought of being a leading role in a Broadway show has been weighing on you secretly, building up your anxiety in the back of your mind about how much is really on your performance.

“Did I say something?” Adam asks, the fork stopping in his hand before he places it back onto his plate, looking at you searching for an answer.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Then why do you look like you just saw a pedophile for the first time?”

“That’s an odd comparison,” you huff at his words.

“But it’s the truth. So what’s gotten you all pale suddenly?”

“I guess it’s just the weight of this whole thing,” you shrug, trying to make it look like a smaller deal than it really is for you.

“It really is a big thing,” he nods in agreement and you’re glad he doesn’t try to convince you it’s just all in your head. “When my previous show opened on Broadway, my then girlfriend just dropped at me that she is moving to Iowa and I couldn’t focus through the night, I felt like I fucked the whole thing up.”

The mentioning of his ex-girlfriend has you wondering who he is talking about. Is this the girl from the film or the one he made the movie with? Is this Jessa girl still his girlfriend anyway? You didn’t find that out and it would be weird to just ask him about it, right?

“Sounds like the worst thing to say to someone who is about to go on stage.”

“Yeah, she didn’t really understand the concept of timing, I guess.” Adam shakes his head at the thought as he continues eating and your curiosity is growing bigger with each passing moment. You just can’t let it slip without a word, you need to ask him about the film. He put it out himself for the whole world to see, he can’t be that ashamed of it, right?

“So… Is this the girl from your film?”

His eyes flicker up to you and you immediately feel your cheeks heating up under his gaze. At first you regret opening your mouth, his straight face frightens you, but then you see that tiny smile playing on his lips and you figure he is more amused than mad.

“So you did your search on me.”

“My friend did,” you shrug and this is the truth, it was Lora who went digging, but he doesn’t have to know it was your idea.

“I bet you have questions.” Leaning back in his seat he drops his hands to his lap.

“Quite a few,” you nod, not wanting to lie now. This is your chance to have a better look at what kind of man he really is.

“Shoot them.”

“Is it true? The plot really happened?”

“Indeed,” he nods without the slightest sign of shame on his face. “I dated Hannah, kind of on and off for a while, then we broke up, and I formed a surprising bond with her best friend, Jessa that eventually turned into a relationship.”

“Don’t you think it was fucked up to date your ex’s best friend?”

You still haven’t been able to wrap your head around the betrayal that it must have been for the first girl, to see her ex with someone she probably trusted and loved.

“I’m not denying that we could have dealt with the situation in a smarter and nicer way, it would have been better if we just came clear at the beginning and be honest with Hannah, but I do not regret being with Jessa.”

“Has she moved on?” you ask and you quickly add: “Hannah, I mean.”

“She lives upstate now and has a baby. As far as I know she and Jessa made up, so… Yeah.”

“So you and Jessa are not together anymore?” You find yourself asking, and the amount of curiosity in yourself surprises you. You definitely shouldn’t care about this as much as you do.

“No,” he shakes his head. “It was never gonna last, we were destroying each other.”

You’re dying to know more, wanting to find out what he really means by that, but you feel like you can’t cross this line just yet, so you have to put up with whatever you got.

“You watched the whole thing?” His eyes flicker up to you, now he is the curious one.

“No, just a little bit of it,” you say, feeling the blush return to your cheeks as the spanking scene immediately starts in your mind again. Adam stares at you for a bit, trying to figure out how much you really saw and you guess your face gives you away way more than you’d want it.

“You think I’m weird,” he states and not questions.

“I was just… surprised,” you admit chuckling. “I wasn’t expecting to see you spank someone on the screen.”

“So you are that… vanilla type of person, huh?”

“I’m sorry?” you grimace.

“Spanking is not that kinky, you wouldn’t believe what kind of fucked up shit people actually do. But if you are horrified of spanking you really are that prude type of person.”

“I’m not prude,” you defend yourself, the hurt in yourself surprising you. Why do you care what he thinks about you?

“Oh really?” He raises his eyebrows at you, obviously enjoying where the conversation is heading. “What’s the most extreme place where you’ve had sex?”

Now you really think your head looks like a tomato and you regret getting into this conversation. You should have known he would go into details.

“I’m not talking about this with you.” Shaking your head you reach for your drink and wish you could drown yourself in the icy water.

“Why? It’s not that big of a deal, you already know something juicy about me,” he chuckles, clearly enjoying making you feel uncomfortable.

“No, but I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“You’ve seen me spanking someone, I’m sure you can’t get the picture out of your head. Give me something I can think about so we can be equal.”

“That’s literally the worst reasoning I’ve ever heard,” you shake your head laughing.

“Come on! If you tell me, it will help bringing us closer and we can work together better.”

“I doubt that would be the situation,” you give him a look placing your glass back to the table, but he is just smirking at you cheekily.

“I won’t tell anyone, alright? And besides, I’m asking for just one thing. If you watch my whole film, you’ll have a lot more on me, so you’ll be winning.”

“I don’t know if it should be considered winning and I’m not planning on watching the rest of your film, so…”

“Y/N, stop being a pussy!” he groans rolling his eyes at you. “Just spill it!”

He is really not giving up and you blame yourself for getting yourself into this in the first place. You should have just kept your mouth shut.

He leans forward and pouts his lip at you, begging with his eyes and you know you’re screwed. You have no choice but tell him.

“In a limo,” you simply say and you watch his eyes go wide.

“W-With like other people in there, or…”

“No, it was just me and the guy and the partition was up, but I think the driver knew exactly what was happening,” you shake your head chuckling at the memory.

“When did this happen?”

“I was… twenty. So like five years ago. I was dating this rich guy who took me to a posh party and I drank a little too much from the fancy champagne so I didn’t care to wait until we got back to my place.”

You don’t feel that nasty like you were expecting to, it’s like sharing a dirty little secret without getting judged, because Adam looks more thrilled than disgusted by this little detail he just learned about you.

“Was it any good?”

“I mean, we were kinda drunk and it’s not as comfortable as you’d think it would be in a limo, because the height is not enough in there, but it wasn’t bad for sure,” you admit chuckling.

“Mhm, alright, now I’ll think of you every time I see a limo somewhere,” he nods and you kick him under the table making him laugh.

“Shut up. Don’t you ever bring this up, alright?” you warn him holding up a finger in front of him. Raising his hands he shows he got the hint, though you are not perfectly sure he won’t ever mention it.

You hate to say but he was right when he said it would bring you and him closer. After sharing such an intimate thing you don’t feel that anxious just being around him. You’d think talking about your most extreme sex experience and his kink of spanking someone would birth some very awkward tension between the two of you, but it’s not like that at all. You still think he is quite weird in some kind of way, but then… who isn’t? You’re pretty sure he has something against you as well, this is just how it is.

 ***

 The thing with Adam and his role is that he basically falls out of all the dancing and singing, leaving the hardest tasks to you and Clyde while he is usually just… there. In the park scene you’ll have a whole ballet with about thirty dancers with a continuously changing set around you, dancing for about three minutes straight while all Adam has to do is just… follow you around.

But he still attends rehearsals because Matt says Adam needs to know where he stands in the whole at all times. This is why you are at a huge mirrored room with ten dancers, you and Matt, relentlessly working on the choreography for part of the park scene while Adam just basically lingers around the room, occasionally standing in his spot.

“Get a great hold on her hip and just let her momentum help you raise her,” Matt instructs to the young dancer guy whose name you’ve been trying to remember for an hour, but it just doesn’t come to you. You stand facing each other as he nods and grabs on your hips firmly while you put your hands to his shoulders.

“Five, six, seven, eight!” Matt counts and you leap away from the ground, jumping up, but he misses the beat and doesn’t hold you in time, making you fall back to your feet and failing the move, again. “It’s not that hard, Jordan!” Matt snaps, clearly annoyed that you’ve been trying to nail this move for about ten minutes now. At least now you have his name.

He nervously lets go of you, rubbing his face with his hands, you bet he is trying his best, but he is just too nervous to do it.

Looking around Matt seemingly tries to find a substitute, but the small group of dancers at the rehearsal is not too promising, given the fact that most of them are women. You cross your arms on your chest, swinging your hips to the sides absentmindedly as you wait patiently. Matt’s dark and tired eyes land on Adam, who is sitting in the corner, reading a book and he makes an immediate decision.

“Adam, would you join us, please?”

His head shoots up and nodding he puts the book down striding over to you in the middle of the room.

“We need to improvise and I’m sure you’ll have no problem lifting her up,” Matt explains and walking around he instructs his hands to your hips.

You gulp hard at the warmth of his touch, having him so close is suddenly making you more self-conscious at the way you stand and look. Matt tells him how the move should go and Adam seems to be deep in his focus as he nods at the instructions.

“Y/N, try to jump a little higher, Adam is taller so you’ll need more power.”

“Okay,” you nod placing your hands to his broad shoulders.

“Alright, five, six, seven, eight!”

Bending your knee you push yourself away from the ground, your eyes meeting Adam’s gaze the moment your feet rise into the air and unlike with Jordan, you actually stay in the air.

His grip on your hips tighten, fingers digging into you and you suck on your breath holding part of your weight on your arms leant onto his shoulders. Just as Matt told him, he twirls you around, the skirt you’ve been wearing for rehearsals to make you get used to your future dresses flows after your frame until he finishes the whole circle and gently puts you down to the floor again, hands still on your waist and you don’t let go of him either.

“Okay, this looked amazing, so we are keeping it with you,” Matt cheers clapping his hands together, making both of you turn to him.

“What?” you ask a little confused.

“Yeah, I think it would look great.”

“Isn’t the scene about him being totally skeptical about the whole singing and dancing?”

“Yeah, but there is conflict in him, the music takes him a little bit so I think it would actually be amazing if he was the one doing the lifting.”

You see his logic and you have to admit it looks good, so you don’t question his decision. Matt puts the music on and the dancers take their spot around you as you start the previously learned choreography. You see Adam following his way around while everyone else is dancing around him, keeping up his skeptical act before it’s finally time for the lift again.

Your hands go to his shoulders and this time the whole move is faster, it’s just about a heartbeat long, but your eyes meet again and you let out a gasp knowing the music is tuning out the sound of it. You wouldn’t bet your life on it, but for a split second it feels like he squeezes your hips while holding up, and when he lets go of you his hand brushes against your butt or so it feels.

Your body reacts regardless of what your brain is telling yourself. It feels good to be touched by him and whenever his fingers dig into your flesh you think about what it would feel like if you weren’t dressed. And then, you make the mistake of thinking about the film again, the way his arms flexed with each movement before his palm collided with the girl’s ass.

You miss a step, but luckily, it’s not that big of a deal, Matt just tells you to focus next time and you shortly nod before he orders a five minute break. Wanting to escape the closeness of Adam you launch for your bag in the back of the room and grab your water feeling like you need to clear yourself out somehow.

“You clearly can’t contain your thoughts.”

His voice makes you jump and turning around your eyes meet his satisfied grin that you want to wipe off of him so bad.

“It would be easier if you weren’t touching my ass.”

“I wasn’t!” he protests, but the cheeky smile on his face gives him away and that you felt it right. He really was touching your ass. “If it makes you feel better, I thought that your rich ex-boyfriend had the same view of you in the limo while you rode him that I have when I lift you up.”

“Fucking Hell, Adam!” you gasp smacking his arm as he just laughs, enjoying that he can make you feel uncomfortable so easily.

“Come on! I’m just joking, okay? Let loose, you are so tensed.”

“If you kept your promise I wouldn’t be so tensed,” you mumble under your breath turning away from him, but he moves to get in your sight once again, leaning against the wall.

“Alright, I’m sorry. But I didn’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“Better keep that way.”

“Have you watched the rest of the film?”

“No, Adam. I told you I don’t want to,” you sigh, but it’s not really the truth. You do have curiosity about the rest, you just don’t know if you’d be able to handle it.

“Okay, alright. Sorry for bugging you. Though I’m curious what you’d say about the whole thing, like cinematically.”

“I’ll let you know when I choose to watch it and have an opinion,” you force a smile to yourself before walking away or more like escaping from the conversation.

Rehearsal ends an hour later and you have to do the lift three more times, having Adam stare into your soul every time you are above him, but you don’t think about the film anymore. Instead, it’s all about what he is thinking about. The thought of being on top of him in the back of a limo poisons your mind and no matter how hard you are trying to let go of it, you fail every time because there is that tiny smile playing on his lips and it’s making you lose your shit immediately.

You manage to leave without running into him once the rehearsal is over. It’s a huge wave of relief once you finally arrive home and you also feel like you could collapse right into bed from being so tired. After a relaxing shower you climb to bed and take your computer just checking up on your usual things. Right until you find yourself in your browser’s history, the cursor lingering above the link to Adam’s film.

“I’m losing my mind,” you whisper to yourself opening it and the film starts on your screen once again.

-

general/forever taglist for Adam Driver

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Adam taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Adam fics!

@superdriver​ @siren-queen03​ @holacherrycola90​ @spencer-is-amazing​ @unusual-kindred-spirits @hailthemightywoecloud @holy-kylo-stars​ @kowalskibro-adamdriverblog​ @hurricanesunset​ @writerandee​ @luxury-0pps​ @prncess91​ @malefoygal @zaahidahhh @filternotincluded @fire-in-her-veinz @emily-strange @ktellmeastory​ @grouchosgirl​ @tapismyforte​ @unusual-driver-paterson​ @beeblisss​ @septicvic97​

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

[yourdeepestfathoms]

In Our Bedroom After The War

[Broadway Kids]

Prompt: “Fuck what they think. I respect you and if they don’t, I’ll break their knees.”

Word count: 2944

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

Tommy can’t quite remember when Carrie stopped speaking. Some people said it was in the third grade after she brought that Bible to school and started praying in the middle of lunch, others said after the Christian Youth Camp incident and she swallowed so much water that she “permanently clogged her vocal cords” or something stupid. Whatever happened, something had made Carrie White go silent, and she’s been a target of mockery since.

Deaf and dumb. That’s what the other kids liked to call her. But she isn’t deaf, Tommy knows, because she always reacts to what is said about her with great offense and pain, and she certainly isn’t dumb because Tommy has seen her grades when her report cards are stolen and passed around by bullies. She’s a smart girl, very smart. If anything, he was the dumb one, because the amount of times he’s almost given away their little get-togethers was unbelievable.

It started a month into the school year, he believed. He went into senior year, while Carrie just started high school. He can’t quite remember what caused them to start meeting up in the hidden bathroom under the staircase in the C hall stair well, and he’ll admit that he had never imagined himself hanging out with the city’s resident freak and actually enjoy it, but he would seriously miss their reclusive meetings every Friday after school if they were to ever stop.

Today in particular was very special. 1) because he was finally going to try and teach Carrie about video games (she was fourteen! she should at least know the basics like Pokemon and Mario!) and 2) he had noticed that Carrie seemed a little off the past week and he wanted to ask her about it.

When you saw someone like Carrie White, you would assume that she was constantly in a state of anxiety and depression, but Tommy has learned to pick up on little ticks she does over time. Like how lately, she’s been tugging on her hair and biting her knuckles more often, something she only does if something is really bothering her. Because of their social status in the high school hierarchy, he was never able to ask her if she was alright, so non verbal forms of communication would have to do until their weekly meetup.

There’s the way he tried to avoid letting her out of sight, and if it isn’t that, then it's the way they move around each other in natural synchronicity in the hallway, like celestial bodies that have been caught in orbit for millennia. It's the way he makes excuses to walk alone to class just to make sure she doesn’t get any trouble on the way to her own. It's the silent conversations, an inquisitive look (“You okay?”) answered by a minute nod (“All good.”). It’s everything he wishes he had done for her before his final year of high school.

He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how Carrie would soon be all alone again after he graduates. Tried not to think about what would happen to her when he isn’t there as her silent guardian. Tried not to think about how sad he would be without seeing her every day anymore.

Tommy slipped inside the bathroom, shutting the door as quietly as possible to avoid alerting anyone who may have been lurking around, and turned to face the rest of the space. Carrie is sitting at the sink counter on one of two stools Tommy had smuggled in there for them. She turned her head to look at him sideways, but she’s still got her nose buried in a sketchbook, which she still hasn't let him look at. He wondered what she's drawing. Maybe it's a treasure map. Or a secret code. Or that deer they saw earlier. Or him.

  “The party has arrived!” Tommy has announced, his voice rebounding loudly off of the silent bathroom walls. He dropped his backpack on the floor, unlike Carrie had done, as hers was hung up on one of the hooks on the wall.

Carrie finally put her pencil down and swiveled around completely in her stool to smile at him. She doesn’t show any teeth with her grin, and it’s slightly wry, but it’s a smile nonetheless and Tommy is honored to get such a thing from her. He examined her quickly, luckily finding no new wounds from bullying, then crossed over. She hastily closed her sketchbook.

  “One day,” He said. “One day I will see your masterpiece.”

Carrie gave him an apologetic look, her smile becoming a little more tight. She grabbed a nearby whiteboard to write on, but stopped when Tommy waved a hand.

  “No, no,” He said. “No need for that! I’ve been doing really well in my ASL class- you can sign to me!”

Carrie looked skeptical, but Tommy doesn’t miss the flash of excitement in her warm honey eyes. It’s not often that someone understands her when she uses sign language.

  “Come on, I’m smarter than I look! Don’t doubt my abilities to learn a new language!”

Carrie nodded. She held up her hands, shaking down the frayed sleeves of her shirt, and began to sign.

  “What (something) we (something) today?”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t AS fluent as he thought, but Carrie looked so much more comfortable being able to sign! He could just use his context clues!

  “Something very fun!” Tommy assured her. He took out his phone and turned on a playlist that they’ve been progressively adding more and more songs to (with Carrie having to write hers down and give the list to him, seeing as she didn’t own any electronics). You can tell who added what like this: if it’s Christian related or something grungy-chill, Carrie probably added it; if it has folk music vibes and/or a lot of acoustic guitars, it was probably Tommy, surprisingly enough; if it just generally sounds like it’s ripped from an indie movie, it’s kind of a toss up.

He took out the Nintendo Switch he got last Christmas next and set it up on the sink counter. Carrie tilted her head at it as if it were a peculiar flower that had just sprouted out of the porcelain countertop. 

  “Ever played before?” Tommy asked, although he already knew the answer.

  “No. (something) I’ve seen (something) (something).”

  “You’ve seen it before?” Tommy repeated, guessing just by the way Carrie had pointed to her eyes.

Carrie nodded.

  “Well, now you get to play it!” Tommy beamed at her and she smiled back, but it seems a little forced. Something is definitely on her mind- he’ll have to ask once she’s a little more relaxed. “Hmm… How about Minecraft?”

  “M-I-N-E-C-R-A-F-T. I’ve heard (something) (something).”

  “It’s fun!” Tommy assured her, selecting the game. “Trust me, you’ll like it.” He put the controllers in her hands and she rubs her thumbs over the rubber protectors. “So the main goal is surviving,” He went on. “There's a lot of objectives actually, but surviving is always the first one. Once you get used to it, you can play in Survival mode and start making a good base and start getting tools and armor and stuff, then you can move on to other objectives. But for now you can just play in Creative. What should we name the world?”

Carrie thought for a few moments, and Tommy could practically see all the random names cycling through her brain. After a moment, she signed, “(something)”

Tommy blinked.

  “One more time.”

  “(something)”

  “Can you fingerspell it, please?”

  “V-E-N-U-S.”

  “Oh! Venus! We haven’t learned planets yet.” Tommy said. “Wait- Venus?”

  “V-E-N-U-S (something) (something) (something) cool place (something) live.”

Tommy laughed. “Can’t argue with that logic!” He helped Carrie type in the name and clicked through a couple of other settings before hitting “create world”. Within a few moments the world was up and running. Carrie’s character was off in no time, exploring the blocky landscape and sifting through her colorful inventory, although her movements were sporadic and jerky since it was her first time playing.

Decorating the base was by far Carrie’s favorite part. There were so many different flowers for the outside and wood types for flooring and even COLORED glass. The only thing that would make it better was if you could have animals and OH MY GOODNESS YOU COULD HAVE ANIMALS!!!!!!!!

For a moment, Tommy debated just leaving Carrie there and allowing her to design the base and play around however she wanted, but he couldn't. He was so worried that someone may waltz in and see her in the boy’s bathroom and then do something to her. Carrie being nearly drowned in one of the toilets, Carrie getting her head smashed against the sink counter, Carrie being raped, Carrie getting beaten into a bloody pulp- so many horrible scenarios forced their way into his head. Carrie getting her throat slit, Carrie getting her body stuffed in the air vent, Carrie getting sodomized with a mop stick.

Why? Why were kids so cruel to her? Why couldn’t Tommy protect her from everything? Why does he know he can’t?

There was a soft touch on his hand and he jolted out of his thoughts. Carrie flinched away, too, then signed something he couldn’t understand, but knew she was asking if he was okay by the pinched expression on her face.

  “I’m okay,” He assured her. “Just thinking.”

She made the gesture of “what” and tilted her head. Then she pointed to herself.

About me?

  “Yeah,” Tommy admitted.

That made Carrie’s nose scrunch up in a giggle.

  “Don’t (something) S-U-E know.”

  “If you think that I would cheat on my girlfriend with a fish, then you are very much wrong.” Tommy said. “What about you? What’s been on your mind?”

Carrie put the Switch controllers down and shrugged her shoulders. She began to play with the cuff of her sleeve, not really making eye contact anymore.

  “Come on,” Tommy urged. “You can tell me!”

  “People,” Carrie signed vaguely.

  “People?” Tommy echoed. “People being rude to you?”

Carrie shrugged again, and it was clear she didn’t really want to talk about this anymore, nor did she seem to be in a mood to continue playing. Tommy packed up the Nintendo Switch and paused their shared playlist. He gave Carrie her backpack and they started to walk out of the school in mutual silence.

  “Sorry,” Tommy said as they neared the parking lot. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Carrie shook her head, then signed, “You didn’t. Don’t worry.”

  “Yeah, but-”

  “Well if it isn’t praying Carrie!”

Carrie went rigid, like she had been struck by lightning. She stopped mid-step and didn’t move as a group of seniors trot over, their faces alight with mischief and cruelty.

  “Ross!” One of them called. “What are you doing with this freak?”

  “Is she holding you hostage?” Another guessed, casting a look at Carrie.

  “I bet she’s leading him out to his car to force him to let her ride him.” A third said. The group howled with diseased laughter at that. Tommy is appalled. Carrie looked ill. “Is that it, church girl? The need for sex has finally broken into you and you’re ready to sin?”

  “Back off!” Tommy growled, shoving the boy away. He put himself between him and Carrie, becoming a barricade of sorts. “Leave her alone.”

  “I wonder how loud she’ll moan,” A fourth member of the group mused.

  “Can she even moan?” The second wondered out loud.

  “If you plowed into her hard enough I bet she’ll make some sort of sound.” The first said.

Carrie darted left and sprinted for the nearby line of trees edging the campus. Tommy glared at the group of seniors, then followed, concerned. 

The darkness of the forest quickly closes around them. Carrie is fast on her feet, but Tommy was an athlete and he caught up quickly. He snagged the back of her jacket in a loose grip. They stumbled together over uneven ground and exposed tree roots until Carrie collapsed in a hollow between two moss-covered rocks. Tommy slotted himself in front of her so that she’s shielded from all sides- the rocks and Tommy forming a barrier from the world.

He said nothing. He listened to the girl’s gasping breaths and knew that it’s nothing that words can cure- not anymore. Not after years of having no one, being stabbed in the back and spoon fed lies. He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the rustling of oak leaves, the distant calls of birds, the persistent harmony of crickets.

He wondered what Carrie used to ground herself.

He wondered if she grounded herself at all.

Slowly, softly, Carrie calmed to some degree. It comes faster than Tommy expected, but he assumed that’s just because she’s grown used to the treatment she gets. She shifted, wiggling her shoes beneath Tommy’s thigh. Tommy doesn’t shift. He won’t leave until she does.

  “It’s okay,” He finally whispered. “I’m here. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Carrie whimpered and made a sloppy gesture- Why?

  “Because I care about you.” Tommy said. “Fuck what they think. I respect you and if they don’t, I’ll break their knees.”

He wanted to make her laugh or smile or at least stop crying, but Carrie just whimpered again. She swiveled around to face him, eyes flashing with tears. 

  “Why?” She signed again, sniffling miserably.

  “We’re friends.” Tommy told her. “You know that, don’t you?” The look he got said that she didn’t believe it. “Come on. Tell me some things you know about me. You’d be surprised how well you know me.”

Carrie hesitated, then began to sign, “Your name is Tommy Ross.” She winced at how bland it was, but Tommy only nodded, brushing a bit of his dark brown hair out of his eyes. Carrie’s face scrunched up like she’s memorizing her timestaple in front of him, struggling to bring that gridded mess of numbers to mind. 

  “You’re the tallest (something) (something) everyone (something) your team,” She continued. The sky overhead is eye-wateringly blue, with crisply white cotton clouds scudding along the horizon. A light breeze shakes the leaves of a nearby oak tree that has the initials of some high school sweethearts carved into the base of its trunk. They’re a little crooked from where someone’s hand had slipped, the flat of a switchblade arcing a little too close to the bark, and making a J thicker, almost a U when you looked at it dead on. 

  “That’s right,” Tommy said. He knows his role here is only background noise. That’s his job, whether Carrie knows it or not, and he’s more than happy to fulfill it. He doesn’t mind being subject to the scrutiny of befriending ol’ praying Carrie because of it. Not if it’s what she needs to feel better.

  “Your eyes (something) like a (something) green-brown, (something) (something) like slimy algae. You always have (something) stupid red sports jacket on. Your sneakers (something) (something) white, once upon a time.” She managed to tease him, uttering out a tiny giggle.

  “What can I say, Carrie, I’m a filthy gremlin, like all boys are-” He joked, and she swatted him lightly on the arm. She bit back a laugh, and Tommy wished that she wouldn’t- Carrie tips her head back when she laughs, unabashed and on the edge of hysterical, giggling and snorting, shoulders shaking with mirth until she’s brought her gaze back down again, cheeks flushed from the exertion of being host to that much joy despite everything that she’s been through. No one holds the weight of trauma and mistreatment as heavily on their shoulders as Carrie White does- Carrieta, the library to all of those scattered instances of would-be’s-could-be’s-shouldn’t-be’s. And still, there is a smidge joy. It’s beautiful. He thought that she’s most beautiful when she’s laughing (don’t tell Sue, and if you do, make sure you let her know it’s completely platonic. but just don’t tell her at all).

  “You have, like, (something) favorite red shirt, with a light brown hood on it. And S-U-E thinks it’s hideous.” Carrie continued. She’s tapping her foot against his leg, a gentle soothing gesture, and he lets her. He knew that it’s more for herself than him.

  “You have a golden ring (something) onto a necklace.” Carrie signed. “But you don’t wear it (something) you think it (something) you look silly. But it’s really pretty.” Pause, and when she signed again, it wasn't about the necklace anymore. “It’s (something) (something) like having a sibling.” Pause. Carrie looked up at him with glittering eyes. “You’re Tommy Ross.”

The weight that she placed on his name makes his heart stutter, catching in his chest- the warmth that he felt towards her is almost unbearable, and he found himself grinning, mouth gone crooked in the gesture.

  “I’m Tommy Ross, that’s right,” He repeated to her, as if they’re introducing themselves at some shitty college icebreaker. “And I’m not going anywhere, Carrie.” He went on, a touch of urgency in his voice- and she smiles, eyes closing, though hers are more reserved than his, somehow. There’s a tear bright in the corner of her right eye, and it traced a thin path down her face. More come. They pool at her chin, dripping off of her face, and soaking into the softness of the earth. His chest ached.

  “And you’re not going anywhere,” She whispered, voice hitching a little halfway through. He swiped a thumb over her cheek, flicked the tear off into the green grass behind them. 

  “I’m not,” He promised. “I’m not leaving you, Carrie.” And his voice had gone soft, her name cradled gently in his mouth, like he’s afraid of breaking something precious.

[purplesurveys]

990

survey by starsareonly2nd

Have you ever been to Las Vegas? No. Doesn’t sound like my type of city. I wouldn’t mind visiting the rest of Nevada though.

What did you have for breakfast this morning? Just a cup of coffee; I skip breakfast except on Sundays, when we actually sit down at the dining table and eat as a family.

Do you have any loose change in your pocket? I don’t have any pockets right now but I do have very few coins in my wallet. I used to have plenty, but I’ve given most of them away because I usually give tips to the nice people who help me get out of parking spots.

Do you like Taylor Swift? I like some of her songs, especially the ones from 1989, but I have no idea why I just can’t get into her as a person.

What's your favorite Disney Channel movie? I haven’t tuned in to that channel for a very long time now, but the movies that I got the most excited about as a kid were Twitches, Wendy Wu, Camp Rock, The Cheetah Girls, and High School Musical 1 and 2.

If you met your favorite celebrity, would you be calm or star struck? I’d be starstruck in a calm way; like I’d most likely be too shocked to get more than a few words out. I’m sure I’d come off as shy or boring haha, which is why I’ve refused to meet or interact with my favorite celebrities even if I’ve already had the chance to.

Are there any lights on in the room you're in? I have a ceiling light and a desk lamp, but both are turned off. My only light source at the moment is my laptop screen.

What's your favorite subject in school? History.

What's your favorite holiday? My birthday, if that counts. Christmas can also be great but only for the food, the reunions with extended family, and the freedom to guiltlessly cut off contact with colleagues for a couple of weeks. All other aspects of it make me miserable though.

Do you ever have to do yard work? I’ve never had to do that before.

Is your school close to your house? I mean, it wasn’t a 10-minute walk away but it’s relatively close and driving to my university objectively doesn’t take too long unless there’s heavy traffic. If there’s absolutely no barriers I could get to school in 15-20 minutes, but this is really only just for weekends where I have to go to school for some reason. If there’s traffic (and there always is), I take anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour and a half.

Speaking of school, how did you get there today? I haven’t been to my school since the first week of March, and I’ve already graduated since then.

Do you think Bad Romance is a catchy song, or an annoying one? I can honestly tell you that I have genuinely never gotten sick of that song. It’s a late 2000s classic, man. Of course it was too explicit for my 11 year old ears when it first came out, but I found it catchy nonetheless.

Do you use perfect grammar online? I always try to be correct, yes. When I use improper grammar it’s usually because I’m joking.

Are you currently using a laptop? Yup.

Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? I haven’t used iTunes in a while and Spotify, which I do use, doesn’t work that way.

Did/do you listen to Britney Spears songs? I’ve never skipped her singles whenever I caught them on the radio and I’ve always fairly enjoyed the music she puts out, but I normally don’t voluntarily listen to her i.e. look up her songs myself on Spotify.

Is it a windy day? It is now that it’s nighttime, but it was a little humid all day today.

In the past week, have you ridden in a taxi? No. I’m not actually sure if that’s even already allowed...the possibility of public transport is still pretty murky where I live.

What shorthand do you use the most? I have no idea what this means. I did try looking it up but I dunno if I’ve ever had to use shorthand at any point in my life.

Do you ever wish on stars at night? Every now and then, but it’s just the little kid in me.

What color are your eyes? Dark brown. I feel like I answer this at least once a week.

What album is the current song you're listening to off of? Not listening to music but the last song I heard is from an album called Petals For Armor.

What are you doing after you finish this? Try not to cry/break down. Find something to watch on YouTube. Maybe play with Cooper to destress and forget about my problems for a bit.

In your opinion, what song is the most overplayed right now? Other than songs I occasionally put on repeat, I have not heard any new music for a while now.

Are you in a band? Nope, never been.

How clean is your bedroom? We just tidied it up and rearranged a few things last month so I’d say it’s clean - at least tidier than it used to be. And I’m a little proud that despite how rough life has been, I’ve managed to keep it clean. It’s the little things.

Is there a pen within reaching distance of you? Yeah, there’s one on my desk and I can easily reach out and grab it.

Are you sitting at a desk? I’ve moved to my bed for now. My back does not appreciate sitting at a desk all day.

Does your favorite band have a male or female lead singer? Female.

Do you normally shut your bedroom door before you go to sleep? Yesssssssss. We have a light source by the stairs that extends to the hallway and reaches my room, so it gets super annoying if my door is even just slightly ajar because my eyes get distracted by the faint light. My door has to be completely shut for me to feel comfortable in the privacy of my room.

Have you seen the movie Moulin Rouge? I haven’t. I loooove Lady Marmalade, but I’m just not sure if the movie itself is my cup of tea.

Would you ever dye your hair a different color? I’d love to have the chance to do that, yeah.

Are there any framed pictures in the room you're in? There are a couple.

Have you ever been to a Broadway show? Nope.

Do you watch So You Think You Can Dance? I don’t think so but I do remember watching a few episodes of Dancing with the Stars because a wrestler that I liked was one of the contestants for one season. I’m just not sure of SYTYCD also featured wrestlers in their shows; if that has been the case in the past- and I’m just not sure because my memory is a little hazy - I would’ve given it a watch.

What's your favorite movie soundtrack? The Twilight Saga churned out some bomb ass soundtracks. Other than that, I also enjoyed Interstellar’s and Requiem for a Dream’s.

Do you prefer group or individual work? Depends on what kind of work needs to be done. If a task is graphic design or video editing-heavy, I would prefer to work with other people; but if it’s gonna be heavy on something that’s already my forte, I like to work by myself.

Do you have a key to anything besides your house? Just my car.

Are you wearing anything with stripes? Not at the moment.

What time did you go to sleep last night? 9:45 I think? A little later than 10? Somewhere along that range.

Did anyone tell you you were beautiful today? No.

What show did you last watch? Friends.

Do you think you'll do anymore surveys today? I doubt it. This one is already quite longer than the surveys I usually take.

What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Cookies and cream; and more recently, chocolate chip cookie dough.

When was the last time you stayed home from school sick? Sometime in February last year. I developed a fever the night before but wasn’t able to start feeling better by the next morning, so I had to skip the one class I had that day.

Could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? Yes. I’m actually planning to buy a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle; it’s one of the items I’ve put on my cart recently. Depressed Robyn is also spend-a-lot-of-money-on-artsy-craftsy-supplies-Robyn, so.

If you could run a red light and not get caught, would you? Hell no.

Do you like to listen to music as you do your homework? Not usually, but sometimes I’ll put on lo-fi since that’s the only kind of music I can listen to and still keep my focus.

Did you think Adam Lambert's AMA performance was really that controversial? I’ve never encountered it, but I doubt I’ll have a problem with it if I do get to watch the performance. I love Adam Lambert and I've never found myself shaking my head at whatever he’s doing.

Do any bands flat-out annoy you? They’re a boy band more than anything but The Vamps has consistently irritated me through the years.

Do you have a mirror in your bedroom? No. I used to, but I gave it to my sister.

Was today a birthday for any of your friends? I don’t think so. With all my social media being deactivated I never get notified about birthdays anymore, but I’m fairly sure none of my friends blow out their candles every October 22nd.

When was the last time you rode in a limo? I’ve never been in one.

Do you take naps daily? No. I can’t really do that anymore since I have an 8-hour shift on weekdays, lol.

Do you still make Christmas lists? No.

Do you watch the show Dexter? I tried getting into the show because it used to always be said in the same breath as Breaking Bad, but I never got invested. I heard later seasons sucked too, so that also turned me off from continuing to pursue the series.

What's the background on your phone? I have a motivational comic that says “You’re doing really well given the circumstances” as my lockscreen. Cooper smiling is my home screen.

When were/will you be a a sophomore in high school? That was six years ago.

Are you scared of any animals? Any flying insect or bug, and I find them scarier if they come with a loud buzz.

Have you ever been to any sort of convention? YouTube Fanfest, if that counts as one. I’m not really sure what counts as a convention haha, but that’s the closest thing I’ve got.

Which song did you last listen to on repeat? Why We Ever by Hayley Williams.

Where do you want to live when you grow up? I’ve stopped thinking about that for now. My focus has since shifted to asking myself if I’ll still even be alive in a few years...ugh, how far we’ve fallen.

Are you currently using a blanket? No. It’s not cold enough for a blanket yet, but maybe in a few hours.

Are there any songs that make you cry? A lot.

How many siblings do you have? Two.

What are you doing this weekend? I have no idea.

Do you prefer swimming at the beach or in a pool? BEEEEEEEEACH. Once I took my first dip in a beach, I never wanted to swim in a pool ever again.

When was the last time you had a haircut? March.

Which musical instrument do you think sounds the prettiest? Piano, saxophone, and violin. Can’t pick a favorite; I think they all sound beautiful.

Are you in band or chorus at your school? I was never in either.

Do you know what you want for Christmas? Yeah but they’re all intangible. I want to be happy, be at peace, normalcy, etc. I’ve stopped pining for presents, especially now that I can afford my own shit.

Do you watch fireworks on New Year's Eve? Always.

Is your birthday within the next three months? Nope. You’ll have to add three more months to that timeframe.

How long is the song you're listening to? No music.

Are you anticipating anything this week? I’m waiting for a couple of very specific emails to come in, and I hope they do before the week ends.

Is your mom or dad the older parent? My dad, but only by 8 months. They were born in the same year.

Have you taken the SATs yet? I never had to take them, but I heard they’re triiiiiiiicky.

Do you watch anything on E? We never had E! in our cable service but I like tuning into that channel whenever we stay at hotels because I get to watch KUWTK, hehe.

Are you going to get off the computer now that you've finished this? Most likely.

[sophieakatz]

Thursday Thoughts: I Am Proud Of My Fanfiction

The other day, I met with an aspiring creative who wanted to pick my brain about my experiences as a writer. I told her about the plays I worked on in school, the shows I helped bring to life in the Disney Parks, and my novel-in-progress, Tali’s Flowers.

“I haven’t worked on it in a while,” I said. “I love that story, but I keep working on other things instead.”

“Do you not love the other things you’re working on?” she asked me.

The question caught me by surprise, and I laughed a bit – partly because I laugh when I’m surprised, but mostly because the “other things” I keep working on instead of my novel are fanfiction.

You are currently reading this post on my professional writing blog. If you’ve been following me for a while, then you know that I often post links to my fanfiction here. When I first created this blog, I was hesitant to do so. Fanfiction has a reputation of being unprofessional. It’s considered a “lesser” art form to original fiction. I have another Tumblr account for reblogging gifsets and videos and other nerdy, less-than-professional social media things. I considered keeping my fanfiction over there, if I posted it at all.

Ultimately, I decided that this blog is for my writing – all of my writing that I love, that I am proud of, and that I want to share with the world. And that writing includes fanfiction.

Why?

I could say that writing and posting fanfiction is a vital part of my professional development. I spent five incredible months as the Disney Parks Live Entertainment Show Writer Intern, and all the shows I helped bring to life as a part of that internship were, arguably, “official” fanfiction. I was not only assigned but also paid to write new adventures for characters from movies I fell in love with as a child. I put words into the mouths of the Toy Story gang and explored the fan club culture of the world of The Incredibles. Being able to do that again, to make a living writing new stories for characters the world already loves, is one of my career goals.

But that isn’t the whole story. Not everyone who writes fanfiction will ever do so for money, or even wants to. And even if I knew without a doubt that I would never have the chance to write for Disney or any entertainment company ever again, I would still write and post fanfiction.

Because not only do I love writing fanfiction, but I am also proud of my fanfiction.

I am proud of the quality of my fanfiction.

I’m afflicted by the same curse that many writers have: once a story of mine is out in the world, I usually can’t read it again without cringing.

It is a rare delight to write something, return to it a month later, and still like it. This is a natural consequence of improving my craft as a writer, combined with dubiously-healthy doses of anxiety and imposter syndrome.

But there are times, blessed times, when I enjoy rereading my own writing, when I know without a doubt that what I penned was good. I’ve had a lot of those moments while writing fanfiction. Sure, humility is a virtue and putting yourself down is “cool” these days, but I’ve spent years working and learning and improving my craft – I have a Bachelor’s Degree in this, for crying out loud – and it shows!

Lena closed her fingers around the keys, and she put the closed fist to her chest. And all at once it hit her that she was here to stay, and she began to cry. And then Webby was back in front of her, kissing her first on the forehead and then on the beak, and then she threw her arms around Lena’s neck, and Scrooge had a hand on each of their shoulders, and their limbs were good, strong roots that reached so deep into the earth that nothing could ever pull them away, and Lena knew that she was home at last.

The previous paragraph is the final lines of The Sunchaser Grill, a crossover fanfic of Disney’s DuckTales TV show, the 1996 film The Spitfire Grill, and the 2001 Off-Broadway musical adaptation of the same name. And yes, I know how bizarre that sounds. Bizarre stuff happens in this story. But that paragraph is one of my favorite things that I’ve ever written. I am proud to say that whenever I reread it, it makes me smile.

I am proud that my fanfiction comes from a spirit of joy and fun.

There’s a place in the world for sad stories. Sometimes I even write them. But overwhelmingly, my writing steers towards the positive. I write the fics that I write because I know I’ll have a good time writing them.

I wrote Sunchaser Grill because it delighted me how well the characters from one work fit the character roles of the other. I wrote Hang In There because I wanted to imagine the Thirteenth Doctor going back to give a young River Song a bit of hope, in a moment that Doctor Who canon might never give us. I wrote so, so many fics for this last Weblena Month because that little lesbian couple makes me so, so happy. And once, way back in high school, I wrote a 600-word fic about Shere Khan from The Jungle Book meeting Tigger from Winnie the Pooh, just because I thought it would be funny.

I’m proud of the spirit of joy that powers my writing, and I’m proud of the stories that have grown from that joy.

It’s not just about me, though.

I am proud that my fanfiction brings joy to and has meaning for other people.

During my internship with Disney Parks Live Entertainment, I saw children laugh, dance, and play along with the shows I wrote. As that internship neared its end, I naturally felt sad at the thought of not making children laugh with my stories anymore.

Almost on cue, I received an email notification from one of my old accounts. Someone had just left a comment on that “Shere Khan meets Tigger” story I mentioned before. This was in 2018. I wrote that story in 2011.

This is such a perfect crossover! And both tigers are completely in character. Shere Khan is trying to hunt, but gets interrupted by an excited, bouncy Tigger. As a result, Shere Khan is annoyed and Tigger doesn’t let anything bother him.

P.S. My eight-year-old daughter liked it, too.

It hit me then that I had already been creating stories that made children laugh even before Disney hired me, and there was no reason why I had to stop.

I want to tell stories that mean something to other people. Fanfiction has given me the opportunity for that desire to be not just a dream for someday, but something that I can do right here, right now. It’s allowed me to see the impact my writing can have, the impact that I want it to have, on other people’s lives.

Here are a few of the comments that people have left on my fanfiction over the years:

thank you. Just - thank you. And good night; I will finally go to bed, now. – on a Hunger Games fanfic in 2011

An adorable ending to a magical story. I got tears in my eyes, you know, and I almost never cry. :) – on one of my Alice in Wonderland fanfics in 2012

Thank you for giving more depth to an already-amazing character. – on one of my Rune Factory 3 fanfics in 2016

I've been wanting to comment since Chapter One but I couldn't think of something to say. Seeing this story updated just makes my day better and it's so well written and I'm invested in the plot. Just...good job <3. – on that Spitfire Grill fic in 2018

I really love this, it's amazing how you showed the piano and music as something that makes sense in the middle of all confusion and it's amazing to see it as something that can help so much. To me personally piano has been incredibly important so reading this fic just... I have tears in my eyes right now and I don't know how to express how amazing this fic is for me to read. – on one of my Ducktales fics in 2018

This part hit me tbh, this is something I’ve said nearly verbatim when talking about my own fear that no one would ever want to be in a relationship with me… I just want to say how much I love this entire series. – on one of my 2019 Weblena Week fics

People read fanfiction because they want to spend more time with the characters they love, because they want to laugh or cry, because they want to see themselves and their experiences reflected in media. I am proud to create those experiences for other people.

Of course I love the “other things” I keep working on. Of course I love my fanfiction. Someday I’ll finish Tali’s Flowers, or a different novel, or a movie, or a play, and people will call it my “debut” and ask me how it feels to have finally “made it.” And I’ll be proud, of course I’ll be proud. But I’m already proud. I have every reason to be.

[afanoftheglassscientists]

The Glass Scientists...Midnight Predictions?

Pupy and his creatures hath returned and I immediately wanted to start this week’s predictions after last week’s page.  If the tgs tag wasn’t so cozy I might have made like seven different posts by the time this Sunday.  As it stands I feel like if I do more than three posts a week I’ll end up swallowing everyone else’s hard work because of the frequency.  These posts are long because I still have some restraint left in me to wait...but then I spend way too long on this post and Monday rolls around...whoops.  So now this is...a Glass Scientists MIDNIGHT Predictions post!!!

Anyway tailors are scary and they scare me, but I wonder why Jasper’s a little frazzled at the thought of them?  Also Jekyll what are you doing with Jasper’s collar?  Are you straightening it or loosening it?  I hope its the latter because my child must be set  f r e e.  F R E E   H I M  !  !  !

After exploring these questions regarding tomorrow’s page I’ll be talking about Jasper’s immunity to the nightmates.  Last week I actually came close in predicting that Jekyll can still concentrate on doing productive things like helping Jasper, but last page reminded me of what makes Jasper unique in the story as well as my predictions made for this chapter as whole.  It also reminded me that Jekyll’s desire to be depended upon is going to be even more prominent now than I thought, and its going to get worse before it gets better.  Hopefully it gets better.  Please let it get better Miss Sabrina.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you this one was going to be long folks.  

Tomorrow’s Page Predictions (Ch. 8, Pg. 8)

Tailoring Troubles

I feel I need to acknowledge the elephant in the room here:  Jasper is queer.  This isn’t up for debate.  Sabrina made it very clear that almost everyone in The Glass Scientists is Bi, and she specifically referred to Jasper and Jekyll as queer.  I don’t think its much of a stretch to assume Jasper doesn’t feel great about being measured because of this aspect of him, which he might not be proud of yet and is also scared of what might happen if that part of him is revealed.  Not to jump the gun here, but maybe Jasper calling himself a monster in Chapter 2 wasn’t in reference to him being a werewolf.

“I’m not a real scientist!  I’m not even a real human anymore!  I’m...just a monster.”

“Just” meaning “what’s left for them to be,” and not “what they’ve become.”

However I’m not going to get into specifics as to why Jasper’s identity plays into his fear of tailoring here, because I think that requires us knowing more about how Jasper actually identifies, which at this point in time is still pretty vague.  So instead I’m making a list of all the other reasons why Jasper might not want to meet a tailor.

Tailor might judge him for his usual attire.

Tailor have long snake-like ropes that wrap around you that don’t have cute doggy faces so whatd the point I ask of you.

Tailor might make comments about Jasper’s body like, “oh nice collarbone,” or “you could lose some weight a bit here,” and it might be a nice gesture to ease tensions but don’t

While being measured Jasper is scared breathing will mess with the measurements and consequently almost passes out.

Jasper has a bunch of bites and scratches all over his body due to his creatures (plus the werewolf that bit him) and he thinks its fine and normal but the tailor might faint in horror.

If tailor accidentally pokes him he might jump out of his skin and attach himself to the ceiling.

Jekyll wht r you doin?

While Jekyll is making Jasper uncomfortable at the mention of tailoring he is doing something that would make me uncomfortable in Jasper’s situation.  Don’t just go messing with other peoples clothes, Jekyll!  Especially when its around their neck!  Anyway what he’s doing with that bow?

Option 1 - He’s rearranging the bow to make it even - alright fair, but he should have warned Jasper first!  I feel like a PTA mom ready to call the principal.

Option 2 - He’s removing the bow altogether - F R E E  H I M.  In Sabrina’s blog waaaaaaaaay back when one of the sketches introducing Jasper showed him sitting down looking like he just went through a sauna and is giving the dopiest look.  I feel like releasing him from the bow prison and being able to take a full breadth would give him the same feeling.  Listen we got the Hungry Jasper we will get the Dopey Jasper!

Option 3 - He’s replacing the bow with a bow that might suit him better - No keep it off let Jasper be f r e e.

Option 4 - He just wants to play dress up - I’M CALLING YOUR MOM!!!

Option 5 - Jekyll doesn’t have the chance because Jasper backs away at the thought of tailors - You win this round uneven bow.

---

General Predictions

Before Chapter 8 started I predicted that Jasper would join the Concerned for Jekyll Club.  I was also going to add that if Jasper does try to show concern for Jekyll, Jekyll would hit back that concern and center it toward Jasper.  He wants to help and fuss over Jasper, and NEVER wants that help and fussing over to be geared toward him.  Being fussed over implies he has a problem.  Jekyll doesn’t have a problem, Jasper has the problem!  That’s why he needs to help Jasper, see?  Its important they keep that dynamic, otherwise Jekyll would have to confront his own issues and that’s just not as fun.

And what do you know: Lanyon, who is a professional Jekyll fusser-over, is deeply affected by the nightmates, but Jasper, who’s still preoccupied with his own worries, isn’t.  Hyde said so himself-

“Jasper’s the only person left who isn’t yelling at, gossiping about, or relentlessly fussing over Jekyll.  And that’s a problem.”

Now Hyde’s not mad at Jasper here, because this has nothing to do with Jasper and has to do entirely with Jekyll’s perception of him, which is as a reprieve, or to put in the Broadway show Wicked’s terms, a “new project.”  He’s a opportunity for Jekyll to practice his hobby, like a office worker getting the chance to write a few extra pages in his novel about snails.  And a novel about snails wouldn’t ask its author to take a break now would it?

Jasper’s not targeted by the nightmates because he hasn't done anything yet to change Jekyll’s view of him.  He’s a nice young man who has agreed to be a respectable mad scientist under Jekyll’s wing.  Both parties get something out of this arrangement, and there is no possible way for this to go wrong.  Easy peasy...

So How Does This Go Wrong

For me, there’s three ways for Jasper’s nightmate-free bubble to burst: Jasper confronts Jekyll, Jasper is negatively affected by Jekyll’s attention, or Jekyll is forced to recognize how dependent he is on Jasper’s need for his help.  Here’s how we could get to any of these points-

Jasper Starts to Put the Pieces Together - I still have my money on Jasper being more observant than he lets on, but is easily distracted by outside situations or inner fears.  If Jasper starts to remedy these self fears he might have a moment to register how Jekyll is much more enthusiastic about helping him than he is with, say, helping a sick elderly mad scientist up in the attic.  Or how Jekyll looks at his fellow lodgers and Lanyon versus how he looks at Jasper.  Or how Jekyll doesn’t seem to do have anything else to do on his free time.  Oh he still treats Frankenstein and go to important meetings, but if Jasper asks what Jekyll does on his off-time would Jekyll give him that same blank-eyed stare he gave him in front of his door?  I don’t think he’d be creeped out right away, but he might start to think that Jekyll needs to like, sleep or something...

Lodgers Gossip and/or are also Worried - The Lodgers gossip about Jekyll, that’s pretty clear from Hyde’s comment, which is why they’re affected by the nightmates.  And what’s this?  Jekyll seems to concentrate an awful lot on Jasper.  Why is that?  I think there might be a mix of Lodgers who will gossip about Jasper alongside Jekyll, Lodgers on Team Frankenstein who want to bring Jasper on their side of the playing field or at least out from under Jekyll’s “respectable” thumb, and maybe Lodgers who realize that Jekyll treating Jasper like his personal therapy tool is, like, bad and want to either tell off Jekyll or tell Jasper this isn’t a great situation.  Jasper might not see it as a serious issue, but he might be inclined to start doubting it.

Lanyon Confronts Jekyll on it OR Tell Jasper About Jekyll’s Situation - Hyde’s annoyed at Jekyll being around Jasper basically because Jasper’s NOT doing things that Lanyon would do, which is hilarious given how much Hyde tooootally hates Lanyon.  So wouldn’t it be funny if Lanyon was the one to burst the bubble?  Anyway there’s a likely chance that Lanyon will notice how Jasper seems to be the only Lodger who doesn’t see Jekyll stressed, because he doesn’t realize that he’s the de-stresser.  And if he does than Lanyon will have to first go, “Really Henry, ANOTHER werewolf!?” and then go, “How do I handle this situation in regards to Jekyll’s problems, not to mention finding Hyde?”  He might find issues with their dynamic (n-not that he’d be jealous or anything! b-b-baka!) and tell Jekyll he should probably take a break, or tell Jasper he needs to refuse Jekyll’s help every single time he offers it, because it could hurt Jekyll in the long run.  He could also try to set aside his concerns and use it to his advantage.  Jekyll doesn’t seem to want Lanyon’s company or answer his questions, but maybe if Jasper asked questions Jekyll would be more willing to give answers, even if its not truthful answers.   I do a lot of predictions centered around problems Jekyll, Jasper and Hyde have, along with a little bit of Rachel’s flaws, but I think I might talk more on Lanyon’s faults as well at a later date.

Frankenstein -  Just Frankenstein.  That’s it.  That’s all it takes.  I’ll leave you to imagine how she’d affect the situation.

---

Okay I need to stop here.  I might come back to the topic later because it involves Jasper but for now I think it filled my quota.  I hope you enjoy this while we wait for tomor...this morning’s page.

And since this is a midnight post...

That’s it for this midnight prediction.  Now go to bed!

[fluidityandgiggles]

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 8

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): I could not wait to post this. I know it’s only Wednesday but I couldn’t wait and I had to. I’m sorry... I’m sure the next chapter will bring us back to the regular schedule. This chapter is really weird, at least in my opinion (but it might just be that I read it again and again a million times over), but I’m really happy with it and... also not really. Some people in this chapter need to... I don’t want to say anything. It would only make things worse if I say anything.

Thanks to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for the original suggestion, to @whatwashernameagain for all her help and for being a sweet lil angel of a person, and to my little elves, @anony-phangirl, @asleepybisexual and @winglessnymph for dealing with my bullshit. A special one goes to Nicky this time, for being an adorable bean and reading this chapter ahead of time to help me figure things out. I am so grateful that I have this lovely group of people to help me and I can’t thank them enough.

Tag list (sort of): @bunny222, @ab-artist, @secretlyanxiouspersona, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters, @why-things-go-boom, @ilovemyspoopydad, @violetblossem, @prinxiety-an-chocolate

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). Especially in this chapter, and not necessarily period-appropriate, but... you have been warned.

—————

Wednesday, November 27th, 2002

Remy finally understood the point of existentialism and, more specifically, of the saying "Hell is other people".

He couldn't even take comfort in knowing how close India was. She didn't leave Boston for the holiday, and she wouldn't have anyway. Her family in North Carolina were horrible people and she told him that she hadn't seen any of them since she came to Harvard.

That meant that, for the next few days, he was stuck in Social Circle, Georgia. All alone. With no escape plan.

"Sarah, look, Remy's here!"

...and Leah.

She came down the road on her rollerblades, looking entirely too proud of herself, and their cousin Sarah on her trail. Sarah wasn't particularly bad, but Remy wasn't entirely comfortable around—

"A little bird told me you were going to be away this year."

"Gurl, you don't even want to know what happened."

"No I don't. I'm just glad you're here, Becca."

Becca. A cursed name. Yeah, maybe that's going a bit overboard, but… Remy wasn't called Becca since… well, Christmas of last year. But it's been a long time!

"I can rollerblade, right Remy?" Leah was holding onto his leg, almost dragging him down, and started taking her rollerblades off. "You saw me do it!"

"What are you doing?"

"I don't want Mom to see…"

"But you'll freeze!"

"But she won't be mad at me!"

"Becca, would you like to hear the holiday forecast?" Sarah tapped Remy on the shoulder as she said that. He didn't really, but… "Sunny. Way too sunny. With high chance of showers and a possible thunderstorm."

(Translated, it meant there will be fights. A lot of fights. And Remy was ready to deal with them, but… it didn't mean he wanted to hear it.)

"Wow, thanks for all the help, Sarah."

"No need to be rude, I'm just trying to prepare you. Everyone is coming. And some of us aren't as accepting of your ‘identity' as others."

That was incredibly true. Sadly. It took Linda no time at all to let everyone know that her daughter believes that she's a boy, and it took his grandmother no time to tell him that when she was younger, she had a very good friend who was born a boy, but lived as her true feminine self, and that she misses that friend so much because "there was no kinder or sweeter woman you'd ever meet, too bad we had to lose her to that wretched AIDS. We didn't have no cocktails or whatever back then, not like today. She died something like three years after you were born. You would've loved Celia."

It was going to be an insufferable holiday.

"Sarah, you're barely two years older than me. You don't—"

"I'm not mothering you. I'm just pointing out the facts."

Leah let go of Remy's leg, and instead grabbed onto his arm, the rollerblades in one hand. She was barefoot, she was cold, and he just wanted to hold her tight so she wouldn't freeze too much.

He was falling hard and fast for the sister he didn't want to meet a couple weeks ago, and he was struggling to understand what exactly happened.

"Sarah has a boyfriend now," Leah said happily as she led Remy (and his bag) to the house. "He's not very nice." She threw her rollerblades into a small shed near the door and quickly closed it.

"I'll bet."

"It's why she's being a bitch. I think. I don't know."

"It's how she's always been. Don't feel bad."

Leah decided to give him a house tour, and explained that nobody was there yet because everyone will come tomorrow and Stephen had a thing to do in Atlanta and Rachel had a play date. And Linda's house was… well, a house.

Remy was so used to the small and outrageously expensive apartment on West 106th, with the bad lighting and the closet-sized bedrooms, that the house seemed huge to him. The living room alone was - mismatched furniture aside - incredibly impressive. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in so much natural light that reflected off the shiny hardwood floors, the cream-colored walls and the needlessly large flat-screen TV, that Remy doubted they even needed the huge fucking chandelier (okay, maybe he was exaggerating a bit) that hung in the middle of the room. The walls were covered in crayon doodles and bright purple marks where the girls' heights were measured, and a few dark scratches. Obvious evidence that a certain scooter kept running into them.

Two black suede couches faced the brick fireplace (a fucking fireplace? Utterly pointless, much like a lot of things in this room), with dark blue and gray throwing pillows placed strategically on them. It looked incredibly comfortable. Between the couches and the fireplace was a small glass coffee table, "adorned" with misplaced toys and children's art supplies. A beautiful, blue-green glass vase full of white daffodils was right in the middle of the table. Leah proudly told him that she picked them herself.

Wooden bookcases covered the wall next to the entrance, and two light gray, plush armchairs, with the same dark blue and gray pillows, faced them. Remy was very familiar with those armchairs. They used to belong to his grandparents. He used to torture those chairs with Sarah when they were younger, draw on them with markers and put stickers all over the armrests. How his grandmother managed to remove the stickers was beyond him, but he knew for a fact that she put them through very intensive cleaning after every visit.

Two years ago they disappeared from their house in Red Bank, New Jersey. And nobody could explain to him why.

In the corner of the room, next to the bookcases, sat a sleek Steinway that Remy knew very well. It belonged to his grandfather. He wasn't even aware that it, too, made its way from New Jersey to Georgia.

(Nobody told Remy anything anymore, as it turned out. At least he could take comfort in knowing that Roger's piano was being put to good use.)

And that was just the living room. Remy didn't even want to think about the hallway.

"We moved here from Atlanta when I started going to school and my grandma and grandpa wanted me to go to where Dad went to school," Leah started rambling. "And I miss Atlanta. There's a lot more to do there, there's a lot more fun stuff to—"

"I know." The offended look on her face went away when Remy put his hand in her hair, to calm her down. "I live two blocks away from Broadway, I just need to take the subway and I'll be at Times Square, but I can't. I don't have the money for it and I don't want to take money from my dad."

"Isn't that annoying?"

"Leah, you're seven. Stop complaining about that kind of stuff," Sarah chided as she pushed past them, a glass of water in her hand, and went to sit down. "Just wait until you're in college."

"You mean, the place where everything is close by and rather affordable thanks to student discounts and the option of working on campus?"

"You're only a senior in high school, what do you know—"

"I go to Harvard, Sarah. It's been a couple months already."

"Oh… yeah. I'm sure you're doing great."

Yeah. Maybe this holiday he'll just stick to Leah.

——

"If there is a thing you should know about your mother," Edith Brigham told her grandchild in late 1992, "it's that she is too headstrong for her own good. It doesn't matter how much you try to change her mind, she'll never listen."

This was the reason Remy kept talking to his grandmother after the divorce. Why he kept visiting Edith and Roger after Linda left.

"Where's grandma and Roger?"

"They won't be coming this holiday, Rebecca. They're in Thailand."

Remy was absolutely not ready for this thanksgiving.

Stephen started a conversation with him about college while Linda was finishing things up in the kitchen that Wednesday. He asked him about his boyfriend, Remy did his best to avoid those particular questions ("is Ian playing any sports?" "She told me she was a cheerleader in high school, she wasn't allowed to do color guard"; Stephen choked on his beer when Remy said that), and things just seemed…

Overall, things seemed strangely calm.

Remy missed Edith and Roger.

"Who's she?" Linda asked from the kitchen.

"Never heard of her."

"Rebecca, please be serious."

"Remember when you met my best friend and she told you her name is Ian?" Linda made a choking sound. "Remember grandma's friend Celia?"

"That— you never even met her. You were too young. You don't even remember her. You are not the same as grandma's friend."

"I'm sure my best friend would love to hear that."

"So he's… he…"

"You can call her a she, you know."

"Grandma doesn't have a friend called Celia," Leah piped in from the corner, where she was sitting at the piano, trying to motivate herself to play it. Little Rachel was pressing all the keys, irritating Leah quite a bit.

"She died of a really bad disease before you were born," Linda said sharply. Something in her changed when talking to Leah.

"She was very nice," Remy added, trying to be softer than Linda. "Grandma says that she was a painter, and she spent a lot of time reading books, and that there was nobody sweeter than her. She died of AIDS."

"What's that?"

"Don't you—"

"Acquired immune deficiency syndrome." Leah hummed to herself as Remy said that. He could feel Linda glare at him. "You get it from contaminated blood or unsafe sex, and your immune system just doesn't work. I don't know a lot about it, so you should probably read about it—"

"Rebecca, she's seven years old!"

"She's a seven year old who knows that female hyenas have penises, Linda! She's old enough to know about AIDS."

"...you sound just like your grandmother."

"Thanks, I try to."

Leah just hummed again in understanding and left the piano in order to go painting. Rachel's key-pressing was getting too annoying for her. She said her hearing can't take it anymore.

Remy believed her.

"You can't just explain STDs to my child, Rebecca," Stephen hissed at him through gritted teeth, suddenly looking rather threatening.

"One of my professors said that if you can't explain it to a child, you don't truly understand it yourself."

"That's no excuse to—"

"Mom I have a headache can you tell Rachel to go away?"

"Deal with it. Rachel, sweetie, come here."

"Deal with it?" Linda just… shrugged. "Leah, come here, love. And bring my bag with you."

So she did. Remy took an ibuprofen pill out of the bag and gave it to her. And Linda...

"You're drugging up my kid?"

"She told you she has a headache. I'm having cramps right now, so I have painkillers on me. Shocker? To you, probably. You're the one who taught me that the cramps are just another sign that my body so terribly wants to have children, and—"

"Spit that out, Leah. You don't need anything."

And with that, Remy gave up on trying to talk to Linda. (Leah did not spit out the pill.)

——

Sunday, December 1st, 2002

The rest of the holiday was just as awful. Leah got overwhelmed by everything, Remy kept fighting with his aunts, and the alcohol didn't help in the least. Everyone felt Edith and Roger's absence and it only made things that much worse.

He should've stayed in Boston.

When he called India after getting off the plane, she told him to take comfort in the fact that Christmas is only three weeks away. And, yeah, she was right. But it didn't make things any better…

For now, he decided, he should focus on other things. Midterms were starting very soon. Next Tuesday was Emile's birthday. His dad started working on a new production—

There was a knock on the door.

"I heard you had a horrible holiday," an adorable, heavily-accented, quiet voice said once Remy opened the door. He could hear the smile in it. "Nothing cuddles and cookies can't solve, right?"

Thin, pale hands pulled Remy in for a hug, and finally. Remy came home.

——

"Umm… Emile, babe, you're crushing my lungs."

"Oh, oops. Sorry."

"Want to watch Nightmare Before Christmas and do absolutely nothing else?"

"Sounds lovely. Let's do it."

[stephhannes]

I Was a 23 Year Old Widow & Here’s Where I Went From There

a friend sent me a link to a refinery29 article today (I’m A 31-Year-Old Widow, & I Don’t Know Where To Go From Here) and it felt exactly like something i would have written three years ago, when i was in my first year of widowhood. it basically is something i’ve written three years ago. i remember all of those same feelings, am i doing this right? how do i navigate being hot and young but also a grief-stricken widow? 

the most important lesson i’ve learned in the last three years is this: the world doesn’t revolve around me. 

every time i start freaking out about the nuances of grieving i remind myself, the world doesn’t revolve around you, dummy. and nothing has been more freeing. 

everything in my life revolves around my grief, but there is no one else around me that’s thinking about it as much as i am. so much of my anxiety was defined by if i felt like i was grieving appropriately, in a way that society would approve of- but society isn’t thinking about me and my grief. and if they are, who gives a shit? talk to me when your partner unexpectedly dies at the age of 23. 

when i came back to social media after nathan died, i remember getting comments on photos like “oh, it’s so nice to see you smiling!” that made me so self-conscious. is it too soon to be smiling? is it ok to be having fun with my friends right now? 

i returned to dating apps within a year of nathan’s death, and i kept it secret for a very long time. i didn’t want people to think i was moving on. i wasn’t moving on, i was lonely! i was afraid that people would see me on tinder and be like “oh, she’s not that sad i guess” i was that sad! that’s why i was reverting to the ol’ faithful coping mechanism of entertaining gentlemen callers! 

as someone forced to live in my own grief, of course i was out here catastrophizing every situation possible. i stayed awake at night stressing over ok so when i do eventually date again: when do i tell him that i’m a widow? (literally just whenever it comes up in conversation) is it weird to talk about nathan all the time? (not really, is it actually any different than when someone talks about their ex? if anything, it should be less uncomfortable, my ‘ex’ is dead, there’s no threat there) do i take down the pictures of nathan before inviting someone to my house? (no, it’s my house).

in the piece i wrote 20 days after nathan died, this is what i was panicking about:

And I know that it’s only been a few weeks since Nathan died, but I feel the weight of the 21st century coming down on me already. Theoretically, he and I were so lucky to have found each other so early, not having to navigate our 20s with awkward dates and rifling through dating apps. But in reality, now that’s where I’m going to have to find myself again. I don’t know how to date someone that I haven’t already known for 10 years. When do I tell someone I’m a widow? How much is appropriate amount to mention my dead fiancé during a blind date? When is the appropriate time to update my Facebook relationship status to ‘single’? When am I supposed to take off my engagement ring and show my face on 6th street?

What’s an appropriate tinder bio?

“Hi, I’m Stephanie. I used to be engaged but now I’m not! Hit me up!”

How do I navigate a new relationship with someone when I know that they will never know me as well as Nathan did? I can spend all day talking about who I was in high school, I can explain with detail every moment of my collegiate years, but no one will truly know who I was during those times because they weren’t there.

and here’s the update on that, 3 years later:

as previously mentioned, i’ve had success just bringing it up whenever it happens to come up. i played around with immediately being like “hey i’m steph i’m a widow what’s poppin?” but i think it’s a little more palatable to lure someone in with my insufferable personality and then be like “oh btw im a widow lol” 

i went through a phase where i would tell stories about my time in new york, but omit the fact that the reason i lived there was because of my fiance. or i’d tell stories about “an ex” without being like “well the ex is actually my dead fiance” but that felt weird, so i transitioned to just literally talking about nathan, my dead fiance, whenever i want to. and shockingly, it’s gone over pretty well. men are a lot more receptive to hearing about your ex that you’re still kinda in love with when your ex is dead.

my facebook relationship status is still not updated to single. but i did take it off my profile altogether after about two years. 

i took off my engagement ring about 6 months after nathan died. it was a whole thing. i was tired of people seeing it and assuming i was engaged, and asking me about it and then being forced into being like “oh haha well i’m not engaged anymore” i showed my face on 6th street and hated it, not because of my status as a widow, because i’m 26.

i’m banned from tinder, but my bumble bio is “self made hundredaire / used to work on broadway / never eaten a grape before / very passionate about the monster mash and sparkling water” people seem to like it.

if i could go back in time and whisper to myself “shhh you sweet summer child it literally doesn’t matter” god, i would. i sucked in high school, thank fucking god no one knows what i was actually like then. i was unbelievably depressed in college, we don’t need to re-live that in detail. i’m literally so cool now, and that’s really all that matters. like, i’m fun and a boss babe and smart and hilarious and mysterious (but let’s not focus on the mystery just yet) so does it really matter if someone doesn’t immediately know the nuances of my 15 year old psyche?

+++

when talking about my relationship with nathan, i’ve always framed it as “i know it’s not the end all be all of relationships” and i still firmly believe in that. like the ann druyan quote- “we knew that we were the beneficiaries of chance. we found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful.” we had a dope relationship, it ran its course, i learned a bunch of shit about myself and what i need moving forward, and now it’s time to move forward. 

and in moving forward, i have to keep reminding myself that accepting relationships as they come into my life is a fun and exciting experience. it doesn’t have to be daunting and serious and terrifying. part of that has been just forcing myself to get out of my head, stop overthinking everything, and remember that the world does not revolve around me. there’s something about being able to just take what i need, leave what i don’t, for as long as it lasts and being fine with things when they eventually end. 

it’s been kind of hilarious finally going through scenarios i used to agonize over in the middle of the night. everything that i imagined to be a huge deal has been actually, not a deal at all. i had a conversation with a friend a couple of months ago where i was like “i just want a toxic relationship to pass the time,” and she was like “are you saying that because that’s actually what you want, or are you saying that because you’re afraid of being genuinely intimate/vulnerable with someone that’s not nathan?” and i was like, ok first of all i didn’t come here to get dragged like that and secondly…yeah, maybe. 

the vulnerability thing is still tough for me- very much not a fan of talking about my feelings without masking it with comedy. but every step i’ve made in that direction, i’ve been able to do without guilt or questioning myself. 

the first time someone other than nathan slept in my bed, i was worried that i would end up upset- it was fine. i was like “oh, i forgot how nice it is to wake up not alone.”

when i found myself in a vaguely toxic relationship i realized “yeah ok, that’s definitely not what i want.” the last time that person left my house, my first thought was “i miss nathan.” and it wasn’t even necessarily nathan that i missed. i missed being around someone that made me feel like they idk…..cared about me as a person and like…..respected me. 

i spent a lot of time seeking out people that i thought were similar to nathan, and then i realized that the qualities i was attracted to were just the bare minimum of human decency.  the things that i loved the most about my relationship with nathan weren’t necessarily qualities that were exclusive to him (they were things he was very good at, but so are a lot of other people). his willingness to listen to me tell the same stories over and over, his patience with all of my anxiety, how much he loved just spending time around me, the way he valued and respected my opinions, his ability to remember very tiny details, our effortless rapport. 

and at the same time, i’m recognizing strengths in other people that fill in where nathan had some weaknesses. the fact that none of my friends liked him, his inability to cope with my depression, all of the times he’d ask for forgiveness rather than permission, his unwillingness to accept criticism when i was upset with him, or the way he’d continue to push buttons i’d repeatedly asked him to leave alone. 

+++

so maybe it’s the zoloft, or maybe it’s just growing up a little bit- but letting go of all of that anxiety has really allowed me to feel a lot lighter. it feels good to finally be present in all of my relationships, not concerned about how anything looks- rather, just concerning myself with shit that feels right. i’ve always been a pretty solid judge of character, and as soon as i stopped doubting myself, the quality of person that came into my life was immediately a lot better, weird. it’s almost like the only opinion that truly matters....is my own. 

[artificialqueens]

When it all gets too much -(Shalaska) by Ty5000

A/N: I Know y’all are waiting for Soccer Punch but I’ve had a really bad few days and I didn’t want to take it out on that universes Sharon and Alaska so instead I wrote this monster oneshot. This is around 5k words which I didn’t event think I was capable of producing in one night but here you go I am really proud of this.

Massive Trigger warnings for eating disorders, depression, suicide and Self harm. It’s pretty dark but I wrote it as a kind of vent/ form of therapy please listen to the triggers and stay safe ily <3

P.S Its 6am and I’ve been writing all night so I proof read the best I could but there may be some mistakes.

Summary : College freshman Alaska suffered with poor mental health in the past and thought that she finally had it all in control until it all gets a little too much .

“Hi, it’s me, I’m just calling to say I won’t make it in today.” Alaska’s voice came out soft and quiet as if she hadn’t spoken all day, well she hadn’t so that made sense.

“Is everything okay sweetheart?” Her boss Kasha replied sounding genuinely concerned for her health.

“Yeah, I’m just not feeling well.” It wasn’t completely a lie she really didn’t feel just not the kind of unwell that you would expect. She wasn’t sure why she was expecting Kasha to believe that though, her boss was incredibly attentive and had made Alaska spill about her past with mental health when she had saw her taking her medication during her first week on the job.

“Okay, Well I’ll ask Courtney to cover your shift tonight it shouldn’t be a problem just let me know if you’ll make it in tomorrow.”

“Thanks Kasha.”

“Take care Alaska.” The older women replied with empathy that she pretended to not hear as she hung up the call. 

Alaska let the phone fall from her hand onto her bed, there was nothing she hated more in the world than letting her mental state get in the way of her life. Since starting at university almost three months ago now she had done her best to stay on top of things and worked through the occasional bad spots more so as a distraction than anything else. She had always known in the back of her mind that going to college would be a lot of pressure and despite the doubts from her parents there was no way she wasn’t going to do it, performing arts was her dream and now that she was steadily on that path nothing was going to stop her.

Well that part wasn’t entirely true as it was 2’Oclock in the afternoon and her Broadway history class was just ending yet here she was curled up in bed the same place she had been since she woke up from a troubled sleep at 5am that morning.

  That’s the thing about depression, the thing that most people don’t necessarily get: A depressive episode doesn’t need to be caused by anything (It can be of course.) but depression is funny like that it doesn’t need some sad event to rear its ugly head in fact often sadness doesn’t make you depressed, depression makes you sad. It makes you so sad that you almost can’t remember ever having felt anything else, and then just when you think you are used to the sadness it stings you deeper and makes you numb. Numb is okay right? numb is better than feeling miserable right? wrong. The numbness is what paralyses you, what drives you insane, leaves you bed ridden and wishing to just feel something.

Alaska had been feeling it for a week now, the beginning stages of a depressive episode. Her first one since… she thought she was in recovery. It had been over a year. Yet here she was again, and she recognised the feeling all too well: the ball of sadness, loneliness and general irritation brewing inside her, but she fought the urge to curl up on her sofa and instead choose to power through. She had too much at stake. Everyday she would wake up, shower, get ready and leave for class, eat her lunch, go to rehearsals, and then head off to work at the diner. Some days her girlfriend Sharon would come in on her way home from work and spend her break with her. They were both so busy during the week with college and jobs, so the hour of each others company was always welcomed. Routine was key, if she stuck to her routine she could beat this, that’s what the doctors had said.

 However yesterday had been the downfall of it all.

  Rehearsals weren’t going well. Half of the dancers were away on a field trip and the lead male was extremely hungover and constantly muddling up his lines. Alaska didn’t have a huge part in this play, as a freshman it was extremely difficult to get a notable part in any of the full class productions. As small as her three-lined part was she was just lucky to have a part at all.  Only she wasn’t feeling lucky at all, they had been in this room for over half the allocated two hours rehearsal time and they weren’t even close to her lines. She was extremely tired having stayed up most of the night to study for her test in music theory which had caused her to sleep in and almost miss the test itself. Come lunch she had discovered that her wallet had been left at home, Alaska really tried not to skip meals after…. But this couldn’t be helped. Now here she was sitting in the old theatre which was cold in the late November weather and seemingly getting nowhere.

 She thanked a god that she didn’t believe in that Wednesdays were her day off and that Sharon Didn’t need to be in work until 12pm on Thursdays meaning she would get to spend some long-overdue time with her girlfriend. Sharon had been so busy since starting her new job working at a popular alternative website keen to make a lasting impression that she didn’t get to see her as much anymore. The selfish part of her liked to awaken her self-doubt and tell her that Sharon didn’t care anymore but Alaska knew better than to let thoughts like that get to her. Sharon had been incredibly lucky to get her foot in the door of her dream job straight out of college and Alaska was happy for her. Really.

Finally, her theatre professor Miss Monsoon let them go, sending them off with a “Good work today people.” That Alaska couldn’t bring herself to believe.

She left the building and walked the ten minutes to her flat in what felt like a record speed beyond excited to be away from the cold for the day and back in the comfort of her own home.

 Once safely back at home, curled up on the sofa under a blanket with a mug of warm tea to heat her up and also to curb off the hunger until she could eat with Sharon she pulled out her phone to text her girlfriend.

To : Noodles (at 5.36pm)

God, I have had the worst day I think the worlds out to get me!

What time are you coming over? I need pizza and cuddles.

She casually flipped through some pizza menus mentally preparing her order as she awaited her response

To: Lasky (at 5:40pm)

I’m sorry Lasky I promised Raja I’d work late tonight, we need to finish that article on some cool new punk band but the research department didn’t bother to fact check so I promised I’d help out. Raincheck?

Alaska sighed deeply, of course the world would be so against her today that she couldn’t even have the one thing she had been looking forward to all day.

To: Noodles (at 5:41pm)

You work too hard ☹

I miss you

To: Lasky (at 5:43pm)

I know

I’ll come to the diner on your break tomorrow okay x

To: Noodles (at 5:44pm)

Okay <3

It wasn’t okay.

Alaska’s eyes burned with tears, she felt stupid for crying over something so trivial, but she couldn’t help it, she had been holding onto this one good thing throughout all the shit she’d dealt with today and now it was gone and with it went any remains of a good mood. Just like that the plug she had firmly pressed down over her feelings for the past week was pulled and a wave of surprised emotions emerged sinking the ship that was Alaska. Once the tears started they didn’t stop, she cried and cried a cocktail of sadness, anger, loneliness ,  exhaustion and stress. Loud aggressive sobs wracked her small frame, her hands reached up to grab her hair pulling tightly as her teeth dug into her lip subduing the urge to scream.

When she finally got herself somewhat under control a good while later her chest was tight and breathing erratic due to her sobbing, her throat and eyes burnt like fire, her head was pounding like a small army was marching on her brain and her bottom lip throbbed angrily from where she had bit down. A stinging in her arm drew her attention down where she discovered angry red scratch marks from where she had subconsciously dug her nails into her skin. It wasn’t by far the worst she had done in the past but staring down at the bright red standing out on top of the white skin already flawed from the past. This is when she realised she was in too deep and she needed someone. She needed Sharon.

To Noodles ( at 7:12pm)

Are you done with work?

Normally Alaska wouldn’t want to bother Sharon with her problems, she always felt that Sharon saw her as a child and found her poor mental health to be an inconvenience more than anything else. She put this down to the fact that she was 18 and could easily be easily seen as a child in the eyes of her 21 year old college graduate girlfriend. Being a freshman who could barely juggle her classes, part time job and social commitments without a daily dose of prescribed medication being seen as immature or too much for her girlfriend to handle was one of biggest insecurities. Sharon however despite appearing to be much more mature with her full-time job right out of college in her chosen field, her own apartment which she had gotten without special circumstances unlike Alaska and a cat was not perfect and had her own problems too. She worried endlessly about the wellbeing of her girlfriend and would never consider her lesser because of her past no matter what Alaska thought. 

       -     -    -

Alaska and Sharon first met the previous December almost a whole year ago at the university open day, Alaska had begged her mom to let her come. Her Mother had been hesitant due to the fact her daughter had just been released from the hospital and was unsure if college was such a good idea in her state, especially one three states over that she wouldn’t be able to get to in an emergency but eventually she gave in agreeing that maybe it’s exactly the distraction she needed.

Alaska had bumped into Sharon within her first half an hour in the building, there she was standing behind the information stall for the GSA with two other people who Alaska would come to know as Danny and Katya not that she really noticed them at first, all she saw was the tall girl with the dyed grey hair and black lipstick wearing the torn misfits shirt.  She remembered how self-conscious she felt in her black skinny jeans and her pink sweater practically falling off her body as she wobbled like a baby deer towards the stall. She remembered their first words, Sharon being as overly confident and bold as normal and Alaska being shy and quiet in a way that must have come across endearing. She remembers getting more freebies from that stall than anyone else. (she knows this because one of the stickers had a phone number scrawled across it.) She remembers the first time they met up and how lovely it was, she remembers the conversation where they agreed that they had to stay just friends at least until she turned eighteen and she remembers finding her closest friend at GSA stall.

She recalls the night about two months later when her sleeve rolled up too far in the car and Sharon caught sight of her scars. That was the night she told her everything. She told her how she felt worthless how the smart kids thought she was dumb and how the theatre kids didn’t think she was good enough, she told her how she would try to starve herself to perfection and how she’d dig a blade into her skin to punish herself and cry herself to sleep almost every night. She told her about that Halloween night when it all got to much and she chased a bottle of pills with a litre of vodka and went for a bath. She remembers crying, she remembers Sharon crying and she remembers feeling proud for the first time as she tells her that she’s getting better and she really believes it.

She remembers her eighteenth birthday a month later how she celebrated the day with her family and a close group of friends but really all she wanted was for the next day to be here when she could spend it with Sharon. She remembers that day so well how she took her ice skating and to a vegan restaurant because she knew high calorie foods still stressed her out. She remembers the ride home and kissing her goodnight.

She remembers getting her first girlfriend and being happy and confident for once, Sharon makes her happy and confident. (not all the time no one is capable of that, but she helps.) She remembers crying down the phone to her girlfriend when she got the acceptance letter. She remembers her girlfriend crying on her at her graduation because she didn’t know what she was doing with her with life. She remembers the road trip back for her own high school graduation. She remembers how she didn’t go to prom instead she spent her prom night with her girlfriend kissing every inch of her and calling her beautiful and making her see stars all night long.

She also remembers their first fight like it was yesterday. It was the week Alaska moved into her apartment a few days after classes had begun and Sharon was constantly on her back trying to help and offering to do practically everything and worst of all, constantly asking her if she had remembered to take her medication that day. To an outsider it’s an innocent question, a nice incentive but to Alaska it was patronising and made her feel like she couldn’t take care of herself. Of course, when she told this to Sharon she had gotten offended and it had ended in a huge fight. It had been loud and quick with both parties failing to see the others valid view. It ended soon enough with Sharon finally realising that she may have been full on and apologising for worrying and assuring Alaska that she knew she could cope. She finished of her apology with one last line before they cuddled up on the sofa to watch The Golden Girls.

“Just remember if it ever gets to be to much I’ll be here, no questions and no judgement.”

And that is how Alaska fell asleep curled in on herself on the sofa with makeup stained checks and her phone in her hand, thoughts of Sharon running through her head.

                                                                   -   -   -

When Alaska jolted awake it was dark out and her mouth was dry, she stumbled blindly into the kitchen for a glass of water, relishing in the brief relief its coolness brought her before moving through the living room, grabbing her phone on her way to the bedroom. Her movements seemed robotic almost working on memory rather than necessity as she whipped of her tear streaked makeup and changed into sweats and a comfortable shirt. She didn’t bother with her usual routine of moisturising or brushing her hair or teeth instead just pulling her hair out of her already messy bun and crawling into the comfort of her bed. Only then did she allow herself to check her phone, the bright screen blinded her momentarily and made her migraine call out in anguish, quickly she turned the brightness all the way down before daring to look again.

The time on the top corner informed her it was almost ten thirty meaning she had been asleep for just over three hours, not that it did anything she was still exhausted. Both mentally and physically.

She pulled down her notification menu to see she had one missed call from her mother (she’ll check that later.) and one text from Sharon. She clicked on quickly eager for a nice distraction from her mind.

To: Lasky  (at 9:43pm)

I told you I was working late, I just got home.

Is everything okay?

Alaska paused there was one of two ways she could reply, and she wasn’t sure which would be worse.

To: Noodles ( at 10:29pm)

No. I’m getting bad again Sharon.

I’m scared, I need you please come over.

Her finger paused over the send button, if she sent that she knew Sharon would worry and come over right away with comforting words and soft touches but part of her, the part that had won the battle earlier told her that Sharon would be laughing at how pathetic she was being. Surely, she could get through this without her, she wasn’t a kid after all.

She deleted the message and started again.

To : Noodles (at 10:31pm)

Everything’s Fine I just miss you.

No, it’s not.

To: Lasky (at 10:32pm)

Are u sure?

To : Noodles (at 10:33pm)

Yeah.

No.

See you tomorrow <3

To: Lasky (at 10:34pm)

See u tomorrow bby

I love you

No, you don’t.

To : Noodles (at 10:35pm)

I love you back .

She locked her phone and placed it on the nightside and rolled into her usual sleeping position, not that she was expecting to get much sleep in this condition.  So, she lay there lonely and let her thoughts take over.

Her brain tortured her all night reminding her of every wrong move, every stupid question, every time she messed up her lines, every rejection email and every failed attempt at friendship through her life. She’s flashed back to the one party she went to in high school where she hadn’t eaten more than a banana in almost 2 days got super drunk super quick and threw up and passed out in the living room of an acquaintance. Absolutely any memory that she wanted to forget resurfaced over the next two hours.

Just when Alaska was beginning to become exhausted and hot tears were burning behind her eyes as she was pleading with her head to just shut up and let her sleep the worst memory was projected to her.  Halloween night 2017.

She still remembers it like it was yesterday. It wasn’t a spontaneous decision made in the climax of a mental breakdown like it’s portrayed in the movies, no this was a carefully planned for and researched event. Let’s be clear by this point Alaska was pretty secure in the fact that she was dying even if she didn’t directly “pull the trigger” herself she was still dying, she was wasting away with each skipped meal but that was too slow, and she couldn’t wait any longer. It wasn’t an emotional decision for her it was just something that had to be done and it should scare her how little she cared about the impending end of her life. She was numb.

The letter had been written almost two weeks in advance, the Pills secured from a source she couldn’t disclose and finally as an extra measure she had stolen a litre of vodka from the local store. She felt no remorse or guilt for that either. She was numb.

She chose Halloween because it was her favourite day, the only day where she felt like she could be anyone without judgment, the only day where she didn’t have to be herself. It made sense to her to go out on the best day rather than on the “worst day of her life.” A nice ending, not that she deserved it.

When the day comes, she takes care of herself, she sleeps in till 10am, later than she’s slept in so long. She changes into a dress that she had meant to wear to the schools Halloween ball that night, Its short black and lacey with hues of green glitter. It was meant to be part of a witch costume, but she much prefers this use.  A glance in the mirror brings her to tears; she looks beautiful, she looks like she’s already dead.  She had planned to indulge in one last meal, a cheese cake she’d picked out herself but decided against it, what if her parents wanted an open casket?

Before she knows it, she’s sitting cross legged on her bed, the bath is already waiting. She lays the pills out in rows and takes them two at a time with a mouthful of vodka in between each until she starts to feel fuzzy, not drunk fuzzy, this was different. She took this as her sign to go to the bathroom. She got in with the rest of the vodka just in case and waited and waited and waited. She had to way to tell how long it had been, but she was sure it was hours, her parents must be due home any moment. Just as panic began to set in and she really began to worry about what exactly she had did wrong her ears began to ring and black spots appeared in her vision.

She doesn’t remember much after that, in fact the next few days are a blur of screaming, crying, pain, needles and doctors. She knows that her mom found her in the bath covered in vomit and called an ambulance.

Once at the hospital they pumped her stomach, gave her various IVs with different things such as medication, fluids, and nutrients that her malnourished body craved. She was placed on suicide watch for a week and was admitted to a physch ward where her “recovery process” began but of course her mind didn’t want to focus on the positives.

                                                                 -     -     -

Alaska is brought back to reality then a shaking, crying mess. She’s slick with sweat and her heart is pounding at speeds that should be considered dangerous, it’s the same flashback she’d wake up from in the weeks following her attempt screaming and crying but she hadn’t thought about this in so long and she hadn’t been ready to live through it again.

She sprints to the bathroom as waves of anxious nausea make her dizzy, hardly making it as she spits bile into the toilet bowl. It does act as a cold reminder that she hasn’t eaten today. She briefly remembers her sessions with Doctor Visage who has helped her establish an eating schedule to help keep herself on track, she hadn’t really stuck to that in over a week now.

Once her breathing had returned to normal she manages to get herself a glass of water and a protein bar, which she just manages to finish before she passes out into a dreamless sleep.

                                                                      -      -      -

Which brings us back to where we left off on Thursday Afternoon.

After the guilt of blowing off her shift for a mental health day had worn off slightly Alaska made the mistake of checking her emails. She didn’t have many as she usually stayed on top of them pretty well, but she did have an email from her Broadway History professor sent only a few minutes ago waiting for her. The subject line “you were absent in class today.” Made the details of the email very clear but never the less she opened it.

To: AlaskaThunder5000@gmail.com

From :ProfJinkxMonsoon@univeristy.com

Subject : You were absent in class today

Hi Alaska,

I see that you were absent today, I am sure you had a very good excuse which I would be understanding about had you notified me before hand as per college protocall!

You missed a fair bit today so please get in contact with me as soon as you can.

Prof.J.Monsoon

Alaska closed out the app as soon as she was finished reading and threw her phone onto her bed, she was not in the right frame of mind to be dealing with whatever work load was waiting for her and she didn’t want any added stress she was already on the constant brink of yet another breakdown.

Instead she chose to listen to her body and attempt to make herself some food. She started of slowly easing her sore body our of bed for the first time in over twelve hours. She entered the bathroom and washed her face which felt swollen from all the crying, she made sure to avoid the mirrors as she did this.

“Okay Alaska you’re doing so good, baby steps.” She whispered to herself as she made her way into the kitchen. This was already so much more than she could handle in a normal depressive episode, but she was determined that this wasn’t going to beat her this time.

She opened the cabinet and tried desperately to ignore that voice that yelled out the calorie count for everything she saw. Soup, yes soup was safe she told herself. The next step was to get a pot and turn on the stove. She could do this.

From her bedroom she heard her phone ding with a notification, but it could wait she decided, distractions weren’t a good idea right now.

Once the stove was hot enough she poured the can of soup into the pot and began to stir it. She was doing so well.

Suddenly the phone began to ring startling Alaska from her train of thought and causing her to drop the spoon. And that’s when it happened.

As she was coming back up from picking up the spoon she accidently nudged the edge of the pot causing it to topple over and spill hot soup right onto Alaska’s bare feet.

“Fuck!” She screamed out as the hot liquid burned her skin. She Jumped away from the mess attempting to find a cloth to clean it up.

“Why are there no fucking cloths!” She yelled as her hand reached up to pull at her hair in frustration.

Her phone began to ring again. “Shut up” She suddenly screamed at the object in question. “shut up shut up shut up shut up!” hot tears burned behind her eyes. God why couldn’t she do anything right.

She turned around quickly remembering that there were some clean clothes in the cupboard above the stove, as she did this she slipped on the soup puddle on the floor. She reached out to grab onto something to save herself and slammed her arm down onto the hot stove. She yanked it away almost immediately with a yelp of pain but instead of running to put the burn under running water she pressed her finger against the inflicted area and winced at the searing pain.

Oh no.

Before she knew what she was doing Alaska was pressing her other wrist down onto the hot stove, and again and again and again until she was sobbing and shaking with the pain.

Unable to take anymore and completely mentally exhausted she slid to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees crying out brokenly.

At this exact moment the door opened.

“Alaska baby?” Sharon’s voice called out from the hallway clear worry evident in her voice. “Are you home? I went by the diner after work like we planned, and Courtney said you called in sick.”

Alaska bit her lip to stifle her sobs as Sharon came closer to the kitchen, it was a fruitless attempt as she would have to find her eventually.

“Alaska?” She called again “You’re worrying me sweetheart.”

Alaska closed her eyes now preparing for the worst as the footsteps reached the edge of the door way. No going back now.

Sharon gasped as she turned the corner into the kitchen, she probably would have screamed if she had been capable of making any noise at the moment instead she stared at the scene in front of her before bouncing into action.

“Lasky, what happened?” She asked kneeling down beside her and reaching out to touch her shoulder.

 Alaska jerked away from Sharon’s touch like it was searing hot, she didn’t deserve this she didn’t deserve to be treated so nice she’d ruined everything. She wanted Sharon to yell to tell her how she’d fucked up and how much of a mess she was but instead the older women just looked at her with sympathy and hurt shinning in her teary eyes. That’s what broke Alaska’s shield. She had cried so much in the last twenty-four hours out of frustration and anger and hurt and exhaustion but this time when the tears started it was an over flow of sadness and of realisation. If she had asked for help last night when she felt herself reach breaking point maybe she wouldn’t be in this position, but she was too scared or too proud and now here she is in the middle of a complete relapse after eleven months and she truly hates herself for that.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” Alaska cried out, she wasn’t sure if she was apologising to Sharon, to herself or just because it felt like the right thing to say in this situation.

“Shh it’s okay, it’s okay.” Sharon whispered almost as if she was too scared to speak any louder and scare her off. She reached out to touch her shoulder again only this time Alaska didn’t shy away and instead collapsed into her touch sobbing uncontrollably. Sharon let her lay on her and rubbed her back for as long as she needed until the sobbing subdued.

Alaska lifted herself from Sharon’s lap, hyper aware of the pain that radiated from almost every part of her body.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” She rasped, her voice hoarse from crying for so long.

“Don’t be, I’m glad I got her before…” Sharon didn’t dare finish her sentence. “You should have told me you were suffering again.”

“I didn’t want to be a burden. You’ve got so much going for you right now and you’re so busy you don’t need a mentally ill kid girl friend too.”

“Hey, no don’t you talk like that.” Sharon began frowning slightly. “I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when we started dating, I always knew this was a possibility, god I hoped it wouldn’t, but I always knew it might and I’d be an asshole if I was willing to throw away the best thing that ever happened to me because she was hurting.” It was Sharon’s turn to cry this time a rare site.

“Do you remember what I said to you after our first fight?” She asked.

Alaska shook her head.

“I said that If it ever got to much again I’d be there.  I meant that then and I mean it now, you got through this before and we  can get you through it again. It’s going to be okay. You are going to be okay.”

                                                                        -     -    -

She was going to be okay.

Not right away because that’s not how these things work, it’s going to take a lot of hard work, a lot of pain and tears and self-discovery but in the end, she’ll be okay. Because if it’s not okay then it’s not the end. 

[deepbluexsea]

Blueboy

Rating: PG-13. Relationships: Johnny/Briel, Virginia/Geoff. Recurring Characters: Jonathan, Gabriel, Virginia, Geoff. Warning/Notes: Reference to porn + suggestive content. Language.

“I was a grade nine boy—the most awful form of humanity.” – Robert Hoge

2010.

They hadn’t anticipated this part – the part of renovating the house where they couldn’t actually stay in it since the contractors were going to be knocking down walls. They had literally just moved in and now they were being, for all intents and purposes, temporarily kicked out. Since the lease had just ended in January on his townhouse in Manhattan, Johnny had gone right back to it and tried to re-up it for another month, but it had already been rented out. Realistically, they could stay in a hotel. The whole process would only take a few days. But the moment Virginia Matthews caught wind of what was going on, she made it seem as if there was only one option and one option only that made an ounce of sense: they had to stay with Johnny’s parents. Of course, they would’ve offered the same accommodations to Johnny if he was still single, but the insistence he got from his mom about it this time was almost 110% certainly due to how well the first meeting between them and Gabriel had gone. There was no doubt in Johnny’s mind that his mom liked her son-in-law more than she did her own son. The house was every inch the same as it had been a few weeks ago. It looked like a model home – like someone came in to clean a couple of times a week, but was otherwise empty. It was in pristine condition. This was how it had been Johnny’s whole life, except it had been updated some years after he’d moved out. Virginia had insisted that they get Buddakan takeout for dinner, and it was on the table before they even set their suitcases down in the foyer. Johnny really didn’t know much about the extent of Gabriel’s cultural experiences before prison, but he knew he’d never been to the east coast. There was so much here that he wanted his husband to see – mainly because Gabriel had always reminded Johnny of home, and he thought that he would absolutely love it. He belonged in this culture. Buddakan was just the beginning of the New York experience; their soup dumplings were so delicious they could put David Chang to shame. And then there was the absinthe at Apotek... the sunrise over the skyline... Broadway, MoMA, Central Park. The list went on and on. There were years’ worth of life to be had, so Johnny was pleased that his mom had decided to get the immersion underway. From oxtail dumplings to pear short ribs to duck to pea shoot salad, they were each stuffed by the end. And when all was said and done, somehow Johnny got tasked with doing the dishes. His dad went to his office with a tall glass of bourbon as he did every single night, so that was no surprise. It was just like being 12 again – except now Johnny had reason to get suspicious about where his mom had taken his husband for so long. He’d never done a chore so quickly. He was sure of it. Naturally, the pair was the last place he looked: upstairs in the den. The best feature about the room was its full-wall mahogany bookcase complete with a rolling ladder. Unfortunately, that bookcase was also where the family photos were housed.

Laid out on the coffee table in front of them were a dozen snapshots of Johnny that had been picked out of the albums: Virginia in the hospital holding him, a few school pictures featuring three different bowl cuts, him playing the cello, he and his grandma cooking, his prom, his graduation ceremonies, him and Joan leaving for college. Gabriel was holding onto one where a toddler-aged Johnny was covered in something that looked like red paint, but was actually fingernail polish from his preschool teacher’s desk. “Mom, really?” he grumbled, shaking his head, though he moved to sit on the arm of Gabriel’s chair to follow along anyway. He propped himself on his husband’s shoulder, letting his mom do all the talking while they were handed photos, until… “Here, Gabriel. You must see this one,” his mother was saying as she pulled one out and held it up. In it, there stood a three-year-old Johnny looking over his shoulder at the camera. He was wearing a ‘Book ‘em, Danno!’ Hawaii Five-0 t-shirt and absolutely nothing else. Bare-assed, he was almost as naked as the day he was born, just standing freely on their back balcony with a big grin. “Alright, okay, that is more than plenty,” Johnny spoke abruptly, reaching over Gabriel to shut the album tightly with the picture inside. “Who would keep a picture like that?” he muttered under his breath as he put the book back on the shelf. Before anybody could protest, he stood and changed the subject. “Mom, where do you want us to sleep? I need to bring our bags up.” She didn’t even hesitate. “Your room is fine.” His room was most absolutely not fine. It hadn’t changed a single bit from the way he had left it – not even so much as rearranged. “What? What’s wrong with the guest room?” “What’s wrong with your room?” “Aside from that it looks like a fourteen year old boy still lives in it?” “At least it doesn’t smell like it anymore,” she retorted, sharp as a whip. “Fine,” Johnny conceded. The last thing that needed to happen was Virginia and Johnny getting into an argument. Someone would probably die due to lack of oxygen before a winner was declared. “I’ll be back.” He was not oblivious to the fact that his mother was standing up and heading to the bookshelf before he was even out of the den.

ONE HOUR LATER.

After fetching the suitcases, Johnny left Gabriel with his mom only long enough to shower. When he was done, his husband was already in his childhood bedroom, cross-legged on his bed. At the sight, he allowed himself to wonder what life would have been like if he had known Gabriel when he still inhabited this room. That thought was swiftly pushed aside when he noticed the box of keepsakes next to the other man. It was one that Johnny himself had packed away when he was 18 and moving out. He had stuffed it in the closet only to never come back to it again. Apparently, Virginia and Geoff had never touched it either. “I have to be honest, I found this one all by myself,” Briel boasted. “I got bored.” “I don’t even remember what’s in here,” Johnny said, sinking down beside him. It had been nearly twenty years since he’d last opened it. Inside, there were a few cards and notes that people had written Johnny back then. There were baseball trophies, cassette tapes, Polaroids, a 30-page essay he’d written his senior year with a huge A+ on it, a Rubik’s cube (which Johnny kept out to take home with them), some tiny army men, and other odds and ends. The last item was a Levi’s jean jacket, folded just so to cover the entire bottom of the box. “Check it out,” he spoke, pulling it out and walking over to the mirror to hold it up against his chest. “Why would I stuff this relic beneath all that junk? I mean, it won’t fit anymore, but it’s probably worth some money now.” Gabriel’s immediate response was... laughter? “Maybe because you were using it to hide something,” he cackled. Johnny shifted so he could see him through the mirror and found his husband flipping through a Blueboy magazine from 1987. He swiveled around so fast that he almost tripped. “Where did you get that?” he questioned, trying to snatch it away, but Gabriel held it out of his reach.

“From under the jacket!” Johnny was mortified. “I don’t even know if I should be touching this. I wonder how many times my little Jay took this under the covers with him...”

“Okay, well. You’re terrible,” Johnny griped. “You know I’m already fragile from being here, Briel. Can we give it up and go to bed, please?” Johnny begged. Mercifully, with only a few more jokes, his husband obliged. The two of them fit in the full-size bed as was to be expected: basically on top of each other. Considering that they were both over six feet tall, it was a little ridiculous that they didn’t just take the guest bedroom, and Johnny was definitely going to push the issue tomorrow evening. It wasn’t that he minded an entire night of cuddling his husband; on the contrary, they had quickly discovered that they seemingly had to be touching each other in some form or fashion in order to sleep well, anyway. No, it was more that his mother apparently wanted Gabriel to get to know the full, embarrassing, underage Johnny – much to her sick delight and his own chagrin. At least they could simply be two adults in the other room. After a few minutes and a deep sigh, Johnny was finally able to relax and remind himself that Briel wasn’t judging any of what he’d seen since they had been here – it was cute to learn about your spouse’s life. “I’ll show you some actually interesting things in Manhattan tomorrow,” he murmured against Briel’s temple as he held him. “...I know I wasn’t myself today. After being gone so long, catching up in the New York office has been brutal. I’m sorry.” Gabriel nodded slowly. “I’m just sorry... that you didn’t get the Blueboy you dreamed about for a husband,” he whispered, his frame shaking against Johnny’s as he silently laughed under his breath. “Goodnight, Gabriel,” Johnny announced, turning over and petulantly crossing his arms.

[fearlesslyforeverand]

Notes - Part 4/4 [Short-fic]

Summary: Blaine is co-captain of the Cheerios and lead-soloist of the Glee Club. Kurt is his crush. Kurt is the unique boy with big dreams. Blaine is his crush. The Unholy Trinity help Blaine to woo Kurt by leaving notes on his locker signed by B.

Warnings: fluff angst. My babies deserve everything so there’ll be a happy ending.

Words: 4463.

A/N: any feedback would be amazing!

AO3 Version | AO3

Part 1: You Think I’m Pretty Without Any Make-Up On

Part 2: I Kinda Be More Than Friends

Part 3: Who Thinks That You’re One of a Kind

Part 4:  Now You Know How Happy I Can Be

MASTERLIST | AO3

Now You Know How Happy I Can Be

FIVE YEARS LATER

1.

Kurt feels himself waking up to the blaring sound of the alarm and all but slams his hand on the snooze button. He doesn’t move thought; facing his day is not something he’s ready for. He sighs, his eyes still closed, and rolls over in their bed – after years of living together, it still mesmerizes him that he can call it ‘theirs’. When his shoulder and back touch cold sheets though, he cracks an eye open.

Yep, just like he suspected: Blaine is gone.  

Kurt knew by the time he’d wake up, Blaine would have left already. Still, he had hope.

Not that Blaine not being there is a bad thing. No, not really. Actually, not at all.

Blaine had a meeting with his – theirs - possible next director early this morning, because that was the only possible schedule she could fit him in. As a famous Broadway director, one couldn’t expect her to be free all day.

Last week, Kurt and Blaine were rehearsing late at night at the theater Blaine’s currently playing a secondary part when the song went from “The Confrontation” from Les Mis to “One Hand, One Heart” from West Side Story. They went from a choreography with pipes to use as swords to holding each other by their fingertips and looking lovingly at each other’s eyes, none of them slipping a note at any second. They finished the song and beamed at the other, until a clapping sound reached their ears. The famous director saw them acting and wanted to work with them in the leading roles. She scheduled a meeting with them a few days later. Then she one with Kurt alone, which happened the day before, and now with Blaine alone. If she still excited to meet Blaine, Kurt did a good job on his solo interview and they did a marvelous job together.

She wanted to produce a big show, something new, but with a hint of classic still. Kurt had a few ideas that he brainstormed with his fiancée and was eager to suggest them to their – hopefully – new director.

After taking a look at the clock on his nightstand and concluding he has some spare time, Kurt rolls further and ends up with his face buried in his fiancée’s pillow, inhaling his scent and tangling his arms and legs in the sheets as he takes a few minutes before starting his day.  

Kurt stumbles out of bed and into the kitchen. A smile tugs on his lips as he takes view of the space around him. A pile of pancakes freshly made, syrup, cream and other toppings all laid out on the counter. On top of a plate that sits next to utensils, a note is waiting for Kurt.

It’s amazing that after years of reading Blaine’s notes, Kurt’s stomach can’t get used to it and it burns with excitement.

I can’t wait to marry you in seven days. –B.

Kurt smiles and cradles the note to his chest. Yeah, Kurt can’t wait either.

Later they talked and Kurt confirmed his suspicions: this one was an allusion from one of Blaine’s first notes, back when he – thought he – was unknown to Kurt as B.

***

2.

It’s Wednesday night. Date night of the week. Kurt and Blaine are sitting on the couch – more like Blaine is sprawled on the couch as Kurt lays on top of him.

Kurt rests his head on his fiancée’s muscular chest, enjoying the feeling of Blaine’s talented finger – for both music and other things – gently scratching his scalp.

He thought the shorter man needed a certain level of care today when he got home and saw Blaine crying. Not full out sobbing, but wiping tears with the back of his hand and sniffling a bit. Kurt’s stomach dropped when he saw a notepad with endless lines filled with Blaine’s gracious handwriting.

Was he planning to leave Kurt? Was he having second thoughts about the wedding? About Kurt?

Okay, maybe he needed the care from his partner as well.

Blaine then explained that he was simply reviewing his vows, the ones he was adding final touches to. He hadn’t meant to cry, but he was overwhelmed with emotions for Kurt, good ones, the best: love, care, and trust.

Kurt felt so relieved. He felt his own feelings for Blaine expanding – something he previously thought was impossible – to try and make sense that every word that left his fiancée’s mouth was true for him too.

Blaine looks down at Kurt.  

“I love you.”

Kurt turns his head and kisses his fiancée’s cheek.

“I love you too. And I can’t wait to hear your vows, sweetheart,” Kurt says then settles back, nuzzling his neck and closing his eyes.

Blaine drops a gentle kiss on his forehead and rubs his back, “Just a few more days, dear.”

Before groggily slipping into their bed in the middle of the night, Kurt searches his phone to turn off his alarm, since neither of them have anything to do in the morning. He finds it on his nightstand, next to a note.

Will you still love me if I cry while saying my vows? Will you still love me if I cry while listening to your vows? –B.

It was placed there before he got home, Kurt’s certain. First because he knows he erased any doubt of the sort with Blaine when he got home. Secondly because both he and Blaine seemed to need the attention from each other that night.

He would, however, talk to Blaine in the morning and reinforce the idea that no matter what, Kurt would always love Blaine. Just like he knows Blaine will always love Kurt.

***

3.

For the second time this week, Kurt wakes up to cold sheets next to him.

This time however, there’s no sound of his alarm and no loneliness at the apartment. Today, there’s Blaine’s humming softly filling his ears the walls of their NYC apartment with soft sounds from the kitchen. The amazing smell of Blaine’s pancakes fills the air and Kurt can already say this is a perfect morning.

Kurt slowly sits on the edge of the bed, brings his arms up and grips his fingers together on top of his head, stretching. He’s sore from last night, but he can’t find it in himself to complain. Not at all. Besides, he’s not incapacitated by the soreness, just has to watch out for sudden movements.

He slips on a pair of brief boxers and enters the bathroom to brush his teeth but comes to a halt when he sees the note attached to the mirror with a tape.

Our honeymoon will be amazing. –B.

He quickly completes what he had to do there and ventures to the kitchen, where Blaine’s humming comes loud enough that Kurt can recognize some words. Usually, Blaine sings without shame, but he must think Kurt’s still sleeping.

Let’s go all the way tonight

No regrets, just love

We can dance-

The singing stops when Kurt lazily snakes his arms around Blaine’s torso and presses his chest and cheek to Blaine’s back and neck, almost draping his body on Blaine’s.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Blaine turns his head and smiles at him.

“Morning, handsome,” Kurt mumbles and kisses his shoulder. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Hungry, yeah?”

“I meant the singing, but breakfast seems important too. Don’t stop breakfast either.”

“The most important meal of the day,” Blaine agrees.

Kurt hugs him tighter for a second before releasing his grip so Blaine can continue cooking.

“Hey,” Blaine turns to him with a half-smirk on his lips, “Who said you could let go?”

Kurt gives up getting syrup; that can wait. He smiles as he leans in and fits his lips to the younger man. Blaine drops the spoon full of banter and tugs on Kurt’s hips, pulling him close, while Kurt tangles his arms around the shorter man’s neck. Blaine’s strong hands slip under the taller man’s Henley and slide over smooth skin. Kurt uses his own hands to tug Blaine’s collar a bit and press at the newly revealed patch of him. That is, until he wants more and his fingers start carding through his fiancée’s curly hair as well as slipping his hands under his shirt and he enjoining the warmth that radiates from Blaine’s body.

And if that’s a bit too much for this time in the morning, they really can’t find in themselves to care.

***

4.

Kurt gets home earlier that day, due to a cancelled last class, ready to finish up the drawing of a formal suit to send to Isabelle, who asked his help for the new collection. He has to conclude the final touches and send it to her, with spare days to make any modifications she might want – she won’t, he’s certain – before the wedding, because then comes the honeymoon and they’ll be weeks away.

Kurt thinks of the honeymoon, of the wedding, which leads his mind to Blaine and he can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

Blaine himself won’t be home for another couple of hours, rehearsing as much as he can before he takes a break for their honeymoon. The off-Broadway play won’t come to theaters for another three months, but Blaine is a responsible actor and Kurt couldn’t be more proud of him.

Kurt sighs and drops his bag on the couch. He runs his fingers through his hair and sets to work. He not out of practice, of course not, he loves fashion. But it’s not his only world anymore, it never was. Ever since his Broadway debut, it specially isn’t.

When he reaches for his pad on the coffee table though, he comes to a halt; maybe some inspiration will do him good. So he quickly goes to the guest room of their New York City apartment – so different from the loft they moved after graduating from high school - and opens the closet, hands certainly grabbing the case that stores his suit. The suit. The one he’ll wear in just a few days that seem so close and so far away now. Close compared to how long they’ve been planning. Yet it feels that the closer it gets, the longer it takes for him and Blaine to finally get married.

Kurt gingerly pulls the zipper down and his mouth falls open.

A yellow sticky-note was attached to the hanger, expectantly waiting for him.

The note is from Blaine – Kurt recognizes the carefully flourished writing. Blaine put it here? He saw Kurt’s suit? Neither of them believes in luck or faith, but Kurt feels a tiny bit of fear as he thinks of the possibility.

I bet you look stunning in your suit. (Don’t worry, I asked Rachel to put it here. I promise I haven’t seen your suit.) –B.

***

5.

Kurt closes his sketchbook and looks at Blaine. “Tea?”

“Please,” is the answer, with a smile.

Kurt gets a pot of water and sets it to boil. He carefully chooses the tea, happily settling for chamomile. Both he and Blaine like and it seems like a nice choice as it’s almost evening.

He opens the cabinet and pulls out two mugs, the ones they usually use. Both are large and not exactly short, great for anything really. Kurt’s has a scarf on a dark background and Blaine’s is a brightly colored bowtie. One can find pretty much anything they want in New York.

He sets the mugs on the counter and puts a tea bag in the bottom of each. He retrieves the pot and pours the water, not boiled but hot, on Blaine’s mug. He stops right before he does the same to his though, noticing something in there for the first time. A note.

They say love hurts, but I’m willing to take that risk, as long as it’s with you.

Baine’s been extra romantic this week, that’s for sure, but Kurt doesn’t complain. He can’t, he loves the attention, he loves Blaine’s attention. It’s something he can always count on, whenever he’s talking to his fiancée. The shorter man is always completed focused on every word that falls from Kurt’s mouth and gestures he does with his face or body. It makes Kurt feel important and cared and loved. It’s one of the best sensations ever: to be under Blaine’s golden gaze, be it while giving his opinion about a new fashion trend or singing or being vulnerably naked.

Kurt pours water into his mug and brings both to the living room, where Blaine is still absent-mindedly strumming the piano, sometimes a familiar tune catching Kurt’s ears or maybe something of Blaine’s own creation. A notepad is strategically placed in case he creates something he likes.

Kurt sits beside his fiancée on the black leather long stool and offers the bowtie mug.

“Right here, sweetheart.”

Blaine glances over at him, soft smile on his lips and takes the mug.

“Thanks, hon.” He takes a sip and puts it down.

He starts playing a song, a tune that makes Kurt perk up and his insides boil. The taller man snuggles closer and watches as talented fingers work right in front of him and listens as the voice he loves most in the world sings the song. Once again, but this time without a pompous accompaniment, only his deft fingers.

All you need is love

All you need is love

All you need is love, love

Love is all you need

***

6.

“Hey, Squirt.”

“Cooper,” Blaine sighs. “Don’t-“

“Don’t call you Squirt. Sorry, I try. Anyway, how are you? How is my favorite brother-in-law?”

“Kurt and I are good, excited for the wedding. You?”

“Great, great, little bro. listen, I actually had to talk to you.”

“Cooper, I know you’re not coming. You’ve already called to say that. I’m sure Tarantino will hire you on the day of my wedding after an impromptu performance.” Blaine was past hurting that his brother

“Actually, Squirt, that’s why I called.”

“Don’t-“

“Don’t call you Squirt, sorry. Listen, I’ll be there.”

“There?”

“At your wedding.”

“What?”

“I’m going, Blainey. Did you really think I’d miss my little brother’s big day?”

“But you-“

“Oh and a plus one, okay? See you in a few days, Squirt!” and hung up.

Blaine told Kurt about his brother, after leaving him a note to start on the subject.

Note to both of us: some family drama is always part of a wedding right. Even before the actual day, right?

***

7.1

“Shouldn’t they be over the honeymoon phase?”

“I’m pretty sure they should wait until they are on their honeymoon to have a honeymoon phase.”

“I’m talking about high school honeymoon phase.”

“Oh. Yes, they should.”

Rachel and Sam watch as Blaine and Kurt say goodbye. Arms wrapped around each other, hands gripping tightly and heads buried in each other’s necks as they whisper silently as if the world can’t hear what they say.

Sam and Rachel surely don’t want to know. They’ve both heard and seen things that are burned into their brains to this very day.

“I love you.”

“I’m glad,” Kurt teases, “It’s the reason we’re doing this after all.”

“And here I was thinking that me loving you was only half of the deal,” Blaine shoots back, no heat behind his words. He nuzzles Kurt’s neck and breathes him in, simply enjoying the way they easily tangle around each other.

“I love you too,” Kurt pulls back just enough to say. This puts an end on the banter and they look into each other’s eyes for a second longer before connecting their mouths once again.

They come back for air, their foreheads pressed together and eyes closed. Kurt’s hand grips Blaine’s shoulder tighter when Blaine kisses his cheeks, eyes still closed, both of them only concentrated on feeling the other for now.

“We should go.”

“Not yet.”

They had previously agreed to spend their last night as bachelors apart, Kurt at Rachel’s and Blaine at Sam’s, hence both people waiting for the lovebirds to be done kissing and groping and take them to their homes.

Blaine slips something into Kurt’s pocket, his other hand rubbing his lower back. When Kurt opens his mouth to ask, Blaine simply says, “Later.”

It’s only when Kurt’s in the car with Rachel that he reaches for the note anxiously.

How will I sleep away from you?

They haven’t spent a night apart in years, since they moved to New York City for college, only occasionally because of maybe a fight, a vacation one of them went to visit family – even if most usually included both of them.  It’s a well-known fact that Kurt is a bit selective as to where to sleep. Blaine phrases it as if he’ll be the one with difficulties to sleep while they both know it will be Kurt. That care along with taking care of his pride makes Kurt fall a bit more for Blaine right then.

***

7.2

“Do we actually cuddle to sleep every night?” Blaine asks in the early hours of the day. 

“I was thinking about that and the answer is no,” Kurt’s voice sounds a bit scratched over the phone, but it must be from the pouring rain raging outside. “I just know I want you here,” he sighs.

Blaine groans, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whose idea was that again? Why are spending the night apart?”

“I believe it was yours,” Kurt chuckles, his free hand drawing messy patterns on his shirt. Well, Blaine’s shirt. Can you blame him though? He has to spend the night apart from Blaine and that’s hard enough without something of his to ground him.

“And why did you agree?”

“I fairly certain you laid out convincing reasons and then we discussed those and then got to a conclusion. Communication, remember? It’s a big part of our relationship,” Blaine can hear Kurt’s smile on his voice and can’t help but smile too.

“I can’t actually complain then, can I?”

“I don’t think you can, sweetheart.”

They spent some minutes in a comfortable silence, listening to each other’s breathing and trying to imagine that the other is right next to them.

“I can’t sleep, you know,” Kurt whispers.

“We don’t actually have to sleep right now, sweetheart.”

“But over the phone?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I knew I’m marrying you for a reason.”

If their last call of the day had been to get each other off, no one could say it was against the rules.

***

Kurt takes a deep breath as he runs his hands down his black suit, adamant to get rid of any possible wrinkles. There are none at this point. He closes his eyes and he releases the air in his lungs.

The jingle of the door makes his eyes pop open.

“Did he leave?” Kurt asks, panicking as Rachel enters the room. The ceremony is about to start and he’ll walk down to the altar first, wait for Blaine next to his dad – who will marry them.

“You were fine two minutes ago when I left, what happened?” she asks, closing the door behind her.

“Just nerves. Nothing happened. Unless Blaine left. Did he?” Kurt starts as nonchalant but no matter how a good of an actor he is, he can’t stand the possibility of having to endure the pain if Blaine left him.

“I was actually just talking to him,” she says.

“When? Where? About what? He left, didn’t he?” his voice cracks at the end and his eyes are glassy.

“See for yourself,” she smiles and offers him a small letter.

The paper is thick and delicate, the color and texture just like the invitations they sent for the wedding, but smaller, about three inches long. Kurt frowns and takes it with shaking hands. His name is written in Blaine’s calligraphy. He opens the letter and blinks so his vision focuses on the words written inside.

Kurt’s blue eyes fill with tears again, but this time for a totally different reason.

Suddenly, confidence pours from every inch of him and he’s ready. Ready to walk to the altar, ready to wait for Blaine to do the same, ready to get married to the love of his life, his soulmate, ready to start a life with him as husbands.

He accepts the tissue she’s silently offering, wipes his eyes and clears his throat. He smiles at her and announces.

“He’s ready, too.”

I love you so much. –B.

***

Blaine and Kurt are sprawled on top of each other in bed, clothes away from their bodies with only the moon providing some light as they try to calm down their breathing. It’s amazing how naturally they fit against each other, one knowing exactly how to lay in order to make them both comfortable.

They stare, one drinking the other in as no word is muttered. Blaine leans in and eskimo kisses Kurt, who chuckles as he remembers they did that, right after their first time. Back when Kurt and Blaine were at the beginning of their relationship, when he was figuring out how Blaine is such a cuddling whore. And how Kurt himself is too, which was a pleasant surprise to both of them.

“I love you,” Blaine murmurs, heart eyes focused on Kurt, as if by telling his husband – husband - he’s telling the entire world. In a way, he is; his entire world.

“I love you too,” smiles broadly.

“How are you feeling about this?”

“About our honeymoon?” Kurt waits for Blaine to nod before he continues. “I think it’s amazing, just like you said it would be, even though we haven’t gone out of bed.”

Blaine hums. “I’m pretty sure that’s the point of a honeymoon.”

Blaine reaches out and touches Kurt’s knee with the tips of his fingers, slowly going up. His other hand resting on the taller man’s hip.  Kurt catches his hand and intertwines their fingers together. The smooth feeling of Blaine’s wedding ring is cool on his skin and he brings it close to his face to kiss the band.

“Before anything else, husband,” they smile at each other and he actually has to stop to lean and kiss Blaine, “I have a present for you.”

Kurt gracefully detangles his body from Blaine’s and goes to their luggage, digging deep into the blue one that was wrapped with a ‘FRAGILE’ tape. He comes back and uses the little momentum to jump on the bed and cross his legs.

He offers a box to his husband, smiling. Husband.

“What’s that?” Blaine asks, sitting up and gently cradling the box. The room is warm enough that neither of them have to pull on clothes, thank God. It makes things easier.

“Just something I’ve gathered over the years,” he shrugs.

Blaine throws a confused look at Kurt, who shake his head and nods at the box, indicating the answer is inside. Blaine delicately opens the box and his eyes shine as he looks inside.

“Oh, Kurt.”

Inside the box lays a scrap-book, colorful and with their names. Kurt shuffles closer as Blaine opens it, their bodies now touching from shoulder to hip as both their eyes scan the notes glued to the colorful pages.

“This is amazing.”

There are the first notes Blaine ever gave Kurt, the ones on his locker signed as ‘-B”. All of them actually were signed that, it just became a thing, even after B was revealed.

The ones from this past week.

I can’t wait to marry you in seven days. –B.

I bet you look stunning in your suit. (Don’t worry, I asked Rachel to put it here. I promise I haven’t seen your suit.) –B.

Our honeymoon will be amazing. –B.

Will you still love me if I cry while saying my vows?

Will you still love me if I cry while your vows?

Note to both of us: some family drama is always part of a wedding right. Even before the actual day, right? Kurt laughed at this one, quickly understanding that Blaine was talking about his brother and how… difficult Cooper could be when he wasn’t the center of attention but was trying to be.

How will I sleep away from you tomorrow?

I love you so much. –B.

There are no notes from Kurt. It just never felt right for him to write one. It had always been something Blaine did for Kurt, something that showed how much Blaine cared for and loved him in an intimate and deep way from the very beginnings of their relationship. Kurt sure found his own ways to show his love, either with songs, cooking or… well, more personal things.

Much, much later, Kurt would tell Blaine about his favorite note. He would open the very first page and point at the first note ever, saying that it marked the beginning of everything and how it used to be his favorite. I wish I knew your coffee order. I’d bring you coffee then. Are you a latte kind of guy? Cappuccino? Mocha? Something classy, I’m sure. –B. Blaine would ask why the past tense and Kurt would explain that his new favorite one was the one in the small letter, the one that remind him how Blaine was the only person that could bring him back to peace just by loving him in every way possible. The one that was proof as to why they were getting married.

When Blaine reaches the end of the scrap-book – though still many pages are blank for future notes - his vision is blurry and he quickly puts everything aside before surging at Kurt. Their lips meet while they are both laughing, Kurt’s misty eyes deciding to shed tears as they kiss.

“I love you so much,” Kurt mumbles, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck and broad shoulders and gently coaxing them to lay down.

“I love you too, husband,” Blaine murmurs back, making Kurt’s breathe hitch momentarily.

“Husband,” Kurt sighs and Blaine’s heart falters. The taller boy suddenly pulls back to look at Blaine. “And it better be another note to add to the collection in the morning, Mr. Anderson-Hummel.”

“I promise,” he vows solemnly, just like he did with his vows just a few hours before. “But after lazy morning sex, Mr. Anderson-Hummel.”

Kurt’s grin crinkled his eyes. “Perfect.”

After the few difficult times their relationship encountered, both from within as from external factors, they know more will come. More and more intense difficulties that will require love and understanding and trust from both parts. And they know they’re ready, as long as they are doing it together.

TAG LIST

@kurt-coblaine 

[pixiealtaira]

Things to be Happy About

Pairing: None really, it is a friendship fic...Kurt, Elliot and Dani

Author’s note: So..last year I decided to do a journal prompt challenge.  Or, rather, I thought about it.  I wrote down all the prompts in a notebook...and it sat and sat and sat.  The ridiculous thing of course being it was a 30 days of lists, about as easy a journal challenge as you get...but I was not feeling it at all.  So June of last year come around with the stupid notebook still sitting there mocking me and with me at an impass on the long fic that is still in progress, but not at the same point which is good....and I thought, I need something else to write on but I want to still be playing with the character’s I’m am writing so that stall Harry Potter fic isn’t an option...wait a minute! And thus this series of fics was born.  The titles will be kinda...bah,  However, each title is the journal prompt.  So maybe someone out there might want to write the prompt for their own 30 days (plus one) of Lists.

Kurt slid the door to the loft open as he finally reached home after his long day. He was really tempted to shoot whoever was in charge of scheduling for year three at NYADA and he half suspected that Rachel quit simply because she’d heard all about what her next year would have had in store for her.  First semester was the work-study project, the screen and play writing class, one of the playwrights in depth classes, and the “from script to concept’ class.  The latter three could be taken as on-line courses if one’s work project was out of the city as long as one also attended a summer workshop in each the next year to get the ‘physical’ parts completed, but if one’s work study was near-by each class took time on campus. The second semester was what was lovingly called the practical semester.  Of course, Kurt was also half certain somehow Rachel would have convinced everyone that SHE didn’t need to take stage craft (which at NYADA consisted of everything not included in the other classes, pretty much), or makeup arts, or costume design, or sound and lighting and that her spot in Funny Girl should negate a work-study project. Nor did she need to read or write anything, it was all about the acting…or rather the singing.  Somehow she would have just ended up with the voice workshops and dance class. She somehow managed it her freshman year, after all. Anyways…Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays Kurt spent from 9 to noon working with make-up and costuming and from 1 to 4pm working stagecraft and with the sound and lighting, about half and half.  He understood it, really.  He agreed, too.  Simply knowing what all went into a production was fine and dandy, if one even got that far. He didn’t think Rachel ever did, nor did Blaine.  They saw “sing” “act” “dance” as all they needed to even contemplate. However getting down and dirty with the rest of it was a whole other ballgame.  Doing the behind the scenes work made him respect the whole process even more.  He could already tell it made a difference in the few auditions he’d managed after starting this semester.  Tuesday and Thursdays were spent at dance class and the music workshops.  He had Madame Tibideaux’s voice workshop in the round from 9 to 11 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, followed by dance from 1 to 3 and the whole aptly named ‘How to be a proper part of the Chorus” workshop from 3:30 to 5pm. And Monday through Friday his had his voice and speech practicum from 8am to 8:55.  He seriously wasn’t sure which days were longer.  

From school he headed to one of his jobs.  He’d worked at Vogue.com, which was a part time paid job now.  He enjoyed it, even though he wasn’t Isabelle’s personal assistant anymore.  He worked with wardrobe right now, until he had more time to be the type of assistant Isabelle needed.  He rather loved it.  A lot was done in the evening and night, after those working the more normal hours had made the decisions and then gone home.  It also tended to be a bunch of work at once time but then light hours day to day.  Only once had he ever had to choose between work and class, and a once in a long while work emergency had not been a problem.  Besides, it was like doing make-overs all the time.  It was a good job for now.  He also had the diner job.  He’d nearly given it up, but after Rachel had quit and Santana had quit and he’d given the owner time to calm down while showing up for work on time and doing all he was expected without pushing for more,  it had ended up a much more pleasant experience.   On top of those, he’d picked up a few mechanic jobs over the past few months since Blaine had left.  He’d been looking desperately to pick up something extra that he could do when he needed just that little bit more cash for rent or bills or to eat.

It was a Wednesday. Stage craft had involved creating the backdrops.  It involved hammers, bruises…caused by himself and others, a first coat of paint which needed much better ventilation than was to be had, and a headache. Lighting and sound had involved creating thunder and lightning in many different forms.  Costume design was working with sewing machines, all 20 going at once, to finish a commission the costume design teacher had taken on and not followed through well with and thus was overdue on. Make-up design was ‘gore’ this week.  Work had been from 4:30 to 11:30 at the diner and he had to be at Vogue by 6am to get the last minute items set for a photoshoot the next day.  He’d had an hour of sleep the night before, covering his shift at the diner till 11:30pm and then opening for a sick co-worker starting at 5am, plus getting the last minute work done for his costuming class (steampunk Westside Story…he’d been in charge of two Jets costumes) and redoing a series of props for stage craft that he’d missed half the assignment instructions on.  The night before that hadn’t been much better.  Kurt was dragging. It was nearly half past midnight when Kurt got home. He wasn’t even certain if he ought to eat and shower, or just fall into bed for his four hours of sleep.

His apartment wasn’t empty. Dani and Elliot were there, kicked back on his couch watching TV and chatting.

“Oh Please don’t tell me I missed a rehearsal that I scheduled?”  Kurt asked.

“You’re home!” Elliot exclaimed.

Dani rushed over to Kurt, removed his bag and sat him right in the middle of the couch.  Before he could even say anything a bowl of curry over rice was handed to him.  It was warm and smelled so good.

“Nope.” Dani said.  “It’s just we noticed your schedule on the wall at the rehearsal Sunday night and decided you needed some TLC.”

“We’ll be over Friday night for a movie night and some good old fashioned chilling.  I’m bringing the fruit and other snacks.” Elliot added. “I let Dani pick the movie and games.”

“Now eat up so your bath doesn’t get cold.  I added just the right oils for relaxation and sleep aid.  There is yogurt, granola and fruit for your breakfast. I will know if you didn’t eat.”

With that Dani and Elliot both kissed his forehead and headed out the door, closing it tight behind them.

As he finished his dinner and washed his bowl and fork, realizing all his other dishes he hadn’t been able to do were done and shopping was done and things were cleaned, he pondered his life’s turns.  

Even though school was full and wild and work was busy, Kurt was pretty happy.   He actually was enjoying his classes and learning tons. Even if he never made it to Broadway, what he was learning now was providing the information he would need to help start community theater groups when he was older.  He loved costuming, he liked props, and he had fun working sets and managing a stage.  It didn’t make him want to give up his dreams of starring in a show like Rachel had yelled over the phone that it would, but it gave him a greater appreciation for the whole theater experience. He had fun in dance (oddly enough Ms. July was decent now that Blaine and Rachel weren’t there and hadn’t that been a disturbing few days of contemplation) and he learned a lot in his vocal courses, enjoying those as well.  School was worth it.

His band was still together and they still performed, in fact they had a small following that would hound them for the next show date and would always show up.  They never played to a room smaller than 50 now. All three and the band were fine with this, because they were all just in it for fun and enjoyment.  They played with genre and costumes and did theme nights and it was fun.  They’d even done weddings and birthday parties.  

He had a lovely flat, which he had an extra room which he could rent out when he choose to but which working like he did he could cover on his own if he needed to.  He controlled his own food.  He didn’t have to worry about if Rachel was being a vegetarian that day or not, or about someone trying to fatten him up to relieve their own self-doubt.  He could sing when he wanted and dance when he wanted and watch his own TV.

He had friends and wasn’t that an eye-opener, having real friends.  He’d forever be grateful that Elliot got back from his retreat when he did.  Elliot missed the whole break-up and the next several weeks while they still had to share the loft until the end of school…during which Kurt went to school and went to class and took his tests and sang when he was supposed to and did his assignments and went to work so rent could be paid and picked up the loft and Blaine went out and partied it up, coming home drunk and skipped classes and blew off June (for whom he was already skipping classes to start off with) or lay on the couch bemoaning life and moaning about how everything and everyone hated him, eating junk food and take out and not doing anything except moan and then yell and throw things.  Elliot missed the spectacular melt down when Blaine was informed he flunked out.  He missed the movers coming in the next day and Kurt having to stay home from work after watching Blaine trying to pack stuff that wasn’t his for fifteen minutes.

Elliot was home, though, by the end of that move-out week.  He had popped over to discuss keeping the band going when the first of the angry texts came from Sam, and then from Brittany and Santana and Mercedes. The texts accusing Kurt of making Blaine flunk out, of making teachers give him bad grades.  The ones accusing him of throwing Blaine out the moment they broke-up (which he didn’t) and stealing Blaine’s money by taking rent when he wasn’t even living in the apartment anymore (Blaine hadn’t even paid rent for the last two months) and taking all Blaine’s stuff.   Elliot was there the day Kurt came home from his first psychologist visit (with the same guy that encouraged Rachel to see having an understudy as a plot against her and who told Blaine that it was healthy for him to be the alpha gay and Kurt to always be less than him, two confident people cannot work as a relationship, one must always be subservient and lying to each other only gave a relationship spice) and Elliot was there to point out that Kurt thought the guy was insane when Rachel and Blaine were seeing him, why would he think what the guy said to him to be less insane now?  Elliot called Dani, who gave Kurt the name of several other individuals, all of whom were more comfortable to talk to and within which he found a psychologist who really did help.

Dani was home by the time he was ready to even consider starting to date, and before that Dani and Elliot dragged him out to other places and encouraged him to make friends at work and school.  Chase was the one who suggested speed dating and got him a spot, Dani was the one he complained to about the guy who said he wasn’t over his boyfriend and also the one to suggest maybe it wasn’t Blaine they were talking about.  Ellie, who he worked with at wardrobe, sat with him as he called the Apples he knew were still around, apologizing to them and asking for Adam’s contact information.  Elliot held his hand while he called Adam and apologized.  Elliot and Dani both insisted on meeting Adam, and they all talked as Kurt and Adam become friends again.  

Kurt was able to rejoin the Apples and work with them.  He reconnected to friends he’d started to make there.  He connected again with friends he’d made in his stage combat and mime classes, and joined other clubs again.

Dani and Elliot and all the Apples around at the time were waiting at the coffee house kitty corner to the spot where everyone was supposed to meet up in 6 months’ time, and stayed until Kurt gave up.  They took him out clubbing and reminded him why he was in New York.  Dani called Chase who called Isabelle, who invaded the loft the next night with a party on the go, just to cheer him up.  Elliot called Adam, who flew in over the weekend and they teamed up to drag Kurt sightseeing, to all those places Kurt had not taken the time to see since he was living there and not a tourist.

Kurt came back to New York after running to answer Rachel’s call, instead of staying in Lima. Instead of having the bad advice of that first psychologist and the old-flame speed dating guy in his head shouting and mixing with Rachel’s wish and desire to see them back together, Kurt had other voices.  Ones who showed him what he’d suspected all along and told him that yes, choosing each day to love someone and trust someone was a good way to deal after they continually hurt you…however, that didn’t make it the only answer ever.  The next day you can choose something else and it is not a failure.  He was able to watch Blaine and David together and cry in the bathroom at the loss of a relationship he’d invested so much in, but he was also able to say NO. No to Rachel, No to the relationship and No to trying to fix something that had been so broken for so long.  Furthermore, he realized he didn’t even have to start dating just yet.  There was nothing that said he had to have a boyfriend at all times to be enjoying life.

His bath was still warm and even the towels were heated.  Kurt laughed.  He knew Dani liked to toss them in the microwave to heat.  He relaxed and reached for the body wash Dani had set out. It was a favorite sleepy time mix that she’d found worked to combat insomnia.  

He’d come home to New York. He did his work-study at the same home where he’d done Peter Pan.  He helped them put on the musical Annie and the play Barefoot in the Park. He also picked up some extra hours helping a small children’s theater group just down the street from his loft put together a production of Alice In Wonderland after one of the aides at the old performers home found out he had done costumes when he was in high school.  It wasn’t working with Broadway babies, heck some of the kids couldn’t sing what they were supposed to and not many could dance at all, but it was fun and so fulfilling to help provide the chance for the kids to be able to get up on a stage and perform to the best ability they could.  He was able to take the classes he needed to take at the school and sing with the Apples again and perform with his band.    He auditioned.  He even managed to end up at two call-backs.  Sure, he hadn’t made it onto the stage yet, but a call-back wasn’t anything to be laughed at.  He’d played chorus parts in both NYADA musicals since the break-up.  He’d scored near the top on all showcase performances he’d done. He was holding his own and he was doing well.

And with him not back in Lima, his dad and Carole had had to come to New York.  His dad had had to take a vacation.  Carole had had to take a vacation.  His dad was able to meet Elliot and Dani and watch the band play on Elvis night.  Carole was able to go to work with him at Vogue, and meet Isabelle and watch a photoshoot he’d worked wardrobe on.  They went and watched a show.  They talked about Finn without despair, able to laugh about what he’d have thought. It was good.

Kurt got out of the tub. He dried off, drained the water, and headed to his bed.  He found the comfiest flannel PJs he owned on his bed, his blankets turned down, and Bruce in place.  Somehow, he thought he might just have the best life ever.

[thecineastes-blog]

Grand Prix RPDR RuView: Goo Goo [Lady] Gaga (S06E01)

What do cats and RuPaul seem to have in common, they both have nine lives AND their pussies bite back! Season 9 of RuPaul’s Drag Race has finally begun, and this time on a new network, VH1! (Which pretty much puts a nail in LogoTV’s coffin).

For Grand Prix RuView, we’ll be giving you the top moments of each episode, the shadiest moment of each episode, our favorite queen of the each episode, our least favorite queen of each episode, best looks on the runway, and our predictions for next week.

So if you’re a fan of RPDR but have been under a rock for the last month or so, you may not have heard the news that Mother Monster herself was going to be the guest judge for the season premiere. A part of me wishes that her being a judge would have remained a secret until much earlier, but I know the producers wanted to ensure an amazing ratings turn out.

The episode opens with different shots of the workroom, the number nine flashing (are they trying to remind of something?), and enough RuPaul catchphrases to anchor a boat with. I was especially creeped out by the lifesize statue of RuPaul they have now…I doubt the eliminated queens will be able to fit something that big in their overhead compartments on the plane ride home. And now Untucked will be sponsored by Hamburger Mary’s, but alas we the viewers aren��t getting a complimentary cheeseburger while enjoying the episode :-(  

Peppermint is the first queen to enter the workroom and is stunning in her cyan kimono and microbraids (eat your heart out Moesha!). The first contestant to enter can either mess up their entrance when they realize they are alone, luckily it seemed like Peppermint was there to have fun! 

The second queen to enter is Valentina, who is a vision in a scarlet red dress, and ornate flowers in her light brown hair. 

Valentina’s talking head scenes feature a black turtleneck sweater with matching beret. She’s mentioned how dramatic and theatrical her drag is…so essentially she is the Latina Judy Funnie?

 Would it be too much to ask to get a beat poetry response accompanied with bongos to what is going on in each episode from her? I didn’t think so.

Eureka walks in being very bubbly in a pink and baby blue polka dot ensemble. She is serving catfish, I just hope it comes with a side of hush puppies and okra! She definitely seems like two tons of fun to be reckoned with.

 With oversized pink t-shirt dress and huge sunglasses, it seems Charlie Hides definitely wanted to establish her comedy queen niche quick, fast, and in a hurry.

Platinum Blonde bombshell Farrah Moan adorably struts herself into the workroom, wearing a silver chainmail dress that I think she borrowed from Toni Braxton. Charlie chides at Farrah’s youth…Now’s not the time to go all Wicked Queen mode. 

Coincidentally Farrah, if Charlie ever offers you a shiny red apple, don’t eat it. She seems cute AND clueless. 

Sasha Velour screams her way onto the scene, though in retrospect I’d have loved if she had scream “BALENCIAGA!” a la AHS Myrtle Snow. She’s dressed black from head to toe, looks like Sasha has prepped for everyone else’s funeral. Who doesn’t love a weirdo!

Near and dear to our hearts, Broadway baby Alexis Michelle was just a vision in that silver catsuit and lavender wig. Loved her quoting the musical, Gypsy. It is great to see that at least a few of the New York queens not only know one another but are friendly.

 Apparently Shea Coulee did not come here to play, but slay! (I’d go on, but anymore rhyming and I’d start to sound like a bad Dr. Seuss book.] I bet Shea used the same Muppet dealer Pandora and Mimi used for her fluffy and fuzzy orange coat.

Trinity Taylor comes in, affirming that the body HAS arrived. She hates the stigma of being labelled a pageant girl…just not the stigma of plastic surgery. She won a pageant with Eureka taking first runner-up. Eureka says she is not impressed with Trinity. Could she still be bitter about losing to her? (DUH!) 

Kimora Blanc walks in like a high-end Barbie doll, if she was anymore flawless, she’d be sold at Toys R Us stores around the country.

With an awkward puppet intro, in comes Jaymes Mansfield, ready to continually mystify and stupefy everyone around her. I’m scared she stole and repainted that Madame puppet for the show…

It seems Minnie Mouse’s sexpot cousin has escaped the Magic Kingdom to be on Drag Race this season, oh wait it’s just Nina Bo’nina Brown! She is confident and sassy and has already shown her makeup skills are enviable. 

Last, but not least Aja arrives, quick to remind everyone she is the premiere drag queen of Brooklyn! Trinity is quick to remark she does understand where Aja’s confidence comes from. Apples and oranges people!

FINALLY “Ronnie” aka Lady Gaga enters the workroom and they all have the gag of the millennium! (Shout Out to Newark, NJ!)

 “Mother Monster has arrived!” and they scream like it’s the second coming of Christ. Eureka tells Lady Gaga how much she really appreciates all she’s done. Lady Gaga comes off completely humbled and alacrative to the queens. It’s very refreshing. RuPaul comes down and sings and dances with Gaga and queens. Even bigger news is that no one is being eliminated from the premiere episode!

To commemorate this occasion, contestants will participate in the Miss Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve & Talent pageant. They will have to model two looks: one based their home city and the other as an homage to Lady Gaga.

Normally RPDR usually begins with the queens having a photoshoot and a sewing challenge, which I really enjoyed. You got to see their overall aesthetic AND their other skills. But since the show has grown in popularity, they have opted for more Extravaganza! Also, this season will DEFINITELY be the Year of the Clapback. From the first episode alone, everyone was ready with their quips and badinage.

Runway Over-Ru: 

This episode was a double style challenge, with hometown pride and Gaga-inspired looks. 

Starting the runway off was Peppermint, as Lady Liberty (we’ll talk about this in a bit) in an homage to 1940’s pageants

Valentina was flawless as a feminized version of a Mariachi in an homage to Mariachi Plaza in Los Angeles.

Eureka’s red-neck East Tennessee woman was non-descript but well-played. Charlie’s pilgrim tear away moment was Plymouth rocky at best, but still a great look (gotta practice those tearaways, girl!). 

Neither of the Vegas Queens wore anything remotely Las Vegas, as the judges said Farrah looked like “Anna Karenina meets Game of Thrones” while I was getting more Carol Channing’s ‘Hello Dolly’ collection. 

Kimora was just wearing a lace bodysuit and peacock feather headdress. Both she and Kimora could’ve gone full on showgirls. 

I preferred Alexis’ and Sasha’s NYC looks as they were less obvious-I would’ve preferred Alexis’ leotard had the causes and hashtags embroidered or more neatly painted on, I feel it would’ve looked cleaner. Shea’s Chicago look was all Oscar Myer. 

Trinity’s non-descript Orlando theme park look was a bummer…as was the “anal sun” on the back. Because of the airbrush it made the colors read muddy and dark.

 I was let down on how pedestrian Jaymes’ Milwaukee look was. I really like her and felt had she stretched the cow direction she was going for (a full sequined cow print gown, a giant jewelled cowbell necklace, a cheese shaped clutch even!) would’ve really made her stand out more.

 There were four queens representing New York City, two of which (Peppermint and Aja) did the Statue of Liberty. A city so full of different sights, sounds and subcultures and they decided to do a statue that’s technically in New Jersey?

 Nina Bo’nina Brown was my absolute favorite-she was quite literally a Georgia peach. I was so impressed by her makeup work and the fact that she makes her prosthetics out of paper.

For the Gaga looks, talk about diverse(Nary a kimono in sight!) I was glad everyone did something different. That being said some worked better than others. Loved Nina Bo’nina’s red lace Gaga, Charlie’s white BAFTA ensemble and Valentina’s CFDA look. 

Eureka wore the prison dress from the ‘Telephone’ MV which was great, but I’m hoping that the bald head/wig topiary is not going to be her go-to wig look, as I think it’ll get old…fast. Shea, Sasha, Aja and Farrah looked practically identical to the originals, although I was disappointed that Farrah doubted herself and didn’t tear away into that amazing armored breast latex bodysuit. 

If you were going to take a chance, now would’ve been the time to do it-as no one would be eliminated! Kimora wore a Versace inspired bondage number which was pretty boring. I can hear Michelle now telling her “stop relying on that body”! 

Jaymes’ Vogue look was okay, the dress was spot on, but the hair was messy looking and I felt like she was putting on “Gaga in Slumberland” because she felt uncomfortable being serious and felt safer with comedy. 

Trinity’s AHS Countess look was infinitely better than her hometown pride outfit.  But my number one Gaga? Alexis Michelle, who recreated Gaga’s Golden Globes gown. STUNNING. The dress (which she made!) paid attention to detail and fit like a glove.

This runway had hits and misses, but it’s clear these queens each have a strong sense of personal style and I’m looking forward to the season’s runway!

Jonny’s Favorite Moments:

NO KIMONOS!: Having Lady Gaga be a guest judge on the show was an amazing privilege. But with the ladies playing homage to some of Lady Gaga’s most iconic outfits had me excited….and slightly scared. Last season when the show paid tribute to Madonna, I was waiting to see some of the different outfits and looks that filled my childhood (her stigmata “Like A Prayer” outfit, Golden Globe winning Evita Peron, her MTV Music Video Awards’ “Vogue” wherein she was Marie Antoinette to name a few…) But my heart sank when I just saw a just barrage of kimonos a la “Nothing Really Matters”. I never realized how much that look really resonated with people, but could you imagine Madonna being there and seeing just a sea of kimonos? And what does Aja want to wear to give tribute to Mother Monster….a kimono. After the whole Kimonogate from the season before, and #KimonoYouDidnt becoming a running joke since then I thought contestants would want to steer clear of them for a while. While I understand Aja did have the actual kimono that Lady Gaga wore, I’m so happy Aja opted for the Comme Des Garcons dress.

Princess Peach: Nina Bo’nina Banana Fofana Osama Bin Laden Brown’s peachy keen face left me GAGGING! I love when queens on the show push the limits of aesthetics. I have always been impressed with Ninia’s makeup skills and this look cemented her as a strong contender in the season. Out of everyone, she had the simplest garment, but the makeup was that much more memorable.

The Girl with the Gold Globe: Alexis Michelle on the Lady Gaga’s runway homage was EVERYTHING. I was especially impressed that Alexis made the dress herself. Lady Gaga was one of the most glamorous and subtly gorgeous without the need for accessories or gimmicks.    

Jonny’s Favorite Shadiest Moments:

Miss [Not So] Congeniality?: Eureka definitely seems like is out for blood against Trinity and I am definitely here for it!

Has the Dairy Queen Curdled?: Poor Jaymes Mansfield, she seemed to be a deer in headlights the entire episode. Maybe she’s overwhelmed? But every time I see her, I feel discomfort from her. I know people normally hide behind their jokes and comedy to alleviate stress and awkward situations. I just do not want to see her go home too early because of that. Even Lady Gaga had to tell her that she seems to be hiding behind her character.

Friday the 14?!: I heard through the grapevine that certain queen from a previous season would be returning for this new one. And the 14th contestant is NOT new, especially since RuPaul mentioned that this is a returning queen. I just rolled my eyes and hoped said rumor wasn’t true…but apparently, it was. It seems that Season 9 has been a Shangela, but if anyone starts screaming “Halleloo” I’ll be throwing my tv out of the window. My guttural reaction to this 14th Queen is..why? There really is no reason for this queen to be on this new season. The reason why Shangela came back, was because there was no All Stars at the time. Whoever this person is, if the producers thought they were so great and deserved to be on the show again, said queen should have just been on All Stars 2! As RuPaul said when she jokingly brought back Shangela for season 4, “It is time for new queens.”

Jonny’s Favorite Queen of the Episode:

Hands down it’s a tie between Alexis Michelle and Nina Bo’Nina Brown. They are both super strong and are forced to be reckoned with. Nina pretty much proved that less is completely more.

Jonny’s Least Queen of the Episode:

Trinity Taylor. She just reeks of entitlement. It’s one thing to be sure of yourself, it’s completely another act like you have already won the competition.

Predictions:

Will this 14th queen bring about the RuPocalypse?!…Also I’m guessing there will be a group challenge.

Anais’ Favorite Moments:

Season Nine, Baby!: A fresh start on a new channel will bring the show to another level-and the first episode did not disappoint. A first time non-elimination(see below), huge celebrity guest judge and “Contestant” (Ronnie is everything), two-look pageant challenge and surprise 14th Queen (It’s Ornacia, I just know it!) this season is gearing up to be a spectacular one.

Night of a Thousand Gaga’s: I really enjoy these interpreted looks, and allows us to see the queen’s craftiness and originality (well, most of the time anyway #KimonoYouBetterDont) I hope this is a runway challenge they will continue to have in other seasons.

Shantay you ALL stay: No one eliminated! The stigma (or astigmatism as Trinity would say,) with the first eliminated queens is that no one remembers them. Really and truly, I only remember two or three. Then when the finale/reunion rolls around we all find ourselves saying, “who’s that?” They’ve tried to break this in more recent seasons (the comeback queens on Season Seven, Naysha Lopez’s call in return on Season Eight) but it still remains. Thanks to a non elimination, it gives all the queens more screen time to shine and an extra episode to garner a larger fanbase.

Anais’ Favorite Shadiest Moments:

Whine and Cheese(cake): Farrah’s whining which has now garnered her the nickname “Blonde Bennett Glamsey” courtesy of Shea Coulee, and already circulating memes was equal parts adorable and annoying.

First Blood: Eureka’s shade sways in and out of charming and, well, mean. She’s gunning for Trinity, and tossing shade along the way is entertaining for sure.

Anais’ Favorite Queen of the Episode:

Nina Bo’Nina Banana Fofana Osama Bin Laden Brown. From the hilarious catchphrases, her vulnerability about her abilities and hopes that others believe in her and the slayed double runway, she’s definitely a frontrunner thus far.

Anais’ Least Favorite Queen of the Episode:

Kimora Blac, in addition to what comes across as a massive ego, her inability to be honest about her ahem, body of work, was an eye roller for sure. And it also looked like Michelle Visage wasn’t having it either during her declaration of being “Vegas’ hottest, thinnest Queen”.

Predictions:

Team challenge and first elimination time! The 14th Queen revealed! Next episode is going to be a bombshell!

NOTE: Most Gifs provided by LogoTV and  PRF Memes