#The Tetris tune is a good thing to have stuck in your head

[jazhara7]

I love that there seems to be a slight typo in the text, saying Thor Aakerlund discovered, in 2011, and *then* people were using it well into the 90s.

I can't find any other date, only that there was a documentary featuring him and his involvement in the conquering of Tetris, which is from 2011.

This leaves me only the option to assume Thor Aakerlund discovered this technique and went back in time to share it with the Tetris community sometime pre-1990, so that people could continue to strive to reach further levels, and these continued efforts set events in motion that eventually lead to Blue Scuti reach the kill screen before the cataclysm. His single act allowed the world to be saved from utter ruin and avoid the dystopian state it was in his timeline, where humanity had been enslaved by the Tetris gods. A real hero.

So apparently the pro-Tetris scene is exploding right now because a 13 year old nerd just reached the game's true killscreen for the first time ever

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

two years too late, chapter t w e l v e

If there was anything in this moment that you hated more than Harry, it was the fact that you’d navigated all the way out to JFK in the rain to accompany your friends back into the city. 

Getting there was no easy feat in sunshine--but when the weather picked up and you made the trek on public transit, it seemed a bit too friendly for your current state of mind. Sure--they’d never been here before and maybe the subway system was a bit different from the tube or anything else they’d ridden overseas (rats eating pizza wasn’t unheard of, after all), but it still felt like a lot of effort to bring them all the way back over the bridge and part ways to avoid Harry altogether. 

You knew you’d have to see him at some point, but a Friday night after a full week of work left you too tired to deal--especially when you spent the day before (the 14h day of February) using all of your power to not sucker punch any single person who even mentioned love or relationships or any type of positivity whatsoever. 

Alyssa and Owen were the only exception--partially. She’d claimed it was too soon to do anything with him, but her tune changed when he happened to have tickets to a comedy show. She flew out the door with a scarf around her neck, promising to bring you any leftovers from dinner before she kissed you on the head. 

Everyone else was excited for the wonderful week ahead. Jessie had texted a selfie of the four of them--cheeks pressed together in first class before take off--you responded before you realized Harry was in the chat. Alyssa was begging to see them tonight instead of tomorrow morning, seeing as she’d had many FaceTime encounters but never the real thing! But when Jake informed you only thirty minutes ago that they’d landed, you knew it’d be a while before they got through customs and made their way to you. 

So you sighed, shoved your hands in your pockets and tried to ignore the echoing overhead voice of an airport worker. American Airlines Flight 1290 from Madrid: now at baggage claim 7. 

But then there was a voice, a tap on your shoulder and you swiveled quickly, a pair of blue eyes and a five o’clock shadow smiled down at you. “Hi--sorry to bother you--are you Y/N L/N?”

A nod--you tried to find words, but confusion took over your tongue. You were used to being stopped by girls your own age--people who read your work or followed you on twitter. Every once in a while it happened to be a guy, but it had yet to be one as attractive as the blond head  of hair in front of you. Adidas sweatpants, a backwards baseball hat on his head. 

“Yeah, hi--” you pulled a hand from your pocket and offered it towards him. “Nice to meet you!”

“I’m Patrick Martin, I work for Digitize--we’re a social media firm over in Long Island City--I thought I recognized you from your picture on The Scoop.”

“Oh god,” you scrunched your nose, an immediate flood of embarrassment through your bones. “I did not know it was staff picture day and I never wear my hair like that--”

“It’s a beautiful picture,” he laughed, “really.” An awkward beat. “But I just wanted to say hi. We’ve done some stuff with Whitney Hall--d’you know her?”

“Oh yeah, she’s my editor! She’s fantastic.”

“Yeah!” He adjusted the shoulder strap of a duffle bag he carried. “She’s great--I didn’t mean to bother you but I’ll give you this,” he fiddled with his wallet, produced a small black card that had his name, email, and phone number. “If you’re ever interested in growing your online presence independently of a media outlet, we’re here for that.”

You took it in your hands and flipped it over. “Thank you--yeah, I’ll uh, I’ll be in touch.”

“I’d love to take you for coffee or something sometime.”

“Incoming!” A crash to your side, arms wrapped around you before a gap tooth smile was in front of your face, freckled cheeks red from the running she’d done to leave the others behind.

“We’ll get in touch online,” Patrick smiled, his eyes scanning over Jessie as she adjusted the jacket she wore.  

“Sorry,” she laughed. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“All good,” he said, his accent American and stark in contrast to Jessie’s. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” you offered a hand again, another smile when he turned and waved goodbye, a nod to your friends who’d undoubtedly cut him short. 

When you turned to see them, a grin stretching towards your ears, Jake opened his arms. “Smalls in the flesh--in America--how cool is this?”

“Pretty fucking cool,” Adam answered, shoving past Jessie to wrap his arms around you. “Happy almost birthday!”

“Another two days of being twenty-three!” Bryn took her turn enveloping, she reached a hand up to smooth your hair from Jessie’s crash landing. “Gettin’ old, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes. “Feels that way! You all got through customs that easily?”

“For fuck’s sake, Smalls, don’t say it like they should search us again,” Jake looked over his shoulder, hoping no one would decide to give them a harder time than they’d apparently gotten. 

“M’not! M’not, I was just prepared to wait a lot longer.”

“Well we’ve got to get our bags and then we’re all yours!” Jessie offered another grin, taking a few steps towards the carousel that would soon spit out their belongings. 

“All Harry’s tonight, actually.”

“Oh god,” she let out a groan, her arms crossed over her chest quickly. “Is this some type of split custody thing? Mom and dad fighting again?”

“Very funny,” you made a face at her, “you’re staying at his cause I don’t have the room--and I’m tired. Worked a whole week, you know. Big story on my hands.”

They didn’t ask, luckily. A shrill noise came from the carousel, it started moving and soon delivered all seven items they’d been waiting for. Four suitcases, two duffle bags. Jake and Adam lugged them off one by one, dropping them by their feet until Bryn pointed to each one. “That’s all of them!”

“Alright,” you said, pulling out your phone. You figured that it’d be easiest to just take the AirTrain over towards the A Train--right up through Brooklyn and home by 9pm. “We’ll take the shuttle thing over here,” you pointed in the direction of the doors, leading them out to a concourse where cars had already lined up for their arriving passengers. 

When you crossed the threshold, Adam pointed towards a man with a sign. “Think that’s for us?”

Jessie, Jake, Bryn, Adam, Y/N--a big white board in Roger’s hands. 

“Oh thank god!” Jessie immediately moved towards the big SUV--windows so dark you couldn’t see inside. 

“What are you doing here?” You tried to hide the disappointment--and anger--in your voice.

Roger offered a smile, clearly unaware of the recent developments. “He said it might be a tough trip back with all of these,” a gesture to the bags by your feet as he started to push them into the open trunk.

“No--we’re taking the subway!” Your feet were planted on the gum-stained cement, hands back in your pockets to protect from the unforgiving wind. 

“Not if we have this option we’re not,” Bryn smiled over her shoulder, a look in her eyes pleaded with you to just roll with it. You stood, still, watching as they climbed one by one into the waiting vehicle. 

“S’fine--he’s just being nice,” Jake came and tugged at your arm, his voice low enough so the  others wouldn’t hear. 

“Headed to yours or to Harry’s?” Roger asked, the last of the bag fitting perfectly against the others--Roger had apparently played airport Tetris before. 

“Harry’s please!” Jake answered quickly, giving you a gentle shove towards the back row of seats. You did it begrudgingly. You settled in between he and Bryn--too stubborn to admit that the subway would have sucked. 

So you listened to them laugh about the fancy toilets in first class--Bryn had tried to eat her weight in peanuts and Adam was asleep before they even taxied the runway. Jessie listed off the things she wanted to do and Jake begged for dinner as soon as you crossed over the Manhattan bridge. 

When Roger pulled up to the big glass doors on Greenwich St, you climbed out alongside them, arms crossed as you watched them all try to pull their suitcases from the mountain Roger had built. 

“Good?” Jake reached up to shut the trunk after taking one last look. Jessie moved towards the entrance, the doors parting to reveal a hooded Harry, he didn’t even look at you. 

“Hi lovie!” Jessie wrapped her arms around his neck, Roger offered a wave before climbing back into the car, promising to see you soon while Harry offered hugs. 

“Coming inside?” Adam turned to watch you over his shoulder, a gust of wind blew hair in front of your face. 

“M’exhausted--breakfast in the morning?”

“Y/N are you serious? We just flew ourselves all the way over the ocean to see you and you’re going to sleep?”

“What? I just--I worked, I dunno.”

“Come up for tea, at least,” his voice was smaller than the others, a shrug of his shoulders, his hands hidden in the middle pocket of his jumper. Fleeting eye contact, another gust of wind that seemed to kickstart Adam into motion.

“Yeah, tea, Smallsy, come on,” he was the first to make a move, he picked up his luggage and headed for the door, Harry’s eyes still on you.

If Roger hadn’t already driven away--his assumption that you’d also be staying the night only spoke to how out of the loop he was--you wouldn’t have followed them in past Mark, offering a wave before Harry swiped into the elevator. 

“This is so fucking fancy,” Jessie giggled, her face only a few inches from yours. 

You reached for your phone in your pocket, composing a desperate plea to Alyssa as the lift rose up to Harry’s floor. 

Come to Harry’s--stuck here for a while. Pls!!!!

They did the same oohing and aahing that you had done--wide eyes tracing circles around the room. The high ceilings, the hardwood floor, the art on the walls and the rug on the floor. 

Harry headed for the stove to put on a kettle, he told you to show them the two extra bedrooms. 

“This one has a king so--if Jake and Adam are going to be weird about being in one bed and wanting to build a pillow wall between them, this should be theirs.”

“We already decided to alternate each night between the bed and the couch,” Jake laughed, earning an eye roll from Bryn. 

“You’re both fucking wankers--you’re not going to accidentally touch willies in the middle of the night.”

“Girls down here,” you ignored their bickering, flipping on the lights in the farthest bedroom, navy walls and a white duvet. 

“M’gonna change really quick!” Jessie dropped a duffle onto the bed, unzipping it when Jake spoke from the doorway behind you. 

“Yeah I’ve gotta wee!”

They all seemed to disappear into their rooms, changing, using the loo, inconveniently leaving you to walk back to the living room alone, a message on your phone informed that Alyssa was on her way. 

“Milk?”

“Hmm?” You looked up from your phone, swallowed down the anxiety when you realized it was just the two of you.

“In your tea--milk?”

“Yeah.”

He already had six cups out--each with a tea bag resting inside. He rested his hands on the counter, lips parted as if he was about to speak, when the kettle whistled. 

“Much better!” Jessie appeared in sweatpants, her hair up on top of her head. “I smell like airplane, but I'll live.”

Harry pushed a teacup towards you on the counter, lips in a thin line when you picked it up and locked eyes with him. 

“You alright?” Jessie watched him closely, he cleared his throat when he realized she was referring to the way he was looking at you. 

“Yeah--just, uh, tired. Had a bunch of meetings today.”

You had no clue if that was true or not--it’d been a week since you’d last seen him, a week since  you knew what he was doing or where he was. A week since you’d stood in his living room with tears on your cheeks and anger in your veins. 

“Both of you, Jesus. Want us to fly home?”

“No,” you said. “We’re fine. So tell me about the meeting you had with the programme director. You like him?”

“I mean,” Jessie let out a laugh, reaching for her own cup before walking to join you on the couch. “He’s a total babe. Terribly smart, I think, too.”

“Most important part is that he’s single and his last wife died--” Bryn emerged from the loo, her face a mix of amusement and mockery. 

“Well if he was divorced that would be a red flag,” Jessie tried to reason. 

“But you’re excited to start?” Harry came around to the living room, he sat in a chair opposite you, his eyes on Jessie has if nothing happened. It almost felt like you were back at square one--back to a time where your feelings were a secret and like you’d never even dream of being honest with him. 

**

July 2014

“I can’t believe he made us come all the way down to London when they played in Manchester the other night,” Jessie looked at herself in her front camera, using the pad of her forefinger to wipe lipstick from her teeth. When she looked up at you, her eyebrows furrowed. “Can’t believe you’re not mad at him, honestly.”

“Oh relax,” you said, a strange energy seemed to spread through you, starting in your core and out towards your fingers when you reached down to pat her on the shoulder. 

She was seated on a couch--one in a green room somewhere inside the winding corridors of London’s O2 Area--Bryn was too busy trying to flirt with someone’s sister. Cool air blew through the overhead vents--a steady hum that did a good job of masking the buzzing in your veins.

You’d all done the math in the car on the trip down, a whole six months since you’d seen him in passing over Christmas. A quick hello at Annie’s--his last day in town before he was heading on vacation with his mum. 

Sure--maybe your friends expected you to be less than thrilled to see the boy you once dreamed about, but things felt different. Mature and grown up and far removed from the sad 15-year-old he’d left behind. 

And besides, there was Charlie. 

“We just found a signed picture of Jennifer Lopez in the hallway,” Jake’s voice was low and measured, as if he expected you to be just as excited as they were. Charlie and Adam nodded beside him, their eyes wide with excitement.

“She’s so hot,” the words fell out of Charlie’s mouth without much thought, clearly. 

“Right,” you said, a quick nod as if it didn’t sting--as if you didn’t practice calling Harry three times in Bryn’s bedroom to ask for another ticket for your boyfriend. 

Is it serious--like, you really like him? Harry’d asked on the phone like it was any of his business. 

Super serious, you’d said, as if alliteration had your back. He might be the one. 

So he tagged along, given a fair warning at your parents’ house that morning that he wasn’t allowed to take the piss or give Harry an ounce of shit--after all, Charlie wasn’t the biggest fan of boy bands. He’d made that clear the minute he found out that your heart held a special place for the five-piece group. 

There was commotion from the other side of the room--people stirring when a door opened, Jessie stood from the couch. 

His hair was long--longer than the last time you’d seen him, part of it pulled up on top in an elastic as he locked eyes with Jake. A black silk shirt, unbuttoned low enough to see a bit too much of his chest--especially if you were running with the whole no feelings whatsoever idea. 

“Hey man,” he pulled Adam in for a hug, both their hands patting the other on the back before releasing Harry to greet the rest of you. He made his rounds, finding you and Charlie last. One hand in his pocket before sticking out the right one for him to shake. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “M’Harry.”

“Charlie,” he nodded. “Thanks for having us.”

He brought his eyes to you, lips curled into a small smirk, dimpled cheeks. “Smalls,” he opened his arms, letting you get a good whiff of whatever cologne he now wore. 

“How was the drive down?”

“Terribly long,” Jessie complained, her shoulders slumping. “Why couldn’t we come to Manchester?”

“Because--I told you--this is the better show to come to. Everyone brings friends in London. Better after parties, too,” he let an arm snake around Jessie’s shoulders, smiling down at her with raised brows. 

“Like--with famous people?”

“If you’re lucky--heard Ed Sheeran might come say hello at some point. David Beckham, too.”

“Fine,” Jessie said quickly, not missing a beat. “That would be cool.”

“Always so composed, Jess,” Jake teased. 

Harry’s assistant--he had his own now, not just one he shared with the other boys--offered cocktails, something to hold in hand while you made smalltalk with the friends of the other boys. The kids who grew up next door to Niall, Louis’ siblings and Liam’s best friend from college. 

It was nice to be in a room with other people who knew what it felt like to be left behind. Maybe they didn’t all label it like that, but you knew that they understood what it was like to wonder about the next time you’d see your friend. 

You reached for another drink the second Harry got you alone, a question about how you met Charlie. 

“Lived on my floor during my first year. We were friends for a while--or, in the same friend group, I guess.”

He nodded, he elbow resting on top of a water cooler he made a face before letting words slip from between his lips slowly. “He seems...nice.”

“What?” You laughed, “what is it? How could you not like him when you’ve spoken like ten words to him all night?” 

“I never said that!” He smiled, raising a hand in the air in defense. “Just--dunno--hope he’s not a tosser.”

You let out a small laugh, a space filler while you tried to gather your thoughts, or rather, your emotions. The idea that Harry cared about who you dated sent a spark through your system, but the rationalizing that soon kicked in--it’s because you’re friends, he’s just being nice--seemed to put out whatever fire had been momentarily ignited. 

After a while he was pulled away by someone whose job it was to manage his time--warm ups in another room and maybe one last puff of hairspray. You were left with the others to consume more alcohol, eventually led to your seats by men in bright yellow shirts with flashlights.

Charlie was entertained enough--he laughed with Jake and Adam and clapped for the opening act. He made a face at the screams when the lights went down again, but even Jessie typically pulled something similar. 

Ten songs, three more drinks, and a small bladder eventually had you wandering the corridors alone, tracing your way back to the room with the oriental rug and comfy couches. When you found the peaceful quiet of bottled waters and granola bars on the counter, you found yourself taking your time--staring at yourself in the mirror when you washed your hands. 

“Hi,” Bryn’s voice sounded from behind you. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” you said, a solemn nod. “Just--kind of weird, you know, to have them in the same place.”

She hummed, coming to rest a head on your shoulders. “I figured.”

“I really like him, you know?”

“Harry?”

“Charlie!” You rolled your eyes, but a piece of you knew that Bryn’s words weren’t false. You turned around to lean against the counter. “He’s great--he’s funny. I just--I dunno. I hope at some point I stop wondering about the what ifs.”

There were tears in your eyes--a small enough amount that you could claim it was an eyelash or a yawn, but with Bryn, you didn’t feel the need to. “You will,” she reassured. 

“And besides--s’a pretty good way to make them both jealous. Bring your new boyfriend to the concert of your friend who’s a rockstar? If Harry has half a mind, it’ll make both of them pretty antsy.”

You laughed, unsure of if inspiring jealousy was what you were going for. If anything, at this point, you wanted peace. Maybe things with Harry would never happen--after four years, it was safe to say that he’d moved on from your small town. Maybe another four years and you’d never see him again, save for tabloid covers in Sainsbury’s. 

“What’s up?” Jessie asked, leaning against the door from the greenroom. The bass line thumped through the cement wall--you were sure your eyeliner was smudged. 

“Just realizing she’s still not over Harry,” Bryn said quickly, no emotion in her words--as if it was as simple as discussing the weather. 

“Bryn!”

“Y/N,” Jessie seemed to laugh a little, coming over to brush your hair with her fingers. “Charlie’s great--he’s funny and he’s handsome and he’s--”

“Not Harry,” Bryn said, a shrug of her shoulders when you looked up at her with narrowed eyes.

“He’s great though, she’s right,” you said, enough conviction to convince yourself that you actually believed it. “Who cares if he’s not the one--he can be fun for now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” they said.

Locked arms when you went back to your seats, wristbands granting you access to the floor with ease. When you found Charlie you let him wrap his arms around you, hoping that one day, he’d be enough to erase the memories of the boy on stage. 

**

“Thank god you’re here,” you greeted Alyssa right in front of the lift, voice low enough so the others couldn’t hear you. 

She shrugged off her jacket and made a face. “That bad?”

“Hi Lyss,” Harry’s voice echoed over Bryn’s laughter--they all turned their attention towards your roommate as she smoothed out her blouse. 

“Hi,” she said. “Nice to finally meet you all!”

“Welcome, welcome,” Jessie laughed. “Many a FaceTime call!”

Harry seemed to watch in silence as you took your place back on the couch--Alyssa settling onto the carpet before looking up at him, a closed lip smile was the only interaction between the two. 

It didn’t feel as bad as you thought it would--or maybe it was the glass of wine that Bryn poured you an hour later. That paired with the laughter that laced itself through conversation left your heartbeat steady, easily ignoring the fact that Harry’s eyes would linger a second too long every time you spoke. 

Jake went off to bed first--claiming dramatically that his body really thought the sun should be rising. Adam made him promise to construct a sturdy enough pillow wall--Bryn once again pointed out their subtle homophobia with a raise of her wine glass. Twats, she said, once Adam left the room. 

But she was next to fall, slumping down the hallway while Jessie sang along to whatever song Alyssa played from her phone. So once you’d decided it was time to head out, Jessie disappeared into a dark bedroom and Alyssa used the toilet--leaving you to trail behind Harry as you brought tea cups and wine glasses back to the sink. 

“I hope it’s okay that they’re here.”

“Them?” You threw a thumb over your shoulder--reality setting in when you realized you’d yet to actually communicate with him about the birthday surprise. Anger fought its way up your throat. “S’fine--they’re my best friends.”

“Yeah,” he said, the next words came lazily out of his mouth like an afterthought. “Mine too.”

Back to the living room to get your coat, pulling it over your shoulders as if he hadn’t followed behind you, watching quietly when you scooped your hair out from the jacket. 

“Maybe we can talk in a few days. I know they’re here, but, you didn’t even hear me out.”

“Hear you out? You were seeing two girls at once and you want me to hear you out?”

The door to the loo shut--Alyssa appeared in the hallway but faltered when both you and Harry took a step back from each other.

“Relax,” she said, her eyes wide for a second as she came to meet you near the door. “S’just me. I know you broke up.”

You rolled your eyes at that--Harry’s expression was calm. “I’ll see you in the morning?” His voice was hopeful--his eyes watched yours for any sign of emotion. 

“Maybe--Jessie wants to do Times Square so I doubt you can come. And besides, we still need to minimize the amount we’re seen together. If people see you with them and then me with them they’ll start to put things together before--you know.”

“Before what?”

“Before I can figure out the story and telling Whitney, alright? If we have to be sneaky about this so people don’t know that I’ve known you forever--I vote that you’re the one to hide.”

His head tilted to the side, as if you’d started speaking a foreign language. “Hide?” 

Alyssa slung her purse over her shoulder. 

“Yes, hide. You can hang out with us but you’re on your own for making sure you don’t draw attention to us. This is my birthday gift, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, a sigh from between his lips when he looked to Alyssa. “Thanks for coming.”

She offered an awkward smile--you wondered what she’d say to him if you weren’t there, how they’d interact just the two of them.

“See ya,” you tugged Alyssa by the coat sleeve into the lift. You pressed a button and shut the door between you, welcoming the bitter air on the sidewalk. Quiet on the walk home--you would have taken the subway or called a car, but Alyssa probably knew you needed the silence.

A direct message on twitter that night when you climbed into bed. You didn’t even know Pat--his name sounded familiar and you trusted that he had to be decent at his job if Whitney had worked with him, but when you agreed to meet him for coffee next week, you wondered what it would feel like to love someone that wasn’t Harry. 

You hoped one day you’d know. 

**

The neon glow of Times Square was much more impressive at night, so the five of you stood in the center of a cement island, taxis and buses honking beside you as Jessie and Adam stared up with open mouths. 

“S’brighter than I imagined,” Jake said, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears. “So much electricity.”

“S’beautiful,” Jessie cooed, the reflection of the lights bounced off her irises. When she turned to look at you, she wrapped an arm around yours. “Thanks for taking us.”

“My pleasure,” you laughed. “You come less and less to touristy things when you live here. S’like how we stopped doing the Eye or riding the double deckers.”

“Right,” Bryn laughed, a shopping bag in her right hand. “Or how we wouldn’t let Jake take any more pictures with the guards at Buckingham Palace.”

“They’re funny,” he defended, shooting Bryn a look of anger before resting an arm on her shoulders. 

Adam looked around the group of you, a smile on his face when his eyes landed on yours. “Glad we’re here, Smalls.”

“Yeah,” Jessie said. “I can see why you like it so much.”

“Can see why you don’t want to come home,” Bryn added, another sweeping gaze of the billboards above. She counted the colors, pinks, blues, greens, yellows, reds. A cup of coffee sitting on the red chairs scattered about, laughing at costumes and watching the people who’d pass by. 

After a good hour and a half you navigated over to Hell’s Kitchen, walking through side streets to find the restaurant that Harry had chosen. 

Don’t see why he gets to choose, s’my birthday dinner, you complained as your boots shuffled along the sidewalk. 

He’s paying, Bryn reminded. That’s why. 

You were sat in a back room, wine was poured before Harry appeared in the doorway, shrugging out of his jacket before placing it on the seat across from you. 

“Sorry,” he said, “had a meeting. Happy birthday.”

“S’not my birthday yet,” you sipped at the Cabernet that’d been offered, setting it on the table before giving him a challenging glare. 

“S’your birthday dinner, though. A day and a half early, if you can forgive me,” a hand to his heart before Bryn raised a glass. 

“Here’s to Y/N--kicking ass in New York City and carving out an amazing career for herself.”

“You’re probably the coolest person who lives in New York, Smalls,” Jake lifted his glass and let it hit yours, a scowl came across Harry’s face as he held his wine in the air. 

“Was I even up for consideration?” He asked, a playful frown on his face. 

Jake tilted his head. “Of coolest people who live in New York?” 

You rolled your eyes--now wasn’t the time for his sensitivity. “M’the one who actually lives here,  Harry.”

“Is the rent I pay not enough to convince you that I live here too?”

“Not when you jet set off to LA or London for a week just because you feel like it.”

“So business travel? That automatically disqualifies someone from considering themselves a resident just because they travel for business? Probably disqualifies half the population then.”

Adam tensed beside you, an awkward sip of his cocktail when he looked at Jessie to say something.

“What type of visa do you have?” You asked, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table. 

“What? I don’t know--my manager handles that for me.”

“I have an H1B, extendable to six years,” you said matter-of-factly. Jessie’s eyes were wide as she sucked some sangria through a straw. 

“Alright,” Bryn tried to hold up a hand, unable to steer you down the right path. 

“Well I don’t think the American government is going to kick me out any time soon.”

“They will if you lie to them,” you narrowed your eyes, a bit too much emotion in your voice. 

“Do you need us to leave?” Bryn’s voice was quiet but snarky, Harry’s head snapped over to her and he picked up his wine, leaning back in his chair. 

“No,” you both said at the same time--but you pushed back from the table and cleared your throat. “I’m using the loo.”

You heard Jessie say something about going after you, Harry’s voice stopped her, I’ll go. 

You walked straight into the single bathroom in the back, shoes clicking on the shiny floor. A waterfall sink and polished copper faucet reminded you of the caliber of restaurant this was. Too fancy of a bathroom to cry in. 

There was a knock on the door. “Let me in, Y/N, let me talk to you.”

You opened the door quickly, pushing your head through the crack to see him waiting in the dimly lit hallway. “No--I’m not doing this here.”

“You don’t want to do it anywhere, apparently.”

“Exactly,” you went to shut the door, his hand reached up to stop you from shutting it, fingers gripped around the oak. 

“Two minutes,” he said. “Just give me two minutes to explain something to you.”

You let out a sigh, hoping to calm your pulse before you pulled open the door and let him take two steps inside. He shut it behind him. 

“Go.”

“I just--I was seeing her, casually, yes. But the only reason I saw her after we got back here was to say I couldn’t see her again. I told her it was done.” 

You pushed out your lips in thought, a head tilt to show him you meant business. “Did you sleep with her?”

“No.”

“Did you talk to her all the time?”

“No, Y/N. We had dinner and hung out with some friends and sure we kind of hooked up but we didn’t have sex.”

“Did she keep a deodorant in your bathroom?”

“What? No,” he laughed, a step towards you, hand on your arm. “I saw her maybe five times--I don’t know, it wasn’t--it wasn’t anything serious.” A pause, shifted weight on his feet. 

“We’re not--we can’t do this Harry,” you said, kicking a boot against the black marble floor. “This never should have happened.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because it would have worked by now if it was supposed to! It would have happened a long time ago! I was in love with you. I waited for you to come home and I hoped that one day you’d love me back. But it’s too late. I was here living my life on my own and you don’t get to just pop in and out whenever you please.”

He watched you, almost as if you’d laugh and say you were only kidding. Like a simple smile or a joke could take all of it back, wash it clean, and restart. 

“So what, then?”

“So what? So nothing. I shouldn’t have slept with you--it was...unprofessional.”

His chest deflated, a huff of air through his lips when he scratched at the back of his neck, tired and confused. The door swung open and Jake stood, blond quiff of hair reflecting the overhead light, eyes glancing between the two of you. 

“You’re lucky I fought Jessie off to come back here because they’re all bloody suspicious. So if you’re still keen on keeping this a secret,” a finger waved in the air between you, “you should get back to the table.”

“You know?” Harry’s head swiveled around, eyes locking on Jake’s. 

“Of course I know--I’m surprised they’re all daft enough to not know, really.”

You rolled your eyes, giving Harry a shove out of your way before passing between them, wiping beneath your eyes to hide any evidence of emotion. Bryn’s posture straightened when you got back to the table, her voice a quiet whisper so Harry wouldn’t hear.

“Are you alright? What on earth is going on between you two?”

“Nothing,” you said, pulling your napkin back onto your lap. “He’s just a twat--you know how it is.”

Her eyes narrowed, Jessie listened--uncharacteristically quiet. Adam typed away on his phone, as if the entire scene hadn’t just come to close with Harry and Jake back at the table, slumping in their chairs when the server asked if another round was needed. 

“Yes,” all six of you said in unison.

come talk to me about tytl

read the other parts here

AN: again this is kind of short but I wanted to update for y’all!!!! 

tag list:  @clorenafila @ainsleesolareclipse @castawaycths @harryspirate @wanderlustiing @ursamajor603 @thurhomish @omgsharry  @stepping-into-the-light @rachkon @jdcharliewhiskey @sad-little-asshole  @shawnsblue  @gendryia @g0bl1nqueen  @laula843  @flooome  @a-woman-without-a-plan@awomanindeniall  @shaw-nm @staceystoleyourheart @ohprettylittlemind-deactivated2 @anssu-amry @my-fandomful-life2 @stylesfantasy @bookingbee  @mleestiles  @haute-romance-quotidienne  @craic-head-horan @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @at-least-im-1 @paigemck00 @rawmeharry @pinkpolaroidgirl @blackxxmagicc @sksspotkitty @nearbyou @kalesouffle @sunnflowerchild @lmk12310​ @sing-me-a-song-harry @afterstylesmadeit @myhat @caritocp @liquor-and-intellect

[avelera]

Well...I do have an angst idea for Newmann. It's really great that the precursors are gone now and the world is safe and he's working to get his life back and he's very happy about that! But somehow after ten years with the collective, even though it was horrible, Newt's finding himself lonely in his own head.

OK so it’s like…. waaaaaay less angsty than I think you meant but I just couldn’t do it without there being some kind of positive ending. That said, THANK YOU for such a fascinating prompt!

–

Newt snuffled awake at a hand on his shoulder, and only then realized he hadn’t really been “asleep”, just sitting on the couch, staring at a black television screen. Again. Dammit.

“Newton?” Hermann’s voice was soft, concerned. Which, double-dammit, meant he’d figured out what was going.

Newt was usually better at hiding the episodes. By his calculation, Hermann had only caught a few of them over the last year. There’d been over five times that number. At least once a month he’d catch himself doing it again, and when he felt the vagueness coming on, the sort of blankess combined with a nameless swell of dread in the pit of his stomach he tried to go somewhere a little more plausibly deniable than sitting up on the goddamn couch. Like the bed, lying on his back with his eyes closed like he’d gone for a midday nap, or hunched over at his desk staring at some random email without seeing it.

This episode had caught him by surprise.

“Hey, sorry bud, did you say something?” Newt said. His voice was muzzy and he dragged his hands over his face to try to add the whole charade, make it look like he’d fallen asleep. Sitting up. With his eyes open.

Hermann grimaced and Newt didn’t need to hear what he was thinking to recognize that tight expression of exasperation mixed with fear for him. But god, it would have been amazing to hear what Hermann was thinking just then.

Because that was the problem: the silence in his head.

“Dare I ask this time what is going on, or am I going to need to stumble upon you frothing at the mouth from a stroke or, heaven forbid, frozen in the middle of traffic before you finally talk to me?” Hermann said and there’s was a grate of irritation in his voice. The hand on Newt’s shoulder tightening compulsively.

“Can I get a raincheck on that one?” Newt quipped, or tried to, if only his voice hadn’t cracked mid-word.

“Newton.”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Newt huffed and threw his hands in the air.

“If not me then a therapist then!”

“I don’t…” Newt snarled to himself and twisted to look up at Hermann. “I mean…” He gestured towards the air. “I don’t want to talk…about it. Do you get it? I don’t… I’m so fucking sick of talking to you!”

“Well, that would be a first,” Hermann said dryly. He didn’t even look hurt. Fuck. Maybe Newt should given Hermann credit for having a thicker skin than him. Hermann only raised an eyebrow. It was infuriating. And just like that, Newt could feel the words building up behind his teeth just breaking free, which was probably exactly what Hermann intended, the bastard.

“I never had to talk to them! They were just in my head,” Newt exploded. “And you, you were in my head, and then you weren’t and I… what’s the point of talking, huh? It’s so fucking messy and imprecise and fucking… unscientific. We can do so much better than talking, we’ve got the Drift! Just fucking… download this shit into our heads, no more peer review, no more meetings, nor more fucking small talk. We’ve got the technology, why the fuck are we all still stuck in our own heads, why are we still in the goddamn dark ages with all this silence?”

Hermann’s lips thinned and he contemplated this. Newt found himself leaning forward, hungrily, despite himself. No one got it, no one understood what it was like after the Precursors, but at least sometimes Hermann would surprise him with some little gem, some insight that cut right through the tangle of bullshit and PTSD and fear when Newt got too wrapped up inside his own head.

“Did you know…” Hermann began, and paused as if considering his words, “… that you sometimes slip into an Eaton accent when you’re complaining?”

“What?” Newt gaped and barked a laugh despite himself. “The fuck does that have to do with anything? And fuck you, I’m not complaining!” Hermann’s other eyebrow rose. “I’m not!”

Hermann held the look for a moment, then sighed and took the seat on the couch beside Newt, and placed his hand as if unconsciously on Newt’s knee. “It has to do with the fact there’s still remnants of our Drift that are still there, even after all these years. I myself am still hopelessly stuck drinking that disgusting black coffee that was your preference, even now that you’ve switched to tea.” 

Newt grimaced and looked away, ignoring the little swell of warmth in his chest at the thought that he carried those bits of Hermann around with him still, like mementos, and that bits of him were irritating Hermann to this day. But it wasn’t enough. “Yeah, well…” 

“Do you miss them?”

There was no clarification needed on them. The Precursors. The assholes who had kept him a prisoner inside his own head for ten fucking years. “No!” Newt spat. Then hesitated. “Yes. Maybe? Fuck I…” He wiped a hand over his eyes, was a little surprised they weren’t damp. He’d always cried easily. Huh. Maybe that alone was progress, that he didn’t fall apart into a sobbing mess anymore when shit got real and they came up. 

“It’s just so fucking quiet, y’know? Sometimes I just… I can’t believe they’re not there, telling me what to do next. And I… I don’t know what to do. Simple shit like go take a shower, shine your shoes, eat something…I got so used to them telling me and… and if I did something they didn’t like it… it got bad, ok? I’m not gonna elaborate, you don’t need to know that shit, but sometimes it was just safer to wait until they told me to do something. And sometimes, now… when it’s quiet and I’m just, fuck, just going about my day it’ll just get quieter and quieter and this… this fear just comes out of nowhere, y’know? Like, ‘did they tell me to do something? Did I forget?’ And there’s just this… this fucking dread like, fuck, I need to time out for a second, just sit here until they tell me what to…what to do.” His jaw clenched and he stole a look at Hermann, terrified he might see that sorrow again, or worse, pity. But Hermann’s face was blank. It was his ‘reading’ face when he was just sitting there, taking information in, digesting it. And try as he might, Newt couldn’t see beyond it.

Somehow, that just made it worse.

“You know, Drifting has come a long way since the first war,” Hermann said conversationally and Newt blinked at the apparent non-sequiter as Hermann continued. “In no small part thanks to your innovation. Drifting with the Kaiju fetus, followed by your paper on the subject, allowed enormous leaps in the field. Why should humans be limited to Drifting with only maximum compatibility, when one of our numbers was able to establish contact with an entirely alien species? I confess with you�� off, in the private sector, I took it on as something of a side project. The pursuit of lowering the barrier of compatibility necessary between two pilots.”

“Man, the romance novelists must have been so fucking pissed at you after that one,” Newt croaked. The Drift Romance genre was its own goddamn shelf these days.

Hermann smiled thinly. “What I mean is, if you would like to Drift again, perhaps with… with someone else,” and here for the first time, Hermann’s voice faltered, “there… there would be no reason to fear repercussions to your health.”

Newt snorted. “Yeah, right. Who the fuck is going to want to Drift with me? You’d get like… like brain rabies or something, you’d have to be crazy…” He trailed off. There’d been something there, a flicker of desolation on Hermann’s face, quickly swallowed by that mask of good humor. “Unless...do you want to Drift again? ‘Cause that would be nuts man, like literally an insane thing for you to want to do.” 

Hermann’s hand tightened on his knee. “God, yes,” Hermann breathed, then caught himself, and looked stricken. “I… that is, I don’t imagine it’s an experience you’re eager to repeat, so I haven’t asked, but it’s really very unusual for.. for Drift partners to only go about it the once. There are negative effects, indeed, I thought for some time that the nightmares were a product, and…”

Newt’s breath left him in a rush and a bunch of thoughts in his head rearranged themselves like free-moving Tetris blocks as Hermann’s nerdy eagerness shivered through that good nurse routine he’d learned to slip into ever since he brought Newt home. Hermann wanted to Drift with him. Hermann wasn’t afraid, like any normal person would be, that some trace of the Precursors was waiting in Newt’s head like a dormant computer virus. Hermann wanted to jump back into the deep end of Newt’s brain and it wasn’t just Newt uselessly, hopelessly pining after those swirls of blue and numbers and shitty childhood loneliness and prissy self importance mixed with aching insecurity that was the inside of Hermann’s head. Pining that sometimes hit him so hard it made him miss, just a little bit, the rush of Alice. Of just not being alone in the silence anymore.

“I still have the blueprints somewhere,” Newt said slowly. “I could probably build another Pons without breaking too many international laws.”

Hermann startled. “Build one? My dear, do you honestly tune out entirely when I talk about my work? I have at least three models sitting idle at the university lab.”

Newt’s eyes widened. “Field trip?” he said, and the devilish grin that spread across Hermann’s face was all the answer he needed.

[deathnotetruths]

Finite

Fandom: Death Note Pairing: Matt/Mello Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence; swearing

Summary: When Matt stumbles upon Mello's mafia contacts, things take a violent turn. Is this really the same Mello who once laughed so clearly? With threats upon his life, Matt must navigate a very thin line between trust and deceit in order to save them both.

Chapter 1: Bite The Curb

“Bite the fucking curb.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Jesus fuck.

“Don’t fuck with me! Get your fucking head down!”

Matt felt himself shoved roughly forward, his knees scraping the concrete and gravel of the road. The lamplight buzzed and flickered. His knees felt wet; he couldn’t decide if it was blood or drainage from the street. He didn’t care. The scent of asphalt and earth filled his nose.

“Open your fucking mouth, you stupid little bitch.”

Matt couldn’t even pretend to be brave. His heart felt like it would explode. He stared at the curbside, the concrete and graffiti blurring with unshed tears.

“Bite. The. Fucking. Curb.”

He felt a hand in his hair, shoving his face down. A calloused thumb dug itself into his jaw, forcing his mouth open. He quickly found himself sucking concrete, breathing frantically through his open mouth. Gravel dug into his knees, and dirt filled his mouth.

Fuck, this was going to hurt.

Not just hurt - it would be agony. It would be worse than the time he was shot in the shoulder. Worse than the busted knee from his motorbike. This would kill him, if he was lucky, and it would hurt every single moment until his body finally gave out.

Oh fuck. Oh god, oh fuck, oh shit.

“Better say your prayers,” a voice spat. Matt cringed when he felt a thick string of slobber running down the side of his face. “Go ahead and cry, little bitch.”

Matt did. He felt tears pouring down his face. His jaw ached from the awkward position, and his mouth felt dry as stone. His mind replayed over and over all the horrible scenarios that could play out; his jaw shattering, his skin ripping, his tongue falling down his own throat. He imagined in agonizing detail how horrible the next few minutes would be.

This was not how he imagined his death. Not even close. He had hoped to die doing something cool; maybe a flaming bike wreck, or a massive shootout, or doing something heroic. He never once guessed that his death would occur while kneeling in the street, sobbing like a child, with his head kicked in by a pair of Doc Martins.

“This will teach you to spy on people who are stronger than you!”

“Hold the fuck up,” a voice called. “Sit down before you hurt yourself, Santiago. For fuck’s sake.”

Matt felt himself blacking out; he clung to consciousness by a thread. He felt rough hands in his hair, jerking him up to his knees. A light shone in his face. He squinted, slowly feeling the blood rush back into his head.

“Did any of you brain-dead fuckwads think for a moment that we could possibly use this guy?”

A chorus of murmurs signaled the negative.

“Didn’t think so. Listen, if he’s good enough to get intel on our affairs, what the fuck do you think he could do to the 14th Street? Or Las Llaves? Fuck, we could spy on the whole god-damned coast if we use him. And you were about to send him packing to the Pearly Gates? Fucking idiots.”

Matt felt cold leather wrapping itself beneath his chin. He squinted hard against the light, looking up into the face of someone oddly familiar. The voice wasn’t right, but the face…

It was as if he were dreaming. There’s no way…

WHAM!

Matt felt his face explode with pain. Fuck, this guy could throw a mean punch. Matt opened his mouth to try and defend himself, only to be greeted with another heavy punch to the face. That cool leather glove tangled itself deep into his hair and held his face still while the man’s other hand cracked against his face over and over. Matt felt his cheeks swell; his lip split, his eyes both blackened, and his nose was almost certainly broken.

There’s no way. No way. He wouldn’t ever-

“Mel-?” Matt tried to gasp, but before he could finish his question, the blonde cracked his head against the street light. Matt felt himself float off into darkness.

“You’re awake. Good.”

Matt groaned, trying to open his eyes. It was that voice again - the one that sounded so wrong, yet so familiar.

“I wouldn’t bother, if I were you. You’ve been out for two days, but the swelling still hasn’t gone down. I didn’t detach your retina, though, so that’s a plus!”

How could this guy be so fucking cheerful over something like that?

Matt heard the sound of swishing leather, then felt a weight on the end of his bed. Bed? Yes, he was definitely lying on something softer than concrete… but perhaps “bed” was not the right word. A thin mattress on a slab; that’s the only comfort Matt had. From the sound of their voices, he determined that the room was padded with some sort of sound-proofing. Every echo was immediately absorbed; Matt couldn’t tell how big the room was, nor what was in it.

“We’re fine to talk while we’re in here,” the other man said. “Nobody else can hear us. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Matt made a grunting noise; his tongue felt too swollen to form proper words.

“I don’t apologize for anything,” the man continued, “but it’s unfortunate that you recognized me. I really didn’t want to have to do that much to you. But if they knew that we’re familiar, it would not end well.”

Familiar? No way. It wasn’t a dream or a hopeless hallucination…

“Mello?” Matt choked out, tasting blood in the back of his mouth.

“Shut up before you hurt yourself. Yeah, Matt. Who the fuck else would it be?”

“You’re alive,” Matt coughed. Everything hurt. His face, his ribs, his head… Every ounce of him throbbed with pain. But Mello was alive. He had developed an American accent, and his pitch was much lower, but the underlying notes and rhythms in his voice were most certainly Mello’s.

“God, don’t you listen? Quit talking. Let me do the talking.” The surly blonde swatted Matt on the arm, making the redhead cringe in pain. “Look. You’re up shit creek, my friend. I don’t know exactly how you did it, but you somehow found out way more about us than you should have.”

Matt tried to shrug, but his shoulder refused to cooperate.

“You were ten seconds from St. Peter, mate,” Mello continued. “You’re fucking lucky that I happened to be there. And that I recognized you. Right now, I’ve got them convinced that I want you for your skills. You’d better be fucking willing and able to deliver, Matt. If you don’t, you’re a dead man. Period. I can’t compromise my position, and we can’t keep dead weight. Do you understand?”

Matt tried to nod, but the room was spinning. He was still stuck on the fact that Mello was alive.

“It’s stupid to talk when you’re in this state…” Mello grumbled. “Rest up. I’ll have someone bring in food and water later. Technically, you’re a prisoner for now. The door is bolted, and the room is soundproof. We typically use this room for recovery after an interrogation, but you’re one of the lucky few who gets to stay here with all your fingers and toes still attached. Consider it a blessing.”

Mello stood and paced the room for a moment, the distinct sound of a chocolate bar wrapper rustling between his fingers.

“Listen, man. I don’t know how the next few weeks will play out. This is a dangerous fucking game that you roped us both into. Frankly, it might have been kinder to you if I had just let you die on the street…” Mello trailed off, snapping into the chocolate bar. “But for whatever reason, I didn’t. So now you’re playing to keep us both alive, you got it? You don’t know me. You call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Boss.’ You keep your head down, your mouth shut, and you do what you’re told. And you’d better do it damn well, or I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Matt could sense Mello hesitating. Years of watching the blonde pace around their bedroom at the orphanage caused Matt to be very attuned to Mello’s habits.

“...Don’t hold it against me if I have to beat you, Matt.” Mello said quietly. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just how things work around here.”

Matt swallowed the lump in his throat. Judging by the pain and swelling in his face, he knew Mello could deliver one hell of a punch. He prayed it wouldn’t come to that again.

“‘Kay,” Matt mumbled.

“I should go. I have a lot to coordinate. There’s this raid… You’ll hear about it when you’ve recovered. Get some rest, and remember what we discussed. I’m counting on you, Matt.”

Without another word, Mello left the room. The sound of the heavy steel door locking felt deafening to Matt. The silence in the room was amplified; the soundproofing prevented any noises from the outside world from reaching Matt’s ears. He could imagine men going crazy on this mattress.

Despite the throbbing in his lips and cheeks, Matt forced himself to hum a tune - the repetitive, melodic music from Tetris - as he played imaginary games of Tetris in his mind’s eye. Meanwhile, in the back of his mind, he began to plan ahead for the next few weeks. He imagined scenario after scenario, carefully crafting what to say and how to say everything for any situation he might come across. More than anything, he practiced over and over to never call Mello by name.

[estuarries]

baby’s first liveshow commentary

hello lads i have decided to attempt doing @nihilist-toothpaste​ inspired video commentary/write up/review thingies!!!! welcome to ramble-y fun time

phil’s liveshow on august 10, 2017

his smile in the first minute makes my heart so happy i love him so much

i love the eye-tongue-eye emoji stop being mean to it

he’s a bit late bc he just finished filming a new ap vid!!! it took him longer than he thought it would to finish filming bc he was rambling. this is a #relatable brain thing

“i just said goodbye and now i’m saying hello again!” wrt filing and then doing a liveshow makes me rly happy bc i wouldn’t have thought abt it that way. i love phil’s brain

new vid clues: paper bag(?) and bubble wrap. amazingphil asmr part ii??

dan’s not joining the liveshow bc he has a headache but phil’s gonna hop into dan’s next one

closed eyes and happy gesticulation whilst telling sleepy-morning “unexpected window cleaning man frightened me” story

phil’s fight/flight/freeze response is freeze

“imagine if i had decided to make breakfast naked! ...if i was that kind of person…” its okay m8 we know u like to make nakey bro brunches w danyul

are the emoji pants the only pair of graphic pj pants he has now ??? why are they being featured so prominently lately ???? phil IS an emoji is the only phnnie conspiracy i can support now

in the ap vid phil did SCIENCE and REACTED TO THINGS (chemistry . reaction . hehe :3)

he’s out of tv shows to watch ….he and dan have watched so many series together over the years ..... i am emotional

phil hasnt watched in a heartbeat EITHER !! BLASPHEMOUS BOYES!!!

re: rick and morty. i strongly agree and it makes me so nervous that rick burps all the time i cannot focus on whats happening in the show bc rick gives me so much anxiety

he misses the cherry blossom tree in thehowlter’s front yard and they are hopefully going to put it in when they have money

“you’re all like dan! not everything has to be symmetrical!” thank u for these affirmations that not everything has to be perfect thank u for being chill. a chill phil. 

“i dont mind a little bit of wonkiness!” “i’m at a bit of a wonk!” “is the entire house wonky?” the only real phil branding is ~WOnKy~

phils hands are so beautiful???? i love them?????? @ 8:50ish

him trying to figure out his best side and saying “one? or two?” as options like at the optometrist when ur getting ur eyes checked. 

someone in the chat: “both!” phil’s cheeky grin/”don’t flatter me!!!” response

someone in the chat: “side three!” i snort laughed along w phil this is truly Good Content. dark!phil RISE

phil doesn’t think he really has a bad side and his easy neutrality wrt his physical appearance is dreamy. i love him and i love that he’s comfy w himself like this

phil had an eye infection and this is the first day he’s been without glasses…… why does he glasses-bait us like this …..

it’s really hard for him to concentrate with dilated pupils so that’s why he was being a wee bit wonky in the last liveshow

his eye is no longer infected and is “white and ready to see!”. the tone of his voice, his accent, and the phrasingof that reminded me so much of my british grandma who i havent seen in a few years and now i want to call her i miss her

wicked was “as the kids say...Wicked.” I SNORTED AKLHFAEIHKF

also i cannot believe that he and dan used the same silly phrasewhen talking about their opinions of wicked. is it still #copyrightinfringement if its your bf blatantly enterprising ur intellectual property?

phil was feeling a bit meh going into wicked but now he’s converted and a fan

he loved defying gravity :(

phil: every audience is important! me: crying

phil loves coming-of-age/college/highschool aus … Me Too

phil remix: the top fans to the tune of mad world ��all around me are familiar faces...lillyphanstuff, joteleena…”

he’s had “mad world” and also that fuckin. ditty song stuck in his head

“...is one thicc bih - NO!” is the best thing ive ever heard

im so sad that phil hasnt experienced the joys of ditty. apparently he doesn’t have it downloaded and doesn’t really know what it is

14:07 is my new ringtone (he sang the ditty tune in “doot doot doot”s)

“bandicussy” IM DEAD

phil thought it was a good family activity to see dunkirk but it made his parents very emotional bc his maternal grandad was in the war

making your entire family cry is apparently the phil way to entertain

neither he nor dan understood the timelines of dunkirk upon first watch

after filming his ap vid he sanitized using vanilla cupcake hand sanitizer

he watches zoe’s bath and bodyworks candle/lotion hauls??????? ME TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

apparently b&bw has some ~priiiicey~ candles. phil is the coupon clipping, consumer reports reading dad

he said that livestreaming games on dapg would be “dope”. i am reminded for the millionth time that he is a 30 year old white man. i am moderately uncomfortable.

jk it was someone in the chat who said it he was just reading the comment

“hi to the ‘phan’s moving boxes’ group chat”

facterino according to the nature man on tv: in england nature has decided that it’s autumn already. this is evidenced by blackberries coming out in august. because fall isstartingso early they’re expected to have a harsh winter but its fine bc he is excited for snow!

some climate change discourse

he’s not a big doctor who fan but his fav doctor is david tennant

he’s excited for the “lady doctor” and i’m uh. not a huge fan of that wording

23:02 pre-sneeze noises and hand motions are Delightful

apparently it’s southern england peeps who pronounce scone with a hard o (scOHne) and northerners pronounce it with a soft o (scAWn). phillu doesn’t know which pronunciation he uses

my mom grew up in cornwall (and moved to america when she was a teen. i’m american btw!) and pronounces it the northern way. we’ve had the scohne vs scawn debate!! lots of #britishfamilythings in this liveshow

philly homework motivation song @ 24:52

his first response to ppl being sad about school starting in a week is to calculate how many seconds are in a week so they can re-frame their time left in a way that feels more plentiful. i love this ???

i also really love how he tries to read premium messages from different people every time. idk that’s just really thoughtful and as a fan i really appreciate it

he knows that black makes him look good …. GOodBYe

today is world lion day!

phil is the one who puts the funny/random holidays on the dnp calendars. of course it was but im still so happily surprised  

doinganap’s sicth/sixth discourse

he’s reading people from the chat’s bdays and telling them what funny holidays are on their birthdays! i love how he finds different ways to get ppl in the chat involved every liveshow. i appreciate him so much !like yeah i know its a marketing thing but let me pretend its solely phil’s care for us

he wants to go back to japan

he can’t read or edit and listen to music at the same time! me neither

someone asked what a good pet would be and phil went on a lil tangent about how it’s important to have enough time to take care of the pet you choose!! dont get an exotic pet or a breed of non-exotict pet that requires a lot of time, money, or energy to care for it if you’re not at a point in your life where u can take care of it to the best of your ability! <3

hedgehogs are one of the most common animals in the uk??? what the heck?

he can’t remember whether or not he’s seen a hedgehog irl so he texts mum lester to ask <3 why is this the sweetest thing in the world . like seeing a hedgehog irl would be an experience that his family facilitated or even if he was moved out when it happened it would have been so exciting that he def would have told kath about it. so any way it happened she would know about it. my heart is Warm.

he’s not a huge summer candle burner but as soon as it’s september he’ll be on the pumpkin spice train

mum lester texted back and apparently his grandparents had a family of hedgehogs in their garage and his granddad built them a little hedgehog house to hibernate in :( wow!

phil might play shelter 2 … with dan. No Thank You. let us have some phil-only time plz 

shelter 2 is more of an autumnal game so he might do it later when he can cozy up with some cocoa and herd the badger babies

he feels a coffee buzz after five (5) chocolate-covered coffee beans. r u sure u even drink coffee phil????

rye bread is worse (in phil’s opinion) than regular bread and is ”claggy”. i busted out laughing and texted my mom IMMEDIATELY bca LOOOONG time ago we were at a family christmas party with my dad’s extended family and all of the Adults were playing scrabble. my mom ended up spelling claggy and everyone else was like THATS A MADE UP WORD WHAT THE FUCK!!!! and my mom was like ???? no its not? my dad’s family is from the eastern us and had never heard the word claggy before and i remember my dad giving my mom shit about it for YEARS afterward because she caused such an uproar. idk if it was a regional thing or if americans just don’t say claggy but REGARDLESS. my mom and i had a good laugh over this description of rye bread and we both love phil

he’s nervous abt what dalien is going to look like and become as he grows up. phil’s general reaction to dalien has been one of caution and nervousness and idk ?? someone more thoughtful analyze that please

his advice for making the most of the last bits of summer: do something you haven’t done before! immediately after bestowing upon us this Wise Advice he giggles and becomes self aware of his parental tone. Our Dad Is Becoming Self Aware

he doesnt swear around his parents?????? my mom says fuck all the time :0

2018 calendar and season two pastel plushies are in the works!

he’s singing another song to list the top fans. suggestions include toxic, the ditty tune, and the tetris theme. he goes with the ditty song and starts laughing in the middle of it so makes a seamless musical transition to toxic

if everything recorded properly with his new vid we should see it in the next few days!

he hopes that we have a lovely weekend and that whatever we end up doing brings us a bit of happiness :( i love him thank u phil

tiny little bonus song after he covers up the camera. schrodingers phil.

all in all i love phil’s liveshows and this has been the highlight of my day. thank u for reading!