#basically and I was still all spotty when I went back to school and I contracted it like right when summer vacation started

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for walking out on my training?

Basically, I (23m) was raised from birth by my aunt and uncle (who, sadly, have passed away). While I was curious about my bio parents, my aunt and uncle didn’t know them very well due to my dad being my uncle’s estranged step-brother, and I was pretty much content with my family life. My dad came up in conversation occasionally, but all I really heard was that he died before I was born and was involved with illegal drug dealing. That’s not that uncommon around my hometown, though, so I didn’t think much of it.

Cut to about four years ago, my family purchased some secondhand equipment. One unit said it belonged to a man with the same last name as a member of our community, B (50’s-60’s?m). When I got curious and went to investigate, I ended up finding out that they were the same person, and that he knew my father. It also turns out that my father was NOT a drug runner, but a member of a religious order that was outlawed around the time I was born. (Before you ask, no, it is not a cult. The government has been repressing it, but its main tenets are mindfulness, self-discipline, respect for life, and harmony with the universe ffs. ANYWAY) B offered to induct and instruct me in it. I initially declined because the training would take me away from my family, but changed my mind after my aunt and uncle died, at which point I didn’t have many links left to my hometown, since all of my friends had left for school. This also offered me a chance to learn to pilot (my dream) and get involved with some wider social activism that I’ve been interested in, not to mention that I was excited about the new information about my father and a chance to connect with his legacy.

Long story short, we found a message hidden in the equipment from a diplomat with connections to B and ended up helping her (“L”, 23f) escape unjust imprisonment by government officials, but were separated from B.

L turned out to be a member of the activist group that I was interested in, and I’ve been doing that for the last few years, and was recently contacted by B to go train with his old teacher, Y. It occurred in a pretty isolated location, but at one point I (correctly) suspected L and other friends of ours had ended up getting in a rough spot with the gov again, and I stopped in the middle of my training to go help them despite not having any solid information on what was going down, against the advice of B and Y, who seemed pretty disappointed.

Unfortunately, one of our friends was left behind, having been incapacitated and more securely held due to some trouble with a mob boss. When I went back to Y to finish my training, he declared me a full member of the religious order, even though my training was never fully finished and kind of spotty to begin with, and passed away shortly afterward.

Since then, I’ve been dealing with some imposter syndrome and feeling like if I’d stayed to finish my instruction, very little would have really changed for the worse for my friends and I would be more prepared to carry out my duties as the last member of the order, especially since I was so eager for it (and still am!). I’d give more details, but it’s be risky for me. You know how it is even just for protestors and such rn.

So, AITA?

[thisaintascenereviews]

Honey Revenge - Retrovision

My favorite album of this year is the new Fall Out Boy album, So Much (For) Stardust, and there are many reasons why, but it's not just for the sole fact that Fall Out Boy is one of my all time favorite bands, if not my favorite. They've been my favorite for years now, and it's great to see them back, but their post-hiatus material has been spotty at best. I enjoy their post-hiatus material a lot, but it hasn't aged as well as some of their earlier material (I still defend M A N I A quite a bit, because as electronic and pop-heavy as it is, it's got some of their best hooks and some of their most interesting ideas to date), so when they announced their new album, a lot of people were curious about what it would sound like. The first couple singles, "Love From The Other Side," and "Heartbreak Feels So Good" ended up being old-school sounding pop-rock jams, and you know what? That's what the album sounds like, but in the best possible way. The band went back to their roots, so to speak, and they decided to cut the "experimental" electronic stuff they were doing to make an album that they were actually proud of and were able to have fun making. So Much (For) Stardust is that record, and part of its charm is just that -- it's not trying to be anything more than what it is.

Sometimes less is more, but that's not the insult that a lot of people might think it is. I used to really enjoy music that was unique, weird, off the wall, and different in some kind of way, and I still do to some degree, but at the end of the day, I want stuff I can go back to. I want stuff that's catchy, fun, and memorable, not necessarily weird and challenging. I just want to enjoy music, and listening to albums like that isn't always rewarding or enjoyable. They might be great albums, but there's a lot to unpack, or they aren't accessible or immediate. I love a lot of albums that wear their sound on their record sleeve; they know what they are, and they don't try to do anything else out of that ordinary, or that would be unexpected for an album in their lane. Pop-rock band Honey Revenge is that kind of band, and their debut LP, Retrovision, has the same kind of charm for me that So Much (For) Stardust does, because it's one of the most fun, catchy, and enjoyable albums I've heard all year (and within the last few years, really). This record just came out within the last couple of weeks, but I can't stop listening to it, because of how infectious it is.

Honey Revenge is the brainchild of singer-songwriter Devin Papadol and guitarist Donovan Lloyd, the two met in Los Angeles at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, and for the last couple of years, they've been doing their thing on Tik Tok and getting some virality from that. I've only listened to them a bit, at least just from what I've seen on Tik Tok, but I saw that they just released their debut album on Thriller Records, so I thought I'd give it a listen. Well, I was not expecting that I'd fall head over heels for it. What's interesting about this record is that there's not much to it. It has a rather basic pop-rock / pop-punk-ish sound that I feel like would have perfectly fit into the "neon pop-punk" sound of the late 00s and early 2010s. Bands like All Time Low, Forever The Sickest Kids, and Every Avenue had a sound that wasn't quite pop-punk, but not quite pop-rock, and they were very bright, fun, cheery, and catchy as all hell. This fits into that vein, and if you're diabetic, you might want to watch out for this album, because its hooks are sugary sweet. It's just a classic case of one of those albums that does what it does very well, and that's all it needs to do.

Papadol does admittedly have a slight resemblance to Hayley Williams of Paramore, at least on certain moments throughout this record, but they don't sound alike whatsoever. I hate how any alternative band with a single that a femme-presenting singer is automatically labeled as a Paramore copycat, but that's not the case here at all. Her voice is absolutely fantastic, though, and that's a big part of what carries this album, although the songwriting is good, too. The album doesn't have much variety, but the hooks on their own stand their ground. Songs like "Airhead," which opens up the album, immediately slams you into the ground with its fantastic hook, but as the album goes on, songs like "Rerun," "Murphy's Law," and "Favorite Song" continue that. The only real issue I have with this record is that its lyrics are a little subpar in spots, and a couple of songs have a bit of an awkward sound to them, such as "Habitual" (mainly in terms of rhyming and phrasing, because the hook is great), but the record is just so damn strong. It's short, sweet, and to the point, but just when it ends, I'm already pressing play again. This is a perfect summer album, so if you're looking for something catchy, fun, and relatively carefree that you can get stuck in your head, this is the perfect album for that.

[storiesforallfandoms]

eternity ~ damon salvatore;the vampire diaries

word count: 1810

request?: yes!

“Hey honey😍I am loving your writings a lot. I have a request. Can you write where reader is a human and friends with both Salvatore brothers. Both brothers are in love with her and proposed her. She chooses Damon because she also love him. And consider Stefan only her friend. Damon is very happy to have her and lots of fluff and kissing and it escalates to romantic, passionate love making. Damon is very gentle with her since it's reader's first time. After sex, she's sore and he takes care ofher”

description: in which two brothers ask for her hand in marriage, and she decides to pick the older one

pairing: damon salvatore x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist

Stefan and Damon didn’t mean to fall for the same girl for the third time, decades after the second time they had with Elena. They were sure it wouldn’t happen again. She wasn’t another Katherine doppelganger, she was just a normal human being.

She had met Stefan first, then Damon when she visited their house. Damon fell for her first, shortly followed by Stefan, which resulted in yet another needless fight between them. However, they decided to end this one before it went too far like all the last ones had.

The two brothers decided to confront (Y/N) head on and to ask her one important question; to be with one of them for eternity.

“We have to promise that we won’t hold anything over the other,” Stefan was saying as they prepared for her arrival. “And if she chooses neither of us, we accept that.”

“Of course,” Damon agreed. “I’m sick of this bullshit between us.”

“Sounds like a long story behind that comment.”

Both men jumped and turned to see (Y/N) standing in their living room. She giggled at their reactions. “Sorry, I did knock but no one answered.”

“It’s alright,” Damon said.

She looked between them. “So, what’s this about? Why did you want me to meet you both?”

The brothers shared another look before Damon decided to explain. “You see, my brother and I have had a bad habit of falling for the same girl. It has happened three times throughout our very long lives, and...well, this is the third time...with you.”

(Y/N)’s eyed widened, but Stefan picked up the explanation. “I know neither of us are even with you romantically, and you may not even have feelings for us, but we both have one question for you to settle this fight between us once and for all.”

Damon took her hands in his. “Will you be with me for the rest of eternity?”

“Or me?” Stefan asked behind him.

(Y/N) looked between them. “Like...marriage?”

“Ideally, yes,” Damon responded, “but if you’d like, we can work our way to that. It doesn’t need to be now.”

(Y/N) pulled away to look between them. Damon could tell she was thinking over it a lot. There was so much to consider, and neither knew if she liked them. This could end so terribly, or it could end just fine.

When she turned to Stefan, Damon’s heart dropped. She took his little brother’s hands in hers and smiled at him. “Stefan, I care about you so much. You’re my absolute best friend, and I appreciate that you’d want to spend eternity with me.” She paused to look at Damon. “But I’m in love with Damon, and I have been since we first met.”

Damon took her into his arms so fast, she barely got to finish her sentence. He crushed his lips against her, making her feel dizzy but also excited at the same time. Forgetting that his little brother, who had just got rejected by the same girl, was standing there watching them, he lifted (Y/N) so that her legs were wrapped around his waist and he was holding her, effortlessly, against him.

(Y/N) lost herself in the kiss, running her hands through Damon’s hair and resting one on the back of his neck, keeping him close to her. It wasn’t until the events leading up to that moment finally caught up in her mind that she remembered Stefan had been there at all.

“Wait,” she breathed between kisses, pulling away from Damon. “Wait, Stefan - ”

She turned to see that he was gone, and it seemed as though he had been long gone.

“Fuck,” she sighed. “He won’t be mad, will he? I did mean what I said, he is my best friend.”

“He’ll get over it,” Damon insisted, moving to attack her neck with kisses. (Y/N)’s head lulled back with pleasure as she let out an involuntary moan. Pleased with the reaction, Damon continued to kiss her on that spot, getting as many moans from her as he possibly could.

He carried (Y/N) up the stairs and to his bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and immediately ripped her shirt off of her. Literally, the shirt was basically a mess of fabrics once he was done with it.

“Damon!” (Y/N) playfully scolded as he began to kiss down her chest. “You can’t just rip my shirts apart!”

“I’ll get you a new one,” he decided as he neared her jeans. He kissed over her stomach, just to teased her. (Y/N) couldn’t help but buck her hips, silently begging for him to take her pants off.

“Damon, wait,” she told him, taking his head in her hands. “Before we go any further, I need you to know that...I’m a virgin.”

Damon sat back on his legs. “Wait, really? Like...you haven’t had sex at all?” (Y/N) shook her head. “Are you sure you want me to be your first then? We can stop now, we have all of eternity to get it on.”

(Y/N) shook her head again. “No, you don’t understand how much I do want this. I want you to be my first, I just wanted to let you know in case...that changed how you felt about me.”

Damon took (Y/N)’s face in his hands. “Nothing could change how I feel about you, (Y/N). I do love you, and I want to be with you. If you want me to be your first, I’ll gladly be your first. I’ll be so gentle, I promise.”

(Y/N) smiled at him and kissed him again. Damon gently guided her so she was laying down again. He undid the button on her jeans and pulled it down her legs before sitting up to shed himself of his own clothes. (Y/N) tried not to look at his hard member for too long, but it was hard not to stare. Damon was definitely above average in that regard, and he definitely had enough experience over her with how long he had been alive.

Damon hovered over her, pressing his lips to hers once again as he aligned himself with her entrance. (Y/N) winced slightly as he began pushing himself into her, but soon felt the pleasure that came after the brief pain.

Damon laid down on her so that their bodies were pressed together. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him and placed her hands on his back, slightly curling them into fists as Damon began to thrust.

Immense pleasure built up within her almost immediately. Pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. (Y/N) wondered if this was how all sex felt, or if she was only feeling this way because Damon was a vampire. Either way, it was a feeling she could get used to, and that she was excited to get used to with all the time they were about to have together.

A string of moans and curses passed through (Y/N)’s lips as Damon began to kiss her neck again, finding her sweet spot quickly. She moved herself in a way to try and feel Damon as deep inside of her as she possibly could, resulting in the two of them moaning together as Damon filled her up.

His thrusts began to pick up and before either of them knew it, Damon was thrusting so hard that he was nearly moving the bed. He gripped the bed sheets beneath them, trying his hardest not to accidentally hurt (Y/N) while also getting lost in the pleasure he was feeling.

An unfamiliar feeling began to build up in (Y/N), and, before she could even consider what it was, she felt herself hitting her climax. She dug her nails into Damon’s back. She was sure she would’ve drew blood if he wasn’t so much stronger and tougher than she was in every way. Feeling her walls clenching around him, Damon couldn’t help the slight stutter in his thrusts as he began to feel himself climaxing as well.

(Y/N) held Damon for a long time, her vision spotty from the orgasm but slowly coming back. She looked up at the ceiling above them until she was sure she could see again, and let Damon go. He wanted nothing more than to lay there, tangled with her for a long time, but he knew he should pull away and check on her.

“How was that for your first time?” he asked as he settled himself next to her.

(Y/N) rolled onto her side to cuddle into him, wincing as she did so. “I’m a little sore, but I’m assuming that’s a good thing.”

“You will be for a while,” Damon admitted. “We’ll lie here for a while, then I’ll run you a hot bath and you can relax for a while.”

They laid in silence for some time. (Y/N) felt Damon’s cold body against hers. She thought about the events of that day for a long time, about what her agreement to be with Damon for so long, and admitting her feelings for him, meant.

“Are you going to change me?” she asked him, moving her head to look up at him. “Into a vampire, I mean.”

“I would like to eventually,” he responded. “I meant what I said, I want to be with you for eternity. I know that’s a lot to swallow right now, so you can take your time to think about it. If you really do want to be with me, I will change you. If you’d rather it be a normal human relationship, than I won’t, but just know that eventually I will have to leave again, and you’ll have to find someone else.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No, I want to be with you. I want to change into a vampire, and I do want to marry you...someday.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming.”

(Y/N) smiled. “But, I want to wait until I graduate. I want to finish high school and live through all those milestones while I’m still human. I want to be with you as your girlfriend in that time, it’ll give us enough time to be sure that we both want this. Then, after I’ve graduated, I will marry you, and you can change me.”

Damon held (Y/N) tightly and kissed the top of her head. “Okay, I can agree to that. I’ll just have to make a mental note to propose to you on your graduation day.”

(Y/N) giggled and cuddled into Damon’s chest. She couldn’t help the overwhelming happiness she was feeling within her as she laid there with her boyfriend, the love of her life, and her husband to be.

[the-gay-trashmouth]

So I’m the worst. As soon as I started the Newsies Gift Exchange my mental health took a nose dive and my school decided to ramp up the assignments to 100. I never forgot and I have been working on it when I had the time so here it is! I'm so sorry I'm late @annihilatedthenightstalker . I hope you enjoy my very very late gift. I am so sorry. 

Prompt- Jack's really scared for some reason and David sees him cry for the first time, its then he finds out just how touch-starved Jack is.

If there was one thing David knew, it was that Jack Kelly would be the death of him. He wasn’t even mad about it, it was just a simple fact of life that he had come to accept.

That's what he thought as Sarah shoved him awake, telling him in no kind words that his Cowboy was at the window and he needed to go take care of it. He yawned before pushing off the bed and making his way to the open window where Jack did, in fact, sit waiting for him.

He leaned out the window, fixing him with an unimpressed look. “What are you doin’ here so late? Don’t ya have a bed waitin’ at the lodge?”

Jack shrugged, but he was shaking like he’d seen a ghost. David’s expression went from annoyed to concerned as Jack spoke.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t sleep none and I thought- well you like all that star stuff and the skies real clear so-” he gestured shakily, “I thought we could go watch some, may-maybe you could tell me all that stuff you learned about the patterns and stuff.”

David watched him carefully, watched the way he couldn’t sit still, the way he was glancing around like something would pop out to get him any second now. After a moment he sighed, “yeah… yeah okay Jackie. Lemme get dressed and I’ll meet ya on the roof, a’ight?”

Jack nodded quickly, already climbing the ladder. David watched him for a moment, concern twisting in his chest. He turned back to see Sarah watching him with tired eyes.

“That’s not what I meant when I said make him go away,” she said flatly.

David shrugged, “he doesn't look too good, Saz. I can’t just let him go wander the streets like this,” he argued, though Sarah didn’t look convinced. Thankfully, she didn’t push it, just rolled her eyes and laid back down.

“Whatever, don’t complain to me when you're exhausted tomorrow.”

He sighed, tugging a patched sweater over his undershirt and fastening his suspenders to his pants. She had a point, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Besides, he couldn’t just leave Jack to his own devices, not when he’s like this.

When he pulled himself up to the roof, the first thing he saw was Jack, still pacing with his hands still shaking. David tried to shake off his anxiety as he pushed himself to a stand, but the lingering clench of concern twisted around his heart. He didn’t like seeing Jack like this, it hurt too much.

“You’re gonna walk a hole in your shoes if you keep that up,” Jack jumped at his voice, but a shaky grin still found its way onto his face.

“Oh well, you could patch ‘em up for me, couldn’t ya Dave?”

David rolled his eyes, nudging Jack’s shoulder as he passed, “might could, question is would I?” he pulled one of his sheets down from the line before sitting down.

Jack just grinned, taking his place beside him, “‘course ya’ would, what kind a partner wouldn’t?”

He snorted, nudging Jack’s shoulder with his own. He was right, of course, Dave would do anything he could for him- Jack knew damn well he would too. Everyone did.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, Kelly.”

Jack grinned, nudging him back before leaning on his hands to look at the sky. David followed suit- Jack was right. It was an incredibly clear night. He could see so many stars, he could even make out a few major constellations.

After a moment of silence Jack elbowed him in the ribs, pointing up to the stars, “That one there’s the big dipper, ain’t it?”

David followed his finger, trying to connect the pattern he was seeing. It was a bit difficult because his hands were still shaking. “Yeah, I think so- ya know the big dipper’s just a part of a bigger constellation, Ursa Major. A bear.”

Jack tilted his head, dropping his arm to his side and squinting at the sky, “don’t look like no bear to me.”

The other boy snorted, using his own hand to point out the rest of the pattern, “yeah see- there's the head and the big body, and those little stars make the legs- see? Bear.” Jack just tilted his head farther, blonde hair falling into his face.

“I don’t- hang on, yeah. Yeah I see what you mean, ‘s like one of them stick figures, right?”

“Yeah, basically, I mean it’s really abstract. See, right near it is Leo, it’s supposed to be a lion.”

Jack followed his finger again, watching as he pointed out the stars and traced the lines. Jack squinted at it, “yeah- it just looks like a bunch a dots to me”

David snorted, looking over to see Jack watching him with a soft smile. He tilted his head, nudging Jack’s shoulder again. As much as he would love to go on and on about the stars and the stories behind him, he had to find out what was wrong.

“So, I know ya didn’t come here lookin for a lesson on astronomy. What’s wrong with ya? Somethin’ happen with the boys?”

Jack froze, still staring at the sky. David could see him trying to keep his easy grin but it was forced. Somehow that hurt worse than a frown.

“Nah Dave, nothin’ happened with them…”  he trailed off, picking at the concrete beneath him.

“Well what’s wrong? And don’t say nothin- I know when you’re lyin.”

“Aw c’mon, you wound me! I don’t lie-”

David cut him off, rolling his eyes, “fine. ‘Improvin’ the truth’ or whatever- not much of a difference.”

Jack chuckles, leaning forward to rest his chin on his knees. “Yeah, you’se too observant for ya’ own good sometimes.”

“And you’re too stubborn for yours,” he shot back, taking a breath before continuing to speak, voice much softer this time, “what’s eatin’ at ya, Jackie?”

Jack shuddered, face hidden behind his messy bangs. He was quiet for a moment before he muttered something just under his breath.

“I can’t hear ya, Jack,” he said plainly, leaning forward to try and catch his eyes. Jack just looked away,

“My Pa…. he’s… Spots just got news that he got out a’ the pen,” David’s breath caught in his throat as Jack spoke, his words shaking.

“Oh shit,” he breathed. For once, The Walking Mouth had been rendered speechless. Jack laughed, rough and strained.

“Yeah.. oh shit..” he pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. David set a hand on his shoulder, mind too frantic to linger on the way Jack tensed under his touch.

“Are you okay? He- he don’t know where you’se stayin’ does he? Shit- he can’t- Jackie..” now it was David’s turn to shake, the hand not gripping Jack’s shoulder running through his curly bed head. Jack shrugged, adamantly refusing to look at him. David cut himself off, words dying in his throat.

“Jackie…” he dropped the hand from his hair to his lap, “what are you gonna do?”

Jack shrugged again, but David could feel his shoulders begin to shake. David waited for a moment as Jack sucked in a shaky breath. “I don’t know Dave… I mean I don’t- I don’t think he knows where I’se stayin’ but what if he does?”

David let the hand on his shoulder drop to his back, rubbing small circles into the thin fabric of his shirt like his mama would do when he was in a state. He didn’t know what to say and his mind was racing to come up with something. Something to fix it, something to make it all better.

Nothing came to mind.

Jack was still shaking but he leaned into Davey’s touch, taking in shuddering breaths as he hid his face in his knees. “Dave I- I don’t know what I’m gonna do…”

When he finally looked up, there were tears in his eyes. Davey’s heart clenched as he sucked in a harsh breath. Jack never cried- sure he got upset, angry enough to punch a hole through a wall or anxious to where he couldn’t breathe, but he never cried.

Davey didn’t know what to do with that.

“I’m scared, Dave…”

That was the final straw. David gripped Jack’s shirt with shaking hands and jerked him into his long arms. He wrapped around him, using his height to his advantage as he enveloped Jack in a shaking embrace.

“Oh Jackie…” he buried his nose in his hair, pushing back his own tears.

Jack froze for a moment, just long enough for David to worry he’d gone too far before there were fingers digging into his back and Jack “Cowboy” Kelly was sobbing into his shoulder.

“I- fuck Dave-” David shushed him as he cried, arms tightening around him as the older boy cried his eyes out into his shoulder. He could feel his sleeves soaking through but that was the least of his worries right now. He was too busy trying to comfort the shaking mass of boy in his arms to give a dmn about his stupid shirt.

“It’s okay Jackie- let it all out. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. You can stay with us or- or hell I'm sure Spotty would let ya crash at the Brooklyn Lodge if he shows up in ‘Hattan,” he spoke frantically into Jack’s hair, trying everything to reassure him that there was no way his father would get anywhere near him. Jack just shudder out something between a laugh and a sob.

“Spotty don’t let no one but Racer stay at the lodge,”

“Spotty ain’t gonna leave you on the streets Jackie,” David pulled back just a bit, ignoring the soft whine that came from Jack, “none of us will, for that matter. You’se family, Jackie, an’ family don’t let family suffer.”

Jack blinked at him, tears still flowing from his eyes. When he spoke it was broken and strained, “you’re too good to me, Dave-”

David cut him off, thumbing away his tears, “no- people just ain’t been good enough.”

Jack sniffled, leaning into his palm. “Can I…. shit, can I stay here? Just for tonight. I don’t.. I don’t wanna walk back alone…”

Davey managed a smile, hand still cupping his cheek, “Jackie, you can stay as long as you want.”

[merryfortune]

little potplants

Written for 100ships on Dreamwidth

Prompt #61 Green

Ship: Saviorshipping | Ryoken/Spectre/Yusaku

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

Word Count: 2,458

Rating: T

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags:  Fluff, Established Relationship, Polyamory

AN: this is a very silly and dramatic fic about chia pets

   Yusaku had finally gotten what he had wanted. What he wanted was Ryoken’s love and companionship. It just so happened that what Yusaku wanted came with one stipulation. One very Spectre shaped stipulation.

   Once more, Yusaku gave all his heart, as shackled by chains and scarred as it was, to Ryoken and rather than spurn him, Ryoken accepted it. And once more, Yusaku conveyed the hope that Ryoken had given him all those years ago and it made Ryoken sigh heavily. Though it was a lonely place, there was one more who sided with Ryoken on the side of that chasm than just Yusaku: that person was Spectre, who had pledged all his soul to Ryoken. Ryoken refused to let Spectre slip to the wayside so he gave Yusaku an ultimatum: both of them or neither of them.

   Yusaku didn’t have to hesitate. He thought of what Ai had taught him: to love people, not just one person and though Spectre was… quirky, to be polite about it, Yusaku would try not to mind. He recalled his duel with Lightning and the fervour in which spectre had duelled, his clever plays and the peculiar beauty of his aesthetics. Though they had treated each other poorly, at best, in each other’s duel, Spectre had been inspired most gallantly because of Yusaku so, he would try to get along with Spectre, if only for Ryoken.

   Thus, if Yusaku and Ryoken were prisoners of fate, then it would not be allowed by Ryoken’s decree that Spectre would be the warden of such a miserable, if romantic, declaration. Yusaku accepted that. He and Spectre, on the surface, did not appear to have much in common but they did have one thing at least: they had both loved Ryoken for ten years.

   However, the practice was much different to the theory and to the dramatic highs of this relationship. In practice, it was much, much more awkward.

   The mode of the relationship - or relationships, more accurately - was rather distant. Yusaku was not yet ready to move out of his apartment and with both Ryoken and Spectre. It would be inconvenient to him as he had returned to going school and their mansion was hardly close to campus and their cruiser liner was even further away. So, mostly their kisses and conversations were through text messages and video calls. It was probably for the best as they all needed to go slowly in the beginnings of this three-way relationships.

   But once in a while, the stars aligned for them to meet up either in the meat space or in the Link VRAINS. It wasn’t as rare as an eclipse but it was easy to miss. Sometimes Ryoken came round to Cafe Nagi for his usual hot dog, sometimes with Spectre in tow, sometimes not. 

   Other times, they crossed each others’ paths in the digital world. With Ai back, Yusaku wanted to bring back the other Ignis. The Knights of Hanoi were not hindering this mission of Yusaku but out of professionalism and their commitment to atonement, they weren’t helping him either. Ryoken refused to spoil Yusaku like that but Spectre was quietly pleased with the sentiment that one day, possibly one day soon if he was lucky, he might get to meet Earth properly.

   But whilst Ryoken consistently made Yusaku feel welcome and warm, with every greeting to every message or happenstance, it made the contrary all the more apparent to Yusaku. Spectre was not quite so open. Ryoken was reserved but in what moments of privacy he and Yusaku had together, they usually began or ended with Ryoken kissing Yusaku on the cheek. Spectre was not nearly as affectionate. Or verbal. And it was increasingly making Yusaku worry about whether or not having what he wanted was worth it.

   Perhaps Spectre was not quite as gungho about sharing Ryoken than Ryoken had been willing to bet. Of course, Spectre didn’t utter a single complaint; he followed this order like he did any other order but there was a detached coldness whenever he rubbed shoulders with Yusaku which, whilst infrequent, was still quite noticeable. 

   So, shyly, Yusaku did ask about it eventually, “Are you sure Spectre likes me?” he asked in a tiny voice.

   He rang Ryoken and made sure Ryoken was alone. Ryoken had high - even salacious - hopes for this but Yusaku’s question did catch him off guard. He had somewhat expected it. He had noticed the standoffishness that Spectre emanated whenever it was all three of them or some combination thereof.

   “Yes, I’m sure.” Ryoken replied. He sounded very understanding about it but Yusaku still chewed his lip.

   “Are you certain?” Yusaku insisted.

   “Yes, I’m sure.” Ryoken replied again and Yusaku could hear the patient smile in his voice. “I can prove it.”

   “How?” Yusaku asked flatly.

   “Spectre and I’ll drop around tomorrow. We can bring groceries around and have dinner together for once, doesn’t that sound nice?” Ryoken mused.

   “Yeah, it does…” Yusaku murmured, entirely unconvinced that one evening together would be enough to prove or sway the pendulum that he was worried about.

   “We’ll come around about an hour after you would get out of school, does that work for you?” asked Ryoken.

   “It does.” Yusaku told him.

   “Good, see you then, so… until then, bye, I love you.” Ryoken said.

   Yusaku blushed as he replied, “Bye, I love you, too.”

   The line went silent and Yusaku was still entirely convinced that Spectre did not like him and would never like him. It was an unusual feeling for him but acknowledging that did little to alleviate the horrible feeling in his guts. It was like the exact opposite of having butterflies in his stomach, it was more like having elephants. It was awful. Spectre was awful, too, but he seemed an entirely different person outside of the Link VRAINS despite very much wearing the same face.

   The following day went as smooth as high school could go for anyone. There were assessments and social blunders but nothing particularly gruesome. Yusaku even managed to have some spotty and bland conversations with both Shima and Aoi at different points of the day but he very much wanted to take them over Ryoken and Spectre. He was still very concerned as to how his date this evening would go as he could only imagine it as going disastrously.

   He returned home and got ready for his date. Ai was very happy about it. Yusaku hadn’t even wanted to tell Ai about this date or any of the worries that he had over in the knightdom of Hanoi but unfortunately for him, this triadic relationship had become Ai’s favourite to invest in. There wasn’t a single secret Yusaku could keep around Ai anymore and Ai relished in that. He cheered Yusaku on as he put himself through the shower and got into his best clothes. Not that Yusaku needed the encouragement but given how wracked his nerves were, he couldn’t say it wasn’t appreciated.

   His hair was still damp when Yusaku heard his doorbell ring. Ai gave him a big thumbs up from his perch on Yusaku’s desk where his duel disc was his throne and Yusaku weakly smiled back. With Yusaku’s laptop nearby, Ai was content to surf the ‘net and binge sketchy cartoons all night and therefore, wouldn’t disrupt or otherwise cause warfare downstairs on his date.

   Yusaku smiled shakily as he opened his front door and he immediately noticed that he was out-dressed by both Ryoken and Spectre, “Hey,” he said, “I’m glad the two of you could make it.”

   “It's our pleasure.” Ryoken assured him.

  He reached out to Yusaku and cupped his hands whilst kissing his cheek. Yusaku smiled but he glanced towards Spectre who was trying his best to blend in with the cityscape behind him. He was holding onto a small box and had a cloth tote bag slung over his shoulders.

   Ryoken pulled back and Yusaku stepped aside. He let both his partners inside and he felt a flush of embarrassment regarding his apartment given how basic it was. To say nothing of the great big cracks in the walls and other flaws but neither Ryoken nor Spectre ever said a bad word about it. They merely came inside and made themselves at home.

   Spectre placed the tote bag on the counter and Yusaku curiously approached. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was a magic item inside of it to make him and Spectre get along better was inside of it but from just a sneak peak, all Yusaku could really see was the ingredients to make curry. However, they were very premium ingredients.

   “How mild or spicy do you like your curry?” Spectre asked since Yusaku had taken interest; he was still holding onto that little box.

   “I don’t really care.” Yusaku said, shrugging. “Surprise me.”

   “Okay then.” Spectre said and his hand clenched slightly.

   Ryoken, who had sat down at the table as Yusaku had meagrely put out a pitcher of cold water and cups, cleared his throat. Spectre made an annoyed noise.

   “I have something for you as well.” Spectre said and his expression was difficult to read. “Here.”

   He shoved the box into Yusaku’s possession and he blinked.

   “For you.” Spectre clarified.

   “Okay then.” Yusaku replied and he decided he wanted to sit down to open the box which, now that it was in his hands, looked bigger than before and the contents was emptier than he imagined.

   They were all sitting at the table now; Spectre sat with Ryoken, who had an arm around Spectre, cuddly, and Yusaku sat across from both. He had set the box down and began to undo the bow atop of it. It wasn’t gift wrapped, it just so happened to have a fancy, mint green facade to it and was donned with a translucent yellowy-coloured ribbon. He pulled it apart and took the lid off the box.

   Spectre watched very intently as Yusaku did this. His stare was stern and in total contrast to how playfully Ryoken watched him. Ryoken, meanwhile, had a smirk like a cat on his face and both made Yusaku feel a grand pressure to like whatever was in the box. He reached in and he wasn’t entirely sure what he pulled out. 

   There were three of them, though. All made from terracotta but were in the shape of little animals: a cat, a goat, and a hedgehog. They were cute but useless, Yusaku thought as he inspected the goat. He noticed it had a hole in its back and the hole was filled with something dark that he didn’t recognise inside of a crinkly, whitish sachet.

   “What are they?” he asked.

   “Chia pets.” Ryoken stated simply. “It means he likes you.”

   “I don’t really get it…” Yusaku murmured as he set down the goat with a clink in favour of looking at the cat. Though, knowing it was likely seeds inside of those sachets inside of the little terracotta animals did make slightly more sense.

   “They represent us.” Spectre murmured. “You’re the cat, I’m the goat, and Ryoken-sama is the hedgehog. When Ryoken-sama and I were little, he gave me some chia pets and I still have them. They are very beloved to me and my collection of plants. Ryoken-sama thought it would be a good idea if I shared that with you and I agreed. Good things come in threes with you two, don’t they?”

   “Oh.” Yusaku mumbled and he surprised himself by getting misty eyed at hearing that. The way he was holding onto the cat shaped chia pet changed, it now had a very treasured purpose to it. He couldn’t be flippant with such a precious gift now, could he?

   Ryoken smiled, pleased with himself.

   “I’m still getting my bearings with all of this. I apologise if we haven’t been on the best of terms but that’s not my intention. But you are important to Ryoken-sama and therefore, important to me. I had a prior infatuation with you but I don’t want that, I want something more stable than that for you since you are very serious about Ryoken-sama and his feelings, otherwise I doubt you would have bothered with making peace with me.” Spectre stiltedly explained.

   “Thank you, Spectre, I appreciate your perspective,” Yusaku said, he knew the feeling well himself, he hadn’t wanted to let a similar idealisation of Ryoken get in the way either, he squeezed the little terracotta pot, “I’ll treasure them, I promise to take good care of them.”

   “You better,” Spectre pouted, “I’ll be very cross with you if you don’t.”

   Yusaku laughed and even Ryoken was amused but he did benevolently offer, “Stop teasing him, Spectre.” he said. “Why don’t we make dinner? I feel like lunch was ages ago now with all the shopping we did to prepare.”

   “Fine by me.” Spectre relented.

   Yusaku smiled and he petted the head of his cat-shaped chia pet. He was serious about taking good care of it and especially its friends, the goat and the hedgehog. He was looking forward to seeing them grow green and fuzzy with strands upon strands of sprouted chia. He would absolutely put his three, little pot plants in a place of honour, he wasn’t quite sure yet where that place of honour would be but he was going to find it. For now, he was quite drawn to allowing them to live at the end of his dining table as it did get a little bit of sunlight and was close to a source of water but he also wouldn’t mind putting them in his room, close to him always. Decisions, decisions but for now, he would simply get up and offer his assistance in the kitchen.

    Yusaku piped up with a rather dreamy expression, “I want to help, too.”

   “Good, it would be rude to make your guests do all your cooking after all.” Spectre sniped him.

   “Very true.” Ryoken agreed.

   Yusaku made an embarrassed noise but got up with both of his partners. It was strange but he could feel that something had shifted. He felt closer to Spectre and ergo, closer to Ryoken as well, given their bond. He hoped that meant for an end of the night with a kiss from them both as well as a delicious dinner that they all helped with. It made him oddly excited and both Ryoken and Spectre noticed and relished that slight adjustment, too. So, with a little bit of luck and care, maybe not too long into the future, they could try a chia pudding for dessert after another dinner at Yusaku’s place given that tonight had gone off without a seeming hitch.

[aknosde]

I have a lot of thoughts about Percy’s junior year because Rick is stupid and literally forgot about an entire year of Percy’s life. I also made the executive decision that this is the year Percy backslides (but can you really call it backsliding if he never worked through the trauma?) Without further ado

with a little mist they patch up Percy’s extended absence but decide it’s better if he doesn’t go back to Goode. He doesn’t really care because he didn’t have any friends there besides Rachel, this is where he goes to AHS (literally the only thing I know about TOA, and the rest of it will be ignored)

He’s not going to school with Annabeth because she said senior year together, so she’s still in California, which he’s thankful for so he doesn’t have to feel like he’s disappointing her

Originally he had been reported as missing, but now that he’s back it raises too many questions (this is where they use the mist) so it’s resulted in a really weird transcript that makes it very unclear if he actually finished his sophomore year (he did it online over the summer, and he did pretty well too)

As always he is singled out as ‘the weird kid’. This is because he only wears the longer versions of the uniform (even when it’s really hot out), has a problem with staring, and the grey streak in his hair (ignoring cannon for this one)

He makes approximately two friends (kinda?) and all of the popular kids hate him

There’s this ‘professional administrative counselor and student consultant’ who isn’t an actual counselor and thinks Percy is hella sus. A lot of its because Percy’s transcript and record, but basically he tries to not let ‘bad kids’ into AHS and he wants Percy to leave so the school’s reputation doesn’t get tarnished

Some of the teachers are nice but a lot of them are ableist

Due to that and Percy’s severely under diagnosed PTSD, anxiety, and depression, his grades really fall, but he doesn’t tell anyone

Chemistry is his favorite class and chemistry and history are the only classes he does well in.

This one popular kid who is on the football team or something really likes to physically bully people and in Percy’s attempt not to reveal how strong he is he just subs in for the kids who used to receive a regular beating instead of fighting back

At one point he accidentally catches a punch on reflex (while tons of people are watching, mind you) and freaks out, blah blah blah, that fight ends up with his hand severely broken in multiple locations

BUT he doesn’t like going to the hospital/doctor’s/nurse’s because those are the people who ask a lot of questions about his scars and old injuries and such, so he just walks around for like four hours with a broken hand

(insert my Percy is ambidextrous head cannon here, which comes into play)

eventually his (kinda)friends make him go to the nurse and it’s just straight up not a good time for anyone. Paul has to pick him up. He has to go to the ER. This is when he really starts lying to his parents because he doesn’t want them to know about the fights

He’s kinda all over the place on who he’s talking to, which he feels guilty about, but he just doesn’t have the energy to talk to people who knew him before all this because it’s harder to fake being that happy again (even though he wasn’t that happy even then)

Which brings me to something a bit happier, every Friday he visits Camp Jupiter. No matter what. He started it about a month after the war, it keeps him connected with Hazel and Frank and some other people he was friendly with, but the new thing is Reyna

It takes a bit to get through all of the stuff between them, but they end up becoming really good friends, to the extent that she, Hazel, and Frank become the sole people that he confides in. (Reyna knows that they’re special, but the other two don’t)

There is definitely a big fight he has with Sally in his second semester, and he shows up at Reyna’s quarters, it’s 11 pm, she opens the door wordlessly and he spends the weekend at CJ.

Reyna’s also the person he talks to most about Gabe. He has a lot of built up stuff there and she works through some residual feelings towards her dad too.

He and Nico are in a lot of contact during this year, with varying degrees of tension. They start off really well, but as Percy falls further back it gets a really weird vibe because he still has a whole thing about protecting Nico. Basically Percy’s not good at being vulnerable right now. But they do get better and eventually develop a sibling like relationship.

Talking about sibling like relationships: Hazel! She’s amazing. Due to the Friday visits and her and Percy already being super close she starts calling him her brother really quickly and he picks up on it immediately. She’s probably the person he’s most honest too, and they spar a lot.

His and Annabeth’s relationship is kinda weird too. They both still really love each other, and they talk a lot, she starts working through some of her issues and he’s really good about being there and helping her, but he’s also really good at hiding his own problems around her. (This is a new development, she could read him until he went missing or Tartarus, I haven’t decided) 

He becomes really spotty at communication. Sometimes he won’t text back for a week, and he used to be really good at getting back to people. This is the only thing Annabeth has evidence of. The rest is just a feeling of off-ness so she can’t really see that something’s wrong with him.

Panic attacks and breakdowns become supper common for him. Usually at least one a day, but he’s good about hiding it. However his powers, tied to his emotions, start going haywire and that’s really difficult to hide, especially at school.

He has a really bad panic attack during chemistry one day and his friends find him in the bathroom and try to get the nurse and get him to go home. It wasn't very pretty. 

He looses so much sleep that it rivals Annabeth ‘I stay up ‘till 3 for fun’ Chase

Also becomes a low-key vigilante? Not really, but he does stop several robberies and muggings and its just the right number to look a little suspicious but also not. 

during this whole ordeal he’s spending a lot of time at the school’s pool. At first there isn’t much swimming because he’s still afraid of drowning/suffocation, but Reyna’s just like “Well if you became a better swimmer that wouldn’t be as big of a problem” and he rolls with it. 

Part of his whole healing thing is learning more about competitive swimming and talking with the swim coach. And of course he gets really good at it. Sometime during his second semester he does end up joining the team.

It’s past competition season but the coach thinks he needs it so he just,,, joins

He actually gets along with most of the team REALLY well, and around this time he works on strengthening his relationship with his (kinda)friends, not his actual friends.

Honestly I’ve been considering turning these into a fic, so maybe when I finish Peanut m&m’s there will be another multi chapter in my future.

[lovemesomesurveys]

do you sing in the shower? Yeah, I have a shower playlist on my Spotify I sing along to.

do you think money makes people happy? It certainly helps, sure, but you can still be unhappy and unfulfilled. It’s not everything.

what's your relationship status? Very much single.

what time is it? 3:29AM.

what emotion are you feeling right now? Tired and irritated.

do you have netflix? I do.

have you ever traveled outside your home country? Once.

coffee or tea? Coffee, of course. 

shower or bath? Shower.

what's your favorite pizza topping? Extra cheese and sauce, spinach, cilantro, green onion, garlic. 

what's something that makes you happy? Beach days.

do you have siblings or are you an only child? I have two brothers.

what's your favorite instrument? Piano.

what's your favorite food? Italian, Mexican, and American.

what is something you are always losing? My mind, probably. <<< That’s how I feel.

are you good at spelling? I think so.

what is one goal you have? Get my health stuff under control.

did you get a flu shot this year? No. I never have.

what's your favorite Disney movie? A few of my top favorites are Alice in Wonderland, Winnie the Pooh, Toy Story and A Goofy Movie.

are you bored? No.

what are you listening to? An ASMR video. what's your favorite foreign language? Spanish.

what do you do when you can't sleep? My nightly routine consisting of scrolling through Tumblr, doing surveys, and listening to ASMR.

do you like cats or dogs better? Dogs.

do you have any piercings? Just my earlobes.

what's your favorite vegetable? Potatoes, spinach, green onions, broccoli. do you eat meat? Yeah.

what's the best concert you've ever been to? All of ‘em. Concerts are just a fun, cool experience.

what's your favorite season? Fall and winter.

do you still write letters? No.

what would make you really happy right now? If I was able to have beach vacay.

what's your favorite song? I have a lot.

are you good at giving advice? I wouldn’t recommend asking me for advice; I’m a mess.

what's your favorite hobby? Reading and doing surveys.

do you prefer to talk or text? Text over talking on the phone.

what's your favorite pair of shoes? My Adidas.

how often do you read? (as in books) I read a lot. I finish one and start another. There’s a few different series I’ve been into that’s been keeping me occupied.

do you have any pets? I have a doggo.

what's your favorite day of the week? I don’t have one.

are you in college? No, I’m done with school.

are you/have you ever been in a long distance relationship? No.

how do you typically listen to music? I use Spotify.

do you like going to the beach? I love the beach.

did you make any new year's resolutions? No, I stopped doing that years ago.

how old are you? 31 years old.

do you know anyone who is blind? No.

who is someone you admire? My mom.

do you have a good singing voice? No, unfortunately. 

are your nails painted? Nope. It’s been a few years since I’ve painted them.

Are you an extrovert or introvert? I’m definitely an introvert. 

what are you having/had for dinner tonight? I don’t know, yet.

do you ever write in a journal? This is my journal/diary.

if you could time travel when/where would you go? My childhood. what's your favorite animal? Doggos and giraffes.

what's your favorite kind of cereal? The sugary ones.

how was your day? It’s only 4 in the morning. 

do you ever listen to classical music? Not often or regularly, no.

what inspires you? I haven’t felt inspired in a very long time.

how many pillows do you sleep with? Finally had to pack away a lot of them cause they were just taking up too much space. I currently have 4 on my bed, but prior I had like 10. I only actually use 2.

how many hours of sleep do you need? I never have enough.

do you have big or small feet? Small.

what's the weather like where you are? Miserably hot.

what's the most interesting thing you can see out the window? It’s pitch black out right now. 

does/did your high school have a school song? Yeah.

what month is your birthday in? July.

what's your dream job? I don’t have one. :/

are you excited for summer? Noooooo. D:

what foreign country would you want to live in for 6 months? Hmm. I’d have to really think about that.

did you have to go to school today? No, I’m done with school.

win a million $$ or never have to pay for anything again? Never have to pay for anything again, obviously. <<<

do you throw coins into fountains? Sometimes.

do you have a trampoline? No.

what's your favorite song lyric? I have many.

what did you eat the last time you went to the movies? Popcorn and mini KitKats. 

do you ever measure time in songs? When listening to music I sometimes do that. Like, when in the shower I measure how long to leave my shampoo in my hair that way.

do you know how to play chess? Nope.

what's your favorite game? (any type) Mario Bros, The Sims, various board games..

do you enjoy traveling? I don’t get the opportunity to do a lot of it, but yes.

do you tend to wait till the last minute? Yes.

have you ever owned a goldfish? Yeah.

how do you relieve stress? Cry.

without looking it up, guess the outside temperature? 82F.

now look it up - how close were you? Ha, I guessed way too high it’s only 52. It’s been getting really warm in the mornings so I assumed it was already high.

do you prefer digital or analog clocks/watches? Digital.

do you prefer to shop in stores or online? I’ve been doing a lot of online shopping the past few years even pre-COVID, but since COVID that’s all I’ve done until just recently as I’ve started to venture out to places like Target and Walmart. I haven’t gone to any clothing stores or any other store, yet, but I’m working towards it. Anyway, all that being said I do enjoy shopping online, but it’s nice to get out there and shop once in awhile. It’s definitely more comfortable and convenient for me right now, though.

do you enjoy coloring? I love my adult coloring books. <<<

do you like to dance? I don’t really dance.

have you ever owned a horse? No.

do you take selfies? Rarely. I did for the first time in a long time recently at my bro’s grad party.

do you ever listen to music in languages besides English? Not often, but sometimes.

have you ever cried from listening to a song? Oh, definitely.

what's your favorite song from a movie? I have several favorites. 

do you prefer headphones or earbuds? Earbuds.

who was your favorite music artist when you were 10? Britney Spears, N*SYNC, Backstreet Boys, etc. <<<

when was the last time you had to go to the dentist? It’s been a few years.

can you speak Spanish? Very little.

what's the last thing you watched on youtube? I’m currently watching an ASMR video.

now what time is it? 6:09AM. I clearly took a break. Well, actually I feel asleep.

do you ever watch musicals? Yeah, some.

do you know anyone who's a twin? Yeah.

do you ever get carsick? Yes.

what's your opinion on wolves? They’re gorgeous, but I wouldn’t want to be near one.

when you're sad do you prefer sad music or happy music? I go for the sad.

do you like seafood? Nooo.

do you enjoy going to the zoo? I enjoy seeing zoo animals, but I hate that they’re in captivity like that. <<<

are there any celebrities from your hometown? Yes.

do you shower in the morning or at night? At night.

do you prefer to work alone or in a group? Alone.

do you go to the gym alone or with a friend? I don’t go to the gym.

do you like coconut? I like the scent but not the food. <<<

who is someone you're jealous of? No one.

what's your favorite place to go out for breakfast? IHOP, Denny’s, and this local place.

do you still have your christmas tree up? Ha, no. And I actually have the decorations in my room put away as well, which prior to this year I had up for two years. 

do you have a favorite type of bird? No.

have you ever had an overnight flight anywhere? No.

if you use them, tell me 5 of your recently used emojis I don’t feel like checking.

do you know anyone that plays the violin? *shrug* I might.

how much money is in your wallet right now? Not sure, exactly.

anything you're looking forward to tomorrow? No.

have you ever auditioned for anything? Nope.

did you have a webkinz when you were younger? No.

how would you describe your aesthetic? I have no idea.

have you ever been told you look like a celebrity? No. 

when was the last time you rode a bus? Back when I was still in college, so 6 years ago.

if you saw $50 on the ground what would you do? If no one was around, I’d pick it up and keep it. If it was in a wallet, I’d turn it in. <<< That’s what I would do.

do you know how to play any unusual instruments? No. 

are you an early bird or a night owl? Both, really. Here I am at 6:17AM basically up all night. I dozed off for a bit, but still.

have you ever had trouble understanding someone because of an accent? Yes.

do you ever go to Massachusetts? I’ve never been.

do you personally know anyone who is transgender? Not that I know of.

what was the most memorable rainbow you've ever seen? (if any) Uhh.

do you remember anything from when you were 5 or younger? Just spotty preschool memories.

do you need to do laundry? No.

do you know anyone (including yourself) who actually enjoys math? Ew, definitely not me.

do you have a favorite poem? No. I haven’t read a whole lot of poetry.

if you were from somewhere else, would you visit your town on vacation? Uh, no. There’s absolutely nothing to do here. We’re not a vacation/touristy city.

where would you spend $100 if you had to spend it all in one store? Ooh, probably Boxlunch.

would you rather go to Japan or Greece? Greece.

now what song are you listening to? I’m not listening to a song at the moment.

what are you wearing right now? Leggings and a Mario Bros shirt.

any fun plans for the weekend? Nope.

[judestclare]

。· . ˙ ♪  ⌈ kristine froseth + cis female + she / her + solo g + clairo ⌋  have you heard ?  judith “jude” st. clare got signed by disclosure records two years ago ? they’re talented don’t get me wrong but i can’t believe it , they’re only twenty-two years old & some people go all their lives without making it , what makes them special ?  it’ll be interesting to see if the fame & success go to their head because i hear they can be quite careless , pliant & disloyal . but that could only be the rumours because i’ve also heard they’re gregarious , free-spirited & warm hearted . i guess only time will tell .  

     &.     hiii everyone !    i’m meredith, i’m nineteen, i use they/them and she/her pronouns. some more fun facts: i’m a libra, i’m from the est timezone, and really excited to be here !   under the cut you’ll find some #funfacts about the woman , the myth , the legend herself, jude st. clare !  

quick facts:

name: judith victoria st. clare

nicknames: jude — do not call her judith, she hates it

age: twenty-two

date of birth: january 20th, 1998

zodiac: aquarius sun, libra moon ( read here )

gender: cis female ( she/her )

sexuality: bisexual 

positive traits: open-minded, caring, fun-loving, free-spirited, warm-hearted, creative, adventurous, friendly, gentle, gregarious, bubbly

neutral traits: talkative, party animal, reticent, extroverted

negative traits: flighty, careless, disloyal, lazy, dishonest, flippant, easily manipulated/pliant, loud, facetious, unconfident, silly

tv tropes: plucky girl, hard-drinking party girl, the face, good bad girl

mbti: esfp, the campaigner ( curious, energetic, enthusiastic, good communicators, know how to relax, popular and friendly / overthinks things, too emotional, too independent, unfocused, little practical skills  ) 

background: 

jude was born and raised under the ever biblical name of judith in a tiny town in the midwestern united states to a religious family. growing up, her highest aspirations were winning a prize for best chocolate chip cookies at her church’s potluck. matching mary janes with her sisters and dresses with carefully picked cardigans took up the majority of her her wardrobe, and she could recite bible verses along with her times tables.

as teenage years hit, however, the spirit of rebellion was lit in jude. forcing friends and family to call her the much shorter, and in her opinion, much better jude. sneaking makeup in and herself out of picturesque suburban home, many nights were spent at house parties, doing beer pong inside, or smoking cigarettes or a joint outside. style never went full alternative — but baggy sweatshirts and ripped jeans replaced the uniform of sundresses.

two things that never suffered: her bubbly personality, and her affinity for bubblegum lipgloss. even as she tore away from weekly church attendance and skipped school more and more, jude still greeted all former churchgoers, classmates, and teachers in the grocery store with a beaming smile and a knack for remembering details — hi, ms. dawson. how’s little johnny? he’s two now, right? or i heard you were thinking about starting your own bait and tackle shop by the lake, mr. smith. i think you should do it. remember that bass you caught? you’re a natural! she had very little common sense, and didn’t do too well in school — but she always knew what to say and how to say it. she charming and friendly and fun to be around.

thus, jude’s rebellion was more so of the wannabe variety: in such a small town, everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew what she was doing. her parents mostly just waited for her to tire herself out — only it never happened. she dialed back on thick eyeliner, and still sometimes would show up to church on holidays to sing in the choir, but mostly, small town convention and religion were abandoned by the time she was in her mid-teens. 

eventually, she came out to her parents as bisexual, and it was a non-issue — despite religious background, her parents supported her 100%, no matter what clothes she wore, who she hung out with, or who she loved.

jude never graduated high school. by her sixteenth birthday, her attendance record was so spotty that they stopped calling home to let her parents know she hadn’t shown up to school that day — and a few weeks before she turned seventeen, after many screaming matches with her parents and sessions with the school counselor and principal, jude officially dropped out. 

she wasn’t going to sit around the house all day, however, instead driving her clunky car across town to the movie theatre every day, where she worked part time. she remained friends with all the people her age in town still, and made new ones at the theatre. however happy she was, jude was aimless. she knew she had to do something. finally, she turned a passion into a full time hobby, something she never thought would be lucrative. 

by seventeen, that knack for singing in the choir had been translated to covers posted with the gentle strumming of a guitar and manufactured beats. by nineteen, she was writing her own songs and gaining traction on youtube and soundcloud, and two weeks before her twentieth birthday, jude was signed to disclosure records and being flown to manchester. it was hard work, and it took years, but it still feels like a whirlwind to her — one moment she’s in her bedroom, playing bars in her local areas at open mic nights and upaid gigs, and the next she’s signed to the disclosure records. it’s a dream. 

tl;dr — jude is a flighty, fun high school dropout raised in small town middle america by a religious family. she grew into herself and was able to “rebel” despite her sheltered upbringing, and that unique sense of self + her musical talent got her a youtube following from the covers and songs she posted. that youtube following turned into a contract with disclosure two years ago, and she’s been in manchester ever since. 

career: 

a successful album and a successful tour behind her, the not-so-indie anymore lofi pop starlet is on the brink of even bigger fame, though she has a loyal following as she stands. she’s nowhere near super-fame — but she gets recognized in public, and that’s enough to give her the flutters in her stomach that she’s going to make it even bigger.

a regular social butterfly, jude regularly interacts with fans: instagram lives of acoustic covers from her apartment, constant posts to her stories. while her image isn’t exactly not genuine, it’s very curated: she’s careful what she reveals about herself, and the image she’s trying to maintain.

personality: 

image is not a thing, however, in jude’s personal life. still a party girl at heart, she’s down for anything once ... or twice ... or maybe a third time. she’ll say yes to almost anything, and a distinct — though never malicious — lack of loyalty keeps her unbound by romantic relationships or extremely close friendships. she’s friends with everyone, as she’ll tell you, and she has no problem at all with hookups, consistent or one night only.

in spite of this, she develops crushes at the drop of a hat, and will always be there to help someone else out ...  but don’t expect her to keep the same enemies, or to lose her forgiving heart.

jude isn’t dumb, and is pretty much a memorizing machine ( though not eidetic ), can be a little silly or ditzy, especially with sheltered upbringing and big heart. she’s not against being a shoulder to cry on, but when it comes to matters of her own heart, she’s as recticent as can be, never taking much seriously. as a mean youtube comment about her once said: that girl’s got about much depth as a kiddy pool. it wasn’t true, but it’s how she can come off.

drug tw / she drinks pretty consistently, and smokes weed even more so, though she’s not been known to deny any trying harder party drugs, however less consistent she is with it. she hasn’t a problem yet, but she doesn’t seem to be straying from the path that leads her there. if she ever encroaches in on one, jude wouldn’t be able to tell: she’s too busy having fun.

she’s a genuinely kind, caring person ... but jude is a little gullible, and trusts very easily. in spite of her affinity for friendship and relationship hopping, it’d be easy to convince her just about anything is true, or to do whatever bidding was necessary. say the right things at the right time, and jude will be wrapped around your finger. she doesn’t follow directions from authority terribly well, but friends ... that’s a different story.

above all : jude wants to be cool, fun, and liked. she’s a little desperate for attention and affection, and has inconsistent ideals about what’s good for her and the people around her. her self esteem is a lot lower than she makes it seem. 

wanted connections: 

party friends / drinking buddies: if anyone is as into getting drunk and dancing as she is, then call her up and get ready to go. she promises she can beat you in shots.

smoke buddies: a more chill version of the former, if anyone wants to sit around and have a songwriting session or just vibe.

friends: any kind of squad. she’s not the type to have besties, but if you consider her a friend, she’ll latch onto you whenever she gets the chance. 

hookups / fwbs: what it says on the tin, jude is down for anything and anyone (1/?)

crush: jude is very flighty and tends to have feelings come in like a hurricane, with the potential for them to leave just as quickly — this person would have jude wrapped around their finger.

unrequited: basically the opposite — someone likes jude, she’s a #dummy who doesn’t realize it and leads them on because she’s flirty with everyone and would probably also make out with anyone

enemies: jude doesn’t make many of these, but if someone is annoyed by her and lets her know it ... well, she’ll do everything in her power to make them even more annoyed. if you can’t make them like you, make them hate you even more.

tentative friend: on the opposite end of things, this person doesn’t vibe with jude but she’s half-oblivious to it, and is desperately trying to make them like her 

manipulator: jude LOVES attention, so if anyone needs any evil bidding or shit stirring done, just pay her some. she’d make an excellent lackey. 

anything else! seriously! just let me know what you want and we can brainstorm <3

[heymeowmao]

Heyy have you ever made a drama rec list? I noticed you share a lot of dramas, id love to hear about your faves and why :) hopefully with eng subs haha

Hello! I've never made a drama rec list before! :o I don’t know how good I will be at explaining why they’re my favorite ( .__.;; ), but I’ll try putting one together!! ♥♥ (Basically anything recent you’ve seen on the dash is bc I’m following cast of The Untamed around (for cdramas) XD and also going back to watch dramas I wanted to but never got around to (for kdramas))

I’ve only watched a few cdramas when I was little (My Fair Princess, mainly, but there were some others I can’t remember the names of), but as I grew older I fell into the jdramas (Gokusen & Trick --> basically Namaka Yukie) hole, and then into the world of kpop/kdramas. Every now and then I would bounce back in, like with Fahrenheit and the X-Family/K.O. Series but I always went back around to kdrama and kpop, bc I always thought that cdramas were SO LONG. :p AND THEN THE UNTAMED CAME ALONG. And then I realized actually how EASY it was to watch cdramas. Hop onto YT and you’re pretty much set. You don’t have to wait around for months for them to finish bc they upload so many episodes a week!!! (Except it kinda sucks if you’re waiting for subs, bc.. cdramas... don’t... often... get... subbed?? Are there too many? [Good thing I don’t really need them. (･θ･)]) Right now, I’m pretty new to the world of cdrama and only really follow The Untamed cast and some others (Zhang Mingen, Luo Zheng (my Idol Producer son)) around, so this is gonna be short. XD

Favorite C-DRAMAS:

You know what I love? I love magic and fantasy and pretties. :3

Three Lives, Three Worlds: [Eternal Love (Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms) | Eternal Love of Dream (The Pillow Book) | Love and Destiny]

Ok, this is three different dramas, but they’re set in the same universe (kina? L&D is a little weird.), so I can lump them together, right? XD Three Lives, Three Worlds will infuriate you, but in a good (?) way. By nature of the format of this series, you may find the set-up is the same each time (immortal falls in love-immortal descends to the human realm for mortal trials-immortal reascends, badass as all hell (not necessarily in that order)), but each story is still new and captivating and heartbreaking. There’s always going to be THAT ONE CHARACTER (`•̀益•́´) but if I don’t hate them, they didn’t do their job right, right? I liked Pillow Book the best, but maybe that’s because it’s the one I started with? Pretty sure all are available on yt, but the subs may be spotty. I think PB is the only one with complete subs (thanks, Tencent). Eternal Love (TMOPB) is on Netflix (at least on mine) and I think VIKI also has both Eternal Love (TMOPB) and Love and Destiny. 

The Love by Hypnotic

THIS!!! I found this drama really cute. It’s a mix of serious and moments of humor. The prince has some memory... problems (TRAUMA), and it just so happens he is in an arranged marriage to a princess, who can use hypnosis to help him regain his memories. They don’t exactly see eye-to-eye at first, but they never do, do they? (¬‿¬) [It’s on YT] Also!! The OST is good!

Other dramas I enjoyed:  [Ohh, hey, They’re all on yt. Fully subbed. Lemme know if you want links to a playlist or sth.] 

- Joy of Life - Guardian ("Imagine waiting 10,000 years, finally finding the person you loved again only to die and have to wait even more”) - History 3: Trapped (a cop and a gangster fall in love; taiwanese series)

FAVORITE KOREAN DRAMAS: (sh*t, there’s too many)

My Country: The New Age (this one I watched recently, so let’s put it here ;__;)

I’ll be honest. I was watching for Woo Dohwan.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I really did enjoy this. These two idiots are each trying to make a better world for the other, but they sure have a strange way of showing they care (aka a sword to the gut).

School 2013

Lee Jongsuk. Kim Woobin. That’s it. Ok, ok. They aren’t the WHOLE focus of the show, there are other kids in the class who need help as well, but the bromance of this drama continues to haunt me to this day. There are the common themes you see in any school drama..(bullying, cheating, STRESS, inability to handle the stress (tw: suicidal intention)) those were some darker times, but in the end it’s all about friendship.

Hello Monster/I Remember You

Crime Show. Seo Inguk. Jang Nara. Lee Chunhee. Choi Wonyoung. Park Bogum. Do Kyungsoo. A criminal profiler and a detective build their relationship based on a series of mysterious serial-murders. But the culprit’s calling cards tell a story of something more...

Signal

Another crime show. But why do I enjoy torturing myself with the concept of time travel? The acting is sometime’s a bit over at the start, but the STORY! !!! I watched this drama three times. Mysterious radio transmissions between a cold-case profiler in 2015 and a detective in 1989 unravel the secrets behind a series of related murders.

Other dramas I enjoyed: 

- Legend of the Blue Sea (mermaid!!! ) - Guardian: The Great and Lonely God - Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo - Master’s Sun - Reply 1997 (slice of life; the only one I’ve watched. the only one where the /goat sound/ makes sense because THEY WERE BORN IN THE YEAR OF THE GOAT)

Ok. I’m gonna.. end it here. Enjoy! (〃´∀｀)

[iamartemisday]

90 and 32 for Loki and your choice?

Is there really a choice? lol

Pregnancy Fic + Unexpected Virgin

...hoo boy.

Okay, so Loki decides one day to go to Midgard. No real reason why. He’s just bored.

While there, he meets some mildly interesting people, including a young woman about to graduate college named Jane Foster. She’s just escaped an incredibly painful blind date and Loki further helps her avoid the hapless human by pretending to kiss her in an alleyway. Her hot breath on his face actually makes him think of kissing her for real, but that’s a ridiculous notion. What kind of prince would he be cavorting with mortals? 

Regardless, as they talk about life and Jane’s plans for grad school, he finds himself intrigued by her. She’s highly intelligent for her species and while her grip on the Bifrost could not be more basic, if anyone was going to figure it out, he’d say it was her. 

Over the next month or so, Loki starts visiting Midgard and Jane more and more. As far as she knows, he’s another student like her home for summer break. As they grow closer, Loki thinks more and more about what it would be like to kiss her. Finally, the day comes and by Odin, can she ever kiss. 

Of course, there’s no way something like this can last. Even putting aside Loki’s greater longevity, there are so many people out there he’s pissed off. If they know a vulnerable mortal woman has caught his eye, no way they won’t take advantage.

That’s how Jane ends up a hostage of one of Loki’s many enemies. He is able to save her and kill the perpetrator, but he realizes now that their relationship can only end in pain. He knows now just how deeply in love with her he’s fallen. He loves her so much that he can find it in himself to erase every trace of him from her memory. Everything from their first meeting to the day they first kissed. He gives her one more kiss before he leaves her, pouring all his love and magic into it. Along with a wish that one day, somehow, their paths would cross again.

And so, Loki leaves her. Jane wakes up the next morning in her apartment with no recollection of her harrowing adventure or the prince she once loved. It’s as if nothing ever happened. 

Except as the days go by, Jane starts to have some odd symptoms. She’s weirdly sick in the morning and feels faint during the day. She’s moodier than usual, only wants to eat food she hates and gets random headaches.

There is an obvious answer that is also completely impossible. Jane is not ashamed to admit she’s never had sex (like it even matters how long someone waits). In fact, she hasn’t dated since that one awful blind date a few months ago (every time she thinks about it she feels sad for no reason, and she still can’t figure out why). Days later, the symptoms persist. As a joke, she buys a home pregnancy test. Not like it’s going to mean anything.

The test comes back positive.

Jane buys three more. All positive.

She goes to the doctor, who confirms it. 

Pregnant. 

Now, this is a major problem because again, Jane has never had sex. She rarely drinks and hasn’t been to a bar recently. A few guys in her department like her, but there was no way they’d ever do something like that to her. Right? 

The time frame of conception is determined. Jane recalls a day during that time when she did go to the bar, and now that she thinks about it, her memory of that week is a bit spotty...

At that point, Jane, being the determined woman she is, decides she can’t worry about what might’ve happened right now. She needs to think about what is happening. The obvious answer is abortion. That or adoption. How can she, a grad student going into astrophysics of all things, take care of a child? It’s not that she doesn’t want kids, it’s the idea never even crossed her mind because she’s just that focused on her goal. 

Now, motherhood is an actual reality. It’s still early enough for her to make an appointment at the clinic. She’s online researching, still unsure if she’s actually going to call, when she feels something. At first, she thinks she’s imagining it. She feels her stomach and there it is again. The tiniest movement. Maybe not even a movement at all. Maybe just a heartbeat...

At that moment, something fundamental within Jane changes. She closes her current web search and opens a new one on pregnancy guides and nearby baby stores.

A few months later, Jane’s daughter is born. While it’s definitely a bit on the nose given the circumstances, Jane can’t resist writing Christina on the birth certificate. 

It’s not as hard as she thought it would be. Erik and her mother are both huge helps. They immediately fall in love with the baby and watch her while Jane is at school and studying. By the time she gets her degree, Christina is five and has spent the last few years providing constant encouragement for her mother. She walks at Jane’s side during her graduation. She gets a little stuffed bear with a cap and gown while Jane gets her doctorate. 

The next few years are a bit hectic. Jane tries to give Christina as much stability as possible. They live in one place for a few years while Jane teaches at the university and builds up goodwill with the staff in order to get the grant money she needs to fund her research. Her efforts finally pay off when Christina is about to turn nine. Jane sets up her lab in New Mexico and they move there for the summer. They might stay longer depending on what Jane finds, but she doesn’t tell Christina that just yet. She’s already complaining about how boring Puente Antiguo is.

To entertain herself, Christina reads and writes about all sorts of fun adventures she could be having. She’s never showed her mom this, or anyone for that matter, but she has a few strange little talents no one else seems to have. For example, she can sometimes move things around without touching them. One time, she swears she turned a mean kid’s hair blue when he was bullying her and her friends. Snakes seem to really like her. She can’t talk to them like Harry Potter, but they do follow her sometimes. There are tons of snakes in New Mexico, but she’s not too bothered by it. They all seem pretty nice.

Soon Darcy arrives and she more or less bonds with her new boss’s kid. When some guy in town starts hassling Darcy, Christina asks one of her snake friends to make him go away and the guy never comes back. Another guy makes fun of Jane on the street, calling her a crackpot. He rather suddenly trips over nothing and knocks a few of his teeth out. 

Jane does notice a lot of this stuff, but not once does she think to connect it to her innocent daughter. Meanwhile, Christina is well aware that she’s the one doing this. Somehow or other, she does have powers no one else has, and she’s starting to realize just how strong those powers might be.

It all comes to a head with the arrival of Thor. Jane went out with Darcy and Erik to watch for an incoming storm. Christina had to stay home, as this could be dangerous. So, of course, she snuck along in the back hidden under a blanket. She’s right there when Thor falls from the sky. Terrified that they’re all about to die, Christina unleashes a HUGE wave of magic. Big enough to disrupt the bifrost and send Thor flying into a nearby rock formation. He hits his head hard, and as he is now human. this is not an insignificant injury.

In fact, when they get to the hospital, the poor stranger has already slipped into a coma. Jane is left to comfort her hysterical daughter who won’t stop blaming herself for what happened, She finally admits the truth about her powers to Jane and demonstrates by summoning a pen from the nurse’s station. Jane is shocked and has no idea what to do. Christina interprets this as her mother being scared of her and runs away. Jane chases after her. By the time she turns the corner, Christina is gone. Jane searches the entire hospital, but her little girl is nowhere to be found.

Now comes Loki. He’s been pretty out of it ever since losing Jane. Though it’s been close to a decade on Earth, that barely feels like a week to him. Now Thor has been banished, he has some truly uncomfortable questions to ask Odin about his origins, and to top it all off, one of his old enemies has just randomly appeared with a little girl in tow.

(NOTE: I honestly have no idea who the enemy would be. If I actually wrote this I’d just figure it out later)

His enemy mocks him for growing soft and not protecting his progeny like he should have. Loki has no idea what the hell this guy is talking about until he gets a better look at the girl. Her midnight black hair, terrified blue eyes, that face just like a younger Jane.

Jane...

He hadn’t looked in on her since he left. He just couldn’t bring himself to. Now he wishes to all his ancestors that he had. The enemy issues a challenge, daring him to come and save his newfound daughter. He disappears with Christina, and try as he might, Loki can’t trace where they’ve gone. He has a few ideas, but he’s going to need some help.

And he’s going to need to correct some old mistakes as well.

At the hospital, the police have arrived and are searching for the missing girl. Jane curls up in the waiting room, thinking of everything that led them to this point. If only she hadn’t accepted the grant money. If only she’d gone somewhere else to search for bridges. If only she’d paid enough attention to her own fucking child to know that she was literally psychic. Or magic. Or something!

While she cries, a shadow appears over her. When Jane looks up, a tall man with dark hair and eyes like Christina is watching her.

It all comes flooding back.

She remembers Loki. She remembers their kiss, that monster thing that kidnapped her. Loki saved her, and then he told her they’d never see each other again. Then she woke up at home as if from a dream and it was like he never existed at all.

But he had. She knew now that she had, and she had a daughter to prove it.

Which still begs the question of how. She knows now that they definitely didn’t have sex. Loki’s theory is that his magic somehow infused with latent abilities within Jane herself (she might actually have a small percentage of Asgardian in her) and created a child born of them both. It’s a tenuous idea at best, but it’s all he has right now, and who even cares how Christina was conceived. Point is, she exists and she’s been kidnapped and Thor is in a freaking coma now and can’t help them. Time to gear up and save their kid!

Not going to go into too much detail here as I’ve already written way too much. Basically, Loki teaches Jane to harness the magic within. She already knows a few knife tricks from self-defense classes, so Loki gives her a new knife that never dulls and is virtually indestructible. When she’s ready, they strike out to find their daughter in the enemy’s secret hideout. At some point, Thor wakes up and rushes to help his brother. His willingness to go to a far off planet and fight to the death for a child he’s never met makes him worth of Mjolnir again at just the right time. Loki and Jane rescue their little girl, who instinctively knows her father the moment she sees him. The enemy is defeated and now they’re free to start over and live as the family they were always meant to be. 

[foxfire-midnight-wings-writing]

Protect Them with Your Bloody Wings: Ch. 1

Notes: Oh boy, this was a pain to write. Mainly because I would get to a point when writing where I was like “Oh, I can post this! This ends perfectly!” and then a minute later realized “wait no... I still have to finish getting from point A to B and B to C”. 

EDIT: This was apparently sitting in my Tumblr drafts for over a month and I forgot to post it, sorry! I also have decided I’m going to make this a more long-term project. This is why I have the update schedule for every one or two months, but there may be a longer delay in between.

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Ao3: Protect Them with Your Bloody Wings

Tumblr: Prologue, [Chapter 2]

Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks, blood, gunshot wound, poor first aid, self-deprecating thoughts/self-blame, anxious/intrusive thoughts, past character death (mention), brief/minor flashback, questioning reality

Beginning chapter notes:

Where do you go When you dream of a future That only you know?

What do you do When you watched them all die And have a chance to start anew?

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Chapter 1: Haunted by Ghosts From the Future

Jay took a moment to catch his breath, still not fully processing where he was. Just a moment ago he was lying on the concrete floor, surrounded by his own blood, bleeding out. Alex had been saying something, right? 

Wait, no, the door was shut behind him… was he saying something through the door? And The Operator… yeah, he had seen him in the corner. The static had become unbearable, and he had been waiting for the darkness to take away the pain. And now he was… wait a minute, where was he?

Jay slowly sat up to observe his surroundings, body stiff and aching. After a moment, his eyes widened in disbelief. This was his old room, wasn’t it? But-but that’s impossible! His apartment burned down years ago, along with everything in it. Somehow, everything was here, but none of it should be. 

He noticed he was lying on his bed, his covers damp with sweat, with his phone charging on a stand nearby. Maybe it was some kind of dream? No, he remembered the feelings he had felt very clear, and all the pain he had gone through, there’s no way it could’ve been a dream.

Or was it some form of purgatory? Maybe he really did die and this was just another one of the monster’s games. Was everything else just a dream?

No, he remembered everything that he could fairly clearly. He would’ve woken up from the pain if it was a dream.

But does he actually remember? How many times has he thought he remembered something but he really didn’t?

He was fine . He was alive, apparently in his apartment that somehow was burnt to the ground, and he could figure out where to go from here. It would be fine.  

Was everything he thought that happened, every single death and burst of pain, every overwhelming feeling of anger or fear, was none of it real? Or was he going to be stuck here, in some form of hell that monster created? Did everyone he thought he knew actually exist, or were they something his mind made up?

He remembered what happened. He remembered them. Every death he watched helplessly, every moment Tim had to pull him away from his computer to try finding out what ToTheArk was saying. He knew what happened to himself, even if his memory was a little spotty. But he remembered! Or are all his memories fake? 

He remembered the moments with Tim, Alex, and Jessica. Sure, he lost large portions of time, and his memory did seem to be tampered with more times than he could count, but he was fine. He remembered the pain of getting shot, that had to count for something, right?

What if he was bleeding out right now, alone with no one to be there with him? What if Tim was caught by that thing and was dying too? The shout of his name rang in his ears, the echo of a gun rang out. Static was filling his vision. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. He was back there with the cold concrete and burning blood. That thing was in the corner, the nightmare he had dealt with the last couple years. The static was ringing, it hurt, it hurt, it-

Jay was jerked back into the present by a shrill beeping noise. It took him another minute of blinking dumbly around him to realize the room he was in was not at the abandoned school, and the reason he had woken up was that his alarm was going off. He must have hit snooze when he first woke up without realizing it. 

Reaching over to shut it off, a sharp pain ripped through his side causing him to gasp. After struggling to turn his alarm off, he turned his head to look down while also trying not to aggravate whatever was causing him pain. You deserve the pain, you deserve it to make up for what you put everyone else through . Jay grit his teeth as he pushed the rest of his thoughts from his mind, he had no time to focus on the past, he needed to find out what was hurting him.

Luckily, he didn’t have to turn his head too much to see what the problem was. Now that he was processing his surroundings more, his bed felt unusually damp. Sure, it could’ve been from his sweat, but… it was also really warm… and really dark. Wait, no, oh god. His bed wasn’t damp from sweat, it was being soaked in his blood.

All his previous doubts about if he was really dreaming or not were tossed out of the window. Oh god. That was blood  oozing onto his bed that was coming from him . A stream of curses left his mouth as he started to panic. ‘Is the gunshot wound still there?! Shit, do something!’ his mind screamed at him as he scrambled out of bed and into his bathroom. 

He ripped open the bathroom cabinets and threw some of his toiletries and medicine to the side in a desperate attempt to reach the gauze wrap faster. Pulling out all the rolls he had, along with the disinfectant, he stumbled over and sat on the edge of his bathtub. He set down his supplies in front of him and turned his attention back to the literal hole in his chest .

Gripping the tub with one hand and his shirt in another, Jay pried off his shirt to see the bullet wound. It was not pretty, to say the least, and just the overwhelming smell of blood made him nauseous. It was overwhelming, he could practically taste the metallic tang in his mouth. 

He grabbed one of the rolls of gauze and brought it up so it sat next to him. ‘Wait… I probably should wash the blood off first’ he paused, ‘Jeez, couldn’t have thought of that sooner?’ Carefully standing up, Jay went back over to his cabinets to try finding a towel to use.

After successfully grabbing one where the staining from the blood wouldn't be too obvious, he sat back down on the tub and turned the water on. Setting it slightly warmer than it probably should be, he carefully put the cloth under the water and started to work on getting rid of the blood farthest from where he was shot. 

His hands were shaking, probably from the adrenaline, making everything a little more difficult. Some of it had dried and was flaking off, while other sections were still wet. He started up at his chest, hoping that the blood wasn’t going to run down and stain his pants. 

It took less than a minute for the blood above to be wiped off, so he slowly started to wipe closer around the edges where the blood was pooling out from.

While he was able to clean up the areas above and to the sides of the hole, the blood running down his body was too much to be able to be stopped. Pressing the blood soaked towel against his wound with one hand, he used the other to start unrolling the gauze. 

He took a couple minutes to successfully maneuver his body so he was holding one end of the gauze in his mouth, the towel was still pressed against the bullet hole, and he was able to use his other hand to start wrapping the area where his wound was. Starting a couple inches above the wound, he started to wrap around his torso and work his way down.

It took a minute, but the farther along he got, the slower it seemed the blood was flowing. When he finally reached where the towel was, the blood had almost slowed to a stop. Jay winced as he slowly peeled the towel away from where it was sticking to his skin. 

After taking a moment to attempt and wipe up some of the drying blood lower on his stomach, he tossed the towel into the tub and continued to wrap his chest. Now with both hands free, he was able to work quicker and was able to finish wrapping his chest (and half of his stomach) in only a couple more minutes.

Once he got finished, he took both ends of the gauze into his hands and tied them together into a knot. He tested it a few times by tugging at the knot, trying to make sure it wouldn’t unwind randomly while he was moving. After he deemed it good enough, he reached behind him, grabbed the blood-soaked towel, walked over to his sink, and attempted to wash the blood off of his hands and towel.

Sadly, while his hands were fairly easy to clean, the towel was severely stained and he ended up just leaving it to soak in some water in the sink. Taking a moment to breathe and recollect himself, while desperately attempting to ignore the fact that he just wrapped up a bullet hole wound, and turned to face the current mess that was the bathroom. 

It… wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, but it was still a mess. Bloody hand-prints and drops of blood littered the area he had been through. Luckily for him, the only bloody hand-prints were on the counter, cabinet, the ground, and the bathtub. The drops of blood, on the other hand, trailed all the way from his bed to the sink and tub, some puddles had formed and were larger than others in the areas he spent longer in… basically, the area around his bathtub was smeared with a lot of blood.

Wait, now that he was thinking about it, why was there so much blood? Surely he would’ve passed out, or at least felt some affect, from having lost this much blood. ‘No, wait, that can be addressed later. I need to clean all this up, and now . I haven’t been able to see the date yet, so I have no idea if someone is planning to come over today or not. I guess I’ll just, I don’t know, be rolling with the idea I might be back in time before the whole deal with Alex and Tim.’ Jay reached toward another towel and started on cleaning the bathroom. 

‘I need to figure out where I am, when I am, and how the hell I got here. Considering I don’t think I saw a camera in my room, it must be some time before I got really invested in the Marble Hornets channel. I could always check Twitter, but that might not give me any answers if I don’t even have an account set up yet. My phone, it should have the date, right?’ Jay’s thoughts paused for a moment as he turned back around and rinsed off the blood from the towel. 

After getting as much as he could out, all while avoiding the towel still soaking, he let his mind wander as he crouched down to start attempting to mop up the blood, ‘I can probably use that after I turn it on, but I probably shouldn’t let anyone else know what’s going on.’

This last thought caused Jay to huff out a short laugh, ‘Yeah, no, they’d probably think I’m crazy or something. Well, I mean, the bullet hole might be good evidence, but there’s nothing to prove I wasn’t the one who shot myself. Then again, who’s also to say I’m not going crazy…’ Jay frowned, ‘I know I needed help back then, hell, I tried to call Tim! I agreed that whatever was happening was going to get worse if I didn’t get help, that much was obvious. God, thinking back I probably shouldn’t have assumed he was going to be in his masked state. The knife and zip ties were a bad idea, he definitely proved that to me. Maybe… god, this is going to be hard.’

 ‘I’ll need to try getting an appointment with Tim’s doctor, maybe someone closer if I can find them, and I’ll need to try getting on the same medication soon. But, what if it was all just-! No, no, we are not going there. We have the bullet hole to prove it, even if no one believes us. We probably shouldn’t let anyone know that we have it though. Sure, knowing how we got it is important, but the bleeding was slowing down. There’s been no negative side effects yet, so until then no one has to know.’

After rinsing the towel again and getting back onto the floor, Jay froze. ‘Wait, when did I start going into a mindset of ‘we’? That… probably isn’t a good sign. Yeah, no, after this I’m calling Tim’s doctor immediately. If I end up somehow getting a state similar to him, and possibly whoever the hooded man is, that’ll make all of this a lot harder.’ Jay shook his head and focused on cleaning the floor as best he could.

It took another hour to get the rest of the bathroom looking decent again, as long as you ignored the one or two bloody hand-prints smeared on the wall. His back, legs, and knees hurt from how long he was cleaning, so he decided he’d just try tossing off his current clothes and collapsing onto his bed. Well, he was going to, until he walked back into his room and remembered his bed was also covered in blood. 

He groaned as he grabbed the bloodied sheets and comforter, and tossed them into a pile on the floor. Reaching over to his night stand, Jay grabbed his phone and did a quick search to figure out how he should try getting the blood out of the different fabrics. He ignored any notifications he had gotten and was refusing to look at anything else besides google for the time being.

Sadly, Google did not give a good response. Turns out, the best way to make sure the blood came out was to wash it as soon as possible in warm water with stain remover. Of course, this was easier said than done considering most people don’t wake up to a bed covered in blood because of a bullet wound. ‘Let’s just get this over with,’ Jay mentally groaned as he tried his best to follow the instructions Google gave.

Once everything had been tossed in the washer, accompanied by an unhealthy amount of soap and stain remover, Jay trudged back to his room, changed out of his blood-soaked clothes, and flopped face-down onto his mattress. Somehow, and he thanked whatever creature or being brought him back, the blood that covered his sheets and comforter didn’t get onto his mattress. 

It didn’t make sense, and defied all laws of logic and reason, but it was the silver lining of his current situation. Shutting his eyes, Jay quickly fell back asleep, still hoping that what was currently happening was a genuine second chance and not a dream .

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

For the second time that morning, Jay woke up in a panic. Not because he was bleeding out into his bed anymore, but because he could feel something touching his back and legs. As he jolted up in his bed, he felt whatever was on his back fling out and shift his weight, causing him to tumble into the ground. “Shit!” Jay yelped, the bandages around his torso pressing into his wound and causing a spike of pain to shoot through him. He grunted as he twisted his body around to try seeing whatever was messing with him, and scrambled up off his floor.

Still panicking, but starting to calm down once he realized no one else was there, Jay quickly made his way into his living room. He couldn’t feel anything brushing his back or legs anymore, so he decided to come back to whatever that was later. Now that he was more aware of his surroundings, it was really starting to set in that he had somehow gone back and was in his old apartment, which shouldn’t be possible because it burned down almost four years ago. 

“Okay. Okay, this is fine. Let’s just try finding something with the date on it. Panic later, figure out what the hell is going on first,” Jay muttered to himself. A quick scan of the living room and kitchen showed that the only helpful thing he could see was the time on his microwave. Heading back towards his room to grab his phone, he unplugged it, grabbed some paper and a pencil, and made his way to sit on his couch.

As Jay sat down he laid out everything he had grabbed onto his coffee table. His couch was facing the TV, the coffee table stationed in between the two. He internally debated on turning on the news, but decided that it would probably make him panic more than he already was. He leaned forward and rested his arms against his legs while holding his phone in a death grip with both hands. 

Taking a few deep breaths, Jay turned his phone on and waited for the date to finally show up. It took a couple minutes to fully turn on, but when it did, he almost dropped it because of what it said.

Jay was frozen, dread spreading through his body like a visceral poison. His phone showed the date being March 28, 2006. That… was a lot farther back than what he anticipated. He could already feel his heart rate picking back up, his hands now shaking even more than before. ‘Deep breaths, come on. It’ll be okay,’ He attempted to convince himself, ‘You dealt with some kind of demon fucking up your life for the past couple years and made it out relatively okay. You’ll be fine.’ Jay sighed, he hadn’t even been here for an hour and he almost had a panic attack twice. Putting his phone back on the table, he reached for the pencil and paper he had laid out.

Scribbling out a quick “What the Fuck is Going On” at the top of his page, he started writing down a few bullet points of what he knew. If he did encounter The Operator, he would probably start to struggle with his memory again. Last time, though, he didn’t realize he had lost his memory until seeing it either on the tapes, or seeing the date on something. He needed to make sure he didn’t forget what happened or what his goal was, otherwise he would fail and the others would suffer because of his mistakes. 

That means notes of what happened and possibly where to go from here. “Okay, think. First and foremost, find out when and where we are. Well, already got that done. What next? Uh, Let’s see...” Jay continued to quietly mutter to himself, trying to fill the silence of the apartment. In the end, his list was pretty bare of facts and was more speculation and planning.

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

What the Fuck is Going On?

At my old apartment, somehow not burned down and everything seems fine

Today is March 28th, 2006

Marble Hornets has not had it’s auditions yet or started production

Note: Auditions are in a couple days!! Figure everything out before then!!

No reference tapes or videos, YouTube channel is not up and the people who were helping won’t have any idea what is happening

Alex hasn’t been exposed to The Operator (?)

No one probably remembers me, so the only people who have previous relations to me are Alex and Seth

Does anyone else remember? Am I the only one?

I was shot and died (?) in the future, woke up back in time

Different timelines? Or the same timeline but reversed? Are there multiple timelines??

I have the bullet hole to prove I was shot and went through everything from the future, most likely everything really happened

Bullet hole still is bleeding, still hurts, hard to breathe

Doesn’t seem to make me dizzy with blood loss? But doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. Result of time travel?

Maybe some kind of fucked up ‘reminder’ to not repeat what I did, reason it is still there is unknown.

Is my body still the same as when I left or was it reverted back to how I was before everything? The bullet hole makes me think it’s the same and I feel pretty tired, but I don’t feel sick or have any bruises/marks left from the last couple days.

Aware of future events (to an extent), maybe help prevent others deaths

When dying, asked for a chance to help my friends and something answered, assuming this is the ‘chance’ or whatever it is.

Does this mean there are actually other spirits? Does this make The Operator a demon?

Most likely not purgatory or hell, can’t rule this out until talking with Alex and the others (if they are here)

Assuming this is real and the same timeline, the hooded man and ToTheArk’s channel most likely isn’t active yet, only saw them after I got involved

Note: When did they get active? What caused them to get involved? Find out possible motives and IDs

Look for a possible hoodie that looks like the one hooded man wore. Tim wore his jacket, hooded man may wear the same hood sometime before he got involved

Maybe someone involved with the film?

Don’t know who ToTheArk is, have no reference for them, and as other people pointed out the videos had different styles. Maybe they could help if I find them?

Are they a group? Who would be involved, if so? How did they get involved with the channel to begin with? They had an idea of what was going on, maybe someone also working on the film? But then, who could be part of it?

The Operator is most likely still around Tim

Get Pills? May help with symptoms like he said

Asking out right may not be a good idea, maybe go back to the doctor’s office and ask for his doctor? Find cover story, describe similar symptoms to Tim, hopefully get the right pills

Make sure to note if they seem to start to disappear, could be warning signs about the others stealing them, maybe hide them in areas others wouldn’t look for emergencies

Be wary of:

Cold spots

Distorted vision

Distorted camera screen

Static (seeing, hearing, in head, etc.)

Cough

Strange behavior (Alex and Brian)

Violent outbursts

Avoidance, excuses, not showing up when needed, etc.

Blacking out

Forgotten memory

Hallucinations (?)

Stolen/missing pills

May be able to see The Operator still because I was involved previously, be careful of being alone with Tim or Alex

Seemed to hang out in/near Rosswood park and the abandoned hospital, maybe go alone first to see if anything happens

Run if you see him or experience any of the above symptoms

Don’t bring anyone else with you, don’t drag them into this mess if possible

Any acts I make will change the future, and will soon be unpredictable

This is assuming that there are certain events not set in stone/always going to happen

Relations with others/involvement with others

Avoid Jessica, get in contact with Amy to make sure she is safe

Have Amy call or text if any strange behavior starts up, but she may not know. If Alex starts acting strange have her hide and not tell him where she is. She looked to be okay in the tapes, but went missing after me and Alex started working together. May have been caught by The Operator and died similar to Seth

Tim is already involved, but may be getting better still. Try to watch him, going to be involved no matter what

Seth may be able to be saved, had no previous contact with Sarah so she may have been attacked too

Make sure to get them as far away from this situation as possible, prevent as many one-on-one interactions with Tim/Alex, and try to keep them safe

Prevent Seth and Sarah from being involved as much as possible

Keep in contact with Brian no matter what. If he tries to distance himself or drops contact, most likely was attacked.

Maybe try finding him, visiting his house, etc. Don’t let him be alone if this happens, last time he was attacked. (It looked like he might’ve been attacked by The Operator at the hospital, but his house was clearly lived in. There was a struggle, blood in the sink, Alex most likely attacked him. Most likely didn’t die from the first attack/attempt at the hospital

Watch for strange behavior. Alex mentioned in one tape that we were filming at Brian’s house while he wasn’t there, and that he made some poor excuse. Possible sign of something happening, but I can’t remember when that was shot. It could be before or after the first attack

Don’t get anyone else involved. Don’t let them know what’s going on. If they pressure, don’t give in. If they get involved, they have a higher chance of being attacked or killed. Them not knowing would be the safest option

Stay in contact with everyone, don’t let anyone be unresponsive for more than a week or two. Extremely bad sign, especially if Alex starts acting strange.

DON’T DIE

If I die will I be sent back in time again? What caused that in the first place, why me of all people? What’s going on?

I was shot last time, and still have the bullet hole. Do death causes or injuries carry over? ████████████████

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

Jay looked over his list once he finished, and when he got to the bottom he froze. No. No, that shouldn’t be there. Strings of incoherent words were filling the last few lines of the page. Writing that he knew that no one should see. Short phrases, notes, and accusations, nonsense like the videos from ToTheArk. He didn’t remember writing that. 

His mind quickly started to spiral into panic, his only thoughts were screaming at him to get rid of what was written. His paranoia and anxiety spiked, his thoughts continuing to race faster and faster. He couldn't let anyone see this. He needed to hide what he wrote. But how? 

There was too much to erase and the marks could still possibly be read but he had to get rid of it, hide it, don’t let them see. Bad, very bad, if someone finds this he couldn’t play it off; no, this was bad. Get rid of it, remove, erase, redact-

That’s it! Redact, just like how there were pages redacted on Tim’s medical files. ‘Why are you thinking of that now? It’s not the time! Erase it, erase it, redact-’ Jay stood up and practically sprinted into his room. He grabbed the first black sharpie he could find and hurried back into his living room. Within seconds, lines of black covered up the bottom of the page. 

Once everything at the bottom was marked out, he sat down and let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, hoping to get his heart rate back down to a normal level. Sadly, his poor heart couldn't catch a break. His heart felt like it stopped when he felt something large and weighted being pressed into his back.

And he knew it wasn’t the couch.

Jay jumped up right as the thing against his back pushed against the back of the couch. He quickly turned around to try seeing what he had laid against, but to his confusion there was nothing there. For a moment he was worried he imagined it, until he felt something move. 

Freezing, Jay turned his head to the side to try getting a look at what was on his back. When he did, he couldn’t tell if he regretted it or not.

‘Are those- are those bird wings?!’

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Ending chapter notes: 

Going to try updating every month or two!

Ideas for future stories/au ideas/headcannons - @marble-hornets-fic-prompts Updates, answering questions, etc. - @foxfire-and-midnight-wings

Also, I'm looking for one or two more beta readers. If you're interested let me know!

Hope you enjoyed!

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[moonlights-shadow-warrior]

Hi, I’ve been following you for a hot minute and wanted to ask about how you define your asexuality and gray-romanticness. I am a poly/pan trans-guy trying to wrap my head around it and from your posts you always seem super nice and down to earth. Sorry if this is a weird question ^~^’

Ngl your ask did catch me off guard, although that was mostly due to the fact that a) I never get asks, and b) I rarely post my own stuff or comment on others’ posts so the fact that you said I seem nice and down to earth ‘cause of my posts threw me for a bit of a loop. Sweet though, and I’m glad I come off that way even though my blog is really just a mishmash of things I like and that catch me eye

Now as for your question

TL:DR Defining my asexuality means I don’t feel sexual attraction towards others (never have in my almost 23 years of life) and it honestly kinda confuses me simply because it’s something I’ve never experienced before and when others talk about it I just don’t get it

As for my greyromanticism, it’s more a transitional term as over the years I went from having loads and loads of crushes (I think) as a kid to now where I haven’t had a crush for multiple years as I move closer and closer to being aro ‘cause of some trauma that happened in my life. Same trauma is part of why gender does make a difference in my attraction now

Gonna start this off with some backstory saying I used to identify as bisexual, then pansexual, ‘cause I’d never heard of asexuality before and gender didn’t really play a part in my like for someone. And from the terms I knew, those seemed like the obvious choice at the time. But I also didn’t really,,, get it when some of my friends talked about how hot a person was or their list of actors they wanted to bone (and just celebrity crushes in general now that I think about it, although that could’ve very easily been due to the fact I can’t for the life of me remember who’s who in the realm of Hollywood). I’d just sorta nod along and listen ‘cause hey, people are different and just ‘cause we’re both pan doesn’t mean our experiences are exactly the same

Now at this time I was reading a lot—and I mean a lot—of fanfics ‘cause of escapism and all that jazz. And in one fic I came across there was a character—my favorite character—that was ace. When it got mentioned I didn’t think much of it ‘cause it was just ‘oh cool new term I haven’t heard before’. But then it was explained not only what asexuality was, but also what sexual and romantic attraction were—with examples for each of them—and how they didn’t always line up for some people. And it just

Clicked

I did a bit more research on it, reading things that other aces had posted talking about being ace, and it felt like it just fit me

It’s probably been close to 7 years since I last read that fic, but it was explained something like this

Have you ever looked at someone and wanted to fool around with them, maybe take a tumble in the sheets, but would never want to date them? That’s sexual attraction

And have you ever looked at someone and had your heart flutter and just wanted to go on dates and maybe kiss them but you wouldn’t describe them as sexy and the thought of having sex with them either didn’t cross your mind or made your stomach turn? Romantic attraction

And feeling the latter without the former? Well you might just be ace

Of course this isn’t a universal thing for those under the ace umbrella, but it worked for me and helped me realize something about myself

I don’t feel sexual attraction, which was why all those times my friends talked about how sexy someone was or who was on their f list, it felt like a foreign concept to me and the most I could say to relate was “well they are cute”

As for my greyromanticism, that one’s not as clear cut. Also cw for bad parenting and divorce/bad breakups basically idk

Like I said above, I used to get a lot of crushes as a kid. Looking back, were they all actually crushes or just me thinking a person looked cute? Who knows, but I’m pretty sure there were some

Walking in late only to see the new kid sitting there and immediately my heart rate picked up and I had trouble looking directly at them without blushing? Then picking up an instrument that they played just to try and be seated next to them in band class even though I had no idea what I was doing and had barely talked to them before?

Crush

Get partnered with someone for one assignment and then always trying to sneak glances at them out of the corner of my eye and it just so happens that they ended up in a lot of my photos of my middle school DC field trip?

Crush

Playing spin the faygo just for the chance to make out with one person ‘cause they’re hella cute and within an hour of knowing each other we immediately linked hands and threaded our fingers together while walking around?

Crush

Just as a few examples. Also I was shy and didn’t know how to socialize, which didn’t help at all in the creepiness factor

Now could some of my crushes have actually been just me becoming attached to someone who was nice to me one (1) time? Maybe, who knows, not me

Like I said above, me identifying as greyro is more transitional as I move closer and closer to identifying as aromantic ‘cause of trauma. Was I actually always arospec but just hadn’t heard of the terms like with asexuality? I don’t know because only after everything did I come across the term and my memory is so poor that I can’t properly recall the feelings I experienced. Even the above may not be accurate because my memory’s so spotty and my mind likes to insert things that never actually happened or are wildly different from what everyone else remembers

Which sucks but I digress

So that trauma I keep mentioning. As a child that had to deal with a rough divorce, it can bring on a whole slew of issues, some of which relate to relationships. I called my parents’ divorce almost a decade before it actually happened, and watching it go downhill to the point they could barely stand to be in the same room was rough. Not only that, but I had to give relationship advice to my father, from saying that he should go through with the divorce to giving my opinion on who he should date and if he should break it off or power through a rough spot or not come home for the night. Needless to say, all that warped my perception just a bit

And while that was happening, I had to deal with my own rocky high school relationships

While I haven’t dated a lot of people, a lot of the breakups were bad. Maybe not bad right away and we’d continue on being friends afterwards, but down the line something would happen where they’d either drop all contact or blow up at me without me knowing why or realizing something was off in the first place. And paired with the after effects of the divorce, it was a bad combination

But the golden lining was a breakup so terrible that it caused my datemate to hallucinate and go into such a depressive state that I’m pretty sure the after effects still influence how they act today when it comes to relationships. The four of us talked about moving in together, having a double wedding and all that. But then one left out of the blue and the other became harder and harder to contact until there was no response. And that all happened less than a month after I finally ran away from all the bs of the divorce and my father asking for relationship advice and being dropped so suddenly after what I thought was a good breakup

And after that I can only pinpoint 2 maybe crushes around the same time less than a year later

So yeah, traumatic

But I didn’t identify as greyro yet, because I hadn’t heard of the term

But even then I told my datemate that if we broke up I will never be in another romantic relationship after them because of everything. Because I didn’t really believe in love anymore

But I didn’t identify as greyro yet, even when I had heard of the term

I thought, nah, that’s not me, because I still thought I had crushes, as few and far between as they were. Because I didn’t know there were other kinds of attraction

And then my datemate asked if I had a crush on this one person, and I said no, and I realized that was the truth. I hadn’t had a crush on them. I wanted to hold their hand and cuddle and maybe give light pecks, protect them as best I could, but it wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t the same feelings as what I remember feeling in my childhood, what I feel towards my datemate

I had a squish, and once I realized that things started making a bit of sense. There were people I wanted to hold their hand, laze around in a cuddle pile to be close to them, maybe give them quick innocent pecks because I’m touch starved and want affection. But never were the feelings romantic

If that trauma had never happened, would I still say I’m panromantic instead of bi greyromantic? Who knows, not me

But what I do know is that if something were to happen and my datemate and I were to split, that the single romantic attraction I have felt in years was severed, I’d full on say I’m aro because they are my exception

My greyromanticism is transitional. It’s not “I feel romantic attraction sparingly” or “have a hard time distinguishing platonic from romantic” or the other common definitions I’ve seen around, but rather “I used to feel romantic attraction all the time, but now only feel it towards one person and if that were to go away, I wouldn’t feel it at all”

Sometimes I doubt myself, thinking maybe I’m experiencing crushes and just don’t realize it or am in denial. But then I think about it again and tell my doubt to shut up because that’s wrong and I know it

And wow that was a lot and I’m pretty sure I spent ~4 hours writing this without realizing it. I hope this answered your question though!! Word vomiting like this helped me realize a few things myself

Also wow I need therapy more than I thought

[aminmelall]

Nostalgia vs Instagram Culture

Something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately... Is Instagram. 

More specifically, the type of culture that seems to have bubbled up around it in the past few years. It is so very big. When I was younger, Maybelline Dream Matte Mousse and spidery eyelashes were the trend, but it was mainly concentrated to secondary schools in the UK, not the entire globe. And not with the same ferocity and consequence that Instagram trends now seem to have.

The Kardashians, “fierce” brows, harsh contouring, and lip injections are now commonplace. Showing off your organic avocado on toast brunch that cost you £15 (not including your iced latte). posing in expensive gym clothes, big fake acrylic nails, makeup tutorials that make you look completely and utterly transformed from your natural look. Phones that cost over two months’ rent. As much as I see the appeal of all these things, to me, they just feel too far removed from the organic and authentic self. The totally stripped down to the basics, self. It almost makes you forget that there is an organic form of you.

When I am nostalgic, I remember washing my face with a bar of soap and a flannel, not having an entire skin care routine with over five different steps. (I still have no idea what toner is for). I remember going outside to the park, and having to go to your friends house and ask if they were coming out, rather than messaging or even texting, back when I was 11 and didn’t even have a phone. When I was younger, there was no social media. I had no concept of fashion, the only things I knew about makeup came from watching my mum put hers on before she went to work and ultimately, the only people I was exposed to were the people i went to school with, not the majority of the population of the planet. If I wanted to impress anyone, it was the kids in my class at school, not literally the entire Instagram-using world. And they were the only people I had to compare myself to.

 I know that to most people, thinking about what life used to be like is something to be snorted at. “Thank God times have changed and I learned how to do my eyebrows!”.

And sure, the beauty and fashion industry has been around for hundreds of years. Obviously before Instagram there were movies, TV shows, TV advertisements and countless magazines that were along the same vein. “These people are desirable, and you should want to be like these people, because if you are, you’ll be desirable too, and that means you’ll be happy!” But that’s not what I’m talking about right now, and is a little outdated.

 It’s 2020, and now with one billion users worldwide, Instagram is the main platform of “This is what you should want. This is what you should be.”

So many people get carried away with Instagram to the point where they dedicate almost all aspects of their lives to fitting this image of perfection that has been dictated by the culture of social media. Your makeup, your body type, the food you eat and everything you do- if you are so constantly exposed to these trends, you’ll start to believe that this is what you need to be. Everyone else has the latest iPhone, so you need one too. People are pumping their faces full of silicone and crayoning on their eyebrows and gluing plastic spikes to their fingertips, so... that’s what you should be doing too, right? These people have thousands or millions of followers. Evidently, they are what is desirable. And everybody wants to be desirable, so what do we do? 

We follow suit, and take pictures along the way, and let the world know; “Me too!! Look, I have everything I need to be attractive and acceptable to the world! Look at me!!”

 And ultimately, does it make any of us any happier? Does it further our careers, contribute to our real-life friendships and relationships in any way? Our real life is all we have. Our family, our friends and every single day we get to be alive, where we are, the city we’re in and the job we work, all of that is happening to us right now. And there are so many people wasting so much time gormlessly staring at their phones, ogling profiles of people who have the lives they wish they had, but they would have never have even known about if they just put their phones down and really looked at everything around them and saw the beauty in the here and now.

As a disclaimer, I’m not shaming anybody for liking iPhones or dip brow pomade or acrylic nails. I am not angry with the people that use these things or engage in social media. 

My main criticism is not about people indulging in these things they may enjoy, but the total disregard and complete amnesia to what it is to be a well-rounded person without those things. The notion that it’s okay to not want all of that stuff. You don’t need them. You don’t need to be anything other than what you are.

You can be a functional, desirable, and hell, even just a happy person if you decide to not wear any makeup. If you don’t want to spend a thousand pounds on a phone. You’re allowed to not want to go to the gym, ever. It’s okay to completely despise avocado on toast. It’s okay to have had the same cracked phone for the past three years, and have no intention of buying a new one because hey, if it works, it works! It’s okay to be flat chested, or chubby, or fat. It’s okay to be ugly. It’s okay to be spotty or have spot scars or be happy in the job you have right now, and to enjoy doing nothing in your spare time. You don’t need to “constantly be striving to be a better you.” You can just be you. You are enough. 

 There is nothing wrong with you for being you, just the way you are. 

Without the makeup, without the fancy clothes, without a phone, or a gym membership, or pictures of fancy food. Without your perfectly sculpted eyebrows, without your acrylic nails, or without a “themed” Instagram profile. It’s alright to just be a person that washes their face with a bar of soap. 

I’ve come to the point where I’ve reassessed the things that bring me true joy, in the here and now. I like cooking, spending time with my loved ones, reading, having a hot water bottle. If I go to the pub, I make a point to not look at my phone, and instead enjoy my drink, or food, and enjoy the buzzing ambience around me. 

It is so much easier, eventually, to enjoy your life when you’re not constantly trying to prove how fantastic your life is to a billion strangers. When you’re not trying to find something aesthetic to post, or when you’re trawling through these perfectly curated profiles and wondering why you don’t have that life.  

Spoiler alert, barely anybody actually has that life. Your life is normal, and wonderful, and has all the possibility to be filled with joy and happiness, that has nothing to do with your social media presence. 

And I really really wish more people would take that to heart, because I’m worried about the world. I’m worried about people and about the decline in communities that look after one another, I’m worried about all the people out there who base their self worth purely on what other people think of them, whether all they can think about is posting the perfect selfie, or whether they’re being cyber-bullied and it’s affecting their whole lives.

 I’m worried about the people that are missing out on their family life, their relationships, because they’re busy scrolling on their phones. One day, there will come a day where I can’t quite remember what my mum’s laugh sounds like. One day, my grandparent’s will be gone. Something terrible could happen to any of my loved ones at any moment, and I don’t want myself or anybody else to have missed out on precious interactions with their family and friends because they are so obsessed with whatever is on their phones at that time, or just in some other way preoccupied with the culture of social media.

And while I am aware that social media can be a great platform to start your own business, meet your soulmate, make friends and discover new places to go, interests, food, and you name it, I can’t help but worry that the cons outweigh the pros, and the amount we would all have to gain if we weren’t so obsessed with social media. 

Thanks for reading x

[adhduck]

We Keep it a Secret (You Leave Me Dying to Know)

Bellamy and Clarke were going to fake a relationship for just one date, honest. But then things got...a little out of hand.

(AO3)

Bellamy doesn’t claim to be the greatest at dating. Between basically raising his sister and working two jobs since he was sixteen, he didn’t have time for it until college, so he’s always felt a little behind everyone else when it comes to romance. Plus, he can’t seem to hold onto a relationship for more than a few months, probably because he’s been quietly in love with his best friend for the past six years, but hey, at least he’s trying to get over her.

           Not, of course, that this current situation is helping.

           “Let me get this straight,” Clarke says, eyebrows furrowing cutely. “Gina invited you to a double date with her new boyfriend, you said you had a new girlfriend, and you want me to pretend to be said girlfriend?’

           Bellamy nods sheepishly. “I may have panicked.”

           “Not surprising, knowing you,” she teases, and he’s a little weirded out that she’s been so cool with this so far. He was sort of expecting her to kick his ass.

           “So, uh, you’ll do it?” he ventures after a moment of silence.

           She shrugs. “Yeah, sure. I’m always down to make your exes jealous.”

           Bellamy laughs and nods, though the point of this is far from making Gina jealous. She’s an awesome person, and was a great girlfriend for the three or four months they were together, but Bellamy doesn’t want her back in that way. He just wants to feel like he’s on top of life, like he’s getting better at this whole dating thing.

           Plus, acting like Clarke’s boyfriend is kind of his dream, even if it’s all for show. He’s going to take what he can get.

           They set up a backstory of how they got together—mutually pining for a while, Clarke getting drunk and accidentally confessing her love for Bellamy before giving him a quick kiss and running off, and Bellamy thinking it was a joke until he asked about it the next day. It’s believable, especially knowing how often they’ve each stumbled into relationships in the past, and it makes Bellamy’s stomach twist into all sorts of knots.

           “What about ground rules?” Clarke asks as she flicks through Netflix for something to watch. It’s good for their story that she’s already over a lot, but now Bellamy can’t help but feel a little awkward, as if he’s supposed to be acting like a boyfriend now instead of at the date.

           “Like for what we tell Gina, or for us together?”

           “Both I guess, but I meant the second one.” He notices she’s careful to leave her eyes on the screen, but he can’t decipher if it’s discomfort or nonchalance towards the situation.

           “Well, when it comes to Gina, I guess just stick to the script. And when we’re at the date, just…I don’t know, act like a normal couple? Sit close together, maybe hold hands. I don’t know.”

           The thought of even that has Bellamy feeling a little lightheaded, so when Clarke adds, “What about kissing?” he swears his vision goes spotty for a second.

           “Uh—” he starts, a little strangled. “If the situation calls for it, I guess that’s fine. Though I doubt anyone’s going to expect us to make out in public.”

           “But pecks, cheek kisses, that sort of thing? You’re fine with that?”

           Her eyes still haven’t left the screen, but Bellamy catches her hand twitching, an old nervous habit. “If that’s okay with you,” he says slowly.

           She nods, finally turning to look at him. “You can’t be that bad of a kisser, right?”

           He snorts, feeling the tension drain away a little. “Horrible.”

           She smirks and clicks play on The Good Place, settling against his side like she always does. “Lucky me.”

           “Yeah,” Bellamy echoes, trying to school his heartbeat into something normal, “lucky you.”

 --

Gina’s surprised and then excited when she sees who his ‘girlfriend’ is; she even goes so far as to hug her, raving about how glad she is they finally got together. Clarke gives him a look at that but doesn’t seem suspicious; they’ve always had friends think they have a thing for each other, this is nothing new.

           The boyfriend, Shawn, is tall and sort of plain looking, but seems nice enough. He shakes Bellamy’s hand and then Clarke’s, saying he’s a waiter but is working on an EP in his off time. Bellamy almost jokes about wanting his Spotify link, but thinks better of it.

           Once they’re in the restaurant, everyone orders quickly, too hungry for pickiness; Clarke gets a dish without fries and then proceeds to steal his, as always. He shoves her away, complaining, but when she does it again, he just turns the plate so the fries face her. She beams at him and he tries to suppress the overwhelming surge of affection rising in his throat, then remembers he’s not supposed to do that right now and leans down to kiss her hair instead.

           He can feel her flinch in surprise just the tiniest bit, but it must not be enough for the others to notice, because no trace of suspicion crosses their faces as he pulls away. In fact, Gina’s giving him one of those smiles she always gives Raven when she and Zeke are being cute, so he figures they’re all in the clear.

           Clarke does shimmy a little closer to him after that, though, seeming to remember her ulterior motive for being here. Not that he’s really complaining.

           Once they’ve finished eating and paid, they decide to just walk around town. It’s not particularly romantic, almost more of a hang-out, but the sudden overwhelming awareness Bellamy has of every miniscule interaction between him and Clarke makes it feel like he’s about to propose. Should he be walking extra close, or their normal distance? Are they supposed to be holding hands, or should he wrap his arm around her shoulder?

           Finally, he decides to just walk and see what Clarke does; a few seconds later, he feels her fingers slip quietly through his. Her hand is warm and soft, and when he squeezes it, she gives him a small smile.

           “So,” Gina says, glancing at their intertwined hands and making Bellamy flush, “how’d you guys start dating?”

           They’ve prepared for this much, at least. “We went to a bar one night after I had a bad day at work, just the two of us,” Clarke says. “Since I was the one wanting to drown my emotions, Bellamy volunteered to be the designated driver, which meant he got to sit there and watch me get drunker and drunker.”

           “It was very entertaining,” Bellamy adds.

           “Yeah, until I blurted out that I was in love with him.” Clarke laughs a little. “He literally froze; like, for a second I worried he’d stopped breathing. I didn’t know what to do, so I just pecked him on the mouth and ran to the bathroom.”

           Gina snorts. “That must’ve been an awkward car ride home.”

           “The most awkward I’ve ever had,” Bellamy agrees. “I assumed it was all a joke, though, except when I stopped by her apartment the next day and tried to bring it up, turns out it wasn’t. And here we are.”

           “Here we are,” Clarke echoes, squeezing his hand. He glances at her and finds her gaze unusually open, her mouth parted just barely. For a second, Bellamy thinks about kissing her for real, but he chickens out at the last second and presses his lips to her forehead instead.

           They wander around for another hour or so before Gina and Shawn have to leave. Gina says it was really nice to hang out and they should all do it again sometime; Bellamy mutters something politely noncommittal, then waits for them to be out of sight before he releases his hold on Clarke, wiping his hand on his pants awkwardly.

           “So,” he says, not sure what to say. “Should we, uh—”

           “Your place?” she asks, then adds quickly, “It’s still not that late; we could watch something on Netflix.”

           He sighs a little in relief. They’re okay then; there hasn’t been some horrible shift in their relationship because of this. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

           They watch Parks and Rec because they’re cliché and it’s a good show, and after a little bit Bellamy manages to loosen up and feel less awkward about sitting close to Clarke. He slouches a little so she can lean against his shoulder better, pinching her side so she stops hogging the blanket. It’s nice, really nice—which maybe isn’t a good thing. After spending several hours being affectionate the way he’s always wanted, it’s suddenly taking physical effort not to just turn his head and kiss her.

           He doesn’t, of course; not even when she’s walking out and says teasingly, “I had a really nice time tonight,” while leaning in with her sparkling eyes and sideways smile and shirt that’s shifted a little lower since she got here. Instead, he just gives her a hug and says goodbye, turning away before she’s even shut the door.

 --

Only one of Bellamy’s friends is a morning person, and Monty knows never to call before nine unless it’s an emergency, so when he wakes up to his phone buzzing angrily just after six, he rushes to pick it up with more than mild panic.

           “What happ—”

           “BELLAMY BLAKE WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”

           Okay, so not Monty, and probably not an emergency. He sits up, wiping the sleep from his eyes with a groan. “What are you talking about, Raven?”

           “You and Clarke dating, you asshole!”

           Bellamy freezes like a kid stuck with his hand in the cookie jar. “Oh.”

           “Yeah, oh. Instead of hearing it from two of my best friends, who know how long I’ve been waiting for them to get their heads out of their asses, I had to hear it from your ex at 5:30 in the morning! She gets up way too early, by the way.”

           Mind racing, Bellamy stands to pace around his room, trying to decide if he’s supposed to tell her the truth or not. He and Clarke didn’t set up much of a contingency plan for other people finding out, which was stupid in hindsight, but they’d kind of expected it to be a one and done thing. He definitely didn’t think Gina would tell Raven about it.

           “I’m waiting,” Raven prompts, her voice slowly dropping from the initial scream.

           “Well, uh—” He pauses, then decides for the truth. His ass-kicking for this will be much less painful than the ass-kicking he’d get if he led her on. “We’re not actually dating.”

           He can almost see the shock cross her face. “What?”

           “We, uh—well, Gina wanted to go on a double date, and I told her Clarke and I—I told her I had a girlfriend, and Clarke volunteered to fill in. I mean, I asked her to, and she said yes. To fake, I mean.”

           A solid ten seconds passes with nothing but silence before Raven deadpans, “Are you fucking kidding me.”

           “I wouldn’t exactly lie if Clarke was my real girlfriend,” Bellamy points out. “Yeah, it’s fake. We would’ve warned you beforehand, but we didn’t really think you’d hear about it.”

           Raven sighs. “Every time I think you two can’t shove your heads farther up your asses, you prove me wrong.” Bellamy tries to protest, but she cuts in, “I won’t tell Gina, by the way. This idiocy is for you guys to figure out on your own. And it is fucking idiotic, I hope you know that.”

           “I know,” Bellamy concedes, rubbing his forehead. “I really am sorry we didn’t tell you.”

           “You should feel sorry you didn’t ask Clarke out for real if you ask me.”

           “We’ve already been through this, I can’t just—”

           “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you don’t think she has the same feelings, you don’t want to hurt the friendship, you guys are shit at relationships. But just—think about it, okay? Especially if you guys have to keep this up. There’s only so much anyone can fake.”

           Bellamy bites his lip, but says, “I’ll think about it.”

           And he does, for several hours after they hang up, but it doesn’t really help. He’s still too terrified to confess his real feelings, but too far gone to get over her, so he’s stuck, yet again, in the middle—praying they don’t have to go on another fake date, but also really fucking hoping they do.

 --

It’s no surprise he has some mixed feelings when Harper calls a few days later inviting him to hang out, adding nervously that Gina and her boyfriend will be going, too.

           Clarke doesn’t seem miffed by the idea of acting like his girlfriend again, though she does ask if they should tell everyone besides Gina if it’s fake or not.

           “I don’t know,” Bellamy says honestly. “They’ll be pissed if we don’t tell them, but some of them also can’t keep their mouths shut.”

           “It’s okay, you can just say Jasper,” Clarke teases, then shrugs. “Trying to contact them all sounds like a hassle, to be honest; we can just fill them in later, if Raven hasn’t already, and if they even notice a difference in how we act.”

           Bellamy’s traitorous heart swoops upwards in his chest at that, even as he tells himself that doesn’t mean anything. “Sounds good to me,” he says, hoping he sounds normal.

           “Me, too,” she replies, and that’s that.

           When they get to Harper’s house, the row of cars parked outside tells Bellamy most of their friends have already arrived. Bellamy contemplates if he should walk in holding Clarke’s hand, but it ends up not mattering because Clarke steamrolls ahead the moment they’re out of the car. Bellamy’s confused for about half a second before he realizes she’s greeting Harper’s dog Jordan, a Boxer who’s mostly just a tangle of limbs and love he’ll give anyone who calls his name. He’s also a little bit of a Houdini, which is why he’s managed to escape a fully gated house with no open doors.

           “Good to know I’m loved,” Bellamy huffs, mostly joking. He still bends down to give Jordan a scratch behind the ears and is rewarded with a wet, sticky kiss to the face.

           “Well, there’s your first kiss of the night,” Clarke teases, laughing as she coaxes Jordan back to the house (which isn’t hard, that dog would go anywhere she asked). Bellamy laughs, too, but in his head it sounds more like choked-off screams of confusion.

           Monty sees them first, waving and inviting them over to where a huddle of people are talking. The part of Bellamy that would rather hide in a corner with Clarke and Jordan and take a nap – which is basically all of him – wants to protest, but he loves his friends and wants to interact with them. Plus, Clarke’s already grabbing his hand and tugging him over, so there’s not really another choice.

           Gina, Shawn, and Harper are obviously present, along with Raven, Zeke, and Jasper, who looks like he would be willing to take Jordan as a date if it meant he weren’t the odd one out again. Bellamy and Clarke stand by him, trying to start up a conversation and make it seem like they’re just three single people stuck with couples and not another couple trying to include the fifth wheel. He talks about the chemistry project he’s put genuine blood, sweat, and tears into over the past few weeks and how there’s this really cute girl in one of his classes who’s his only motivation to go right now, and all is fine—until, at least, Gina walks over.

           “Hey,” Bellamy says as casually as he can muster, but his brain has shifted instantly into overdrive and he doesn’t even hear the word leave his mouth. Is he standing too far away from Clarke? Too close? Should their hands be at least brushing? Will Jasper think they’re dating if he does anything? Will Gina figure out the lie if they don’t act affectionate enough?

           Clarke leans into his side slightly, a move most would barely recognize, but Bellamy’s so attuned to her proximity to him even without an extra glamour to worry about that it feels like she just jumped over a river to stand by him. He leans back a little, letting their shoulders brush a little, and the immediately prick of comfort the contact gives him makes his cheeks grow warm. God, he’s so gone for this girl.

           “Hey,��� Gina replies, as if this is all fine and normal and casual and she hasn’t both wrecked and perfected his life. “How are you guys?” Bellamy just nods in response, and Clarke gives a similarly nonchalant answer, so she grasps for another straw. “So, I was realizing, I kind of asked you guys how you got together, but I never even thought to—”

           She doesn’t have time to finish that new thought, though, because Jasper takes that moment to scream, “WHAT?! YOU GUYS ARE DATING?!?! YOU GUYS ARE DATING AND I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT IT?!?!”

           Clarke glances worriedly at Bellamy for a moment ���she was clearly hoping like he was they’d be able to skate by this without lying to anyone else – and then starts damage control. “Jasper, breathe. Breathe, dude.”

           “You guys didn’t tell him you were together?” Gina asks, surprised and a little sheepish.

           “We were going to—ah, tell him tonight,” Clarke says awkwardly. “We didn’t tell him before because, uh….”

           “Because I was hoping to put in some earplugs before we broke the news,” Bellamy cuts in, hoping to lighten the situation. It works; Gina laughs, and Jasper’s shoulders visibly relax.

           “I’m not that loud,” he grumbles, then adds, “But I better hear about all this. You guys have broken a code of friendship by withholding this from me, I’m pretty sure. I coined your ship name, guys.”

           “You guys have a ship name?” Gina asks, delighted again.

           “Bellarke,” Jasper says proudly. “It’s perfect, right?”

           “Totally. Shawn and my names don’t work together at all. I mean, what could you do? Shina? Gawn? I’d kill for Bellarke.”

           “I’d kill for them, too,” Jasper says, and they all laugh, which Bellamy is grateful for, because he needs a second to remember what breathing is. Clarke has her chin tucked up on his shoulder and her hand curled delicately around his bicep, and it’s doing weird things to his brain.

           As they explain their ‘secret relationship’ to Jasper and the others, Monty pulls out the alcohol, which Bellamy is equally in favor of and not in favor of. The positives: Clarke’s cute when she’s drunk and he doesn’t think so much. The negatives: Clarke’s cute when she’s drunk and he doesn’t think so much.

           Nevertheless, he drinks, because why the hell not at this point, and as the night goes on Clarke gets more and more affectionate. By the second hour, despite drinking water between each drink, Clarke’s tipsy enough to be smiling at everything, especially him, and she insists on being tucked into his chest when they’re sitting on the couch. It’s great, besides the fact that she keeps nosing into his collarbone on accident and he thinks he might actually die.

           In Clarke’s defense, she’s not the only one getting tipsy; with every swig he takes, Bellamy can feel some of his self-control ebbing away. When he makes a joke and Clarke scrunches up her nose cutely at him, he barely even hesitates before dropping a kiss on it, which makes Clarke giggle a little, and he keeps one hand anchored at her waist most of the night, too. It’s nothing crazy, nothing they can’t just awkwardly laugh off later – it’s not like he’s got his hand up her shirt or his tongue in her mouth or something – and honestly, it’s nice. Still Bellamy and Clarke, just a little looser.

           At least, until Gina has to ruin things again.

           (Seriously, there’s no way one woman can cause this much simultaneous terror and bliss for someone on accident, right? Like, this is three times now. Bellamy’s starting to think she’s a witch.)

           “Guys, we should play truth or dare,” she says excitedly, setting down her glass of water on the table. (Of course the bartender is staying sober to watch over her friends. Bellamy freaking loves that girl.)

           “What are we, seventeen?” Harper asks, but she seems interested.

           “Jasper might be,” Monty points out, and is promptly shoved.

           “Why not,” Clarke says, curling a little closer against Bellamy’s chest. He really hopes she either can’t hear the shift in his heartbeat or is too tipsy to care.

           “Yeah, whatever the hell you guys want,” Bellamy agrees.

           They start with Jasper and work their way around the circle; most of it is dumb shit, as expected, like asking about the most awkward place someone had sex or daring Raven to lick Zeke’s sweaty foot. But, of course, when it gets to Clarke, Jasper has to change it up.

           “Truth or truth?” he asks, completely deadpan.

           Clarke frowns, her eyebrows furrowing cutely. Bellamy wants to kiss the spot between them, just above her nose, but resists the urge. “I’m pretty sure it’s truth or dare.”

           “Not for you. Truth or truth?”

           Clarke shrugs and says, “Fine. Truth.”

           Jasper grins. “What was your guys’ first real kiss like?”

           “We already told you about that,” Clarke says bemusedly. “I was drunk, I blabbed about how much I—”

           “No, no, no,” Jasper says, shaking his head like a professor who’s disappointed his top student has answered incorrectly on a simple answer. “Your first real kiss. Where you were sober, and knew how the other person felt.”

           “Uh—” Clarke glances up at Bellamy. He nods slightly, giving her permission, and she gives him a small smile before turning back to the others. “So, obviously Bellamy stopped by my house to hang out, and when he was there, he asked about what happened the previous night. He was so incredibly awkward about it, too,” she says, pushing at his chest fondly. Bellamy rolls his eyes at her, which makes her grin and his heartrate double its speed. “He was all like, ‘Uh, so, uh, I was wondering, uh, about that thing, uh, with, uh, what you said, and, uh, what you, uh, you know, uh, did, and—’”

           She’s doing a horrible impression of his voice, and Bellamy pinches her side in protest. “I did not sound like that.”

           “You absolutely did,” she says proudly. “Anyway, when he finally gets it out, I can sort of get that he wants me to say I meant it, so I just tell him.”

           Bellamy scoffs. Maybe this story is fake, but he knows how he and Clarke work with relationships, and forthright isn’t exactly a quality he’d use. “Yeah, if by ‘tell him’ you mean you dodged around the subject for like ten minutes until I forced you to just say it.”

           “Details, details,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “Anyway, when I say it, he grins like some dumb lovestruck idiot—”

           “Which I am.”

           “And just grabs my face and kisses me.” Clarke pauses here a moment, and Bellamy wonders if she might be done, but when he looks at her, she’s looking back at him, smiling shyly and biting her lip a little, which, fuck, okay. Kill him on the spot, why don’t you, that’s fine. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that kiss,” she says, never looking away from him. “It’s like – okay, I’m gonna be sappy, but you asked for it, so – it’s like he was giving some grand speech, trying to tell me everything he felt without saying a word. Like he was kissing with his heart instead of his mouth.”

           There’s a moment of silence, and Bellamy is unable to look away from Clarke, to even breathe; he feels paralyzed, locked in place by the softness in her eyes and the slight part of her lips. She sounds so genuine, like she’s thought about this, a lot even, and it makes him feel off-balance.

           Then Clarke leans in and presses her mouth to his, hand curling around his jaw, and his entire body short-circuits for a second, every nerve resetting to process only her. He touches her arm, trying to steady himself, and a moment or two later she pulls back, looking at him like she’s trying to memorize the moment.

           “Dayum,” Jasper crows, effectively killing the moment. “You guys really kiss like it’s your first time.”

           “Well, it is,” Clarke says, clearly without thinking; her eyes widen just barely upon realizing her mistake, but Bellamy’s already cutting in.

           “I always say kissing her is always new, like it’s the first time every time,” he says, finally breaking eye contact with Clarke to shrug nonchalantly. “It’s how I get back at her for being a giant sap.”

           “You started the sap thing, I don’t know why you pin that on me,” Clarke argues, giving him a quick look that says, Thanks for saving our asses there.

           “You literally confessed your love for me while drunk because you, quote, ‘couldn’t stand me not knowing anymore.’ I’d say that’s pretty sappy.”

           “Whatever,” Clarke says, but she’s smiling, blushing even, and she hides it in his neck. He strokes her back affectionately and after a moment of murmurs about how disgustingly cute they are, the game continues. Bellamy doesn’t pay much attention, though; he focuses more on the blonde with her face nestled into his collarbone and the ever-present lump of feelings in his throat that’s becoming harder and harder to keep out.

 --

After that, it sort of becomes a…thing. The news spreads to the rest of their close friends – Murphy collects bet money from Emori when they share the news, and Miller literally punches Bellamy for not telling him sooner – and so the act spreads to basically any social situation they attend. Bellamy starts to get better at the whole showing physical affection without nearly having a heart attack thing, and he even manages to work up the courage to kiss Clarke a couple times. (On the mouth.) It becomes normal, easy even, and Bellamy thinks they could hold it long enough to properly stage a break-up, though he kind of wants it to go on forever.

           After a couple of weeks, someone asks them why they haven’t spent the night together in almost a month (Bellamy had crashed at Clarke’s a few weeks ago; it was because he was sick and she insisted, but no one needs to know that), and they claim it’s because they’ve just been busy. It so happens, though, that the upcoming weekend is wide open for them both, so they figure Clarke needs to stay the night at Bellamy’s to keep up appearances.

           She arrives early Saturday evening in her pajamas, which makes his heart clench oddly, and greets him with a beaming smile, which makes his heart stop entirely.

           “Hey,” Bellamy says, bringing her in for a quick side hug partly because he’s missed her (they really have been busy the last week, only hanging out once) and partly because her hair is in this messy lopsided bun with loose strands falling over her cheeks and he’s only so strong.

           “Hey, you,” she replies. “You wanna eat first, or just start?”

           “I ate just an hour or two ago. But if you need food—”

           “I ate pretty recently, too. But thanks.”

           “Okay, cool.” Bellamy pauses a moment, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. He hates how hard it is to act normal around her now, how normal being her boyfriend is starting to feel, and especially how possible it feels to just lean down and kiss her senseless.

           Thankfully, he does not do that, just follows her to the couch and turns on the TV to start the show. She curls up against him, eerily similar to how she’s been doing at social gatherings, but he dismisses it. They’ve always been affectionate; he’s just a little (okay, a lot) more aware of it.

           Halfway through the third episode, Clarke says, “Hey, can I ask you about something?”

           Her tone tells him this is not a ‘talk while the episode plays’ kind of question, so he clicks pause and shifts to look at her better. “What’s up?”

           She opens her mouth, then closes it, her cheeks growing faintly pink—not a good start. “So, the other day, I was talking to Harper, and she…mentioned something. About us.”

           Bellamy frowns, wondering if their cover’s been blown or she had to make up some huge lie like that they’re secretly married or something. “What?”

           “She asked why—well, I mean, she didn’t ask, not directly. She was just talking about her and Monty, and some of their, ah, favorite things to do, and wanted to know what I liked. I was sort of on the spot, and I didn’t want to say anything too crazy that you couldn’t easily corroborate, so I just said hickeys.”

           “Okay,” Bellamy says, managing to nod despite the word ‘hickeys’ bouncing around in his brain. “And?”

           “Well, and then she commented that I must be really good at covering them up, then, and I fumbled again and said we just hadn’t…you know, done that recently, since we’ve been busy. And so she said I should make sure you give me one while we’re together.”

           “Oh.” Bellamy has lost all other vocabulary; his tongue feels like cotton. “Oh.”

           “It’s a mess,” she says, putting her head in her hands. “Being your girlfriend should not be this hard, why do I keep fucking it up?”

           “Hey,” Bellamy says, reaching over to stroke her back. “You’re not fucking it up.”

           She lifts her head to glare at him in protest. “First you had to save my ass at Harper’s party, and now she’s going to expect you to give me a real fucking hickey because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, or at least say something I don’t have to prove.”

           “You could just say it didn’t happen this time?”

           “Yeah, but she’s going to expect one sometime. You and I have never been super subtle with our significant others.”

           That’s true; he’s seen Clarke with signs of love bites peeking out of her collar or under her hair, and Bellamy’s gone to work with turtlenecks to hide bright purple bruises of his own.

           It hits Bellamy then that they’re in deep with this now; they can’t just pass it off with some handholding and a couple of little pecks. (Even if those pecks make his heart roll over in excitement.) If they want to keep up this façade, they’re going to have to do something real—something like Bellamy giving his best friend an honest to God hickey in his living room.

           So he is thinking a little when he blurts out, “So let’s do it then.”

           Clarke startles like a gun has gone off, almost physically scooting away from him in shock. “What?”

           He shrugs, trying to pass this off as casual. “Harper needs a hickey to prove we’re together, so you need a hickey.”

           Her lips part, which doesn’t help anything, and her eyes flutter a little, which really doesn’t help anything. “You...you’d do that?”

           “Yeah, of course. What are friends for?” He immediately winces at that word choice. “I mean—”

           “I get it,” Clarke says, touching his arm lightly. Then she swallows and sits up straighter. “Okay then. Let’s do this.”

           “Uh, now?”

           She raises her eyebrow at him. “What, you want to set a thirty minute timer to prepare first?”

           “No, that’s fine. It’s probably best just to do it now, you know, while we still...you know.” While I still have the brain cells left to physically move my mouth.

           “Yeah. Okay.” She’s getting more fidgety by the second, and Bellamy can tell she hates this waiting bit, so he decides to just get started. He swallows, wets his lips with his tongue a little, and brushes Clarke’s hair off her shoulder to expose her neck. She stiffens, but nods encouragingly, and he leans in before he can think himself out of this stupid decision.

           He doesn’t kiss her right away, though; just ghosts his lips over the junction between her shoulder and neck, trying not to go so fast it spooks her or doesn’t give her a chance to back out if she decides she’s too uncomfortable. His hands feel awkward hanging by his sides, so he sets those on her waist. She moves her own hands to his leg, probably feeling about the same as him, and tilts her head a little—permission to start whenever he’s ready.

           The first kiss Bellamy gives is soft, chaste, barely a touch, but he can feel Clarke’s muscles go rigid beneath him. He freezes, but she whispers, “It’s okay. I’m fine. Just…keep going. I’ll tell you if I need to stop.”

           “Okay,” he says, feeling his heart start to beat right out of his chest. “Okay.”

           He kisses her neck again, a little more confident this time, and starts working his way up, testing to see which spot she likes. If she has to get a hickey from someone she’s not attracted to, he at least wants her to enjoy it somewhat.

           When he reaches the spot just under her jaw, Clarke makes a tiny purring sound, and his hands spasm a little with the surge of want that courses through him. It’s maybe this, or perhaps the confidence that almost imperceptible sound of pleasure gives him, that inspires him to graze his teeth against the sensitive skin slightly.

           Clarke’s hand tightens on his knee, the other sliding up his thigh an inch. He wants to suck on that spot by her jaw until it’s nearly black, just to get her to do that again, but he wants her to be able to hide the mark easily if she wants, so he makes his way back down, open-mouth kissing the exposed skin until she’s shaking—from enjoyment or nerves, he’s not sure.

           Finally, he latches onto a spot near her throat, letting his tongue lave out to taste her, and she actually gasps, a tiny hitch of breath. It fucks with his mind a little, and he has to pause for a moment, letting his breath fan over her skin as he strokes his hands up and down her arms.

           When he starts again, one of her hands leaves his knee and finds its way into his hair, slipping into the curls and holding him against her. A jolt of pleasure shoots straight to his dick, but he tries to focus it into the hickey. He’ll probably never get to do this again, so he wants her to remember it, no matter how selfish that might be.

           Too soon, the mark has fully formed, and after a few extra moments of stalling, Bellamy knows he needs to stop or Clarke will know how he really feels about this experience. With one last, chaste kiss, he pulls back; Clarke lets her hand fall from his hair, but doesn’t move the one on his thigh.

           “Um,” Bellamy says, not sure what to say. He just gave his best friend and secret love of his life a hickey. That really just happened.

           “Thanks,” Clarke says awkwardly; after a moment of silence, she bursts into laughter, and Bellamy follows suit, laughing until his stomach aches.

           “We good?” he says when they finally get a hold of themselves again.

           She nods firmly, holding his gaze to convey her genuineness. “Definitely.”

           “Okay. Good.” Then, lest he ruin that by crushing his mouth to hers and pushing her onto her back to kiss her until he can’t hold himself up anymore, he reaches for the remote and presses play. “We need to get through as many of these as possible; I hear Chidi gets a shirtless scene around episode five.”

           “You fool,” Clarke says, tucking herself against his side like nothing’s happened. “I’ve already seen every gif of that shirtless scene, and the one where he wears a tiny t-shirt. You’re going to die.”

           “What a way to go,” Bellamy replies, but in his mind he’s thinking not of Chidi’s bare chest, but Clarke’s hand curling into his hair, holding him close.

 --

Clarke falls asleep on the couch soon after they get caught up on the show, which he’s kind of grateful for, because he was secretly worried they’d end up sharing his bed and he would actually lose his mind. He tucks a blanket around her, taking a moment to brush the hair from her face. She looks so soft in sleep, even with her mouth open awkwardly and her arms thrown out haphazardly, he can’t but lean in and kiss her forehead, just a tiny press of lips to skin.

           He looks at her for a moment longer before he stands and goes to the bathroom, washing his face vigorously and getting ready for bed.

           He hopes to fall asleep quickly, but every time he closes his eyes he sees Clarke’s open gaze when he pulled away, feels her fingers scratching a tiny bit against his scalp, hears the half-concealed breathy sighs she let out whenever he went back to that one spot on her neck.

           More than ever, he wants to march up to her and tell her everything—how long he’s wanted her, how much, how he can’t imagine ever loving someone else. But he can’t, so he just covers his face with his hands and tries to sleep.

 --

Bellamy wakes up to rapid tapping on his door and sits up groggily, trying to wipe the sleep form his eyes. “Yeah?”

           Clarke peeks her head in, looking at him for just a second or two before she says, “What can we have for breakfast?”

           “First of all, you can have anything that’s not my roommates’ or the entire fridge,” Bellamy says. “Second of all, how the fuck are you up before me?”

           She shrugs. “I kept waking up, so when the clock read 10am, I figured I’d just stay awake.”

           Frowning, Bellamy stands, puts on his glasses – he’s too lazy for contacts if he doesn’t have to go anywhere – and asks, “You okay?”

           Clarke straightens at that, like he’s poked at something deeply personal. “Uh, yeah, totally. Just that image of hot Chidi floating around my brain, I guess.” She laughs unconvincingly, but Bellamy lets it slide; she looks uncomfortable, and he doesn’t want to push it.

           Even though Clarke claims she’d be fine with cereal, Bellamy makes her waffles; they’re her favorite. She piles them obscenely high with strawberries and whipped cream, but that doesn’t stop them from being gone before he’s even finished making one for himself. He always calls her Leslie Knope for that, though he also claims she’s half Ron Swanson, which is a weird combo in theory but it works, okay? She’s dedicated and loving as hell, and when she gets on a rant you just have to wait it out, but she also hisses at the idea of healthy eating or talking to nearly anyone.

           (And okay, yes, Bellamy does consider himself a little bit of a Ben Wyatt, but that doesn’t mean anything, okay? It doesn’t.)

           “I might have to rescind my statement about you not being allowed to eat the whole fridge,” he comments as he scrapes some butter onto his waffle and pours some syrup on the side to dip into.

           “Please do, I really want your leftovers,” she says, swallowing her last bite and standing to take care of her plate. “But seriously, thanks for the waffles. They were good.”

           “I’d hope so, or else you’re so starved for real food you’ll eat anything.”

           “That, too,” she grins, gathering her hair in her hand to pull into a messy bun, and then all Bellamy can do is stare, because there it is. On the lower half of her neck, reddish-purple and impossible to miss, is the hickey. His hickey, from his mouth, which he gave.

           Clarke must notice him staring – how could she not, his jaw is practically dropped – because she says, “It look okay?”

           He kind of chokes on air for a second despite his best efforts, but manages to say, “Yeah. Yeah, it—it’ll definitely convince Harper, at least.”

           “And all my coworkers.”

           Bellamy winces, shame flooding into his system. “Sorry, I should’ve done it more discreet, I can help you cover—”

           “Bellamy, it’s fine. I can hide it at work, and when it comes to people like Harper, I kind of want them to see, right? For the proof. You know, so it has a purpose.”

           Purpose. Right. It’s all for show, just a ruse, no feelings attached. He tries to burn that into his brain, but he doesn’t think it works. “Yeah, that makes sense. You want to shower?”

           “Nah, I’ll just shower tonight. I hate walking around with wet hair,” she says, and so despite the universe’s best efforts, life continues as usual.

 --

If Bellamy were smart, he’d have expected the visit from Raven the next day, but he is the guy who started a long-term fake relationship with the woman he wants a long-term real relationship with and then gave her a hickey like bros do; he’s not exactly the epitome of intelligence when it comes to these things.

           So when there’s a rapid knocking on his door, he hardly expects it to be about Clarke at all—until, at least, he hears Raven screaming, “BELLAMY BLAKE, OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW SO I CAN KILL YOU.”

           Despite this violent threat, Bellamy obliges, opening the door hastily for Raven to storm in, looking fucking livid.

           “Uh—” he starts, but he doesn’t know what to say to avoid getting shanked, so he just lifts his hands in defense.

           “You…fucking…idiot,” Raven wheezes, pointing her finger at him like a weapon.

           “I’m aware of that, yeah. What is this ab—oh,” he says, remembering again Clarke’s hair brushed off her shoulder and his breath on her neck and the red bruise like a beacon on her skin.

           “Yeah, oh. I have lived through weeks of you two being even bigger idiots than normal, with the handholding and the kissing and the cuddling and the sappy comments like they’re nothing, but a hickey—”

           “Harper was suspicious as to why Clarke hadn’t had one despite liking them so much,” Bellamy protests. “She’d figure it out if we didn’t.”

           “And what’s so bad about that?” Raven demands.

           “We can’t just—” Bellamy cuts off, because he knows the truth. They could cut this off whenever they wanted, but he doesn’t want to. It’s selfish of him, horribly so, but he wants this thing with Clarke to last as long as possible. She’s just following his lead because she’s a good friend, and he’s dragging her along because of his stupid fucking crush.

           Raven must see this in his eyes, because her posture relaxes a little and her brows unfurrow. “Why can’t you believe she might like you back?”

           Bellamy sighs heavily and collapses on the couch, tears starting to build up in his eyes for no reason. “It’s—she’s Clarke, Raven. We’ve known each other for seven years and been best friends for nearly that long. If something was going to happen, it would’ve by now.”

           “Okay, you know that’s not how it works,” Raven says, moving to stand in front of him and crossing her arms. “Come on, Blake, you really can’t see how she looks at you?”

           “It’s like she looks at everybody,” he protests, but his voice is weak. That little part of him that believes Clarke could love him back, it’ll listen to anything if it gives him hope. He basically breathes the stuff.

           “Bellamy, she looks at you like you hung the fucking moon. And not just that—she can’t seem to stop looking at you. Any moment you’re looking away, she’s watching you, memorizing every expression, every feature, every freckle. It’s like she’s incapable of spending five minutes without visibly expressing how much she loves you.”

           Bellamy’s heart jumps into his throat at that last phrase; he swallows it back down, hard. “Even if—no matter how you think she feels, or how she acts, I can’t…I can’t risk that, Raven. It’d be one thing to risk our friendship by telling her how I feel in a normal circumstance, but now? She’ll hate me for leading her on. She’ll never talk to me again. I can survive her not loving me back, but I can’t survive her not being here at all.”

           And it’s dramatic, but that’s truly how it feels—if he doesn’t have Clarke, he thinks a vital part of him will go with her, something he can never replace or function without. Maybe it’s unhealthy, but he needs her.

           Raven sighs, then squats in front of him, setting her hands on his knees. “I know how much you guys love each other, romantic or not. You’re stronger than any shit life has thrown at you, and if Clarke can survive you dating Echo—”

           “Please never mention that again,” Bellamy says, grimacing. “It wasn’t my fault her dad Jason was practically threatening to fire me if I didn’t date her.”

           “My point is, if your friendship can survive that, and all the other horrible fights and traumas you’ve gone through together, I think it can survive this, too. But you can’t go on like this forever, Blake. If you love her, you’ve got to tell her.”

           Bellamy sighs heavily, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “I hate being this scared of it.”

           “Hey, that’s okay. Feelings are fucking terrifying, and I’ve been to space. But you’re brave, okay? You can do it.”

           She wraps her arm around his neck and he reciprocates, resting his head on her shoulder and letting himself cry a little more, taking the comfort before he draws away. “Thanks, Raven. For threatening to kill me, I mean.”

           She smirks. “Love you, too, Bellamy.”

           He nods, smiling a little, and she lets herself out, leaving Bellamy to his thoughts.

 --

The party at Bellamy’s apartment is not actually his idea; it’s Raven’s, probably because she has an agenda and that involves giving him every opportunity possible to tell Clarke the truth. He appreciates it, but he doesn’t know if he can tell Clarke during something public, or even right after; he wants to be prepared, organized, and alone with her, so there’s no scene.

           There’s also no alcohol present, which he appreciates; he’s so constantly about to burst with his feelings lately, he worries just one swig of alcohol will send them all pouring out.

           Clarke’s one of the last people to show up – being her late self as always – but she does arrive with a bag of chips and some salsa, so Bellamy is willing to forgive her. She also greets him by stretching on her toes to give him a kiss, so he doesn’t have the brain capacity to feel anything negative about her anyway.

           Everyone digs into the food immediately, then after a stupidly long time debating what game to play, they settle for HedBanz. Bellamy is horrible at it unless Clarke’s the one giving him the clues, so whenever it’s his turn everyone silently prays the die will land on Clarke’s.

           At the end of one of his turns, as he’s putting a new card in the headband, everyone stars murmuring conspiratorially and he frowns. “What?”

           “Nothing,” they all chorus, even though they’re grinning devilishly.

           “Does it say dildo or something?” Bellamy asks Clarke, who’s tucked against his side. “I thought this was a family-friendly game.”

           “No, Bellamy, it does not say dildo.”

           “Then what?”

           “Well, I can’t tell you, it’s against the rules. You’ll just have to guess.”

           “Hopefully I get you on the dice role then.”

           She blushes a little, which is weird. “Yeah, hopefully.”

           They go around the circle again – Bellamy spends the entire time trying to get Miller to guess helicopter and the closest he gets is ceiling fan – and when it’s Bellamy’s turn, he reaches for the die only for Raven to grab it from him.

           “Hey, it’s my—”

           “Sorry, I’m rolling for you this time,” Raven says, then just turns the die to Clarke’s color and sets it down. “Hey, look, you got Clarke, how wild. Okay, guess on.”

           Bellamy gives her a weird look, but it’s not like he minds being paired with Clarke, so he just shrugs and turns to Clarke. “Ready?”

           She nods and slips from his side. “Ready.” Then she flips over the timer and drops to one knee next to the couch, miming holding something in her hands.

           This one’s easy, of course, but Bellamy decides to draw it out a little. “Engagement ring?”

           Clarke gestures to her whole self and mimes saying some big speech.

           “Fiancé?” he guesses, smirking.

           She grunts and mimes pulling out the ring, then gestures from herself to him.

           “Okay, okay, fine. Proposal.”

           “Yes, finally,” Clarke says.

           “He said yes!” Raven cries excitedly, and everyone claps; Bellamy’s going to roll his eyes, but then Clarke smirks a little and suddenly she’s surging upwards to kiss him, hands holding his face.

           He’s too stunned to reply, just sort of puts his hand at her side; she pulls back a moment later amidst whoops and hollers. “It’s official, everyone,” she declares.

           Bellamy’s bright red by this point, but he plays along, holding up his hand to show off the nonexistent ring. “Can’t believe she beat me to it, but at least it’s pretty.”

           “Yeah, yeah, you guys are cute, whatever,” Miller says. “Your timer ran out, so sit down.”

           Clarke sticks her tongue out at him, but obediently curls back up against Bellamy’s side. He tucks his arm around her shoulder and tries his hardest not to lick his lips, or to turn her chin so he can kiss her again, even if that would probably be acceptable. If he kisses her on her own right now, he might not be able to stop himself from doing it later on, too. He’s strong, in terms of self-control, but not that strong.

           They switch games soon after that – apparently a proposal makes everything else seem less exciting – and Clarke starts getting sleepy, letting him play her turns in Clue so she can lay her head in his lap and get her hair played with instead.

           “No fair, that gives Bellamy double the knowledge the rest of us have,” Monty complains.

           Bellamy shrugs. “Tell your girlfriend to get sleepy, then.”

           Monty looks to Harper, but she shakes her head. “No way. I’m winning this thing.”

           Clarke whines a little in protest that Bellamy is no longer petting her hair, and he says something about her being obnoxiously needy, but he scratches at her scalp all the same.

           Bellamy does in fact win the game, which makes everyone annoyed, and he gives half his credit to Clarke for her ‘generous contributions to the Bellamy Blake fund.’

           “Yeah, I’m sure she’s made many generous contributions,” Jasper smirks, and Bellamy flushes. He hates when his friends make sex jokes about them. Not only does it make Clarke uncomfortable, shown by the way she tenses beside him, but it makes the whole don’t think about how much you want to have sex with Clarke and get married to her and have kids and dogs and stray cats who come by and you pretend not to love them but buy them food and toys anyway thing a lot harder to ignore.

           Clarke is a lot better at running with the punches though; she just shrugs nonchalantly and says, “All anonymous, of course,” before kissing him on the cheek, awfully close to his jaw, and starts cleaning up the board.

 --

They kiss two more times before everyone starts heading out; once because Clarke beat him in Mario Kart – by basically cheating, he might add, that stupid blue shell isn’t fair at all – and he pouted so she kissed him to make him feel better, and once because Bellamy beat her and he got a little excited and just kind of smacked her on the mouth. She laughed it off, though, so hopefully she was cool with it.

           As everyone leaves, Bellamy starts to reach for Clarke’s bag, but she shakes her head slightly. “I was gonna stay a little later, if that’s all right.”

           Harper smirks a little as she passes, and Bellamy is reminded of their position. “Course it’s all right. I was just going to move this out of the way.”

           She smiles softly, crumpling up the empty chip bag to throw away and putting the leftover salsa in the fridge while Bellamy says goodbye to everyone.

           When the door closes for the last time and he turns, feeling a little anxious now that they’re alone, she’s right there, wrapping her arms around his waist and tucking her face into his neck.

           “Uh,” he says, returning the hug on instinct. “What’s this for?”

           She lifts her head a little so he can hear her as she says, “I just like being able to hang out with you.”

           He laughs gently. “Did the last, like, four hours not count?”

           “You know what I mean. Just the two of us. You and me.”

           “Yeah, you and me,” Bellamy agrees; he kisses her hair without thinking, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “What do you want to do?”

           “Well, we’re all out of TV shows to binge unless we want to start something new, and we’ve played a lot of games, and I don’t really want to commit to a full movie right now, so maybe we can…I don’t know, just sit? Enjoy the company?”

           That actually sounds really nice right now, albeit a little terrifying considering how attuned Bellamy is to his desire to make out with Clarke and how very alone they are, so he just agrees and slowly pulls away so they can walk to the couch.

           For a while, they do just sit; they don’t talk, they don’t play anything, they barely even touch apart from Clarke’s arm against his and her head on his shoulder. It’s comforting, knowing how easily they can exist in each other’s presence without needing to be actively doing something, how just the sound of their breath going in and out is enough for them. He fucking loves this girl.

           Clarke picks up his hand after a while, tracing the lines on his palm silently. He’s gotten comfortable enough with her touch he doesn’t even flinch at the contact, but he does jump a little when she turns his hand over and then lifts it to press a tiny kiss to his ring finger.

           “Not even wearing it,” she teases, looking up at him. “What was the point of buying such a fancy ring if you won’t show it off?”

           “Maybe you got the wrong size,” Bellamy says, smirking. “Don’t hold my hand enough to know how big my finger is.”

           “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes, and leans in to kiss him.

           Kiss him.

           On the mouth.

           While they’re alone.

           Clarke.

           KISSES HIM.

           She pulls away half a second later, looking horrified. “Shit.”

           “Uh….” Bellamy says, not sure what he can do that won’t fuck this up one way or another.

           “I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I—uh, it was instinct. Sorry.”

           Bellamy considers her wide eyes, her slightly parted lips, and most of all her hand, which she hasn’t moved from his. She’s waiting for his reaction before she pulls away, and as stupid as it is, he doesn’t want her to. The lines have blurred between the pretend and the genuine, and he doesn’t care anymore what side he’s on. He just wants her.

           So instead of brushing away her apology and moving on, instead of pulling away, he says, “Kiss me more.”

           Clarke’s eyes go wide. “What?”

           The panic starts to return, but Bellamy fights for control. “I mean, it’s good practice, right? And kissing you is—kissing is fun, and I don’t…you know, mind, I guess. So, why not?” He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. God, why is he so bad at communication?

           Clarke stares at him for a moment longer before she says, slow and careful, “So you…you think it’d be a good idea, to kiss more?”

           The words catch in Bellamy’s throat, too true to be spoken, so he just nods, and in the next moment Clarke’s mouth is on his.

           It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, but it feels like it—there’s no one watching, no one to prove or to please; no one except Clarke, at least. When she puts her hand in his hair, carding her fingers through the curls, it feels like it’s because she just wants to, no because she’s supposed to put on a show.

           And God, Clarke’s a good kisser. Bellamy considers himself fairly experienced in this department, but the way she draws out every movement out like she can’t get enough, one moment unbearably slow and the next sloppy and rushed, leaves him shaking a little. He moves his hands a lot, trying to hide his nervousness and just how fucking wrecked she makes him just by kissing—first on her shoulders, then her neck, her waist, his fingers barely trailing over the bare skin peeking out from her shirt.

           Clarke seems to like this, if the way she arches towards him a little is any indication, so he experimentally slips a hand under the material to feel her bare skin, and she kisses him harder, surer of herself.

           The angle is starting to get a little awkward with them side-by-side on the couch, though, so hesitantly he grips her thigh and pulls a little in encouragement. Immediately, Clarke swings her leg over to sit in his lap; they take a moment to breathe while she gets comfortable, which is hard because Bellamy’s breath hitches every time she shifts the tiniest bit.

           Faintly, he wonders if this is really happening. It doesn’t seem possible, but he’s not sure he could conjure his up in a dream.

           Clarke sees him staring and smiles shyly, setting her hands on his shoulders. “Hi.”

           “Hi,” he replies, careful not to touch her yet, just in case. He knows how people can get caught up, go farther than they meant, and then regret it later. He doesn’t want that for them.

           She swallows hard, then lifts one hand to cup his cheek, looking at him with a soft but serious expression. “This is going to sound like the worst timing in the history of the world, but you’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

           Normally, hearing the phrase friend from someone Bellamy is desperately in love with when they’ve been making out would not exactly be his favorite thing, but he gets what she means. No matter what this is – because they both know this isn’t just practice – whether it’s well-timed horniness or pent-up sexual tension or something more, what matters most is who they are to each other, and that will never change. Bellamy knows he will always love Clarke like she’s part of his soul, and against all odds, he knows she feels the same.

           “I know,” he whispers. “You’re my best friend, too.”

           She smiles in that sort of way that makes Bellamy’s throat clog up with happy tears and leans down to kiss him again. She sets the pace slow, and Bellamy doesn’t mind at all; it’s the comforting kind of slow, that makes it feel like there’s no rush, no fear. He slips his hands under her shirt to stroke her back, which she definitely enjoys because she sighs into his mouth, tugging at his hair a little before soothing it with her fingertips.

           When she pulls away to breathe, Bellamy can’t help but keep kissing her, peppering his lips across her cheek and jaw before pausing at her neck, unsure if she’s okay with this when it’s not for their previous…purpose.

           “You’re good,” she whispers, rather breathily.

           He nods slightly and works his way to a spot under her jaw he remembers her being rather eager about; she sighs in pleasure and strokes his hair, so he starts sucking at the skin there, pressing his hands firmly against her back to keep her close. Clarke’s responding mewls make him shiver with want, but this is about her right now, and he loves making her this way—his Clarke, so stubborn and tough, melted like putty under his ministrations.

           When the mark is fully formed, he takes his time kissing down her neck, liking how she keeps a firm grip on his hair to keep him close, how he can feel every shiver running down her spine against his fingertips. At her throat, though, he pauses, because he sees it then—the fading red hickey, his hickey, the one he almost lost his mind giving her.

           It could expose him, but he’s too love-drunk to care, so he presses a tiny kiss to the mark and, with his lips still touching skin, whispers, “That’s mine.”

           He can not only hear but feel Clarke’s low groan against her throat, and then she’s tugging him up harshly to seal her mouth over his. The slowness is all gone now; she kisses him like there’s not enough time in the world to do as much as she wants, even if they did this forever. He feels the same – God, he could hold her the rest of his life and still die wishing he had a few moments more – and he tries to express it the best he can, this need for her, for this something. Her t-shirt bunches in his hands as he hikes it up, curling it into his fist for a moment while he slips his tongue into her mouth; she grinds down on him a little and his hands spasm, which she must find amusing, because she pulls away with a smirk.

           “You okay if I take this off?” she asks, reaching for her own shirt hem.

           “Jesus, you’re so polite sometimes,” he teases. “No, I don’t mind if you take your fucking shirt off, Clarke.”

           She rolls her eyes. “I’m just checking. Consent is important, Blake.” But she doesn’t seem annoyed, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because when she pulls off her shirt and tosses it aside, all Bellamy can do is stare.

           God, she’s so beautiful. Sexy, absolutely – with those perfect boobs in that dark blue bra and that soft stomach and the way she looks at him, all smirking confidence – but just…it’s like every inch of her screams again to him how much he loves this girl. How strong she is, how brave, how fierce, how kind, and how much he wants to fall asleep and wake up beside her every night he has left.

           Clarke must sense something more than just hormone-induced staring, because she starts to blush. “What?”

           “Nothing,” Bellamy says, though he can’t get his voice to sound anything less than awed. “You’re just…well.”

           “Yeah, I’ve been told,” she replies, smiling, and leans in to kiss him again.

           Eventually they get to the bedroom, and out of their clothes. Seeing Clarke like that – uncovered and open and completely vulnerable, all for him – is too much for Bellamy, and he can’t help but plant kisses on every inch of skin he can. Clarke encourages him with breathy sighs and her fingers fluttering over his shoulder blades, but when he gets to the swell of her stomach, her breathing falters, and he pauses.

           The air is still for a moment; not quite awkward, but still heavy and charged. An in-between.

           “I’ve got you,” Bellamy whispers. “If you want me to.”

           She nods, winding her fingers into his hair shakily, and closes her eyes. “I want you to.”

           When he puts his mouth on her, she moans and tightens her grip, but after that he’s so overwhelmed with the feeling of it, of them, that he barely hears the noises she makes, barely registers the sharp tug of her hands on her hair, barely even registers she’s come until she’s pulling him back up to slot her mouth over his.

           “Good?” he manages to ask between kisses, worried again.

           She laughs, pulling back to raise an eyebrow at him. “I think the orgasm should’ve told you that.”

           He blushes a little despite himself. “Okay, okay. I’m just checking.”

           “You’re cute,” she teases, brushing his heating cheeks with the backs of her fingers, and he hides the deepening color in her neck.

           They stay like that for a moment, Bellamy hovering over her with his nose in her hair, until his arms start to tremble a little with the effort. Clarke presses down on his back to get him to lay flat, but he resists, mumbling, “I’ll crush you.”

           “Oh, shut up, you’ll fallen asleep on top of me before. Remember when I had to crash at your place and you rolled over me in your sleep?”

           “That was a slightly different context, Clarke,” he points out, but he obediently lets his weight drop onto her entirely.

           For a few seconds it’s relaxing, Clarke stroking light circles into his back and their breaths nearly in sync, but the press of skin on skin everywhere quickly makes Bellamy dizzy, and he can’t help but press tiny kisses to her neck up to the curve of her jaw. She purrs at the attention, but soon it’s not enough for her, either, and then she’s drawing his mouth back to hers; one hand cups his cheek gently while the other strokes meaningless patterns into the small of his back.

           Somehow, this wrecks Bellamy even more than the sex part, just them kissing lazily in bed like a couple. It almost makes him want to cry, but he doesn’t want to break the moment, and he’s not ready to explain how kissing her could make him sad, so instead he kisses her a little harder, rising onto his elbows again for a better angle.

           Clarke’s hands slide feverishly up and down his back and ass, fingernails digging into his skin when he rolls her bottom lip between his teeth, and she breathes, “I—I need—”

           Just those two words make Bellamy’s vision go black for a second, but he manages to reply hoarsely, “I’ve got you. What do you need?”

           “You,” she whispers, and she must feel the shiver that runs down his back. “All of you.”

           He pulls back to see her face and this, he thinks, may be what kills him—Clarke staring up at him, open and nervous but still sure, hands still pressing into his back and skin flushed. Needing him.

           It’s too much to process, so he just stares; he stares so long Clarke frowns and pinches him a little. “Bellamy? You with me?”

           He shakes his head a little. “Sorry. I was just trying to process this is….” Real, he thinks, but that word feels too charged, too close, so he says, “happening,” instead.

           She grunts. “Well, it’s not right now, unless you get a move on.”

           Bellamy rolls his eyes, muttering about how bossy she is, and it earns him a swat on the ass as he reaches for the package of condoms in the nightstand.

           The mood shifts again when they get going; the rhythm is slow but a little messy with both of them shaking, and Clarke presses their foreheads together so they share every breath. A tear rolls down Bellamy’s cheek at one point, but Clarke doesn’t say anything, just wipes it away and holds him a little closer.

           They stay that way until the very end—hearts beating too fast, bodies shaking, looking at each other like the moment will crumble to dust if they look away. Together.

 --

Bellamy wakes up with hair in his face, which confuses him for a second, since his hair is nowhere near long enough to be getting in his mouth. Then he realizes who the hair’s attached to, sees whose body is splayed across the bed next to him, and his soul disconnects from his body for, like, half a second.

           God, last night actually happened. He had sex with Clarke Griffin, kind of platonically, who he also wants to have sex with all the time, kind of not platonically. It was new, and overwhelming, and wonderful.

           And she’s still here.

           Slowly, she pushes her hair over her shoulder so he can get a better look at her face, which is half hidden by the pillow. This moment feels vastly different than the last time she slept here, and yet vastly the same—there’s no difference in the soft way his heart turns over looking at her.

           Though there is a slight difference, he’ll admit, in the images that rise in his mind when he catches sight of the bruises under her jaw and peeking out from her collarbone, because now they’re real. Possible, even.

           After a moment, he shakes her shoulder softly, and she stirs, blinking in confusion for a moment before her eyes meet his. Her expression melts into a shy but genuine smile, and Bellamy’s heart turns instantly to putty.

           “Hey,” she says, soft as a feather touching the ground.

           “Hey,” he says back. He really wants to kiss her, but he’s still so worried about boundaries—now that the night of ‘practice’ is over, are they back to just friends? How much affection can he risk without her knowing the truth before he’s ready to tell her?

           She saves him the trouble by leaning over to kiss his cheek, then slumps back into the pillow and says, “I want pancakes.”

           He scoffs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I ran a bed and breakfast.”

           She shrugs without lifting her head, her muffled voice making out something like you bang ‘em, you feed ‘em, which makes Bellamy laugh even if it also makes his face hot with embarrassment.

           They don’t have any pancake batter, and he doesn’t love Clarke enough to make some from scratch at this hour (kidding, but also, he really doesn’t want to) so he makes eggs and toast instead.

           It’s all going fine, too, until Clarke walks in halfway through the ordeal wearing just one of his shirts, at which point he slips and burns himself on the pan.

           “Shit,” he hisses, dropping the spatula to put his hand under some cold water.

           Clarke comes up behind him, tutting, “Clumsy, clumsy Bellamy.”

           He glares at her. “It’s not my fault.”

           She shrugs innocently, but it makes the shirt hike up higher and he really doesn’t have time for the urge to make out with her, so he starts to turn back to the food, but Clarke stops him with a gentle hand on his arm. He hesitates a moment, but he’s never known how to say no to this woman; sighing, he turns back around and meets her gaze.

           “We good?” she asks; her tone is casual, but her eyebrows are too furrowed, and the muscles in her jaw are tight.

           Feeling a little guilty, he nods. “Yeah. Course we are.”

           “Okay,” she says, but she still sounds a little unsure, so impulsively Bellamy leans down to peck her on the mouth.

           “Stop worrying, Clarke. We’re good.”

           She smiles a little and reaches to kiss his cheek, surer this time. “Okay.”

 --

One day, when it’s cold enough for Bellamy’s hands to go numb if he’s outside longer than fifteen minutes, Clarke shows up to his apartment looking oddly excited.

           “Bellamy,” she says, holding up her phone, “they have ice skating opening this week.”

           “Okay,” he says. He never did any ice skating when he was little, and even now he’s gone maybe twice, but he knows Clarke took lessons a while back and is pretty good at it. “You want to go?”

           “We have to, Bellamy. They’re going to put the lights up for Christmas the same week. It’s going to be beautiful.”

           “Like you,” he says reflexively, and she mimes gagging at his weak compliment. “Hey, don’t be mean.”

           “It’s like sixty percent of my personality, so no.”

           Bellamy just rolls his eyes, because this is the least true thing in the world—Clarke may be stubborn and overly honest sometimes, but she is rarely mean. In fact, she picked him up when his car broke down last week, and a few days later helped Harper out with an issue with her thesis paper for two hours (Bellamy’s only gripe on that one was she had been paying him a lot of attention before the call, but she gave him extra afterwards to apologize, so it was worth it). Hell, she got him through the few years where his little sister hated him and his whole world started to fall apart, and without ever asking for anything back.

           She’s the best person he knows, and he doesn’t believe he’ll ever find someone better. He doesn’t want to, either—every flaw she has just makes her more Clarke, more perfectly aligned with all his own dark parts, and so even when they yell at each other or she does something that makes him grind his teeth in frustration, he never wants to take any of it back.

           Anyway, sappiness aside, they plan for Thursday evening to get dinner and go ice skating. The day in question isn’t too cold despite being early December, so they decide to just walk to the restaurant, a laid-back local burger joint Clarke would probably cut off a finger for. She orders a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a milkshake, because she’s like that, and convinces Bellamy to get a panini instead of a salad because “for the love of all that’s holy, Bellamy, we get it, you’re hot and fit, now eat some fucking carbs.”

           Bellamy thinks she really just wanted more fries on the table, because as soon as she’s plowed through hers – at a startlingly fast rate for someone who’s not that big, he might add – she starts reaching for his.

           “Hey, quit it,” he says, slapping her hand away for the third time. “You have your own.”

           “Had,” she corrects. “And I’m still hungry.”

           “You have half the burger left!”

           “I want fries though.”

           “Well, it’s not my fault you didn’t plan accordingly,” he says, but it’s not like he’s actually going to stop her, so he just lets his eyes wander away whenever she reaches for his plate.

           Just to make it even, he takes random sips of her milkshake – he can have a sweet tooth sometimes, too, all right? Just because he wants to eat healthy doesn’t mean he eats nothing but greens, no matter what Clarke says – and she similarly grumbles but doesn’t stop him.

           When it comes to pay for it, they fight a little about who should take the check – Clarke wants to take it because her meal was more expensive and she voted they have this night out, while Bellamy votes he should take it since he wanted to eat out – but finally decide to take separate checks and pay for the other’s as a compromise.

           They sit outside the restaurant before they walk to the rink so their food babies will dwindle a little, Clarke resting her hand near his, and when they get up she intertwines their fingers like they’ve done it a million times—which they sort of have, but never so clearly away from the prying eyes of their friends.

           At this point, Bellamy realizes they’re sort of on a date—like a real, planned, found-it-on-Pinterest date. It throws him a little, which is maybe weird considering they’ve literally had sex (another fact that throws him), but it just feels so…normal. So not part of practice for a fake relationship, or part of a normal platonic relationship. So close to what he wants them to be all the time.

           (There’s this small part of Bellamy that knows this isn’t just some fake thing to convince Gina anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time, but if he stops calling it that, he has to call it something else, and he doesn’t know what it is yet. He’s scared to know what they’ll be without this protective coating to everything they do, if they’ll be anything at all.)

           Despite the undertone of anxiety that accompanies such easy affection between them, Bellamy can’t help but smile as they walk with their arms swinging a little, Clarke leaning into him only half for warmth, them both testing the coldness of the air with their breath. No matter what they are, he knows it’s good.

           The moment Bellamy puts on his skates and gets onto the rink, he remembers how bad he is at this. He slips immediately, having to grab onto the edge for purchase so he doesn’t fall onto his face; meanwhile, Clarke slides past him smugly.

           “We should’ve done football or something,” Bellamy grumbles as she circles around the rink and back to him without faltering at all. “Then I could’ve tackled you for being such a jerk.”

           “Excuse me, I have done nothing wrong,” she says, coming to a stop to raise an eyebrow at him. “It’s not my fault you have the skating skills of a four-year-old without a box to hold onto.”

           “Yeah, but you could help.”

           “Yeah, yeah, all right,” she says. “If it makes you happy.”

           She maneuvers to his side and hooks his arm over her shoulder, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Okay, just focus on your balance. Don’t try to be fancy.”

           He really does try, but it’s hard to balance on someone who’s a head shorter than you, and he’s so bad at skating. They have to stay by the edge of the rink and just circle around slowly, so whenever Bellamy starts to slip he can grab the edge instead of pulling Clarke down with him.

           There aren’t a lot of people there since it’s a Thursday night, which Bellamy appreciates. They can circle the rink with the twinkling lights in trees all around them in relative quiet, slowly building up his confidence until he can go to the middle—as long as he’s still hanging onto Clarke, at least.

           By now, though, it’s been like a solid forty-five minutes without annoying Clarke, which is absolutely unacceptable, so Bellamy starts to purposefully lean into her as if he’s falling even though he’s stable. She threatens to let him fall when he does it a fourth time, but it’s not needed, because on the fifth time he leans harder than he intended and neither of them are able to regain their balance; they fall onto the ice in a tangle of limbs and annoyed grunts, Bellamy on top of Clarke.

           “I fucking hate you,” she mutters. Her nose is crinkled up in annoyance, but it just makes her look cuter, paired with the hat pulled down low over her face and her red cheeks and the little bits of white shining in her hair.

           “Nah, you don’t,” Bellamy says; he intends it to be teasing, but he’s sort of distracted by how pretty Clarke looks. Without thinking much of it, he leans down and kisses her softly, cold lips warming upon contact. She kisses him back, gloved hand coming up to touch his cheek briefly, before he pulls back and helps her up (or, really, her helping him up, but whatever).

           Her cheeks are definitely redder now, and he can’t help but grin at the sight. “See? You don’t hate me.”

           A tiny smile tugs at Clarke’s mouth, but there’s something in her eyes; something far-away and yet nearly close enough to touch. Something almost sad. “I guess not.”

           Bellamy swallows down the confession he’s been so close to sharing for ages now, fear getting the best of him again. Instead, he holds out his hand and says, “Shall we?”

           She takes it, squeezing tightly. “We shall.”

 --

When they get back to Bellamy’s apartment, they change into dry clothes (Clarke steals another one of his shirts to wear with her pajama pants because she knows he’s weak) and curl up on the couch with a blanket to warm up.

           Bellamy wants to kiss her, like always, but she feels just a little distant, and he doesn’t want to push anything, so he just strokes her arm and touches his chin to her hair until she lifts her head to initiate the kiss herself.

           It’s soft, almost unbearably so; she holds his cheeks in her hands delicately, moving her lips slowly against his as he holds her waist and matches the softness. She moves to his lap, but it feels more for comfort than sexual prowess; there’s no grinding, no moans, no kissing anywhere but their mouths. Nothing but this slow, deeply intense trade-off between them, back and forth.

           A few minutes in, Bellamy tastes salt on Clarke’s lips, and he pulls back, immediately worried; sure enough, a couple of tears are slowly sliding down Clarke’s cheeks.

           “Clarke?” he whispers, not sure what to say. Panic builds in his chest, that he’s done this, that something’s happened, that she’s hurting and he hasn’t noticed. “Clarke, what is it?”

           She wipes the tears with the back of her hand, a little wonderingly, and says, “It’s not about you, Bellamy.”

           But she doesn’t sound sure, and the anxiety builds in Bellamy’s throat. “Clarke, if something’s wrong, if I did something, please—”

           “You didn’t do anything,” she says, voice stronger now, and sets her hands on his shoulders. “I promise, it’s not you. I just….” She falters, then just lets the sentence hang there, unfinished.

           “Do you…do you want to talk about it?”

           Clarke considers this for a few moments, scanning his face, then slowly shakes her head. “Not yet. Not tonight.”

           He thinks of all the things he wants to say to Clarke, how it never feels like the right time. He understands her worry, but even if he didn’t, he would never push her to share something that makes her so uneasy. That’s the last thing he wants, to hurt her.

           “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

           She smiles uncertainly at him, so he leans in to kiss her cheek, lingering. She rubs his shoulders, signaling she’s okay, so he kisses the other cheek, then her forehead, her nose, her jaw, her eyelids, everywhere on her face until she’s smiling again. Then she captures his lips with hers again, more confident than before, sliding her fingers into his hair like she always loves to.

           Bellamy strokes up and down her back and thighs, trying to express everything he doesn’t know how to say—trying to let her know it’s going to be okay, because they have each other.

           He feels something in the way she kisses him, too, like she’s promising him something; he doesn’t know what, but he feels his heart soften all the same.

           Clarke doesn’t have work until the afternoon, and Bellamy’s heart tugs at the thought of her leaving, so she stays the night. They don’t have sex, but Bellamy doesn’t mind in the slightest; he curls around Clarke’s body, arm thrown across her waist, and she tangles her fingers with his.

           “Good night,” she whispers, almost like a confession.

��          “Good night,” he replies, kissing her hair, and it feels like a confession of his own.

 --

There are still moments in the next few weeks where Clarke gets a little sad or distant, but for the most part she’s as loving and eager and Clarke as ever. They fall into a perfect rhythm, alternating whose apartment they go to and planning with roommates to try to be alone when they can and doing stuff whenever they’re both off work (yes, like dates).

           It’s awesome, and natural, and fucking overwhelming. They’ve been doing everything he’s ever wanted except expressing his love for her, and that should make it easier to tell her, but somehow it makes it so much harder. If he tells her and she doesn’t feel the same, if this is just practice to her or she doesn’t want to be committed or whatever, he could lose everything. Not just the sex or the kissing or the dates, but Clarke, and now he knows more than ever how much of his heart is dedicated to her.

           Still, he always enjoys their time together, whether they’re staying in or going on a walk or splurging to try a good dessert shop Clarke heard about. One time, when he goes over to her apartment, she had even bought salad for them to eat. He nearly cries, but also low-key worries she’s been replaced by a robot until he sees she also bought a giant bag of his favorite dark chocolate for “whenever the craving hits.” Which is apparently often, because she’s already eaten like ten.

           Another time, Bellamy is laying on the couch after work when Clarke gets there, and instead of waiting him for sit up, she just sighs dramatically and flops directly on top of him. He thinks she’ll get up after a second, but she doesn’t, and within fifteen minutes she’s fallen asleep. He just chuckles at her ridiculousness and keeps his arm around her so she doesn’t fall off, laying there until she wakes up a few hours later, complaining that she’s hungry and he’s an uncomfortable bed.

           And at New Year’s Eve, Clarke shows up to the party with her hair cut in this little bob with the ends dyed pink, and Bellamy can’t stop playing with it the whole time. He also very much appreciates how it exposes her neck more, and they end up finding an empty room so he can give it the proper attention it deserves, almost missing the drop in the process.

           When they come back in the main room with thirty seconds of the year left and Clarke looking extra flushed, everyone rolls their eyes while Raven shakes her head slowly, looking torn between laughing and wringing their necks. She’s given up trying to talk Bellamy into telling Clarke, at least on her time, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t spend every moment she’s around them annoyed at their stupidity.

           Which is fair, he gets that, but if she wanted a relationship that made any sense, she shouldn’t have voted for him and Clarke. They are the fucking worst at feelings, or making sense in general.

 --

Nearly six months after the day Bellamy asked Clarke to fill in as his fake girlfriend, she sends him a text saying, come over now if u can pls. i really have to talk to u about something.

           Doing his best not to panic, Bellamy hurries over to Clarke’s apartment, and lets himself in (she’s expecting him, and he has a key anyways, from one too many times of Clarke needing him to grab her something she forgot). Clarke’s waiting for him in the doorway, looking nervous.

           “Okay, I’m here,” he says carefully. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

           “Well, to settle your rampant worry-wart tendencies, no one has died or gotten sick, I’m not moving, I don’t suddenly hate you or think you did something horrible, and I still have my job.”

           Damn, she reads him like a book sometimes. “That’s good. But…still bad news?”

           She shrugs. “I don’t think so? I hope not. I don’t know, it’s just news.”

           Clarke fidgets a lot when she’s nervous, and right now she’s practically vibrating, so Bellamy has them sit down to try to alleviate a little bit of that. Also, he wants to be ready for whatever she has to tell him, even if it’s apparently not life or death.

           “So,” she starts. “The cat’s out of the bag.”

           Maybe this is the worst or stupidest thing Bellamy’s done yet, but it takes him a full ten seconds to realize what she’s talking about; to remember they’ve been kind of lying to their friends for six months. “Gina,” he says finally.

           Clarke nods. “I guess Raven was drunk and ranted about the whole thing to Gina while she was on the clock. She called me on her break to ask if it was true.”

           “I’m assuming you told her the truth.”

           “Yeah. I don’t know if that was right, to tell her without your permission, but I was just tired of lying.”

           Bellamy tries not to let that comment sit uncomfortably in his chest. “How angry was she?”

           “Honestly? Not really. She was more just…confused. Both that we did it in the first place and also that we kept it up so long. She said….” She drifts off, then says instead, “But, uh, I guess that wraps that all up. We can, you know…stop faking now.”

           She glances at him and suddenly, for no reason at all except for the softness in her eyes and the nervous hope in her gaze, telling her is the easiest thing in the world. “I already did,” he says softly. “Long before we even started this thing.”

           Clarke’s eyes widen, and a dopey grin follows soon after. “Oh, thank God. I was going to strangle you if you were really that good of an actor. Or ask you to try out for Broadway.” She hesitates, then adds, “You really liked me that long?”

           “Clarke, I’ve liked you for six years.”

           “Jesus,” she says. “Only you would hold onto a crush that long. And I thought I was stupid for just having a crush on you for one year.”

           “Don’t worry, you’re still stupid,” Bellamy says, a stupid grin of his own quickly taking over his whole face.

           She rolls her eyes, then takes his hand and says softer, “When you asked me to fake being your girlfriend, a big part of me said not to do it, that it was the stupidest thing in the world to fake date the guy I wanted to real date. But I thought maybe my feelings would…I don’t know, dilute if I went on a date with you, knowing it was fake. Convince myself it was whatever and move on.”

           “Okay, yeah, you’re definitely still stupid, because that’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard of.”

           “Hey, you’re the one who picked me despite an apparent six year crush!” she protests. “And anyway, I knew in my heart it was all just a ruse. I wanted to be yours, even if it was all pretend.”

           “Yeah, me too.”

           She snorts. “You know, sometimes you and I are just a little too similar. If we weren’t such fucking idiots, we could’ve been actually dating six months ago.”

           “Who says we weren’t?” Bellamy says, shrugging. “I’m counting it, at least.”

           “Makes it easier on all our friends, at least. No need to expose the scandal if it resolves itself.”

           Bantering with Clarke is fun and all, but Bellamy is also literally about to burst with the desire to kiss her – his girlfriend – so instead of replying, he pulls her towards him and seals his mouth over hers. It’s messy to say the least, what with their dumb grins and general excitement making their accuracy absolute shit, but Bellamy has probably never loved a kiss more.

           “You kiss like it’s your first time,” he teases when their teeth clack for the third time.

           “It’s always the first time with you,” she replies easily. “That’s why I love you.”

           Bellamy’s heart kicks in his chest a little, but honestly, he already knew. Maybe he always has. “I love you, too.”

           “Good,” she says, stroking his cheek gently even as she hauls herself into his lap, eager as always. “That’s good.”

 --

They do eventually tell their friends about the whole thing, half because they feel guilty and half because looking back, it is the funniest and stupidest fucking thing ever. Their friends all agree about the stupid part at least—especially Raven, who literally cries when they tell her they’re officially dating because “I was this fucking close to breaking every friendship rule in the book and swapping your diaries so you’d know the truth. God, I fucking hate you guys sometimes. Come here.”

           Clarke also moves into his apartment a few months later, which isn’t a particularly huge gesture considering she practically lived there even before their whole debacle. She still steals his clothes all the time, and he still tuts whenever she tries to claim eating a family-sized bag of chips counts as a meal, and they still fight over little things and big things and nothing at all. Nothing has changed, really, and he doesn’t particularly want them to; after all, everything is as it should be.

           At least, until he’s saved enough for a ring.

[meditationsfromthethirdrail]

Credentials and Credibility

I’ve written about polarization and about empathy, rights and responsibilities in the last couple of blog posts.  I have a long list of interrelated topics to cover before the November elections and I plan to keep plowing through them.  But I’m well aware that my voice is a candle in the wind, to borrow the phrase used by T.H. White in the title of his tale about King Arthur’s dream of a more egalitarian and peaceful society.  The number of readers of my blog thus far may barely run into double digits and that may never change.  We are all drowning in information (and misinformation) unless we are either so socioeconomically disadvantaged as to be denied access or are actively disengaged from media.  People in either category aren’t reading this.

With all the competition for the attention of readers and listeners, if someone wants to be heard above the din, he or she either has to have a forceful personality and a good platform, or actually have something important to say.  I may not have either of those.  Readers will judge for themselves.  But it occurred to me that I ought to at least provide a little background about myself, which may or may not compel you to hear me.  So here it is.

My story is not one of hard knocks and resentment - it’s a success story.  There are a lot of ways to define success but I feel like I’ve grabbed a nice assortment of brass rings during my almost-seven decades on the planet.  I’ve had a long and happy marriage to an incredible woman; I’ve traveled extensively (six continents and all fifty states) and lived for substantial periods in many states; I have three degrees from a major college; I attained a modestly high position in a large, global professional services firm and was financially well rewarded for my efforts; and I have many hobbies and interests that make it easy for me to stay fully occupied in retirement.  Most importantly, I’m happy and at peace with myself and others.  One could argue that these successes may have caused me to be out of touch with those who’ve enjoyed fewer of them, but I don’t think that’s entirely true, and I’ll try to suggest why.

My parents were the son and daughter of a sharecropper and a truck farmer/itinerant salesman, respectively, in rural Mississippi.  They grew up during the Great Depression. They were married and gave life to my older brother when they were still in their teens.  My dad dropped out of high school to sign up for the Army and served in the European theater in WWII.  After the war he got a G.E.D. and served as a tractor mechanic for a while.  Around the time I was born he was hired by a prominent agricultural implement manufacturing company, which led to him being transferred from Mississippi to Maryland to Ohio to Idaho to Oregon and to Iowa in order to earn promotions, and with family in tow.  Later he also transferred to Texas, Missouri and Georgia, after I was left behind to attend college in Iowa.  In those days it was possible to rise pretty high in the ranks of a business like my dad’s, without a glittery collegiate resume, if you worked hard and were willing to uproot yourself and your family whenever it was called for.  So my dad eventually did rise fairly high in the ranks, and in the meantime my mom scrambled her way to a B.A., then taught high school English for a short time.

All’s well that ends well, as Shakespeare once said.  My parents came a long way from the dusty fields where they picked cotton for 50 cents a day.  My own road to success was much easier than theirs.  During most of my childhood our family was financially situated about in the dead center of what was then considered middle class.  My parents were not rich, although they accumulated modest wealth later in life, and they were always frugal, so I grew up with very few toys and a mostly empty closet.  My parents were not the type to devote much time attending to my personal pursuits, other than to quietly demand that I get good grades in school.  So I wouldn’t say I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I understand that’s a relative thing.  I certainly wasn't lavished with material things as a child, but I never went hungry or worried about having a roof over my head.

Aside from a base level of financial and emotional support and protection, the best thing my parents gave me was a solid education in a robust public school system.  This was a pre Betty Devos era.  Fortunately I had just enough innate ambition (or willingness to succumb to my parents’ expectations) and intelligence to perform in the upper tier, academically.  I could have done better but I often didn’t “apply myself,” as they say.  In retrospect I realize I had ADHD but few people understood or cared about that back then.

My college record was spotty at first, but ultimately pretty good.  I had almost no grasp of what I wanted to do with my life.   As a result, I had an abnormally extended adolescence, to roughly age 27.  Maybe I was a trendsetter; I see a lot more of that happening with young people today.  In any case I considered, at various times and among other things, becoming a Baptist minister (I was licensed and briefly attended seminary), an English professor (I have an M.A. in English and instructed freshman writing courses for three years), a novelist and poet (insufficient talent and discipline derailed that plan), and a hotel manager (nah).   A happy accident of my wandering and indecision was that I acquired a lot of knowledge that later paid off in surprising ways I’ll come back to later.  I was financially very poor the entire time, which gave me considerable perspective on what it means to be concerned about affording basics such as food and transportation.

I vividly remember the catalysts for my decision to enter the social mainstream. One was the fallout from a poker game I got into with some friends.  One of my “friends” was a notoriously unethical character who, one late evening when I was especially unlucky and perhaps too full of beer, lured me into some bad bets that resulted in a $700 debt to him.  At that time, when I was working several crummy part-time jobs to afford food and my $50 share of the rent on a slum-quality house we shared with two other guys, $700 dollars seemed like a million dollars.  I didn't realize and no one told me that on the very next evening the same group of friends gathered for another poker game as I was licking my wounds and trying to form a plan.  I was not present to witness the scene in which the guy whom I was newly indebted to suffered an equally humiliating loss - a loss that was forgiven by the victor on the condition that the loser would also forgive my loss.  My friends assumed that Bart (not his real name, or is it?) would inform me that I was off the hook.  He did not.

For the first time in my life, I devised a budget in order to determine how I could repay Bart the debt that didn’t actually exist, because that’s the kind of guy I am.  I believed, and I still do, that a person is morally and ethically responsible for meeting whatever commitments he or she enters into.  So  I scrambled for more hours working as a church janitor, a tutor and a library assistant; I ate Kraft macaroni and cheese almost every day (30 cents a box, if I recall); I stayed in my room as if I had contracted the then-undreamt-of coronavirus; and I turned over every penny that didn’t go for rent and minimal food to Bart in three monthly installments until I was finally clear.  I was six feet tall but my weight fell to about 140 pounds.  On the day I forked over the last $200, Bart skipped town, just as the news finally arrived that I wasn’t supposed to have owed that debt.

That sordid chapter concluded with me taking a job, out of sheer desperation, in a factory where I was paid a below-minimum wage to operate a machine which applied mailing labels to printed advertisements.  It was mind-numbing.  There were perhaps another 100 workers in that factory doing the same thing I was doing.  The output of each worker was measured daily by the factory management.  By the end of the first week I was the most productive mailing label attacher in the factory.  To keep myself from going insane, I approached my task as if it were a game and challenged myself each shift to beat my previous day’s output, which I always did.  During my brief lunch breaks I used to surreptitiously glance around at the other workers and I understood exactly what Thoreau meant when he opined that the mass of men live lives of quiet desperation.  I don’t know if he was right about “the mass of men,” but he certainly could have been describing that crew at the factory.

In my second week at the factory I met another newly-hired college guy whose wife and he were trying to save enough money to move to Los Angeles so he could take a shot at professional acting - this was his second job.  Chatting with him during lunch breaks, i was inspired by his desire to fulfill a dream and the difficult steps he was taking to do it.  I listened to him, I looked around at the hollow-eyed, middle-aged folks who had worked for years operating labeling machines, and I squirmed as I considered what a sap I was for racking up a poker debt and falling victim to a con man.  i abruptly abandoned the factory but I felt so discombobulated that I enlisted my good buddy John to drive out to Idaho with me so I could visit my brother and try to get my shit together.  By the end of that brief sojourn out west, the best job offer I could manage was from Roto-Rooter . . . to work in the field, as it were.  Wake up call!

If you’ve read this far you must be wondering how any of this supports the notion that I’m qualified to write about sociopolitical matters.  It doesn’t, except to demonstrate that I have at least a small measure of “street cred.”  But the best is yet to come.  When I returned to Iowa I found a better job in a hotel.   Initially I was a night auditor, which is a position that involves being a desk clerk part of the time and an accountant the rest of the time.  Only a small step forward, financially, but it gave me a taste for something I had never previously thought about doing for even one minute.  Accounting, I quickly learned, was something I had a natural aptitude for, and in some quirky way I found it interesting.  Once again I viewed my duties as a sort of game, but this was a game that lit up my brain much more brightly than did operating a machine to perform an exceptionally repetitive task.  

My whole life is a series of lucky breaks at critical junctures.  In this instance the break was that I met a co-worker - a guy who shared the hotel night auditor position with me - who had previously worked for a large CPA firm.  He had taken the part-time hotel job because he was trying to become a full-time stock trader and that’s what he was doing during the day.  From him I learned what it is that CPAs in a big firm actually do.  Let me assure you I’m not going to get into that subject, in case you were already feeling the dread.  (Thank God for actuaries - the only people who make accountants seem slightly interesting.)  Suffice it to say that I figured out how I could minimize the additional schooling I would need to become qualified to be a CPA and I decided to take a stab at it.

I kept the hotel job but started carrying a heavy load of college classes - accounting, math, economics, law, etc.  It so happened that I met my future wife, who was just finishing her Interior Design degree at the same college, about the same time I took the first tentative steps down my new career path.  That was even more fortuitous - I give her lots of credit for helping me stay the course.  The two years in which I went to college in the day, worked at the hotel at night, and struggled to get our new romance off the ground, was “character-building,” to say the least.  I can barely remember anything about that period, it was such a blur.  To give you an idea of how much of a blur it was, the major highlight I remember was driving with my new spouse to Des Moines to dine at Spaghetti Works.  $5 for beer-and-cheese spaghetti, all-you-can-eat salad bar and a glass of swill.  Heaven!

When the two hellish years finally ended and I received my B.S. in Accounting, I had already lined up a job in Des Moines as an auditor with one of the Big 8 (at that time) accounting firms.  Not long afterward, I passed the CPA exam and my wife landed a spot with a local design firm, and we were on our way.

Ok, at last I’m where I possibly should have started. In the ensuring three decades I continued to work as a CPA, becoming a partner along the way (meaning that I became one of the owners), and developing a specialization working with clients in the financial services industry - investment management companies and banking and finance companies, primarily.  This is the good part, folks.  My career soon took me from Iowa to New York City, where my background in English earned me the privilege of being a key designer and the principal author of new practice guidance for our international firm, which was just merging with another large international firm.  That put me in the spotlight for a time and gave me a leg up for promotion.  After the merger we relocated to Los Angeles, where I worked with some of the most prominent investment management companies in the world, and numerous banks, mortgage banks and other financial institutions.  Finally we moved to southeast Pennsylvania and I split time engaged with clients there and in California, and with our national financial services practice in New York.

Late, late nights on Wall Street helping to prepare financial offerings with hundreds of millions of dollars on the line.  Late, late nights at client offices in L.A., San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, New York and Philadelphia, managing teams of young accountants to deal with complex accounting problems under tremendous pressure.  Board meetings, fee negotiations, staff meltdowns, discoveries of fraud and malfeasance, financial crises in which I was an inside observer.  A 60-hour work week felt almost like a vacation compared to many weeks with even longer hours.  It was enough to give me PTSD.  I don’t want to overstate it - it wasn’t like actual life or death combat PTSD - but I still have nightmares ten years and more after the fact.

That’s a very quick summary of the 30+ years in which I obtained hard-won knowledge about global finance and economics - a period in which I also had a lot of experiences with politics, charitable organizations and other components of society I didn’t have time to get into today.  I still spend a lot of time staying informed about subjects ranging from psychology and mythology to current events and hard science.  There’s a ton I still don’t know.  But as my all-time favorite singer Joni Mitchell famously said, I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now.

[sheridanfalls]

1x01

“Ana, Ana,” the desperate voice of her mother shook the young teenager out of her sleep.

“What?” Her voice hoarse from hours of singing the night before with Joel Riley, she sat up, pushing her blankets away.

Her mother threw the curtains open before turning to look at her youngest daughter, “Where is your sister?”

Ana rubbed her eyes, “I don’t know, the barn.” She shrugged pulling her pillow against her and laying back down.

“She ran away.” The words came out in a growl that instantly alerted the young teenager that sleep would not be anywhere on her agenda anytime soon.

“What, how do you know that, why would she?” The questions flew from her mouth as she watched the way her mother darted around the room.

Her mother ran a hand through her strawberry blonde hair, “She left a note. Your father is talking to the police. Did Willa say anything to you about running away, about leaving?”

Ana searched her mind for anything she could think of, “No, but have you checked her diary, she was always writing in it.”

“Yes, of course,” was the last thing her mother would say to her for weeks as she left Ana alone in the room, the morning sun starting to rinse the floor.

Tazia blinked as she woke up in the back of the limo, she could feel the chill throughout her body, she got this way whenever she remembered that dreadful morning when she was fourteen. Most days she could put her runaway sister behind her, but for some reason Willa had been in her dreams far more often, in one way or another.

“Don’t tell me you’re having more nightmares.” Her agent, Fletcher Curtis sighed as he looked up from his phone, “I told you to talk to Dr. Floyd about them and they would go away.”

Tazia rolled her eyes wrapping her gray cardigan around her body, “Dr. Floyd just wants to drug me up.”

“What you need is a vacation.” He continued to tap away at his phone, “Are you ready to perform today?”

“Yes.” It was one of the few things she still felt confident in, performing. She could get out on that little stage, in front of the studio audience, the harsh afternoon talk-show lighting and the cameras beaming her into the homes of people looking for some company in the middle of the day.

“Good, we’ll get you a coffee and then you’ll be good to go.”

Her body was still chilled as she looked out the window of the city traffic. A city full of strangers. Was Willa out here, was she living the life she wants, the one she had to escape Sheridan Falls for?

Over the years her mother Rosemary had gotten mad at her for not using her celebrity to bring Willa home. The last time she’d been at the family ranch had been about a decade before, not long after Joel had left her. It was a bad time all around and she could still smell the floral scents of her mother’s garden from the porch as she recalled it. The moment she told her mother that if Willa had wanted to come home, she would’ve.

“You know what you need, a vacation. I can get your schedule cleared for a couple of weeks. We’ll go to Hawaii; I can get that great house that you liked the last time we were there.”

“That sounds great.” It didn’t though, sure going to Hawaii sounded amazing, but another vacation with Fletcher sounded suffocating. Each year since Joel left her, her circle got smaller, and now it felt as though it was only Fletcher.

***

Keaton Hughes carried the suitcase out to the car parked in front of the house steps. His wife Isabelle was behind him with her purse as she followed behind, “Just make sure you have plenty of gas, that your phone is charged, I know service is spotty where you’re going, but check in once in a while.”

She smiled at her husband, his blue eyes full of love, “I will Keaton, it’s only a couple of nights. I left a lasagna for you tonight, and a bag in the freezer for you to dump in the slow cooker tomorrow.”

“You’re the best wife.” He pulled her close, breathing in the scent of her floral perfume before kissing her goodbye, slowly, memorably, knowing that life could change in a moment.

Isabelle pulled away, a smile on her face and her eyes closed before fluttering open again, “I love you Keaton, I’ll text you when I stop for gas.” She kissed his cheek as she clutched her keys in her hand, “I’ll see you Monday morning.”

He breathed in, “I know babe, I love you, Belle.”

She blew him a kiss before getting in her car, buckling in and driving away after the quick press of a button. She could see her husband in the rearview mirror, she loved him, he loved her, soon they would start to try for a family, but first she had to do something one last time. One final weekend away, time to close the door on her past, and fully embrace her future.

He stood by the steps, watching as she pulled out of the driveway, his eyes on her car until was down the street. He turned to go back into the house, he had a few repairs he planned to do while she was gone. He wanted to get her office painted, she’d been talking about setting up a permanent backdrop for her YouTube videos.

Making a stop in the kitchen he took the lasagna out of the freezer so it would thaw a bit before he threw it in the oven. He went out to the back yard and straight to the shed. He grabbed the can of paint he’d chosen, and the tools he needed. He pulled Spotify up on his phone, rolling his eyes when he saw the suggestion that he listen to the Best of Tazia.

He found what he wanted as he moved through the house to the office. The music filled the room as he started to move somethings out of the way to create the space, he believed his wife was craving. He paused the music and flipped phone into camera mode, “Hey YouTube, Keaton here. I know you’re like where is Belle. She’s on her yearly spa trip with her friends from college. I thought this would be the perfect time to redo her office. Since she’s the youtuber, not me I forgot to start filming before I started. Oops.” He chuckled, feeling awkward. He didn’t like the spotlight, that was for Belle and his sister, not for him.

He moved around the room taking footage, “I’ve started to move some stuff out of the way, but I wanted to give her a space special for her. So, I’m going to go and paint this wall back here, rearrange the furniture and maybe decorate a little.” He shrugged as he put the phone down across the room and started back to work.

Keaton was lost in the work when the doorbell rang, so much so that he didn’t hear it until it rang again. He moved through the house, his stomach starting to drop when he saw who was on the other side of the glass. He would recognize the figure of Detective Huff for as long as he lived. His hand shook as he opened the door, “Hello Detective, what can I do for you?”

***

“Great, I want to be able to open Memorial Day weekend. I need to be able to have those cabins installed by then.” Joel Riley spoke into his phone as he moved around his living room.

“I promise it will be done Joel.” The voice told him, “We’ve got the first three in production so far. That leaves six more. We’ll get these three out as soon as possible, we know it’s not the ideal time of year for an installation, but we’ll do all we can and at the very least get you ready to have the website and promotional material.”

“Thank you so much Bill, I appreciate it. I really want to see the Riley Ranch thrive and I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”

The voice on the other end chuckled, “Well, thankfully you had a lot of good structures to start with. We’re just helping fill in a few gaps. I’ve got to run and pick up the kids from school but call on Monday and I’ll give you a progress report.”

“Great, thanks, bye.” Joel put his phone down on his baby grand piano, letting his fingers dance over the keys. He’d been stuck on the song he was writing; it was supposed to be for some pop star. Though the label wouldn’t tell him which one. They probably didn’t even know, it would get demoed around and then someone would fall for it, while others would regret not picking it.

Joel sighed, picking the up tv remote and turning on Afternoon America. Not really paying attention to the show he started to clean up and organize the papers from his meeting. He listened as the star of a sitcom discussed the very special episode that would air later in the evening—he hadn’t even realized they did special episodes.

Moving into the kitchen he started to sift through the cabinets trying to find something to eat. He grabbed a few things to start putting together a lunch when breaking news on the TV caught his attention.

***

Tazia took a deep breath as she walked onto the sound stage, the lights were low now during the commercial break. The live audience on the other side of the rotating stage. She wore light blue jeans, a Kelly-green t-shirt, and her long golden-brown hair pulled back into an easy ponytail. Simplicity was the look she was going for with this album, this song, back to basics what her idea for the upcoming tour. She didn’t want the pyrotechnics, she didn’t want the large set pieces, she wanted to perform and enjoy the energy from her audience.

“We’ve got breaking news this afternoon.” Tazia heard just as the stage had started to revolve towards the audience and cameras, as the show host did her best to play news anchor.

“This morning in Utah, Bennett Chase, the leader of the Fire Yoga movement was killed in a car accident along with his wife Willow”

Tazia looked towards the monitor that had the graphics that the audience at home saw on screen. She felt her stomach drop as soon as the picture came up. “Willow was really Willa Hughes, a Colorado teenager who ran away from her home in 2000. Her disappearance made national headlines as her mother Rosemary begged for her to come home.”

“Bennett Chase and his wife, are survived by a teenage daughter.”

Anything else that was said, Tazia couldn’t hear. Yes, they, searched for Willa, every day for 3 years. They finally had to stop when the post card arrived from her. It was her handwriting, the front said Greetings from Oregon, but the post mark was Alabama. She begged her parents to let her go, insisted she was happy.

That was the first time Tazia felt the shadow of her sister start to lift over her.

She always held on to the thought that Willa was alive. She was happy, wherever she was.

Now though, on the television monitor in front of her, she couldn’t hold on to that anymore. She couldn’t hold onto much as her body crashed to the ground.

***

“Oh shit.” Joel watched the report, Willa had been his babysitter when he was younger, the older sister of the first woman he’d ever loved. Then his eye caught what was happening in the background.

It couldn’t be, could it? Ana, or as the world knew her Tazia on TV finding out her long missing sister, was dead.

He could see her shaking as she reached out towards her sisters face on the monitor, and then as she collapsed to the ground, and the entire feed cut away.

He knew what headlines would be trending in a matter of minutes.

They would all be wrong.

People assuming that she was high on drugs.

She had always insisted that Willa wasn’t part of her story.

She had two lives, the one where she had an older sister, and the one where it was just her and her twin brother Keaton.

He picked up his phone, her number was still the first one in his contacts. He hadn’t spoken to her in well over a decade, but he was one of the few people in the world who knew, who cared, who know Ana and Tazia.

It probably wasn’t the same number anyways. He told himself as he hit the call button and took a deep breath. It rang several times before going to voice mail, “Hi, you’ve reached the private line of Tazia, please leave a message.”

“Ana, it’s Joel. I just heard about Willa. I’m sorry. I’m here for you if you need me.” He looked back at the television, excuses were already being made for her, “If you come back to Sheridan Falls, you can stay at my place. I know it’s not easy with your family, and I promise you’ll have privacy.”

Sighing he hung up, hoping she would be the one to hear the message, no once else. Though who knows, was he even listed in her phone anymore?

***

Isabelle finished filling her car with gas, she looked at her phone sitting in the cup holder and turned it off. If Keaton couldn’t get a call through to her this weekend, then he would believe she was off with her old sorority sisters.

Not that she was ever in a sorority. Her college didn’t have a Greek system. Keaton didn’t know that though.

He didn’t need to know where she was, who she was with.

She promised herself this would be the last time she did this.

Next year at this time she and Keaton would be pregnant, they would be expecting a child.

At least that was her plan.

For now, though she had to do this one more time.

She continued down the highway, listening to a podcast, but not really. She knew this route by heart as she took the left turn towards the cabin, she would spend the weekend in. The road seemed open around her, before the forest wrapped around her, deepening with its pine and juniper trees before arriving at the Woodward cabin.

It was quiet outside as she breathed in the clean air, whatever worries she had, were now gone. This was where she was meant to be.

She grabbed her bag and jogged up the stairs, she didn’t need to knock on the door as it opened. She gasped when she saw him, as if she hadn’t expected him to be here again. “Mitch!”

“Belle” He pulled her into arms, kissing her with the hunger of a year apart.

She was breathless against him as he pulled her into the cabin. His fingers in her hair, clinging to each other.

“I missed you.” He growled as he kicked the door closed before his lips tasted her neck.

Her eyes fluttered shut, “This isn’t fair.” She confessed, “I don’t feel alive unless I’m with you.”

“I know baby.” He cupped her face in his hands, his green eyes searching hers, “This weekend is ours, let me show you how much I missed you.”

She didn’t respond, she didn’t have to as she felt him lift her up as he kissed her, carrying her to the bedroom.

***

Keaton stared out the window. He couldn’t remember ever feeling as cold as he did right now. He hadn’t expected this kind of news. He was at the family ranch. Waiting for his parents to return, to hear anything from his sister.

The sun was setting, washing everything in orange. He saw the dust of a vehicle coming up the driveway.

He didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t anyone in the family, none of the ranch hands, it wasn’t one from a family friend he recognized.

Yet as it got closer his stomach grew heavy. He realized who it was.

Kara Greene, a true crime podcaster who had been obsessed with Willa’s story. About a year or so ago she had come to Sheridan Falls to investigate. Keaton had found her bothersome at the time. One thing he agreed with Ana about was that if Willa wanted to come home, she would.

He braced himself before going out to the porch, “Do I need to get the shot gun?”

“I just wanted to drop this off for your parents.” She was taking a casserole out of her car.

He sighed, “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.” His mother would, his father probably not.  

She brought it to the steps of the porch, reaching it out to him.

“Thank you, Kara.” He looked down at black sharpie directions for reheating. “I have no comment about anything today.”

“Not even the meltdown that popstar had when the news broke.”

“What are you talking about?”

Kara shrugged, “It was the weirdest thing, Tazia was about to perform this afternoon, and the news broke and since it was a live show she’s seen in the background, gravitating to the monitor before she collapsed.”

“Weird.” He gulped, “Goodbye Kara.”

“I’m not the enemy Keaton.”

“My parents had been doing okay until you came around, pulling Willa back out from the shadows. God my sister can’t even come home because she’s been in Willa’s shadow all these years.” He snorted, knowing it was insane considering she was a star in her own right.

“I just wanted to bring her home.” She shrugged her shoulders, as if it was that simple.

“She will be soon. But Kara, stay away. If Mom wants to go on your podcast to discuss this, she can. But wait for her to call you.”

She nodded as she went back to her car, “I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

“Me to.” As the words left his lips, he wasn’t exactly sure if he meant Willa dying, being found, or something else.

***

Fletcher sat by Tazia’s bedside and looked at her missed calls. Her brother Keaton had called about two dozen times, starting before she collapsed on live television. But he wasn’t the call that worried him.

Joel Riley.

He’d been just as famous as Tazia back when they were younger. He’d been engaged to her as well. Until Fletcher did what he could to be rid of the young man. A few well placed photographers and Tazia was convinced Joel cheated on her. She left him, and Fletcher brought the ring back to the young man and told him that Tazia was with him now.

For the next two years the music world watched as the two of them battled it out with appearances, songs, concerts.

Then Joel just went away.

No new music.

No new appearances.

No new albums.

He could be the subject of a YouTube remember when video.

Tazia made no mention of him ever, and since Fletcher usually had her phone, he knew they weren’t in contact.

“Willa?” Her voice broke as she woke up.

“Tazia, it’s Fletcher, are you okay?”

“Willa is gone.” She cried, in the haze of sleep and whatever drugs she’d been given.

“Willa?” Wasn’t that the name of the woman in the breaking news report?

Her breathing was uneven, “My sister.”

Fletcher stared at her. That couldn’t be.  He knew everything about Tazia. Sure, her family didn’t really seem to like him, but he’d made her a star. No way did she have a sister he didn’t know about.