#but then sometimes we'd just end up talking about where we lived before

[becca4leafclover]

waiiiitt I just realized the reason why I love QSMP so much as a concept is because it's kind of like my childhood growing up overseas oh my goooodddddd what if i cried

[ashfae]

The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.

As soon as Neil described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.

Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.

The problem is a story is only a story.

Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.

And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.

Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.

Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?

Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.

Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.

The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.

Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)

The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.

The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.

Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.

But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.

But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.

The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.

And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.

Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.

But they'll get there. So will we.

[madlori]

Ok my fam, I think we all need a lil Come to Jesus moment. So let's talk about it.

"I'm disappointed Tommy wasn't in 8x02 and 8x03." That's ok! We'd all like to see him, and see our boys together. Going by precedent, we can probably expect to see him in 6-8 episodes this season (it could be more - Taylor had 13 episodes in season 5 - but we shouldn't count on it) and we've already burned one. I'd prefer not to have half of them during the opening disaster when SO MUCH ELSE is going on. I'd rather him appear in episodes when he's got a storyline with Buck, or even on his own, and especially at the midseason break or the end of the season when Relationship Events are more likely to happen.

"But the 217 engine!" I know. But as we sometimes like to say to other fans - we kind of baited ourselves with that. It was suggestive, sure. But the fact that production has MADE a 217 engine is also suggestive that we may see it again later, and they just put it in the hangar scene because they already had it and they had to fill up that hangar with as many vehicles as possible.

"An airplane disaster without using the pilot??" As others have pointed out, Tommy's not a jet pilot. And don't let anybody make you think you were nuts for thinking it was possible. It was definitely a reasonable theory, with supporting evidence, that he might be involved, but in the end, the big opening disaster is always going to be about our mains. As it should be. And honestly? It was great.

"But the whole point of bringing him back was to integrate him with the 118 more!" I'm sure that's still a goal they have, but it's probably easier said than done. Not just from a writing standpoint, but a contractual one, in that there's a limit to how often they can use him, so they have to pick and choose where.

"It's like they don't care about this relationship as much as we do." You're right. NOBODY will care about it as much as we do. They care about the main characters, about the show's actual premise (i.e. first responders encountering wild situations, secondarily the characters' personal lives). There is no universe in which ANY relationship in the show will be prioritized as much as we, the fandom, would like it to be. That's just life in the big city. But they do care, oh boy, they do. Enough to use BT scenes in off-season promo. Enough to write Tommy into a scene in the opening episode where, frankly, he didn't NEED to be. Also, consider this - to shoot that scene, Lou was probably on set a grand total of one day, MAYBE two. And they made sure to include him in the jokey "bee pickup lines" reel. You know what other relationship we haven't seen much? Buddie. They have not appeared together outside of work (and honestly, barely AT work either) except in the birthday party scene, and hey, did you notice that they do not interact at ALL in that scene? Buck spends that entire scene interacting only with Tommy. And that's a friendship featuring two mains that we know they value. That's not indicative of anything except the sheer scarcity of screentime.

"They should be promoting the queer relationship!" Should they? They've never really done that before, with the several pre-existing queer relationships. I have always sort of appreciated that they have not hung a neon sign on Buck and Tommy saying LOOK AT OUR NEW QUEER PAIRING. It's never gotten the Very Special Episode treatment - Buck never had gay panic, or much coming-out drama - and I like that. I like treating it no differently than other romantic pairings on the show. And they did actually promote it quite a bit when it happened. Now it would just feel kinda performative to me.

"Will he be in [whatever episode]?" Imma gently suggest we not do this every week. He'll be there or he won't. There'll be some we know he's in (I think 8x06 is a lock), some we won't know and will be pleasantly surprised, or unpleasantly surprised. I'd say odds for 8x04 are...20%, rising to at least 50% with 8x05 and 100% for 8x06.

And if you ever feel sad about it - go look at a still of Buck from any episode so far this season, and say to yourself, "This man is having heaps of amazing sex with his hot pilot boyfriend on the regular. Canonically."

I know a lot of us have encountered some pretty irritating gloating from people who hate this relationship (in a frankly weirdly obsessive way) about him being not there. Just remember - that's all they have to gloat about. The only "victory" they can claim is the absence of a character? Lame. And it's not even a victory, it's just the cost of doing business when your ship involves a recurring character. Sit back and enjoy your canon relationship between two men who've actually kissed on screen and ignore it. We can be generous about it.

So let's not talk ourselves off the deep end, shall we? I'd like to keep being a reasonable fandom.

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

"Sing to Me?"

Alastor x Reader (QP)

Yawning, you trudged out of the bathroom, drying your hair loosely with a towel. You were warm from your shower and the filling meal you'd had a little while earlier. Alastor was probably the best chef you knew, a fact you were extremely proud of. Even if your preferred form of protein was banned from the hotel premises, Alastor was always able to make do with what he had.

Despite it being late at night, you grabbed your laptop (a very rare, not VoxTech one) to work on some paperwork. You'd promised your boss to get these spreadsheets done, and you weren't one to shirk on your promises. Yawning again, you tuned your old-fashioned radio before settling down with your laptop. The radio had been a gift from Alastor. Many late nights had been spent listening to his broadcasts. They'd always been a comfort, even before you'd signed a contract with him.

Some light jazz filtered through the static, one of your favorite songs. Alastor knew you were listening. Smiling lightly, you started typing away.

The music was occasionally interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream or a sharp whimper. Your smile never left, humming along while Alastor had his fun. Part of you was vaguely aware that the radio show was now being broadcast all throughout Hell, that you didn't even need the radio, but you liked it, so it stayed on.

The spreadsheets were simple enough. With the radio in the background, you were able to focus just enough that the job came naturally. In the back of your mind, you started going over the next day’s schedule.

You'd ended up zoning out while you typed, not even noticing how the radio switched to static and then turned off by itself.

A single knock preceded Alastor's entrance, enough to break you from your thoughts. You were quick to notice the faint blood splatter on the sole of Alastor’s shoes, the only evidence of his previous activities.

“My dear, you know how I abhor those vile machines,” Alastor reprimanded, walking and starting to subconsciously organize your room. A chair was pushed in, a painting adjusted so it was even, the bottom drawer of your dresser lightly closed.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grinned to yourself. “I need it to do my job, Al. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a piece of electronic equipment that's not created by VoxTech?”

“All the more reason to get rid of it.” Alastor walked over to the window and stared out at it. He was a little lost in thought himself, it would seem.

Typing a line, you said, “I liked your broadcast.”

“I'm glad.”

He was quiet. Something was wrong. Your grin died down, pushing your laptop to the side. Alastor’s smile was still there, but dimmer. Sadder.

“Al? You okay?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, dearest,” Alastor replied, a slight edge in his voice.

You wanted to push. To get him to talk to you. But you knew it wouldn't be worth it. If anything, he'd just get upset or shut down more.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd met while we were alive,” You said nonchalantly. “I mean, obviously that would've been impossible in the first place, considering I wasn't even born when you died, but I just wonder about it.”

“What a ridiculous thing to wonder about!” Alastor laughed a little. “As you said, it would have been impossible. And why think about being alive when we have all of death to enjoy?” His tone lightened a bit. “There is so much entertainment to be had! Life was quite dull, comparably.”

You wondered for a moment, trying to figure out where to lead the conversation. “Where did you live, when you were alive? You already know where I lived when I was alive, it's only fair I know where you lived.”

Alastor’s grin softened a bit, still sad, but with a hint of happiness in there. Nostalgia, if you had to guess. “New Orleans, Louisiana. I lived there with my mother. I had a delightful job as a radio host.”

“You're still a radio host,” you teased playfully. “What was it like, back then?”

“Ah, it was… entertaining.” He didn't say anything more, lost in thought as he leaned on his cane. You were vaguely aware that you were the only person who ever saw him like this. Alastor wore his smile like armor, guarding himself with a nonchalant facade, but very rarely, behind closed doors, the guard would fall, just for a little while.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to ask another question, Alastor spoke, “You seem quite tired, my dear. Maybe it is time we part ways for the evening.”

Pressing your lips together, you knew he was right. You really should be getting to bed, but you were worried about Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this before, so it was impossible to guess what he'd do once he was alone.

“You really should learn to hide your emotions better.” Alastor turned suddenly, chucking to himself. “There is nothing to worry about, darling. I am perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, you say that, but for some reason I don't believe you.” Stifling a yawn, you gave Alastor a look.

“Now, now, don't be like that.” Alastor came and sat on the edge of the bed, using his magic to set the laptop on top of the dresser. “What can I do to convince you to sleep?”

Leaning back, you thought for a moment. When the idea hit you, your face flushed with embarrassment for a moment, but you swallowed the anxiety. He did ask, after all.

“Sing to me?”

Alastor laughed, causing you to glare. “Again with the ridiculous ideas!” When your face fell subconsciously, Alastor hesitated.

When he didn't say anything, you accepted the fact that it was a ridiculous request. Assuming he'd leave the room on his own accord, you used your magic to turn out the lights as you slid under the covers of your bed. You never did get all those spreadsheets done like you'd wanted.

“Parlez-moi d’amour.”

Alastor’s slightly-static-filled voice was quiet. His eyes faintly glowed in the dark and you watched him with wide eyes.

“Redites-moi des choses tendres.”

Smiling softly, you sank into the bed, closing your eyes and allowing Alastor’s comforting voice to wash over you.

“Votre beau discours /

“Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre /

“Pourvu que toujours /

“Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes /

“Je vous aime.”

((The song))

[mandy-asimp]

Late night dancing

Agatha Harkness x fem! Reader (she/her)

Warnings: swearing, touchiness, kissing, the media being shit, reassurance, fluff, angst, it's a happy ending

Summary: reader is a gamer and plays among us because that's what I was feeling and is dating Agatha who is a big CEO but their relationship is exposed one night.

"Ok an Y/n? What did you see?" Rea's voice chimed over everyone.

It was a classic Friday night stream. A group of friends playing round after round of games while drinking. Something Y/n had found herself doing a lot more ever since her streaming account picked up.

She sat up in her chair, "ok I was in electrical doing wires, and I left Jack in there. I run out and run past Leslie as she goes into electrical. I was like 'maybe she'll kill' so I waited for a few seconds before running back up. And not only did the vent close, Jack's body was right there!" She explained what happened in the few minutes. "Now, I'm not saying I saw her...but it's very obvious."

The group lightly laughed, "so Leslie? If not we come back for Y/n?" Felix had a smile in his words.

"Uh, it is not me. So you don't have to come back for me, thank you very much!" She put in her vote happily.

The night continued on and it was full of laughter. With headphones on she didn't hear the door open. "No! No! I don't wanna die!" She shouted while running to the button, Toast on her tail. She clicked the button before he could catch her. "It's Toast! He's been chasing me after double backing!" She cried out. Screaming when a hand placed on her shoulder.

The group laughed and tried to talk to her but her mic seemed to have been muted. All her stream saw was the body of someone and her talking to them. She smiled warmly before agreeing to something and unmuting.

"Sorry! But yeah it's totally Toast. If not you can come back for me." She locked in her vote once again.

"Are you ok over there?" Lily laughed, referring to the ear piercing scream.

She let out her own chuckle, " yeah just got scared was all. Also this is my last round. So trust me cause I'm right and it would be a good way to end my stream."

Everyone agreed it was valid and voted him off. Winning the game once more before she signed off. There was some protest, even with her live chat, but she did have to go. A wide smile on her face as she ran into the living room. Hoping the couch and right into her girlfriend's lap.

"Hello honey!" She beamed from ear to ear. "How was your day today?" She was quick to grow eager to hear all about what the other was up to.

Agatha groaned, "people are so dumb sometimes. Honestly, all they're doing is sorting files and working in an office. It's not that hard." She rubbed her temples.

Agatha was the CEO of some big tech company. She always had to deal with the other men in the industry who didn't take her serious. Yet, her company was the leading one and thriving.

"It's actually just infuriating to think, that just because I have a pair of boobs and a vagina, they don't take me half as serious. I'm mean, I figured we'd be past all this by now." She complained, each word making her headache even more heavy.

Y/n hummed in thought, "what if I taught you a game? One where your amazing boobs and vagina have nothing to do with it?" She offered, getting a look of confusion in return. "Come, we game!"

That night, Agatha was taught how to play among us and was surprisingly good at it. Her lying skills being a bit concerning to the younger but she knew it was all fun in games. Literally. Along with, Agatha struggled to lie to her, the ravenette didn't know why but one look and she was spilling the truth.

A few months had passed and it was a Christmas special. Everyone was on and ready to play. "Welcome stream! Welcome everybody! Happy holidays to those who celebrate, happy Friday to those who don't. Today we're back with another among us!" She greeted. Taking a few minutes to greet everyone and talk a little bit. Smiling at the questions about the mystery person.

She joined the group of other players and the conversations just flowed.

"So before we start, Y/n?" Leslie pulled the attention to the friend. A hum being her acknowledgment. "Got a secret lover you're hiding?"

The blush the chat pointed out was undeniable. She leaned closer to her mic with a wide smile, "maybe." Was all she said before the round started.

While she was running around talking to herself, the door opened once again. Her head snapped back and she grew excited at the sight of her girlfriend. Quickly, she placed her character by the emergency button and jumped from her seat. Going as far as turning off her camera to smother Agatha with kisses.

"Well someone missed me?" She teased, hands holding her waist as she enjoyed the feeling of love. "I was only gone for a few weeks?"

"Oh a few weeks too long!" She spoke through kisses. Not aware her mic was still on. "How was your trip, babes?"

Agatha grimaced at the nickname, "you know I hate when you use babes. You use that term so freely with friends. But it was good I guess. The hotel room was lavish. Work is boring to talk about? What about you?"

"Y/n!" Leslie's voice was heard through the headphones. "Is that your maybe?!"

Her eyes grew big as she slowly touched the mic. "Ummm....maybe." She spun from the hold and ran back towards the gaming display.

Agatha noted how it was purple all the time. She knew it wasn't the girls favorite color, but hers instead. She always wanted to ask about it but chose not to. Instead she followed over and stood behind the chair.

Y/n turned the camera back on and the chat went wild at the body in the background. Begging for a face reveal. "I missed the conversation, so I'm going to skip this round." And the votes skipped and the game went on.

"Y/n! What's her name? We all heard her." Leslie followed her around, the proximity chat giving them the chance to still talk. "I'm also going to be honest, my chat is saying she's in the room with you! And they saw her standing behind you?"

She laughed at the absurdity. "Yes she's behind me. I'm training her to play games so she can play with me. Especially since I got her to take a week break for the holidays. Busy woman."

Leslie squealed with excitement, "you should let her finish this round with us and you do all the voicing." She proposed knowing the others would notice the sudden behavior change.

Y/n turned to look at Agatha, an innocent smile spread from ear to ear. "I'll turn off the camera and you'll play?" Was all she had to say before Agatha was situating in the chair.

That's when she realized how comfortable it really was. What she didn't expect was her girlfriend to get handsy while she played. The way she kept talking as if she was the one playing.

She had gone a little quiet as her lips slowly moved against the skin of her neck. The emergency meeting interrupting them. A body had been found.

"So I found this body in electrical, and the lights were out but I can for sure clear Jack and Abe," Rea had began the discussion. "We were all moving as one so it was very unlikely they did it."

There was a silence before Toast spoke up. "Y/n where are you?" He began his interrogation.

"I was on the right side near shields. I had come down from Nav." The lie flowed easily as her hands kept roaming over Agatha's collarbones. Her nail scratching just lightly. "The last person I had seen was Leslie near the trash."

"That was a while ago though like the start of the round. I say we just skip this one we still have enough people." She had concluded. The group agreeing with her.

And as more rounds went on, Y/n got more lost in touching Agatha. Leaving hickies on her neck as she tried to keep her focus. Her blue eyes search for the mute button, eager to let a moan out but not wanting the world to hear. Even if the idea of it turned her on a bit. To fuck her girlfriend hard as the stream listened to her moan and pant out her name. She found the mute button finally.

"You're making this harder than it needs to be..." she hummed out. Eyes still trained to the screen as the character ran around. Just then, Jacks character ran by and she had hit the kill button. Winning the game without realizing.

Y/n unmuted quickly, "a killer in the night!" She cheered. She made herself comfortable in Agatha lap as she so easily switched back to the innocent gamer. "Another win for the compilation. One more round?"

A collections of agreements were thrown before the game started once again. It was a silent round this time. It was a mode that Y/n had brought up that was nearly impossible to win for anyone. Everyone was on mute and could only type one thing and had to hope everyone understood.

What she hadn't planned, was Agatha getting her revenge. Her wised hands moved better than hers did. They knew how to touch her and how to work her up without doing much. She sighed at the pressure applied to her chest, desperate suddenly for the round to end.

Blessed when she ran into the imposter and met her fate. She typed a quick goodbye in chat and her stream abruptly ended. Her headset flew from her head and she turned in Agatha's lap. Hands holding her cheeks as the kiss was full of passion. How she missed her girlfriend!

"I've missed you Aggie..." she sounded more sad than relieved however. It caught Agatha's attention instantly. And they both pulled back and stared at each other. "You missed our six years." Was all she managed before getting up.

She was right. Agatha was so busy with work conferences she had missed it and hardly even sent a text. "Oh angel....I'm so sorry. The meetings just, they distracted me from what's important. You know I never would...let me make it up to you."

"How about a late night? Like we used to? Where we'd just be bundled up and roam the city at night?" There was this big glimmer in her eyes. Begging to go out and relive a night of pure carelessness.

Ever since Agatha had become the CEO, she's had to been a lot more discrete about her public appearances. The cameras waited for her scandal so she would finally fall. The industry was out for her all because of how powerful she was. How powerful her company was. So when she lost the fight in her head, she agreed and began to change into something more comfortable.

Y/n was close behind her the entire time. Her arms wrapped around her waist as she picked out her clothes, head resting against her shoulder. Watching her hands grab the jeans that hugged her so nicely and her old college sweatshirt. But the younger moved quick, grabbing jeans of her own and the sweatshirt before running to the room to begin changing. She loved being in the others clothes, it made her feel more at ease.

"You know if someone saw you in that they'd think you're smart." Agatha had teased coming out the closet. She had already changed and was in just a simple purple hoodie. "Think you're a prodigy."

"I am?" Y/n spun around, finishing up applying lip gloss. Her smile being all the confidence she needed. "I may not be as smart as you are Ms. CEO but I thrive in other categories."

The woman hummed as she came closer, hands slipping under the fabric to hold her bare waist. Feeling the new set of beads that adored her. Curiously, she lifted to look at them. Her brows furrowed as she couldn't read out the letters. She crouched, holding her hips to stable her as she squinted. The purple beads went around and in the middle were her initials. It shocked her as she looked for the clasp to take them off, failing to find it.

"Aren't they beautiful? I had it custom made and permanently attached." She explained quietly, a finger slipping under Agatha chin and forcing her to look up. "Do you like them?"

There wasn't a verbal response as the brunette placed a kiss to the letters and came back up. Kissing her like the night depended on it. "Absolutely adorable. It suits you well. But those aren't your initials?"

"No they are not. But one day, it'll be close enough. Now I was told there was a night out? It's not going to happen in this apartment." She folded her arms over her chest. It earned her a chuckle before she was being pushed towards the door.

That night was perfect. The two walked down streets and took everything in while laughing. Being caught in the snow made it all the better as they would dance down the emptier streets, humming tunes of their own. They had found a hot chocolate stand and could resist as they kept walking around. Their night lasted till the sun began to peak back up. Both absolutely exhausted but it was well worth it.

Yet, by the eight o'clock news, Agatha Harkness was all over. Her lover and her dancing down the road as the so easily figured out who Y/n was. A big CEO and a streamer spotted through the downtown area.

"I just think it's a little absurd, is this a grown woman having a mid-life crisis? Trying to find some joy in the youth of today?" The voice of the news man woke Agatha up.

Her eyes took a moment to register what was on the tv, and once she did her heart felt stuck. The world was ready to take her down for this so easily. Her phone had been blowing up. That's when she realized Y/n sitting at the end of the bed, eyes trained to the screen.

"God...they're assholes. How could they be so quick to assume such bullshit." Her voice was weak and Agatha knew there were tears on her cheeks without even seeing.

"Hun..." she sat up herself now. A hand reaching out to reassure her.

"I mean is she taking advantage of this young lady? She's hardly through life and this woman has trapped her." He kept going and Agatha's hand flew back to her.

Those words did it. They stabbed at both their hearts and Y/n had to look back to Agatha. Her jaw was clenched as she tried to fight the sob in her throat.

It wasn't even a second thought before the streamer was rushing out the room to her computer. Starting a stream as she paced back and forth in the room. Hands running through her bed head and trying to make it less messy.

Within seconds over ten thousand people were logged on to watch. The comments being a mix of insults and majority defending her. She sat at the desk as the tears still fell from her eyes.

The word gold digger repeated in the chat. "That's sick. Actually sick and twisted. You all don't even know half of the story. You saw a few pictures of me and her dancing and so suddenly I'm the gold digger? Did you know I've known her before she had everything? Did you know at a time we both were living paycheck to paycheck together?" The comments had gone still almost.

"You so quickly took and painted her as a woman going through a mid-life crisis, and is taking advantage, ruining my future, when in reality she has been nothing but the sweetest, most caring woman I've ever met. She has done nothing but worked her ass off for everything she owns. I have worked my ass off for everything I own. So do not think for a second I am with her for her money because in the end I don't need it to survive." She couldn't help how easily she spoke. Not stuttering through the tears, but firmly addressing the now millions of viewers.

"So maybe before you jump to every wrong accusation you can possibly think of, you should really just consider the fact love comes in all forms. And that woman who you all bashed for no reason, is the love of my life and always will be. I will love her until I quite literally die. And it is all by my own choice it always has been. Because I'd be a fool to let that woman go. I support her everyday, I have always been her biggest supporter, and I will always be her biggest supporter." She concluded, giving it one moment to see if anyone in the chat would say anything. But it was nothing but support now.

She wiped her tears with shaky hands before ending the stream. It was just her at the computer now. Along with the flooding of tears.

Agatha heard the cries and came around, immediately pulling her from the chair and into the hold. Burying her head into her chest as they swayed slightly. "It's ok angel.....we're gonna be ok."

"They're wrong," she managed to get out. "They're so so wrong!" She pulled back to stare up at her girlfriend. "You know they're wrong right? I don't care about..about any money. I never have I love you because you're you!" She was sobbing uncontrollably, she felt like she was spiraling.

Agatha cooed her back against her chest. "I know. I would never think that of you ever, and you know that." She was going to find whoever got the pictures and make sure they never hold a camera again. How could a world say such cruel things about someone like Y/n? She hugged her tighter.

"How are you able to just accept what they say?" Y/n mumbled into the chest.

"The world has been looking for something to rag on me for years. It just wasn't right that they were going to use you. Your love is not a weapon. Neither is mine." Agatha brushed throwing her hair soothingly. "Why don't we have a lazy day hmm? We'll start with a bath, then we'll have brunch and go from there?"

A small ok was sounded out. And that's exactly what they did. They spent the day in only each other's presence and away from the media. It was them and only them.

Just how it's always been.

[drenched-in-sunlight]

Can I just say how in love I am with the way you draw Marika? Like every art you post of her has my jaw dropping…you add such a beautiful layer of humanity to her with her dynamic expressions and poses—it’s so refreshing to see especially when so many fan arts of her needlessly sexualize her or dial her down to a one-dimensional stone-faced villain (which a villain she is—but she is still complex)

And I adore how you draw her partial nudity as something natural, meaning that you don’t draw her without a top for the sake of objectifying her,

Your art is overall so pleasant and colourful and fun to look at, and your takes of Marika’s character in your fanart is literally what made me more interested in who she is in-game.

Thank you for drawing her the way you do! (And for drawing Elden Ring fanart in general💕)

i've been letting this ask stewing in my inbox for a while because it makes me so emotional 🥲

if you look at how i drew Marika before anything in the DLC was announced, it did fall into the two categories you were talking about, because despite having a little more positive view on her than the rest of the fandom at the time, i still had no idea who she was as a person. and by that time i were more interested in Malenia, so even though i did try to envision how Marika was, it's a very distant and vague image. which is what i love about Elden Ring lore in general: we see Marika via how her children see her.

it was easy back then to conclude we'd never get her, and "mother" is a distant term that will always be overshadowed by "God", so i just went along with the general haha evil sexy girlboss thing that the fandom was doing. but then the DLC teaser dropped the another elusive (possibly firstborn) child of her, with a statue of her holding a baby in his boss room, she started to get more little quirks that's so human in my work (the small smile, the little lock of hair that curls gently) because for the first time, we see her through the eye of a son that evidently adores her, so she gets a bit more human, because someone views her with emotions that are not fear nor distance.

then the DLC drops, and it's not just through Messmer's eye (or the entirety of his being that carry so much of her love it weighs him down and twist into the most horrible curse in the end), it's through the eyes of her family that were no longer there at all. it's the jar innard enemy that huddled in a jar and clutched at a piece of raw meat, it's the Grandmother's gentle smile as she rest among a sea of flowers, it's the solitary minor erdtree that bathed the whole place in the kindness of gold, it's the Fire Knights and soldiers that clearly viewed her as Mother as much as she was God, it's Miquella throwing away his love and doubt because he didn't know how to deal with the revelation that his mother was once a fallible human just like the rest of them, it's Trina's entreaty that Godhood was just a cage that would kill him slowly, it's the final boss music with the female voice belting "Hail, Marika the Eternal" - in the place where she had to wade through a sea of flesh and blood, her family included, to ascend to Godhood. it's finally understanding that to her, Eternity is to live for all her loved ones that have fallen down.

and somehow, it all comes back to this portrait at the base game, right at the Roundtable Hold, of a woman with permanently lowered eyes.

yeah i know after the DLC i've put on such a Messmer-style protective glasses for her, it shows very clearly in my art. now she could cry, looks sad, small smile, big smile, looks silly, looks cute, looks serious, her hair is pulled up in twenty different ways, she jokes and talks to animals and goes back to be just a simple young girl rolling around in the grass, blah blah... im drawing all these with eyes wide open. and i have no intention of stopping lol.

sometimes, things that already come alive will never go back to be a cardboard cutout anymore. if ppl don't like it, block me or whatever, in my space, i'll do that makes me happy. and im very glad that other ppl could find their own happiness and solace with my work too :) thank you for such a thoughtful and kind messages!

[caramelpenguin]

(loosely?) inspired by....welll.....😉

With a sliver of liquid courage in his veins and the quickening beating of his heart, Wille strokes Simon's curls, whose head rests on his lap, while his gaze drifts to the winking stars. He thinks about it for a few seconds- the sticky, slow summer of two years ago- and decides that if it all goes badly, he can always get drunk with their friends. Who probably haven't saved any pizza for them.

"We used to snog. Like, a lot." Wille says, almost stammers. Simon jolts, and he looks down to see those glinting brown eyes stare up at him. "A lot," he repeats.

The light from the living room spills out behind Wille, making Simon's skin glow as he quietly laughs. "We've never talked about this before."

"It's never come up in conversation."

A slight smirk. "It was two years ago."

Wille runs a hand through his hair, trying to play it off. "We made excuses to make-out for seven months."

"You counted?"

He splutters, shoving Simon's laughing figure until he almost tumbles off his lap. "No, not counting. It was the summer, and then the next half of the year. We told our friends we were busy, and then we'd go and snog somewhere private and- oh my god- we were just-like-"

"Teenage curiousity," Simon explains, mind already set. Certain.

Fragments of the past flicker in his mind. Gasping as Simon's leg slid between his own, tongues teasing and swirling and tasting, bruising kisses behind curtains, the sweetess of chocolate on lips, sugar on skin, and holding each other so tightly they were one soul, one entity.

"Do you ever think about it?" Simon asks, his voice quieter now, like they're discussing a secret.

Wille’s heart skips a beat, unsure of where this is going, unsure of the territory they're stepping into. Wille and Simon from two years ago never talked about this. Wille and Simon from last year almost talked about it, but they'd kissed each other as a dare instead as their friends cheered and drank and pretended like it was their first time smelling and inhaling the other.

His mouth is suddenly dry. "About what?"

Simon's lips twitch into a small smile. "You know. Us."

Wille hesitates, eyes flicking up to the stars, trying to find the right words in their light. "Yeah," he admits softly. "Sometimes."

The air between them is heavier, the playful banter from earlier fading like an old echo. Wille watches as Simon's fingers brush absently against the grass, his expression relaxed and unreadable.

Did you like me? Wille wants to ask, to scream. Did you romantically like me? Were you gripping onto sanity but succumbing each time our lips touched, each time we smiled at each other across the room? Did you go home and think about me like I did you?

June to December was a blissful haze of stolen touches and lips and tongue and teeth. Reality settled in with the winter snow. By April, Simon had a boyfriend. Nobody needs to know the selfish relief that melted inside Wille when Simon and Marcus broke up by the end of the year.

And nobody needs to know that, a few hours later, as their friends are watching a film, the two of them are hiding in the kitchen with a bottle of wine. That Wille's sucking Simon's bottom lip into his mouth, hand buried into his curls, and Simon's leg is inbetween his own, nails gripping his face, the slow rhythm of his hips much like the melody of the summer where they fell in love.

now with a part 2!

NOW ON AO3

[mrm0rgansw0man]

Hii can I please have a scene with Arthur Morgan and his fem s/o in an alternate universe where Arthur never got TB and he is happily married living with his wife on a cosy farm similar to the marstons. They have just had a newborn daughter and she is only a few days old and Arthur sees his wife picking up their newborn, still in shock from giving birth just days prior. She is cuddling and sweet talking her baby, gently kissing her head and loving her. She coos and gently but sweetly whispers good morning to her baby girl. I just want Arthur’s reaction to this and how he reacts to all the fluff plus him being a new father. Can you please end it with fem reader putting their child back in the crib and making their way to the living room, relaxing on the sofa together and talking about how they should visit the marstons soon. Thank you 💞💞💞💞💞💞

The Life a Good Man Deserves

Has it really been only a week since I watched her walk along the tree line of the forest near our home, soaking in the sun, glowing like a god damn angel? She was pregnant as could be, but she wanted to take one last walk before we took our first walk with our baby girl.

And a few days later, she was here. God was it hard, watchin' my wife hurt like that. Her screams and all the blood... it left me shakin' like a leaf. I've never felt so scared in my life I don't think. We didn't have a doctor or a nurse or anythin', but we had Charles and a forest only a few yards away. Thank whatever lord there was above that he had stopped by that morning, and right as he was about to leave I heard my wife screamin' for me from our bedroom. We both came running, and that was the start of the longest night of my life.

Charles made a million different remedies on the stove of our kitchen. For pain, for infection, any complications my wife or our little girl could have after birth. All the while I was holding my wife's hand as she brought our baby-girl into the world, how crazy life is sometimes.

We named her 'Briar-Rose.' Right after she was born, my wife looked out the window and saw the ones we had planted had finally bloomed. We'd have horrible luck with them before, so it seemed perfect.

I ought to go find them now, instead of just sittin' her day dreaming about the family that I finally have. God, I love them so much.

• • • • • • •

Arthur set his leather journal down on his bedside table, the matching ones he made for the two of you for your first anniversary you spent together in your home. The one he had built for you, with the help of Charles and John. Oh and little Jack of course, he did so much!

Arthur got up and slipped on a pair of worn old jeans and his favorite blue button up shirt. How it had survived all these years, he didn't know.

How he had survived all these years, he didn't know either.

Arthur quietly made his way to the nursery. It was right next to the bedroom the two of you shared, and the door was cracked open. There was no other place you could be. Arthur was about to walk in, but he stopped when he heard you talking to your daughter. He watched through the crack of the door, completely mesmerized.

Your hair was in a messy braid down your back, and you wore a long flowing white nightgown. It was long sleeved, and the strings around your bosom area were tied into a pretty bow. The sleeves, which had forever been too long for your arms but you refused to mend time, rested around your whole hand, only leaving your fingers sticking out. Arthur could see them sticking out under your coat and laughed to himself. He loved these little things about you, and he had them all written down in his journal.

Your coat, which was actually the brown plaid one that belonged to Abigail, also hung loosely around you with your nightgown. He smiled as he remembered both you and Abigail trading your favorite coats. John and Arthur had both been talking and they decided it was time to leave the gang, it wasn't an easy decision but a necessary one. You and Abigail were two peas in a pod, like sisters almost. You had both decided you needed to do something to always stay together now that you wouldn't be able to see each other everyday.

A small cry from your daughter pulled him from his thoughts.

"Oh my sweet girl, shh shh." You cooed softly, you picked up your daughter from her crib and cradled her in your arms. Holding her close and tight. You pressed a gentle kiss on your daughters head, and she calmed. You rocked her back and fourth and started talking to her.

"How'd my baby sleep? Did you sleep well?" You asked, your tone so gentle and full of love Arthur thought he could cry. You were the perfect mother. "I love you, so much my sweet girl. Your so beautiful. You've got your daddy in you, those stunning blue eyes and that hair of yours. I can't wait to watch you grow up."

Arthur couldn't take it, tears fell freely from his eyes and he opened the door of his daughters room and actually ran to you. He held you close to him, careful to not hurt your stomach.

"Oh Arthur, are you alright?" You said with a light laugh, though your voice was laced with concern.

"Honey, I have never been more alright in my life." He said shakily. His quiet voice held so much emotion it broke your heart.

When Arthur first found out you were pregnant, he was angry. Not at you, and certainly not at your unborn child. He was angry at himself, how could he be so stupid? Getting another woman pregnant, while still being in the gang? Which was definitely going to shit, by the way. Arthur could feel it happening. His heart actually hurt when he thought about Eliza and Issac, how his stupidity had gotten them killed. His little boy, and the woman he never married but god damn he should've, both dead over 10 dollars. 10. Fucking. Dollars. If he had been there, those bastards would've been dead in a second! He was a gunslinger for fucks sake! He could've saved them if he had just done right. But he was so scared to be a father, especially to a son. He didn't want to turn into his own father. He wouldn't wish that on anyone. But once a certain Karen Jones dragged him by the ear to the hiding spot you had found to cry in telling him to "fix it" he knew what he had to do. And it wasn't easy.

He held you in his arms, and apologized for every second he made you think or feel like he didn't want you or the child growing inside you. He said he had a plan, and it was the first time since joining the gang that you were relieved to hear those words.

"Arthur?"

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. Arthur pulled away from you so he could get a better look

"Would you like to hold your daughter Mr. Morgan?" You asked with a smile just as sweet as your southern drawl.

"Yes I would, Mrs. Morgan." He said with a smile, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes. He ever so carefully took his daughter into his arms. She fussed for a moment, before quickly settling back down again.

"I can't believe I'm a daddy..." Arthur said softly. "Look at my sweet girl... Both of my sweet girls."

You stood on your tip toes and kissed Arthur on the cheek, and you bent back down to kiss your daughter. You winced straightening back up.

"Sit down, please honey." Arthur said gently. "You just had a baby after all."

"'M fine sweetheart." You dismissed. "I need to get the best view possible of this.."

A sudden sharp cry erupted from your daughter, causing both you and Arthur to laugh.

"Still a view I want to see." You said with a smile. Arthur passed Briar off to you, and she quieted down a bit.

"Ain't nothin' like the touch of a mother." Arthur said softly, gently wrapping his arms around your stomach. With your body flush against his, he rested his chin on top of your head. You chuckled.

"You should sing her a lullaby. Arthur suggested. You chuckled, knowing he'd use any excuse to hear you sing. You took a breathe, and began a gentle lullaby:

Down in the valley, valley so low Hang your head over, hear the wind blow Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.

Roses love sunshine, violets love dew Angels in heaven know I love you Know I love you, dear, know I love you Angels in heaven, know I love you.

Writing this letter, containing three lines Answer my question, "Will you be mine?" "Will you be mine, dear, will you be mine?" Answer my question, "Will you be mine?"

Down in the valley, valley so low Hang your head over, hear the wind blow Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.

You finished the song, and were now left with a sleeping daughter and a husband who was weeping. The sight of it brought tears to your own eyes.

"I just watched my wife sing my daughter to sleep for the first time.." Arthur wept. "Look at me, I'm a god damn mess. God I love you so much, I love her so much- (Name), this is real. This is our life."

"I can't belive it either!" You said with a sniffle. "Let me put her in her cradle before we wake her up."

Arthur nodded, sneaking a quick kiss to your forehead before heading to the door. Arthur was about to leave, but something told him to stay a moment longer. He turned just in time to see you tenderly set your daughter down in her crib and cover her up with her blanket which you had sewn by hand for her. You kissed your daughter one last time before joining Arthur.

As soon as you were in arms reach, Arthur scooped you up and carried you bridal style right into the living room. You giggled like some lovesick schoolgirl, causing Arthur to giggle too.

"Nothin but laughter and tears of joy in this house." You said happily. "That's exactly how I wanna be livin'!"

"Me too darlin!" Arthur said, gently setting you down on the sofa. He sat down right next to you and opened his arms, which you gladly crawled into. With your head resting in the crook of his neck and your legs curled up in his lap, you felt so safe. And so loved, you swore Arthur Morgan was sent from the lord above just for you.

"When do you think you'll be up for a trip to go see Abigail?" Arthur said, a sly smile on his face.

You gasped in excitment. "Oh goodness, is the house done already!? Did John invite you?"

"Yes ma'am! And guess what else darlin'?" Arthur said with a laugh. Your excitement was contagious, anyone could agree to that. "They made us a nursery for Briar-Rose."

Your eyes welled up with tears and you covered your mouth with your hand.

"Your kiddin' me..." You said softly, a smile slowly forming on your face.

"They really did honey." Arthur said and smiled softly at you. "Abigail wrote to me. I got the letter the night I went to town right before you had Briar. Said the house is done and we need to come visit as soon as you feel up to it after you have the baby."

"I don't know how soon, but I can't wait to go! Oh Arthur I miss her so much.." You said sadly. "I'm gonna write her back! We'll plan a visit next month...." You said, but your words trailed off into a yawn.

"Sounds good t'me baby." Arthur said, his hand natrually finding your hair to begin running his fingers through it. It put you to sleep faster then you'd like to admit.

Arthur let out a content sigh. He had never dared even daydream of a life like this for too long, yet here he was. Actually living the life of his dreams. With his wife, daughter, and even his 'brother'.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

authors note: I HOPE YOU ENJOYED CAUSE I LITERALLY HAD THE BEST TIME WRITING THISSS Xx

[junedenim]

2005

beneath the boardwalk, part 3 (series masterlist)

mardy bum

warnings: fluff, angst, fuzzy behavior, lil smutty, robert, etc.

word count: 15.1k

We experienced the cruelest case of January, but in sheltered boxes covered in ice, it was the greatest winter of my life. In that teenage love haze, I had fallen deeply into that frozen-over lake and never had a chance to break out of it.

On my winter break, Alex and I had kept to ourselves. There wasn't much point in going out. Permanently wearing jumpers and trapped under copious amounts of blankets, winter felt warm. We had resumed much of our behavior that had taken place before my departure. Hidden away in his room, we spent most of my winter recess there. We ate dinners with his parents and went to parties we probably left too early.

In those cavities, we found a way to occupy them easily. Sex was always there but we'd grown wary of doing it with his parents around now that they knew we were together together. Writing sometimes occurred but silence was hard between the two of us. Talking, talking, talking always.

At times, it felt like a tween-aged slumber party. Alex painted my nails once. Toes & fingers. He did a decent job with steady hands and shaky breath. I taught him how to braid my hair. You know that thing where people shake hands with someone or they kiss their cheeks and vow to never wash that part of their body again? I kept those braids in my hair for far too long. They were never particularly good looking but the way my hair, looking black against my pale skin and the white snow, fell out of those twists seemed to frame my face just right and placed this prideful beam on Alex's face that makes you giddy. I couldn't bear to withdraw his creation.

"Could you ever see yourself living in London?" I asked him one night. We were on opposite ends of his bed, each propped up to look at the other on the further end. Our intimacy lacked in touch but ran deep enough to create faults in conversation.

"Yeah." He smiled, knowing what I was hinting at. Could you ever see yourself living in London with me?

"It would be smart for the band." I tried to play off like that was my concern for him.

His eyes knew otherwise. "Yeah. For the band."

The band consistently had gigs about once a week and they had never been bigger. Jumping around at their gigs helped keep your body heat up. I dragged friends to them, never Joanie, that chapter had finally closed, and she vowed—a vow she kept for far longer than any of us imagined: forever—to never get back together with Matt. AB and Claire became good company and they remained steady through university. Unlike Alex and I, they were both at Aston together.

In Peter & Debora's living room (two people I have yet to meet, despite occupying their living room), I spent my last night up north at the Monkeys gig. It was quite funny, probably the last small venue I ever watched the band in. There must have been several dozen of us packed into this living room. I sat on the arm of Peter & Debora's couch. A drink in my hand, something fruity. Alex got it for me.

He was edgy before gigs, even ones small, especially small ones. The majority of the room was people we personally knew and I think that always heightened his nerves, feeling the need to impress them in some fashion. He was extra quiet; didn't even speak to me unless I asked him. He was touchier and stood beside me, resting his hand on my knee.

Then, he went up and played and was the cockiest son of a bitch you'd ever heard. "What tunes do you know?"

"Choo Choo."

"No, no, can't do that." I think of the immense amount of pleasure he got from this. Being some god to hold power over his subjects and not play "Choo Choo" at this gig, but also, never again.

I don't mean to bore you down with the repetition of things but our nights were often the same. A setlist with a rough version of "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor" and a concluding "A Certain Romance." Most of these nights blended together with enough alcohol to flood a house.

Peter & Debora's had a somber tone to it. Most of its attendees would be going back to school and the most important one (me, obviously!) would be long away unable to facilitate as a muse. Alex and I didn't talk about those things. For many years, to our detriment, we didn't address these departures. We didn't even make promises to visit one another, which could have lent itself to an easy break-up, but somehow didn't.

I think we were comfortable with the idea of slipping away from one another. Looking into the future, it felt natural for that to be the case at our age. Alex would be off on some tour and I would be god knows where. I saw 3 paths: teacher, be my mother, or—hidden in my bunker-shielded wildest dreams—a writer. I hated the first 2 options but the second seemed likely, especially as I sipped away at another drink and had started accumulating a drug collection to put a pharmacy to shame. The extent of that collection was hidden from the Yorkshire folks, even Alex. None of it seemed coated in optimism.

I naturally slipped into hazes and that would be the only point I'd imagine a world Alex and I made it past 2005. On New Year's, we kissed, awkwardly slobbering drunk, I tugged on his shirt and slurred, "I've got you for 1 more year, at least, swear it." He reached down and lifted my hand and between our chests, he pinky sweared it.

Claire scooted next to be on the couch in between songs. We had kept in touch, more than Joanie and I. Over the winter, we had spent countless nights like the good old days, but much like Alex and me, we made no plans for the future. Summer seemed like the general assumption.

"I'm gonna miss you, baby." Claire kissed my cheek, ever affectionate, ever wasted. I thought about the lives we used to have where she'd place her arm around my waist and I'd lean into her and it felt like the ultimate comfort. She had been my haven for so long but I think by that time we both accepted that we didn't need much of each other anymore. We had faded with school, boyfriends, and apathy. It hurts my heart more now than it did then.

After their performance, Alex took Claire's seat beside me. He was sweaty and gross and probably tasted sweet. "How'd we do, Janie Lanie?" He had been doing that a lot lately, calling me something rhyming with Janie, like a version of The Name Game, typically a few drinks in. I thought he might fall backward onto the couch with how wobbly he was.

"A solid performance."

He shook his head. "Nah, uh, uh, uh. I'd like details please." His eyes were hazy and he propped his head onto my shoulder. He was so small then and I'd like the idea that he was only ever this small and soft with me. Even in the future, when he met the love of his life he would grow jaded and less willing to display this delicate quality, I would have the knowledge that I was the only girl who ever got to experience him like this. I had these thoughts often. Gazing off into the far future, I was desperate to still be on Alex's mind, though in every scenario we weren't together. I guess I didn't have that much belief that anyone would stick around with me. I had fallen deeply for him by that point but there was no need for me to fool myself into thinking it would be forever, despite how much that remaining naivety in me wished for it.

"You had quite the ego tonight," I told him.

He lifted his head, sure to be spinning. He talked with his hands, flinging them around with each word. "Well, you know, I had to please the people. Give them what they wanted."

"What about what I want?"

He leaned close, breathing the same breaths as me. "I only aim to please, Jane C."

I leaned away from him, back to the wall, getting the full look of him. "Is that so, hmm?"

"Why don't we go back home? I'll show ya." Home, collective usage. I allowed myself the fantasy that it was our home we were going back to. We'd ride in the car after Alex drank and I would allow him to fiddle with the radio and my hands. Other nights, he'd drive and I would drift in and out of sleep but my fingers would play with his hair. A house would be a home. I never grew up with the feeling mine was. It was a big thing and the only thing that felt warm to me was my room. I long to go back to that bedroom sometimes. Sure, memories with Alex, but a thing is only the sum of its parts and most of those parts were childhood afflictions of loneliness that turned into art. Those cherished stories, ones I would whisper to Alex, and write about in my diary, then write to publish, took place in those four walls. House, home. It all felt far off.

We did go back home, my parents'. I smoked a cigarette on the way, which annoyed Alex because I had rolled down the window to do so and the cold rushed in, burning a chill through him. The radio hummed in the back and he didn't bother to play with it. Through the drunk state, we both recognized the somber mood.

"Claire told me Will dropped out of uni."

Alex languidly chuckled. "Only a matter of time."

"Shocked he even bothered."

He shrugged. "You always knew him more than me."

I shook my head. "Probably not. Will came off how he appeared."

"You got any plans with Georgia when you get back?"

"Not yet. She stayed over break so I'm sure she's got something planned."

"What about Robert?"

I hummed. I was slightly confused by Alex's mention of him. I hadn't spoken to Robert over break. Maybe brought him up once in a story I told.

"Any plans with him?" Alex asked further.

I laughed. "Robert isn't someone you make plans with."

"Okay." We didn't talk the rest of the way. I hated every minute of it. I hated the fact that he got drunk and he knew I couldn't get drunk because I had to drive. Mostly, I hated the fact that we were out of sync. No longer were we occupied with talking, endless bouts of talking. Alex didn't even bother to fiddle with the radio. He just stared out the window. I blamed it on me leaving and that's what it was mostly about. Mostly.

When we had sex that night it felt forced. I hated feeling stiff with him but he was drunk and didn't have much care other than the need for release. It felt sticky.

He fell asleep quickly and I prayed he would have a headache the next day.

Instead, I woke up with a kiss on my nose. Gentle and enough sweetness to never starve again. "Why are you waking me up?" I moaned and stretched. "Why are you up?"

I felt his hand on my side, wrapped around me, keeping me to him. "I have to say this now."

"What?" Deep stretch, toes curling.

He tapped my side. "Come on, this is serious."

I was going to ridicule him. Waking me up was not a way to grab my attention. It was a way to piss me off. But his tone indicated something to me that I needed to know further. "Okay."

He didn't speak right away. Looked over my face and I felt like it was the first time I was speaking to him again. I realized he was trying to memorize me. His hand came up and cradled my cheek, soft against calloused. "I, uh, fuck, Jane."

Alex sounded raw and it worried me. It made me hate myself for all those feelings of anger I felt the night before because he didn't rub my clit. "What?"

"I'm just gonna miss you so fucking much. I know we don't do this mushy crap. You don't like that kind of thing but give me a pass."

I absolved him. "You're forgiven." My lips cracked a smile and I bordered on a giggle.

"I just love you and I wish you were here all the time but your happiness being in London weighs all that out and I just can't—I'm so proud of you. I shouldn't feel this desperate for you but I just can't help it. Oh, fuck, I sound stupid." He ducked his face into his hands. It is the cutest thing I have ever seen.

"No," I insisted. A few beats passed in waiting for him to lift his head, which he didn't. "I always found I love you to be stupid but I suppose I'm a mushy fucking idiot." He lifted his head and I hugged my arms around him. I couldn't bear to look him in the eye when I said. "I love you too." Muffled away in his shoulder. It was the most awkward we had ever been and will ever be. Any stiffness dissolved after that. Alex and I would fight again; we would even break up, but something in that morning shifted and we were never awkward gangly teenagers like that again. Steady ever since.

When we pulled away, he kissed me. "I have something to tell ya."

I giggled. "Other than that?"

"Well, I love you and you'll love this." Cheeseballs, us two. "We've got this gig on February 18th."

In November, I vowed to myself that when Alex dropped hints of gigs, he wanted me to go to them. He wouldn't inconvenience you with an invite, you just had to assume he wanted you there. "I'll go."

He let out a small laugh. "You better because it's in London."

My face went dead. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, which means we can do Valentine's Day together and make fun of it the whole fucking time but actually enjoy every minute of it." He knew me too well. It was almost annoying if it wasn't the most endearing thing that had ever happened in my life. Him getting to know me. Him knowing me.

I cracked completely in two. Wide smile, bright eyes, full view of my teeth. "I love it. I love it all." I kissed his lips, then his cheeks, then his nose, then his eye (left then right), then his ear (right then left), temple, forehead, nose again, chin, lips again.

"Quite the display, Janie, you're gonna have us get a fine."

"From who? The police in here?"

"I know your mum runs a tight ship."

"My mum is only the police of martinis around here." He stole that line from me. Plagiarist.

His hand sketched my back, got to know my shoulder blades, became acquaintances with my spine, made love to my butt cheeks. Ass man, for sure. Then, he kissed my boobs. Boobs man, for sure.

I'm a sternum woman, for sure.

*

In the first week of February, I kissed Robert. It was in the bathroom of his house at a shindig he was having (shindig is the only way to describe it). He was doing a line and I was smoking a joint. 

"Gimme some," Robert urged me. He had a habit of mixing substances. Alcohol with coke was a given, then anything else he could get his hands on.

I held the burning paper close to my chest like it was my child threatening to be taken from me. "No! Get your own."

I inhaled from it when he grabbed my face and sucked the smoke out of me. He manhandled me and I took it. I'm the one who initiated the kissing part to convince myself it was some point of passion. He grabbed my boob tight like he was trying to force something out of it. I reciprocated by squeezing his dick through those stupidly tight ripped jeans. He squealed like a pig and I laughed, easing my struggle with another spliff.

I never told Alex about it, partially because it wasn't my fault. The other part was that I was flattered by it. I feared I lacked desirability at times and I was a girl ashamed to admit that cheating on my boyfriend didn't make me feel guilty. I'm not dumb either. I know he wasn't innocent either. One night over winter break, when Matt and I were talking at a party—Alex was off in the bathroom—he enthusiastically told me a story about a night out after a gig. Halfway through he said, "Alex was otherwisedly occupied." Matt's drunkenness left me unable to investigate further but I assumed Alex snogged someone. I wasn't annoyed by it for some reason. Probably (definitely) my parents.

My head hurt after the whole thing and I focused on the bathtub's drain for too long after. "Would you finger a girl?" I asked.

He inspected himself in the mirror now, dragging his cheeks down to reveal the red pockets of his eyes. "You?" I saw his reflection smirk at me.

I shook my head. "No. I just wondered if you were the type of guy to finger a girl."

He turned his head back at me and wiggled his eyebrows. If it was anyone else I think I'd laugh at the act. Robert made things seem stale. He licked his lips like a dog would. "You should know, love, I would do anything."

I laughed at his instability as he wobbled back and forth and darted his eyes around the tiles. "Would you let me peg you?"

He pulled down his jeans, his belt clashing with the ceramic sink. He turned around, bent over, and spread his ass cheeks. "Come and get it, baby."

I laughed hard, hitting my head on the window, sputtering a peal of painful laughter out my lips. "All types of diseases live in there. I'm sure of it."

The bathroom door opened, revealing Georgia. Neither Robert nor I made a point to move because Georgia wouldn't care. "Jane, do you have a fag I can borrow?" I rifled through my purse and tossed my pack at her. She plucked one and then threw it back to me. She left without another word.

Robert stood up and turned around full-frontal nudity, but my eyes kept focused on his eyes. "Would you fuck me?"

"Me?" I pointed to myself quizzically.

"I'd fuck you right now. In that skirt." Red velvet, as tasteful as the cake. I ran my hand over the fabric. My blouse, white and ruffly, plus sheer black stockings made me look like a librarian. Guys like Robert got off on that kind of thing. "The Literary Type." I think the only thing that would have turned him on more is if I wore pigtails in my hair and called him "daddy."

"Men would fuck a cat if it let them." The weed mellowed the situation more and I knew Robert wouldn't hurt me so I felt fine teasing him.

"I only like one kind of pussy," he hit back.

I let out a hint of a chuckle. "Nice one."

"Come on, love." He gestured to his cock, which I still hadn't made eye contact with. "I would let your boyfriend fuck me in the ass if it meant I could fuck you."

I took a puff and if I closed my eyes for long enough I was outside a pub in Sheffield talking to Alex. I sometimes fingered myself to that thought. Conversation with Alex was probably why the sex was so good. I would think back on a funny thing he said and I would orgasm from it.

"Have you ever seen 2 Fast 2 Furious?" Every time I smoked since that night I felt Alex's arms wrap around me.

"Movies like that signal the downfall of society. What pointless piece of shit?" Robert was one of those people.

I scoffed, "Not everything can be A Clockwork Orange."

"Why shouldn't it be? Shall we do a little droog behavior?" He shook his dick at me and the insinuation of raping me was what finally made me move.

"I'm going to go home now."

I walked by him and he didn't protest. He pulled his underwear back on but took his jeans off. "Hey, Jane!" He shouted as I walked down the hallway to his living room. "Think of me when you do it." His fingers spread and he wagged his tongue in between them.

I gave Georgia a kiss on the cheek and went home, thinking about that conversation, replaying it. I blamed it on my high. I didn't masturbate for a month.

*

Alex came to London on the eve of Valentine's Day. He had come from a gig in Manchester the night before and his dedication wasn't unnoticed. He made a point of those things after the previous November. Silent confirmations. I had never felt like a worse person.

I buried within myself. I wore a freshly bought vintage coat when picking him up at the train station. He fiddled with the ends of the pointed fur collar and picked at the buttons of its double-breastedness. I bought it because I liked it but I wore it because I knew he would. Alex has a weird thing for clothes. More appealed by what a woman uses to cover up than reveal.

It was late when he got in but earlier than I thought he would be. He placed a hand on the small of my back and kept it there until we arrived back at my place. It was an affection we had never done for one another, publically. Everything felt weird. Publically.

We ate dinner on the floor, Chinese from Tai Won Mein, and talked like no time had passed. We talked about nothing, the entertaining nothing. Except it had turned into the lying nothing. I felt we both were keeping things from one another but I was too ashamed of the pleasure I had from flirtatious acts with Robert to ask whether Alex had slept with someone. I knew he hadn't. Because that would be "cheating." Snogging, especially drunken snogging, was excusable. I figured that anything I did high with Robert would be excusable too.

"The gang is going to come to the gig," I told him.

He raised his eyebrows and chewed away at his Kung Pao chicken. "Who's the gang?" He sounded like my father. It felt unnerving.

"Mhm," I sounded, "Georgia, mainly. You know, that whole crowd. They liked some of the music they heard from MySpace." I plucked away at my rice. Focused on the grains, not him.

He snorted. "Georgia & Co. don't seem like the type to be on MySpace."

I shrugged. 1 grain, 2 grain, 3 grain... "We're all full of surprises."

He waited. I waited. His eyes stared at me for long enough to draw them away from the rice. When I met his gaze, his eyes ducked back down to his carton. "What about Robert?" Rice, 1 grain, 2 grain, 3 grain, 4.

"Hm, yeah."

Alex chuckled at some thought in his head. Before I could ask, he told me, "I think Jamie and Robert would get along."

Robert would eat Jamie alive. Probably induced by some coke high, something would possess him to unhinge his jaw and eat Cookie. "Yeah, maybe."

*

That night, when my head was on his sternum I told him, "I want a turtle."

He snickered into his hand. I tilted my head, looking at him through his chin. "What kind of turtle?" He asked. "A snapping one? It would fit you."

My nail poked at the skin under his chin, picking away at some non-existent thing. "How pleasant you are?" I sighed and rolled onto my back, his arm pinned around but he never voiced a complaint. "Maybe a box turtle. They're the kind they have in Central Park."

"Ah, New York." Alex grinned. It seemed from genuine emotion but it was faked by how wide it was. "You'd look good in New York."

I groaned dramatically and rolled back onto his chest with a slap. It could be seen as fitful tossing and turning or some form of theatrics. I picked at the bottom of his chin again. "I'd only live in New York if you lived in New York."

He grabbed my hand away, the picking annoying him, but he held my wrist in his grip and rested the conjoinment on his chest. "I'd try New York."

I giggled and sat up on my elbows onto his chest. "We'd be Americans."

He chuckled and shook his head. "I don't think I'd ever get away with being an American with my fucking accent. You'd be fine. Could pass for British royalty."

"Does that make you my Wesley?"

"'As you wish.'"

I fell beside him again, lying on my side, and rested my head on the neighboring pillow. He placed both his hands on his chest, I hadn't trapped an arm this time. "Did you have pets growing up?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

"You must have had the loneliest childhood. No siblings, no pets. Did you play with rocks to pass the time?"

"Very funny. I had friends, you know."

I mocked a look of shock. "Really?"

"Hush now," he willed. "What did you have growing up? A pet alligator named Bartholomew."

"Very funny." I curled my arm under my pillow. "We only ever had a goldfish."

Alex smiled. I'm not sure at what. "Really?"

"You know how goldfish live like a week before they die?" He nodded. I excitedly drew closer to him. "Ours, Lady Penelope—"

His laugh cut through my words. "Like Thunderbirds?"

I bulged my eyes, duh! I continued, "She lived like 5 years. Tommy won her at a fair and they had her in a little plastic bag with barely any water. She didn't get a bowl until the next day but she was strong. Harper really wanted a cat but Tommy was all like 'That wouldn't be fair to Lady Penelope.'"

"Tommy sounds sweet." I hadn't realized that this was the first story I ever told Alex about Tom. My memories of him are short, affected by the wills of time. Much of his life has been reframed in my mind, infected by my grief and rose-colored views I had as a child meeting the harsh black & white light.

I was lit up by memories of him and Lady Penelope. The joyous times of my youth. "He cared for her more than most people care for their children. He wasn't usually like this. He played rugby and used to wrestle Greg in our backyard until he cried. Something about that fish. I don't know." I smiled thoughtfully at the ceiling. I felt an ache inside that I hadn't felt in years. I'm not sure if it was from Tom or some longing for that innocent time when monsters under my bed were the scariest things I could imagine.

I felt flush all of a sudden, pale in the face. "'That damn fish won't die.'"

Alex chuckled. "Your mum say that?" The Russian-American-pretending-to-be-British inflection in my voice clued him into who I was reciting from.

I repeated the phrase twice. "We went on vacation, came back and that fish was still swimming."

"Lady Penelope had a strong spirit."

I felt stuck in a loop, staring at the ceiling, mouthing the words, "'That damn fish won't die.'" My mouth kept doing it. My brain kept repeating my mother's voice. "When Tommy died...my mum, well, I don't know. We were all shells of ourselves but my mum." I felt tears in my eyes but I couldn't stop staring at my ceiling. "You know, she wasn't always like this? It's hard to believe. I can't. When we came back from Tommy's funeral she kept saying that. Repeated it for days. 'That damn fish won't die.'"

"How'd she die?" Alex asked.

I almost didn't have the heart to tell him. The devastation I had felt at 10 felt too strong for Alex at 19. "A few days after the funeral, my mum flushed her down the toilet alive. I'd like to think she's swimming in the pipes still."

Alex lacked follow-up questions after that. I turned away from him and he made no moves to change my position. He dropped a hand to my shoulder and squeezed it but we didn't talk and I cried at some point in the early morning but I think they went silent and unnoticed. I started to realize these things after moving away. I was a wishing well that was now overflowing.

*

We didn't do anything special for Valentine's Day. Alex didn't get me flowers and I didn't get him chocolates. We spent the early morning together, blanketed from the cold. I left for class around noon. Alex said he just walked through the city during that time. "Exploring."

That night, we went to dinner, but neither of us had money to do anything quite expensive. (I could've but buying Valentine's Day dinner with my parents' money felt wrong). We went to a pub around the corner from where my last class was. Alex got a beer and I drank about half of it but he didn't complain that I should've ordered my own.

"So." I smiled at him. Too brightly it made him raise his eyebrows in a questioning manner. "I probably won't go on whatever vacation my parents have planned for this summer. I finally have the uni excuse and though I hate to leave Stacey alone with them, I'm not subjecting myself to a month on a booze cruise."

He smiled over his beer. "Where are you going to go?"

I stared intently at him with a grin, biting my bottom lip. "Well, I was kind of going to ask you that."

"Oh." His face sank. His finger skimmed over the circle of his glass. "I guess I didn't give you our whole schedule for the summer. I kind of figured you'd be away for most of it. I was gonna tell you." He seemed eager to reassure me. "I told you we were planning a tour and since things have gotten bigger that's just gotten bigger so most of the summer we'll be on the road and we're recording the album and I don't know if we'll really have time to go away somewhere."

I placed my chin on top of my joined hands and smiled. "That's fine. I kind of thought, I mean, if you wouldn't mind an extra person shoved in your van."

His eyes shot open and then squinted. His brows furrowed. "You mean, like joining us on tour?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

He shook his head with a giant grin. "I'd love that. You—you could write your stories on the road. I mean, it can get loud—we can get loud and uncomfortable but with the downtime, you could write. You could be our roadie."

I sighed. "I don't know how much writing I'll be doing—"

"Stop," he urged. "I'll make you write every day. I love your writing."

I bashfully looked down at the table while my cheeks flushed. "I always thought I was more of your groupie than roadie."

"Oh, so now you're a groupie. You took offense to that name before you found out the other alternative was hard labour."

I pouted my lips at him. "I'm a petite little girl. How am I supposed to lift one of your large amps?"

"We gotta get you to a gym, Janie."

We left the pub around 10 and had sex in my little twin bed, which wasn't bad considering we were used to Alex's bed of the same size. We were too cold to even take our shirts off. We cuddled after for warmth, necessity, need, and want.

The next day, we bought discounted chocolate at Tesco.

*

Jamie and Robert didn't get along. If I remember correctly, they never spoke. After the show, we managed a few drinks before the force from my gang was leaning toward heading back to Robert's place. His flat was revered by them as if it was an infamous club that they were lucky to even stand in line for.

"Robert's place has got everything under the sun," Georgia raved. "It's like the British Empire, the sun never sets on it."

I snorted. "A more apt descriptor would be the sun never shines on it."

"Fair enough, pet." She kissed my cheek. It was a weird name but Georgia viewed the way she bestowed out nicknames as a gift to the receiver no matter the complexities of the name. Robert was Burns, after the poet. She called Alex—never to his face—"Shrub" because of his stature.

I squeezed Alex's hand, which was somehow in mine. I don't remember how that happened. I leaned over to the guys so it was just the 5 of us in some semi-circle. "It's got a lot of pubs 'round it so if you want to ditch, plenty around it."

"Fuck that, I want to see what's at Robert's," Matt cheered.

It felt like Barnsley all over again but with a new set of people. We were scattered around drinking bits of things. Everyone seemed calm compared to prior nights and compliments about the show were sputtered out by people, albeit not the sweetest.

"Honestly," Tisha slurred, "I didn't believe it when Jane had a boyfriend. I thought she was, you know, gay like the rest of us."

"At least bi like Burns." The Monkeys didn't know who Burns was.

I sipped on white wine out of a red solo cup and Alex sat next to me sipping a beer. We were both on the floor, the rest of the Monkeys on the couch. Matt hung on Georgia's words, Jamie's hand was being drawn on by Yaayaa, and Andy looked like he was a sip away from falling asleep.

"Well, it's very sweet. Aren't they sweet?" Tisha continued.

Alex was stiff.

Robert didn't help things. He walked into the living room and tossed his bottle of Adderall at me. Alex looked curiously but didn't ask what it was. I tucked it away.

"Jane!" Robert sang. "Time to reciprocate. Should start calling her Mary Jane, you know." He looked over at Alex and it made my skin burn. The idea of getting high wasn't crazy. Robert talking to Alex was something I didn't enjoy and I wanted to go home.

Georgia squinted. "Don't you have something, Burns?"

"Not yet, Georgie."

Adam generously gave out some from his collection. He'd probably ask for repayments when we were sober, except me. Adam gave me weed for free because we smoked together while watching Wife Swap.

Alex and I shared a joint between us. I thought about blowing smoke into his mouth but it felt like I would be exposing my secret. I felt icky about the whole thing.

My eyes fluttered and laid my chin on top of Alex's shoulder. His eyes peered down at me and a giddy smile ran across his face. He pushed a chunk of my hair behind my ear. It was a tender comfort that I had never felt before and knew I would never feel again. The act of him being the first person to ever comb his way through me. He was determined to take hold of me and never let go.

I couldn't bear the thought of losing Alex. That night, for the first time, I realized that all that indifference I had exhibited at the idea of Alex and I breaking up was fake. It was a shield to defend my well-being so that I wouldn't come off as a fool in love. I mocked my friends for so long when they told me at 16 that their boyfriend was The One. As I neared 19, I thought, why couldn't it be Alex? No one had cared for me that way. Listened to me, held me, asked questions, shared their secrets, shared my secrets, knew me, loved me, pushed my hair behind my ear.

"What are you thinking, Janie Wanie?" He was letting out a high-induced giggle.

I didn't say anything. I dropped my head into the crook of his neck and wrapped my arm around his middle. His arm hugged around my back with a soft tug closer into him. He kissed the top of my head. We just sat there.

I, unbelievably so, fell asleep at some point amongst the rowdiness. A light shake awoke me, barely conscious, Alex whispered, "You ready to go home?" Home. We're going back to our 3 bedroom brownstone where we have 2 cats and a goldfish that's lived for 10 years. (The insanity of kids popped into my mind but I was still high).

I nodded into him and we stood up individually before reconnecting to lay my tired head on his shoulder. His arm pulled around me. "We're gonna go," Alex announced, mainly to just Andy, Matt, and Jamie.

Robert came from behind. "Eh! No need, Janie, can just sleep here." Robert didn't usually call me Janie. I told him once that only Alex called me that. I was unsure of how I felt that Robert was trying to get under Alex's skin. Shamefully, part of myself felt pride that I was desirable enough to want to rile up my boyfriend.

"We're gonna go, Rob," I countered. Robert hated being called Rob.

"Hey, I'll let Alex stay here too. Free of charge." He said it like it was some generous offer. That the next move Alex should make would be to bow at Robert's feet and thank him for the opportunity to sleep on his pull-out.

"They just want to leave so they can go fuck," Matt joked.

The vulgarity of it startled me. Times like this, this weird confrontation, I wish that Alex and I were hidden again. I grew stiff by Matt's words, even if they were just playful. I was weird about that stuff, especially with Alex. The idea of other people assuming my sexual business, true or not, felt invasive. Matt being this way when we were back up North felt fine. Matt being this way in Robert's apartment felt uncomfortable.

Alex turned his head back at Matt and said harshly, "Hey." Matt understood the impression quickly and ducked his head down, going back to talking with Tish.

"We could always do that threesome we talked about, Janie. You know, Alex could fuck me in the ass." Robert's smile was calculated. I felt like my skin had fallen off and was going through a meat grinder.

His comment had caught the attention of everyone in the room and I could picture the way Matt's jaw probably fell open and Jamie's scowled squinting. "Robert!" Georgia scolded from across the room.

I couldn't think of anything to say. My head felt foggy and any zany comeback I could have had was lost in the smoke. Alex felt the same way, so taken aback by the comment, that a smart response had been lost in the shock. "Okay, man, we're gonna go," Alex said.

We were silent the whole walk out of Robert's building. My heart pounded and I worried about the way Alex would react. I felt lightheaded, maybe from the adrenaline, maybe from the weed. We made our way down the stairs, attached. The moment we left the building, Alex pulled away from me. He threw his head back laughing, clutching his chest.

"What?" I questioned with an infected giggle.

Alex shook his head, took a deep breath, and pulled me back into him. "Whatever that was about me fucking Robert in the ass." He broke out into laughter again and I did too. Crackled in the snow-covered pavement. I felt warm.

On the train ride back, I fell asleep again. Nestled in that nook. In bed that night, I fell asleep in that nook and we didn't have sex. I was too tired and too swayed by everyone imagining that we were—that I was—having sex.

*

In March, Georgia and I go to Paris for a weekend. We end up staying for a week. I email Alex about the whole trip.

Who do you love more? Georgia or me?

*

In April, I received a CD from Alex in the mail. It was much like the first CD, artwork done by Matt, the CD that had "Jane C." written on it and a note wedge in between.

Don't be offended. I like you a lot, mardy bum.

*

The night after our last classes, I get blackout drunk and sleep on Robert's pullout with Georgia. I was woken by a call from Alex, who will be playing at The Dublin Castle that night. Hungover, hungover, hungover.

"We've arrived!" Since when was Alex this cheery?

"'Kay."

I heard a chuckle. "Take some painkillers, Janie."

"'Kay."

I took some pills on an empty stomach and Robert made us Blood Marys citing them as "the only true cure for a hangover."

I was worried for tonight. I was prepared for a redo of their previous London concert, which went fine but I was hungover from a massive binge that involved more than just alcohol. Everyone would also be going again. Everyone. The plans afterward would likely not change much. People tended to want to go to Robert's for free will, a good bathroom for blow, and a good bed for fucking. It was disgusting but I felt like a luxury for a bunch of 18-year-olds away from their parents for the first time.

Tonight, I felt like a closing of the chapter, temporarily, but necessary for all of our health.

"I like Alex," Georgia tells me on the train back to my dorm, Defoe.

I felt hazy like I had lost a lot of blood. Georgia let me rest my head on her shoulder. "Me too."

"It'll be good for you to be with him for a while. Get away from all of us." She sounded sorry like she regretted ever introducing me to her friends. I wondered what had happened last night.

"I'll miss you."

"Yeah. Miss ya too."

*

I met Alex backstage, dressed in bell-bottom jeans with a white tee, and a black wool jumper thrown over to combat that cold, early spring weather. I had boots on that clunked the ground and echoed so loudly you could hear it across the building.

His head turned at the sound of it. I don't know if he recognized it to be me or if they were really just that loud. "As I live and breathe, Jane C."

He was dressed in a similar fashion as me: black jeans, black jumper, longer hair. "You matching me?"

I still hadn't made my way to him when he whistled and said, "Looking good, baby."

"Ew, never do that again."

He pecked my lips quickly before hugging me close. It felt like I was just greeting him after coming home from work, not after a 2-month separation. "Your hair's longer." He fiddled with the ends of it. It hadn't been cut since December.

I scruffed the top of his head. "Back at you, Cousin Itt." His hair couldn't have been longer than a handful of inches, however, if I brushed mine in front of my face I'd be the girl from The Ring.

He took a handful of my side. "You've gotten thin." 

"Thanks." He didn't mean it as complimentary. I knew it then too but many of the unhealthy ways I treated myself in uni were willfully ignored at all costs.

I felt like throwing up then. Not from the pills on an empty stomach or the Blood Marys but from the way he looked at me. At first, it looked like concern, then like he was victimizing me. But the swish in stomach came when he said, "Who are you?" He said it as a joke but I felt like clawing into him and saying, It's me, it's the same me. Don't leave. Because the truth was it was the same me. I hadn't changed much in school as everyone said I did. Physically, maybe. The way I acted was the same. I just had access to more and, other than maybe Georgia, I had no one to keep me in check, and Georgia had a hard enough time keeping herself upright.

After the show, we went to a pub and sat in a booth with too many people squeezed in. I felt like if I had another sip of alcohol I would die but if I didn't have another sip I would die. Everyone was rowdy, loud, and annoying. It banged my head up.

I'm not sure what they were talking about. My eyes rested on the tabletop. Alex was louder than usual. I dramatically laid my head on the table. Tish yelled out, "Jane needs a reboot!"

I raised my head and announced, "I'm gonna go for a smoke." I grabbed Alex's hand. I didn't care if he was in the midst of a discussion on world peace, he was coming with me.

He accepted it and as we stood, Robert said, "Hey, I'll come with ya."

I wanted to bash my head in.

Outside the pub, I stood against the wall with Alex at my side and Robert in front of us. "I really liked the show, man."

"Oh, thank you, thank you." Alex looked like he had a hard time believing the compliment.

"You're becoming big. You know, at the start of the year, I thought this is just a girl raving about her boyfriend's shitty band, but now NME is raving about ya."

"Arguably we're still shitty." Alex made us all chuckle. If you didn't know us it would seem chummy. To me, it felt like we were all putting on a play.

"Janie told me she's joining you on tour," Robert said.

"Yeah, just around the UK, but it should be fun."

"I should start a band. Have Janie be my groupie." Robert had the persona of a drugged-out rocker. His band would likely sound worse than The Shags. He was trying to get a rise out of Alex. It was shocking to me how much Robert cared what Alex thought.

"Don't call me a groupie, Rob," I called back. It was a nickname wrestling competition.

He exhaled dramatically. "Groupies run the world, Janie. You should know that. I gave you my copy of I'm With the Band. Besides, I'm sure Alex knows a thing or two about groupies."

Alex's calm persona made Robert's skin itch and it turned me on with delight. "Your implication is lost on me."

"I'm sure you get girls all the time—"

I interrupted him, "Right now you sound like a groupie."

"Shall I get on my knees then?"

I pushed his shoulder. "Fuck off and go inside." Robert chuckled, scuffed out his cigarette against the wall, and listened to my command.

I wanted Alex to laugh like last time. He just looked annoyed and turned away. His back was against the wall and his eyes were elsewhere.

"Robert's so full of shit," I commented.

Alex nodded. "Why do you hang out with him?"

Deja vu.

"He's a cool guy. He's not always like this. We discuss things."

"Things?"

"Literature, art, I don't know." Robert was interested conversationally but he was more of a parasitic drug dealer to me at that point than a friend. It's hard for people to understand my friendship with Robert, but it just made sense.

"Okay." It felt like he was questioning me. My answer wasn't good enough. He didn't believe me. I'm not sure if it was paranoia or the truth.

*

My mother thought of the idea of inviting Alex to dinner. I had been home for a month. The band would be playing a gig at The Boardwalk at the end of May and I would then join him for the remainder of the summer tour. My family would be headed to Hong Kong and Macau for a month and my mother had begun to wear Mandarin dresses and say vaguely racist things with the excuse that they were going to be vacationing there so it was okay.

The dinner was considered a last supper of sorts and my mother had acted the dramatics out for it with weak guilt-tripping tools that I was abandoning the family for my boyfriend. This continued into dinner where, in spite of it being a "last supper" and my parents' first dinner with Alex (the wedding definitely didn't count), my father's co-worker, Bill, and his wife, Stephanie, were there along with their son, Billy, who was a year older than me.

"Billy is going into his last year at Oxford, right?" My mother gushed.

Billy seemed shy about the whole thing and uncomfortable to even be here in the first place. He was dressed in a blue button-down that he spilled water on within the first minute of dinner. He was geeky cute with glasses and a habit of bad posture. "Yes, ma'am." He had a practice of short answers and I gained pleasure every time he called my mother "ma'am," something she despised more than anything.

"And Alex, you're not doing school." She didn't say it like a question. It was a statement letting everyone know, like, "Just so you know, he isn't at Oxford like Billy." I found it funny that my mother felt the need to brag about someone else's kid rather than her own. I don't even think my mother knew what I was studying at school. Also, most obviously, my mother didn't go to university.

"The band is doing pretty good, so it makes sense to continue with that." He was nervous. His leg bounced enough to shake the floor and played with his food to occupy himself. I wasn't much help in comforting him. I was having my own panic attack and wishing I had argued with my mother about having Alex over for a humiliation ritual. Maybe this was his Illuminati induction ceremony.

"Makes sense," my mother mocked. She sipped her wine and looked toward my father at the opposite end of the table.

My father sipped his whiskey. "Well, I wish my Janie was in Macau with us. She's always been my good luck charm."

"What about me?" Stacey, poor Stacey, said. Like most things, Alex and I laughed, and her comment was ignored by my parents. I wished I could take her on the tour, even if she would be annoying and get in the way. I feared the boredom she'd have on vacation, or worse, actually having to hang out with my parents.

"Has Janie told you that story, Alex?" My father asked.

Alex, having no clue what story my father was talking about, shook his head.

"When Janie was born, I went to the casino and put a grand on 5 red in roulette because she was born on the 5th." Alex nodded because he called me on my birthday and got me a present (he apologized for his lack of budget but the stack of notebooks, mostly blank, besides 5 pages of his own delicately sweet writing). My parents sent a birthday card that came a week late, which means they forgot until Stacey reminded them. "I won, not one, not two, but three times."

My father's need to highlight the fact that the day I was born he went to a casino with little care was alarming if not predictable. His failure to mention that he lost that money the same day wasn't surprising either.

My father exhaled loudly. "I suppose you'll have the good luck charm this summer, Alex. God knows you'll probably need it."

We both ignored the dig. I wanted to disappear into my soup. Alex placed his hand on my thigh and it was the first time I recognized how reassuring his touch could be. It often quickened my heartbeat. This time, it slowed it.

Billy piped up and said softly, "I really like your music." He was as darling as you can imagine.

Alex made eye contact with Billy, shocked by the praise and unsure if it was directed at him. "Thanks, Billy," Alex said.

I grinned into my spoon. My mother sipped her wine.

*

In Glasgow, in the late hours of the night, the touring bands, their associates, and I sat on the tour bus drinking, smoking, and playing video games.

Alex had grown close to Miles Kane of—during that time—Little Flames' fame. I had grown close with their lead singer, Eva. She wasn't that much older than me, but she felt like a big sister. She was the only other girl on the tour, so we bonded and made fun of all the boys. A week before, when we first met, Eva pressed her cheek to mine and told Alex, "She's coming home with me."

While the band sound-checked and did all their boring concert preparatory things, I explored the cities. We had only been to Leicester and Edinburgh prior to Glasgow but I was aiming to take advantage of every city we were in, even if Al couldn't.

When I arrived at the venues, about a half hour before the shows, I'd sit beside Alex on a couch backstage, and recount my day. In Glasgow, I told him how I went to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery, the city's cathedral, and the botanic gardens. "And then I went to the Necropolis."

"What's a necropolis?" Alex asked. This is a very rare moment. Alex was a dork who read through the dictionary. He was also a dork who would not admit when he was wrong. He would rather flounder in unknowingness than say he doesn't understand something. Then, May 30, 2005, in Glasgow came around and I think he understood from that point on that I was always right.

"It's like a cemetery but they're ancient and the architecture is beautiful. The word itself means 'city of the dead' because they are so large."

He nudged my shoulder. "And you thought that Latin class would never come in handy."

I had a digital camera—a baby blue Canon Powershot—and we'd scroll through the images one by one. I always felt bad that Alex couldn't experience these cities like I did, too wrapped up in work, but I realized that Alex favoured cities more through the perspective of aftershow drinks than walking miles around a city. I preferred the walking.

On that bus's couch, I sat squeezed between Alex and Eva. The bus was loud and I was 4 drinks in and hanging off Al's shoulder. "Do you have to play FIFA again?" I moaned. FIFA Football 2005 is still the bane of my existence. Sometimes at night, I dream about it. Those little avatars roaming around the field. I can hear Jamie screaming about Matt cheating and then Matt screaming that he wasn't and then Jamie insisting that he was and then Matt insisting he wasn't and then Andy saying that Matt definitely was and then Matt whining that he wasn't and then Andy saying that maybe Matt wasn't and then Jamie getting pissed that Andy had flip-flopped and then Jamie demanding a rematch and then another rematch and then another rematch and on, and on, and on. I still hear it. Blah blah blah!

"We gotta finish the tournament!" Matt insisted.

I stood up. The room was spinning but I was determined to make it to the bed. The narrow one Alex and I shared. I fell on it and sprawled out like a dead rat might do. I was still dressed in jeans and determined to not sleep in them. I moaned out like someone could hear me. Packed away in the other room and they were screaming at one another about their stupid video game. It made me vomit.

No, like, seriously, I was vomiting. It had overcome me and with Miles occupying the bathroom for the last 10 minutes, I had nowhere to go and I vomited on the floor. It was so gross that it made me vomit again. I was disgusted with myself. A pile of vomit at my feet. (I was becoming my mother).

I felt steadier with much of the alcohol out of my system now and traveled to get paper towels from the kitchenette. I walked in front of the TV, which triggered yelling from the couch potatoes. I felt if I opened my mouth again I would projectile vomit on them so I remained sealed as I walked back.

Unknowingly, Eva had followed me to the beds. Behind me, I heard, "Aw, baby girl" as she spotted my rejection on the floor. "Are you okay?"

I nodded.

"Do you want me to get Alex to clean that up for you? Because I'm definitely not."

I chuckled at the idea but shook my head. She handed me the trash can and a bottle of water before disappearing back into the main cabin.

I finished my cleaning duties and crashed. Alex came in somewhere around 3:30 AM. I didn't want to fight, even if I was mad.

The following night, Eva made a joke about the vomit and Alex's head snapped unaware. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"FIFA," I answered shortly.

*

I did write. Not as much as the idealized version Alex had in his head but I wrote on slips of paper and on the nights when we went to bed at the same time, he made an effort to read them. They weren't very long. Kind of glorified diary entries but he raved about them like I was Joan Didion or something. One evening, somewhere on the road between Bristol and Cardiff, I wrote the following entry. Alex never read it.

We are on the road once again. I don't know how I feel about all this movement. At least I don't have to drive. Alex is sleeping right now. Everyone, but Mike [the driver], is sleeping. And me, obviously. I like these early hours on the bus when it is quiet and no sign of life. There's too much noise sometimes. I want to be still for a couple of days. I think I'm mad at Alex but I can't decide. I think I had a fantasy that we would be together and it would click. It does, but every few steps we get misaligned. I think it's the lack of stillness. We're not 2 kids in his room, in Sheffield, in Wakefield, in Barnsley for months & months. I think I'm not used to this version of him. I wonder if he's not used to this version of me. We're silent too much. I think I need to get more friends or a job or something. I think my life is too wrapped around him. I wish I kidnapped Stacey so I'd have someone to argue with. I'm going to watch TV now. No FIFA.

I never quite got used to all the moving we did. I never asked Alex about it either. It was weird how much two people could talk and also have an issue with communication. For about a month straight we zapped around the country before stopping in London.

"You're gonna be on the BBC this is so cool!" I cheered while tugging on Alex's arm. 

"We've been on the BBC before," Alex downplayed.

We had just entered the hotel room we would be staying in. Solo.

I rolled my eyes. Alex sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "You've never played on the BBC before and I get to brag about you so it's a win-win."

"Yeah?" Alex looked up at me with a smug smirk. His eyes traced their way around me. His hand reached out to mine and I accepted it. He tugged me to sit beside him on the bed. "You brag about me, Janie?"

"Well, I take pride in you, you know. To see something built from the ground up. I was at your first gig, I was at gigs nobody was at, I was at gigs everybody was at." He chuckled boyishly at my excitement. "I know I haven't been there for the last year but even hearing about everything. You signing with Domino and Five Minutes with Arctic Monkeys, which I've been meaning to tell you is not 5 minutes you know that, right?"

"You're so cute when you get all worked up over clerical errors."

"It's not a clerical error. I know you have time management issues but 6 minutes is not 5 minutes."

"Well, I take long when I do things." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Now your sexual innuendos."

"Hey, I take pride in my lasting time and as my girlfriend, you should too."

"The last time I took pride in you, you switched the topic. You're too bashful to accept a compliment."

"I don't know." He shrugged and turned away from me with a shade of pink. "I'm just as proud of you."

I laughed. "Pft, what have I done?"

"All this is 'cause of you."

"You wrote the songs, you play them. I'm just the muse."

"You're a hell of a lot more than a muse, Jane."

*

That night, we walked around London and talked. Properly, no FIFA, no Monkeys. Maybe it's because I enjoyed showing him around pockets of London, but I think being just with him felt right. The closest we'd come to privacy in the past weeks had been in a bunk bed with Matt only 3 feet above us. 

It felt odd to walk around London in the warmth. Of course, it wasn't a blazing heat, nonetheless, we felt little need to wear anything heavier than a zip-up hoodie. We sat at Regent's Park and while it was no replacement for Charlton Brook, the flowers felt like something out of Wonderland. 

"I like it here," Alex whispered to me as if it was a secret he wanted me to keep.

"It's beautiful," I commented.

He nodded. His eyes slowly glanced over at me. A smile cracked across his lips. "Yeah. I like being here with you."

"Ditto," I replied. We weren't touching but it felt like gravity was pushing us closer together and soon enough we'd be in each other's arms. 

His hand brushed my back and I couldn't tell if it was intentional or not but he seemed to focus on his hand for quite some time. "I know you're not having the best time."

I shook my head. "I'm having a great time."

He moved his head slowly. I was unsure if he was nodding or trying to shake his thoughts out of himself. "Okay." He thought for some time, then said, "It's not your fabulous adventure though. I'm sorry."

I scowled. "I mean, I'm not staying at the Ritz but I never wanted that anyway." I had many doubts about ourselves, but it never occurred to me that Alex felt that in himself.

"I just want you to have fun."

I giggled. "I am having fun. It's impossible not to have fun when watching you give Miles lap dances."

He pushed on my back. "Oh, stop it. You're just jealous."

"Well, yeah, I mean, come on. I haven't had sex with you in weeks."

Alex furrowed his brows. His cheeks flushed pink and he giggled nervously saying it allowed. "Didn't I finger you in the bunk last night?" Although he was shy, he neared me with a certain predatory look that was typically reserved right before eating your prey.

I rolled my eyes. "Sex. S-E-X. Where the penis goes in the vagina."

Alex leaned back on the bench, insisting, "It has not been weeks."

"Yes, it has!" I countered.

Alex placed his arm behind me on the bench. "I fucked you in that pub bathroom in Manchester last week."

My lips parted as the drunk memory refloated in my mind. "Oh, right." It wasn't very glamorous. The pub's bathroom was as gross as you could imagine and I refused to touch any surface in the place so Alex had to manage fucking me from behind without pushing me into anything while we were both wildly drunk. Not either of our finest performances.

"Are you forgetting about sex with me, Janie?" Alex teased. He bent closer to me.

I shrugged. My perception of time had been thrown off a little. Some days were long, some days felt an hour short. "Nonetheless, it's been long enough. Why are we at a park anyway?"

"You want to fuck in one of the bushes?"

I laughed and tucked my feet up behind me on the bench. I leaned my side against the bench's backing and touched my shoulder with his. "In broad daylight?"

"We could find a big one."

I pushed him away with my shoulder but tugged him back with my hand on his other shoulder. "Let's just go back to the hotel."

I stood up and dragged him along with me. He put on a Queen's English accent and asked, "For what purpose exactly, Miss Cavendish?"

I returned with my horrible Princess Di impression, "I am dreadfully tired and must go to bed at once."

"Oh, I'll take ya to bed, Miss Cavendish."

*

At the end of August, I returned to Wakefield. The band continued touring in various English cities while I accepted spending the remainder of the summer at home, mainly for Stacey and her birthday on the 24th. The house was still as if nobody lived in it. Maybe because I had been moving around for such a long time, it felt odd to remain still.

I had left the Monkeys & Friends in Dublin. It was a concert that made me feel rather grown-up, I think solely because we had to present our passports for the journey. It was the first international show, even if it was just across the Irish Sea. Matt exclusively drank Guinness for 2 days straight and Andy kept trying to get Jamie to dress up as a leprechaun because he "fit the part."

Before the gig, Alex had Tim rent a car (you can't rent a car until you're 21 in Ireland) and we stole it and drove out to Wicklow Mountains early in the morning. It had rained the night before, the grass still smelled dewy and the birds had begun to start chirping after the storm. 

We parked and walked through Ballinastoe Woods, up crickety makeshift wooden steps. The woods looked like something written by Henry David Thoreau. Rain licked off by leaves and our steps rustled the ground beneath us.

"I'd like to live in a place like this," I told him. I think I might have said this in every city but I truthfully meant it in Wicklow.

Alex glanced over smiling at me. "You're a country girl at heart."

I shook my head and stuffed my hands in my hoodie's pockets. "I love the city. I'm definitely a city girl."

He shook his head, always knowing me better than I knew myself. "You're a country girl, Janie. You love nature. I'm shocked you haven't talked about having a farm and riding horses."

I beamed. "I'd like a horse."

He pointed a finger at me. "See."

I shook my head again, insisting, "Just because I appreciate nature doesn't mean I'm a country girl. I love the bustling of London. Never knowing what you're going to get up to in a night. I adore it."

He laughed at my word choice. "'Adore,'" he imitated. "All I'm saying is in 10 years when you're on a farm riding your pet horse, Buttercup, I'm definitely going to be telling you 'I told you so.'"

"Whatever you say, Al."

(I have a horse. Not named Buttercup).

"Are you a country boy?" I asked.

He shrugged. His hood was annoyingly over his head, hair in eyes, covering much of his face. He said he was cold. I didn't—and don't—believe him. "I like aspects of it. The quietness. The sun shining. I'm always happy when the sun's out."

I giggled at his bright face. He was smiling as the sun peeked out from the clouds. If I could, I would be the Sun. I rubbed his cheek with the back of my hand. "You're adorable."

He looked down at his feet as we walked on the dirt path. "I look a mess." He was self-deprecating and refused a compliment. Humble and insecure.

I came close to his side and bumped his hip. "You're the cutest guy I know."

"Stop it, you." He kicked a stone with his knackered Converses.

"Are you doubting my tastes?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows. A light threat on my part.

He laughed in an attempt to detract from the topic of the conversation. "I ain't no Hugh Grant."

"You better not be. Is the sequel to 'Scummy' you soliciting a prostitute while you're with Elizabeth Hurley?"

"Does this make you Elizabeth Hurley?"

I batted my lashes at him. "Well, aren't I as pretty as Elizabeth Hurley?"

"Prettier." Doubtful, Elizabeth Hurley in the Versace pin dress is the epitome of beautiful women everywhere, but I'll believe his lie for my ego and sake of argument at that moment.

"Believe me, you are way better looking than Hugh Grant. You're my little monkey, Alexander." I caressed my fingers against his chin. A weird habit I have, sure, but he has a fascinating chin.

He smiled down at me. "Thank you." It was odd. An emotional sincerity that we hadn't ever had. Usually, it was me being all insecure and feelings-obsessed. Alex buried things so deeply and I wore my heart on my sleeve, both to a fault. We were too in our heads about everything, especially during the time of the tour. We made the effort to make up for lost time but became obsessed with how that should be done rather than doing it. In short spurts of time—Regent's Park & Wicklow—it felt like we could just be. I was terrified by his changing personality that it didn't occur to me until the end of the tour that I could get to know this new him. He wasn't much different from the old him, all the qualities were the same, just new feelings and perspectives. It fascinated me to no end. It felt like getting to know him all over again and I loved that. I love cracking Alex open and discovering a new embellishment to his yolk every time. He has a new rivet in his mind, an unknown one or a new one. It's why I want to hang on to him forever. I hated myself for not realizing this sooner but I was smart enough not to punish myself for it in the moment. I focused on him.

I kissed his cheek. It felt adorably sweet like something out of I Love Lucy or something. I was flooded with so much emotion from kissing his cheek that I decided to kiss his other cheek. I stepped down from my toes and he was grinning down upon me. I kissed his nose with delight. Before I could go for his chin, he kissed my cheek and then my lips. It was a saccharine beat. 

I pulled away from him and continued to walk ahead of him on the path. Following his earlier directions of "Lead the way, madame." He was only a few steps behind me when he did something rare. He reached up and tapped my hand. I looked back but he didn't make eye contact with me. His eyes focused on my right hand. He reached up with his left hand and intertwined our hands. I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything. We held hands up the rest of the incline. No words were spoken.

On the drive back, all I remember is laughter. I asked Alex recently what we talked about on that drive back. My memory lacks that moment of what caused the uncontrollable nature of that laughter. He had no clue either. He only remembers nearly hitting a deer halfway through the drive, which led to more undiagnosable laughter.

Upon returning to Wakefield, I wrote in my diary, It is harmful to live through pictures but I long to return to Wicklow, atop that hill. Below the entry, I left a space to tape in a photo I took of Alex at the end of the trail. I never did print the photo out and the SD card is yet another thing to add to the list of lost items. (I promise that isn't the case in later years, but I was 19 and had the procrastination level to never get things done. Most of my belongings from that age were lost when my parents moved or sold in the auction before the move. "Excuses, excuses, Janie" was quipped when Alex read this passage).

At Stacey's birthday dinner, we ate at home at the dinner table per her request. Stacey still holds onto the belief that we can operate like a normal family. I think she's the only reason why we still make an effort. 

Shockingly, the dinner itself was enjoyable coated with something my family rarely had—laughter. Harper, Greg, and their spouses had both come into town, a rare thing when it came to birthdays. In a stunning act of resistance and resilience, no fights occurred between Greg and Harper.

We ate lobster for dinner. My mother abhors seafood and the smell of it, but she caved for Stacey. Maybe because she's the baby of the family or some gene—the mother gene—reactivated in Macau. Like she won it at a slot machine.

Halfway through the dinner, Harper asked me about the tour. Stacey squealed with excitement, "I want alllllllllll the details."

We laughed at her cuteness. I didn't quite know how to answer it. My instinct was to be quick and keep it vague. My parents didn't have much interest in my whereabouts or activities, especially with Alex. I don't think they had any clue how big they were getting. They pictured Arctic Monkeys playing in their neighbor's garages and not for the BBC. I think if they knew the BBC liked them, they'd condemn the BBC before they would praise the band.

I answered, "It was good. I liked seeing all these little corners of the UK and Ireland. Very beautiful."

Ian, Harper's husband, asked me, "Which city was your favourite?"

I shrugged. "Maybe Dublin, but that was only a couple of days ago. Recency bias probably."

"Harp told me they're playing Reading & Leeds," Ian said.

I nodded. "This weekend."

Stacey exclaimed, "I want to go soooooo badly. Please, please!"

My mother ruled, "No." She pointed her eyes at me. "We're barely letting you go."

Stacey whined, "Aren't I old enough now?!"

"You'll never be old enough," my father told her.

"What if we all went?" Stacey suggested.

I nearly choked on my own breath. The suggestion sent a buzz up my spine that could have the power to paralyze me. My lungs had popped like balloons and deflated completely into my stomach.

My mother began to laugh. Stacey's frown grew deep. "Never, sweetie, never."

Stacey sat disappointed but was later cheered up by my mother promising to take her shopping this weekend instead. She came back with diamond stud earrings. I think she preferred shopping.

*

At the Reading half of the weekend, Alex seemed in a completely different headspace. In every conversation, he was checked out, his mind elsewhere. I understood why.

The other boys didn't look calm either. Matt was pacing and jumping around. Jamie was on the phone with his mum. Andy was staring at the floor. Alex and I had snuck off the path from the group. Not completely out of their sight, but shielded from Andy's muttering and Matt's exclaims that he claimed to be from excitement and totally not from nervousness.

I grabbed his hand and his pulse was beating so hard it jumpstarted mine. We sat in some chairs behind the tent they were playing in. The weather was muggy and the sun was usually bright. They were set to go on in a half hour. Alex was sweating. I wasn't helping matters.

"Are you excited?" I was cheery, which definitely pissed him off.

He nodded rapidly, not a good sign. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Yeah, yeah."

"Then, you have Leeds tomorrow!"

He squeezed my hand. "Alright, Janie, let's talk about something else."

"Right, right. Well, after these shows, you'll be back in Sheffield and me in Wakefield—"

"Like the good ol' days," Alex quipped.

I rolled my eyes. "If those are the good ol' days then kill me now."

"Oh, come on. I couldn't have been that bad. I happen to think I was really cute a year ago."

"You've only gotten cuter, Al, you should know that. It's what makes all the girls scream."

He tossed his head away from my gaze in exasperation. He returned to my eyes with a grin. "Will you be screaming?"

I furrowed my brows. "No, I'm not a fool."

Alex boyishly giggled. He squeezed my hand tighter as if trying to communicate something in Morse Code.

"Shall we talk about your second year at Greenwich?" He asked it with enthusiasm. Always the proudest of me, even if I was dreading school starting up again.

I shelved my head on his shoulder. He looked down at me, eyes small. He looked sleepy. "I'll miss you."

"Good."

I sat up and punched his arm. "No love lost from you."

He clutched his upper arm. "Eh! You watch it." He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, tugging me close. If we were to show any more affection, we might have hugged one another. "We'll be down at the end of September."

I beamed up at him and exaggerated my words as I teasingly said, "For M. T. V." He rolled his eyes, trying to seem humble and uncaring toward the performance. "MTV is a huge deal, Al." I shook his hand that I was holding. "Come on."

He exhaled loudly. "It's going quick. The single in October and everything." We never talked about this rushing fame and the effects it had on him. We celebrated it but didn't dissect it, at least not in that first year where everything changed in the blink of an eye. The year before we were smoking a cigarette outside The Boardwalk and now we were at Reading & Leeds talking about MTV.

I tried to turn his mind away from the thoughts that were contributing to that nervous look on his face. Heavy breathing, empty eyes, and shaky hands. "Do you think you could get me on Pimp My Ride?"

He looked up at me and laughed. "For your little Beetle?" I nodded. "Why would you ever want to change a thing about that car?"

"I want to get mine done like that Ford Capri that had a thousand Swarovski crystals decorated on it," I recounted.

Alex stuck his tongue out and gagged. "Awfully tacky."

"Exactly! Then, every time we ride in the car we can complain about how horrible it looks and feels but we can do it together. Then, maybe my dad will buy me a new one or something."

Alex shook his head. "I like the Beetle. Never get rid of the Beetle."

I shrugged. "I don't use it in London. I barely used it this summer. It's just sitting in my parents' garage. My mum is probably trying to get rid of it anyway."

"Don't let her. I like that car."

I sighed. "Okay."

We soon got up and I walked with him to the side of the stage. They all looked jittery. You could hear the noise from the crowd only growing louder and louder. "Jane, we need you to look," Matt told me.

"Huh?"

"You get the first look. How bad is it? Step out and tell us," he advised me. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me from behind to look out. I peeked my eyes out of the curtain at the endless sea of people. They were flooding out of the tent. It suddenly made me nervous but then I remembered this wasn't the Year 4 spelling bee and I calmed down. 

I looked at them, nervous and waiting for my answer. "It's an amazing turn-out."

They grunted like that was the worst thing imaginable. "I didn't want people to actually turn up," Matt whined.

"You wanted to play to an empty crowd?" I questioned.

Matt beat his drumsticks on his leg. "No, no. I'm just nervous, fuck, Jane." He turned his attention to his bandmates. "There must be a million people out there if she's saying it's an amazing turn-out."

There was no time to comfort, even though I wasn't sure anything I said would reassure Matt or the group. The stagehand came by and lifted the curtain, directing them out onto the stage for thunderous cheering. Their set was great. The following one at Leeds was just as out-of-this-world. 

When we returned to home base and Alex came over to my house, Stacey asked him how it was. He told her that he couldn't remember a single thing.

*

In the fall, a little over a week before "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor" was released, the Monkeys played the Astoria in London, which seated about 2,000. It was the largest venue I had ever seen them at. Except for "Riot Van," they had played the first album in full and I naturally exaggerate things but it felt like every single person was singing. I brought just Georgia with me.

The band would leave for Portsmouth the next morning but managed to hang around for the night. Alex stayed with me at Defoe, instead of the tour bus. He was sweaty and as talkative as ever when he left the stage. I had thought of wrapping myself around him in a prideful sense but he had sweated through his Little Flames red T-shirt and I decided to wait until he put his hoodie on and we were out in the cold October air.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I wrapped my arm around his waist with the thought this is what adults do. I once again imagined we were heading to our home after an evening of fun—the ones you have after a long week of work. 

A diary entry from the following night read:

Sometimes I pray to be older and settled with Alex. A push-and-pull on my heart is too hard. I'd only speak these words to myself, but I've never felt so whole. A part of me goes where he goes. He's gone for so long. I only feel whole for a day. But that day is worth everything.

As we walked from Astoria to the train station, Alex kissed me. It was a hard kiss, the kind implanted on my lips still. He whispered in my ear, "I love you." We were going home.

I kissed his cheek, soft and serene. I had fallen in love with doing that in Wicklow and have never stopped loving it. "You were fucking amazing tonight. A proper rockstar."

He shrugged and kissed me again. "I missed you."

I squeezed his side, longing to feel his skin under his chunk of clothes. "I like it when you slag off the crowd. It always makes me giggle." The thought of him stopping mid-"Still Take You Home" to yell at can-throwers in the crowd made me bite my tongue to prevent bursting into more giggles.

He pulled me closer as if in retaliation for pinching his side. He dropped his head down to look me directly in the eye with wide brown puppy-dog eyes. "Did you miss me?"

I wrinkled my nose up completely and stuck my tongue at him. "Nope." I blew a raspberry at him.

Alex stood up and clutched his chest. "You are brutal, Janie."

I looked up at him. His eyes were ahead as he acted like he couldn't even make eye contact with me. Medusa fit me well. "I missed you and I love you, as Stacey would say, soooooooooooooo much."

He nodded pleased. "Good."

When we arrived at my dorm, we had sex. It was quick and, from my memory, gross. I believe this was the occasion where Alex sneezed on me mid-coitus and I got snot in my eye. Would his cum have been better? He came after that like it was some sequential release.

"I'm going to kill you," I promised him.

He was out of breath and nearly collapsed on me until I shoved him off of me and forced him to get toilet paper for me because I had no tissues in my room. He wiped it off of me like it was chivalrous affection. 

When he went to throw the paper away I asked, "When will I see you again?"

He sighed. The topic was always one we sighed at. He crawled back into bed and said, "There's that party we're having for the single release. You know, just at a pub and things."

I placed my cold hands on his warm shoulders. "I have this exam coming up soon." I bite my bottom lip. "Would you hate me if I missed it?"

He smiled at me. It reminded me of how I looked when he got off stage. "Course not. It's not that big. I'll write you about it."

I chuckled. "You'll write me about it?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

A week later, he wrote me:

Matt hammered. I hammered. Write more later.

The following week they had the #1 hit in the country. I held silent pride. I didn't rave about it to everybody. That day, Robert made some dumb joke about it, Georgia told me to congratulate them, and Tish played the song off her iPod. Later that night, I went out with a new set of friends from my Short Story Writing class. We went clubbing. Something my Beatnik group of friends wouldn't be caught dead doing. I loved it.

I danced with strangers and felt free. It wasn't dancing at some ratty pub or someone's house. I held the freedom of barely knowing anyone there. I chased it. "Dancefloor" came on right before I was about to leave the dancefloor for another drink. I was definitely drunk but I grabbed the hand of the girl I had been dancing with and said, "This is my boyfriend's song!"

She cheered and danced with me to it. I never saw her again and I think she didn't even hear what I said but I felt desperate to tell everyone that that song we just danced to was my boyfriend's. My new friends were amused by it but also thought I was psycho until they did eventually find out that I was, in fact, not telling a drunk lie.

The following day, Alex emailed and wrote:

Assuming you heard. Mad, right? Wish you were here to celebrate but we will do some more when the album goes #1, right? I'm saying "right?" too much. Repetition can be favourable to getting your point across, right? Right? Right? Right? I'm going mad. 

Love, Al

p.s. Jools Holland on the 28th. See you then, Jane C.

*

"No fair. You get to go to Amsterdam before me," I whined in Alex's ear. 

He chuckled back. "I think you have me beat on countries visited."

It was the eve of Halloween. The following day the band was kicking off a European leg of their tour. Alex and I were held up in my dorm. 

On Friday, they played Jools Holland. I was both their band's loyal groupie and bitter spokesperson. "Yes, he is cute, but I hear his girlfriend is even cuter" that kind of thing. Of course, I was saying this to Tim so their reputations weren't damaged much. 

As much as the Monkeys shunned the press in those early days and it was a rare time for Alex and me, London is—and this might shock you—a major city with many journalists. On Saturday, Alex did some press talking to The Guardian. Later that night, he walked into my dorm as one might come home to their wife after work. I was becoming a romantic nutjob.

On Sunday—Halloween Eve—Alex and I huddled under blankets. It was somewhere around 2 in the afternoon but you could tell me otherwise and I'd believe you. He'd be in Amsterdam tomorrow, then Sint-Joost-ten-Node in Belgium (Alex butchered the pronunciation every time), they would zap around Europe before their first U.S. shows and a Tokyo show, therefore, god knows when the next time we would be in the same time zone would be. I'd see him in December. I'd also be in my childhood bedroom.

"After this tour, you'll have me beat," I told him. I tapped his chin in a rhythmic pattern. His chin was my personal kick drum.

He was proud of this knowledge knowing he'd have more experience in something than me. Then, something else tugged his smile. He cuddled me closer. "Why don't you come with?"

I furrowed my brows, unsure but also completely sure of what he was saying. "What?"

"Maybe come to America with us or something." His grin gave me hope for something. Life called, unfortunately, and fortunately. 

"I'll have finals, Al." I giggled. It would soften the blow. I'm not sure if the blow was hitting me or him. I hoped neither of us.

He chuckled and nodded. "I know." He kissed me. "Someday." My daydreams in Prose Fiction in Context would be taken away by this.

I nodded. "A little shoebox."

"I hope we'll be richer than that." He hushed his voice as if he didn't want the zero other people in the room to hear us. "We do have the #1 song in the country."

I elbowed him. "Fine, then I want a pool please!"

"A pool for Jane C. it is then."

"And maybe a hot tub too."

"I'm not made out of money, Janie Yanie."

*

a/n: do i write too much for this series? maybe, but i can't help it. it calls upon me.

[slut4milesteller]

──── is that all i'll ever be ? ۶ৎ

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary — unrequited love.

wc — 1.2k+

warnings — none.

a/n — english is NOT my first language. please excuse any grammatical/spelling errors.

i met the triplets, and justin, when i was just four years old — they were five, and justin was twelve. the one that stood out to me, you may ask? matthew — the "weird", scrawny kid who helped me collect the lizards in our backyards.

my whole life, i was told that me and matthew would end up together. of course, as kids, neither of us wanted to believe it, nor did we want to feed into our parents' delusions. we attended the same schools our whole lives, then high school started. matt, being a year older than me, went to high school first. in his freshman year, he met her — aubrey.

naturally, the pair being in the same class, they started talking. he asked her for her number when they had a maths class together, and from there on out, they were practically inseparable. i felt so left out, because the boy i'd been best friends with for most of my life was suddenly replacing me with another, newer girl. and it hurt. way more than it should've.

i don't really know how, or when, or why i started developing a crush on him. i think it was way back when i was about eleven or so, when his dad made a joke about me being "matt's girl" and my cheeks flushed bright, crimson red. everywhere i went, for years, i was known as exactly that. matt's girl. and though it felt good to hear it, it hurt me because i wasn't actually his girl. aubrey was. with perfect, dark brown hair and pretty, doll-like eyes to match, matt must've fallen in love with those eyes that weren't mine. a voice that wasn't mine. a heart that wasn't mine.

i've tried getting over the stupid, blue-eyed boy, for years. but truthfully? i can't. it feels impossible. it is impossible.

when i started high school, i got attention from boys that i hadn't ever gotten before. older boys, specifically. me and matt would still hang out, our families together for a dinner at some restaurant downtown, at least once a month.

slowly but surely, as the years passed, those hangouts died down and became less frequent. i'd always hear about aubrey this and aubrey that. but never once was there heard about me having a special someone in my life. and when i talked about a boy i was seeing at the time, it'd only last a week tops.

in the tenth grade, when the triplets were in eleventh, i had a boyfriend. he was kind, sweet, and my parents adored him. shit hit the fan the night, after months of not seeing matt, he decided to show up at my bedroom window. saying he 'missed me in his life'.

and it went downhill from there. just when i thought i was finally getting over this embarrassingly hopeless crush, he had to show up — to maneuver his way back into my heart. but, really, the question stands: did he ever really leave?

we talked for hours that night, about all the detours life has taken us on in the time we'd been out of touch with each other. he told me about school, his plans for after he graduated, and of course, his girlfriend.

and, don't get me wrong, i was happy for him, really, i was. seeing him smile made me smile, regardless of it breaking my heart to know that i wasn't the girl he loved.

sometimes it felt like he loved me, though. when he'd hug me, it wasn't a quick, brushed-off, side-hug. it was a real, tight hug that lasted for more than just two seconds on end.

the way he'd get all protective when i mentioned a boy at school, acting as if it was his duty to protect me from all evil in the world. the way i'd catch him staring at me, under the starry night sky when we sat by the lake, like i was the one living rent free in his heart.

it was confusing, i'll be honest. i never really knew where we stood with each other. he was hard to read, but god, i would give anything just to understand him.

it's like he kept me on this line, on a hook, because he knew i liked him. loved him, even. he had to, right? because there's no way he couldn't see the way my eyes lit up everytime i saw him. there's no way he couldn't feel my heart pounding against my ribcage everytime he gave me a hug. the way my hands would shake when we parted from said hug. the way my cheeks always burned brighter than a stoplight when people teased us about liking each other, and i had to play it off and say that we were just friends.

because that's all i'll ever be, right? just a friend to him.

it can't be, though. i refuse to let it be that way. he has to love me. at least just a little bit.

i mean, c'mon. he doesn't even look happy with his girlfriend.

he doesn't laugh until he can't breathe when he's with her.

he can't be silly around her without being made fun of.

he can't be himself when she's around.

so, another question that stands: why is he with her, pretending to be this man, when he's really still a naive, eighteen year old boy?

i saw him again today, for the first time in almost a year. and god, my heart ached. seeing his stupid, toothy grin made me smile so dumbly. i hugged him when i saw him, wanting to never let him go again, but... he didn't reciprocate the hug. his hug was cold and rushed, as if he wanted me to get away from him. my face dropped, and my heart sank. but, i understood. he had a girlfriend now, a pretty girl at that, and hasn't seen me in ages.

it felt like i was a stranger to the kid. as if he'd never met me before. as if we hadn't grown up together, and spent most of our lives glued to each other's sides.

i thought that, at seventeen years old and after six pathetic years of a dumb, childhood crush, my feelings would've vanished. but no, not really. i don't think it ever will, if i'm being honest. he's the thing i keep coming back to, no matter how hard i try to stay away.

the countless nights i've spent balling my eyes out suddenly felt like it wasn't enough. the countless nights we've spent under the stars, laughing until our tummies hurt and we cried of joy felt like it wasn't... even real. like it had never happened. the countless nights we'd spent in each other's arms, watching silly movies or tv shows, singing karaoke or playing call of duty... was it all a lie? was i so stupid, young and naive that i thought it meant more?

when play-fighting turned into almost-kisses and his hands all over my body... it had to have meant something, right? otherwise it wouldn't have happened so many times. countless nights our faces were millimeters apart, yet to me, it felt like he was lightyears away. he was there, but not really. so close, yet so far.

still, the last question that stands: is this really all i'll ever be?

[your-favblondie]

The Genius

ART CREDIT: novalise1 on Twitter

(I found this on Pinterest so if I'm wrong please correct me)

Hi again, thank you guys so much for the amazing support on my last post!! And I hope this post also lives up to your guy's expectations.

Word Count: 2.1k (and somehow 11k characters?! TuT)

-----Younger Armin ( Bowl Cut ) -----

Armin wasn't exactly the most social type back then, so I imagine for you two to get close enough to date you must have spent quite a bit of time together.

I can think of a few ways you two may have met and gotten close. Maybe you guys sat next to each other in classes, were sparring partners, or maybe you were there for Armin all the times Mikasa and Eren seemed to have forgotten he was also a part of their friend group.

It had been just a few minutes after lights out when Sasha shook me out of bed and yelled whispered for me to grab my coat and follow her. By the time we were out of the cabin a few of the other girls had gotten up and were grabbing a few items. Sasha led our small group until we reached a clearing in the forest, a good distance from the bases. "Sasha, what's all this?" I asked her as the rest of our group ran over to their own friends. "It's a party, Duh." She said looking at me with a goofy smile until Connie yelled for her to come help him roll a joint. I watched her run off and then made my way to a group of my classmates sitting in a circle. Jean, Ymir, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin Arlet all sat around a small bonfire. Spewing out a few 'hey's and 'hello's before claiming a seat in the circle. Jean and Ymir were in some argument over brunettes or blondes being cuter, and next to them Eren sat trying to carve a spoon out of a small log. Mikasa and Armin were talking about something I couldn't really make out over the sound of the fire crackling and Jean and Ymir arguing. As I watched the fire crackle all I had on my mind was why the hell Sasha had brought me along. It's not like I'm antisocial but I hadn't really established many close friends and the ones I had were human meatballs now. So a party wasn't the most comfortable place to hang out. Before I could continue my thoughts I got distracted by Mikasa getting up pretty abruptly and running after Eren who had somehow broken the log he was carving and wanted to look for a new one. Doubt we'd see them again tonight. My eyes flicked over to Armin and as we looked at each other, a mirror of slight shock reflected on both our faces. Before either pf us could look away I burst into laughter at Mikasa's weird behavior and Armin just stared at me even more confused than before. "I'm sorry it's just I never see anyone so serious act like that, I'm not trying to be rude she just catches me off guard," I tell him, feeling like he may have kinda misunderstood me. A shy smile pulls on his lips as he looks back at me. "Yea it is kinda odd isn't it?"

And that's where your friendship bloomed from. A right place and right time you could say. Though Sasha says it's all thanks to her.

Over time the two of you became really close. While Armin read you'd sit near him fiddling with your own hobbies. Sometimes you'd get caught up in him and end up spending a few moments watching him while his eyes scoured over dusty pages.

Armin was such a sweet friend, always asking how you are, being there to talk, explaining the stuff you don't understand from class to you a million times until you understand.

And once again you both were at a party when your guy's relationship finally takes the next step.

Through a stupid game of truth or dare...

Sasha scans over each and every one of us as she carefully picks her victim. "Jean!" She exclaims and Jean looks at her with an annoyed expression. Sasha and Connie have been picking on him all night, each time either giving him the truth of exposing his crush on Mikasa or the dare of letting them draw on his face. This time was no different as Sasha added a small horse on his forehead that would definitely not be gone by tomorrow. After Sasha got done we all burst out laughing. "Hey!" Jean yelled, "It's my turn alright so shut it!" And of course, I had responded to him with a snarky "Okay, Horse face" Jean turned to me with a sarcastic smile and asked me truth or dare. "Dare" I chose nervously. Jean turns to Connie and they start to whisper between themselves before Jean turns to me with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Kiss Armin."

So now here you and Armin were. At first, he'd be kinda shy about y'all's relationship but I could see you bringing out a more confident side of him.

He would be the type to remember all the little anniversaries, picking you a small bouquet for your first month.

Now I can't see him being great at making gifts but he would try his hardest!

Would definitely choose you as his partner for almost all group activities. Don't think that means he's gonna let you do no work, oh no no no. This man would rather teach you it a million times than let you get by being ignorant. (Sees this as an act of service kinda love lol) Told you before with the most serious face that " Knowledge was the greatest currency he knew"

Speaking of acts of service, that and praise is probably his love language. Of course, he would love holding your hand, a little bit of cuddling, or a few pecks on the cheek. But when he wants to show his love for you he'd tell you what he's thinking and just genuinely spend a lot of time with you.

I can't see him being big on any forms of PDA, except hand-holding. Hear me out though, I think he'd be the type to hold pinkies instead though.

I could see him writing you hundreds of love letters he'd never give to you but be too scared to get rid of them in case someone else (Jean and Connie) read them, or God forbid you saw them.

He would swap books with you if you were an avid reader. ( Would want for you guys to make matching bookmarks as a kinda of date!! )

But if you were more of a sporty type then he'd definitely love to watch you play, even if he cares nothing for the game itself. Maybe even give you some pointers he noticed or help you strategize. After watching you for awhile he would be able to go on like hour-long rants breaking down each and every little detail and rule of the game and way overthinking it.

Now if you guys for whatever have a fight he'd be quick to apologize because he'd never want you mad at him. (Still believes he's right though, just won't tell you that )

Definitely has a few red flags and will work on some of them.

When he's struggling with all the things going on with Eren, one of his main stress relievers would be you playing with his hair, tracing your nails against his scalp.

If you ask realllllyyyy nicely he just might let you braid his hair or tie it up. Even though he knows he won't hear the end of it from the others.

Surprised you a few times with flower rings he made for you.

I could see him being really involved in the wedding planning. If it was up to him either a light purple or sea blue color theme.

In a more modern au, I could see him offering to paint your nails for you if you ever complain about it being able to get them done. He would spend hours trying to perfect it and maybe it didn't match the reference perfectly but they were perfect to you ♡

(These are less relationship-focused and more so things I think about Armin )

Struggles so much with Eren always doing everything so rashly and getting into trouble that he never lets anyone help with it. I feel like he may have had a fear of being replaced or left behind by Eren and Mikasa because he isn't as strong as them.

Just someone tell him he's making the right choices and that he can't make everything right. He needs to hear that.

Jean and him are really close and hang out a lot. Jean is a way more chill and less stressful friendship for Armin compared to half of his other friendships. I can see Armin feeling like he needs to be a therapist friend for everyone, outside of just Eren and Mikasa too, big people pleaser.

Jean just really knows how to chill and not ask a lot of Armin, of course they've talked about heavy stuff before but it's a lot more talking from both of them rather than Armin needing to comfort the other person. Every once in awhile Jean actually is the therapist for Armin.

He does grow out of that though. Starts to become a lot more set in reality after seeing all the deaths in the recon missions. Some meaningless little drama isn't something he needs to focus on helping a fellow cadet out with. Still holds onto some of his people-pleasing tendencies but has figured out a lot of his priorities in his personal life.

I think Armin truly believed that fighting those bullies back in his childhood wouldn't have been the right choice and wasn't just because he was weaker.

I could see him knowing how to play a ton of card games that he learned from his grandpa.

I also think at one point he learned how to sew from Eren's mom. Eren would tease him by saying things about how he's "finally fitting into his girly hair" Then when he actually tries it and sees how hard it is and how much better Armin was he quits the teasing comments.

I think Armin has a lot of trust issues in almost everyone after figuring out Annie was a traitor. To him, they seemed pretty close and had a good understanding of each other. But Annie's betrayal really shattered some of his innocence and trust in the world.

One time he told Connie that if he walked around barefoot he could get flesh-eating worms. Connie was a bit more than traumatized by that information.

As sweet as Armin seems he is honestly so manipulative. It can hardly be noticed by anyone except maybe Commander Erwin or Levi but Armin's a bit too smart to try it on them. He accidentally tried to manipulate Commander Erwin one day over something small and when Erwin subtly commented on it he almost died of shock.

I could see Armin having a lot of respect for his superiors but not being the type to follow them blindly. Like the smart kid who isn't afraid to correct the teacher. And yes he was that type of student, to an annoying extent.

Armin as a student mostly just studied the material he was being tested on to a point where he was confident he knew it. And then would dig extremely deep into any topics that interest him. He knew every type of rock that existed inside the walls but couldn't remember his 12 multiple facts.

He definitely isn't antisocial or introverted. A little shy, yes, but mainly he's just a extrovert or ambivert who's not very loud. In no way has he ever been afraid of talking to people or making his thoughts known.

Speaking of talking to people, him and Hange are total geek besties. The spent hours looking at the hardened titan skin fragment and theorizing on all sorts of topics

I think when he was younger he saw a really huge pond and thought he had some how found the ocean inside the walls.

Probably would spend days going on picnics with his parents and reading in flower fields before the wall break. Once tried to bring Eren and Mikasa on one and never got any reading done.

This man's library card would be personalized in his favorite color (sea blue) and bedazzled.

I could see Armin being a really big Jazz and blue grass guy. Mostly because it's non-lyrical and doesn't tend to distract him as easily.

Would bust down to some Megan thee stallion and nasty redd. I mean, look at that stance-

————————————————————

Sorry to all those hoping for older Armin, I STILL haven't watched season 3/4 of AoT so I don't really have too many thoughts on older Armin other than that ma is SOOO FINEE Soon enough I'll write for him, and yes there will be another poll for writings posted after this post!! I like when you guys interact with the story's makes it feel really personal. And thank you again to everyone who liked and reposted my last post!! It did so much better than I ever expected. A Big thank you to all my new followers. I'm so glad to have you guys as followers!! And I hope this post is just as good as the other if not better.

[mazeinthemiroh]

Headcanon how skz would confess to their crush?

how stray kids would confess to their crush

genre: headcanons; fluff

word count: 1.7k

warnings: cursing, i got emotionally invested in hyunjin's and jeongin's so ignore me

pls like and reblog if you enjoy <3

bangchan

there's not a lot helping this man honestly

he spends days racking his brain for a good way to tell you that he is completely and utterly in love with you

should he make a grand gesture?

should he be smooth and nonchalant with it?

he's a libra so his indecisiveness is sort of a given lmao same bro

he even consults stays on his weekly channie's room live, only to be spammed with various ultra cheesy pick-up lines

if you were a transformer, you'd be Optimus fine

he ends up trying to do it on a whim

which is unlike him. he tends to plan everything to a T

but he feels that with feelings like love, there's not much to plan. he forces himself to be impulsive

and it works!

he makes it a casual affair: just two friends hanging out in a familiar setting (chan needed the familiarity to calm his nerves a bit)

and he just came out with it

"listen, i know we've been friends for a while. but i can't help the romantic feelings i now have."

he'd give a little shy smile, his eyes trying to look into yours but he can't hold your gaze for long enough.

"so, i was thinking maybe we could... go out? i'd think we'd be really good together."

lee know

my gosh

it takes so freaking long for minho to confess to you it's actually frustrating

infuriating, even

you guys are practically dating anyway with the way you flirt and feel comfortable with each other

people see you guys together in public and assume that you're already dating

so YOU MIGHT AS WELL BE

but nothing was confirmed

no words solidified a definite bond

so things felt a bit uncertain, even with the definite mutual liking between you both

minho takes his sweet time that's for sure

he just wants to be certain that you like him the way he does too. sometimes he has a hard time differentiating between people who are being friendly compared with people who are actively taking a romantic interest

he wants to make sure his feelings are being reciprocated in a genuine way

it's hard to read people sometimes

once he's certain that you like him the way he does, he will just come out and say it

"hey, you wanna go out with me?"

he would say it with a little, shy side grin. i mean how can you say no to that??

changbin

changbin is not-so-subtle about his feelings for you

it's written all over his face from as soon as you walk in the room

he's wrapped around your finger

and he's confident in himself too

so there's nothing really stopping him from just going up and asking you out

but he needs to know where your heads at before he makes THE move

considering he hangs out with you a whole lot anyway, this comes quite easily to him

"are you interested in someone at the moment?"

he'd ask. and you'd answer, "yes actually." and his plan goes downhill from there.

does that mean you're interested in someone else or... or maybe it means you're interested in him??

"oh? who's that then?" he'd ask, a jealous tone not well-hidden

"oh i can't say," you'd shake your head playfully.

he's suddenly quiet when he figures out what you're trying to insinuate. he'd thought this'll be easier.

you'd give him some help at this point

"but he's got an outgoing personality. big muscles. and a handsome face, too." you'd smile at him knowingly, hoping he'd take the hint.

he almost laughs at himself for not realising before. that's all the reassurance he needs.

"well, from what i hear, he likes you too. a lot."

hyunjin

oh, my precious hyunne

this man would only ever fall for someone who is really close to him

i'm talking best friends, joint at the hip, couldn't live without the type of closeness you share

you're his no. 1

and you know it

spending a lot of time with hyunjin on a regular basis and you know that, just by the way you catch him looking at you, there is something much more than friendship taking place

one time you were sitting on the living room floor with him, laughing your heads off

it was late and night and obviously, the perfect time for hyunjin to do your makeup

because why the heck not

he's making you look like a clown. why did he choose that shade of eyeshadow? and why is lipstick on your cheeks

"you look so much better like this" hyunjin teased in between hysterical laughs

"shut uppp hwang hyunjin!" you tried to push him away and prevent him from doing any more. "just you wait until i do your makeup."

after the laughter settled down he looked at you with a loving gaze. that was when you both realised how close you were together. there was such an immense fondness in his eyes that told you everything you need to know

and soon, his lips were connected to yours

his confession.

han

being close to han is your gateway to his mind

it's hard to imagine that someone like han, who can be quite hesitant and awkward with getting too close to people despite being loud and usually the first one to break the ice

that he could be so naturally himself with you

even as a friend, he's quite touchy. usually reaching out to hold your hand or pulling you in for a cuddle on the sofa

that's how you know that he likes you before he even confesses

he's not like this with anyone

it'd be when you are cuddling up together, pizza all eaten and anime playing on the tv

this was perfect.

han would let out a big, content sigh and nuzzle into you

the absent-minded phrase of "i love you" would slip out in this peaceful moment

and suddenly you both forget how to breathe. you raised your head off his shoulder.

"huh?"

"huh?"

...

the silence was unbearable

"i mean uh... i love this anime. yeah. it's my favourite. i've actually watched the whole thing so i don't know why i'm watching it again. anyways *fake yawns* it's getting late, i might go to bed."

you just chuckled at him, feeling so relieved of his feelings for you.

very smooth, han. very smooth.

felix

i'm so on the fence about him

like i can totally see him being hella romantic and thinking the whole thing through

he'll end up buying you flowers and a box of chocolates, you know, the cliche things that a cute af

and he will knock on your door and present you with these things with a beaming smile and some sweet words to serenade you off to the land of romance

OR

he will confess to you all at once

no warning, no coherent reasoning, no thought behind those eyes

just felix's enfp brain going absolutely haywire, we love to see it

i usually go with the latter for him. because, while he is super duper romantic and wants his feelings to come out in a perfectly curated way, the likelihood is that his intense feelings for you will get the better of him

he can't hold himself back before he even thinks about it

"you're so gorgeous"

he'd say as he looked at you from across the kitchen. the both of you had just finished making brownies together and felix couldn't help but find you the most attractive you have ever been right now

"oh?" you'd say, taken aback by his forwardness

felix's heart dropped for a second. but that feeling was momentary. he soon felt light and happy, and a smile breezed over his face

"yeah" he'd reply, warmly, "so gorgeous, i might even give you a little kiss"

seungmin

seungmin is so precious CAN WE TAKE A MOMENT TO APPRECIATE THAT

he is just so ;-;

anyways he thinks long and hard about confessing to you

which, in other words, means he puts off confessing to you for like so many stupid-ass reasons

what's putting you off seungmin? the candles? the moonlight? the fact that your venus isn't in retrograde???

like JUST DO IT

he builds up to it though, bless him

it's just in his nature. he wants to pace himself STREAM MY PACE BTW

he might warm up to it. perhaps becoming more bolder with his compliments for you

"that colour really suits you"

"you should style your hair like that more often"

"i find it so easy to talk to you, which is a rare feeling for me, honestly"

and soon he's buying you cute little gifts

"i saw this and thought of you"

i mean that's code for 'i love you' anyways but whatever

he finally gives you a very personal gift for you, with a note attached to it: "to the person i love most. you deserve it"

why you gotta make us cry like that seungmin, gosh??

jeongin

jeongin found it harder talking to you in person

he can be a shy bean at times

an absolute cutie-pie

but he didn't want you to just know him for his shyer side. he didn't want his social hesitance to push you away from getting to know the real him

luckily, you had each other's numbers

and the texting was constant

staying up all night just talking to each other. you both got zero sleep but the rush, the joy, the familiarity of these texts were more tempting than any type of sleep was

you got to see his witty, intelligent personality. his sense of humour. you got used to the way he teased you, and boy did you like it

these interactions made it ten times easier to talk to each other in person

but one night, jeongin confessed to you

"i fucking love you btw"

he wasn't drunk. he supposed he was sort of... caught up in the moment. it came out of nowhere.

waiting for your response was torture

he waited, and waited

and waited some more

nothing.

until the next time you met face to face. he was dreading this interaction until you grabbed him swiftly. your lips connected in passionate bliss until you both pulled away

"i fucking love you too"

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

We Are the Series - final thoughts

There are so many reasons that I like watching series & movies from other countries. It's such a great way to broaden my perspective and to get outside of my bubble. To see the big differences in how people live around the world, as well as the little differences in day to day life. To better understand cultural norms, and storytelling norms, and how my own cultural bias intersects with both.

There's also all the beautiful cultural details, getting to see ceremonies and festivals and holidays. To see the beauty of the landscape. To listen to the language, and start picking up little expressions and to appreciate the nuances.

But along with all of the learning opportunities, I also absolutely love it when I watch something from a different culture, and have that "oooh" moment of recognition. That moment when you realize that regardless of culture, what is being depicted on screen is resonating deeply. Because someone halfway around the world has had an experience in common with you.

Let me tell you about my college friends.

It was pure dumb luck that we all met. An utterly random assortment of chance. But somehow this group of awkward nerds all blundered together within the first few weeks of college. Most of us were introverts. We were from all parts of the U.S. We came from all types of families. We were Agnostics, Christians, and Pagans. Over time we would intersect with other groups, we all had different majors, different casual friends & study buddies, people dated, people broke up, but our core group of friends was together all four years.

We didn't like going to parties much, it was too loud and crowded. We got drunk together, where we felt safe and happy. We'd go to the school dances as a group, and be silly. We'd sing songs (usually badly). We'd dance in the rain. We would sit on the roof of our dorms and read stories to each other. We would end up at the local playground at midnight when the slides & swings would belong only to us. As we got older and started being entrusted with keys to academic buildings, we'd go in late and play, having rolling chair races in the long hallways or playing sardines. We'd tease each other, and sometimes laugh so hard we could barely breathe.

We also were there for the breakups and the burnout. For the roommate conflict, and the family hurt. For the coming outs.

Of course things do change when you graduate, and we all dispersed back to separate parts of the U.S. (one of the disadvantages of living in such a huge-ass country). But we still keep up. We still can come together and have fun. Some of us play games together. Some of us travel together. Some of us still talk every single week, because we are family, and that's been the case for over 25 years.

I had a moment, when watching this show, where I realized that P'New must have had some amazing friends in his life. Because he just made a love letter to them.

And the friends in this show - they're my friends. Not in a one-on-one comparison kind of way, but in a "this is my little group of idiots too" kind of way. The playfulness, the freedom from judgement, the encouragement, the support, the love. The knowing that even if life pulls some of them further apart, that the way they are loving each other unconditionally now will always matter.

There are other things I liked about the show, I've talked about tropes before and how I enjoyed P'New playing with them in a "eff off with this old school BS" kind of way, the romances were fun and cute, but ultimately, this show was 100% about love for friendship to me. About what it means to find your people, to make your family, to choose love in all its forms without holding one kind higher than another. And to appreciate it when you have it, because it is so damn special.

How can I possibly come out of this feeling anything but good?

[changbeansss]

Through the rain

Pairings: Non-idol!Bangchan x reader

Genre : Angst, slice of life, hurt/comfort

Warnings: None

A/n: This is my first fanfic, it's not the best but hope you guys like it T-T

**Y/N stood in the dim light of her living room, staring at the clock on the wall.****

Rain pattered softly against the windows, each drop echoing the loneliness she felt inside. It had been months since she last saw Chan, but tonight, everything felt different. Tonight, the weight of their separation felt unbearable.

She replayed their last conversation in her mind. The harsh words exchanged, the stubborn silence that followed. It was never supposed to end like this. They were supposed to be inseparable, but life had a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expected them.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Her heart raced, hope flaring within her chest. Could it be? She rushed to the door, her hand trembling as she turned the knob.

There he stood, drenched from the rain, his eyes filled with the same longing and regret she felt.

"Chan?" Her voice was barely a whisper, afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter this fragile moment.

He took a hesitant step forward, his expression a mix of hope and vulnerability. "Y/N, I... I had to see you. I couldn't stay away any longer."

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. "Why now, Chan? Why after all this time?"

He ran a hand through his soaked hair, looking down at his feet before meeting her gaze. "Because I realized that life without you doesn't make sense. I made a mistake, Y/N. I let my pride get in the way, and I hurt you. But if this was a movie, we'd have our happy ending, right?"

Y/N's heart ached at his words. She had dreamed of this moment so many times, but reality was always harsher than the fantasies in her head. "Chan, it's not that simple. We can't just pretend everything's okay."

He nodded, stepping closer. "I know. And I'm not asking you to forget what happened. I just want a chance to make things right. To show you that I've changed, that we can be better together."

The rain continued to fall, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of her heart. She took a deep breath, looking into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and hope there. "We can't change the past, but maybe we can write a new story. One where we learn from our mistakes and grow together."

A slow smile spread across Chan's face as he reached out to take her hand. "I'd like that. More than anything."

She squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Then let's start now. Come inside, Chan. We have a lot to talk about."

As they stepped into the warmth of the house, the rain outside seemed to lessen, as if the world itself was giving them a chance to find their way back to each other. And in that moment, they knew that sometimes, life could be just as beautiful as the movies.

[notmorbid]

twin peaks: season 2 (2/2).

dialogue prompts from the second season of twin peaks.

show me something that i don't already know.

no one ever really stays there long.

of all the people in the world, the best and the worst are drawn to a dead dog.

scared you, didn't i?

i know what it's like to be alone.

i think that we should think about doing business together.

this is for you. i stole it.

i did good, didn't i?

i'm living my life, i just don't like it much.

what are you doing here, sitting alone in the dark?

the keeping of secrets seems less meaningful to me now.

my life used to make sense, you know?

you're the last thing i think about when i go to sleep at night, and you're the first thought i have in the morning.

despite everything i know about you, i find myself here with you.

you have a wonderfully honest face. just looking at you, i can tell exactly what you're thinking.

a business relationship is like a sacred pact. equaled only by the closest of personal relationships, where nothing is held back.

i think it's time i start correcting a few of the mistakes i've made.

i will be in the shadows, if you need me.

you can always shoot later. talk first.

have you ever asked yourself how i really survived?

you look like you've had a hard night.

if you were ever gonna tell the truth, now would be an ideal time.

one man's crisis is another man's opportunity.

you really like to make everything sound pointless and stupid, don't you?

the truth hurts, doesn't it?

if ___ wanted to kill me, i'd already be dead.

you're testing my well-worn modesty.

what is the greatest gift that one human being can give to another?

i'd rather be his whore than your wife.

to beginnings and endings, and the wisdom to know the difference.

i wanted us to go someplace we'd never been before.

i've been a part of all the horrible things that have happened. i want to be part of something good now.

my resurrection remains a well-kept secret.

well, we can talk about ___ or we can feel good about things. i vote for plan b.

let's just let the rain fall as it has been.

maybe we'd better just whistle on our way past the graveyard.

i was apologizing, and you were apologizing. we were both real sorry about something.

don't knock small towns until you've lived in the city.

wow. no one's ever sang a song for me before.

i don't inspire much singing.

i don't think anybody really knows me.

it's so cute, the way you get embarrassed.

the man who doesn't love easily loves too much.

have you ever, in your entire life, had an experience that truly changed you?

pick three cards.

sometimes making up for things only makes it worse.

i'm fine. i'm weird, actually.

you asked me how i am. i'm not supposed to say how i am. i'm supposed to say, "i'm fine, thanks, how are you?"

if i thought you were strange, i would tell you.

i really don't know how to be good.

i have no idea where this will lead us, but i have a definite feeling it will be a place both wonderful and strange.

it all began with a pair of tattoos.

man, i would love to see the world through your eyes.

you told me there was gonna be a party.

i've been thinking a lot about the future.

beautiful people get everything they want.

dream on. i have tables to wait.

when i talk to you, i get a tingling sensation in my toes and in my stomach.

you are beautiful. use it to your advantage.

sometimes the urge to do bad is nearly overpowering.

i will strive to be understanding.

i always felt closer to nature than i did to people.

i lived in my head, mostly. there are some pretty strange neighbors.

hiding from your fear doesn't make your fear go away.

i'm trying to learn how to trust my instincts.

you just don't know your own value.

meeting you has been more than a privilege. it's touched my heart.

love is hell.

i've never known your mind to wander.

my symptoms suggest the onset of malaria, but i've never felt better in my life.

something's troubling you. would you like to talk about it?

i've been seeing your face in fried eggs all this morning.

i guess a simple goodbye was out of the question.

there are many cures for a broken heart, but nothing quite like a trout's leap in the moonlight.

you can't promise me, but thanks for wanting to.

i could kiss your pointy little head.

i can see half my life's history in your face, and i'm not sure i want to.

i'm really tired of you talking to me like i'm a child.

if you're going to kill me, why don't you get it over with?

you and i have an appointment at the end of the world.

when you see me again, it won't be me.

[theproseshechose]

I thought about us today in the way that makes my chest feel like it's on fire. I mean, I thought about you every day after we said goodbye, except we never really did. This thing between us always felt unfinished, like we hadn't even scratched the surface of something really important. I just can't help but keep imagining what it could have been like if we hadn't been pressed for time and the world hadn't already decided how long we were allowed to know each other.

I wish I could've stayed with you longer, just to see where it would go and to let whatever we had find its shape. But we were always rushing towards an end we knew we couldn't avoid. You knew that too. Maybe that's why you never let it get too deep. You liked me. I know that. You liked me in that easy, noncommittal way like someone who wasn't planning to stay, but I kept hoping you would. I don't know why. Maybe because I wanted to matter to you. But you kept me at arm's length, just far enough away so I wouldn't break when I inevitably had to leave.

You were always careful like that, always kind. You knew exactly where this was headed, where it had to go, while I was still hoping for something else, something more. But... that's the thing. I kept thinking you'd open the door wider and let me in sometime, but you didn't. You smiled at me like I was someone you liked but didn't need, and I smiled back like I was fine with that. But I wasn't. I never was. And ultimately, I left and tried to move on because I had to, and you let me go because you were always going to.

You said something once about "doing the right thing.," but all I could think about was how unfair it was that right and wrong had already been decided for us. I wanted to look back at you and say

"don't let me go." I wanted to shout "stay with me." Not because we were in love or because I thought we were right for each other... but because we could have been something if we just tried. I dream about that. About us. About the moments we didn't get and the conversations that never happened. I wonder if you think about it too sometimes. If you wonder what we might have been, if things had been different or the world had given us just a little bit more time.

Maybe you don't. Maybe you think this was just something that happened. Something you could forget when the day ended, like wiping crumbs off the counter. I never got to wipe my counter clean. I always held on to the crumbs, thinking they'd maybe tum back into bread if I just kept them long enough. Like, there you are, just living in your effortless way while I'm walking around with a thousand "what ifs" bouncing around in my head like loose change.

What if I'd stayed? What if you'd stopped me? What if, instead of saying goodbye, you'd grabbed my arm and said, "Wait, we're not done here"? What if we'd become closer? What if this isn't the end? What if, one day, we find our way back to each other, not in the same way but in some other form?

Sometimes I imagine us years from now, sitting at some café, pretending like we don't remember how we could've been more. We'll talk about the weather, the places we've been, our new favourite books. You'll laugh at something small, and I'II look at you like nothing ever slipped away. We'll keep it light, harmless. But in the space between words, I'll wonder what it would feel like to be honest. To say, "I think about you all the time." But I won't say it. Instead, we'll finish our coffee and exchange a polite smile

But this time, as I get up to leave, I don't move. I stay. I sit back down, right across from you, and I stare at your hands for just a second too long and without hesitation, I reach out and grab them just to stop you from drifting away again.

Maxi Merlin — Over Before It Began