#hey guess who can’t write an ending to save her life?

[ohblimeygeorge]

For the prompts, 13. You're safe, I promise, britcedes <3

idk if George is claustrophobic irl but in this case.. he is 🙃

—————

It had been a long weekend and the Mercedes team were all making their way back to their assigned hotel after a group meal post race. It had been lovely. The food was delicious and despite the tiredness creeping through everyone’s bones, it was nice to relax and laugh and talk about the mundane things - no work talk allowed.

As everyone split off to go to their respective floors, George and Lewis joined some of them in the lift, the machine slowly making its way up each floor, the two drivers saying their good nights as the lift emptied out. Eventually it was just the two of them left and they still had a floor to go to reach theirs.

The two were stood in a comfortable silence, both just messing around on their phones. When there was a sudden jolt, a screech and then nothing. No movement whatsoever. The jolt caused the drivers to stumble from where they were leant against the sides and when the lift came to a stop they both glanced at each other and then the control panel. The lights around the buttons had gone out and all that was glowing was the emergency help button. Then the main light flickered off, again only a small emergency light left on above.

Righting himself, Lewis swore under his breath, “Great. What a way to end the night.” He stretched his arm out to press the emergency button, listening to the crackle of the intercom and waiting for someone to speak. Nothing. The crackling stopped. Lewis pressed it over and over again, still getting no response. Feeling himself get more frustrated, he checked his phone to see if he could call anyone for help and saw he had no signal. “Fuck sake - George, you got any signal?”

“Um…no.”

It was only then that he’d realised the whole time, George hadn’t said anything, didn’t seem to match Lewis’ frustrations. He was just quiet. And his voice then sounded shaky. “George? You alright?”

“Yep.”

It was hard to see in the small box with the light out but Lewis could definitely sense something off in George’s voice. He pressed his torch on on his phone and shone in a way that didn’t blind the other driver but that he was able to see him at least.

George was stood opposite him, stiff as a board and hands gripping onto the handrail behind him, eyes closed and he looked like he was taking deep breaths. “George, seriously, are you good? Because you don’t look it.”

Nodding, George took another breath before answering, “Yep, yeah, all fine. Just um, get a bit claustrophobic sometimes s’all.”

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Lewis, slowly reached his hand out to rest it on George’s shoulder in what he hoped was a soothing way, “We’ll be fine, we’ll get out soon.”

“How do you know though? Nobody answered on the emergency call and neither of us have any signal to call for help either. So until sometime realises we’re missing we’re stuck here.” George replied, eyes flying open as if he’d suddenly realised something and began flitting around the space, glinting against the torch light from the tears threatening to fall, “oh god, we’re gonna be stuck here all night because everyone’s gone to bed. Shit. Fuck.”

Lewis could see he was spiralling and was honestly surprised at how quickly he was. He’d never really seen George act like this in lifts before so he was a little baffled if he was honest. He wanted to ask the question but thought it best to calm George down first. “Hey, listen, you’re okay man, you’re safe I promise, we’re gonna get out of here yeah? Look, why don’t we sit down? Rather than get tired legs huh.”

Lewis made the first move, slowly sitting himself on the ground, keeping his eyes on George the whole time, watching his eyes follow Lewis to the floor. It took a second but George followed suit, his long legs folding in a heap under him as the tremors from his panic let them fall.

Giving him a second, Lewis checked his phone again - still no signal. He reached up to press the call button again. The same crackle then nothing. Sighing, Lewis stretched out a leg, purposely letting it make contact with George’s foot, keeping him aware and grounded that he was okay and fine and safe. “So.. I didn’t know you were claustrophobic?” He asks, wincing as George’s eyes flit to the doors as a creak is heard. “George?” He prompts.

Swallowing roughly, George speaks, “Uh, I normally have it under control. I can trick my brain into knowing it’s fine, that I’ll only be in this metal death trap for a minute or so and then I’m out. So it’s fine,” he explains, clenching and unclenching his fists he didn’t even realised were tense to begin with. “Uh but like, I’ve never been stuck in lift before so this is uh, scary. Fucking terrifying actually.” The sob that catches in his throat makes Lewis’ heart ache. Seeing his teammate so vulnerable is heartbreaking and he wishes more than anything that someone would answer that emergency button right now. This was a fucking emergency dammit.

“Why don’t we play a game?” He suggests.

Blinking rapidly, George tips his head questioningly, “what game?

“Ever played the sandwich game?” Lewis grins, feeling triumphant when George nods.

So they spend the next 30 minutes playing, Lewis watching as George’s body relaxes as he’s distracted.

Eventually, the lights suddenly come back on and the lift shudders back to life, completing its journey to their desired floor as if nothing happened.

When the doors open, the two drivers stumble to their feet, silently shuffling out into the hallway before pausing.

“Um, thanks for - you know..” George started, rubbing his fingers along his jaw nervously.

“It’s cool, honestly. Glad I could help.” Lewis replied earnestly.

Nodding, George looked down the hallway towards his room before looking back at Lewis, “Could we, um, not mention this again? Please? It’s kinda embarrassing enough I acted like that in front of someone like you.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“Like me? I’m just a guy like you, George.” Lewis chuckled

“Lewis…”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Lewis replied, softly.

“Thank you.”

“Well, goodnight, man.” Lewis said, before turning around and walking down the hall towards his room.

George watched him go before taking a deep breath and making his way to his own room, well and truly ready for a good night’s sleep.

[freedomfireflies]

Hey lovey,

How are you doing? First and foremost, I’m so happy to have stumbled upon your blog—I absolutely adore your writing. You have such a beautiful ability to convey a story even in such a few words.

I know I’ve already requested a little something before, but in the event you do find time, and interest in my request, would you write something else for Chris?

Your latest blurb with Harry and Chris reminded me of a fic I read a while back about reader being Chris’ younger girlfriend and him being quite jealous and uncomfortable of her closeness to Harry Styles, given his age.

If you are comfortable, I’d love to see your take on Chris and a younger reader, who’s in her twenties. I don’t really have a premise in mind, but I feel given his history with anxiety and desire to settle down he’d be second guessing his decision to be with someone younger and maybe even feel insecure.

Thanks, sweetheart. 🤍

You are so sweet, thank you so much for reading and requesting 😭💞

“Right, which is exactly what I told him…before I realized he wasn’t even listening.”

“Oh, he never is, no. Unless you’re talking about statistical reports or the number of shares involved, he won’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“See, that would have been good advice before I wasted half an hour of my life trying to explain why Jack and Rose both being able to fit on the door was a moot point.”

Harry laughs as he crosses his arms and leans back against the wall. “Oh, well, now I’ve gotta hear this.”

Pleased to share, you clear you throat and sneak a glance at Chris. He’s heard this spiel a hundred times, and he smiles knowingly as he nods at you to continue. “Okay, well, obviously they both could have fit. Duh, that’s the first thing they try in the movie. But the second Jack climbs on top, it starts to sink, because it can’t support both their weight. Therefore, they both would have frozen to death, and Jack made the choice to die for her.”

Harry smirks, head shaking as he glances down at the floor. “Well…shit.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “I will die on this hill, it’s such a stupid argument. Because even if things had been different, Jack still would have chosen to die for her because that’s just who his character was. And, honestly? I think we can all agree that saving Leonardo Dicpario just…isn’t worth it anymore?”

He laughs again as Chris slips an arm around your hip and grins down at you.

“You…might have a point," Harry muses.

“Thank you,” you sigh, before you feel a familiar sort of tapping on your waist. You straighten up. “Anyway, thank you so much again for inviting us to your show. It was…so great to see you again, Har. Really. You’re doing so many amazing things. And I’m really proud of you.”

A lifetime of memories pass between you as Harry meets your eye and offers that understanding smile you’re so used to. 

“Anytime,” he says gently, throwing a grin to Chris as well. “Seriously, both of you are always welcome. Just let me know and I’ll make it happen.”

“We might just take you up on that,” you smirk before the tapping on your side increases. “Thank you again, and hey—good luck on your tour.”

“God, yeah, thanks,” he laughs as the rest of his team begins to fervently gesture him over. He winces. “I’m gonna need it.”

With that, he tosses you both a wave before the three of you part ways and disappear down different ends of the hall.

The drumming continues all the way down the corridor and even after you’ve rounded the corner.

It’s not until you find yourselves alone that you place your hand over Chris’s and give it a firm squeeze. “Okay, all right. What’s wrong?”

You slow to a stop, quickly turning to face him as you watch him sigh and look down at the floor. “Nothing. I’m fine, I’m just ready to go.”

But you know him. You know each nervous tic. You know he only taps your hip when he’s anxious. When he needs a reminder that you’re there.

“Chris…” you try again, fingers tangling in his shirt as you tug. “You promised.”

He looks at you, eyebrows weaving through the lace of guilt as he slips his hands around your wrists. “I know, but it’s nothing. Really—”

“Baby—”

“I…just…” He sighs yet again, one palm dragging down his beard. “Look, I know…I know he’s a part of your past. Okay, I know that. And I accept that, I just…I don’t know how to not…think about it.”

Your head tilts as you squeeze his shirt a bit harder between your hands. “Think about what?”

He goes quiet for a moment, eyes flicking between yours. “If you would have been…happier. With him.”

You lean back, almost as if struck by the very notion. “Why…baby, why would you say that?”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and shakes his head, seemingly embarrassed. “I know. I know, I just…you guys have a lot of shared history, you know? And I know he’s closer to your age, can maybe give you things that I can’t. So, seeing you guys together, it just…reminds me that I’m not…that I can’t be your past the way he can. That he’ll always be a part of what led you to me…and I just…I fucking hate that.”

With a wounded heart, your eyes soften. “And what is it you think he can give me that you can’t?”

“I don’t know. A husband that you don’t have to push around in a wheelchair,” he huffs, and there’s a hint of teasing, but you know he’s not kidding. “And he’s probably got a little more stamina than I do these days. Can go more places, do more things. Be who you need him to be. And being with him would probably open a lot of doors.”

“Okay, well, I can open my own doors, thank you,” you playfully retort, and you’re rewarded with a gentle smirk. “I’m gonna be honest, it sounds like you think about him a hell of a lot more than I do.”

He snorts and glances off down the hall. “Funny.”

“I mean it.” Your fingers tug once more on his nice dress shirt. “I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to go on that first date with you. I knew people would talk about our age difference, and I knew there would be things we’d have to work out. I knew. And I still said yes.”

He looks back.

“You know why?” you whisper, now reaching up to press your palm to his cheek. “Because adult diapers or not…I love you. I always will. You’re Captain fucking America, for pete’s sake! And obviously it’s not about how you look. It’s about who you are…but you better believe Harry was eating his fucking heart out when he saw who he lost to.”

He laughs. In that familiar, boyishly charming way you’re so obsessed with. “Wow, thanks. No, that was good. That was good. I’m cured.”

Your response is to reach up and press your lips into his. Firm but loving. Filled with every promise you might never be able to verbally make.

But every promise you plan to keep.

For a moment, he stills, seemingly taken aback by the sudden rush of intimacy. But, after a moment, his hands find a home on your waist, as they always do, and he seems to unwind.

And once you’re sure he’s begun to release some of his anguish, you pull back to see him. Really see him.

“Baby…and I need you to really hear me when I say this…you are the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper, overcome with emotion.

He smiles, exhaling a gentle laugh as if amused with your effort but you’re far from done.

Your grip becomes a little harder. “I’m serious, okay? Things with Harry…were fine. They were fine. And yeah, maybe he’s a small part of what brought me to you, but you…Chris, you? You…are fucking everything.”

The smile slowly slips off his face at the earnest fervor in your voice.

“Every day when I wake up and see you in bed—in our bed—it reminds me that you weren’t just the right decision. Okay, you are the only decision. You are the only thing that makes sense for me. The only person that I need to be with. Fuck the past. The only future I want looks like you. It is you. You are all of it.”

And you’ve never meant anything more, and you can only hope that he feels exactly how much he means to you.

His expression softens as he releases a deep breath and slips his palm around the back of your neck to keep you close.

“I know that doesn’t fix it,” you tell him gently. “I know that. You think I like running into Minka Kelly and remembering your past? Fuck no. But there is nothing—and I mean this—that Harry could have given me. Nothing. I don’t even—I mean, I can’t even imagine what a future with him would have looked like. I don’t want to imagine.”

Your touch moves to his chest once again, fingers tapping over his heart. 

“When I see him, I don’t think about anything else but you,” you continue. “Honestly. I mean look at you. Come on. Harry doesn’t stand a fucking chance next to you. Not with that receding hairline of his and the complete lack of communicational skills. Seriously, you were such an upgrade for me, it’s not even funny—”

He dips down and kisses you again. Harder this time. As if to say everything he doesn’t know how to say aloud.

“I love you,” he whispers, nose nudging against yours. “I really, really love you.”

“I know,” you whisper back, smiling rather giddily. “And I mean it, Christopher Robert Jamal Evans. You are the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He groans playfully at the use of his full name but kisses you again anyway.

And you let him. Because kissing him feels like coming home. It feels like finally finding your place in the world. 

It just feels…right.

“Take me home,” you murmur the moment his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. “Take me home and make me your future.”

And who is he to say no?

His arm quickly loops around your lower back to tug you into his chest before he leaves you with one final reminder of who he is to you.

And you don’t imagine you’ll ever forget.

“Promise,” he says, smirking victoriously as his hand travels to your ass to give it a quick squeeze.

And you laugh before leading him out of the arena, hand and hand, the anxious tapping now nowhere to be found. 

And you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

~ Other Chris Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[stitchdfox]

Eddie is on tour pt 3

His eyes blur as he stares at his phone. The phone app open, taunting him with Steve’s contact info. His thumb hovers over the green call button. Hesitant.

“Come on, Munson. He told you to call him.” Eddie mumbles to himself.

“Joining us tonight?” Their drummer Gareth asks as he slaps Eddie on the shoulder.

“Ah. No. Gotta make a call.” Eddie holds his phone in the air.

“Who’s Steve?” Gareth asks.

Eddie blushes and locks his phone.

“Come on, Gar.” Jeff pulls him away as he flashes a knowing smile at Eddie.

Gods. He owed that man a shot of tequila and the best wingman award.

Eddie takes a breath. Finally tapping the call icon.

“Hey there.” Steve’s voice is groggy.

It only rang once. Was he waiting for him to call?

“Hey.” Eddie smirks. “It’s like 3 am in Indiana. What are you doing up so late?”

“Well, I’m actually in Chicago so it’s only 2 am. And I’m working on an essay for school. Deadline is coming fast.” There’s a rustle of papers being gathered. “May have accidentally dozed off…”

He’s so cute.

“Whatcha gonna be when you grow up, Stevie?” Eddie cringes at his awkwardness.

“Guidance councilor. Hopefully. Schools not the the easiest for me so, it’s been a lot of late nights.” Steve yawns. “How was the show?”

“Surreal.”

Steve hums.

“Honestly, I don’t think it’ll ever not be surreal.” Eddie stares up at the clear night sky above him. He’ll stay with the van outside the venue until the guys get back.

“I’ve loved music all my life. My uncle used to play the radio while we made breakfast. He shared his old records with me when I was old enough to understand how fragile they could be. From there I saved up for my first guitar, my baby, and I knew from the moment I first held her there was no turning back.”

“Wow.” Steve breathes low.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t be sorry, man. That’s so cool. What bands inspired you?” Steve asks, urging him on.

“There’s a few,” Eddie holds up his fingers as he names them. “Metallica- Master of Puppets was the first song I taught myself. Wild. You know how hard that song is to play? Worth it though. Then there’s Dio, Megadeath, Black Sabbath and Ozzy of course.”

“Of course.” Steve says.

“Do you even know who Ozzy is?”

“Yeah. I know who Ozzy is. He was on that reality show where they swore a lot.”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. “No Steve—“

“Yes Eddie. He was on that show.”

“Okay, yes he was on the show but do you know his music?” Eddie can’t help the smile that grows on his lips.

“Guess I have some more homework.”

“Steve, you don’t have to listen to them. I’m sure they’re not your taste.” Eddie runs his fingers nervously through his hair.

“I want to. If you like them then they have be pretty good.” Steve says.

“Don’t give me too much credit here, sweetheart. I’m just the guitarist of a small metal band.” Eddie slumps his shoulders.

“Come on! You’re on tour, literally right now on tour, with a big name band that invited you to join them. That’s huge.” Steve’s voice is loud and excited. “Like, where are you guys right now?”

“Denver.” He says low.

“See. I’ve never been west of St. Louis.” He goes quiet. “Anyway, it’ll be nice change of pace from my Harry Styles kick.”

Eddie let’s out a guffaw. “I would be into a One Direction fan.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line.

“Shit.” Eddie says to himself as he squats down, wrapping his arm around his bent knees.

“You’re… into me?” Steve asks with an air to his voice.

“I… um…”

Silence again.

“The honest answer?” Eddie sighs.

“Mhmm.” Steve’s voice is soft.

“Alright. Here goes.” Eddie stands up, a little light headed from the action. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I called you by accident that night. I don’t even know what you look like and it wouldn’t matter at this point. There is something so… so…” he’s at a loss of words.

“So what, Eddie?” Steve’s voice is a whisper.

“Amazing. Wonderful. Heart stopping. I want to write songs about you. And now that I’ve put myself out there I don’t even know if you’re into guys, let alone a stranger and—“

“Eddie.”

“I’ve ruined this like I ruin everything.”

“Eds.”

“I’m such an idiot and—“

“Babe.”

Eddie stops pacing in a circle and let’s that word settle in.

“I know it was your turn to spiral this time but you’ve gotta breathe.” Steve waits for him to take a deep breath. “It is a bit crazy but I… I mean… Me too! I was being honest when I told you I drove my best friend crazy talking about calling you.”

They both laugh and Eddie sighs.

Steve speaks again. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie taps the back of his head against the van.

“I should let you go, sweetheart. I’m sure you have class tomorrow.”

“I do. I’ll text you when I get home and maybe we can talk again?” His voice is a bit shaky. Nervous maybe.

“I’d love that.” Eddie’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest right there in the venue parking lot.

“Sweet dreams, rockstar.” Steve teases.

“Good night, big boy.” Eddie hangs up the call before Steve can respond.

His muscle loosen as he leans against the side of the van. His phone vibrates once in his hand. He looks down to see a message from Steve.

“Hope your imagination didn’t oversell my good looks. 😉”

There’s no way the picture to follow is of a real human being.

Steve has a strong jawline, moles dotting his face and neck, his hair is auburn and a bit on the long side, not that he had anything on Eddie’s length.

His eyes were bright and hazel. His smile wide and perfect.

Eddie opened the van door to dig in his bag. He pulls out his head phones, flops on the middle bench, and searches Spotify.

If he pulls up the “this is Harry Styles” playlist it was nobody’s business but his own.

——

Part 1 here.

Part 2 here.

Part 4 to follow. I’m kind of in love with this AU rn.

If you’re interested I’m posting on my Twitter as well.

[lauronk]

Would you please write a fic where Joel dies but he comes back to life?

here you are babe, i made myself cry a little with this one, ngl

call my name and save me from the dark

length: ~1.9k words tags: joel & ellie; joel & sarah; canon divergence; joel lives au; magical realism too i guess?; brief mentions of the afterlife; no beta we die like david

Joel always had a feeling it would end like this. He’d done too many fucked up things, spilled too much blood to deserve anything but a violent ending. The years in Jackson, few though they’d been, had been him living on borrowed time.

He just hadn’t thought he’d be taking Tommy and Ellie down with him.

But there’s nothing he can do except peer out through his busted eye at Tommy’s unconscious form, at Ellie pinned down and struggling, tears and blood coating her face. They’d been so close, he and Ellie, so close to fixing things after years of distance. Figures that his past would rear its ugly head now and yank the chance from his grasp.

And he doesn’t even know who this woman is, who her friends are, though he’s got some suspicions. All he knows is that the sight of her looming over him with a golf club is gonna be the last thing he sees.

–

Joel’s never really given much thought to the afterlife, even with as many close calls as he’s had over the years. He figured he’d punched his ticket to Hell a long time ago, and nothing he could do would change that. So maybe he’d thought there would be flames. Fire ants to bite him for eternity, or a lava bath. Anything hot and painful.

He hadn’t expected a giant void. It was kind of like space, he muses, darkness as far as the eye - does he still have eyes? - can see, dotted with the occasional pinpricks of light. But he can’t move, doesn’t think he’s breathing, doesn’t really feel anything. He just…waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And then finally something takes shape in front of him, haloed by an increasingly dense cluster of lights until Joel has to squeeze his eyes shut against the brightness. Then it’s gone, and someone says –

“Hey Dad.”

Joel’s eyes snap open, and there she is. There she fucking is, right in front of him, his daughter, his little girl, his Sarah. She doesn’t look any different than the last time he saw her - curly hair, purple shirt that’s blessedly free of blood. Wide brown eyes and a soft smile.

“Baby girl?” Joel chokes on the words, eyes brimming with tears. Maybe this is his punishment - the sight of Sarah, close enough to hug, before he’s sent off to whatever really awaits him.

Her head tilts. “You’re old.”

Joel can’t help the laugh that escapes him, wet and garbled, and he tries futilely to wipe away some of the tears streaming down his cheeks. They just keep coming though, and he doesn’t know that they’ll ever stop. “I missed you, baby.”

She blinks, her own eyes glassy. “I missed you too.” She sniffs, taking a tentative step forward in whatever empty space they’re currently occupying, hand outstretched until her fingers curl carefully around his. The feel of her, tangible and solid and real, sends Joel to the ground, knees folding until he’s curled up and sobbing. They don’t ache for once, his knees, and Sarah’s hand releases his in favor of coming to rest lightly on his back, rubbing careful circles as his chest heaves.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Joel gasps. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep you safe, I’m so sorry. I failed you and I lost you and I –”

“Shhh.” Sarah crouches next to him, arms looping around his neck and pulling him closer. His face winds up pressed to her shoulder, sobs that he can’t seem to stop rolling through him again and again. “You’re alright. We’re alright.”

Always taking care of him when he should be taking care of her.

Joel gets an arm around her and squeezes, pressing a kiss to her cheek, her temple, the crown of her head, anywhere he can manage. She smells the same too, like the coconut from her shampoo and the crisp cleanness of their laundry detergent.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever let her go now.

Joel doesn’t think time passes while they sit in the void, at least not that he can tell. But it feels like an eternity and a second before Sarah is shifting backwards, small hands coming up to cup his cheeks. She’s beaming at him for some reason, smile stretching all across her face.

Fuck, he’s missed her so much. Even on his better days there was always a giant, gaping hole in his chest, a limb he was missing, a breath that was harder to catch because Sarah wasn’t there. And here she is again, whole and healthy, fourteen still, brimming with that same bright energy she’d always had. His beautiful, perfect baby girl.

“You gotta go back, Dad,” she says, and Joel rears back until her hands land on his shoulders to steady him.

“Go ba– no, baby, I can’t go back. I’m stayin’ here with you.”

Sarah’s eyes fill with tears again, a few making sparkling tracks down her cheeks as she shakes her head. “You can’t. If you stay, it won’t be…it won’t be with me.”

Right. Of course it wouldn’t. Nothing he’s done earns him the privilege of being with his daughter again, nothing he’s done has given him that right. This brief, beautiful, terrible glimpse was all he was ever gonna get.

But Sarah’s next words yank any remaining air from his lungs. “You have to go back for Ellie.”

“Ellie ��?”

But of course. Ellie, his other girl, the one he left behind. The one he last saw pinned to the ground, mouth moving in words he couldn’t make out. Ellie.

Something in his chest fractures, a fissure opening up where his heart had briefly been whole.

“She needs you,” Sarah’s saying, her lower lip wobbling. “She needs you real bad. I can’t - I can’t tell you everything, but you have to go back for her. If you stay here, she’s gonna…it’s gonna be real bad. For her and Uncle Tommy both.”

“Baby, I don’t think I –”

“No, you have to!” Sarah bursts out, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. “You don’t get it, you –” She inhales unsteadily, her fear and sorrow a tangible thing sitting between the two of them in this empty space. “When you’re dead you can…you can still see everything. You can watch what everyone’s doing, the choices they make. You can watch them become someone you don’t even recognize.” The last sentence is a whisper, and Joel feels it slip around his throat to strangle him.

She’d seen it. All the terrible, fucked up things he’d done, the people he’d tortured and killed, the drugs he’d taken, the ways he’d punished himself for failing to save her. She’d watched all of it.

And yet she was still here in front of him with love in her eyes, not reprimanding him or judging him.

He never had deserved her, not for a minute.

“You don’t want to see Ellie go through that,” Sarah whispers. “She’s too much like you, Dad, maybe even more like you than I was. She’s too stubborn and determined and she fights so hard when she loves someone. She’s gonna upend her life trying to avenge you.”

Joel shakes his head, tearing his gaze from his daughter for the first time. “No, Ellie and me, we –”

“I don’t have time to argue with you about it,” she interrupts, her eyes taking on that stubborn glint he remembers all too well from the time she’d wanted a tenth birthday at the Riverwalk. “You just have to trust me, and you have to go back. You have to, Dad.”

“And you called her stubborn,” Joel mutters.

Sarah laughs briefly, but it fades and then she’s placing a small hand on each cheek again and lifting his face. “Go back,” she whispers. “Go back and save her. You couldn’t save me –”

“Baby –”

“– but you can save her. So please.” Her voice breaks, the vision of her blurring as more tears fill his eyes. “Please go save her.”

“Okay,” Joel whispers. “Okay, baby girl, I’ll go back for you. You and her.”

Sarah’s smile is the brightest thing in the darkness around them. The last thing he feels is her hand over his chest, a whispered I love you meeting his ears before everything fades out again.

–

There’s not a single piece of him that doesn’t hurt, even as he feels outside his body. No idea where he is or what’s happening, only a constant, unending pain. It ebbs and flows, some periods unbearable enough to make him wish for the void of death again.

But the tether doesn’t snap this time, and all Joel can do is hold on.

–

The first thing he hears is beeping. Rhythmic, quiet beeping, and after a moment Joel realizes it’s in time with his heartbeat.

It takes an eternity, but he peels open his eyes. No - his eye. His left remains shut, his right only opening with concerted effort. It’s dark, wherever he is, only faint pinpricks of light illuminating the area nearest him. All he can make out is the shape of someone curled in a chair, draped in a blanket.

Ellie.

He can’t see her, but he knows.

Joel tries to say her name, to say anything, but his throat constricts, his chest aching. All he can manage is some kind of grunt, the beep of his heart rate picking up ever so slightly.

But it’s enough - Ellie stirs.

“Joel?” She asks sleepily, shifting and turning bleary eyes on him.

This time, he gets the words out. “Hey, kiddo.”

A ragged oh my god spills from Ellie before she’s kicking the blanket off and stumbling three paces forward and crumpling with her head landing on his chest. It sends flares of pain ricocheting through his ribs, starbursts erupting in his vision, but he doesn’t dare ask her to move. Instead he carefully wraps his right arm around her shoulders, hissing out a breath as his side screams in protest.

“How in the fuck –?” Ellie sobs against him, fingers tangling in the front of his shirt.

“Sarah,” Joel mumbles, throat tightening again and a fresh press of tears welling in his good eye. Ellie tenses against him but doesn’t pull away. “Sent me back. Said you and my dipshit brother were gonna do somethin’ dumb.”

A wet laugh escapes her, shoulders shaking. “Think those painkillers fried your brain, old man.”

Maybe. But Joel wanted to believe it had been Sarah, one of his girls trying to protect the other. “How long –?”

“Three weeks,” Ellie whispers. When she finally straightens, Joel can see the plum-colored shadows under her eyes, the way her shirt - his shirt, his favorite flannel - hangs off her too-thin frame. “You – we brought you back to Jackson and right when we got in the walls you started breathing. Freaked us all out because we checked, a million times. You’d had no pulse, no heartbeat, no breath.” Her voice cracks, one thin hand reaching for his the same as Sarah’s had. “And then we got you in here and you’ve just…you weren’t waking up.”

“‘M sorry,” Joel mumbles, squeezing her hand as best he can.

“It’s okay.” Ellie laughs again, a delirious kind of thing that sends a fall of tears from her eyes. “Just don’t ever do it again, or I’ll fucking kill you myself, got it?”

“Yeah,” Joel smiles, even as it makes the side of his face twinge in agony. “Yeah, I got it.”

thanks for reading! feel free to continue submitting ficlet ideas but just know there will be a wait for it because i have a bunch piled up

also i have put all my ficlets on ao3 in one multi-chapter work for convenience, you can find them here

[writersdare]

Why Won't You Love Me | Luke Hemmings

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Luke and Y/N broke up after a few months of dating so they could at least remain friends, but seemed like it didn't ease the pain.

Warning: angst, fluff, a bit of cursing and mentioning of alcohol

Word Count: 3 081

Requested: yes

Author’s Note: It's partly a song!fic, too, I guess. Hopefully you'll like it! I enjoyed writing their memories so much. Please, don’t forget to like/repost/comment, it helps a lot!

So many senseless quotes were out there. “They didn’t mean to be.” “They just met at the wrong time.” What did they try to express by that? Y/N was getting furious each time she’d bump into another photo with a pretty text on it. It’d hurt, actually hurt. From the throat, down the stomach, it would squeeze the guts inside and move lower, until she’d lose any desire to leave her bed and go to a short walk, at least. Those quotes were nothing but small ugly stones in a shiny candy wrapper. 

It wasn’t even supposed to be that painful. They ended the things up just after three months of dating, so there wouldn’t be a damage to their souls even more if they’d give each other another month. Why didn’t it go according to that perfect plan, though? Why would she be upset when he couldn’t be in touch during a tour, why did she prefer to be apart, but once they were, it didn’t feel any better? 

Why was he still dreaming about her at nights? Why would he wake up in the middle of sleep, calling her name? Why suddenly it was the only name he knew at all? The bed was colder, the pillow was more of a sharp rock, and the food lost its flavors.

The life didn’t even let them catch a breath. It seemed like it couldn’t get any worse at that point, truly. Luke was back to LA after touring, and they meant to remain friends, yet, they hadn’t seen each other ever since. It was just hard, almost unbearable. They thought they’d break up to save their friendship, and yet they lost everything. Each other. 

Y/N would still be in touch with other guys, only sometimes though. It wasn’t like it used to be, surely. Everyone knew it couldn’t be, even if they didn’t talk about it openly. Yet, Ash decided to send Y/N a short message, asking to meet as he was finally home. Honestly, it was the only nice day for the past few months.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Luke turned all the way to the window and stared at Ashton and Y/N, who were approaching the car. They were talking and smiling, Ash was carrying her suitcase.

“Y/N had rough few weeks, so Ashton suggested her going to the villa with us,” Calum explained casually, looking at the friend.

Lu hastened to turn towards Cal, who was sitting just behind him.

“You kidding? It supposed to be our weekend!”

“And it will be, Luke,” Michael hurried up to reassure, resting hands on a steering wheel. “C’mon, we are still her friends, she’s quitting her job and yet can’t find anything good for her, you have to be a bit understanding.”

“Understanding?!” he outraged. “Could you at least warn me in advance, guys?!”

“We knew you wouldn’t mind anyway. Even if you’re now behaving like you do,” Cal answered and turned a head away, as the door opened, and Y/N got inside.

“Hi, guys,” she smiled shortly.

“Hey, how are you?” Mike gave her a hug as much as he could, being in the driver’s seat.

Calum smiled and cuddled the girl, too.

“Hi, Y/N, so glad to see you.”

“It’s mutual, Cal,” she nodded and then leaned towards Luke. It’d be weird to ignore him.

“Hey,” he only said and patted Y/N on a shoulder, almost holding his breath so he wouldn’t sense the perfume the guy used to love so much.

She hadn’t exactly changed. Maybe a little. Yes, Luke saw dark circles under her pretty eyes, her face was tired and lost its healthy color, but she was still beautiful. Y/N smiled, and the musician only sighed, looking away, because it was simply impossible to look at her. To remember that they didn’t work out because of their own stupidity, naivety, recklessness and ego, assuming they could be just fine without each other.

Ashton placed the girl’s suitcase in a trunk and got inside as well, so Michael started the car.

The road was long. It took almost two hours, for Luke it felt all four. He almost didn’t speak. The guy was staring at the window, observing the nature passing by, while others didn’t stop talking. At some moment he just closed the eyes and pretended to fall asleep. Maybe it was childish, but it helped to feel the pain less. 

“Luke?” she stopped next to him, as they all came inside, and Ash gave everyone a tour to their new home for the coming week.

The villa was a pretty one, spacious, with a pool, fireplace, tennis court, few bedrooms downstairs and upstairs. But honestly the head was so much not there.

The guy turned to Y/N and only mumbled something, waiting for her to continue. She sighed and hid hands in pockets of a hoodie.

“I know it… it can be uncomfortable for us, and… I’m sorry if it’s the case for you. I… just missed… my friends,” the girl was trying to find the right words carefully. “And I really needed some change in my routine,” she sighed.

“No, we are all glad to see you,” Luke said, and he knew it was the truth even if he was hiding it from himself. “Mike told me you have some problems with the job, though. Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?”

Her lips stretched into a smile immediately, and she shrugged. 

“No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“Don’t do this,” he said, looking at the girl’s eyes.

“Do what?”

“Smile. I know you’re hurt.”

It was painful to watch. Him, pretending he was ready to come back as a comforting “just friend”, and her, behaving like she was strong enough to move forward without him. The world was falling apart, they knew it. Didn’t figure out how to fix it, yet.

Ashton was right, though, the change of a place was helping Y/N a lot. Maybe the presence of Luke was, too. It felt nice to let the head have a rest and not to think of problems which were waiting for her in LA. It was nice to forget the day of a week and lose track of time. And it was rather healing to notice Luke’s eyes on hers, to feel a slight touch of the fingers on her skin while he was passing by or taking the same candy from a vase. He felt almost alive again. And she finally remembered how it was, in heaven. 

Luke was an angel. She’d tell him that millions of times when they were together. During breakfast or before going to bed. While he’d be touching her like only he could, or when he’d sing for her. He was an angel. The guy would laugh at that. Would get certainly shy, and maybe she’d, if would be extremely lucky, see a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“I think you were a Cupid back in centuries,” she said, lying with him in bed.

“A what?” Luke chuckled and left a soft kiss on her nose. “What kind of silly thoughts are in your head, Y/N?”

“No, I’m honest,” the girl smiled and hugged a pillow, looking at him. “Your eyes are reflection of the sky, Luke. Your golden hair is just like Cupid’s. You have magical voice, and you have a soul of an angel,” she rested a palm on his chest. “Do you think you can fly?”

He smiled and leaned to kiss her sweet lips.

“I feel like flying all the time when I’m with you,” Luke whispered. 

He had to leave. They both knew it, there wasn’t even anything dramatic about that. The tour had lasted for months, when he’d go back home for few days it was just harder to say a goodbye. The last time they had said it, as a couple, they had probably already known it’d be their last kiss. Luke knew they weren’t alright, but he couldn’t stay and talk it through. She didn’t want him to, either. Y/N knew what she signed for when they started to date, the girl wasn’t delusional. They just both thought the distance wouldn’t hurt them. 

They hated the phone calls. It was easier with texts, but when he’d see her face on a screen, Luke would have to hold back the tears. She’d smile, just like she did when they arrived to the villa and he asked how she was, and then would cry all night, missing him, them. Desperately, unbearable. 

“I just feel lonely, Luke. I feel lonelier with you than I was by myself,” Y/N said the other night, and it just broke him, simply, without any other bright adjectives, without complexion.

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“I don’t want that to. But maybe that’s why we need to stop this torment.”

“Is that how it is for you to be with me?”

“No, you don’t get it. It’s how it is being without you.”

She still remembered his eyes that night. Maybe it was for the better they spoke on the phone and not in person. Maybe it was for the better that he was hundreds of miles away from her. His eyes were cloudy, grey, bursting into rain any second. Y/N was already crying. She hadn’t stopped for the past few days after that call.

The pain was going away, though, slowly. Who knew the pill from the agony could be the same as for happiness. She thought it’d be awkward; and truly was trying to reassure Ashton and explain how weird it’d be to go on a trip with them after all what had happened between her and Luke. But Ash knew it was exactly what the guys needed. A second chance…

“Do you like it here?” Luke turned his head towards Y/N as she entered the kitchen to get a snack, and smiled. The guy himself was sitting on a couch with a guitar in his hands. He was working on a new song, the idea came to his mind a few days ago, when they first arrived to the villa. 

The girl looked at the musician and smiled back, taking a slice of rye bread and a plate.

“I do,” she said honestly. 

“On a scale of liquorice to pizza how much do you like it here?” Luke chuckled and left the guitar on a couch, then walked towards Y/N.

“Pizza level,” the girl laughed shortly and showed avocado in a hand. “Do you want some?”

“Yeah, I’ll help you,” he nodded and got another slice of bread. “I’m happy you’re having a rest here, with us.”

“Really?” Y/N sounded almost surprised, washing the fruit.

“Of course,” Luke hurried up to glance at her, as the girl knew his sky eyes didn’t lie. “Why are you amazed?”

“No, it’s just…” she shrugged. “I was worried it’d be odd, but the truth is…”

“I’m really glad to see you,” the guy interrupted her, as he really wanted to say it first.

Y/N smiled and nodded, glancing at Luke.

“I’m really glad to see you, too…”

Luke sighed and put a bread slice on a plate.

“Look, I… I’m sorry it happened like that. I… I should have been stronger; I knew it wouldn’t be easy…”

“Luke, you shouldn’t have,” Y/N shook her head. She didn’t want him to blame himself, it wasn’t fair.

“Yeah, but now I feel like I gave up too easily,” he said honestly, looking at the girl, while she was making them sandwiches.

“We both gave up,” she corrected him and, seeing Lu wanted to say something else, hurried up to change the topic.

“Where are the others, by the way?”

“They went to get some grocery,” he mumbled, not being convinced with the news himself. Friends probably thought they were idiots.

“Oh,” Y/N nodded. “Ash didn’t really warn me, weird.”

For some reason that phrase made him chuckle in annoyance and even though “don’t say it” was ringing in his head, he spilled it out nevertheless.

“You and Ashton are pretty close, huh?”

The girl raised her eyebrows in a surprise and looked up at the guy.

“I mean… Just like with all of you?” Y/N asked, although it wasn’t exactly the truth — with Luke it was different.

The musician immediately got embarrassed that he snapped at her.

“I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to be jealous, you aren’t even mine,” 'anymore', he wanted to add but bit his lips before adding anything more stupid.

The girl swallowed and looked down.

“Ash and I are just friends. Always were and always will be,” she said quietly, wondering if Luke knew the reason. Because she still loved him, of course, she did. Her angelic boy…

“I wrote a song,” he mumbled. “I mean, I’m still writing it,” the guy ran the hand through his hair, getting nervous. “Wanna check it out? The melody isn’t here yet, there are just lyrics for now.”

“Sure, I’d love that,” Y/N nodded, and they took a seat on a couch with their snacks. Usually, Luke didn’t like people checking his unfinished songs or lyrics, but, driving by emotions, the guy really wanted her to read the lines he came up with.

Y/N took the notebook and read hastily written text. It was clear Luke was in a hurry to put it on paper until he forgot. 

Switching into airplane mode again We're not alright but I'll pretend Press my cheek against the glass Just be good 'til I get back

The ground disappears I hold back the tears I check my phone to see your face Staring back as if to say Don't worry, you won't be lonely

“Luke, it’s so beautiful…” Y/N smiled and looked up at Luke. “Almost like a story. And I desperately want to find out what will be next for them,” she handed the notebook back to him.

“Really?” the corners of the guy’s lips twitched in a short smile. Luke wasn’t sure if Y/N actually got that the unfinished song was about them. Was she pretending so he wouldn’t rise that topic again? She didn’t miss him? “Thanks. I guess,” the guy mumbled and put the notebook on a coffee table, feeling another burn in a heart.

Y/N wasn’t lying and surely didn’t want to hurt Luke. She just thought it’d be too narcissistic to think the song was about them, after all their relationship didn’t last long. Before that they were just friends. The song could be about anyone. Could be about some fiction characters, too…

Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? You imagine when you close your eyes You're with me on the other side So why won't you love me?

Whiskey became his friend for a while. Stupid, useless, Luke knew. Yet the only time when he was not thinking about Y/N was mostly when he was drunk. Although even at that time memories would rush to his head, while he’d be sitting at a bar where they used to go together.

He wished he could call her and hear “I love you, too”, but he didn’t dare to hit a green button on his phone. They broke up, they were just friends. They supposed to remain friends, became strangers instead. But then found each other again, thanks to his band mates.

Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? We're together, all alone tonight So helpless from the other side So why won't you love me?

It didn’t matter if the guys were planning to have a rest, they all knew that at some point they’d still end up in a studio making music. Y/N wasn’t surprised to see a small one on the villa either – friends would only regret if they didn’t have their creative space.

At such times the girl didn’t usually bother them and was spending time by herself, enjoying small vacation. Honestly, she needed it. And even though Y/N was not with Luke anymore, just to be in his presence and see his face was the greatest gift.

“So, you finished it? I like it,” the girl smiled and entered the studio, as Luke performed the last accords of a song he showed her just few days ago. The band mates left to order food, but Luke decided to stay for a little longer.

“Sure, you do,” he chuckled and annoyingly leaned the guitar against the wall.

“I… do like it,” Luke’s coldness in a voice took Y/N by surprise, so she stumbled. “You think I’m lying?”

“Listen, I don’t want to talk about it,” he jumped from a couch and hurried up to leave, but the girl caught his hand.

“Luke… Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, I just—“

“It’s nothing, really. Glad you liked the song. I just thought you’d be less delusional about it.”

Y/N felt like chills run all over her body, while she was looking at Luke’s blue eyes. 

“Wait,” she swallowed. “Was this song about me? Us?…"

“Oh, so you finally figured it out?” he chuckled again and rolled the eyes, crossing arms on the chest as if not believing that all that time Y/N didn’t understand it. And honestly, she felt ashamed for not getting it all along.

“Luke… I just thought it’d be… too much of me to think so, I thought that maybe it’s just some fiction or about someone else and—“

The guy covered her palm with his, interrupting.

“All the songs for the past month were about you, Y/N,” he shook his head. “How could you not realize that?”

“Maybe because you’re asking why I won’t love you?”

“And what about it?” the guy shrugged.

“Because I already love you, Luke. Always have, nothing has changed,” she looked down, whispering her confession.

The guy’s heart threatened to break a chest with such a rushed beating.

“I hold on to you and you hold on to me,” he whispered back one of the final lines of the song and smiled shortly, squeezing the girl’s hand in his. “I don’t like being without you, Y/N. I’ve tried, I just hated it.”

The girl sighed and simply hugged her angelic boy, resting a head on his chest.

“I hated it, too. And I want to hold on to you if you hold on to me…”

“Always,” he promised and left a short kiss on her temple.

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl

Moodboard ♡

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw them here @bettermcn and here @killmytimes –

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Masterlist | Prompt List

[ambrosia-ghostie]

i am so upset.

here are my real-time thoughts from tua series finale, i guess:

- is gun control not a thing in this timeline? jeez

- i don’t even know where i’d get a gun lmao

- this is giving MAGA… yikes

- i love meghan so much. national treasure. AND she can sing. EGOT, please.

- lila isn’t the only one hiding stuff from her husband 👀

- diego talking about lila with a new lease on life 🥺

- awh this is very “it’s a wonderful life”

- lila’s family is fab. the spinoff we need.

- i love how many actors get to perform as other actors performing another role on this show

- the whistle !!! call him out dr. jean !!!

- THAT WAS SO UNNECESSARY

- dr. jean deserved better !!! 😭

- i love the fast food lady (featured extra). she understood the assignment.

- “it smells so nice in here!” why are me and klaus the same person but completely different?

- call back to viktor drawing the umbrella tattoo as a kid !!!

- holy shit, ben is the fly

- body horror is so cool

- oh hey! they’re seeing each other and it’s neither a wedding nor a funeral

- klaus still eating because he deserves it - just give him all the nourishment, please

- why do they always wait to tell each other the most important thing ??? one brain cell - i stg

- “not during christmas” - oh, diego. for those of us with chaotic families, it’s always on christmas

- klaus scooping up five’s empty seat is such big family/sibling energy

- “i didn’t see that one coming!” klaus, luther, and allison look just as confused as i still am

- THIS IS SO WEIRD AND RANDOM

- LITTLE GRACE NOOOO

- time travel is wild. five was right in s1 - i am not smart enough for it.

- “do you love him?” 🥺

- cronenberg would love this. i wonder how much of the virus effect is practical vs. cgi

- klaus’s clothes make a lot more sense for the final showdown since he probably borrowed from one of lila’s relatives

- luther’s borrowed clothing is a bit too luther to be believably borrowed tho

- this is my favorite van 🚐 set piece since little miss sunshine

- allison pulling the emergency brake is the ultimate mom arm 💪

- i too, like five, always end up in the subway (as a new yorker)

- oh shit, i just realized that no one probably told klaus how ben really died - ugh

- but, you know what, allison probably didn’t want to overwhelm the poor guy with more trauma so i’ll let the lack of communication slide this time

- “i can fly now! oh it hurts”

- aim for the tanks… like jaws… the… 🦈 ?

- sigh, five and diego beef is just really not necessary - i’m annoyed

- “my hand is stuck in its ass” !!!

- FIVE AND DIEGO STOP THIS NONSENSE

- WHO CARES ??? this romance is not that important, dude. you’ve been trying to save your family for decades, my guy 😭

- oh damn - is five going to find the right subway station now?

- if they all forget everything like fucking dorothy in kansas, i’m going to be so mad

- holy shit - PET CEMETARY, but like PET SEMETERY !!! you can’t bring someone back, not really… that’s the show 😭

- netflix loves their stephen king

- this is also the lesson in 11/22/63… JFK… yeah

- i could write a thesis on this rn

- we got our coffee shop AU ?!?!

- can i be “cheesecake five”?

- oh… oh no

- THE COMMISSION! THE FOUNDER! AHHHH

- no no no

- don’t make my children not exist 😭

- THIS ISN’T WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR

- i’m sobbing… out of hurt and anger, tbh

- the children/family are on the lifeboats 💔

….

….

…

i’m not going to be ok for a while

klaus didn’t find out how ben died ???

wouldn’t ghost ben have been able to tell him ???

they really did borrow from stephen king because the alien reginald plot was pointless (i’m looking at you, under the dome)

all in all, i’m glad i got to spend time with these characters… we could have gotten even fewer seasons based on how netflix operates. but this ending could have been written/executed so much better.

i would have even smiled if the last scene was with everyone in the void. but no. we get the original ending of the little mermaid with the marigolds instead of sea foam 😫

there were parts of it i did like - especially the cleanse - but i feel like we all deserved better…

i dedicate this post to the memory of dave, sissy, ray, and every other beautiful character who ultimately became disposable. 💔

[avacoleman]

when the lights go out || a firstprince fic

summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either.  After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man.  As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.

chapter 2/8 || rated e || read on ao3 *updates every tues. and fri. *

Portland, OR Rose City Comic Con Day 1 [Unknown number] hey, i hope you’ve made it safely [Unknown number] in case it wasn’t clear, this is alex. i’ll catch you later. maybe we can grab a bite or something after today’s panel? Henry saves Alex’s number and confirms that yes, he’s arrived in one piece and would be happy to join Alex after the event. All of this is still wrapped in impossibility for Henry. Even though he’d been fully briefed on the tour and signed his contract, the fact that he’s now embarking on a multi-city tour with Alex hasn’t sunk in yet. The six and a half hour long flight didn’t do much to lessen the surrealness and now that he’s here at the venue, Henry doesn’t see an end in sight to the feeling. The convention center is, in a word, daunting. For as much as Henry loves Lord of the Rings and Star Wars, he can’t say his appreciation for the franchises has ever been this devout or even close to it. All around him people are decked out in elaborate, truly remarkable costumes. Some are easy to ID like Doctor Who and Marvel characters. But others are so obscure that Henry can’t even hazard a guess. It’s overwhelming but also kind of intriguing too, seeing people be wholly themselves and embrace the things they love. He forces himself to focus up as he grabs a directory map of the convention’s floor plan for reference before going up to one of the booths for his credentials. With his badge secured, he looks at the map again and makes his way over to where Alex’s panel is being held in one of the larger rooms. It takes him some time to find it; the convention center is practically a maze. But he spots a blowup outside the door clearly marking the panel, Supernatural in the Mainstream. By the time he gets inside, the room is packed and the excited chatter is practically tangible. 

Henry spots a few Crescent Valley fans in t-shirts referencing the show. Admittedly Henry still hasn’t started the series, but before he hopped his flight out of JFK, Pez spent the vast majority of their last few days together giving Henry a pretty substantial rundown of the essentials, including some cast trivia. Most notable from the recap was learning that Alex had dated one of his co-stars, Nora Holleran, during season two. Henry decided it was none of his business– only after doing a Google search on her.

Even with the knowledge that the show resonated with so many people while it aired, it’s strange to reconcile it with the fact that the guy he met on a whim at a bar is part of such a cultural force.

After a few moments, a woman takes to the stage, introducing herself as the moderator. The audience is ravenous as she introduces the panelists and Henry almost goes deaf from the screams Alex earns when his name is called.

Henry studies Alex as he crosses the stage, waving to fans and putting a hand to his heart in appreciation for the warm reception. The large monitors on either side of the stage zoom in on his face and the sincere gratitude Alex feels is plain as day in his eyes.

“Alright, let’s get started, shall we?” the moderator says to kick things off.

Alex in his element during the panel, magnetic really. Even though he’s one of four panelists, it’s so clear to see how he effortlessly draws people in. 

Henry takes out his notebook, hoping to glean something in any of Alex’s responses to the questions directed at him that can be a kernel of an idea they can turn into the core of this book.

He can’t shake Alex’s words during their lunch with Zahra, the way it seemed that Alex sincerely wanted his book to be about something real. 

Vanity cash grab celeb autobiographies were a dime a dozen. Henry figured for people who lived so heavily in the spotlight, it probably felt like the natural progression of things. But with Alex and his team being so adamant in their search, scouring through profiles in hopes of finding the right person to pen Alex’s story, he had to believe this book would actually stand for something other than more dollars in their pockets.

There isn’t much that Henry is able to take away for research other than noting the way people gravitate towards Alex. More than once, he’d actually seen people in the audience quite literally shift to the edge of their seats as he spoke.

When the panel is over, Henry fights against the current of attendees to make his way backstage. He presents his badge to the man at the entrance who gives it a once-over before deeming it to be authentic and ushering Henry through the curtain.

Alex is easy to spot, holding court just as he’d done on stage before, this time with a small audience of just the moderator and his fellow panelists. He’s got a water bottle in his hands, preparing to take a sip when he catches sight of Henry instantly and politely excuses himself from the group.

“You survived day one. How’d you like it?” he asks.

“Your world is very different from mine, but it’s pretty cool,” Henry admits.

“Good, I'm glad to hear it.”

There’s a lull as Alex looks him over and Henry suddenly feels oddly self-conscious and small. Seeing this side of Alex, the sheer star power, is a bit overwhelming.

“You're done for the day, right? I took another look at the itinerary this morning. You’ve got the signing tomorrow, yes?”

Alex nods. “Yeah, I’m all yours starting now.” The man’s face instantly flushes. “You know what I mean.”

Henry offers up a smile that feels more like a white flag. 

“We should head out,” Alex says.

He moves away and heads back to the others in the room, making his parting remarks before touching Henry’s elbow and guiding him to a set of double doors he hadn’t initially noticed when he entered. Henry is treated to a glimpse of the convention center’s underbelly, the private exit that leads them to a secluded area outside on the street level.

Henry is sure it’s probably all in his mind, but now that it’s back to just him and Alex, away from the adoring fans and bright lights of a main stage, the man standing before him now is someone else entirely again. Henry wonders if he’ll ever be able to wrap his head around the two versions of Alex that exist in this world.

“There’s a park not too far from here. Do you want to walk around for a bit?” Alex asks.

It’s a random ask but Henry is glad for it. He’s not sure what to do with himself as they try and find their rhythm around each other.

They make it to the park a few minutes later and walk alongside the edge of a small pond.

Henry turns to attempt starting a conversation and it seems as if Alex had the same thought too; they bump arms immediately and both rush to apologize.

Henry sighs and stops walking.

“I have to ask. Are you still sure about this?” 

Alex’s eyebrows furrow. 

“What do you mean? This walk?”

Henry crosses his arms and gives him a dry look.

“Ah. You being on this project then,” Alex says.

Henry nods. 

Alex looks at him. “Of course I am. I won’t lie, it is a bit of a mindfuck when I stop and really consider it. I’m still trying to figure out how to be around you. But my opinion on your work? My decision to collaborate with you? That hasn’t changed. Not one bit. So, yeah, we had a good night. Great conversation and even better sex,” he muses. “But I can forget it if you can.”

Henry snorts out a laugh in surprise that he quickly tries in vain to cover up as a sneeze. Alex, rightfully, doesn’t buy it though Henry wishes desperately that he would. He hates the way Alex’s face falls. 

“Are you…do you mean you didn’t enjoy it? That I wasn’t…,” Alex trails off.

Henry’s basic functions betray him and his mouth merely opens and closes like a landlocked fish struggling for breath.

In the end, no response is an answer within itself and Henry watches the varying degrees of what can only be described as horror play out across Alex’s face.

Goodbye tour, goodbye contract, Henry thinks. All gone before it even truly got started.

For a man that writes for a living, Henry falls short on what to say. How could he possibly salvage this now?

“I…it…,” he flounders. 

Bang up job, Henry, he internally chides.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my fucking god,” Alex whispers to himself. “Crap, that’s why you snuck out then, isn’t it?”

Henry winces. While that is an astute, wholly accurate description of what he did last week, hearing it so plainly — and from Alex’s lips no less— just makes it sound that much harsher.

“Maybe it was just an off night. It happens sometimes. But look, we don’t have to talk about it. Like you said, we can both forget it ever happened. Today can be our official day one.”

Alex shakes his head, refusing to let it go.

“No. What didn’t you like about it?”

“Alex, come on. Seriously. We don’t have to get into it.”

Alex takes a step closer.

“Please? I want to know what I did wrong.”

Henry frowns.

“That’s harsh; don’t frame it like that. Just think of it as…areas of improvement.”

Alex crosses his arms. “That isn’t much better, but I guess you’re right.” Alex pauses. “Okay then, what do I need to work on?”

Henry groans and looks up at the sky.

“I…how is this happening right now?” Henry mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead and turning his eyes to the water.

He gets a wild fantasy of jumping into the pond and hiding in its depths to avoid this conversation. Could he hold his breath long enough to wait Alex out? He’d be willing to test that hypothesis if it meant even five seconds away from this talk.

When he looks back at Alex, the man’s eyes are unwavering and Henry’s instantly transported to the night in question. To how wide eyed and earnest Alex had been after they had sex and he checked in. It makes something in his chest crack a little, enough to put a hole in the wall he hoped to build around the truth.

“Well, the handjob was a bit…rigid. And when you were working to open me up, that felt a touch awkward. And then when you were actually inside me, it was rushed and uh, a tad repetitive. You were enthusiastic, which was nice, but I couldn’t quite mirror that.”

He hopes his answer is diplomatic, but he knows there’s simply no easy way to say any of this. 

Alex’s brows knit together deeply and it feels like a lifetime before he speaks again.

“So…sex. You’re telling me I’m just straight up bad at sex as a whole?”

Henry groans and slaps the palm of his hand against his forehead.

“Like I said, it could have been an off night. We were drinking, we were both overexcited. The room was cursed or perhaps I really was, remember? There’s a lot at play here.”

Alex is quiet again, too quiet for Henry’s likings. Henry awkwardly scratches the side of his nose and rocks slightly on the balls of his feet as Alex stares off at nothing before turning his gaze back on Henry.

“I’ll take this into consideration. Thank you, Henry. I appreciate your honesty.”

It’s clinical and closed off and Henry wishes he could take back the last few minutes. But the truth is out there, the ball squarely in Alex’s court and Henry can’t help the sinking feeling that he’s about to lose it all.

~*~*~

Rose City Con

Day 2

Much like yesterday, Alex continues to be incredible with fans. It’s only a signing today, but Alex’s energy is on one hundred for each and every person that comes his way. He poses for pictures and makes good conversation with fans. He asks them questions, learns a bit about each of them. It’s clear to see the knack he has for making everyone feel like they’re having a unique, truly personal interaction with him.

Several people come up to him already in tears and overwhelmed, but Alex doesn’t seem fazed by it at all. Henry is impressed with the way Alex puts them all at ease in no time, cracking jokes as he signs merch.

Henry has no clue how Alex manages to keep his enthusiasm going for hundreds of people. The fact that this is only the first city makes his head spin. He’s not even the one engaging with people and yet Henry feels exhausted merely watching Alex in action.

Henry barely managed to sleep last night. Each time he closed his eyes, he was brought right back to the water’s edge with Alex, replaying every painstaking moment of their conversation. 

There was no time to talk about it this morning. The last thing Henry wanted to do was throw a wrench in Alex’s day when he had this signing scheduled.

Looking at Alex now, it makes Henry commend actors for their ability to truly compartmentalize and put their focus where it needs to be.

Once the signing wraps and the final Crescent Valley fan is off with a bag full of newly inked merch, Henry sees the first crack in Alex’s mask. His shoulders sag a little and he rolls his neck from side to side before standing.

He hops down from the slightly raised platform he was seated on. Henry walks towards him without really thinking about it.

“Are you heading back to the hotel now?” Alex asks.

Henry cocks his head to the side, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“I was going to…unless, do you have something else you need me to shadow you on?”

Alex shakes his head.

“No. I was hoping we could talk.” 

Henry looks around. There are still some stragglers from other signing lines though they’re out of earshot.

“We can go back together,” Alex says decidedly. 

They take a car service back to their hotel and Henry is all too relieved once they’re outside again. The ride over was silent and heavy with the weight of whatever Alex wanted to say but couldn’t in the moment.

All that free time merely left Henry with a thirty minute window to dream up scenarios of what Alex wanted to discuss. Every single one of them ended in him being fired and pulled from the tour.

“Can we go to your room?” Alex asks.

Henry nods stiffly. He figures maybe it’s for the best. At least he’d be able to pack his things immediately after Alex chewed him out and sent him on his merry way back across the country to New York.

For now, three thousand miles don’t separate them, merely three feet as they head up the elevator. 

A feeling of déjà vu sweeps through Henry, but this evening couldn’t be any more different than the night they met. Instead of crowding each other’s space and making out, they keep enough distance that their clothes don’t even come close enough to touching, never mind any other parts of them.

Henry lets them into his room and pockets his keycard as he steps inside. The door slamming shut behind Alex sounds ominous though Henry fully recognizes that’s probably his irrational brain conjuring the sense of foreboding.

“So…you wanted to talk,” he says, toeing off his shoes and setting them neatly along the wall. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

Alex nods, crossing his arms against his chest, his hands holding firm to his biceps. The positioning makes him look so small suddenly, vulnerable even. It’s such a sharp contrast to the energy Alex had with fans not too long ago. 

The enigma of Alex Claremont-Diaz continued to baffle him.

“After we spoke yesterday, I took some time to think about everything. I decided to do some research,” Alex says. “I went back to past partners to see if they shared your point of view.”

This isn’t at all where Henry thought this conversation was going. All the same, he plays along, still bracing for the worst. This could all well be a roundabout way of him getting the axe.

“And what were the results of your findings?” he asks.

“They were inconclusive. They all said they never faked it with me which got me thinking again. There’s a factor to consider here that varies from the others.”

Henry's confusion must register on his face because Alex sighs and rubs his face.

“I’ve recently…uncovered something about myself that probably should have been super obvious to me. But hey, you know what they say about hindsight.” 

Alex groans in frustration at himself.

“Can you, like, just face the wall or something? I’d really rather not have to look at you when I say what I’m about to.” 

“Your ridiculousness truly knows no bounds, does it?” Henry huffs but Alex quickly levels him with a glare.

Henry holds his hands up in defense, knowing a lost cause when he sees one.

“Fine, fine,” he says, turning away. 

He can see Alex in the reflection of the TV screen and a part of him feels guilty for not owning up to this fact when sees the tension in the man’s shoulders and watches as Alex shakes his hands as if warding something off.

“My past partners were all women. It’s come to my attention in recent weeks that I’m bi and the night we hooked up…that may or may not have been the first time I had sex with a guy. So maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t stellar at it for what I think is a pretty valid reason when you think about it.”

Henry turns back so suddenly the soles of his clothed feet scrape against the carpet. He’ll think of the rugburn later, but for now, there are bigger things to focus on.

“Alex,” he says, unsure of where to even go next. His mind is racing so quickly, it’s hard to make sense of anything right now, not with Alex’s confession laying bare before him. 

“Your shoulders barely even fit through doorways so I don’t want your head getting big too,” Alex quips, “but…I wanted to be with you that night. It felt like nothing else really mattered to me except getting into bed with you because we really vibed and I wanted to see where it could go. And I know that sounds totally lame and cheesy and probably pathetic as hell or whatever, but it’s true.”

Alex rolls his eyes at himself, stuffing his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

“This doesn’t have to be a big deal. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be a thing, period.”

“Alex,” Henry says again. This time, something in his voice must stand out because the other man finally stops talking and looks directly at him.

Henry holds his gaze for a moment, needing his words to ring clear.

“It should be a thing because it is in fact a big deal, contrary to what you might think of the matter. Coming into your sexuality, it can be a lot mentally and emotionally. Add in making physical strides…you took a major step that night. That sort of thing isn’t easy to do.”

Alex huffs out a terse laugh.

“It was a swing and a miss.”

“I’ll pretend that’s a cricket reference instead of the tragic baseball one I’m sure it was intended to be.”

Alex’s lips quirk into a reluctant smile just as Henry was hoping it would.

“The only cricket I’ll acknowledge is Jiminy,” he says.

Henry laughs. “I’ll allow that inane response. We’ve got more important things to discuss.”

Alex sighs and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, his head lobbing back as he looks up at the ceiling. All it does is expose his smooth neck and Henry looks away before the sight gets the better of him.

He follows Alex over and sits beside him, his hands resting on the comforter on either side of him. Alex doesn’t rush to speak which Henry grows a little concerned with. Alex is hardly ever quiet or still. Seeing him like this now, Henry can practically hear the whirlwind of rushing thoughts. 

“I should hope that by now, you know you can be honest with me. That’s quite literally what I’m here for. Whatever’s on your chest, you can say and it’d be completely safe. Let your conscience be your guide and all that.”

“God, I hate you,” Alex says, but there’s no bite to his words, especially as he smiles softly and rests his head against Henry’s shoulder.

“Thanks for being so cool about this. Part of me is still not entirely convinced I won’t be struck dead from embarrassment later but, if I had to get news like this from anyone…I sure as shit am glad it was you.”

“You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. This just explains a lot. I’m sure you’ll only get better from here on out, now that you know.”

Alex sits up and snorts a laugh.

“And how many guys will I have to fuck until I get it just right?”

“Is that a riddle? A rhetorical question? Some kind of demented R-rated Goldilocks reference?”

“I’m genuinely asking here,” Alex says sincerely, enough to get Henry to quiet down. “What if I never figure it out and I’m just this trash partner for dudes going forward? How many is standard for it to, you know, click?”

Henry smiles sympathetically. “I can’t answer that for you.” Alex frowns, but Henry continues. “It could be ten or it could be as little as one. It’s different for everybody. You just need to get more comfortable with it.”

Alex’s brows furrow, his lips pinching slightly before he looks away. It’s almost an identical look to his expression that night when he was taking his time in touching Henry for the first time.

“What are you thinking?” Henry asks now, unlike that night. They’re well past that stage of being tentative.

Alex opens and closes his mouth before shaking his head.

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” he says, getting up from the bed and running a hand through his curls.

Henry rises to his feet too as Alex turns back to him and speaks suddenly.

“I’m hungry. You hungry? What do we think the room service situation is like here, hmm? I’m guessing high volumes of quinoa and other rabbit foods. A damn shame. I weep in Texas barbecue. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give for some good barbacoa right now,” he prattles on as he tries to sidestep Henry.

Henry gently catches hold of his arm and stops him in his tracks. Alex sighs defeatedly and looks up at him.

“Maybe we’ll get to a point where I’ll be able to read your mind, but until then, I’d really like to know what you’re thinking,” Henry says. “Please.”

Alex sighs again. “Well, when you ask so nicely.”

Henry lets go of him then and holds his gaze. The stalemate ends as Alex collects his thoughts and courage.

“I was thinking, maybe you’re onto something with that whole ‘one person’ thing. Like…I don’t know, maybe that one person could be you? You could, maybe, teach me. Show me the ropes. Or at the very least, explain how I could be better. You know, give me pointers and stuff…if you’d even go for that.”

Henry’s jaw drops slightly, his blood rushing and pounding in his ears. For all his ribbing and joking before, Henry can tell Alex is completely serious now.

“You know, I can’t read your mind either, right? You’re gonna have to say something. Ideally right this second because if I thought I was out on a limb before, I’m freefalling right now and spiraling is not cool or sexy,” Alex says.

Henry blinks twice, letting Alex’s words fully sink in.

“Wait…you’d want to…with me again?”

Alex rolls his eyes and throws his hands up.

“I feel like you deserve a redo. And besides, do you see any other hot British men around here who know my secret shame?”

Henry startles out a laugh.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed and we British men do not travel in packs.”

“Tell that to the Redcoats. British men traveling in packs,” Alex repeats and shudders. “No good ever came of that. Just open any history book at random.”

“My god, do you ever stop talking?”

“Usually when my mouth is occupied in other ways.”

Henry quirks a brow.

“Down, boy. Get your mind out of the gutter. I was absolutely talking about when I’m drinking coffee or eating food or—“

Henry puts his hands on either side of Alex’s face.

“For the love of God, can you be quiet for two seconds so that I may think?”

Alex mirrors his raised brow.

“Holy shit, you’re actually gonna consider this?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Henry shakes his head and lowers his hands. “I mean, yes, there are a hundred and one reasons why we shouldn’t. Chief among them being that we’re here for business not pleasure.”

“But seeing as though we kinda shot that to hell without meaning to…,” Alex supplies. “I freaking love loopholes. I really do.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Henry looks up at the ceiling briefly before shaking his head.

“If we do this, we’re going to have to be very, very careful. I don’t want to jeopardize our working relationship. This book has to always come first.”

“Of course.”

Henry sits once more on the bed, Alex stepping close to him with his arms crossed against his chest.

“If this were to happen, we’d need to establish some ground rules. No staying overnight in each other’s rooms. If, for any reason, one of us wants to call it off—,”

“No questions asked. No awkwardness,” Alex says. “Simply not wanting to anymore would be reason enough.”

Henry nods. “Yeah, exactly.” He purses his lips. “And it won’t be a daily thing either.”

Alex scoffs and puts his hands on his hips.

“Jesus, do you think I’m insatiable? You’re hot, but I promise you, I can in fact exercise some self-control.”

“In the short time that I’ve known you, I must admit that’s coming as quite a revelation, but I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Alex rolls his eyes and smiles softly, his face a bit thoughtful. Henry can’t look away as Alex speaks, especially as he takes note of Alex’s change in tone, the way he grows more serious and contemplative.

“I’m gonna make it up to you. That night.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Besides, this isn’t even about me. I’ll just be here to help you figure out what your future partners might like.”

��And the best way for me to start with that is by learning what you like. When the time comes, yeah, I’ll figure out how to make another guy come undone. But in the meantime? These next few weeks? It’s just me and you. I want to make you feel all the things you should have when we were together. Every sigh, every moan, every desperate breath. I’ll earn it for real this time.”

Henry’s throat feels a bit dry at the thought, at the determination in Alex’s eyes. 

“Is that a promise then? A challenge perhaps?” he manages to say, trying to keep his composure even as he feels himself getting aroused.

Alex doesn’t miss a beat as he says, “Sweetheart, that’s a goddamn guarantee.”

~*~*~

Phoenix, AZ Canyon Con

One of the best parts about agreeing to be the ghostwriter for this project is undoubtedly the ability for Henry to visit cities he’s never been to. 

The flight to Arizona with Alex was enjoyable and this time around, they’re set up in an AirBnB for an entire week.

They’ve settled into their temporary new digs pretty nicely and Henry is looking forward to making further progress with Alex and this book. 

Neither of them has actually brought up the other day and the deal they’ve struck with each other. Henry hasn’t been sure how to breach the topic, but now that they’re set to stay inside this rental for the week, it feels like it’ll take true Herculean effort to ignore the elephant in the room for much longer.

He reasons that since it was Alex’s idea, he’ll leave it to him to mention when he’s ready. For now, they have been able to tiptoe around it, making conversation about virtually anything else.

Henry takes up residence on the couch with his laptop, headphones on as he queues up Crescent Valley. He’s begun watching the series as part of his research. He’s halfway through season one and he still can’t tell if he likes the show or not. Despite that indecision, he can sincerely say Alex is a pretty great actor.

The show itself is campy at best, but there’s something very earnest in Alex’s portrayal of a newly turned vampire attempting to find balance in the two worlds he’s a part of.

Episode nine begins and for better or worse, Henry finds himself getting sucked into it. He rues the day already when he’ll have to confess to Pez that he should have watched along with him back when they were roommates in university. He’ll never hear the end of it. He’d better start preparing now for the resounding chorus of “I told you so”.

Henry’s so wrapped up in the show that he jumps a little when he sees a figure in the doorway of the living room. Alex is now both on his screen and here in the flesh.

Henry awkwardly makes to get up, hitting pause and taking off his headphones.

“Did you want to watch television in here? I can go.”

Alex’s brows furrow a little.

“Oh, no. I just wanted to hang with you. I know we haven’t really had much time to sit down about the memoir yet, so maybe we could now? But if you’re busy though, we can do it later.”

Henry shakes his head and closes out of Crescent Valley. He switches over to the Google Doc he created, storing away all the notes he’s been taking from various interviews he’s watched and read of Alex.

“Now would be great. It’s been nice seeing you out there with fans, but what I’m still trying to understand is the reason why you want a book at this time. What’s the angle or message you want readers to connect with?”

Alex takes a seat on the single seater across from Henry. 

“I want to talk about my sexuality, my ADHD, being a tragic child of divorce, the highs and lows of being in this career. But, mostly the first part.” 

Alex takes a deep breath and lets it out.

“I want to come out and maybe in doing so, it’ll help someone else to make sense of the things they might’ve been feeling for years, but never knew how to dissect or put a name to.”

Henry thinks back to their initial business meeting. Alex had made it clear that despite their past, Henry still remained his top pick to ghostwrite. Alex had also said there were different reasons why he hid the truth of who he was. Now it all slid into place since Alex’s admission the other day.

“Alex, that’s incredible. This is huge.”

Alex smiles nervously. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing it, but I feel good about my decision. My friends and family know. I feel good about myself, even though I’m still figuring this out.”

“You’re taking a big step and on the world stage no less. That’s pretty remarkable. I’m proud of you. I’d be honored to help tell your story.”

He takes his phone out of his pocket.

“Do you mind if I record? It helps me to get details correct and it’s also useful in getting your cadence right when it comes time to start writing.”

“Not at all. Go for it,” Alex says.

Henry nods and opens his voice memo, hitting record. He asks questions about Alex’s upbringing, the sort of little things a quick Wiki search can’t tell a person. 

True to the terms of the contract and Zahra’s assurance, Alex makes himself, for a lack of a better term, an open book. He gets candid about how his parents’ divorce coupled with his relative celeb status has made it difficult for him to put much stock into the concept of dating, especially with people outside the industry.

This fact in particular strikes Henry though he decides not to examine that too closely.

After about an hour and half, Henry decides they’ve covered enough ground to get him started.

“This was great. Thank you,” he says, looking over the new notes he’s taken and saving the recording.

“Yeah, of course.” Alex still looks contemplative and for a moment, Henry merely chalks it up as a side effect of their in-depth conversation until he stands and Alex speaks up.

“Um, could we talk about the other thing too?”

Henry doesn’t need clarification. He tucks his laptop under his arm and sits back down.

“Of course we can.”

Alex lets out a relieved breath.

“I couldn’t sleep last night and I kept thinking about the problem areas you mentioned. One thing you’ll learn about me is that I like making lists and stuff to keep me on track. There’s a neurosy or two in there, but let’s not look at it too hard right now. We can get into that later for the book,” Alex says.

“Point is, I ended up making a sort of…outline for us and these sessions so they have some structure to them. You can talk things out first and then maybe we could have a practical portion. I can link you to the live doc.”

Henry blinks a few times.

“That’s comprehensive. You've made a sex syllabus.”

Alex’s cheeks flush slightly.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?”

“Alex, I’m British. I thrive off structure and formality. I’d quite like to see this outline so yes, please, link me.”

He stands up again.

“Maybe you could come by my room in about an hour?” Henry suggests. “The deal was that the book comes first. I’d say we made sufficient progress today in that area,” Henry says, tapping his laptop.

Alex blinks twice. “Sounds good.” 

His tone is almost detached and before Henry can ask if he’s alright, Alex is already on his feet with his phone in hand.

Henry retreats to his room and sets his computer down on the nightstand. He hears the chime of his inbox and he opens it to find an email from Alex, subject line “aforementioned sex syllabus 🍆💦”.

Henry laughs and opens it.

The first lesson, Back to Basics, has subsections for kissing and touching.

Henry closes out of the doc as his eyes look at later topics like fingering and oral. He begins to pace, his neck feeling hot at the road ahead. 

In all fairness, at least, this first lesson won’t be difficult at all. Kissing is as harmless as it comes and Henry can attest to the fact that this wasn’t actually an area in which Alex needed improvement.

All the same, Henry knows there’s merit in easing them into this new working relationship instead of jumping into the deep end on day one.

An hour goes by much faster than Henry could have anticipated and suddenly Alex is knocking at his door.

Henry squares his shoulders and crosses the room to let him in. He takes some reassurance in the fact that Alex looks as uncertain as he feels.

“Hey,” Alex says as he comes in, taking a look around himself before landing back on Henry. Even though these sessions were Alex’s idea, Henry gets the feeling he’ll have to be the one to get the ball rolling tonight.

“I will preface this lesson by saying you don’t need any pointers in this department.”

Alex smiles to himself and Henry has to admit, it’s kind of adorable seeing that reaction.

“Regardless, I think your guideline was pretty smart in starting out slowly with these sessions. We can build up from there.”

Alex nods. “Cool, I’m glad you agree.”

Henry stuffs his hands in his pockets. “And you’re sure you want to do this, right? I won’t be offended or anything if you’ve had a change of heart in the past hour.”

Alex shakes his head. “No, I’m still in. I guess I’m just nervous about screwing things up a second time. I don’t know if I could readily bounce back from that level of humiliation.”

Henry steps closer to him, removing his hands from his pockets and instead encircling Alex’s waist.

Alex’s eyes widen but he doesn’t shrink away or look uncomfortable. If anything, he looks curious. Expectant even.

“I think the best way for us to get past the awkwardness might be to simply embrace it,” Henry says.

Alex peers up at him, his eyes drifting to Henry’s lips and back just as he’d done that night right before they kissed for the first time.

This time around, it’s Alex who makes the first move and tugs Henry closer. Henry can’t hide the way this affects him. His breath catches as Alex leans in and presses his lips to Henry’s.

It’s reflexive to kiss him back at once. Alex had left his brain in an absolute fog that night in New York as they kissed on the street and weeks later, Alex hasn’t lost his spark.

This kiss doesn’t mean anything. It won’t lead to anything and Henry thinks that’s what allows him to rid himself of any self-consciousness or second thoughts.

Alex’s kiss grows hungry and quickens and for the sake of Henry’s quickly beating heart, he needs them to take it down one notch or two.

“A bit slower,” Henry says softly against his lips. “I don’t want to rush this.”

Alex smiles and does as he’s instructed. He kisses Henry agonizingly slowly, perhaps out of spite, but Henry relishes in it. Alex’s tongue skims along the seam of his lips and Henry opens his mouth to him at once, gripping Alex’s hips as their tongues meet.

He breathes in deeply, his mind growing hazy in that way that Alex is too good at initiating. Henry feels like absolute putty in Alex’s hands, entirely malleable. 

Alex must know it too as he takes control and walks Henry back to the nearest wall. Henry instinctively drapes his arms over the man’s shoulders, lightly threading his fingers through Alex’s hair.

Alex lowers his hand between the two of them and lightly cups Henry. Henry sucks in a surprised breath at the touch.

“Next time,” Alex says quietly, tauntingly.

Henry whimpers in protest.

“Unless,” Alex tacks on in question.

Henry pulls his face back a little and licks his lips.

“Touch was on the agenda, right? We can do a teaser.” Henry sighs. “Rather, selfishly, I really want you to keep touching me. That felt nice,” he admits.

Alex laughs softly but places his hand back over Henry. His cock twitches immediately at the attention. He clenches his jaw as Alex strokes him lightly over his clothes. Henry’s eyes shut, his head resting back against the wall.

His arousal grows with each stroke, his whole body feeling liable to melt. If Alex had touched him like this their first night, it most definitely would have set a different tone for the evening.

He rocks forward as he resumes their kiss. Alex tentatively squeezes his cock. Henry moans against his lips, heart pounding. Alex squeezes him again before continuing to stroke him. Henry can feel himself leaking.

Alex’s hand creeps up, gripping the waistband of his jeans. Henry desperately wants to feel Alex’s skin on his in earnest, but he reminds himself that this is merely their first day. He can’t lose himself like this, no matter how good it feels.

He touches Alex’s wrist lightly and opens his eyes. Alex stills at once and lets go.

“I think that’s good for day one,” Henry whispers.

Alex nods. “Yeah, that was, uh,” he clears his throat and returns his arm to his side as he steps back, “that was enough.”

And yet still, Henry wants more. He wonders if it would be wiser or more efficient for them to blow through the lessons in one go. Maybe that way they could in fact spend the rest of their time together doing what they’ve signed contracts for and are actually getting paid to do.

But the knowledge that he can get access to Alex like this for several more weeks makes him throw away all sense and logic. He wants an excuse to keep these clandestine meetings going.

“I’m gonna grab a shower,” Alex says unhelpfully. All his words do is put images in Henry’s mind that shouldn’t be there.

Henry nods stiffly. 

“I’ll get started on dinner for us in the meantime,” Henry says. Maybe getting lost in the rhythm of cooking will make it easier for him to calm down.

“I’ll see you in a bit then,” Alex replies.

Henry sees him out and waits until he hears Alex’s footfalls down the hall before locking his door and undoing his pants to finish the job Alex started.

[zahri-melitor]

Okay. I’ve started Rebirth and read the opening stories of the following titles:-

Batman

Detective Comics

Nightwing

Batgirl

Batgirl and the Birds of Prey

I’m paused JUST before Night of the Monster Men and so I haven’t added All-Star Batman yet.

My first observation? Oh what a relief. It’s not perfect. There is work to do and it’s not a straight roll back to preboot but after reading my way through n52, characters and dynamics I recognise are back. It’s like DC suddenly remembered that people enjoy characters interacting with each other. And so, as best as I can tell, the concept was to sort of scatter everyone back to team positions that would make sense if the last comic you picked up was in 2011.

There is definitely some inferred off-screen characterisation going on: both Dick/Babs and Tim/Steph are extant relationships again. Dick and Babs had been longing ‘will they’ exes for the last 5 years of writing where they kept being out of sync with each other (the last time the two were actively dating on page was in 2003; the failed engagement was 2006, and they’d been caring exes shading back to flirting from about 2010 onwards). Tim/Steph broke up in 2004 and at BEST were amicable for 2009-2011.

Batman: Rebirth #1 – this is just a really lovely little stand alone issue that’s setting up Bruce taking Duke on as an active student. It’s just tightly written, with an interesting plot, nods at traditional characterisation, a less-used but known villain – it works really well as basically a training case for Duke. Note for everyone – Duke is still just a kid learning to be a vigilante at this point in the classic Robin model.

Batman #1-6 (2016): The team here is Bruce, Duke, Henry Clover and Claire Clover. This really feels like a back-to-basics storyline. The parallels between Henry and Bruce are not subtle, and they’re not meant to be; Bruce rescuing a family in his own situation and how it plays out is a well trodden story in DC, as is characters getting powers that the use of which ends up harming them. It was almost a modernisation of a Silver Age or Bronze Age story device that we’ve all seen plenty of times – which I guess makes sense for a Tom King story. I do have a soft spot for Claire here. This absolutely feels like a one-storyline-and-done set of characters (Gotham and Gotham Girl) who get hauled out occasionally in the future but mostly left alone. Waller seems somewhat more herself but unfortunately has still not recovered for her dieting. Every time they haul Psycho-Pirate out I wait for him to make some commentary on multiversal stuff, given he’s technically still on the shortlist of people who remember pre-Crisis, I believe?

Honestly, this storyline was mostly a relief after some of Snyder’s drama (said with full tongue in cheek over the fact it also included Bruce steering a crashing plane from the outside with cable and two rocket thrusters)

Nightwing: Rebirth #1 and Nightwing #1-4 (2016): This is very much a transitional storyline. It’s Dick’s story, but Damian, Bruce and Barbara are popping in and out of it. In terms of moving on fast from Grayson, the fact that Tim Seeley is writing this means that we don’t get a clean break (this is still basically a spy mystery story), but Dick putting back on the Nightwing suit with blue was such a moment of relief, I can’t tell you how big. He hadn’t worn that since 2009. It also unfortunately involves Court of Owls drama carried over from Batman & Robin Eternal and the 2011 Batman and Nightwing runs, but hey, Dick’s back talking to people, he sounds more like himself, he’s wearing BLUE, and he’s hanging out with Damian in a ‘I love him but he drives me up the wall’ way which is honestly not bad as characterisation. Also this line from Nightwing #2 (2016) stuck with me: “But Batman also taught me every life is worth saving. Even if it always seemed like I believed it more than he did.” While I have my quibbles over the second line (ACTUALLY Seeley that philosophy is pretty fundamental to Bruce), for Dick? At this exact moment in time? After recent events? It feels like a renewal. Every life is worth saving.

Damian here is an irritating little snot, but in the largely affectionate way he tends to get in better writing with Dick, and he’s still acting like a kid, which is always nice to see.

Detective Comics #934-#940: I’m not crying, my eyes are just watering, okay? Oh my GOD. This is Kate Kane, Tim, Cass, Steph and for some reason Basil Karlo on a team together. Okay. I see why Tynion’s run is considered a highlight. It’s not perfect, it’s in no way at all perfect, but Tynion took on an unenviable task (merging Tim, Cass and Steph into usable versions of their preboot characterisation/personalities grafted on to the existing situation of all three characters at the end of n52) and he did it in a way that spent a lot of time signalling that yes, he’s actually read their solo runs. They all had moments where they sounded like themselves and acted like themselves.

Tim still had his stupid arm computer and is at peak arrogance and at one point said “This is what happens when you give a sixteen-year-old genius who doesn’t sleep an unlimited budget” (sigh. SIGH. C’mon, Tynion) but my initial fears from the way the first issue was framed that Tim was going to be treated as less capable than Kate Kane (someone who, even in n52, Tim had spent more time as a vigilante than) were relieved by Tim slotting capably into the ‘support strategy’ role he is so good at. Of course as well then he is sort-of not-really playing around with the idea of moving on (he’s got his invite for university but you can read him as either ‘wanting to move on but trapped by Bruce inviting him back to being closer’ or as ‘Tim didn’t expect to get this, is stymied by it, and feels he’s being pushed about taking the opportunity if he lets people know’). It’s a concept he flirts with on occasion but can’t go through with. And then my sweet boy sacrifices himself and shows up Ulysses fucking Hadrian bastard Armstrong and… we get the acknowledgement that TIM IS THE GLUE. He’s just pulled this team into working together in a functional manner and we get “You were reconnecting threads that could not be reconnected. You’re so loved, so deeply intertwined. It became crucial that we take you off the field.” Which? He hasn’t been for 5 years of stories. That’s my boy, my fix-it Robin.

Steph…is sort of controlling and clearly lacking in training and has some edges to her and bickers with Tim? Which oh my god, I can see actual continuity with pre-War Games Steph here. It’s not perfect, she’s suddenly in an established relationship with Tim and quite focused on that, but I can see some Dixon in her! It’s a miracle!

Cass has had the hardest reboot of the lot and has lost 99% of her vocabulary and is back to her cryptid ways, but even there I can see Batgirl 2000 characterisation moments peeking through. She drops in the window while Tim is stripping down (Fresh Blood! FRESH BLOOD MY BELOVED. The parallels here!), she supports Tim during a fight but pushes Steph out of the way and takes over…that’s Cass’s assessment of their fighting abilities. That’s Steph overreaching her capacity and Cass dropping in to haul her out of trouble.

Kate Kane is very much Kate Kane and while I disbelieve that she and Bruce are really that close in age, this is the start of Rebirth and doing things like gently stretching back out the timeline so that we’re in Year 18 or so again, not Year 6. (Year 18 is rough back-of-the-envelope Year 3 = Graysons fall, Year 13 = ALPOD, Year 15 = NML, Year 17 = OYL to Reborn, then n52 is a single year). I like seeing her actually spend some time actively working with other Bat characters if she’s going to be fully integrated, rather than just turning up for events.

Batgirl #1-5 2016: oh Babs. While this run is winking at past Barbara characterisation (the use of Amy Beddoes as an alias! However there is no awareness that that is a name known by the Suicide Squad and Waller and not only heavily linked to Oracle, but to Barbara’s feelings about guns and Joker), it remains squarely in the ‘fluffy light storytelling that might be suitable for a 22-23 year old character but doesn’t match anything about Barbara Gordon’. I really wish this was good.

It is, I guess, an adequate tonal sequel to Burnside, and if that’s your Barbara you will probably enjoy it, but I can’t help but mentally want to slot every single one of these stories into a past history that occurred during Babs’ ORIGINAL stint at Batgirl.

The concept of Barbara going on a world training tour break isn’t bad and echoes Cass being sent off to Hong Kong (though Hong Kong is skipped over for Tokyo, Singapore, Seoul and Shanghai), but the heavy reliance on Barbara’s eidetic memory as her strong point and THEN Barbara ‘switching it off’ to be faster???

Batgirl and the Birds of Prey Rebirth & #1-6: It's Barbara, Dinah and Helena all on a team together? Miracles really do come true!

First point out of the gate: yes, I hate that this contains several take-thats at fans of Barbara as Oracle. I think they're mean spirited and exhausting to read. There is absolutely nothing wrong with fans of a team created by Oracle wanting to see it lead by ORACLE. THAT SAID, characterisationwise this is the closest I've had to my girls for a while.

Barbara is far more like Simone's n52 Batgirl than Burnside. She actually acknowledges aspects of her past, and the struggles it's brought with it and why that should have resulted in growth.

Dinah is unfortunately still running around as Dinah Drake Lance with the shitty n52 backstory retcon intact and reliance on the band stuff. Sorry, Dinah. The first run really didn't do much to recanonise anything preboot for Dinah, just outlined her new history, though Siu Jerk Jai got a few references.

Helena? Look. This is the fourth? version of Helena's origin I've read and it looks like it's most riffed off Huntress Year One, and it's sticking with Helena's mum having an affair, sigh. However, on the scale of "is this actually Helena Bertinelli", there is so much credit on the 'once again has a backstory that actually works as a Helena Bertinelli backstory' side of the ledger that I don't really care. This is about the process of rehabilitation, and Helena is not just a Bertinelli, but the first thing she does is butt heads with Barbara over their combined stubbornness and her refusal to take direction, soooo. Yeah, pretty stoked.

I will say, with this lineup of new histories, instead of being the "two cops' daughters and a mafia princess" group it's now the "Missing Mothers Who Might Be Evil Issues" team. Which is a downgrade. I wouldn't care about them bonding over their mothers so much if it wasn't stereotype missing mother hour.

Overall conclusion?

I became emotional reading Batman: Rebirth, 'Tec, and B&BOP. Even for their flaws they all were trying hard and hit me with what they were attempting to achieve.

This was in no way a complete fix, and heck DC is STILL untangling some of the threads that they started trying to fix here with Rebirth, 8 years later. But oh it is enjoyable to see writing teams actually try and act like yeah, people are allowed to like preboot characterisation.

[uskomatontakinkohan]

I think I have come to this conclusion now:

I believe in God, but cannot tell for sure if he is real.

I pray, read Bible and share the gospel. I can’t imagine another way of life. It’s part of my core identity.

Jesus is my personal friend, even though I’m not sure if he is real or just a product of my imagination.

Bible is the result of people from a certain tribe writing down their myths and their view of God. It is not given from Heven It is not free of errors. It is not perfect representation of God. God is a mystery. We may never truly know him.

We may or may not live forever. There is no way to know. But it’s likely we won’t. Hey, even some authors of the Bible didn’t believe in eternal life. I put my HOPE in resurrection but there is no guarantee. And that’s ok.

I don’t believe in Hell. I fear it might be real but is fear equal to believing?

I see the point of many of the fundamental laws in Bible. I do have issues with:

-Bible saying that God being ok with slavery

-Bible saying that God wants his people to kill women and children in war situations and rejoicing in the deaths of those people.

-Bible saying the men who lie with men are abomination and won’t get to Heaven (and if these passages meant that God hates abusive relationships, it should have been written more clearly, like if truly is word of God he should have been able to make things very clear for all generations to come)

My hope is that God is real and Jesus died for me to save me, a sinner, a doubting Thomas, who tries her best to live a life of love, peace, empathy and charity but ultimately fails because I’m not a god. I’m a human. I can never be perfect and I can not force myself to believe everything in the Bible is true. And if Jesus really died for me, I believe His atonement covers these my shortcomings.

I have tried and tried but I can’t change myself. And if God wants to he can change me, if he is real. Unless he doesn’t want to change me. In which case I guess he is ok with it. Unless, you know, he will just throw me to Hell for not being able to brainwash myself into believing. If that is the case, well, he has the right to do that as the supreme ruler. But I hope God is not a tyrant like that.

What about people who are not Christian? Bible says they burn in Hell. I’m not so convinced. Why would God put people to eternal damnation just because they too could not change the way they believe? Seems damn harsh. Again, he has the right to do that but I hope God is not that heartless to just disown great majority of his own children who just didn’t know any better or who just could not force themselves to believe a certain way.

Yes I keep offering Christ to everyone because it is a wonderful news to hear that there is someone who loves you to the extent of dying for you, someone who sees your inability to be perfect and pardons you, no matter what mistakes you have made, but I won’t be crying for the “lost souls” who did not accept Christ. Because it’s not just a decision to accept something. You have to be able to replace old belief system with a new one and in the end you have no choice in whether the new system is something you can believe.

Look, someone can come and tell me all the reasons they think the moon is fake. They can explain hours on end and finally either I am convinced and my brain accepts the new truth or not. It’s not a decision. It’s just something my brain does or does not. Some brains accept new ideas easier that others, depending on, I don’t know, nature and nurture I suppose.

It’s not free will. It’s not something I can decide. So it would be cruel to punish me for this. Well, maybe God is cruel like that, but what can I do. I can’t lie to him that I believe because supposedly he sees to my heart. So why should I lie to others and myself? This is why I wrote this testimony.

Doubting Thomas, hopefully saved by God, if he exists.

[onigiri-dorkk]

Hey! I loved your content and the recent post

Somehow I can’t comment under the post so I decided to write here)

Hope I am not too inappropriate )

You know when I think of Mikasa’s lack of character development … I remember Sarah Connor. You know the Sarah Connor from the 1984 Terminator movie.

For me Sarah starts as a cliche girl in trouble who actually at first hates the man that saves her life again and and again. But then Sarah grows. She learns. She feels and starts to care. And we start caring about her. She develops so much that we absolutely believe that a man can fall in love with just her photo. A good man who wills to sacrifice himself not only for her for - you know - for the sake of humanity. A good man who she is loyal to for many years later and we don’t judge her because well he was the one. The kind of hero that actually sacrificed himself (not the fake leg and the rest of the world) but himself just because it was the right thing to do. The man not very likeable at first sight, the man of few words.

Oh if only poor Mikasa could meet someone like that . Oh, wait?

And by the way. In the Terminator 2 Sarah tells Kyle (when sees his ghost) this: “Stay with me”. Such an iconic love story.

Wait is there a line like that in AOT ?)))

Hello hello @foxandcakes!!! Welcome to the fandom and we're so glad you're here!! This isn't inappropriate at all -- sorry you couldn't respond to the post for some reason but thanks for reaching me here <3

Honestly, I have to rewatch The Terminator (it has been YEARS) but that sounds like what we wanted for Mikasa! If Yams was committed to writing a good, developed romance arc into the story he should have committed to giving individual Mikasa growth, no matter who she ended up w. We should see her motivations, self-conflict, inner thoughts change and transform for the better as a result of her love for Eren. That is the creme de la creme for any story -- you go through the journey of seeing this character transform, and that transformation is what makes plot points matter to a reader. The reason why you feel connected to Sarah Connor is likely because she was given a personal arc, showing who she is and her motivations, and it makes you invested in her growth...

It's a general agreement that Mikasa didn't fully get this, and it's why people's opinions on her are so polarized -- you either love her/how she's written while dismissing the failure of her character writing, or you loathe her because of the failure of her writing. I've been fascinated with our rivamika fandom because it seems like we tend to view her in that middle/balanced lens -- we're extremely disappointed with her writing, but adore her for the potential arc she could have had, and we enjoy that in our own writings and such.

Anyway, I guess that's a huge tangent LOL but basically, it would've been really fuckin cool to have this main female Character A who is unendingly in love with Character B, and that this love is all she knows, until she meets Character C (Levi!!! Or SOMEONE honestly!!) who shows her a powerful example of what real, genuine and healthy love is which would TOTALLY shift and transform her entire idea of what love even is; that the infatuated young love she experienced with Character B doesn't even compare to with Character C, and they grow because of that. There are a ton of fantastic stories with this type of arc! Instead, we get Character A pining over Character B to the very end, no matter how badly he treated her... It's just strange. It's cliche, it's honestly not a great example, it paints yet another image of a a man being able to treat a woman like crap for years but still has her devout love and loyalty anyway... I know the general fandom accepts and even enjoys this, so to each their own, but it's not my cup of tea and I wish we got more for Mikasa. And Levi.

adsjlfkjsalkfjdklajflksjfklasdjlfajslfjsklf

ANYWAY

I wouldn't have known that Terminator has the "Stay with me" line!!! EEEEEEE that's amazing! Thanks for the fun comparison! I'll have to rewatch soon :)

For now, we'll continue to enjoy our quality fandom content. <3 The dissatisfaction just makes our fics and head canons even better. Cheers!! And congrats on finding the gem ship that is Rivamika <3333

[paranormeow7]

CAN I PLEASE HEAR ABOUT GAVIN AND SAM.... i saw eating corpses and angels and went oh! well i must know

yes absolutely I’m so glad u asked!!!!!! i love talking abt my horrible ocs LAWLZ- I actually have Gavin’s backstory in my writing tag but I would love to talk abt him and Sam more now bc they are very dear to me… basically Sam is one of the last remaining members of an ancient alien race that are like planet sized and have crazy magic and shit. They sort of just hung out in space until people on other planets begun to notice them and worship them as gods, with the aliens deciding to try and fill the role, watching over the planets and their inhabitants. Sam and Gavin live on a fucked up post apocalyptic future earth populated with spirits and demons and shit but more on that later. A big reason the planet is so fucked is that Earths inhabitants began to fear Sams species and decided to try and kill them, mostly succeeding, except for one child who rocketed to Earth and got stuck in a much smaller and more comprehensible form until their “awakening”. Sam always felt connected to the deities though, and became one of the last remaining believers. He would always go out and look at the corpse of Earths former protector in the sky and pray before going to bed. One day, a single tear fell from its eye and splashed Sam and all the memories just flooded back. She basically went like “OH SHIT IM GOD I GUESS” and became a biblically accurate angel kaiju thing because cringe culture is dead lol. It doesn’t make a lot of sense but hey we ball- I don’t have a lot of the story planned out OOPS, but a lot of it is based on spirituality and how religion can’t solve your problems, you have to take care of them yourself, meant in a literal sense, because Sam waited most of their life for someone to save her, but ended up becoming the very thing he prayed to every night. Idk man I’ve had this OC since 2017 maybe I get to go a little wild

about Gavin, this is where we come back to the spirits and stuff !!!! he shares his body with a demonic cat spirit in a sort of parasitic symbiotic relationship. This cat was literally just some roadkill stray, but as the fury and ambition built up in its soul, it became a horrific and tyrannical monster with no trace of its older self. It believed that since it’s life was taken away with such little care, it should be allowed to do the same to others in order for its power to grow, so that eventually it can get back the life it believed it was owed. This demon stalked Gavin his whole life because he saw the spark of that same ambition and rage in him, and decided to get him killed so it could take his body and use it for its own gain. Gavin also believed that he deserved to continue living as long as he wanted to, so when this spirit offered to bring him back for the price of complete control over his own soul, he took the deal. The demon needs living souls to be able to gain enough power to communicate with the higher level spiritual beings, so he would make Gavin eat animals and people in order to get that from him. After a while though, Gavin started to kill by himself. He was abused for most of his life leading up to his death, so he started to kill and eat random people that he saw his abusers in. He believes that not only do these people owe him their lives, that he’s doing the world a favor by getting rid of them. Over time, he loses most of the compassion he had in the past and becomes more and more like the demon he shares his body with, because after everything he’s been through, the world owes him that, doesn’t it? Basically, he’s awful, but he’s also very silly and he has a partner who’s the only person he actually likes LOL

This is incomprehensible I’m so sorry I hope this made even a shred of sense- whablalgavkq

[nagasakidivision]

Drama Track: Double Effect 2-3

"Next few days" actually means "a day," apparently.

Okay, I know that Kyushu dialects are traditionally localized into super strong Midwestern English but that doesn’t translate super well into text and I thought very very hard about the associated stereotypes of people from Kyushu (loud, backwoods-y, friendly, free-spirited) and I think a super thick Vermon’ accent is closer in spirit since it has a lot of the same associations. If there's anyone actually from Vermont, I am very sorry but this is probably better than me trying to write something to the tune of Marge Gundersson.

This almost ended with Haruto using a Scouser accent because it’s way more of a direct parallel so count your blessings this hasn’t resulted in him ending every other sentence with “luv” or “la’.” But diegetically most Japan-to-English dubs are assumed to use American English, so.

So the next two parts are just the usual "let's all sit down and talk about our feelings" things that's going to be standard from here on out. It's also the reason that this ended up being four parts instead of just two. Apologies.

[Thug 1]: They saw him in the warehouse. He dipped off somewhere but he can’t have gone far.

[Thug 2]: Pick up the fucking pace, then. If we’re the ones who catch him, we’ll be made men.

[Haruto, interally]: ...This would be a hell of a lot easier if using mics were an option. But I can’t draw even more of these guys to us.

[Haruto]: (takes in a shaky breath) Okay, here goes….

(A loud clatter as Haruto kicks a can, staggering into the alleyway.)

[Haruto, slurring his words]: Oi! Fuck are you two doing here?

[Thug 1]: The hell?!

[Thug 2, under his breath]: Just some drunk hick, ignore him.

(There’s soft footfalls drawing near.)

[Haruto, now leaning in even harder to his accent and speaking even louder]: Hah? You two don’ sound like you’re from ‘round here. Ah, you got los’, didn’ you? Nobody ever comes t’ this part of town.

[Thug 2]: We’re-- we’re not lost.

[Haruto]: Don’t be shy, now, happens t’ tourists all the time. I’ll show you back t’ town center, c’mon.

(A soft smack as he hits one of them on the back, trying to draw the men’s attentions away.)

[Thug 1]: Hey! Piss off.

[Haruto]: Jus’ a short walk this-a-way.

(Stumbling footsteps as the other two men are dragged forward. The rustle of a cape, boots hitting steel as Shirou climbs the ladder.)

[Shirou, softly enough to not be heard over the angry voices of the thugs]: Thank you.

(Haruto catches Shirou out of the corner of his eye, and breathes a small sigh of relief. It’s short-lived, and followed by a gasp of shock.)

[Thug 2]: Last warning, asshole. Back off. We got better things to do.

[Haruto, internally]: ...Shit. That's a knife. They would be armed, wouldn’t they?

[Haruto]: Hey, hey. I get the picture. I’ll be outta your hair, now.

(He backs away, then runs. One last glimpse at the rooftop. It’s empty.)

[Haruto]: …Goddamnit. How do I get back?

(A soft, raspy bark.)

[Haruto]: ...Huh? Lucia?

(Two more barks. She grabs his pant leg in her teeth and pulls gently.)

[Haruto]: Watch it! That’s expensive. Fine, I’m going.

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

[Damien]: Oh, you found him! Good girl, Lucia!

[Haruto]: Shirou.

(Shirou says nothing, but lets out a long sigh.)

[Damien]: O-kaaaay. Well, close call, but the gang’s all back together now, right? This could have gone way worse. Hey, quick thinking, Haruto. That’s twice now you’ve gotten us out of a pinch. You’re a natural-born liar!

[Haruto]: ...Don’t say that like it’s a compliment.

[Shirou]: Given the situation, isn’t it?

[Damien]: Yeah, like, not even a second of hesitation there. Seriously impressive.

[Haruto]: I was just trying to save Shirou’s life.

[Damien]: And you did. Isn’t that worth it?

[Shirou]: Double effect. Isn’t that right, Haruto?

[Haruto]: Hey. Don’t use my words agai—

(He trails off.)

[Haruto]: ...Yeah. You’re right. I guess.

[Damien]: Alright, well, I guess I owe Haruto a better explanation of all this. Let’s get back to the hotel and we can look over the documents then.

(A too-long silence hangs in the air again.)

[Damien]: ...Shirou. You got the records, right?

[Shirou]: ……

[Shirou]: I need to go back in.

[Damien]: You absolutely do not.

[Haruto]: He’s right. Those guys were armed. I almost got stabbed and I was just being annoying. And they’re actively looking for you. What is going back in there going to accomplish?

[Shirou]: We can prove that Chuouku’s been collaborating with the yakuza. The heat will die down soon. I can still finish the mission.

[Damien]: Yeah, if you want to die. They’re not just going to turn and go home in an hour, man. And there’s no guarantee they’re not going to figure out you’re after the paperwork and not their money and move that somewhere safer.

[Shirou]: ...It’s worth it. Haruto, didn’t you say you knew this was a risk we’d all take?

[Haruto]: …

[Haruto, thinking]: There’s no way he’ll listen to reason. He’s just not that kind of person. He’s completely driven by his own ideals. But I can work with that.

[Haruto]: ...Hey. What are you going to do if we win?

[Shirou]: What?

[Haruto]: You heard me. Let’s say we pull this off. The Party of Words is gone. Solaris is exposed. You and I both know you’ve been working yourself to death trying to make that happen. What are your plans once that’s out of the way?

[Shirou]: I don’t see what this has to do with the issue at hand. Why make plans for the future when there’s no guarantee we’re going to see it?

[Haruto]: That’s my point. Shirou, you’ve got something you’re willing to die for, but that’s only half the equation. What do you have to live for?

[Shirou]: …

[Shirou]: What about you? Neither of us have been doing much else for the past couple years.

[Haruto]: I mean, to start with, I’ve got a dissertation to finish. And theories to prove. I can’t prove anything if I can’t live what I’m preaching myself, nobody's going to let a hypocrite change the world. And I’m not aiming to die before I change the world.

(A pause.)

[Damien]: ...What are you all looking at me for?

(He sighs.)

[Damien]: I...look, I don’t know if we can actually change the world the way you guys want. I just know I can change myself. And I know this is the right thing to do to change myself. Whether or not this works, I can at least be a revolution to myself even if I’m not a revolution to the world.

[Haruto]: So. There you go. I’m not saying we have it worked out, but we’ve at least got an idea of what we want to do.

(There’s an uncomfortable pause.)

[Haruto]: C’mon. Shirou, let’s go. We need you. We’re not a team without you.

[Damien]: I’ve got contacts in other places. Something else is going to turn up.

[Shirou]: ...Alright. Let’s go back. I suppose we have a tournament to win as it stands.

[beauzos]

oh hey it’s New Year’s Eve, so i can finally write a reflection about this year.  been wanting to a bit but was saving it till the end.

this was a really good year for me.  it had its ups and downs-- the year started with me recovering from a December packed with covid, the flu, and bronchitis.  my mom was hospitalized with pneumonia and i had a lot of responsibilities because of that, juggling taking care of her and dad, though thankfully she made a full recovery.

i made new friends, which i’ve been really grateful for.  i cut off old friends that were too toxic to be around anymore-- had been too toxic for years at this point, and i was lowkey afraid of them because of how they treated our other friends, so i was proud of myself when i finally put an end to these ‘friendships’.  i have friends i get along with much better in a much healthier way, so i’m pleased with that.

i started a new hobby, which was doll collecting, and that’s been a lot of fun getting into something new.  i really enjoy collecting dolls, i just wish i had more room at this point lol.  i’ll look into bigger shelves soon, maybe.

i started reading more.  i fell off while working on my writing project, but i’m still proud of myself for reading books like i always want to.  i hope i can read more next year too, i have LOTS of books to read and enjoy!

the biggest thing fo the year was my writing.  it started with Death Comes for Good Sons, which was one of the more ambitious writing projects i’d done in a while.  it wound up at about 19,000 words, and i was proud of myself for having written a small multi-chapter project like that.  then of course we know the story of A Change of Heart, which i’ve talked about extensively (and will continue to!).

i can’t believed that thing ballooned to 200,000 words. i think i expected it to be about 50,000 words, but i really had no way to conceive how long it’d be at any given point till i hit the 150,000 word mark.  i’m still really proud of myself for that.  i’d never written so much on my own in my life, and i am so happy i went through on that project instead of doubting myself.  i had a blast writing it, and i hope to write lots more.

as for next year, the Trampled Sunflowers reboot is still underway, though we haven’t really worked on it.  not sure what other writing projects i have right now as i haven’t made any moves to develop my ideas, but who knows.  maybe i’ll have more with all my sudden I Lost My Fucking Job free time.

well, i guess that’s a bit of a damper on the end of my year.  i basically have lost my job.  i guess i could go and try to save it, but i honestly don’t want to because of the sheer disrespect of it all.  we’ll see, though.  but December was a good month.  my family was healthy and we had a nice, calm Christmas together.  we’re rarely all together as my sister lives in another state, so it was nice having everyone together.

all in all, it’s been a good year.  i’m looking forward to the next one.

[handelplayssims]

Right! We’re back at it again with the Wallace’s. And right back to them all being awake because of new households. And again, everyone is going to bed but Kiara. Who still wishes to chat with a kid and improve her painting. And Zayne’s awake. Let’s have you clean up dishes. I am also going to save real quick just before Ashlynn’s work starts. All I got so far is that it was related to her career choice that it crashed so now I’m going to save before work. ….I do not remember it storming before. So we must be on a different timeline where crashes don’t happen yeah?

And we’re off to work with Ashlynn. Was waiting for a computer to open up so she could get a case assignment...and then she walked over to an open computer that I didn’t even notice. Hooray! We got a much smaller house this time, with the uh, Nishdake’s home. And we actually get proper evidence this time! Hooray! Hooray! Loads of samples this time around! Guess it was just the stuffed Villareal home that made it hard for evidence to spawn in. But now we have to return to the police station. Cross our fingers it actually works...huzzah! It does and we can properly use the chemical analyzer to try to figure out the perpetrator. While I would try to clear off this scared moodlet of the storms before trying this, we don’t have the time I expect. Oh hey, we finished analysing the evidence! Now we need a computer to be free. Again.

Mio no! So the households I put in the file were the Xenoblade 3 folks, since I just finished up that game recently. And uh...well, I guess she could hop from military to police but I expected better of ya! Man. Next things next, is that we’re processing criminals at the booking and taking mugshots. All that stuff. But first! A lunch! A 16 dollar sandwhich. Hmm. Could make things at home and bring them here but man, that takes time in the morning.

It’s two hours until the end of work and we just now get to fingerprinting and stuff. Annnd we gotta get two of them. Ho boy. Well, at least we got the fingerprints in. And the search! Well, full day then! And no breaking yet! Back home we go and I set the kids to do homework again. And Santiago...wishes to make money. As usual! Ashlyn wishes to chat with a ghost, which is a pain because well, he’s a ghost. I can’t just call up a ghost and go “hey, let’s go somewhere!” because they won’t show up on the friends list. It is ghost night in terms of themed bar nights though. We could see him then potentally. But her second whim is a whim for pizza, which I shall indulge! Meanwhile I had Santiago play and pamper his kitty. Because he does that, and he needs the fun up.

It’s 7:30 now. Mm. Might as well send Ashlynn and Santiago over to the bar then. Besides which, I have a fun cerebulleum drink in Santiago’s inventory. That’ll get his fun need up and it’ll help with his writing skill gain. ...okay normally I don’t care about celebrities on lot but it would kinda be Santiago’s job to go and chat with them. Aye! He got the introduction! He knows Cassandra Goth, famed composer! Now to spam friendly socials until we get a full introduction to her! ...god I need to figure out a way to change career outfits. Hers is stuck in what looks to be a food service outfit when she’s a top-tier orchestration musician. ...you know, I would compliment her apperance, but that’s in romantic socials and HIS WIFE IS RIGHT THERE. But while he’s doing that, I should take a look at Ashlynn. ...Manabu still hasn’t shown up. Next whim is to steal but alas, can’t steal much. So I’ll just have her have a drink and wait a bit more. And now we’re introduced! Let’s ask about career and interview about life and story! Annd there we go. Article written! And friend made. Let’s go home! Because it’s 1:45 and the themed night is about to be over. Alas, Ashlynn did not get to meet up with her friend but Santiago made one! Productive night! We return home and the only one person who’s not scared of the storms is Kiara. Because of course. Really wish we had the tense moodlet instead. Also Zayne, why are you eating popcorn at the bed? Go away. I need to sleep there. You are getting yelled at for as long as you remain there. And you’re being forced to wash your dishes. Now, to bed! Making it time for-

Neighborhood Watch!

Julissa Seals in the Seals household has died. Julissa was victim to a vicious chicken attack.

NOOO! She was a uni student and I get super-attached to those roommates! RIIIIP!

Mizuki Inoue in the Inoue household left her job as a Nanny in the Babysitter career.

Mio Kobayashi in the Kobayashi household has died. Mio thought she could conquer a mountian but the mountain conquered her.

Forgotten Hollow: The Goode household recently moved in.

Mt. Komorebi: The Agnian Team household moved out.

Welp. Farewell Mio, Sena and Taion. I never expect to play with you guys ever again.

[rhondafromhr]

I ended up writing it after all! I‘ll probably make an Ao3 account and post a more polished version at some point but for now I’ll just post the chapters on this blog for whoever wants to enjoy them! I present to you my magnum opus: “We‘re Gonna Become the Bullies”

Chapter 1: Flash! Bang! Nothing’s the Same.

A week ago, Stephanie never would’ve guessed that trying to cheat off of Peter Spankoffski on that quiz would lead to them spending their Friday night in a dilapidated old murder house with the school weeb, possibly the horniest person alive, the resident repressed christian girl and the school bully who’s been terrorizing the halls for years. Especially not watching said bully absolutely gush about the prank they just pulled, completely oblivious to their malicious intent. Max continues his heartfelt speech as the rest of them watch, unsure what to make of this. At some point, Richie stops recording and sets down his camera. If Max isn’t going to piss his pants and humiliate himself there’s no need to waste space on the SD card with whatever weird after school special this is turning into.

“Maybe I had you figured all wrong, you know. I thought you were a bunch of nerds, but you throw one hell of a party-” there’s only a fraction of a second between the slight creaking sound and Max falling as the floor completely collapses beneath him. Max stares down and realizes that holy shit, that’s a three story drop, he’s going to die! But before he can become a full-page black and white photo in the yearbook, he notices he’s stopped falling and there’s a sweaty hand gripping his wrist. Shitlips! Please, please don’t let me fall, I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die is all he can think.

“Uh, hey guys, you wanna come over and help me? I’m like the third smallest person in this group, why am I holding up a 6’2’’ quarterback by myself? I’d rather not also fall to my death,” Richie says in a strained voice. The rest of the group rushes over and they manage to hoist Max up and guide him away from the gaping hole in the floor where he almost just fucking died. Tears sting at his eyes and he can’t even be bothered to hide them. He’s so dizzy he thinks he might collapse and it’s so hard to catch his breath that he’s considering asking for a hit from Richie’s inhaler.

“Look what you fuckin’ nerds just did! You guys just saved my life! Now this is seriously the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Wait, you could’ve gotten hurt, are you guys all okay?”

The group mumbles in affirmation, although they’re almost as shaken as Max is. Except for Grace, who’s surprisingly composed. It’s almost as if she was prepared for things to go south and had some kind of contingency plan. And if she’s equal parts relieved, confused and concerned that seeing Max act all wholesome, then scared and vulnerable made him seem way less sexy then that’s her business. Richie’s hyperventilating. He takes a puff from his inhaler and adds, “I mean, I almost dislocated my shoulder because these guys took their sweet time making their way over to help, but I’m not hurt.”

“Good,” Max replies, “And just so you know, after what you did for me tonight, you never have to worry about me picking on you again. I wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for you! And then we would’ve lost to Clivesdale at the big game.”

“Fuck Clivesdale!” The rest of them say in unison, although Grace opts not to say the first word.

“So you know what? I’ve decided,” Max continues “Right here, right now, your lives are going to change. ‘Cause what you did here tonight proves you’re cool. You’re worthy of being on my level. From now on, we’re equals. I don’t decide who’s a nerd and who’s cool or whether Kyle can date Brenda. I don’t bring order to Hatchetfield High. We do.”

The group is quiet for a moment, processing the offer he’s putting on the table. No more swirlies. No more getting beat up in the Pasqualli’s parking lot. No more flick-it tickets. No more feeling powerless.

“Guys, can we have a quick sidebar?” Pete asks. They all shuffle a little further away from Max and huddle up. He’d normally be furious at them for even hesitating, but he doesn’t think he’s allowed to be mad at them right now. If he’s being honest, he could use this extra time to process his brush with death and regulate his breathing anyway.

“What the fuck? Don’t tell me you’re actually entertaining the idea. Wasn’t the whole point of this to get him to stop bullying people? Stooping to his level defeats the purpose,” Stephanie whisper-yells, even more fired up than she was over the dog thing on twitter.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Ruth whines “You were never going to get picked on either way. Cool kid privilege at work yet again!”

“It wouldn’t be all bad,” Pete says “If I’m cool according to Max now, maybe he won’t have an issue with us spending time together. We could finally have that study date at Pasqualli’s for real.”

Stephanie’s face absolutely does not flush at that thought. She does not imagine getting distracted from the homework as Pete makes her absolutely crack up, their hands accidentally brushing up against each other as they lean over the paper, holding out a breadstick for Pete as he tentatively takes a bite, the candle atop the table slowly melting down to nothing until their server finally has to ask them to leave because they’re closing, going back to her place (her dad is out of town) and - okay, she needs to stop. Is this how Ruth feels all the time?

“Yeah! And maybe we can use our power for good, too. If Max actually listens to us and takes us seriously, we might be able to influence him and create a better school for everyone,” Grace adds “We also could’ve done that if he was gone, but this works, too.” Her tone takes on a distinct bitterness on that last bit.

“I don’t think we can pass this up,” says Richie “This is our chance to have one year at that school that’s not totally miserable! Plus, yeah, all that stuff Grace said. Maybe we can get Max to mellow out a little bit.”

They turn back to Max, who’s been waiting patiently in the corner.

“We’re amenable to your terms,” Pete tells him.

Starting Monday, they’ll fight sin with sin.

Let the games begin.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Max redemption arcs in AUs where he survives the Waylon place but what about a corruption arc for Steph and the nerdy prudes? Like they catch Max before he falls and because he loved the prank so much and he’s so grateful they saved his life he decides they’re HIS nerds and they’re going to join him at the top of the social ladder. They all hesitantly join in on the bullying and at first they justify it as needing to keep up their new status to protect themselves, but slowly find themselves getting into it and enjoying the power trip.

They spend the rest of senior year being literal monsters and they all peak in high school and stay in Hatchetfield after graduation. They keep hanging out mainly because no one else will tolerate them and it turns into an Always Sunny-esque AU. They save Hatchetfield from the LIB multiple times solely because everyone who deals with them gets fucked over, even Wiggog Y’rath himself. The lords in black end up worse and worse off with every encounter and each time the gang summons them they just look more and more disheveled and defeated.

Maybe one of the adults can join in and be the Frank Reynolds of the group? Ted’s the most obvious choice because he is a self-proclaimed sleazeball and his history with Tinky could add an interesting element to the LIB encounters. Or it could be Solomon infiltrating the group to try and reconnect with Stephanie and he gets pulled into their shenanigans and uses his wealth, power and connections as mayor to help pull off their schemes. Or maybe Paul initially gets involved with them because he’s trying to convince Richie to be nice again and get his life back on track but then he ends up slowly getting more and more enmeshed in the group and ends up just as bad as them.

It’d be super out of pocket and out of character but it’d also be tons of fun.

[gloryintheflowers]

worse instead of better

My dearest aunt barb,

Hey there. What is the weather like where you are? (Is there weather at all? I have no idea how this works, which is sort of the point, I guess). Here it’s freezing cold and we’re expecting a snowstorm tomorrow. I hope it’s warm and sunny where you are, and that every day you get the brightest, clearest azure skies. I remember all the times we would be walking in a nature park or Morikami or just sitting by the pool and you’d give me one of your secret smiles, eyes sparkling, and say “you see that, Emmy? You’ll only see skies that blue in Florida.” (You had lived in so many places around the States, I guess you’d know).

I can’t think of any way to tell you how much I miss you except to say that it feels like I’m missing a limb. It feels like a great yawning chasm opened up in my chest the day you died and I constantly find myself falling into it, ending up battered and bruised and dodging falling debris. Other times I sit outside of that deep crevasse with my knees drawn up to my chest and search for you in every tiny shadow. When I can’t find you, another piece of me dies; another part of me grows numb. This hollow space is so large, so cavernous. I cry out for you and I hear your name come back to me as an echo. I pretend it’s your voice; I refuse to acknowledge that that most familiar sound, too, is lost to me.

Maybe this analogy has run away from me. Or maybe it’s the poet in me breaking free of the chains I’ve kept her in for the last two months. It hasn’t been that hard, really. The idea of writing poems that you will never read makes it difficult for me to even want to pick up the pen. For ten years you read my poems, good and bad. You read between the lines and bore witness to the pain buried there and you did it a thousand times. You were my audience of one, humouring me as I tried over and over again to find the words to tell you how much I loved you. I would write long, rambling poems trying to say what we both already knew— that I loved you in a way that was like coming home, that I felt overcome by it, that I was a very lonely and sad and confused 13, 14, 15 year old girl (and so on) who did not feel truly loved or valued until you came along. Who was touch-starved and felt repulsive until you took my hand. Who did not feel truly seen until it was you who saw me. I tried to tell you how you changed me. How you saved me. What you meant to me.

So, yeah. I haven’t been writing, unless you count these letters. And even these have been few and far between. It’s not that I don’t want to write to you. My therapist keeps telling me that maintaining a relationship with you in this way, even though there will never again be an answer, a two-way connection, is imperative to my healing. Writing to you like I used to, talking to you like I used to— these things will supposedly make me feel less lonely, less bereft. She really liked the idea of me writing these letters to you and I’m trying to do that but fuck, it’s so painful when I know you’ll never read them. Still, the idea of making sure you remain an active part of my life even though you are not physically here is important to me. You loved Mitch Albom books— what’s that quote from him (Tuesdays With Morrie, I think)? “Death ends a life, not a relationship.” The two way connection has been severed; I talk out loud to you and can only imagine what you would say in response. I write you these letters but I don’t send them and you’ll never read them. I reach out a hand knowing you’ll never take it. I will never feel that unadulterated love and joy and contentment that I felt when I was with you. I will ask you questions and the silence in the after will be answer enough. For now, I will put those questions in letters to a dead woman— even if the part about you being dead is only just starting to feel real.

At 23, I know the truth— that these are not things I could’ve put into words or summarized in neat poems. These feelings of love and safety and nurturing and care, they shaped me, made this harsh world bearable and even beautiful for me. In essence, you mothered me. Our relationship meant everything to me, everything, and as someone who has always had very big feelings— good and bad— none of it was ever going to fit onto a page, or a hundred. I tried and tried and tried, and as my life grew more complicated and more difficult, and especially in dark times when you were one of the last ropes tethering me to my life, I wrote more. Somewhere along the way I became a writer by trying to tell you how much I loved you. It was like stretching a muscle. Ultimately, that love was always too big for words. The poems often came out feeling inadequate or unfinished. But still, you read them. Who am I supposed to write poems for now? What do I write about? Who will read it? You were the only audience I ever truly needed— ever truly trusted with these most personal, confessional writings.

If we were talking on the phone, you’d ask me how I’m doing. And I’d say ‘fine’, probably. And you’d know— and I never knew how— but you’d know the truth. You’d ask “Are you sure about that?” Or say “You’re not fooling me, angel.” I miss that part of my day— often the best part of my day— in the evenings when I’d pick up the phone and dial your number. Now, I never feel more desolately lonely than in the evenings, which seem to pass by so slowly. I pick up the phone to call you without thinking; I set it back down, feeling like I’ve been doused with cold water.

So, ok. In case you haven’t guessed, I’m not doing great. (Unless ‘great’, to you, means “sobbing at eleven o’clock at night on a Thursday in the a deserted alley in the middle of the city when I started bawling on the way to the 24 hour pharmacy because I didn’t think I could live another minute without you”.)

Yeah. Not a high point for me.

Evie asked me how I was doing today. Twice, actually. The first time I managed to ignore the question by asking her about her plans for the week. The second time she was more persistent. It took me a few minutes to decide what to say. Evie has been not only a cousin, but a good friend for years, and one of my favourite people. I probably could’ve been honest with her.

But what would I have said?

“I’m not doing so good, Evie. Last week I woke up my father by calling at midnight from an alley near Queens Park where I was crying so hard I couldn’t even get a word out. Once I could speak, I kept telling him I wanted to die because I miss Aunt Barb so much. He told me that I couldn’t do that because people loved me, because she loved me, but in that moment I didn’t give a shit— why does it matter whether people love me, I said, when I am this fucking miserable all the time?? When it is getting worse and not better?”

or maybe I could have said “Never been better, honey; I mean, other that that I have never been so fucking lonely, I’ve failed my courses this semester for the first time in my life, and I am avoiding thinking about Aunt Barb by any means necessary— listening to podcasts or sad music (happy music makes me want to cry these days, and I’m not sure why but I imagine it’s something to do with you), eating food (or else obsessing about not eating food, wondering if falling back into my eating disorder would be worth it if for nothing else than the distraction it would provide), re-reading books because I don’t have the brain power to process anything new. Mostly sleeping as much as I can, because I’ve never been this tired; waking up only to drug myself so I can sleep some more.”

Yeah, I’m sure that all would’ve gone over great. Instead I went with “I’m fine,” quickly changing the subject to David and Dori’s visit to Israel. I didn’t want to bother her or anyone with it. She’s grieving too. Lately I always feel like I’m intruding, like there is no space for my grief and I have no right to feel it. I don’t want to take up space where I’m neither needed nor wanted. Not that Evie has made me feel like that at all, but in general that’s how I’ve felt when interacting with the family you brought me into and (I thought) made me a part of. I’m sure a lot of it is in my head. I don’t know. I was fucked up long before this and if you can imagine, this hasn’t helped.

Anyway, I know Evie hasn’t had the easiest time of it lately either. I know she’s struggled to connect to the girls in her gap year cohort. I know that I could have been even a little bit honest with her and she would not have judged me. She told me at one point that she’d love to talk about you. G-d, I thought, what a relief. I do too. She said that she wants to talk about you all the time, but her friends there can’t really understand because they don’t know you. I understand that. You’d never have believed it but you weren’t just your average grandparent or aunt or— well, you weren’t your average anything. You were special and you were sunshine and for the vast majority of people in my life, they really can’t understand what it was like to love you, and what it has been like to lose you. It was the greatest blessing in my life to know and love you. In my darkest moments I might call it a curse too, only because losing you has been so painful that it’s changed me to someone I don’t even recognize.

But if you know nothing else, know this: if I had to choose between loving you and feeling this pain, and never having known you at all, I’d choose loving you. I’d choose it every time.

I love you. I miss you. Please keep visiting me in dreams. Please let me keep you close.

I love you forever

Emily xoxo