#hoping they get to dry on a nice bench after the music video ends and they walk away into the city holding hands

[margoshrmargoshing]

what the hell. is that megop. start singing if you get the reference

bonus from my friend:

[d3-iseefire]

The Symphony of Cinderella Chapter 2

This chapter is short, but the others are all longer. :D

Adagio (Chapter 2)

Bilba stared dully at her reflection in the cracked mirror.

She felt awful.

It had been a week since her performance at Aegnor's theater.  A week filled with interviews at small news stations desperate for stories, and Lobelia's brilliant idea that she should set up a piano outside and give an impromptu concert. Her stepmother had been adamant that not only would it boost ticket sales, but someone in the crowd would undoubtedly film it and create a viral video.

Bilba was fairly certain her stepmother had an incorrect understanding of how viral videos were created, but it was easier to obey than get screamed at so she’d dutifully sat on the rickety bench in front of a rented piano and played classical music on a random street corner.

Instead of instant fame, all Bilba had gotten was rained on.

She'd awakened the next day with a scratchy throat that had soon developed into a full-on head cold. None of this had deterred her stepmother in the slightest, which was why Bilba was currently in a run-down room in the back of a theater so small and old she doubted anyone in Mirkwood remembered it existed.

Lobelia and Lotho always demanded she spend the entire day of a performance at the venue, which she usually appreciated because it gave her a much-needed break from them. Lobelia was out shopping with Priscilla while Lotho and Otho had gone off...somewhere.

Bilba sighed. She could barely breathe through her nose, her eyes were so dry it hurt to keep them open, and every time she swallowed it felt like razor blades were shredding her throat. On top of all it felt like her head was in a vise, as her blocked sinuses made their presence known in the form of a raging headache.

She dug her fingers into her temples in the futile hope it might accomplish something. When that did nothing she folded her arms on the counter and dropped her head on them, letting out a groan of pure misery as she did. 

"Are you all right?"

Bilba twitched in surprise at the deep voice behind her but lacked the energy or desire to lift her head enough to see who it was. There were always stagehands running about, preparing for either her performance or the one after that people actually wanted to see. They were usually too busy to speak to her and she’d started thinking of them as almost background noise. Present but on the edges of her perception, simultaneously there but not there.  

She was pretty sure they saw her in the exactly the same way, there but not really. Not a person so much as the “talent.” Just one more act in a long string of ever changing acts.

"Miss?"

Right, guy behind her. She'd half hoped he'd take the hint and leave her to her misery.

"I'm fine," she managed to mumble into her arms. The act of talking irritated her throat enough to make her cough and her shoulders bunched as her lungs tried their very best to expel themselves from her body. Traitorous bastards. When they finally gave up and settled down she let out another groan and sagged deeper into her arms. "Just kill me."

"I'll be right back," the deep voice said. Footsteps retreated out of the small room.

Bilba grumbled something unintelligible and relaxed. She simply wasn't up for any sort of company. She'd be lucky if she were up for the concert. Maybe if she were given the chance to rest for a few min--

Her train of thought was cut off by the arrival of another stagehand, this one to call her up for sound checks. He left and Bilba lifted her head, which felt like it weighed a ton. She kept her eyes shut for a few more minutes, as she always got vertigo when she was sick, her ears getting stopped up so badly it affected her balance.

When the wave of dizziness passed, she pushed to her feet. A glance in the mirror showed she looked as bad as she felt and she was grateful she hadn’t looked up when either stagehand had appeared. The fewer she traumatized the better.

She had to resist the urge to groan again as she left the room. Her entire body ached, and she desperately wanted to lie down, but knew that wasn't an option for hours. Instead she consoled herself with the knowledge that, even if she could lie down, she'd just end up with her sinuses even more stopped up and her lungs trying all the harder to escape her body.

Maybe she’d get lucky and a piece of scaffolding would fall and knock her unconscious for an hour or two.

That would be nice.

Tragically, no scaffolding fell during her sound check and, what felt like ages later, Bilba wandered down the corridor back to her dressing room. 

If anything, she now felt worse.

The theater was under construction to repair water damage from the same storm that had made her ill. Most of the work was in the main lobby, leaving it and the stage filled with sawdust that clogged her sinuses even worse and left her eyes feeling like someone had rubbed sandpaper over them. 

Someone had pulled the door to her dressing room closed and she hoped that meant it was relatively clear of more sawdust and she’d be able to relax a bit. She grabbed the knob and shoved it open, desperately hoping that she would be left alone long enough to rest for a few minutes.

She took a step inside and stumbled to a stop at the sight that greeted her on her small vanity. 

A small teacup with steam rising from it, next to a bottle of extra strength aspirin and a box of nasal decongestant. There was also an unopened box of tissues and an extra-large bag of cherry flavored cough drops. Finally, just behind the cup of tea, sat a large bowl of soup, steam rising from it and a spoon placed neatly beside it.

Bilba spotted a note propped against her mirror and picked it up.

I didn't know what you'd like but I figured you can't go wrong with green tea and chicken soup for a cold. I hope it helps!

Bilba's vision wavered and she pressed her lips together. The last thing she needed was to cry while being sick. She remembered the door and spun to close it. If Lobelia and Lotho found out someone had done this they'd be angry. They'd insist she must have been complaining and told someone a sob story to manipulate them. They'd say she'd simply done it to make them look bad, as if they didn't do that all on their own.

She sank down into the chair and dragged the bowl and cup toward her. They both smelled heavenly and she was already fantasizing about the feel of the hot liquid on her abused throat.

As she reached for the spoon, her eyes caught on one more item she hadn't originally noticed. A small cell phone tucked just behind the bag of cough drops.

Bilba hesitated, and then reached for it. She didn't recognize the brand, but it lit up as she picked it up, revealing a home screen that looked standard. With a sinking feeling, Bilba pulled up the contacts and saw a single name in the list - "Bringer of Asprin"

A slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips, even as her heart fell further. He was one of those then. The ones who only did something nice because they had convinced themselves they'd get something in return. A date usually, but it was always something. He was probably nearby, had seen her go in her room and, any minute, would text the phone with whatever it was he'd decided he'd "earned."

She scowled, tapping one finger idly on the desk as she waited for the phone to buzz. A minute passed, followed by another, and another after that.

Nothing happened.

She chewed on her lower lip self-consciously, eyes darting to the soup and other supplies. Several more minutes passed until, finally, with a grumble, she leaned forward to grab the teacup.

If he tried to get demanding later she’d give him an autograph or picture or something.

 The tea felt heavenly, as did the soup. It didn’t make her feel 100% better, but her throat felt less raw and her stomach begrudgingly settled a little.

 After she was finished, and had hidden everything as best she could, she retreated to the small couch. The aspirin and nasal decongestant had helped, and though she knew she’d probably soon be going through the entire box of tissue because of them, she was relieved to feel her headache drop to a dull throb in her temples.

She shoved the cell phone under the cushions, tried to prop herself up so she was sort of half sitting/half lying down, and shut her eyes.

If she did manage to fall asleep, she imagined she’d wake up to a demanding text or call on the phone, verifying what she already knew.

 Nobody was ever simply kind.

 It was a lesson she’d learned over and over since her parents has died.

 Hopefully, one day she’d stop feeling so disappointed by it.

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263070/chapters/53163472

[iamdeadlocked]

When I arrived at Aunt May’s funeral it was a regular, normal arrangement.

Some people chatted quietly with one another, others sat quietly in the seats provided, and a few people went up to the body for one final goodbye.

Some people I recognized as her friends would come up to me and give me the usual spew about how sorry they were and how they were going to miss her, how they haven’t seen each other in X amount of years, how much he’s grown, how she’d be so proud of him, and other things that he didn’t want to hear at that moment.

I guess they all forgot about the falling out Aunt May and I had.

I didn’t.

Neither did she. It’s the reason why we haven’t spoken in almost a decade. It’s the reason she died alone.

It was nice gesture for them to invite me to the funeral and to try to include me in the conversations but I honestly just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to say good bye to the “dearly” departed and be on my way. I had a nice fast food made burger and fries sitting at home in my refrigerator calling my name.

I suppose I should feel some type of empathy and be a little bit upset that my aunt is no longer alive. We weren’t as close as we used to be mostly because of Uncle Ben’s death but I just can’t find it in me to feel more than a spoonful of bitter sadness. I suppose when the one person you thought you could trust and love tells you that “you are nothing to me and that a robbery gone wrong is your fault and that you should have been the one to die, not my Ben.” You lose all sorts of kinship and respect for them, who knew?

Anyway... everything was fine, the last of the guests arrived and the pastor begin a slideshow of Aunt May while retelling her life beginning to end. I settled in and got comfy because the bitch -oops! I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead- the lovely lady lived a good 79 years.

As her life unfolded on the screen and through the words, a few people would laugh here and there and and an occasional person would wipe away tears every few minutes. One person blew their nose loudly into a napkin causing me to wrinkle my nose in disgust.

About halfway through the pastor’s talk, he went quiet. I didn’t notice at first to caught up in daydreaming about the food at home.

When I noticed I looked around the room to see if anyone else had notice the weird behavior.

Apparently not seeing as they all were completely still much like the pastor.

It was like they all were frozen.

Everyone but me.

I looked around trying to see what the problem was but as far as I could tell nothing in the room was causing this strange occurrence. The video on the screen goes from Aunt Mays tenth birthday party to a black screen with a man in a red and black mask sitting in a spotlight right in front of a piano. His hands carcasses the keys as if they were his lover. He softly patted the lid of the piano as if it was his pet. Even stranger than that he leaned down and kissed the piano. When he sits back up he cracks his knuckles breaking the silence with the loud painful cracks startling me a bit. I look round the room and the people are still frozen. The only difference is their eyes are on the screen with the man in the mask.

The man rolls his shoulders first the left one, then the right.

Once,

Twice,

Three times.

He sets his fingers which I just noticed are covered with black gloves on the keys and begins to play.

I wish I could name the song but I’m not one for classical music. Even if I was something inside of me says that this man created this piece.

The song is beautiful.

It’s hauntingly beautiful.

I know this doesn’t make sense but I think this type of song is something you would hear only in your nightmares.

As of in a trance the people in the room all stand up simultaneously. That honestly would have been fine and I would have just accepted that everyone was a robot in this moment but there were at least three men and two ladies who were wheelchair bound that stood up and walked with the rest of them. I would call it a miracle but I’m pretty sure whatever is happening here is not a god given miracle.

The women work together to move the chairs out of the way while the men work to push the old, dull, hasn’t worked in thirty years piano to the center of the room in front of the screen.

Sweat began to form at the top of my forehead.

This is weird. I know this is weird. I should go but something keeps me rooted to my own seat in the corner.

After they finish getting everything situated the people pair up and begin to dance to the dramatic, powerful and eery melody. As they dance Pretty a strange fog started pouring in from the cracks of the windows and under the doors. It moved as if it had a mind of its own, swirling this way and that in attempts to cover the whole floor. Slowly it works it’s way to the middle of the room, covering the feet of the elders dancing around the piano.

The piano begins to play the same creepy music from the screen.

https://youtu.be/VagES3pxttQ

There was absolutely no one sitting on the bench, so once again that shouldn’t be possible but what do I know?

The smoke lifts up and over the seat of the piano bench and settles on top of it. A spotlight appears on the piano. (Funeral home doesn’t have a spot light but whatever.) The man from the screen slowly fades out as the fog takes shape of a man. His fingers gliding over the keys matching the same song as on the screen perfectly until the spotlight on the screen goes out and the video player shuts off. Now it’s just the man giving a live performance.

He sways with the music.

I finally find some sense and decide now would be a good time to just nope the fuck out of here and take the what the hell train to fuckthatville.

I slowly stand as to avoid any attention. I quietly and slowly make my way to the end of the aisle. I take care to look where I am going. I don’t want to be that person in the movies that trips and falls causing a loud disturbance and getting killed because of their stupidity.

The best thing I can hope for is that’s there’s nothing on the ground because this stupid fog is thick and covering everything up to my ankles.

As quiet as a mouse sneaking around a sleeping cat I tip toe my way to the end of the aisle.

Success!

I quietly walk to the back of the room praying to a god I don’t believe in that I make it to the door. I kept one on the mysterious figure and the dancing old people surrounded and the other eye on the fog. It was able to make a man appear out of thin air so I wasn’t above thinking it could make a man disappear as well. I walk backwards as I eye up the supernatural one man concert playing before me.

Not one person turned to look at me. No one even noticed I was the only one not in a trances. I guess I need to send a thank you note to Flash for helping me perfect my silent walk and being the perfect invisible man.

I only stop walking when I harshly bump into the door causing a soft thud to resonate loudly though the room.

The beautiful notes the man is hitting quickly goes sour as he slams his hands down onto the keys.

The air goes several degrees cooler causing a deep shiver to race through my body.

My blood freezes and my fear spikes.

My mind says to just quickly open the door and run. Bolt out of here and into the dying night. Everything will be fine if you run. You’ll be fine when you run.

My body will not listen to the sound advice of my brain. Instead it takes a step forward and away from the door.

I tried to fight what ever was controlling my body, since I need to blame something I blame the fog.

I fight with all my might pleading, begging, demanding and bribing my body to stop moving all in vain.

I take another step forward,

And another

And another

And another

And another.

I get closer and closer to a place I really would not like to be. Closer and closer to the man I don’t know. Closer and closer to the no longer dancing old folks.

My nose begins to bleed as I fight the otherworldly pull on my body. I bring my hand up wipe away the blood.... ain’t that a bitch. I have free lotion over my hands by not my legs. This definitely means the fog is controlling me. I should have played the floor is lava. That might have saved my life.

I lose the fight with my legs mostly because I’m not even strong physically let alone mentally.

I close my eyes as my body finally comes to a stop directly next to the piano man.

I hear shuffles as if people are moving to surround me. I hear a loud freak in the silent room as the masked man stands or at least I assume he stands. I refuse to let my curiosity get me killed.

I flinch hard to my left as I feel breathing into my right ear and a warm body standing directly behind me. A gentle hand steadies me by grabbing ahold of my hips.

The man whispers into my ear.

“Open your eyes little one.”

The voice sounded like sandpaper feels. Rough and dry as if the person hadn’t spoken in a very long time or as if they hadn’t had any water in months and their throat was dry. Yet somehow the voice sounded seductive and sweet. It was like he wanted to scare you but only a little. I don’t know how to explain it.

All I can say for sure was that it was a dark voice.

It was scary.

It was dangerous.

It was inhuman.

I didn’t hate it. Kind of want more of it.

Ignoring all red flags, flashing lights, and loud abort mission sounds my eyes open one at a time. Dirt the right one then the left.

My eyes opened and the first thing I saw was that I was in fact surrounded by my aunts friends.

The funeral guests all were standing in a half circle around me and the piano. Their eyes were black. I blinked a few times and wiped my eyes just to make sure I was actually seeing what I thought I was seeing.

I was.

There are were straight up black. I’ll admit I was extremely scared and damn near close to wetting myself from fear but nothing was worse than looking into the small crowd of wrinkled skin and liver spots to see her. By her I mean my aunt.

The same aunt who was and should be as dead as a door knob (that metaphor literally makes no sense... focus!) was standing there behind owner of the funeral home Mr. Stan Lee. She was standing and staring directly into my pure-ish soul.

How is she standing there? She’s been dead for two weeks. (No one knew she died in her home for a week and a half. How messed up is that...Peter focus!)

Was she alive again? I can’t see her chest moving but also no one else’s but mine is sooo is everyone dead like her?

Why do they all look so angry? Well I’d be angry to if my dancing music was shut off.

Despair and hopelessness take ahold of my body, pulsing through it with each beat of my heart.

I slowly decide to turn my head and look behind me at the man.

The first thing I notice is that his mask is gone. The second thing I noticed was that he wasn’t going to win any beauty contests... and omg this man is horrible to look at. I’ll be honest he’s lucky I was raised previously with live and had manners because otherwise the chances of me throwing up on this mans shirt and feet would have been a lot higher. Be that as it may I was so I swallow the bile in my throat and gulp.

Words couldn’t describe the horror of how horrific the man looked. He face was riddled with scars. The only places that didn’t have acres were completely missing. Chunks of flesh look rotted in some places, missing in others, and scarred on the rest. His eyes were pretty to look at and he smelled nice which sent me into a very conflicting state of fear and arousal.

His hands are still on my hips soothing me causing my fear to lesson just a bit. Maybe his wouldn’t be so bad? Perhaps I was just judging a book by its cover and this may not be as scary as it seems. He smiles at me as if he can hear my thoughts. It’s a gruesome and terrible sight but I find myself hesitantly smiling back. He brings up his hand, which is in the same terrible mangled mess as his face, from my hips to my face and strokes it with just a hint of pressure. It felt as if a feather was being running over my face. I place my hand on top of his and just feel his skin. Despite it being a horror fest it wasn’t that bad when you got used to it.

Suddenly he stops smiling and his eyes somewhat pretty eyes flash red. His grip on my jaw turns harsh and bruising. I can feel it begin to break as he allies more and more pressure. The hand on my hip pulls me hard into the front of his body and wraps around my mid section tightly as I begin to struggle. He pulls me tighter and tighter into him causing my bones to feel like they were point two seconds away from snapping as well.

His strength is out of this world although I already knew that. I look from him to the people in front of us. I plead with my eyes for help hoping that one of them comes to their senses and tries something.

I hear the demon laugh as if once again he can hear my thoughts... who knows maybe he does here them.

Everyone smiles at me. Ms. Al smiled so wide her dentures fell out.

The man leans down as he is quite literally breaking my bones and whispers into my ear,

”There’s a price to pay for breaking the sound of silence.”

Next thing I know my hip bones and my jaw are both shattered.

I scream the best I can with a broken jaw as the man releases me. My body drops to the ground like a broken doll. I see him place his mask back over his head and places his gloves back on his hands. He sits back down at the seat, hiding his upper body from my sight. I can see his feet and legs and I hear him begin his chilling song again.

The people around my broken body get closer and closer stooping down as the reach for my body.

I close my eyes as they draw nearer.

[writing-realityawayfromreality]

Find Me

So I wrote this for two reasons. It is roughly based off what I hope will happen at an ECHL game when I go this coming weekend, and two i picked Nolan because I am still stuck on part 7 of Please dont Leave, and if I would had written about the ECHL player chances are no one would know who he is. Anyways, enjoy. 

You and your friend decided to go to a last minute hockey game, you scored some pretty good sits for really cheap considering how late in the season it was and how well the team has been doing lately. It also helped that you had connections with people in the ticket office. 

You usually went to games with your parents but tonight you decided to venture out on your own, plus your parents were busy and you didn’t want to sit home on a friday night. Your friend was always down for whatever whenever when it came to hockey. You did some loose beach waves and some light makeup before throwing on your Patrick jersey. You love the whole team but you had gotten nolan’s jersey for your birthday since you were turning 19 and your friends thought it would be cute to get you one every year same number on the back as your age. Well that was until next year when there is no player 20. 

You and your friend decided to eat at the arena. It was so much or crowded than it had been before but you took into account that it was the playoff push. You grabbed some chickie and pete fries and headed to your seats. You had perfect timing since the guys were only coming out for warmups. “Gets go to the glass and see if we can get a picture with one of them.” your friend suggested. You’ve always seen pictures of fans getting pucks and pictures with the guys so you gave it a chance. Heading down to the glass you saw Nolan. Your friend knocked on the glass gaining his attention, he turned around and gave a smile as well as wave his glove, your friend pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture of the three of you. 

You turned around to mouth a thank you to Nolan, you saw him staring straight at you. you gave a quick smile. you were about to walk away when he took his glove off and held up a finger signaling you to wait. He leaned down and picked up a puck. He flipped it over the glass for you. Once again you smiled. you both kind of just stood there until Travis came over and skated right into Nolan, causing you to laugh while nolan shoved back at Travis. You waved goodbye and then headed back to your friend. You were about three rows from the ice and just about center line a little more so behind the players bench but  you had a pretty good view of both teams. 

You and your friend continued to talk throughout the warmup, you watched the guys do their routine of passing shooting and one on one drills. Your eyes landed on Nolan a few times to see that he was already looking at you.  You thought it was a little strange but you still gave him a smile. “Someone likes you.” Your friend bumped your shoulder laughing. “bruh, he’s a hockey player he sees tons of girls that he likes a night, doesn’t mean anything.” you said shoving your friends shoulder and laughing with her. The buzzer went off signaling the end of warmups, some of the guys stayed on the ice for a little longer wanting for the other team to leave. Nolan was last off the ice, he shot you a quick wave before heading down the tunnel.

It wasn’t that long until the game started. You decided to post the picture of your friend, Nolan, and you and then another picture of the puck that Nolan had tossed you. You captioned it A night to remember. Thank God for hockey boys. You were debating on tagging the flyers and or Nolan, you were too focused on that to notice that the opening video started playing for the Flyers meaning that they were about to come out of the tunnel. You quickly put your phone away and started cheering with the rest of the crowd. 

You patiently waited for them to announce the starting line up, secretly hoping that Nolan was starting. Sure enough it was Hart in net, Ghost and Provy as defense, and then Nolan, Travis and Coots, as offense. They were playing the islanders for the fourth and last time of the season, last game they won 4 to 1. You were a little worried because last game Jake got suspended two games for the hit to boychuck and he said that he was going to get him back, so you knew it was going to be a brutal game. 

Right off the face off Nolan had the puck and skated down the ice. you started to cheer him. hoping that he would make it. He passed it to travis who slapped the puck right past the goal tender making it 1-0 with just minutes into the game. The boys did their little line of high fives and then headed back out for another face off. This time the islander won and headed towards Carter, playing a little keep away from the guys you could tell they were tired and irritated, they needed a change. Provy got the puck and sent it down the ice, luckily Coots had touched it making sure it wasn’t icing. The boys quickly skated over to the bench for the line change. You looked down to see Nolan looking back at you with a smile then waved before turning around to focus on the game. 

The rest of the first period went pretty smoothly. There were a few rough hits but nothing too major. the islanders didn’t want to do anything to cause an unwanted penalty since they were down. The second period started off just how the first period ended. The islanders dominated majority of the game after the flyers opening goal. the one player took a shot to which carter out of a rebound causing another player to come charging at the net, crashing straight into Carter, his helmet few off. The flyers didn’t take too kindly to that considering Travis one player in a head lock while Nolan was squaring up with the guy who hurt Carter. It was almost a full line brawl. Travis started to throw some punches at his guy while Nolan already threw punches and had his guy on the ice. 

Carter was standing up talking to the trainer, he seemed to be fine, he was a little more concerned about getting his helmet fixed. They gave the islanders two five minutes for fighting and gave the same to the flyers. The crowd was upset thinking that there should had been more considering the player never let up before contact with Carter which sent him flying into the net and his helmet to come off. There both Nolan and travis sat in the box, they were still chirping at the other players. The game continued, it was pretty much back and forth until the last seconds of the penalties, the one defense men on the flyer shot the puck up the ice, Travis was the first to leave the box followed by Nolan they were both considered in play. Travis got the puck and continued to skate down the ice followed by Nolan. travis pulled the goalie to one side while he passed to Nolan for basically an empty netter. 

You literally jumped out of your seat. Nolan had an assist, a fight and a goal which was a gordie howe hat trick and it was only midway through the second period. you didn’t notice the camera man standing in front of the section that you were in taking pictures of the crowd, you only noticed when a flash went off signaling that he took a picture. The Islanders called a time out to try and slow down the flyers momentum. While the crowd waited for puck to be dropped again music came on to fill the time. It was your favorite song, pulling your friend to her feet you both started dancing, until the jumbo tron showed you and your friend. Some of the guys were looking up and watching you and your friend having a great time. 

The flyers ended the second period 4 to zero two goals thanks to nolan, travis (twice) and Hartman , you were hoping that tonight would be the night that carter finally got his shut out that he’s deserved since day one. The second intermission went pretty quick and before you knew it the guys were back on the ice. There were a few more fights that broke out, and in all honesty you couldn’t blame the players, the flyers weren’t letting up and the islanders were playing pretty rough, but you didn’t want the game to end. You usually got sad at the second intermission knowing that there was only another 20 minutes to play. The islanders pulled their goalie pretty early, basically with 5 minutes to go. JVR skated down the ice shooting the puck on net to which it went in. The crowd started cheering louder than ever before, you were glad JVR was playing some good hockey with the team, after all he was your first flyers player. The Islanders put their goalie back in only to pull him once the face off happened. 

Nolan skated down the ice towards the empty net, instead of taking the empty netter for himself he passed the puck to travis who happily put it in the back of the net, needless to say the game ended 6-0. Carter had finally gotten himself the shut out that he deserved. The guys stood in the middle of the ice acknowledging the crowd that was watching. You caught Nolan staring at you again, you were too caught up in him to notice that most of the fans were leaving, your friend nudged your arm. “You ready to go?” she asked. “Yeah, sure.” you said looking back on the nice to see the guys leaving and heading down the tunnel. “that was a really good game. You and Nolan seem to have something going on.” she said laughing. “Oh shut it. He’s a hockey player, he’s just being nice.” you said. 

You knew you were lying to yourself, you didn’t understand why he paid so much attention to you. As soon as you got back home you went to sleep right away. Not that your mind wanted to let you, you kept thinking about Nolan. Rubbing your eyes you looked at your phone, it was already 10 o’clock, shit,  you were late for class. You literally jumped out of your bed and got dressed. heading into the bathroom you sprayed some dry shampoo and brushed your teeth. Grabbing your keys and your book bag you headed out the door and to your class. You had just gotten into class when your phone started to blow up with notifications. Looking down you saw that it was your best friend.  “CHECK INSTA!!!!!” She texted. she sent another text but this time it was a picture “IT’S YOU!!!!” confused you looked at the picture, it was a screen shot of the flyers latest post it was indeed you. You remembered that the photographer had taken your picture right after  Nolan had score. you were so excited that he scored you jumped out of your chair. You texted your friend back. “Okay, so?” you asked not knowing what the big deal was. “SO?!?!?! Have you been on twitter?” She texted you back. “No.” She had sent you another picture, it was a screen shot but this time it was from twitter. “Nolan is looking for you.” the text read. you clicked on the picture. It was a tweet from Nolan with the picture of you from the game last night that they posted on instagram. “Can someone help me to find out who this girl is?” read Nolan’s tweet. 

“Why is he looking for me out of all people?” you asked your friend. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because y’all connected last night!!!!” your friend said. You decided to go onto twitter yourself to see if this tweet was real. Looking up Nolan’s twitter you was the post. then you saw there was a feed. The one person had commented that they thought that you went to Temple and was in her class, to which nolan replied asking for her help to find you. You weren’t sure how your felt. You could just message him asking what he wanted but what fun would that be, you decided that if he really wanted to know who you were he was going to have to  work for it. 

You tweeted  to your page hoping that Nolan would be smart enough to figure out what it means. The girl who replied to the tweet originally was actually in your class and your followed each other on twitter, you posted two simple words, Find Me .....

[hiyo-silver]

Gold

Summary: YOI au. Stan is Eddie's new skating coach, but he starts to have feelings for him.

Pairings: Eddie Kaspbrak/Stanley Uris

AO3

Taglist: @fuckboykaspbrak @thesquidliesthuman @starboystan @rachi0964 @shewasthewind @beepbeep-losers @bigbilliamdenbro @jalenrose1122 @sleepygaybrough @itandstrangerthingsfanfic @boopboopreddie @peachywyatt

Eddie pulls on his skate, lacing it with care, his hands quivering and he's not sure if it's with cold or with anxiety. He shoves the lace through the top holes, tying them off in a bow.

He peers around, looking for his coach, Stan, jumping more than he'd expect to when his eyes meet Stan's.

"Eddie, good to see you," Stan acknowledges him with a nod, walking over and putting his hand to eddie, grasping Eddie's in his own and pulling him up. "You get cold easily?" He notices, feeling Eddie's hands feeling near icy when he's hardly been in the rink at all.

"Uh- yeah, hi Mr. Uris, I'm seriously so so honored to work with you-" Eddie starts, stopping when Stan waves his hand to tell him to stop.

"We should get started soon, I've only ever seen your work in videos, can you do that routine from the last competition?" Stan asks, hoping Eddie would understand once he pulls up the music from the routine.

Eddie nods, walking on the thin blades of the skates, holding onto the wall for a moment, breaking under the pressure of working with his idol. Once the music hits his ears it all melts away though, it flows through him from his ears to his toes, bringing a performance smile to his face and fluid movements through his body.

Eddie glides on the surface of the ice, his arms poised elegantly above his head, doing a turn, and then another, both flawlessly. He truly forgets himself in his skating.

The music ends and he slides over to the edge, leaning on the wall and panting to find his breath. "Good?" He asks through a breath out.

"Decent," Stan nods in response. Taking some notes on his laptop, his slender fingers dancing around the keys as delicately as Eddie's landings after jumps.

Eddie nods breathlessly. At least it's decent, he smiles to himself, getting back onto the normal floor and shuffling to the bench, drinking from his water bottle. "How can I improve it, Mr. Uris?" He turns and asks the curly haired man.

"We can discuss, over coffee perhaps? And don't call me mr. Uris. That's m-my father. Stanley to you," he says with a playful smirk that Eddie wouldn't have expected from him.

Eddie keeps his jaw from dropping, "uh- yeah, coffee, now?" He asks, his words just barely stumbling from his lips.

"Sure, if that works for you," Stan says with a shrug, gathering his coat up into his arms, and then his laptop, sliding it smoothly into his over the shoulder bag.

Anxiety bubbles into Eddie's throat, but this definitely will be good, it has to be. Stanley Uris. His idol, someone he's looked up to for as far back as he can remember. And he wants to get coffee with him.

Eddie gathers his stuff up, taking off his skates as quickly as he can, pulling at the laces with his spindly fingers clumsily. He finally brushes his fingers through his hair and goes back out to Stan, "Ready if you are," he says with a grin, the nervousness masking it almost like a subtle grimace.

"I'm always ready, a lesson in life, be ready for anything," the man says with a tense shrug, seeming more like he's trying to convince himself.

Eddie's grimace disappears, his worry faltering only for a moment, because, despite what he always thought. Stanley Uris is a human being.

Stan looks down at him, "Well, let's go, I know a place near here, we can walk," he announces, seeming almost as nervous as Eddie? That can't be.

Stan leads the way out of the rink doors, the warmth of the outside hitting their skin. One foot in front of the other, they walk nearly in sync. They walk in silence, just the sound of feet hitting the pavement, Eddie notices how Stan's always meet the pavement with a satisfying smack, he finds comfort in it.

They reach the coffee shop, Stan automatically holding the door open for Eddie as the smell of coffee beans fill their noses. Stan sighs, "One of my favorite places," he tells Eddie, leading him to get in line.

Stan orders first, getting a black coffee that makes Eddie feel intimidated by his original idea of something sweeter. Despite that, he chooses what he wants, not wanting to sacrifice himself even if sometimes himself is embarrassing around boys he's interested in.

Stan smirks in his direction and Eddie can't help but blush, a strong gaze in his direction never fails to render him useless. "Nice order," Stan teases, going to grab his to-go cup, not putting any creamer or sugar in it, taking sips from it with a seemingly unphased expression, what a power move.

Eddie sips from his sweeter version, feeling almost weak in comparison to Stan, the competition threatening his own masculinity, caught between his crush and his pride.

"So, how do you feel about working with me long term?" Stan asks, taking a seat, looking over at Eddie to command him to sit across from him.

"I- think I'd like that," Eddie nods, trying not to look flustered as he sips at his coffee. "If you'd like we could go back to the rink after this? I have some skills I'm trying to refine-," Eddie starts to ramble, stopping when Stan kindly shushes him.

"That was the only work based question I plan to ask on this outing," Stan says outright, very blunt in how he communicates, that much has been made obvious to Eddie thus far.

"Oh," Eddie says, trying to hold back a sheepish giggle, what kinds of conversations does he want then? He asks himself, wracking his brain for things to say next.

"I checked your Twitter, and your Facebook," Stan admits, still keeping his persona of confidence, "You seem like a good person."

Eddie hears the tone in Stan's voice, reading that that isn't a thing he says often, obviously not one for giving compliments. "Thank you, and you as well Mr. Ur- Stanley," he corrects himself quickly, not wanting to offend him even just out of a habit.

Stan scoffs a bit, "Oh I'm far from a good person, or at least used to be," he claims, a hardass on everyone, but over anyone else, himself.

"No, sir- uh, Stanley, I think you're a good person," Eddie assures, reaching out for Stan's hand out of reflex and how he's used to comforting his friends.

Stan flinches at the contact before taking Eddie's hand back, "You'll learn soon enough," Stan tells him softly.

"Or I'll teach you soon enough," Eddie says with a cocked eyebrow, taking a drink from his cup, wincing when it nearly burns his tongue, earning a dry chuckle from Stan.

Skip forward a few days, Eddie and Stan are on a run for conditioning, laughing through their panting, and Eddie can't help but look at how Stan's arms look even more toned in the natural light, he tries to look away but he is unable to make himself, to his thankfulness, Stan doesn't notice.

"So, Eddie, you're pretty cool," Stan says softly, searching his brain for literally any other compliment or adjective but Eddie takes up too much of his thoughts to have any other.

Eddie smiles softly, looking down at his feet as his running shoes wack against the pavement. "You are too, Stanley," he says on his breaths out, hoping he can play off the blushing by the heat and fatigue.

On another occasion, Eddie is finally at his first competition after months of training with Stan, doing a classical routine to the song Take My Breath Away.

Stan watches in prideful astonishment, tuning out the anxiety inducing roar of the crowd while his vision tunnels in on Eddie, and he knows for a fact now that this crush is getting out of hand. He's been... Subtle? At least tried to be.

He's still unsure of Eddie liking him too, or if they could be considered in a relationship, they've known each other for nearly a year now, and have grown close. They've held hands, and even shared a bed. Eddie is the only person Stan can touch now without feeling gross.

Eddie slides off the ice, Stan rushing from his spot to meet him in the Kiss and Cry. He finds Eddie, his pride showing through nearly every bit of him as he takes Eddie by the shoulders and looking him in the eye before pulling him in for a tight hug.

Eddie hugs back, and for once in his life, he feels proud of himself. Something he'd never expected. He squeezes Stan once before pulling back, "Did I do good?" He asks breathlessly.

"You did amazing- took my breath away," Stan grins at his pun about the song he'd choreographed Eddie to.

Eddie returns the playful smirk, "I'm glad," he smiles, his deep brown eyes sparkling as they look into Stan's.

Now or never, Stan decides, "I think I love you, Eddie," he blurts out, immediately looking surprised even with himself. He looks to the floor, scuffing his heel on it in shame.

Eddie takes several moments to process this, but once he does he nudges Stan's gaze back to meet his, "I love you too," he says softly, taking one of Stan's hands in his.

Months later, the final competition is just around the corner and Stan makes a choice, spending hours in a store looking at rings, taking forever to find one that seems perfect enough.

The competition comes, Eddie doing better than Stan ever could have imagined, tears coming to his eyes at just how beautiful and graceful his boyfriend is.

They meet in the Kiss and Cry, Stan hugging him and complimenting him as usual, trying to soothe his own nerves about both Eddie's placement, and his plan.

Stan watches the screen anxiously from the Kiss and Cry, watching Eddie moreso than anything else, nearly bursting into happily relieved tears when Eddie gets placed first, just as I expected him to.

Eddie comes back with his gold medal, tears streaming down his face and his first instinct is to pull Stan into a deep kiss, gripping his hands around Stan's windbreaker to anchor him, coming back up to find Stan crying too.

Stan stands proudly beside his boyfriend as Eddie answers the questions from the paparazzi with ease, having improved so much in his time working and being with Stan.

Next comes the best part, the after party. Eddie loves these, purely for the calmness of them. A party he can tolerate, wine and slow music and talking to people who respect him. He's gained respect.

He hears a familiar opening tune fill his ears, swaying almost by reflex, looking around quickly for Stan, the first song Stan made a routine for me with, he remembers immediately, he could never forget. He sees Stan walking away from the dj with a smirk on his lips, I should have known.

Stan comes up to him, his hands going to Eddie's waist, holding him gently as Eddie reaches his hands up to Stan's shoulders, swaying with him and feeling like they're the only two people in the room, the only two people in the world even.

The song comes to an end much too soon, Eddie leaning up into a kiss to Stan's lips and Stan pulls away much too soon. It fills Eddie with worry until Stan is dropping to his knee in a room so silent you could hear a pin drop.

Stan pulls a small navy box out of his pocket, smiling sheepishly as he opens it to reveal a dainty golden ring, representative of Eddie's win, Stan had known he'd win.

Tears form in Eddie's eyes, and he's so focused on this being the happiest moment of his life this far to hear the applause and cheers in the background as he nods quickly at Stan, pulling him into a hug, kissing his cheek over and over. "Of course," he whispers in Stan's ear.

Then, like nobody expects, Eddie drops to his own knee, pulling out a small box of his own, "Guess we had the same idea," he says softly, tears streaming freely down his cheeks

[winterromanov]

high voltage in her lips [bechloe fic, part 2/?]

read part one here | on ao3

Beca wakes up to two bright blue eyes staring right at her from the side of the bed.

“Dude!” she exclaims, pulling her duvet tight around her, “What the fuck?”

Chloe smiles like it’s a totally normal thing for her to be doing. To. You know. Just be watching her sleep. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Beca rubs her eyes and her hands are streaked with black from last night’s mascara. She can feel the hangover thrumming at the back of her brain, her mouth dry and tasting faintly of wine she doesn’t remember drinking. “How long have you been perving on me?”

“Not long,” Chloe chirps. It’s then that she realises that Chloe is completely put together, like they weren’t screaming on a dancefloor just a few hours previously, hyped up on Sambuca shots. Her hair is newly washed and blow-dried and her face is bare, yet somehow still flawless, freckles dusted across her cheekbones. She’s wearing a neat top-and-skirt combo. Beca’s still wearing her clothes from last night. “Your ass was drunker than mine so I put you up in the spare room.”

Beca properly looks around the room, finally realising she’s not in her own flat—it’s way too clean and ordered, with a floral colour scheme that’s been carefully designed rather than thrown on the walls last minute. The duvet smells like honeysuckle. God, it couldn’t be more Chloe Beale.

“Thanks. Sorry to, uh, put you out?”

“Not a problem,” Chloe grins. She stands from her position crouching by Beca’s bedside, rubbing her hands together. “I’ve left you a coffee and some aspirin. I’ve got a meeting in the city so I’ve got to head out, but feel free to use the shower and stuff before you go. The door locks on its own so don’t worry about leaving it open or anything.”

Damn, this bitch is organised. Beca stretches out and tries to put together memories from last night—it’s all pretty vague, glimpses of fire-red hair and intense music, Amy running over before they leave and telling her that some dude called Juan was taking her to the Bahamas for a bit so not to wait up for her—

Okay, so she’s going to have to handle that at some point, but that point doesn’t have to be now, right?

“I had a great night last night, by the way,” Chloe says, smiling, “You’re great fun. I haven’t let loose like that in a while.”

It would help if Beca could actually remember clearly what exactly happened last night, but the sentiment warms her anyway. She smiles back, genuinely, vaguely recalling how her heart thudded like it was about to break out her ribcage. “I had a great time too. As far as I’m aware I didn’t leave with a minor assault charge, so. A win?”

Chloe giggles. She does that a lot. Giggling. Beca’s never giggled. It doesn’t match her image. “Definitely a win. I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Well, we’re going to be spending the next three months on tour together,” Beca says, still not quite believing it. “I’m sure I’ll be able to haul you off the rails at least once in that time period. If your manager doesn’t kill me first.”

“Aubrey doesn’t control everything about my life, as much as she’d like to. I make my own decisions.”

“Awesome,” Beca replies. Her eyes linger on the coffee Chloe’s thoughtfully left out for her and it stings, a little, because it reminds her of stupid Jesse and the stupidly Nice Things he used to do for her. And maybe Chloe is another Nice Person she doesn’t deserve in her life. It’s why she hasn’t fired Amy yet. She’s just as fucked up as Beca is.

“I’m going to head off,” Chloe says, making her way towards the bedroom door, “So I’ll see you later?”

“Sure.”

She flashes Beca one last smile before disappearing, and Beca’s touched that the girl seems to trust her enough to leave her alone in her apartment after meeting her once. It’s a naïve choice, perhaps, but sweet all the same. She reaches out and takes a swig of the rapidly cooling coffee and pops two of the aspirin then just sits, wrapped up in the duvet, everything silent other than the hum of the air conditioning.

Yeah, she’s still not sure how this whole tour thing will work, but she kind of wants it to work? And maybe that’s the point.

-x-

THE PRINCESS AND THE REBEL – CHLOE BEALE AND BECA MITCHELL SPOTTED IN DOWNTOWN LA

Los Angeles seems to be the hotbed of the billboard’s newest collaborations, a factory of number one hits and Grammy awards—but a sighting of two of music’s seemingly polar opposites has us here at Glitz dot com totally stumped. That’s right. Notorious bad girl Beca Mitchell (of Where Do You Go? fame) and pop’s hottest starlet Chloe Beale were papped together outside the Luna club last night, looking very comfortable in each other’s company indeed.

It’s true that there’s been a small fanbase on social media hoping that the pair would eventually collaborate, but it hardly felt like a realistic goal. After all, Mitchell’s just dodged another felony whilst Beale is climbing to the top of her game. Their interests don’t seem to overlap, but there’s definitely a friendship we’ve never heard about there.

Whether this club night is just two friends meeting up or the beginning of a potential collaboration, it has got us pretty excited. Mitchell’s sultry, no-nonsense sound mixing with Beale’s simultaneously romantic and empowering girl-power anthems will be a guaranteed eargasm which we’re TOTALLY here for. But—it begs the question whether these two artists will actually be good for each other. It’s no secret that Mitchell’s been a bit off the rails recently while Beale is pristine, role-model material; will Beca drag Chloe down or will Chloe bring Beca back up again? Only time will tell.

Keep up to date with everything Beca Mitchell and Chloe Beale by following us on twitter: @glitzmag

ARTICLE BY DAISY FULLERTON

-x-

“Hey bitch! You’ve reached Fat Amy, only you haven’t reach Fat Amy, because I’m totally boning a really hot Spanish dude in the Bahamas right now while drinking a shit ton of Tequila Sunrises. Sooooo… Leave a message if you want, but I probably won’t get back to you for several days if it all. Adios!”

“For fuck’s sake, Amy, you are literally the worst manager ever and I’m firing you as soon as your ass is back in LA. Ok. So. There’s been some—articles, which I’m sure you’ve seen, because despite never answering my calls you’ve uploaded about sixty videos to your snapchat story of you on a speedboat, you monster. Anyway. I’m sick of the media painting me as some fucking criminal out-to-corrupt-your-children type when I’m really not, and yes I do have a tattoo I got when I was off my face on pot but that was years ago and really, that’s literally the only regrettable thing I’ve done that wasn’t a product of you. Please just tell someone, anyone, that I’m actually pretty rad and I’m probably not going to drag Chloe Beale’s impeccable reputation through the trash. As my manager that would literally be the bare minimum you could do for me right now. You’re an asshole. Ciao.”

-x-

queenbeale just uploaded a photo to Instagram

got to hang out with the amazing @becamitchell on Saturday!! can’t wait to tell you guys what we’ve got in store for y’all xx

chloebealer commented: oh my god???? OH MY GOD???

jaydababe34 commented: MY TWO FAVES ARE UNITED I’M SCREAMING

chloefan789 commented: not sure how this will work… I’m not a beca mitchell fan at all

becamitchell commented: I look so drunk in this photo and I hate you for uploading it :)

queenbeale commented: @becamitchell you look like a dream

madisonbealer commented: @queenbeale @becamitchell *whispers* GAYYYYYYY

-x-

It takes another two weeks of meetings and contracts and publicity before the tour dates are released to the public. They’re visiting thirty-two cities across North America in the space of two and a half months: it’s wild on a scale Beca’s never seen before. Yeah, she’s had three tours across the same area in the past, but the venues were smaller and not so extensive, and not all of the dates were sold out. The tickets for this tour sell out in a grand total of eleven minutes.

The tour also generates a tidal wave of interest across every single internet platform available. Her old songs are repeated alongside Chloe’s on the radio, her follower count on Instagram sky-rockets and their names are trending on Twitter. The last time Beca saw her name in that bar was when she was arrested for the coke incident (fuck you, Amy). And the support, surprisingly, is unreal. Like the unsavoury articles that emerged after she was papped outside Luna with Chloe earlier in the month, she’d expected people talking shit about her past, wondering if Beca’s razor sharp edges would rip Chloe to shreds—but there’s been an overwhelming amount of positivity, like the curiosity of what they could produce together overshadows what could potentially go wrong.

Her return to mainstream media ends up alerting people she thought she’d left in the past of her presence again, but she’s still surprised when Jesse ends up leaving her a voicemail on the Thursday after the announcement. It’s been five months of total radio silence between them. She’d kind of anticipated that it would be longer than that. After all, she did end a seven-year relationship on his fucking birthday, which she’d completely forgotten about.

Maybe she does owe him one.

Beca meets him for lunch in a small restaurant a twenty minute walk from her apartment—a neat, little kitschy place she doesn’t often visit, but they serve ciabatta and paninis and squashy cooked tomatoes still on the vine, and that’s the kind of thing Jesse loves. She gets there fifteen minutes early but of course he’s already there, sat on the long bench by the window and overlooking the street. She pretends she hasn’t seen him from the outside, even though he’d clocked her half a block away.

He still looks the same. Clean-shaven, dark hair cropped, clean t shirt and pants and sneakers like they’d never been worn before. He leaps off his stool nervously when the door shuts behind her.

Oh. Wow. She’s never known Jesse to be nervous before. He’s usually annoyingly confident. All through high school she’d hidden behind his infectious smile. At least the last two months have allowed her to just be her, even if that means she’s been stuck in a fucking prison cell once or twice. Or thrice.

“Becs,” he says breathlessly, taking her in. She half-smiles tightly. “Hey. How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” Beca shrugs, pulling her bag strap tighter around her shoulder. She’s nervous too. “Not in prison, depressed or dying, so not all bad. You?”

Jesse relaxes and his mouth softens. She’s still the same old Beca. “Same. It’s…uh, it’s been a while.”

“It has.”

“I kept meaning to… well, call, I guess, but I didn’t know if you wanted me to. In the end I just bit the bullet.”

“It’s cool. We both needed space.” Beca drops her bag on the floor and jumps onto a barstool and he copies, their seats inches apart yet somehow miles away. It’s weird, considering how close they used to be. Used to be. “For the record… I kept meaning to call too. But I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me.”

Jesse smiles, biting his lip, before looking back up at her. “I always want to hear from you. I think that was probably the issue.”

He’s not wrong, he’s really not, because Beca’s terrible at keeping up with messages and most of the time just didn’t bother replying, leaving his I love you’s on read and not giving it a second thought. She didn’t think that would hurt him for some reason, even though she’s well aware that Jesse’s actually a good, thoughtful person who cares about her and wouldn’t mind some of that care back. It was alright when they were in high school and when they regularly shared an apartment because she’d always be there in person to offer that reassurance. That wasn’t so easy when she was away on tour.

And it broke him. But it broke her a long time before that. Believe it or not, she’s not totally emotionally void.

Jesse grabs them both coffees and ham paninis and they sit in silence for a bit, looking out across the city; the one she’d forgotten they shared. He takes a deep breath before talking. “I saw you were going on tour. With Chloe Beale. That’s amazing, Beca.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty cool. The management is manic, but. I’m glad to be out there again.”

Jesse takes a sip of coffee. “Does that mean there’s going to be some new music out soon?”

Beca withholds an eye roll, because that’s been the question on everybody’s lips—Chloe’s on a high from a newly released number one album and she’s still utterly clueless, wondering if she can get away with singing mostly her old stuff on the tour. It begins in less than six months. That’s not enough time to write, produce and release at least ten songs worth of new material, especially seeing as the deterioration of her last relationship and moving out and all that stress hasn’t been particularly good for her creativity. “Probably not. Song-writing is apparently not my forte anymore.”

“Well, you never know. You might find some inspiration soon. I know you, Becs. You just pull amazing tracks out of thin air like it’s nothing.”

She raises an eyebrow sceptically. “As much as I appreciate you massaging my ego, that doesn’t really help me right now.”

“I’m not worried,” Jesse says calmly, “I once watched you write a whole album while high, remember?”

“Your Love Fucking Sucks Balls, Dude?” Beca says, and Jesse laughs, clinging onto the bar for support. “Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s going to be breaking the billboard top one hundred. Yet… stellar tracks like I Really Like Your Dick and Smash Me Good might be my only hope. Like, if I go another year without making music my label might drop me, even with the tour, so…” Beca doesn’t want this to turn into a pity party so she turns, resting her chin in her palm, back to Jesse. “What have you been up to? Anything exciting? Scored any Oscar-noms?”

Jesse laughs with an eyeroll, looking down into his coffee cup. “I wish. No, still doing ad work, but you never know. As soon as Pixar put an ad up for a composer on Craigslist, I’m there.” He pauses. Drums his fingers on the tabletop. Beca knows what’s coming. “Look, Becs—“

“No, Jesse.”

“No, no,” Jesse shakes his head, “No, this isn’t… I don’t want to get back together.”

Well, that’s a relief. She can feel her stomach shift back to its normal location. “Oh. Okay. Good.”

“This is more about… It is about me and you, but five months without you in my life has been hell, Beca. We were together for seven years. That doesn’t just fall away into nothing, even if the romance isn’t there anymore.” He coughs, clearly nervous. “I still love you. Of course I do. And I want you to be happy, like, more than anything in the world. And I know you’re not going to be happy with me, and that’s fine. But I’d still like to be part of your life.”

Oh. His sincerity stuns her, for a second, because maybe this is the kind of reaction she should’ve expected all along.

“We don’t have to talk every day. We don’t even have to talk regularly. I’d just like to be, you know—someone who is there for you. Your friend Jesse who just so happens to be your ex. We can grab dinner when our schedules don’t clash and watch movies and maybe text every so often. Or we don’t. Whatever. Just… I don’t want to lose you, Becs.”

She smiles, suddenly nostalgic for a time when everything was easy: when Jesse would pick her up from work in his beat-up Civic and he’d leave stupid romantic notes in her locker (which she definitely didn’t keep in a scrapbook under her bed, by the way) and they’d drink lukewarm cider and make out under the stars on the football field. It was all achingly simple back then.

But then she thinks of her life now, and how slowly and surely it’s coming back together, and how most of the time she doesn’t miss Jesse’s beat-up civic and his stupid romantic notes and the lukewarm cider, although she does kind of miss the making out and she does kind of miss him. He’s proposing a zero-commitment friendship, a no string attached deal, someone she can turn to and will always be there.

Like the tour, she’s not really in a position to turn it down.

“Sure,” she smiles, “But no movies. I’ve not got girlfriend status anymore, so you can’t force me to watch fucking Star Trek—“

“Star Wars, Beca, I’ve got no interest in Star Trek whatsoever.”

“Okay, weirdo, Star Wars. Whatever. But the point still stands. I’m under no obligation to sit through your ridiculous commentaries.”

“That’s cool,” Jesse nods, “I’m not saying it’s going to happen, but that’s cool. And anyway. I don’t actually want you to be my friend. I just want you to fill me in on every single detail about what Chloe Beale is actually like. Does she really own a poodle that’s naturally fluorescent pink?”

-x-

BECA MITCHELL SPOTTED WITH OLD FLAME AND EX LONG TERM BOYFRIEND JESSE SWANSON – IS ROMANCE BACK ON THE CARDS?

-x-

“Beca, I really don’t want to intrude, but I’ve seen those pics on twitter of you and your ex-boyfriend,” Chloe rubs her hands excitedly, “And are you, like, back together? Because that guy is a total cutie.”

Beca’s not actually seen Chloe beyond a professional capacity for over two weeks as their schedules are so hectic, but the girl texts like she’s running out of time and for some reason, she actually replies to her strings of emojis and exclamation marks? In addition, her lengthy paragraphs of information are usually incredibly intrusive, so it comes clear to Beca that Chloe doesn’t really have any boundaries or filter when it comes to asking the potentially difficult questions.

“Oh, no,” Beca answers straight up, her reflection staring back at her. She hisses in pain as the hairdresser burns her scalp with the curling iron, who then hastily apologises. “No, no, no. That’s definitely not a thing that’s happening.”

Beca’s sure that Chloe looks pleased, which sets off some weird emotions, but she somehow manages to fight the blush taking over her cheeks. “What happened there, if you don’t mind me asking? Your Wikipedia said you’d been together for, like, seven years. Which is a pretty long time.”

The shameless way Chloe admits she’s definitely stalked her ass online is actually kind of funny but Beca doesn’t laugh, because maybe then she’d be forced to admit that she’s done the same thing. The hairdresser—who is called Katie, or Kathy, or something, Beca’s not that good with names—wraps another one of her locks tight, like she’s going to pull it clean off her scalp. “It’s—really not exciting. We’d been together since high school. He went to UCLA while I tried to break onto the music scene and when I did we kind of just… drifted apart.”

(She was also an utter ass about it, but this is not something she’s going to admit while sober.)

“Oh. That’s sad.” Chloe smiles sympathetically. Her stylist has straightened her naturally wavy hair so it hangs in a scarlet red sheet, framing her cheekbones and eyes. She’s not even airbrushed or photoshopped within an inch of her life yet, goddamn, and she already looks fucking flawless. Totally unfair. “Drifting apart just comes with the territory, I guess. My last ex dumped because I didn’t have enough time for him. Which is fair. It’s not easy.”

Beca’s not sure if she feels totally comfortable going into it with an audience of stylists, especially with one who seems to hate her hair as much as Karen does. Chloe seems completely at ease, but she gives off this edge of being totally confident with herself—something Beca’s not blessed with, as much as she likes to pretend she doesn’t care.

“He also kept trying to persuade me to do a sex tape on several occasions,” Chloe unnecessarily elaborates, “And I kept telling him no, mostly because I was scared that if we did break up he’d try and sell it to TMZ or something. For the record, I’m not against sex tapes. I think they can be very fun and intimate representations of cinematography. But I’d only make one with someone I could trust inside-out and back-to-front, so to speak.”

Oh. Wow. Beca grits her teeth, but there’s a smile there. “That’s… good to know, dude.”

“I know! And I’ll have you know my sex life is far from vanilla. I have a very long list of kinks and some of them are pretty unconventional. Like, this one time, Mark made me try this thing with ginger—“

“And that’s enough!” Beca laughs awkwardly, mainly because the stylists are having a fucking field day and Beca doesn’t want it on record that she and Chloe were discussing figging while getting ready for a shoot.

“Oh,” Chloe says, looking briefly behind her before grimacing at Beca. She mouths I forgot we weren’t alone.

A few minutes later the lady who is coordinating the shoot calls them through to an office with a wall covered in white tarpaulin, the lights all the brighter for it. It’s a pretty low-key thing for Teen Vogue, but it’s the first shoot they’ve done together since the tour announcement, so Beca’s kind of bricking it. Chloe takes everything in her stride. She struts over to the tarpaulin and Beca quickly follows.

She thinks that the costume department might have gone a bit overkill on the rebel and the princess thing that’s been coined for them, because Beca’s dressed in a black mini-dress, leather jacket and doc martens, whilst Chloe is wearing a glittery pink off the shoulder number with white leggings, her feet in ballet pumps. Beca’s eyes are smudged with charcoal black whilst Chloe’s are pearlescent, and she looks every inch the twenty-first century pop princess. Beca’s not sure what she looks like.

The photographer is a young guy, maybe a bit older than she is, wearing a fake waistcoat attached to a t shirt and skinny jeans. He ushers them together, keeps saying to act natural, which in mainstream media terms means attempt to look sexy and maybe pout a bit.

The pictures actually turn out pretty good. Beca gets more element as the shoot drags on, sticking her tongue out for the camera and laughing and trying not to cringe as she tries the sexy hair-flick, smouldering the camera over her shoulder.

It’s the pictures of them together that turn out the best, though. There’s this beautiful shot of the pair of them caught off guard, Chloe’s hand slung over Beca’s shoulder as she laughs, hand over her chest. She looks fucking ecstastic, just to be there, they both do; like they’re ecstatic to be together. It’s almost typical that that one doesn’t make the cover (they go with one of them both straightfaced, stood side by side, like they’ve never met in their lives). The picture doesn’t even make the article. But later on someone from the magazine sends her the unedited rough-cuts, and she saves that one photo to her hard drive.

(Eight months, two weeks and three days later that photo is her desktop background.)

Two hours later and the magazine has all the photos they need so they’re allowed to leave and Beca can keep the leather jacket.

(“I like it on you,” Chloe says, smoothing the leather out with her fingers, “You look super edgy.” Aka, it’s a real turn-on.)

On their way out from the building, Chloe pauses in the middle of the street like she’s suddenly had the best fucking idea. “Hey—my apartment is about a five minute cab ride from here. Do you want to head over there if you haven’t got plans? There’s something I’m desperate to try.”

Beca’s way too intrigued to possibly say no to that.

[kendrixtermina]

MBTI as songs from “Lust For Life”

Love: ENFJ

   Look at you, kids, you know you're the coolest The world is yours and you can't refuse it Seen so much, you could get the blues but That don't mean that you should abuse it

Lust for Life: ESFP

Climb up the H Of the Hollywood sign, yeah In these stolen moments The world is mine ( There's nobody here Just us together Keepin' me hot Like July forever 'Cause we're the masters of our own fate We're the captains of our own souls There's no way for us to come away 'Cause boy we're gold, boy we're gold

13 Beaches: INTP

It took thirteen beaches to find one empty But finally I'm fine Past Ventura And lenses plenty In the white sunshine But you still can find me If you ask nicely Underneath the pines With the daisies Feeling hazy In the ballroom of my mind Across the county line

Cherry: INFP

Darlin', darlin', darlin' I fall to pieces when I'm with you, I fall to pieces (bitch) My cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme And all of my peaches (are ruined, bitch) My rose garden dreams, set on fire by fiends And all my black beaches (are ruined) My celluloid scenes are torn at the seams And I fall to pieces (bitch) I fall to pieces when I'm with you (Why?) 'Cause I love you so much, I fall to pieces My cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme And all of my peaches (are ruined, bitch)

White Mustang: ESTP 

Caught up in my dreams and forgetting I've been acting like Armageddon 'cause you Held me in your arms just a little too tight That's what I thought Summer's meant for loving and leaving I was such a fool for believing that you Could change all the ways you've been living But you just couldn't stop The day I saw your white Mustang Your white Mustang The day I saw your white Mustang Your white Mustang

You're revving and revving and revving it up And the sound, it was frightening And you were getting a part of that You gonna hit me like a lightning The day I saw your white Mustang Said you're a wild Mustang

Summer Bummer:  ENTJ

White lights and black beaches Miles in between us Is this love or lust or some game on repeat? It's like making me crazy Tell me, "have patience" Baby, I need this White lines and black beaches White lights and black beaches And blood red sangrias We traveled for weeks Just to escape your demons But you've got your reasons In making me crazy But you've got your reasons White lights and black beaches

Groupie Love: ISTJ

Time after time, writing my lines Having my baby there next to me It's so sweet, pouring you a drink And pretending that nothing means anything This is my life, you by my side Key lime and perfume and festivals Taking our dreams, turning them to things It's like magic, babe, isn't life wonderful?

In My Feelings:   ESTJ

I'm smoking while I'm runnin' This town and you better believe it, honey I'm laughing as I'm taking my prisoners And taking down names I'm crying while I'm gunning In the smoke they can hear me coming If you were me, and I was you I'd get out of my way Get that cigarette smoke out of my face You've been wasting my time while you're taking what's mine While you know what you're doing Talk that talk, well now they all know your name And there's no coming back from the place that you came Baby don't do it 'Cause you got me in my feelings (got me feeling so much right now) Talking in my sleep again (I'm making love songs all night) Drown out all our screaming (Got me feeling so crazy right now) Who's doper than this bitch? Who's freer than me? You wanna make the switch Be my guest, baby I'm feeling all my fucking feelings

Coachella: ISFP

I was at Coachella Leaning on your shoulder Watching your husband swing in time I guess I was in it 'Cause baby, for a minute It was Woodstock in my mind In the next morning They put out the warning Tensions were rising over country lines I turned off the music Tried to sit and use it All of the love that I saw that night 'Cause what about all these children And what about all their parents And what about about all their crowns they wear In hair so long like mine And what about all their wishes Wrapped up like garland roses Round their little heads I said a prayer for a third time

God Bless America and All The Beautiful Women In It: ESFJ

Take me as I am Don't see me for what I'm not Only you can hear me tonight Keep your light on, babe I might be standing outside You let me in, don't leave me out Or leave me dry Even walking alone, I'm not worried I feel your arms all around me (arms around me) In the air on the streets of the city Feels like I am free It's got me thinking God bless America And all the beautiful women in it

When The World Was At War Before We Just Kept Dancing: ENFP

No, it's only the beginning If we hold on to hope We'll have a happy ending When the world was at war before We just kept dancing When the world was at war before We just kept dancing And we'll do it again (Oh my god, did it from loving you)

Beautiful People With Beautiful Problems: INFJ

Blue is the color of the planet from the view above Long live our reign, long live our love Green is the planet from the eyes of a turtle dove 'Til it runs red, runs red with blood We get so tired and we complain 'Bout how it's hard to live It's more than just a video game But we're just beautiful people With beautiful problems, yeah Beautiful problems, God knows we've got them But we gotta try (la la la) Every day and night (la la la)

Tomorrow Never Came: ISFJ

I waited for you In the spot you said to wait In the city, on a park bench In the middle of the pouring rain 'Cause I adored you I just wanted things to be the same You said to meet me out there tomorrow But tomorrow never came Tomorrow never came

Heroin:  ISTP

It's hot, hot Something 'bout the city Don't know what it is And makes my head get crazy Oh, oh, oh Makes me feel like I can change Oh, hoh, hoh, hoh All of my evil ways and shit Hmm, hmm Oh, oh, oh I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sick of it

Change:   ENTP

Lately I've been thinking it's just someone else's job to care Who am I to sympathize when no one gave a damn I've been thinking it's just someone else's job to care but who am I to wanna try but Change is a powerful thing People are powerful beings Trying to find the power in me to be faithful Change is a powerful thing I feel it coming in me Maybe by the time this song is done I will be able To be honest, capable Of holding you in my arms without letting you fall When I don't feel beautiful and stable Maybe it's enough to just be where we are because

Get Free:  INTJ

Finally, I'm crossing the threshold From the ordinary world To the reveal of my heart Undoubtedly, that will for certain Take the dead out of the sea And the darkness from the arts This is my commitment My modern manifesto I'm doing it for all of us Who never got the chance

(Obviously after the first handful some were rather rough approximatons, but as they were exactly 16 I couldn’t resist)

[you-andthebottlemen]

39 - Van’s POV

This fic was requested by @catfish-and-the-pacifier, I hope you like your fic! Thank you for being such a great friend and support and thank you for making a request!! Enjoy, love xxx

Request: Hi can I request a scenario where van and the reader make pasta together and its all cute and fluffy and shit thank you! 😊

Bonus mini request of “Van in a hoodie” has also been added!

*******

“Fuck!” I yelled as I stood on the kitchen bench, frantically fanning the smoke away from the blaring fire detector. The sound was so fuckin’ loud I thought my ears were gonna start bleeding.

It was my first full day home after tour ended, y/n had needed to go off to work early and Larry was hiding out in his bedroom. So, after waking up when y/n left, I took myself out into the kitchen in my old grey trackies and ratty t-shirt to make some tea and toast. I was sat up on the kitchen bench, smoking a ciggie after breakfast and staring out the window into the garden all peaceful when the fuckin’ smoke alarm went off. Didn’t even know we had one of those.  

“You know you can just press the button and it stops, right?” y/n yelled as she walked into the kitchen, hands over her ears and handed me a broom.

“Oh,” I looked up. She was right; there was a black, shiny button in the middle.

I held up the broom and poked the button; the detector shut off immediately and for a second, the quietness of the kitchen was eerie after the screaming alarm.  

“What were you doing?” y/n asked, holding her hand out for me to grab as I jumped down.

“Smokin’,” I grinned.

“Told you that you gotta have a window open if you smoke in here,” she shrugged smugly, “you’ve been home one night and already the place thinks you’re trying to burn it down.”

Y/n went to open the window across from the bench that looked out onto the garden. As she did so, I shivered from the cold air coming in and she looked at me with a pout. To fix the problem, she took off her hoodie, which was actually mine, and handed it to me. I threw it on with relief and she smiled like that small action had made her day.

“Why’re you home? You only left like an hour ago,” I asked, not complain’, just confused.

“Got the bloody rosters wrong didn’t they,” she grumbled.

“Their loss and my win, eh?” I pulled her into me by the loops on her jeans for a quick kiss.

“Don’t pull my pants down,” she joked, placing her hands on my chest.

I smirked as if I’d just accepted a challenge and her face fell. Quickly I pulled her jeans down her legs and burst out laughing.

“You’re such a child!” she exclaimed, pretending to be mad.

At that exact moment, Larry walked in with Little Mary following behind. Y/n quickly pulled her shirt down over her underwear.

“Whatever this is, I’m leaving,” Larry sighed, tipping his head back and turning back the way he came. Little Mary trotted off and curled up in her bed by the sofa.

“Mornin’ mate!” I called. Y/n and I glanced at each other.

“That’s what I get for leaving my room...fuckin’ couples,” Larry muttered to himself as he walked off. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Once y/n had pulled her pants back up, she made me take a hot brew into Larry as an apology for our weirdness. He thanked me then complained about how he really needed to get a girlfriend or something.

“You will mate, don’t fret,” I said, ruffling his hair. He didn’t say anything back.

......

“Okay, what’s the fuckin’ deal with Larry?” y/n asked, moving so she was sat cross-legged on top of the bed sheets, making the mattress springs creak.

Y/n had her hair tied up messy after being cuddled up under the covers with me all day, only wearing one of my t-shirts that fit her like a dress. She was so beautiful without even tryin’.

“Dunno. Think he’s feelin’ a bit lonely, you know? Like, seein’ us around all the time,” I replied, handing her a bowl of reheated spaghetti from last night.

“He didn’t even say hello earlier, just looked at me weird and went back to his room...”

I sat beside her, also cross-legged and flicked the TV on. We sat in silence for a minute just digging into our lazy dinner. Three days had passed since Larry had started acting all sulky and down.

“We need to do something to cheer him up,” she said, scrunching up her eyebrows in thought. I nodded in agreement.

“Like what?” I asked, reaching out and wiping some of the sauce from her chin.

“We could try setting him up with someone?” y/n suggested.

“Yeah, could do. Would have to be like, not obvious though, you know?” I replied, knowing that Larry would probably get pissed if he thought we were just trying to get him out of the house or something.

“True. Let me sleep on it,” y/n said and I nodded. She leant her shoulder against mine and continued munching on her spaghetti while mindlessly staring at the TV. I smiled to myself, liking that she wanted to help Larry. Always put others first.

After dinner, we left our empty bowls discarded on the floor by the bed and rolled about in the sheets. She pinned me down and snuggled into me, both of us laughing. Y/n lay down beside me and rested her head on my shoulder; I stretched my arm under her neck and gently traced the skin on her arm with my fingers, amused at the little goose bumps that appeared.

“I love it when you wear hoodies,” she sighed happily, pulling at the drawstrings so the hood tightened around my face.

“I know you do, love,” I muffled.

“Much more soft and cuddly.”

........

“I got it!” y/n exclaimed, jumping down from the kitchen bench and putting her ciggie out in the ashtray excitedly.

“Got what?” I asked.

“I’ll invite Catrina over dinner; she always liked Larry. They got on yeah?” y/n suggested.

“Catrina...?” I couldn’t remember who she was talking about.

“Girl I used to work with at the cafe, always gave you and Larry extra banana bread? Cute, little, fuzzy blonde hair?” she prompted.

“Oh. Cat. Yeah, do it.”

“I think she broke up with Michael a few months ago...he hasn’t been on her Facebook for a while,” she mumbled, flicking through her phone.

She held it up in front of my face and showed me Catrina’s profile. ‘Single’ appeared under the photo of her on a beach in a bikini. Larry would love it. Plus she’d dead nice too. I always liked her; she was quiet and shy but just good, you know? And I think y/n was right, she did seem to have a bit of a crush on Larry back then.

“Perfect,” I grinned.

.....

A week later, y/n and I were preparing for our secret Larry and Catrina blind date. He was under the impression that we were just having some of y/n’s work friends over. Not that we were trying to set him up. Y/n had asked Catrina if she was happy to be match-made with Larry and she was down, so everything was looking good so far. We’d cleaned the house, well, the guest bathroom and the living space; everything else was shoved behind closed doors. All that was left was to cook dinner. Y/n had decided she wanted to make her own pasta from scratch, something we’d never done before that terrified me, if I’m honest.

“You just gotta make the dough and like, put it in the machine to flatten it,” y/n told me, looking at her mum’s pasta maker as if it were an alien.

“I don’t trust that thing,” I said sceptically, y/n laughed and shook her head.

“Can’t we just use stuff out a packet?” I asked, making y/n roll her eyes.

She began to make the pasta dough, adding the flour and water, carefully following instructions. Knowing I’d probably make things worse than better, I went to choose the music that was going to be the soundtrack to our efforts.

“Need somethin’ Italian, hey,” I chuckled.

“Or you could like, actually help?” y/n said, sounding a bit pissed off that I was sat on the floor fiddling with her Spotify instead of helping her cook.

Smirking, I turned up the music and crept up behind her. I wrapped my arms around her waist and started to hum a long with the music in her ear.

“When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie...” I sang louder, putting on the accent badly.

Y/n turned in my arms to face me, a playful scowl on her face as she held her hands up at head height. They were covered in flour and sticky dough.

“If you don’t shut up and help I’m gonna cover you in flour,” she warned, her eyes glinting.

After staring into her eyes for a good few seconds, I slowly opened my mouth and sang the line again with a grin.

“Oh! You!....”

And with that, y/n started to smack me all over, leaving white flour handprints all over me and getting bits of the soggy, yellow dough stuck in my hair and clothes. I was laughing like mad and grabbed her, holding her tight.

“Not so fast, babe!”

With one arm holding her tight while she struggled, I reached out and wiped my hand in the flour. I let her go and before she could slap me first, I smacked my hand on her bum, leaving a perfectly formed handprint on her black jeans. For a second she looked horrified but then burst out laughing again. We were both in hysterics, throwing flour all over each other and making a right mess.

By the end of things, we were covered head to toe; my hair was almost completely white.

“Fuck, I love you,” I said happily before I kissed y/n hard. The flour on our lips made us pull away and spit a bit, tasted gross and all dry.

“Love you too,” she smiled and kissed me again.

Despite my pleas to go and take a shower together to wash off all the flour, y/n insisted we just finish making the pasta so we were ready for tonight. And so we did. Together we kneaded the dough until it was perfect and pillowy soft. As we did so, the flour fights occurred on a smaller scale; wiping it on each other’s nose or cheeks. Y/n also got me back for the bum handprint. We watched YouTube videos over and over to make sure we were putting the dough through the machine properly. It was like a hand crank thing, where you turned the handle round and it rolled out the flattened dough that you would cut into the pasta pieces. Quite clever really.

Once we’d cut the dough into strips how we wanted, we cooked it. I left that bit to y/n though as I always left pasta in ‘til it was overcooked or took it out while it was still soggy; I could never get it right. While she left the pasta in the pot, I snaked my arms around her waist again and started quietly humming along to whatever was playing and we swayed together. She rested her head on my shoulder and smiled.

“You ready?” I asked, before twirling her in my arms playfully.

Y/n laughed as she spun around and I kept singin’ while we danced on the hardwood floors of the kitchen.

“This is what it’s gonna be like when we’re married and old,” I said, “gonna dance with ya all the time. Make everyone else in the nursin’ home jealous.”

“You really think you’d cope in a nursing home?” she questioned, surprised.

“Oh yeah. You get your own room, meals provided for you, bingo night? Class,” I grinned. “Not to mention them hot nurses,” I winked.

Y/n rolled her eyes at me, as usual.

“I’d get so bored. I’d want to be in my own home when I’m old,” she sighed.

“Well lucky it’s far off, hey?” I replied, kissing her on the forehead.

We held each other, dancing together slowly in silence until the song stopped. It was peaceful and classically romantic. When the timer on y/n’s phone went off, she checked the pasta by using a fork to pull out one strand and after it had cooled, popped it in her mouth. Her face scrunched up a bit in thought, then she smiled wide.

“We did it!” y/n exclaimed and made me try some. I gave it a thumbs up and she emptied the pot into a strainer over the sink.

When y/n had finished making the sauce, with me helping by passing her the ingredients and reaching stuff on the shelves that were too high up for her, we rushed into the bathroom for a shower together. We shed our flour-covered clothes, leaving them on the floor in a trail to the bathroom. I washed her hair and she washed mine, getting out all the bits of dough and flour and whatever else. In silence, y/n ran her fingers through my hair and let the water run over my face. As she did, I got little tingles in my scalp wherever she touched. We held each other and kissed under the hot water; felt like nothing existed outside of there; like it was just us and time had stopped. Her body pressed to mine; I rested my chin on top of her head and ran my arms up and down her sides.

“I like it when you’re home,” y/n whispered into my skin.

“I like you.”

“I think you more than like me,” she smirked, head still under my chin.

“Nah. You’re alright. Don’t love you or nothin’ though,” I teased.

“Sure, Van,” she replied in a knowing tone, “well, in that case, I don’t love you or nothin’ either,” she added, mocking my voice.

I just chuckled and held her tighter.

…….

“You guys actually made this?” Larry asked, astonished that y/n and I had managed to do something so adult.

“Yeah, it’s like not even out of a packet!” I replied enthusiastically, dishing some onto his plate.

“It smells amazing,” Catrina smiled sweetly.

“Gonna taste even better,” y/n winked.

She was right; it tasted so fucking good. I mean, like normal pasta but more fresh and soft. Just better Everyone praised our efforts and I could see y/n beaming with pride. I held her hand under the table and stroked her skin with my thumb; she did good. Larry and Catrina seemed to be hitting it off. Larry was all nervous smiles and weird jokes but Catrina laughed at them all. Y/n and I sat smugly in our seats for the whole meal.

Many glasses of wine, servings of pasta, laughs and embarrassing stories about Larry later, it was well into the night and Catrina had to go. After saying goodbye, y/n and I began to clear the table. Y/n was pretty drunk so she sat on the bench and passed me plates as I rinsed them and stacked them in the dishwasher heavy-handedly.

Larry slowly walked Catrina to her uber with that typical dumb grin on his face and we watched their interaction keenly with our noses pressed up against the window.

“Do you reckon he’ll kiss her?” y/n whispered.

“Nah. Why you whisperin’ love?” I laughed.

“Oh. Dunno. Shit! Look!” she exclaimed, placing her hand onto the glass.

Catrina was looking shyly down at the ground as Larry spoke and typed his number into her phone. As he gave it back, she placed one hand on his arm and reached out to kiss him on the cheek.

“Fuck yeah, mate!” I cheered, fist pumping into the air.

“We did ittttt,” y/n slurred.

“I think it’s time to get you into bed,” I laughed as y/n swayed on the spot, happy and drunk and pleased with her efforts.

“Nooo, I need to give Larry girl advice,” she pouted.

“You can do that tomorrow,” I soothed, scooping her up in my arms like a bride.

Y/n lazily wrapped her arms around my neck and sighed contentedly. She shut her eyes and nuzzled into my neck, pleased to be so close to me. I grinned at Larry who walked in the door as I was going past and he grinned back, happy again. By the time I got y/n down into bed and shoes off, she was almost asleep.

“Let’s just sleep now…” y/n yawned, tugging at the front of my shirt.

“Gotta take ya makeup off,” I whispered as I ducked into the bathroom to grab some wipes.

When I got back, she was curled up in bed wearing one of my hoodies. I just stood for a moment and stared at her, completely in love. I gently wiped her face, knowing she always talked about how bad it is to sleep with that stuff on her face still.

“We make good pasta,” she smiled.

“That we do, love,” I replied and kissed her forehead before turning the lamp off.

[organicli]

Day 72, Phi Phi

Today, we went on a boat tour - not a booze cruise. We were with a group of Argentinians. There was a girl called Natalia and she was radiantly beautiful.

I was feeling fuzzy today; I don’t think that blunt really did me any good last night. We collected in the tour shop and had pancakes. I bought some dragon fruit and snacks to take on the boat. Ernesto didn’t come, even though he would have been able to speak Spanish to the Argentinians, and I hope it wasn’t because he was jealous or anything silly like that.

We went to Bamboo Island first and had to climb around some rocks and debris to get to the beach. I set up my scarf and lay down in the shade the whole time. I was probably mulling over Tri.

Lunch was handed out, vegetable fried rice, but I decided I wanted to eat it on land instead of on the tipping boat because I didn’t feel well. Next went to Monkey Beach, where I decided against having my lunch. We did not like it at all. It was a tiny little beach cove, full of tourists and the long tail boats with their colourful sashes. There were monkeys roaming between all the people being teased and tormented. One guy was trying to put his sunglasses on a monkey’s face.

I hate monkeys. They can be very vicious and dangerous and I really didn’t enjoy being around them with all the tourists winding them up and giving them fizzy drinks. I saw one of the monkeys clock the blue label on my water bottle and he came over to grab it. I quickly tucked it under my arm, looked away from it and walked off.

You could go between the rocks from the beach into a clearing with an enormous tree reaching up to the light, surrounded by walls of rock and jungle. There weren’t any monkeys or tourists there and I sat down. One of the Argentinians took a picture of me on the bench and I smiled.

We all agreed that that was awful as we got back on the boat. The boat driver ripped his first homemade bong of many that day and we drove off. We were taken to a destination to go snorkelling but I don’t really like it that much and I was too tired to swim so I lay down on the boat while everyone went in. I’d thought I was gonna be sick on the way there; my mouth was filling with that tell tale warning taste but luckily I didn’t.

Next, we went to Maya Bay, that famous beach from The Beach. We had to get out the boat and swim over to some rocks, then use a rope to climb over to a net and finally climb up that to get safely onto the island. There were a lot of tourists struggling to make their way across the somewhat treacherous obstacles. I tied my scarf up on my head so I could keep it dry to take on the island but it fell off.

Emma and I walked through the paths together and came out where the plants open up to that iconic view. That fabulous moment that seems so beautiful on everybody’s videos. I found it a little underwhelming. It was beautiful, but the amount of people there was really distracting from the surrounding environment. The sky was quite grey from patches of rain that had seen us cold and wet between some of the destinations.

Then, we sat in the water with the boys and chatted. I picked up a lump of what appeared to be silicon although I dropped it with a yelp when I realised it might be a jellyfish, although it was probably past harming me.

I sat on the sand and talked to Emma about work while I patted wet sand onto my legs. I felt in quite a childlike mood. I enjoyed it. I often get regressive when I’m looking after myself and I indulged myself in making funny noises as I climbed back through the cave to leave.

Then, we went to a large open clearly between the dramatic cliffs for swimming. I jumped in and was enjoying floating until someone said there was a jellyfish in the water and I swiftly decided it was time to get out. The Argentinians were brewing a kind of tea called matcha, with a small mug filled with a green, leafy stew, that they drank with a metal straw and let us all try.

The boat slowly drove past Viking Cave although I don’t really know what we were meant to be looking at and that was unexciting. We sailed across the open sea as the sun was setting.

We settled back into the cove of Monkey Beach as night fell for the night diving with plankton. The boat next to us was playing nice smooth jazz and Emma and I lay on the hull, looking up at the sky, until a party boat arrived and ruined it with their awful party music. I didn’t go in the water too much but the glowing plankton was like blue confetti, radiating in waves around your movements. The string of lights from the shore illuminated as it got darker.

We came back to land and the Argentinians kissed us goodbye. I had chicken nuggets for dinner with Shane and Emma at a kiosk on walking street.

I had planned on going to see Audi tonight and put a red dress on for it but once I got in bed, I couldn’t rouse myself, and ended up sleeping in it.

[jedifighterpilot2727]

Kara finds out Lena has never gone bowling and forces her to go with her

Sorry this took so long! Life has been crazy!

This chapter takes place after the first game night but before Kara reveals to Lena that she’s Supergirl.

Shovel Talk - Eyes Like Kryptonite Ch. 13

Read it on AO3 - http://archiveofourown.org/works/9100903/chapters/21317477

“What do you mean you’ve never been bowling?!“

Kara is studying her, blue eyes wide, and Lena knows that this is a serious conversation because Kara has completely abandoned her spaghetti - loaded fork frozen halfway to her mouth.

“Well, I mean it was never really on the Luthor family agenda, and an Irish boarding school wasn’t really a place for a bowling league.” Kara gapes at her.

“But never - like, on the Wii?“

“Wii?”

“Oh my god, you’ve never heard of a Wii?“

“Can’t say that I have? It’s a gaming system of some sort, I assume?”

Kara’s fork clatters to the plate and she looks at Lena like she’s seeing an alien - quite ironic, considering.

“We have led such completely different lives.”

Lena’s heart stops in her chest.

This is it.

This is where it ends.

She had hoped that this thing with Kara -  the lunch dates, the stolen kisses, the blushing looks -  she had hoped that it would last just a little bit longer. As starcrossed as their romance is, she wishes desperately that there was something she could do, something she could say; to put off the inevitable just a little while. But now Kara had decided that they were too different and one of the best things in Lena’s life is about to be ripped away from her.

As calmly as possible for one who’s world is collapsing around her, she reaches for her glass of wine and takes a long sip.

“I suppose we have.” She sighs out sadly, but to her surprise, Kara only grins.

“I have got so much to show you! We are gonna have so much fun!“

Lena’s heart resumes its beating, but her brain short circuits and she misses the first few words of what Kara is saying.

“- we should probably start with actual bowling first, you do NOT want to go head to head on Wii bowling with Alex before you have any practice! I love her, but man she is a vicious trash talker, and somehow even better at virtual bowling than regular bowling which is crazy because she’s awesome at regular bowling. But don’t worry we’ll just play for fun the first couple of times! We won’t even keep score! Well, I mean we have to keep score because the lane keeps track of it, but we won’t pay attention to it … Are you okay? You seem a little off. Is dinner okay?”

Kara is looking at her with such concern that she has to remind herself to breathe. She doesn’t think she’s ever been looked at quite like that before. She channels the nervous energy she feels into a smile and reaches across the table for Kara’s hand.

“I’m fine, I promise.“

“Is it bowling? We don’t have to go, I just-”

“We can go bowling, it sounds fun!“

“If you’re okay with it, I can invite the gang - they had a lot of fun hanging out with you for game night.”

“That sounds fantastic.” Lena promises, and Kara beams at her before picking her spaghetti loaded fork back up.

“This is going to be so much fun!“

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

It’s safe to say that the Luthors didn’t go out on a lot of family outings when Lena was growing up.

She spent most of her time at boarding school, and when she was at the Luthor estate she was usually holed up in the library reading. Lilian and Lionel hardly paid any attention to their children, and even less to Lena. And Lex, well he tried, but he had other friends and other responsibilities besides entertaining his little sister.

So other than the occasional ritzy ball or charity event or mandatory public appearance, Lena spent most of her childhood … Alone.

She didn’t mind, really.

She was good at being alone.

She enjoyed it.

Or at least that’s what she thought until she met Kara.

Now that she’s an honorary member of the Danvers clan, there’s always someone around. Kara, for one, became a constant fixture in her life practically from the day they met.

Winn isn’t far behind, he had shown up at her office one day with lunch because "Kara is busy and she doesn’t want you to eat alone.” She thinks it’s slightly odd, but she wanted a second opinion on some new tech she was working on anyway; so she rolled with it and by the time lunch hour is over they’ve ironed out the glitches in her latest experiment.

Maggie too, is easy because they’ve both grown up as outcasts for their sexuality and she finds it comforting to have a friend that understands.

James is slightly harder to win over. He’s less trusting and a little more protective of Kara and she suspects correctly that maybe they used to have a thing; but it quickly becomes clear that he only has Kara’s best interest at heart and she respects that - even if it means he looks at her a tiny bit suspiciously. Eventually, she will crack his shell though - she’s bound and determined, and Lena Luthor is not a quitter.

Alex is the hardest of all, and at first Lena thinks that it’s because she’s a Luthor and Kara is Supergirl - even though Lena isn’t supposed to know that. Alex is nice in front of Kara, of course, but honestly Lena would rather face a room full of board members while she was wearing only her underwear than spend five minutes alone with Alex Danvers.

Not that Lena tells Kara of any of this. And she certainly doesn’t let it show on her face whenever Alex manages corner her.

Thus her list of goals for the night comes about.

Spend as much time talking to/touching/kissing/checking out Kara.

Make friends with Kara’s friends.

Learn as much about bowling as possible because the very idea of it seems to make Kara very happy.

Avoid being alone with Alex at all costs.

The first one is easy. Kara is glued to her side from the moment they arrive at the bowling alley, keeping a soft hand on the small of Lena’s back as she guides her through the madness of the bowling alley. The blacklights and flashing colors are not at all what Lena expected, and she’s instantly drawn in. The music is thumping, but not so loud that it makes conversation difficult, and alcohol is allowed which is a big break for Lena who can always use a little social lubrication around Kara’s friends.

When they finally reach their lane, Lena is carrying their bowling shoes - she feels like she should be grossed out by wearing communal shoes, but Kara assures her its safe - and Kara is somehow managing to carry a pitcher of beer, six empty glasses, and a giant pile of nachos.

“Okay, so make sure your shoes are nice and snug! Oh and don’t cross that line!” Kara points to a black line at the beginning of the lane. “Not only is it against the rules but it’s super slippery past there and I don’t want you to fall.“

Once she secures the velcro of her shoes, Kara is tugging her to her feet.

“Now we just need to find you a bowling ball. You want one that isn’t so light that you fling it, but also isn’t so heavy that you’ll tire yourself out rolling it all night.”

Lena tests several and finally settles on a ten pound ball, impressed when Kara picks up a sixteen. She doesn’t mention it, figures the reporter could probably throw a car around all night and not get tired, but she isn’t supposed to know that so she keeps her mouth shut.

“I work out.” Is Kara’s only explanation - delivered with a shrug - and Lena is glad that at least she’ll get to enjoy the gun show.

By the time they get back, the rest of the group is there, tugging on their shoes and arguing about who’s going to be on what lane. Kara puts her foot down about Lena being on her team, and Winn joins them, leaving James with Alex and Maggie.

Kara is up first, and even though her bowling shoes are completely unflattering, her faded skinny jeans are not; and Lena can’t help but notice how nice her ass looks under the strobe lights. Kara’s biceps flex in her sleeveless blouse and Lena feels her mouth go dry, startled when Alex suddenly yells.

“Show off!“

It appears that Kara has made a strike, and Lena barely has time to congratulate her before Alex is yelling again, celebrating her own strike.

“Take that! Two can play at that game!”

- and then Kara is pulling Lena forward and telling her it’s her turn. She freaks out for a moment because there’s never been anything in her life that she hasn’t started without someone expecting her to be great at it. But then Kara is showing her the motions, voice soft in Lena’s ear as she talks through the steps.

Her first ball goes in the gutter, but her disappointment is short lived because her second hits two pins and Kara pulls her into a tight embrace.

“That’s my girl!” Kara whoops when she eventually pulls away. “That’s just your first turn! I knew you’d catch on quick!“

They take a seat on the bench, Kara’s arm draped around her shoulders as she offers Lena a nacho. Objective number one is working out nicely.

Objectives two and three are also easily managed, with the rest of the game passing in raucous laughter and trash talk, Alex’s team easily winning. From the videos of professional bowling she had watched online to prepare for tonight, Lena had thought the night would be a little more subdued - she definitely did not expect it to include Winn sliding across the floor on his knees fingers picking an air guitar while James moonwalks behind him. She can feel herself becoming more and more comfortable around them as the night progresses, the conversation flowing as freely as the beer. Everyone cheers when she hits her first strike - a lucky shot to be sure- and the cheers turn into catcalls when Kara captures her lips in a kiss.

She feels high almost, like the time she closed her first big business deal.

“Hey, Lena, why don’t we go get the next round?”

Alex’s voice sends her stomach swooping.

“Of course.”

She follows the elder Danvers towards the bar, startled when she’s yanked into the restroom.

“What-“

“Listen up, Luthor.”

Years of practice keep Lena’s features from twisting in disgust at the use of her last name and she stays silent as Alex ducks down to look under the stalls. Once their privacy is secured, Alex whirls on her, finger waving menacingly in her face.

“When Kara first mentioned you two were going out, I wasn’t sure how long you would last. Your family has a bit of a reputation, and Kara is entirely to trusting for her own good. Frankly, I didn’t think you would hang around for as long as you have. But the more I see you two together, the more I can see that you really care about Kara and I’ve known for a while that she cares about you.“

Lena forces herself to maintain eye contact, refusing to shrink under Alex’s withering glare.

“I’m here to tell you that you dare to hurt my baby sister - if she so much as sniffles because of you- I swear I will show you one of the thousand, painful ways I know to kill someone. Then I will bury you so far underground that they won’t find you for a hundred thousand years.”

Just when she thinks Alex is finished, the finger jabs into her face.

“Kara is the kindest, sweetest, most pure soul on this earth and if you ever treat her with anything less than the respect she deserves, you will have to answer to me. And I am not nice, or kind; I will destroy you -  I don’t care what your last name is. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.“

“Good.” Alex straightens and gives her a small smile. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”

And then she’s gone, leaving Lena to reconsider objective number four. If Alex has Kara’s best interest at heart - which she so obviously does - then how scary can she really be?

Something tells her that this is the start of a beautiful friendship.

[justdreamichelle]

Andrea Sees SEAsia: Last Tour Singapore, February 24, 2017

I started my day off with a run through Garden’s By the Bay.  I didn’t sleep well, and woke up so early, and with 11 other girls in my room, I had to be very careful not to wake anyone, but I think I did a decent job. I left my room around 5:30am, walked outside my hostel in Chinatown and heard the Call to Prayer from the Mosque next door.  I’ve seen it in movies before, but have never heard it.  It was very cool to start the morning that way. 

I then made my way to the metro, and took it to Gardens By The Bay. This city is so clean that you can’t even drink water on the platform of the metros while you wait.  There is art all over the metro walls leading into the Gardens.   The Gardens were pretty deserted this early, and even though I felt much safer in Singapore, these paths were winding and confusing, so I stayed on the lit path on the perimeter, where I also saw other runners.  I ended up taking a path that led to Supertree Grove.  They were massive, and gave me a quick preview of what I would see later in the day when I come to explore the exhibits at Gardens by the Bay.    By then, the sky was beginning to lighten, so I made my way out of the Gardens, around the west side of the Marina Bay area, to end up in Merlion Park to watch the sunrise.  It wasn’t quite as colorful as I had hoped as it was quite cloudy, and the sun was pretty much behind the “Titanic Hotel,” but it was to put in another 3 mile run and new location for #AndreaRunsTheWorld.

After talking to Mike outside to pass time until my roommates were awake, I went in to change, pack a bathing suit, grabbed some fluids from 7eleven (side note- I’ve never been to a 7eleven more than twice before arriving in Asia), and hopped back on the metro to head towards Palawan Island.  The metro transfer was slightly confusing as I got off in a hotel, and had to figure out which floor to go to in order to catch the monorail that takes you across to Palawan Island.  The monorail is only $4 to get onto the island, and free to return.  The monorail gives a nice overview of the island, which is mainly a large theme park/resort area called Sentosa that resembles Universal. It’s definitely a great place to go with a family to keep everyone entertained.  I was just really looking for a beach to relax on my last day.  On the way, though, I saw a MASSIVE Merlion in the middle of Sentosa, so I would definitely be finding that later to get a picture, since the one in Merlion Park was “bathing.”

As I walked towards the beach, there were many things geared towards children, and all seemed to be remnants from the Chinese New Year, which brought the year of the Rooster and Love. I continued walking towards the beach and saw students playing beach volleyball, some collecting samples of water into ziplock bags, and saw a small island attached to the beach by a suspension bridge. 

I decided to check that out (as it was still a little overcast) and as I approached the little island, I discovered that it is the Southernmost Point of Continental Asia!  I was at the Southernmost Point of Continental USA when in Key West, FL.  Maybe a new goal of mine should be to get to ALL of the southernmost points??  There were two lookout points atop 3  story tree houses. 

The view out to the ocean wasn’t quite as picturesque as I was expecting, as the waters were filled with cargo ships.   Sea trade is a deeply rooted in Singapore’s history, so it makes sense that the ship trade is still thriving in the area.  A look towards Sentosa was much more tropical and picturesque, with turquoise waters, white beaches, and filled with palm trees.

After taking in the views from the lookout points, I wanted to explore the little island.  There was a small trail that I followed, leading to random white lawn chairs at lookout points, small cabanas for picnics, and the perfect palm trees for a great photo opp!  I continued further east to where the trail was no longer wide, but simply a foot path up a hill where others have explored before.  I took 10 minutes to sit on the hill, amongst some brush, and just take in the warm breeze and reflect on the week.  I wanted to find somewhere on the beach to lay and journal, but the sun was not cooperating, so I found the perfect little rock, shaped like a Papasun Chair under some palm trees, so I sat there and journaled, enjoying the relaxation after a busy, busy week.

I knew there was a chance of rain at some point, so when it began to sprinkle I didn’t pay it much mind. I had coverage from the palm trees and my umbrella to keep me dry.  The sprinkles quickly were followed by lightening, making all swimmers get out of the water.   The wind certainly picked up quickly, too.  It was definitely one of those tropical storms that appeared and were heavy very quickly! I realized it wasn’t going to stop, so I put on my rain coat, packed up, and left.  Crossing the suspension bridge was fun as it was pouring down rain, with gusty wind, and my dress was soaked. It let up after a little, so I strolled around the park, finding more facts about the Chinese New Year, information about myself as I was born in the year of the Rabbit, and then found the GIANT Merlion, reaching 37 meters.  The Merlion is the perfect symbol of Singapore as it is half mer (fish, because of it’s amazing port life), and Lion, as it is an Asian symbol of courage, excellence and strength.  Singapore is derived from the Sanskrit “singa” meaning “lion,” and “pura” meaning city. 

I decided to head back to Chinatown to get some lunch, and change out of my wet clothes.   I got off on the wrong metro exit, and ended up in the backside of Chinatown where the streets were lined with shops selling souvenirs, and such.  I got my typical postcards for myself as souvenirs, then found a Chinese restaurant near my hostel and ate outside.  

 After lunch, I headed back to my room as was quite exhausted. I took a quick nap, and did some repacking.  My goal was to get to Gardens by the Bay, but it was still quite drizzly.  Friends who saw my Instagram about the Titanic on stilts told me it’s a hotel (Marina Bay Sands) with casinos, amazing restaurants and bars up top with great views,  so I decided to go and have a drink, and continue journaling, since I had been so busy all week I was getting behind.

I ended up at Wolfgang Puck Spago Singapore, which did indeed have amazing views.  I only meant to have 1 drink, but I made friends with 2 of the bartenders, Carmichael and Phil, who were from the Philippines. They told me about their lives and explained to me that I should reconsider the Philippines and make a trip as they miss their homes.  Carmichael dreamed of being transferred to a Wolfgang Puck restaurant in California or NYC, while Phil wished to remain in Singapore to be able to see is 1.5 year old daughter who is still in the Philippines.  As we talked, they ended up giving me a drink they made on accident, as well another as I asked what it was like.  They only charged me for 1, which was great, considering it was $15. Singapore includes tip in their checks, but they were so great, I just gave them the extra cash I had, with a note saying I wish them the best in their dreams.  They both came over before I left to say thank you, and wished me safe travels, and hoped I would make it to the Philippines.

Although I didn’t get to explore all of the things Garden by the Bay had to offer, I was quite pleased with my relaxing day, meeting them, and that the rain cleared up for the Light Show under the Supertrees I saw earlier that morning.  I found somewhere under a section of trees and set up camp. Many people were seated on benches, or standing.  I found somewhere on the ground and decided to lean back and take it all in.  The lights were timed to the music, and it told the history of Singapore with older, traditional music, to newer jazz and pop music.  It was pretty cool!

VIDEO TO COME SOON

I walked myself back to the metro, to Chinatown, did some final packing, then got ready for the long, 33 hour journey back to Charleston, South Carolina, USA. 

More pictures of Palawan Island, Sentosa Beach, and the Supertree Light Show