#last January was my breaking point and i got help

[eldritchsmokeshow]

.

[gotta-winwin]

make my dawn interview ~ 2019 special cut ᰔᩚ

cyana's masterlist

make my dawn special release interview

interview format / comments might be wonky on phone

INTERVIEWER: Hello everyone, today we're joined by Korean Boy Band SEVENTEEN! How are you guys feeling today?

S.COUPS: We're feeling great!

DK: Yes~ Very good.

INTERVIEWER: That's good. We're here today because you're releasing your sixth mini album You Make My Dawn! (claps) Congratulations!

SVT (as a whole): Yes~ Thank you!

INTERVIEWER: Please introduce the album to our viewers -

JOSHUA: (raises his hand quietly) I can do that - Our sixth mini album titled You Make My Dawn will be released in January, and it had six tracks with unit tracks as well! Please show it lots of love~

INTERVIEWER: And I noticed we have a new addition to the group since last comeback, would the new member please introduce herself?

CYANA: (flushed) Hi everyone~ My name is Cyana, I'm part of the vocal unit for SEVENTEEN. (smiles and waves)

INTERVIEWER: Having a female member is new for the industry, what are your thoughts on being the first ever female idol in a boy group?

CYANA: (pauses, looking at the others for help) Well... I'm happy to be able to break boundaries, I think it's an interesting idea that's worth pursuing. SEVENTEEN's an amazing group already and I hope to be able to add that that.

S.COUPS: Cyana's been a valuable member of our team as we prepared this upcoming album. She's earned her place here.

INTERVIEWER: And how did the rest of the group feel at the sudden change? I'm sure it was a shocking thing to adjust to.

HOSHI: We were all surprised, but excited. SEVENTEEN's known for being experimental when we need to be, and we thought this opportunity would add to our group even more.

INTERVIEWER: (nodding) And Woozi, how do you feel with Cyana's addition as the group's main producer? How has her addition changed the way you guys work?

WOOZI: (hesitating) It was an adjustment we all had to make, like any other circumstance where you work with new people. She fit well in our songs and I was happy to try out new combinations for harmonies. Her addition unlocks a whole new area of possibilities.

INTERVIEWER: I see. (flipping her script) Fans have showed much discourse over the new addition to the group, going as far as saying Cyana will bring bad publicity to SEVENTEEN. Cyana, what's your reaction to all this?

CYANA: (frowning slightly) I- um, I haven't been online much while preparing for my debut and comeback, but I suppose any negativity is expected. People are often skeptical of new things.

INTERVIEWER: And does that deter you in any way?

S.COUPS: I think we can move on to another-

CYANA: (putting a hand on his knee) It's okay. No, it doesn't deter me in any way. I'm only working harder to prove that new things can be great things as well.

DK: Ya! SEVENTEEN will be even greater with Cyana.

INTERVIEWER: That's very brave of you. Now, we'll enter into a rapid fire question segments of questions fans have left on our online forum. Dino, who would you pick - Jeonghan or Mingyu?

DINO: Jeonghan.

MINGYU: Wow, not even a moment's hesitation, huh.

INTERVIEWER: S.Coups - favourite member?

S.COUPS: Jeonghan.

INTERVIEWER: Wow, Jeonghan's quite popular. Cyana, most attractive looking member?

CYANA: (caught off-guard) Umm... Vernon? I don't know. (panics)

INTERVIEWER: Another one for Cyana - what's it like living with the boys? Any TMIs?

CYANA: It's all very normal. (lowkey judging the questions) It's like we're roommates. No TMIs.

INTERVIEWER: Another one for Cyana - who would you date out of-

S.COUPS: (cuts her off) I think that's enough for now- (pointing behind the camera at staff) They're telling us that time's up.

JOSHUA: So sorry~ (waves at the camera) We've got to do our goodbye, hyung.

S.COUPS: Say the name!

SVT (as a whole): SEVENTEEN!

S.COUPS: This has been SEVENTEEN, thank you so much for watching.

INTERVIEWER: (just a bit pissed) Yes, this has been SEVENTEEN, their new mini album You Make My Dawn comes out soon, please look forward to it!

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨︶

COMMENTS:

wonwootiddies why'd they focus more on cyana then the album?? fatherscoups they all look so uncomfy wtf dksunshine look at scoups tryna do damage control cyanagotu shouldn't they ask more questions about the album? ⭒ woowwow no fr we got nothing but sexism ⭒ milkcans everything was good until she brought up the hate comments like ik this was filmed awhile ago but caratland is basically over the hate now? svtfan123 as a fan i hate cyana but as a girl- she doesn't deserve this just ask abt the bloody album bro

author's note: short cute (not so cute ig) interview post today! at least majority of caratland is (kinda) on her side now... bigger update soon!

[russellsppttemplates]

Papa loves you so much, princess (Mick Schumacher)

Mick and Y/N find out their family is growing

Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that I hope you enjoy! I have been talking about this since January, so this is ver long overdue!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions reader's period and pregnancy

Getting up from the bed, you were fortunately quick enough to reach the bathroom in time to pour your guts out on the toilet, leaning on the toilet's side to support your torso. You were already up by the time Mick walked inside the bathroom, his sleepy expression with some traces of concern, "I told you I shouldn't have had that last piece of dessert", you pointed your finger at him through the mirror while you splashed your face, "you kept looking at it like you were a dog that was abandoned on the road, and then when I asked if you wanted my piece, I swear I saw happy tears in your eyes", your husband teased you, rubbing your back in a comforting manner, "do you want me to get you anything?", he asked, "just some cuddles in bed should do the trick", you muttered, allowing him to carry you back to the bed for a few more hours of hopefully uninterrupted sleep.

.

After leaving work, you stopped by the grocery store since you and Mick had noticed you were running low and running out of a few items at home, "we just had a snack break and the next part of the meeting should be the last one, I'm sorry I'm not helping you", he said over the phone while you browsed the aisles, "it's okay, handsome. You can still help me out here, though. I'm the cleaning section and I already have dish soap and the spray for the wooden cabinets, anything else?", you asked, earning a negative answer from him, "no, that's all I think. Next is the bathroom one, right? We are running low on toilet paper, and I used the last plaster yesterday. You only had one box of tampons in the cabinet so given that you are about to have your period, see if you need more of them", he pointed out, grabbing your attention to the matter. It should have started by now, you checked the date on your watch. And you were never late.

"We also need those tissues you keep on your bedside table, I used some today and I noticed they were the last ones", you could hear the smile on his voice, "alright, bub. I'll see you at home, have a good meeting!", you dialed off, grabbing the things he mentioned before looking at the pharmacy section.

You were never late, so it had to be this, right? Barring any other health situations, all of your symptoms aligned with pregnancy symptoms: you had been nauseous, feeling sick (and maybe it wasn't the stolen dessert's fault), you kept falling asleep whenever you rested on the sofa at home and Corinna had complimented the way one of your summer dresses fitted you, claiming that the neckline looked beautiful on you. And you and Mick had been trying, not with a whole calendar but rather just not using protection and seeing where it led you, and maybe this was it. Grabbing two boxes for the sake of it, you put them in your shopping trolley before heading to the till to pay for everything so you could go home.

When Mick got home, dinner was already on the table while you also fed Angie her own dinner, his kiss on your forehead coming with an apology for having arrived just in time for it, "no need to apologise, myself and miss Angie kept ourselves busy", you petted her soft fur before heading to wash your hands, joining Mick at the table and enjoying the meal.

"Does it taste okay to you?", you asked Mick, the taste of the broccoli seemingly off to you, "yes, tastes like this dish always tastes. It's very good, why do you ask?", he questioned, "I don't know, tastes funny to me", you mumbled, using your fork and knife to push the green vegetable to the edge of your plate, "maybe you got a bad one", he noted. That was another symptom, you thought, remembering when one of your friends couldn't eat her favourite meal while she was pregnant because she claimed it tasted different.

"Actually, I've been having a few symptoms, and they are all compatible with-", you were interrupted by your husband, "pregnancy", he smiled, seeing your brushed and stunned face, "I've noticed them too. You haven't told me you are craving your usual sweets when you're on your period, your boobs look even more amazing but the moment I so much as graze my finger in the skin you hiss because of the pain, you're not one to take naps during the day but the moment your head hits the pillow you're out like a light, and it's not common for you to have a bad stomach", he reasoned, making you blush even harder, "Why didn't you say something though?", you asked softly.

Mick shrugged his shoulders, "I just didn't want to burden you, or maybe I was keeping my hopes up and I didn't want to ruin yours, or point out something about your body like that, I'd never want to do so in a way that could be harmful", he answered apologetically, making your get up and go sit on his lap, "you could've said something, I wouldn't be offended, I think anyway, apparently pregnant women get mood swings so I can't speak for sure", you shrugged your shoulders, "truth is, I got some pregnancy tests at the store today because I also thought the same thing, but I wanted to do them with you", you looked at him, "but I don't know how to deal with this hope, like, I could just have some bug, but it is also true that everything checks out...", you fiddled and played with his fingers, "we take it step by step, if you'd like", your husband began softly, "and if you're not pregnant, we can keep trying", he explained, grabbing your hand once you nodded, heading to the bathroom so you could do the tests.

The plastic sticks were on the counter, Angie lying on the bathroom floor while Mick sat on the edge of the tub wirh you on his lap, "just a little bit more, liebling", he kissed the side of your head, "I'm sorry", you whispered, gaining his questioning look, "if I'm not pregnant, I got both of our hopes up for nothing", you explained, feeling his fingers lift your chin up to look into his eyes, "no need to apoligise, liebling. We just keep trying, it's not like we mind trying", he winked, looking at his watch to see the time was up, "I'm ready when you are", he said soflty.

You got up, picking up the sticks and seeing that both of them had the same information, "it won't be trying for a baby, but I've heard that sex while you're pregnant is a whole another level of sensations", you smiled at Mick, showing him the positive results.

"We're having a baby?", Mick mumbled, still not sure if he had grasped what you said in the right way, "we are, baby Schumacher is going to be here in nine months", you cried out, smiling as Mick cuddled you, his arms circling your before spinning you, "Angie! You're going to be a big sister!", Mick said once he put you down.

.

"I remember reading about these old wives' that help you guess the gender of the baby, and your grandmother did some on me for both of you and they turned out pretty accurate, I think", Corinna said as she sat in the outdoor sofa in front of you.

Since Gina was visiting, you and Mick decided to invite her and Corinna to spend the day together, Angie sitting next to her auntie while you sat next to Mick, "Oh, that would be fun!", Gina said as she straightened her back, picking up her phone so she could look them up on the Internet while Corinna started with the ones she knew, "they say that if you have a pointed belly towards the front, it means you're having a boy, and if you have a rounder bump and wider hips, it means it's a baby girl", she said, seeing Mick quickly ask for you consent before he helped you stand as he lifted your t-shirt, "what do we think? Pointy or not so much?", you did a turn around yourself, "I think it's rounder", Mick said earning a nod from his mother, "me too", Gina said, "but I've always had wider and rounder hips", you tried to reason as Gina wrote girl and a stick next to it to help count.

"The next one was that sweet cravings were sign of a baby girl, and salty cravings were sign of a baby boy", and Mick wiped the smug smile off his face, "I've been eating a lot of savoury stuff", you nudged your husband while his sister wrote down the tie.

Gina opened the lunar calendar on her phone while the four of you looked at all the details they asked for, "it's a girl according to this one!", Mick yelled way too close to your ear, "another point for babygirl then", you said, cuddling back to his side and giggling at everyone's exciting.

You saw and tested a couple more and, without realising it, you tried the last one without noticing it was the last, only for it to make another tie between babyboy and babygirl, "so that's it?", Mick said, not expecting it to turn out like this, "you just have to wait and see, you know, like all the people do because you can know for sure on the ultrasound", Gina teased him.

.

Once you got to the OB/GYN, Mick offered to go get you checked in at the desk while you went to find a comfortable chair to sit in while you waited, "final bet: are they a baby boy or a baby girl?", Mick said once he sat down with you, his hand holding yours to calm down your nervous thoughts. The ultrasounds always made you nervous, always wondering if everything was alright and as it should be, so having Mick there to support you and distract you was appreciated, "I think they're a baby boy, and he looks like his papa", you cradled his cheek on your palm, "I think they're a baby girl, and she has your kindness and empathy. It's just my gut feeling", he smiled, kissing the top of your head while he moved your conjointed hands to rest on your bump, feeling the baby kick, "not my chubby cheeks?", you playfully gasped, "what can I say? I think the Schumacher genes are much too strong", he teased you, looking up to the door when your name was called.

Entering the room and greeting your doctor, she asked you a couple of questions before asking you to lay on the little bed, the gel cold on your bump as she moved the wand around, "okay, everything looks good, strong heartbeat for little one and mother as well", she smiled, "I can see it. Do you still want to know?", she asked one last time, earning a nod from both you and Mick, "you're going to have a baby girl, congratulations!", she announced.

Your hand squeezed Mick's, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head as you both looked at your baby on the screen, "we're having a little girl? Liebling, it's a little girl", he said, his eyes tearing up as he kept looking at the screen. Despite having feelings and guesses about it, neither of you didn't have any preference, feeling happy just with the idea that you were carrying a combination of you and Mick, but you couldn't help but get all goddy as you imagined Mick with a little daughter, knowing she would have him wrapped around her finger from the moment she was born. Even thinking now, she has him wrapped around her finger since you both found out you were pregnant.

"She looks good, there isn't anything that looks concerning. The measurements are all within the norm, everything looks good. Congratulations, mama and papa!", she smiled, "do you want copies to take home?".

While she went to get the slightly exaggerated number of copies of baby Schumacher (Mick wanted everyone that was important in his life to have one), your husband helped you clean the skin on your bump, "are you happy?", you looked at him, not seeing any signs of uneasiness but feeling his a little bit tense, "I am, liebling", he said, "but she's going to be here soon, you know? Little one is growing so fast, I can't believe we're past the half way point", he admitted, "I just don't want to disappoint any of you", he gulped, making you craddle his face with your hands, "My love, I know you and believe me, if how everything has gone until now is any indicator, we are going to have princess treatment", you smiled softly on an attempt to calm him, "thank you for sharing this with me, though. You can always share your worries with me, Mick", you finished, kissing his lips passionately, "I love you, liebling", he kissed you back, "and you little one, papa loves you so much, princess".

[junedenim]

2005

beneath the boardwalk, part 3 (series masterlist)

mardy bum

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

word count: 15.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Choo Choo."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A solid performance."

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

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

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

"What about what I want?"

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

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

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

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

"Claire told me Will dropped out of uni."

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

"Shocked he even bothered."

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

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

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

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

"What about Robert?"

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

"Any plans with him?" Alex asked further.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" Deep stretch, toes curling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I giggled. "Other than that?"

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

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

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

My face went dead. "Seriously?"

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

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

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

"From who? The police in here?"

"I know your mum runs a tight ship."

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

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

I'm a sternum woman, for sure.

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Me?" I pointed to myself quizzically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm going to go home now."

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hm, yeah."

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Does that make you my Wesley?"

"'As you wish.'"

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

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

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

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

I mocked a look of shock. "Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lady Penelope had a strong spirit."

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

"How'd she die?" Alex asked.

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you wouldn't mind."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next day, we bought discounted chocolate at Tesco.

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alex was stiff.

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

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

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

"Not yet, Georgie."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" I questioned with an infected giggle.

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

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

*

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

Who do you love more? Georgia or me?

*

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

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

*

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

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

"'Kay."

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

"'Kay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll miss you."

"Yeah. Miss ya too."

*

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

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

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

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

"Ew, never do that again."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wanted to bash my head in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shall I get on my knees then?"

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

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

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

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

Deja vu.

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

"Things?"

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We gotta finish the tournament!" Matt insisted.

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

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

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

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

I nodded.

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

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

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

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

"FIFA," I answered shortly.

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Now your sexual innuendos."

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

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

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

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

"All this is 'cause of you."

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

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

*

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

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

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

"It's beautiful," I commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I just want you to have fun."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, it has!" I countered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We could find a big one."

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pointed a finger at me. "See."

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

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

"Whatever you say, Al."

(I have a horse. Not named Buttercup).

"Are you a country boy?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Does this make you Elizabeth Hurley?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded. "This weekend."

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

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

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

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

"What if we all went?" Stacey suggested.

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

"Then, you have Leeds tomorrow!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I sighed. "Okay."

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

"Huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

A diary entry from the following night read:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded pleased. "Good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded. "Yeah."

A week later, he wrote me:

Matt hammered. I hammered. Write more later.

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

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

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

The following day, Alex emailed and wrote:

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

Love, Al

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded. "A little shoebox."

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

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

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

"And maybe a hot tub too."

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

*

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

[sunshine-theseus]

Put Your Head On My Shoulder | Jessie Fleming x Reader

Words: 4k Summary: you and jessie go through many ups and downs but things work out in the end Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of depression and taking medication for it, covid didn’t happen, pretending the game vs real madrid was at Stamford bridge not in Spain

Jessie Fleming and I met at the 2015 world cup, both freshly 17 and competing in our first big tournament. Despite the fact we didn’t play each other, I found myself stumbling into her on the sidelines of Canada’s game against The Netherlands. Words were exchanged but we didn’t see each other again until the next year.

We knew we were both on athletic scholarships for the Bruins at UCLA and promised to try and meet outside of training to keep in contact without sport. It was surprising however, when my box was knocked out of my hands as I crashed into the young Canadian, both of us trying to enter the same room. She was clearly struggling to see over her own stuff, stumbling over words as her cheeks flush a very familiar red, trying to apologise.

“J, if you say sorry one more time I’m asking for a new roommate. Which I had no idea we were until now.” I crouch to pick up my books and writing equipment that was in my box as Jessie tries to manoeuvre to her decided side of the room.

I give up and rush to help her when she stumbles over her own foot and nearly goes flying.

“Jessie! You’re going to break something before the season even starts Jesus Christ be careful!” my hands gripped her waist tightly to stop her from tilting forward, then I grab the top box so she can actually see. The same red blush covers her cheeks.

“Sorry, my mum just insisted I try to take all my stuff in as little trips as possible, which is proving to be difficult. I’m sorry about your books.” With her stuff firmly on the ground she finally looks as me.

“They put the Australian and the Canadian in the same room knowing we just basically kicked you out of the Olympics?”

“You did not!” the joke was rare coming from her. She was funny and kind but still rather serious and shy, preferring studying statistics and players over team bonding or spending time with people after a game.

I understood that, I felt that, and that’s how we worked. Us against the world. We trusted our team and confided in them, but we’d really only want each other in times of need. Obviously there were people like Sam or Christine, who were like our big sisters for our respective national teams, but Jessie and I were just drawn to each other.

-

After UCLA came Chelsea. Both of us were about to start our last year of uni when her offer came through, far before mine.

By this point we’d been inseparable for four years, so I worried we’d be split; her making the move to England and me stuck in our dorm. Except it’d be much emptier and lonely, or filled with some stranger’s things.

And it was just like that. Time zones caused issues with keeping in contact. Eventually that became other things. Study, because she still had to finish her course. Team bonding, practice. What would be a call once a day became once a week until it filtered out, and her texts would be answered in seconds while mine sat in wait for whenever she decided she was free.

My offer came in the January transfer window. Emma had been in contact with me for a couple months, clearly trying to convince me, and 6 months ago I wouldn’t have even thought about it. But when I stare at the ‘merry Christmas’ and ‘I got the offer’ messages left unread and think about seeing the girl I thought would never leave me, I take the time offered.

And a week later I find myself sliding into Sam’s spare room groaning into the pillow as she fusses over the Australian snacks I did manage to get through customs.

“What’s got you in a mood chickadee?” I feel the bed dip beside me and her hand rubs my back.

“J.” the older Australian lets out a hum before taking a moment to reply.

“She talks about you all the time. About how much she misses you and everything you got up to at uni. All of which I already know because I hear it every camp.” I can feel the joking eye roll despite not seeing it.

“She talks about me but doesn’t talk to me. That means nothing. And I know she’s busy but so was I. Just because I was captaining a university team instead a stupid professional team doesn’t mean I wasn’t busy or doing something important! And I still kept in contact!” by now I’ve rolled over onto my back and started fiddling with Sam’s tattooed fingers, trying to distract myself from the pit of loneliness and despair that’s been slowly eating my stomach.

I dare not mention to anyone the decline in my mental health or the required psychology sessions Emma was going to provide for me once every few weeks. Everyone knew I was sad and that’s all they needed to know. But once upon a time, Jessie would have known everything, holding my hand tightly the whole way.

“You should sleep, big first day tomorrow. I’ll make you breakfast. Alarm-”

“8:30, I know. Every day, same time. Thank you Sam, really.” She smiles and pats my head before leaving.

-

To say my first day didn’t go well would be somewhat of an understatement. At exactly 8:30 my alarm went off. At 8:32, the pill bottle rattling at the bottom of my bag was fished out and 1 was being washed down by water. At 8:43, Sam was banging on my door calling for breakfast and I was rushing to make sure the pill bottle was hidden after changing. No one needs to know I’m taking anti-depressants, including Sam.

When we pulled into Cobham, I started to feel sick, and I told Sam just that.

“I’ll catch a train home.”

“It’s just nerves, you’ll be fine.”

“No-”

“You stay until at least lunch time, then we’ll see.” A pointed finger is shoved into my face, but I begin to stroll alongside her anyway.

I do almost book it for the nearest train station as soon as I enter the locker room. Sitting in the cubby next to mine, tying her shoelaces, is Jessie Fleming. During the chaos of the move and my first day, I manage to forget the way our numbers are right beside each other.

“You’ll be okay. You don’t even have to talk to her.” Sam whispers as she makes her way to her own cubby, greeting people on her way through.

So I try. Placing my bag in the nook and beginning to change into my training kit without the Canadian even looking up. It’s when I place down the same styled Tiempo Legend 8s I’ve been wearing since they released, that I can see her head turn from the corner of my eye. I don’t acknowledge it, continuing to slide the boots onto my feet and tie them up. But that doesn’t stop her.

“Oh my god! Hey!” there’s a lightness in her voice that I used to be so familiar with and it makes my heart clench.

I take a moment before deciding replying would be too rude for my liking.

“Hi.” Short and simple, and quite blunt.

“I didn’t know you signed, or that you even got the offe-” forget being nice.

“You would’ve known if you bothered to keep in contact with me.” With that I slide out of my seat beside her and make my way to Sam.

-

It gets worse when Emma splits us into pairs for dribbling drills, and she slides me toward Jessie.

“Of course.” I sigh but accept my fate as a ball rolls our way.

“What’s wrong?” a phrase that, coming from her mouth, used to have me spilling every small emotion I was feeling.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Come on Beans, tell me.” The nickname had been created in our first year of university. She learnt I loved green beans and I’m rather tall, so the name fit. But she didn’t feel like the same person who I let make the funny name.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“What? Because I moved?”

“No! You left for Chelsea and I was happy for you, we had a plan to stay in contact until I followed along to somewhere in England. But you stopped trying. You stopped answering. You left me alone when I needed you the most. I would’ve done anything for you to have the career you deserved but you got it, without me. I just thought I’d still have my best friend when it happened.”

To say that training was tense from then on wasn’t a stretch. Emma never paired us up and any time one of us entered the locker room, everyone else would wait in silence for a burst similar to the one on the pitch. It never came.

It was after my first session with the psychologist that things began to change.

Because the psych was only here for me, Emma was kind to lend her office to us for the 50 minutes while she did other work around the grounds. I assume the girls were grateful to escape the tension for the moment.

“Same time, 2 weeks from now! It’s good you’re making progress!” The rather lovely lady shouts just as I’m closing the door, waving and smiling in thanks.

But as I turn around, I nearly bump into a small figure. A rather familiar one at that. Jessie begins to fall backwards but I grip her waist, holding her in place. It’s a familiar scenario, the feeling of my hands on her waist and her burning red cheeks are something I struggled to ever forget.

“T-thanks” her cheeks burn that same red.

“No worries.” I mumble in reply as I remove my hands, taking a step back.

“Who were you talking to? That didn’t sound like Emma. And what are you making progress on?” the questions don’t come rapidly but I still struggle to process them. Jessie’s smart, she can put two and two together, so I should tell her. But what if she laughs? There was a time where the thought wouldn’t have even crossed my mind, she’s not that type of girl. But things change.

“I- I-” Jessie places a gentle hand on my arm and nods, confirming it’s okay to take my time, but please continue. I sigh.

“She’s a psychologist.”

“A sport psychologist?”

“Well yes and no. I… I’ve been diagnosed with depression, and Emma wants me to have someone professional to talk to.” Her grip tightens but I know it’s in concern.

“When- when did you…”

“A couple months ago. Don’t worry, it wasn’t just because of you, a lot of things happened.”

“But it was partially because of me. I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve been. You’ve always been there for me and I got here and treated you like shit. Discarded you like you were nothing. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” tears well up in her whisky brown eyes, but I smile.

“J, if you say sorry one more time, I’m asking for a new roommate for the away match against Man City. Which I did know we are… for once.”

“You can’t just forgive me.”

“I’m not, it’ll take time, but I want my best friend back. Sprout.” Jessie charges forward and wraps her arms around my waist.

“I’d do anything.” Her voice is muffled as her head presses into my chest, but I smile.

~~~~~

Things changed once again a few months after that. The 2020 Olympics had been delayed due to natural disasters, but we still found ourselves milling around the Olympic village together in our very little spare time. I also found myself admiring her for every little thing, every detail. Eventually I had to admit to myself that I’d developed a crush on the girl.

“What’s going on in that busy brain of yours?” Jessie had been by my side every step of the way with my mental health after she found out, and this question wasn’t uncommon, but the answer would be.

“I know this could ruin things, I’m very aware of that, but I have to tell you now otherwise I don’t think I’ll ever have the courage to.” Gaging her reaction was difficult, Jessie was a very stoic person.

“I-, I’ve found myself growing feelings for you. Feelings that surpass best friends, or how I feel when you show up for me. I like you, a lot. And I need you to know that. Standing in the middle of a pathway surrounded by half naked athletes in Olympic Village, I like you.” I look her in the eyes. Those burnt umber eyes, so warm and comforting, that always draw me in.

“I really like you too. Everything about you. I want to care for you and be there when you need me. I want to wake up in your arms and be able to admire every feature as the sun beams down on you like the miracle you are. I would even go as far as saying I desperately want to be your girlfriend.” I barely let Jessie finish what she’s saying before I lean down, a significant way, and kiss her with everything in me.

~~~~~

2 and a half years later and Jessie hasn’t left my side since. Most of our quarrels are just that, silly fights that are solved by the end of the night. We moved in together after 3 months and were rarely been seen apart.

That included tough games.

Real Madrid was our first game of the Champion’s League season, and we knew it was going to be hard. They were physical most importantly, so we had to play to that. We knew that when we were up 2-1 in the 78th minute.

“Jessie Fleming challenges Athenea Del Castillo, barley missing the ball and clipping Athenea on the foot! Oh, and the ref is calling for a penalty. I’m certain first contact was outside the box.” Is what would be heard by anyone watching the match through a screen, but you didn’t need a commentator to know the ref made an unfair call.

The contact was clearly outside the box and yet we’re forced to line up and watch Olga Carmona take the wrongly rewarded shot, me grasping Jessie’s hand in my own as a way to reassure her.

It’s obvious the referees are against us when Niamh makes a shot on goal, the ball sliding in, but it’s claimed offside. Something to do with Sam supposedly messing with the defence, another false claim. There’s nothing we can do when the final whistle blows and we’re tied, all of us dropping to the ground in exhaustion and disappointment.

After shaking hands with the Madrid players and briefly talking with Hayley to catch up and talk about things that happened between our last camp and now, I travel toward Jessie.

My girlfriend stands solemnly with her head in her hands. I managed to pull them away momentarily to see the tears drifting down her cheeks, but she’s pulling her hands away and turning around before I can ask what’s wrong.

“Darl, it’s not you’re fault.” I don’t want to invade her space while she’s upset so I walk around her and simply stand, hoping she’ll reach for me.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Jess-”

“Leave me alone Y/n.” not another word is uttered as she turns toward Fran and Niamh and walks away from me.

I similarly turn to Sam and Erin, with a shocked look, jaw hanging and rejected tears looming on my water line.

“She probably just needs to be alone.” As Erin tries to comfort me, we all turn to look at the subject of the conversation, only to see her being comforted by Fran, Niamh and Ashley, despite her effort to insist she’s fine.

“Maybe I didn’t push hard enough?”

“No you should never push when they clearly need space.” Sam places a reassuring hand on my shoulder

“But why is it only me she needs space from? I’m supposed to be the one she seeks comfort in. That’s what girlfriends do.”

“I don’t know chickadee.”

-

I expect Jessie to already be back at our apartment by the time Erin drops me off. Our shared car had been taken from the parking lot at the stadium and Jessie had disappeared, so those dots connected themselves. But our designated parking space is empty as I stroll along the bitumen.

There are no familiar white shoes next to the door in the same exact spot she puts them every day, no kit bag hanging on a hook, waiting to be washed tomorrow. No Canadian waiting in our bed, curled up in one of my already oversized shirts or hoodies and shorts, begging me to hold her.

I try not to worry when I call her and she doesn’t pick up. Maybe she went the long way and there was traffic? So I call Niamh to ask her if she knows where Jessie went. She doesn’t have an answer. Then I try Fran, and Zecira, and even Emma.

I ask everyone to try and call her too, Sam offering to take Kristie and search every corner of London, Erin offering the same. It’s midnight by the time I give up trying to contact her, asking Aggie if I could borrow her car tomorrow to look around if she wasn’t back, her living down the road from us. The young forward is insistent on joining me if it comes to it.

When I wake up the next morning and find Jessie curled up against me, in one of my hoodies and shorts, relief washes over me. Her brown curls are messy, her soft pink lips cracked open to allow air into her lungs. The sun trickles in through the curtain and lights up her face, freckles looking like bursts of light against her skin. Her eyes are still puffy from last night and tears have dried upon her cheeks, and I can’t resist the urge to reach up and lightly wipe them away.

As my thumb drags across her tan skin, tracing her face, her eyes flutter open, and I remember how easy it is to get lost in them. So warm and inviting.

“Mornin’ honey.” I press a gentle kiss to her nose, her cheeks, her forehead and her eyelids.

“I’m sorry for last night. I just felt horrible, if only I didn’t make the tackle.”

“I know darl, but that’s what I’m here for. I love you, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you yeah? I was bloody worried though.” Jessie nestles her head into the crook of my neck and nods, pressing her own kisses on any skin she could reach.

I wrap my arms around her and pull her up until she’s laying on my chest instead. My cold hands sneak under her hoodie and she jumps from the shock, swatting at my hands beneath the fabric.

“I reckon I make us some tea and brekkie and then we can do whatever you want all day. How’s that sound?” I flip us over so Jessie can go back to sleep for a while, but she clings onto me, pulling me down aggressively by the front of my old Chelsea travel shirt. Her lips press against mine with energy and love and I get caught up in the feeling. A moan slips past someone’s lips, which of us I’m not quite sure, but I slowly pull away, trailing kisses down her neck until I reach her collar bone.

“Let’s save that energy for later yeah?” I swiftly wink as I finally roll off the bed.

-

I’m making scrambled eggs when I feel Jessie’s arms wrap around my waist. She presses soft kisses across my back as I sway us back and forth to the slow jazz song spewing from the record player.

The next song comes on and I abandon the meal completely, turning off the stove and twisting myself in Jessie’s hold so I can face her. I take one of her hands in mine and rest the other on her waist, her spare landing on my shoulder.

“Put your head on my shoulder; Hold me in your arms, baby” the lyrics continue as we follow along, her head resting against my chest, my chin balanced on top. We dance slowly through the kitchen, the music carrying throughout the house.

As the song finishes, I dip Jessie, leaning over her as her leg kicks out. My gaze flickers between her eyes and her lips and within seconds I’m kissing her again, still in the dip. When I pull her back up, she jumps into my arms and pulls my lips to meet hers for more, the force making me stumble back into the counter behind me.

“I want to slow dance with you around our house when we’re old and can barely kick a ball anymore. Our kids and grandkids playing around while it just feels like the two of us. Because it’s always been the two off us and I never want that to change.” Jessie whispers against my lips. My heart clenches with love as I take her in.

“Will you marry me?” The words escape both our lips almost in complete synchrony. I almost drop her, but my grip on her thighs upholds as I kiss her again, and again, until I can’t kiss her anymore.

-

“I stole this video from Y/n’s phone not long after Jessie and her broke the news of their engagement. Y/n had texted me that morning saying she wanted ideas for a ‘day in the life of a woman in love’ video she planned on making that very day, and I knew that she would have forgotten all about the phone while she and the love of her life shared a special memory together.” Sam takes a pause to look at Jessie and I, sitting side by side at the front of the room.

“What isn’t shown in the video, is the ring that was sitting in the pocket of Yn’s shorts, waiting to be place on the only hand it was made for. The ring went with her everywhere for at least a month before this cute dance proposal. Every day in training, Y/n would tell me a new plan she had come up with to ask Jessie to marry her, and I always told her ‘you should do it when the moment feels right. Don’t force it.’, as I clearly had experience with this sort of thing… And she told me that was a bunch of absolute bullshit.” Our friends and family laugh while my wife’s face drops in shock, her elbow lightly nudging my side. I let out a snicker and kiss her cheek, wiping off the lipstick residue that is left behind.

“Well it turns out I was right. As always. And I’m honoured to be standing here as a best woman in front of two of my best friends, the most amazing young players out there, two people who were made for each other; sculpted by the stars and the earth, to be in each other’s lives, celebrating that love. You’ve both overcome a lot, personally and as a couple, you deserve this love.” A tear escapes my eye as I stand to hug Sam.

“Now can the two nerds please make their way to the dance floor for their first dance?” I take Jessie’s hand in mine and pull her along.

Her suit coat is left on the back of my chair and her waistcoat is unbuttoned and she looks fucking good. Her hair rests on her shoulders and her slack pants fit perfectly around her thighs. Jessie holds part of my dress train, so we don’t trip as we hold each other in similar fashion to the day that led to this, the same song playing on the large speakers in each corner of the room.

“Put your head on my shoulder Whisper in my ear, baby Words I want to hear, tell me Tell me that you love me too”.

Jessie stands on her tippy toes, my heels not helping our height difference.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[rosyjn]

Roommate- human!jake sully x reader NSFW

THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC YET BTW! (If you see typos pls let me know)

You hated being a human on Pandora. You showed up in January 2154, young and alone. The head of security, Miles Quaritch, constantly demonized the natural life of Pandora. He claimed the indigenous were “savages” and that everything that lives in the forest wanted to kill us. Most of the time, you were confined to the boring human base, nestled next to a forest.

About a week after arriving, you befriended Grace Augustine and began to help her out with her lab work. She was almost like a mother to you. Norm was pretty much your brother, Trudy being a sister. It was your lab friends that made life worth living. The first time you ever left the base was with all three of them, to go collect samples with Grace. And you swore Pandora was the most beautiful place in the universe. The floating mountains, waterfalls, forest life, bioluminescence- your eyes were glued out the door, and you'd take polaroids until your camera ran out of film. Since then, you were thoroughly invested in the avatar program, and dedicated your time to perfecting it. Though you never got an avatar yourself, you were fine with that.

Around 6 months after you showed up, a new member of the avatar program showed up. His name was Jake Sully, and he wasn't supposed to be there. His twin brother Tom had died before you even came to Pandora, and Tom was who Grace actually needed for her project. Jake was, unfortunately, the only person who could take Tom's place. When Jake arrived, it was Lyle Wainfleet who informed you of what he looked like before you met him. For some reason, Lyle thought it was funny. He had stormed into the cafeteria, sitting down next to you while you ate a small cup of macaroni and cheese.

"Wainfleet, what? It's my dinner break right now, a bitch needs to eat!" you snap, turning away as he settles down at your table.

"Y/N, Pandora's got her first meal on wheels," he cackles, whispering to you.

"The fuck are you talking about?" you squint, crossing your legs in annoyance.

"Tommy Sully's dead, they've got his brother here-" he continues.

"What.." your expression softens, a scared look plastering across your face. You never knew Tom, but how are you going to break this news to Grace?

"Tom Sully's brother is a crippl-" he raises his eyebrows, trying to speak more clearly for you.

"I don't care about his brother! How are we gonna tell Grace?" you set your fork down into your bowl of food, your appetite already having disappeared.

"Bout Tom?" he grumbles. You nod. "Don't matter, they got the same genome, anyhow. The experiment oughta work either way."

"You don't get it, whatever. Tell me about this new guy," you sigh, checking the time on your wrist.

"His name is Jake Sully, he's a cripple. His legs don't work anymore, some spinal incident or sumth'n. Gets around in a wheelchair now. Good looking guy, Grace is gonna hate him though," he smiles at the last sentence.

"Not funny," you shake your head. "Y'know where he's staying?"

"Yea, residential building 3, unit 01." he looks down at the table.

"Stop playing with me!" your eyes grow wide and you punch Lyle's shoulder, making him laugh again.

"I'm not, that's where he's livin'! What's your problem?" he pushes your hand off, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Oh god," you grumble, burying your face in your hands. His face lights up in realization.

"Looks like someone's got a new roommate!" he teases, getting up from the table and hurrying out of the cafeteria before you can scold him. You accept your reality and get up to throw away your trash, knowing you have to head back to work. How the fuck did you end up with Sully? You knew at some point, all the unimportant people have to room with some other nobody. It's a rule- human camp shouldn't take up too much space. But you were enjoying your time alone. Your apartment was decorated all girly, and you knew it might change now. You just hoped to god that Jake wasn't as bad as he sounded.

When you entered the lab again, Grace was already pissed.

"Who’s got my goddamn cigarette?!” she growls as she sits up, returning from her avatar form. You anxiously watch as an assistant scurries to a nearby drawer, grabbing a box of Newports. “Guys, what’s wrong with this picture?” she waves a hand at the assistant, “Thank you,” and relaxes when she finally gets a lit cigarette in her mouth.

“Grace Augustine is a legend-“ Norm explains from behind you. You spin around, thinking he was just joking with a friend. A gasp leaves your mouth when you see it- Norm walking, guiding a young man in a wheelchair through the lab. That’s Jake, it must be Jake. You sigh and your eyelids flutter as you watch them head towards Grace, knowing that she’s not going to tolerate this switch-aroo. But you cant help but notice the new guy, weirdly handsome. His eyes are striking, intense in a way.

“Norm, hi!” you smile, walking up to him. It’s almost like a desperate attempt to stall Jake from meeting Grace. It’s stupid, you know at some point they’ll have to collide.

“Hey, Y/N! We’ve got Tom’s brother here! Doesn’t he look just like him?” Norm gestures to Jake, stopping in his tracks. You take a look at him- the first good look you’ve had so far, and he is hot. His face is built so well, and you can see his strong shoulders through his tight shirt. But, his gaze is what really makes you melt, the look on his face…

“Hi! I’m Y/N! How are you? Nice to meet you!” you extend a hand out, bending your knees a little bit to get on his level. Your intent was to shake his hand, which works well. He holds out a large, warm hand and gives a firm handshake. You smile and exhale, but it appears Jake isn’t trying to hide that his eyes are traveling back and forth from your cleavage to your face.

“I’m doing good,” his voice is deep and intense and it makes your heart flutter. “See ya at lights out,” he winks at you and you let go of his hand and back up a little. Norm’s brows furrow at this comment, and his nostrils flare a little.

“Oh, uhm, okay!” you awkwardly smile and back away further, getting closer to Norm.

“Who the fuck?” Grace’s voice booms from behind you, and you jump a little. You slowly inch away, leaving the situation. Norm follows. When the two of you are already on the other side of the room, the tense dialogue between Augustine and Sully fades.

“Y/N, you alright? Is that guy hitting on you?” Norm grabs your arm gently, with a concerned voice. “That comment, about lights out, what did he mean?” he questions.

“My god, didn’t tell you yet. We’re fucking roommates,” you whisper yell. “He just moved in today, building 3 unit 01,”

“If you don’t feel safe at any time, tell me, okay? What type of guy is he?” Norm’s hand leaves your arm, and he leans back onto a table.

“I don’t know! This is the first time I’m meeting him!” you facepalm. “So, if you’re wondering… I don’t know anything about him yet,”

“Okay, just- tell me if he bothers you,” Norm says.

“Of course,” you promise, smiling. He creeps away to do lab work, and in the meantime, you walk over to Jake to strike up a conversation.

"Hey," he says, turning himself towards you.

"Hi, what's up?" you sit down across from him, and he comes closer, tilting his head.

"I saw all those polaroids you've got hung up in your bedroom, you look cute in 'em," he leans back in his wheelchair, pretty much ignoring your question.

"In my bedroom?" you question, almost feeling like your privacy has been invaded.

"What, I'm not allowed to check out my new place?" he jokes.

"God, I'm sorry," you laugh and look down at the floor, listening to the noises of everyone pack up for the night. Once you're reminded that you have to live with this guy, you wish time moved slower. "Oh, how was Grace? How did that conversation go?" you change the subject.

"Why don't I tell you about it at home?" he suggests, making a dreadful feeling develop in your stomach. It's something about the thought of sleeping in the same space as this guy, who you now have a crush on, that makes you nervous. What if he walks in on you in the shower? What if you walk in on him? The thought of him calling your place "home" already was enough to make your heart speed up. You know it's stupid, that you're unnecessarily anxious.

"Sure, I'll walk you back, just hold on a second. I've gotta say bye to everyone," you get up from your chair, pretending to not notice Jake looking at your ass. You circled the lab, helping everyone clean up and hugging your friends. Norm and Trudy gossip in the corner, concerned for your safety. You assure them over and over that everything is fine, even though you can feel Jake undressing you with his eyes from across the room. You ignore all their speculations, walking away with your new roommate following.

"They hate me, don't they?" Jake shakes his head as you enter the hallway with him.

"Don't stress about it, they hate everyone. It doesn't help that you're an ex-marine. The marines here are ignorant to what the scientists think," you raise your eyebrows, digging in your pocket for your key.

"I'm not ignorant, I can promise you that," he nods, a smile growing onto his face. You take your key out of your pocket, continuing your walk home. "Not a long commute, huh?" he says.

"Yeah, everyone gets their home depending on where they work. You and me got real lucky: the first unit in the building," you happily approach the door, putting in the key and twisting it. It gets more and more noticeable- the way Jake stares you down. You try to ignore it, kicking off your shoes. "I think I'm just gonna go take a shower," you tell him. He nods, relaxing as you walk off into the bathroom.

You slip off your clothes, reaching for the shower handle and twisting it. As you look in the mirror, waiting for the water to warm up, you can't stop thinking about Jake. It drives you nuts. How can you live with him when his face makes you so horny? Of course, the quickest solution comes to mind. When you step into the shower, your hand immediately slithers down to your clit, where you rub in circles over and over again, warm water coating your body. Soft little noises leave you, you hum in satisfaction at the thought of getting on your knees for him.

After you finally finish, a feeling of shame washes over you. This isn't right, this is weird. It's weird to touch yourself at the thought of your roommate. You decide you need to get rid of this crush; to find an outlet or something. You can't keep yourself like this. Your brain rushes with thoughts as you wash your hair and body. "I'm gonna get over him, I'm gonna get over him, I'm gonna get over him," you whisper to yourself, the sound of the water making you almost silent. "I can't get wound up like this, not for him. None of my friends like him.." you tell yourself. They're all silly, desperate ideas to make you feel calmer.

Stepping out of the shower, your mind is in a tranquil state. You do your skincare, comb your hair, dry your body, put lotion on, etc. You're clean- clean and fresh. Now, you can go to bed. You can just go right to your room, put pajamas on, and sleep. You wrap your naked body in a flimsy towel, wet hair hanging down past your shoulders as you walk out the bathroom door.

"Fuck," a voice from behind you startles you, and the towel almost drops. You clutch it turn around quickly, fear filling your heart. Your cheeks flush red when you see Jake, watching your body attentively.

"Oh, hi- I was just- going to bed..." you awkwardly shy away, feeling bare. You're in nothing but a small, wet towel.

"No you're not, come here," he pats his thigh.

"Jake, what?" you nervously chuckle.

"Sit, here in my lap," he orders again, patting himself harder this time.

"I- don't have anything on," your voice grows soft.

"I know,"

"Not even underwear,"

"I know, why do you think I'm asking? Come here, sit." he growls. At this moment, it's like you've lost all your self respect. You feel like his little slut. You slowly walk towards him, before straddling him on his wheelchair. You clutch your towel tight when you sit, trying not to show yourself. Your breath hitches when your wet cunt presses up on his sweatpants, and he looks you dead in the eye. "What were you doing in the shower, hmm?" he interrogates, intimately moving a wet strand of hair out of your face.

"We've only just met," you push his hand away, shaking your head. "This is too much," you tell him.

"Then why are you still sitting here, pussy pressed up on my leg?" he grabs your hips, holding them tightly. Your eyes widen and you look down in shame, but you don't move. "Yeah, I know how you feel about me. Go on, please yourself." he starts to move your hips ever so slightly, the friction teasing your clit. Your eyes flutter shut as Jake rocks you back and forth with his strong arms.

"Can I tell you something?" you ask through breathy moans.

"In a second, after you cum, okay?" he replies.

"Mhmhmm," you whine, trying to signal a yes. Suddenly, you feel like that scary distance between you and Jake has been filled. Filled with the sound of you whimpering and getting rubbed on his leg, filled with the horny gazes that he gives you and the quick shower masturbation that you sneak. Jake's hands hold you tightly, fingers digging into your plush hips.

"Ditch the towel already, will ya?" he grunts, his hands traveling up to your chest and pulling your towel off of you. You gasp at the cold air that rushes in against your bare body, and your nipples stand upright. Jake throws your towel onto the floor, hands kneading at your breasts now. “Little slut, just met me and you’re already soaking my pants,” he leans back in his chair, reaching for the band of his sweatpants while you desperately pleasure yourself.

“I really wanna tell you something, oh god, I really wanna tell you something,” you mewl, throwing your head back.

“What?” he whispers, pulling his now erect cock out of his pants. You don’t notice, you’re just overwhelmed with pleasure.

“I wanna, wanna get on my knees for you..” you mutter, eyes still clenched shut.

“Hmm?” he slowly strokes himself, watching your body.

“I touched myself,” you lean into Jake, trying to make your words clearer. “Touched myself, at the thought of it,” you finally open your eyes again, only to be met with the sight of his cock. You gasp, the vision being enough to tip you over the edge. You melt into his arms, his dick grazing your lower belly as you slouch into him. He takes you in, holding you sweetly as you finish all over his leg. Your nails dig into his clothed shoulder, and the pinching sensation makes him growl.

“Fuck,” he remarks, gently moving you out of the way to see the arousal stains you’ve left on his pants. With your arms still wrapped around him, you look down, growing shy when you realize how wet you are. “On your knees, now. Show me what you touched yourself to,” he pushes you off of him and you practically crumble onto the floor, legs unstable from the orgasm you had.

“Ah,” you sigh, taking his cock into your hand shyly.

“What did you picture when you were pleasuring yourself, hmm?” he teases. You slowly bring your head to his tip, giving it small licks and kisses. He’s circumcised, groomed well, but not completely hairless. You don’t mind. You keep licking his tip, before expanding to the shaft, salivating down it. His cock throbs, the blood flow making it hot.

“Mm, tastes so good,” you smirk before opening your mouth and engulfing him fully in your mouth, the tip tickling the back of your throat. His base presses up on your nose and he whimpers. For the first time ever, you’ve heard him whimper. You pull away, a string of saliva connected to your lips, and take a deep breath.

“Fuck,” he strokes your head, pulling and holding your hair into a ponytail which he kept a grasp on, keeping your hair out of your face. You go back in, mercilessly sucking him off. The room fills with slurping and choking noises, along with crude moans and breathing. His cock throbs and twitches in your mouth, occasionally squirting out little bursts of pre cum. You grip onto his legs to hold your body steady, even though your knees were beginning to hurt from pressing into the floor. Your head rhythmically bobs up and down.

“Close?” you ask with an aching jaw.

“Mm, yeah,” he sharply exhales, his grip on your hair growing tighter. You keep up the pace, not going any faster or slower. “My god, you’re fucking good at this. Who taught you how to give a blowjob?” he grunts, making eye contact with you. You take his cock deep in your mouth, your lips and tongue pressing tightly against his girth. It hurts so good. The way he pulls your hair, the sting being so pleasurable. The way your jaw hurts from stretching your mouth open wide. The way your knees hurt from sitting on the floor: it’s all the most perfect pain.

“Mmm,” you hum against his tip, making him spill over the edge.

“Shit!” he grunts, spilling a fat load into your mouth. You close your eyes as it squirts out, coating your tongue and the insides of your cheeks. Little droplets of the warm, salty liquid spill out onto your lips, where you lick them up enthusiastically. You met Jake Sully a couple hours ago, and now you’re tasting his semen.

“When was the last time you came like that?” you wipe your mouth, getting up off the floor on wobbly legs.

“C’mere, you can hardly walk,” he says, reaching out and pulling you into his embrace, where you relax, sitting on top of him. You rest your head on his shoulder and curl up into a ball in his lap, he holds you sweetly and strokes your hair. “Where’d you learn to suck dick?” he asks.

“Um, I mean- I was never taught,” you close your eyes.

“Beginner’s luck, huh?” he chuckles.

“I guess,” your voice is raspy, probably because you just had a dick down your throat.

“C’mon, where do you wanna sleep?” he begins to move his wheelchair.

“Next to you,” you say, picking your head and and looking at him. You notice his features up close and trace little shapes on his cheek. “So pretty, Jake. You’re so pretty.” you remark.

“So, my room?” he ignores your touches.

“Anywhere you want,” you lean in, kissing him on the mouth. He takes his hand off of the wheel, holding your face as he kisses back. It’s a sweet kiss. Jake closes his eyes, stops in his tracks, and holds you.

“Your room, then,” he pulls away, smiling at you. It’s the first real smile you’ve got from him. You melt like putty into him while he heads towards your bed. The comforter is white, the sheets are pink, the room smells like you. Smells like home.

He sets you down gently onto the bed, and you crawl in, immediately relaxing in the warm blanket. He gets in after you, taking his shirt off before he tucks himself in.

“Love you, Jake.” you whisper, turning over in bed and cupping his cheek. He turns to look at you, but doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Babe, you’re gonna have to put some clothes on, or else I’ll be hard all night,” he jokes. You ignore that remark, and stare at his abs instead. But your eyes travel down, and something pokes through the blanket under his torso.

“No way,” you shake your head. “You’re an animal!”

“Yeah, I’m also hard. Come here, ride me.” he pats his torso, leaning back completely.

“I don’t wanna be limping tomorrow at work,” you complain.

“Fuck work, come here, ride me.” he orders. Annoyed (but also insanely horny), you hop onto him, straddling him yet again. A euphoric smile crosses his face as you line his wet cock up with your dripping entrance. “Push down now,” he holds your hips tightly, slowly shoving them down. But you resist, confusing him.

“I’m nervous,” you whine.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he kneads the flesh on your ass.

“Don’t know, it’s just-,” you stutter.

“You just rode my thigh and then sucked my dick, there’s nothing to be nervous about.” he teases. You sigh in response. He’s right. “Go on now, I’ll help ya,” he holds you tight as you lower yourself on his cock.

“Mmph!” you grunt, arching your back as the tip stretches you out. Jake gasps, pushing you down further until your clit touches his base. His dick stretches you out far, your walls clench around him tightly. “Oh, oh god,” you pant, toes curling with pleasure. His tip brushes up against your cervix and you cry out.

“Fuck, you’re tight. Relax for me, okay? Take a deep breath,” he pats you lovingly. Your brows furrow as you watch his cock go in and out slowly, and little squeaks come out with every shallow breath you take. “Deep breaths, want me to do ‘em with you?” he offers.

“Y-yeah,” you whimper. His hand traces along your belly and he breathes in slowly through his mouth, making it especially loud for you to follow along. You follow along with him, his cock still balls deep inside of you. Your muscles relax, allowing you to take him with less pain.

“Hurting?” he asks, his grip on you loosening.

“A little, in a good way,” you moan, slowly speeding up. You can feel little vein and twitch, and the slight curve that he has in his dick. Your warm, wet pussy squeezes him tight. It clamps on him harder with every little movement you make. “My god!” you yelp, the stimulation starting to become too much for you.

“I know, I know, just come for me, okay?” he bounces under you as you ride him. “Come all over my cock, real quick, okay?” he grunts.

“Yes, yes!” you throw your head back, stomach coiling as your orgasm nears. Your legs shake more, and Jake grabs your hips again to keep bouncing you. Your hands hold into his pecs for balance, your eyes clench shut. All the deep breathing flies out the window, and you’re back to desperate panting.

“Goddamn, gah-,” he whimpers. Your hands squeeze his chest tightly and your cunt squeezes his dick when you come. You fall forward into him embrace, legs shaking. Your heat contracts around him. You pull your hips away, his wet cock coming out. A squelching noise becomes audible when it leaves you, his cum dripping out of your hole after it. The substance was more watery, after you’d already milked him a few minutes earlier.

“Oh my god,” you hug him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and desperately trying to catch your breath.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” he coos.

“I think being your roommate will work out just fine,” you kiss his neck.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices/BTR Book 2: a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 4: let’s try this therapy shit one more time..

Flashback January 14th, 2025 11:03 AM

Rhea and Jey sat across from their therapist, an air of tension lingering between them. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the heater, breaking the otherwise still atmosphere. Jey shifted in his seat, exhaling slowly before he spoke.

“I wanted to apologize… for walking out last session,” Jey began, his tone filled with genuine remorse. He glanced at Rhea, who gave him a small, understanding nod. “I know it wasn’t fair to either of you.”

The therapist smiled warmly, nodding. “It’s okay, Jey. That’s what we’re here for. Therapy is a process, and sometimes, it brings up things we aren’t ready to face. Today, we’ll continue to work through it together.”

Jey took a deep breath, seemingly preparing himself. “Alright,” he said, bracing for whatever the therapist had in store. “So… go on with your questions.”

The therapist chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension. “Why don’t we start with something lighter? Why don’t you tell me how you met Rhea?”

Jey looked over at Rhea, a small smile appearing on his face as he thought back. He reached over and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before looking back at the therapist.

“Well… it’s actually kinda funny when I think about it,” he started, a hint of nostalgia coloring his tone.

Rhea chuckled softly beside him, nudging him as if to say, Don’t embarrass me, though her eyes were warm with the memories they shared.

“It was a couple of years ago. I saw her for the first time at an NXT motivational seminar. She’d just started making a name for herself down there. I remember being struck by her character—she was… different. Raw. Confident. She didn’t fit the mold, and that made her stand out to me right away.”

Rhea smiled, slightly embarrassed but also amused, recalling those early days.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Jey continued with a grin. “I pointed out her character design in front of everyone. I was not impressed with it, and I thought it was pretty damn bold of her to not say anything about it..."

The therapist nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“Then, she came up to the main roster, and I saw her again,” Jey went on. “She was with Adam and Damian… part of the original Judgment Day. She was this unstoppable force, and I respected that. I’d see her around every now and then, and yeah, I’d even cut a few flirty promos with her when we crossed paths.”

He paused, swallowing as he cleared his throat. There was a part of the story he wasn’t quite ready to unpack, a part he knew was crucial but too raw to bring to light in this moment. The memories of Rhea’s struggles with Matthew were painful ones—ones that had shaped both of them in ways they hadn’t anticipated. But for now, he chose to omit that part, not wanting to stir up those wounds just yet.

“There was a lot going on in my personal life back then,” Jey admitted, his voice softening. “I was… married. But things were tough. My wife and I were going through some stuff, and I don’t know… I just felt lost, like I didn’t know who I was anymore.”

He looked down, gathering his thoughts as he spoke. “One day, I saw her in catering. She’d taken all the brownies.” He chuckled at the memory, the tension easing just a bit. “She offered to share some with me, and we got to talking. One thing led to another, and I invited her to my room. We drank a little… and, well… things happened.”

The therapist looked at him thoughtfully, then asked, “So, you’re saying that you had an affair?”

Jey felt a pang of guilt, a feeling he still hadn’t fully processed even after all this time. He glanced at Rhea, her gaze steady and understanding. She knew the story—they both did. But hearing it aloud, in this setting, added a new layer of reality to it.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I had an affair. I was struggling… lost in my own mess. But that doesn’t make it okay. I hurt people in the process. And I know that.”

Rhea shifted beside him, her hand still in his, a quiet strength in her presence. She didn’t need to say anything; just being there was enough. Her forgiveness and their shared understanding were a testament to how far they’d come.

The therapist looked at Rhea with an understanding gaze and gently prompted, “Rhea, can you share with us how you felt in the beginning?”

Rhea hesitated, her fingers twisting in her lap as she carefully chose her words. “At first,” she started softly, “being with Jey… it felt like an escape. Like, every time I snuck into his room in the early hours of the morning, it was like I was running away from everything, from… Matthew.” She swallowed hard, glancing briefly at Jey before looking down again. “With Jey, I felt free. It felt like I was supposed to be with him in the first place.”

The therapist nodded thoughtfully. “And Matthew?” they asked gently. “Why did you continue to be with him?”

Rhea took a deep breath, clearly uncomfortable with the question, especially with Jey sitting beside her. But she spoke up anyway, her voice a mix of honesty and vulnerability. “Look, at first… I thought me and Jey were just… getting our fix, you know? Like, at the end of the day, I’d go back to Matthew, and he’d go back to… Takecia.” Her voice wavered as she mentioned Jey’s ex-wife, a reminder of the complicated and messy situation they had both been entangled in.

She clenched her jaw, her hand instinctively rubbing at her throat as if trying to loosen a knot that had lodged itself there. “I… I felt guilty,” she admitted, almost in a whisper. “I thought Matthew hadn’t done anything wrong. I thought I was the one messing up. But… he wasn’t who I thought he was. There were… signs. Signs I ignored. But that relationship was nothing like mine and Demetri’s.”

Jey looked at her, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. This was the first time she’d spoken openly about Matthew’s control over her, but what really caught his attention was her mention of someone named Demetri. In all the time they had been together, she had never once brought up that name.

The therapist noticed Jey’s curiosity and turned back to Rhea. “What was different about Demetri compared to Matthew?” they asked, keeping their voice steady and reassuring.

Rhea stiffened, her gaze hardening as she shook her head. “I… I don’t want to talk about it,” she said firmly, her voice laced with a mix of fear and defiance.

The therapist gave her a gentle nod. “That’s okay. You’re not obligated to talk about anything you’re not ready to share. This is a safe space, and we’ll move at your pace.”

But Jey, feeling the tension and the weight of the secrets still left unsaid, leaned forward, his frustration evident. He squeezed her hand, “Look, if I’m willing to talk about Takecia,” he said, his voice strained but measured, “then maybe… maybe you could talk about Demetri, too. I think we’re supposed to be honest with each other here.”

Rhea’s jaw clenched, she had removed her hand from him and her fingers curling tightly into fists in her lap. She finally looked at Jey, her eyes blazing with warning. “If you keep pushing it,” she said through gritted teeth, “I am going to call Trinity and have her take me home. I’m serious, Jey.”

The silence that followed was thick, the tension between them growing more intense. The therapist watched the exchange, their expression calm but alert, sensing that they were at a crossroads in the session.

The therapist, sensing her agitation, leaned in with genuine concern. “Rhea, I know this is difficult, but understanding your past is essential for your future. Can you share with us what Demetri represented for you?”

Jey chimed in, “Rhea, please. I’m not trying to push you. I just want to be there for you. I want to understand everything about you.”

The pressure in the room intensified, and Rhea felt her chest tighten. “I don’t want to talk about Demetri!” she snapped, her voice rising. “I’m done with this. You’re pushing me too far!”

The therapist maintained a calm demeanor. “Rhea, I understand it’s uncomfortable, but this is a safe space. If you want to work through these feelings, it’s important to confront them.”

Rhea stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Take me home now!” she shouted, her voice filled with desperation. She felt a surge of anger and hurt, a mix of emotions that boiled over. Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed out of the office, leaving the therapist and Jey stunned.

Jey’s heart raced as he immediately followed her, his voice echoing in the hallway. “Rhea! Wait up!” he called out, trying to keep pace with her hurried steps. He could see her determined stride, the tension radiating off her in waves.

Rhea spun around, her eyes blazing with emotion. “No, Jey! I don’t want to talk! I want to go home!” she demanded, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

Jey stepped closer, concern etching his features. “But Rhea, can we at least discuss what just happened? I don’t want you to feel like you have to shut me out,” he pleaded, his voice softening.

“Then take me home!” she snapped back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I can’t do this right now!”

“Okay, okay,” Jey relented, his heart sinking at the sight of her distress. “Let’s just go. I’m here for you, no matter what.” He reached for her hand, hoping to offer some comfort, but she pulled away, her walls firmly back in place.

They walked out together, the silence heavy between them as they approached the car. Jey opened the door for her, and she climbed in without a word. He slid in beside her, the atmosphere thick with unspoken thoughts and unresolved feelings.

As the car pulled away from the therapist’s office, Jey glanced at Rhea, his heart aching for her. He wanted to help, to understand, but he knew that right now, all he could do was be there for her as they drove home in silence.

As Rhea and Jey approached the house, the weight of their recent argument loomed heavily over them. Rhea was the first one out of the car, her heart racing with a mixture of anger and sadness. She stormed toward the front door, refusing to look back at Jey, who sighed deeply, rubbing his temples in frustration.

Once inside, Rhea made a beeline for the bedroom. She closed the door behind her with a definitive click, locking it as if that small action could shut out all the hurt and confusion swirling in her mind.

Jey entered the house a moment later, the silence palpable as he walked to the bedroom door. He tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “Demi,” he called, his voice laced with concern. “ I am going to take off the lock on the door if you keep doing this, please open the door.”

She opened it just a crack, enough to throw a pillow and a blanket at him before slamming it shut again. “Joshua, sleep on the couch!” she shouted, using his full name to emphasize her irritation.

“It’s only 11:57 in the morning, babe!” he protested, desperation creeping into his voice.

“BLOW IT OUT OF YOUR ASS!” she yelled back, the frustration in her tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

Jey leaned his forehead against the door, feeling the cool wood against his skin as he sighed in defeat. “Demi, please,” he pleaded softly, wishing she would let him in. “We need to talk about this. I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”

But inside the room, Rhea wrapped her arms around her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was overwhelmed by a mix of emotions: anger at Jey for pushing her, guilt for how she felt, and sadness for the distance that seemed to grow between them.

“Just give me a little space,” she whispered to herself, the weight of her words echoing in the silence of the room. She buried her face in her knees, letting the tears flow freely, feeling as though the walls she built around herself were the only thing protecting her from the chaos of her emotions.

Jey stood there, his heart breaking as he listened to her muffled sobs from the other side of the door. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her that he was there for her no matter what. But every time he tried to speak, the words caught in his throat, leaving him feeling helpless and frustrated.

“I’ll be right here,” he said finally, his voice low and filled with concern. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m not going anywhere.”

But Rhea remained silent, lost in her thoughts, needing time to process the turmoil inside her. No matter how much Jey pleaded, she couldn’t find the strength to open the door, not when she felt so broken.

As minutes ticked by, Jey settled onto the couch, staring at the wall as he wrestled with his own feelings of helplessness. He knew they needed to communicate, but the more he thought about it, the more he feared that the space Rhea had created was just the beginning of a deeper rift. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart and remind himself that they would find a way through this—together.

As Jey sat on the couch, a thought suddenly sparked in his mind. He needed help, and there was only one person he could think of who might provide insight into Rhea’s past—a blonde demon named Liv. He headed outside, pulling out his phone and dialing her number. After a few rings, she picked up, her voice energetic and lively.

“Hey! Just finished a killer workout! How’s Rhea doing?” Liv asked, her tone bright and full of enthusiasm.

Jey sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “The couples therapy is going not so good.”

“Oooohhh yeah, she told me about that,” Liv replied. “Did you flip out again?”

“No,” Jey said, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “She did this time.”

He went on to explain the heated session, how Rhea had clammed up and refused to talk about her past. “Do you know anything about Demetri?” he asked, referencing the name that had hung in the air during their therapy session.

Liv’s tone shifted slightly, taking on a more serious note. “Honestly, I think Rhea is going to fly over here and give me her signature headbutt for telling you this, but knowing her, she might also thank me for helping you understand.”

“Please, Liv,” Jey pleaded. “I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

Liv took a deep breath, clearly weighing her words. “Demetri used to correct Rhea a lot,” she said carefully.

“What do you mean, ‘correct’?” Jey asked, his heart racing as he braced for the answer.

Liv’s voice dropped lower, her words heavy with emotion. “He used to hit her. Beat the fuck out of her, Jey. It was horrible. Tegan was always covering her bruises.”

Jey felt his stomach drop. “What the fuck? Why didn’t anyone do anything?” His voice trembled with anger and disbelief.

“Rhea denied it,” Liv explained. “She would always say Tegan or I or any of the other Divas would hit her by accident. She didn’t want anyone to know.”

Jey’s fists clenched at his sides. “So what happened? How did she end up with Matt, and what happened with Demetri?”

“That’s the thing, no one really knows,” Liv said softly. “You would have to ask Rhea.”

Jey ran a hand through his hair, frustration and concern swirling within him. “I need to understand her, Liv. If we’re going to make this work, I can’t be in the dark about her past.”

“I get it,” Liv replied. “But you have to be patient with her. It took me a long time to break through her walls, and sometimes, she still struggles with what happened. Just be there for her, Jey. That’s what she needs right now.”

“Yeah, I just wish I could get through to her,” he admitted, feeling the weight of responsibility press down on him. “Thanks, Liv. I really appreciate you telling me this.”

“Anytime. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We all care about Rhea,” she said before hanging up.

Jey stood outside, looking up at the sky as he tried to process everything Liv had shared. He felt a mix of anger at Demetri for hurting Rhea, and a deep sense of empathy for the struggles she had faced alone. Taking a deep breath, he made his way back inside, determined to give Rhea the support she needed while also preparing himself to confront the past she was so desperately trying to hide. He knew the road ahead would be challenging, but he was ready to fight for their future, one step at a time.

—

Present Time. April 18th, 2025 - 10:02 PM

Trinity screamed, her voice piercing the air as another contraction hit her with relentless intensity. “Fuck It hurts so bad!” she cried, gripping Jon and Rhea’s hands with an iron-like grip. Jon winced but held firm, his heart racing as he watched his wife endure the pain of labor.

“Focus on your breathing, Trinity! You can do this!” Rhea urged, her voice steady despite the panic swirling in her mind. She glanced at Jey, who was standing by, nervously wiping sweat from Trinity’s forehead as if he could absorb her pain.

“Why did you get me pregnant, Jon?” Trinity yelled, shooting daggers at her husband. “This is all your fault!”

“I know, I know! Just breathe!” Jon replied, trying to keep his own panic at bay. “We’ll get through this together.”

As another contraction gripped Trinity, she let out a fierce curse, directing her frustration at Jon again. “You better be ready to catch these babies, because I’m going to kill you after this!”

“Hey, hey, let’s keep the focus here, alright? Just keep breathing,” Rhea said, encouragingly rubbing Trinity’s arm.

Just then, the doctor and a nurse burst into the room, bringing an air of professionalism amidst the chaos. “Alright, who’s ready to push?” the doctor asked with a warm smile, glancing at Trinity.

“AHHHHH!” Trinity screamed as that contraction hit her like a set of bricks, her determination breaking through the pain.

“Great! Trinity, I need you to listen carefully,” the doctor instructed. “When the next contraction hits, I want you to push as hard as you can, okay?”

Jon moved to Trinity’s side, holding her hand tightly. “You got this, babe. I’m right here,” he reassured her.

“Just think about how adorable they��ll be!” Rhea added, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension in the room.

“Okay, here we go!” the doctor announced, preparing for the birth. “Trinity, take a deep breath. Ready? And… push!”

Trinity screamed again, her face contorted in concentration as she bore down. Jey stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror. As the first baby’s head began to crown, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.

“Come on, Trinity! You’re almost there!” Jon encouraged, his heart racing.

“I can’t! I can’t do it!” Trinity cried, her voice laced with desperation.

“Yes, you can! You’re stronger than this!” Rhea insisted, squeezing Trinity’s hand.

With one final push, Trinity unleashed a primal scream, and the doctor exclaimed, “I can see the head! Keep pushing!”

Jey’s eyes were glued to the sight before him, and as he watched the baby’s head emerge, the reality of the situation hit him hard. “Oh God… I think I’m going to—”

Before he could finish, Jey’s vision blurred, and he staggered backward, fainting at the sight. He crumpled to the floor, barely avoiding a collision with the equipment beside him.

“Jey!” Rhea shouted, her focus momentarily pulled from Trinity.

“My brother in law.. what? Is he okay?” Trinity asked out of breath.

The nurse rushed to Jey’s side, checking on him as the doctor turned back to Trinity. “Focus on your breathing, Trinity. We need to keep going!”

With the room now buzzing with activity, Trinity felt a surge of adrenaline. “It hurts so bad!!!”

“Alright, Trinity, one more big push!” the doctor commanded, and Trinity summoned every ounce of strength she had left.

“Push!” the doctor shouted as Trinity let out another ferocious scream, her body straining with the effort.

Moments later, the room filled with the sound of a baby’s first cry. “Congratulations! You have a son!” the doctor announced, holding the tiny infant aloft.

Trinity’s eyes widened with joy and relief as the baby was placed on her chest. “I did it! I really did it!” she gasped, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks.

The nurse quickly attended to the second twin, who was still on their way out. “Alright, we need to do this again, Trinity. One more push!”

Trinity nodded, her determination renewed. “Let’s get this over with!” she exclaimed, ready to meet her second child.

As she pushed again, Jon leaned in close, whispering words of encouragement. “You’re amazing, babe! Just one more!”

With a final, powerful push, the second baby emerged, filling the room with another wail. “Congratulations! You have another son!” the doctor exclaimed, placing the second twin beside his brother.

Overwhelmed by emotion, Trinity gazed down at her two boys, her heart bursting with love. “I can’t believe it… they’re beautiful,” she whispered, cradling her sons.

In the chaos of the moment, Rhea turned to check on Jey, who was slowly regaining consciousness. “Hey, you alright?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

“I think I’m gonna need a minute,” Jey mumbled, groaning as he sat up.

As Trinity held her twins close, the atmosphere in the room transformed. The pain and chaos had given way to joy and love, and in that moment, surrounded by family, Trinity felt complete. She had faced her fears, battled through the pain, and emerged victorious—now a proud mother of two.

As Jey finally regained his bearings, he pushed himself up from the floor, rubbing his temples. The sound of soft coos and gentle laughter drew him back to the delivery room. As he stepped inside, he was struck by an overwhelming sight: Jon taking one twin in his arms while Trinity held the other twin, their faces illuminated with pure joy.

“Wow…” Jey breathed, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him. The image of his brother, usually so strong and composed, now tenderly gazing at his newborn sons filled Jey’s heart with pride. He could see the love radiating between Jon and Trinity as they shared this moment together, a family formed through their struggle and determination.

“Hey Uce’!” Jon called, grinning as he looked up at Jey. “Come meet your nephews!”

Jey stepped closer, his heart swelling at the sight of the tiny bundles. “They’re perfect,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You guys did an amazing job.”

As Jon and Trinity shared tender glances over the twins, Jey felt a pang of bittersweet happiness. It was a reminder of everything they had all been through together and how far they had come.

After a moment of quiet admiration, Rhea nudged Jey gently. “Let’s give them some space,” she suggested, sensing the intimate moment unfolding. Jey nodded, not wanting to intrude on their first family moments.

As they walked out of the room, Jey chuckled nervously. “I can’t believe I fainted in there. I’ve seen some wild things in the ring, but that… that was something else.”

Rhea smirked, glancing back at the room filled with life and love. “You fainting like that? Classic,” she teased, then turned serious, her gaze meeting his. “But seriously, don’t faint when I have our boy.”

Jey raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping across his face despite his embarrassment. “Oh, I won’t! I promise I’ll be right there with you—wide awake and ready to catch our kid.”

“Good,” Rhea replied, her tone lightening again. “I can’t have you passing out during our moment.”

As they stood in the hallway, Rhea felt a flutter of excitement for the future. Jey’s commitment reassured her that they would navigate this journey together, just as Trinity and Jon were starting their new chapter as parents.

“Ready for the next adventure?” Rhea asked, nudging Jey playfully.

Jey grinned, pulling her close. “With you? Always.”

With a shared smile, they both knew they were just getting started on their journey together, and the promise of their future family awaited them.

[mediumgayitalian]

previous chapter

———

“Take the exit here.”

“How come?” Nico asks, dutifully putting on his blinker and merging into the right lane. “We’re not even at half tank.”

Will clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s, uh, not for gas.”

A pause.

“Oh, Solace, you’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’m sorry!”

Nico throws his hands up, ignoring Will’s screech of both hands on the wheel, I value my life! “There is no possible way you have to piss already. You had half a slushie!”

“...Well.”

“William Andrew Solace, I swear to God.”

“I got distracted!” Will cries, eyes big and round as he pouts. “The Abstract Iron Centaur is a monument, okay, I forgot what the point of the rest stop was for.”

Nico groans. “I’m not sure you should be allowed to go to medical school. You’re going to forget a scalpel in someone’s lungs, or something.”

Immediately, he knows this is the wrong thing to say. The sheepish grin vanishes off Will’s face, replaced with something despairing, before it’s hastily shoved back on.

The winding road finally gives way to the advertised rest stop, partially obscured by a Welcome to Georgia sign with a modernist-style image of a peach that annoys him for no reason. We’re glad Georgia’s on your mind. (False. Georgia is never on his mind, except for how Will can’t say Georgia without slipping into his accent and Nico has to take that golden opportunity to mock him. And then die.)

“Right,” Will says finally. He forces a laugh. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, then gets out of the car without so much as a word.

Nico watches him go. 

“Well,” he mutters to himself. “Shit.”

He waits in the car as long as he physically can, which is anything between thirty seconds and four business days. A glance at his watch informs him it’s closer to two minutes. 

He kicks a stone across the parking lot, debating the implications of searching for his friend. It hasn’t really been that long, so he’s not sure it’s socially appropriate, and then he wonders when the hell he started caring about being socially appropriate. They are friends, after all, because in a group icebreaker question about siblings in seventh grade, Nico had growled none, on the account that she was killed by a drunk driver when I was ten and Will had laughed, brightly and morbidly, and said hey, my brothers were murdered, too! Twinsies! and killed the vibe rather brilliantly for literally everybody else in the room. 

He gives into his impulse eventually, striding onto the surprisingly soft grass and looking, halfheartedly, around the spacious grounds (he’d decided searching the bathroom would be a touch too far). His mission gets sidetracked, however, because the heat is less oppressive under the shade of tall, weeping willows, and there’s a small breeze, and he is struggling to shove his various musings into the Repression Box where they belong. 

Will, starts one of said musings, has been acting weird as shit long before he showed up at his house in the middle of the night.

It had started around January? If he had to guess. But Will is always kind of weird in the winter, so he hadn’t thought much of it, just offered to break into his house more often so he didn’t feel too suffocated. The usual. But the strangeness had persisted through the spring – the sudden drops in mood, the hair-triggers to clam him up. Both of which are usually a Nico thing. Will, more often, just shoves all his negative emotions down to the bottom of his soul until he gets one half-mark wrong on a test and sobs himself sick about being useless while Nico stands guard outside the bathroom door, agonised, unsure how to help. And then the two of them never talk about it again. 

Over the last few months, things have been a little less balanced. 

“Hey.”

Nico jumps. Will stands slightly, shoulders still hunched slightly, but definitely less cagey than earlier. He holds out a cup of coffee Nico recognises as from a vending machine.

“Hi,” Nico says softly, smiling tentatively. He takes the coffee. It’s black, and too hot, just how he likes it.

“You are going to stain your teeth,” Will observes, as he always does.

“Bite me,” Nico responds, following the script.

A genuine smile pulls at his face.

“You ready to get back on the road?”

“Yep.”

They fall into step in their hike back to the Jeep – Nico hiked farther than he meant to. Will’s flip-flops slapping rhythmically against the packed dirt of the trail is a familiar sound, and it eases some of his own tension, putting a bit more prep in his step. When he glances quickly over, Will is breathing normally, shoulders slack, much calmer expression on his face.

“You should let me drive,” he says as they approach. “You’ve been behind the wheel since practically dawn; maybe you should take a nap or something.”

Nico shakes his head, waving a dismissive arm. Frowning slightly, Will acquiesces, climbing back into the passenger side.

“I’ve had two coffees and half a slushie,” he explains, resting his hand on the back of Will’s seat. He cranes his neck behind him, careful of the family walking an unleashed dog as he pulls out. “I’m good forever.”

“Caffeine doesn’t work on you,” Will points out.

Nico pauses. 

“...True.”

He hadn’t realise Will had noticed, actually. Although he supposes it’s not too surprising – Will has known him a long time, Will is observant, and Will generally enjoys lecturing people about anything he can get away with, up to and including their general health and safety. Nico, in all his bad choices, is a favourite target of his. He can probably recite his solo midnight speed driving from memory.

“It’s just –” Will stops, waiting until Nico’s safely merged back on the highway before continuing. “It’s three and a half hours ‘till we get to Atlanta, Neeks, and it’s already three-thirty. We’ll have to stop again for food, probably, at one point, and we’ll have to stop for food, soon, and who knows what the traffic will be like –”

Carefully passing the person going sixty in front of him, finally breaking into open road, Nico takes half an eye off the road and digs through the centre console.

“– I mean, if it’s bumper to bumper, then what? It’ll be rush hour soon, shit, I shoulda planned for that, shit, do we have a jerrycan? We should have a jerrycan, remind me to get a jerrycan for the trunk –”

Finally catching sight of the CD he’s looking for (and barely managing to swerve and avoid a massive pothole that would have for sure cut their trip short, but he managed, so take that, Reckless Driving Lecture Will that lives in his brain, who’s God now), he hands it to Will. Still actively stressing about literally nothing, he opens it, polishing the disc on habit and sliding it into the slot without so much as pausing. 

Nico smirks. 

Yeah, maybe he knows his friend, too.

“– I mean, just blankets and a first aid kit is not enough. Really, we should have some provisions in there. Oh, and rope, ‘cause what if we get stranded in the mountains –”

The radio clicks as it reads the disc, then, suddenly and without warning, the stereo rumbles with heavy bass and pounding beat.

Will cuts himself off. “Hey, is this –”

Nico smirks wider. He chances another look away from the road, just in time to watch a magnificent smile break across Will’s face, wide and a little crooked, showing all his molars – a real one, the one he gets when he’s caught off-guard, the one that makes his hands fluttery.

“You’re playing In The Zone!” he exclaims, laughing delightedly. “Without complaining!”

Bingo, Nico thinks. 

“Technically, I didn’t play shit.” He gestures at the empty CD case in Will’s hand. “You’re just like a hermit crab. I hand you things, you hold them.”

“Shut up.” But there’s no bite to the command, smile still stretching wide. If Nico looks, he can see the tiny snag of his barely crooked front tooth, but he doesn’t look, because he doesn’t care about that, obviously. He has his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel, fully focused.

Obviously. 

They do get into disgusting traffic. Will is distressed about it, up until someone cuts them off so closely they both nearly actually and genuinely die, and he is immediately lit up in a rage so incandescent Nico wonders if he will ever be able to look away from straining biceps and a clenched jaw ever again. More distantly, he wonders if and I hope you get three consecutive aneurysms and your family leaves you to fucking rot in a hospital bed, you leprous shitdick will be on loop in his head for the rest of time. He kind of wants to put it on a shirt. Will’s linguistic talents should be studied. 

“Stop thinking about it,” Will demands, socking him (hard! What the shit!) in the shoulder. His face resembles, quite exactly, the shade of the setting sun. “Purge it from your memory.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Nico responds, smirking.

“I wasn’t –” A pause. Nico bites back a snort. “Cutting people off is just so rude.”

“Oh, of course.”

“I mean! I mean.”

“Indeed.”

“If it was – an ambulance, or something, I would understand, but he cut us off just to get immediately stuck in the same traffic! I don’t understand the point!”

“Truly the behaviour of a leprous shitdick,” Nico agrees. His grin starts to genuinely hurt his face, but he ignores it in favour of snickering.

Will sinks into his seat, pulling his hoodie over his eyes. His ears, as usual, stick out a little, and they’re red, too. Nico nobly resists the urge to flick them. 

“I hate you.”

“I think you’re quite attached to me, actually. After all, I’m not a –”

“If I hear the word leprous come from your mouth one more fucking time, di Angelo, I’ll give you leprosy. For real. I’ll find it.”

Will probably could find a vial of pure leprosy somewhere, actually, so Nico shuts up. (He’s seen Will’s weird vial collection. Most of it is just, like, various bacteria, he’s pretty sure, but Will is kind of morbid and Nico knows his sense of humour is garbage because Nico’s sense of humour is garbage, and there is a reason they’re friends, and if Nico found a vial of leprosy somewhere he would keep it, too. Can leprosy be vialed? Who knows. Will, probably.)

Once he’s sure Nico is not going to tease him anymore about his temper tantrum, or at least for the moment, he turns back to his book. Every so often, he looks up, observes the three miles per hour they’re crawling, and sighs, loudly and lengthy to himself, muttering something about railway systems and zoning laws and government incompetence. Nico doesn’t ask. He was free from the jail that was history and geography lessons last month. He is determined to learn absolutely nothing for the next six months, at least. 

“I’m paying for the motel or hotel or inn et cetera,” Will says, randomly. 

“No,” Nico replies, easily. 

Will reaches out, calmly, and pinches him on the thigh. Nico does not yelp indignantly because he is a Man, and can handle Will’s weirdly pointy fingers.

“You paid for gas.”

���Yep.”

“And you have car payments.”

“Mhm.”

“And you bought Dunkin’s.”

“True.”

“Nico,” Will says exasperatedly, “this whole damn trip was my idea. Let me pay for shit.”

“I enjoy wasting my father’s money,” Nico counters, and Will pauses, considering. “Come on, commie. I know the idea of spending a banker’s money on stupid shit pleases you.”

He knows he’s starting to win, because Will sighs in a very particular way that Nico has identified as why am I letting this dumbass get away with this again, says, “Spending money is capitalist, Nico,” and turns, begrudgingly, back to his book.

Poorly hidden behind the pages, he’s smiling.

Nico tallies his victory.

The traffic finally eases by around eight o’clock. Victorious, surely, except that they’re still quite a ways from Atlanta. He considers getting off at one of the various exits promising shelter, and in fact decides he is going to, but for some reason, his hand never drifts to his blinker. Never turns the wheel slightly to merge, never eases off the gas. He keeps going, an going, and going, music playing softly, stars beginning to shine through the darkening sky.

Beside him, Will lets out tiny puffs as he exhales, even and sluggish.

“You are a grandmother,” he whispers fondly, shaking his head. In the quiet of the road, interrupted only by the whipping whipping winds – he should have pulled the roof back up when they were stuck, shit – and odd flash of headlights of a passing car, he lets himself soften, sighing back against his seat and easing up slightly on the gas.

Will glows, faintly, in the moonlight.

It’s funny, ‘cause he’s a sun child. Nico has teased him about it for years, in fact; his hair, his bright blue eyes, his stubborn clinging to his aesthetic of wannabe surfer boy. The gold ring he wears on his thumb, the sun pendant that rests on his heart. Swathed in yellows and blues and golds, all the time, with a sprinkling of bright green and neon orange just to remind everyone that yes, he is red green colourblind, and no, that will not stop him from making fashion choices. 

But the silver suits him. It softens him, instead of washing him out, reminding Nico that the sun shines white. The low light casts gentle shadows on his face, too, drawing attention to his strong brow and straight nose. 

Forcing his eyes back on the road, where they should have been the whole time, Jesus, he notices the giant green Downtown Atlanta sign, and follows its arrows. The first exit he sees, he turns, getting lost three times before he finds the hotel that was advertised.

Pulling into the largely empty parking lot, he shuts off the car, then turns to Will, screwing up his face. He has to wake him up, at some point. Obviously. Unfortunately he cannot simply melt into the shadows and reappear in a hotel room. As awesome as that would be, with his luck, he’d pop into an occupied one, and that’d be a whole host of problems. 

Deciding he’ll actually get them a room first, he heads inside, speaking quietly with the desk host.

“Single or double?” they ask pleasantly, voice similarly lowered for the hour.

“Uh,” Nico says, “double?”

The host pauses, eyebrows flicking up at his hesitation. “...Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Nico flushes. He adds, belatedly, “Please.”

Eyebrow raised in amusement, the host reaches into a drawer and pulls out two sleek key cards, tucking them into a little envelope thing and handing them over. “Room 409,” they say, nodding towards the elevator. 

“Thanks,” Nico responds, and walks out the door. He realises, as he exits, how much of a general failure he is at communicating with people who are not Will, and considers climbing through the window of his sixth floor room out of sheer embarrassment. The realization that he does not have the skill to drag Will up there with him is the only thing that stops him.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs, once he’s gathered their bags and some of the red has faded from his face, “we’re here.”

Will hums a little, voice gravelly. Nico’s lip quirk up.

“Where?”

“Somewhere to sleep.”

“‘M sleepin’ jus’ fine.”

His accent is so, so heavy with sleep, and it’s just – God, he wishes Wil hadn’t trained himself out of it. In Nico’s professional opinion, Will should talk like that all the time.

Authenticity, and all that.

“C’mon, Will.”

After another minute of coaxing – which Nico indulges purely because he knows for a fact Solace will have no memory of it in the morning, in any other circumstance he’d poke him awake – Will uncurls enough to stagger to his feet, stumbling as he gets out of the vehicle. For his own safety, Nico wraps an arm around his narrow hips, guiding him up to the room. 

“Mnhgh,” he mumbles, the second the heavy door closes behind them. He walks two steps to the nearest bed, face plants in the middle of it, and starts snoring, feet hanging off the end, one flip-flip still stubbornly clinging to his foot.

“Dork,” Nico murmurs. He gets ready like a normal person, tugging on a sleep shirt – might be an old one of Will’s, actually, because Nico certainly never bought a Shania Twain concert t-shirt – and wrapping up in the wonderfully plush blankets. “Goodnight, Will.”

He gets a snore in response. He burrows deeper into the covers, smiling, drifting off to the sound of his best friend’s rhythmic breathing.

———

next chapter

[crazyinluvfix]

PROLOGUE

FATAL ATTRACTION - a stiles stilinski story

summary: Sera Salvatore moved to Beacon Hills for a break from the supernatural. But her life was once again turned upside down when she and her two best friends get thrown head first into a world of werewolves and mystery. But it’s hard for her to protect her friends when a single werewolf bite is what could kill her for good…

WARNINGS: mentions of blood

a/n: this is just the intro ! future parts will be longer, that’s where the story really begins ;)

series masterlist

1.8k words

┌──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────┐

Beacon Hills was supposed to be a sanctuary from all things supernatural.

After what felt like over a century (because it was), Sera Salvatore needed a break.

Which was admittedly a little hypocritical considering she herself was a vampire, but she was desperate for an escape from all the drama and chaos that her family - namely her brothers - had brought to Mystic Falls. So she decided to start afresh, again.

After only one year of living back in her hometown, she picked up and went to the furthest most point in the continental United States, which just so happened to land her here. From Georgia, all the way to sunny California. It would be a nice change.

She was fortunate enough that she could pass as quite young whenever she settled in a new place. With the help of makeup, clothing, and a healthy amount of dishonesty she managed to blend into freshman year at Beacon Hills High without anyone even batting an eye.

It was now one year ago today that she had started her first day, which turned out to be a breeze.

~

January 3rd, 2010

“You’re humiliating,” I expressed my annoyance flatly as I stood by the door, waiting for my brother to let go of my jacket that he had been straightening before I left the house.

He patted my shoulder with a motherly smile as if he was sending his child off to kindergarten, then took a step back to play the role further.

“Have you got everything?” he asked as he nodded to my bag.

I let out a breathy chuckle. I didn’t hate him as much as I let on… mostly.

“I packed you a blood bag for lunch,” he continued, that smirk of his right at home on his smug face - never a dull moment.

My hand reached for my keys on the side table as I walked backward towards the door, shaking my head to stop my lips from forming a smile of their own. “How thoughtful,” I retorted sarcastically.

But just as I was about to step outside I stopped to say one last thing, “Thanks for helping me move in and all,” my tone was much more genuine than it typically was when speaking to him, but I really was grateful.

Moving across the country would’ve been infinitely harder without his company on the road, and without being able to play the little sister card and sit back while he does the heavy lifting. But… and I would never admit it… but even now, starting a new school was just as scary as it always has been and a part of me liked that I had my big brother there to see me off.

I quickly cut our sappy little chat short with another comment, “But, I expect you to be gone when I get home.” I arched an eyebrow and pointed a finger at him.

He was definitely the fun brother, but with fun comes impulsivity - a trait that must be genetic, and must have skipped my twin - and with impulsivity comes a long string of ‘animal attacks’. And that was exactly the drama in question that I wanted to escape, so I had brought along a surplus of blood bags to hold me until I found a more permanent solution.

He held his hands up in surrender, “I’ll be out within the hour.”

“Okay. I’ll see ya,” I said finally as I stepped outside, hiding from the brisk winter cold in the confines of my leather jacket.

My words were met with another smile and a nod from my brother before he spoke again. “Tell me how it went when you’re home.” The protective mother was back. But this time, it wasn’t just a joke, he was lucky we had no witnesses since he’d hate to ruin his tough-guy persona.

I almost laughed at him again, but I didn’t. As humans me and my brothers were incredibly close, but over time that faded. Me and our other brother never really settled that, but over the past year back in Mystic Falls me and the eldest fell back into old patterns.

“I will,” I gave in with a joking eye-roll. “Bye Damon,” I waved his way.

“Bye Seffie,” he returned, getting a kick out of my suddenly sour face.

Seffie. A nickname he saddled me with at the age of 4 and has stuck with me ever since. But my real name was a mouthful, so I chose to go by Sera - a fact Damon will insist on disregarding for the rest of our eternal lives.

As I walked away my once friendly hand gesture turned into a middle finger as I heard him laugh behind me and shut the door as I made my way to my new school.

~

The moment I stepped foot in the doors I noticed some heads turn, some overheard whispers from passers-by that fuelled my ego just that bit more as I walked up to reception and signed in.

First-period English went smoothly, then it was History which ironically was focused on the confederacy (not me and my siblings' proudest fight). And it was safe to say the teacher was thoroughly impressed with my knowledge on the subject, little did he know I quite literally lived it.

But after class was when my day took a turn.

“1076, 1076,” I repeated under my breath as I went to scour the halls for my new locker, but the break rush made my search all the more difficult with what felt like a million people charging around.

But finally, I seemed to be in luck as I read the numbers to my right; 1080, 1079, 1078, 1077, and…

Crash.

I took a deep breath and a frustrated sigh at the smug-faced, blond jock who had just practically booked it into my side, knocking all of my books out of my hands, and causing me to jump at the deafening sound of them hitting the tile floor. ‘Great,’ I thought satirically. The prick didn’t even bother to look back! Let alone be kind enough to help me pick them back up again.

But someone else did. In fact, two other boys seemed to have played witness and immediately came scrambling up to my side.

“Hey, uh-” the one with darker features and a crooked jawline, giving him a somewhat goofy smile stuttered, stopping after his friend who stood politely next to him not-so-subtly jabbed him in the side with his elbow, causing him to bring a hand to it and shoot his friend a glare.

“What he meant to say was, do you want a hand with that?” The slightly taller friend with the buzzed brown hair asked after his friend's failure to do so.

I could do nothing but laugh slightly at both of their clear excitement and reply with a smile, “I’d love one.”

Picking up books was a simple task that I most definitely could’ve done myself in probably half the time, but nothing compared to watching them both drop to the floor and bat at each other's hands in a frantic competition to ‘help the most.’ My smile grew wider and I brought a hand up to rest on my forehead. This was already a refreshing change since none of the boys back home would have ever done the same.

Soon, they both stood back up in front of me, proud looks on both of their faces as they put the books in my open locker for me.

“Thank you,” I chuckled in response.

“No problem,” the more hyper one added before quickly speaking again at a constant, lightning pace. “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he gestured to himself, “and this is my buddy, Scott,” his hand moved over to pat the other boy on the shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, Stiles and Scott,” I nodded back at them, still trying to bite back an amused grin, “I’m Sera.”

“You’re new here right?” Scott spoke again with an innocent look of pure curiosity.

I put my hands together behind my back and rocked on my heels slightly, “Mhm, started this morning,” a somewhat nervous chuckle left my lips, which the one called Stiles seemed to pick up on because he quickly interjected.

“I mean, we’d be happy to show you ‘round if you wanna hang with us,” he offered, a hopeful shrug on his shoulders and a pout on his lips.

“Wouldn’t we, Scott,” he then batted the back of his hand against his friend’s arm, glaring at him to respond.

Scott quickly blinked and nodded rapidly, “Oh, yeah, of course.”

I bit my lip in contemplation, they did seem awfully nice. “I’d love to, but I’ve gotta go to the office quickly, but maybe I’ll catch up with you guys later,” my counter seemed to be accepted without a second thought as I studied their expressions.

When I stepped backward I noticed how they didn’t leave just yet, so I said, “Bye boys, I’ll see you around,” with a small wiggle of my fingers as a wave.

“See you around, Sera,” Stiles repeated as he and Scott both mimicked my step back, his hand raising up to do a little salute before we turned our backs to each other.

I could not help the quiet giggle that escaped my mouth after I was out of their eyeline, but I also could not help but hear what they were saying to each other down the hall.

“Why the fuck did you salute?” Scott whispered, hitting Stiles back in retaliation for earlier.

“I- I don’t know, okay?” Stiles replied slightly panicked.

My smile grew. What idiots.

As for the conversation with the receptionist, it went smoothly with a little help from my immaculate ‘people skills’.

“I’m sorry but we insist on transcripts. And your immunisation records seem to be missing,” the lady said, peering over her glasses as she looked through my files.

My sigh was followed by me leaning forward, looking into her eyes as I watched her pupils dilate - she just had to make this more difficult.

“Please look again, I’m sure you’ll find everything you’re looking for.” A proud smirk laced my lips as she did exactly that, nodding and sending me on my way. Too easy.

During lunch, I did end up joining the boys at their table, taking a seat next to Stiles and definitely not missing the wide-eyed look he gave to Scott, along with his stuttered breath as I leaned over him to reach my pen that had rolled across the table.

The portrayal of vampires in Twilight had always annoyed me due to its incredible inaccuracy, but it was beyond amusing how easy it was for me to read their minds, even without special powers.

~

That day had ended with new numbers in everyone’s phones and Sera scoring a new ride to school and back every day in her new friend’s beaten-up old Jeep (which she thought had enough charm to distract from the deafening sound it made when running).

And from that moment forward, the three were inseparable.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

hope you enjoyed !

this was basically to just tell you what to expect from the rest of the series. might not post it all on here unless you want me to so check out my ao3 and wattpad ( @crazyinluvfix ) like and comment x

└──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────┘

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

*evil laughter.* For both the anons who requested the tea, HERE IT IS!

*rubs hands together.* Sit down and make yourselves comfortable. There's gonna be lots of intense, juicy details I'll share.

**trigger warnings for violence and abuse**

First and foremost, I believe Axl got together with Stephanie Seymour because she resembled Erin Everly in a way by having the big, curly brown hair, blue eyes, and being a model. Keep in mind: this is all speculation on my part. I can't confirm, nor deny, any truth behind Axl's intentions on why he chose Stephanie. I'm also not sure if Axl was trying to replace Erin - maybe he was, maybe he wasn't, but I can't say for certain.

Before Axl met Stephanie, he found a photo of her on a Playboy magazine cover. What kind of photo? My guess is one where she was either naked or topless, causing a reaction in Axl's uh...you know where lol. It's true, to a certain extent, that men think with their dicks 😏 But Axl didn't just see Stephanie as eye candy, he wanted to get to know her on a personal level, hence, why they met, and fell in love.

Now...l'm gonna take a short detour and share some background on Stephanie's dating history to set the scene and introduce what kind of woman she is.

At the age of 14, Stephanie dated John Casablancas, who was 42 at the time, and was married to a model named Jeanette Christiansen. If that wasn't a big YOWZA! Here's some more sketchy details. She dated a few other men in 1988, like Tommy Andrews, before getting together with Warren Beatty in May of 1990 until April of 1991. Stephanie then met Axl in March of 1991, one month before breaking up with Beatty. Also keep in mind that Stephanie had a baby boy with Tommy and she named him Dylan. Dylan would be the light in Axl's life during his relationship with Stephanie since he wanted to have kids, and he treated Dylan like his own son.

Both Stephanie and Axl seemed to hit it off well. They got along and Axl helped boost Stephanie's career/reputation by featuring her in GNR's November Rain and Don't Cry music videos. Overtime, things got a bit messy. Throughout 1992 and 1994 Stephanie was cheating on Axl with Charlie Sheen. I made a post, explaining a theory with one of my mutuals, on why she was hanging out with Charlie. You can read my detailed answer here. But to sum it up, Stephanie seemed like a wild party animal, similar to Charlie, and they probably went to cocaine-infused parties together. Since Axl stopped doing drugs Stephanie might've felt bored with him and needed that excitement back in her life.

Unfortunately, Charlie wasn't the only person she cheated on with Axl. She was also dating billionaire Peter Brant in January of 1993, marrying him in 1995, while still being with Axl until February of 1993.

So, how did those two get to that point? I believe Stephanie fell in love with Axl, but her feelings might've not lasted long. She seemed to wander off to other men in order to feel special and to satisfy her insatiable need for sex and wealth. Stephanie's relationship with her son, Dylan, was also falling apart. She seemed to be more careless with her son, not being there for him when she should've. Instead, it was Axl who was there for Dylan, and it was Axl who watched out for Dylan whenever Stephanie wasn't around.

Here’s a fine example of her carelessness. During a Christmas party in 1992, Stephanie was snorting coke in the bathroom while Dylan was present. Axl came home and found out, becoming upset, and insinuating it was abusive, on Dylan's behalf, for Stephanie to do drugs. One thing to note: Axl didn't want to throw a big Christmas party initially. It was Stephanie who defied his words and threw one anyway because she was in a "festive mood." Big mistake on her part.

Anyways, after the party, the two had a 45 minute argument in the kitchen. Axl had an inkling Stephanie was cheating on him and, to confirm his suspicions, he found her diary where she talked about cheating on him with all these men. A dumb bitch, if you ask me. Like...who does that?! And why did she feel the need to record that??? She must've thought nobody would read her diary, not even Axl, but damn...

Axl broke some glass in the kitchen. Stephanie tried fighting back by grabbing his testicles, which then lead to Axl defending himself by grabbing Stephanie in a headlock, hitting and kicking her, while dragging her bare feet across the broken glass. This was the only time Axl laid hands on Stephanie. She came out of the fight with a bloody nose and black eye.

I'm not justifying abuse, or saying what Axl did was right, but Stephanie did this to herself, and karma kicked her in the ass for cheating. Hopefully she learned her lesson. Later on, Axl proposed to Stephanie with a 4 carat ring but they were only engaged for 3 weeks. She stole $100,000 worth of jewelry from Axl and sold the ring. If you ask me, she was waiting for him to put a ring on it so she could steal his money.

That's pretty much why the fandom hates Stephanie. She was, and probably still is, a self-centered whore who only cares about men's money and not their personality. Let's not forget...Axl sued Stephanie first for all the damage and infidelity she caused him, however, she counter-sued him for having him "slap," "punch," and "kick" her down a "flight of stairs" after the notorious Christmas party. Whosever story you're gonna believe you should probably believe Axl's.

What's even more shitty is Stephanie was never there for Axl when he needed her the most. It was around this time when Axl recovered some fucked up childhood memories through regression therapy and he was gonna share it in a Rolling Stone magazine article (which he did). Axl did say Stephanie was very supportive of him during that time but her actions later tell me otherwise.

I apologize if this is a lot to take in and I’m sorry for my jumbled words 😭 I tried to get in as much detail as possible. I don’t know EVERYTHING about their relationship, so I might’ve left out a few things, but that’s the majority of what happened, and why everybody hates her. If you have anymore questions, don’t hesitate to ask! ^.^

[herejusttosufferalong]

I watched a live last night with a pretty well known creator that is into Polin/Lukola. They claimed to have insider info (3rd hand) that N & L were together (possibly casually) after filming wrapped last year, but they took a break (ahem Ross & Rachel) at some point during the summer and that's when he got together with A. It was a long live with lots of information, screen shots, pics, etc. The creator also said they (kind of like I've seen here) were on the outs in January and something changed in Feb/March. That creator is convinced they got back together, but I'm definitely not. I guess I'm just trying to process all of this info and need you all to help me. Please, give me your thoughts and opinions haha. I'm staying in the restaurant, but I don't know if my delulu can take me this far.

I was watching it last night too. I never miss their lives.

I agree with a lot of it. Some of it I don't.

But they did give some compelling arguments and the timeline of events for January was right in line with what I have pieced together,

[hypersomniagame]

HYPERSOMNIA JANUARY DEV LOG : "LOG 1, WOOHOO!"

Hi! For all of you who follow HYPERSOMNIA, or are just stopping by, let me introduce you to this post to really set the tone.

For 2024, I am going to try to release a dev log about HYPERSOMNIA once a month, may come earlier, may come a little late, but I'm doing this to help give insight on to how the game is going, and to give me motivation to work on the game.

First things first, big news!

HYPERSOMNIA IS NOW AVAILABLE TO WISHLIST ON STEAM! (LINK)

After a while of back and forwarding with Valve, I've finally got a Steam page to call my own, and MAN is it bizarre seeing my weird little RPG in my Steam library. Like, that's my logo, and my key art, and screenshots of MY game, that's so weird. It doesn't feel real. BUT IT IS!

And, I would really really really really really appreciate it if you would consider wishlisting the game on Steam. It helps with the algorithm, and my happiness because I like seeing numbers go up, it feels good.

I even drew this as a announcement/commemoration for the page going live.

(P.S; if you couldn't tell, I really like Half-Life, it's one of my favorite game series.)

Secondly...

A new trailer is in the works! We were accepted for this year's MOTHER Direct (4th time baby, whoo!)

The trailer has been coming along well, I hope to show more battle oriented clips that I've missed the last few years, like special moves.

Can you believe I've never actually gotten to adding those in the game? I mean, they come set-up in default RPG Maker projects but I've never gotten around to revamping them until now, year 4 of engine work. Isn't that strange?

I also hope to improve on editing in the trailers. Whenever I finish a trailer I come back a few months later to notice minor points where I was kinda sloppy.

I'm not much of a video editor, (I only learned so I could edit trailers on my own) but I'd like to keep them at a good presentable quality. You gotta have standards with that kinda stuff, it's important!

OK, TIME FOR THE ACTUAL GAME STUFF. HERE WE GO.

Abilities are now implemented! And work! Wahoo!

In HYPERSOMNIA, players are able to switch abilities between party members. I find this a really interesting mechanic for how simple it seems, you get to choose who plays what role in your party. I think this is HUGE, and opens up a lot of unique scenarios for the game's encounters. I've had this planned for years, as far back as 2021 if I can recall, so it's super cool seeing it in game.

Mapping is being worked on!

I've also been working on mapping out more areas of the game! The forest part you hopefully saw in the last trailer is almost completely mapped. I've been working on the second part to it and am hoping to finish it sometime soon.

Mapping forests really suck. THOUGH, almost all the maps for the first chapter of the game are done! That's just another step closer to the demo. (Which, FYI, will be on Steam and Itch! ^^)

I've also been working on re-spriting older scenes!

This one's been really fun to do, I've been going back and redoing older stuff from the 2022 trailer, like this train! It's weird seeing it side by side, because you can definitely see where it's come from but at the same time, it looks so different.

(Also side note, these sprites are CRUSTY! EWWW!)

Lastly, Script and Music updates!

The script for HYPERSOMNIA's first act has been completed! with just 37 pages of just cutscene dialog alone! We're also currently working on wrapping up NPC dialog! Not much else to say.

And music is being worked on!

Music has been making some progress! I like to lay out demo's for areas I'm mapping out to help make both the music and scene come together. (Also, to help break up the eerie silence when playtesting...)

Speaking of music, FIREBALL, the games main battle theme, was recently delisted on our YouTube channel.

We did this because we decided we wanted to resample FIREBALL, and found that it's best to not have the song uploaded until a complete, final version is made. At least for the demo, it could possibly change before the final game but that's a bit too far in the future for me to think about fully.

Hey! Thanks for reading the whole dev log! Unless you just skipped to the end, you should probably go back up and read it. there's a steam page now. and some cool ross art at the top. you're missing out!

I hope this was like, readable to you all. I'm new to this whole dev log thing, so if you read it all the way through, let me know! It'd be cool!

I'd like to use this portion to pretty much just advertise Unique Indie RPG's.

Have you ever seen that strange purple square at the beginning of the 2nd and 3rd HYPERSOMNIA trailers?

Yeah, that! That's UNIQUE INDIE RPG's, which is a Discord community for you guessed it, Unique Indie RPG videogames developed by people like me! Or you! Or whoever! Who cares!

I help run it with some of my friends, and we all share cool stuff about our videogames! There's a ton of other SUPER cool RPG Maker games there like Astral Guard [LINK], or SOMEWHEN [LINK], or even MOMOinc [LINK]!

And of course, HYPERSOMNIA. It's a really laid back community, we're all super chill. Come swing by! We'd love to have ya, and SHOW US YOUR GAME!

[LINK TO DISCORD SERVER]

TWITTER

YOUTUBE

STEAM

UNIQUE INDIE RPG'S [SHOW US YOUR GAME!]

[PREV] [ABOUT HYPERSOMNIA] [NEXT]

[aboutnavi]

I was brushing my teeth, reflecting about life, & my mind went back to AFTG and there is a scene on the first book that it has been stuck on my brain since I read the trilogy again this January and it's about Seth. Now, I know the fandom -in general- barely talk about Seth because Nora decided to kill him off for shock value and when people try to talk about him, it always comes back to 'he was a homophobic, disgusting piece of shit' which yes, valid but also, are we forgetting Aaron? The babyfication of Aaron in this fandom had everyone collectively forgetting he was exactly like Seth (even worse: towards his family!!!). Two wrongs doesn't make one right & I'm in no way justifying Seth's action but if we never talk about characters on AFTG just because they were problematic, we are not talking about any of them, ever (ok maybe some of them, but still).

My point is: the scene. Neil is confused as to why Seth hates Kevin -specifically him- so much, since Seth could get along with most people if he wanted and tried hard enough but he refused to give ground to Kevin & his answer is just so humanly heartbreaking it goes to my list of moments Nora did something right in AFTG. The scene goes like this:

Neil: Why do you hate him?

Seth: Because I'm sick of him getting everything he wants just because he's Kevin Day. Do you know what fame gets you, shitface? Everything. All he has to do is ask for it, and someone will give it to him. Doesn't matter what. Doesn't matter who. The world is dying to give him anything he wants. When he broke his hand, his fans cried for him. They flooded our locker room with letters and flowers. The amazing Kevin Day can't play anymore. Their lives were over. They'd grieve the loss forever. But tell me when's the last time anyone cried over you? Never, right? They're there for Kevin every step of the way, but where were they when we needed them?

Neil, stupidly: So you're jealous.

Seth: His life is not more important than mine just because he's more talented.

Neil first instinct is to say jealousy because jealousy is something he understands (he felt jealous of Kevin for having a future, for being able to play, for the talent, for the life he never got to live when his mother ran away, etc.) but for me what Seth is trying to portrait is more like the painful awareness that you get when you realize you're also worthy of love and care. Seth is such an unexplored character who had so much potential if Nora hadn't killed him for the sake of showing how Riko could be/was dangerous (and she could have done that in so many different ways!!!) & you can see that on, for example, Nora's post about his life. Seth was always the no-priority person, the kid no one payed attention to, the boy that if killed, not even his mother would come for the funeral. He was every aspect a Fox and he spent his entire life being told he was no one and to be able to say his life is not more important than mine shows so much development; the chance he had put on himself for being open to love, to care, to second and third chances... it was all there. It breaks my heart that he never got the chance to become something. & I do not believe he was an inherently bad person? They are so young in AFTG, all of them. Maybe Seth wasn't bad; maybe he was just twenty-two, you know?

& on the extra content when they tell Allison he died and she goes 'He called me not even an hour ago! He was drunk and rambling but he was happy for the first time in weeks. He was talking about how he finally thought graduating would be okay, about how he wanted me to help him look into grad schools. He wanted to go into social work and help people like he helps us. I know he wanted to die! Everyone knows he wanted to die! Every time he said he was done with life I walked away from him and every time he came chasing after me. This is the first time--he wanted to live.' breaks my heart.

Because, ok, Seth dies. Let's pretend it was a good idea for him to die to set some sort of impact on the story for a second. Except his death goes without much fuss. The shock Nora wanted is felt for maybe three seconds, in one paragraph in the last page of TFC and then we barely talk about Seth on TRK and TKM. Neil can't even understand how impactful was Seth's death - he only cares about how it will affect the game & his guilt is more about how Allison would feel towards him then sadness over losing a teammate - and this insight we get from Allison is from the extra content and not everyone goes on to read those so if Nora wanted something out of his death - pity, shock, sadness, or whatever - she should have put this scene IN THE BOOKS.

[daielsal]

I finally completed my Lucera fanart! Was inspired to draw her after I discovered @presidenthades ‘A House Full of Daughters’ AU the year prior, which has helped in improving my mood by a lot. I think I fell hard after reading ‘The Golds’ (which I was able to actively get updates on as the author was still posting updates at the time, it’s been completed as of now)! Right now I am reading there newest addition of their AHFOD AU which is ‘Compromise and being Compromised’ (surprisingly enough this is my go to fic if I want to read a fic that has a happy premise, compared to the other Lucera fics that are usually really angsty, or just pure heart break. I’m looking at you ‘When Dragons Danced’ and ‘The Dying of the Dragons’ 👀 Although on a side note I would love to eventually make fanart for TDOTD and WDD, especially more so when WDD was my the first Lucera fic that I got to see actively posted up until its completion. Of course, I would also love to draw some fanart for TDOTD as that was recently completed, if anyone is looking for some angsty Lucera fics I would totally recommend these two as they are completed and the writing quality is pretty great). Back to my fanart piece for AHFODs though, overall I am really happy with how she came out in the end. I am open to drawing the rest of the Velaryon girls however that would probably have to be at a later date. Anyways, onward to the details!

* Lucera’s dress is obviously in various shades of blue. Not only as a shoutout to her favorite color, but also in slight homage to her Arryn and Velaryon family ties/roots.

* Gold is included in her dress as well as it seems that the Velaryons are more partial to including gold instead of silver from what I can recall from the last time I was able to watch ‘The House of the Dragon.’ That’s not even including that the Targaryens are also partial on having gold placed within their clothes as well.

* Of course she is going to have some sort of Seahorse motif included in her dress to pay homage to her house.

* The Arrax brooch is also there since she is also paying tribute to her dragon.

* I added the swirls, so that they kind of come off as whirlpools (call back to my Naruto days baby! 😜).

* Pearls since our baby is the ‘Pearl of Driftmark!’ Represent!!!

* The silver sea star is included as she is the future lady of a house that is usually seen in correlation with the sea 🌊

* There are hints of the OG teal of the book!House Velaryon House colors included within her jewelry and adornments that are scattered across her dress.

* The multitude of seashells are included as another representation of her house and the sea 🐚

* The oranges are a call back to her favorite fruit and perfume. President Hades actually brought up a good point of it also being a homage for Laenor, I had actually forgotten that he was also mentioned to have had also been fond of the fruit as well as coconut (which I sadly forgot to add, but that can be used for a later piece, maybe 🤫)

* The carnations are in relation to the actual actor who ended up playing teen Lucerys which is Elliot Grihault, and his birthday happens to fall in January, so of course I had to add one of the months flowers which one happens to be the Carnation. I decided to go with Red Carnations as the color represents a variety of things including love, affection, passion, and distinction (and we know our girl is definitely all of these)!

* Cinnamon flowers are included as Lucera is also noted to have a love for this spice. If I remember correctly from ‘The Golds’ Aegon is able to notice that Cassandra Baratheon is wearing this perfume so that she could entice Aemond (although for those of us who read the fic, we know that plan flunked in the end).

* Orange Blossoms are also included to go with the Oranges 🍊

* Lillies are included to highlight love, femininity, and innocence ( the innocence is more in line with Lucera and Aemond’s younger years when they were both children).

* In many ways the manner in how I drew Lucera somehow ended up reminding me of Layla/Aisha from Winx Club, a show I grew up with which I very much loved. Even though I am more of a Flora girlie I have to give props to Layla/Aisha (shout out to Lay Lay! 😆 side note: Lay Lay will always be Layla to me, I said what I said 😤)! I kind of want to draw Lucera in clothing that pays homage to Layla now, lol! Who knows if I ever do get back to drawing Laena, along with Rhaena and Baela I might have to implement this as well. That’ll be a lot of fun, especially for my 10 year old self!

* Lastly I decided to draw Lucera being surrounded by a flower wreath as a reference of sorts to all of the Voltron fanart that used to be prevalent back in 2016-2018! (Rip Voltron fandom, I very much still miss you 😭 🪦).

Other than that I believe that is everything. I may take another hiatus of sorts to focus on my school work. I also want to find new coloring methods along with possibly revamping my art style. That’s all for now!

[hardearnedwisdom]

I am Profoundly excited for Dragon Age: The Veilgaurd.

TL;DR—Dragon Age: The Veilgaurd coming out is very big for me personally, and this is why.

I remember the first time I played a Dragon Age game. The year was 2014, I was obsessed with The Sims 4, and my dad was helping me set something up on my computer. He insisted that we check in Origin, EA’s infamous game launcher, had any free games. That day, the free game was Dragon Age: Origins. Now, when I first played Dragon Age: Origins, I was nine years old and never made it past the Dalish Rouge backstory and tutorial.

That same year, my dad got his prized PlayStation 4. I remember holding the sleek black controller, controlling the second player avatar for Knack, and feeling the haptic feedback for the first time. I was astounded that this was something that was possible with gaming. I felt like I was a part of the world.

At some point, my dad got Dragon Age: Inquisition. I remember him telling me about the hole in the sky that you needed to close, and how that was just the beginning of your story. I was instantly intrigued. I made my first inquisitor, a Dalish Elf Rouge named Lyme, and never got past the tutorial.

Flash forward a couple of years to December of 2018. I’m fourteen, it’s winter break, and three weeks prior I had been dumped. I didn’t know what to do with myself, and so I decided to pick up the PlayStation remote and take on the world I had been thinking about for years but had never had the time—or skill—to explore. That December, I spent hours exploring the Hinterlands, battling dragons on the storm coast, and making alliances. After my first heartbreak, I found solace in Solas, the kind elf who liked my inquisitor—and by extension, me—for my wit and intelligence. January came too soon, and I had to put down the controller and return to the frightening world of middle school.

I changed schools for High School, and the world shut down the spring of my freshman year. I found myself coming back to gaming and fantasy RPG’s to escape the world around me and connect with friends and family. I started playing World of Warcraft with my dad and my friends, and I came back to Inquisition. I moved from the PlayStation to the PC, and I had to start the game over again, but I didn’t mind. It just gave me an excuse to stay in Thedas for longer. My inquisitor, Elvera Levellan, embodied the strength, grit, and intelligence that I needed to channel during such a difficult and confusing time. I found myself falling again for the quiet elf, siding with the mages, and immersing myself in the intrigue of the conflict occurring around me.

Solas was everything I wanted from a boyfriend when I was younger. He was kind, flirted with his wit, kissed passionately, he took things slow, and danced with me at the ball. I was gutted when he left my inquisitor. Years prior I had projected my heartbreak onto him, naively thinking that there was no way this nerdy elf would break my heart. Boy was I wrong.

I finished the base game after one hundred and twenty hours of playtime, and I saved the DLC for hard moments in my life when I needed to return to Thedas. The last time I was in Thedas was in the spring of 2021 when I finished Trespasser. I don’t recall the decisions I made regarding the fate of the Inquisition or who became the divine, but I remember Iron Bull's betrayal, and how my heartache and need to find Solas through the Elluvians mirrored that of my inquisitor. We both needed answers. We both wanted closure. I was angry and hurt and mad at an egg for gods sake.

In my life's most challenging moments, I have looked to Elvera--my inquisitor—for strength to borrow. From getting molds taken of my mouth at the orthodontist (an experience which I hate) to comforting a friend on their deathbed, she has been a source of strength, a suit of armor to don in my most vulnerable moments when I cannot falter. That strength looks different in a dentist's chair and on a deathbed, but It is strength nonetheless.

Needless to say, I am so excited to return to Thedas in thirty days. Every week for the past several years, I had done a quick Google search for “Dragon Age 4”, desperate for news of the next installment. I always felt a pang of disappointment each time I found that there was no news, but I never gave up hope. I delayed travel plans this summer so that I could watch the first gameplay demo with my dad this summer.

The Dragon Age series, and Inquisition in particular hold such a special place in my heart. They were part of my introduction to gaming, and you never forget your first games. They brought me comfort and an escape from the world when I felt as if a hole had been blown in our sky. The characters have lent me strength when I have needed it most.

I cannot wait to create my Rook and explore Tevinter. I can only hope that my inquisitor can finally get the closure that we both need. I am excited to fall in love with Dragon Age and Thedas all over again.

[kabillieu]

Long post about my big kid under the break.

We pulled our big kid out of his public middle school almost two weeks ago. In the month before we unenrolled him, he had missed at least one day a week due to school refusal. Mornings were nightmares of me trying to coax him out of bed. Most evenings he experienced (sometimes hours-long) meltdowns over homework. From his first day of school until his last, he did not have one good day. Many days were awful. Maybe most days were. The day where I decided he wasn't going back, he got into my car at pickup and he was distraught and stressed out and angry and despondent. He hadn't been allowed to go to the bathroom during his last class because of some sort of construction happening in the hallways, and when I asked him about homework for that class he said he didn't know because he'd spent all of his energy just trying not to pee himself.

I had known for a while that we were almost certainly going to end up homeschooling him, and I began to feel that I was sending him to a place that he found torturous just to satisfy my own sense that we had tried hard enough, that I had advocated enough for him. At his age, homeschooling is usually a permanent choice because it can be difficult to get homeschooled kids back into public middle and high schools.

But for whatever reason, that day was the day I just finally had had enough. I don't want to send my child to a place where he is lonely and agitated and angry and in pain. My child has level 2 autism, and while he has no intellectual disabilities, I have come to accept that he has different needs than other children and that this particular public school at this point in his life was harming him. He can't thrive there.

So we pulled him out.

We're doing something called de-schooling through the holidays. I have a loose schedule of a few things I ask him to do on school days, but most of his time is free so that he can decompress and begin to heal from the extreme amount of stress and pressure he's been feeling. At the beginning of January he'll start an online curriculum that he can navigate at his own pace. We will probably need to find him a math tutor. I'm sure there will be ups and downs.

Right now I'm trying very hard to help him make some social connections with other children near his age. He was in fight/flight/freeze mode the entire time he was at school and because of that he couldn't make any friends there. He'd also begun to experience some light bullying.

I found a micro school startup in my area that has a STEAM club. It's teeny tiny (just 2 or 3 kids) but he started that last week. Next week we have a meetup with another kid his age who is also autistic. I'm in several homeschooling Facebook groups now, and I found this kid's mom through one of those. In January he'll be starting an online D&D group for kids that is moderated by an adult.

And today he's playing Roblox with another ADHD/autistic kid via video chat. When we lived in Montgomery 7 years before, we happened to move onto the same street as a woman Dominic and I went to college with. A has a son who's about a year and a half older than our big kid, and he has a lot of the same issues + giftedness, which is also under the neurodiversity umbrella. My big kid and this kid were pretty good friends that year, but he and his family moved to Vermont a few years ago. When I realized I was probably going to have to homeschool my big kid, I reached out to A because she'd homeschooled her child too, and she pointed me to a lot of resources, which is great. I also helped my kid get back into contact with A's son, and they coordinated a time to play Roblox together.

I can hear them now from the other room, and my kid is obviously having a great time. He's socializing with another kid. He's making a friend.

I don't know what's going to happen with his schooling, with his future, with any of our futures. Dominic and I are very much rule followers, so to take our kid outside of the traditional education route and try this different path is--I cannot overstate it--beyond scary. But I do know that I couldn't continue to force my child to go to a school that was making him miserable. And right now I'm listening to him play with another kid and he's laughing and having a blast.

He's smart. I think he'll be able to, for the most part, follow a curriculum independently, as long as he's allowed to go at his own pace. We will add enriching activities alongside the curriculum and continue to help him make social connections.

I just want to do right by him. I'm just doing my best.